Chapter Text
He sat, curled in the tall swaying grass, waiting for a father he knew could never return. He shivers, the cold pounding rain seeping into his skin and the fibers of his muscles, making him stiff and weary. His long hair clings to his scalp, sopping.
The sky above churns angrily. It was as if the gods knew of his presence in this land, and they fumed because of it, whipping the clouds into a frenzy of icy rain that pelted his face and stung through his tunic. Perhaps they did know he was here. He couldn’t bring himself to care either way.
Still, he didn’t cry. He swore that no tears would fill his eyes, even when he saw a bolt of lightning escape the frothing clouds, a bolt that was sure to have hit his father, cleansing one who had sinned in a fiery burst of heat.
Lightning: the catalyst for the gods’ fury. A funny thing it was.
The storm raged on for hours more, still he waited. After what seemed like thousands of years of waiting in that swirling grass, whose wet blades itched his legs and arms, two people approached on the beaten track which wound through the hills in front of him.
He sits up slightly, catching glimpses of them through the sheets of rain. It seemed their hair was ablaze with a crimson flame, although he knew that was impossible with the showers that doused the land. They approach him slowly, and when they are nearly on top of him, he glances up at them through strands of navy hair.
A man kneels down, his face etched with age, smile lines crinkling the skin around his eyes. His hair was the same fiery red as before, with scruff on his chin to match. The man looks into his eyes, his expression wrought with worry.
“What’s a boy like you doing out in this storm?”
He draws his shoulders up, wanting only to withdraw into his thin body. His breath hitches, and his vision becomes glassy, as his eyes filled with the tears he resented so passionately.
“Oh, come now, no need to cry. Where are your parents?”
He looks around. No one else is there. His throat itches terribly. “My father… he said he would come back.”
The man looks wistful. He gazes at the other person standing there, a boy, with the same head of flame, whose expression stays perfectly neutral. The man turns his attention back to the boy sitting in the weeds, stricken with cold, and offers his hand.
“We will find your father, boy. Come with me.”
____
Kaeya wakes with a start. Another dream of that day. Strange.
He sits up in his bed and tosses the covers aside, then sighs, feeling an ache in his limbs. He fumbles on his night table for his eyepatch, which he quickly ties across his face, the familiar fabric putting him ever-so-slightly at ease.
Kaeya dresses swiftly in his usual attire: his fur lined jacket and crisp white shirt paired with tight black pants. He glimpses himself in the mirror, sees his tired eye and disheveled ponytail, flowing messily over his shoulder, then bustles out of the wooden door of his small house, fearing that he was late for work.
He walks down the cobbled streets of his city, the sun low on the horizon still. The shopkeepers were just opening their stores, and he waved hello to a few people on his way, trying to find the charm he usually never had to search for.
The heels of his boots click against the stone steps as he hurries into the Knights of Favonius headquarters, sending a half-hearted smile to Wood, who stood drowsily at his post outside the Solitary Confinement room.
He takes a heavy breath before knocking on the door to the Acting Grandmaster’s Office, and then enters. The Grandmaster sits at the wooden desk in the center of the room, conversing with the Favonius Librarian, Lisa, who sits on the desk, legs crossed elegantly.
Their hushed conversation halts when he enters, and they look up at him, Lisa slightly bemused and Jean perturbed.
“Kaeya. So nice of you to finally join us,” Jean says, her voice dripping with annoyance. She squints at a small clock above the door. “I suppose twenty-four minutes late is better than never.”
Kaeya winces. “My sincerest apologies, Grandmaster. I need my beauty rest as you know.”
“Don’t we all,” she says flatly. “Well, Kaeya, I have an assignment for you.”
He takes a seat in front of her, but made sure not to drape himself over the chair like he normally would; he didn’t desire being yelled at by Jean, especially not when she was in such a sour mood.
Lisa studies him from her perch, sending him a look that conveys the severity of Jean’s bad mood. Kaeya shrugs a little, determined to keep up his annoyingly unbothered veneer.
Jean skims the papers that litter her desk then looks up at him warily. “There’s a number of hilichurl camps near Springvale that need to be cleared out. I assume you can handle that, Captain, or do you need a team?”
He shakes his head disapprovingly, then clucks his tongue. “You think so little of my abilities, Jean. I need no team to clear out a bunch of hilichurls.”
Jean only rolls her eyes and gestures with her hand for him to go. He wishes her and Lisa farewell, then closes the door behind him softly. He rushes out the door, eager to get his work over and done with.
____
Kaeya had made it to Springvale within the hour. He had waved to some of the residents, and consoled others who asked of his business in their town. Soon after venturing into the forest to the southeast, he stumbled upon the hilichurls, which charged him as soon as they spotted him.
He had disposed of them quickly, and swept through the other camps breezily, coming out of the whole ordeal with hardly a scratch.
Kaeya sighs on the walk through the forest back to Springvale, brushing his hands off on his pants. He hums a tune, one he vaguely recalled from his childhood as he strolled along.
The sun had swung higher in the sky as he returned to the gates of the city, Swan and Lawrence greeting him warmly as he entered Mondstadt.
He walks past the vendors on the streets, and stops by the Adventurer’s Guild to see what new commissions had been posted. He took his time getting back to headquarters, making sure to chat with all the elders who seemed to enjoy his company an unusual amount for someone with his less than savory reputation.
Kaeya even surveyed Angel’s Share during his stroll, observing the flyers for the bards advertising their performances and the various missing person posters and Dawn Winery recruitment guides adorning the message board.
He made a mental note to stop by later- he supposed it was one of those days where he just needed a drink after hours of tedious and dull paperwork.
Eventually, Kaeya meanders back to the Knights headquarters, finding himself reluctant to face Jean. He exhales, throwing his low ponytail over his shoulder as he sweeps into Jean’s office, being met with an exasperated sigh.
She looks at him expectantly and he grins. “Hilichurls are all accounted for. Springvale shall fret no longer,” he says, taking a gallant bow.
Jean nods absently. “Thank you for doing your job, Kaeya. You excel when you actually put in the effort.”
Kaeya feigns offense. “Grandmaster! How rude of you to assume I’m not giving my full self for every assignment.”
“We both know you’re full of shit.”
Kaeya rolls his eye and smirks. “Well, I’m off, Grandmaster. If you have need of me, I’ll be in my office… doing more paperwork.”
“Very well.”
He glides up the stairs to his office- not a particularly large space, it was cramped with a desk and bookshelves crammed with novels and notebooks he kept stuffed into the shelves. He slid into his chair, dreading the hours to come.
Eventually, he manages to put pen to paper and get to work, checking boxes here or circling something there, until the towering heap of papers had been reduced to near nothing.
Peering out the window, Kaeya could see the sun was on its descent, the bright blue of the sky fading to a navy. It was quite beautiful: an unobstructed sky, free of storms which could sweep you away, lightning that could strike you down…
He puts the thought out of his mind quickly. He signs the last paper in the once imposing stack with a flourish and stands up.
He was planning to leave his office to get down to Angel’s Share unnoticed when he saw the corner of a picture frame long forgotten poking out of a chest plopped near the door. Kaeya removes it gingerly from its hiding place and observes it, a knot of dread curling in his stomach.
A younger, happier version of himself sits on the beach, holding a bright blue shell up to his ear. A floppy straw hat shades his eye that is crinkled with laughter. Another boy, one with hair like fire is crouched next to him, also laughing. His smile is bright, nothing like the stony face he wore the day they first met. Kaeya remembers the man who took the picture, the same one who took in that scrawny kid with the strange complexion without hesitation, the man who raised him more than his own father ever did.
Kaeya places the photo back into its hidden spot, deciding he would definitely need a drink tonight.