Chapter Text
Aether - Location: Unknown
“How can you be so satisfied with your fate?”
Y’know, Dottore could be described as a social terrorist. Actually, scratch that, maybe he’s just a terrorist in general. The amount of damage that he’s done to Aether’s last nerve was downright insulting. If he had his damn powers back, then this stupid god/archon wannabe would be nothing but ash on the ground, regardless of the bogus moon marrows he collected.
“Dick-tore, if you even knew anything about me, you wouldn’t be saying that. At all. You know why?”
Throughout his journey in Teyvat, nation after nation, Aether was tired. He had to solve everyone’s problems for them, and each issue took longer than the last. Some are worse than others, but he can confidently say that Inazuma was the worst. Dealing with an Archon with the emotional range of a stick was one thing. The gall she had to have, to say that “You’re my new eternity, Aether”. Blasphemous.
He didn’t mind Nod-Krai, even respecting the pseudo-nation a bit for making it this far on their own. Besides, these people, he could tell, weren't dealing with a problem centred around their nation. They just happened to be dealing with a problem in their nation. They were committed just as much as he was, dealing with it and not really caring how they got to the end.
Comparatively, he could say that Sumeru and Fontaine weren’t anywhere close to being the worst among the nations, and the people were actually thankful towards his efforts. Realistically, it was that he couldn’t hold a grudge against Nahida and Furina; you just couldn’t. Sure, the fate of Natlan was unfortunate, but this wasn’t Aether’s first, second, or hundredth war, and it most certainly wouldn’t be his last. He was done dealing with this bullshit, and he knew that his powers would be awakening within the hour, if his calculations and powerscaling were to be correct.
Only he and Paimon knew this, as he had to keep it on the down-low, lest Celestia somehow hear, but he had much more control over his new elemental powers than he had shown to others. But, instead of focusing on the output of the elements externally, he could use them internally, breaking the seal placed on him containing his powers. His birthright. It’s why his cloth colours always matched an element; he was always using them, just not outwardly. Otherwise, it’d be white.
Anyways, he knew he needed to stall for just a little bit longer. That’s why he influenced the plans that he and his friends had made. Sure, Nicole was a variable he hadn’t accounted for, but he mentally saluted Varka for sticking to the plan; stalling Dottore for as long as possible, even if the reasons Aether presented were complete bullshit.
Through a sneer, Dottore could be seen saying, “I’ll amuse you this time, Descender. Why, pray tell, would I not be questioning your fate?”
This guy, am I right? Aether had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes; this mortal had zero clue what he was on about. He just had to keep playing along for a bit longer…
Click.
A grin, downright feral, made its way upon Aether’s face. Finally, they were back. After years and years of waiting, his return would be glorious. Afterall, what seal could hold back the powers of a star?
“‘Cuz I’m a star. And stars are weavers of fate, you son of a bitch.”
An explosion of power burst forward, obliterating everything in its path. Columbina’s eyes widened, throwing up a last-minute shield around all of his friends, with the help of Nicole. Even then, it barely saved them from the supernova of light and heat coming from Aether.
Dottore threw up a shield himself, growling, “What is this?! Why do you have this much power?! This was not accounted for!”
Aether simply raised a brow, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You think this is power? This is my resting aura. What, you think that a Descender’s power level could be measured with Teyvatian comparables?”
Under his mask, Dottore’s eyes were widening. How could he not have accounted for this? Everything was going perfectly! He had obtained the moon marrows, had perfectly demonstrated the strategy of divide and conquer, and yet this… alien decided to stop him? Just because he could?
“You have no right to interfere,” Dottore started to argue, “this is not your world! You play no role here!”
Gotcha.
Aether tilted his head, clicking his tongue. “There we go. That’s not what you said earlier, was it, Ass-tore?”
Dottore froze, realizing his mistake. “I- I didn’t me-”
“IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU MEANT.” Aether bellowed. He took a breath, regaining composure. “Just be grateful I haven’t yet smote you where you stand. No, I don’t think that’s a fate fitting for yourself. I think you deserve something more… humiliating, no?”
Before Dottore could respond, Aether disappeared in a burst of light, appearing in front of Dottore with his sword drawn and poised to slash.
Shink. Shink. Clunk.
The sound of Dottore’s mask falling off echoed in the heavens, his red eyes widening in fear. Aether was back where he started from, grin getting even bigger. “You see? This… this is power. And you, Dottore, or maybe Zandik would suffice…”
With each word, Aether took one step forward, towards a rapidly backing up Dottore. Back straight, grin present, but all other features colder than the best Cryo vision holder, he looked like an executioner. A harbinger of death, who works in tandem with fate, ending those whose time has passed. And he’d decided Dottore was destined to meet his end.
“Second of the Fatui Harbingers, The Heretic, Sumeru Akademiya Rogue…”
Dottore couldn’t back up anymore; he was on the edge of his own battlegroup, turned into his future resting place. In his haste born of fear of the monster in front of him, he’d fallen on his ass, scrambling to sit upright. Aether was right in front of him, grinning still, eyes alight with something akin to mania. He leaned down to whisper in Dottore’s ear.
“I wonder, what could I do to you to truly terrify you? Maybe, just maybe, I could…” Aether drew his sword. Dottore nearly shit his pants. “Put all your segments together, killing you now? Hmm?” Never mind, he definitely shit his pants. Rancid.
With a snap of his fingers, all of Dottore’s segments joined into that one body trembling in front of Aether. Eyes blown wide upon with horror, all Dottore, no, Zandik could do was stare up at Death himself, smiling wide, bringing down his sword.
Thunk.
The Doctor was no more.