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The thing is, Kaeya knows from the beginning that he's screwed this up beyond repair.
He knows it from the moment it becomes apparent that it's bandits that he's crossed paths with, and not the nobility he had been told to watch for. He knows it from the leaves on the trees, changing from green to golden the farther they travel. He knows it when the uniformed people that slay the bandits look nothing like the knights he'd been taught to recognize.
The uniformed people — Millelith — take him to a city by the water. When they ask, he gives them the same story he'd prepared for the noble whose home he's supposed to infiltrate: that he'd been traveling with his father, and parted ways with him when his father had left to get some juice for the road.
As Kaeya waits in their stuffy office, a woman with long, fluffy-looking blue hair and strange, horn-like ornaments framing the crown of her head sweeps in, a large stack of files in her arms. She doesn't notice him at first — but when her gaze eventually drifts to him, it lingers.
Her eyes widen with something almost like recognition, as they fixate on the four-pointed star in his eye — and the more he stares, the more obvious it is that there are no ornaments in her hair, but actual horns .
She steps towards him, haltingly — and then drops into a crouch so that she's looking directly into his eye. His breath catches in his throat as she reaches out and cups his face, smoothing away his hair as she does so and then rubbing his cheek with her thumb — but he does not dare to look away.
"Oh dear..." she says, mournfully. "You're so young."
The horned woman introduces herself as Ganyu . She's patient with him as he stumbles through the same story he'd told the Millelith; even as her eyes narrow in clear disbelief, she does not say a word.
When he finishes, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply. "Please understand that I have no intentions of hurting you," she says, calmly. "I understand that that may be hard to believe, given your... situation. But it's the truth, all the same."
There's something terrifying, about the depth of that understanding — as terrifying as her gentleness, despite the fact that she has to know .
—because gods are never gentle . It’s a fact that’s been drilled into him repeatedly in the years leading up to this mission, and Ganyu will not shake it. There is nothing gentle in those with the power to lay waste to an entire civilization — there never will be.
"Clearly," she says, "you've been forced to carry burdens far too heavy for someone so little."
... what is he supposed to say to that? That it makes no difference, so long as the job is completed? That he isn't supposed to care, one way or the other, so long as Khaenri'ah triumphs in this?
"I won't ask you for specifics," says Ganyu, "but for the time being, I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in Liyue. If nothing else, this land was built so that even someone like you can find happiness and success here.”
Liyue, a land ruled by contracts... he knows it on a theoretical level, from what he's studied, but all of that knowledge pales in comparison to the prospect of actually living here, forced to contend with the scope of his failure day after day as this woman, utterly terrifying in her divinity, watches his every step.
—and though she doesn't say it aloud, it's obvious all the same: he will not be allowed to leave.
Somehow, it's a simple matter to find him a more permanent place to stay than the Millelith's barracks.
The family Ganyu introduces him to is a nice one, living in a large house not too far away from Yujing Terrace: a couple, Shirong and Siqi, who are easy with their smiles, careful with Kaeya in a way that he doesn’t quite expect, and a daughter around his age, Keqing, with purple hair tied up in two intricate-looking buns at the top of her head.
With a wave of his hand, Shirong beckons his daughter to come closer. "This is Kaeya," he says, gently. "He's going to be staying with us for a little while."
Ganyu speaks to them of bandits, of kidnappings that would see children torn far, far away from their homes — everything that would make sense for any child but Kaeya. Shirong and Siqi buy it, of course — every bit of this story has been perfectly fabricated to endear him to this family, just as Kaeya's would have been had he had the chance to tell it to the nobles he should have met in Mondstadt.
Then something taps him abruptly on the shoulder. Though he regrets it immediately afterward, he's powerless against the flinch that sends his heart racing into his throat. "Come," says Keqing, in a voice that brokers no room for argument as she extends her hand towards him. "Let's get something to eat.”
It's... not what was expected of him. It's even farther than he ever expected of his stay in this world... but she's smiling at him, and her parents seem nice, and Ganyu is still so, so careful with him even though someone like her has every reason not to be.
Maybe... maybe this is okay, for the time being.
Kaeya nods, and slips his hand into hers.
The thing is, there's a reason he was supposed to go to Mondstadt.
It's a decision that had been made after years of careful observation: Mondstadt's Archon truly is absent, at least from the land's day-to-day affairs. While all Archons can be expected to watch over their respective realms in some capacity, Barbatos is downright negligent about it in a way that the others are not — and that, in turn, makes Mondstadt the optimal location to carry out the ancient plot, when the day comes.
—but Liyue is nothing like that. Liyue prides itself on the gods' presence and continued involvement in the land. Ganyu's discreet, and she clearly doesn't like to flaunt her divinity — but the same cannot be said for other such beings.
There are the deities — Adepti — who dwell in the mountains. ("What respect do we owe them," Keqing asks the tutor, "when they can't even stand to be with us humans?") There are Yaksha, or perhaps just the one that still lives. ("Surely we can fight those demons ourselves," says Keqing. "He doesn't have to do it all by himself.")
—and of course, there's Rex Lapis himself.
In the days leading up to it, the tutor tells Kaeya everything he should expect from the Rite of Descension, and what to do when Rex Lapis delivers his address. None of it prepares him for the beast, studded with golden jade, that swoops down from the sky and speaks to all who have gathered in Yujing Terrace with a loud, authoritative voice.
The beast does not look to him even once — and Kaeya can't help but wonder if its ilk saw fit to gaze even once upon the people whose lives they destroyed, in their attempts to bring disaster and ruin to an entire civilization that defied their will.
If they did, then would Khaenri'ah have stood a chance? Would Kaeya be here, today, fulfilling his end of a contract forged with his own blood, to see justice delivered when it was owed centuries ago?
... he can't stay here. He really, really can't.
Without a word to the family that took him in, that no doubt expects him to consider himself as one of their own — he runs . To the Abyss with this land that basks in the gods' favor, that builds fortune upon the blood and bone of civilizations long passed. The gods will continue to smile on them — and Kaeya wants no part of it. No more.
There's not much he can take with him, but he packs a bag anyway — a spare change of clothes, food, bandages, and some kitchen knives. He plays the part of the dutiful ward when the family returns — ignores the odd look Keqing gives him when he stammers through an explanation about too-large crowds and a desperate need to get some space.
—and then, when night falls, he makes his move. He leaves his room slowly, silently, and makes his way to a window large enough that he can slip out, unaided and undetected. He'll slip out, stow away in a merchant's cart headed north — and from there, it should be easier to find his way to Mondstadt.
It all goes to pieces as a voice calls out, behind him: "Where are you going?"
Kaeya flinches, turning slowly to face Keqing — and though she hasn't raised her voice, her disapproval is obvious all the same in the rigid set to her shoulders and the frown that mars her expression.
He presses his lips tightly together, and averts his gaze. Keqing takes one step towards him, two — but she does not try to hit him, or pull him back from the windowsill. "Where are you going?" she asks again, more gently.
He can't tell her. He can't — but she'll know if he lies; for all that she decries the gods' presence in Liyue, she's just as much a child of this place as anyone else.
He tells himself that it's a healthy dose of self-preservation that urges him to answer truthfully: "Mondstadt."
Keqing hums, and hops up onto the windowsill next to him. "That's up north," she says. "You'd have to go up all the way past the Guili Plains, past the Wangshu Inn... and it's dangerous. There's Hilichurls, Cicins, Geovishaps, Treasure Hoarders—"
"All right, I get it!" he snaps — and then immediately covers his mouth with both hands as his face flushes.
"Do you have to go right now?" asks Keqing.
... well, now he feels rather silly. His father hadn't told him much, when they first parted ways — and there's no telling when the ancient plot will come to fruition, but Kaeya would need time to ingratiate himself amongst Mondstadt's nobility anyway. It can't be anytime soon.
"There's... something I have to do there," he answers, slowly. "Something only I can do."
Keqing hums, and taps her toes together. "Did you know," she says, "that children aren't allowed to sign contracts of their own in Liyue?"
"Really?"
"Mm-hm," she answers. "That means, if there's a contract saying that you have to do this job in Mondstadt, then it was voided from the moment you came here."
It can't be that simple. It wasn't, when it had mattered for Khaenri'ah. "But I still need to..." Kaeya mumbles.
Slowly, Keqing scoots closer to him so that she's pressed against his side, and takes his hands gently in hers. "So worry about it later," she says. "I'll help you, when that time comes."
... he's done nothing to deserve it, though. He hardly knows this girl; just moments ago, he was ready to leave her behind and never think of her again. He sits with her during lessons with the tutor, and plays with her at the harbor, and listens when she rattles off all that she wants to accomplish in her lifetime regardless of what the gods have to say about it — but this is something she will never understand. He's not so sure he wants her to.
She doesn't say a word, when the first tear falls — but he's grateful all the same, as she presses into him just a little bit more.
The next morning, he makes his escape before the rest of the family is awake — but he has no intentions of leaving Liyue. Not today.
It's not a long walk to Yujing Terrace, but the stairs tire him all the same — and when he asks for Ganyu, she's quick to meet him at the entrance. "What's wrong?" she asks, crouching down so that she's of a height with him. "Is everything okay?"
Kaeya takes a deep breath, and says: "I want to stay in Liyue." When Ganyu raises her eyebrows, he backtracks. "If—If that's okay."
"Of course," says Ganyu, nodding. "I just... I'm so sorry, I thought I'd already made that clear. You're welcome to stay for as long as you'd like."
... she had made that clear, hadn't she? From the moment she found him a family to stay with, instead of driving him off or putting him to work. Shirong and Siqi... it's strange, to think that they might have been upset if Kaeya really had left last night — and Keqing had argued so well to keep him here, if only for a bit longer.
—but Ganyu knows . She's done nothing so far, but she knows .
What good would it have done Khaenri'ah, to bargain with the gods? If they had tried, would it have saved them?
"I like them," he admits, quietly. "I don't... I don't want anything bad to happen to them."
With a soft smile, Ganyu bows her head and places one hand over her chest. "Then I'll do everything in my power to ensure that they all remain healthy and safe."
"Even—Even Keqing," says Kaeya, averting his gaze. "Even though she likes to ask questions about the gods, instead of just accepting everything that they do."
"Even her," Ganyu agrees.
" Please ."
His voice cracks, and his eyes grow heavy and hot with tears that he refuses to let fall — because what good is he, in the face of a god's might? What good does Khaenri'ah expect him to be, when he can't even face this one deity who's already given him her word twice over, that she means him no harm?
Gently, Ganyu cups his face with her hand. "I promise," she says, "no harm will come to you or your family, as long as I am here. I... I understand that that doesn't mean very much to you, coming from someone like me... but it's the truth." As the first tear falls, she gently wipes it away with her thumb. "But you know... it might help if you talk about all of this with somebody. Not me, but... someone you can trust, with no involvement in all of this."
"I can't ," he replies, shrilly. Telling someone about the tragedy that befell his motherland, the part his own people had played in inviting that tragedy... to do so in a land where gods walk side by side with humans feels too much like an invitation for disaster.
"It doesn't have to be today," says Ganyu, gently. "But... just think about it, okay?"
With a quiet sniffle, Kaeya nods — and by some miracle, Ganyu leaves it be.
That day doesn't come until years later.
He's older — less terrified than he had been in his earliest days in Liyue, when the scope of his failure had first become apparent. Nothing can replace Khaenri'ah, but there's a wealth of new memories that make it impossible to regret how long he's stayed here: job after job after job taken alongside Keqing, to understand just a little bit more how Liyue works ; afternoons spent at the parlor with Siqi, because he's the only one in their family with the patience to mingle like she does; early morning tea with Shirong, talking about everything and nothing; long conversations with Ganyu about times long passed, gradually less terrifying in their frequency over the years.
There are more intellectual debates with Keqing, of course — about the gods' continued presence in Liyue, and how useful it truly is. Though they never venture beyond the theoretical, it's those conversations that nudge him, just a little bit more, towards the possibility that Keqing will understand .
The day he tells her is that of the Rite of Descension. It's not entirely random — Rex Lapis' address hasn't gotten any easier to endure, even when Kaeya's improved at masking his fear. It's always been painfully transparent to Keqing, regardless.
She doesn't say a word as he meanders through his story — about Khaenri'ah, the ancient plot, the duty expected of him that he's neglected for years. There's not a hint of anger or disapproval in her expression — not even when he explains that the desired end goal to all of this is to rend Teyvat in two, in order for Khaenri'ah to point their blade towards Celestia itself.
"I see," says Keqing, simply, when he's finished — but she says nothing more.
She says nothing as they make their way to Yujing Terrace — as he steps behind her as always, when Rex Lapis finally descends upon them all.
The Geo Archon delivers his address, as always — and Kaeya can't help but wonder, then, if this will be the end. Rex Lapis doesn't look to him, not even once — and yet it's as if all of Celestia is watching him, in this moment.
—but then, Keqing takes his hand in hers, and squeezes it before stepping forward. "People of Liyue," she says, boldly, "it's time we stop looking to Rex Lapis for answers. If we humans are so incapable, then why do the gods continue to grace us with their presence? Are we not capable of acting on our own merit?”
For a frighteningly long moment, all is still and silent — the address halted, as people turn to look. Rex Lapis himself turns a pointed gaze towards them, his head tilting to the side.
—but then he bursts into laughter. The address ends soon afterward — and all eyes are on Keqing, not Kaeya.
Amidst it all, she gives his hand a comforting squeeze — all the confirmation he needs that she won't leave him behind.