The Next Morning
Frieda was the first to stir, her lashes fluttering open to the soft morning light spilling through the curtains. As her senses returned, she became acutely aware of warmth—Orion's warmth—pressed close against her.
They were tangled together beneath the covers, limbs intertwined like vines, their bodies naturally drawn toward one another in sleep. Her head rested near his chest, and his arm was loosely draped around her waist.
Her eyes widened, cheeks flaring red as the realization hit her. How...? she thought in a rising panic. I clearly remember not cuddling him...
Carefully, as if defusing a bomb, Frieda began to inch away, trying not to wake him. But as luck would have it, Orion stirred.
He yawned groggily, his voice hoarse with sleep. "Good morning..." he murmured, rubbing his eyes and stretching with a faint groan.
Frieda froze mid-scoot. Her heart thudded in her chest like a drum.
I didn't do anything wrong, she told herself. I should just ask him... right?
Gathering courage, she leaned a little closer and tried to keep her voice casual—failing miserably. "Hey, um... when I woke up just now, we were, uh... really close. I know I wasn't even facing you when we fell asleep, so... do you know how that happened?"
Her cheeks betrayed her with a soft pink blush.
Orion blinked at her, then looked down at the crumpled sheets between them. His face turned red instantly.
"I—uh, sorry about that," he said quickly, scratching the back of his head. "When I was a kid, Mom used to cuddle me to sleep. I guess the habit never really went away. Even back in Arian... I always hugged a pillow at night."
He trailed off, clearly flustered.
Frieda stared at him for a second, processing. Her heart gave a strange little flutter.
"So... you cuddled me?" she asked softly, her voice almost a whisper. Her face was now fully flushed, eyes wide with something between shock, embarrassment, and something else she didn't want to name.
Orion's face turned scarlet with embarrassment, but he didn't deny her accusation. He couldn't.
Frieda, on the other hand, blushed just as fiercely—but masked it with a straight face, arms crossed and chin up like a smug little general.
"Well," she said coolly, "if that's the case... I guess I can let you cuddle me daily. For warmth. And, y'know, morale."
Orion's eyes widened, and he quickly looked away, flustered. "That's not necessary... I-I can just use a pillow or—"
Her eyes narrowed sharply. That sweet expression dropped like a mask falling off a villain, replaced with a chilling, menacing stare.
"Hmm?" she hummed darkly.
He fell silent immediately.
And then, like a switch was flipped, her radiant smile returned. "So we'll be cuddling tonight too, then?"
Orion nodded on instinct, like a soldier obeying a battlefield command. Not out of agreement—but for his own survival.
---
Later that day, Orion wandered through the city once more, scanning the streets and rooftops in hopes of spotting that damn drunken bard. But Venti was nowhere to be seen—like the wind itself had spirited him away.
After a fruitless hour of searching, Orion passed through the central plaza. That's when he saw her.
A tall woman stood there, looking completely out of place amidst the bustle of Mondstadt's market. Her skin was pale as frost, her platinum-blonde hair catching the light like silver thread. Her eyes, light gray and distant, were swollen from crying.
"Where is Rostam? He's alive, right? TELL MEEEEE!" she wailed, collapsing onto her knees.
People around her watched silently, faces painted with sorrow and helplessness. No one moved to approach her.
Orion frowned, disturbed by the raw grief in her voice. He turned to a bystander—a middle-aged man leaning against a barrel and watching with a pained expression.
"What's her story?" Orion asked quietly.
The man sighed and folded his arms. "That's Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter. She left for Sumeru years ago to study and master the art of song. Brilliant girl, beautiful voice. She used to sing in this very plaza."
Orion nodded slowly. "And Rostam...?"
"A knight," the man replied. "One of the best. He and Rosalyne fell in love before she left. It was mutual, deep. Everyone in the city knew about it—hell, their story's practically a legend among the older folks now."
He shook his head with a heavy breath. "Rostam was Arundolyn's closest friend—he was the Grand Master at the time. Rostam went on an expedition with the Knights of Favonius to drive back a surge of monsters from the north. He never came back."
Orion's brow furrowed. "He died in battle?"
The man nodded. "Twenty-three years of service, and that's how it ended. They say Arundolyn never got over it. And now... Rosalyne comes back expecting to reunite with him, only to hear he has died during the Cataclysm that occurred."
Orion looked back at Rosalyne, who was now cradling her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling.
A pit formed in his stomach. "Gods... that's cruel," he muttered. "She must have imagined that reunion a thousand times on her journey back."
"She did," the man replied softly. "You can see it in her eyes."
Orion clenched his fists. For all his power, all his strength... there were still wounds in this world he couldn't heal.
"Venti, Can you hear me. I need your help. I know this isn't something I can fix, but you can. Please heed my request and help me." Orion asked from the bottom of his heart, His voice sincere but the winds didn't reply.
"So you aren't going to appear?" Orion sighed.
Orion sighs and walks towards the young maiden whose beloved has lost his life, kneeling down he says," I don't know how you feel, We can never understand how much pain you are in. But please let us share this burden with you."
But she doesn't react to him at all and just kept sobbing and sobbing, Ultimately Orion backed away and waited for her to stop nearby.
Orion clenched his fists. For all his power, all his strength… there were still wounds in this world he couldn't heal.
"Venti... can you hear me?" he whispered, eyes scanning the sky. "I need your help. I know this isn't something I can fix, but you can. Please... heed my request and help me."
His voice was sincere, aching with the weight of someone trying to reach a god who wouldn't answer.
But the wind was silent.
Not even a breeze stirred in reply.
"...So you aren't going to appear?" Orion muttered, disappointment curling through his gut. He exhaled slowly, and turned his gaze back to the grieving woman in front of him.
He stepped closer again, gently kneeling beside her on the stone.
"I don't know how you feel. No one does. We can't understand how much pain you're in... but please, let us share the burden with you. Just a little of it."
Rosalyne didn't respond at first. Her sobs had dulled to soft, broken sounds—like someone tearing paper underwater. Her fingers clutched her sleeves, knuckles white, eyes shut tight as if trying to block out reality.
Then, her voice broke through the silence.
"I... I loved him... I loved him so much..." she whispered, her voice trembling and hoarse. "And they... they buried him like a soldier. Like some war piece to be mourned and forgotten—like a knight. Not a man. Not my man."
Her shoulders shook harder.
"I sang for him. Every day, I sang... and he said I made him feel alive. So why did he leave me alone?! Why didn't the gods save him?!"
She gasped between sobs. "I begged them. I begged them to keep him safe. But I guess they don't hear me either."
Orion could only sit in silence.
There was nothing he could say to that. No answer he could give.
Eventually, he backed away, letting her mourn. He remained nearby. Silent. Just in case.
---
A Short While Later…
He returned home, quickly grabbing a small basket and filling it with whatever food Frieda had stocked—soft bread, dried fruits, and a sealed bottle of juice. He even poured some cool water into a flask, tying it shut.
"Just something," he mumbled. "Even a small kindness…"
He grabbed a light blanket too, just in case. The sun was setting, and she'd looked so fragile in the plaza. He rushed back down the stone streets, feet quick but careful.
But when he arrived…
She was gone.
Rosalyne was no longer sitting on the stone where she'd cried.
There were no footsteps in the dust. No discarded scarf. Just a faint trace of moisture where her tears had soaked the ground.
Orion scanned the plaza, turning in a slow circle.
"Rosalyne?" he called out. "Hey… are you alright? You shouldn't be alone—"
No answer.
No one had seen her leave.
The square was filled with normal evening chatter now. Children played in the distance. A bard strummed a lute. The world had moved on.
But Rosalyne had vanished like a whisper lost to the wind.