Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Diluc crashed to the ground in pain.

It took him a moment to get his bearings, a crucial moment that he should have spent countering the next attack and lodging one of his own. But his limbs wouldn’t coordinate properly. Everything was there and it was too much and also wrong. He snarled and the sound moved in his throat in a way he couldn’t remember ever having happened before. He tried to raise his sword, to call down fire, and nothing happened.

“You’re rather more helpless like this,” a voice observed. Diluc staggered to his feet—or whatever he had now instead of feet, which rather felt like more feet than usual—and snarled again. His mind insisted that she was making sense, but the words filtered oddly through his brain. “It’s nice.”

“What?” Diluc said, or tried to say. It came out like a growl. 

The witch he’d attacked looked like no one he’d ever seen. There was a Hydro Vision pinned to her shirt, and she had white hair cut short. She was also taller than he remembered. It was hard to notice other things about her. He kept noticing that she smelled like hot springs and green apples.

That was weird. He wasn’t standing close enough to smell that.

He wasn’t…standing.

“I was trying to turn you into a frog,” the witch said. “This is rather unexpected. Did you know you have werewolf blood?”

The words made no sense individually, but meaning arrived in Diluc’s head. He growled again and launched himself at her—fuck fire and fuck his sword, he could do this with his bare fucking hands if he had to—and slammed into a Hydro shield.

“Do you have a Vision?” she mused. “That would explain it. Allogenes aren’t affected by magic in the same way.”

Diluc hesitated. He couldn’t say yes. Everything he said came out weird. But the hesitation was enough: she twirled the ley line branch she held and tapped it against her palm. “Well, you must not have your Vision now or it wouldn’t have worked at all. You better find it, huh?”

What the fuck, Diluc thought indignantly. He darted forward to bite her, which made sense as an action in his head, but his teeth closed around nothing. She laughed from behind him. Damn Hydro mages. “Run, little wolf,” she said mockingly. “And let that teach you not to mistake strangers for the Abyss Order! We could’ve worked together if you’d been a little smarter.”

He snarled. It seemed to be all he could do. She waved the branch idly in one direction. “Mondstadt is that way. And now, it’s time for you to sleep...”

Her voice was laced with magic. It hit him like a wall. He flopped over, unconscious already.

When he woke up again, his first thought was damn, I hate magic. His second thought was, where are my hands?

He put his hands in front of his face. They did not look like hands. He knew this because hands usually had thumbs and less fur. And no claws. He turned it over to examine his palm and found digital pads. Thick, reddish-brown hair covered his…he had to call them paws. There was dirt in them, which made him want to wince. He didn’t think he could wince anymore. He continued his examination of himself and discovered that he was, in fact, a wolf now. Or a dog. It was hard to tell when he couldn’t see his own face.

What the fuck.

At least his thoughts were…human-shaped. Even if they didn’t work quite as well as they usually did, like there was all this doggy information clogging up his neural pathways. He could think the word fuck, which was a relief. It would have been worse than criminal to turn him into a dog and rob him of the ability to swear about it.

And he could walk. That seemed to work more or less instinctively, if not gracefully. He doddered a few steps and flopped to the ground, assaulted by a barrage of smells and sounds. 

Hydro elemental magic, Delusion fire, some blood. Hot springs and green apples and Liyuen grass. That was him, probably. His clothes were missing. They must have been transformed with him. The Delusion was lying near a tree, and he wondered what he could do with it. Taking it back to the city seemed unwise, and if he moved he’d likely run into one a Knight. There were no people around, and his sense of smell was good enough now that he could find this place again with no trouble.

A distinctly dog idea presented itself to him. He weighed his options, set aside his distaste, and peed on the tree with as much dignity as he could muster.

He dug a hole for the Vision on the other side of the tree, dropped it in with his mouth, and covered it with mud. Considered it critically. It was obvious, but—rocks? He could pile up rocks. He could not pile up rocks. He had no thumbs. He stared it down for a minute, regretting every prior moment of his life, and then began to trot in the direction of Mondstadt.

It was a long walk. He took a detour to hunt some boar—raw meat tasted good, which was another dog thing. Or a wolf thing. Still difficult to tell. 

He hated this. He hated all of this. But he’d become very good over the past four years at resigning himself to whatever hand he was dealt.

In this case…paw.

The Knights at the gate didn’t look askance at a dog walking into Mondstadt. Idiots.

It only occurred to him after he was there, though, that his Vision was probably at—at the Dawn Winery. Or maybe it wasn’t. He didn’t know, did he? He’d come here because it had been the first option presented to him, but he didn’t know where to begin his search. He couldn’t ask anyone because he couldn’t fucking talk.

A dog barked at him. Diluc swung his head and growled, low and deadly. It squeaked and ran off. Coward. 

He was hungry again. There was nothing in the fucking city for him to hunt except rats. And he couldn’t seem to think properly. And he was thirsty. And everything hurt, weirdly, like his body wasn’t used to this. He wanted to bite someone or something. He wanted to take a nap.

And he was dirty.

That last at least he could solve. There was a fountain in the square. He walked decisively up to it and heaved himself in.

Some of the water got into his nose and eyes and ears, because he hadn’t calculated with this lower height in mind. He shook it out. Someone screamed.

He stared blearily at them. It was a girl, pointing at him with a hysterical expression. For a moment he wondered if he’d turned back into a person without noticing. He checked his feet. Nope, still dog.

“Shut up,” he tried to tell her. “It’s okay.” His voice came out as a rough bark.

She shrieked.

Well, at least Diluc was cleaner now. He hauled himself out of the fountain and placed himself a careful distance from other people, and shook himself vigorously until he was lighter.

“That,” said an overly-familiar, overly-grating voice. “That is one large dog, don’t you think?”

At this height, Diluc saw the turned-down tops of a pair of fancy heeled boots first. Then he looked up and saw the rest of the man. A Cryo Vision hung from a chain at his hip. He smelled like brittle cold and Calla Lilies. Diluc growled, low and warning. There wasn’t a coherent thought in his head except rage, at this traitor who still walked free around Mondstadt like he had any right to these streets. 

“And the guards just let him in,” Kaeya continued. “That seems a little unwise.” He dropped down on the balls of his feet. “Hey, doggie.”

Diluc growled again. He wasn’t a dog. Kaeya of all people should have known that.

“It looks like a wolf,” Kaeya said, not taking his eye off Diluc. “What do you think, Huffman?”

“It’s too big to be a regular dog,” Huffman agreed. He had placed himself a careful distance from Diluc, like that would protect him. Kaeya was three feet away, though, and Diluc still hadn’t made up his mind about biting him. “Should we take it…out?”

“Well, it’s still a little damp, so I could freeze it,” Kaeya said.

Diluc skittered back.

“Does it understand us?” Huffman hissed.

“It understands something,” Kaeya said. “Hey, doggie. Do you have an owner?”

Diluc snorted derisively.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Kaeya took out a coin, flipping it idly. “How did you come to Mondstadt?”

How is a dog supposed to answer that, you moron? Diluc screamed in his head.

“Don’t answer that,” Kaeya said quickly. “Not that you can. How much do you understand?”

Diluc tried to look stupid. He didn’t want Kaeya to figure him out. He couldn’t have Kaeya knowing that he was a dog. Diluc would never hear the end of it and Kaeya also probably would conspire to keep him that way. How nice for him that the only person who knew his secret couldn’t communicate it.

Another thought came on the heels of this one: Kaeya was still a traitor, and still a Knight. What if he was still putting his plan into motion? Someone would have to stop him. Nobody knew he needed to be stopped except Diluc.

Therefore: he needed to keep an eye on Kaeya.

What better way to do that than—? The idea was distasteful, but Diluc simply didn’t have better options right now. And maybe Kaeya would lead him to his Vision.

Diluc sat down, wagged his tail slowly, and barked once.

“You must be pretty smart,” Kaeya mused. “Dogs don’t get that way without training.”

It was an effort not to roll his eyes. He barked again and wagged his tail harder. Kaeya tilted his head and smiled. “He’s cute,” he commented. “I suppose the Knights could find a use for a trained guard dog. We’ve never had a doggie Knight before, but there’s a first time for everything. Huffman, what do you think?”

“Are you planning to Knight him?” Huffman asked faintly. Diluc felt much the same. This was one of Kaeya’s worst ideas to date, and not what Diluc wanted.

“Why not? Jean likes dogs.”

“He could be dangerous!” Huffman said. “Captain Kaeya, please—”

“He could’ve attacked us at any point,” Kaeya said dismissively. “He didn’t. Here, doggie.”

Diluc glared balefully at the hand Kaeya was holding out, then inched forward and sniffed his fingers the way an actual dog would. His hands smelled like hoarfrost and blood and clean sweat. Diluc sneezed.

A hand touched his head, and he flinched and snapped instinctively at it. Kaeya snatched his hand back, holding it out again. “Just me, boy,” he said, gentle in a way that rang suspicious. “Not planning to hurt you.”

He hadn’t been, Diluc realized. He’d wanted to pet Diluc.

“He’s dangerous,” Huffman said.

“No, he’s not,” Kaeya said calmly, hopping to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get him to the Ordo. At least we can put a collar on him.”

Diluc sighed. A collar, seriously? But he followed them. He didn’t have much of a choice, if he wanted to stay in Mondstadt.

The Ordo looked much the same as Diluc remembered, if notably different at this height. It smelled of so many people that Diluc’s head hurt. At least the city had a breeze carrying away most scents. He kept trotting between Kaeya and Huffman, committed to this pretense of mildly intelligent obedience. His heart was beating very fast. He hadn’t been here in three years and now he was a dog and it still made him want to throw up, or bite someone. He felt itchy and trapped. He thought he’d find a ghost of their younger selves around every corner. 

Noelle yelped at the sight of him. Diluc growled at her. “Hey,” Kaeya said sharply. “Down, boy.”

Boy, Diluc thought indignantly. Fuck you. He growled again.

“It’s fine,” Kaeya said. “Could you find Jean, Noelle? I’d like to talk to her.”

“And the dog?” Noelle asked faintly.

“He’s with me.”

Diluc growled at him too. He was here of his own accord, thank you very much. He wanted to throw himself at something so badly, even if it was a wall. Even if it hurt. He wanted bones crunching between his teeth until he stopped feeling so—so weird.

Jean’s office was the Grandmaster’s. “Honey,” someone said, low and sweet. Static tickled his nose. “Is that a dog?Here?”

He couldn’t growl again. He couldn’t get thrown out of the city. He flopped down on the carpet and did the first thing he could think of, which was biting at his paws. They tasted like mud and city dust and fountain water. His own teeth were sharper than he’d expected, but at least the pain settled some restless dumb part of him that couldn’t stand anything right now. He chewed until he tasted blood, and then sucked at it. 

Kaeya was talking to Lisa. Diluc had stopped paying attention. He only tuned back in when the door opened, swinging himself around and snarling at the intruder.

“Hey,” Kaeya said. “Oh, Archons. What happened to your paw?”

Diluc looked down at it. His paw now looked bloody and injured, but it wasn’t important. He growled at the intruder again, and then realized that that was Jean.

Jean was good. Jean was safe. Even in this state, he couldn’t doubt that, so he launched himself forward and to smell her, to check whether she was safe. As a human it might have been a hug. In this form, it was pure animal enthusiasm. 

A wave of ice hit him before he could think, and he went down with a cut-off yelp. It hurt so bad.

“Kaeya!” Jean yelled. Her voice hit like a whip.

Diluc was heaving with pain and panic. It hadn’t hurt so bad with the Hydro mage, but she hadn’t been trying to hurt him. Kaeya could have killed him just now. The thought just made the pain worse, even though that made no sense. Nothing did. There was only pain and terror, and—

And Jean, who was kneeling at his side and gathering him into his arms. “He was just being playful,” she was saying, indignant. “There was no need for that.”

“He nearly killed you,” Lisa said. “I don’t like the look of that beast.”

“He did not! He’s a nice dog. Aren’t you, baby?”

Baby, Diluc thought woozily. He couldn’t string a thought farther than that, so he put his head on Jean’s shoulder and inhaled the dandelion scent of her. He was shaking. Her arms were warm around him. 

“Dogs always love you,” Kaeya observed, somewhat petulantly. Diluc winced. He wasn’t actually a dog. He had to remember that.

“You just have to be nice to them,” Jean said. She was scratching behind his ears, and some extremely dog part of Diluc was stupidly thrilled about this. Even more thrilled when she ran her hands down his flanks, kneading gently. “You’re such a good, lovely boy. The best boy. Do you have a name?”

“He came here on his own,” Kaeya supplied. “I don’t think he does. Should we name him?”

Jean hummed, then grabbed his face and pulled him back. He blinked drowsily at her. “Hey there, sweetheart. What should we name you?”

Diluc wagged his tail and tried to lick her face. It seemed like the thing to do.

“You know,” Kaeya said after a while. “He reminds me a little of—”

“I know,” Jean interrupted. “It’s a bit uncanny, I was thinking the same thing!”

“Andreas,” Kaeya mused. “Not a bad name for a dog.”

Diluc stopped trying to lick Jean’s face. 

That was his name. His human form's middle name, Andreas, after his mother Andrea. He barked, trying to say did you seriously just name me after myself? and then he thought I reminded you of me when I tried to lick Jean’s face? and then he thought I tried to lick Jean’s face, and decided to give up on thinking. It clearly wasn’t for him anymore.

“I think he likes it,” Jean announced. “Andreas, Andy.”

Diluc growled.

“Andy?”

He growled again.

“Andreas,” Kaeya suggested.

Well, it was better than doggie. He slumped in Jean’s arms until she began to pet him again. He deserved it for putting up with their stupid asses. Also, it was the first time in several years that someone had touched him so gently, and he hadn’t realized it was something he’d missed. Jean’s hands on his body felt like they were giving him a piece of himself back. 

“Give me your paw,” Jean said eventually. She picked up the injured one without asking, Anemo pulsing through the tender bruised flesh. The pain faded, along with a fraction of all the other pain occupying his body. “All done. Don’t do that again, okay?”

“He doesn’t understand a word you’re saying,” Lisa said sulkily.

Diluc barked in disagreement. 

“I think he understands everything,” Kaeya said. “What are we going to do with him?”

“We are not Knighting him,” Lisa said. “He’s a dog.” 

Diluc wasn’t, but he let it slide. He agreed with her, anyway. He had no desire to be a Knight in any form.

“I’m taking him home,” Jean declared. “I’ve always wanted a pet.”

“You barely have time to take care of yourself!” Lisa protested.

Diluc suspected she was jealous, which was hilarious. He was a dog.

“Lisa’s right,” Kaeya said. “Though perhaps you could train him to take care of you.”

“I think he would be good at it.” Jean scratched him under his chin. “Wouldn’t you, Andreas?”

Diluc wanted to agree, but he couldn’t. He had to hold onto his purpose. Kaeya needed to be stopped, whatever his plan was. And he needed to turn back into a person, for which he needed his Vision. Being close to Kaeya was the only road to both goals, so he reluctantly extricated himself from Jean’s grip and walked over to Kaeya, dropping himself over Kaeya’s feet and pinning him with his most determined look.

“Ah, cute.” Kaeya shuffled backwards. “You’ve gotten attached. But no, I have even less time for an animal than Jean does. And I don’t want a pet. You’re better off with her.” 

Diluc refused to move.

“Shoo,” Kaeya said. “Off you go. She’ll feed you and take you on walkies.”

“Andreas,” Jean wheedled. “I’ll be nice to you, I promise.”

He wasn’t going to get a choice, he realized. He heaved a sigh and returned to Jean’s side. The mention of food had made him realize he was starving, and he didn’t know how to communicate that either. He whined piteously at Jean.

Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to get it. Kaeya and Lisa left soon after, so Diluc curled up on the carpet in front of Jean’s desk and tried to sleep. 

It came easily. He was exhausted.

He woke up when Jean nudged him gently. “C’mon, Andreas,” she said. “I don’t think I can carry you home.”

Diluc woke up, yawned, tried to scratch his back, and had a comical failure of kinesthesia. He recovered his dignity badly as Jean giggled into her hand and followed her out. Kaeya’s scent lingered in this corridor. He memorized, storing it in a part of his brain he’d never before had conscious access to it. Apparently dogs really were that good at smells.

Jean lived with her mother in an enormous, beautiful townhouse that smelled like cleanliness and legacy. He hadn’t known, or had forgotten in three years of sleeping rough and chasing Fatui, that legacy had a smell, but it coated the back of his throat like silver polish and old curtains. 

Another thing he'd forgotten: Jean lived with Frederica.

Frederica hated dogs. Diluc suddenly recalled being twelve years old and gifting Jean a puppy for her birthday, only for Frederica to promptly dress all three of them down very publicly. Jean had spent the rest of the day in tears, and Kaeya had taken over comforting her while Diluc plotted merciless revenge on Frederica. He’d ended up setting her drapes on fire, ruining a three-hundred-year-old tapestry for the crime of making Jean sob into her hands on her birthday.

Still, the puppy had gotten another home. 

Diluc suddenly, selfishly, did not want to be at the centre of another altercation. He stepped quietly as Jean led him up the stairs, recognizing the need for secrecy, and paced her room while she ate dinner downstairs.

He was so fucking hungry. The odds weren’t good that Jean would manage to sneak him something, even if she remembered.

It turned out he was right. Jean whispered apologies into his fur and promised him a bigger breakfast the next day, and Diluc accepted this and stretched himself in front of her fireplace to sleep for the night.

At least, to pretend to sleep. He waited until Jean’s breath had evened out and then pushed her windows open. They creaked and he paused, haunches tense with uncertainty, as they swung to let the night air in. Would Jean wake up at that? Kaeya almost certainly would have; Diluc hadn’t been able to so much as drape a blanket over him without him sitting up in bright shock. 

Always subsiding again at the sight of Diluc, but how had Diluc not caught on to his secret sooner?

Jean didn’t wake up. Diluc heaved himself delicately out of the window, dropped onto the roof below, and edged himself sideways until he could drop into the bushes.

Rose bushes. Fuck Frederica, really. The woman was insufferable. And Diluc had thorns in his paws now, and he couldn’t do shit about that. He gritted his teeth and kept going. He had a scent to track. 

The pain sang its way up to his canine elbows as he tottered down the street, searching for the smell of blood and snow. 

And fuck Kaeya too. Did the man have to move around so much? Couldn’t he plot in a basement somewhere like a two-bit supervillain from one of the storybooks Diluc had loved so much as a kid? Did he have to take two entire rounds of the city? Diluc was shivering with pain and hunger and rage by the time he caught a lucky break and found a door that smelled far too much like Kaeya to be anyone else’s.

Which was when the thought caught up to him that it was the middle of the fucking night and Kaeya wouldn’t open the door even if Diluc could knock. 

He snarled silently and settled down to wait.

Chapter Text

“What the fuck,” someone said fervently. 

Diluc sprang to his feet, yelped, and growled, instinct kicking in prior to thought. Then he thought: snow? and realized who it was. 

The events of the previous night filtered in. He looked down at himself and confirmed that he was, in fact, still canine. Kaeya was still staring at him with bleary shock. There was something weird about him this morning—Diluc couldn’t figure out what.

He wasn’t very interested in figuring it out. He shoved Kaeya to the side and limped into the apartment, following his nose until he found himself in a kitchen. Surely Kaeya had food somewhere. He nosed at the icebox, sneezed, and tried to open it with his paws. This didn’t work too well. 

“Archons,” Kaeya said. He’d followed Diluc to the kitchen. “You are one weird dog.”

Diluc whined. He was so hungry. Why didn’t anyone get that he was hungry? 

“Why did you leave Jean?” Kaeya asked. He didn’t seem to expect a reply, at least. He moved the lid off the icebox and pointed sternly at Diluc. “Behave.”

Like he was an animal. Diluc sighed and sat down.

“I’m going to have to heat this up,” Kaeya said, taking frozen meat out of the box. He yawned. His hands trembled as he stuck the meat into the oven, grilling it for an agonizing five entire minutes before putting them on a plate and sliding it in front of Diluc.

Diluc couldn’t scarf it down fast enough.

When he looked up again, Kaeya had made himself a mug of coffee and was sipping slowly at it, leaning against the counter and staring down at Diluc with an abstracted expression.

As a dog it was strangely hard to hold onto his suspicion. His brain was mostly registering Kaeya as the first person to have fed him in this city, and it was difficult to remember that the man was also a heartless traitor who had lied to Diluc for years.

Kaeya yawned again. Diluc realized that the weird thing about him was that he was still in yesterday’s clothes, like he hadn’t slept at all. That—that sounded like the Kaeya Diluc knew, actually. Kaeya had always been a light, restless sleeper. “What happened to your paws this time?” he asked Diluc.

Diluc glanced down at his paws, then staggered forward and held one out gingerly. 

This close, Kaeya’s Vision was an aura of ice. Diluc held back a growl as Kaeya knelt down and took his paw, examining the underside. “Ah,” he said softly. “Dropped into Frederica’s roses, did you?”

His fingers were cool and precise, tugging out the thorns and smoothing over the blood-clotted fur. Diluc held his other paw out without being asked, relieved at the lack of pain and almost surprised at how much he didn’t think Kaeya would hurt him like this. Kaeya had hurt him—had cast ice at him when he’d thought Diluc would harm Jean. But Diluc would have done the same in his place—or worse. Probably worse.

“Sit down,” Kaeya said. “Don’t put weight on your paws. I have to clean that.”

Diluc sat down. He was very sleepy. His stomach was full and his paws hurt less now, and he felt overwhelmingly like he would be fine. The feeling only increased as Kaeya wiped out the blood with a warm, wet napkin. He was very gentle. Diluc couldn’t stop staring at the dark circles under Kaeya’s lone blue eye, and thinking about how sleepy he was.

“I suppose I better go tell Jean you’re alright before she loses her mind,” Kaeya told him absently. Diluc blinked. It was so early that only the night shift would still be at the Ordo. “You can take a nap here. Just not on the sofa, I don’t want fur everywhere.”

He couldn’t sleep. He had a job to do. It would have been easier if he could simply—force Kaeya to lie down for a few hours, so Diluc would know where he was.

Kaeya went away, and Diluc sighed and followed him into the bedroom, then averted his gaze when he realized Kaeya was changing. That done, Kaeya headed to the door, and Diluc followed him there too.

“Don’t you want to sleep?” Kaeya asked.

Diluc stared at him. Kaeya sighed and held the door open.

Mondstadt before dawn was beautiful even through the eyes of a dog, soft orange light pooling between the cobblestones. He padded silently next to Kaeya, keeping up easily on bandaged paws, and almost didn’t mind that they were going to the Ordo. Diluc had no idea what Kaeya planned to do there, but he had to keep an eye on him. 

Apparently what Kaeya planned to do at the Ordo was work. He yawned and propped his legs up on the desk, leaning back on the chair and shuffling through the stacks of papers. 

It was a peculiarly draughty office. Diluc had used another one, on the top floor, when he’d been the Captain. Kaeya seemed to prefer this dim first-floor room, and he didn’t bother lighting the fire. Diluc curled up in front of a shelf and kept an eye on him. At least, he intended to keep an eye on Kaeya. He fell asleep to the whisper of papers and the scratch of a pen.

When he woke up again, it was very cold, and Kaeya was bowed over his desk with his head pillowed on his arms. Diluc got up and stretched, batted idly at a snowflake, and went to nudge Kaeya’s knee, ice crunching under his paws. 

Kaeya’s Vision was pulsing unevenly, like he was in the middle of a fight. Diluc nudged him again, then gave up and barked loudly.

Kaeya jerked to consciousness. He eyed Diluc with stupefied surprise, then chuckled. “Got tired of the snow, huh?” He put his hand out. Diluc considered it carefully, then bent his head. He was pretending to be an animal, and not a particularly smart one at that. Even then, Kaeya’s touch flashed through him like electricity, cool fingers petting the top of Diluc’s head and stroking behind his ears. Diluc had missed this too. And it was hard to remember why it was a bad idea when the office was still cold and Kaeya seemed to need this as much as Diluc did.

If Diluc had been a person, this wouldn’t have been possible at all. Not only would Diluc have held onto his hatred far better, but Kaeya wouldn’t have dared to presume affection, or even care. Or maybe he would have. Diluc hardly knew anymore.

The last time they’d seen each other, Diluc had tried to kill Kaeya. That was reason enough for Kaeya to want to stay away, traitor or not. He felt a little guilty for deceiving Kaeya, but not guilty enough to make him stop. Not guilty enough to resist the urge to lick at Kaeya’s fingers, making a face at the taste of ice and blood. Not guilty enough to not nudge Kaeya again, because Diluc hadn’t seen him eat even once in the past who-knew how many hours, and Diluc was hungry too.

He tugged Kaeya up by biting the strap of his belt and refusing to let go until Kaeya moved. “Alright, enough,” Kaeya said, getting to his feet. “Where do you want to go?”

Diluc trotted to the door and waited for Kaeya to open it. Then he went to the kitchen, checking back occasionally to see if Kaeya was following.

“How did you even figure out where the kitchens are?” Kaeya asked.

Diluc wagged his tail and put his paw on the door expectantly.

Noelle restrained her scream this time. “Fresh meat for the little tyrant, please,” Kaeya told her. “He’s hungry.”

“Yes, Captain,” Noelle said. “And, um, anything for you?”

“No, thank you,” Kaeya said. Diluc growled at him. Kaeya gave him an incredulous look. “Actually, perhaps a plate of pancakes?”

Good behavior needed to be rewarded. Diluc licked Kaeya’s fingers again.

“You’re a very special dog,” Kaeya said, absently scratching under Diluc’s chin. “I have no idea who trained you, but I bet they’re sorry they lost you.” 

Kaeya ate standing up. Diluc took his sweet time with his food in order to drive a point home. Just because Kaeya was a liar and a traitor didn’t mean he could let himself starve or freeze to death. How the fuck was Diluc supposed to figure out his plan if the man died before putting it into action?

A hand settled on his shoulders. Diluc took a moment to adjust the feeling, then allowed Kaeya to guide him upstairs. Itchy static assaulted Diluc’s nose as in Kaeya’s office. “Ah, there it is,” Lisa said. “Jean’s been worried sick.”

“I found him on my doorstep this morning,” Kaeya replied. “I think he doesn’t like Frederica much. I don’t blame him—the woman’s a harridan.”

Lisa grimaced. “Tell me about it,” she said sourly. “Jean had a whole fight with her this morning.”

“Well, I suppose I should go reassure her,” Kaeya said. “Don’t give me that look! I only just came in, you know.”

Lisa didn’t seem to catch the lie, and Diluc couldn’t remark on it, so he fumed silently as they trudged to Jean’s office. 

Where Kaeya proceeded to spend half the morning talking to Jean. The conversation meandered unbearably: apparently Jean had fought to keep Diluc and then he’d turned up missing, and he could spare only a twinge of guilt for that. Then she told Kaeya about something to do with the Abyss Order, which Diluc focused so hard on absorbing that he only realized halfway through the explanation that Jean meant for Kaeya to act on it. And then they discussed something Kaeya had done last week, but Diluc could only parse about a quarter of that—something to do with ore imports from Inazuma, of all things.

Well, that did answer a question Diluc hadn’t dared pose himself: nobody apart from him knew Kaeya’s secret. Jean certainly wouldn’t have been so comfortable telling him about the movements of the Abyss Order otherwise. 

And then Jean spent half an hour playing with Diluc, and he didn’t have the heart to ignore her.

He was exhausted and looking forward to lunch by the time they left, but Kaeya only paused for a minute in his office to pick up a stack of papers. They left the Ordo, Diluc padding behind Kaeya like an enormous canine shadow, and wound their way out of Mondstadt.

It was difficult to follow what was actually happening. Diluc couldn’t read what the papers said, and Kaeya didn’t bother explaining himself to a dog. This excursion could’ve been about anything, but the purposefully brisk pace Kaeya set told Diluc they had a destination in mind.

They were almost at the gates when Kaeya remembered lunch. They stopped at Good Hunter, where Kaeya bought a steak for Diluc and nothing for himself.

Diluc nudged his knee, then shoved his plate demonstratively closer to Kaeya.

“That’s your food. I’m not eating it,” Kaeya said, sounding amused. 

Diluc took a bite, chewed and swallowed, then put his paw on Kaeya’s leg. He was being as obvious as he could be, really, why didn’t Kaeya understand?

“Ah,” Kaeya said. “You’re trying to bully me again. It’s not going to work.”

Diluc growled.

Kaeya petted him condescendingly on the head. “You’re scaring the passers-by, Andreas.”

Starve, then, Diluc thought furiously, and scarfed down the rest of his food.

In the wilds outside Mondstadt, it was harder to keep a lid on his canine urges. Diluc couldn’t resist the desire to bound after crystalflies, snapping their delicate crunchy wings between his teeth. He spent an embarrassing amount of time sniffing out the traces of whopperflowers, and sneezed so loudly that Kaeya ended up having to fight one when it emerged from the ground.

Diluc fervently hoped Kaeya never connected the person he had been with the dog he was now. He didn’t know how he’d survive Kaeya knowing.

Jean’s information about the Abyss Order was apparently the other side of something Kaeya knew already. He led them unerringly to the very outskirts of Old Mondstadt, to the gorge that had once been a road. 

“There they are,” he said quietly. “Now, Andreas, you know how to be quiet, don’t you?”

Diluc ignored this. There was a group of about half a dozen of Abyss Mages—mostly cryo and hydro, one pyro—milling around, clearly attempting a ritual of some sort. Surely Kaeya didn’t mean to take them all on by himself? Even Diluc wouldn’t have been that stupid—actually, if he wanted to be honest with himself, he would have taken them all on by himself. The difference between them was that Diluc had had nothing to stay alive for for three years, and Kaeya still had some nameless dark duty to his homeland.

Jean wouldn’t have known if Kaeya chose not to confront them. Diluc would have known, but he could hardly do anything with that knowledge right now. And Kaeya didn’t know Diluc was watching him.

“If you weren’t here, I’d try this a smarter way,” Kaeya whispered. “But I can’t leave you. So stay put, Andreas. You do understand me, right?”

Diluc wagged his tail in lieu of rolling his eyes. 

Kaeya rose from behind the rocks, flicking his sword away and rolling his shoulders. He strode forward with a smile, hands tucked into his pockets, and called to the Abyss Mages in their own strange tongue.

Suddenly, Diluc was so tense that his muscles strained with the effort of staying still. Was this Kaeya’s plan? To get Jean to send him on all Abyss-related missions so he could be a double-agent from within the Knights? By the gods, Diluc had thought he’d grown accustomed to the truth of Kaeya’s betrayal, but it still hurt. 

The Mages seemed surprised to see Kaeya. Two of them drifted closer to each other, eyeing Kaeya warily. Another two clustered around him, chirping out questions that he dodged with an ease that was familiar no matter which language he spoke in. 

What the fuck was Kaeya doing? If he kept this up, Diluc would attack. Kaeya couldn’t be allowed to put Mondstadt in danger. 

All of them gathered around him in a loose half-circle as he knelt, examining the work of their ritual. Then he said something and pointed—away from Mondstadt, towards Dragonspine. They turned to follow his explanation. 

Diluc poised to leap, ears pointed forward and entire body vibrating with anticipation.

Kaeya’s sword blinked into existence in his hand, ice striking the Mages in the same split second. Diluc was throwing himself into a run before he figured out what was truly happening—and then it was too late, so he kept running.

For whatever reason, Kaeya had decided that this wasn’t the right time to turn on Mondstadt. Diluc would never be much of a pragmatist, but he could respect that they were on the same side for now, and six-to-one were bad odds even for a Vision user.

He was getting the hang of this form. He pounced on one of the mages—cryo, fuck the taste of bitter ice between his teeth—and crashed to the ground with him, tearing out a chunk of metallic meat and Abyss cloth. She shrieked and tried to cast ice on him. Unfortunately for her, Diluc already knew what that felt like and cared less. Pain was easy to ignore in the middle of a fight: he snarled and threw himself at her again, snapping at the hand that held the ley line branch.

Disarmed—quite literally—she stood no chance. He scratched out her eyes to ensure she was out of commission, then stared through the haze of elemental battle towards Kaeya. He was fending off four mages, alternating between casting ice and swift bladework.

He’d improved over the past few years. He was still far too showy, but that was to be expected. Kaeya had always favored a more fantastical style, all flourishes and pretty moves. The extraneity served him well in close quarters, surprisingly: the edge of his blade struck more than it missed. 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t still outnumbered. Diluc leaped for the pyro mage’s head, timing his landing with the next burst of ice so he didn’t crash against a shield.

He tore out that mage’s throat, then struck at the one trying to sneak up on Kaeya’s blind side while he was fending off the other two. Diluc really didn’t want to examine what it said about himself that he’d taken so easily to fighting on four legs with claws and teeth instead of blade and fire. He planted his feet on the downed pyro mage and growled at him until he stopped trying to reach for the branch, then ripped off his face.

“Next time, I’m leaving you in Mondstadt,” Kaeya said. He’d defeated the last two, and there was blood trickling down his temple. “That was rather brave, but extremely stupid.”

Diluc huffed. Kaeya would have been dead if not for him. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Kaeya asked. “You seem remarkably resistant to elemental damage, which is a good thing, but…” he trailed off, pressing his cool fingers gently against a shallow cut near Diluc’s stomach.

That one was old—older than the transformation. Diluc had forgotten about it until now, when the strain must’ve torn it open. 

Kaeya swallowed. “I’ll take you to Barbara when we’re done here,” he said. He sounded very sad. Diluc didn’t know why. He didn’t like it. “I really do wonder who trained you.”

It was getting dark, but Kaeya spent half an hour sketching the ritual on a piece of paper, then kept sketching. Diluc sat down by his side and waited for him to get done. If not for the throbbing pains making themselves known in his body, he might have fallen asleep. It was a long walk back to Mondstadt, and he planned to hunt herons on the way back. He was sick of regular meat.

At least Kaeya didn’t complain about the bird Diluc paused to eat his way through. He winced and turned away, but he didn’t complain.

Diluc was feeling clearer and lighter by the time Mondstadt’s lights started to dominate the horizon. Kaeya waved cheerfully to the guards on duty. “Would you boys do me a favor?”

“Yes, Captain Kaeya?” the one on the right said. “And ah, isn’t that the dog that—”

“The very same,” Kaeya grinned. “Put copies of this around Mondsadt, will you? I bet his owner misses him—and while he’s a wonderful dog, I really don’t have the time.”

Diluc snorted to himself. 

Kaeya lapsed into an uncharacteristic silence as he made dinner (Diluc ensured this by blocking the doorway). He pet Diluc absently when he passed by, but for the most part remained lost in a thought that Diluc wasn’t privy to.

He poured himself a drink after dinner and sprawled on the couch, gazing blankly into space. Diluc sniffed at him and then decided not to bother. Kaeya smelled like Abyss ichor and a heavy directionless sadness and there wasn’t much Diluc could do about either of those things. Come to think of it, though, he probably didn’t smell much better himself. 

The bathroom door was open. Diluc had to struggle to wrap his dog brain around the concept of turning a tap—he could do right and left as long as he didn’t think too hard about it, but once conscious processes became involved the canine part of his mind took over and botched it up. But finally he nudged it in the right direction, hot water flowing into the tub. Diluc clambered back out, whining softly at the feeling of hot water against his unhealed paws.

He’d managed to forget all about his paws. He was good at ignoring injuries—he’d had to be. This reminder was inescapable. He gritted his teeth and kept fiddling with the tap until he had about the right temperature and a full tub.

A full tub turned out to be half too much. The water sloshed out when Diluc climbed back in, his fur growing wet and sodden on his body.

But it was nice. He wiggled around and wished he had hands, or someone else’s hands, to scrub out the dirt. He hated how Abyss ichor stank after a while, rot and damp sand and monstrosity.

There was liquid soap in one of the bottles on the shelf set into the wall. Diluc grabbed it with his mouth and realized too late once again that he had no hands. The bottle slipped and fell into the dirty water, bobbing sadly. Diluc pushed it with his nose and sneezed.

“What in the name of the seven archons?”

Diluc turned awkwardly. Kaeya was standing in the doorway. He’d taken off his jacket and gloves and looked rather bare and extremely stunned at the sight of Diluc—which, to be fair, was pretty confusing. Most dogs didn’t know how to take baths. And didn’t try. Diluc barked.

“Yeah, I got that,” Kaeya snapped, as though he had an earthly clue what Diluc was trying to say. “What are you doing in there?”

Diluc nosed the bottle of soap towards Kaeya.

“Do you want to be washed?” Kaeya asked, incredulous.

God, he was an idiot. Diluc wagged his tail demonstratively.

Kaeya stared for a moment more, then took the bottle out of the tub. “Not that this means anything to you, but my head hurts,” Kaeya informed him. “I was hoping to sleep early. Turn around, will you?”

Diluc’s ears drooped without his input. He turned around, guilt itching under his skin. He’d known Kaeya was tired. He just hadn’t thought his own actions would make any difference either way. And still he relaxed when Kaeya began to rub the soap through his fur, sluicing off dirt and soil and ichor. It was nearly a massage, tension winding out of muscle and sinew until he wanted nothing more than to crawl into Kaeya’s lap and lick his face.

That would have been a bad idea. Diluc was hanging onto restraint by a thread.

Kaeya pulled the plug in the tub some time later. Diluc’s canine brain was arrested for a moment by the sight of dirty water swirling away, then he came back to himself and noticed that Kaeya was standing over him with a towel. His pants were damp. He’d rolled back his sleeves and tied up his hair. There was nothing to disguise the exhaustion in his shoulders or the fondness in his smile.

Diluc wagged his tail and submitted to being dried into a ball of fluff. He smelled like the shampoo Kaeya used—sea salt, wolfhooks—and he felt clean, properly clean, for the first time in years. The only thing that could have added to his happiness were opposable thumbs.

It turned out he didn’t even need that. Kaeya put the towel down and replaced it with his arms, burying his face in the soft hair at the back of Diluc’s neck. “You’re one weird dog,” he said, muffled. “I’m going to be sorry to see you go.”

Diluc huffed and turned his head, licking at Kaeya’s ear. He wasn’t going anywhere, because Kaeya was still a traitor and Diluc was still going to thwart him. Just—it couldn’t hurt to let himself have this, just for now. He didn’t even have a choice, really. 

“I really shouldn’t get attached,” Kaeya murmured. “Never ends well. You shouldn’t either, if you know what’s good for you.”

Chapter Text

It was becoming apparent to Diluc just how little time Kaeya had. He was constantly on the move: maneuvering between the Ordo, a rotation of taverns, the docks, and patrols around Mondstadt—all with a deceptively easy stroll. He managed more of the city than he let on to anyone, even Jean, who already expected a great deal of him. 

It wasn’t just dealing with the Abyss Order—or the groups of treasure hunters that drifted through Mondstadt without ever staying for too long, as though Kaeya’s tight control over the region was enough to ensure that they knew it was a bad idea—or even the daily grind of the Knights. Kaeya managed people with an ease that bordered on criminal: charming and frightening in equal measure, always half a dozen steps ahead of everyone else.

Diluc had known, even as a child, that Kaeya was ridiculously intelligent. He’d chosen to mask that behind recklessness and sarcasm and a painfully brittle exterior that lashed out at anyone—sometimes even Diluc—for coming too close. But now that brittleness was ingrained, invisible but for the fact that Diluc remembered its presence, and searched for it. Kaeya had layered frost and charisma over the fragility until nobody saw the cracks underneath. Diluc wished he could unsee it. He didn’t want to feel bad for a traitor.

But the look in Kaeya’s eyes when he’d realized Diluc truly meant to kill him had haunted Diluc’s nightmares in a way all the Fatui he’d hunted had never managed.

In the meantime Diluc engaged in a silent, protracted war of attrition with Kaeya over his place in Kaeya’s life. He scratched down the posters (“Missing dog found. Large, dark red, extremely intelligent. If you are the owner or know them, please contact Knight-Captain Kaeya Alberich.”) that had been put up around the city. He figured out how to work the window latch with his teeth so he could follow Kaeya wherever he went, and was silently grateful that Kaeya’s apartment was on the first floor. He refused to stop shadowing Kaeya, and was rewarded with exasperation and repeated attempts to shake him off that Diluc (and his remarkable canine sense of smell) easily thwarted.

“Really?” Kaeya said, slipping out of the Dragon & Spear—an inn on the outskirts of Dragonspine that served a diverse clientele of criminals, swindlers, hoarders, skirmishers, and mercenaries—and finding Diluc waiting patiently next to the bushes. “This is how you want to spend your time?”

Diluc wagged his tail and nudged Kaeya’s thigh until he got moving. He smelled as he usually did, and over that he smelled like appetizers and the undifferentiated scent of inns everywhere. He also smelled like exhaustion, a worn-out emptiness like he was simply going through the motions until he could crash.

“He’s quite a well-behaved dog, Captain,” one of the bouncers said. “He waited for you for an hour.”

“I would rather he behaved by staying where I leave him,” Kaeya muttered.

“If you don’t mind the suggestion, Captain, why not get a collar? I tried to drive him away—thought he was scrounging for scraps, and the boss’ll have my head if he scares the guests—but he insisted on staying and didn’t make a fuss about waiting out of the way. At least this way people will know who’s in charge of him.”

Diluc froze. A collar? Kaeya would shit himself laughing if he ever figured this out. Except the guard was right—Diluc terrified people wherever he went, on account of his size and an aura of menace he could not suppress. And a collar would mark him as belonging somewhere—to someone—even if that someone was Kaeya.

If Diluc had been interested in being honest with himself, he’d have admitted that it was that which truly terrified him. Hadn’t he always wanted to belong with Kaeya? He’d never thought it would have been in this fashion, but it wasn’t like Diluc was spoiled for choice. On the heels of that thought came a rush of guilt for tricking Kaeya into taking care of him, into taking responsibility for Diluc’s actions like those same actions hadn’t nearly destroyed him. Traitor or not, Diluc had hurt him. It was just that for years Diluc had managed to think that was a good thing.

“I can’t say anyone is in charge of him,” Kaeya mused. “But a collar is a capital idea. Thank you, Roger.” He scratched reassuringly between Diluc’s shoulders, allowing himself to be guided. “I’m coming, you little twerp.”

Kaeya tended to miss at least one meal a day. Diluc had withstood that for about three days, then taken to tugging Kaeya to the nearest restaurant or the Ordo kitchens whenever he himself was hungry. This had the benefit of getting Kaeya to eat, because he had to wait for Diluc, and as importantly of letting Diluc eat. He was reasonably sure he’d missed meals frequently too while travelling, but more for lack of access than anything. And apparently he was simply hungrier as a dog.

Here, though, they headed right back to the room Kaeya had booked at another inn, the Lord’s Pony. Kaeya cursed softly when it began to drizzle, reaching out to put a hand on Diluc’s shoulder. He was shaking a little. Diluc wanted to be human for a moment so badly that it ached, wanted to be human with a Vision so he could wrap warmth around Kaeya.

A stupid, dangerous thought. A terrible thought. Diluc didn’t know what was wrong with him tonight, while Kaeya was so tired it was radiating off of him. 

Diluc stuck close and refused to consider why.

Kaeya headed straight upstairs, picking through the dinner left on the table and piling meat onto a plate for Diluc. There was a decanter of wine too; he opened that one for himself. Diluc was so hungry he’d scarfed down most of his food before noticing that Kaeya was sipping his drink and watching him as he often did, thoughtful and distant. Although Diluc couldn’t escape the angle from which he now viewed Kaeya, sometimes he still thought that Kaeya looked smaller and more vulnerable than he should have. Diluc wasn’t sure how he should have looked—not like this. Not like he carried the entire world. 

“What are you looking at?” Kaeya asked. “Finish eating.”

Diluc huffed, but did as told. He was hungry. By the time he was done Kaeya had poured himself another finger of wine. He put Diluc’s plate away and sat on the bed. Diluc padded after him.

Thunder rolled outside. Kaeya jerked. Diluc nudged him, worried against his will.

“It’s alright,” Kaeya said, to himself or Diluc. “Just rain.”

It was just rain. There was something about Kaeya’s behavior right now that reminded Diluc of being fourteen, wondering why Kaeya would try to ride a horse he knew would throw him. Sometimes Kaeya was so brittle he’d smash himself into rocks just to get it over with. There were no rocks here, just a dog-shaped Diluc and a glass of wine and the miserable edge to Kaeya’s voice as he dropped backwards on the bed, legs dangling over the edge. He put his arm over his face, covering his eyes, but Diluc noted the way they shook. Noted the loose grip Kaeya had on the wine glass.

“Andreas?”

Diluc startled. He’d forgotten Kaeya’s uncanny ability to do that. He barked softly and sat down next to the bed, hooking his chin over Kaeya’s thigh.

Kaeya drained the glass and put it on the bedside table, resting his now-free hand on Diluc’s nape. His hands were pleasantly cold, firm and gentle as they scratched under his ears and over the top of his head.

Because he was pretending to be a dog, Diluc rarely protested when Kaeya touched him. He touched Kaeya back sometimes, in the ways this form accommodated, never asking for more than was given. He couldn’t help thinking he didn’t deserve it. Kaeya was careful and kind in a way few people would have been with an animal—except all that kindness was being directed at someone who had tried to kill him, and when Diluc lingered on that thought for too long sheer proximity made him ill and defensive on Kaeya’s behalf.

He wasn’t sure anymore if those were canine instincts or his own. He didn’t know how to make himself stop. It was easier to just not touch more than he had to. But then Kaeya reached for him like he needed to hold something and Diluc couldn’t deny him. 

The knowledge that he’d always feel beholden to Kaeya’s desires was strange for its lack of bitterness, perhaps because it was Kaeya. Perhaps because his desires had always been, when they’d come down to it, rather small.

Diluc waited until Kaeya’s hand on his neck had stilled before slipping out of his grip. He walked around the bed to the empty space on the right, between Kaeya and the door, and jumped onto the bed. Kaeya sat up wildly. Diluc glared balefully at him. Go back to sleep, he thought loudly. He couldn’t help being clumsy in this form. 

“Should you be on the bed?” Kaeya rasped. “Ah, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I have to work.”

In this storm? Diluc thought. Out loud he growled.

“Yes, well, if only criminals also thought to themselves ‘it’s raining too hard, I better stay inside’,” Kaeya said testily. “You can wait here.”

Diluc draped himself over Kaeya’s body.

“Oof,” he grunted. “You’re one heavy dog.” He tried to push Diluc off, but Diluc refused to budge. “Fine, since you’re so insistent. I want you to know this won’t work twice, you little tyrant.”

Privately Diluc thought Kaeya had given up too easily. He wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, though.

“Can I at least change?” Kaeya asked eventually.

Diluc considered whether Kaeya would try to run off—very likely if Diluc had been a person, less likely now that he was a dog—and heaved himself off Kaeya. It took a few minutes before Kaeya slipped back into bed, shirtless now, and drew the heavy wool quilt over both of them. Diluc tried not to think too hard as he pressed himself against Kaeya’s side, sticking his cold nose against Kaeya’s neck and making him squeak. Tried not to think about anything dangerous, like how close they were, how Diluc had once taken this entirely for granted.

Some days—most days—the past didn’t seem real. All those memories could have happened to another person for all that Diluc could hold on to them. Right now, in the close warm dark, they seemed like the realest thing in the world.

His tail wagged without his permission as Kaeya wrapped his arms around Diluc’s stomach, holding him close. Happiness, it turned out, still felt the same as it always had: the certainty that they would be together in the morning.

*

Kaeya’s business in Dragonspine took him into the mountains. There were few people there at the best of times—mostly Fatui looking for trouble and Hilichurls. They met the alchemist from the Knights (the one who smelled like dust and chemicals and talked too softly for Diluc to trust him) and they headed in together. Albedo kept casting curious looks at Diluc. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what work do you have in these mountains?” Albedo asked eventually, snow crunching under their feet. Diluc looped around them, bored but keeping an ear out for trouble, sneezing every time he caved to the urge to sniff at the glowing flowers.

“Hunting down miscreants, as usual,” Kaeya sighed. “These should be tasks better left to the other Knights, but so many of them are…” 

Albedo nodded as though he understood. Diluc was definitely missing some context here. “They are, aren’t they? One would have thought—” he cut himself off with a secretive smile and looked at Diluc again. “You know, I’m having a rather hard time identifying what kind of wolf your companion is.”

“Wolf?” Kaeya said blankly. “He’s a dog. Andreas, come back here.”

Diluc, standing on top of a rock ten feet away, wagged his tail in the fresh snow and refused to move. Kaeya had thought he was a wolf when they’d first met too—he’d changed his mind about that like he’d decided against a collar..

“Are you serious? I can never tell.” Albedo leaned down to brush the snow off a marker on the side of the road, rubbing it between his fingers. “In case you are—Master Kaeya, that is not a dog.”

“Isn’t it? He certainly behaves like one.”

“It’s too big,” Albedo said firmly. “In fact, I would suggest that it’s a werewolf.”

Diluc froze. Kaeya was, thankfully, too busy staring at Albedo to notice that Diluc had briefly lost the ability to move. “I think I would notice if my dog could turn into a person!” he said indignantly. Diluc relaxed slowly.

“Well, of course,” Albedo said. They’d come to another marker. “In any case, we must part ways here. I have to head in that direction.”

“A safe journey to you,” Kaeya said, still looking suspicious. “C’mon, Andreas.”

They skirted the edges of the mountains, pausing next to braziers and seelies so as to not freeze to death. Kaeya, thankfully, had dressed for the weather, and Diluc was protected by his fur—or not, as it turned out; a few stops by braziers melted snow into his coat, and walking away from them made him freeze hard and heavy on his body. Diluc felt miserably frozen over by the time they were at their destination. Kaeya clicked his tongue when he noticed, brushing his fingers through the hair on Diluc’s back and tugging at the worst of the ice. Unfortunately, it was sticking to his fur. He whined.

“This won’t take too long,” Kaeya murmured. “Hold on, Andreas.”

True to his word, he made quick and brutal work of the hoarders even without Diluc’s help (he was shivering too badly to be of any use). They trudged back out in record time, even though Diluc’s paws ended up so raw with frost that Kaeya had to carry him for a part of the journey.

Diluc felt…odd. Woozy and disoriented by cold and hunger and pain, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing sight of Kaeya. He whined disconsolately in front of the door when Kaeya vanished behind it, immeasurable relief flooding through him when Kaeya returned bearing roasted meat and gravy. 

“Good boy,” Kaeya said gently. Diluc shivered, torn between sticking to Kaeya’s side and eating. “You can eat, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

Reassured, Diluc tore into the meat and nearly burned his mouth. Kaeya did leave briefly—so briefly Diluc didn’t notice until a towel draped over his body. He submitted to the ordeal of being dried, then gave in to the pressure of instinct and plastered himself to Kaeya’s side until Kaeya accepted his fate and put his arms around Diluc.

“There’s no way you’re a person,” Kaeya murmured. He didn’t sound entirely sure of himself, or maybe Diluc was just too tired to read his tone right. “You’re too nice.”

Diluc ignored this, hooking his chin over Kaeya’s shoulder. He was asleep within seconds. 

He woke up hours later to the sound of rain and thunder. Kaeya was curled up next to him, small—he still slept like he had as a child, apparently, huddled under the blankets like a cat curling into a ball to save warmth. Nostalgia swept over Diluc, bittersweet and intense; he remembered with a clarity he hadn’t had in years. Coming home with his father on a night not unlike this one, finding Kaeya asleep in an armchair. He couldn’t recall the look on Crepus’s face, but he’d shrugged off his greatcoat and tucked it around Kaeya, and even Diluc’s stomach had ached oddly when Kaeya sniffed and drew it tighter around himself.

Between the memory and the rain, it took him a moment to realize Kaeya was dreaming right now, curling up tighter and murmuring words Diluc had to strain to understand: asking someone to look out? It could have been anything. He sounded near tears. 

Diluc didn’t know what to do. He was sure he’d known at some point; now, even with the weight of the past pressing down on him, he couldn’t think of anything. He couldn’t imagine what Kaeya needed except less of whatever Diluc was—but Diluc wasn’t even a person right now, and had nowhere else to go.

Years ago, after they’d fought, Diluc had noticed that something crucial within him had broken or gone missing that night. Much later Diluc had realized that whatever it was had been unmade long before: on the day he got his Vision, the way the weight of fire in his hands was like being asked to hold up the sun. He’d thought himself up to the task. Perhaps the lack was the knowledge that he wasn’t.

Chapter Text

Relief settled once again when they were back in Mondstadt. Kaeya went to work. Diluc tried not to hate the Knights for their incompetence, for how much of their work Kaeya did alone. He tried to remember what he was here for. He failed on both counts, and was unsurprised when Lisa stalked into Kaeya’s office in a cloud of staticky sweetness and said, “Darling, we have a problem.”

“Is it going to be my problem?” Kaeya asked.

“Of course,” Lisa replied. “There’s a ruin guard near the Thousand Winds Temple. You’re going to have to deal with it. What I don’t understand is why the silly contraptions don’t stay dead—”

“Self-repairing,” Kaeya said absently. “I’ll leave right away. Anything else?”

“Are they really?” Lisa frowned. “I’ve never heard anyone say that, though I suppose it makes sense…oh, pick me some valberries on your way back.”

Kaeya had gone very still. “That’s not on the way,” he pointed out.

“I’m sure you can manage,” Lisa said breezily. “I’ll give you one of my more potent additives in return. Ciao, sweetheart, and take the dog. He looks like he could use a run.”

Diluc ignored this. He hated how many people simply handed tasks to Kaeya and expected them to be done—Kaeya delegated about half, but dealt with most by himself, and one of these days he wouldn’t come back and the Ordo would crash in on itself.

“Andreas,” Kaeya said from the door. “Let’s go.”

Resentful, Diluc followed.

With a Vision or Delusion, a ruin guard would have been no trouble. Without either, he felt a little useless, reduced to dragging the ruin contraption’s attention away from Kaeya so he could cast ice at its joints. It wasn’t easy or fun, more tedious, involving a lot of running around to dodge flaming bullets and the guard’s fists. Finally, Kaeya shot a stream of ice at its exposed core and it fell in a heap of scrap metal.

Diluc, about twenty feet away, promptly got distracted trying to hunt a squirrel. He caught it at last and brought it, still alive, to Kaeya. “Put that down,” he said. “Or eat it. Don’t play with your food, Andreas.”

A bit rich, considering how much Kaeya played with his, but Diluc snorted and settled to tear into it. Kaeya kicked the ruin guard’s side. “We should be able to dismantle this,” he said.

With what tools? Diluc thought, between the parts of his brain that were purely delighted by the warm animal thrill of blood in his mouth.

“Of course, nobody knows how they were made anymore,” Kaeya continued. “And so nobody remembers how to unmake them either. Sometimes they stop working of their own accord.”

They did, sometimes. Years ago Diluc and Kaeya had sailed to that nameless island off the coast of Starsnatch cliff, and Kaeya had stared for a long time at the hulking, worn-down bodies of the guards before allowing himself to be distracted chasing crabs.

“Not our problem,” Kaeya finished. “Let’s go find those valberries.”

Out of pity or canine instinct, Diluc sniffed them out for Kaeya. It was quicker like this. Kaeya was in a talkative mood, which would have been more annoying if Diluc hadn’t become excruciatingly aware lately of how quiet Kaeya was inclined to be. He’d never thought that it was a burden for Kaeya to speak to him too—whether charmed or annoyed or exasperated by Kaeya’s chatter, Diluc had taken it for granted and hadn’t asked whether it cost Kaeya anything to carry every conversation, to break every silence.

Or maybe Kaeya just had very little to say to a dog, no matter how seemingly clever. 

It was soothing to hear his voice again, idly telling Diluc about plants and medicines he already knew about. The Knights had covered this for both of them. Diluc chased more butterflies than he could count, indulging his canine urges and allowing Kaeya to scratch him behind the ears and call him a good boy.

He wasn’t. He didn’t understand why Kaeya said it anyway, but it was nice. As nice as the relaxed spring to Kaeya’s step as they walked back into Mondstadt—actually relaxed, not just faking it. He stopped by the Good Hunter without Diluc having to nudge him, and ordered for both of them—fisherman’s toast for himself, a rare steak for Diluc. His calmness was infectious. Diluc didn’t feel, for once, the urgency of what lay ahead or the necessity of stopping Kaeya. He was warm and tired and safe.

“Andreas,” Kaeya said. Diluc cocked an ear. “Just how clever are you?”

Diluc stared at him. Get to the point.

“For example,” Kaeya continued, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He grabbed the bag of valberries and dangled it in front of Diluc. “Could you deliver this to Lisa?”

He could, but he didn’t know where Lisa lived. He nosed at the bag, the pleasant and distinct smell of valberries tickling his nose.

“She’s probably still in the Library at the Ordo.”

Diluc allowed Kaeya to put the bag in his mouth and trotted off. He wanted to worry that Kaeya would get up to something in his absence, but it wasn’t like Diluc’s presence would prevent him. Besides, if Kaeya wanted to get rid of Diluc he could have shoved Diluc off a cliff earlier today.

The Ordo was dim at night. Anthony grinned when he saw him. “Hey, Jonas, look. It’s Master Kaeya’s dog.”

“What does he have in his mouth?” Jonas asked. He tried to take it. Diluc glared at him.

“Delivery?” Anthony looked perplexed. “Hey, doggie, do you want to go in?”

Diluc wagged his tail. It really was the easiest way to communicate approval, though it was often too vague a message to descend into the brains of the Knights. Thankfully, they opened the door for him. Jonas reached out to scratch him behind the ears. Diluc stepped back smartly and refused to move until Jonas took his hand back.

The Library smelled uncomfortably like electricity and roses. Diluc dropped the bag onto the desk. “Ah,” Lisa said, peering at him from behind a pair of reading glasses. “I should have known he would find a way to make you work for him too.”

Diluc left. He didn’t want to listen to Lisa. One of the advantages of being a dog was not having to respect human norms of propriety at all. He padded out of the Ordo, back to Kaeya’s home.

Mondstadt’s streets often smelled like blood. This was, in Diluc’s experience, common to cities everywhere. Backalley crime or women or children falling over cobblestones, blood was a fixture in the cocktail of scents that the wind carried. So it took him a moment to realize what was odd about this blood, with its particular icy tang.

Kaeya. 

No, Diluc thought. And he didn’t notice when he began to run, walls blurring past. He didn’t notice when thought stopped entirely and instinct took over: animal rage and animal desperation coalescing into bright, brutal purpose.

The door was half-open. The smell of blood was excruciating. Diluc crashed through, snarling, noting the smell of blood and the smell of an intruder—there, sweat and fear and confusion.

“Andreas!” Kaeya yelled.

“What the fuck—” the intruder began. He couldn’t go on. Diluc slammed into him in fur and teeth and violence, smelling Kaeya’s blood on him over the fear and anger. 

Most people who knew how to fight were rather worse at fighting something on four legs that didn’t care what it tore through with its jaws. This man recovered faster. Pain burst along the edges of Diluc’s awareness and encroached on what was left of thought. He didn’t know where it came from. He didn’t care, even when he was shaken off and thrown back between the man and Kaeya. He dropped to his haunches and growled, long and warning.

There was more blood now, some of it his. It was slippery under Diluc’s paws.

“Cute,” the man sneered. “You have a pet.”

Kaeya coughed. “Stay away from him,” he croaked.

“This thing won’t save you,” the man said, soft and deadly. “After all you’ve done, do you think a guard dog would stand in the way of our revenge?”

“Some revenge,” Kaeya said hoarsely. He was gasping for breath. Even if Diluc had been thinking, the smell of Kaeya’s pain would have arrested that in its tracks. “You know perfectly well that even as we speak the friends you’re doing this for are hightailing it to Liyue. They set you up to fail.”

“You’d love that to be true,” the man laughed. It sounded crazy. Diluc growled and stepped forward. Flinched to a stop when Kaeya’s hand touched his hind leg. “If they set me up to fail, why would they give me this?”

He held up something—something odd, pulsing with wrongness. A Delusion.

“They don’t care,” Kaeya said, voice dragging over every syllable. “They don’t care, they have a hundred of those. What’s it to them if one is lost in Mondstadt?”

“You’re wrong!” the man shouted. Diluc snarled. “They warned me about you, you’re just a liar. You lie all the time. You haven’t even told anyone here where you’re really from. Why should anyone believe you?”

Kaeya laughed, soft and manic. “You are not wrong,” he whispered. “Nobody should trust me.”

Diluc had a sudden, human flash of clarity. Kaeya’s grip on his leg was tight enough to hurt.

“But you should know,” Kaeya continued. The edge to his voice was setting Diluc’s nerves on fire in the worst way, anticipation grinding in his bones. “Sometimes even liars tell the truth.”

The hand on his leg fell away. Diluc lunged forward. Ice exploded the moment his paws shoved the man back, blood and sickening power bursting in his eyes and blinding him. It would have slowed him down, if he’d been human. More rage than either human or animal, he didn’t give a shit. It took him an age to realize that the heart under him had gone cold and still, that Kaeya was calling his name.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Kaeya rasped.

Thought came back online slowly. He noticed, for the first time, the state of the living room. There was blood everywhere, too much of it Kaeya’s. Kaeya himself was barely sitting up against a wall; there was a cut on one of his temples. His shirt was torn, dark-wet, and his foot lay twisted at an odd angle. He was looking at Diluc, brittle and scared in the dark. 

He noticed that he was in pain. His side. Then he noticed Kaeya’s quick, shallow breaths. He tottered forward and lay himself carefully next to Kaeya, trying not to aggravate either of their injuries.

They needed a healer. Diluc would find one…in just a moment.

Fingers probed at his side, gentle despite how badly they were shaking. Coolness pulsed through the wound a few seconds later. Not a full heal, but enough to wash away the worst of the pain. Diluc allowed his tail to wag.

“Ah,” Kaeya said. “You really are okay.”

Then he began to laugh, hysterical and broken, so hard it must have hurt. Diluc looked up, alarmed, then licked Kaeya’s wrist. Stop. The smell of ice was still there, inexplicably reassuring. Kaeya bent to gather him up, hiding his face in Diluc’s fur. Tremors wracked his frame. Diluc whined, trying to say it’s okay, or I’m okay, or I’m here. Trying to say please be okay.

It hadn’t even occurred to him to not throw himself between Kaeya and an assailant. The realization drifted over him like snow, familiar. It had always been like that, until it hadn’t.

Even if Kaeya turned out to be a traitor, Diluc would have done it again. Even if he hated Kaeya. He was no longer sure he did, or could. He was very sure it didn’t matter. He would have done it again and again and again.

Kaeya’s laughs were starting to sound uncomfortably close to sobs.

Finally he got up, clutching at the wall for support. Diluc stayed close without being asked, letting Kaeya clutch at his fur as he stumbled to the bathroom and flicked on the lights. “Bodies,” he muttered, sudden and surprising. “I hate getting rid of them.”

He leaned over the sink, shoulders shaking. “Go close the door, Andreas.”

Diluc obediently trotted away and started to nudge it shut, only to be arrested by the sight of a red-haired nun with a spear. She stared at him, slightly puzzled. “I didn’t know Kaeya had a dog,” she said. “Can I go in?”

She seemed to expect him to have a reply. She smelled like Cryo and incense and a sharp, delicate perfume. Diluc was still vibrating with adrenaline, but something about her unaffected straightforward demeanour made him return to Kaeya. He’d taken off his shirt, revealing the dark, ugly wound on his bicep. “What is it?” he asked, distracted but not irritated. “Rosaria?”

So they knew each other. “I didn’t know you had a dog,” Rosaria said, as though offended Kaeya hadn’t seen fit to tell her. “He’s quite clever, isn’t he?”

“He’s okay,” Kaeya said. “What are you—”

“This should never have happened,” Rosaria spoke right over him, toeing the body with the one steel-tipped shoe. “I’ll get Barbara.”

Diluc perked up. He’d known Jean’s younger sister was somewhere around still, but he hadn’t seen her for years even before he’d left. Their paths had simply never crossed after Seamus and Frederica stopped speaking to each other.

“There’s no need,” Kaeya started.

She leaned down to pick up the body, entirely unaffected by death. “You can say thank you.”

“Fuck you,” Kaeya sputtered.

Half an hour later Rosaria was back, Barbara in tow. She was in her nightclothes, rubbing at her eyes. “Oh, Kaeya,” she said sadly. “I do wish you’d be more careful. It’s nearly three.”

“The dog first,” Kaeya said sulkily. He was wearing a shirt again, and hunched over the dining table with a glass of wine. Diluc was sprawled at his side, trying to sleep. He gave it up as futile the moment they returned.

“Really?” Rosaria asked. “The dog?”

“His name is Andreas, by the way.”

Diluc stayed demonstratively still while Barbara ran her hands over him. Water rushed in his ears, washing out the exhaustion and accumulated layers of pain. He shuddered. He hadn’t known how many aches he’d been carrying until they were gone. 

“There’s something weird about this dog,” Barbara said. “But oh, who cares? I want to go to sleep.”

She cupped Kaeya’s face. He startled, but she was done in a moment. He looked a little pale afterwards. “You should eat something,” Barbara said. “Doctor’s orders.” She sailed out without looking back.

“I swear she thinks of nothing but sleeping,” Rosaria observed.

“Well, it is three,” Kaeya said grumpily.

Diluc stretched his front paws, testing the lengths of Barbara’s healing.

“You can go to bed,” Rosaria said, sounding surprisingly gentle. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Really?” Kaeya snorted. “No evildoers to punish tonight?”

“I’d rather keep a friend safe,” Rosaria replied. “Go sleep. Take the dog.”

For a second Diluc thought Kaeya would listen. He staggered to his feet, gripping the table out of Rosaria’s line of sight. Diluc was pretty sure she noticed and was simply too nice to point it out—or, more likely, accustomed to this particular brand of Kaeya-special bullshit. Never more determined to be on his feet than when he needed a break.

He shook his head, though, and knelt next to the thickest of the bloodstains on the carpet. Reached under the sofa and pulled something out.

“What is that?” Rosaria asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“A Delusion,” Kaeya answered, turning it over and over in his hands. From experience, Diluc thought his fingertips must be burning. “It’s what he used to have an edge on me.”

“What the fuck,” Rosaria said flatly. “What the fuck is a Delusion?” she paused. “Do I even want to know how you know?”

“I was looking into those hoarders from the south,” Kaeya said, absent-minded. “As for how I know—a gentleman never tells.”

Rosaria snorted derisively.

“If you must know, my f—Master Ragnvindr had one.”

Diluc’s blood froze in his veins. He strained to make out their words past the shockwaves of horror and something almost like grief, or regret.

“Oh, I remember him,” Rosaria said vaguely, either not noticing Kaeya’s slip or choosing to let it slide. “The owner of Dawn Winery?”

Kaeya wasn’t looking at either of them, but from Diluc’s position near the table he could see the tense, haunted expression on his face. “His son owns it now.”

Needles crawled under Diluc’s skin.

“A strange thing for a businessman to have,” Rosaria observed. 

Kaeya didn’t reply for too long. “There was always more to him.”

“Oh, I forgot. You grew up with them, didn’t you?”

“Define ‘grew up’,” Kaeya said, wry. “I wasn’t much of a child then.”

Kaeya had been eleven, and too small for his age. He hadn’t spoken for a month after he came to them, except at night, when he screamed.

“Enough of one, surely. But it’s funny how I’ve never seen the son around. You’d think he’d come to the city once in a while.”

Kaeya shook his head. “He—he left. A few years ago.”

Diluc couldn’t think. He couldn’t say, he’s right here. He couldn’t even breathe.

Rosaria hummed. “Do you ever miss him?”

“What a strange question.” Kaeya sounded like he was trying, and failing, to be glib. “Why do you ask?”

“I grew up in hell,” Rosaria said, blunt and frank. “I don’t want to go back. But you grew up here, and you stayed. There must have been something.”

Kaeya’s expression was unreadable now. He put his hand on the blood-soaked carpet for balance and got back to his feet and turned to face Rosaria. Diluc couldn’t see anything but the tense set to his shoulders. “All the time,” he said, bleak and soft. “I miss him all the time.” He held out the Delusion. “Keep this safe for me?”

“Of course,” Rosaria said. She didn’t respond to the rest. “You should go to sleep.”

“No point. I have to be at the Ordo in three hours.”

“Get into bed,” Rosaria commanded. “Or I will make sure you can’t get out for a week.”

“Is that a—”

“That is a threat.”

“Going,” Kaeya said. There was a slight smile in his voice, on his lips when he turned around. “Coming, Andreas?”

Diluc wanted to go. He couldn’t. He watched, helpless and disgusted with himself, as Kaeya’s face fell. Rosaria drifted away in a cloud of delicate perfume and fresh frost, clicking the door shut behind her. A moment later, the bedroom door closed too. Diluc tried to curl up for warmth. There was no position he could be comfortable in, nothing he could do to escape how much he hated himself right now.

In the years he’d chased Fatui through Teyvat, he’d missed Kaeya—not the real one, but the one he’d had, the sharp and delicate boy Diluc had spent years loving.

Not once, since he returned or before, had he thought Kaeya missed him. He’d assumed there was nothing between them Kaeya could miss, not when Diluc had so thoroughly destroyed it. There shouldn’t have been anything left. That Diluc couldn’t let go of a memory had always been a mark of weakness, of a guilt he couldn’t shake—a guilt he shouldn’t even have needed except that it was the only thing keeping him human some nights.

But Kaeya hadn’t been lying now. Nobody lied like Kaeya did, but he gained nothing from lying to Rosaria. And if he wasn’t lying now, what else could be true? What else had Diluc written off before knowing it could be salvaged?

And more terrifyingly, what could no longer be saved despite Kaeya’s honesty?

Diluc was, in the end, here under false pretenses. Kaeya had let him in and taken care of him not knowing who he was. He’d trusted the canine version of Diluc as he couldn’t—wouldn’t, if he knew what was good for him—trust the real one. And Diluc had let him, at every step, had prioritized uncovering a plot he was increasingly certain didn’t exist over attempting to reveal himself. He hadn’t even tried to find his Vision, for fuck’s sake.

He had to face it: he was an intruder. He was an intruder in the places Kaeya considered himself safe enough to tell the truth. If Kaeya didn’t hate him before, he would hate him after he knew. 

Diluc would deserve it.

Chapter Text

Kaeya slept in late the following day. Self-loathing and starvation warred it out inside Diluc for ten hours before his canine brain finally took over and barked at Kaeya until he woke up.

He ate because his body wouldn’t let him not eat, but he wanted to leave. He wanted to rid Kaeya of himself, maybe for good. He could live in Snezhnaya. The weather there was terrible, but at least the cold would remind him of Kaeya.

Archons, he was pathetic. 

Kaeya seemed to be in similarly ill temper, albeit for different reasons. He paced the living room around the bloodstains for an hour, then stared fixedly over the shoulder of the maid who came in to clean it up. 

Sometimes he made aborted motions towards Diluc, but Diluc had determinedly planted himself at the other end of the room near the door—a compromise between his desire to be away from Kaeya and the need to protect him still—and refused to acknowledge his touch.

Whether human or animal, Diluc thrived in clarity and purpose. He liked goals and consequences, even if they were terrible. He could work towards the former and live with the latter. What he hated this ambiguity. He hated that a part of him thought he should just stay canine forever—even if it meant abandoning every other purpose he’d dedicated himself to—because then Kaeya would be happy. He knew he wouldn’t choose that path, but he wanted to. He wanted to be a real dog, something that had never hurt Kaeya and would never try because it wasn’t fundamentally broken.

That was dramatic, he realized distantly, even for him.

He wanted to go for a run.

Rosaria swung by again a few hours after the maid. She and Kaeya put their heads together to discuss leads. Diluc considered eavesdropping, but he no longer cared enough and he was too antsy to focus. He slipped out of the door and tore into a sprint. 

He was beyond Springvale when he realized he’d been running for too long. He slowed to a walk and found a puddle to drink out of, then kept running.

He had no particular destination in mind. He could only think away, away, away from here. Almost the same as that night when he’d left, when the need to be gone had overpowered everything else and he’d been in Fontaine, a week later, by the time he realized what he’d done. He’d have gained nothing by staying, and at the time he’d been sure he’d have lost more. But mostly he just hadn’t been able to think.

Two months later, on the border between Sumeru and Fontaine, he’d realized that Kaeya could do whatever he wanted to Mondstadt with Diluc gone. By then Mondstadt had been too far away to feel real, and he couldn’t remember why he cared.

It had taken him three years to remember again. And now he was here. He was here and he’d come at it all wrong, right from the start—wherever the start was. 

He caught a scent on a breeze and turned towards it, following it to its source: the tree he’d buried the Delusion under. He dug it out and nosed at it, mood soured further by the smell of dirt and heavenly blood, then picked it up and started to trot back towards Mondstadt.

The sound of arguing welcomed him back to Kaeya’s apartment. He nosed at the door, found it shut. Banged on it with one paw until Kaeya opened it, looking disheveled and harried.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he said fervently, dropping down and wrapping his arms around Diluc before Diluc could figure out what was going on. “You think you’re so smart,” Kaeya mumbled into his fur. “Wandering off like that and returning an entire day later—”

“He nearly called in the cavalry,” Rosaria said dryly. “I told you he would be back. What’s in his mouth?”

“What?” Kaeya asked. It wasn’t like him to be so distracted. Had he really been so worried? Diluc’s entire body ached. “Can I see that?” He took it out of Diluc’s mouth, examining it. His expression changed slowly, recognition and then shock. “Where did you get this?”

How the fuck was Diluc supposed to respond to that? He barked experimentally. 

“What is that?” Rosaria leaned over Kaeya’s shoulder. “Is that—another Delusion?”

“It belonged to my father.” Kaeya sounded dazed. “Diluc took it with him when he left. How did you get it? Are you—” he frowned, shaking his head. “That makes no sense. Are you Diluc’s dog? Did he train you?”

“Did he like dogs?” Rosaria asked.

Diluc had, but he felt like this wasn’t exactly the most relevant question. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Kaeya didn’t reply for a long time. His expression was frighteningly blank. “Rosaria,” he said distantly. “You should leave. You’ve been here all day.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Kaeya said, smiling with hollow charm. 

Rosaria looked unconvinced. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said finally. “Don’t do anything stupid.” This last to Diluc, it seemed like. She patted him on the head before she left. 

In her wake, the house seemed deadly quiet but for Kaeya’s quiet, uneven breathing. Diluc couldn’t tell what he was thinking; his eye was unreadable, like all his intelligence had shut down in self-defense. He moved slowly, rising and vanishing into the bedroom.

Diluc followed him, helpless, watching as he rooted through a drawer in the dark. “Where is it?” Kaeya muttered, somehow dull and frantic at once. “I know I put it here, I can’t have lost it—”

He found whatever he was looking for, tucked into a brown velvet pouch, and sat down on the bed with a soft thump. Hid his face in his hands. Diluc padded closer, half-curious and half-dizzyingly certain what it was. But Kaeya smelled like fear and despair, and he couldn’t seem to find the courage to open the bag.

Diluc could regret this later. Now, he put his head in Kaeya’s lap and whined softly.

“It would be just like him,” Kaeya muttered, mostly to himself. He settled a hand on the side of Diluc’s neck and took a deep breath, opening the bag.

His Vision still glowed as red and bright as the day he’d gotten it. The flames inside it looked alive, looked like they could have burnt through everything between him and his purpose. They would have, if Diluc hadn’t left it behind, convinced that warmth was no longer his to guard and wield.

If Diluc hadn’t…

“Fuck,” Kaeya gasped. “Thank god he’s still alive—but then why do you—”

He picked up the Delusion from where he’d tossed it on the pillows. Diluc would have imagined he’d feel more anger in this moment, watching Kaeya hold all the power he’d ever had. He didn’t. He felt unreal and strange, caught in a dream that went on night after night no matter how hard Diluc tried to wake up.

A double heartbeat pounded in Diluc’s ears. He reached up with one paw, touching the Vision in Kaeya’s hand.

The transformation swept through him. There was fire and fire and more fire than he knew how to live with, rushing inside and filling him back up. Purpose crystallized into bright, sun-red clarity. 

He blinked up at Kaeya with human eyes.

For a second he was so relieved he couldn’t breathe. He could only think Kaeya, and finally, and warm again. Then he parsed the defenseless shock on Kaeya’s face, terribly familiar though Diluc had only seen it once before, and thought shit.

He was still kneeling at Kaeya’s feet. Human emotion rushed in: embarrassment, disorientation. His nose didn’t work properly anymore. All his limbs were in the wrong place. It took him far too long to scramble to his feet. At least he was still wearing clothes—travel-stained and dusty, but his clothes. Small mercies.

“You,” Kaeya said, quiet and deadly. “You were the dog.”

“I can explain,” he said quickly. “But—”

“But what, Diluc?”

For all his father’s efforts, Diluc hadn’t found it easy to apologize for most of his life. Right now, though, it felt like the simplest thing in the world. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, Kaeya.”

Kaeya’s expression flickered: surprise, vulnerability, blankness. “What for?” he said, studiously indifferent. “Did you contrive to turn yourself into an animal on purpose?”

“Well, no,” Diluc admitted. He wished Kaeya would be angry. Anger would be better than the violent apathy he was retreating into, the defense he crafted when he was backed into a corner with no way out. Diluc had seen him do that before—give up when he couldn’t run, and convince himself he didn’t care what happened. He was smart enough to make it work. Diluc had hated it then. He hated it now. “Even so, I tricked you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Kaeya sneered. “If I had been paying attention, I would have figured it out far sooner.”

“You weren’t,” Diluc pointed out. “You didn’t think there was anything to pay attention to.”

“Well, it must be quite satisfying to know that even I make terrible mistakes sometimes,” Kaeya hissed. “Quite frequently when it comes to you, it seems.”

Like that was going to work, honestly. Diluc was going to ignore that it would have worked until about three weeks back. He had to focus. “Yeah,” he said anyway, because he was a mistake even if it wasn’t in the way Kaeya thought. “You do.”

Kaeya stiffened. Diluc wondered what was going on in his head. It was impossible to tell when he was flipping through reactions too quickly for Diluc to understand what he wanted.

“Start at the beginning,” Kaeya ordered. “Why were you a dog?”

Diluc flushed. “There was a witch,” he said grudgingly, and explained what she’d done.

“I see,” Kaeya said flatly. “Well, malicious or not, she needs to be caught. We can’t have a witch running around turning errant travelers into animals.”

“If it helps—” Diluc was fully aware that it wouldn’t. “I think she just didn’t like me.”

Kaeya shook his head, staring down at the Delusion he was still clutching. “You should take this back,” he said abruptly. “It’s yours, after all. You know how to use it.”

Diluc shook his head. “I don’t want to use it anymore.” He held up his Vision. “Can I take this?”

“Can you—? It’s yours.”

“You took care of it all these years,” Diluc said simply. He hesitated, then added, “Like you took care of me.”

Kaeya’s shoulders slumped. “Take it,” he said. “Take it and go.”

Diluc stared at him for a moment longer. He looked defeated and tired and very, very alone. Diluc wanted to sit with him, to give him something in return for the past weeks. But he’d overstayed his welcome already. He opened his mouth to apologize again, thought better of it, and left.

He struck off at random, without a destination in mind. Maybe people recognized him. Diluc couldn’t find the strength to care, to talk to them. 

All his thoughts were buried under the weight of guilt, so much guilt he couldn’t believe he’d be able to apologize enough. If Kaeya never forgave him, Diluc would just have to find a way to live with that. He’d let himself run enough. Kaeya deserved to be angry as much as Diluc did.

It was a long time before he looked up and realized it was nearing morning. The Dawn Winery was a silhouette in the distance. He didn’t have many options. He dragged himself towards it.

Adelinde fussed unbearably over him. Diluc gave up on paying attention, allowing her worry to wash over him. She’d managed the Winery in his absence and deserved better from him; he had nothing left to give. He was tired and he hated himself and found himself wishing, rather selfishly, that he’d been born in a place where he wouldn’t end up being such an endless disappointment to the people around him.

Either way, Adelinde was immune to his self-pity and ruthlessly practical besides. She sent him off to bed and told him she’d have a meal ready whenever he woke up. His room was clean; the sheets weren’t too musty. He didn’t think he could sleep in this state but—

He was home. It wasn’t the home he’d left, but it was as much his as anything could be. 

Sleep dragged him under. He didn’t dream.

Chapter Text

There was, in fact, a meal waiting for him when he went downstairs around dinnertime. He was surprisingly ravenous, and it had been years since he’d had good food and weeks since he’d eaten anything properly cooked. He thanked Adelinde and received a whack with a duster for his troubles.

That done, he forced himself to think about something other than Kaeya. He trusted Adelinde to have taken care of the Winery in every way in his absence, so he could put that aside. His father’s will had been read and dealt with a long time ago, during his travels. The thought of reading his father’s words again made him ill. But there were other properties they’d owned or managed that needed to be surveyed. Diluc dug his old reading glasses out of a drawer in his room and set to work.

It was stupidly boring. Diluc had less of a head for the intricacies of legalese than anyone would have preferred. He persevered because it was preferable to thinking and needed to be done, but he wasn’t sure he’d got anything right.

His mind wouldn’t stop wandering to Kaeya, to his dejection and near-immediate resignation. Diluc could never think of the right words in time: if he had them he’d have said I was wrong about you. It probably wouldn’t have helped. Diluc wanted to say it, but he would have been saying it for himself. He could never figure out what Kaeya needed to hear in time.

Still heavy with dread and disgust the next morning, he went to the Ordo. He needed to inform Jean that he was back. Hopefully she’d never figure out the entire dog thing, but Diluc was honestly unsure if he’d blame Kaeya for telling her.

A thought occurred to him on the way back. He found an outcrop of rock near a copse of trees where he would be hidden and reached, experimentally, for the map of a canine body.

The shift rolled over him, a burst of bone-breaking pain.

Oh. So he could do this whenever he wanted now. That would be—quite convenient, really. Then he got distracted chasing a squirrel and decided that it probably had its drawbacks too. He turned himself human again, stretched the pain out of his joints, and kept going.

Anthony and Jonas both saluted smartly when they saw him. “Captain—I mean, Master Diluc! It’s nice to see you back in the city! What can we do for you?”

Diluc paused to rewire his expectations. “Are Kaeya and Jean in?”

Jonas said, “Captain Kaeya hasn’t come in a couple of days. Grandmaster Jean thinks he’s sick—would you like us to go fetch him for you?”

“No, thank you,” Diluc said, firm and faintly aghast at the suggestion. He wasn’t even a Knight anymore, really—and whether or not Kaeya was sick he could avoid Diluc to the ends of the world if he wanted to. “I’d like to see Jean.”

Jean was in her office, and got up when he entered. “Diluc?” she gasped. “You’re back! Oh, thank Barbatos. You—how are you?”

Okay, so Kaeya hadn’t told her.

He hugged her, pressing his face into her dandelion-sweet hair. “It’s been a long time,” he said quietly. He’d seen her about three days ago, as a dog. “How are you, Jean?”

They caught up over Jean’s breakfast, half of which she tried to push on him. He refused, filling her in on the broad outline of his journey—Fontaine, Sumeru, Inazuma, Snezhnaya—and what he’d found about the Fatui and his father’s involvement with them. It almost didn’t hurt to talk about that. He’d had three years to adjust to the reality of what his father had been; three years to pick out every thread of loss and childhood attachment and burn them away, coldly and methodically, replacing his face with static in every memory both good and bad.

In return, she told him about Mondstadt. Her story skirted Kaeya’s presence clumsily. He wanted to tell her not to bother.

He left before lunchtime, citing the pile of work on Jean’s desk that was clearly stressing her out. She hugged him again before she let him go and made him promise to come see her again.

“Master Diluc?” Noelle said, quiet and quick the moment he stepped out. “A minute, please?”

“Yes, Noelle?”

She swallowed. “Um. Master Kaeya is here, he wants to see you in the library?”

Why on earth did she sound so unsure? And what was Kaeya doing here—Diluc steeled himself for a confrontation and went to the library. No point avoiding it.

The library smelled distinctly like roses and electricity—and another, oddly familiar scent. He turned two corners and figured it out half a second before he saw her. “You!” he snarled. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought the two of you might have something to say to each other,” Kaeya said, primly self-satisfied for all that he looked worn and tense, the light in his eyes flattened to a distant spark. “Diluc, meet Winona—a dear acquaintance of Lisa, and an irregular thorn in our side. Rather like you.”

Winona snorted. “Dear acquaintance makes it sound like we’re friends.”

“We’re rather more like rivals, darling,” Lisa said.

“As if you could hold a candle to my skill,” Winona sneered.

“One of us was offered a position as a Captain of the Knights sight unseen, sweetheart,” Lisa bit out. “It wasn’t you.”

Diluc gave Kaeya a helpless look. He half-shrugged. “Ladies, can we focus?”

“I wouldn’t want to waste my time talking to the likes of her, anyway,” Winona sniffed. She looked Diluc up and down. “Clean up rather well, do you? Glad you found your way back to,” she waved a hand vaguely. Diluc flinched. “Humanity.”

“No thanks to you,” he responded dryly. “Do you make a habit out of turning people into animals?”

“Only when I’m hungry, or annoyed.”

“Wait a moment,” Lisa jumped in. “You turned him into an animal?”

Diluc tensed. If he’d thought Kaeya wouldn’t let go of the thing, Lisa would be even worse. 

“It was a while ago,” Kaeya said, smoothly dismissive. “Not really relevant. Winona, on behalf of the Knights of Favonius, I’d dearly appreciate it if you didn’t turn travelers into animals. There have to be less troublesome ways of dealing with petty annoyances.”

That was, frankly, a better description than Diluc had been prepared for. He had no idea what was happening anymore. 

“Well, I won’t do it again. It’s rather irritating to be dragged all the way out here while I’m trying to work,” Winona sniffed. “I’ll be charging double for that potion you ordered for the inconvenience this has caused me.”

“Two Mora instead of one for the cheapskate watered-down swill you pass off as legitimate brewing?” Lisa sneered.

Kaeya looked like he was about to strangle someone for a second. Then the expression was gone, and he said, “That’s perfectly acceptable. If you don’t have anything else to say to each other, I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Oh, I have nothing to say to him.”

Kaeya raised his eyebrow at Diluc, who didn’t have much to say either. He’d been angry a few weeks ago. Now he was just tired. Dog or not, that mess had been entirely his fault. He shook his head.

Winona clapped her hands together. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Diluc,” she said. “Feel free to call upon me should you ever require some fine, fast magic. Here’s my card.” She stalked past them. Lisa rolled her eyes. “Oh, one last question, actually.”

“What,” Diluc said warily.

“Can you still turn into a dog?”

“A dog?” Lisa said incredulously.

Diluc’s ears burned. Kaeya winced.

“You turned him into a dog?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Winona tilted her head. “Well, it isn’t much to brag about, I guess.”

“Winona,” Lisa said, sounding almost reverent. “I would like to buy you a drink.”

Winona turned a fetching shade of pink. “I, ah.” She bit her lip. “Does—does Friday work for you?”

“It does.” Lisa sailed past them, opening the door for Winona and leading her out. Diluc heard them begin to whisper as they left, followed by a ringing peal of laughter from Lisa.

“Not the worst outcome,” Kaeya said sarcastically. “Though Jean is going to be insufferable about it. Pretty good for a couple of days’ work.”

Diluc shook his head, thinking about Lisa’s annoyance at Jean for her enthusiasm towards his animal self. Turnabout was fair but he was glad this round didn’t involve him. “Thank you,” he said, feeling very awkward. “You didn’t have to find her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kaeya said, leaning against Lisa’s desk. “It’s all part of the job, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Diluc asked. 

Kaeya looked confused by the question. Diluc dropped it. A static-filled silence descended.

“Can you still turn into a dog?” Kaeya asked eventually.

Diluc demonstrated. Instinct rushed in almost at once and he padded forwards, nudging Kaeya’s thigh. “Ah,” Kaeya said softly. “What does this make you now? Some kind of—werewolf? Weredog? And it turns out Albedo was right after all.”

He couldn’t reply. Kaeya sighed, dropping a hand to Diluc’s head and scratching behind his ears. It felt good, a simple animal affection for touch and kindness.

“I thought about it,” Kaeya whispered. Diluc’s ears perked up. “I don’t think I’m angry at you anymore.”

Diluc pulled away from Kaeya and turned himself back into a person. “Of course you are.”

Kaeya tilted his head, puzzled. “Not the response I was expecting.”

It wasn’t the response Diluc had intended to make either. But he didn’t have anything else to say. He didn’t have anything but a certainty borne of knowing what Kaeya had always been. Long before he’d been a traitor in Diluc’s eyes he’d been a desperate, desperate liar, always waiting for Diluc to figure him out and force him to give up the act. Diluc didn’t think he’d done it consciously. He’d never even realized Kaeya had done it until all the lies had fallen apart.

“You are,” Diluc said firmly. “Unless you seriously want to tell me you’re alright with everything that happened.”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Kaeya folded his arms defensively across his chest. “Not all of us spend years nursing the same grudge.”

“Some of us really should,” Diluc snapped. Kaeya frowned. “Are you actually not angry, or are you just forcing yourself not to be?”

Kaeya tensed. “What if I am?” he hissed. “Is it so hard to think—that just once, I would like for something between us to be easy? That I don’t want to spend another three years figuring out how to be okay with what you do to me?”

That hurt like a slap to the face. Diluc held back his flinch. At least Kaeya was acknowledging that Diluc had done something. “It won’t be easy just because you want it to be,” he said gently.

Bitter, furious hurt flashed across Kaeya’s face. “I know. You don’t have to remind me.”

Diluc had no real response to that. Kaeya was strung tight enough to snap at the slightest touch. He’d panicked so much when they were younger, often for no reason Diluc could discern, but he’d have calmed down for Diluc’s presence alone. But Diluc didn’t think that would happen again. He wanted to say something sharp and bitter too, more angry at himself for failing to figure this out in time than out of real rancour. He bit back the urge and said, instead, “Let’s leave.”

Kaeya sighed, unhappy, but accepted this compromise. 

They headed to Kaeya’s apartment. It was a familiar walk; less so from this angle but strangely printed into Diluc’s mind, the memories marked with a simple happiness he couldn’t remember having felt in years.

He waited until they were inside to say, “You didn’t tell Jean about the whole…dog thing.”

Kaeya shook his head. “Did you expect that I would only to embarrass you?”

“It’s what you would have done,” Diluc said stubbornly.

“Perhaps,” Kaeya grimaced. “Jean wouldn’t have taken it well. And then she would…”

He didn’t complete the sentence. “Worry about you,” Diluc offered.

Kaeya glared at him. He wasn’t like Diluc remembered. More walls, more refusal to admit to weakness. Perhaps being his dog had spoiled Diluc more than he’d expected. Knowing he deserved it didn’t make it easier to understand.

“You have an edge,” Kaeya said finally. “It would be a shame to waste it.”

Diluc was starting to think Kaeya was just as embarrassed to have been taken in by Diluc’s terrible canine act than Diluc was to have been a dog. “You should sleep,” he said. “The Knights should be able to handle themselves for a few hours.”

“I can’t sleep,” Kaeya muttered.

He really did seem like he hadn’t been sleeping. His eye was reddened, and he smelled like exhaustion. “Are you sick?” 

“No. I just,” Kaeya looked wretched. “I got used to it, alright? Having a dog. Sleeping next to it.”

“Ah,” Diluc said slowly, digesting this. “I could turn into one right now, if you want.”

Kaeya shook his head. “It’s not the same now that I know it’s you.” He looked guilty the moment he said it, a there-and-gone flash of an expression, which was how Diluc knew it was true. Knew it wasn’t said just to make Diluc feel like he’d been punched.

“Still,” Diluc said, a moment later. “You should go lie down.”

Kaeya was tired enough that he didn’t argue again. Diluc left him to it.

He thought about it, though, as he went about his business in the city. Between talking to his family’s lawyer and tracking down loose business ends, the disparate pieces of information he’d gleaned came together slowly.

When they were children, Kaeya hadn’t been too fond of pets. It was Diluc who had wanted every injured bird, every puppy, even the occasional fox or cat (the foxes had been summarily returned outdoors on the grounds that they’d ruin the vineyard, the cats had been refused because Crepus was allergic). He’d always struggled to understand people as easily as he understood animals.

Diluc had ascended to his Captaincy in the Knights on merit, but he’d never quite connected with the people he was meant to lead. At sixteen he had been younger than the rest by ten years. They’d resented his youth; even as they followed his orders, they’d made it clear that he wasn’t truly one of them.

Animals, by contrast, were simple. They wanted food, wanted care and entertainment and attention in the most distilled forms. 

But he’d had Kaeya’s company, and he’d had his hawks.

Was that what Kaeya had reached for too? He was so lonely. You’re too nice, he’d said. Perhaps all Kaeya had ever asked for was something simple, something that loved without reserve or complications. Something Diluc had never been, but had pretended to be. 

No wonder Kaeya was angry.

Rosaria dropped next to him as he exited the lawyer’s office. Diluc tilted his head at her. “Sister,” he acknowledged.

“Master Diluc,” she greeted, formal. “Back in the city?”

“I’m returning to the winery tonight,” Diluc said, slightly dry. “I’m back in Mondstadt for good.”

“Alright,” she said cryptically. “Are you going somewhere?”

Diluc shrugged. “Not right now. Can I help you?”

“Join me for a drink.” Rosaria had a curiously flat voice. Diluc hadn’t noticed it so much as a dog, but he decided he liked her hard, no-nonsense tone.

“I don’t drink,” Diluc said.

Rosaria almost smiled. “Join me anyway.”

They went to the Cat’s Tail. Diona hissed when she saw him. Rosaria pinned her with a dark look, and she scuttled away to make drinks, ears vibrating with annoyance.

“It’s a wonder this place stays open, with how much Diona hates customers,” Rosaria muttered.

“I heard that!” Diona snarled.

“One of my usual,” Rosaria said, ignoring this and turning questioningly to Diluc.

“Just water.”

A few minutes later, Diona slammed down a glass of water and a pitcher of some dark translucent liquid swimming with unidentifiable bits. Diluc stared at it, mildly repulsed and fascinated at once. Rosaria caught him looking.

“One of Diona’s…custom brews,” Rosaria grimaced. “I’m pretty sure those are pickled Philanemo mushrooms. Somehow, it tastes good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Diluc said. “Was there anything you wanted to discuss?”

He didn’t really know what he’d do, otherwise. There was no small talk he could make with Rosaria. Remember when Kaeya had a panic attack and you were surprisingly capable with him? I appreciate it. It wasn’t his place to say something like that, let alone explaining the entire thing where he was a werewolf now.

“You know Kaeya,” Rosaria started slowly. She poured the drink into a glass and delicately picked out the pickled mushrooms. 

“We grew up together.”

“Have you been to see him since you returned?”

“This morning,” Diluc replied. And then, though he knew, “Why do you care?”

Rosaria went faintly red. “We’re…friends.”

That sounded like she wasn’t entirely sure. It had seemed perfectly clear that that was the case to Diluc, though, and certainly Kaeya wouldn’t have tolerated her seeing him that vulnerable if they’d been anything less. He inclined his head. “Fair enough.”

Somewhat thankfully, Rosaria was as disinclined to small talk as he was. She drank her way through the entire pitcher while he sipped his water and examined the menu on the bar. He could do with some food, probably. Eating well and regularly for a few weeks had spoiled him. Not only that, but regaining his Vision had reminded him how much strength fire took from him.

“Where is Diona?” Rosaria asked suddenly. “She doesn’t usually abandon the bar.” She tilted her head, then hopped off the stool. Diluc followed unquestioningly.

They found Diona behind the bar, clutching a wooden crate nearly as large as herself and arguing with Margaret.

“I can’t just leave them!” she was saying. “They’re so tiny.”

“We’re not having kittens in the tavern, Diona,” Margaret declared. “No matter how cute.”

“It’s better than having customers,” Diona mumbled.

“They pay less, too.” Margaret caught sight of them standing there. “Sister Rosaria, perhaps you can help us settle this…dispute.”

Rosaria cast Diluc a bemused look, visibly steeled herself, and marched forward.

The story according to Diona was that they’d had a cat in the tavern, who’d wandered off a few weeks ago and was now back with a litter of tottering kittens. There were about three of them all told, tiny and squeaky and helpless, and Diona didn’t have the heart to allow them to be strays even though having them underfoot in the tavern would be bad for business—and unsafe for the kittens, with drunks stumbling around and refusing to watch their step.

“I could ask the Sisters at the Church to take care of them,” Rosaria said doubtfully.

“That would be very nice,” Margaret said eagerly. “Wouldn’t it, Diona? They’ll be well-cared for.”

“They’ll be mice cats,” Diona said mournfully. “Would they even be fed? Who’ll take care of them?”

“I’ll take them,” Diluc interrupted. All three of them looked at him. He cleared his throat. “I can keep them at the Winery. They’ll be fed, and they’ll have ample space to run around.”

“Hmph,” Diona said, clearly suspicious. “I will come by to check on them.”

“I’ll tell Adelinde to let you in,” Diluc replied. 

Diona didn’t seem to have an answer to that. Still reluctant, she handed the crate to Diluc, who had to bend to lift it. 

The kittens were calm for the moment. They were horrifyingly small; they all could have fit in one of Diluc’s hands. One of them tried to climb out of the crate, and was thwarted when Diluc tilted it slightly. They were also quite cute. The one that had tried to climb out was grey with white paws—the other two were dozing, a calico draped over a black kitten with a white spot over its eye.

Not spoiled for choice, he took his leave of Rosaria and went to the Angel’s Share. Charles’s surprise at his return was second only to his surprise at the kittens, but he filled a plate with milk, gave them a place behind the bar, and gave Diluc the upstairs room.

In the morning Diluc re-examined the kittens and found them healthy and shrill, screeching for more milk. He hurriedly placed them into a flower pot when they began to scratch at the ground, pinched his nose, and went to get them food.

They really were cute. The black one climbed up Diluc’s sleeve and settled over his shoulder, purring fiercely, then attempted to hunt a stray lock of Diluc’s hair. Either they didn’t sense the canine in him or were simply too young and comfortable to care much. Laughing, he placed it back on the ground. He’d have to take them back to the manor today, but he still had business in the city, and Charles was asleep. 

He compromised by splitting his tasks into things that could be delayed and things that wouldn’t take more than an hour, and swung by the tavern to check on them. Minor crises in the tradition of little animals aside, they were fine. It was a relief every time. He didn’t predict, however, that constantly returning made half a day’s work take up the entire entire day, and was therefore still at Angel’s Share when Charles opened for the night.

He wondered if Kaeya would come in, but customers came and went and he didn’t show up. Diluc stopped hoping.

That night, the kittens slept in Diluc’s room, a pile of fluffy vibrating slimes that occasionally tried to crawl under his shirt or into his hair. He woke up to the black one sprawled lazily over his chest and picked her up. He was growing used to their fragility, more confident in his ability to handle them without hurting them.

She meowed in vague protest and squirmed, but went back to sleep the second he put her down, purring when he scratched under her chin.

A thought occurred to him. He displaced the kittens to general disapproval (and one thwarted attempt to cling to his pants) and showered quickly. He was hampered briefly by the trouble of carrying three active and confident kittens in an open crate, and solved it by locating one of the smaller wooden wine boxes.

Thus armed, he set off.

Kaeya was still home—as well he might be, because it was before dawn—but he was awake. He stared at the box in consternation. 

“I heard you had kittens, but I’ll admit I didn’t lend much credence to the rumor,” he said.

Diluc grinned. “Do you want one?”

“One what—a kitten? Me? Diluc, are you out of your…” Diluc put the box down on the sofa and opened it. Two of them came tumbling out. “Mind.”

“Maybe,” Diluc agreed, still grinning. “Do you want one?”

Kaeya stared at him for a moment, bemused, then picked up the grey kitten. “I don’t have time,” he started.

“That’s what you said about having a dog.”

“It’s true,” Kaeya protested. “You were rather too self-sufficient, in hindsight.”

Diluc shrugged. “They aren’t. But you could do with working less.” He paused, considering his next words carefully. Kaeya picked up the black kitten. “You liked—taking care of something. Having their company.” He gestured at the box. “None of them are going to turn into a person, but they do like sleeping next to people.”

Kaeya looked away. “I wasn’t very good at taking care of you when you were a dog.”

Diluc rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Really,” he drawled. “That’s your argument now?”

“You—”

“You were,” Diluc said decisively. “You were better than I exp—hoped for. You tried.” He looked at the kitten in Kaeya’s hand, held so gently it didn’t even fight. “You can try again.”

Kaeya’s shoulders slumped. “It’s very cute,” he said longingly. “She, I guess. Does she have a name?”

Diluc shook his head.

A vengeful spark lit in Kaeya’s eyes. “Have you noticed,” he said, with a suspiciously sudden vitality. “She looks a bit like me? She’s even got an eyepatch.”

“Kaeya, you’re not—” Diluc started.

“Oh, yes,” Kaeya said, ridiculously self-satisfied. “Alpurrich. Keanya Alpurrich.” He held her up. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Give her back,” Diluc said. “I don’t know why I ever thought this was a good idea—”

“No!” Kaeya clutched her close. “She’s my Kaenya Alpurrich.”

“Stop saying that. It sounds awful.”

“You love it. You’re smiling—”

“I’m not!”

Kaeyna Alpurrich meowed.