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When Diluc first approaches the Winery after years, it’s raining, so no staff are outside to see him. All he can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other anyways, so it doesn’t matter much to him.
The Winery doors are locked with a key. With hands gentle like whispers, unwilling to leave even a mark upon any surface they touch, he loosens the tie of his bag, before lifting out a pouch covered in a sturdy cloth. The rain quickly drenches the cloth, but he unwraps it anyway. Hidden inside is a bag the size of his palm. It’s made of leather, the best material he could get his hands on at the time, so although it isn’t completely resistant against the rain, it holds up much better than anything else he is carrying with him.
He unwraps the twine holding the bag closed. Inside are only three objects, and they are ones Diluc has kept with him for more than three, long years.
A metal key. A brooch. A Delusion.
He wraps his fingers around the key, pulling it from the bag before quickly tying back the twine, unwilling to let the other objects be exposed to the thunderstorm. Carefully, he brings it up to the door, and slots the key into the lock.
The sound it makes as it clicks is deafening, even despite the sound of rain hitting stone all around him.
The door is hesitantly pushed open. Diluc pulls the key out before he steps inside. And inside…
“Diluc, do you want to come with me to Angel’s Share today?”
“I can’t Papa, I have my polearm training today!”
“Ah, that’s right. I forgot, sorry Diluc. I’ll have to teach you some mixing tricks once you are done with your training.”
There never was time to teach him. Diluc went on to become a Knight, then the youngest Captain in history. His father found it unnecessary to teach him how to serve drinks when Diluc was making dreams come true.
Just, not his own.
He is shocked out of his memories by a flash of light reflecting off of a sword.
Not many of the Fatui he fought owned swords. There was a large array of weapons, but swords were not a part of the norm. This made his sword fighting skills rusty, and the last major sword fight he had was with Kaeya, his brother, who was really a spy, and-
His body acts on its own, and he drops into a defensive pose, his fists raised. As he does so, the hood of his cape flies off.
“…Young Master?”
The man with the sword steps into the light. His hair is as silver as his blade. Although his voice is husky from sleep, Diluc recognizes it well enough.
“Oh Archons, Young Master Diluc! Are you hurt? Please, come sit down, you’re barely standing-“
“I’m not,” His voice is grating, hoarse, weak from not being used, “a Young Master… anymore.”
Elzer quickly corrects his mistake, but it is obvious that it has a lesser impact on himself than it does on Diluc. “Yes, you’re right, Master Diluc. Take a seat here, I’ll run and get you…”
He misses the end of Elzer’s sentence, as he falls to his knees. His eyes struggle to stay open, but he must make sure the sword is gone, else it ends up buried in his throat before he loses consciousness. The second that Elzer sheaths his sword and runs towards him, Diluc closes his eyes and welcomes the darkness before him.
•
News that the Young Master Diluc has returned to Mondstadt sends the city into celebration. It had been the prime rumor of the mill for a couple weeks now, and no one could confirm it until a messenger delivered a letter and had caught sight of a brilliant red head of hair picking grapes outside. The messenger ran all the way back to the city, and with a grin on his face, announced that Dawn Winery’s Master was back. It was enough to swarm the Angel’s Share within minutes. Those who had already been drinking at the bar were nearly buried underneath the newcomers. Cavalry Captain Alberich, though, maintained his seat at the bar. He didn’t look much like celebrating, but chugging down his drink had fooled enough of the people to believe that he was.
Once he finished his drink, Kaeya swiftly left his spot, and stumbled out of the bar, an eager patron quickly filling the vacant space.
The road to Dawn Winery has been oddly clear as of late, so he did not worry about the occasional monster. And yet, he kept a hand on his sword at all times, as if an attack could strike at any moment. By the time Kaeya made it to the Winery grounds, the sun had began to dip below the horizon. It would, at the very least, be a beautiful time to die, he decided. It wouldn’t be so bad, for his final moments to be spent watching the sunset. (He loves the night sky more. But, sunsets are beautiful.)
There are a few workers bringing buckets back to the porch of the Winery, while others are lifting crates off of a transport cart. None of them pay him much attention as he strolls up to the front doors, and pushes them open. Inside, he is immediately spotted by the only other person inside.
Adelinde gasps, setting the platter in her hands down on the table before running towards him. “Master Kaeya!”
Her voice is too loud, he winces. This does not stop him from opening his arms and returning the hug that Adelinde gives him.
“It’s been some months since you’ve visited, are you doing well? Do you need a glass of water or anything?”
Kaeya smiles, perhaps the last genuine smile he will ever give, and shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, Addy. I’m here because I heard a certain rumor of someone’s return. Is…. Is Diluc really back?”
She looks around, making sure there is not another soul in sight, before nodding. “Y- Master Diluc returned just over two weeks ago. He expressed a desire to see you, but refused to venture out into the city. He’s… adjusting, still. Would you like to see him?”
He laughs nervously. “No, no, if Master Diluc is resting, I would hate to wake him. I’ll stop by another time-“
“Kaeya.”
A voice sounds from the stairs. There, standing proud in all his glory, is Diluc. His hair is tied back into a high ponytail. He is dressed casually, but a pen is in his hand. He says nothing more, at first.
“Kaeya!”
A young Diluc jumps down the stairs, a pair of wooden swords in his hand. “Father said we could spar a bit before dinner! Let’s go!”
Kaeya smiles, this time not so genuinely. “Master Diluc. The rumors are really true, then. The city is in celebration over your return, you know.”
Diluc rolls his eyes as he walks down the stairs. “I have no plans to visit the city as of yet. I-…”
He freezes, seeing Diluc’s eyes catch on the Captain’s badge on his shoulder.
“Addy, can I speak to Diluc alone for now?”
She glances nervously between them, before nodding once. “I’ll go prepare a meal for you to take home, Master Kaeya.” Before either Kaeya or Diluc could correct her on her use of title, Adeline leaves for the kitchen, the sound of the door closing echoing throughout the main hall.
“You’re… Cavalry Captain now.”
Kaeya nods, looking off to the side. “Grandmaster Varka gave me the position before he left…”
Diluc scowls at the sound of Varka’s name, “Who is acting in his place, then?”
“Jean, actually… She’s Acting Grandmaster for now…”
Kaeya notes Diluc’s momentary surprise, but does not comment on it. His hands are shaking too much to have any sort of high ground in this conversation.
“Are we… going to get this over with now?”
Diluc stares at him with a burning intensity. “Get what over with?”
“You know…” Kaeya laughs, “Finishing what you started before you left?”
There is a grand pause between them.
“Come on, Diluc. What I had told you… it was true. Still is true.”
A fire suddenly starts in Diluc’s eyes. He grabs his left hand so hard his knuckles are white. “Kaeya. I made my mind up three years ago, I will not kill you now. If that’s all you’re here for, leave.”
“Leave! I don’t ever want to see you in my sight again, you spy, or I’ll kill you! You are no brother of mine!”
And suddenly, Kaeya sees the bags under Diluc’s eyes, the slouch to his normally (or was it no longer normally?) perfect posture, the peek of bandages around his wrists that extended an unknown distance. This is not someone who has returned, prepared for a fight. This is someone who is… just as Adelinde said: adjusting.
Kaeya shrugs, and leaves. Maybe Diluc will change his mind once he has fully settled back in.
•
There’s a businessman from Liyue who visits the Winery as soon as news of Diluc’s return has reached foreign ears. His hair is greying and his glasses often fall down his nose, but he stands tall and his hands are unweathered.
“Young Master Diluc!” He says, opening his arms as if he expects Diluc to behave like a child and run into them for a hug. “It has been so long since I’ve seen you, and you’ve grown so much! I heard news that you were back in Mondstadt and knew I had to come visit you. Ah! You were so young it’s possible you don’t remember me. My name is Bao, and I am a textile merchant in Liyue. Your father and I worked together on many occasions.”
Diluc barely manages to get a word in. “It’s nice to see you again, Mister Bao. And please, I am no longer a Young Master.” His throat feels like it’s dry and covered in sand. He is already tired; the title ‘Young Master’ only brings back memories that he no longer wanted.
“My, haven’t you grown into a fine young man? You look just like your father, you know. I recall him telling me that he was about your age when he started to grow a beard.”
Diluc resists the temptation to say he already has been, but he is aware that since his return, many think he is younger than he really is. It is as if his absence never happened, and he is freshly 18 again, with adults giving him life advice left and right.
It hurts, because during his time abroad he had a rather large change of heart about his appearance. Once loving and seeking after all the similarities he shared with his father (his smile, his hair, his dream), Diluc in Natlan looked into a mirror and didn’t see much of his father remaining anymore. Diluc in Snezhnaya cut his hair on his own for the first time. Diluc in Fontaine had already refused to smile. And the dream of becoming a Knight… Diluc in Mondstadt took it and stomped on it over and over again, he had thrown it to the ground with his Vision, he had stabbed it once as it was decaying before his eyes. Since then, he was torn apart from “Crepus’s star boy,” from the “Wolf Knight” he had been on the trajectory to become. He was Diluc, not a second Crepus.
“Thank you, Mister Bao,” he said instead. Diluc is nothing but a polite gentleman.
“It really is quite a sight to see you again, Youn- Master Diluc.” Bao grinned, “I have plenty of stories of your father, and in fact even have a brooch of his I would love to hand over to you. I bought it from him back before he passed, but it still is rightfully his. You would need to visit Liyue to retrieve it, I’m afraid I can’t travel with such-“
“You can keep it.”
Bao blinked a couple times. “The brooch?”
Diluc smiled gently. “And the stories.”
He truly does not need them. Three years of agony has wiped out any yearning of curiosity for details of his father’s past. It is rather unfair either way for such stories to be held as a bargaining chip, in more ways than one. This merchant, who has quite possibly and certainly mourned Crepus, who might feel that contacting his son by blood might offer him a sense of peace to a story cut too short, will never quite understand the grief Diluc himself has been through.
“Oh, that poor boy… He is still mourning deeply,” The merchant might say as he leaves. He does not comprehend that Diluc no longer mourns, no longer grieves in the same way he used to when he was a young boy. It does not happen deeply. It lurks on the surface, like the sheen of oil on water. It’s forever present on top of his entire being. He has been shaped by his father’s death, this is a fact. But he will not continue to be shaped by grief, instead only allowing it to float around, never landing nor falling.
No, Diluc does not need stories of Crepus to soothe his distress. He needs to remember Crepus as a father, not as a merchant nor friend nor winemaker.
Crepus as a father to Diluc and Kaeya slayed Ursa to protect his city. (Crepus as a friend to suspicious characters bought the Delusion, despite the warnings that it could end his life.)
•
Dawn Winery hosts their summer gala for the first time in years. Diluc prepares for it dutifully; he asks Adelinde if he can personally pick the grapes for their traditional grape juice, and she just pats his shoulder and says he does not need her permission to do such. Elzer, though, does find issue with Diluc’s proposal of lowering the cost of the bottles of grape juice.
“Do you not think that its quality will be as good as our wine, Master Diluc?”
“No…” Diluc responds, “I think it will boost our sales, actually.”
Deciding to go along with Diluc’s plans, Elzer cautiously adjusts the prices of the bottles to be sold. By the time the gala is fully planned and will occur next sunset, Elzer has attempted to convince Diluc a thousand times to consider changing the price back.
“Trust me on this,” is the answer he gets in response. They later will find him to be right.
For the summer gala, Diluc is dressed up in regal clothes, ones that had to be tailored once again due to the changes of his body over the years. After all, any clothes that had remained would have fit his 18-year old body perfectly, but he has gained muscle, widened his shoulders, both through the use of a claymore without a Vision to do half the carrying for him. The Winery was in contact with a number of tailors though, and soon enough he was given a number of outfits to choose from until his entire wardrobe could be updated.
He didn’t necessarily think he had the best body, but the girls who did his measurements gossiped the entire time behind his back about it. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” they say. And really, Diluc would’ve been surprised if they had. This body has been through near death, through starvation, through endless battle. This is not a body that could have been achieved through simply a Knight’s training, nor even a Captain’s one. This is not a body to be proud of.
It sparks questions in his mind: What would he have looked like if his father never died?
Diluc likes to think that he wouldn’t have changed too much. Maybe he would have achieved a similar body, yet one more fulfilling, through his determination to be a good Captain over the years. Crepus would have laughed in pride as he put on more muscle (silently envying the body he wished he had).
He decides not to ponder much more on what-if’s.
Diluc stands up straight, greets every person, serves drinks, and doesn't answer questions about his journey. It is the first time Dawn Winery has its summer gala without Crepus, and it’s all Diluc can feel down to his bones.
•
It’s quiet the first time Diluc steps back into the city of Mondstadt. He had been avoiding it for a while now, at least until his injuries recovered and he finally received a stable wardrobe. No one’s clothes at the Winery really had fit him after all, not even what few remained of his father’s.
Right away, he can hear rumors on the street: “Did you hear about that vigilante-“ “I swear he saved my life, it must be someone I know…” “No one has seen a vision on him, so he’s not one of our Allogenes…” “-a knight that fights for justice with only the moon as his witness! He is the epitome of a dark knight!” “He’s a hero, not a knight! The Ordo would’ve already made a statement if he was theirs-“
Well, at least he does not need to worry about a swarm. Diluc had entered through the side gate, as Tunner’s son was much easier to interact with than the main two guards, so he easily made his way to the Angel’s Share without issue. He hears activity inside, so he pushes the door open with disregard of the closed sign.
“Excuse me mister, we are closed currently…”
Diluc looks around with wide eyes. It’s barely changed.
“Here, Diluc! These are a bunch of the ingredients we use, along with a bottle of wine. This is your first test, okay? Mix whatever you want with these.”
His small hands immediately grabbed the juice, and poured it right away into the shaker. Instead of mixing it with another base to create a blend, he poured in more juice and added some fresh fruit to the large glass for a garnish. It was a simple fruit punch, but it would taste sweet.
Crepus didn’t say a word when Diluc carefully set down the glass in front of him, careful not to spill even a drop. He picked it up, much steadier than Diluc had, and took a sip.
He didn’t give any feedback, and simply put the glass back down on the table.
“If you don’t leave, I’m afraid I’ll have to call a Knight to come escort you-“
“What’s your name?”
The bartender, who had been cleaning glasses it looked like, was shocked for a moment. “My name is Charles, the bartender here at Angel’s Share. Are you looking for someone?”
Diluc smiled and shook his head. The only person he would look for is buried in the ground, forever encased in a coffin. “No… I apologize for interrupting your work, and for not introducing myself. My name is Diluc Ragnvindr.”
Charles raised his eyebrows and blinked a couple times in shock. “Diluc… Ragnvindr? I… No, I apologize for asking you to leave, I didn’t recognize you. This is… your tavern after all. Is there anything I can do for you, Master Diluc?”
“No, I’m just here to visit the tavern today. Please forgive me for not checking in during working hours, I figured the current crowds may draw unreasonable attention due to my appearance.”
“I understand your point of view; the tavern was entirely full the day someone confirmed the rumors of your return were true. If you’d like, I could…” Charles glanced at the clock, and sighed, “If you are available tomorrow, I could show you the changes that the tavern has gone through recently, as well as anything else you’d like to see. I would love to right now, but if I don’t prepare for opening, tonight will be a mess.”
Diluc scanned the bar, noting the glasses and the bottles of wine laid out. “Do you need any help? I have experience behind a bar.”
Charles was promptly flustered, but looked back at the bar, realizing the amount of work that needed to be done. “Only if you insist, Master Diluc.”
And surely, he insisted. He moved his low ponytail into a high one, washed off his hands, and got to work. Charles didn’t question once where he got his bartending skill from. He was the son of Crepus Ragnvindr after all, it was seemingly natural for all Ragnvindrs in this age to know the art of mixing.
Only Diluc never learned from his father.
•
Something was burning. He could smell it. The rotten, putrid smell of something being eaten away by fire. His nose scrunched up due to it, and he tried to get up and move away from the smell. But his arms and torso were pinned down.
It was then he realized how cold his back was, and how hot his arm was. Such contradictory feelings threw open his eyes in shock. Slowly, he turned his head to the left.
His arm was on fire. His arm was on fire.
Whipping his head to his chest to see what was holding him down, he found a series of chains, all glowing bright with a dark fire.
It was the Delusion’s chains holding him down; the Delusion that wanted him to burn.
The chains slowly unwrapped his right arm. In reach was a bucket of water, ice cold from the Snezhnayan air. It was the only thing he could use to put out the fire, which had eaten through his sleeve.
Diluc screamed.
He woke up to light streaming through a window, and Adelinde trying desperately to wake him.
“-luc! Diluc! Can you hear me?! Hillie, go get a cool washcloth, and a glass of ice water, as quick as you can-“
“No!” Diluc’s voice was hoarse, but loud enough. He shook his head, and quickly sat up. “No… ice water.”
Adelinde put a hand on his forehead. “Master Diluc, with all due respect, you are running a fever. We must bring it down, else I will call for a healer.”
He shook his head again. “No… Sorry Adelinde. It’s just from the… bad dream. Please… I just need a glass of water without ice.”
Hillie, who had been nervously standing in the doorway, ran off to go get the water.
“Sorry for entering without your permission… You were screaming in your sleep, and I rushed over with Hillie to make sure you were not being attacked by an intruder…”
“No need to apologize… I understand how that can be jarring…”
Diluc look the chance to look down at his arms. His left hand was scarred back and front, while his right only had scarring around his fingers. If he pushed up his sleeve, he could see scarring all the way up to his shoulders, evidence of the burning and subsequent freezing trauma his arm went through.
Adelinde catches him staring. “Master Diluc, is… is your arm giving you any pain?” She’s the only one who knows; she was the one to wrap the bandages around it, after all.
He closes his eyes tight, wrapping a hand around his left wrist. “Yes,” he can’t help but admit. He never would have been so honest if his father was the one sitting at his bedside.
•
Kaeya does not magically disappear from Diluc’s life after their first time talking in years. In fact, he has been drawn in like a moth to flame. The second he learns that Diluc has been working occasionally as the new bartender at Angel’s Share, he visits daily. For weeks and weeks he visits, always present for Diluc’s shifts. They quietly learn about the other’s information network, and pass on messages about Abyss or Fatui activity hidden on paper underneath a Death After Noon glass.
One day, Kaeya asks to meet him at their usual location, where they would pass on larger objects that wouldn’t be hidden in the tavern.
“Are you… well adjusted to Mond again, Master Diluc?”
Diluc shrugged, “it’s like muscle memory. For what has changed, I have adapted.”
Kaeya nodded, “That you have. I don’t suppose you have changed your mind on anything, have you?”
“I…” He sighed deeply, “I have not.”
“Even if I should be… a danger to the city you love?”
“All I see is a man who is scared of me, as much as he tries to pretend otherwise, not a danger in sight.”
The conversation is cut short by voices drawing near. (It’s the first step to their reconciliation.)
•
In the midst of practicing mixing drinks at the Winery, Diluc receives a letter. He is hardly surprised; alone with the collection of letters he had returned with, it seemed there was no end to the people that suddenly wished to write to him and wish him well.
The seal of this letter forced him to immediately put down his work, however. He knows the crest of the Grandmaster anywhere. Elzer, the one to deliver it to him, is obviously curious, but leaves quickly. It’s a reasonable decision; no one wants to get caught up in a scheme of the Grandmaster’s.
“Dear Diluc,” it starts. “Welcome back to Mondstadt, sir.”
Jean’s writing is obvious from the first letter. He often took lessons with her, and distinctly remembers her elegant script. She writes to him about Eroch, about the Knights, about being careful and safe from dangers like the Abyss Order and the newly named Darknight Hero. The sight of Eroch’s name again pains him, but he is delighted to read that he has been exiled and exposed. Regardless of the stains on his fingers from slicing up fruit for cocktails, Diluc returns to his office desk, pulls out a sheet of parchment, and starts writing.
“Dear Jean, Thank you for your concern…”
•
There comes a day where Diluc cannot force himself out of bed. His body is weighed down by anger, by grief, by the chains of a Delusion. He is not strong enough to resist the pull, so he remains laying down in bed.
His meetings are promptly canceled for the day. Meals are delivered to his room, and there is always someone within hearing distance in case he calls for an aid.
Diluc lays down on his back. His mind is not with him. He runs a hand down his chest, down his body, yet he refuses to feel real. Maybe he had died a year ago, when he was weakened from the Delusion’s attack and decided still to fight the Harbingers after. The person who rescued him could’ve simply been sent straight from Celestia to guide him into the afterlife. Or possibly, they were from the Abyss, and sought to make sure his soul never rested by placing it in these hallucinations. This passes his mind often. Surely, he remembers the hymns sung in the Cathedral of Barbatos, and the messages of the wind that they proclaimed could heal even the most damaged spirit. None of it could have been true, though; he hasn’t felt even the slightest breeze since his return to Mondstadt.
•
Adelinde is waiting for him when he returns the next night. She helps him out of his coat, ignoring the blood that practically drips off of it.
“Master Diluc.”
Her voice is determined. He turns towards her, and realizes that he has fallen into her trap when she grabs his left arm, and pushes up the sleeve. The faint glow of the Delusion is a beacon in the dark hall of the Winery.
With a speed he was too tired to process, Adelinde ripped off the Delusion, and placed a brooch in the middle of his palm. “This… weapon you use is causing further damage to your arm. Please, Master DIluc, I… do not wish to see you use it again. Keep this brooch with you, the one your father passed down to you, that you brought with you on your travels instead… Late Master Crepus would not have wanted to see you hurt yourself in this way.”
“Diluc, don’t forget, it is your job as a Knight now to protect other people. You can’t just train all day like you used to.”
“But… I’m not sure if I want to keep being a Knight, Papa…”
“Regardless of if you want to or not, protect the people of Mondstadt. It is your role to inherit this will, and don’t forget it.”
His hand closes around the brooch. It’s of a phoenix, with bright red jewels that are a signature of the Ragnvindr clan. Diluc cries for the first time in a year, that night. It feels like a phoenix shedding its ashes, and being born anew.