# the alchemist and the runaway They first meet one on one when they are still in Monstadt as Lady Ola, still a fatui, and still *hiding*. Her first meeting with her knight at her side was uneventful, enough so that a second meeting was necessary for her to properly judge whether the Chief Alchemist was a concern or not. Generally distrustful of his craft and the way he measureed her horns and counted her ears all in one look, a second meeting of course had to be _necessary_ for her to make it. And... she was terribly curious. He didn't speak of his craft with the reverence of every other scientist they had met- even those unaffiliated with the fatui. It was a means to an end, an art yes, but a tool to be used and not exploited. No matter how many times she caught him staring, calculating, he never asked anything of her. He spoke to her with more respect than many of the other knights and allowed her to dance around topics with grace and acceptance. When they go to leave, hide away in the inn and keep the mask on all night, he calls to their back, "Lady Ola? If I may?" They pause, frowning out at the hallway before plastering on a careful smile, "Please, by all means Captain Albedo." They face him and cross their arms behind their back. He watches them for a moment before asking, "Why are you scared of me?" Septima keeps her face even, "Oh my, now what would give such an impression?" She asks, voice light. "Many of my fellow knights, those that you've spent time with, have recieved nicknames. But I'm still Captain Albedo to you." She looks at him as he starts listing off examples, "Your knight, the One-Eyed Knight, you use The Acting Grand Master's various titles in lieu of her true name. Even my sister has received a nickname, Fire Starter, was it?" They lean against the doorway with a polite smile. "Klee is your sister? Hm, I wasn't aware..." She trails off, "Well, if you're so interested in having a nickname I would be happy to provide. But I assure you, I harbor no fear towards you." Although he catches it for himself, he knows they see the small frown on his face. "Well, I suppose that is your decision to make." "Was that all you needed from me?" She asks with a forced but polite smile. He nods, albiet a bit hesitantly. "I suppose so. Will I be seeing you again? I can prepare some more information regarding your research...?" Septima turns back to face the hall, turning her head to mostly look at Albedo, "Perhaps..." She hums, before taking her leave. They don't go back. --- They don't go back, rather, Albedo comes to them. It's only a few days after the raid at the base of Dragonspine. She's still getting used to walking around without her mask, walking around as Septima, walking around a step closer to free. It suits her- or so people tell her. She has a wound on her leg that isn't healing properly. Jean has taken them through multiple healers, Barbara included, and they've started dodging her insistence to get it looked at again. Whatever it is, it isn't something easily fixed if the methods don't account for their... odd constitution, as they've put it vaguely enough that no one asks too many more questions. She's an expert at evasion but the injury takes its toll and it takes a poorly hidden limp and a teary eyed Aleks for her to accept that someone else needs to take a look. Jean offers to let Albedo take a look in her office instead of going to their lab in the knights headquarters and Septima just agrees once but they're pretty sure that they could fall in love with her. She has more clean-up to oversee but it gives them some privacy to sit on the edge of her desk, leg elevated on a spare chair. "Jean?" Albedo pokes his head in and pauses when he only sees them. "Oh, here you are." "Here I am." They agree wishing once again that they still had their mask when he stares. Instead of hiding they stare right back. His cheeks flush and he looks away, clearing his throat. "The Acting Grand Master is busy with what's left of the stand at the mountain." Albedo nods, entering the office the rest of the way and leaves the door open a crack. She feels a bit bad for starring so hard when they don't quite meet her eye anymore. "She informed me of an odd injury? I've been told that the healers were unable to take care of it." Septima nods, "Something like that. My best guess is an acid of some kind that reacts oddly to non-human blood. Can you close the door the rest of the way, Captain?" "Where is the injury?" They ask, setting down a small bag on one of the other chairs before moving back to shut the door. He doesn't lock it. In lieu of responding they stand up, careful to keep most of their weight on their good leg, and hike up their skirt to reveal an ugly purple and blue wound on the outside of their thigh. He frowns at the sight of it. "This has gone untreated thus far?" She matches his frown, "Not for lack of trying." He shakes his head, kneeling to take a closer look, "This should have been brought to my attention sooner. You'll scar at this rate." _One didn't want you_. They don't say it, but a familiar defensiveness rises to their tongue. Instead they shrug, "It'll blend in." Albedo almost laughs, "You adventurer's are always so blase when it comes to such matters." They sigh, "Pain on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst-" "Seven." She cuts in, "I've heard that enough times. It's a seven." "Like you." He says without thinking. His eyes widen but he keeps them trained on her leg. She raises a brow, almost offended, "Excuse me?" He hesitates, "Septima. The Seventh born." He chances a look up, seeing a complicated look on her face, "I- I heard it was your name. Was that wrong?" "Ah, I see." They look away. "Yes, it's Septima." "Septima." They repeat before reaching for their bag. "Can I take a small sample to test for a common poison?" She nods. "Alright..." He takes out a small glass slate and a dull metal scalpel. With a feather light touch he scrapes a small bit of half dried blood and slick pale purple drainage. He glances up to see if it hurt at all but her face is even- if only a bit tense. He spreads the sample on the glass and takes a small vial from his bag. He drips a green liquid on top of the sample. It sizzles and it all turns to the same vibrant green. They can't help but watch, a bit curious. He tsks and sets the glass to the side. He takes another small sample and tries it again with a orange liquid. It all turns clear at once. He thinks for a moment, "It's not the one I was thinking of, but it reacted similarly. It's likely an adaptation of the more common one." She hums, "Would it be easier to cure on a human?" Albedo raises a brow at the question but nods, "Likely, yes. The poison I had assumed it to be is quite simple to cure. Long term exposure, however, can lead to detrimental consequences. Luckily, long term looks closer to a few weeks or months." "Ah, sounds like I'm in luck then." They offer and he sighs but doesn't argue. "What next, then?" "I have a salve that should help pull out whatever is left of the poison. Once that settles, I'll be able to apply some additional medicine to help with the healing. You'll want to avoid any extended or ambitious play in the meantime." He explains carefully. She nods along as he searches through his bag again. "I've got some of the salve here and some bandages. I can apply it now, if you'd like, but I must warn that it will sting- a lot." Septima watches him for a moment, searching for something even they don't know how to name. "Go ahead." She twists so he has better access to the wound. Albedo doesn't argue, just opens up the small jar and takes a bit of the white paste inside onto a finger. "Sorry for this." He murmurs, carefully applying it across the wound. When she doen't react, he looks up at her. "Do you feel that at all?" They shake their head, "It's not very bad at all." "Huh." He shakes his head and returns to his administrations. "But the wound itself hurts?" "When I put pressure on it, primarily. It stings, but it's no worse than when the healers have looked at it." They explain. They can see that he has questions but he swallows them down. "I see." She watches him finish applying the salve with concentration in his brow. He bandages their leg and stands up, dusting off his knees. "You can lower your skirt, now." He tells her. They can't explain it, but their cheeks warm. Septima lets her skirt fall, fixing it back into place. Albedo pauses when he sees her face alight with gold and glitter. He tries not to stare and it's a miracle he looks away before she gets the nerve to look back. "Please return in a week for a follow-up. Lets play it safe and ensure nothing is left." He advises and Septima sighs, nodding. "Rest well in the meantime, Lady Septima." "Thank you, Captain." She says, it feels bitter somehow. He doesn't like the thrum of dissapointment in his chest on his way out. --- Jean offers her office again, but Septima declines. She'll go to his office, she assures Jean, but it still takes her a few minutes of staring at the door to knock. He calls for entry and she slips inside. "Is this a good time?" They call when they see him standing over a few vials, a glass over his eye for a better look. Albedo's head pops up, surprise clear on his face, "Oh, Lady Septima, what a surprise. Has it been a week already?" "Abouts, yes." They agree. In truth, it had been a week and two more days. She'd ran out of days that had been tolerated of her avoiding going for her follow-up. "Is this a good time?" He nods, "Yes, of course. Give me just a moment." He stands up and caps the different vials, pushing the table to the side a bit. "Here," He gestures for them to come to the center of the floor. He kneels next to them and comes face to face with their skirt. "May I...?" He looks up at them with a gentle smile. "Allow me to assist." They say, already bunching up the fabric with his assistance shortly after. "The bandages are clean." He gives a pleased hum, "When did you last change them?" "Yesterday before bed." He nods and carefully peels away the guaze. There are important questions to ask about her recovery but theres been one forming over the course of the week and change. "You're an adepti, aren't you?" For a moment he wonders if he was wrong entirely and all he'll have accomplished was offending her and- "Half." "E-excuse me?" He stutters out, blinking up at the blush on her face. "The blood of the adepti runs through half of my blood." She tells him, all while wondering _why_ she was. "What gave it away?" This way they'll know how to hide it better. She will have to cut her losses with the Chief Alchemist but there's something to learn from every failure. He points to his cheeks, "Your blush. It's gold." Somehow, they don't immediately blush. He's almost dissapointed. "The ears and the antlers match pretty close to descriptions of Rock Breaker. Are you familiar with him?" "A bit." He's their father. "You've done research. What else?" "Your reaction to the salve." He says, looking back to her leg and traces around the slowly healing skin. "The top layers of your skin are reinforced somehow. The muscle underneath is more sensitive, hence the pain when you put pressure on it." Albedo glances up again at their even expression. "I'll admit, I asked around a bit. I heard a great deal of your impressive fighting. Incredibly quick and agile, but still stronger than you look. Impeccable balance- do you often perch on top of your own staff? Or was that for show?" _There's the blush,_ he thinks to himself when her face glows. Septima looks up and away as he tends to the wound, "I won't attribute all of my skill to my blood." Albedo nods, a focused look on his face as he carefully cleans away the last of the residue on her injury. "Of course not. Do you ever wonder, though, how far your blood can take you?" "Excuse me?" He shrugs, "The limitations of your endurance and stamina, what your non-human features do to your senses, how much of your ability is adeptal blood, your vision, ecetera." Despite everything, they don't feel the usual rush of fear at his words. They hesitate realizing how much he's considered this, "Why are you so interested?" "I think you're fascinating." He admits. "Whatever it is that you're afraid of-" He talks quickly in case she tries to argue, but she's silent, "Me doing to you, you can set aside. If we were to explore your constitution, it would be a partnership." They raise a brow, "A partnership?" Albedo stands up once her legs is wrapped again. "A partnership. You seem knowledgeable enough to keep up. I see no reason to take sole responsibility for how to conduct our research." They blink at him. Just how much had he already planned, "If you're interested, you're welcome to return. I wish you well, Lady Septima." She barely murmurs a thank you before leaving in a daze. --- The first time she goes back she agrees to a prelimninary balance test. He sets up a narrow stone pillar barely a foot high. He instructs them to stand on their good leg- it's been properly healed for weeks but they listen anyway -and to balance as best they can. Nearly ten minutes go by before he starts to take notes. Her eyes widen, panic rising, and she remembers that she doesn't _need_ to do this. She hops off of the pillar and leaves without a word. He calls a concerned apology to her back and looks down at the halfwritten notes. He sighs and flips to a new page. _No note taking while subject is present._ --- A month passes before she returns again. Her display from last time still plays over in her mind. Call them subborn or over compensating, but their mind is plagued with questions. Questions _he_ put there. What are their limits? How much of it is their own effort and skill and how much is her father and the golden god's blessing? He doesn't seem surprised to see her again and he sets the pillar up once more. This time, he sits directly across from her, hands in his lap and nothing to write on or with close by. They step up onto the pillar and stand straight with their free foot pointed forward as if something was also under it supporting them. Albedo watches for a long time and she stares right back. Not a muscle so much as trembles or twitches. "Extend your leg." He tells her. "Like so?" She asks, leaning forward a bit and extending her leg back almost perfectly perpendicular to her balancing leg. He nods and continues to watch. She loses track of the time that's passed, songs running through her head when she finisShes reading the spines of the books crowding the shelves, up until he checks his watch. "How long has it been?" "An hour since you changed positions. Nearly an hour and a half in totality." He sounds impressed, "It's as if you've just been floating. Are you strained at all?" She shakes her head, "Not very bad at all." It's true. They're more bored than anything. "Here, perhaps the test should be more efficient." Delicately, they lean forward and extend their leg further up. The angle leaves her skirt dangerously close to slipping forward. He stares, eyes wide. The truest thing he misses about taking notes during an observation is having somewhere else to look. It _should_ feel inappropriate but all he feels is warm and his mouth is dry. Nearly another half hour goes by before she finally has to adjust and her leg shakes a bit. It's nothing she can't recover from but Albedo stands up quickly. "Alright." He says, louder than he means to. He clears his throat when she looks up, face unreadable. "That's enough now." He says, quieter. "Oh?" She frowns but lowers her leg. There's a bit of relief in the motion. When she hops down from the stand it takes a moment to find her balance again. She thinks she sees a blush on his face, but perhaps it's a trick of the eye. ~~Or getting her hopes up. "I fear we'd be here all day. You've proven to have superior balance and flexibility." His voice cracks and both of their faces warm. "Excuse me." He runs a hand over his face, flustered. He takes a breath and continues, more composed. "Balance, flexibility, and core endurance. Barely a shake after two hours. I propose next time we test your stamina." She watches him avoid her eye. "Alright." Septima agrees. He nods once, barely meeting her eye and all at once she wants to kiss him. They quickly take their leave, "I'll be seeing you." He watches them go, dazed for the rest of the day. --- The stamina test a few weeks later dissolves into hurried kisses in the midde of his lab. Neither one quite sure who kissed who first- it doesn't matter. He came a bit too close, kindly offering her a chair between bursts of exercise. She was out of breath and pent up and he couldn't stop staring. He pulls back suddenly. "Wait, does Jean know?" She blinks and takes a breath as to not kiss him again before she answers, "Of course she does." It's true, she'd told her over half a bottle of wine and Jean had laughed until they kissed her and pulled at her until she was nothing but putty under her hands. "What does she think?" He asks before he can stop himself. They smirk, "That I have terrible taste." Albedo blushes, "Well, she would know." Septima gives an offended huff that he cuts off with another searing kiss. They're sure, somehow, that he's too warm and too clean of a kisser. It's a struggle to not kiss him immediately again when he pulls back a second time, pupils blown wide. "Does- does Sir Aleks know?" This time they're confused, "Why would Aleks know?" "Aren't you..." She laughs, genuinely. "I'm pretty sure I'm just not my knight's type." There's a flicker of recognition on his face and he leans close, "And I'm yours?" They snort, "Are you going to kiss one or-" --- He quickly learns that they're nearly insatiable when put to the test. They can go for hours and will take him however he presents himself. She has preferences, of course, and he prides himself on how quicklty he learns exactly where, when, and how she likes to be touched most. She's as happy on her knees as she is bending over his desk as she is with him under her while she uses him for her own pleasure. This time, though, he hikes their skirt up around their waist, strap pressing into her roughly. She gasps and pushes her hips forward until he bottoms out. They can't get enough of him as is, but he wanted to try the strap on them. Before they'd been the only one to use it, happy to fuck him until he's left babbling their name and begging to finish. She lets her head fall back against the wall with a whine when he stays still inside of her. "Fuck me!" They order but he just smiles and shakes his head. "No. Hold still." They grit their teeth and try to roll their hips against him. He holds them in place with startling strength. "Hold still or we're done for the night." She glares up but stays in place. The wait is painful as his eyes roam over her. She hates how helpless they are under him. _"Let us see what happens when you let go. No control, only stimulation."_ Why did they agree to this? It's torture. They keep their eyes up at the ceiling. He'd wanted to blindfold them, narrow down the stimulation, but a firm and quick _"No."_ had him rescinding it entirely. There were few things she was opposed to. He took the no and held it like a promise. _"No blindfolds."_ He'd wondered if she would throw something back, say that if he wanted, _he_ could wear one. Her silent nod says more and he replays her _"No"_ over and over again until he's sure he could pick it out no matter what. For now, though, they keep their head tilted up to try and block some of her sight out anyway. Her chest rises and falls in shuddering breaths as he looks her over. "Has anyone ever told you how you look like this?" He asks casually. Something caught between a laugh and a whine leaves her throat and her face burns down to her chest. "You're covered in gold." He breathes out, "In my work gold means perfection." He reaches his hands out and trails them up her stomach, fingers dipping in between carefully toned muscles and up to her chest. "Bedo..." She whimpers, "Please..." He doesn't answer but he palms at her breasts, his hands roaming over them and he can't help but smile at the way her nipples perk up and harden under his touch. "The cold barely bothers you but a touch from me has you all tightened up." He flicks one of her nipples and it takes considerable effort to not pull his hips back and slam back into them at the moan she lets out. Albedo rolls them between his a finger and a thumb each, leaning down to pepper kisses along her stomach. "You're practically perfect." He hums, biting at the glittering skin between her breasts. He pulls one hand away from her chest and brings it down just above the strap to rub at her clit. He does it in slow motions- just shy of how they want it. It's nowhere near enough to get them all of the way and he knows they _hate_ it. He teases her until there's tears in her eyes and her clit and breasts are tender from the stimulation. She's been begging him to give her more and more and more for long enough that he's lost track of the time. He stands up straight finally and she lets out a sob when he starts to pull out. Septima slaps a hand over her mouth, humiliated that they've been reduced to crying. His hand takes their wrist in a sharp grip, "No hiding." He chastises her lightly. There's a hint of concern in his voice and she's quick to assuage it. "One won't hide, one promises!" They insist, letting the tears flow properly, "Please, please prince, please fuck me!" She begs, not daring to look up at him. "Please, Bedo, one wants it- _needs_ it." He can't help a fond smile. It's best that she doesn't see it, lest she think that he's gone soft and can take back some control. Before they can beg again, just as he sees their mouth part open with another plea, he thrusts back into her and revels in the cry that she gives. Her back arches off of the table and her knees rise up. For a moment he thinks that she's going to wrap her legs around him, one of them nudging against his hip but she catches herself and makes sure they stay pointed out. "Good, my fox." He hums and pulls out again until the strap threatens to slip out entirely. They scream as he starts to piston into her at a bruising pace. The noise is like a siren's song and he fucks into her hard and fast, chasing something larger than he can't quite name but each moan and plea of his name gets him pushing deeper and deeper. The base of the strap nudges perfectly against his tucked cock with each thrust and he knows he's dangerously close just from watching and listening as he'd teased her. It would hurt if he hadn't spent so long resting inside of her. Now he's able to slide in and out without even a hint of resistance. He's not sure he'd have been able to stop even if there was. They liked when they had to ride out the pain, promising that the slow ascent into pleasure was enjoyable for them. He had to trust them, they'd insisted that he couldn't second guess them. He couldn't make decisions about their research without their consent and input. It was the only thing that made this work. Even now Septima could be on edge enough to run away the second anything rubbed her the wrong way. He felt sick anytime they'd go pale at the thought or mention of any more traditional tests. It took months of working together to build up to her letting him take physical samples and even longer for her to keep her breaths in rhythm when he so much as reached for a piece of paper. She never talks about it and he never asks. Some things can go unsaid. He's picked up more than enough just in working with her that _something_ had happened, maybe to her or maybe to someone else, but she knew exactly how dangerous his work could be. How dangerous it could be for his subjects. And, eventually, she trusted him anyway. By the time they've both caught their breath and wiped down each other- and he got them off one more time right when she thought they were finished for the night with nothing but his mouth cleaning her up -he almost wishes he could ask her to stay longer. They wouldn't tell him what they were off to do, but he knew they weren't going to Jean or anyone else. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in testing your lung endurance?" He asks as they lace up their boots, blouse only half tucked into their skirt and the blush down their face and neck still hadn't yet faded. Expectedly, she grins, and his stomach does flips. "What do you have in mind?" --- "I read that most adepti have a special name." "That's correct. Most do." "Do you?" "No. One was offered, but one left before one could accept." "What was it?" "...Frost Singer." "Frost Singer? You-" "Not anymore." --- Every few minutes he taps the back of her head, a warning before he grabs her hair and pulls her further down his cock, letting her take over until he taps the back of her head again. His cock is warm and heavy in their mouth. Just a few minutes before he'd grabbed the back of her head and fucked her mouth until she tapped twice on his thigh. "Excellent work." He said, less like praise and more like a observation. They moaned around him, palm still pressed against his thigh for leverege and he matched it with his own. He holds them there even when his thrusts stop. "What a sight..." He whispers to her, running his hand gently through her hair as she hums around him. "Are you still touching yourself?" Septima hums again taking her hand from his thigh to pull up her skirt. Their hand is soaked with hours of lazy fingering. Their wrist is more sore than anything else, jaw and knees included. They hold up their hand for him, whimpering with their nose pressed against the coarse hair around his base at the empty feeling her fingers leave. She purrs proudly around him despite it, eyes half lidded and glazed over, as if telling him how good of a job she's doing. His mouth parts slightly seeing her like this. How they can be on their knees, mouth full, dripping onto his carpet and _still_ somehow appear more in control than him, he will never have an answer. He can't stand it. He can't stand the tracks of drool going down their chin or how utterly debauched they sound each time he rewards their patience with lazy thrusts. He takes the lengths of their hair in his hand again and pulls her off with one swift tug. Her lips are as wet as her fingers as she catches her breath. The sight of his own precum on their tongue and the sudden cold without their mouth to keel him warn sends a shiver through him. It's almost enough to make him finish. Septima frowns up at him but there's mischief in the way they keep their skirt up and continue to slip their fingers in and out of themselves. "One wasn't done." She pouts. Albedo rolls his eyes. He checks his watch and presses two fingers to her pulse. Their breath stutters as they watch him count, mouthing the seconds. "I'll record the results later." He tells them as he leans back in his chair. "Get up and take care of yourself." They smirk and duck out from under his desk. "This was terribly inappropriate of you." She hums, settling on his lap. He gives a low moan as they slowly rock against him, wet cunt dripping onto his cock. "Captain Lawrence could have easily asked you to go along with her expedition. What would you have done then?" Eula had stopped by his office forcing him to still his thrusts and attempt to maintain a brief conversation with her, making up an excuse as to why he couldn't follow her forward. Septima had stayed still despite wanting to tease him. How easy it would have been to slowly suck him in further, cheeks hollow and warm, pulling back just enough to still need to breathe through their nose- they couldn't ruin the test, of course -but enough to get him to squirm. She stayed still. The inclination to get a rise out of him outweighed by not wanting to get caught herself. Getting caught means it's more than it is. It's just sex. They just have sex. "I'd have asked for a few minutes and used you until I finished and I would have left to go with her." He tells them matter of factly. "Are you going to take care of yourself or do you need my assistance?" She rolls her eyes and lifts up to sink onto him. Their head falls back with a blissful sigh. "You can be so stuffy, Kreideprinz." They smile smugly when he pulls they closer and buries his warm face in thier chest. "You're so charming when you're shy." She teases. She starts to bounce on his lap and as much as she wants to keep teasing him, she's quickly overwhelmed trying to chase her own release. "Close." She mumbles as he bites at her sternum. "You don't need my permission." He hums but she takes it like it's permission. She stifles her moans against her hand, almost forgetting that she has to. He lifts her up and gives her his hand to ride out her orgasm, pumping his hand over his cock to follow soon after. He bites harder against her chest to cover his own cry. It's a secret to most. It's _their_ secret. --- "My apologies if that was embarrassing for you..." "What? The Cavalry Captain walking in on you on-" "Yes! That!" "You're quite adorable when you get so flustered, Kreideprinz." "I like it." "You like...?" "When you call me that." "Well, you wanted a nickname, didn't you?" "I suppose so..." "One likes it too, _Kreideprinz_." --- They start going to his lab on the mountain. She hates the walk there but his lab is kept warm by fire and far from where the stand at Dragonspine had taken place. There they turn out to be far more reckless. They test her response to the cold and it's Albedo who taps out even layered up while shes barely in more than a slip. It's only their third time there when she gets a moment to look around properly. Before he'd kept them busy enough to avoid the opportunity. Today one of his other projects needed unexpected tending to and they couldn't start without him to see how long she could keep her balance atop ice while he ate her out. Not all of their tests were very well thought out. Something in them feels slowly pieced back together with each test and exercise and each "test" and each "exercise" and they don't know what to make of it. He's stood over a line lf test tubes furiously writing things down as he settles the substances inside. "Is it salvageable, prince?" Albedo blushes but assures her, "Yes, it doesn't seem that any of it is ruined. I'll adjust a few things next time." He offers an apologetic look, "I shouldn't be distracted much longer." "Don't feel compelled to rush." She calls over. One has plenty to snoop through." They chuckle at the bemused look on his face. If he'd stopped to think for more than a moment, he would have told them to stay put. If he had _thrown it away in the first place_ it wouldn't have been an issue. Instead, he's too distracted at his failing experiment to keep a closer eye on their self-admitted snooping. There's plenty for her to look at in his lab, as small as it may be. It's cramped along the walls of the cave, an attempt to leave space for his experiments and for their... activities. Most of it are things they're used to seeing around him. Countless stacks of notes, a seemingly endless supply of books on alchemy, the stars, ancient science, and so on. They've known for some time the extent of his knowledge and his experience. He's old, like them. He knows secrets, like them. He spoke of the world like it was a mystery only he could solve. Something about the sky and it's stars that would answer all of his questions. Answer all of the questions he was meant to ask. _Where do I come from? Is this world all we have? How do I live?_ Her eyes catch on something tucked in between a stack of books and jars filled with substances that never fail to make their stomach turn over. They don't bother to ask him for permission they wouldn't end up getting before reaching out to grab it. It's a mask, they realize, _their_ mask. The sight of the crack along the bridge of the nose from their very first day of training sends a jolt of panic through them. It's her mask. It was never lost to the snow around the perimeter of the mountain it was _here_. _He_ had it for maybe even the entire time. "I can explain, Septima." She turns to face him and pretends her hands don't shake around the mask. "Alright, then." It's obvious on his face that he _can't_ explain. He doesn't have an actual reason. "I found it after our second meeting. It was a genuine accident. The snow drifts must have taken it further up the mountain. I recognized it as yours." "Why do you have it still?" He can't get anything out of their tone, no inclination of how she feels. How mad she might be. It was a fair question. It had been nearing a year since the raid. "I thought that perhaps one day you'd feel the need to face your past. I hoped it would be useful to you, if nothing else." Her hands shake again and he frowns, "I'm-" They toss the mask to the ground and approach him in three quick strides, hands grabbing at him to pull him into a rough, bruising kiss. "Septima!" He moans when she pushes him to the edge of one of his work tables. Within minutes they're on their knees, their jacket protecting their skin as they lick and suck along his cock and warm opening. He's already struggling to hold himself up as she does everything she can to pull him apart at the seams. It's not about their experiments, not now, not as she whispers praises into him and takes total control. Control she didn't know she needed no matter how much she wanted it. Control that he's more than happy to hand over to her. "Please just-" His voice cuts off when she curls a finger up and into him. "Tell me what you need from me, prince." She coos up at him and he doesn't know what to do about the adoration in her eyes. "Everything." He says, barely more than a whisper. They smirk, "By all means, if that's your wish." They don't leave the mountain until late the next day. She leaves the mask with him. A month later, she also leaves Mondstadt. --- When she returns, somehow more alone than she was while away from Mondstadt- away from _him_ -he waits for her to come to him. They were the one who left, after all, leaving nothing more than a hurried note under his door. _One will be home soon, on one's honor._ _-Frost Singer_ He's angry, he wants to be angry, he's devastated, he's sick, he prays that the heartache subsides. Kaeya comes to him and cries that Septima is _home_ but Aleks is _gone_ and he hates the way he looks this broken. He stays with him all night and then all day and then for two more days as everyone regroups. He waits for them, but they never come. It's so much worse than when she was still Lady Ola and she walked out of his office as much of a mystery as she still is. In the year since they left, he's realized that despite everything he's learned he still knows nothing about how they work. He knows how to get her off and how her voice sounds singing his name. He knows that they won't wear a blindfold but a gag is more than fine but he prefers when they'd go to his lab on the mountain where he could hear her as much as he pleased. He knows that her sister hates her for joinging the fatui and that she does too. Her eldest brother is blind but the kindest man she knows. Their parent was taken by the fatui but the family got them back. They used to sing but stopped and he doesn't know why but apparently no one does so he never took it personally. He knows that they never really stopped singing because every word is music to him. Her favorite food comes from Liyue but he knows she stopped tasting through the menu at Good Hunter once she found a new favorite. She's been to every part of Teyvat and knows secrets about the world that even he doesn't know. He doesn't need to know, either, because she says as much and he trusts her implicitly even after she left but he wonders all the time if one day she'd tell him anyway. He's not sure if he loved them before they left or if he loves them now that they're back, but he's certain he needs them. He gives up after a few weeks of waiting around and asks Jean where she is. The Acting Grand Master is exhausted from trying to hold everything together but there's a relief when he asks where to find Septima. She points him to one of the spare rooms that Septima and Kaeya have taken over in a quest to find their knight. "Please, be kind to them." She calls to his back, "She needs it more than every." He doesn't knock, he opens the door and she has a dagger pointed out and a look of terror on her face. The metal clatters to the ground as soon as she sees that it's him. She looks different now. Her hair is choppy and uneven and there's a larger scar across the bridge of her nose and she's _exhausted_. He's not sure he's ever needed them as much as he does the second he sees that they're really _here_ and they're _safe_ and _alive_. She tries to say something that start with, "One is _so_-" but he doesn't want to hear it. He approaches her in quick strides, just like she had at Dragonspine when she found the mask, and he takes control. "Albedo, one-" Albedo pulls back enough so he can look them in the eyes. "I don't care. I don't want to hear any of it right now. You left, you were _gone_." He hates that he wants to cry. He hates that he _will_ cry. "I don't want apologies right now." Septima searches his face for something they don't understand, but they do. They understand the heartache. They've always been the one to leave but in the time away... It all feels the same now. The distance, the fear, the not knowing whether they were safe or even alive. "What do you want, then?" His breaths come in deep heaves and he kisses them again instead of giving a proper answer. It's enough of an answer for them to give in. Whatever he wants, whatever he needs from them, he can have it all. He fucks her against the wall, not daring to disturb the mountains of notes and maps on the desk. She sings under him and clutches him closer and closer until he turns her around and presses her face down into the spare mattress. She cries his name again and again and again and again and- "Kreideprinz, please..." There's something scared in her voice and he flips them over in one swift motion and stills. "You're crying, my prince..." She reaches up a hand but hesitates as if afraid he'd pull away. "I'm sorry." He gets out, a sob cutting it in half. "I'm angry. I'm _so_ angry, Septima." Her face softens and she grabs his arm and pulls him on top of her, "One knows, one understands." They tell him, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "One is so sorry." "If you ever leave like that again, I won't forgive you twice." He mutters against her shoulder. "One isn't going anywhere. One is... home." --- "Does Kaeya know?" "...Of course he knows." "...What does he think?" "That I have awful taste." "For once he's right."