Months after the honeymoon, life in Mondstadt settled into a rhythm of quiet joy. Varka resumed his role as Grand Master, leading patrols with Jean and mentoring Razor in Wolvendom. Nicole integrated deeper into the Hexenzirkel, her sculptures now adorning the city—prophetic pieces that whispered futures to those who listened. But a subtle change stirred: Nicole’s energy waned slightly, her ethereal glow softening into something more mortal, more vibrant.

  One crisp morning in their shared home—a cozy manor overlooking the lake—Nicole approached Varka as he sharpened his claymore. “Varka… my love, we need to talk. About the… possibilities we whispered on our honeymoon.”

  He set down the weapon, his scarred face lighting with curiosity. “Possibilities? You mean…?”

  She nodded, her voice soft but clear. “A child. I thought it might be just one— a single spark from our union. But the signs… fatigue, that inner pull. Barbeloth read the stars last night. It’s happening.”

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  Varka’s laughter boomed, echoing off the walls as he swept her into a bear hug. “A kid? Archons, Nicole! Our little teaser in the making. I’ll teach ‘em to wield a twig like a claymore, and you’ll fill their head with Teyvat’s lore.”

  Careful, knight—don’t crush us!, she teased mentally, though her eyes sparkled. But a shadow crossed her face. “Us? Barbeloth mentioned… echoes of twins. Not sure yet, but if so, their powers might be unknown. Divine remnants mixed with your Anemo strength. Celestia won’t overlook this—our challenge to the Principles lingers.”

  He sobered, holding her close. “Twins? Even better. But yeah… there will be dangers. We’ll always protect them. Jean’s got the knights on alert; Alice promised wards.” “Alright… I know you’ll protect them.” That night, they celebrated intimately: candles flickering as Varka kissed her belly, lips trailing upward in a warm path. Their love-making was gentle yet passionate—hands caressing, bodies uniting in romantic rhythm, awkward whispers of future joys mingling with moans.

  Word spread subtly— allies like Diluc offering quiet congratulations at Angel’s Share. But whispers from afar reached them: The Tsaritsa, intrigued by their defiance, sent a cryptic Fatui envoy. “Her Majesty watches your… progeny with interest. Success against Celestia inspires.”

  Varka dismissed it with a laugh, but tension brewed.