an ode left unfinished
varka x hexenzirkel! reader
synopsis : you and Varka were inseparable growing up—the kind of friends who would walk into hell for each other without hesitation. But while Varka was away on an expedition, you wert with a team of knights to investigate some ancient ruins only for it to go terribly wrong, with the knights returning with news of your death. Forced to mourn the loss of his closest friend (and crush), Varka eventually learned to live with the grief. That is, until years later in Nod Krai, he comes face to face with the impossible: you are alive. The only problem? You now stand on different sides.
! slight spoilers for nod krai's archon quest contains : wc: 4.9k+, female reader, angst no comfort (or at least, a bittersweet ending?), TW!! mentions of violence/gore, torture/psychological trauma, manipulation, brainwashing, medical experimentation, implied su1cide and body harm, grief
I. the wolf's companion
Varka had known you for as long as he could remember.
Most of his earliest memories were intertwined with yours, so much so that he struggled to remember a time when you hadn't been there. Whenever he thought back to his childhood, he thought og scraped knees from running through Mondstadt's streets, afternoons spent listening to the tales of bards who come by, and a familiar laugh that always seemed to be somewhere nearby.
The first time the two of you met, however, was a memory that remained unusually vivid.
Back then, he had been in the middle of a game of hide and seek with a group of children. Determined to win, he had abandoned the safer hiding spots and climbed onto one of the rooftops overlooking the city. It had taken some effort, but eventually he managed to pull himself up, carefully balancing along the slanted tiles before crouching behind a chimney.
Looking back, he was certain his parents would have had a heart attack if they had seen where he was.
At the time, he had felt invincible.
Future knights weren't supposed to be afraid of heights. The heroes in the stories he loved fought dragons, crossed dangerous landscapes, and charged into battle without hesitation.
Compared to those feats, climbing onto a rooftop was hardly worth mentioning.
Besides, he had found the perfect hiding spot.
No one would think to look for him up there, and even if they somehow spotted him, none of the other children would be able to reach him.
So imagine his surprise when some sort of mirror looking thing popped up right beside him and you hopped out, landing nearly on the rooftop.
"There you are!" you said triumphantly, clearly pleased with yourself. "Found you!"
Varka could only stare.
His gaze flickered from you to the place where the strange mirror had appeared. It was already gone, leaving no trace behind as though it had never existed in the first place.
"Was that magic?" he asked immediately, unable to hide his fascination despite being found and losing the game.
"Yeah! Mum taught me." you nodded proudly.
The answer only made his eyes widen further.
To a child who spent his days listening to tales of legendary knights and powerful mages, magic was the sort of thing that belonged in stories.
Meeting someone who could casually step through some magical mirror felt infinitely more impressive than anything he had accomplished that day.
He was already preparing a dozen questions when your expression suddenly changed.
Your confidence vanished almost instantly as you glanced around the rooftop.
It was only then that you seemed to notice exactly where you had arrived. Slowly, your eyes drifted toward the street below and the colour drained from your face.
"This is.." you muttured, swallowing nervously, "this is really high."
Without thinking, you stepped closer and grabbed hold of his arm.
Varka's smile faltered slightly as he watched you, before something in him stirred.
Perhaps it was because he had spent far too much time listening to heroice tales, but in that moment, Varka felt as though he had been handed an important responsibility.
Every knight in the stories had someone to protect.
And right now, you were the very person in the scenario.
The truth was that he had absolutely no plan.
He knew how to get up and down by himself but helping someone? He wasn't sure how.
Still, that didn't stop him from straightening his back and puffing out his chest.
"Don't worry," he said confidently, offering a grin that was far more certain than he actually felt. "I'll get us down!"
Thinking back now, Varka often wondered if that had been the exact moment everything began—the moment the two of you started trusting each other without question.
Atrust that only deepened with every year that followed, becoming as natural as breathing.
Whenever the topic of your first meeting came up, however, that sentimentality never lasted long.
"I still can't believe that happened when we were kids," you had laughed once, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. "You know, I probably could've just gotten us down. I used magic to get up I could have done the same to get down." you paused for a second before giving him a slight shrug, "guess I was too panicked that time to think about it."
"Well," Varka smiled warmly, "If you had, then what of my first every knightly act?"
"It didn't go that well, did it?" you teased, lightly tapping your cup against his.
Varka sighed dramatically before taking another sip.
"No," he admitted. "I suppose it didn't"
After all, most rescues probably didn't end up with both parties slipping off the side of a building and crashing into the ground in a tangled heap.
They also probably didn't end with the person being rescued landing squarely on top of the rescuer.
The experience, though long ago, was something he never fail to share whenever someone asked about his childhood.
"Guess what?"
Varka cracked an eye open at the sound of your voice. The first thing he saw was your face hovering above his, a smile already tugging at your lips as though you had been waiting impatiently for him to wake up.
Letting out a low grunt, he pushed himself upright from his spot beneath the great oak tree and stretched, feeling several joints pop after lying there for who knows how long.
The two of you had been spending more and more time beneath the tree in Windrise lately. It was quiet there, far enough from the bustling streets of Mondstadt that conversations could be held without interruptions.
After a morning spent sparring and clearing out a few monsters that had wandered too close to the roads, Varka had taken full advantage of the shade and promptly fallen asleep.
You, on the other hand, looked far too awake.
"I just got a letter," you announced, dropping down beside him and leaning your back against the trunk.
Varka glanced over curiously. "A letter? From who?"
"A woman called Alice." You held up the letter in your hand and gave it a small wave. "Apparently she thinks I'm interesting."
A laugh escaped him, "interesting?"
"Oh, don't start now."
Despite your attempt to sound annoyed, the smile on your face remained. Looking back down at the parchment, you tapped a finger lightly against the seal.
"She invited me to join the Hexenzirkel."
Varka fell silent.
The name was familiar.
Mostly from stories and rumours. The organisation itself always sounded more like something out of a fairy tale than reality—a gathering of powerful witches twhose names seemed to pop up in the strangest places.
Still, if Alice had personally sent an invitaton, then it was undoubtedly real.
"So?" he asked. "What do you think?"
"I'm considering it.."
The answer was quieter than he expected.
After a brief pause, you continued, "You'll be taking the knight examinations soon, won't you?"
Varka nodded.
The examinations had been occupying much of his time. Becoming a knight had always been his dream and now that it was finally within reach, he found himself spending nearly every spare moment prepping for it.
"You'll surely pass," you said, "with how hardworking you've been."
The certainty in your voice made him smile—there wasn't even the slightest hint of doubt in your expression.
"You sound more confident than I am."
"That's because I am."
He shook his head, amused. "You make it sound like you've already seen the future."
"Maybe I have?" A mischievous glint appeared in your eyes, "it's hard not to imagine you as a knight..honestly, who knows? One day you'll even become Grand Master."
The grin spreading across your face made it impossible to tell how serious you were, and Varka let out a loud laugh.
The idea sounded absurd now, but hearing you say it with such confidence still warmed something in his chest.
As the laughter gradually faded, so too did the teasing grin on your face. You leaned your head back against the rough bark behind you, your gaze drifting toward the field stretching beyong the hill.
Wildflowers swayed gently beneath the afternoon breeze, their petals dancing across the sea of green as sunlight spilled over them in warm shades of gold.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
The comfortable silence settled naturally between the two of you, broken only by the rustling of leaves overhead and the distant chirping of birds hidden in the branches of the tree.
Varka glanced over, noticing the way your fingers idly traced the edges of the letter resting in your lap.
The earlier excitement had long since faded from your expression, replaced by something quieter and more thoughtful.
"Mm..I don't know," you murmured eventually, absentmindedly turning the letter in your hands. "Everyone's moving forward lately..you're becoming a knight. One of our friends wish to be a baker, another wants to be an adventurer.."
A quiet sigh escaped you as your gaze dropped to the folded paper resting in your lap. "I should probably do something too, right?"
Varka paused as he turned to study you. The uncertainty in your voice felt unfamiliar.
To him, you had always seemed like someone who naturally belonged wherever you happened to be, someone who never needed to prove their place. The thought that you were worried about being left behind had never really occured to him before.
After a brief pause, he shrugged. "Then join the Knights of Favonius with me."
You blinked before turning toward him so quickly that he almost laughed. The surprise written across your face was answer enough, but Varka continued anyway.
"I'm serious. You already train with me half the time. You've sparred with me often enough that most recruits would probably run the other way if they saw you coming. They know they can’t beat you."
A look of amusement slowly spread across your face. "Is that your way of saying I'd make a good knight?"
"It's my way of saying you'd pass with flying colours," Varka replied, sitting up a little straighter as his confidence returned. "Honestly, you'd probably end up with one of the highest scores."
"One of the highest?" you repeated.
"Well," he amended quickly, folding his arms across his chest, "not higher than mine, obviously."
That earned the laugh he had been expecting. You shook your head, still smiling as you leaned back against the tree once more.
"There it is."
"What?"
"Your ego."
"My confidence, you mean?" he corrected.
Your laughter only grew louder.
When it finally subsided, you lifted the letter in your hands and gave it a small wave. "No thanks. I'll pass. Besides, with this letter, I finally have something to do now, don't I?"
The uncertainty from earlier hadn't completely disappeared, but there was something else there now—Varka noticed—a quiet determination that hadn't been present before.
Watching that spark return to your eyes, he couldn't help smiling.
Whatever path you chose, he had a feeling you would find your place eventually, even if it wasn't standing beside him in a knight's uniform.
Varka's failure came far more suddenly than either of you had expected.
He had practically burst through your front door that afternoon, the knight application letter clutched tightly in one hand while the other shoved the door closed behind him.
There was a bright excitement in his eyes that made it impossible not to smile back.
His grin seemed large enough to split his face in two as he crossed the room in a few long strides and dropped onto the couch beside you.
“I waited all morning for this,” he announced, holding up the unopened envelope like some priceless treasure. “You’re opening it with me. Today is the day you witness the rise of a great knight.”
The smile on his face lasted only a moment.
You watched as his eyes skimmed the page. The excitement slowly faded from his expression, replaced by confusion, then disbelief.
‘However, after careful consideration and thorough review, we regret to inform you that—’
The letter crumpled violently in his hand before he could even finish reading the sentence.
Silence filled the room.
With a frustrated exhale, Varka crushed the paper into a ball before he even finished reading it and tossed it across the room.
It bounced off the rim of the wastebasket before falling inside.
He stared at it for a moment as though it had personally offended him before dragging a hand down his face.
“...Hah.”
The laugh that escaped him was hollow.
“I guess I’ve disappointed you.”
His shoulders slumped as he sank deeper into the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions and staring blankly at the ceiling.
You shifted closer, turning slightly so you could look at him properly.
“Hey now..”
Varka glanced sideways at you.
You shrugged lightly. “Maybe Grand Master Valentine's age is finally catching up to him. It would explain why he can't recognize that there's an exceptional knight sitting right in front of me.”
The corner of Varka's mouth twitched.
“...Should I challenge him to a duel?” he asked, straightening a little. “A proper one versus one. Winner gets the title of Grand Master.”
You hummed thoughtfully, eyes twinkling,“Perhaps.”
The spark of amusement in his eyes grew.
“Or,” you continued, resting your chin against your hand, “you could ambush him instead. Sneak into his office, appear behind him dramatically, and prove you're capable enough to get past the Grand Master's defenses.”
That finally earned a genuine laugh.
Varka bent forward, elbows resting on his knees as his shoulders shook with laughter. The disappointment hadn't vanished entirely, but it no longer seemed quite as suffocating as before.
“You know,” he said between chuckles, “that's actually not a terrible idea.”
“Of course. My ideas are always excellent.”
By now the grin had returned, smaller than before but real enough.
Suddenly, his expression shifted into something thoughtful.
“Can I borrow some paper?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I have an idea.”
The look in his eyes immediately told you that whatever he was planning was unlikely to end well for anyone involved.
Still, you lifted a hand. A stack of paper slid neatly from a nearby shelf and floated through the air before settling onto the table in front of him.
“There.”
“Perfect. Thanks [Name]!”
Without another word, Varka grabbed the papers and immediately began scribbling.
You watched him for a moment—curiousity battling with common sense—before ultimately deciding you were better off not knowing.
Shaking your head, you returned to your own research while the scratching of his pen filled the room.
Hours passed without either of you noticing.
By the time the golden light outside began fading into dusk, Varka suddenly sprang to his feet with enough energy to make you jump.
“I've got it.”
“You've got what?”
“The solution!”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
Before you could demand an explanation, he gathered his papers into a messy stack, stuffed them under one arm, and headed straight for the door.
“Wait, where are you even going?”
“To fix a terrible mistake.”
“Varka—”
But he was already halfway outside.
The last thing you saw was his triumphant grin as he hurried down the path, clutching his mysterious papers like a man possessed.
You could only sigh and wave him off.
Something told you Grand Master Valentine was about to have a very interesting evening.
“You never do stop staring at that picture, do you?”
The sudden voice pulled Varka from his thoughts so abruptly that he nearly dropped the photograph into the fire.
The sudden voice cut through the quiet crackling of the campfire, startling him from his thoughts. Looking up, he found Seamus Pegg seated on a nearby log, watching him with the same unimpressed expression he always seemed to wear.
“Don't hold it so close to the fire if it's so dear to you.”
Blinking, Varka glanced down.
Only then did he realize one corner of the photograph had drifted dangerously close to the flames.
“Oh.”
A sheepish laugh escaped him as he quickly pulled it back.
“You're right.”
For a brief moment, his gaze lingered on the picture.
The edges had long since become worn from years of handling. The image itself was simple enough—two teenagers standing in front of the Knights of Favonius headquarters. A picture taken to commemorate the day he took the knight’s exam.
Carefully, he slipped the photograph back into his satchel before securing the flap shut. Only then did he turn his attention back to the fire, lifting the pot suspended above the flames and pouring two cups of wine.
The sweet scent of berries and spices drifted into the cool night air, mixing with the smell of burning wood and damp earth.
He handed one of the cups to Seamus before settling onto a nearby log himself, stretching his legs toward the warmth of the fire and taking a sip from his own cup, letting the warmth spread through him as he stared into the flames.
Across from him, Seamus watched the faint smile that had settled on his face.
“Is she your lover?”
The question hit Varka so unexpectedly that he nearly inhaled his wine.
He coughed violently, turning away as he struggled to recover while Seamus watched with complete indifference.
“Wha—?” Varka sputtered, lowering the cup and staring at him in disbelief. “[Name]??”
“Nah..” he shook his head. “She’s a really close friend of mine.”
“You say that,” Seamus remarked, studying him over the rim of his cup, “but your eyes tell me something different.”
“My eyes…?” Varka questioned, tilting his head.
“Yes.” Seamus nods without much explanation.
Varka stared at him for a moment before letting out a short laugh and shaking his head. “Whatever you're trying to imply, it's probably because I miss her.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “The others too.”
His gaze lingered on the fire crackling between them, the dancing flames casting shifting shadows across the campsite. Despite the warmth against his skin, a familiar ache had begun to settle in his chest.
“I wonder…Did young master Crepus go back to take over the winery, or did he finally achieve his dream of becoming a knight?”
The thought was quickly followed by another.
“And what of Frederica, who never had a good word for anyone? Has hell finally frozen over? Has she taken a shrine to some lucky fellow?”
“What about Eroch? He was always so quick to point out how I fell short of the chivalric code. Has he grown more forgiving this time?
The questions kept coming, each one pulling another memory to the surface.
“I wonder if the wine back home still tastes the same as I remember. I wonder if the city looks any different now…I wonder if my family misses me as often as I miss them.”
For years, he had learned to live with the distance. He had buried himself in journeys, challenges, and the pursuit of an answer he could never quite grasp.
Yet now that he spoke the thoughts aloud, he realized just how often his mind wandered back to Mondstadt—to the people he had left behind and the life that continued without him.
“If you miss all those so much, why not just go back?” Seamus said bluntly, interrupting his incessant ramblings.
“Go back?” he repeated, the words feeling strangely heavy on his tongue. His gaze drifted back toward the dancing flames. “But I still haven't found my answer.”
His answer came automatically.
It was the same justification he had given himself countless times over the years whenever homesickness threatened to settle too deeply into his heart. The same reason that had carried him farther and farther from home with each passing season.
Seamus, however, looked entirely unconvinced.
“Those people you were just rambling about,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward him, “why can't they be your answer?”
Varka frowned.
Before he could respond, Seamus continued.
“Deep down, if you strip away all the heroic tales and grand adventures people love telling about knights, I think your answer has been there from the very beginning.”
The adventurer's voice was calm, but there was an unexpected certainty behind it.
“You wanted to become a knight because you wanted to protect the people who mattered to you. Your family, friends and home.”
Varka opened his mouth, only shut it close again.
“Think about that first knightly act you told me about. You helped [Name], didn't you? Not because there was glory to be won, and not because you thought people would praise you for it afterward. There wasn't a dragon that needed slaying, no great evil threatening the nation, and no bard waiting nearby to turn the whole thing into a song.”
He shifted slightly against the log, the firelight dancing across his weathered features.
“There was just a girl who needed help, and a boy who saw that and decided to do something about it.”
The words settled heavily between them, lingering in the air long after Seamus had spoken.
“Isn't that what being a knight has always been about? Protecting people when they need help, whether you know them or not. Not because there's glory in it but simply because it's the right thing to do.”
Varka found himself unable to respond.
The argument should have been easy to dismiss. He had spent years chasing an answer, years searching for something profound enough to justify the path he had chosen.
But the more he turned Seamus's words over in his mind, the harder they became to refute.
Seamus, sensing that he had already said enough, did not press the matter further.
For that, Varka was grateful.
He wasn't sure he could have formed a coherent response even if he wanted to.
Instead, silence settled between them.
His gaze remained fixed on the dancing flames, but his thoughts had already wandered far beyond the campsite and the crackling fire before him.
‘Home’ was never some nebulous concept. Likewise, the reason for becoming a ‘knight’ never required the burden of a grand, noble purpose.
The ideals he had spent years chasing had never truly been born from legends or heroic tales. Those stories had inspired him, certainly, but they were not what had kept him moving forward all these years.
What mattered was the desire to help people when they needed it, to become someone others could rely upon, and to protect the things he held dear.
When he thought about why he had chosen this path, his mind inevitably drifted toward the people who had shaped him.
Toward Mondstadt.
He thought of the familiar streets winding beneath the city's windmills, of afternoons spent wandering without purpose, and of the countless voices and faces that had filled his childhood.
Time and distance had transformed many of them into memories, yet the affection he held for them remained unchanged.
And whenever his thoughts lingered on the people who mattered most to him, they always seemed to settle on the same person.
You.
Over the years, he had crossed mountains, deserts, and oceans in search of an answer. He had convinced himself that purpose was something distant, something that needed to be earned through experience and hardship.
If he traveled far enough, saw enough of the world, and gathered enough wisdom, surely he would one day discover the reason he was meant to be a knight.
Yet sitting beside the fire now, he found himself wondering whether he had spent all those years looking in the wrong direction.
When he thought back on his journeys, he rarely remembered them as solitary experiences.
The most beautiful landscapes he had ever seen were inseparable from the thought that you would have loved them.
Every amusing story he collected along the road had come with the instinctive urge to tell you about it.
The countless trinkets tucked away among his belongings had not been chosen because they were valuable or rare, but because, in one way or another, they had reminded him of you.
At some point, thoughts of you had become so deeply woven into the fabric of his life that he had stopped noticing them altogether. They accompanied him as naturally as breathing, appearing in quiet moments and fleeting thoughts with such consistency that he had long since accepted them as an ordinary part of himself.
And perhaps that was why he had never recognized the truth.
The answer had never revealed itself because it had never been hidden.
His grip tightened around the cup in his hands as the realization slowly unfolded, revealing something he had overlooked for years.
For years, he had convinced himself that the ache he carried whenever he thought of Mondstadt was nothing more than homesickness.
Part of it was.
He missed his family and friends, and he missed the familiar comfort of Mondstadt—the certainty that came with belonging somewhere.
But as he sat beside the fire and allowed himself to follow those feelings to their source, he found something else waiting there.
Because whenever he imagined returning home, it was never the city gates that appeared first in his mind.
It was you standing beyond them.
The thought struck him with almost embarrassing clarity.
Oh Barbatos.
He misses you.
Not in the vague, passing way he had allowed himself to believe all these years, but with a longing so profound that it made every mile between you feel unbearable.
It settled heavily in his chest, filling him with the sudden awareness of just how much time had passed since he had last seen you..He had spent so many years searching for answers beyond the horizon that he had failed to notice how often his heart had already chosen its destination.
And now that he finally understood it, all he wanted was to see you again.
The opportunity to tell you never seemed to come, however.
Not because he lacked the courage, nor because the feelings themselves were uncertain. If anything, the years apart had only made them clearer.
Yet whenever he thought he might finally find the right moment, life had a habit of carrying the two of you in different directions.
After formally inheriting the title of Knight of Boreas, Varka found himself buried beneath responsibility. Campaign after campaign demanded his attention as he worked to eliminate the lingering threats scattered across Mondstadt, determined to leave the nation safer than he had found it.
The years that followed were busy ones, and they only became busier when he eventually assumed the position of Grand Master.
You were hardly any different.
These days, you rarely remain in Mondstadt for long.
One week you would be chasing some mystery that had caught your interest, and the next you would be halfway across Teyvat pursuing something else entirely.
Your letters arrived from every corner of the continent, often carrying stories that sounded too absurd to be true, yet somehow always were.
As a result, your paths crossed less frequently than either of you would have liked.
However, whenever circumstances did bring you together, Varka found himself unable to say the words he had rehearsed countless times.
More often than not, he arrived carrying the weight of endless responsibilities on his shoulders. Exhaustion settled deep in his bones, leaving little room for grand confessions or carefully planned conversations.
Instead, he would find himself seeking out the familiar comfort of your company when you're around, and without fail, you welcomed him in.
Your home was almost always in some state of disarray, cluttered with half-finished projects, forgotten books, and souvenirs collected from places most people would never see. Yet somehow, Varka had always found it more comforting than any perfectly ordered room.
Perhaps because you were there.
You never asked him to explain himself when he appeared at your door. Instead, you simply made space for him, allowing him to occupy a corner of your chaotic little world while the burdens he carried felt just a little lighter.
There was never any expectation for him to be the Grand Master, the Knight of Boreas, or the man everyone else relied upon. With you, he could simply exist as just Varka.
And strangely enough, Varka never truly minded that the confession remained unsaid.
Of course, there were moments when he considered it. Moments when the words sat at the tip of his tongue, waiting for an opportunity that never quite seemed right. Yet each time, he found himself setting them aside for another day.
But while he may never have voiced what was in his heart, he liked to think his actions had spoken on his behalf.
The countless times he sought you out first upon returning to Mondstadt, the way his eyes instinctively searched for you in every crowded room, the trust he placed in you without hesitation, and the certainty that no matter how far his duties carried him, he would always find his way back to you felt more honest than any carefully rehearsed confession.
After all, words were just words.
Surely the years spent standing beside you had to mean something more.
And after knowing you for so long, he was fairly certain you understood that too.
So until the day he finally found the time to say the words aloud, he would continue doing whatever this was.
Eventually, the campaigns would end. The paperwork would lessen. The endless responsibilities pulling the two of you in opposite directions would settle into something manageable.
One day, there would be time.
Because if there was one thing Varka had never doubted, it was this:
No matter how far your journeys took you, no matter how long the separations lasted, the two of you always found your way back to each other.
…
Right?
series masterlist ⋆ next
main masterlist
© kkitooo
