Days turned into a shared journey as Nicole offered to guide Varka’s expedition through Natlan’s treacherous paths. She claimed it was her role as a Hexenzirkel member—to aid those worthy—but deep down, she felt a pull toward this carefree knight. They encountered Natlan’s champions, like the Pyro Archon’s own kin, who challenged Varka to spars. He accepted with glee, dual-wielding claymores in a display of Anemo-fueled might, laughing even as sweat beaded on his brow.

  One evening, after a grueling trial against a volcanic beast, they rested by a campfire. Razor had caught game, and Mika shared letters from Mondstadt, mentioning how Jean missed Varka’s guidance. Nicole sat across from Varka, her ethereal beauty illuminated by the flames.

  You fought like Boreas himself today, her voice resonated in his mind. But you held back. Why? Afraid to scare the locals?

  Varka grinned, poking the fire with a stick. “Held back? Maybe a little. Don’t want to overwork my knights or steal all the glory. But truth be told, it’s more fun when it’s a challenge. Like talking to you—never know what witty barb you’ll throw next.”

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  Witty? I’m just stating truths. Like how you smell of alcohol even after battle. High tolerance, or just a Mondstadt habit?

  “Both! But hey, it’s better than smelling like defeat. You, on the other hand, smell like… mystery. Fresh wind and ancient books. Tell me more about this Hexenzirkel. Alice, Barbeloth, you ‘N’—what’s your real game?”

  Our game is knowledge, Varka. We weave fates, observe the Irminsul’s branches. But personally? I enjoy sculpting truths from chaos. Like how you’re more than a brute with a sword—you mentor wolves like Razor, inspire scouts like Mika. It’s… admirable.

  He laughed, but his eyes softened. “Admirable? Coming from you, that’s high praise. You’re not so bad yourself—guiding us without a word spoken. It’s awkward, though, isn’t it? This mind-talk. Feels personal.”

  Awkward? Perhaps. But intimate. Like sharing a secret no one else hears.

  As the fire crackled, their gazes lingered, a romantic spark igniting in the silence. Varka reached out, brushing ash from her shoulder, his touch lingering a second too long. Nicole’s heart fluttered—she was falling unknowingly, drawn to his laughter and strength, despite the forbidden cost.