Archive of Our Own

Kaveh returns home after a long desert trip. His excavation and examination of ruins unearthed from the sands was a study in frustration and disappointment. Not two days into the study, a great tremor wracked the area, and the buildings collapsed upon themselves. Thankfully no one was hurt; the survivors had been in the foyer only and rushed out at the first signs of trouble.

After another two days of attempting to salvage what they could, they had to throw in the towel and pack up to return. Little was able to be discovered from the rubble and they had not the tools to do any extensive digging. The difficult journey back was made all the more sour by their lack of progress.

However, after stopping at Aaru to restock and rest, it was a shock to hear that not only had their site been shaken by the tremors, so too had many other places. It seemed the whole of the desert had weathered through some kind of vast but relatively minor earthquake. The cause had yet to be determined, but a few eager Spantamad scholars had already set out with their equipment to try and figure it out.

It's of little interest to Kaveh though, whose battered and weary body longs only for a good meal, a long soak and at least a few days of rest. Mehrak isn't much better, having done much scanning of the ruins and surrounding areas at the site, and then again at Aaru to help put to rest any fears of the villagers that their structures were impacted in some way by the earthquake.

Mehrak floats away to her charging station for a well-earned rest. Kaveh drops his bags in the doorway and takes a deep sniff. It smells delicious. Is Alhaitham cooking? And then he freezes, because against all odds, there's a voice drifting from the kitchen, singing, and that voice is none other than Alhaitham's.

Did Kaveh hit his head? He touches his skull and finds no bumps. Did Alhaitham hit his head? As lovely as his singing is, Kaveh has never heard him so much as hum.

He slinks towards the kitchen. Food is piled up everywhere. Every available surface is covered with completed dishes, curries and pilaf, shawarma, samosas, falafels, some kind of fancy salad with cheese and pomegranate seeds, flatbreads and chutneys. In the middle of it all, is Alhaitham at the stove stirring yet another pot, still carrying the same tune.

"Alhaitham...?" Kaveh asks, bewildered. "Did you hit your head?"

Alhaitham turns. "Kaveh, were you not due to return at least a week from now? What circumstance cut short your expedition this time?"

His face and tone are all off, pleasant almost. It's giving him the shivers, in a not nice way. He looks alive though, in a way he never did before. Were his skin and eyes always so bright?

"The ruins collapsed," Kaveh explains. "Don't dodge the question. We both know this is strange behaviour for you. Look at all this food! What army did you decide to supply and why are you so happy about it?"

Alhaitham surveys the feast spread across the kitchen. "I was hungry," he shrugs.

"You were... You were hungry..." Kaveh stares at him. "This is all for you?! Have you been to the Bimarstan? Did you hit your head and have a change in personality and reason?"

Alhaitham sighs, sounding more like himself. "On the contrary, I am feeling much better than I have in many years. I was until recently very unwell, and now that it has been cured, I am feeling much uplifted in energy and mood."

"Wait what?" Kaveh frowns. "What were you unwell with?" He tries to think back on any unusual behaviours, but until today, Alhaitham had been acting as he always has.

"You could say it was a rare type of Eleazar."

"Eleazar?" Kaveh yelps. But he never saw the telltale scales, nor noticed any other symptoms. "I thought that all was meant to have disappeared. Everyone who had it was cured a while back by Lord Kusanali?"

"As I said, it was a rare type that could not be cured the normal way." Alhaitham turns the stove off, deeming whatever is in the pot as done.

"I- I never noticed," Kaveh admits, feeling a rush of guilt. Eleazar is a painful disease that causes nerve damage and progressive and slow death. Alhaitham must have been covering it up on purpose all these years somehow without anyone knowing. Still, Kaveh was once his best friend and he never knew.

"What good would it have been to speak of it? There was nothing anyone could have done, save for our Archon."

"What type was it, can I ask?"

Alhaitham thinks about it as he starts eating. "I suppose you could describe it as mainly affecting the inner organs."

Kaveh freezes in horror. It's common knowledge that Eleazar causes ulcers and necrosis of the skin. On the internal organs though... He can't imagine the kind of agony it must have been. He never knew. A deep well of sadness and regret yawns in his gut.

"But... You said you're cured now?" Kaveh chokes out.

"That's right. I've made more or less a full recovery, though it will take some time for my energy levels to return to normal."

"How long?" Kaveh asks, unable to get the whole sentence out. How long have you been suffering without complaint, without hope for a cure? How long have you been dying?

Despite his lack of context, Alhaitham understands his question. "Longer than you've known me, if that's what you're wondering."

So even back then. It explains the man's short temper at times, and what Kaveh thought was laziness. But who could blame him? If you're slowly shrivelling from the inside out, who wouldn't be tired and grumpy? In hindsight, Alhaitham has been downright wonderful given his condition.

"I can already sense you stewing in guilt over this matter, which truthfully has nothing to do with you. Has anyone ever mentioned that it's very self-centred of you to blame yourself in some measure for every slight?"

Kaveh opens his mouth, an instinctive rebuttal about empathy on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back. It doesn't seem fair to jab at it. How difficult has it been for Alhaitham to do any of the things he does? Just living from day to day must have been excruciating.

Alhaitham sighs again. "You're overthinking it again. If you're going to stand there and take up space in the kitchen, you might as well eat." He picks up a bowl of dal and pushes it into Kaveh's hands along with a spoon. "Having too much empathy can be paralysing. It's the human body's defence mechanism to not feel too much about every disaster. It's how the species move forward regardless of tragedies. You should learn to do the same."

"Are you seriously asking me to overlook this? Of course I feel bad! How many times have I made your condition worse with all our arguments?"

Alhaitham shrugs again. "I did not count."

"Again, I ask, how am I not supposed to feel bad about this?"

"Again, what good would it have done for you to know? All that would have accomplished would have been you walking on eggshells around me and treating me as an invalid, whilst changing nothing of my condition. Perhaps you could have adjusted your behaviour to be less difficult, but if you were going to do so, it should have not been out of pity." Alhaitham finishes off two dishes and goes for another. "I neither wanted nor needed your pity then, and still do not."

Kaveh eats in silence, plucking at the assortment of dishes. Alhaitham is actually a good cook when he can be bothered, but it's hard for Kaveh to enjoy it, weighed down as he is by this new knowledge. On the other hand, Alhaitham has no such issues with his appetite, and eats his way through the rest of the food somehow. Where does it all go? Kaveh squints at his stomach, but there's nary a bump, just his usual washboard abs. How on Teyvat?

"You weren't kidding about being hungry," Kaveh says at last, impressed despite himself.

"I was not," Alhaitham agrees. "You should wash up and sleep, you look dead on your feet. I will clean up the kitchen when I return."

"Where are you going?"

"To the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Nahida invited me for afternoon tea."

"You're going there to eat?!"

"I'll buy dinner on the way back too."

Kaveh splutters. "How? How?"

"Bye."

Nahida sits across from Alhaitham. "You know why I've invited you, don't you?" It's been a few days since she and the Traveler paid a visit to Apep, all the better to give Alhaitham time to recover before this conversation.

Alhaitham picks up a plate of halva and digs in. "Yes."

"Sometimes I feel like I've figured you out and then you go and do things that are very contrary to my expectations."

"I've lived a very contrary life," Alhaitham replies.

"I can only imagine. From what I do understand of you, which I've realised is far less than I thought, we would not be sitting here if you had any ill intentions. In fact, I would go as far as saying I would not be free if you had ill intentions. Powerless as I was locked in the Sanctuary, you could have finished me off anytime and taken back your full authority. But you did not. You chose to save me instead. Why is that?"

"The simplest answer is that I was weak and unable to muster the energy to seek help for my condition until recently. The only way to undo the curse of my own making before I perished was to enlist your help, which you could not act upon if you were imprisoned."

Nahida studies him. "I have many more questions, but I do not wish to trouble you should you not feel like answering."

"I would be troubled if the God of Wisdom did not have any questions," Alhaitham waves her off. "You may treat me as you always have done. It's of no consequence to me."

"I would like it if we could remain friendly. I've enjoyed our chats and I hope you have as well. Though I admit it will be strange to be acting as your superior and Archon."

"If I had an issue with it, you would no doubt have heard my grievances already." He sounds as unruffled as any normal day.

"I will take your word for it, which I know is worth its weight in gold," Nahida says, pleased. "Now, I am very curious. What is Alhaitham?"

Alhaitham nods, like he expected this. "Alhaitham was but a baby when an experiment gone wrong wiped him and his parents out. I had spent millennia trying to muster my strength and had the plan to create an avatar that could live among humans relatively unhindered and one day search for the solution to my plight. I left my avatar at the site of the explosion and let him be found by rescuers. That avatar is me and I am both. This gem connects me to this avatar." He gestures at the green diamond on his chest.

"How interesting. I could not tell that this was an avatar, though your eyes are somewhat familiar to me. Deshret?"

"This avatar does contain some remnants of that which I swallowed."

Nahida pushes a dish of candied nuts towards him. "That explains the design of your clothes. I see a little of his civilisation in you. Have some more, I can tell your avatar is catching up on energy."

"Being connected to me from afar, it has been slow to recover, but recovering it is. I have faith that this body of mine shall be unhindered by the end of the week." Alhaitham pops the nuts in his mouth, crunching thoughtfully. "And before you ask, just keep referring to me as Alhaitham. I no longer use the names of old. That era is long over."

"Are you happy as Alhaitham?"

"Yes, I am quite satisfied being Alhaitham. Though it is not what I envisioned, there is a charm to humanity. I look forward to seeing their future."

That also puts to rest and lingering qualms about their respective positions. When she first heard Alhaitham's voice in the desert, she'd been initially shocked. To call on Apep and hear a familiar grumpy voice from beneath the shifting sands was enough to make her doubt her hearing.

"Five more minutes," he grumbled, sounding suspiciously like her scribe, but somehow more, the age and weight of his real body having a gravitas that his human counterpart did not. They had all stood in silence for a few long moments digesting, before Paimon started yelling about him hiding his identity and how could he think of hitting the snooze button at such an important time?

After getting over the revelation, it had been easy to coax him to let her enter the Heart of the Oasis to purge him of remaining corruption. And then he had merely thanked them, said he'd see them later, would be at work as normal on Monday and that he was going back to sleep. Typical.

"So if I were to ask you to accompany me to Fontaine for diplomatic reasons?" Nahida asks presently.

"Are you looking to have a buffer between you and the Iudex?"

"Given all of our respective positions, I feel that it would be helpful if you came along. Also, you'll get paid double."

"Deal."

Alhaitham treks out to the desert on two legs. It's a hassle given the impracticality of the human body for struggling up and down dunes and the propensity for sand to get into his shoes. Human skin is easily irritated by matters that would be trivial to hard scales. But his avatar was created to be as close to the human body as possible so that he could better understand humanity, and this means enduring such annoyances. Despite accepting this, every time he ventures to the desert, he still longs for armoured eyelids and the ability to slither without needing vision or limbs.

His real body is unsuited for the current era however. If just rolling over in his sleep is enough to cause large swathes of sand to shift, rising from the dunes to answer his Archon's call must have set off massive ripples. It's a shame it would have impacted many dessert dwellers, but the alternative was imploding and dying in a dendro explosion that would have choked out the rest of the world. As he said to Kaveh, it's a matter of perspective.

At any rate, he's learned his lesson about forbidden knowledge. There won't be a repeat of that particular folly. He let his unending curiosity get the better of him. Greed for knowledge is still greed, and avarice has been the downfall of many.

He's out pretending to be working on his ascension today. It's easy enough to collect sand grease pupae for show. His children don't mind him scooping up their young, and he can easily smuggle them back into the desert by shuffling the babies into his hollow belt for transport. The wenut too, are happy for him to come around once in a while and pick up shed pseudo-stamens.

He sits in a wenut tunnel and pats a quicksand eel, her pupae in his lap. The eel curls around the hard cocoons and rests her small head on his knee. Napping then. She knows she will not come to harm while using him as a pillow. He has to applaud the energy-saving move.

Not sick, not sick? Rot gone, rot gone?

"Yes, I am better," he replies, running a finger over the top of her head. The gem on his chest glows a little with the trickle of power required to communicate to his children.

Healthy good, healthy good!

And then she slithers back down, laying her head back on his knee and sleeps like the dead.

Well, he wasn't intending on moving for a few hours anyway. He can allow it.

A setekh wenut slithers past and then stops. Alhaitham watches the wenut rest on the sand for a few long moments before the body wriggles backwards. The head swings around to enter the tunnel he's sitting in instead. A pointed nose nudges his side. The wenut lies there, content.

Goodgoodhellogood. Longtimefarplace. Manythingsbusy?

"Quite busy, but not in a bad way. It's been a while since I've come out here." Alhaitham runs a hand along the drill head, finds an itchy spot and scritches.

The sand walls of the tunnel collapse a little as the wenut's tail wiggles.

Yesyesyesyesyes .

The wenut inches closer and tucks herself behind him, letting him lean on her. She goes still and then a deep rumbling vibrates the tunnel and his body. At least her snoring is rhythmic.

A consecrated flying serpent also glides over to join them.

"Are you here for a nap too?" Alhaitham asks, amused despite himself.

Naaaaaaap.

The serpent curls up next to him.

Alhaitham stretches out his legs, careful not to dislodge the snoozing eel in his lap. The consecrated flying serpent lays his head across his shins.

They're like a bunch of tired kids. Alhaitham sighs. Might as well sleep since they all are. He's supposed to be gone for a few days anyway. He settles back into the wenut and lets sleep take him.

When he wakes, the number of tired kids has multiplied. His lap is a mess of sleeping eels, there are at least two more consecrated flying serpents, one of which has decided his shoulder was as good a place as any to rest her nose, and he can't see the sand walls of the tunnel anymore in any direction due to the setekh wenuts coiled around him. There's snoring in every octave.

His children are quite cute, he supposes. He should get some figurines of them to put around his house. Maybe commission a small statue.

Alhaitham sinks his hands into the tangle of eels and scritches randomly. How long was he out for? His avatar still needs its rest. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for him to have slept a few days away. The eels wriggle happily under his hands. Underground as they are, it's hard to assess the time of day.

It's fine either way. Being notoriously treacherous, it's not uncommon for travelers to take much longer than expected to complete expeditions in the desert. He can always say he was waylaid by wenuts. It's not even a lie.

The first eel that joined him wakes, raising her head out of the ball and booping his cheek in gratitude. It reminds him a little of his grandmother patting his cheek when his avatar was small and helpless. Away from prying judgmental eyes, he lets himself miss her.

It was easy to feign being a child at first. Finding the right level of connection to the avatar was difficult in the beginning, and meant that he was often crippled by the growing pain of his corruption. It took a few years before he was finally able to manage dampening the transmission of pain to the avatar so that it could walk and talk and do all the things human toddlers should do.

The humans conveniently wrote it off as trauma from the accident and from losing his parents. At least it meant he didn't have to pretend to remember or mourn them.

His grandmother though, she taught him how to be a human. She loved him dearly and up until her final hours, he thought she had no clue that he was anything but her grandson.

"Alhaitham, my sweet child," she rasped. A great hacking cough stole her breath for precious long seconds. It was a robbery, seeing as she didn't have many left. "I'm so grateful you stayed by this old woman's side all these years."

Alhaitham cradled her thin hand in both of his and squeezed gently, afraid that the slightest pressure would shatter her like a pane of glass. "What else would I have done?"

'Would' not 'could'. An important distinction. There wasn't any other option for him then.

Rattling wheezes wracked her diaphragm. Even after years of immersion as a human, it took Alhaitham several seconds to realise it was a poor excuse for a laugh. "I don't know how I would have coped... outliving all three of them that tragic day. You were..." Her voice faltered.

Alhaitham waited, wanting to give her last whispers the space to be. There was a realisation growing in his heart, a lie unveiled too many years too late. It was bittersweet.

"My little light," she whispered. "What... What are-?" She gasped for air.

"A dendro dragon, grandmother," he answered. "But more importantly, I am your grandson."

"Yes..." Her lips curled into a smile. "Yes, my grandson."

The energy in her was fad ing, as did the image of her, fuzzy and indistinct.

"Do not cry, my Alhaitham," she croaked. "I have lived a good life. Watching you has been such a joy. A dragon... I wouldn't have guessed... But I love you all the same. My child..."

Her final breath slipped away, taking with it the woman who had been his first and only family.

The eel nuzzles his face, perhaps sensing his sadness, and trills soothingly.

It wakes the other eels and soon they are all trilling at him and patting whatever part of him they can reach with their heads or tails. The collective noise in turn wakes the consecrated flying serpents and wenuts, who close in, finding any spare space around him and wedging into it.

If he were human, the mass of scales and goodwill would be suffocating. Instead, it's just a little funny. Alhaitham huffs, his grief mellowing. Animal therapy is a documented method for improving mental health for a reason, though he doubts the professionals prescribe an abundance of snakes.

Maybe he will stay here for a while longer after all.

Neuvillette recognises him on sight, his eyes widening.

"Hello," Alhaitham greets. He could have prepared something with more grandeur to meet his fellow Sovereign, but it's not his style. He is just a Scribe meeting the Chief Justice.

"Hello," Nahida says.

"Welcome to the Nation of Hydro. This is very unexpected I must admit." His eyes dart between him and Nahida.

"I imagine so," Alhaitham replies. "You'll have to excuse my ignorance, as I can't recall the world of old with much detail without my full authority. However, I have heard that the Iudex is impartial in all things save when it comes to spring water."

He holds up a case of glass bottles. They had to journey across Sumeru painstakingly collecting water from Vanarana to Avidya Forest and all the way to the Vourukasha Oasis. They even made a memorable trip to Ay-Khanoum that Alhaitham is very curious about. What secrets can Neuvillette taste from water that's been frozen in time?

"Thank you," Neuvillette says, putting the case next to his desk. "I noticed you arrived in tow of your usurper."

"Yes," Alhaitham acknowledges. "I have made peace with the new world and my place in it. I am here as the Akademiya's Scribe accompanying the Dendro Archon on a diplomatic trip, and as an old comrade of yours."

Neuvillette regards them both, no doubt weighing the choice of his words. It is he who is accompanying the Dendro Archon. "I see," he says finally. "Let us discuss these diplomatic matters then, and we can catch up afterwards."

As Nahida predicted, negotiations flow easily with him as an intermediary. The nations are friendly enough that it's not as if they're drawing any hard lines or trying to play a zero sum game. Alhaitham draws up agreements and amends them as the two leaders talk, occasionally giving suggestions. If it were any other high-ranking official from another country, he would have held his tongue, his opinion holding very little weight. However, in the Palais Mermonia, it seems his word is more valuable than that of his Archon's, judging by the way Neuvillette spares more consideration for it.

Several hours and rafts of paper later, they have a finished set of agreements, though marked up to hell and back. The last review and tidying of the documents will go through the labyrinth of clerks employed at the Palais, which will then be scrutinised by both leaders for signing, meaning Alhaitham is now officially off the hook.

Sensing that her part is done for the time being, Nahida excuses herself from the room.

Neuvillette opens the Vanarana bottle of spring water they brought and pours them both a glass. Is it supposed to be some kind of honour? Alhaitham doesn't know him well enough to tell. He sips the water. It tastes like dirt. It doesn't taste like an honour. An aranara probably walked in this.

"Would you care to fill me in on what has been happening with you all these years? I have not heard from you in millennia." Until today, is unsaid, but the message is clear.

Alhaitham explains his ambitions in attaining forbidden knowledge to continue to fight the gods, his deal with King Deshret, his subsequent contamination, the many years of agony, his avatar, the rise of the false God, and the cure. It's a long story.

Neuvillette mainly listens, infrequently chiming in with questions. When he's finished, Neuvillette sighs.

"It is with regret that I receive this news. Old friend, had I known you were suffering, I would have helped where I could."

"You needn't feel bad on my account. My plight was no one's fault but my own," Alhaitham sips the puddle water. "Though I will lay some blame on our departed King for the forbidden knowledge in the first place."

Neuvillette hums in acquiescence. "Very well, then it gladdens me to see you cured. I must ask though, that Vision hanging from your clothes, is that also a fake?"

"Also?"

"I've been informed that Barbatos and Morax gallivant around freely wearing faux Visions." Neuvillette's eyes glint like he finds the idea amusing.

"In fact, it is not. So convincing was my human guise that it was awarded a Vision. Nahida was abashed to find out."

Neuvillette's amusement grows.

They spend the rest of the afternoon catching up. It's pleasant, though Alhaitham finds himself tiring after the long day of talking. Still, he answers one last question for the day. Of course, anyone who knows his true identity would be curious, wouldn't they?

"I exchanged my power to shape the world for the opportunity to live within it. In hindsight, it is much more relaxing. And my children are doing well regardless. Now that I have recovered, I have few complaints," Alhaitham explains.

"Do stay in touch. I would like to know how your life among humans goes, and it would please me to hear from you," Neuvillette implores.

"Certainly. And if you are ever in the desert, feel free to pay me a proper visit," Alhaitham replies, and then snorts at Neuvillette's disgruntled frown.

Many desert travellers only move at night. The sweltering heat of day deters most, save the exceptionally prepared. Alhaitham does too, though for different reasons.

When he gets tired, he can hitch a ride with one of his children if they are near enough. It's not the kind of ability he'd like to advertise to others however, hence he only uses it at night.

Alhaitham clings to the back of a consecrated flying serpent as she skims over the sands. A low hiss alerts him to the presence of other people nearby, and he and the serpent hide in the deep shadow of a half-submerged ruin.

Two Fatui Skirmishers trudge past, dragging the body of a consecrated scorpion. As he watches, they approach a crack in the mountain wall and slip inside. With his sharp hearing, he picks up the sound of heavy doors being pushed open.

Cyno once mentioned in passing the Matra's investigations into a possible Fatui research lab hidden in the desert. Alhaitham specifically remembers this because Cyno was very angry about it, given that the suspected subjects were likely children. Though they scoured high and low, only remains were found, the sites empty of evidence. This cave is perhaps their latest hideout.

Alhaitham slides off the serpent and bids her farewell. If they are using consecrated beasts as fodder, he has no desire to provide them any fuel.

The tunnel is dark and winding. He treads lightly, sticking his tongue out a little intermittently to track the scent of the dead scorpion. When the sounds get louder, he ducks into a side tunnel, waiting for long minutes in the dark for the Fatui to finally emerge and pass back the way they came, now empty-handed, before slipping into the main passageway again and continuing on.

The stench intensifies as he slinks along. From the smell, the Fatui have been gathering every type of consecrated beast, all of which made this same sombre journey, and their final destination is likely ahead.

The tunnel leads to a room. Alhaitham presses his ear to the door to listen and casts his other senses beyond it. There's an odd presence beyond the door, like one of his children but not. It feels diluted.

Picking the lock takes a few seconds (security is a travesty everywhere), and then he's flinging open the door and ambushing the lone researcher looming over a bloody table.

It's a quick fight, made easy by the element of surprise. He scans the room, sweeping any papers and anything else that looks useful in deciphering what the Fatui were doing here into his bag, committing the rest to memory.

The scorpion on the table has been partially butchered, the meat separated from the exoskeleton, the white bony carapace set aside. A pile of similar white bones in a barrel suggests the research was related to but ultimately didn't use them, yet. An array of knives and other sharp implements for breaking down bodies hangs on the wall above the table, for use with the butchering. He can't smell any human blood on them however.

A large cage takes up the other half of the room and contains one frightened and dirty young boy. The size of the cage and the dark smears on the floor suggest that there were more children in there at some stage, though he can guess what happened to the others.

He pats down the researcher, finding a set of keys, and approaches the cage. The boy shrinks back in fear. When the light catches his eyes, they shine in reptilian lime green, his pupils clearly vertical, even dilated as they are and half hidden by the matted locks.

He hazards a guess. "I'm like you," he tells the boy, and lets the Dendro energy in his body build and accumulate in his eyes until they glow.

The boy stares at him.

Alhaitham opens the door and lets him out.

"Like... Me?" The boy whispers. His dark hair is streaked with serpent blood.

"Yes, and I'm here to rescue you," Alhaitham adds. "Let's get out of here."

When he offers the boy his hand, he clutches it so tightly his little knuckles turn white.

The boy doesn't have a name, at least, that he can remember. According to the Fatui's research, he's only referred to as SF7, which appears to be short for "Serpent, Fontainian, Subject 7".

As he suspected, the other subjects were failures and were discarded.

Alhaitham skims the rest of the papers, frowning at what he discovers, and then puts the cursed things back into his bag. No wonder the boy is in such poor shape. He mentally adds de-worming medicine to his shopping list.

The boy returns from where he was poking around in the water and hovers nervously. As instructed, he didn't wade in too deep, and his rusty stained pants are only wet up to his calves.

A haircut and a bath, even if rudimentary, have done wonders to improve how haggard the kid looks, but Alhaitham wasn't able to do much about his grotty clothes. No amount of scrubbing would be able to remove the soaked-in viscera anyway, so he did the best he could to disinfect the disgusting mess and made peace with the remainder. New clothes are a priority as well, higher than the de-worming medicine for now, if only because while he's quite certain children's clothing can be traded at Aaru Village, de-wormer, not so much.

"Come eat," Alhaitham coaxes. He killed and prepared the fowl earlier, while the boy was splashing around. No doubt the boy has terrible memories of animals being chopped up in front of him, and scant experience of freedom. Let him play for a bit.

Luckily, he managed to get quite a chubby bird, and the outside is crispy from being roasted over the fire in its own fat. Alhaitham rips off a chunky drumstick, and then pauses. The boy might be completely unused to eating hot food. He blows on it and then offers it to the kid.

Judging by the way the boy tears into it after his initial, careful nibble, he was right to cool it off first. He can't be any older than 6, by his estimates, but he polishes off both drumsticks and starts to eat his way through a very large wing before he droops.

Alhaitham eats the rest and then grabs an old rag to clean off his and the boy's hands. They are quite far still from Aaru Village, and his lengthy journey will be even longer with the child. He scoops up the kid, who is at risk of plopping face first into the sand, carrying him against his shoulder, and between one breath and the next, he falls asleep.

Alhaitham grabs his bag and slings it over his free shoulder. Time to start walking again.

The boy gets attached to him surprisingly quickly. During the day, the boy will clutch the corner of his cape in sleep, lying close and waking periodically to check that he's still free and Alhaitham is still there. At night, they travel and the boy starts to open up over time, asking him questions about everything. How do cacti live? What are the weird holes they passed by? Why are scorpions poisonous? And so on.

Alhaitham has answers to every question, even when such questions are followed by a long string of 'but why?' over and over. 'Why' is a good question and forms the basis of many discoveries. The boy clearly would have had little opportunity to know the why's of the world, trapped in a cage as he was. Until the time comes that he can point the boy towards his own answers, this is fine. For now, it doesn't hurt to give the boy the pieces he needs to form the puzzle and nudge him to putting them together correctly.

The boy is a good learner. He remembers the why's and the how's and all the names of the things for which he asked the what's, and the occasional who's. Even when his little legs get tired and he has to be carried, his brain still finds questions to run with until the rest of him gets tired and then he naps on Alhaitham's shoulder. When he wakes up, it's with more questions, like they were busy germinating in his head and sprout as soon as his eyes open.

"Alhaitham," the boy says hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Where are we going?"

It's the first time 'where' has made an appearance. Maybe he was too scared to ask.

"To Aaru Village, to get you clothes and medicine, if we can find it," Alhaitham replies, trudging up a steep dune. Scales, if only.

He feels the boy's arms tighten around his neck.

"What about after that?"

"Then it's back to Sumeru City."

"Me too?"

"Yes."

"What's going to happen to me there?" The boy's voice is quiet.

"We'll go to the Bimarstan first. It's where the doctors are, so they can check your health. After that, to my house, so we can wash up properly, have a meal, and then sleep in a bed," Alhaitham muses. "We'll probably rest a few days at least. This was a long trip."

"People will hate me though."

Alhaitham tries to think of the logic that could have taken the child from the conversation they just had to this conclusion but fails. "Why do you say that?"

"They said so. They said my eyes are creepy and I'll get chased out," the kid admits sadly.

"I don't think your eyes are creepy. Nahida, Cyno and Dehya won't think your eyes are creepy either. And people try to chase me out of the Akademiya all the time and it doesn't work," Alhaitham says.

It mainly happens when they get frustrated at his rejection of their poorly conceived, poorly written excuses for papers or forms, but it still happens. Some people also still hold grudges from his time as Acting Grand Sage, though that never works out well for them either.

The boy is quiet for a while. "Are those people your friends?"

"The people I named, yes. The ones trying to chase me out, no."

"Can I meet them too?"

"Yes, you'll be able to meet them all at some stage. They are mostly nice people." Emphasis on 'mostly', but it won't be a problem for the boy.

The boy is quiet for much longer this time, long enough that Alhaitham defeats four scorpions and two primal constructs. Flicking his sword away, Alhaitham pauses, sensing a change in the atmosphere. He tucks the boy's head further into his neck and keeps his hand there, holding the hood in place. The wind is picking up. A sandstorm? He hops into a nearby wenut tunnel just in case and comes face to face with a wenut.

"Is that a sandstorm approaching?"

Windysandyclose . Hidewait .

Good timing then. He walks towards the wenut, who curls her tail around them, and shifts her head to block off the entrance to the tunnel, shielding them from the gust and debris. Alhaitham gives her scaly side a scratch in thanks and sinks to the ground to wait, absently patting the boy's hair.

Indeed, he's not sure what will happen when they reach Sumeru City, past their recovery rest. The child probably has a family somewhere, who might be searching for their little boy, or more likely judging by the boy's lack of name and memory of them, grieving the loss of a baby. Tracking down who might have lost a baby, specifically this one, is harder than a child. Naturally, the boy looks very different several years in growth later.

He's sure Cyno and Nahida will do their own investigations, liaise with authorities in Fontaine, see if any cold cases of missing children can be linked to the boy. They might even find his family. But in the meantime, what happens to the boy? Investigations are lengthy when taking place years after the fact, let alone across borders and especially when the Fatui are involved.

Alhaitham can look after the boy. His job is easy enough and the hours aren't overly long that he could take care of him even while working, and he's sure Nahida would let him have more flexibility for childcare reasons. She'd be exceptionally generous in this case given the boy's trauma.

Believe it or not, Alhaitham likes children. He likes that they ask questions of everything, and will question all the answers that they do get. They don't accept everything at face value, they pick up new words, concepts and skills astonishingly quickly, just given the opportunity and a good teacher. But at some point, most children stop asking questions as they get older and start to believe they know everything already, and that's when his fondness for them ends - when they become arrogant and ignorant adults who let others think for them yet claim to have original thoughts.

So yes, he has grown fond of the boy in turn, and would have little issue caring for him. With them being attached to each other however, what of his family? If they exist and are looking for their child, then there's a high chance Cyno will track them down. The boy will then go home to Fontaine, presumably.

Would he feel abandoned, leaving Alhaitham? Would his unusual constitution be an issue if he returned to a home of normal people? Would he be more miserable there than if he had stayed?

Alhaitham has lived for a long time, but only a blink of his true eye has been spent with humans. He doesn't know the answers to these questions. What would be the right thing to do for the child?

He adds another item to the top of his mental to-do list as soon as they reach Aaru Village: write to Neuvillette.

The boy whimpers in his sleep. His shoulder feels wet. Alhaitham jostles the boy awake, who sniffles and looks around wildly.

"You were having a nightmare," Alhaitham tells him.

Wet with tears, his green eyes look like Dendrograna. He clings to Alhaitham and cries silently, his sobs intensifying as Alhaitham rubs his back.

"You're okay," Alhaitham reassures. "You're safe."

The boy shakes his head and fists his hands in his cape. He doesn't let go of him for a long time.

Old friend,

What is just and right is rarely so clearly defined and the issue of parental custody even less so, nevermind cases that are complex as yours. However, I had the Marechausee Hunters look into this with your timeline and found a likely case: a young family was ambushed while travelling to Petrichor for holiday. Both parents were deceased at the scene and the infant was nowhere to be found. The case remained unsolved for years due to a lack of motive or clues, and was ruled a random attack.

While I reread the case details and documents, I was unable to determine if a name was left for the baby, unfortunately. The couple had no other family we could find either, and perhaps that's exactly why they were targeted. It is grim indeed to know the likely cause of their demise was some kind of grotesque experiment. I have instructed the Marechausee Hunters to investigate using the information you have supplied and I expect a formal collaboration will soon reach the General Mahamatra . They have also opened old cases where children have gone missing, as we now know at least six other children were taken.

None would call this news happy, but it answers one of your concerns I hope. The child has nowhere else to go and has the essence of one of yours. By all accounts, you would be best placed to look after the boy, and from a personal and professional standpoint, I approve you doing so.

N

Predictably, Cyno is enraged when he learns of the experiments.

"The boy is the result of experiments into phagocytic energy, according to the deciphered research notes. From what I gather, the experiments aimed to imbue children with the ability to manipulate elements by having them ingest parts of the consecrated beasts, including drinking their blood, in combination with various other tonics produced by the Fatui. The idea was that as consecrated beasts evolved from eating immortal carcasses, it could be possible for humans to do so as well by then eating them, letting the consecrated beasts do the first level of 'filtering' the energy. The boy is the only one who survived this process." Alhaitham spreads the research papers on the table for Cyno to read in full.

Cyno pores over the papers, his expression flat, but his eyes burn with fury. "That explains the missing children in Sumeru as well."

According to the notes, at least five children were taken from Sumeru.

Cyno sits back, having sped through the papers. "So the aim was to find another way to manipulate elemental energy without a Vision, one more stable I assume, than the Delusions. I ask this not because I have a morbid curiosity as to the answer, but because it's important to know how far the Fatui will go to recover their subject: did they succeed?"

Alhaitham nods. He'd gotten scared that Alhaitham would be hurt during a fight with an Aeonblight Drake and blasted it with a ball of condensed air, only to burst into tears afterwards. Alhaitham had to comfort him for a long time, that he wasn't a monster and wouldn't be left behind.

Cyno curses under his breath.

"Did the boy-"

"Sylph," Alhaitham says.

Cyno blinks, but doesn't break stride. "Did Sylph show them his powers?"

"He says he did not, but we can hardly rely on that. If nothing else, the Fatui will want him back to find out why he was the sole survivor of this project."

"If they know, they will stop at nothing to get him back. To think that they succeeded..." Cyno crosses his arms. "You'll need a guard with you at all times for the next while."

At Alhaitham's grimace, Cyno insists, "Strong you may be, but you are still one man. If they take him-"

"If they try, it is they who will need to fear for their lives," Alhaitham replies coldly.

Clearly taken aback by Alhaitham's unexpected ferocity, Cyno stares for all of two seconds, which is long for the General in work mode. "Don't take unnecessary risks, Alhaitham. I'm going to have to override you here."

"Do you remember the earthquake that shook the desert?"

Cyno frowns at the sudden change in topic. "Of course. A group of students got stuck in a collapsed ruin and I had to be deployed to assist with getting them out safely."

"Is that so? In that case, I apologise."

"Why would you be apologising for that?" Cyno eyes him shrewdly.

"When Alhaitham was an infant, an explosion at a research site killed him and his parents," Alhaitham states, watching as Cyno's eyes widen. "I was far away from the blast, deep beneath the shifting sands, but time was running out for me anyway. I made this body and left it at the site, and became Alhaitham. Alhaitham went on to be a Haravatat scholar and eventually helped free the Dendro Archon so that she could cure me of corruption."

He can see Cyno trying to put the pieces together. The power to create a human-like body that grows and acts human, a being far away that detects a blast from deep under the desert, corruption, cure, the earthquake.

"Are you saying..."

"Yes," Alhaitham says. "A guard is unnecessary, believe me."

"So you could have defeated the Shouki no Kami alone?"

"In my defence, I was dying at the time."

Cyno thinks. "I see... I'm honoured that you've told me this. I assume Lord Kusanali knows?"

"You assume correctly."

"I can't say I'm comfortable leaving you without back-up, even if I now know you'd be more than capable," Cyno sighs.

"Your chasing up of this case personally is help enough. But I'll not leave the city for the next long while, to make things easier, unless of course, there is a need to lay a trap with bait."

"I would hope not, but given how slippery this group has been in the past, it may be warranted down the line. I can't imagine they'd be any less careful about covering their tracks now that you've broken into their lab and made off with their main subject."

"They do not know my face, at least. And Sylph looks quite different now sans dirty mane, blood and general air of misery. It will take some time for them to locate his whereabouts, but knowing them, sooner than we expect. Keep me posted, if you will," Alhaitham implores.

"Certainly."

The door opens and Sylph runs into the room, beelining for Alhaitham and clambering into his lap. His hands are sticky, as seems to be the norm for toddlers everywhere.

Nahida follows more sedately, a smile on her face.

Why are his hands sticky?

I took him for kulfi.

"Did you enjoy the kulfi?" Alhaitham digs a handkerchief out of his pocket, dabs it into his water glass, and starts wiping his hands.

"Yes! It was sweet and cold! I ate too quickly though, and it hurt my head." He pouts.

"They call that a brain freeze," Alhaitham tells him, stroking down the cowlick in his hair. "You eat too much of a very cold thing, and in short, your body tries to warm up very quickly by making your blood vessels wider to get more blood up here." He taps his head. "That's why it hurts."

Sylph scrunches his face, processing. Alhaitham counts to ten.

...nine, ten.

"But why?"

There it is.

"Well you know how when you're really cold, your fingers get numb and don't work very well?"

Sylph nods.

"If you have really cold kulfi near your brain, what do you think happens?"

"My brain stops?"

"Your body doesn't want your brain to stop, since that would be dangerous."

Sylph's frown smooths out. "Get it!"

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

"Very good." Alhaitham pats his head. To Nahida and Cyno, he says, "We'll be going now."

"Are we going home?" Sylph asks.

"Mhm."

Sylph slides off his lap and grabs his hand.

The walk home is leisurely and takes three times as long as when Alhaitham goes by himself, but he doesn't mind. Sylph is still curious about everything and wants to look at all the stalls. With his Grand Sage salary, it's a trifle to buy things for him, and so he does, purchasing toys and books and figurines that catch his eye.

Predictably, Sylph tires a few hours in and Alhaitham has to carry him home. He bounces the boy in his arms and tells him about the Akademiya. His son can choose whether and what he will join when he's older.

Later he will lure out the rest of the Fatui researchers and sink them beneath the sands so their bones can lie among the consecrated graveyards like they deserve. And he will return, and leave a cryptic report about the matter being resolved on the General's desk, signed with only an A. And finally he will go home and cook dinner with Sylph and teach him the recipes his grandmother passed on to him. It's not what he expected he would do as Alhaitham, but he doesn't dislike it.

It's nice to have family again.

N,

Thank you for looking into the matter of his origins. I'm not pleased to hear of his family's demise, but you are right that it was an important factor in my decision. I have decided to keep the boy, as you guessed I would. His name is Sylph. He has only a little of the essence of one of my children, but I have accepted him as my son all the same.

As I write this letter, he is playing with toys in the living room. I suspect he has no positive childhood memories and I intend to ensure that is rectified immediately.

He has been settling in well, though I'm certain that his poor upbringing will negatively impact on his mental state and emotional growth for a long time. I have little concept of how humans handle suffering from a practical perspective, and am currently amassing credible literature on the topic. If you have any insights into this from your long reign presiding over the court of justice, I would appreciate your counsel.

I will take leave from my post in a few month's time, to take Sylph on vacation. Perhaps I'll not bring him back to his birthplace on his first holiday, but another time we will stop by. It will depend on when he is ready and curious to see where his story began. Given his young age however, this may not be appropriate for him to know until he has more years on him.

In human terms then, it may be a long time until we visit, but to us, it will be but a miniscule fraction of time. With this in mind, I remember that his lifespan too will be a brief spark that burns bright and extinguishes just as quickly. I assume this is why you have maintained your impartiality all these years.

Sorrowful is the parent that outlives their child. But it is the price to pay for getting attached. I will pay it this time, and see where I end up. I'm sure you'll be interested to hear the answer as well.

Until next time,
A