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— Six years later —
There had to be a limit to just how many times one young child could screa— sing Let It Go before she collapsed from exhaustion.
Well, if there was one, Sahar hadn’t found hers yet, and her parents were paying the price.
Diluc’s head was about to explode. Next to him, Kaeya didn’t seem any better. Her face had been locked in a dull stare into the vague ever since Ciaran, their youngest who could barely speak, had joined in on the cacophony with approximative cooing and shrieks.
It was endearing, at first. Their daughter’s enthusiasm was contagious, and sometimes she reminded Diluc of himself when he was a child.
But they had been driving for four hours straight.
And not once had Sahar stopped chirping.
“I think I’ll sue Disney,” Kaeya deadpanned, her eye riveted on the snowy peaks embracing the road. Diluc was driving carefully, first because of the slippery concrete, but mostly because he knew Kaeya liked winter sceneries. She’d never said why, but Diluc could notice her gaze lingering on frozen lakes.
“Why? Let It Go’s Toddler Remix is a...”
“— HEEERE I STAND IN THE LIGHT OF DAAAAAAAaaaAAAYYYY—”
Diluc winced. “A bop. A banger. A hit—” He shuddered as Sahar attempted her first whistle note. “Give this kid a Grammy’s.”
Kaeya whined, but she was trying hard to stifle a laugh. She was about to reply when Ciaran burst out laughing — which strangely coincided with the end of Sahar’s concert. “What’s going on back there?” Kaeya asked, twisting on her seat to check the backseats.
Ciaran further cooed and laughed. Glancing at the rear view mirror, Diluc couldn’t help a grin.
Sahar, armed with her little brother’s plushies, had switched careers from award-winning singer to master puppeteer, voice actress, and entertainer. Here she was, staging that one scene where Anna confronted her sister Elsa, armed with Ciaran’s toys and the imagination of a five-year-old.
Endeared, Kaeya stayed for a while like this, chin resting on the backrest of her seat, watching the kids escape in a world of their own making.
Diluc smiled, his eyes still on the road.
It was in moments like these that he wished his father could be here, if only to tell him he was happy now. “Not a cloud in sight,” he said, and Kaeya turned toward him, quizzical. “What? I’m just saying.”
“Why all of a sudden?”
Diluc hummed. “You’ll see later.”
“Wow, you went all out,” Kaeya commented as they dropped their bags in the entrance of the chalet.
“It’s Christmas, isn’t it?” Diluc answered. “Gotta go big… to go home.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Can you just humor my joking attempts?”
Kaeya bounced Ciaran on her hip, securing him in her hold, then strolled into the chalet. She took in the warm wood and bright paintings on the walls, the baby-proofed fireplace in the living room, the vast open kitchen with a pizza oven for him. “Where did you find this Airbnb?” Kaeya asked as she sat on the large L-shaped couch. She let out a long sigh and Diluc could practically hear her back cracking with relief.
He sat next to her, taking Ciaran from her lap to let her rest her arms. “What Airbnb? It’s ours.”
Kaeya stared long and hard at him, her lips slowly spreading in a smile. “Wait, really? You bought a whole ass chalet?” She added in hushed tones — low enough to hide the swear word from Sahar’s greedy ears.
“I did.” Diluc shrugged. “I figured it was a good use of my inheritance money.”
Kaeya nuzzled close, grabbing his arm and burying her face in his neck. “I love you. I think.”
Diluc cupped her cheek, placed a kiss on her forehead. “It’s been six years since you said that. You still haven’t decided?”
“I’m like an otome game love interest. You gotta constantly water that flower.”
“Fair enough.”
On Diluc’s lap, Ciaran reached for Kaeya’s face, his chubby arm clumsily hovering near her cheek to stroke it like Diluc just had. Kaeya took his minuscule hand to place a kiss on his palm. “Papa got us a new present,” she murmured to Ciaran, who, cradled in Diluc’s arms, was slowly falling asleep.
Until Sahar marched into the living room, hands on her hips, the ferocious frown of a real estate investor on her face. “This place is almost as good as Elsa’s castle,” she announced, making a show of pacing in front of the fireplace, her long ponytail of red curls bouncing along her steps. “Not as ess-thetic but pretty.”
Kaeya snorted. “Where does she learn those words?” she whispered to Diluc.
“I have no idea.” Then, to Sahar: “Elsa’s place is empty though. Isn’t it better to have a bed to sleep on?”
“I don’t want a bed. I want a throne.”
Kaeya chuckled. She patted her lap. “Come claim your throne, princess.”
With a giggle, Sahar climbed on her mother’s lap, happy to be cuddled and kissed on her freckled, rosy cheeks. “It’s queen, not princess,” she then corrected, but still she snuggled against her parents.
And at last, some peace and quiet.
The chalet Diluc had picked was part of a small cluster of mountain houses scattered across Dragonspine. The village was named “Wynterlull”, and it was just a thirty-minute drive from a winter sports complex situated higher on the mountains.
In this complex, in particular, was an ice rink, in open air.
“So this is why you were looking at the weather forecast!” Kaeya exclaimed, nearly vibrating as they neared the rink.
With their job at the bar and the kids, they’d barely had time to unwind at the ice rink since Ciaran was born, and though Kaeya’s mother proved to be vital help in this new parenthood journey, she wasn’t always available to babysit the kids.
Hence, the other solution: bring the kids to the ice rink.
“This is like in Frozen!” Sahar exclaimed, hopping on and on while clinging to Diluc’s arm. She was so little, a tiny bundle of energy with freckles and bright amber eyes. As if to mimic her, Ciaran bounced on Diluc’s hip. “Are we going to skate?”
“You did not expect that, did you?” Diluc said, lifting his arm to let his daughter swing to her heart’s content. Her enthusiastic shrieks were worth the sore muscles he’d get later.
Then Diluc turned toward Kaeya, and it wouldn’t be a reach to say he was falling all over again — although, to be fair, despite how unglamorous parenthood could be, he could say the same about every other day. It was moments like these — with sheer childlike wonder illuminating her eye — that he remembered just why she was his best friend, and why he had always loved her, and why he still fell over and over — head first or in reverse — every time she dropped her barriers around him.
That expression was just for him.
“You know,” she started, grinning, “I think I really do love you.”
The ice rink was peaceful. Most people were busy with Christmas preparations, which gave the Ragnvindr-Alberich family free and unlimited access to Sahar’s new ‘best place in the world’.
Diluc was content watching from outside, bouncing Ciaran on his hips while the latter shoved his whole fist — the size of a small apricot — in his mouth. Ciaran was teething, and so he massaged his gums whenever he could, but this — and the occasional fevers and colics — were the only hints that he felt any sort of pain. Like his mother, he had a tendency to suffer in silence.
Thankfully, after years studying his wife to decipher her silent calls for help, Diluc was best equipped to deal with Ciaran’s random crying bouts where nobody else knew what to do — not even Kaeya, who couldn’t grasp her own torment. On the other hand, Sahar was all expression, no internalization, like Diluc before his father’s death — and Kaeya knew best how to channel this excess of energy and zeal that sometimes overwhelmed their daughter.
A match made in an ice rink.
“Come on sweetheart,” Kaeya encouraged, standing on the ice with her hands extended toward Sahar. Sahar, who was clinging to the handrail for dear life.
“Mama, I’m scared,” the child mumbled, small hands cramped over the handrail. She was the spitting image of Diluc, baby fawn included, with her wobbling legs, her uncertain frown, her attempt at a straight face to appear more valiant than she was.
“Just let go and Mama will guide you,” Diluc tried. He gently patted Ciaran’s back, holding him close, but the toddler seemed distracted from his painful gums. He wore a grin as big as his widened eyes, cooing as if to encourage his big sister. “See, even Ciaran knows you can do it. Just let go!”
“But what if I fall?” Sahar whined.
“Then I’ll catch you,” Kaeya answered. “Come on!”
Sahar took a deep breath, then she let go. And though her legs nearly buckled and her hands trembled, she didn’t quit, instead clung to her mother and skated alongside her.
Kaeya whistled. “Look at you, you could run for the Teyvat games!”
Sahar’s rigid expression slowly melted. “It’s… slippery.”
“It is.”
“Ciaran look!” Sahar squealed. “I’m skating!”
The toddler giggled. He wiggled his hands toward Kaeya, drooling as he prepared an attempt to speak. “Shkay! Shkay!”
With a slight shake of his head, Diluc fished for a tissue in the pocket of his coat and wiped the drool off Ciaran’s lips. “That’s right, they’re skating.”
In no time, Sahar was able to stand on her own two feet. She even went as far as spinning once, though her legs were still a little stiff with lack of habit. “Mama!” she called, coming to a stop next to the edge of the rink to collect the snack Diluc was handing her. “Papa said you used to skate better than Elsa.”
Kaeya leaned against the handrail, throwing a knowing look toward Diluc, lips curled in that cheeky way of hers. “He said that?”
“Yeah!” After a moment munching on her cereal bar, Sahar skated to her mother’s side, hugging her hips. “Show me! I wanna see how you used to skate!”
There was a split-second of doubt crossing Kaeya’s gaze. Mechanically, she reached for her eye-patch, as though to make sure it hid her unseeing eye. She used to categorically refuse to show it to Diluc, and he would never press her, but with time she’d accepted to trust him with her most painful falls.
“You don’t have to push yourself,” Diluc offered, seeking Kaeya’s gaze. If he could hold it, if he could just meet her eye and let her read in his what words couldn’t convey. He could translate her slightest tremors, but it was reciprocal. “Just have fun.”
Kaeya pushed onto the handrail to give herself some momentum. Her lithe body glided on the ice, undulating as a reed in the wind. This cursive dance went on for a few moments when, with a powerful jump, she spun — once, twice — in a graceful arch and landed perfectly on the rink. Double axel, the first she’d attempted in years. Maybe it was Sahar’s expectant face that had fueled her, or maybe it was Ciaran’s vaguely cheery babbling, but she had done it.
Diluc let out a long, long exhale. He held Ciaran a little tighter, his chin on the toddler’s blue curls, continuously patting his back as the baby purred in Diluc’s arms.
As for Sahar, her eyes had never been so luminous.
“Alright, kids, what do we say when Santa gives you the presents?” Kaeya asked, hands on her hips.
Sahar raised her hand. “Where is your factory?”
Kaeya arched an eyebrow. “Factory?”
“Yeah! Where he makes his presents!” She gasped. “Or, or: ‘is it true that you bully your little elves?’”
Diluc hummed as he took a sip of hot chocolate. “So young and already aware of worker exploitation. Soon they’ll unionize against us.”
“What’s onionize?” Sahar asked, frowning as her parents chortled with endearment. “I will ask my teacher later.”
“Yes, you do that. But anyway!” Kaeya clapped in her hands. “You say, ‘thanks!’ when Santa gives you presents. Express gratitude when good things happen to you.”
“But Papa says bad words when good things happen too.”
Kaeya glared at him. “Does he, now?”
“Yes. Last time he said ‘holy… poop’ because he won the school raffle.”
The prize was a whole box of grape juice, of course he would swear. Nevertheless, he found it essential to go wash his mug while his daughter snitched on him. “I can’t hear you,” he said in a sing-song voice, avoiding Kaeya’s pointed stare.
Kaeya sighed. “Don’t be like Papa,” she ordered. “Good words, and gratitude. Try it.”
“Thank you Santa for funding Papa’s chalet,” Sahar drawled. “Even if it’s not as pretty as Elsa’s castle.”
Diluc raised an eyebrow. “I’m gonna start taking it personally.”
Sahar offered her best good girl smile. “Are we decorating the Christmas tree now?”
It was impossible to refuse her anything. And so, while Diluc baked with the youngest reenacting Godzilla’s wreckage on a playmat, Kaeya helped Sahar decorate the Christmas Tree. Some of the decorations were Sahar’s own creations, made with clay or cardboard at kindergarten. The new teacher, a certain Thoma, made sure the kids could all develop their creative skills — and it worked particularly well with Sahar, who was a born artist.
“And now for the star!” she exclaimed, lifting her arms to ask for her mom to carry her.
Kaeya obliged. “Did you make this one too?” she asked as Sahar placed an icy star on top of the tree. It was made of cardboard and sprayed in iridescent silver, with graceful loops inside the core.
“Yes. It’s you, if you were a star.”
“Awww.” Kaeya kissed Sahar on top of her head, then on her freckled cheeks. “Am I really that pretty?”
“You’re the prettiest in the world. Papa doesn’t deserve you.”
“I heard that,” Diluc raised his voice.
Sahar giggled. “But you said you didn’t hear us earlier.”
With a huff, Diluc turned to face her angelic grin. “You’re out for blood today.”
Prim as always, Sahar tipped her chin up — a habit she’d taken from Elsa. “I just want to make sure you’re being good, Papa! So you get your presents! Otherwise you’ll receive coal.”
“Right. You’re just looking out for me.”
“Yes.”
Kaeya kissed her on the cheek, then bit the near-elastic flesh. “You’re so adorable, I will eat you alive.”
Hours later, the cookies were ready, the tree was decorated, and the dinner was a success. Though it was all fun and games, Kaeya and Diluc were still exhausted by the time the kids were tucked in bed.
Diluc slumped on the couch. He could practically feel every single vertebrae popping as tension left his body. Soon enough, Kaeya joined him, a dip in the couch and a whiff of calla lily accompanying her. She snuggled against him, pressing her lips to his neck, and he rested a heavy hand on the small of her back.
“I can’t believe I landed that figure,” she murmured then, fingers threading with the locks of hair that escape Diluc’s messy bun. “Did you see?”
“I did. I was looking at you the whole time.”
Kaeya kissed him on the clavicle, then on the chest. “You’ve been watching me for how long now?”
“Over thirty years?”
Resting her chin on his chest, she looked up at Diluc, lips curling. “Does that make us soulmates? What are the minimum requirements to meet?”
Diluc chuckled. He pressed his lips to Kaeya’s forehead, his free hand gently taking hers and twirling her wedding ring between his fingers. “I knew you were my soulmate long before you even saw me as a potential partner. Even if you didn’t love me back, you’d still be my one and only.”
“Shush. You’ll make me blush.”
“You’re beautiful when you blush.”
Kaeya buried her face in Diluc’s neck. Her cheeks were hot. “I can’t wait to grow old with you. More Christmases like this. I’ll even wear your matching ugly sweaters if you want.”
“And give up your impeccable fashion sense for me?”
Kaeya pouted, as though she were truly mulling the question over. “I suppose so.”
He slipped a hand under her shirt, resting it on her back and scratching it gently to lull her. “Then I guess that does make us soulmates.”
Diluc looked absolutely ridiculous. The combination of his lean stature, toned muscles, and Santa costume could make him pass for a custom GTA skin — crime overlord but make it festive.
Still, he made a show of knocking on the door of the living room, listening as Sahar stopped chirping and spoons clanked into ceramic cereal bowls. Surely, the children had to know the presents were on their way — or at least, Sahar did. Ciaran was too young to understand what presents were — only that they were for him, and therefore he must protect them with his body.
“Who is it?” Sahar called in a shrill voice.
Diluc took a deep breath. Kaeya would never let him off this one, but for his kids, he had to do it. “Ho, ho… Gods,” he cringed under his breath. “Today is a grand day!”
Sahar gasped. She opened the door so hard, for a moment Diluc was stunned by the sheer brute strength of a child on Boxing Day. “It’s Santa!”
“In the flesh, young lady!”
Elated, Sahar spun in her little strawberry nightdress — the one that swirled like princess dresses. She took Diluc’s gloved hands then, pulling him to the dining room. “You must be hungry! Did you bring us presents?”
He laughed a merry laugh. “Straight to the point, aren’t you?”
“Honesty is the key to success.”
“Ohooo, I can tell you listen to everything your parents say,” he said appreciatively.
“Not everything. I keep a cwitical—critical mind.” And there, she did it again. Tipped her chin up, red curls bobbing along her movements, like the true princess she aspired to be. One day, Sahar would conquer the world.
Diluc nodded. “That’s excellent. You and your baby brother are exemplary — and for that, you deserve only the best.”
“Yes— Thank you, Santa.” She sat down, folded her hands on her lap, and smiled like a perfect little girl. “I am ready.”
Diluc chuckled. “Wait, wait. First,” and he turned toward Kaeya — who, even in the morning, was dressed in a satin nightdress with a silky bathrobe adorned with fur, a proper diva. “Who may this beautiful woman be?” Diluc asked.
Kaeya rolled her eyes, biting her lips to keep from smiling.
“That’s my mom!” Sahar interjected. “And she is married, so hands off her.”
Ciaran cooed. “Hanjof! Hanjof!” he tried to repeat. He drummed on the table, making a ruckus until Kaeya gave him a toy to chew on.
Slipping from his character was inevitable, but Diluc hadn’t expected it to be because of his daughter’s sheer, unparalleled wit. He patted her head, proud beyond relief — but still curious: where did she get that quick mind from? “You’re right. And as I can see, you’ve been really good, taking care of your old parents.”
Sahar nodded vivaciously. “Yes! They’re ancient. Someone must pull this family together.”
Diluc threw a long, sympathetic look toward Kaeya, who arched her eyebrows in resignation. “Ancient,” he repeated. “Well, at least that’s clear.”
“Are we getting presents then?” Sahar continued. “Since we’ve been good!”
“Right! Well, about that.” Diluc crouched, gesturing for her to come closer. “You must wait in your bedroom for the bell to toll. Only then should you come out. Got it?”
Sahar nodded. “Yes!” She took her brother’s tiny hand in her own, patiently waiting for him to stand and waddle on his chubby legs. “Then we must depart, Santa. Is Mama coming with us?”
“Unfortunately, your mother has been naughty,” Diluc said with a sigh, feigning to shake his head in disappointment at Kaeya — who buried her face in her tea. “Therefore, I must have a talk with her to right her wrongs.”
“I see. Well, Papa also says she’s a naughty girl, so I can believe it.”
Kaeya choked on her tea. She coughed, throwing a searing look at Diluc — who puffed in his fake beard. “I shall make sure to put her back on the right track, little Sahar.”
The little girl grinned. “Thanks! Go easy on her. But not to Papa — if you catch him. I’m sure he’s sleeping in.” And off she went, without giving time for her mother to react.
Once the children were gone, Diluc and Kaeya both broke into laughs they tried their best to keep down. While Diluc removed his beard and started to undress, Kaeya reached for the spare change of clothes stashed under the cushions of the couch. “Naughty girl, huh?” she mused.
“It’s not my fault you moan so loud.”
“It’s not my fault you’re so good with your mouth.”
Diluc preened. “Thank you, thank you. It helps when the meal is good.”
“Oh, shut it.”
Once he was fully dressed, Kaeya rang the doorbell — and like clockwork, little steps came running as fast as a toddler and a small child could. Sahar knew she couldn’t carry her baby brother, but despite her young age, she was surprisingly gentle and patient with Ciaran — even on Boxing Day.
“Papa!” Sahar exclaimed. She left Ciaran on his playmat, then bolted in her father’s arms, hugging his knees.
Diluc crouched. He kissed her on the head, then hugged her close, close, close. “I just had a chat with Santa, and he gave me a bunch of presents for you. He said you were incredibly intelligent, talented, and full of potential.”
“What’s potential?”
Ciaran chirped. “Tensho, tensho— Mama!”
Kaeya sat on the playmat next to him. “Potential is like, a notion that represents everything you’re capable of.”
“And yours is infinite,” Diluc added, poking Sahar on her heart.
“Does that mean I get infinite presents?”
Taken aback, Diluc dropped to the couch, hauling his daughter to his chest as he laughed in her hair, drowning out her wild giggles. “You’re a little rascal.”
“But I’m a rascal with potential!”
“Yes, you are.”
He sat her on the couch then, and like ‘Santa’ had instructed him to, he delivered the presents to everyone.
Sahar got a Frozen doll house, complete with the two sisters, and a chemistry set for curious children. She was already rambling about Elsa’s mad scientist character arc, and Diluc didn’t know whether he should be worried or not.
Ciaran got new plushies to destroy, one of which spoke a few random words to teach him how to speak — but that would likely obliterate his parents’ sanity in just a few days. His first reaction: shove it in his mouth.
And Kaeya…
“You can’t be serious,” she whined, unfolding the sweater from a big, blue box with a satin ribbon. A giant reindeer was knitted on top of the Christmas patterns, white over red and green. “Gods.”
Diluc cleared his throat before he reminded: “You promised.” He gestured toward the box, then. “There’s something else inside.”
Intrigued, Kaeya’s eyebrows knitted together as she removed a layer of crepe paper.
“Skates,” she said, voice demure and full of gratitude. She took the boots, carefully traced the flat side of the blades with her fingertips — and in doing so, she found the rugged texture of an engraved inscription. “For my champion,” she read out. Her smile bloomed a sun in his chest. “Yeah. It’s decided. I love you.”
Diluc sat next to her on the playmat. He leaned in, brushing their lips together, and snaked an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer. “I love you so damn much.”
“No, I love you more.”
“Competitive, even in matters of love,” he joked.
Kaeya cupped his cheek, kissing him on the lips as chastely as she could in front of their children. Her perfume — calla lilies and winter mornings — enveloped Diluc, and for a moment, he was back on that ice rink, the first time Kaeya wore skates after her injury, holding her hands as she conquered her own fall.
“Life is a competition,” Kaeya finally said. She took in the scene in front of her, simple joys laced together on the grand canvas of a life well-lived. The kids were chirping together, the chalet was warm, and they had a whole future ahead to bicker over pasta brands, drink wine and grape juice when the kids went to bed, and fall for each other again and again and again, a thousand times over. “And so far, I’m winning.”
***