Work Text:
Desideratum
Caelum Chapter: Travails of Teyvat
In truth, Crepus wondered what Lucretia would have done if she were in his position. Seldom did he internally chastise himself for invoking his wife’s memory, knowing she would have done the same if she knew, as her greatest disdain was in lamenting the past when a decision was to be made. Still, he hoped she would have forgiven him. A thousand years could pass and he would still search for her in every windwheel aster blooming at the altar of the Anemo Statue in Windrise. He would try to hear her laughter on the breeze, and see her in every glance he took in a mirror. Because no matter how far she’d gone, she was always at his side.
Who else will keep you from doing something foolish?
He could almost hear her voice and no matter how he tried to capture her likeness on a canvas, he could hardly make anything close to the imperfect perfection she’d been.
The remnants of her were not on the breeze she loved so, nor was it on the trails she walked, nor in the garments she once wore or the books she’d scribble notes in for the son they were to have. It was in the children she’d left behind. The ones she poured every ounce of her love and attention into. Stretched herself thin to nurture and raise despite her involvement in the winery and countless other pursuits that left Crepus in a circuit of concern and awe.
Fondness soothed the ache of her absence whenever he saw Diluc bursting with energy as he tackled every obstacle in his path with courage bordering upon brazenness.
He inherited little of Crepus’ hesitation and all of his thoughtfulness mingling with his mother’s willingness to charge into the unknown. Tears burned at the back of Crepus’ eyes whenever his son looked his way and he would see her smile overlapped by his own. Try as he might to hide his melancholy, it was as if his son could feel sadness from miles away and like everything else - he ran at it head on.
But despite all of his bluster and cheek, Diluc was a kind child. He grasped Crepus’ hand between both of his own with such strength that the tears lodged in Crepus’ throat were almost tugged free. His eyes misting over when his son peered up at him, barely taller than his knee but holding himself with the sureness of someone thrice his age.
“It’ll be okay, I’ll protect you.”
Crepus smiled faintly, feeling the ghost of Diluc’s hands pressed firmly against his own as he blinked the image away to look upon his son standing in front of a young boy in a cloak too big for his small frame. Diluc hesitated in reaching out to him. Drawing back his hands in a half-aborted gesture when the boy flinched and pulled further away from him, grasping the tattered edges of a cloak he refused to be rid of no matter how Crepus tried to coax him.
Ah, he wasn’t sure what to do. What would she have done?
When Crepus stepped into the foyer with the rain-soaked child, tracking mud and dirt onto the freshly cleaned rugs and floorboards, he’d seen numerous stunned faces but his mind honed in on several smaller ones. He looked up in time to see Elzer yank Diluc backward as the boy practically threw himself down the steps in his haste to greet Crepus. The commotion from the staff asking where he’d gone so late in the evening and if he were well raised into a cacophony and the child at his side shied away from it all, even going so far as to inch towards the doors as if prepared to bolt. Looking up again at the staircase, Elzer wagged a finger at Diluc whose fists were balled at his sides while he argued back.
Elzer had always been a careful child. Cautious with his words and his steps, but he could be stubborn when he wished to be. Always trailing at Diluc’s heels to ensure he would stay out of mischief. Crepus’ head pounded. He wanted to stop the two of them from arguing but the number of persons he had to address seemed to grow no matter how many questions he answered.
Then, out the corner of his eye, he noticed a young girl with sandy brown hair cropped close to her chin descend the steps until she stood by the pair. She tugged Elzer by his vest and brought him to one side then laid her hand atop Diluc’s head, turning him around with a light nudge.
Her direction was all that he needed and while he raced down the stairs, Elzer tried to reach for him but she held him at bay with only a hand pressed to his chest. Crepus’ eyes softened as he watched Elzer visibly deflate, worried as Diluc raced down the stairs then burrowed his way through the crowd that had fallen silent at the sight of him. Crepus would have dropped to his knee to let his son run into his arms any other day, but the shivering child at his side would rush back out into the storm if he left him. Diluc didn’t seem to mind taking the extra steps, shuffling past the last pair of legs obscuring his view of his father. His sweet, toothy smile diminished when his eyes landed on the boy, and all excitement drained from his body til he was so still Crepus almost thought to check if he were breathing.
Sweeping a glance around the room, the crowd dispersed to begin their tasks elsewhere. Their whispers kept until they left the foyer. Muffled murmuring and questioning set aside when Crepus felt the cold touch against his pants leg ease and glanced down at the child, strain bled from him as the numbers and chatter lessened to a hushed silence broken only by the fireplace’s roaring flame.
Diluc was notably quiet and the soft, creaking steps drew Crepus’ attention to Elzer as he slowly walked down with a white-knuckled grip on the banister. The girl followed after him but overtook his steps without a backward glance, marching on with an almost soldier-like cadence.
“Adelinde,” Crepus greeted, and Diluc snapped out of his daze to look up at her when she stopped at his side.
Her fingers pinched her skirt’s hem as she curtsied lightly, enough to be polite, then straightening up with her hands at her sides. She looked down at the puddles of mud and dirt disdainfully and Crepus felt a tinge of mirth. Lucretia often had the same look. She refused to allow the maids to be the one to clean her home without aid, taking up a broom and mop herself to join them despite their protests. Her insistence that Crepus clean up after himself was unneeded but he admired her dedication to making the staff’s lives easier.
The boy peered up from beneath his overgrown bangs, and Adelinde whipped around acutely to meet his eye. To his credit, the boy didn’t startle nor did he shy away. Only met her gaze with a stiff upper lip. Adelinde sized him up quickly which wasn’t hard to do seeing as she was taller than him by quite a bit, and Crepus worried about what she’d say. She scrutinized Elzer the same when he arrived, but Lucretia smoothed it over by insisting that Adelinde help Elzer adjust. Then Diluc’s birth warmed both children immediately, but this was a new change.
Things had been the same for so long, what would she have done?
“This is Adelinde,” the silence shattered at Diluc’s introduction and all eyes were drawn to him as he pointed at Adelinde. “She’s really strong and good at finding things!” He laughed sheepishly, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Whenever I lose my hair tie or my toys, she can find them before anybody.”
Crepus noticed his hair was loose and heard Adelinde’s weary sigh before she rummaged through her skirt pocket. A black ribbon drawn out bunched in her hand and Diluc smiled sheepishly as she set to tie it in his hair.
Without missing a beat, Diluc jutted a thumb at Elzer who’d finally left the last step in a tentative stride toward them. “That’s Elzer, he’s good at chess. I’ve never beat him before.”
Elzer’s eyes widened and he pinked at the cheeks, looking away when the boy glanced in his direction. Diluc preened, thanking Adelinde with a smile once his hair was secured in a fluffy ponytail barely passing his shoulders. His beaming gaze onto Crepus.
“And that’s my dad, but you probably already know that..” He laughed sheepishly, a moment of self-consciousness that reminded Crepus of himself and made him chuckle. The tension lifted as the boy looked up at him curiously then to Diluc, a look of recognition in his widening blue eye, seemingly recognizing the similarities. Diluc may have been his son in appearance but he was his mother’s child. The boy focused on Diluc as if he were the brightest point in the room and as it stood, he was. Taking control of the situation and holding his hand out to the boy, Elzer coming to stand on one side of him while Adelinde folded her arms and stood on the other.
“And I’m Diluc, what’s your name?”
The boy blinked at him, looking between Crepus, Adelinde then Elzer before staring at Diluc’s outstretched hand. Taking a step forward then ducking his chin, hold loosened and the cloak slipped back while he reached out. His fingers barely skimmed Diluc’s when he spoke in a small voice, heavily accented but Mondstadtian, as he said —
“Kaeya! Diluc!”
Crepus roamed the halls in a cyclone of confusion, checking in closets and behind floor-hanging curtains. Even kneeling beneath his desk in search of the pair. The day had gotten away from him but once the afternoon rolled around, the head maid came to tell him that dinner would be in half an hour. He’d decided then that it was enough and told her he would tell the children himself. However, anxiousness prickled his skin when he didn’t hear the guffawing laughter or even the shattering of a vase.
And he hadn’t seen the four of them since lunch. Spying silver hair around the hall’s turn , Crepus called out, “Elzer!”
Elzer turned around with wide, pale green eyes and tipped his head as Crepus approached. “Is something wrong?” He asked, adjusting the chess board in his arms, the pieces clacking together where they slid inside the case.
“Have you seen Kaeya and Diluc?”
Lips pinched, Elzer touched his chin then gasped in realization. “I think they were with Adelinde last. Diluc was frustrated he couldn’t beat Kaeya in a game..” They both glanced down at the case and Crepus sighed. Those two and their rivalry. “Adelinde agreed to look after them while they spar.” He winced, scratching his cheek.“I was on my way to gather a few bandages in case.”
Crepus chuckled, patting him on the head. “Good lad. I’ll try to stop them before it's necessary,” His hand slipped away and he took a step aside, starting down the hall with a call over his shoulder. “Dinner is in half an hour, be sure to wash up.”
“Yes father.”
Crepus almost tripped in mid step and looked back, catching Elzer’s stricken and embarrassed expression before the boy darted down the hall faster than he could call out to him. Left stunned and flustered, Crepus rubbed his fingers through his hair and trudged down the steps with a light chuckle, deciding it was best to leave Elzer to his own.
Father, huh?
He asked a few of the staff of the boys’ whereabouts and apologized for interrupting their duties. Everyone pointing him in one direction to another, exchanging pleasantries or little stories. Each seeming to have a piece of an anecdote about the squabbling boys who yelped and pleaded with Adelinde as she hauled them outside by their ears.
Stepping out the back door of the kitchens, Crepus raised a brow at Adelinde hauling remains of straw dummies into a cart near the stables. She paused and looked toward him pointedly, always seeming to know when someone was in her vicinity. “I’ll take it training went well?” Crepus asked, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket then kneeling down on the wooden stoop when she stopped in front of him. He wiped away the dirt on her cheeks, catching the minute flicker from surprise to embarrassment on her face.
“Diluc swings his sword less like a club now,” she said dryly, and Crepus couldn’t help but laugh.
“Be patient with him. No one is born with a sword in their hand —“
“— and to help someone rise, you must first teach them how to stand,” finished Adelinde with an air of fond exasperation. “I know…”
His eyes scrunched at the corners. “I’ve said that often, haven’t I?”
“Mm,” she nodded. “You and Lady Lucretia…”
His throat felt tight at the sound of his wife’s name. He wondered how long that feeling would last, but that question was superceded by another. How long had it been since Adelinde said her name? She’d been terribly quiet ever since his wife’s passing, but now as the smallest smile touched her lips, he could see the little girl who used to follow at her heels.
“Master Crepus?”
Crepus felt himself visibly jerk back to the present and cleared his throat, pushing up on aching knees. “Dinner is in half an hour,” he scanned the open patio. Tables pushed aside with chairs gathered and two wooden swords left propped up near a broom. “And I’m looking for them, do you..”
Adelinde startled at the mention of mealtimes, ferrying a pocket watch from her skirts. “They decided on a foot race to the lamppost,” she said quickly, stuffing the watch in her pocket then scurrying past him. The kitchen door opened and before he could say a word, it slammed behind her leaving him in an echoing silence. Pressing his ear to the door, Crepus could faintly hear Adelinde speaking to the head chef about necessary preparation.
He sighed. She was far too young to be taking on so much responsibility.
Turning away, he glanced back at the door then stepped off the stoop, weaving his way through the trellis. He admired the dew glistening on grape vines and the smell of fresh rain. Deciding to buy ingredients for wolfhook tarts so Adelinde could have her fill as they were the only treats Diluc wouldn’t practically inhale once they were out of the oven. The lamp post at the end of the trail cast a warm amber glow in the fading eve, and Crepus smiled a little at the two boys sitting upon a crate beneath its lantern. Diluc kicked his feet back and forth, heels thumping against the crate’s side while Kaeya dozed beside him, head resting on his shoulder.
Crepus almost couldn’t believe his eyes.
For so long, it was difficult for Kaeya to relax let alone sleep. He preferred for no one to stand in his blindspot, nor at his back. Often staying close to walls or in spaces where he could see the entirety of a room but he would never shy into a corner. Always looking and observing, lingering longer on windows and doors. Crepus had done his best to accommodate the boy’s fears and explain to him where noises came from or when a member of the staff was working later. He wouldn’t enter his room without his permission, nor sit on his bed or touch him without checking for his comfort.
But Diluc didn’t follow those same rules. On many nights, he heard his son attempt to muffle his footsteps as he made his way to Kaeya’s bedroom. Opening the door without hesitation, and their voices carried into the hall as they talked well-into the night.
Crepus inching the door open to find them haphazardly lying together, Kaeya curled on his side as small as possible while Diluc was sprawled out trying to take up as much room as possible with such a small body. Diluc would cajole Kaeya into one game or another, grasping his hand to tug him along. When he faltered, he’d pick him up but Kaeya would brush his hands aside to stand on his own. Still, Crepus could tell he appreciated it when he raced ahead. Kaeya was fast. Crepus knew that after trying to follow him through the storm. But he slowed enough that Diluc could match his pace, and Crepus knew they would be alright as long as they had one another.
Diluc sat quietly,lifting his unburdened shoulder to play with a crystalfly rolling in lazy arcs above his head. He pouted when it drifted out of his reach but didn’t move after it when Kaeya shifted, pressing his head against Diluc’s shoulder. Withdrawing instead, Diluc laid his hand on his lap and touched his cheek to Kaeya’s head. Glancing up in time to notice Crepus, his eye growing wide and a gasp muffled behind his hand.
To Crepus’ relief, Kaeya stayed asleep and he approached quietly, careful not to step in the mud where their small footsteps rounded.
“Dinner is soon,” Crepus told Diluc softly, glancing at Kaeya before he sank down to one knee. Diluc stole glances at Kaeya then nodded, patting his arm to wake him. Kaeya’s eye fluttered open, head lifting then dropping back onto Diluc’s shoulder. Crepus gave a short chuckle while Diluc laughed then nudged Kaeya who lolled upright sleepily. “.. Here," Crepus said.
Turning slightly, he offered his back to him and was pleasantly surprised when he felt a light press against his side. Two hands coming to rest on his shoulders as a warm weight settled against his back. That touch, hesitant then surer, made his heart swell to nigh bursting. Diluc coming into the right of his vision leant up onto his toes as he whispered in his ear.
“Father?”
Crepus glanced out the corner of his eye, and smiled to himself, whispering back. “Yes son?”
“.. Can Kaeya stay forever?”
Crepus raised a brow then glanced back at the dozing boy. He’d been searching for his father to no avail and even the Seneschal had begun to give up hope. The Knights were unable to find anyone who matched Kaeya’s description either. Looking down at Diluc, his eyes shining with undisguised hope, Crepus smiled.
“I like him,” Diluc blurted out, as if trying to convince him further and Crepus allowed it with a nod. “He’s a bit of a know-it-all, but that’s okay, even if he wins sometimes I do too. And I’ve got a lot of stuff to teach him. A-And, he knows how to beat Elzer at chess and he promised he’d teach me too. And how he does that really fast move when he has a sword. You should see him with a sword, father, he’s—“
Crepus shushed him gently when his voice raised and Kaeya’s stirring groan filled his ear. “Of course Kaeya can stay, Diluc. This is his home.”
If his wife were here to see how Diluc’s eyes shined, she would have been proud because their son had a heart bigger than anyone. If she could see how he welcomed Kaeya wholeheartedly into their home, she would have been beside herself because their door had been opened to almost every lost soul looking for a change of pace and a home to lay their head. Crepus wasn’t sure what he would do in the days to come, or if all the choices he made would be right. But as he walked home with Diluc at his side and Kaeya on his back, to where Elzer would try to pass off his words as a slip of the tongue and Adelinde would try to fill the void of the mother she lost - he knew he would do his best.
For these children deserved more than the world had given them, and he hoped everyday that he could be enough.