Work Text:
Fly, fly away
Like a bird in the sky...
At seven, Jean comes across the name of a boy drenched in fire and warmth. She sees red and feels herself melting against the concrete they stand upon, feeling her skin burning with the arrival of the blessed winds whistling to soothe her and the fate she was given. At seven, just enough for her to understand what the name means, she reads the letters out loud.
Diluc on her left wrist, and the same name scribbled across her right one.
The winds continue to whistle, and fire swirls from all around.
She keeps the name a secret underneath thick gloves and the armor of strength for the next years. When they finally meet, she introduces herself to him only to find out that she is but a mere stranger to the young boy. Diluc Ragnvindr, at the small age of twelve, presents his skin with a shrug. There are no names written on them. Not even a mark. It sends Jean’s mind into a plethora of questions that were all left unanswered and never to be given justice.
“I guess I don’t have a soulmate,” Diluc shrugs. “But it’s fine. I don’t mind.”
Jean frowns, and with a sigh, she excuses herself.
She is presented with a gift at fifteen. The title of Dandelion Knight. The hero of Mondstadt. At fifteen, she is one step closer to achieving her dreams.
Diluc, the new and youngest cavalry captain, nods at her. “Congratulations,” he tells her. His smile is familiar when she turns to meet his gaze, the corners of his lips curling to meet the edges of his eyes. “I suppose a celebration is in order?”
“Only if you want to, Sir,” Jean approaches him with careful footsteps. The ground underneath their feet lightly trembles at the sight of two people playing near the edge of flickering flames. One is hesitant while the other continues to guard a secret. Still, just as the wind always does, they are brought together for a reason. Jean tugs at her gloves, and with a sigh, she says, “I suppose one night of celebration wouldn’t be too much of a bother. Unless you need to attend to work?”
“No,” Diluc shakes his head. “I’m free for the rest of the day,” a pause. “Would you like to go on a walk with me? I know a spot near Windrise.”
Jean smiles. “Alright.”
The name on her left wrist only makes sense at eighteen, just a year too late. She goes to Windrise to confess her love, but Diluc is nowhere to be seen.
And when he finally returns, they are both one step too late.
At twenty-four, she once again comes across a name drenched with fire and warmth. She finds that she doesn’t regret falling in love with the boy whose skin has never been tainted by fate. She also finds that she doesn’t regret falling in love with him for the second time. Even after he’s left her, and even after he’s betrayed her.
Diluc blinks. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, hands trembling from gripping the handle of his sword too tight.
Jean sighs and listens to the whistling winds. She understands. There is nothing to apologize for. His name is carved on her skin as a seal of her fate. She is to fall in love with a boy, and she is to die in his hands just as easy as she fell. It is her fate.
She departs with the wind drenched with her soulmate’s betrayal.