Chapter Text
“I thought you Snezhnayans were all about ‘family first’.”
“We are.”
“Forgive me, but you don’t exactly seem the nurturing type.”
“What’s with the interrogation? We aren’t friends.”
“Perhaps not, but I’m interested in you.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“‘What’s with the interrogation’?”
“…electros don’t take well to cryos. Don’t touch me ever again. I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth out.”
“How cold. I guess you take after the ‘Motherland’ after all.”
---
“You gave Master Diluc quite the fright last night.”
She cringed, accepting the mug of herbal tea from Adelinde gingerly. So this was what a ‘hangover’ was. How miserable. Both head and stomach kept spinning and it felt like she was lying in a bed of glass shards rather than plush satin. Though, she couldn’t exactly resent Diluc for convincing her to drink like that. He couldn’t have known that she’d take so poorly to it. And besides, he did carry her all the way back home in her own sick… ugh. The memory was so horrifying she actively winced.
“Let’s just forget about it, shall we?”
It was strange as the days went on. It didn’t seem to matter as much that she didn’t have her memories in proper. Even though her life started at the moment Diluc pulled her out of the river, she didn’t feel like she was so broken she couldn’t continue any longer. She’d lost something important, she knew. And she had to get it back. But out of all places to end up as an amnesiac, the City of Winds and Idylls wasn’t such a bad place to restart. She’d been lucky, no matter how distant her saviour was. At least she had one. She hated to admit it, but she was indebted to the young master in a way she wasn’t sure she could ever repay.
After falling asleep into a near-comatose state, her body betrayed itself and woke her up with a ravenous hunger. She could remember Diluc dropping her off with the maids last night, requesting them to take care of her, but she hadn’t seen him since then. Maybe if she hadn’t been knocked out she might’ve crossed paths with him. Though she felt much better, if not starving. Not wanting to bother anybody after taking advantage of their kindness, she snuck out of her room down to the kitchens. The moon was high in the windows—she’d really slept the entire day away.
The house was quiet, everybody asleep in their respective rooms. The wooden stairs were always so creaky, so she treaded carefully, toeing the edges of the aged steps. The chandelier in the central hall was always lit, the manor always bright, so she was less cautious of unexpected company than she should’ve been. It was only when Diluc cleared his throat that she jumped, finally noticing him sat at a table by the fire in plain view. He smirked at her amusedly.
“Feeling better?”
“…yes.” Feeling guilty for unknown reasons, she tried to shake off her paralysis and stepped forwards. Diluc had a chessboard laid out in front of him. Noticing her noticing it, he gestured.
“Do you play? Or, I suppose you wouldn’t, considering.”
“Sorry.” She had a faint grasp on the concept of chess; she knew it was a game and could identify the pieces. But there was that familiar void of nothingness when she tried thinking about how to play. It was like reaching into the dark, fumbling and feeling nothing. Something should be there, but it wasn’t. Not any longer.
“But if I learn,” she continued, “maybe I won’t be half bad. Who knows? I could’ve been a prodigy before I lost my memories.”
A flicker of warmth passed over his brightly crimson eyes. Perhaps it was just a reflection of the fire, but something about his face seemed gentler than usual.
“Maybe I’ll teach you someday. You can often judge the character of a person through the way they play.”
“You don’t sleep?” she asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow. Diluc waved his gloved hand, his head resting on the other.
“I’ve got business to attend to. It’s when people are meant to be sleeping that they’re most active.”
“Still, you should rest—”
As if on a cue, an ungodly rumble emerged from her stomach. Diluc blinked, straightening as if alerting himself for battle, only to realize. His face twisted into a smile he was trying very poorly to hide.
“I haven’t eaten!” she muttered defensively, her face flushed. What was it about him that had her continually embarrassing herself? He had to be cursed.
“I’ll put something together for you,” he offered, voice strained in an effort to hold back a laugh. “I haven’t eaten either, now that you’ve reminded me.”
“You’d do that for me?” she asked incredulously, unable to help the surprise. Already on his feet, he snorted down at her as he passed towards the kitchen.
“I’m not such a cruel host. I hope you take well to steak and potatoes.”
“I don’t remember.” Everything she’d eaten so far was fine, and she could tell it was high quality. But it wasn’t bringing back any sentiments, and the flavours were both familiar and not in the way that everything she had was good, but nothing more.
“Nobody’s turned down my cooking before. Come. I’ll have you help me.”
She’d only been expecting to nibble on some apples to tide her through the night, but Diluc seemed intent on serving some gourmet smorgasbord she could barely keep up with. He had her peeling potatoes and slicing cheese and mincing lampgrass—she felt like his puppet, dancing on command. As irritating as it was to take his orders, she didn’t mind the grunt work. There was a certain monotony to putting together food that she appreciated. It felt orderly; something she desperately craved.
“You’re good with a knife,” he remarked all of the sudden, having crept up behind her while she was absorbed in the flower’s blue hue. She froze up, eyes flashing wide.
“Don’t scare me while I’m holding something sharp and pointy.”
“Hm.” He cocked his head curiously, leaning back. He’d gotten close enough to put his chin on her damn shoulder. “Anyways, I’m almost done.”
He carried on like nothing had happened. It still felt like her heart was trying to climb out of her throat. She didn’t know why she was so jumpy, especially since he didn’t seem to be paying it a second thought. Chalking it up to late night nerves, she brought over the cutting board and threw herself back into the cooking. Finally, after meticulously arranging some miniature tomatoes on the twin plates, he looked satisfied.
“This is a ridiculous dish,” she said dryly. Being forced to prepare something this extravagant while she was half-dead from hunger was cruel and unusual punishment. Then again, maybe that was what he meant all along. It wasn’t like Diluc was keen on sharing whatever was going on inside his head.
“I call it ‘Once Upon a Time in Mondstadt’,” he recited dutifully. “But regardless, let’s eat. I’m sick of hearing your stomach growl.”
“That is entirely not my fault.”
They carried the plates back out to the front room, sitting down together. It was the first time she’d actually eaten a meal with somebody. She was suddenly self-conscious of her actions—was there a right and wrong way to hold cutlery? There had to be some sort of etiquette rules she’d missed out on. Diluc would love to pick on her for it. But she had no idea how she could attack this monstrous three-tiered stack of meat gracefully.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, and she realized that he was staring at her anyways. Throwing all caution to the wind, she took the knife and fork and stabbed at the most accessible area.
“I didn’t think you were capable of something this good,” she gasped, meaning to be wry but accidentally sounding overly excited. It was delicious, frustratingly so. The ribs melted in her mouth, ridiculously tender. The lampgrass had a sharp pepperiness that melded with the rich cheese. And somehow, he’d managed to cook the potatoes just right so that they had a crispy edge and a pillow soft texture. He laughed quietly, cutting through his own portion.
“Yes, most people say that. I’m not a useless little rich boy, if that’s what you thought.”
“I never thought that.”
“If you thought you were a good liar, you’re not.” He shook his head drolly. His hands moved with an elegance that reeked of nobility, but his personality couldn’t be further from it.
“You’re cuter than you think you are, Verochka dear.”
She didn’t know how to bring it up. She’d honestly forgotten all about that dream until just now, the memory jolting down her arms like lightning currents. What had even happened in the dream? Who said this to her? It was all so close, right through the veil, but no matter how hard she tried it always slipped out of reach. Diluc, ever so infuriatingly observant, noticed immediately.
“What is it?”
“Choked on something.”
“It’d be a shame to shelter you only to have you die.”
If he thought she were such a pathetic liar, he ought to take another look at his own technique. Always so brusque, but what had he ever done that wasn’t laden with care? Even the food she was eating was so lovingly tender. He was sarcastic and hard to understand, but maybe he was simpler than she thought.
“I wouldn’t think you’d be the type to keep company,” she brought up, hoping to change the subject quickly. “You’re more of the lone wolf type.”
“Maybe most of the time. People only end up slowing me down.” The clinking of cutlery filled the silence before his hands slowed thoughtfully. “I suppose… it’s easier to talk to you. You’re a blank slate. A stranger. You don’t have any conception of who I am or who I’m supposed to be. It gives me some peace.”
I’ve got the idea that you’re an asshole, she wanted to tease, but didn’t. There was something very serious and lonely written in his eyes.
“Though you did have some very kind words for me last night.”
She scowled reflexively. Never mind.
“But, while you’re here,” he continued, “you needn’t worry. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give to protect this city.”
“I thought you were just keeping me prisoner to watch me or something.”
“I have a good sense for danger. You’re not dangerous.” Leaning back into his chair, he crossed his arms over himself, studying her face so closely she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. “I was the one who saved you. You’re in need of help. It’s my duty to see that through to the end.”
She couldn’t keep it to herself anymore; not in the face of this kindness. The guilt would gnaw her through in half. Putting down her fork, she took a deep breath.
“I remembered something about myself. In a dream, somebody called me. I think it was a nickname.”
He leant forwards attentively. “What do you remember?”
She almost said it, but something held her back. It lodged in the back of her throat. ‘Verochka’—it was foreign, not from Mondstadt. From the basic geography she could pull together from Teyvat, it sounded Snezhnayan, and Snezhnaya did not have a good reputation here. There was too much she didn’t yet understand. Swallowing thickly, she said instead, “it started with a V.”
“A V?” he repeated. She nodded. Surely that had to be enough? It just didn’t feel right to possibly shatter whatever fragile relationship she was starting to forge. Perhaps that was selfish. But she could always tell him later.
“Hm. It’s not very catchy. You really don’t remember anything but that?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment before standing up all of the sudden. Pacing to another table, he picked something up before returning, and placed it down in front of her. She picked up the novel, studying its cover.
“‘Vera’s Melancholy’?”
“Perhaps a bit tacky, but it might as well do for now. What do you think, Vera?”
The name felt like it was groundbreaking, shifting something in her body. Sentiments she couldn’t understand whirled through her, pelting her one after the other. A cool shiver ran down her spine. Vera? Could she be Vera?
Attempting to ignore the sudden rush of emotion, she asked, “what’s Vera so melancholic about?”
“You’ll have to read to find out.” With a mischievous wink, he got out of his seat. She’d slept enough tonight, but at least she had something to do until sun-up. Clutching the book tightly, she watched him stand.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” His smile softened. “Vera’s just a placeholder until you get all your real memories back. When you remember your true name, I want to be the first to know.”
He reached out, gently touching her on the shoulder. Despite the layers, she felt as if his hand left a searing imprint onto her skin.
“Rest well, Vera.”
“You too... Diluc.”
She closed her eyes and waited until she heard twenty creaks, one for each step. A door opened and closed in the distance. Sagging into the chair, she only then realized how tightly she was hugging Vera’s Melancholy to her chest. It almost felt like she was embracing a person.