❝ WOULD YOU HAVE FOLLOWED ME TO THE LEFT OF ELYSIAN? ❞
As heiress to Teyvat's greatest trading company, you sat at the summit of nobility and wealth. Thus at the age of twenty, you were arranged to marry someone befitting your wealth and status- wh...
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a.n : all bolded italicize text will be dialogue spoken in different languages. this is (likely) not canon and purely headcanon for this fic but pretend there is a specific language for each nation in teyvat but everyone chooses to use the universal language.
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"THIS IS BORING."
FOR THE NTH time that evening, you lamented to your fiancé in regards to your dwindling interest in the party. The soirée of that evening was not particularly large by any means though the constant attention drawn upon you and Scaramouche was dreadfully tiresome.
The party was held at Zapolaryny Palace, doubling as the largest ballroom in all of Snezhnaya which was rather impressive considering you've seen the ones in Liyue which pales in comparison. The lavish marble decor reflected the nation's snowy landscape; latticed glass partitions lined the high walls of the white interiors. Long tables covered in black tablecloths contrasted the alabaster scheme. Atop the tables are ready placed glasses of wine, champagne, and various alcoholic beverages were available. Other tables held up trays of sweets and desserts prepared by the best pastry chefs in the nation— the sweet scent of which made you sick.
You shifted uncomfortably in your haori, pulling your arms from the sleeves to rest it against the fabric near your abdomen. You tried to take your mind off the smell, choosing to focus on your surroundings to distract yourself. You scanned the crowd, observing the dull assembly of world leaders, secretaries, fashion icons, heirs, and heiresses. All of them, older than you.
"My god... I can't believe that (l/n) is actually marrying a Fatui!" Your eyes flickered to a group of well-dressed women, you presumed all of them to be heiresses gossiping about you. Among them, you recognized the two as the daughters of wealthy businessmen or government officials. They spoke in a Fontaine dialect, likely to avoid suspicion or cause a scene by gossiping about the honored guests.
"A Fatui Harbinger at that...! I mean, at least he's attractive." One of them said aloud, not even attempting to keep her voice down. You snorted, rolling your eyes at their incompetence. Did they assume you couldn't understand them?
