The ruins of Amos' Tower are now worn down to its age, Dainsleif reflects, unlike the unforgivable harsh storm that presided over Old Mondstadt, the winds are less harsh, but not calm either, it gave a more or less solemn appearance, and he watches the Acting Grandmaster pace back and forth on the tower, the breeze halos into her hair, and makes her cloak have a life of its own. It came to his attention that she acquired assistance to read a dead language long forgotten by the people of the new land of freedom.

As they investigate and pour over the dilapidated state of the tower, Venti's wise and fond voice echoes through Jean's mind: This ruined tower represents a woman who wished to fall in love with the world instead of being confined to one place, she had dreams of the blue ocean waves, hugging against the grains of sand, a promise of love and devotion, of the lush forests that make every bird feel like they're coming home, and vast land that stretches and stretches, of Little Yuu and the wind sprite singing folk songs of the north over the campfire, the sounds the red-haired knight polishing his claymore and herself, on the tips of her toes, dancing gently at the feel of the rain.

"Master Diluc of course looks like his descendant the red-haired knight," Venti says to her when they finished praying at the great tree of Windrise, "But…my memory never fails to serve me," he grins that boyish smile that never fails to make Jean's heart warm, "Amos looks like you, the same platinum blonde hair, ends curled because someone's hand running through them had enough heat from his fingers, the same blue eyes that held such steadiness."

In one of the rarest times, the Dandelion Knight chooses Stormterror's Lair and allows herself to take a break that everyone in her life pushes her gently or not-so-gently to take. She slept in Springvale again, and her mother served her Sweet Flower Tea, brewed in a heartbreaking teapot, for one reason alone; it was near August again, when the divorce between the Seneschal and famed Alder Knight happened; when her father and mother decided to end it all. Before that rainy day, a lifetime ago Seamus Pegg gave Frederica Gunnhildr, one of the most extravagant riches an adventurer can dream to get, a tea set made from the finest porcelain, delicately carved suns and moons on three cups and saucers each, and an extravagant display of workmanship shown through an eclipse in the centerpiece teapot, engraved "you are sunlight and I moon." the former lovers could have only deciphered, "_ined by gods of fortune" was a mystery, they eventually accepted it as the word "ruined."

Aether and Paimon told her last month about the relics and treasures the lone tower held but Venti advised them not to take anything because it is not their place nor their right, and recounts that she, the south wind blessed by Anemo herself, has it. Surely, it was a selfish move on her part, but rarely does she ever indulge herself, would you not want to know your own history too? The honorary knight and Paimon told them about Dainsleif, what he looked like, and how he can help, for the price of only 500 Mora, they'll bring in a good word for her.

The tall man steps over to the Acting Grandmaster to at least put her at ease, to be in contact with a god, especially to close enough to share apples and goblets put a bitter taste in his mouth, but then it hadn't made much difference that they were already standing in the land of one of the four winds. Personally, he wouldn't have assisted merely anyone on their own ventures but for the Lionfang Knight and what she has done to protect the land of freedom, the former twilight sword couldn't turn her down when she approached him in Angel's Share.

"If it were to be something that was unchanged or entirely different from what you expected, Acting Grandmaster," he says as he stands next to her, her eyes fixed upon the vast lands beneath the tower that they are on "Will it change the status of your family bond? or is this merely to put your own heart at ease?"

The air in Old Mondstadt is just as strong as the time she had to bring back one of her own. Jean's heart pangs, and ponders on the questions. "Perhaps, it is both." Feeling like a child learning how to walk she stumbles, "Hadn't mother and father been hasty on what the scratched-up archaic word truly was, then maybe I could have still have had a father as I come home," Her expression mature and composed softens, she turns back to the formidable man, the air against her locks and cape and admits "And yes, I do want to put my own heart at ease as well."

Dainsleif thinks to himself that there is a spark in mere mortals whenever they desperately cling to a certain something to keep them sane whether it was praying to a lost god who's left his entire nation to shambles in the name of freedom or finding bits and pieces of old relics to save a family and their belief, he sees it as miserable charm, and seeing Master Jean being in uncertainty has kept him well entertained even if they just recently made a small pact. He watches her guide herself towards an old worn chest with the gold rims already chapped at the edges. It was to be opened only by an Anemo vision wielder who has already been given trust by some bard clad in green. The warm breeze from her sword made it possible to open with a rusty click.

Periwinkle eyes are in awe and wonder, Barbatos certainly kept Amos' belongings safe and unharmed, Jean's gauntlets empty out silver-tipped arrows, dance cards only signed with Decarabian's name, some few dresses still in mint condition bringing it up with her arms.

"Anything and everything you can find in that chess are yours, I'm sure Amos would love her things being used or preserved." Venti holds Jean's hand like he always does with his children of freedom "Let her see the world with you." but all of this? she hesitates. Amos left romance and adventure books, old coins, and jewels. Her hands push through the velvet, there is a false bottom on the chest, something Jean would know is there.

Venti's lyre and sweet voice make her remember "It wasn't only Decarabian she loved, of course," Love isn't contained by romantic and sexual relations, and trained fingers find wax apples, some poems, and ballads were written by the bard named Yuu who died in battle. It is family, friends, and the people who will remember you still after you died.

All of this history in her fingers feels like a responsibility but also a reminder that yes it has happened, each time she removes something from the chest Dainsleif comments on it: silver-tipped arrows can only be made in Liyue, a dress like that is fine silk from Inazuma. He finds it morbidly appealing that an Archon would preserve hundreds of years worth of history while also wiping out an entire nation to be left unspoken of. All of these treasures hold significance respective to their nations while also holding trust between lovers.

He asks out of curiosity to know how Jean would reply. "How much love and devotion would it take to be slain in the eyes of divinity itself? and how much will it take to find that same divinity in a mere mortal?"

She is surprised at the question, she has to look up at him because she is kneeling on the floor and he is standing. All this time she knows this was no ordinary man for he had the same eyes as Kaeya and Albedo, for he had knowledge of the centuries that had passed, the questions he had asked were questions that can only be asked maybe by Diluc or Venti, even Aether told that he knew his sister dearly. Jean stares into his ocean eyes and fixes her gaze on him with all the courage she still has.

"Love and devotion go hand in hand," she remarks at him as she takes off her gauntlet, raising a silver-tipped arrow between them both "Amos loved Decarabian, she did. She devoted herself to his dreams and his thoughts but it needs to go both ways for it to ever work." grazing her fingers at the wooden shaft, she continues "Decarabian didn't give her that devotion and love back."

The blonde woman can feel the intense gaze at her as she looks for Amos' dance cards, folding them open "All of them only had his name, a young noblewoman like her would have loved dancing, and her lover would love to see her smile and converse with others knowing she would still come back to him." It is a thing from the most tender of her experiences, Diluc would only ever take her first and last dances, to make room for other knights or other noblemen she might have to want to tell a directive or to congratulate for a good marriage.

"Love and devotion can only be slain by the divine if they cannot measure to that," The dandelion knight says fearlessly, "Because how dare a mortal outlove and out devote them."

As she told him all of this it had occurred to Dainsleif how brilliant her mind works and how perceptive she can be, utterly full of charm. It was no question why the god of freedom had met her personally and entrusted her to all of these treasures, more so by asking her to take possession of it entirely. The man observes the hinges inside the chest, inscribed with words from a language spoken familiarly on his tongue.

"Jean," he declared "Look at this, Is this what you are searching for?"

The young girl of twenty-one looks in the luxurious chest, her fingers, bared, for she wants to feel every item in the chest, memorizing. There inside the few items left: brooches from the best rubies, a leg garter, and a teapot set, identical to the one her father got from this very tower

"How…can there be two of them?" she gasped out loud…unless the person who gave it to the markswoman made two teapots and many more cups to be shared by a new world and a new dawn. Jean handles the fine piece of porcelain more gently, more than the day Venti let herself play his lyre. Delicate hands turn the teapot over and trace the poetry on the bottom.

you are sunlight and i moon

The second part will always be a mystery until…today and she looks at the man she commissioned, she holds it out for him to take their fingers lightly brushing over each other. Before he can give her the word, Jean realizes she needs to answer his second question "Amos found divinity in a mortal, the red-haired knight whose name was forever lost in history, was the mortal who gave her what she wanted the most," and it feels like she let out a breath she did not know she was holding "He only took one dance for himself and that's what made him divine."

Jean Gunnhildr's thought process amazed the boughkeeper, it was no surprise that she was appointed as acting grandmaster when Varka took off with his expedition troupe.

To be divine was not a measure of power, it was the act of love and devotion within that power, regardless if it was limited or if it was tied to the body of a mere mortal or a fine being.

"A powerful God," He told her "Without love and devotion one cannot be a god at all, only a mere calamity." He laughed dryly "And a mortal filled with love and devotion, if compared to those so-called gods, has the power to challenge Celestia in itself." It is his turn to trace the inscribed words at the bottom of the teapot as he looks at her with a stern but unwavering gaze.

you are sunlight and I moon

Despite everything, Jean finds herself transfixed by his face and regal structure, his intellect and perception drew her to him, Dainsleif reminds her of the enchanting, haunting man in some of the fairytales tucked into her heart for safe-keeping, the men who inexplicably comes into your life with no ifs and buts, and before, she hangs to every bit of his words as if he were singing a song.

you are sunlight and I moon, joined by the gods of fortune.

"I take it that nothing of this matter has changed what has been on your mind? Is your heart at ease, Jean Gunnhildr?"

The blonde girl can barely speak let alone say anything, something in his star-eyed stare makes something in her ache and long.

It was joined all along, the sword user's hands shaking, rattling the teacup and saucer in her hands, feeling like she can retch anytime. When she closes her eyes she can still see the faint silhouette of Seamus and Barbara off to a carriage, Jean has always been her mother's daughter, and shaking hands are one thing she got from her.

Dainsleif places his hands to catch the porcelain in her hands and removes them to ease her but all she can think is how, if maybe, they knew it was joined, she would not have to suffer this loss, nor the one that followed after.

"As I told you, love and devotion, this divinity, it has been with you as long as you can remember and you've seen how people change and protect in the name of love and devotion whether it be in history or your life."

"My heart is not at ease," her voice trembled, not occurring to her how easily she let the words slip from her mouth, how vulnerable he makes her feel like she is being showered with unconditional care, it made her sick to her stomach, she could not possibly be thinking of this. Not now. Not when…

"Has the people in your life that were supposed to provide you with the love and devotion you deserve left you to dust?" This is when he sees the acting grandmaster turn into Jean, herself with the wind blowing in her hair as she stands in denial, her eyes filled with an uncertain gaze, not knowing whether to take his words with an open heart or shut the doors close.

She needs to turn away from him, her back to him as she takes in another gust of wind, she feels her heart give in, slowly, bit by bit, her tears that are demanding them to be kept all these years resurfacing, her childhood self seeing her father leave, just shy of seventeen seeing Diluc go, she tries to muffle the sobs that are threatening to push out of her mouth it was no use.

Dainsleif willingly let himself trace his gloved fingers down her arms, the sensation so foreign and yet so familiar for her, soothing her shoulders as she tells him a story in between sobs.

He knows Angel's Share has held many secrets throughout the years, whether it be passed from cunning treasure hoarders or utterly inebriated drunkards but this one, for he has only heard a mere half of it, the patrons are hushed at some nights, uttering that the uncrowned king of Mondstadt Diluc Ragnvindr left this land after mercy killing his father, they said he left a heartbroken young woman.

Yes, it has always been a question if she is the one left falling in between his fingers. The wind has answered the silent query as it lifted her cape, showcasing the burns she still refuses to heal.

"We…" Jean immediately corrects herself, tasting salt on her lips as her heads bows down, like the old citizens to an unflinching windstorm "I wanted a happy ending," every word she utters becoming softer and strained "He promised me he wouldn't leave like," the words in her mouth became hitched and strangled "Like my father." as if renewing all the pain and sadness all over again.

"In the end, I felt even more alone and even more abandoned than the Seneschal has ever done." She feels Dainsleif hold her closer to him, her back stumbling across his chest, his fingers dancing up and down, the attempt of comfort from a stoic man like him, makes the ache in her chest grow more intense.

"If I told you," he articulates in a low voice "A story where that divine person never left your arms would it finally put your heart at ease?" His words lull the daughter the seneschal left like they are a rich and velvet song. Jean knows herself to be someone prone to vulnerability despite having to be so strong all of the time, especially drawn to the little bits of attention that only a man can ever bestow on her.

She can feel his hands travel from her arms to her face to wipe the tears, as soon more follow. Jean prays to Barbatos silently for fortitude, to Amos for strength. prays to her mother drinking the only tea her father steeped when he was still in the mansion because what will she say to her if she knows that her daughter is now in the arms of a man she barely knows for a day but feels like he has known her, his entire life. The traitorous thought in her heart wants to tell her that maybe he has known her all along waiting.

Dainsleif leads one of his hands to trace around her jaw as the other grips around her waist. Breathing deeply and exhaling, letting Jean feel the motion with her back

"The story goes as follows when a princess lost her way in the world's darkness as she longed for days,"

He begins recounting his own tale of loss, thinking of the day he met Lumine, and how young they both truly were.

"Yearning for when someone could take her out of that misery and demise."

Remembering how she told him she does not know this world, and that she is scared and angry and all she could do is cry,

"For that thought of love and devotion had her mind create a divinity she was sure could save her,"

"I felt so lost and abandoned when Aether left me"

"And when the time came she met a man who gave her more than what the world could offer more than the riches of the earth as she was kissed by the sun herself." His voice sounds like an angel of music, and Jean feels like it echoes backward and undoes everything that has ever hurt her.

"The man told her that he would never leave her in pain and agony as other stories go, you would think that this wouldn't be a promise kept true to its words but to her surprise."

Lumine's laughter, the flowers in her hair, when they kissed for the first time.

"The man's love for her grew after each passing day, every confession was purely spoken from the heart," Jean's eyes flutter shut to feel every single word coming from the man behind her, to pretend that just for this once and today, that she was that lost princess.

"He meant every "I love you" he has ever uttered, even to this day standing." He finishes and it spreads and seeps into the bones of her marrows, never wanting to leave from her every inch of her skin, the rich baritone in her ears ringing like how it would sound in a cathedral.

But like Dornröschen or Schneewittchen who needed to wake up from their fairy tales, she needs to be too, no matter how painful it is, she pushes through "You loved his sister." she says gently.

"And I still do, I do not think I can ever stop," it explains why he was hellbent on love and devotion, explains why he even agreed to accompany Jean.

"You deserve every piece of love and devotion more than the wind could carry," he whispers against her.

She gently takes his hand from her waist, and ever so gently kisses his palm lightly as a sign of reverence and respect. "That makes the two of us Dain. You and I would always put others first, the people we love. She pauses to consider her thoughts and how she can be able to say them "You spoke of Lumine so tenderly, I know your love and devotion would override her thinking of your betrayal."

Dainsleif feels the soft kisses right in the palm of his hand are so inviting, full of respect and gratefulness and the woman's eyes flicker in understanding "You sought me out."

"Diluc Ragnvindr would understand why you didn't go after him."

"But I did," she exhales heavily, "I ran. I ran as fast as I could in my bare feet, it was raining so heavily I could barely see."

"But did he look back even for a glance, jean?

"He, he was gone."

"Then to him, you slipped right through his fingers but I know that in your heart you still loved him even after he could barely see the girl he left," He turns her around to face him and grazes her cheeks with the same respect back "He was absent in the years that you've grown into a fine young woman. There can't be more love and devotion than loving a man that has barely known you from when he left and there can't be enough love and devotion to be hellbent that you knew her from when you left her standing in the rain."

Jean leans her face into his gloved palm and nods into him, perceptive and beyond wise even if times are emotional "I see where you're getting at, you're telling me I was slain by a mortal god," her breath hitches, she knows where she is getting at, he just needs her to admit and be the one to say it.

"So will you be the one to make me see divinity in a mortal again?" knowing just how close they are, knowing they are alone together when no one can see them, being drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Dainsleif lets his hands answer her question in agreement, pulling her closer to him as he traces his hands down her back, he kisses her temples as she hides her face on his shoulder, letting deft and expert digits skim over the ribbons that tied her cloak carefully untying them while he asks her "Are you sure that you want to feel that divinity from my being?"

She closes her eyes and breathes, counting in her head from one to ten, saying a prayer of forgiveness, of kindness as his fingers already pushed the cloak off her lithe body, inching towards her corset. "Yes." she gasps under his warmth and touch, she needs it so much, that love and devotion he speaks of in her body, in every part of her.

As Jean consented, he presses lingering butterflies against her cheeks tenderly, carefully leading their bodies against the wall hidden from the view of anyone who dares to come close, untying the laces of her corset while she holds it firmly against her chest not letting it slip just yet, he leads to tug around the waistband of her leggings, letting it fall to her ankles, and the blonde leads one of her hand to cup over her core, he kisses her neck sensually, leaving the faintest of marks, leaving sensations against her soft skin.

Lightly sighing in contentment at the warm kisses on her neck, her body is reacting sensitively to everything, Jean moans his name on her lips still trying her best to hold her corset on her and cover her aching core,

He leads his kisses down lower to her collarbones pausing as he takes in the sight of her barely covered skin. The look he gives the Acting Grandmaster burns like the sun, it's impossible to look away. To look away means death to depart from divinity.

"Would you let me worship you and make you feel warm as if you were kissed by the sun?"

Jean nods at him "Please make me warm like the sun." moaning against the firm feel his of his fingers at her stomach. He presses on. Jean gives in to him.

There is an unspoken agreement between them. Boughkeeper and Dandelion Fang, only this once, only at this moment. They both have other people to love: a man of flames, a princess of the abyss, both turning and shutting out their sibling, trying chances at redemption.

When they danced and explored every span of skin, every tug and pull.

"Keep it." He says pressing a black handkerchief in her hands.

Jean couldn't do without giving him something of her own, she turns to look at her person and is saddened by the realization that she has nothing to give him back.

unless…

She plucks out one of Amos' unused dance cards and motions him to write his name in the middle.

Dansleif pens his name in as he chuckled to himself "I assume that the first and last dance has been filled?" as he gives it back to her.

Writing her name on the dance card to finalize it as hers, eyes twinkling at the remark "And the second to the last, unfortunately,"

"For his highness?"

The blonde woman blinks taken aback at the suggestion "For…Kaeya…" the Boughkeeper's implication is there.

"Khaenri'ah hasn't fallen not when he's still standing."

"I know."

"Let the stories of the ancient king thrive just like the ones he told you,"

She wordlessly fills out the other names in her dance card as the man in front of her continues.

"Love and devotion, there's plenty to go around for I can promise you that much."

After penning in Diluc's name on the first and last, Kaeya, Venti, Albedo, Aether, and her father, with Dainsleif in the middle, she presses a kiss to the dance card and tucked it in his waistcoat's pocket.

"The abyss will not touch you." he says burning in conviction "I will not allow it. So do the two men protecting you with their life, with your downfall comes not only your beloved nation but theirs as well. Ad Astra Abyssosque. To the stars and the abyss."

He then walks away from the acting grandmaster, leaving her with a history of love and devotion

/

The morning after, Diluc finds her drinking tea from the second teapot Amos owned, he traces the inscription and his eyebrows raise. "The Seneschal always told me this meant ruined, I could not correct it out of respect but you do know it means joined, right?"

"I know," Jean says, giving him a cup of sweet flower tea. Diluc and her father always preferred the saccharine taste burning pleasantly in their throats, tea made to aid in singing.

Diluc softly said something that only they can hear "I came home for a reason, you're my home,"

"Welcome Home, Diluc."