Chapter Text
Older and wiser. These were themes that accompanied one as they grew up. It was expected of every child, and Kaeya had no difficulty becoming the same.
On some days he soldiered on, cutting through the paperwork on his desk and giving hilichurl camps, abyss mages and treasure hoarders their due later in the day.
On other days, he drank to his heart's content after work, feeling more self-indulgent than usual. He chatted with treasure hoarders, charmed them silly with a web of words and swivelled information from them. No one knew where his practised charm ended and his genuine compliments began, so Kaeya became known as an all-round suave character.
It never hurt his prospects with the ladies. But Kaeya rarely turned an eye on them, more than content to spend his bachelor years alone. He was more preoccupied with eccentric characters that matched himself, such as Sister Rosaria, Lisa and lately, a new, young alchemist who had arrived some months ago.
On the rest of the days, a heaviness clung to his heart, teaching him to be sceptical and alert of his surroundings. He would still be deep in thought, deciphering the new puzzles Jean gave him that prowled below Mondstadt's unassuming surface. As he reunited families, foiled plans and cut down adversaries, his thoughts would wander, lingering upon death, lost opportunities and frayed relationships.
His days were mostly monotonous. Yet Kaeya himself was not. It wasn’t a natural development, but Kaeya became as hedonistic as he was tenacious, and as astute as he was macabre. A bubbling cocktail of contradictions that made things unpredictable for his enemies and kept things interesting for his friends.
Along with that, Kaeya's heart mellowed and turned more jaded at the same time. That was the influence of age and a sparse bit of wisdom, he supposed. Yet Jean was of the solid opinion that he was kinder than he let on.
Kaeya knew Jean was right, even if he did not consider it a great asset. Though if it meant that some of Mondstadt's young Vision bearers continued to view him as a father or elder brother figure, Kaeya had no difficulty admitting he valued kindness in himself deeply.
It was being with the children that made Kaeya's heart feel tender, like it once had when his brother was by his side.
~
"You're doing better," said Jean matter-of-factly.
Kaeya turned to regard her, raising his eyebrows in askance.
"If you say so, dear Jean," he replied gaily, downing his Death After Noon in one gulp.
"You're lighter, less brooding, and more attuned to your surroundings, too," continued Jean, swirling her dark coffee with a spoon.
"Is this the start of your commemorative birthday speech to me? Am I to feel spurred by your words?" teased Kaeya. It was the evening of November the 30th, and more than two years since Diluc's departure.
The duo were celebrating Kaeya's twenty-first birthday in Angel's Share, enjoying the relative peace and privacy that the raucous celebration in the Knights of Favonius had not offered. Kaeya had risen to the position of a Cavalry Captain for over three months now, and his hard work had been acknowledged.
"These changes have been gradual, as most changes are. It is something worth celebrating! You have come a long way. May you grow in spirit and health, and may the wind guide you," said Jean earnestly.
"Thank you," said Kaeya sincerely. Jean hugged him, evidently pleased with the state of things.
"I feel better too," admitted Kaeya, "You don't have to worry."
He took another swig of his drink, rolling his shoulders backwards to release the tension.
"In fact, I'll start worrying about you and the way you overwork. Also, I get the feeling a certain librarian has been vying for your attention. Has she asked you out?"
"W-what?" Jean blurted out.
"I'll take that as a no," said Kaeya, looking sheepish.
"Lisa… well, I haven't thought of it," conceded Jean, looking away bashfully.
"As you say," Kaeya said cheekily.
"And how about you?" Jean shot back.
"No one, really. I'm not settling just yet," said Kaeya truthfully.
"Really?" Jean said incredulously.
"How unbelievable is that? I just haven't given it much thought," said Kaeya flippantly. He hadn't felt the inclination for a romance for a long time. Perhaps there had been a time where he longed for love, but such dreams had crushed themselves when guilt marked his days.
And he was fine with it. Perhaps due to having an unstable childhood and adolescence, he prioritised saving his own skin. He wasn’t ready to pledge his heart to the mercurial shores of romance, because that entailed having to care for another heart.
"I must bid you farewell this evening as something else calls upon me," said Kaeya, standing up without a totter in his step.
"You're right, I have work to do as well," said Jean, wincing as she stood up.
"Hahaha Jean, mine's not work related. You should take the night off.” Kaeya stretched and yawned, blinking tears out of his eyes.
“Not work related? Informal plans, I see. Would you mind if I asked what they were?”
Kaeya studied Jean’s expression, a portmanteau between hope and visceral longing. She really needed a rest, but he doubted she could find one where he was going.
"Crepus's grave. I'm greeting him for the first time in years, it seems," he said truthfully, keeping his voice above a whisper. It was still a sensitive topic for him as he had never broached it out loud before. The words sounded foreign on his tongue, undeserving, even.
"Oh," said Jean in a subdued way, "Well, you had better get along then. I won't hold you any longer."
"You could never do that. I'll take my leave now; thank you for the lovely drinks."
There was a gravestone for Crepus behind the Favonius Cathedral. Kaeya had been to it once, a few months after Crepus's death. However, he had found the sight so miserable that he had gone home at once, retching into his basin with a stomach filled with guilt.
The memory of that visit nearly turned his footsteps back to his flat. With palpable effort, he adjourned towards Dawn Winery instead, intent on memoralising Crepus in some way. He wouldn't admit to himself that he was hoping to catch a glimpse of Diluc even though the latter was far away from Monstadt.
For as long as Kaeya had patrolled around Dawn Winery, he had never caught sight of a grave marked by Crepus's name. It was no less than expected, given that the winery’s master was away indefinitely, and Diluc had not attended Master Crepus's funeral, much less made arrangements for a grave.
So it gave Kaeya a sense of foreboding when he spotted a neat grave stone carved out of white marble, and nestled amidst arrayed Windwheel Asters, Lamp grass, Dandelions and Cecilias.
Merely five paces away from the rows of neatly manicured grapevines, it looked very insignificant, and could not explain the welt of emotion welling up inside of Kaeya.
He heard footsteps behind him and whirled around, prepared to flee Dawn Winery.
It was Adeline.
"Young Master!" she nearly shrieked out loud. She was wearing a heavy-duty apron and carrying a bucket of water. The apron had crumbles of dust smudging its surface.
Kaeya flinched by instinct. "Pardon my intrusion. I shall leave at once."
"Sir Kaeya! If I might invite you to stay longer… the Master certainly wouldn't mind," she said with a mixture of timidness and conviction.
Kaeya stilled his footsteps and turned around hesitantly.
"The Master isn't here, is he? But I will not disrespect his wishes. Allow me to take my leave," he said as neutrally as he could.
"I shall take a guess that Sir Kaeya is referring to Master Diluc. I am, on the other hand, referring to Master Crepus. He… he would never mind you coming to visit him."
Kaeya's breath caught in his throat. He stared at the top of the grave, admiring its smoothness.
"Miss Adeline, did you construct this grave?" he softly inquired.
Adeline lowered her head in sad reverence. "All the workers chipped in their efforts, Sir. We only had the sincerest intentions in mind."
Kaeya tilted his head, letting his perceived absurdity of the situation settle in.
"Do you not find it strange that we are conversing so easily? Has the young Master not asked his staff to cut their ties with me?" he asked nonchalantly.
Adeline opened her mouth in apparent discomfort. "As staff, we faithfully do as the Ragnvindr masters bid. I am certain Master Diluc will not begrudge you visiting your father's grave."
Kaeya's eyes glazed over as he perused the flowers with a purposeful fascination.
"You may not be a Ragnvindr by blood, but you are one in every other sense. Master Crepus nurtured you. You have every right to visit his grave."
It was strange how glassy Kaeya's eyes had become. The unshed tears in his eyes distorted his vision, incapacitating his sight with their thickness.
"Thank you for believing in that, Adeline," he said quietly. He knelt before the grave, thus turning his back onto his childhood caregiver, before letting his tears fall. He let out quiet gasps, trying to contain himself.
It was surreal to be given a tangible memorial to grieve before. The action felt delayed, dredging up a myriad of unprocessed memories and feelings. He missed Crepus. He missed the father who had showered him with unquestioning love and warmth.
He missed the days in the Winery with an acute passion, yet those feelings were overtaken by regret the instant they took seed. He could never go back to those days where he had frolicked without a care in the world.
By the time he noticed his Vision tingling, it was too late. His finger tips touching the ground had frosted, materialising tiny webs of ice that crushed brittle folds of leaves. With delicate control, he raised his hand, grasping a crisp flower by its stalk, and crystallised a few of the blooms laid before the grave.
Behind him, Adeline only gasped in wonder.
"Practice, if you call it," Kaeya felt the urge to explain.
"Of course, Sir. What else would it be?" Adeline commented.
A weapon borne of misfortune. A heralder of lost dreams.
These answers sprang behind his lips immediately. He could wield Cryo quite effortlessly, though whether he was comfortable with it was another matter. In the thralls of battle, nothing was more second nature to him than melding his Cryo attacks with his ceremonial bladework. He revelled in its power, if only to chase a sense of control he lacked in daily life. It was no different from indulging desperately in alcohol.
Perhaps knowledge of the extent of his loss of control unnerved him, as did the perpetual coolness of his Vision.
"Now the Master will have eternal blooms," said Adeline simply.
Kaeya nodded emptily, though he disagreed.
"Kaeya, there you are." Somehow Kaeya wasn't surprised that it was Jean. She had a knack for seeking him out whenever she wanted to.
He glanced up to meet her gaze. She navigated the maze of grapevines with ease, striding forth to appraise the artfully decorated memorial.
"Look, it's a memorial for Master Crepus. The loyal staff of Dawn Winery built it," he told her.
"I see," she said, smiling slightly. "I am sure it is as he would have liked it. There can be no better one."
Adeline bowed slightly in greeting, "It is an honour to have the Acting Grandmaster here. Feel free to pay your respects."
She took her leave then, leaving them to their musings. Kaeya noticed that she left the bucket behind, perhaps meaning to clean the area later.
"You alright?" Jean asked.
Kaeya pursed his lips in an undecided smile. "You actually took my advice to take the night off?"
"Yes, I did." She placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, as if voicing her question again.
"I'm alright, thank you," he told her. It was time to move on, no matter how impossible the circumstances. As a start, he would no longer deny himself the memories of the past. Perhaps there would come a time when he could look back at them fondly.
Jean joined him in kneeling in a relaxed position before the grave. Around them, the rustles of grapevine leaves joined the omniscient melody in the wind.
Diluc and him had used to run amok these fields, carrying silly conversations and singing silly tunes. It was bizzare to think that they had spent nearly a decade's worth of summers in this abode.
When Kaeya had first picked up his sword and showed a few good moves, unbeknownst to anyone from his Khaenri'ahn tutelage, Diluc had been bursting with happiness, and Crepus had been very, very proud. For such an innocuous reason as it was, the Ragnvindrs were very generous people.
Kaeya forced himself back to the present, swallowing the bolt of emotions lodged in his throat.
"If I might admit, I am glad to find you not wallowing alone in grief," said Jean candidly, "I'm also glad that you're not drunk."
"My, my, how can you think so little of me?" said Kaeya, feigning hurt.
"These past years have not done you justice. But what matters is that you're back on your feet again." Jean muttered a prayer between her finger tips as she faced the grave.
"Yes, that's better I suppose," agreed Kaeya - if not a definite promise, then at least an acknowledgement that he was committed to living his life properly. It was the least he could do for his life.
"Are you hungry?" Jean asked. It was way past supper. Still, grief tends to make one hungry. The unspoken notion amused as much as it endeared itself to Kaeya.
"I don't think so," answered Kaeya, "Why don't you go back first? Catch a night's rest if you can."
"I'll stay here if you don't mind. It has been a while." Jean's nimble fingers straightened a blossom with a kink in its stem.
"So it has," Kaeya said with an uncharacteristic feeling.
"Any birthday wishes?" Jean asked after a while.
I pray for your safe return. Kaeya thought to himself. I pray that you forgive me and that we make amends. I pray for a second chance at having a family.
"I hope for sweet dreams," he forced aloud, "For not even the people who are blessed by the Archons can guarantee them."
Even that had sounded too sombre, Kaeya thought, as he observed Jean's mulling expression. Yet it was fitting - the people of Khaenri'ah have always dreamed of dreaming.