Chapter Text
It was stupid of him, really. The tell-tale dark clouds and harsher winds should have stopped Diluc from leaving the city walls while under the name of his alternate persona, the Darknight Hero. He could have easily just stayed at his closed tavern, he reprimanded himself, as he tried to persuade his horse to move forward through the pelting rain, it would’ve been suspicious, but still better than this. The horse reared its body and neighed in response, clearly disagreeing with its owner.
The man just wanted to leave the city of Mondstadt as soon as possible, and now he realises how rash he was. As he was walking swiftly through the some back alley of the city, he bumped into Jean, as she was running errands for her job as the Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius. He believed she spent most of her time in the office inside the headquarters, from the snippets of gossip he heard from Kaeya during his stays at the bar, and so their encounter was incredibly awkward. From the first ‘Sir’ she addressed him as to the final nod of goodbye. Hearing that former title really aggravated him and in the end he barely managed to say anything back to her, though he couldn’t stay mad at her. In the end, none of it was her fault or intention. Kaeya seemed to stay the entire evening at Angel’s Share, which never failed to stir up Diluc’s emotions further, watching the way he would offer strangers alcohol, only to make them spill their personal secrets which was against every moral code he believed in. Other than that, there were issues with some of the deliveries he made for the winery and tavern, which took effort. He never was one for paperwork.
He frowned.
He was freezing, as his chemise soaked through, and not even his pyro vision could warm him and his horse, with all the rain around them. He kicked his leg once more, and the horse continued with a whine and a puff, clearly aggravated. It was difficult to even see further in the distance, but the least he could do is find shelter to start a fire under - there was no way they would reach the winery anytime soon with this weather attacking them.
The plan died as soon as it was formed.
His tiredness and annoyance only worsened the bad situation, as the lack of reflexes had caused him to not notice the two hilichurls pop out from behind the bushes. They shouted something in their tongue at them, shaking their weapons high above their heads. Diluc’s horse yet again reared its legs and feet up, trying to get away from the new danger, completely losing its senses and bucking up and down. With that, Diluc’s fists on the lead loosened and he felt his body slipping away and tumbling onto his back with a harsh slap. His eyes closed in pain and with furrowed brows, he only heard the galloping of his horse slowly distance itself away.
He shot up, though with a horrid groan, as he realised that the hilichurls were still there and approaching him. He shakily stood up and grabbed his weapon that materialised behind him. In stance, he swung the heavy claymore at the hilichurls, which weakly defended themselves with their small, wooden clubs. Another pain shot up the back of his head, and he winced, which seemed to be enough time for one of the hilichurls to finally have its counterattack. With a swing of the club and another screech in its own language, Diluc was struck in the chest, and his body yet again was tumbling backwards. A cry of happiness from the monsters and his foot took a step back as the muddy, wet ground underneath him crumbled away slightly. Diluc weakly noted he was at the edge of the steep slope of soil before his entire body slammed and rolled down it.
Diluc cried out in pain, as he attempted to do anything to slow or stop his descent. His arms tried to grab onto anything passing down the ground - rocks, branches and other things he could not think to name. The thunder only roared louder, as if to mock him and the way his heart beat soared in fear, exhaustion and who knows what emotions? Certainly not Diluc. His mind wasn’t able to concentrate on a single thing happening. His arms swung randomly, still trying to reach anything.
Crash.
Diluc opened his eyes feebly.
His legs felt numb, but shots of pain still managed to register in his weak mind. His chest heaved, and his spine shivered. Chills were seeping into his body and his whole surroundings felt like they were dropping rapidly in degrees. Was he dying? Of all the things that has happened to him, he didn’t think he would die in such a lonely way. There can be no excuse for defeat, he muttered as darkness trapped his vision and the yells of the storm slowly disappeared.
"I wanted to become a knight too, when I was your age, however, I wasn’t fit for the job. The Gods had other plans for me."
Diluc tried to focus his gaze onto the older man’s visage, but all his features seemed to blur into shapes and colours. He vaguely noticed the smile his father sent, but his eyes were far too dull to for it to be a happy one.
"But you succeeded where I failed…” the voice trailed, only to be replaced by a more feminine one. She was pleading, to him, tugging at his arm. She spoke quickly, wanting to tell Diluc everything, yet he could understand nothing in this hazy mindset. He suddenly felt like in a faded, worn-out book. Where once were articulate words and intricate drawings, now were only scraps of ink - barely passing forward the original message of its pages. He tried to listen to her words, he really did, but it was all fuzzy and distant, as if he was tuning out of a conversation, but couldn’t tune back in.
His fists clenched hard at the surface he was laying on. Digging his slender fingers into the soft material. Memories plagued his head, rather than dreams or nightmares. Memories were much worse than the other two options, Diluc pondered, though didn’t dwell in it.
Warmth ran through his body - he felt comfortable. Incredibly comfortable. Too comfortable. Wait, Diluc realised, and immediately shot up from his laying position. This is not the place he fell unconscious in. He was in a cosy bed, alive ( he hopes ) and not dead in a ditch. Not his own bed, though. This bed was much smaller and creaked with every shift of movement. It didn’t have the expensive, velvet curtains strung around it either, or the thick duvets he uses for colder months. He looked down. His shirt was gone, but his chest was covered in some bandages and ointment. His trousers were still on, and unfortunately dirtied the white bed sheets with the dried mud and dirt on them. He whipped his head to look round the room. Judging by the tight organisation of all the furniture, he was in a small cottage.
There was the small kitchen setup right beside the door, in the corner. In front of it was a table with two chairs round it, it was leaning to one side as one of the left legs was broken, but the owner seems to make the best of the situation, since Diluc noted the checkered table cloth on top, and the small vase with violetgrass flowers in the middle. There was a fireplace at the back with embers glowing weakly and bookshelves and cupboards lining the walls and only one other door apart from the front one. The bed he was on was actually squeezed tightly in one of the corners as well, under a larger window with a parapet. He looked outside only to furrow his brows and grimace. No clue where he is. No clues why he is here. He should be grateful to whoever saved his life, he supposed, but he couldn’t help feeling cautious at the situation. Did he really deserve to be saved from a situation caused by his own stupidity?
He turned his body, wanting to stand up, only too groan out in pain. He looked back at his legs and pulled up the left sleeve of his trousers. A splint.
"A splint?" he croaked out loud to confirm his own thoughts to himself. His throat felt rough and it stung to speak.
Well, he assumed it to be a splint. It was definitely not done by a specialist, as it looked more like a stick and bundles cloths than what it was supposed to be. They did what they could, he thought to himself, rather than sighed due to his throat, and slouched back into the headboard. His fingers yet again buried into the sheets, gripping in a way so that his knuckles turned white.
After a few moments, the turns of the door handle alerted Diluc, and his eyes shot up to watch every movement of the door. Light entered through the opening gap, a silhouette appeared and finally a face was visible. A young woman. She was bundled up in clothes suited for lower temperatures and her face bore lines of fatigue underneath her (E/C) eyes.
"Oh? You’re already awake?" She tilted her head and briefly smiled before placing the basket she had in her hands onto the table. The table shook underneath the firewoods weight. So that’s why she wasn’t here when he woke up - she wanted to rekindle the fireplace.
"You are…?” The man asked hesitantly, for all he knew, she could be far more dangerous than she appears to be.
"My names (Y/N), and yours?" She replied shaking her coat of her shoulders.
"Diluc." No need for surnames or occupations.
"So, Diluc," she tested out his name on her tongue, "would you care to explain why I found you half-dead at the edge of the forest?"
Well, she didn’t hesitate, he frowned slightly, not really wanting to explain. How could he phrase ‘being ambushed by hilichurls, losing a horse and falling down a hill at night’ without sounding stupid and suspicious?
“…I misstepped and fell down the slope." He broke off his gaze from her.
"You were going on a nightly stroll during a storm?" Clearly, she didn’t believe him, almost sounding bemused, and so he decided not to waste anymore words on the topic. She didn’t pry any further with questions either, though by the way her brows furrowed, he could tell she wanted to. She turned round to hang her coat to dry.
“I’ll make some sweetflower tea for that throat of yours, and then we’ll have to change those bandages. Not to mention your leg! My god, how in Teyvat did you manage that? I did what I could, but I’m no professional medic to treat that. There's an older couple living about 20 minutes from here by horse - the husband used to be a doctor in his younger days so I could ask him for a favour to help you with that… And be glad you didn’t catch hypothermia! I'll restart the fire." She continued on and on and Diluc wanted to tap out of all that talking. He just wants to know where he is and how to get back home.
"How far is the nearest town?" He stopped her in her tracks.
"Well… not for miles away. I have a horse, but you won’t be able to travel with that leg for sure."
He frowned at that, only to receive a judgemental glare from her end.
"At least you can pretend to look thankful for all I’m doing."
"I am thankful." He coughed lightly, though they both knew he said that out of politeness. Diluc was often called standoffish by Kaeya nowadays, and perhaps there was some truth in that.
"Right." And with that she breezed passed him to take the basket and start the fireplace up.
The warm cup of sweetflower tea she offered did help his sore throat, though barely helped with all the other nerves of pain shooting up his body. Fuck, it was so stupid of him to fall like that, and be taken care of by an absolute stranger. He couldn’t leave, but he felt unsure of the woman’s strange kindness. Money wasn’t an issue, he could easily repay her afterwards, but he still didn’t feel certain with any of this behaviour. When was the last time he was so up-and-close with a person he’s never spoken to? It used to be daily, when he worked for the Knights of Favonius, with all the patrols and interrogations that were apart of his schedule. Now it’s a chore for him to uphold any longer conversation with unknown people.
"I can send out a letter, y’know, if you want to notify someone as to where you are. Though, who knows how long that will take to post, considering I live in the middle of nowhere." She was kneeled beside him, slowly and gently removing each of the dirtied bandages from his chest. He could feel every touch of her nimble fingers and Diluc suddenly felt nauseous. He should of told her he could do it himself.
Diluc then glanced down at the bed sheet, thinking to himself. If the mailing takes so long, it won’t be worth sending any correspondences to the winery, despite his mixed feelings towards the woman taking care of him. He’s not planning to stay here that long. As much as he didn’t want to worry Adelinde or Elzer, they all knew this wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared from his responsibilities at the inherited winery.
"No."
"No?" She repeated, and then looked at his face with a grimace, “I was honestly hoping I saved a much more talkative man, but beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.”
He scoffed, “You do realise we have only just met?”
The woman didn't look pleased with him. Her hands halted the progression with the bandages on his torso, and instead rested on her hips, ready to scold him, “I get that you barely know me and all, but you don’t have to act that cold towards me. I’m the one who saved your life - if I left you there, you’d be dead by now.” She spat out.
A twinge of guilt pressed down on his chest. Perhaps he has been acting too harsh - just because he’s had a bad week with everyone else he’s known, it isn’t an excuse to act ungrateful towards a woman who carried him from the forest floor and accepted him into her home. For all she knew, he could have been a danger for her to even allow into her small house, with no other people nearby for help. “Right… You’re right. I appreciate all you have done for me. I’ll- I will reimburse you for your efforts once I can travel again.” He looked her straight into the eyes as he spoke, and her brows seemed to relax from their furrowed position.
“Oh…? So you’re rich?” She snickered, the tension already dropping, and she continued cleaning his wounds carefully, “though, we first have to talk to that doctor, before you can go back and pay me for my good, selfless deeds.” She chuckled at her own humour.