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The wind had been gentle, even on that night. Not too strong, not too cold, but there.
The blood trickled steadily along his leg and to the ground, without a sound.
Back then, Jean’s healing hadn’t been strong enough. No matter how hard she had tried, the wounds refused to close, the blood wouldn’t stop flowing.
His clothes were ripped, his eye was shut in pain.
Not even a day had gone by since Master Crepus’ death had been announced. And now this. Her friend, tearful and bloodied, waiting outside her home in the middle of the night.
His sword was held so tightly in one hand, and a glowing object lied in the other.
He painted a macabre picture, framed like this by her open door. One gruesome yet beautiful still life of blue and blood.
She inhaled deeply, trying to be the calm and level-headed person she was supposed to be. The fresh air helped but not too much. His injuries were not something breathing could solve.
With a clang of his sword against the ground, he suddenly collapsed into her.
The wetness of the blood, his weight against her. It suddenly felt too real. She grasped her hands to his back, desperately holding him as tightly as she could even though she was overtaken by tremors and her legs barely supported her anymore.
His own breathing was ragged until it turned faint. Too faint.
“Kaeya….,” she put her ear against his heart to listen to its quiet thumping. “Kaeya, what happened…”
//
“I found it not too far from Dragonspine. On my way back, actually.” Abedo laid down the strange artefact on the table.
The Chief Alchemist, and Captain of the Investigation Team, was indeed most efficient. He had always been, ever since his sudden arrival, in tow with Klee and Alice. Every single project he had presented to her was nothing short of genius.
And now this artefact. This specific discovery seemed to distress him. Not that he appeared distressed in the slightest, but the fact that he had deemed it important enough to show it to her himself was worrisome in itself.
Kaeya took it in his hand to study it further and frowned. The object was a carved statuette emanating a dim red light. It had the shape of a hooded face with a beard and a red gem for an eye.
“I’ll take care of it, of course,” Albedo continued. “Though it is concerning that such a thing would resurface after all this time. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to study it further.”
“Where do you think it comes from?” she asked as Kaeya passed it to her hands. The warmth it exuded surprised her.
“Khaenri’ah,” he said very matter of factly. Albedo was as unreadable as ever, his face didn’t betray any emotion.
Jean put a hand to her chin in thought. Khaenri’ah, huh… That was a name she didn’t hear often. Why would an artefact from a lost civilisation suddenly appear in Mondstadt?
“Are you certain, Albedo?” Kaeya’s voice rang through the room. And something in his tone made Jean realise he was actually worried because of this. She started to consider the statuette with more gravity.
“Yes. And as I’m sure you’ve noticed, this thing reeks of this Abyss.”
Kaeya nodded but nothing in his demeanour made it look like he was reassured in the least.
Albedo took back the artefact and enveloped it in a white cloth before putting it back inside his satchel.
“Will that be all,” calm as ever, he waited to be dismissed.
“Yes. Thank you, Albedo.”
“It’s no problem. I’ll write you a report on my findings as soon as possible. Good day, then.” With his hands folded behind his back, he made his way to the door.
Before taking his final step out the room he stopped and turned his head slightly. “Please come by my office later, Captain,” he said to Kaeya with unreadable eyes. “There is something I wish to discuss.”
Jean could be wrong, but she swore she heard the tiniest bit of worry in the Chief Alchemist’s voice.
So even he had noticed something was amiss.
Kaeya didn’t seem to be surprised by the request however. Instead he nodded, with a troubled expression drawn on his face, and his eye strained to Albedo’s bag.
“I’ll escort you out, wait. I have bothered Jean long enough.” He got up from his own chair. Albedo stopped just outside the office.
“Kaeya?” Jean called before he could leave.
He stopped in his tracks and turned to her.
“Is… everything alright?”
“I’m perfectly fine, Jean,” he affirmed, and it was obviously a lie. That was most troubling. Kaeya was supposed to be a great liar. But if he didn’t want to talk about it, she couldn’t force him to.
“If anything bothers you, you can come to me.”
“Of course, Grandmaster.” His smile was so obviously forced, so unlike the perfect fake smirk he had mastered.
Jean sighed as her door closed behind Kaeya’s back.
You ended up wishing the people you love didn’t have to go through anything.
//
Unlike Jean, who spent most of her days stuck in her office taking care of mountains of paperworks, Kaeya was much more mobile. He came and went on both official and unofficial expeditions, fighting treasure hoarders, tracking the Abyss Order and gathering intel; all in all, doing way more for Mondstadt than he was getting credit for.
Unfortunately, it made him all the much harder to be found.
The uneasy look he had bore on his face wouldn’t leave her. Something was wrong, very wrong. And she needed to know what.
Abandoning the paper she had been reading twice now without understanding, she decided to go face him directly and ask again.
His office was at the very end of the hallway. Nobody went there unless they were seeking out the Cavalry Captain. And nobody seeked out the Cavalry Captain unless they had a very good reason. Therefore, not many people usually made it to the end of the hallway.
Which was why Jean was surprised to find the door already wide open. And someone who was not Kaeya sitting behind his desk.
“Klee? Why are you here?”
“Grandmaster Jean,” Klee saluted with the wrong hand, even though Jean had told her many times to stop doing it altogether. “I’m waiting for Albedo!”
“In Kaeya’s office?”
“Yes!” the little girl replied cheerfully.
“Is Kaeya going to be back soon?” Jean asked. With so much paperwork continuously piling on her desk, Jean couldn’t afford to wait on him for too long.
“Albedo said not to let him come back! We’re taking him to Starsnatch Cliff to make flower-crowns because Kaeya really likes flowers!”
Distantly, Jean thought she might be a little stupid. Or naive at least, oh so very naive. She brought a hand to her eyes to cover them, which made Klee ask what she was doing.
Jean had thought Kaeya and her were close. She had thought she knew most (since no one could pretend to know Kaeya fully) things about him. And perhaps she had been convinced, foolishly so, that in time of need she was the first one he would go to. All of it was nothing but disillusion and wishful thinking.
There was a vase in Kaeya’s office with fresh cecilias. The wall behind his desk was covered by various drawings; ones obviously made by Klee and others with a much more mature brushstroke.
Those summer days when Kaeya and Jean had been children running carefreely in Mondstadt’s fields were long gone. Instead of them was a gaping rift. One filled with flowers and drawings and secrets. One that Jean didn’t know how to cross.
Kaeya’s door creaked loudly as she closed it on her way out (something else she hadn’t been aware of).
//
Diluc wasn’t there anymore.
It was a truth hard to swallow. Diluc had left, Diluc probably wouldn’t come back. It had been years already, but still, Jean couldn’t help but imagine a familiar tuft of red hair appearing at every turn in the headquarters’ hallway.
Perhaps it would’ve been easier if Diluc had been here. Maybe he would’ve known what to do.
Diluc was – had been – Kaeya closest friend. His brother, his companion, his biggest supporter, his partner in crime. Back then it had always been Diluc and Kaeya, and Jean somewhere behind trying to keep up.
Jean might have been jealous, if only a little bit, of the boys’ closeness. Their bond was something beautiful, something strong and unique. Something she wanted for herself as well.
Even when she finally got her own little sister, it just wasn’t the same. The bond Kaeya and Diluc shared was too special, nothing could come close to it.
But then, Diluc disappeared, with no more explanation than a short letter, and left behind a bleeding Kaeya and an empty office. Jean wasn’t stupid, she had noticed the burns on Kaeya’s skin, recognised the impact of a claymore in his injuries.
Diluc left, Crepus died, and suddenly Kaeya was all alone.
Jean stood, quietly, by his side. Kaeya wouldn’t talk and she wouldn’t ask. She’d simply be there, a silent support for a silent friend.
This was what their friendship was. Quiet moments, quiet understanding. Sitting behind the same table, watching the flame of a candle dance with a small smile knowing the other was there.
Quiet trust as well. Kaeya didn’t have to explain everything to Jean for her to put her trust in him. He’d come back empty handed from a seemingly failed expedition. She wouldn’t say anything, no reprimand, no remark. And no more than a few days later this outing would reveal itself to be the last puzzle piece of a much grander plan.
It had always been this way, this wordless friendship was something that she cherished. Beautiful. Peaceful. Fragile. She had forgotten the fragility of it all.
Suddenly, she turned around, and the pitfalls of all those words left unspoken came back to bite her.
With quiet came distance. The divide between them had grown too wide. The two friends had become two strangers.
Kaeya liked flowers.
She didn’t know. She should have known. She wished Kaeya would’ve told her. But when, how? Peaceful silence got too heavy, it became too hard to breach.
With not enough said out loud, they were starting to forget.
And then it was as if their friendship never existed at all.
//
In her drawer, in her bedroom, Jean still kept the blanket Kaeya had bloodied on that fateful night. She had washed it many times, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, the large red – now brown – blotches refused to fade.
She could’ve just thrown away the blanket. She should’ve thrown it away a long time ago. Yet she didn’t. She couldn’t. This blanket meant something; she didn't know what, but it was important. Something mournful, shameful, and full of regret. It served as a reminder, perhaps, a cue to her own failure.
The blanket in the drawer haunted her sometimes. Especially on days like this, its inconspicuous presence was too loud.
Kayea appeared at her door after a careful knock by late afternoon.
“You asked for me, Grandmaster.”
Kaeya’s masks were crafted in a careful, attentive way. The fact that Jean was able to glimpse through them was worrying in itself. She made him sit on the chair at her desk, as she would have if this were an official meeting. Inhaling deeply, she met Kaeya’s eye, and was not surprised by the cautiously neutral expression on his face.
He wanted to hide from her. She wouldn’t let him.
“Kaeya, there’s something bothering you,” she swiftly cut to the chase.
“My, I fail to see what would make you say that, Master Jean.” Again, deflection. “Perhaps the Grandmaster would like to enlighten me?”
“Kaeya, stop,” all of this was so frustrating. “Stop calling me that. I’m not talking as your boss, I’m concerned for you as your friend. So, just… Just stop.”
Jean wasn’t sure what it meant to be someone’s friend. She wasn’t sure Kaeya and her were friends anymore. She hoped they were. “But talk to me, please,” or else the worry would drive her to an early grave.
It was silent for a while, until Kaeya spoke quietly.
“I don't know how to lie to you, Jean.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. Whatever you need to say, I’ll listen, I promise. We used to be friends, Kaeya, we used to be able to withstand this sort of thing.”
It was after another beat of silence that Kaeya made up his mind.
“I’m a liar– a traitor. I’m from Khaenri’ah Jean.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
His gaze was fixed on the ground and his shoulders sagged in defeat. He had the face of a man who had already lost everything. Resigned and downhearted.
“You.. you are?” Jean stood up and walked around her desk in wonder.
“That’s amazing… I didn’t know that was possible. Did you actually see Khaenri’ah? Or are you a descendant of those who escaped during the Cataclysm?”
Her reaction must have not been one he expected. His frown was deepening. Somehow she had displeased him.
When she put her hand on his shoulder he surprised her by flinching, hard.
He quickly recovered and put up his calm front again. “Grandmaster Jean. You shouldn’t take this so lightly. You’re a protector of Mondstadt.” He took her hand and put it on the hilt of her own sword. “And I am a threat. You shouldn’t be joyed by this, you should instead be placing that blade against my neck.”
What did it mean to be someone’s friend; what did it entail? Surely a sword against a throat, a beheading under the candlelight, wasn’t it.
Silently, quietly, Jean gave back his hand to Kaeya and brought her own to his cheek, sighing.
“How could I be anything but happy that my dear friend confided in me?”
The way Kaeya looked at her was a little strange. A mix of surprise, carefulness, disbelief and pain. “So you’re just going to deny the fact that I represent a danger to Mondstadt?”
“I know you. I know where your loyalty lies.” She said seriously.
And for you Kaeya, for you, there’s a lot I’m willing to accept.
//
The new vision glowed so brightly. A cryo one, pulsing cold against her bare palm. She put it on her nightstand. She had more important things to take care of.
She laid down Kaeya on her bed, not caring about the blood that was tainting it. He was already bandaged so there wasn’t much more she could do. Right, food. And water. It would probably help to eat. Jean had grown up to be both a fighter and a healer, but now she was realising just how much she was lacking when it came to the latter.
She made up her mind, standing up. Food. And then she’d let Kaeya sleep, and tomorrow, hopefully, Kaeya would explain everything. Depending on what he’d tell her, she’d decide whether or not she’d have to murder Diluc.
“Don– Don’t leave too..” he held her back with a weak hand around her wrist. She stopped. Tears were tentatively streaming from both of Kaeya’s eyes. She could tell he didn’t have his eyepatch on, but his usually covered eye was hidden by his hair. It didn’t matter, she wouldn’t have looked either way. She trusted Kaeya to reveal to her whatever he needed to reveal on his own time. “Stay… please.”
She kneeled next to the bed and put a hand to his cheek, carefully. He was covered in cuts and injuries. “Kaeya, listen to me.”
Never in a hundred years had she imagined it would come down to that.
Diluc and Kaeya were an inseparable pair, they were supposed to stick together. Yet, Kaeya was bleeding through her blankets, Diluc was nowhere to be found, and Jean was there, in between that mess, trying to mend what had been broken as best as she could.
Right now, she was all Kaeya had left.
“No matter what, no matter what happens, no matter what you say, nothing could ever convince me to leave you. You are my dear friend, Kaeya, and I swear to always be by your side.”
For you, Kaeya. For you. Always.
She was going to destroy Diluc.
//
The day had so quickly bled into night. Filing reports and approving expedition routes always took more time than it should.
Kaeya let out a tired noise. Something between a grunt and a yawn. It was probably time to take a break. She went to grab tea for the both of them. Kaeya accepted the warm mug with a smile and a nod.
Him and Jean had finally decided to make the effort to see each other more often.
It was hard enough to spend time together outside of work, with both of them being so busy all the time. So they figured, why not stay together while working. And since there were always more reports to file than hours in a day, they quickly took to taking care of that tedious and mostly uninspiring task by meeting at the grandmaster’s office some time in the afternoon. (Kaeya had to decline when Jean proposed to meet for lunch, though she didn’t hold it against him. She barely had time for lunch herself. He sputtered a shy excuse back then. Something about needing to feed an alchemist unless he collapsed and died alone in his lab. Jean hadn’t asked more, though she itched to.)
“Can you tell me more about it? Khaen– your home, I mean?”
Kaeya wanted to be careful. Khaenri’ah wasn’t to be named in his presence. Jean wasn’t sure she liked that, but she could understand.
Bits by bits, and after many nights they had started to talk. About anything and nothing. What began with awkward words and shy glances was turning into lengthy conversations. It felt like they were finally twinning the threads of their friendship back together. Yet Khaenri’ah wasn’t to be brought up. Ever. It was for safety reasons, he said, nobody was supposed to know or suspect anything.
“My home is Mondstadt, Jean.”
He was being prudent. Overly so. Their friendship was beautiful and fragile. But Kaeya didn’t have to be so careful with her.
“Do you miss it?” she asked. And it was obvious she wasn’t talking about Mondstadt.
Perhaps it was because it was dark outside. Perhaps it was the candle lulling him into being honest. Perhaps he was simply too tired to put up a front. But for the first time, instead of lying, instead of deflecting, Kaeya dropped his head and let the truth come out of his lips. Though bitter and resented, the truth was a big improvement compared to the usual deafening silence.
“All the time,” he confessed. And it was like the last wall he had built between them crumbled to dust.
“Sometimes, it’s like an itch that doesn’t go away,” he explained in his uncharacteristically soft voice, that Jean was starting to get used to. “I’ve done all I could to forget, but the memory of this place refuses to leave me.”
“You say it like it’s such an awful thing.”
Kaeya put down his mug with a frown appearing between his eyebrows.
“The whole of Teyvat is turning a blind eye but Khaenriah doesn’t want to be forgotten. It wants to come back, to get revenge.”
“We’re here, we can remember.”
“Jean. Khaenri’ah is a land of sinners,” frustration seeped from his voice. Like he couldn’t get why Jean didn’t understand. And she wouldn’t. She refused to sit there and let her friend berate his own homeland.
There were too many things that Jean had let herself forget. Kaeya was insecure, Kaeya probably hated himself.
It had been easier to remember that Kaeya was timid and emotional back when he was a kid that wasn’t afraid to show his tears. When he first arrived in Mondstadt, he used to cry all the time, mostly for no reason. Kaeya was a child full of feelings, and tears were the easiest way to let them out.
But then, he grew older, and started to distance himself from the whole world. The new Kaeya didn’t cry. He didn’t talk about himself. With a mask of half truths and carefully crafted smiles, he closed off the world and Jean with it.
“You are allowed to miss the place that has raised you.”
//
“So they’re called Field Tillers after all?” The machine crumbled at her feet the moment she pulled out her sword.
Kaeya kneeled down at her side to collect some of the machine’s parts. “It’s hardly their function anymore, but yeah, we used to call them that.”
Jean loved learning new things from Kaeya. Books could only teach her that much, as she discovered when Lisa revealed to her the secret stash of books she kept in her living room. Only one book had mentioned Khaenri’ah; a collection of fables mentioning in passing the brave king of Khaenri’ah. The rest, Lisa told her through a concerned sigh, had been either destroyed or misplaced over time.
So it was a relief that Kaeya was there to teach her now.
“It’s such a shame we have to destroy them. They’re marvellous relics from centuries ago.” She crouched to help put the many devices into his bag.
“Jean, thank you.”
“No problem, four hands are faster than two.”
“No. Really, thank you.” His voice held something bashful and embarrassed.
With a hand, he helped her stand back up. “It feels like, all this time, you’ve always been by my side.”
“Of course I’d be there for you.” For you. Always. She had promised herself that a long time ago.
They continued their expedition. Dismantling the eventual hilichurl camp on their way. Night came rather early. It was late autumn so darkness took over the sky long before they were making their way back.
They stopped at Windrise, instead of immediately heading home.
The giant tree of Windrise always seemed so proud and wise. It was older than all of them, and probably had seen so much from where it stood, unmoving.
Kaeya settled next to her on one of the tree’s giant roots.
“Hum.. Here.” He handed her a bright coloured clay bowl filled with something liquid and greasy and a cotton wick on top. An oil lamp, she realised. She accepted it with a question already on her tongue. The lamp had the oval shape of a leaf. The perfect shape to hold it inside the cup of her two hands.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to, but—” Kaeya’s insecurity was making itself seen again. She tried to reassure him with a gentle smile.
“Today is actually the Starlight Festival in my… in my home. I thought perhaps we could at least light a lamp.”
With a piece of steel and flint, Kaeya lit up the wick. Jean felt the gentle warmth against her two hands. She then placed the lamp right next to her and put her hands as a shield for the flame so that it wouldn’t be blown out by the wind.
“A festival? Why didn’t you say so earlier, we could have prepared something!”
Kaeya hesitated. “I’m sorry… I’m still not sure how to talk about those things. If it’s any comfort, the festival actually lasts for several days, so, tomorrow we could make flower garlands, or prepare sweets and dress up, I know Klee would love a party…”
Khaenri’ah didn’t want to be forgotten. Jean didn’t really want Kaeya to forget either. But it was alright. They could sit and they could remember.
The wind wasn’t too strong tonight. The lamp shone brightly. Its flame danced in the darkness of the evening. It smelled of fresh jasmin.
Kaeya was by her side, finally relaxing under the tall oak tree. And the small smile on his face looked genuine enough. Jean had her own smile as she watched the lamp light up the night. Finally. Finally, she had her best friend back.
Their interactions could still be qualified as shy and overly shaky dance around each other, but she could see Kaeya was making efforts. That really, he wanted to share with her his past, his culture. And of course Jean wanted to know it all. Be it big or be it small. So it was alright if their dance was perhaps kind of unsteady. After all, we all yearned to be understood, to be known. But what a frightful thing that was.
Everyone needed reassurance. A little push. So Jean closed her eyes and asked. “Can you tell me more about the Starlight Festival?”