Chapter Text
It’s been about two months since Kaeya was adopted, documents and all.
Crepus had offered to officially welcome Kaeya to the Ragnvindr family months beforehand, but the young boy had been reluctant.
Not wanting to press even further, Crepus backed off. At the time, Diluc couldn’t tell if his father had been saddened by Kaeya’s hesitation. Now, as he’s a little more grown, he realizes that Crepus would have been happy as long as Kaeya was happy.
One day, Diluc hopes he can live up to his father’s standards.
Every month, Crepus would ask again, and he would receive the same answer (“I’m not sure.”) that was always followed by an apology.
Diluc didn’t think that Kaeya had any reason to apologize.
He was a child in need. That was enough of a reason for Crepus to take Kaeya in—to support him.
Although Kaeya never seemed to understand that. In his head, he was supposed to do everything and was supposed to be responsible for everything.
In Diluc’s eyes, Kaeya seemed to live because he had to, not because he wanted to. Even if Diluc was young at the time, he believed that living should not be a burden or some unspoken duty.
When Kaeya finally says yes and officially becomes a part of the family, Diluc somehow worries even more than before about the former’s well-being.
As Kaeya’s older brother, Diluc feels responsible for protecting him from anything or anyone that may cause the former to feel any type of distress, even if the source of his little brother’s suffering is his own thoughts.
Diluc tries his best to convince Kaeya to rely on him when his hardships begin to become too overwhelming.
“I’m always here if you need me,” he offers. “You don’t have to hide or hold back around me.”
Kaeya gives him a small grin that somehow lacks the warmth that makes a smile a smile along with a barely noticeable nod.
Diluc can’t stand it when Kaeya does that.
Sometimes, he can’t stand it so much that he goes to Jean, his long-time best friend, for help.
Before Kaeya came to Dawn Winery, Diluc and Jean’s free time was calming, relaxing, and almost completely prank free; Diluc, at times, was a bit of a troublemaker.
So almost completely prank free—that is, until Kaeya came along, and all hell broke loose.
He fit into their group naturally and almost immediately, as if he had grown up with Jean and Diluc from the very beginning.
“Do you think he doesn’t trust me?” Diluc would sigh, hands running through his tangled hair.
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Jean tells him, always the level-headed one when Kaeya isn’t around to soothe his older brother’s insecurities. “Maybe there’s something else on his mind.”
“Then shouldn’t he tell me?”
Jean purses her lips. “I suppose,” she ponders for a moment. “But I think these things have always been difficult for Kaeya.”
Diluc frowns, watching as his tortoise beats Jean’s in their race much to her dismay. He supposes that she’s right. Kaeya never cries while, presumably unbeknownst to his little brother, Diluc is a bit of a crybaby at times.
“Jean,” Diluc starts, his voice soft and unsure. “Do you ever worry about Kaeya’s father coming back?”
“Kaeya’s father is your father.”
Diluc huffs. “I know that!” he tells her while looking away from the smile on her face. “His other father—the one that left him here.
“What if he takes Kaeya away?”
Jean stays silent this time, but Diluc notices how her smile quickly morphs into a frown.
He decides to not push her even further than he already has. Kaeya and Jean are best friends, after all. If the younger boy ever left, he’d leave Kaeya-shaped holes in both of their hearts.
After several more moments of silence, the two part ways with a few awkward waves of goodbye.
On the way home, Diluc wonders if Jean shares the same sentiment or if she believes he should put a stop to such selfish thoughts.
Because wasn’t reuniting Kaeya with the father who had abandoned him been their goal in the first place, their number one priority?
Over the past few months, Diluc had started to spend more and more time with Kaeya, unknowing to the fact that he was making up any kind of excuse to accompany the younger boy.
Eventually, they became inseparable, and Diluc was able to discern between each one of Kaeya’s assorted inventory of masks.
They were brothers now.
Was it selfish to want to throw all of that away, just because a man who had so selfishly abandoned Kaeya decided to finally come back, completely unannounced?
Diluc cranes his neck up towards the sky and groans.
He doesn’t know. He never seems to know anything anymore. Perhaps, however, he’s not supposed to know. Perhaps, right now, all he can do is be Kaeya’s brother—someone who will support him and his pursuit of happiness no matter what.
Diluc hopes that’s enough.
Springtime arrives in a blink of an eye.
Thankfully, Diluc will no longer have to think twice whenever Kaeya calls his name. The last three times Diluc had turned around to face his brother, completely oblivious, he had ended up with a face full of snow as Kaeya would run away in a fit of giggles. Although Diluc wouldn’t put it past Kaeya to find a more suitable prank to make him absolutely miserable this spring.
Speaking of spring, the Windblume festival is approaching, Diluc realizes.
This will be Diluc’s very first Windblume as a brother, and Kaeya’s first Windblume ever, not just as a brother.
That is, if their father will allow them to make the trip into the city for said festival.
Diluc knocks on Crepus’ office door, rocking back and forth on his heels in excitement.
“Come in,” his father’s voice calls.
“Good afternoon, Father,” Diluc responds as he closes the door behind him.
Crepus responds in kind, wishing his son a good afternoon. “Did you need something?” he asks before chuckling softly. “You aren’t here to convince me to give Kaeya a scolding after falling victim to another one of his pranks are you?”
Crepus can practically see the steam coming out of his son’s ears, and he can’t help but laugh again.
“Of course not,” Diluc huffs and moves to sit in one of his father’s large office chairs. He’s seen countless men and women in these chairs before. As these people made deal after deal with his father, Diluc noticed that they all had that same twinkle in their eyes. It was a promise—a promise of a deal with Mondstadt’s most esteemed wine industry owner.
“I had a question about the upcoming Windblume festival,” he continues. “Can we go this year?”
“Oh, why the sudden curiosity?” Crepus wonders.
Diluc rubs the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed.
“Well, Kaeya’s never been and I think he’d really like it,” he explains. “He’s been a little down recently, I think, even if he tries his best not to show it. Maybe having a bit of fun would help.”
Crepus’ expression softens. “You’ve taken on the role of the doting older brother well, Diluc, haven’t you?”
“I don’t know about that,” he responds. “I just want Kaeya to be happy.”
“Of course, I understand,” Crepus nods, absolutely beaming. “I’d love to take you two to the festival.”
Diluc perks up immediately with a huge smile on his face. “Thank you, Father,” he says. “I’ll tell Kaeya soon.”
As his son runs out of his office in a hurry, Crepus leans back in his chair, smiling from ear to ear.
The sudden fullness of his heart weighs his chest down in the best way imaginable.
This is the same feeling, Crepus thinks—the same feeling when he met his late wife, when his son was born, and when he took his second son into his home.
Crepus fondly runs a hand over his face.
He’s so glad they’re getting along.
When Diluc closes the door behind him, he finds Kaeya waiting outside.
The latter is leaning over the railing, of all things, that looms over the first floor of the winery. Honestly, Diluc wants to pull him back by his shirt the second he sees him. It’s dangerous!
Adelinde, however, beats him to it.
“Young Master Kaeya,” she scolds. “You must be more careful. What if you had fallen?”
The boy in question merely laughs rather sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Miss Adelinde,” he apologizes. “It was just so boring waiting for Diluc, so I was watching the staff go about their day.”
Diluc huffs, alerting his brother of his presence who whirls around to face him. “I was only in there for a few minutes.”
“Hmm, really?” Kaeya smiles. “Felt like eons.”
Sometime during their conversation, Adelinde leaves the two boys alone with a fond expression, allowing their banter to go uninterrupted.
“You’re exaggerating,” Diluc shakes his head and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Anyways, you said you were waiting for me?”
“What were you talking about with Master Cr—Father?”
Diluc dismisses Kaeya’s mistake. After his conversation with Jean, he tries his best to not be selfish and force his brother to immediately be comfortable with his new place in their household, no matter how much Kaeya belongs here.
“It’s a secret.”
“A secret?”
Diluc nods, standing up even straighter to exaggerate their height difference.
Kaeya places a finger on his chin. “It’s not like you to keep secrets.”
“That’s not true. I have tons of secrets.”
“You’re right,” Kaeya agrees before he smugly crosses his arms over his chest. “Secrets that I’ve already found out about.”
Diluc knows that he’s just teasing him because this is Kaeya of all people, but he makes a mental note to check if the loose floorboard in his bedroom has been shifted to reveal his supposedly secret journal.
“I know you’re lying,” Diluc remarks and Kaeya shrugs, smiling. “Anyways, it’s a secret! That’s all. You’ll find out eventually. Probably. Soon.”
“Whatever you say,” Kaeya says. “That is, if I don’t already find out by then.”
Diluc punches him lightly in the shoulder for that, walking past his brother who laughs as he leaves.
The next week, Crepus and Diluc start acting weird. Even the least observant set of eyes would take notice of their shifts in behaviour, and Kaeya is definitely more observant than most.
In other words, he notices literally everything.
The first sign is when Diluc cannot stop failing at furtively glancing at him across the dinner table.
(“What are you staring at me for?” Kaeya demands.
“I’m not staring at you,” Diluc insists.
“I’m not stupid, Diluc.”
“Oh, really?”
Kaeya throws his mashed potatoes at him for that.)
The second sign is when Crepus seems to not be able to stop himself from breaking out into a grin every time they make eye contact.
(“Is something wrong?” Kaeya asks.
“No, son, not at all,” Crepus reassures, still unable to stop smiling. “I am merely grateful that I get to spend everyday with you and Diluc.”
Something in Kaeya’s chest does a sudden backflip when the word son reaches his ears. His face feels warm, and now he’s the one trying not to make a fool of himself.
Although this doesn’t mean that Crepus is off the hook. Most definitely not. Kaeya still thinks something is up with him, with the both of them.)
Kaeya doesn’t ask anymore questions. In an everyday situation, he would’ve gone to Jean for help. She’s known Diluc for years, after all.
He decides not to pry though, only because he has a hunch that Crepus and Diluc’s strange behaviour is related to the latter’s aforementioned secret.
Then, one morning during breakfast, Diluc and Crepus become unnervingly silent.
Kaeya swallows his food thickly, not enjoying the uneasy atmosphere. Diluc had sounded so happy with himself after revealing that he was hiding some kind of secret from Kaeya. Surely, it couldn’t be something terrible, right?
The two redheads look back and forth between each other, and Kaeya briefly wonders if his brother and father acquired telepathic powers overnight.
“Kaeya,” Crepus finally says, and the boy in question nods in response. “Diluc and I have something to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“We wanted to ask you if you would like to go to—”
“The Windblume festival!” Diluc finishes, practically shooting up from his chair in excitement before he whispers, “Sorry, Father.”
Crepus shakes his head in fond exasperation. “It’s alright,” he tells him. “I know you wouldn’t have been able to contain your excitement any longer.”
Diluc’s ears turn a bright shade of red, one almost comparable to his hair.
“Windblume festival?” Kaeya repeats.
“The Windblume festival is Mond’s way of celebrating the Thousand Winds,” Crepus explains. “We offer Windblumes to Barbatos at his statue in the square, and also give them to the people who we love and cherish.”
“Windblumes are flowers?”
Crepus nods.
“What kind of flower?”
“Well, that’s up for you to decide,” he says. “If a particular flower speaks ‘Windblume’ to you, then that must be it.”
Kaeya ponders this for a moment.
Any flower, even if the Windblume dates so far back in time. To think that there isn’t a definitive answer for such an important part of history—Mondstadt really is the city of freedom.
“Do you wanna go?” Diluc speaks up. “There are lots of things to do, and they even decorate the city to make it look all fancy for the occasion.”
“Was this the secret you were keeping from me?”
Diluc nods. “And you didn’t figure it out.”
“I guess not,” Kaeya smiles, knowing he would have if he really wanted to. “Although I did notice something was bound to come up soon. You and Father are terrible at hiding your emotions.”
While Diluc pouts in his chair, Crepus chuckles a little sheepishly. “Well, I’ve always been one to wear them on my sleeve,” he admits. “Diluc must’ve picked it up from me.”
Kaeya notices the way Diluc’s eyes immediately light up, happy that he shares at least one trait with his father. Personally, to Kaeya, they definitely do share more than just one.
“I’d love to,” he answers.
Diluc notices that Kaeya’s smile is finally starting to reach his eyes.
“Wonderful,” Crepus says, and he sounds absolutely delighted. “We’ll head out right after breakfast.”
“After breakfast?” Kaeya repeats. “So soon?”
“Yeah, so you better eat fast,” Diluc urges. “Jean’s going to be meeting us at the gates.”
“And we’d hate to keep her waiting, wouldn’t we?” Crepus smiles.
Kaeya nods. “She’s developed a bit of a temper.”
“And whose fault is that?” Diluc asks, even if he already knows the answer to his question.
“Dunno about that~” Kaeya hums. “Probably you since you’re always so grumpy.”
“It’s definitely your fault since you always insist on being ‘fashionably late’ all the time.”
“And whose fault is that?” Kaeya repeats in a poor impression of his brother. “You’re the one who spends all that time on that mess you call your hair.”
Diluc rolls his eyes and looks over at Crepus. “Father, maybe taking Kaeya to the city was a bad idea after all.”
“Now, don’t say that,” Crepus scolds, watching his sons banter back and forth. “Especially not after how excited you were, Diluc.
“Don’t tell him that—!”
“Oh? You were that excited for me?”
Crepus places a gentle hand on Diluc’s head before he can leap over the dining table and choke the life out of his brother with his own two hands.
“Come now, you two, finish your breakfasts. Let’s not keep poor Jean waiting,” Crepus says. “Besides, she is the least of our worries. I’d like you both to remember what happened the last time we were late and Lady Frederica was there waiting.”
Silence whips through the dining room, and the brothers visibly shiver in their seats.
Some things are better left unexplained.
The ride into the city is relatively boring, in Diluc’s opinion, but Kaeya seems to think otherwise as his eyes never leave the passing scenery.
The latter has always been intrigued by Mond, no matter what may be the subject at hand. Crepus was pleased to provide answers to every one of Kaeya’s questions, even when the questions pertain to why Mondstadt’s food tasted so bland. (He was especially eager to take pride in the Ragnvindr name.)
Diluc didn’t see a problem with the food. In fact, he thought it was pretty good!
One time, he asked Kaeya to describe the food in his homeland since apparently it was so much better. In response, the younger boy gave him a forlorn, yet nostalgic, smile and told him that he doesn’t remember too well.
Diluc frowned when he heard that.
What Kaeya did remember was that it was spicy, a little similar to Liyuen food, and also very savoury. Since then, Kaeya has earned the title of ‘Honorary Chef’ in their household by sprinkling in dashes of spices here and there in the food.
While Kaeya was almost squealing aloud in delight, Diluc was trying his best to keep his tongue intact. It burned, he told Kaeya, who merely laughed in response.
At one point during the carriage ride, Diluc recalls it was near Springvale, Kaeya asks to step out for a moment. When he returns about ten minutes later, he opens the door to see his brother and his father’s quizzical expressions.
“A little girl from Springvale who I met in Mond a few weeks ago fell ill,” he explains, hand on his bag. “I promised I’d visit when I got the chance.”
Crepus places a hand on Kaeya’s shoulder, praising him for his kindness, as Diluc considers his brother for a moment. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, he admits. Kaeya was always one for making conversation with whoever piqued his interest. Knowing his brother especially, of all people, it would not be unlike him to go out of his way for others.
They spot Jean making small talk with one of the knights at the gate.
She notices them rather quickly, clearly amused as she watches Diluc and Kaeya timidly walk towards her with their father behind them.
“I’m not going to yell at you two for being late,” Jean says, meeting them halfway, and she can practically see some of the tension leave their bodies.
“Oh, thank the Archons. We got a little distracted during breakfast,” Kaeya sighs in relief before wrapping his arm around the girl with a smile. “Hi, Jean, how are you?”
“Doing well, you?” Jean beams, and she easily falls into their comfortable dynamic.
“Excited,” he answers, eyeing Diluc and Crepus warily. “You know, they kept this a secret from me for weeks—did you know about this?”
Jean laughs, “I’m afraid so.”
“I’m hurt.”
“You’ll recover I’m sure,” Jean assures, even if she knows that Kaeya is purposely being overdramatic. She never hesitates to indulge him, Diluc thinks, as she turns to greet their father. “Master Crepus, it’s nice to see you. I hope that the ride here went well.”
“Thank you, Jean,” he responds in kind. “It was swell, but it was not without its bumps along the road every now and then, of course. Will your mother be joining us today?”
“Oh, unfortunately not,” she says. “My parents are showing Barbara around the festival.”
Diluc cannot help but miss the whisper that Crepus mumbles under his breath. “Bless the Archons,” he says. “I’m saved.”
Kaeya, having caught it as well, hides his snort in Jean’s hair.
“Anyways, shall we head in, you three?” Crepus asks in a much louder voice, guiding the children along and through the gates.
The stairs that lead up to the fountain are lined with blue-green carpeting. There are wreaths hanging from every single post, similar to flower-covered vines that connect each rooftop to another. Flower pots surround the fountain in the centre, decorating the square nicely.
Diluc walks carefully, in case he knocks down one of the many potted flowers that litter the streets of Mondstadt.
He quickly tears his eyes away from his surroundings, choosing to focus on Kaeya instead.
Besides, all of this was familiar to him; he’s seen it through all the years of his childhood. For Kaeya, on the other hand, this is all new for him.
He looks amazed, even if he’s trying his best not to show it. As always, Diluc sees right through him. Well, as much as he can anyways.
“Do you like it?” he asks, completely unprompted.
Kaeya, a little taken back, recovers quickly with a smile and a nod. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” he says and gives his brother a light punch in the shoulder. “Thanks, Diluc.”
Diluc returns the same smile and reciprocates the warmth. He reaches over and ruffles Kaeya’s hair. The younger boy lashes out immediately, his smile finally reaching his eyes, as he makes a move for his brother’s hair.
Diluc lets out a high-pitched laugh when he takes a step back, avoiding Kaeya’s grasp. As a result, he knocks a flower pot down and off its ledge.
It smashes onto the pavement below.
The group stills, and all their eyes lock onto scattered soil, ruined flowers, and broken clay. That is, until Crepus lets out a cough and discreetly shoves his son’s mistake into a nearby bush with his foot.
Fortunately, no passers-by were close enough to have witnessed what had just happened.
(Except for a white cat with a black patch of fur over its right eye. Kaeya tells them not to worry though for he had made a deal with it.
In return for a few scratches behind the ears, the cat would not be spilling their secrets any time soon.
“How can you trust it?” Jean asks, laughing under her breath.
“We have some sort of connection,” Kaeya explains before pointing to his eyepatch. “We’re the same!”
Diluc rolls his eyes.)
The rest of the day flies by in no time. The sky, which was once clear and blue, has been painted with splotches of orange and purple and is now lined with clouds. The streets begin to clear. Crowds of people eventually disperse to leave only a few passerbys, making it easier for Crepus to walk through the streets behind three children as he carries his sons’ takeout from Good Hunter.
Even though he may have hired the best cooks in Mondstadt, in his opinion, Crepus cannot deny that Good Hunter’s food is to die for. He even has a sneaking suspicion that Kaeya prefers their food over their own. The next time he gets a chance, he notes, he’ll have to ask Sara and the cooks for their secrets. Hopefully, with his reputation that he hates to abuse, they’ll give him at least a little something.
Honestly, he’s a little tired of his staff bringing complaints to him about his youngest son messing around in their kitchen.
Kaeya will always be Kaeya, he tells them. There’s no changing that. He may just have to work around him, and Crepus doesn’t see a problem with that. If Kaeya prefers to eat foods that remind him of home, then those are the foods that he will eat.
Besides, Crepus loves it when Kaeya adds his own little touches to their supper, even if Diluc complains about how the food is so spicy that it’ll burn his tongue off.
Spice aside, the food is good! He can’t deny that.
“Shall we call it a day?” Crepus asks, interrupting the group’s conversation. “Jean, does your mother need you back soon?”
Jean rubs the back of her neck. “Ah, you’re right,” she says. “I completely lost track of time.”
“So soon?” Kaeya remarks.
“The sun’s setting, Kaeya,” Diluc reminds him. “Lady Frederica may start getting upset.”
Crepus looks over at the young girl, soft smile on his face. “Would you like us to accompany you to search for your mother?”
Jean bounces on the balls of her feet as her cheeks flush pink. “There is one last thing I’d like to do before I go,” she mentions, and then she pauses. “If that’s okay with you, sir.”
Most of the time, Crepus would hate to encourage this kind of behaviour, but he cannot help but wonder what Jean wants so badly that she’d disobey Frederica Gunnhildr of all people.
“Of course, anything you’d like,” Crepus nods before he quickly adds, “Within reason.”
“It’s nothing like that,” Jean assures, and she turns to face Diluc as she pulls a lyre out of her bag. “I would just love to show Diluc how much I’ve improved since the last Windblume.”
Diluc’s eyes widen. Crepus and Kaeya stifle a few laughs.
“Funnily enough,” Diluc says, recovering quickly as he takes out his own lyre from his bag. “I thought this would’ve happened. So I came prepared.”
“I can’t wait to see Jean wipe the floor with you, Diluc,” Kaeya chuckles.
“You’re not even going to cheer me on?”
“I only cheer on those who have a chance of winning,” he responds. “No brother bias here.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“I try my best!”
“I’ll have you know that Father thinks I’m very gifted.”
“Master Crepus would be right,” Jean remarks. “Surpassing you has always been a goal of mine, Diluc, so don’t let me down now.”
The boy in question blushes before he lets out a huff, now completely silent. The two make their way towards the gates, wandering over to the shores of Cider Lake as Crepus and Kaeya trail behind them.
“Father,” Kaeya whispers, and Crepus leans down so his son can reach him, “who do you think is gonna win?”
“Kaeya, I can’t answer that,” he says, shaking his head. “Diluc is my son.”
“So you think Jean is going to win too?”
Crepus pulls away and walks ahead, but not before ruffling Kaeya’s hair and clearing his throat. The latter laughs and breaks into a light jog to catch up with the others.
Diluc and Jean stop when the ground beneath their feet turns from grass to sand. Wind whips through the water, causing waves to crash against the shore. A few dandelions, rattled by the wind, let a few seeds go free. They blow in Jean’s general direction, almost as if they were drawn to her.
“What song are we playing?” Jean asks, eyebrows raising.
Diluc answers, “The same one from last year.”
“Oh? You still remember that one?” Jean asks again, but Kaeya can hear the teasing lilt in her voice. He wonders if he’s been a bad influence on sweet Jean.
At this point, Kaeya thinks, this is more of a spar than a not-so-friendly music competition.
“Of course I do,” Diluc boasts. “It’s a simple song. Anyone could play it.”
He’s definitely been a bad influence on these two formerly polite, but still rich, kids. Although he knew they always had it in them; they just needed someone to bring it out in them through months of irritation.
“That is true,” Jean admits, looking a little defeated, and then she smiles. “But not everyone can play it as well as I can.”
Diluc narrows his eyes at the young girl as a trace of a grin ghosts along his lips. “Father, can you count us in?”
“Two judges. Father and me,” Kaeya interrupts, holding up his fingers. “Ten point scale.”
Diluc and Jean nod in agreement, fingers hovering over delicate, yet terse, strings.
Crepus, voice firm, counts them in and taps his foot softly against the sand—a sharp contrast between the firmity of his voice.
The two mirror Crepus, nodding their heads to the count before they begin.
As Kaeya watches, arms crossed, he wonders how much strength Diluc is using to pluck taut strings in such a carefree manner. While showing how determined he is to achieve victory, Diluc manages to give his play a bit of staccato, giving the piece a little bit of playfulness.
He’s strong, but behind that rough exterior and all that toughness, he’s always been gentle.
He makes little to no mistakes too, to Kaeya’s surprise.
Jean, on the other hand, somehow plays the instrument like a dancer would. She’s determined, just like Diluc, but she’s also having fun. Kaeya watches her intently, noticing how it’s not only her fingers that hold such grace and fluidity.
She’s gently swaying in the wind as the breeze blows through strands of pretty blond hair. Even if she’s making a few more mistakes than Diluc, Kaeya cannot deny that he’s been entranced by her performance. He might have not been there last year, but he has no doubt that she has improved.
It is during times like these, when he’s with the three most important people in his life in a city of freedom, where Kaeya wishes he could freeze time.
If he could stay here forever, in this hopefully ever-lasting moment, he would. He’d stay with Jean, his best friend; Crepus, his father; and Diluc, his beloved brother if they’ll have him.
And, Archons, the gods have done nothing but take from him his entire life, but he cannot help but be greedy and pray—pray that they can give him at least this and he can live in his own meticulously constructed lie for an eternity.
He loves Mondstadt, and that scares him.
The song finally comes to an end with a pretty strum of the strings. Diluc and Jean drop their ever so straight posture, arms now at their sides.
They look at Crepus and Kaeya expectantly.
Kaeya, snapping himself out of his thoughts, strokes his chin and looks up at his father with a knowing expression. “Who shall face the wrath of the council first?” he ponders.
Crepus, trying to conceal a laugh, shoots a pointed glance at his other son. “Let’s start with Diluc first,” he suggests. “Does that sound alright with you, Sir Kaeya?”
“That seems most appropriate,” Kaeya nods in between hums, still stroking his chin as Diluc glares daggers into his soul. “Diluc, step forward.”
Begrudgingly, Diluc takes a tiny step forward. From an outsider’s point of view, it would appear as if he hadn’t moved from his spot at all. Crepus and Kaeya whisper back and forth in hushed voices as Diluc and Jean nervously exchange glances with one another.
“The council has come to a conclusion,” Kaeya announces, hiding his hands behind his back. “I, Sir Kaeya, give Diluc Ragnvindr a score of…”
He raises seven fingers.
And, honestly, Diluc is surprised. He had expected Kaeya to cut off one of his fingers to somehow give him a negative score.
“Seven out of ten, how generous of you, Sir Kaeya,” Crepus notes. “For myself, I will be giving Mr. Ragnvindr a score of eight out of ten.”
Diluc pumps his fist in the air.
“Now, for our fair lady, Jean,” Kaeya begins with his hands once again folded behind his back. “I give you, Jean Gunnhildr, a score of…”
He raises nine fingers. Beside him, Crepus also raises nine of his fingers.
Jean, with a proud smile on her face, extends her hand out to her opponent. “It seems that I’ve finally bested you.”
Diluc shakes her hand, face red. “It seems so,” he remarks. “You’ve been a worthy rival over all these years. I’m sure I will return full force next year to destroy you.”
Laughing, Jean gives him a nod before letting go. She turns to Crepus and bows, her ponytail dipping over her head. “Thank you, Master Crepus, for allowing me to join you and your family for the afternoon,” she says. “I had a wonderful time.”
Crepus rubs the back of his neck. “Of course, dear,” he beams. “You made today far more enjoyable than it would have been without you. Isn’t that right, boys?”
“Thanks for hanging out with us, Jeanie,” Kaeya grins, his smile so bright that Jean feels herself start to blush. “I’m already looking forward to next year. Maybe I’ll take lessons just to beat you both.”
Diluc nods, subconsciously copying his father as he rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you for coming,” he says.
Jean makes her move to leave, and Diluc and Kaeya watch her as she goes, but they don’t expect her to suddenly turn around and trap the two boys in her embrace.
Her grip is tight as she pulls them close, and Kaeya lifts one of his arms to place his hand on her lower back. He smiles, chest suddenly feeling all warm and fuzzy as he cranes his head to the side, gauging Diluc’s reaction. He’s rather pleased to see that his brother seems to be on the verge of physically exploding from embarrassment.
Jean pulls away, bounces on the balls of her feet, and then leaves with a quick wave and farewell.
“Shall we head home now?” Crepus suggests, looking up at the sky to see darkness starting to overshadow light.
Diluc nods in agreement. “Come on, Kaeya,” he tells him. “It’s getting late—”
When he turns around to face his brother, Kaeya is standing as stiff as a lamppost. His bag is open, and Diluc almost scolds him for forgetting to close it before he spots the two calla lilies in the younger boy’s hand.
Kaeya somehow straightens his posture even more and rubs the back of his neck with his other hand. “I don’t know if these are the right flowers,” he begins and clears his throat. “But I thought they’d work since they mean a lot to me.
“Diluc introduced them to me the first week I arrived in Mondstadt. We had run off some time during the afternoon, sorry Father, and we came across these beautiful flowers—they’ve been my favourite ever since.”
Then, he extends his hand forward, offering the flowers to both his father and brother.
So that’s why he had made that unexpected stop at Springvale, Diluc realizes; he was picking flowers by the lake.
When Diluc turns to look at his father, he smiles, not surprised to see the man almost reduced to tears. Crepus takes one of the calla lilies from his son’s hand, and Diluc quickly takes his own before the former almost crushes the boys to death in his arms.
“Father, you’re crushing my flower,” Diluc gasps, one arm glued to his side as the other struggles to keep the calla lily alive and uncrushed.
“It’s perfect,” Crepus tells Kaeya. “Calla lilies are the perfect Windblume.”
“R-Really?” Kaeya stammers, and Diluc delights in the fact that his brother is finally at a loss for words. “I saw everyone else with cecilias, dandelions, windwheel asters—”
Diluc reaches over and places his hand over Kaeya’s, calla lily now between their hands that rest on their father’s back.
“They’re your Windblumes,” he tells him, giving his brother a smile as warm as the red of his hair. “So they’re perfect, no matter what.”
Kaeya makes eye contact with the older boy and nods, finally allowing himself to melt into his father’s embrace alongside his brother.
Diluc’s words repeat themselves inside Kaeya’s mind like a broken record. If, one day, when his life—a lie he’s been feeding for his own selfish desires—is at stake for finally coming clean, Kaeya will not pray that the Archons will accept him as a true child of Mondstadt in spite of himself.
He will pray that Jean will continue to be his friend, and they’ll play duets together in the many Windblume festivals to come, no matter who Kaeya may be.
He will pray that Crepus will continue to be his father, and they’ll sit by the fire eating dinner together for years, no matter what Kaeya decides.
He will pray that Diluc will continue to be his brother, and they’ll grow up side by side in the Knights of Favonius, no matter what Kaeya may be forced to face in the future.