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The tavern buzzes with rumours of a distant traveller integral to mitigating Stormterror’s latest attack on Mondstat. Diluc tries not to listen but the cacophony reaches his ears anyway, bringing fleeting curiosity with it. The winds that breeze through Mondstat’s streets carry a similar hum of chatter. 

A hero, so the people say. 

A fanciful concept at best. 

Diluc wipes down the glass in his hand, nodding curtly in Charles’ direction as the man returns from ushering a particularly rowdy drunkard out of the tavern. A repeat offender, in fact. Perhaps Diluc should take more care in future to monitor his alcohol consumption if he cannot be trusted to drink responsibly. 

“The knights have already made him an honorary member,” comes one poorly hushed voice, somewhere to his far right. 

He conceals a scoff, turning to the wine rack behind him. His informant had told him as much when he’d started to gather intel on this strange traveller from afar. Still, it does come as a mild disappointment. 

This passing traveller has exceeded his initial expectations. Prioritising the safety of Mondstat’s people on several occasions and only asking that the knights keep a look out for his sister in return. Remarkable, by all accounts. It is not at all a surprise that the knights would welcome him so readily when they are in such dire need of a beacon, one that the citizens of Mondstat can look to with hope in the face of Stormterror’s looming presence. 

The night presses on and the tavern empties, though there had been a rather dwindling number of patrons to begin with. 

“Master Diluc, this is this week’s accounts.”

Diluc reviews the paperwork, humming quietly. “The disaster has greatly affected business.” 

Charles nods, scooping up a stray wine glass from a nearby table. “Let’s hope it ends soon.”

Naturally, Diluc has started to get in touch with a few select contacts regarding the threat that Stormterror poses to Mondstat. It is a complicated problem that no doubt requires a complicated solution. He is no stranger to working alone, but that does not mean a more delicate approach isn’t necessary when dealing with a situation of this magnitude.  

It is almost ironic that the catalyst to this solution comes barrelling in through his door just moments later, accompanied by that ever-suspicious bard. Cheeks flushed, chest heaving. Most certainly running from something. Diluc suspects that he is about to become implicated in affairs that are most certainly not his own, almost akin to the ominous feeling that brews inside of him each time he is faced with a particularly smug smile from Kaeya.  

“The second floor has less customers, you’d be less conspicuous up there.” 

He watches the pair trample ever so gracefully up the stairs, listens to the floorboards shifting above his head. 

The pair of knights that enter his tavern enquiring about a suspicious pair of theives are only too easy to deceive. Diluc almost lacks the capacity to derive amusement from it anymore. 

The traveller has a rather quiet disposition, considering his bold feats. His floating companion possesses a voice that could quite possibly shatter his wine glasses, so perhaps his tone merely seems mellow by comparison. Diluc doesn’t give it much thought. 

It takes an awful lot of nerve to attempt a heist on the Church of Favonious and an awful lot of foolish luck to come even slightly close to succeeding in stealing the Holy Lyre der Himmel. It’s almost enough to bring a brief smile to his lips. However unprecedented the current situation may be, he is not uninterested by it. It certainly adds a new layer to this traveller character that he did not anticipate. Those who go to such drastic lengths to ensure Mondstat’s safety have a tendency to earn his respect. 

“Okay. Let’s meet here tonight after the tavern closes.” 

The traveller nods gravely, and Diluc is satisfied. 

He has arrangements to make.

The end of Stormterror’s reign of terror is nothing short of a miracle. 

At least, that is the consensus that the wind carries with it in the wake of Dvalin’s newly found freedom, the words that flow freely from the mouths of drunken patrons as the tavern bustles with celebration. 

Diluc doesn’t believe in miracles. It is thanks to the coordinated efforts of the Acting Grand Master, the traveller, and, ironically enough, Barbatos himself, that Dvalin is now free from the shackles of abyssal corruption. Though the circumstances certainly aligned in their favour, he would not go so far as to call it fate. To imply that they had no agency over the outcome would simply be false. 

Nevertheless, he can accept it as a cause for celebration. 

He reflects upon the ordeal one late night, once his candle has burnt out and shadows have gathered along his bedroom walls. Through the open window he sees an expansive lake and jagged cliff edges, he feels the breeze that permeates Mondstat, that creates the delicate balance needed for windwheel asters to thrive. 

The Traveller — Aether — had proven himself to be a formidable ally in their battle against Dvalin. Calm and capable, with a seeming mastery of his elemental powers. All without a vision, Diluc couldn’t help but notice. A most interesting presentation indeed. A single-minded determination that fills every corner of his face in battle and a dry sort of wit that fills his conversations in duller moments, in back-and-forths with his companion. 

Aether has proven his willingness to protect Mondstat at every possible cost, and has earned Diluc’s admiration amidst late evenings spent planning and battles hard-fought.

Perhaps there is even something to learn from his persistence. 

Mondstat sings the Traveller’s praises long after Dvalin is freed. 

It is inescapable, even to Diluc. Though it is deserved, witnessing it only reinforces his own decision to remain in the shadows when enacting his justice. Aether appears pleased, eager to help those who come to bombard him with requests or entertain those who thank him endlessly. Diluc's schedule doesn’t allow for idleness, but he will occasionally catch glimpses of Aether’s activities throughout Mondstat, spread thin across the likes of mundane requests, commissions from the Guild and knightly duties. He takes all of it stride. Diluc commends the energy, even if he believes that his efforts are as good as wasted on the Knights. 

The Tavern’s business recovers rather quickly, all things considered. It is only fitting, then, that abyssal presence seems to surge around Mondstat in the following weeks. Diluc monitors the change closely, he stays up into the early hours of dawn anticipating each of their visits and, cloaked by night, acts swiftly to stop any reconnaissance in its tracks. He keeps in regular contact with his most trusted informants and works meticulously to ensure his anonymity. 

What he doesn’t anticipate, however, is Aether barrelling into his fight with a remnant abyss mage, much like he’d barrelled into his tavern that fateful night. He hadn’t necessarily counted on small talk tonight, but it seems he doesn’t have a whole lot of choice in the matter. 

Aether has his hands on his hips, practically radiating faux-surprise. “Diluc? You’re the Darknight Hero?”

Diluc’s mouth twists into a grimace at the name. “Darknight Hero? Seems awfully derivative. Please tell me you didn’t come up with that.” 

Amusement crinkles the corners of Aether’s eyes. His companion chimes in to explain the name’s origin, which is no less galling. There is a reason he disregards the ceaseless drivel that engulfs his surroundings when working night shifts. 

Diluc truly does not think much of the encounter until he is back at the tavern, mixing drinks vigourously enough so as to cover up the flush of exertion that is no doubt spread across his face. 

Naturally, he had trusted Aether with those stray hillichurls. He has no doubts concerning his capabilities in combat. Somehow, despite his close ties to the knights, he trusts that Aether will keep his identity close to his chest too. 

Rationally, he has no reason to keep his promise. It is no doubt one among a myriad of promises he has made throughout his time in Mondstat. Ultimately, it is the knights that had welcomed him amiably and accepted him among their ranks. 

Diluc huffs.

Curious, indeed.

Aether’s chest heaves with exertion as he narrowly dodges a blow from an ax-wielding mitachurl. 

“Alright?” Diluc calls, voice echoing throughout the stronghold. 

Aether smiles as though he has all the energy in the world. “Fine. I think I can see the mechanism from here!” 

Diluc follows his gaze. Huh. So he can. 

He advances forth, secure in the knowledge that Aether will easily follow. 

The companionship proves to be surprisingly tolerable. 

If pressed, Diluc would say that he works alone by choice. It isn’t a lie, exactly. 

He recalls a time when his naive ideals led him to Windrise to pray that he could fulfill his duties in the coming week, that he could protect Mondstat’s people and, perhaps most importantly, make his father proud. He recalls leaning on his fellow knights and his trusted subordinates in times of need, he recalls roaming Mondstat’s streets with a foolishly passionate desire to offer assistance wherever it was needed. 

A rather ineffective allocation of energy and manpower, in hindsight. 

He knows that Venti hadn’t heard his prayers, but occasionally he can’t help but wonder, can’t keep a certain bitterness from crawling its way into his heart.

He recalls a time when the lofty concepts of comradery and freedom that had propped up his belief in the knights were shattered in the span of three words, swept away with the torrential rainfall. 

“Conceal the truth.” 

As if his father’s sacrifice were an unsightly stain upon the knights’ perfect reputation. 

Naturally, he has long let go of his anger, but the truth remains that he operates most efficiently when depending on his own capabilities to pave the way, and his intuition is sharper for it. The trifling matters of others are far less likely to become a hindrance to his operations when he does not have to deal with them in the first place. 

So, for all intents and purposes, he does work alone by choice. It is a very deliberate choice, in fact.

Thus, when the traveller proves to be not only capable of keeping up with him but generally agreeable company, Diluc is mildly surprised. 

“I am in the habit of working alone, but I did enjoy having your assistance this time. In the future, if there’s anything you ever need, you can come to me for help.” 

Aether blinks, perhaps taken aback, but a smile quickly begins to emerge on his face. “Anything, you say?” 

Diluc folds his arms over his chest. That ominous feeling is starting to brew again. “Yes. Why do you ask?” 

“Yeah,” Paimon chirps, hovering by Aether’s side, “Paimon didn’t think we needed help with anything right now!” 

Aether just hums thoughtfully. He sets a hand on his hip. Pauses. “How good are you at destroying hillichurl towers?” 

Diluc stares, but only for a moment. “…Fine, I would venture to say. Though a task like that seems rather…inconsequential. Surely something like that could be handled just as easily by Mondstat’s resident hero.” 

“It could be handled alone,” Aether concedes, “but the companionship never hurts.” 

He awaits some form of punchline, but it does not come. Diluc scoffs as he returns a clean wine glass to its respective shelf. “If it’s companionship you seek, perhaps you might be better served at the Knights of Favonious headquarters. I’m sure you’ve earned your fair share of favours there during your time here. They’d only be too happy to clear some of their debt…or, at least,  some  of them would only be too happy to clear their debt.” 

Aether sags in a decidedly exaggerated manner. It is not unamusing. “And here I thought Captain Pyro might be willing to help me out with some commissions.” 

“Hmph. I’m struggling to decide whether that title is just as bad as the ‘Darknight hero’ or worse. In either case, please refrain from using made-up names. Diluc will do just fine.” 

“Hey!” Paimon splutters, “Paimon put a lot of thought into that name! I’d like to see you try and come up with something better!” 

Diluc merely sighs. “Trivialities aside, it’s growing rather late. I assume you’re staying with the knights? I’ll see that you get there safely.” 

Paimon’s demeanour quickly morphs into one of confusion. “Oh! But…the Knights of Favonious Headquarters is just on the other side of town. It’s only a short walk!” 

“Though Mondstat is generally guarded, nightfall still provides the perfect cloak for crime. Contrary to popular belief, the knights are particularly fallible when it comes to matters of efficiency, which certainly does not help.” 

Aether’s eyebrows raise. 

Diluc heaves another sigh as he rounds the bar. “Consider it a courtesy, that’s all. Follow me. There’s no need for further chit-chat.” 

“Yes Sir mister Captain Pyro, Sir!” Paimon sings, as she flutters through the door that Diluc carefully holds open. 

Despite his visible surprise, Aether remains quiet during their brief trek to the Knights’ headquarters. It is just as well. Diluc truly doesn’t possess the energy for further small-talk.

It is only when they arrive that he speaks again, hushed and earnest. 

“Thank you, Diluc.” 

The night sky glitters overhead and the wind carries the faintest scent of sweet flowers. The Anemo Archon’s statue rests its eternal gaze upon the town below. A certain stillness blankets their surroundings, and Diluc cannot help the rare sense of peace that settles inside of his chest. 

“There’s no need,” he says. “Remember what I told you.” 

Aether nods, and Diluc bids them farewell. He catches a glimpse of Aether as he walks away, but he doesn’t need to see him to feel the weight of his lingering gaze. Diluc shakes his head. Surely Mondstat’s uncrowned hero must be used to all sorts of general courtesies. He’s unsure as to why his actions are so unprecedented that they warrant the specific mixture of flattery and surprise that is written all over the traveller’s face. 

He does not dwell on it. 

…Diluc helps the traveller destroy hillichurl towers. 

It is thanks to a combination of factors, really, a perfect alignment of stars so to speak. 

He has a free afternoon, he notices the traveller clearing away piles of leaves around Dawn Winery with small bursts of anemo, he notes his haggard appearance, the strain underlying his smile, all of which naturally lead him to approach. 

“I can’t say I recall having you two on my payroll.” 

Paimon’s ear-piercing shriek seems awfully alarmed, considering that Diluc feels he’d telegraphed his presence appropriately. It coaxes an amused chuckle from Aether. 

“Okay, that wasn’t even a jumpscare.”

“Hey! Paimon was just busy thinking about all the delicious food she’s going to eat once she’s back in the city!” 

Aether rolls his eyes, but there is a fondness in the faint curve of his mouth that belies the outward exasperation. “We’re just — wait, hang on, I’m just completing a couple of commissions to end the day. Things have been pretty busy lately, but I’ve only got one more left after this.”

Diluc considers this. “And what does it entail, exactly?” 

Aether grins. “Destroying some hillichurls towers north of the winery.” 

“Ohh, that’s right, Paimon remembers! Katheryne said those are the ones blocking the path that merchants coming into Mondstat use sometimes.”

Aether’s eyes glitter with mischief. “Right. She also said that claymores might make the job easier.” He feigns a heavy sigh. “It’s too bad all I’ve got is my sword.” 

Diluc stares. Then, he lets out a quiet huff and turns swiftly, making a beeline for the winery’s front entrance.

“Wha— Master Diluc?!” Paimon exclaims, voice pitchy with alarm. 

“Wait there,” he instructs. 

The traveller has assisted him — and his staff, it would seem — on various fronts during his stay in Mondstat. There is no doubt that Diluc is indebted to him. Though it is a trivial task, if it can be made even slightly quicker to Aether’s benefit then he supposes he can extend his assistance this time. 

Plus, it certainly does not hurt that he has a night shift at the tavern to get to. 

Destroying the hillichurl towers in question is a straightforward affair. It is the rather abysmal weather on their trek to Mondstat that proves to be marginally more troublesome. 

“Paimon swears it was sunny like two seconds ago! Urgh, why do we keep forgetting to bring an umbrella while we’re out and about?” 

Rain is an inconsequential occurrence — Diluc does not pay it much heed apart from keeping his guard up for any noises that may escape his attention amidst the pattering. 

Aether, however, does not appear to be dressed to face the elements.

“I have one,” Diluc says, as he extends a hand and summons an umbrella, much like he summons his claymore, “I don’t need it, so you can use it if you wish.” 

Aether frowns as he accepts it. “You don’t need it?” 

“I’ve faced far worse than rain.” 

“I see.” He hums as he unfolds the umbrella, “well then, I’ll just hold it like this. To make sure Paimon is covered, too.” 

He shifts in closer and holds the umbrella up high enough between them so that Diluc is partially covered, along with Paimon. Diluc sighs, but he does not engage the matter further. 

“Wow, Master Diluc, you’re pretty warm!” Paimon notes, as she flutters along between them. “Paimon can feel it from here!” 

Aether looks over, curiosity piqued. “Does your pyro vision raise your body temperature?” 

“It would seem so, yes.” 

His gaze lingers on Aether for a moment, narrowing slightly at the obvious shivers wracking his body as he walks, his trembling, white-knuckled grip on the umbrella. Though he may be sheltered from the rain, the harsh winds are another matter entirely it would seem.

Very well. 

Diluc shrugs his jacket back off his shoulders, pointedly ignoring the chill that begins to seep in through his dress shirt. 

“Take this,” he says, “a jacket is more reliable than a bit of proximity to a pyro-vision holder.” 

“Huh. You know, Master Diluc is pretty generous,” Paimon says, tipping her head to the side curiously. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, not out of modesty, but because he means it. “I have another one just like it.” He glances over once more as Aether hands the umbrella over to Paimon so that he can tug the jacket up over his shoulders. “All that matters is that you’re protected.” 

“I’ll return it to you as soon as I can,” he promises. His voice softens. “Thank you.” 

Diluc nods curtly and returns his attention to the path ahead. Silence lapses between them after that. Just the way Diluc likes it. As a bonus, it is not the sort of silence that is riddled with tension, with simmering expectation of further chit-chat. It is simply…there. Filled by the fast pattering of rain against the umbrella, the fiercely swaying grass and the whistling winds. The clouds have darkened several dramatic shades since they’d left for Mondstat, looming overhead with the promise of continued overnight rainfall. 

He feels the weight of Aether’s gaze for a couple of seconds before he finally looks over to meet it. Aether doesn’t shy away from the returned eye contact — he merely smiles, a gentle curve of lips. His hair is damp, rendered a light shade of brown by the occasional onslaughts of rain blown beneath the umbrella, and his eyes are bright, brighter than they’d seemed when he was at the winery.

“Does this jacket make me the darknight hero now?” he asks. 

Taken aback, Diluc’s surprised huff verges dangerously close to a laugh. He still does not like that title in the slightest. 

“Perhaps. If the darknight hero were anything other than an interesting rumour.” 

A smile tugs at Aether’s mouth. “Ah. Of course.” 

Silence falls again, save for Aether’s occasional chuckles at Paimon’s attempts to dodge every drop of rain. 

It is not unpleasant.

Initially, it is a quest that brings them to the Thousand Winds temple. 

Currently, Diluc watches as Aether coaxes answers from a distraught man that had the misfortune of happening upon a group of treasure hoarders who imprisoned him and tossed the key. His expression is soft with sympathy but his gaze is steady and his stance is purposeful. He gathers a general sense of what direction the treasure hoarders had set off for and assures the man that he will return soon and escort him back to the city. 

“We’ll split up,” he says firmly, “those treasure hoarders might be looking for the same clues we are. They might’ve left footprints along the path somewhere, or they might’ve left some elemental traces from their run-in with those slimes.” 

Diluc is rather used to following his own intuition, so receiving a directive feels somewhat like a novelty. It is not the first time, either — Aether knows his own strength, and he possesses a determination even in dire circumstances that is hard to deny. But, based on the information at their disposal Diluc agrees with the assessment, so he gives a nod of assent. 

“Should we find no sign of them, we’ll meet here.” 

Aether nods, and Diluc cannot help but send a glance back over his shoulder as they set off along their respective paths. He does not worry for his safety — he trusts that Aether will easily handle any threats that may present themselves. He simply cannot help but feel…bereft. Just for a moment.

Not because Aether provides an extra set of eyes and ears, or because he provides assistance in battle. But because — well. Because he is rather pleasant company, even in silence. 

Diluc shakes his head to rid himself of the thought and redirects his focus to the path ahead. 

Later, when he finds no sign of the treasure hoarders, he tracks Aether’s footsteps and happens upon the remnants of an obvious scuffle with some treasure hoarders. Aether appears to be rifling through their belongings, talking over his shoulder to Paimon. 

“You know, Paimon, there’s a saying—“

“Agh, another saying from another world?” 

“Hey, how do you know it’s from another world?”

“Because all of your sayings are from another world.” 

Aether chuckles. “Fine, no wisdom then. Just help out, would you? We don’t wanna keep Diluc waiting too long.” 

Paimon begins to assert the invaluable assistance she is providing by standing (floating?) guard for further enemies. 

And Diluc? Well, Diluc wonders. 

In the dead of night, there are no witnesses. 

It is troublesome, sometimes, when wrongdoers seize the darkness as a cloak under which they can carry out their operations.

In this case, it is necessary. 

“It’s you,” the man says, breathless. He attempts to shift in his chair, but there is nowhere to go. Diluc has made sure of it. “I knew it. I— I could feel it, someone watching me…” He pauses, eyes wide and alert. “Though I cannot say I expected the theatrics. Wouldn’t it be prudent to simply hand me over to Mondstat’s beloved knights?” 

“That would be a mercy,” says Diluc. He flicks on the light, watches it flood the room and expose the man’s bruised features, contorted with contempt now. “One that I do not extend to the Fatui.” 

There are no windows in this room, for very good reason. 

“It’s all fun and games on your home turf,” the man snarls, “just wait till you step foot in Snezhnaya again. The Harbingers will make you regret it.” 

Diluc folds his arms over his chest. “I’d strongly advise you to remember the position you’re in. Your words tonight could seal your fate.” 

He is handing him to the knights, regardless of the night’s outcome. Despite their general incompetence, Diluc trusts they will be able to enact some form of justice when all of the work is already done for them. Naturally, the man does not need to know that. 

There is tension wound throughout his body, as if refraining from speaking any further is putting strain on his entire being. How incredibly typical. 

Diluc wanders forth.

“Now, then. I’m certain you know why you’re here. Attempting to recruit our children into your organisation is not something I take lightly.”

“I believe you’re mistaken. I am merely a diplomat from—“

“Don’t waste my time with that spiel. I do not share the knights’ reservations when it comes to dealing with people like you, whatever front you may put up. I have all the evidence I need, short of a verbal confession. That is not why I’m here.” 

There’s a visible tick along the man’s jaw. “Then by all means, enlighten me.” 

“The Fatui have been gathering intel on the Abyss Order. Namely, their level of organisation. You answer directly to the Harbingers. I want to know what you know about their leader.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, then. I don’t know anything.” 

Diluc hums. Coming across a member of the fatui who is not loyal to a fault is rare indeed. He can only imagine what the punishment is for mere insubordination, let alone treason. 

They are all this way, until they break.

“You seem to think you have a choice in the matter,” he grits out, “I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken.” 

Perhaps there is resentment there. 

Perhaps Diluc looks at this man and sees the organisation responsible for the delusion that had left his hands stained with his own father’s blood. 

Perhaps he does not feel the vindication he wishes to when the man cries out in terror. 

“Stop! Stop! It’s— I’m not lying! All I’ve heard is — they call her princess! They answer to her, she’s — she’s from a another world! That’s all I know!” 

Diluc tilts his head. That was awfully quick. His gaze falls to the chains that bind the man to his chair, to the gloved hand that infuses it with pyro. He could make them sear with unbearable heat if he so chooses. 

He huffs scornfully. “If that’s truly all you know, then so be it.” He lets go of the chain. “Don’t give the knights any trouble, and don’t try to run. It’s a pointless endeavour.”

The man’s eyes, no longer clouded with panic, are instead filled to the brim with seething rage. “I’ve heard them talking about you. Attacking those strongholds. Wielding a delusion against the very people who created it. The very one that claimed your own—“

“One more word and not even the knights will find your remains.” 

It is a not threat. Merely the objective truth. Diluc has no mercy in his heart for those who pose a threat to Mondstat’s safety, let alone the safety of Mondstat’s children.

The man’s mouth snaps shut with a click that pierces sharply through the dead of night. 

A wise choice. The knights are more lenient than he will ever be. 

A princess from another world.

It seems he has intel to ponder. 

Goodbyes are not Diluc’s strong suit. 

Not when he’d gazed down at his father’s lifeless form in a fit of denial, never uttering one word of comfort in his final wheezing breaths. Not when he’d turned his back on the very statue he’d spent his entire life praying to, the naive ideals he’d fostered and his blind faith in some greater form of justice. Not when he’d tossed his vision and his entire life’s work on Inspector Eroch’s desk and abandoned a career that he’d been nothing but utterly and foolishly devoted to since he was a child. Not when he’d felt the stunned gazes of Jean and his fellow knights on his back as he’d stormed through the Plaza and vowed to find the answers and the justice that the knights never would. 

What is there to say? 

He still isn’t quite sure. 

If anything, it seems like wasted sentiment, an unnecessary hindrance. 

This is why, when the traveller comes to find him at the tavern to say goodbye, Diluc is stunned for a moment. 

“We spoke with Venti,” he rushes out, “there’s a chance we might get to meet the Geo Archon at Liyue’s Rite of Descension, but we have to leave soon if we want to catch it. I just thought I’d stop by and say goodbye before we leave. That, and…thank you. For all the help you’ve given me.” 

Diluc swallows. He cannot help but feel off-kilter. “There’s…no need. The help I’ve offered pales in comparison to the sacrifices you’ve made for Mondstat in your short time here.” He pauses, takes in the way Aether’s eyes glimmer. “I wish you luck in your travels, and I hope you find that which you seek. I have every confidence you’ll be able to face whatever lies ahead. Should you need a place to rest, you know where the Winery is. There will always be a room for you there.” 

A smile dawns on Aether’s face, small yet meaningful. “Thank you.” He pauses, glancing about the tavern. “We’ll come back and visit from time to time. I don’t think Paimon’s letting go of Sara’s sticky honey roast so easily.” 

Diluc nods. That sounds about right. “You know where to find me should you ever need my help again.” 

“I do,” he confirms. His smile takes on a bittersweet edge. “Thank you again, Diluc.” 

It is still a novelty, hearing his name uttered with such familiarity. Diluc cannot help but feel warmed by it. 

“Bye for now!” Aether calls over his shoulder, as he makes for the entrance of the tavern. 

Diluc does not say goodbye, but he does offer him the faintest of smiles. 

In mere months Aether has managed to gather quite the reputation for himself, him and his feats at the tip of just about everyone’s tongue. He has gone from being the subject of Diluc’s investigations to being a valued acquaintance, a regular partner in combat. Diluc has watched him face down a corrupt dragon with no semblance of fear and create cohesion where there is none, take decisive action wherever he feels it is needed. 

Yes. There is much to learn from the traveller’s conduct. 

He will leave for his next destination, but he will linger in Diluc’s mind. 

Diluc,

I’m addressing this to Dawn Winery — I hope that’s okay. I figured it’ll be passed onto you.

I’ve met a lot of interesting people in Liyue, and Paimon has met a whole new array of delicacies. She still misses Sara’s sticky honey roast, though. So do I. There’s something charming about Mondstat that I don’t think I appreciated until I left. 

I’m sure you wouldn’t care to read a book’s worth of stories about my adventures, so I’ll keep this short — the way you like it. I am safe. I am staying here a while. And…Paimon told me to tell you that you’ve been demoted to second on her list of ‘people not to tick off under any circumstances’ list. Sorry to break it to you like this.

I’m still looking for the answers I came here for, and some trouble seems to be stirring following Rex Lapis’ death. Looks like I might be side-tracked again. 

I hope business is going well, and that you’re going well too. Get some rest if you haven’t already. I’m sure the knights can handle a couple of nights on their own. 

I’ll be back for the Windblume festival, but I might see you sometime before that. 

Bye for now,

Aether 

Diluc sets the letter down on his desk and feels something warm begin to unspool inside his chest. It is not often he receives letters regarding personal affairs as opposed to commercial or other more discreet affairs. He hadn’t anticipated that Aether would write to him at all, but now that he has, it’s only fair that he write something in return. 

It takes a couple of drafts, smudged ink and torn pages cast aside beneath the light of the moon. Eventually, he reads the final copy over and nods to himself, satisfied. 

Aether, 

I must say I was surprised to receive word from you, though it is not unwelcome. It sounds to me as though you’ve already acquainted yourself with Liyue and some of its locals. There is a lot there to explore, I’m sure. Liyue has a long, rather rich history, I’ve been told. 

Though I’m not certain you’ll find the answers you seek in Liyue, I am certain you will find them eventually. So long as you stick to your own path, momentary side-ventures are just that — side-ventures. Though there may be challenges ahead, I have every confidence you will use what resources you have at your disposal and overcome them. 

As for Paimon’s news…I cannot say that I am not intrigued. Perhaps, once you return, you’ll have to enlighten me as to who has earnt first place.

Rex Lapis’ death comes as a shock to say the very least. Liyue’s citizens have always seemed to pride themselves on having a god who is consistently present in their city throughout history. Perhaps it is pointless for me to ask that you tread carefully concerning this matter. 

Business is running smoothly, and I am doing fine. Asking me to trust the knights when they have proven their incompetence time and time again is amusing, I’ll give you that much. You need not worry, however — my operations will not suffer on account of my not being well rested. Don’t spare it too much thought. 

I look forward to your visit, and wish you luck in your continued travels. 

Warm Regards,

Diluc

He takes care in folding the letter and sealing it inside of an envelope. Come sunrise, Dawn will be tasked with its delivery. 

Sleep comes just a little bit easier that night. 

Tunner informs him that this year’s fruit harvest has been bountiful, and that short supply in the lead-up to the Windblume Festival will not prove to be a cause for concern. 

The saccharine scent of grapes seeps into the winery and its surroundings, bringing forth fragments of memory that are more bitter in nature, that have him covering his mirrors and tossing restlessly into the early hours of dawn. 

For the sake of the path he wishes to forge for himself — for the very future of the Mondstat — he cannot allow himself to live in delusion, forever paralysed by a past he cannot return to. 

To put it simply, his time for dreaming has long passed.

Rationally, he knows this. When the silence of night closes in on him, when his chest feels impossibly tight with each surfaced memory, it proves to be a far more agonising truth to bear. Rationality is a faraway concept when desire becomes involved. 

He is fallible when it comes to the blinding effect of potent emotion. It is something he has come to accept in recent years. If you are to address your blind spots, you must first acknowledge them. 

It is perhaps what he admires so much about the unwavering determination Aether displays in battle. Passionate, without being blinded by it. 

It is months after the traveller’s departure that Diluc sees him again. The dwindling sun paints the horizon several shades of orange, and Aether stands before him with weary eyes that lack their usual sharpness. 

A dark sort of concern begins to gather in Diluc’s chest. He recalls the agonising truths his own travels had uncovered, the way they had irrevocably molded and reshaped his most core beliefs about Teyvat and his place within a world that is being poisoned by the Fatui’s influence, about who he is and what his most fundamental objectives are. Though it may be inevitable, he does not wish for the answers that Aether seeks to burden him in such a manner.

“Aether,” he greets, “I was…unaware of your return. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Aether smiles, but the way it twists across his face makes it seem almost like a wince. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” 

“No, nothing of particular importance. I’ve already sent the maids home for the night. I was just about to look over some—“ he pauses, turns the words over in his head. “Well, as I said. Nothing of immediate importance. Would you like to come in?” 

He nods. “Sure. If it’s no trouble.” 

Diluc refrains from repeating himself, but he steps away from the door and holds it open so that Aether can enter. He hopes that it is answer enough. 

Once the door closes with a sharp thud, it is hard to ignore the silence that presses in on them at all angles, thick with words left unsaid. Diluc is usually unfazed by silence, but this one seems to prickle relentlessly at his skin and seal the breath inside of his throat. 

“Would you care for some tea? There’s a particular blend from Liyue that Elzer favors. I’ve heard the taste is…agreeable.” 

“Tea? Does this mean your expertise extends beyond alcohol, Master Diluc?” Aether’s smile is genuine, just for a moment. 

Diluc huffs. “I’d like to think my expertise extends far beyond alcohol. Though…I cannot say I am well-versed in tea blends. My drink of choice is grape juice.” 

“So that’s what in your glass when you’re at the Tavern. Paimon has been wondering. She asked Kaeya, but he just laughed.” 

“Yes. That does sound like him.” Diluc sighs. “In truth, I simply…don’t like the way alcohol feels in my mouth. That’s all.” 

He did not necessarily intend on revealing that tidbit, but it is hard to feel regret when that familiar sparkle of amusement shines in Aether’s eyes. 

“Does that mean you don’t taste your own drinks?” 

“Naturally, I can put my discomfort aside when it comes to commercial affairs. I simply do not make a habit of drinking recreationally.” 

Aether nods. “Well, your secret is safe with me.”

“Though I tend not to put much stock in the opinions of others, the discretion is appreciated,” Diluc says, with a small amount of amusement. “Now, then. Regarding my previous question…?”

“I’d like to try some, if that’s okay.” 

“Very well. Feel free to make yourself at home while I prepare it.” 

He is only in the kitchen for a handful of minutes at most, but when he returns, he is pleased to find Aether with a chair huddled up by the fireplace. There is a faraway look in his eyes that Diluc only notices upon approaching, carefully setting two steaming mugs of tea on the table between them. He frowns slightly as he pulls up his own chair. Aether doesn’t appear upset, or even distressed. He simply looks…absent. The flames crackle quietly, creating a warm glow that spills out past the hearth of the fireplace and only throws the angles of Aether’s blank expression into sharper relief.

“Thank you,” he says, as he finally turns his gaze on Diluc, reaching out for his mug of tea.

Diluc merely nods. He pretends that he does not notice the way Aether’s hands tremble as he wraps his fingers around the mug and lifts it to his mouth. 

Silence lapses between them for a handful of moments. 

“I know now,” says Aether, “I know where my sister is. At least…more than I did before.” 

To be frank, the confession comes as a surprise to Diluc. He tries not to let it show on his face, but he can’t say whether he is successful. 

“But somehow, I’m even more confused than I was before. I don’t know what to think about it…about her, or about anything.”

Once the silence stretches enough that Diluc feels he won’t be interrupting, he speaks. 

“The more you learn, the less you desire to know. It’s…a common phenomenon.” He pauses here, considering his words carefully. “I would ask, in light of what you have learned…is your sister’s location the only answer you seek on your journey?”

Aether considers this. “No,” he decides, eyes flicking back toward the fire. “It’s not.” 

“Then, perhaps your path isn’t so clear cut. Truth be told, it never is.” Diluc swallows, keeps his gaze firmly on the steam that rises from his tea. “Your path, your goals…they are subject to change. This uncertainty doesn’t mean you have gone off course. It is simply an opportunity to reevaluate the direction you choose to take and follow it, wherever it may lead.” 

“That’s…a lot of wisdom for a winery owner,” says Aether, smiling faintly. His expression is soft, but his handles still tremble. “Thank you, Diluc. I don’t mean to bother you with this.” 

The words “there’s no need,” are ready at the tip of his tongue, but Diluc cannot bring himself to speak them. Aether looks at him as though he trusts him, as though he trusts what he has to say, and it Diluc cannot deny the particular brand of fondness that expands inside his ribcage now, warm and appreciative. 

“You’re no bother,” he settles on saying. “I extended an invitation to you the last time we spoke and you took it to heart. I am…grateful.” 

Aether’s smile grows, the corners of his eyes crinkling with it. However, it fades after a couple of seconds, his expression crumbling along with it. 

He sighs. “I’d prefer not to spend the night thinking about all this.” 

Diluc nods. That’s understandable. He considers his options for a moment. 

“Perhaps you’d care to play a round of chess? It’s…my distracting activity of choice, on the rare occasion that I have a moment. Though, it has been a while since I’ve played with anyone but my butler.” 

The lines of Aether’s face are smoothed out with shock — what kind of shock, Diluc is unsure — but he seems to recover quickly enough.

“Sure. It’s been a while since I’ve played anything with anyone that isn’t Paimon. I’m sure I could still give you a run for your money, though.” 

“Confident indeed,” Diluc remarks, “very well then. One moment while I fetch the chessboard.” 

One chess round turns into two, which turns into three, until the hearth glows with warm embers and their empty mugs of tea are cold to the touch. 

Diluc holds an undeniable appreciation for Aether’s capabilities in combat, but it seems his skills in chess are not lacking either. 

He is not someone that is easily fazed, but even he can admit that Aether consistently finds new ways to surprise him. 

The Windblume Festival finds most people in high spirits, the town’s streets decorated elaborately and bustling with activity. 

To Diluc, it is simply a brief respite from his usual stacks of paperwork, though manning the tavern alone can prove somewhat troublesome at times. The Dawn Winery’s extensive preparations have, as always, proved fruitful. Their festive drinks are in heavy demand, particularly their specialty brand of Windblume apple cider, and there is plenty of alcohol to go around. Throughout the duration of the festival, he generally does not have meetings to concern himself with either, which relaxes his schedule ever so slightly. 

It does not give him cause to lower his guard, however. Crime does not stop on account of a festival, nor do the likes of the Fatui or the Abyss halt their nefarious operations. He alone must face up against any threats to Mondstat’s peace, regardless of the season, so that people can continue to enjoy festivals such as this one free from worry. 

The tavern is filled with rambunctious laughter and drunken arguments between patrons who seem convinced that their chosen windblume is the windblume of Mondstat. Diluc tends not to concern himself with the passionate debates that spring up during this period. He holds a deep appreciation for the origins of the Windblume festival and the overarching sentiment that freedom prevails in Mondstat despite a history of ceaseless tyranny and brave uprising. 

…When it comes to matters of love poems and heartfelt confessionals, however, he could not be more disinterested. He has made it a point to avoid Venti and his antics this year for very good reason. 

It is when he is descending the stairs from the second floor of the tavern that he hears a pair of familiar voices amidst the cacophony of casual day-drinkers. 

“Diluc? Oh Diluc, where are you!” Paimon sings, as her eyes flit about the tavern. 

Aether laughs, eyes bright with mirth. “Paimon, he’s not an adeptus. I don’t think he’s going to materialise out of nowhere when you speak his name.” 

“Materialise?” Diluc hums. “Perhaps not.”

Paimon whirls around in the air with a shriek. “Master Diluc! What are you doing here?!” 

Diluc huffs. “I’m fairly certain that I own this tavern. A more prudent question would be why you two find yourselves here. I’m sure there are other, more novel places to visit during the festival, particularly for someone of your reputation.” 

“Are you sure you’re not an adeptus?” she asks, tipping to her head side, “Aether, maybe you should try saying his name just to check.” 

Aether snorts. “But he’s already standing in front of us. That wouldn’t be a good test.” 

“Oh! Yeah, you’re right…another time, then!” 

“We’ve already seen some of the places around Mondstat, plus we’ve helped Venti with his love poetry class,” Aether tells him, “so we thought we’d stop by and pay you a visit.” 

“Oh? Well, in that case, perhaps you two would like a drink?” 

“Oh! Paimon wants apple juice!” 

“The usual then,” he remarks, without judgment, as he makes his way over to the bar. “On the subject of drinks, I…happen to have a drink that I’d like you to try, traveller. I have taken note of your most frequent orders and crafted it accordingly. I hope that it will be to your tastes.” 

“A specially made drink from Master Diluc? Why, I’ll never.” He is obviously teasing, but his smile is appreciative, not dissimilar to the one he’d offered him weeks ago at the winery. 

Diluc huffs. “Consider it a festive gift if you wish. Though, naturally, don’t feel the need to pretend. If you do not like it, I will not be offended.” 

“I can’t think of one drink you’ve made that I haven’t liked. I’m sure I won’t need to pretend.” 

“I’m glad to hear it. While I prepare your drinks, I’m also curious to know more about this ‘adeptus’ business. If I’m not prying, that is.” 

He doesn’t quite anticipate the traveller’s answer to devolve into a longer tangent about a few of their more curious encounters in Liyue, but it is not unwelcome. It is only when one of Paimon’s rambling interjections comes to an end that Diluc realizes just how attentive he has been in listening. 

It does not feel like small talk. It does not feel as though their words are simply there to take up needless space, to arbitrarily fill silence. Diluc is not one to waste his words, but he finds the exchange rather…pleasant, truth be told. He wonders if it has simply been a long time since he’d been familiar enough with someone that their conversations no longer feel unnecessarily stunted by small talk. 

“One apple juice,” he says, as he slides a small, custom-made glass across the counter. Relaying the dimensions for this particular glass to the craftsman in question had been rather the task. “And…one unnamed drink.” 

“Thanks, Master Diluc!” Paimon chirps, as she flutters down to the barstool below and takes a seat before the bar, her face partially obscured from view. 

“Thank you, Diluc,” says Aether, as he takes his own glass in hand. He takes a sip of it, and his expression brightens immediately. “This is great! Is that wolfhook juice I can taste?” 

“Indeed it is,” Diluc confirms, “in combination with other ingredients it can be rather…overpowering, unless it is used sparingly. I’m glad it is to your tastes.” 

“Say, Master Diluc, which plant do you think is Mondstat’s windblume? Razor thinks it’s a wolfhook, but Paimon’s heard looots of different options over the course of the day, like dandelions or windwheel asters.” 

“I don’t concern myself with the ongoing debates regarding the true windblume. I find it all rather pointless. But…I suppose, I am partial to small lamp grass.”

Aether looks thoughtful. “Does small lamp grass mean something to you?” 

“No. I simply enjoy the way they look, or taste in certain dishes. The extra light they provide at night may seem inconsequential to most, but I personally find the small boost in visibility to be invaluable.” 

Paimon perks up in an instant. “Oooh! Paimon has seen the traveller use small lamp grass to make pile ‘em up, and other tasty dishes too! Say, maybe we’ll have to visit Good Hunter after this. You know, in the spirit of the Windblume festival and all.” 

“Very convenient,” Aether, remarks, though he does not refute the suggestion. He turns to Diluc, looking as though he wants to say something more, but a call from across the tavern lures his attention elsewhere. 

“Well, well, well,” comes an all-too-familiar voice, dripping with amusement, “I didn’t expect to find you here amidst the day-drinkers. Are we looking for a break, or are we perhaps looking to visit a certain someone?” 

“Kaeya,” Aether greets, “how’s that love poem coming along?” 

“Tsch. I’ve only just been assigned the homework, surely Venti isn’t chasing it up already. Or are you just being coy?” 

Aether smiles teasingly. “I’m just curious how it’ll turn out, that’s all.” 

Diluc would rather not give Kaeya the opportunity to acknowledge him, so he busies himself elsewhere in the tavern, making a few rounds to collect empty glasses. 

His thoughts naturally stray to other, more pressing matters — the intel he’d received from the Collective regarding the Fatui’s activities in both Liyue and, now, Inazuma of all places, shielded from the rest of the seven nations by the Electro Archon. Their plans are troubling, to say the very least. They have managed to get their hands on two gnoses this far, and there is no telling the lengths they will go to accrue more power and amass influence through sheer intimidation. 

Then, there is the ever-pressing matter of Mondstat’s safety, the increasing organisation of the Abyss and their attacks upon the city. Diluc will go on patrol tonight, but he is starting to think that a survey of the city’s gates this afternoon under the guise of a stroll would not go amiss either.

It is difficult at times to organise the cacophony of concerns in his head and prioritise them accordingly, but it does not occur to him that this unrest may bleed through the cracks of his expression until Aether’s voice snaps his focus back outward.

“Diluc?”

The traveller sits on a barstool before him, leaning over the counter. There is a soft quality to his gaze.  

“Are you alright?” 

Diluc blinks. “Me? I’m quite fine. I was just…thinking, that’s all.” 

“Hm, let me guess. Thinking about…Mondstat’s safety?” 

He huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Perceptive, indeed. Yes I am. Though idleness prevails at this time of year, it would be imprudent for me to let my guard down.” 

“I see.” Aether pauses for a moment, glancing down at his hands where they rest on the counter. “You know, I’ve known people like you before. At least, I think I have. I’ve always admired them, but from what I remember, the one thing they all had in common was their loneliness. So, I guess this is just a long way of saying that if  you  ever need a moment to rest, I’m only a letter away.” 

“I…” Diluc swallows. “I don’t mean to concern you. I really am just thinking. Though I appreciate the offer, don’t allow me or my affairs to trouble you too much.” 

“It’s not that you trouble me. I’m just checking in is all.” A small smile tugs at Aether’s mouth, warm and just a little teasing. “There may not be another darknight hero, but I’m not too shabby with a sword. Just say the word if you ever need my help.” 

Diluc huffs an amused laugh. Though he still doesn’t like the name, he is starting to see the humour in it. 

“…You have my thanks, Aether.” 

Aether beams. It is only when Paimon’s voice reaches them, calling out the traveller’s name at the top of her lungs, that he glances back over his shoulder with a sigh. “I should probably get going now — I promised Paimon I’d take her to the Good Hunter, ‘in the spirit of the Windblume Festival.’ But I’ll see you around.” 

Diluc nods. “I’m not much for festivities, but I’ll be here should you need anything.” 

As he watches Aether make his way toward the tavern entrance he feels some of the tension he’d accumulated throughout the course of the past several weeks begin to evaporate, warded away by a fondness that sinks down to very depths of him and burns bright inside his chest. 

Though he has long accepted that he must face the darkness alone, Aether’s stubborn persistence and continued offers of assistance, they fill an achingly lonely part of him he wasn’t aware even existed to the brim with warmth. 

The following evening finds Diluc outside of the winery, looking out toward the lake in the midst of some introspection. A chill has started to seep in through his clothes, but it is only when Dawn swoops down to land gracefully upon his forearm that he pries his attention away from his thoughts, absently bringing a gloved hand up to stroke over his feathers. 

“What’ve you got there?” he murmurs, as he carefully extracts a bouquet of small lamp grass from his beak, giving him a few more absent-minded pats as he examines the accompanying note. 

Diluc, 

You said you liked lamp grass, so I hope these are okay. I picked them from the whispering woods. 

Though you work from the shadows, I hope you know that I appreciate what you do for Mondstat. 

Happy Windblume Festival! 

Sincerely,

Aether

Diluc shakes his head, eyeing the falcon. “Are you two in cahoots?” 

He receives a low, raspy sound in return, accompanied by a discontented ruffling of feathers. Diluc chuckles and offers a few murmured platitudes, stroking gently over his feathers. 

The Dawn Winery receives an extensive array of gifts during each year’s festival from potential suitors or other noble families, ranging from windblumes to love poetry. Though he ensures that each is met with a cordial letter of thanks, the truth of the matter is that all of those gifts combined do not mean nearly what this hand-picked bouquet of small lamp grass means to him. 

He wonders if this is how it feels to have a friend in someone. 

To Diluc, his birthday is anything but a celebration of the day he was born. 

It is a stark reminder of the day his entire world shattered, that though he tries hard to shoulder his father’s will he is ultimately just attempting to fit the pieces back together and make the world seem right once more.

It is an endless pursuit with no guarantee of success, but it is one that he must put his entire heart and soul into regardless. 

Though he must never settle for anything less than his full devotion, there are answers that will always remain shrouded in fog, forever beyond his reach. 

He does not know how his father came into possession of a dangerous artefact from a hostile organisation, nor whether he intended to use it for good. 

He does not know whether his faith in the knights would be shaken by the events that transpired following his death, whether his belief that the world would never turn its back on the faithful would’ve faltered.

He does not know what his father would think of the person he has become. 

What Diluc does know is that his father held a strong devotion towards Mondstat and his people, and that his faith may not have earned him a vision from the gods, but it will persist in Diluc’s heart so long as it beats. That is the promise he has made to himself. 

His birthday is not a time for celebration, but introspection. A chance to reconnect with his objectives and regain a measure of focus. 

He does not expect the traveller to know this, nor is he troubled by the excitement dancing in his eyes as he approaches Diluc in the town’s plaza. 

Except…Aether does not mention his birthday, he simply informs him that Paimon is out supervising Klee and invites him for a meal at the Good Hunter.

Unexpected still, Diluc does not hesitate in accepting the offer, and the meal passes with no further mention of his birthday. To an onlooker, it would be nothing more than a lunch between acquaintances.

It is this surprise and appreciation that glow inside his chest later on as he sits down before his desk with a quill in hand, the dying sunlight pressing at his curtains. 

This letter does not require any drafts. 

“Paimon says she heard a rumour that the trees in these woods swallow trespassers whole,” Aether says casually, as he runs his fingertips along the bark of a tall pine tree. 

Silence had lapsed between the pair as they’d made their trek through the whispering woods, keeping an eye out for any sign of the mechanisms that seal away the remains of an ancient domain. Given that it’s night, their senses are on high alert. 

Needless to say, Diluc is somewhat amused by the non-sequitur. 

“That may be just about the only truthful rumour she’s heard. My late father used to tell stories of a similar phenomenon occurring in these woods, and I have witnessed it for myself on one occasion. It is said that the whispering that can heard here at night is not merely the leaves rustling, but an ancient presence that is more…nefarious, in nature.” 

The traveller comes to a sharp halt and, for lack of a better description, gapes at him.

“What?” he demands, “why aren’t there more stories about this?” 

Ah. It seems Diluc’s sarcasm did not come across as intended. 

As Aether begins to eye the surrounding trees warily, Diluc finds it increasingly difficult to keep his amusement at bay.  

“I’m joking, of course. I can assure you that these trees are not sentient.” 

Aether doesn’t speak for a moment. 

Then—

“You’re joking?” he asks, incredulous laughter wound through his voice, “I can’t believe I fell for that. Is this how Paimon feels? Seriously, you could fool anyone with that expression.” 

More laughter follows, loud and bright with just a hint of frenzied relief. A faint smile twitches on Diluc’s own lips. 

Aether may be extraordinary in combat, but he is just as extraordinary when his face is rosy from the cold and his eyes are crinkled with laughter, expression illuminated under the moon as its light filters through to the forest floor. 

It is…a surprising realisation. 

Perhaps this will require some further thought.

For the record, Diluc is suspicious of the letter he receives from the very beginning. 

Though, it is rather unprecedented that it is has led him to his current predicament — wandering the lengths of the archipelago islands he wasn’t aware existed until a few days ago. They have been illuminating days, to say the very least. Klee has maintained an enthusiasm throughout it all that exhausts Diluc to even witness. Though, it is rather difficult to not feel even slightly endeared by it. 

Currently, they await the arrival of the fish that will permit the activation of the mechanism necessary to access the required energy shield. Which…are words Diluc never imagined would belong in the same sentence. 

There is no way to gather further intel on the party that has led all of them to these islands and Diluc is not exactly in a position to pick up any work from the Guild at present, which leaves him feeling rather idle. He finds himself gazing out at the open ocean, leant up against a rock formation not far from where Klee, Razor and the traveller are…well. Fishblasting. 

The dying sun plays across the surface of the turquoise water, glittering invitingly as it laps gently at the shore. The warm air is just slightly damp, infused with hints of salt from the sea. Orange streaks the horizon in broad strokes, gradually giving way to dark blue with each second that passes. It is peaceful, there is no denying that, but Diluc does not allow himself to be lulled into any semblance of false security. They still do not know the reason they have been lured here, after all. 

The muffled sound of an explosion close to shore reaches his ears, prompting him to look over with a small amount of alarm. Klee jumps gleefully up and down, while Paimon looks as though she might pass out in mid-air. The traveller’s expression is somewhere between horror and fascination. He watches as Jean jogs up to join the fray, and feels just a little bit assured at the sight. 

Aether must feel his gaze because he turns to meet it, offering Diluc a warm smile and a quick wave. Diluc nods in return, but his gaze does not wander elsewhere even when Aether turns back to observe the chaos. 

In truth, there is not much to do on this island but think, which proves to be a double-edged sword when his thoughts inevitably stray to the very matter that has been pressing at the back of his mind since his trek with Aether through the whispering woods. 

Diluc is not one to put much stock in the appearances of others — they can be deceiving, after all — and he has only ever spared Aether’s appearance a passing thought or two, perhaps when attempting to decipher his facial expressions. Beauty is rather arbitrary, of course, but…he does possess a certain fondness for the way that Aether smiles at him. The smug tilt of his mouth when he knows he’s right, the earnest grin that reaches his eyes when he’s truly excited, or even the warm smile that only just lifts the corners of his mouth, small yet meaningful.

Diluc has always admired him for his capabilities, but he wonders if the feeling tangling itself inside of his chest can be attributed to mere admiration.

…He wonders what he should do with any of this. 

“Look who we have here. Not interested in joining in on the fun, I see.”  

Diluc heaves a sigh. “Fun. That’s one way of putting it.” 

Kaeya leans up against the rock beside him, offering him a smug smile. “Come now, Diluc, surely you don’t plan to brood the night away. There is plenty of fun to be had on an island like this.” 

“I’m not brooding,” he argues, “and I’m not exactly sure what your idea of fun is, but I’d prefer to keep my guard up should anything happen.” 

Kaeya tuts, following his gaze toward the fishblasting that is currently taking place. “You and Jean are more alike than I thought. Always switched on. Surely you must let yourself relax just a little, given the beauty of our surroundings. On my stroll I noticed an array of seashells, scattered all along the shore. I’m sure some good-old-fashioned shell-collecting wouldn’t go amiss, now would it?” 

Diluc exhales slowly. Perhaps the most galling thing about this island is the lack of entertainment to be had for his ever-bored brother. Surely he wouldn’t be this persistent otherwise. 

“My shell-collecting days have long passed,” he settles on saying. “Don’t you have anything better to be doing?” 

Kaeya merely chuckles. “If I had something better to be doing, don’t you think I’d be doing it? My search just now did not prove as fruitful as I would’ve hoped. Now, a search for sea-shells on the other hand…I’m sure that would pass the time rather nicely. Though it’s been quite a few years, surely you remember the basics?” 

Diluc scoffs. “Last I checked, there are no basics to shell-collecting. It’s a rather simple endeavour. I’m surprised you still remember anything from back then.” 

Kaeya goes to respond, but stops himself upon noticing the traveller’s approach, shoes sinking into the sand with every step. His eyes flit between the pair of them curiously.

“Aether,” Diluc greets, mostly to stop any curious comments in their tracks. “Is something troubling you?” 

Aether chuckles, shaking his head as he glances back over his shoulder. “As it turns out, fishblasting is surprisingly violent. I mean, I guess it’s in the name. I’m probably going to take a look around the island and see if I can catch some fish, in a way that keeps them…you know, intact. Paimon is getting pretty hungry, and I don’t exactly like the idea of being stuck on an island with her hunger-induced Paimonial wrath.” 

Diluc nods. “I believe there are a few shallow regions to the west of this island that may prove useful in your search.” 

Kaeya simply watches with folded arms as Aether thanks him and sets off on his search. An ominous feeling starts to brew inside of Diluc, one that he knows is not unfounded when Kaeya grins sharply. 

“My, it seems you two are…how should I put it…rather familiar, Master Diluc. I think that is the closest I have seen you come to a smile since we were young. I can’t help but feel strangely comforted by the fact that he appears to be more than just an assistant now. It even seems to me as though you’ve grown fond of him.”

Diluc breathes in deeply to calm himself. Kaeya always has a way of pressing his every last button. “Kaeya, I hardly think that is any of your concern. Don’t you have seashells to be collecting?” 

Kaeya tuts. “Come now, there is no reason for the frostiness, Master Diluc. I’m the one with a cryo vision, after all. Dare I say that I’m happy you have a…valued acquaintance who doesn’t work for you?” 

“Forget it. If you won’t go, then I will,” says Diluc, as he pushes himself upright and sets off to another part of the island. His heart feels heavy, at the interaction itself or the brief reminder of a sorely-missed past, he is unsure. 

He tends not to let Kaeya’s words follow him, but it is hard not to ponder what they might mean in this particular instance. 

Diluc starts to think he might be in some amount of trouble. 

There is a knock at Diluc’s door, accompanied by a muffled, “Master Diluc?” 

Diluc massages his temples, casting a glance across his desk at the shipment requests he has yet to approve. He sighs faintly.

“Adelinde, there’s no need to knock.” 

The door opens with a quiet swish, and Adelinde tuts. “It’s only polite, Master Diluc. You have a visitor downstairs — shall I let them up?”

Diluc hums. “Who is it?” 

“It’s the traveller,” she answers, “he says he has something important to tell you.” 

He nods, sending another glance toward the window. The sun is already beginning it’s descent toward the horizon. It appears he has been working for longer than he’d thought.

“Tell him that I will be down shortly. Though…by the looks of things, it would appear he is not the only one with something to tell me.” 

Adelinde smiles faintly as she steps into the room, closing the door behind her. She approaches the window, looking out at the vineyard for a moment before drawing the curtains. “You’d be correct. It would seem that last night’s suspect is in the custody of the knights.” 

Diluc nods. “Good. Perhaps they are not wasting every single one of their resources.” 

“That’s not the only thing. You have a meeting this Friday with the informant we discussed. By the outskirts of the Whispering Woods at sundown. I’d advise that you remember it.” She turns to him with a smile. “That’s all. I will inform the traveller that you will be down to see him shortly.” 

Diluc watches as she crosses his room, eyeing the tops of his drawers for dust. 

“Adelinde?” 

She comes to a halt by the doorway. “Yes, Master Diluc?” 

“…In future, should the traveller ever wish to come see me in my quarters, he is permitted. No need for confirmation.” 

Her eyes sparkle curiously, but her expression remains steadfast. “Of course, Master Diluc. I will inform the other maids.”

“Thank you,” he says, turning back toward his desk. 

He takes another minute or two to finish reviewing his current request and sign off on it before standing from his chair and stretching out his limbs. He is just reaching for his coat when there is another knock at his door, this one softer than the last. Diluc wanders forth and opens it, ever so slightly alarmed to find Aether standing before him. 

“Hey Diluc,” he greets, “Adelinde said I had permission to come up, but if you’re busy, that’s—“ he pauses, gaze falling to Diluc’s attire. He blinks rapidly. “…Fine, too.” 

Diluc looks down too, toward the hastily rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt and his waistcoat. 

He shakes his head. Adelinde had clearly taken the liberty of enacting his request immediately. That woman. 

“Aether,” he greets in turn, stepping aside to allow him in, “Forgive my state of dress. I was just reviewing some documents, but I suppose a short break wouldn’t go amiss. Is there something you need?” 

“Forgive your state of dress?” He questions, rather incredulously. “I…” He shakes his head “You know what, it’s fine. Paimon and I have been looking into ways we can enter Inazuma, and I think we’ve found a pretty solid lead. We’re set to leave in a few days, but I remembered that I still have some unfinished business here that I might need your help with.” 

“Oh? Then by all means, I will do what I can. What is it you need assistance with?” 

“I still haven’t won a chess game against you.” 

Diluc stares for a moment. Then, he lets out an amused huff. “…I see. Pressing, indeed.” 

“Very pressing,” Aether agrees, “which is why I’m here for a rematch.” 

He shakes his head, sending a glance toward the clock on the wall. “Well, I suppose a game of chess would constitute a break well-spent. I will fetch the chessboard and we can set up downstairs.” 

Aether grins. “Good, that gives me some time to prepare then. I’ve been practising with Paimon, but…she’s not the most challenging opponent. Usually she gets impatient and finds something else to do.” 

Diluc nods. That does sound like her. 

“Very well. I’ll walk you downstairs then.” 

As expected, their chess game proves to be a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. Diluc’s narrow victory earns him nothing more than an exasperated head shake and a small smile.

“Well, I guess that just gives me a reason to come back for another rematch.” 

Admittedly, those words spark a rather novel feeling of elation inside of his stomach, fluttery and light. 

Goodbyes are not Diluc’s strong suit. 

This time, he does not have to say goodbye. 

The night that Aether is set to arrive in Inazuma, Diluc kneels before the foot of his bed, whispered prayers on his tongue. 

“By the Anemo Archon’s grace, may he remain safe in his travels. May his heart remain unburdened…” he swallows. “May he return.” 

He is fully aware of Aether’s ever-increasing capabilities, the manner in which he conducts himself both in and out of battle. And yet, he is taken in by this newfound urge to do whatever he can to ensure it. 

Is this what affection is? Knowing that someone will be safe but praying for their return regardless?

It seems awfully…troublesome.

The night is still, the moon’s glow shines true. Diluc’s eyes flutter shut. “May he never lose his faith as I did.” 

“A twin?” Diluc questions, in a rare desire for confirmation. He’d remained mostly silent throughout the informant’s message, but this is simply…

“A twin,” she confirms, “though we have limited intelligence beyond that.” 

Diluc feels distinctly as though the ground has fallen out from beneath him. His mind reels, weaving together the possibilities. 

He clears his throat. “Thank you. I will see that the matter you mentioned is handled.”

There is an uneasy pit in his stomach that remains there until dawn, churning relentlessly even as he attempts to sleep.

It is not often that Diluc wishes he were wrong — this might just prove to be the exception.

Sleep does not come easily in Aether’s absence. Not with the thoughts that storm through his head, a chaotic jumble that is hard to parse or make sense of. 

It does not prevent him from attending to his duties, but it does prove to make the rare moments of quiet he does have feel cacophonous. 

The Abyss is an enemy of the human race with a poisonous influence that must be countered at all costs, lest it fester and wreak havoc on Mondstat or even the other seven nations. If Aether’s sister is the so-called “princess“ they speak of and answer to, she will not be an exception to this. 

He does not doubt Aether’s intentions. He recalls the turmoil twisted throughout his face as he’d shared with Diluc his uncertainty regarding what he’d discovered about his sister’s whereabouts.

He does not blame Aether for his reluctance to elaborate, either. Diluc consistently deals in secrets, he knows secrets just as he knows what it means to grieve for a sibling who isn’t dead, what it means to feel hopelessly lost in vast foreign lands. Aether wishes to find the only thing that is truly familiar to him in Teyvat. Diluc…despite his utter distaste for the abyss and everything they stand for…cannot blame him for this either. 

For once, he is unsure where this leaves him.

An awareness that had previously only needled at him in quiet moments seems to be pressing at the forefront of his mind now, inescapable.

The end of Aether’s journey may not find him in Teyvat but among the stars instead, seeking out new horizons. 

It is a realisation that should not be as agonising as it is. 

Diluc had known their paths were ever-diverging from the beginning — they have different objectives, different priorities. Though their paths intertwine from time to time, they are not the same, and time will only sever them further. 

These feelings that he harbours for Aether are not feasible in practise, but he will not let them interfere with an otherwise meaningful friendship. He has far too much respect for Aether to allow it.

Even when night falls and Aether occupies a space in his mind that just about no one else could fill. 

The months trawl by, lost to the steady trickling of time. Diluc’s duties to the guild and to Mondstat remain the same. The Abyss Order maintains a disturbingly active presence around the city, but it is nothing that Diluc cannot handle. 

He receives occasional word from Aether regarding his travels throughout Inazuma, from his frustrations to his triumphs to his concerns. It seems Inazuma’s situation is far more dire than Diluc had previously anticipated. He is conscientious about carving out the time to respond to each letter. 

It is on a warm Friday evening that Aether saunters into the tavern, looking tired to the bone. There is a bard performing tonight, enthralling the patrons with flowery tales of Old Mondstat, so there is naturally a bit of extra bustle. Diluc’s eyes do not leave Aether as he navigates the crowds and approaches the bar, alone. His eyes are weary, restlessly darting about the tavern before finally settling on Diluc. Even his usual braid appears slightly askew, stray locks of golden hair tucked haphazardly behind his ears. 

“Aether,” he greets, gaze sharp and scrutinising. “You’re back.” 

It’s an unnecessary observation, one that Diluc normally wouldn’t deign to make. Of course Aether’s back. But speaking the words aloud, allowing them to settle in the air, it only solidifies the truth in them. 

Aether’s smile tugs his lips upward but rings out hollow. “I am. Did you miss me?” 

Diluc swallows. “My affairs aren’t worth discussion.”

“Your affairs?” Aether echoes, the tilt of his smile taking on a teasing edge. There’s a nonchalance to his conduct that is rather novel. His gaze falls to Diluc’s attire, and his eyebrows raise slightly. “Are you going to apologise for your state of dress, too?” 

Diluc scoffs. “I strongly doubt a tavern full of drunk people are going to have the wherewithal to pay much mind to the dress of their bartender. In any case, my coats are currently being cleaned following…an unfortunate mishap, or two.” 

“Hmm. By the sound of it, maybe your affairs are worth discussion.” 

“Hardly. I am far more intrigued by your affairs.” Diluc glances about at the patrons to ensure that they are adequately distracted before leaning in over the bar, resting his gloved hand by Aether’s. “I’m going to do a patrol by Cider Lake. Come along if you’re interested.” 

Aether blinks rapidly, eyes flitting from their hands up to Diluc’s feigned expression of disinterest. 

“Your ponytail,” he says, “it’s higher than usual. It looks nice.” 

Diluc gives him a strange look, but he cannot deny the way his heart jumps at the words. “…My hair is of little concern or consequence to me, so long as it’s out of the way. If it’s tied higher than usual, then I didn’t notice it.” 

Aether’s responding smile is alarmingly fond. “Ah. Of course.” 

To prevent further discussion of the matter, Diluc approaches Charles to inform him that he has a few matters to attend to outside the tavern. Charles simply offers him a nod, eyes glittering knowingly.

“Of course, Master Diluc.”

Even following sundown, the air holds a gentle warmth that makes their trek along Cider Lake’s perimeter rather pleasant. Of course, during their first round, Diluc’s focus is moreso on scouting for any threats. 

“Are we looking for anything in particular?” Aether asks, brushing his hair away his face with a huff as a breeze untucks the stray strands once more. Diluc doesn’t allow himself to be distracted by the simple action for more than a split second. 

“I overheard some knights mention a particularly troublesome group of abyss mages in the area, influencing the surrounding hillichurls. Their plan was to mobilise extra reinforcements. Seeing as there are no abyssal traces here, it would seem that they have vacated the area on their own, or that their intelligence was inaccurate. I am inclined to think the latter, given their track record.” 

Aether nods, gaze roaming the grassy fields up ahead. “They’re still hanging around Mondstat, then?” 

“Indeed. Their attacks seem to possess an increasing level of organisation. A mere annoyance, for now, but a manageable one. If  you know what you’re doing, that is.” Diluc heaves a sigh, coming to a halt as he observes their surroundings once more. “Since they aren’t anywhere near the city gates, I’m inclined to drop the matter for now. I am, however, still interested to know more about your time in Inazuma.” 

The moonlight casts artful shadows along the angles of Aether’s face as he turns to face Diluc, surprise flickering in his gaze. “Oh? Then maybe we could find somewhere to sit.” 

Diluc considers this. “I suppose we can rest a bit. The area around Cider Lake doesn’t seem like a bad place.” 

From where they end up settling on the grass, they can see the city gates clearly. The ever-rotating windmills, the sharp peaks of the Cathedral and the warm glow that Mondstat emanates amidst its darkened surroundings.

Aether’s expression is partially shrouded from view, but there is a certain calmness in the way he extends his arm out toward the lake, peering at the distorted reflection it casts along the surface. The water ripples, disturbed by a particularly pronounced gust of wind, but Aether’s gaze does not waver. 

“I received your last letter,” Diluc offers, because he feels he should clarify, “I was planning on sending a letter in return tonight.” 

Aether nods, smiling faintly. “I figured. You know about the Vision Hunt Decree, then.” 

Diluc nods. 

“The Fatui were in Inazuma, too,” says Aether, which earns him a small frown.

Although Diluc had received similar intelligence some time ago, that tidbit hadn’t been in Aether’s letters. 

“We shut down their main delusion-manufacturing facility, but…there were still casualties.” His voice is quiet now, thick with a sort of grief that Diluc knows well. To hear it in Aether’s voice has his heart clenching painfully tight. 

“There was nothing you could’ve done,” Diluc informs him, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “Believe me. Delusions are as enticing as they are evil.”

“They were manufacturing them,” Aether says, as though he still doesn’t quite believe it himself, “I watched someone age decades within days. What kind of power does that?” 

“A power that the Fatui will carelessly exploit if it suits their needs. The threat they pose cannot be understated. The havoc they will wreak on the seven nations if they are left to accrue sufficient power…” Diluc shakes his head. He can feel his own hands trembling with a rage that feels molten inside his chest, spreading across his ribcage and clambering his throat quicker than he can temper. 

It is one thing to know that Aether may encounter the absolute worst that humanity has to offer in his journey, but it is another thing entirely to be at peace with it. 

“No one seems to care,” Aether says, when the silence festers for a moment too long. 

“Though it may not seem like it, there are plenty of people working from the shadows to address the threat that the Fatui poses, and plenty more beyond that, I’m sure. It is my personal belief that they will not succeed.” He pauses here, takes in the way Aether peers over the water’s edge, refusing to meet his gaze. He softens ever so slightly. “Don’t let it trouble you too much. You have done well in shutting down a good part of their operations in Inazuma, even if it doesn’t feel that way.” 

Aether shakes his head. Diluc catches the faintest smile on his lips as he leans back, resting his weight on his open palms. “Just another side-venture, right?” 

Diluc huffs. “Yes. I suppose there are plenty of them along any worthwhile journey.” 

“At the moment, it doesn’t feel like they’re bringing me any closer to the truth.” 

“Perhaps not directly,” Diluc agrees, “but I believe there is still value in them, occasionally.”

Aether nods. He hesitates, before saying, “it sounds like you know a lot about delusions.”

Diluc’s gaze falls toward his gloved palms. If they were to be removed, one would see a distinctly shaped scar along his left wrist, a wound that will remain fresh for as long as he lives, left there by the delusion he’d wielded for years. His chest tightens, grief twisting itself up inside of it. “Yes. I have had my encounters with them,” he says evenly. 

When he looks up, Aether has finally turned away from the water. His expression is not one of pity but of understanding, one that softens the lines of his face. Diluc is not quite sure how to feel about it. 

Silence lapses between them, and he cannot help the way his eyes are consistently drawn away from their darkened surroundings toward Aether. He has given up on trying to tame his hair — the loosened strands fall across his face, made frizzy by occasional gusts of wind. The moon’s glow slants across one half of his face, illuminates the amber of his eyes as they take in the lake with a mute sort of introspection. For a moment, Diluc wants nothing more than to close the respectful gap between them and tuck those strands away behind his eyes, he wants to find out what Aether looks like up close, dizzied by kisses. 

His eyes flutter shut as he carefully reigns in that part of himself. It is unproductive, giving wishful fantasies the freedom to flourish. 

“You’re not of this world,” he says, before he can second-guess the words or allow logic to temper them. 

Aether’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he does not deny it. He simply hums. “Not originally, no.” 

“Then, you’ve seen the universe beyond Teyvat,” Diluc continues, urged on by his own curiosity, “if I may be so bold…how does it compare?” 

Aether takes his time in responding, clearly turning the words over in his head. “It’s hard to say. I don’t remember everything — there are faces, places, some names, some feelings…some battles. But they sort of feel incomplete.” He pauses once again, turning his head to meet Diluc’s gaze. “I like the people I’ve met here.” 

Diluc has to look away, lest his expression give away any hint of how he feels in this moment, heart thumping away furiously inside his chest. 

“I’m glad,” he says, and he means it. 

He still feels Aether’s gaze on him. 

“I’m glad too.” 

When Aether’s birthday comes around, Diluc intends to make a trek to Mondstat in the late afternoon and wish him well in person. However, just as he is readying himself to leave, he hears a quiet yet steady knock at his door that sounds awfully like Aether’s. He frowns as he approaches, opening it carefully. 

Sure enough, it is Aether that stands upon his doorstep, eyes bright with excitement. He appears to have a teapot in his clutches. 

He cheerily informs Diluc that he has something to show him. 

On his birthday, Diluc might add. 

“…Very well. Would you like to come in, or is this something that will require us to walk there?” 

Aether holds up his teapot. “It’s right here.” 

Diluc blinks. He examines the teapot from where he stands, but it seems rather…ordinary to warrant any sort of excitement. Perhaps it’s from Liyue or Inazuma? A historical artefact of some kind? 

His questions must be present on his face, because Aether’s expression is amused. “Well, it’s not the actual teapot itself, it’s more like…well, you’ll see. All you have to is touch it.” 

Touch it?

The possibility that this is a dangerous artefact of some kind flits briefly through his mind, but it is quelled just as quickly by the trust he has in Aether. 

He huffs. “I take it I should at least close the doors before I do this?” 

Aether chuckles, just a little sheepish. “That might be a good idea.” 

Diluc does so, before turning back to this mysterious teapot. When he reaches out to press his fingers to the ceramic, the world promptly closes in around him. His stomach swoops as he’s dropped onto a grassy island, beyond which lies an extensive blue sky and a horizon that seems just about endless. Aether soon drops down beside him, landing lightly on his feet. 

“…Is this a domain?” is the first question to leave Diluc’s mouth.

He turns his gaze toward the mansion that towers high before him, the winding cobblestone path that leads to its patio. There are various species of trees towards the outskirts of the island, some native to Mondstat and some not.

“Remember what I told you about adepti? Well, this is pretty much an adeptal realm. Peaceful, right?” 

Diluc’s eyes narrow. “Suspiciously so.” 

Aether laughs, bright and amused. It’s a nice look for him. “It’s safe, I promise. Paimon and I have been sleeping here for a while, and we haven’t had any unwanted intruders yet.” 

“I see. While that doesn’t necessarily guarantee this realm’s freedom from nefarious presence, I suppose I can take your word for it.” His eyes find the neatly kept shrubbery framing the cobblestone path, the water fountain to their far left. “It’s…nice.” 

Aether smiles. “Don’t go too crazy with the praise, now.”

Though the outside of the mansion is impressive, the interior does not lack its charm either. Aether skips a couple of rooms in his tour of the place, presumably because they belong to other people, but it is increasingly apparent just how much meticulous planning and loving deliberation went into each and every detail of the place. It is when they reach a particular window upstairs, framed by dark oak and carved into with intricate patterns, that Aether pauses. 

“This is what I actually wanted to show you,” he says, gesturing toward the window. 

Diluc steps forth, eyes finding the smaller building that lies on the opposing end of the island. It is out of the way, perhaps deliberately so, its exterior design drawing from Dawn Winery in several places. The brickwork of the roof, the rounded windows, the oak framing. Even the placement of the gas lamps. 

“I was going to make you a room, like all the other ones, but…after we had that conversation at the tavern where I was checking in, I started to notice how hard you always work, and I thought it might be nice to have a place away from winery and tavern if you ever needed to rest.” 

Diluc takes the information in carefully, mind reeling. “You made that for me?” he clarifies, rather pointlessly, because the implication of Aether’s words is crystal clear. 

“Well…unless you know any other Darknight heroes around these parts.” 

He looks over at Aether, who meets his gaze with a teasing smile. A warm sort of fondness tangles itself up inside his chest, and it doesn’t stop there — it expands rapidly, until he feels almost jittery with it, overwhelmed. It’s a novel feeling, one that he doesn’t quite know how to channel. So, he blurts, “thank you, Aether,” just to say something, and hopes it’s enough to convey the degree of his gratefulness. 

Aether’s smile softens. “Of course. Though…maybe you should save that until you see the inside.” 

As expected, Diluc’s gratefulness does not dissipate even slightly upon seeing the interior of the place, every carefully placed detail. From the chessboard in the corner of the living space to the small kitchen stocked with grape juice and the blend of tea that he’d offered to Aether many months ago. 

A central fireplace crackles away, and the chandelier above their heads casts a warm glow across the room that isn’t grating in any capacity. Diluc wonders if he’d made his dislike toward harsher, brighter lights apparent at some point during their time together, or whether it’s simply a coincidence. Either way, his eyes skim the desk in the corner, the stocked parchment paper, the inkpots and the gas lamp, and appreciation curls even further inside his heart. 

“Thank you,” he says again, because he feels he should, “it’s wonderful. And on your birthday too…” he shakes his head. “Whatever you wish for, if it’s within my power to bestow, I will. Just say the word.” 

“Anything?” Aether hums thoughtfully. “Even another rematch?” 

Diluc smiles faintly. That is indeed well within his power to provide. 

Though the flow of time seems to be somewhat skewed within this realm, it is not perpetually day as Diluc had initially thought. Gradually, various shades of orange engulf the cloudless sky, followed then by deeper blues. 

Aether had been elated to win his first chess match, though it had been accompanied by a healthy dose of suspicion (“you didn’t let me win because it’s my birthday, did you?”) Diluc had, in fact, not lost on purpose, though Aether’s victory comes as no surprise to him. He has been steadily improving, after all. 

Currently, Aether is attempting to demonstrate an Inazuman style of dance that he’d witnessed during this time there, his mug of tea long abandoned. Diluc watches from his chair with no small amount of amusement. 

“And she — well, she sort of went like this—“ he curtsies, holding up an imaginary skirt. 

Diluc shakes his head. “By no means am I an expert on Inazuman styles of dance, but…I have my doubts concerning the authenticity of this demonstration. If I had to compare it to anything, it might be Venti’s attempts to walk after his seventeenth bottle of wine.” 

Aether mouth drops open in surprise, hands coming up to rest on his hips. His incredulity quickly gives way to a deadpan expression, however, eyebrows raised in an unimpressed fashion. Diluc is forced to smother a smile with the palm of his hand. 

“What kind of dance are you an expert in then, Master Diluc?” Aether taps his chin in exaggerated thought. “Hm, let me guess…I’ve heard about those fancy events that the Dawn Winery hosts from time to time. Maybe…ballroom dancing?” 

He sidesteps about the room in loose circles, arms wrapped around the back of an imaginary partner. Diluc’s gaze falls to his footing, and he cannot help but shake his head. It appears Aether would be trampling all over his partner’s feet. 

“I’m acquainted,” Diluc confirms, “Too acquainted, perhaps. I received numerous lessons growing up.” 

Aether halts his movements, turning to face him. He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Say…you said whatever I wish for, if it was within your power to bestow, you’d give. Right?” 

Diluc has a strange feeling he knows exactly where this line of thought is going. “I hardly think ballroom dancing is a valuable use for your time or effort.” 

“It might come in useful,” Aether argues, “if I’m…undercover, and I have to know it to blend in or…” he seems notice Diluc’s deadpan expression here, because he chuckles. “I’m just curious, that’s all. Kaeya told me about this thing you’d do sometimes when you were younger—“

“For future reference, you can only trust about half of what Kaeya says, at best—“

“Where you would twirl your dance partner.” Aether’s eyes are alight with mirth. “And then Vile told me about this one time when—“

“Vile,” Dark mutters darkly, shaking his head. “Kaeya’s informant. That woman.” 

Aether’s expression softens just a fraction, but his smile is still amused. “Just one twirl?” 

Diluc heaves a sigh. “I’m not much for dancing. But…I suppose, only because it’s your birthday, I can humour your request.” 

He stands from his chair, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up absently as he extends a gloved hand toward Aether. Aether doesn’t hesitate, though his eyes dart quickly from Diluc’s rolled sleeves to their hands. Nervous, perhaps. Though Diluc cannot fathom why. 

“Follow my lead,” he says. 

Aether nods. “I can do that.” 

Diluc lifts his left arm slightly to Aether’s right, guiding him under his arm. He keeps his hand centred above Aether’s head as he follows the wordless prompt, turning to his right. Diluc moves so that they’re facing once Aether completes the twirl, a smile twitching on his lips. 

“Well what do you know. I just got twirled.” 

Aether’s footing throughout his turn has landed him rather close to Diluc, who has dropped Aether’s hand but is struggling to step away fully. Propriety would dictate that a more friendly gap exist between them at this moment, but he’s slightly hung up on the way Aether looks softened by the chandelier’s glow, amber eyes shining. 

“Do you twirl people often?” he asks playfully.

Diluc exhales from his nose, glancing away for a moment. “Not recreationally. Though I suppose you’re an obvious exception. As you usually are.” 

Aether swallows, and Diluc cannot help but follow the motion with his eyes. The tenuous threads of his willpower are bending further with each second that passes, buckling beneath a warm weight of his own creation. 

Aether’s eyes dart across his face. He is usually never one to hesitate, but Diluc can see it written into the lines of his expression now. Perhaps Diluc is imagining the increased rise and fall of his chest. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you know how the things you say sound,” he murmurs. 

“Oh?” the syllable is breathless even to his own ears. He should take a step back, he knows, should stop whatever is currently happening in its tracks. His heart is a thundering drumbeat inside his ears. His mouth opens again, and the words that come out are: “and how do they sound?” 

Diluc watches the hesitation as it plays across Aether’s features, followed by careful consideration. 

“Like you mean them,” he says, and it’s clearly not what he’d initially been thinking, but Diluc decides to let it slide. Possibly because there’s an array of emotions tangling themselves inside his chest and it’s hard to straighten them out, let alone get a handle on them the way he should. 

Still, the words make him frown. “Why would I waste my words on something I didn’t mean?”

“You wouldn’t,” Aether agrees, “that’s what I like about you.” He pauses. “There are lots of things I like about you.” 

Diluc exhales, surprised. His heart is beating so furiously inside his ribcage now it might just burst forth from his chest. He brings a hand up to cup the side of Aether’s face, takes a moment to bask in the contact, at the way Aether sways forward slightly to lean into it. He swipes his thumb gently along his cheekbone, watches the way his eyes flutter and close. He takes the opportunity to remove his hand for just a moment, tugging his glove off before he can regret it and bringing his hand back to rest Aether’s face. He noticeably exhales, eyes fluttering open once more at the contact to meet Diluc’s. 

For the most fleeting of moments he thinks that if Aether so much as asked, he’d traverse every corner of Teyvat with him. For a moment, he wishes for that their paths were more than intertwined, but inseparably linked. Not because Aether needs him but because he wants him, because he wants Diluc as much as Diluc wants him.

Then, the reality floods in, cold as it washes down his spine and grips his chest. Diluc is bound to Mondstat by duty, by not only his own faith but his father’s faith, his vision for what it could be, free from the threats that plague this world. Aether’s journey is entirely separate to his own, it is one that could ultimately see him facing up against beings more ancient than Teyvat itself, one that could see him facing up against his own sister.

Diluc could close the gap between them now and press his lips to Aether’s, but that would only create conflict for him in every moment proceeding it, would only make it harder for him to leave Mondstat and follow the path he is forging for himself, the path Diluc has encouraged him to forge.

His heart is heavy as he steps back, draws a line in the metaphorical sand that Aether picks up on immediately if the way his expression crumbles is any indicator. It hits Diluc, then, that there’s a good chance his affections are returned, which only makes this decision all the more agonising. 

He shakes his head. He’d let his desires get the better of him and landed them both here, standing just a few feet away with unbearable silence closing in on them at all angles. On Aether’s birthday, no less. 

Diluc wonders if he should say something, to confirm his own theories rather than giving into pure speculation, but Aether speaks before he can get the chance to. 

“I kept your letter,” he says. “The one you sent on your birthday. It…means a lot to me. They all do.” 

Diluc nods. “I’m grateful that you keep in touch. If the urge should ever strike you, I’d be glad to receive your letters at anytime.” 

“I will,” Aether promises. “I’m leaving for Inazuma again in a few days — I have some business there. But I’ll write to you when I can.” He smiles faintly. “You have a nice falcon. Only scratched me twice.”

Diluc huffs. “He’s susceptible to that on occasion. So long as you avoid startling him, he’s perfectly well behaved.” 

“Guess I’ll direct Paimon out of the vicinity next time then,” Aether notes with a snort. 

He offers Diluc a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you for humouring me.”

“It was only fair, given that it’s your birthday.”

Diluc means to say something more, to address what had just occurred and clear the air between them, but the words to do so die inside of his throat. For once in his life, perhaps at one of the worst possible moments, he is at a loss for words. 

Dear Aether, 

I will attempt to keep his concise, for clarity’s sake. Perhaps the timing of this letter may seem inappropriate, given the days that have already passed — I apologise. I have every confidence that your capabilities will not suffer on account of these matters, but I hope this will provide clarity nonetheless. 

I mentioned in a previous letter that you have many admirable qualities. I have come to realise over the course of the past year that you have more than simply admirable qualities; you are an admirable person, someone who receives respect without commanding it. This is why I know that you will continue to conduct yourself as you normally would, despite what happens. Truth be told, I am inclined to do the same. But I cannot allow this to hang over our heads. 

Upon reflection, I am forced to conclude that the feelings I harbour for you cannot be attributed to my admiration for your capabilities. You have proven yourself to be skilled in combat, certainly, but you have also proven yourself to be generous, compassionate and trustworthy. A valued friend. 

Our paths are intertwined, but they are not the same. Admittedly, I have struggled with the idea as of late. I have a great amount of respect for you and your journey, so much so that I cannot allow my affections to interfere with it. You will face obstacles ahead, of that I’m certain, but you will always have a place at Dawn Winery to rest should you decide to visit Mondstat. I am bound to this city, by duty and choice simultaneously; you, however, are not. Your priority is your sister, and it is an understandable one. One that I would never dream of pulling you away from, even unwittingly.

With all of this said, it seems I am forced to conclude one final thing: I love you. But I do not expect you to return the feeling, or even acknowledge it going forward. I know it is in your nature to be selfless, but I’d advise that you don’t let this matter trouble you, should it hinder your journey in any capacity. 

Irrespective of everything disclosed in this letter, you will first and foremost be a trusted companion. You will always have a place in Mondstat, and you will always be able to seek out my assistance, should you ever need it. Simply say the word. 

I look forward to your future letters, and hope this one will not trouble you too deeply. 

Yours,

Diluc

There is hesitation in Diluc’s heart, even as he attaches the letter to Dawn’s leg, but it is far outweighed by the hardened resolve that settles over him, that brings his thoughts into clarity. 

He owes Aether the truth, regardless of what that truth might mean for Diluc. He has witnessed Aether’s determination on numerous occasions; it is time he demonstrated his own resolve. 

There is no turning back once Dawn has taken flight, and Diluc watches him through his open window until his form has disappeared into the horizon, long gone. 

He sits, and he waits, and he dares not hope.