Chapter Text
Two years ago,
The winds carried secrets that year.
Mondstadt had always been a city that breathed freedom, but during the Windblume Festival two years ago, that breath had been strained—tightened by crisis that arrived all too suddenly.
Albedo was suspected of Murder
Strange Monsters festering along the borders. Knights were strained with overtime on the field. Even the adventurer's felt their comissions piling up.
Through it all, the Traveler stood at Jean Gunnhildr’s side.
The Traveler fought without complaint, without hesitation. He cooperated with the Knights of Favonius as if he had always belonged among them—moving between investigations and skirmishes, all the while windblume festival were underway.
Jean watched him work while she was busy with her job at the desk herself, She watched the way people naturally trusted him.
And Jean felt something she had tried very hard not to name.
The monster invasion crisis ended swiftly, thanks to the combined efforts of the Knights, the Adventurer's, some upstanding citizens and the Traveler himself.
Mondstadt was saved, again.
By the final evening of Windblume, the city glowed with lanterns and laughter, the air perfumed with flowers and wine. After Jean named Venti the windblume star she watched the bard perform a ballad with the traveler.
A moment later they saw glowing golden light from the headquarters.
Jean then went to the headquarters for a debrief.
Few hours later, Jean slipped away from the knights of favonious HQ, finding quiet outside the city walls at Windrise, where the wind hummed low and steady beneath the giant tree.
Aether always found her there, as he always seemed to.
“You should be resting,” he said gently.
Jean smiled, tired but sincere. “So should you. You’ve done more than anyone could ask even though we, the knights asked much of your faith in us.”
For a moment, they simply stood together, listening to the wind pass through the leaves overhead. Then quietly, carefully—words long held back found their way into the open.
Not a dramatic confession. No promises shouted into the night.
Just honesty.
Jean admitted what she felt, voice steady even as her heart wasn’t.
As she said, "I have always relied upon your companionship, though as a knight it pains me to accept my limits. But still thank you."
Then Jean continues, "Lately, I realized that I became fond of these moments, that I wonder... could I ask for a lifelong companionship with you?"
Aether listened, eyes soft, and when he spoke, it was with regret threaded through warmth.
He apologized—not for caring, but for leaving.
“My journey won’t allow me stay as I am still searching for her...,”
Jean understood. She always had. Still, the ache lingered when, days later, she watched him depart toward his destination: Natlan his figure growing smaller on the horizon until the wind carried him away.
Mondstadt kept turning.
And so did her heart.
Later that year she heard of his feats through adventurer's guild reports of him celebrated as a Hero called "Tumaini" in Natlan, fighting alongside Pyro Archon against abyssal calamity.
Present Day, 2 Years later — Inside the Grand Master’s Office
The Acting Grand Master Jean unfolded the letter slowly.
The handwriting was unmistakably bold, confident, slightly less formal. It was a letter from Varka.
Varka was reporting back to her from Nod-Krai. Saying that the abyssal calamity in north is now stable. And the expedition was over and the members were returning in waves. along with making some friends with the harbingers and an uncertain future in diplomacy with Snezhnaya, Varka asked Jean not to put Klee into Solitary Confinement in order to create good will toward Alice and her lot because Varka had went and used the favor. Instead he'd serve the time for Klee in Solitary. Finally Varka talked about the Honorary Knight, who went above and beyond expectations in Nod Krai. Varka asks Jean is there any honor they can bestow upon him?
Jean let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
A smile touched her lips: small, private, but surreal.
Two years had passed. Two years of letters and reports, of hearing his name carried back on the wind from distant nations. Natlan and Nod-Krai. Always the same story: the Traveler arriving, helping, leaving something better behind.
She closed her eyes briefly, fingers resting against the parchment.
Still the same, she thought. Always going above and beyond.
Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the wind stirred the dandelions outside the Knights’ headquarters. The place where she confessed.
Under the symbol of modstadt's hero at Windrise.
Jean straightened, resolve settling in her chest.
There was an honor Mondstadt could give him: one not written in ledgers or carved into stone. One that waited patiently, faithfully, as the city itself always had.
Several days went by in a flash,
Acting Grand master Jean Gunnhildr did not notice the warning signs on her deteriorating health without Barbara or Lisa.
She rarely did, mostly out of her rigorous work ethic she crafted early in her childhood.
By the next morning, Mondstadt’s paperwork had stacked itself into neat, unforgiving towers across her desk. Reports from patrols. Festival potential financial assessments. Trade permits. A half-written reply to Varka she had yet to seal. She moved through them all with practiced efficiency, even as her vision blurred and the quill felt heavier with every stroke.
When she finally stood, the room tilted.
The world faded with the sound of papers scattering like startled birds. Her senses dulled as her vision darkens.
Jean lost her consciouness for a long while.
Couple hours later Jean becomes aware to warmth.
Strong arms steadying her, a familiar rhythm of footsteps beneath her fading consciousness.
“Jean?! stay with me! Are you alright? I’ve got you, please talk to me!”
That voice. Even half-aware, she knew it.
The cathedral was quiet when Aether arrived, carrying her carefully past the doors. But fate was unkind with its impeccable timing. Most of the sisters were away on errands, the halls echoing and empty.
Aether hesitated only a moment before making his decision.
“I’ll take her home,” he murmured to Paimon. “She needs to rest. and needs to be looked after.”
And so Aether and Paimon took Jean inside her house. He laid Jean upon her bed as though she were something precious, an invaluable life. The curtains were drawn to soften the light. Her uniform was replaced with fresh clothes, folded neatly nearby.
Aether brewed herbal tea the way Lisa once taught him—careful with the leaves, patient with the heat.
Then he waited.
Hours passed. Mondstadt breathed on outside, unaware that its Acting Grand Master finally rested.
When Jean opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the ceiling.
Her ceiling.
Confusion flickered, followed by realization. The familiar scent of her room. Clean linen. A faint trace of herbs in the air.
She turned her head slowly.
The Traveler sat beside the bed.
Not standing guard like a knight. Not watching like a visitor.
Just… present.
His golden eyes softened the moment they met hers, relief washing over his features so plainly that Jean’s chest tightened.
Before she could speak, he gently lifted a cup.
“Have some herbal tea,” he said quietly. “Then eat this. You’ll feel better.”
Jean managed a weak smile as she accepted the cup, fingers brushing his. He didn’t let go too quickly.
His brow was furrowed, worry written into every line of his expression.
“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself like that,” he added, softer now.
“I’m fine,” she tried to say—but it came out thin, unconvincing.
Aether shook his head. “You weren’t.”
She drank. Warmth spread through her, easing the ache she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge. When she finished, he helped her set the cup aside, movements gentle, familiar in a way that made her heart ache.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy—with everything they hadn’t said in two years.
Finally, Aether broke it.
“Jean… about what you said back then. At last year's Windblume festival.”
Her breath caught.
He looked at her properly now, no longer hiding behind distance or standing.
“It’s okay to lose your way,” he said. “And it’s okay to feel weak. After all… we’re humans.”
Jean’s eyes trembled, moisture gathering despite her best efforts.
He continued, voice steady but thick with emotion.
“This time, let me be one of your pillars.”
Her heart clenched.
“And I’m deeply sorry,” he added, quieter now, “for leaving you for nearly two years.”
Jean swallowed her tears fighting against her emotions from bursting out, then let out a shaky breath.
“…You came back,” she whispered.
Aether smiled—soft, sincere, a little sad. “The wind always brings me to Mondstadt.”
For the first time in a long while, Jean let herself rest—not just her body, but her heart.
And outside, the dandelions stirred, carrying promises neither of them needed to say aloud.