The forest floor was a mosaic of gold and rust, the afternoon sun filtering through the canopy in dappled shafts that illuminated the dust motes dancing in the still air.
From this silence a mesmerizing blonde beauty emerges from the thick vegetation surrounding Starfell lake. Her long hair is tied in a beautiful bun, and she has a slender yet curvy figure that even goddesses might envy...especially with regards to her chest. She is wearing a distinctive suit of armor minus the lion's helmet. Over her armor, she wore a simple, blue hoodie, an odd but effective means of camouflage in this strange world. Her emerald eyes scanned the surroundings with a mixture of shock and dawning disbelief.
'Hilichurls'.
Not just one or two, but a scattered tribe of the mask-wearing creatures, some beating drums around a sputtering fire, others sharpening crude clubs and arrows. They moved with the exact same loping gait, made the same guttural sounds she'd spent countless hours listening to while grinding for materials in-game. It was impossible, a fantasy too absurd to even contemplate, yet here she was, a living legend in a world she thought was mere entertainment.
The initial shock was giving way to a strange, giddy excitement. She had literally isekai'd into Genshin Impact! And not just as some random NPC, but as Artoria freaking Pendragon. Her mind raced, connecting the dots. The cliff, the lake, the distant city... It was Mondstadt. This was Starfell lake. The realization hit her with the force of one of her own Noble Phantasms. She was *home*, in a way she'd never imagined.
A mischievous grin, one that felt entirely new yet utterly natural, spread across her face. How could she not test this? A chance to meet the characters, to see the world, to live the adventure? But first, a small demonstration.
Focusing her divine energy, she felt it pool in her palm, not as the world-ending Rhongomyniad, but as a simple, concentrated mote of light. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it zipping towards a loose rock near the hilichurl camp. The mote struck true, and the rock didn't just shattered it vaporized with a sharp *crack*, leaving behind a small, smoking crater and a puff of dust.
The nearest hilichurls jumped, their masked faces whipping around in confusion. They chittered and gurgled, searching for the source of the unseen attack, their beady eyes darting between the trees. But they saw nothing. Artoria, the Goddess Rhongomyniad, was already gone, a gust of wind her only trace as she moved with impossible speed towards the city of freedom.
"THIS IS REAL! ALL REAL!" Artoria let out a gleeful cheer as she moves away from the poor Hilichurls camp that she just used as a target practice, in speeds that defy the laws of physics. The ground blurred beneath her feet, a testament to her divine form. "I'M IN GENSHIN IMPACT! YES! YES! YES!"
This was more than a game now. This was her new life. A life with infinite possibilities, and she was going to enjoy every second of it. The path ahead, leading down towards the gates of Mondstadt, wasn't just a road. It was the start of her story, a story she would write with the tip of a divine spear and the heart of a king.
As she glides through the foliage and trees, she begins to recall how all of these wonderful series of events started earlier today.
_______________
(Flashback a Few Hours Prior)
She felt like she's floating on an endless void.
Her previous life, her previous name... it was already fading like a distant memory. 'Who..who was she? Why can't I remember my na..name?' The woman felt like she's fading slowly, and as she await the probability of death, she began to recall memories. Memories that are hers, about a life she once had. A life ruled by the clockwork march of modern time. A lifetime filled with stress from constant demand of corporate life and the hustle and bustle of city. Yet amidst it all, she vaguely recall smiling at the face of a daughter...a daughter she singlehandedly raised yet was taken so early from her. She remembered precious memories of them playing together and enjoying each others companies. Yet, she couldn't even remember the child's name, and her memories are slowly sinking in the abyss. As her consciousness slowly faded, she felt a sudden pull, like a cosmic fishhook catching her soul. Then, she was no longer floating. She was laying on a bed of soft grass, the scent of wildflowers and clean air filling her lungs. The first thing she saw was the sky, a brilliant, impossible blue, dotted with cotton-white clouds.
"Where....where the heck am I?" The woman asked herself with a groggy voice. She tried to get up when suddenly, she was met with an excruciating pain that came from her mind. Memories that are not hers flooded into her mind, memories of pulling a sword from a stone, of becoming a king, of a holy lance that pierces reality itself.
She gritted her teeth as she endured the pain. She then looked at a clear puddle at her side and saw her reflection. Looking back at her was a face of sheer beauty with blond hair tied in a bun. A body that can make goddesses cry in envy....and oh god her breasts! She never had such perfectly large breasts before! This is the reflection of Artoria Pendragon Lancer! Her own reflection!
"Artoria...I...am...Artoria..." She whispered, the name solidifying her new reality. She was no longer the woman from Earth, she couldn't even remember her name. Yet the memories she had of that life are still there, and now she also has the body of one of her favorite character, Artoria Pendragon.
"I'm now her?....No, I'm ME. I am Artoria, yet even more.", Different lives, different memories merging as one.
"Yes, I am me." Yet, try as she might, the new reality presented to her would take some time to get use to. So, the woman, now Artoria Pendragon did what anyone at her situation would normally do, she just sat there, in a patch of verdant grass, in some unknown cliff.
***********
After a few hours of adjusting to her new reality, Artoria stood up. She took a deep breath, fully embracing her new identity as Artoria Pendragon, Former sovereign ruler of Camelot, Goddess Rhongomyniad.
She could feel the raw power thrumming through her veins, a familiar yet alien current of divine energy. It felt like a star held captive within her very being. It was time to test it. Not the world-breaking power she knew she possessed, but a mere flicker.
She walked towards the edge of the cliff, her boots making no sound on the soft grass. And what she saw truly left her speechless her.
In front of her, just below the cliff side is vast open wilderness covered by forest with mountains embracing on each side. She could see a large crystal lake at the distance. But really caught her attention the most is the city on the other side of the lake. She knew that place, the windmills that stood tall, the Cathedral that looked so familiar. 'That's Mondstadt!' She recognized the view from one of her many playthroughs of the game. The very same city that she adored so much.
The familiarity was a shock to her system. She hadn't simply been dropped into a world that resembled her favorite game. She was in it. The very air tasted the same as it had through her screen, a mix of cool mountain air and the faint, sweet scent of dandelions carried on the breeze.
She stood there, a solitary figure against the vast Teyvat sky, a queen without a kingdom, a goddess without believers, and a gamer who had just become the ultimate player in a world she thought was fictional. Her new life had begun, and as she looked out over the peaceful city of Mondstadt, a single thought echoed in her mind: 'What now?'
Instead of some profound self revelation, a small mischievous smile appeared on her lips. Well since she's already here, why not pay the local Hilichurl tribes a visit.
"I'm sure they wouldn't mind little old me paying their homes a visit, especially if they wouldn't even know that I was even there in the first place, right?" With a mischievous giggle, the now transformed goddess, began to descend down the clift and into the forest below.
(Flashback Ends)
_______________
Artoria chuckled at her impromptu 'inspection'. She just couldn't help it, since she realized that she's now living on Teyvat.
That's it, this is her life now. No longer chained into the whims of corporate slavery, she will explore this vast world one nation at the time! Like those isekai protagonists in those japanese light novels!
Unfortunately for her, things will take a different turn, completely reshaping her plans for a grand adventure across this new found world.
_____________________
[ Windwail Highland ]
She moved with the swiftness of a goddess, a blur against the lush landscape. She arrived in Windwail Highland, and it was even more beautiful than in the game! She really is enjoying her second life, that is of course when reality came crashing down.
Her joyride abruptly ended.
Below the hill that she stood upon, the idyllic scene shattered. A merchant's wagon, its vibrant canvas torn and splintered, lay overturned on the dirt track. Around it, bodies. Not the dissipating forms of defeated monsters from a screen, but real people, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, their clothes soaked in a deep, dark red that was far too visceral. The coppery scent of blood, something her enhanced senses picked up with terrifying clarity, hung in the air.
Her blood ran cold. This wasn't a game anymore. The Treasure Hoarders scrambling to loot the crates weren't just clusters of pixels spouting pre-recorded lines. They were real men, with greedy, desperate eyes, kicking at the lifeless forms of their victims. The excitement that had bubbled within her curdled into a leaden weight in her stomach. These were real lives, extinguished in a brutal, meaningless way.
Her reverence was shattered by a sound that pierced through the haze of despair, the desperate, piercing cries of children.
They were huddled behind the wreckage of the wagon, two small figures clutching each other. A gruff-looking Treasure Hoarder, a rusty axe in his hand, was advancing on them slowly, a cruel smirk on his face.
"NOOOOO!" Without hesitation Artoria moved. She leapt from the hill and hurled down towards the crime scene below her. She didn't just fall; she descended like an avenging angel, a comet of righteous fury. The landing was not one of grace, but of pure, unadulterated force. The very ground cracked and buckled beneath her armored boots, a small crater forming around her feet and sending a shockwave of dust and debris outwards. The Treasure Hoarders stumbled back, their smug confidence evaporating in an instant, replaced by raw, primal fear.
The blonde goddess rose from the dust, emerald eyes burning with an icy fire that promised nothing but divine retribution. The Spirit of the King of Knights inside her roared in righteous fury for the injustice in front of her!
She contemplated using either Excalibur or Rhongomyniad on these pathetic excuses of meat sacks, but she relented. They don't deserve to witness such weapons. Her fists are enough to do the talking (STRENGTH LEVEL EX). She just wants to get her hands on them. The Treasure Hoarder leader, the one with the axe, tried to regain his composure.
"Who... who the hell are you?!" he stammered, raising his weapon defensively.
Artoria's voice, when she spoke, was low and cold, carrying an authority that seemed to make the very air still. "I am the one who will deliver your judgment."
With a speed that defied mortal comprehension, she moved. The world seemed to slow to a crawl for her. In the span of a single heartbeat, she closed the ten meters between herself and the leader. Her hand, clad in gleaming gauntlet, shot out not as a punch, but as an open-palmed strike. She didn't even make full contact, merely tapping the man's chest.
The effect was catastrophic. It was as if he'd been hit by a battering ram moving at the speed of sound. A dull *thump* echoed, followed by the grotesque sound of bones shattering into dust. The Treasure Hoarder was launched backwards like a ragdoll, flying over thirty meters before crashing into a large boulder with a sickening crunch, his body slumping into a broken heap.
Panic erupted.
The remaining Hoarders screamed and scattered, dropping their stolen goods and fleeing in terror. But there was no escape. Not from her. Artoria became a whirlwind of controlled destruction. She moved like a phantom, a blur of silver armor and blue fabric. One man went down with a single, precise kick to the head, his neck snapping instantly. Another was lifted into the air by a casual backhand and thrown into two of his fleeing companions, the three of them collapsing in a tangle of broken limbs. She didn't even break a sweat. It was less of a fight and more of a pest extermination.
In less than ten seconds, it was over. The only sounds were the whimpering of the two children and the gentle whisper of the wind.
Artoria stood amidst the carnage, her chest heaving not from exertion, but from the surging, righteous fury that still pulsed through her divine core. She slowly turned towards the huddled children, her harsh expression softening instantly as she looked at their terrified, tear-streaked faces. She took a gentle step forward, her massive power now contained, her presence as calming as a summer breeze.
"It is alright now," she said, her voice now warm and gentle, a stark contrast to the tone of a moment ago. Then she saw them.
She saw what looks like a 5 years old girl with blonde hair almost similar in color as to her tied in a cute ponytail. Her eyes were a light shade of purple and she's wearing a cute white dress. She's clutching an infant, not even a year old who has a fluffy tuff of blonde hair similar to the older child. The poor baby must be crying from all the trauma that had just happen. The scene broke Artoria's heart and a strange protective instinct (maternal instinct) that she never knew she had surge up from her chest when she saw the state of these two children.
As she step closer to them, she saw a dead body what appeared to be their mother laying on a pool of blood with a broken sword at hand. She died trying to protect her children. The thought alone made Artoria's divine blood boil once again. Her anger towards those worthless piles of trash has increase tenfold. She felt that killing them with her fists is too merciful for them. They should have suffer a much, much crueler fate.
She knelt down, her heavy armor making a soft clinking sound. She extended a gauntleted hand, palm up, a gesture of peace. The little girl flinched, but then her purple eyes, wide with a fear beyond her years, met Artoria's calm emerald gaze. Something in the king's expression, perhaps the ancient sorrow, the unshakable resolve, the promise of absolute safety seemed to reach past the girl's terror.
"You are safe," Artoria repeated, her voice a soft murmur. "I will not let any harm come to you." She slowly, carefully, reached out and gently rested her gauntlet on the girl's small shoulder. The girl's trembling subsided slightly, and the crying of the infant in her arms quieted to soft hiccups. "I am Artoria," the knight said. "What are your names?"
The little girl sniffled, her small voice trembling. "I'm... I'm Jean," she whispered. "And... and this is my baby sister Barabara." She looked down at the baby, who was now staring up at Artoria with wide, curious eyes, her tears forgotten.
Artoria smiled, however deep down she froze. Jean? Barabara? Aren't those the names of the characters from Mondstadt?! The Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius and the Deaconess of the Church of Favonius?! Was...was she isekai'd on the wrong time period? Was she isekai'd to the past, years before Traveler and Paimon even showed up?!
Dear God, this changes everything! This can potentially change the entire course of history! A timeline that she has the power to change…. probably for the better.
The weight of this revelation settled upon her, heavier than any crown. This wasn't just an adventure anymore. This was a chance. A chance to be more than a hero in a story; it was a chance to be a guardian of history itself.
"I will take you to a safe place," Artoria declared, her voice regaining its regal timbre. She carefully scooped up both children into her arms with a grace that belied her armor, one cradling Barbara close to her chest, the other holding Jean's hand securely. Jean, instead of resisting, clung to her, burying her face in the blue hoodie that smelled faintly of ozone and something impossibly ancient and clean.
The touch and contact of the two children awoken a warm fire in Artoria's heart.
The memories of her past life, the one where she was a corporate slave yet a mother and the one that she had lived as a king, resurfaced. She remembered the happy times she shared with her now nameless child, the cold isolation of her rule, the sacrifices she had made for a kingdom that had ultimately betrayed her. But more than that, she remembered the daughters she had failed. Her now nameless and forgotten child, and Mordred. The pain, the regret, the aching emptiness of bonds that had been broken before it could even begin. The memory of her homunculus child, desperate for her love and recognition, only to be met with a cold, kingly distance, was a wound that had never truly healed.
But now, holding these two small, fragile lives, she felt something else. A fierce, protective love that surged through her with the force of a tidal wave. This was her chance to right the wrongs of her past. To be the guardian she had never been, the protector she had always striven to be.
She looked at the bodies around her, a grim reminder of the fragility of this world. But she also saw the city of Mondstadt in the distance, a beacon of freedom and hope. She would take them there. She would raise them as her own. She would give them the life they deserved, a life of love and safety, a life free from the horrors she had just witnessed.
Her days as an adventurer were over before they had even begun. The Goddess Rhongomyniad, the King of Knights, had found a new purpose. She would be a guardian.
She turned her back on the carnage, her gaze fixed on the city of wind and song. With a child in her arms and another by her side, she began her walk towards Mondstadt, a goddess with a heart full of a mother's love, ready to face whatever challenges this new life had in store. She didn't know what the future held, but for the first time since she had awoken in this strange new world, she felt a sense of peace, a sense of belonging. She was home.
_______________
Artoria walked with a steady, unhurried pace that covered the ground with impossible speed. The world became a blur of green and gold around them, but for the two small girls, it was a world of warmth and safety. Jean, whose young mind was still reeling from the trauma, found a strange comfort in the rhythmic, powerful stride of the woman who held her. She felt the cold gauntlet, yet it didn't feel harsh; it felt like the strongest shield in the world. Barbara, nestled in the crook of Artoria's arm, had stopped crying entirely, her small fingers now curled around a lock of Artoria's golden hair, a curious, innocent grip on a piece of divinity.
The closer they got to Mondstadt, the more Artoria' s mind worked. She couldn't just waltz into the city with two orphaned children, dressed as she was. A walking armory, a woman of impossible beauty and stature, with two children who smelled of blood and loss? That would attract attention, the wrong kind of attention. The Knights of Favonius would have questions. The Church would have questions. She had answers, but they were not of this world.
She found a secluded spot near a babbling brook, the sound of the water a soothing balm on the tense atmosphere. She gently set the girls down. "We must clean up a little," she said softly, her voice a melody of calm reassurance.
Jean just nodded, her eyes still wide but no longer filled with terror. She watched as Artoria knelt by the water, removing one of her gauntlets with surprising deftness. The hand that emerged was pale, slender, and perfect, yet it moved with the purpose and strength of a warrior. Using the memories of magecraft that a certain version of Artoria apparently mastered, she carefully conjured a ball of water and began to sprinkle it gently on the children before her, like a warm shower. She washed away the dirt and the faint, horrifying traces of blood that had splattered on Jean's dress. She was gentle, impossibly so, a goddess performing the humblest of tasks with the grace of a queen. She would then conjure up the wind and heat to dry the girls comfortably. She was rewarded with smiles coming from her new precious wards that made her heart soar above the clouds! This... this is the beauty of being a guardian to two adorable angels! Artoria exclaimed in her mind.
But she knows that love and affection are not enough. She needs to provide a home for them. Food and money...which she doesn't have any.
The realization struck her with a jolt. She could level mountains and part the seas, yet she had no Mora on her, no place to live, no means to provide for a child and a baby. Her powers were immense, but they were not practical for daily life. She couldn't exactly shoot a beam of light from a spear to pay for bread.
A bitter laugh almost escaped her. The Goddess Rhongomyniad, the Once and Future King, was worrying about rent and groceries.
As the thought solidified, a subtle, pulsing warmth emanated from her chest. It was a sensation she had felt since she woke up but had dismissed as part of her divine transformation. Now, however, it felt distinct. Reaching under her hoodie, beneath the ornate armor, her fingers brushed against an object she hadn't consciously registered. It was smooth, cold, and radiated a power that was both familiar and alien.
She pulled it out.
It was a chalice, a golden grail, intricately carved with celestial patterns. It felt warm to the touch, humming with a latent, almost limitless energy. And then, the knowledge flooded into her mind, not a painful torrent like the memories of her past life, but a gentle, knowing stream. The Holy Grail. Not the flawed, corrupted vessel from the Fuyuki Grail War, but something purer, more absolute. An artifact that had crossed dimensions with her. An artifact that could grant wishes. Her wish!
Artoria stared at the Grail, then at Jean, who was now watching her with those innocent, trusting purple eyes. She thought of a home. A warm, safe house with a soft bed for Jean and a cradle for Barbara. She thought of food, fresh bread, warm milk, and sweet fruit. She thought of Mora, enough to never have to worry again.
She didn't speak any words of command. She simply held the desire in her heart, a mother's desperate plea for her children's safety. The Grail in her hand flared with a soft, golden light, a miniature sun in the twilight. It pulsed once, twice, and a shower of golden motes of energy flowed from it, dissipating into the air.
A heavy pouch appeared in her other hand. It was full, the familiar jingle of Mora a beautiful music to her ears. She opened it, and the glint of pure gold coins confirmed it. Not just a handful, but enough to start a life.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She had been a king, a goddess, a warrior. But in this moment, holding the means to provide for her new wards, she felt more powerful than she ever had wielding Rhongomyniad.
Artoria was ELATED! Tears of joy flooded her eyes! She can now raise these two precious little girls without having to worry about pesky Jobs and Mora ever again! Like the King she once was!
Artoria's little dramatic victory was then interrupted by a small sweet innocent voice coming from Jean as she look at her with her large and cute innocent eyes, at which she uttered a name that was enough to shatter her very soul! A name that made her goddess blood run cold.
"Mama?"
_______________
The word hung in the air, a single syllable carrying the weight of a universe of desperate longing. Artoria froze, every divine power, every cosmic memory, grinding to a halt. Jean looked up at her, not with the fear of a child saved by a stranger, but with the dawning hope of a lost lamb finding its shepherd.
The memories of the little girl before her, which she had apparently got a glimpse of with the help of her 'fay eyes', now came into sharp focus.
Jean grew up in a manor isolated from the rest of the world. Her parents were far and her mother, Frederica was strict. The child grew up trying to find a way to fill the gnawing loneliness no child of her age should experience. Her nannies were her constant companions, and through their stories concerning heroes and chivalry, the little girl's lonely mind began to paint a somewhat vivid scenario. Due to sheer loneliness and the instead desire to be loved and embraced, she began to think that maybe...just maybe she had a different mother, a real mother who was actually somewhere, probably battling villains and is actually a hero. The way Frederica had grown cold and distant after her husband's death further solidified the child's imaginary beliefs. The child's mind, in its innocence and pain, had constructed a fantasy to survive. Her little child-like fantasy told her that her 'True' mother is not the cold Frederica, but someone else, and she's out there and someday she will return to get her and her little sister.
And now, that fantasy was standing right in front of her, a goddess in armor with the same blonde hair as hers, a living embodiment of every story she had ever wished for!
Artoria's heart, which had just been soaring, now plummeted. How could she? How could she accept this mantle? She was Artoria Pendragon, the King of Knights, a being who had failed her own child, Mordred, so spectacularly. She was a warrior, not a mother.
Trembling, Artoria tried to placate the little girl, trying gently to make her see that she's not the mother she believed her to be. Their mother was dead after all! Slain from the hands of treasure Hoarders!
THIS IS GETTING A BIT TOO FAST! Just hours ago, she was just Isekai'd as her favorite game character, now she was being thrusted straight into motherhood! She thought it would take time for these children to at least open up to her, oh how wrong she was!
"Sweetie, I... I'm not 'Mama'. My name is Artoria." Artoria was trembling as she gave a gentle smile to the little girl in front of her which unfortunately just solidified the girl's fantasy towards her even more! She was trying to find the right words to say to her, something that would not break her fragile heart but she can't find one!
But the words wouldn't come. Every logical rebuttal felt like a cruelty. "Your mother is dead" was a truth far too harsh for a five-year-old who had just witnessed the raw reality of that death. "I'm a stranger" was a lie; a bond had already formed in the crucible of violence and salvation.
Jean simply shook her head, her blonde ponytail swaying. She took a hesitant step closer and laid her small hand on Artoria's armored leg, the metal cool beneath her palm. "No," she said, her voice filled with a conviction that was unshakable. "You are. You came. You're a knight, like in the stories. My real mama wouldn't let us get hurt. She wouldn't have let that happen. You saved us."
She looked up, her blue eyes pools of pure, unadulterated faith now trembling with unshed tears. "Please... don't leave, Mama."
That was it. The final blow. The words, again. "Please... Mama."
The ghost of Mordred, the memory of a child's desperate, spurned love, rose before her. The pain of that failure, a cold ache that had lasted centuries, clashed with the overwhelming, fierce protectiveness she felt for the little girl before her. This was her second chance. A cosmic gift, delivered in the most brutal way possible. She could not, would not, repeat the mistakes of her past.
Slowly, Artoria knelt down, the metal of her armor groaning softly. She was at eye level with Jean now. She reached out, her ungloved hand gently cupping the girl's cheek. The touch was impossibly gentle, a stark contrast to the devastation she had wrought moments before.
A single, perfect tear traced a path down Artoria's divine cheek. It was not a tear of sadness, but of acceptance, of a solemn vow being sworn in the quiet of a Mondstadt evening.
"Yes," she whispered, the word catching in her throat. "Yes, my dear Jean. I am here."
She didn't say "I am your mother." It was a line she couldn't cross, not yet. But the promise, the unspoken truth, was there in her eyes, in her touch. For Jean, it was enough. A brilliant, tearful smile broke across her face, and she threw her arms around Artoria's neck, clinging to her with all the strength her small body possessed.
Artoria held her close, one arm wrapping around Jean while the other cradled the babbling Barbara, who seemed to sense the shift in emotion and patted Artoria's cheek with a tiny hand. The weight of her new reality settled upon her, not as a burden, but as a sacred duty. She was no longer just the King of Knights, the Goddess Rhongomyniad. She was a mother. She was their mother.
With newfound resolve, Artoria stood, gathering the children securely. "We will find a new home," she declared to them, her voice regaining its regal strength, now infused with a warmth it had never possessed before. "We will build a new life. Together."
_______________
The walk to Mondstadt was different this time. The blur of motion was slower, more deliberate. She took in the sights not as a player in a game, but as a new resident of this world. The windmills turning majestically against the sunset, the sweet scent of dandelions and the smell of cider on the breeze, the distant sounds of a city settling into the evening. This is her world now. Their world.
As they approach the great bridge leading into the city, she felt a familiar pang of anxiety. The Knights of Favonius would be on patrol. She pulled the hood of her blue jacket up, casting her face in shadow. It was a simple disguise, but combined with the dwindling light, it would have to suffice.
"Keep close to me," she murmured to Jean, who tightened her grip on her hand.
They crossed the bridge, passing a patrol of two young knights who barely gave them a second glance, their eyes drawn more to her mysterious figure than the small children she carried. Inside the city walls, the atmosphere was alive. People were closing up their shops, children were laughing in the streets, and the sound of a bards' lute drifted from the distance. It was the city of Freedom, but for Artoria, it felt like a fortress of responsibility.
Her first priority was finding a home. She could take them to an inn, yet sooner or later, they must have a house to call their own. They needed permanence, a sanctuary. Guided by an instinct she didn't know she possessed, she moved away from the bustling main plaza, her steps leading her through the quieter streets and winding alleys, deeper into the residential sectors of the city.
Then she found it, on a small, unassuming street near the city's outer wall. It was a modest two-story house, built of stone and timber, with a small garden in front, currently overgrown with weeds.
She was about to to ask for the house, when she heard the rustle of armor behind her.
"Halt" when she turned around, she saw two members of the Knights of Favonius standing in attention. She sense no hostility in the voice of one of the knights, only curiosity especially towards her two precious cargos.
"Good afternoon ma'am, please don't be alarm but we were hoping to ask why the children of Lady Frederica Gunnhildr are with you?" Little did Artoria know, these knights know Lady Frederica Gunnhildr personally for she was their strict disciplinary combat instructor.
Artoria's grip around the girls tighten. There's no way out without causing a commotion. She resigned to her impending fate and decided to play nice with these knights. She would later tell them the truth of what happened minus the whole 'I'm a goddess and I just abducted these children to take them as my own part.' She would just say that she saved them. She took a deep breath, and lowered her hood.
The moment she did, both knights froze. Their eyes widened, their jaws slack. Before them stood a woman of impossible beauty, her emerald eyes holding an ancient, regal authority that seemed to command the very air around them. Her golden hair, even tied in a bun, seemed to catch the last rays of the sun and gleam with an inner light. They had seen many beautiful women in Mondstadt, from the songstress of the Angel's Share to the Deaconess of the church, but this lady is something else entirely. Hers is the beauty of myth, of legends. Her presence alone was overwhelming, a silent declaration of power and nobility that made their standard-issue armor feel like tin foil.
The knight who had spoken cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very small and out of place. "I... we... ahem. We were told to be on the lookout for Lady Gunnhildr and her daughters. They were supposed to arrive from a trip from Springvale hours ago." He struggled to keep his eyes on her face, a task that felt both imperative and disrespectful.
Artoria met his gaze, her expression a mask of controlled sorrow. "Then I'm afraid to be the bearer of grim news," she said, her voice a low, melodic thrum that vibrated in their chests. "I came upon their overturned wagon in Windwail Highland. They were set upon by Treasure Hoarders."
The words landed like lead weights. The knights' professional curiosity vanished, replaced by grim reality. "Lady... Lady Frederica?" the second knight asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"She fell defending them," Artoria stated, the finality in her tone leaving no room for doubt. She felt a pang of guilt, twisting the truth for her own ends, but she reminded herself it was for their safety. For their future. "I was too late to save her, but not her daughters."
Jean, hearing the words, buried her face in Artoria's side, her small body trembling. The gesture spoke volumes, a silent testament to the bond between them. The knights saw it, and their expressions softened from professional concern to heartfelt sympathy.
"Seven hells," the first knight muttered, running a hand through his hair. "She was a tough one. One of our best instructors. To be taken down by common bandits..."
"Where is the wagon?" the second knight asked, his voice now all business. "We need to dispatch a full squad to recover the bodies and secure the site. And these... these children need to be brought to the Knights' Headquarters. The Grand Master should be informed. The Gunnhildr clan..."
"The Gunnhildr clan will not raise them," Artoria's voice cut through his, not loud, but imbued with a force that made him stop mid-sentence. Her emerald eyes hardened. "Their mother died protecting them from this world. They will not be handed over to a clan of strangers as a political token or a symbol of sorrow. They will stay with me."
The knights were taken aback by the sheer, unassailable conviction in her statement. It wasn't a request; it was a decree. The first knight, trying to regain some semblance of authority, said, "Ma'am, with all due respect, we can't just... release the daughters of a noble house to a... a stranger. No matter how... well-intentioned you may be."
But Artoria remained firm to her decision. She had lost her opportunity to become a mother once, she will not do so again!
"My decision stands firm sir and I will stand by it." Artoria voice left no room for argument as she tighten her hold around her new daughters.
The knights saw no other way around this Beautiful yet stone willed woman. They proposed a compromise.
"Ma'am, the laws of Mondstadt must be followed but seeing that you were the one who saved the two heiress of one of the four ancient Noble clans of Mondstadt, we would like to invite you to at least explain this situation out in the Knights of Favonius headquarters. At least to diffuse any problematic situations."
The death of Frederica Gunnhildr is a matter of national importance. Not only was she a senior member of the Knights but she's also the matriarch of the Gunnhildr clan, who's members had dwindled thin for the last centuries. Lady Gunnhildr and her 2 daughters are the only remaining members of the main family branch. The rest of those who bear the surname Gunnhildr are all but distant relations which have no way of inheriting the fortunes of the main house.
Artoria looked from one determined face to the other. She could feel their anxiety, the weight of duty pressing down on them. They were good men, trying to do their job in a situation that was far beyond their training. A direct confrontation would be simple. She could knock them unconscious, be gone before they hit the ground. But that would make her a fugitive, an enemy of the very city she had chosen as her sanctuary. It would put a target on their backs, on the backs of her girls. No. That was the path of the old Artoria, the isolated king. This new path required diplomacy, even if it was backed by the implicit threat of overwhelming power.
She gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Very well," she conceded, her voice softening just enough to signal cooperation. "I will accompany you. But the children stays with me. They will not be separated from me. Is that understood?"
The knights exchanged a look of relief. It was a compromise, but one they could work with. "Understood," the first knight said firmly. "Please, follow us."
The walk to the headquarters was a surreal procession. Artoria, a goddess in makeshift disguise, flanked by two nervous knights, carrying the orphaned heiresses of a noble house. Whispers followed them like ripples in a pond. A city that thrived on gossip was suddenly presented with a mystery of the highest order. Who was this woman? She had the bearings of a queen, the beauty of an enchanted spirit, and the protective ferocity of a lioness over her cubs. The rumors, already simmering from her brief appearance at the city gate, now began to boil.
The headquarters of the Knights of Favonius was a building of grand, solid architecture, a testament to Mondstadt's commitment to its guardians. Inside, the air was cool and still, smelling of old stone, polished wood, and the faint metallic tang of armor. As they entered the main hall, their footsteps echoing on the flagstones, a man who was patiently waiting at the top of the grand staircase turned to face them.
He was tall, with a neatly trimmed blonde beard and piercing blue eyes that held a calculating shrewdness. He wore the regalia of the Grand Master, a fine uniform adorned with the insignia of his office, but it sat on him like a costume, unable to fully conceal the ambitious air that clung to him. This was Randolf Gunnhildr.
His eyes flicked from his knights to the two small children, and a flicker of something similar to triumph? relief?crossed his face before being masked by solemn concern. But when his gaze settled on Artoria, the mask slipped for a fraction of a second. His eyes widened, and a spark of raw, undisguised jealousy ignited within them. He saw her beauty, her regal bearing, and an immediate, visceral hostility bloomed in his chest.
"What is the meaning of this?" he boomed, his voice carrying the weight of authority, though it lacked true resonance. He descended the stairs, his gaze fixed on Artoria. "Report."
"Grand Master," the first knight said, snapping to attention. "We found the daughters of Lady Frederica Gunnhildr in the company of this woman. She... she reported that Lady Frederica had fallen while fighting Treasure Hoarders in Windwail Highland."
A perfect, rehearsed look of shock and grief appeared on Randolf's face. "Frederica? No! This is... a tragedy for the entire city! For our order!" He placed a hand over his heart, a gesture that felt as hollow as his words. His eyes, however, remained locked on Artoria, assessing, dissecting. "And you are?" he demanded, his tone sharp. "Who are you to be found with the last of the Gunnhildr line?"
From the moment Artoria laid her eyes upon Randolf, she immediately decided that she doesn't like him A LOT! The air around him screams of pride and ambitions with a hint of hostility masked underneath a regal bearing. Is...is this the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius before the game started? Is he like the predecessor to Varka?! He doesn't look like the embodiment of someone who cares about the City of Freedom! His entire being screams subterfuge and manipulation!
She felt her protective instinct flare up. This man is a threat. Not in the way the Treasure Hoarders were a threat, but something more insidious. He looked at the girls not as grieving children, but as valuable assets.
Artoria met his probing gaze without flinching, her emerald eyes as cool and deep as a forest pool. "My name is Artoria Pendragon," she stated, her voice clear and unwavering. "I was traveling when I came upon the attack. I was too late to save their mother, but I swore on my life that I would protect her daughters."
"Pendragon?" Randolf repeated the name, rolling it on his tongue as if tasting it for poison. "I have not heard that name associated with any of the noble houses of Mondstadt. You are a foreigner, then."
"My origins are of no consequence," Artoria countered smoothly. "What mattered are the children. They have been through a terrible ordeal. They need rest and safety, not to be paraded before the court like trophies."
Her words were a subtle jab, but they landed true. A muscle in Randolf's jaw twitched. "Lady Gunnhildr and her daughters are of the main branch of the Gunnhildr clan," he said, his voice now dangerously low. "By law, they fall under the purview of the Knights of Favonius, and by extension, the head of their clan, until such a time as the heiress comes of age. As Grand Master, it is my duty to assume that responsibility. They will be placed in my care."
"Over my dead body."
The words were not shouted. They were spoken with a quiet, chilling finality that made the very air in the grand hall grow cold. The two knights who had escorted her took an involuntary step back. The sheer force of will radiating from this blonde woman was palpable, a pressure that made their armor feel tight.
Jean, sensing the tension, whimpered and buried her face deeper into Artoria's side. Barbara, in her arms, began to fuss, letting out a soft, distressed cry.
Artoria's gaze didn't waver from Randolf's, but her entire demeanor softened. Without breaking eye contact with the Grand Master, she began to gently rock Barbara, her free hand stroking Jean's hair in a slow, calming rhythm. It was a display of profound maternal instinct, a stark contrast to the undeniable threat she had just issued. The message was clear: she was a protector, and her protection was absolute.
The several Knights who are present inside the Headquarters at that time who witness the standoff could help but feel at awe.
An unspoken understanding began to circulate among the watching knights. They had served under Randolf for years. They had seen his ambition, his preference for pomp and ceremony over rigorous training, his dismissal of true knightly virtue for political maneuvering. They saw him now, a man eyeing two orphaned girls as keys to a vast fortune, as stepping stones to absolute power within the city.
And then they looked at her. Artoria. This stranger who suddenly appeared from nowhere with the face of a goddess and the bearing of a saint. They saw how the traumatized little girl clung to her, how the infant settled in her arms. They saw the unvarnished, righteous fury in her eyes when she spoke of protecting them. They saw a knight. Not the tarnished version they had become under Randolf, but the ideal they had all once sworn to be. The chivalry their ancestors had preached. It stood before them in the flesh.
One of the older knights, a man with a grizzled beard and a scar across his brow, took a hesitant step forward. "Grand Master," he began, his voice raspy but firm. "The lady has a point. The children... they had just lost their mother. To separate them from the only person they seem to trust now... it may not be for the best. Perhaps we could... perhaps we could grant her temporary guardianship. For their sake."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall. It was quiet, but in the stillness, it was as loud as a war cry.
Randolf's face turned a deep shade of crimson. He was being challenged. Undermined. In front of everyone. By this... this phantom woman, and now by his own men! The audacity of it was staggering. He felt his control, so carefully cultivated over the years, beginning to slip.
"Temporary guardianship?" he scoffed, trying to regain his authoritative tone. "We know nothing of this woman! She could be anyone! An opportunist! She bears the children of our most esteemed house and you speak of granting her custody based on a... a feeling?"
He pointed a gloved finger at Artoria, his voice rising. "Her very features are suspicious! That hair! Those eyes! She bears the mark of the Gunnhildr main line! I have not seen her before, yet she looks as if she could be Frederica's own sister! This smells of deception! A ploy to insert herself into the clan and usurp the inheritance!"
The accusation was both clumsy and brilliant. It turned her greatest physical asset, her resemblance to the clan into a weapon against her. He was painting her as a con artist, a fraud preying on tragedy.
Artoria listened to his tirade, her expression unchanging. When he finished, she took a slow, deliberate breath. The air in the hall was thick with tension, every eye fixed on her.
"You speak of inheritance and clans, Grand Master," she said, her voice cutting through his hysteria with scalpel-like precision. "I speak of two children who just watched their mother die." Her gaze swept across the room, briefly meeting the eyes of every knight present, her own emerald eyes holding a profound, unassailable sorrow. "You look at them and see an estate. I look at them and see their mother's last, desperate act of love."
She gently shifted Barbara in her arms and looked down at Jean, who was peering up at her with absolute faith. Then she looked back at Randolf, and her expression hardened into something that was not merely anger, but disappointment. The disappointment of a king for a failed vassal.
"You claim to be their kin. You claim to wish to protect them as head of their clan," Artoria continued, her voice dropping to a low, intense register that held everyone captive. "Then prove it. Swear it. Right here. Right now. Swear upon your honor as a knight, and as a Gunnhildr, that you will raise these girls not as heirs to a fortune, but as your own flesh and blood. That you will love them, comfort them, and place their well-being above all else. Swear it upon the entirety of Mondstadt in which its freedom and stability you as the Grand Master of this order had sworn to protect! SWEAR IT IN THE NAME OF THE ANEMO ARCHON BARBATOS WHO BLESSED THIS LAND WITH FREEDOM UNRIVALED!
Swear it and I will walk out of this city and never return."
The challenge hung in the air, a gauntlet thrown at his feet. It was a masterstroke. She had turned his political game into a spiritual test. For him to lie would be to pervert the most sacred oath a knight of Mondstadt could make. For him to tell the truth that he saw them primarily as assets would be to condemn himself in front of his entire order.
Randolf Gunnhildr froze. Sweat beaded on his brow beneath his neatly trimmed hair. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He wanted to roar, to deny, to have her thrown in the dungeons, but her words had trapped him. The knights were watching him, their expressions no longer just curious, but expectant. Judgmental. They were waiting for their Grand Master to prove he was worthy of the title.
He looked at Jean, who was staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, and then at Barbara, who was now babbling softly, oblivious. He saw no daughters. He saw keys.
He couldn't say the words. The lie was too big, too heretical to the ideals he was supposed to embody. The silence stretched, growing heavier with each passing second, a testament to his moral bankruptcy.
Artoria did not press him. There is no need for her to even consider the reply of a scurrying rat in front of her. Her attention was shifted to the two precious bundle of joys she now hold dear in her arms. Jean let out a tired yawn which also somewhat cause Barbara to yawn as well. She grace them of a smile only a mother could project. Her little babies are tired and they need to rest! There no time to dwell on the ramblings of a leech in front of her!
With the grace and authority worthy of that of a Queen, Artoria turned away from the still stunned Randolf and look at the assembly of knights surrounding her, shock, awe and a bit of reverence? etched in each of their faces.
"The children are tired and need to rest from all the events that had transpired today. I would appreciate it if anyone of you would kindly escort me to the nearest inn so that I can safely provided them nourishment and rest." Artoria's statement came out more as a regal command than a request. Her charisma acting like a charm to the knights who are now slowly seeing her as an idol of Chivalry. The Knights were more than willing to follow the command of this mysterious woman rather than their ambitious Grand Master.
The grizzled veteran knight with the scarred brow stepped forward instantly. "Of course, my lady," he said, his voice filled with a newfound respect. He deliberately ignored Randolf, his focus entirely on Artoria and the children. "The Goth Grand Hotel is the finest in Mondstadt, but it may be a bit... too public. There is a quieter inn nearby, called The Windswept Pleasance. It is clean, the food is good, and the innkeeper is a woman of discretion. I can arrange everything for you."
"I would be most grateful," Artoria said, inclining her head in a gesture of thanks that was both queenly and sincere. She turned to leave, her back to the Grand Master, the conversation, as far as she was concerned, concluded.
"STOP!"
Randolf's voice was a strangled roar, stripped of its grand authority, now filled with impotent rage and panic. He had lost control of the room, lost control of the narrative, and was about to lose control of his prize. He couldn't let her walk out. The humiliation alone would be unbearable, but the political damage would be catastrophic.
Yet Artoria kept on walking towards the exit escorted by a group of knights as if she's royalty.
"If you want to continue this conversation then it can wait until tomorrow. You haven't even respond to my challenge of whom your answer is still lacking. If you so care about these two then it wouldn't be much of a stretch to see their need for rest be paramount in this situation. If you have nothing better to speak of, then I bid you a good day."
Artoria just casually dismissed Randolf's ranting without even looking back. Her casual defiance had unknowingly stirred the hearts of the knights present.
The walk through Mondstadt's streets was a starkly different experience from her arrival. The sun had fully set, and the city was illuminated by the warm, welcoming glow of lanterns hanging from the eaves of buildings. A cool night breeze, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers and the faint, sweet aroma of cider from the nearby tavern, rustled through the streets. The group of knights, now her unofficial escort, moved with a sense of purpose, clearing a path through the few evening strollers. They walked not as subordinates, but as an honor guard.
The veteran knight, who had introduced himself as Sir Hemlock, walked beside her, his voice low and respectful. "The innkeeper is a widow named Elspeth. She is a good woman. She will ensure you are not disturbed."
"You have my thanks, Sir Hemlock," Artoria replied, her attention divided between him and the two sleeping angels in her arms. Jean was now fast asleep, her head resting on Artoria's shoulder, her breathing deep and even. Barbara had also succumbed to sleep, her tiny body warm and limp against her chest.
The Windswept Pleasance was a charming, two-story timber-framed building with a small, well-tended garden out front. A painted sign depicting a dandelion seed drifting on the wind creaked gently above the door. Hemlock pushed the door open, holding it for her.
Inside, it was cozy and warm. A fire crackled merrily in a large stone hearth, and the air smelled of baking bread and spices. A woman with kind eyes and her grey hair in a neat bun was wiping down a long wooden counter. She looked up as they entered, her expression shifting from professional curiosity to surprise at the sight of the armored knight and her precious cargo.
Hemlock stepped forward, his voice gentle but authoritative. "Elspeth. These guests require the best rooms you have. Food will be sent for them later. Ensure they are not disturbed by anyone."
Elspeth's gaze took in Artoria, her immense beauty, the sleeping children, and the formidable escort of knights. She was a woman who had seen many strange things in Mondstadt, but this was something new. She simply nodded, her shrewd eyes understanding that this was a situation above her usual pay grade. "Of course, Sir Hemlock. The rooms are ready. The master suite on the second floor is quiet."
Artoria offered the woman a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."
As she turned to follow Elspeth up the stairs, Hemlock placed a hand on his chest in a gesture of fealty that goes deeper than what his rank required. "My lady," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "the Knights of Favonius are at your service. Should you require anything, anything at all, you have but to send for me."
"I will remember that," Artoria said, and she meant it.
The master suite was simple but comfortable. Two beds, one large and one smaller, were made up with clean, crisp linens. Artoria gently laid Jean down on the smaller bed, pulling the covers over the small girl. She lingered for a moment, watching Jean sleep, the child's face peaceful for the first time since she had found her. Then she turned to the large bed and carefully placed Barbara in the center, building a small fortress of pillows around the infant to ensure she wouldn't roll.
For the first time in hours, she was alone. The adrenaline of the day, the grief, the righteous fury, and the fierce joy of her new found purpose all drained away, leaving a profound exhaustion. She stood by the window, looking out over the moonlit rooftops of Mondstadt. The city looked so peaceful, so free. But she knew better now. She had seen the rot festering at its core in the form of a man named Randolf.
She pulled the Holy Grail from its hiding place, the golden object glowing faintly in the dim light. She had abused its power for wealth, a pragmatic choice. But she wondered what other wishes it could grant. Could she wish for Randolf to be gone? For a worthy Grand Master to take his place? The thought was tempting, a shortcut to the justice she desired. But as she looked at the sleeping faces of her daughters, she dismissed it. No. True change could not be wished into existence. It had to be forged, through action, through will, through the hard, thankless work of rebuilding what had been broken. She had learned that lesson in Camelot. She would not forget it here.
A soft knock at the door broke her reverie. Elspeth entered with a tray. "Some warm milk and bread, my lady. For the children, when they wake." She set the tray down on a small table.
"Thank you ma'am."
Elspeth was surprised from the sincere thanks that came from this lady that more or less look like a Queen or a goddess. A wave of shyness took over her.
"It's my duty my lady."
Artoria saw the shyness in her eyes. This woman has not yet overcome the aura that she exudes.
"You can call me Artoria, ma'am. If you would be so kind."
The mention of Artoria's first name made Elspeth's heart flutter in surprise. It was common courtesy in Mondstadt to be addressed by a person's title not their first name unless you're close. She couldn't help but smile a warm and motherly smile.
"Artoria... What a beautiful name."
Artoria gave a warm smile.
"It was given to me by a dear friend."
Before Elspeth left, she looked at the sleeping children, then back at Artoria with her soft and motherly eyes.
"You're a good mother to them." Elspeth said with tears of joy welling from her eyes as she look at the scene in front of her. "They are lucky to have you."
Artoria was caught off guard by the sudden compliment from the innkeeper. She never thought that she would be called a 'mother' from someone else aside from Jean. The word alone made her feel warm inside.
"Thank you." Artoria whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
When Elspeth left, Artoria went back to the window and stared upon the gentle night that covered the City of Freedom. She's here, really here in the City she called home when she was still playing Genshin! A single tear flowed from her eye as she remembered with nostalgia the years she played that game. The first encounter during launch day, the friends she had met along the way. The building of her realm inside the sereniteapot and the various scenes from the Archon Quests that captivated her imagination!
Genshin became her go to happy place when she's feeling down from work. Genshin became a source of smile for her.
And now, she's here. The City that she called Home in the game, she's here and it's real.
She will build a new life here. She didn't know how much of the future timeline would be affected by her arrival, the first shot had already been fired and the ripples will surely affect the future. For better or for worse, she'll face whatever trials would come in her way with the pride and elegance worthy of her station as a goddess and as the King of Knights!
Artoria then looked at the sleeping angels now nestled on her bed. 'For them' she thought in her mind. She will live her life and build a world where these two angels in her arms. She'll try her very best to make sure that her PRECIOUS CHILDREN would grow up happy, contented, safe, and most importantly loved. This is her vow, this is her promise to them.
And....and if anyone, mortal or divine alike tried to mess with that promise, then they will be facing the very tip of her Divine Spear and will face the wrath of the one they call the Goddess Rhongomyniad, the Light and Anchor of the World!
(End of Chapter)