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Kaeya doesn’t have a concrete reference point for family. He has, at best, a vague idea of what it might mean to have someone scrub your dirty cheeks and nanny little scraped knees, to be shooed away from conversations you don’t understand into a warm embrace and an apron pressed to your face that smells of fresh-baked bread.
He recalls a strange mansion, corridors lined with paintings of family members, all with a stark resemblance to each other: palest skin and reddest hair. Even earlier, he recalls a permanent sense of unease, learning all the best places to hide his tiny body just in case, darling. There has never been a place he could just easily, safely belong.
Childe wraps an arm around Kaeya’s shoulder and pulls him close. His voice is confident and steady amongst Kaeya’s uncertain expectations for this trip to Snezhnaya—this trip to Childe’s hometown of Morepesok.
“Kaeya, they’ll love you. It’s going to be okay.”
In the rare moments Childe has spoken of his family, it’s always with mixed emotions. His obvious, enthusiastic affection when he dotes on his younger siblings vanishes when he mentions his older brother, sister, or parents. In its place is a careful restraint that suggests a loaded kind of history.
Kaeya doesn’t know what to anticipate. He’s never been brought home to anyone’s parents before.
Morepesok is a small coast-side town. In Snezhnaya, this means that while there are crashing waves, they bring ice instead of shells, huge shards and sheets of it that wash up onto the shore and linger like strange, sea-dark crystals. As they navigate the backroads, a small home made of logs comes into view down the valley, with a hay-covered roof and thick smoke billowing from the chimney. The sight of it, of that warmth set against icy white and their quiet Fatui transport, gives Kaeya a measure of hope that maybe Childe is correct. Maybe this will go well.
When they pull up and exit, the welcoming parade begins. A young boy Kaeya assumes to be Teucer is first out the door, sprinting as fast as he can and throwing himself into Childe’s waiting arms. Childe lifts him, spinning and laughing with delight. It’s a sweet moment of reunion, and a side of him that always brings a smile to Kaeya’s face.
It doesn’t last. Childe’s mother appears at the door, and with her comes a noticeable change in the atmosphere. She greets her son with a silent, solemn nod, and Kaeya doesn’t miss the way Childe’s posture stiffens. He sets Teucer down and turns away to gather their luggage without a word.
Inside, it’s nothing like the Ragnvindr Mansion had been. The house is clean but full, no sterility to be found amidst the trinkets and scarves and beautiful objects that line the walls, decorate stacked-full bookshelves, and make up a centrepiece at the table.
“Sit, make yourself at home,” Childe offers. “I’ll take our bags upstairs to my old room.” He turns to his mother and says something in Snezhnayan that Kaeya does not understand, and the change in his tone is stark. He spoke to Kaeya with only warmth. He speaks to his mother with something much more restrained.
She pours from an old ornamental teapot while she addresses Kaeya. “Do you take your tea black?”
Childe kisses the crown of Kaeya’s head as he leaves them, and Kaeya catches the way his mother stiffens at the sight, barely managing to catch herself before anything spills.
Unsettled by this unknown dynamic, he just nods politely and introduces himself. “Thank you. My name is Kaeya. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She doesn’t respond. When the odd silence stretches too far, he tries again, falling back on easy compliments and a wide smile. “Your home is beautiful.”
More silence, and Kaeya shifts in his seat, wary of the instinctual humour he would usually respond with. He’s never received such a chilly reception before—but then, he wouldn’t know if this is typical for such a meeting.
“You,” Childe’s mother finally says. “You are his partner, yes?”
Kaeya nods again and reaches for the teacup, seeking something to do with his hands. He traces the blue design with a thumb, soothing his nerves with heat and a fruity aroma.
“You are Fatui, but foreign?”
He politely takes a sip—it’s bitter, but not unpleasantly so. “No, I’m a Knight from Mondstadt’s Ordo Favonius. I met your son on duty there.”
She frowns, leaning her hip against the counter, and Kaeya can’t decide if she’s wearing an expression of thinking or of disapproval. “He made trouble for you?”
Kaeya chuckles wryly, “Ah… yes, at first. But he’s too much of a sweetheart for me to stay mad.”
This time, he knows it is surprise that crosses her face. The realisation solidifies when she turns away and murmurs, “Sweetheart…” and then more words he does not understand.
He’s saved from further awkward conversation by Childe’s descent and interruption in the form of a warm hand on Kaeya’s shoulder and an affectionate kiss brushed across his cheek. “The younger ones are out back with Father. Shall we go meet them properly?”
Outside there is whooping and screaming and children bouncing joyously around a huge beige whale, clearly hand-crafted from some kind of hemp, hanging from an icy tree branch in the backyard.
The children wave big sticks as they approach, yelling an excited chorus of, “Come on, big brother!” and “Look what we made!” and “It’s time to open your gift!”
Childe’s smile at the sight is contagious. Kaeya squeezes his hand and steps back, and he crouches by his siblings, ruffling hair and giving one-armed hugs. Teucer hands a stick to Childe with a proud grin as Tonia carefully wraps a towel around his eyes. “No peeking!” She demands, and they shout excitedly as Childe readies up to swing.
Childe’s father approaches Kaeya, and Kaeya mentally braces for a similarly uncomfortable reception.
“You are his lover?”
Before them, Childe swings comically wide, deliberate missing. The children cheer, and Kaeya exhales a sharp laugh at the direct question. “Kaeya Alberich, pleased to meet you, sir.” Childe’s father’s handshake is a crushing grip that makes him bury a wince. “—and yes, I am.”
The man scans Kaeya assessingly. “You are dangerous.”
Kaeya doesn’t know how to react, so he keeps his pasted smile and simply shrugs. “Aren’t we all, these days?”
“You are dangerous like him.” He angles his head towards Childe as he speaks, finally releasing Kaeya’s hand.
“Your son is good to me,” Kaeya says, polite but firm. He doesn’t understand why Childe’s parents speak of him with such distance, but he’s picking up an impression of some kind of disappointment that doesn’t sit well in his stomach. “I try to be good to him in return.”
Childe’s father crosses his arms and stares Kaeya down. In the background, there are shrieking cheers, and Kaeya assumes the whale has been broken. He does not look away until there is a hand at his back and lips pressed to his temple. Kaeya observes the way surprise crosses the old man’s features before he turns to kiss Childe properly, as defiant and loving as possible.
“Eeew, cooties!” He hears, and smiles into their embrace. When he leans back, Childe’s eyes are shining.
Childe brushes his mouth across Kaeya’s hand and grins. “Come now, it’s not cooties when it’s with someone as pretty as Kaeya!”
The loud consideration from the younger ones makes both of them laugh. When Kaeya glances back at Childe’s father, he finds something thoughtful in his expression.
That night, dinner is served formally with the whole family. The table is set with a white lace tablecloth and dishes placed in a small array. Colourful vegetables in a variety of creamy sauces surround the main course of moderately-sized fish fillets. A thousand Ragnvindr etiquette rules run through Kaeya’s mind as he subtly emulates the way Childe reaches for food, the utensils he uses, and the dishes he gravitates towards.
“Sometimes we serve fish with heavy sauce, but when it’s this fresh it’s always best with something lighter,” Childe says with a wink, clearly forced, reaching for a slice of thick-cut, seed-dense bread.
Childe’s mother asks, “Kaeya, how do you cook fish in Mondstadt?”
He answers honestly. “Oh, I’m a terrible chef. It’s exclusively Ajax who keeps us well-fed.”
He’s just decided to try a fillet when she continues. “And he has not burnt your kitchen down?”
Kaeya stabs the fish harder than necessary as he brings it over to his plate. His smile feels brittle on his face. So this is how it is. “He’s amazing in our kitchen. You’d be impressed at how well he navigates an apartment-sized—”
“Apartment? You are old now.”
Kaeya clenches his jaw. “Ajax chose to move in with me, though he obviously did not lack the funds to purchase land outside the city if he so wished.”
“He could settle down closer to home,” Childe’s father says with a frown.
“He holds regular swimming lessons for the children in Mondstadt, and they love him.”
“Ah, Teucer, did you want some fish?”
“No, it’s okay, big brother.”
Childe sets a hand on Kaeya’s thigh just as his mother rubs at her temples and sighs. “You’re still choosing to—” the rest of the sentence drops to Snezhnayan, far beyond Kaeya’s broken ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. He feels Childe’s hand clench and spasm, and his appetite is reduced to ash.
Childe’s voice is weary. “Mother, where do you think the money comes from—”
Kaeya stands, scraping his chair loudly against the ground. He sets his utensils down and grits out, “I appear to have lost my appetite. Thank you for the meal.”
Kaeya doesn’t feel the bitter cold when he steps outside, not until the fury inside him has dissipated. He wraps his arms around himself and looks up at the starry sky.
“Hey.” He hears Childe’s voice and feels a warm palm on the back of his neck. Kaeya thinks Childe might tell him off for his behaviour, for sticking his nose into family business. He thinks he would even deserve it. But Childe doesn’t admonish him, he just tugs Kaeya into a tight embrace. “You’re not alright... What can I—”
Kaeya turns in his arms. “I adore you,” he whispers, and Childe’s eyes shine.
His lips are even warmer than his touch.
Kaeya spends the rest of their visit with a firm goal in mind. He dedicates his focus to Childe: staying by his side as he interacts with his siblings, being more overtly affectionate than he would normally be. With the way Childe sometimes pauses to search his gaze, Kaeya thinks he knows exactly why.
On their last night in Snezhnaya, Kaeya struggles to sleep. Childe is wrapped around him in a snug bundle of limbs and soft breath, and the bed is comfortably dressed in clean linens and blankets. Kaeya should be resting, but his brain won’t slow down.
Why do Childe’s own parents look at him like a stranger? Why are they so wary of him? Kaeya was prepared to be interrogated by a family defending their son. Instead, he feels the need to defend Childe from them.
It keeps him up all night, and when birdsong filters through the window he finally gives up. Kaeya detangles himself and makes his way downstairs in search of tea. He finds Childe’s mother already awake and the kettle starting to whistle.
“You don’t sleep?” She asks, pouring him a cup.
“Even with him, sometimes it is difficult.”
Kaeya murmurs his thanks and, not wishing to spend any time alone with her, heads outside. It’s brisk, but by the bench there are blankets he can wrap himself in, and the tea warms him from the inside out. As he sits in silence, he wonders if there has ever been such a thing as an easy, happy family. These thoughts are interrupted by the creak of the door opening.
Childe’s father joins him, steepling his fingers as he sits. When he speaks, it sounds practised, stilted. “Ajax is difficult. When he was young, he was… dangerous. Once the Fatui took him, he stopped being my son.”
Kaeya exhales a long, hard breath. He knows he is too tired for the smile he wears to be believable. “You’re wrong. He never stopped being your son.”
Childe’s father tilts his head back, and Kaeya can see a weary lifetime in his lined features. “...With the young ones, and with you, he is again.”
Kaeya does not back down. “No, Ajax is always your son. It doesn’t matter who he’s with—me, his siblings... you. And it doesn’t matter what he’s doing, either.” His tone stays firm. “He’s your son. Always. Every part of him.”
There is no response given to his words. After a while, Kaeya breaks their gaze to return to his tea. It’s cold.
He stands and folds the blankets, returning them to their place underneath the bench. “I don’t have a family anymore.” Kaeya’s gaze traces the blooming gold that peeks over the treetops of this quiet, secluded space. It’s peaceful here. “Don’t make your son an orphan before you have to,” he murmurs, and heads inside.
Childe sleepily opens his arms when Kaeya slides back into bed, and he doesn’t ask what he was doing between the kisses he presses to Kaeya’s crown.
Later that morning, Childe reminds the kids that he and Kaeya are leaving in the evening, and amidst cries of dismay Tonia insists on braiding Kaeya’s hair before they go. They spend the rest of the day like that, with his younger siblings: Childe playing a card game Kaeya has never seen before while tiny, determined fingers carefully weave a complicated plait down his back.
“Come back soon, pretty brother,” Tonia demands of him, tying off her hard work as the boys start arguing over whether they can add a new rule halfway through the game.
She holds up a hand mirror and Kaeya turns to see that she’s woven small purple lilies all through the length of his hair, each twist careful and precise. He’s never seen anything like this before. It’s beautiful. He scoops her up and kisses her cheek, and they draw the attention of the rest when she bursts into delighted giggles.
Once they are packed to leave, bags at the door and arms full of home-baked treats, letters and gifts, Childe’s mother joins them at the threshold.
“Next time you visit, tell me what he eats. I will not make fish.”
Kaeya blinks, wondering after a delayed beat if he's reading her correctly now. Childe is halfway to slinging a bag over his shoulder when the meaning similarly clicks. He stops, staring at her. “No, Mother, the problem wasn’t— The fish weren’t—”
Kaeya leans against Childe and wraps an arm around his waist. “Why don’t we have your son cook instead?”
Her smile is kinder than expected, revealing hidden laugh lines and slightly crooked teeth. “I think… that will be nice.”