Author's Note:
This story has been in the works for a quite some time now, taking most of my time away from writing the Hu Tao fic. There is much more raw text available, but I don't really feel satisfied with it, so I'm releasing this to test the waters and get some feedback. Those of you who liked the first chapter of Memories Unsealed will probably enjoy this as well.
In terms of lore, this is wild speculation. Since only two Archons from the original Seven remain, you can think of this Murata as the 'successor' or even child of the first Pyro Archon. Aside from that, I did my best to match the tone and lore of the game.
Standing before the Great Palace of Murata, Aether reflected on his fraught journey thus far.
From Mondstadt to Liyue, Sumeru and Fontaine, he always had to struggle in order to meet their chosen Archons. If they didn't try to kill him, they were obtuse and secretive, if not outright deceptive.
But standing here, in the arid heartlands of the Land of Fire, he realized that he was practically dragged here by its Archon. Aside from a scuffle with the Fatui, almost every inhabitant did their darndest to help him get to Murata as quickly as possible. Who'd have thought that the God of War would be the most forthcoming of the Seven?
To his and Paimon's dismay, this included crossing a barren desert on foot for three days nonstop.
The nearby teleport waypoint was almost freezing cold in relation to the surrounding landscape. Paimon was embracing it with the kind of affection only infants have for their mothers, or Paimon for Sticky Honey Roast.
Most of the settlements in Natlan were built in some kind of shade, or at least near a source of refreshing water. The palace was irritatingly devoid of either.
As if to stubbornly contradict basic common sense, the palace was built in the greatest scorching heat, so far away from any water source that it had to be resupplied on the daily.
For all its impracticality, it did its job. The impressive, richly decorated sandstone walls reached into the heavens, merging into the distant volcanic mountain behind the structure. The enormous scale of the complex could only be outdone by the ego of the one who had it built, reasoned Aether.
The stout soldiers guarding the entrance let the two in without incident, saluting them on the way in.
"This place is huge!" Paimon squealed at the scene before her, floating from one curiosity to the next.
"The decorations are a bit... Unusual, though." Aether replied with a hint of worry in his voice. Aside from the usual golden trinket or rare plant, all types of weapons, animal skulls and furs lined the halls of the palace. More important rooms had artistic depictions of battle, individual duels and gladiatorial fights.
They were being guided by two muscular soldiers with huge claymores effortlessly hanging from their sides. Their armor only covered the most vulnerable areas, as if their muscles were enough to withstand most attacks. Aether believed this assessment.
Their escort lead them to a wide hall, opening on the flanks into a vast garden, an artificial oasis.
The guards stopped before the steps of a large staircase, their silence somehow getting stronger.
Neither Paimon nor Aether dared interrupt it.
"Honorable traveler! Hero of Mondstadt, Slayer of Osial, He who braved the Lightning's eternal glow, bloomed among the seeds of Wisdom and drank from the wellspring of Justice! Step forth, and pay tribute to the proud flame of Natlan!
The soldier's booming voice echoed through the hall, forcing Paimon to cover her ears. Aether stepped forth, and anxiously stared up the stairs.
"Behold!" The soldier screamed again, startling Aether out of his confident facade.
"The God of War, Chieftainess of Natlan, The Lady of Fire, She before which all warriors bow!"
The soldiers kneeled accordingly. Aether remained standing.
"Murata! Heiress of the Fiery Throne!"
Aether gazed upwards with a stoic look. She wanted him here, she'll get him at his best.
"W-where is she?" Paimon asked.
"Quiet."
She was taking her time... Dramatic effect, Aether supposed. Still staring high above the stairs, Aether heard an annoying series of clicks on in front of him. Did she throw a pebble down or something? How annoying. The light taps on the stairs moved closer.
Come to think of it, the rhythm was all off, it couldn't be a pebble, the taps were too-
"Oof!" Aether recoiled, grabbing his chest as something rock-solid decked him in the stomach.
"Hey. Down here." Still squirming in pain, he noticed a little dark-skinned girl standing in front of him, or, rather, below him.
She let out a hearty chuckle with her boyish voice, before offering her hand with a wide grin.
"Heya. I'm uh, what he said.'" She pointed to the guard kneeling beside him.
"Don't s'pose "Traveler" is a given name, huh?"
"A-Aether, my lady..."
The short lady gave out a hearty laugh worthy of ten men.
"We're both equals here. Call me 'Murata', 'Mura', if yer feelin' lucky." She said, again with a booming laugh. Aether reached out to clasp her hand, only to be met with its vice grip gleefully tugging him up and down. If this was her being friendly, he really didn't want to get on her bad side.
Paimon, in utter disbelief, looked back and forth between her blond companion and the supposed Archon.
"Y-you're the Pyro Archo-"
"And who's this little gal!" Murata turned from the squirming traveler and happily exclaimed.
"P-P-Paimon is-is, uh, emergen- no, Paimon! Paimon is Paimon! Sorry! No handshakes- Paimon is allergic!" She stammered at the beaming girl in front of her, arm reached out expectantly.
"Aw, that's alright, girl!" She said and lunged at Paimon, embracing her in a bear hug.
"You just like a plush toy I used to have as a kid, only a lot squishier!" Paimon felt her brain juice being squished out, that's for sure.
Finally letting go, she turned back to Aether and waved her guards off.
"Alright, that's it, boys! Why dont'cha get somethin' to eat while I entertain our guests?" They walked off, seeming a lot more relaxed.
"Is this how you welcome all your guests?" Paimon asked indignantly after catching her breath from her time as a stress-relief toy.
"Only the ones I like!" Murata gave a toothy smile with her eyes closed.
"Yeah! So, welcome to my place! Can I get'cha anything?
"A new hand would be nice..." Whimpered Aether.
"Got'cha. Paimon, how bout' you? Eba with vegetable stew? Grilled firebird?"
"W-what's a firebird?"
"Big chicken that runs around the desert. Real tasty."
"Oh, a big juicy chicken is just what Paimon needs!" If there's one way to calm Paimon down, it really is food.
"Alright, hehe. After me, guys! Anythin' ya need, I'll get it for ya'. My home is your home!"
As Murata lead them to the kitchen, Aether looked over her in more detail. He wasn't unsure of her identity anymore, her hands made swift work of that idea. He just couldn't wrap his head around this walking, talking, punching paradox of a person.
Murata was short, but not as young as she appeared at first glance. Even gods must get unlucky, he thought. She wore a woven cloak, a sort of national costume, judging by the complex embroidery and symbols. Covering her forehead was a bandana of the same color, letting her distinct grey bangs pop up from under it. The back of her hair was tied into two long, unbraided pigtails which Aether was convinced she used as some kind of a weapon.
Her hair was grey, unlike most Natlanians', who wore their naturally red-hair with pride.
But upon closer inspection, her hair was dyed. Not with paint, but ash. Through the dirty grey soot one could see streaks of brilliant crimson shining through.
Her expression, to put it plainly, matched that of someone who punches rocks for fun. Tough and hardy, but immensely playful.
He knew not to let his guard down, no matter how "innocent" she looked.
"Aaand here we are! Y'all can wait in the dinin' room for now."
"But where are the cooks?" Paimon asked.
"Lookin' right at em'!" Murata winked.
"What's The Lady of Fire doing cooking chicken?" Aether laughed.
Murata stared expresionlessly at Aether, then snapped her fingers, summoning a massive flame above her hand.
"I believe, it's in the name?" She smugly retorted and went to prepare the firebird.
Paimon refused to float idly by while delicious food was being prepared, and Murata indulged her. Giving her some raw ingredients to munch on, using her as a taste tester and hyping up the little fairy by explaining all the little details that go into making the perfect meal.
"Ya see, the firebird's meat is naturally red, like it bathed in marinade or somethin'. But it's actually because it eats exclusively wild chilies! Some chefs actually use them like sniffin' dogs to find those chilies out in the wild." Paimon listened intently to every word, drooling all the way.
Aether looked at the two like a happy grandpa seeing his grandkid make a new friend.
Murata apparently had a very different definition of 'grilling.'
Instead of using a rack, stone, a pan or any normal cooking instrument, she grasped the seasoned firebird with one hand and used the other to guide her Pyro abilities around it, evenly cooking the entire surface. After that, she suddenly covered the skin in a wild blaze, leaving a crusty finish to her creation.
"And for my final trick, I'll make the firebird crunchy, on the inside!" A triumphant smile formed on Murata's face.
"Crunchy... ON THE INSIDE?!" Paimon stared with amazement.
"Paimon's in heaven, Paimon's in heaven..."
With a focused gaze, Murata formed her hand into a fist. The firebird started to glow from within, the yellow light reflecting off of Paimon's giddy eyes.
Just as quickly, the firebird's glow faded, and Murata took in Paimon's flood of compliments by flexing her bicep. Considering she was holding a bird bigger than her torso in the other hand, it was probably justified.
'Crunchy on the inside' might not sound that great to some, but Murata's work would change their mind. The amazing texture, combined with Natlan's traditional seasoning, was enough to bring a man to tears. And so it did.
Aether went through half a dozen handkerchiefs just to keep his face dry while Paimon accepted her fate and gorged herself on the spicy meal. She overdid it, and started coughing uncontrollably through an expression of both bliss and agony simultaneously.
Murata tried to help Paimon by tapping her on the back, forgetting that Paimon wasn't grounded to anything, and instead sent her slamming into the table and the owl on top of it.
The way Paimon suddenly slammed into her meal sent Aether into a laughing fit, which only made the spiciness worse.
So far, the meeting with the Pyro Archon had Paimon stuck headfirst in chicken, and Aether wheezing from painful laughter.
Just great.
"That was the best firebird Paimon ever ate! Oh, Paimon's sad now. The memories, oh, if only Paimon could relive them..."
"I can always make ya another one next time."
"Yay!"
"Do... You have any foods that aren't spicy?" Paimon and Murata looked at him with perplexion and disdain.
"I'll take that as a no."
Unfazed by the massive feast, Murata hopped up.
"Alright, c'mon, we've got so much to do!"
Practically dragging them from their seats, Murata led them to a large gallery hall.
The gallery hall served as the principal exhibit of Natlan history, the glory of its people and the authority of their goddess.
Each painting depicted a battle or its aftermath. Murata enthusiastically explained the history behind each artpiece, in her own way of describing things.
"So right here the rebel boss sees that we're retreatin', right? So, obviously, he thinks; I gotta catch em'! What he doesn't know is that there's a whole 'nother regiment waiting behind that little hill, ready to pounce. He gets all his boys riled up thinkin' he's bout' to get a chestful o' medals for this, and then he looks 'round, and sees he's suddenly surrounded and outnumbered! Whole paintin' 's just a tribute to this one guy's face when he realizes he's screwed up."
Paimon's interpretation of the scene was somewhat different.
"Poor guy, he looks so scared! And all his friends are around him are yelling at him for help!"
"That's just how it is, Paimon. The same guy was prob'ly in the same situation as us just a week earlier. 'Cept he doesn't get a paintin' for that. Just like wouldn't, if he didn't screw up right there."
Sensing her comment didn't exactly brighten her mood, Murata quickly pointed out another painting on the other side of the hall.
"Hey, I know somethin' you might like! This here's about Mondstadt!"
"Mondstadt? How come?" Aether asked, enthralled in the collection.
"Well, every time Natlan's and another nation's history cross over, we commemorate it! I think you'll see what this one's about."
Unlike most other paintings in the hall, this one didn't portray any battle. Instead, it depicted a lone red-headed woman leading her tribe into a monumental divine shrine. In the background, rolling green hills held aloft a tranquil fortress city in a sea of green.
It was clear that the author never set foot in Mondstadt, the trees and architecture being misshapen and notably oversaturated. But that dreamlike visage of a far away land made the painting all the more beautiful, and paradoxically, more authentic to the original event.
"Paimon knows this one! It's the story of Vanessa! She's the one who freed her people and the whole of Mondstadt from the Lawrence clan!"
"Yup. Just goes to show, no matter where ya go, the fire of Natlan will always keep ya goin'."
"And look at this angel!"
"Huh?" Aether couldn't see it at first, but above the gate of the shrine sat a black-haired angel. She wore almost nothing aside from white tight shorts, stockings, a crop top of all things and-
Wait a minute.
"Aether... Why is tone deaf bard wearing-"
Aether quickly covered Paimon's eyes.
"Paimon can see his-"
"No you can't-"
And her mouth.
"Welp, that's Barbatos for ya'. He enjoys a great many things, but wearin' clothes ain't one of em'."
"Let's move on..." Aether pulled Paimon behind him, the little fairy staring a thousand leagues away at nothing.
"Paimon definitely saw it... Paimon saw it..." She muttered senselessly.
"So what do you wanna do next? We could spar, oh, oh, you could go meet the boys!"
Murata's excitement showed no sign of faltering.
She had an unusual kind of commanding presence, in that by the time you manage to refuse her offer, you're already doing whatever she coaxed you into anyway.
The generous put Aether at ease, despite his better judgement. Suddenly, he stopped feeling he was just at another pitstop on his greater journey. He felt as though his entire journey led up to this, the first god to meet him with open arms and as an equal no less.
This was what he wanted from the very beginning.
Yeah, don't get your hopes up, Aether. She'll probably challenge you to a duel or ask you to slay a dragon before she shares anything with you. If she even knows anything...
Not even that thought however could stop him from getting slightly excited.
Not that he would show it. He knew by now that gods weren't to be blindly trusted...
"Uh, Murata?"
"Uh uh?"
"Paimon thinks we should save that for later..." Even as she warmed up to her, Paimon was still nervous about refusing her.
"We're here for a reason, Murata." Aether bluntly finished Paimon's thoughts.
"So down to business then, I suppose."
"That's right! We actually wanted to warn you about this big Fatui plo-"
"No, no, no! Not now. You're my guests, I should be the one helpin' you first. Save that for later, 'kay?"
Aether was frustrated at first, then realized that this played into his hand. He realized, with some unease, that all the gods before her seemingly conditioned him to do their chores before seeking help himself.
"I know what yer' here for. You've been to five nations already, it'd be awkward if I didn't."
The little Archon finally settled down, continuing with a calm, confident voice.
"Y'know, I bet you're sick an' tired of listenin' to gods yabber on about themselves, am I right?"
"Is that a trick question?"
She laughed loudly: "No, I'm serious. I don't think it's easy to listen to someone spout off a history lesson while you're tryin' to find your sister."
Aether didn't like to admit it, but she did have a point...
"Well... You get used to it. It's not like I can find her in a day, anyway..."
"In that case, I hope I won't talk yer' ear off, hehe!"
"Oh, no, not at all! If anything, you're pretty fun to be around."
She beamed at his inadvertent compliment, before deeply sighing.
"Gods can be so annoying, y'know? Always playin' their little charade, talkin' in riddles and actin' all high n' mighty!"
"What else do you expect from gods?"
"Some BACKbone, dammit!" She yelled out as she broke a training dummy with a single strike. He was wondering what those were doing in the halls, now he understood.
Regaining her composure, she continued:
"Backbone, and grit! I swear, some of em' are more worried about appearin' cool and mysterious than actually provin' their worth! I mean, just take a look at Barbatos - he had to free his people twice because he took a nap! And 'cause all he cares for is drink and merriment, he loses his Gnosis to some Fatui thug. All he's free from now is his power."
Paimon was nodding furiously.
"Then we have Morax. The God of Contracts, the Slayer of Osial. He wants to retire! Fine then, but how's he do it?
Sells his own country to be left at the mercy of the Abyss and Fatui! What did that wretch offer him..?" Her voice nearly cracked at the last part.
Aether wasn't entirely on board with this Archon roast, but Murata's words again struck a chord... Morax especially. He had almost forgotten the betrayal he felt when he saw him and Signora in the same room. Why would he give up his gnosis just for a test of Liyue's strength? What was he hiding about the Tsaritsa? Is mere erosion reason enough to give away your divine power?
Remembering that, he felt a tinge of spite over his friendship with him afterwards.
He had to have a good reason... He just had to.
Murata's rant continued.
"And Raiden - frankly, I never got the whole 'Eternity' thing of her's, but she ain't half-bad. At least she kept her people in line. With her head out of the sand she might just start livin' again. Heh, now that's what I call a woman! Right, Aether?" Murata gave him a wink that he for the life of him did not want to know the meaning of.
"Ookay, got off track there for a sec. Point is, I care about action! Not some wordy philosophizin' or theatrics. You won't get that from me, got it, Aether?"
"Then let's get down to business." It was about time, Aether thought. No more distractions.
"I know why yer' here, as I said."
"And?"
For the first time, Murata frowned.
"I'm sorry, I really am. I did everythin' in my power to find her, long before you came here. I don't know where your sister is."
No matter how many times he heard that, it never stopped hurting.
"BUT!" Just as he was about to thank her, Murata triumphantly exclaimed.
"I will do everything I can to help you find her. I'll tell you everything I know!" She looked up at Aether with a caring smile.
Aether had heard those words far too many times, and far too often they turned out to be empty promises. Not that he could blame them.
But how come not even the Gods could muster any bit of useful advice? Anything at all...
His search was more of a formality by this point. He knew the only way he'd find Lumine was her reaching out to him. And until his journey was over, he wouldn't know a thing about how she was doing, whether she was okay, healthy, why she pushed him away that fateful day...
He wasn't searching for his sister anymore, he was searching for answers. Answers which viciously eluded him. Five nations he crossed, five Archons he met, and all he could do is serve their own interests. Serve nations which he didn't belong in, serve fickle Gods who kept secrets from him. All he could do is be the lackey of this damned world and its rulers.
He knew they'd meet again. It was only a matter of time.
But the pain of not knowing what awaited him ravaged him. Was everything up to this point just some elaborate display? A spectacle, like the show trials of the Hydro Archon? He never gave up, no matter what fate threw at him. He pushed through, but felt as if he were merely dragged along.
He didn't chose any of this. Ever since the Unknown God separated him from his only family, he has only acted at the behest of others.
The scorching heat of the Pyro Archon's gaze convinced him of what he needed to do. He needed to push against time, forge his own path. If that meant fighting his own kin, breaking the script she prepared for him, so be it.
He waited, for the last time, to forge his own destiny.