The Dust of Dreams Never Fades

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/30895757.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)
Relationship: Venti & Xiao | Alatus (Genshin Impact)
Character: Venti (Genshin Impact), Xiao | Alatus (Genshin Impact)
Additional Tags: soft, Character Study, Romance, mentions of aether - Freeform, y’all
know that one official XiaoVen art? yeah, slight angst, Xiaoven
Stats: Published: 2021-04-25 Words: 3020

The Dust of Dreams Never Fades

by decaffae

Summary

He longs for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer
demons, but to the tune of that flute amidst a sea of flowers.

Notes

I got reaaaally stumped on this one but I did it and I’m not looking back

See the end of the work for more notes

The Traveler once asked if Xiao had any desires.

“Desire?“ Xiao allowed a single ‘ha!’ to escape from him. “Do not judge adepti by your mortal
ideals. I have no desire.”

Aether reassured him that Xiao didn’t have to hide it from him, as they were quite good friends
now. “Even gods have desires. Surely, adepti too…” Aether reasoned, prodding the sensitive
subject as far as he dared.

“Hiding? I'm hiding nothing. I just won't speak of desire to others. Do mortals not have a rule about
spoken wishes never coming true?” Apparently, Xiao’s case and the case of others were not the
same. Something about the Vision he wielded being the physical proof of an intense desire. A
question then arose about the time Xiao received his Vision. Xiao dismissed the question, deeming
the frivolous topic a distraction to the truly important matters at hand— like exorcising demons.

But if Xiao was to tell the truth. . . it would be that he doesn’t remember.
He gazes down at his glove, eyes contemplating the viridian gemstone set on the back of his wrist.
The Anemo sigil within glows softly, and staring into it is like a lullaby soothing his hardened
heart.

Since his conversation with the curious Traveler, he has found himself trying to recall the day the
Vision fell into his hands, a blessing from Celestia upon the yaksha. To a mortal, this memory is
unforgettable, but to Xiao, whose hardships and suffering had warped his once innocent and gentle
self; it is merely a tool.

Suffice to say, he’s had this Vision longer than he can remember. Though he is an adeptus, the
memories of two-thousand and more years are easily forgotten in his jaded eyes.

He rotates his wrist slowly, observing the glint of moonlight upon the gem’s glassy surface. He
sighs, knowing that this lack of memory shouldn’t trouble him. There were many times before he
looked upon this gift and felt nothing. He felt that he didn't need to know why he had the Vision, or
who gave it to him, and for what purpose. He accepted it with open arms in the first place strictly
because it was another tool to aid him in his eternal battle, not because of some “intense desire” as
Aether put it.

Yet his skin itches for an answer.

Xiao clicks his tongue in mild agitation. Looking up, he peers over the fields of Liyue. The wide
valley is silent, save for the gentle night winds that comb through the tall grasses. The lanterns
light the dirt paths and cobblestone bridges, dangling from distant buildings. Campfires dot the
terrain, the late night travelers finding refuge near the roadways and between the trees. A
movement in the ruins far beyond catches his eye, and he watches as a trio struggles to light a fire.
As he silently observes them, a breeze flits through Wangshu Inn’s balcony, caressing his skin and
gently brushing his hair. He hears the leaves of the great tree rustle, and he closes his eyes, taking
in the fresh air passing over him.

Venti…

This is the name the Anemo Archon now goes by as he walks among mortals— is what Aether
had told him. Xiao was struck in a moment of intrigue, learning that the god had reemerged in the
neighboring land. At the time, he had felt the changing climate of the world, but was too busy with
Liyue’s affairs to investigate Mondstadt’s, and even if he had learned of Stormterror’s raids on the
small kingdom, he wouldn’t have batted an eye. But now. . .

But now…

He sighs heavily, but the tightness in his chest isn’t expelled. A bittersweet memory flooded into
him, one of laying in a field, watching the sun rise over the mountains as the gentle flute washed
over him, the serenade erasing his pain instantly. All his wounds numbed, his lungs opened up
again, and his body felt as light as a feather despite weighing on the earth like a corpse. The voices
of the hateful gods and demons silenced, and every wretched strand of karmic debt that held his
soul prisoner snapped; and for once, since the day he signed the eternal contract with Morax, he
was at peace.

He felt it shameful to admit, even just to himself, but he longs to feel that peace again.

“Surely, adepti too…”

Xiao opens his eyes in annoyance. For a traveler who knows little of this world and its people,
Aether is insightful. Xiao wonders if the Anemo Lord’s namedrop was on purpose, an attempt to
nudge Xiao in the direction of exploring himself. Or maybe Aether knew something he didn’t?
Whatever the case, Xiao isn’t going to question him. The Traveler is rather alien to him, and
finding out his secrets would serve no purpose to the yaksha other than confuse him more.

Xiao sits idly on the railing, mumbling to himself in his mild irritation when his words die out and
he turns his head slightly. His mind is prodded by the voices, growing louder as they urge on
whatever evil manifests itself beyond the mountains. They seem much too joyful about it, and in
the swarming mass of spiteful demons he can hear the phrase “ Kill him! ” excitedly chanted. Xiao
snatches up his jade spear that leans against the rail and departs with haste.

Xiao steps onto soft grasses, the plains ahead of him coming to an end as they curve into a lake, the
moon reflecting on the surface of the pool. In the middle of the field, a mass of malignant energy
permeates the area, streaks of viridian and ebony twisting into the form of oozing beasts and
ferocious monsters. They encroach upon a young man at the foot of a tree, dressed in peaceful
greens and frilly whites, trinkets and decorations brightening his already loud appearance. He
looks curiously about, giving a glance at the manifestations of hatred that stalk over to him. He
shows no sign of fear as he stands lazily in the center. Over the black mist, aqua meets amber, and
Xiao feels his chest swell immediately when the Anemo Archon flashes a pearly smile. Xiao’s
heart beats faster.

“Ah! My knight has arrived, of my hopes I am revived.” The bard playfully sings. The mask
apparates and clutches Xiao’s fair skin, the aura seeping out of it as he dashes forward and
dissipates the manifestations in his path. He takes a defensive stance before the god, crossing his
spear over Venti’s body protectively.

“Barbatos, you should not be here.” Xiao warns, “It is dangerous.” He hears a gentle hum, and he
feels the anemo energy within him grow stronger, the winds picking up around their feet.

“Nonsense, dear Yaksha. What have I to fear with you around?” As expected of a powerful archon,
he isn’t even phased by the circumstances. Such evil is below his station. Why hasn’t the god
whisked away these beasts himself? Had he been waiting for Xiao? For what reason. . . ?

“It is the fact I am here that you should be weary of.” The ominous reply earned the yaksha a snort
and giggle. Anemo sucks behind him, concentrating under Venti’s feet before it bursts and lifts the
lithe figure of the bard into the air with grace. His body lands softly in the strong arm of the tree
they stand under, and he swings his leg over the branch to straddle it. Holding his hands in the
correct playing position, a dihua flute is summoned between his fingertips.

“A touching remark. Then, if you are so concerned for my well being, let me ease your worries
and offer you a tune to send these monsters fleeing!” Xiao’s head rings in alarm at the suggestion
of letting these spirits go without proper exorcism. He grips his jade spear tightly and dives into
the fray, plunging his blade deep within his enemies as the first notes are drawn out of the
instrument. Immediately the atmosphere feels different. Xiao finds himself with a clear mind as he
fights, the voices that cry out for violence and mercy, cursing the adepti’s name for all eternity are
immediately quelled. The suffocating grip of the mask loosens along with the shackles binding his
soul. He can hear clearly the melody of that flute he so often misses, and everything else around
him becomes mute. Every snapping fang and roaring maw is silent, the sharp slice of flesh
produces no queasy squelch, even the roaring winds do not whistle. Instead, each whipping wind is
an extension of himself, guiding his movements and holding him steady in his dance as if they are
the most nurturing breezes. Xiao realises the true intent behind Venti’s words.

With the freedom bestowed upon him, the Conqueror of Demons expels every last strand of karmic
debt, instilling the evil within himself with no second of hesitance. The black and teal hatred draws
from the defeated amalgamations and seeps into his body, trapped in a new prison beyond death.
He accepts it all under the sound of that flute.

The last remnants of the gods soaks into his skin, and he feels it settle within him. It’s strange, the
way the writhing spirits don't claw at his flesh and fill his head with indiscernible screeching while
they try to escape. Just like that time in the field, the karmic debt slips into a deep slumber, and
Xiao is left to relish in the peace.

The wind calms, the grass swaying gently beside his boots. For a moment he marvels at it, unused
to the land around him remaining intact after a battle. He looks up, over the lake that ripples gently
with the wind before stilling, becoming a mirror into the world above. The adeptus stands silently,
mindlessly gazing at that beautiful scenery until the flute’s voice fades.

They take a few moments after, feeling each other’s presence and the peace of the night. There is a
shift on the branch as Venti props a leg up, and Xiao sighs as quietly as a breath. He could only
imagine this tranquility in waking dreams. To experience it firsthand was everything. He never
wanted it to end. He wanted to live like this for the rest of his life; with his body, mind, and soul—
all of it— his own.

The gem on his wrist hums gently in the company of the Anemo Archon. Xiao looks down,
bringing his wrist over to see the green light glimmer. As he stares into his Vision, he feels an urge
to be nearer to the god beside him. This unexplainable pull, testing his steady feet as everything in
his body wants to gravitate towards Venti. He has confirmed- and perhaps it has been confirmed
since he made the conclusion long ago, the who of his surfacing questions. Now they pop in his
head, rapidly bombarding his passive mind with the why and the what. Why was he given a Vision?
What is his desire, exactly? He was already a powerful being without the addition of the Anemo
Vision, so why exactly did one fall into his hands? What made him, a weapon of destruction, so
worthy of the gods’ power? Aether believes it to be desire, yet how come he does not know his
desire? It’s his desire, isn’t it? Or, perhaps… No. It would only be possible through Morax, even if
the margin is slight. No archon, especially one he has never known, could ever take to him on a
whim. . .

It just wouldn’t make sense.

Xiao turns his amber gaze to the bard lounging in the tree, flute in his lap and staring right at him
with the softest of smiles. Xiao feels caught, and in drowning in those aqua oceans he believes that
Venti could. And did.

“Why?” the yaksha asks as quietly as the breeze. “What have I done to earn your favour? ” The
way the archon looks upon him makes him think his questions are already known. A short giggle
lifts into the night, and Venti tilts his head against his knee.

“What haven’t you done to earn my favour?” Xiao creases his brow.

“I have committed sins I can never absolve. Where I am present, I bring only despair. The blood of
the innocent pours from my hands, and I am marked by the hatred of a thousand gods. I am a
vessel of death, and nothing more. I’m not worthy of your gift.”

“You are more worthy than you think,” Venti quickly cuts in. His smile had drooped, and his eyes
glaze over with a sadness Xiao cannot understand. Venti hugs his knee, the flute grasped tightly as
his sight wanders off of Xiao, settling in the grass. Venti’s voice returns with fading tones.

“There are many who hold the potential to guide the winds of change. The traits they possess are
brave, and true, and boundless. Even in their darkest hours, that striving spirit will brace them and
they will persevere.” Venti hugs his knee closer, almost as if shielding himself from a bad memory.
Xiao purses his lips. “You were once such a spirited figure, freeing the living and the dead from
their oppressive chains. You still carry out those deeds, but you are under contract to do so. . . It’s
been centuries since, but I’ve never felt such anguish from a cry for freedom such as yours.” Xiao
clenches the fist wielding the Vision, not out of anger, but out of shame.

“So you pitied me. Is that why?” Xiao averts his gaze. He was given the Vision because he lacked
strength? Because he had lost his willpower to the God of Dreams? He sees no semblance between
himself and the great heroes Venti described. He isn’t spirited, he has no boundless virtue... he
simply exists.

“How could one not feel pity? Your freedom was stripped away overnight. That evil consumed
you, turned you into a villain. You had no say in what you wanted to become. Everything you once
were, to the barest bone, gone in an instant.”

Xiao shakes his head. “I am free now. My desire is fulfilled.”

It’s true, but something- my heart? feels off.

The archon sighs. Sliding down from the branch, he softly lands in the grass in front of Xiao,
staring into his eyes.

“But you still long for something, don’t you.” Venti states, and that feeling within Xiao, that doubt,
is seized. Those swirling teal hues look at him as if they know Xiao, and his chest tightens. When
Xiao shakes his head, unbelieving, Venti takes a slow step forward, the tips of their shoes almost
kissing as his lips upturn. Xiao swallows the lump in his throat, searching his heart. What he wants.
..

Venti brings his hands up and cups the sides of Xiao’s face. “A dream, even when crushed, is still
a dream, and thus is never truly forgotten.” From the heat of his palms, the yaksha feels warm,
safe, and he feels himself drawn to Venti in a way he had never felt before towards anyone. Not
Zhongli. Not Guizhong. Not even Aether. With the archon’s touch the whispering voices dispel.
His mind clears. It is his own thoughts that ring within his conscience, and he excavates the
deepest recesses of his heart and mind. His dream… The dreams of those people… The dreams he
took away. . .

Those starry eyes gaze up at him, and that fond voice softly calls to him, “What is your dream,
Xiao?” Xiao’s body relaxes, he breathes easily. He feels as if he’s floating on a cloud. There is not
a worry that wrinkles his brow, nor displeasure that narrows his eyes. He feels-

“Peace.” Xiao whispers without thinking, lost in the serene haze that is Venti’s presence.

This is what he wants.

This is, and has always been, his one, true, desire.

Peace .

Venti’s smile widens, the pads of his thumbs brushing mindlessly over Xiao’s cheekbones. Xiao
presses his own hand to one of them, holding it in place.

He treasures these hands that make him feel so steady. The slim fingers that play the flute so
eloquently. Venti frees him of all turmoil. He is the only one who can do this for Xiao. He
surpasses the contract, surpasses duty, responsibility, and he gives this to Xiao willingly. Unasked.
Unprompted . And Venti requests nothing in return.
 It dawns on Xiao that he has carried with him the very symbol of peace. The anemo sigil, pulsing
within that Vision, given by the God of Peace and Freedom. It is a reminder of his deep desire, one
that he thought was stripped away and gone forever. It was right here all along. He could have his
peace anytime he wanted, as long as Venti was willing to give it to him. He doesn’t need medicine.
He doesn’t need the contract. He doesn’t need retribution. He doesn’t need all these things to feel
something like peace. All he needs is Venti .

The Anemo Archon giggles lightly as Xiao unknowingly leans in, and Venti gently presses their
foreheads together, noses almost touching. Xiao can feel the heat of Venti’s hushed words on his
lips. “Will you let me fulfill this desire?”

Xiao stares wordlessly at the bard, fighting himself, just for a moment, the possibility of having the
one thing he wants. It is too good to be true, but never once has he been selfish. He thinks that,
although he surely doesn’t deserve it, he could have this one thing. He can let someone else hold
the key to releasing his burden.

Xiao’s eyes close, basking in Venti’s soothing aura, and bolstering his resolve to protect the one
person who could give him everything . Finally. Finally. He can have peace.

When Xiao speaks, it is just above a whisper, the hidden joy trembling in his words as he breathes
out,

“ Yes .”

He longs for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to
the tune of that flute amidst a sea of flowers.

End Notes

God I fucking love XiaoVen.

Thank you as always to my editor mwah I love you. ♡ banger tweet my liege

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