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If you ever meet the Quartermaster and Cavalry Captain of the esteemed Knight of Favonius, you could clearly see (and hear) that the man loves to talk. When you got to know the Frostblade Captain more, you would understand that 'talking' was a form of weapon for him; he used the art of talking for his diplomacy mission, he used the art of talking to gouge out information from his target, and he used the art of talking to manipulate everyone and everything in order to reach the mission's goal. It became a potent weapon for the captain, for he could silence unwanted dissent, or he could justify violence where he deemed fit. He would arrange flowery words that smelled as fragrance as the Cecilias, and use them to shape people's thoughts, beliefs, and actions.
But late at night, when the clouds hid the moon in a tight embrace, when not even a slither of moonlight nor the sparkle of starlight was able to bypass the thickness of the cloudy sky, when the world was blanketed by darkness, Kaeya spoke freely to himself. He's not afraid to be eavesdropped on by someone. He's not afraid that someone will use the information he freely let out — such invulnerability, against him or against Mondstadt. He's not afraid of being condemned,
Because during cold nights hugged by the darkness of the world, Kaeya Alberich spoke a dead men’s language.
If you ask Kaeya his thought about the Khaenri’ahn language, he would not be able to provide a satisfactory answer. Not because he harbored ill feelings about the language, nor he was trying to hide anything regarding the said topic. It was just because he didn’t even know himself; what was his feeling toward the said language.
Kaeya could have despised the language, for it is the same language he last heard from his father on the day he got abandoned under the heavy rain outside the Dawn Winery area. He could have despised it, even when during his most stressful day and he needs to cuss someone or something out, that language was the one he automatically uses.
Kaeya could have been proud of the language, for it was the last remaining symbol of the once humanity's pride nation. He could have been proud of it, and used it or teach it to others in order to spite the heavenly principle for forcefully eradicating his language simply by purging everything that speaks the said language. Might as well give the sky a middle finger, while he’s at it.
But no. Every one of them didn’t even matter. Because at the end of the day, no one will hear him, and no one will understand him.
Because Kaeya Alberich spoke the dead men’s language.
Even when Kaeya was one of the last persons in this world to be able to speak Khaenri’ahn, Kaeya was surprisingly neutral about the language. He's not fond of the language, nor he hates the language. Kaeya never had any attachment toward the last bit of his nation's culture. He even thinks in Teyvat, his supposedly mother language was lost forever over time. Only the last memory of what his father taught him during their journey from the pit of darkness into the land of freedom still remains.
But he did get curious about it, at first. By the age of 7, Kaeya's knowledge of the Khaenri’ahn language was as good as other seven-year-old kids with their mother language. It was somehow there, but it obviously still lacking in vocabulary and everything. To be honest, Kaeya once tried to learn more about his lost language, but unsurprisingly he was met with limited availability access to the said language education.
Now that Kaeya was grown, he was finally able to come across some information related to the dead language. Apparently, after losing the war, the Khaenri’ahn language was taught strictly for academic purposes; it's only for academic people to be able to read the ancient script in ruins and old documents. But as far as Kaeya’s founding about the people studying the language, there's still a known fear of fully learning the fallen nation's language. So even when the language was still taught to some people, Kaeya had never found an individual who really able to speak the language itself. Kaeya honestly understands the fear, because he knows normal sane people don't want to get on the heavenly principle's bad side.
Kaeya's Khaenri’ahn was supposedly used for communicating with others, but it didn’t matter anymore, for there was no one to communicate to begin with.
Because Kaeya Alberich spoke a dead men’s language.
If you ask Kaeya, was it lonely to be the only one who speaks the dead language? Loneliness was a cold and desolate wasteland where the echoes of Kaeya’s voice were the only sounds he hear, where his reflection and shadow were the only ones who understood what he’s saying. But loneliness was also Kaeya’s best friend and family, it accompanied him from the day he hailed from his bygone nation, until the moment he first arrived in Mondstadt. Loneliness was his best friend, for when his father left him, and when Diluc left him — it stayed with him, devotedly accompanying him.
Loneliness was a shadow that loomed over the world, and its heavy weight draped upon Kaeya’s shoulders like a lover’s embrace.
“Lisa said there are six Darshan in the Akademiya. Which Darshan are you? Are you also a Spantamad scholar like her and Cyno?”
Kaeya asked nonchalantly on one evening. The knight was lying down on one of the couches, head hanging down the cushion with his legs propped into the backrest, hugging one throw pillow on his arms. He watched absentmindedly at the only other occupant of the spacious living room, who was currently sitting cross-legged on the couch right across from the captain, reading a thick book about ‘Teyvat Course in General Linguistics’. The reading man spared him a single glance from his seat, before his teal eyes focused once again on the book on his palms.
“No. I belong to the Haravatat Darshan.” Alhaitham answered simply.
Ever since their meeting on Lambad Tavern several months ago, Kaeya and Alhaitham had been in close contact. Neither of them expected the growing friendship, bloomed from wine and nurtured by time. They found each other’s company enjoyable, and so at first, they’ve been exchanging letters, then it continued with them — mostly Kaeya, visiting the other when the chance present itself. Alhaitham was still stuck in his Acting Grand Sage position, so Kaeya was the one who has more flexibility to do the back-and-forth visit. Not to mention, Mondstadt now had a special business relationship with one of Sumeru’s leading spice merchants, all the more reason for Kaeya to exploit it to visit the Acting Grand Sage. When they met, they could talk about everything and nothing, ranging from the lightest conversation into the deep topic conversation — wine, stupid people and annoying roommate (for Alhaitham’s part), what food they ate for breakfast, the current news happening around the world, the Fatui and treasure hoarder's movement, possible breakthrough inside the nation, or just merely asking each other's thought about certain topics.
Somewhere along the way, their relationship progressed into something… a little more than a mere friendship. Nothing in particular happened, but their friendship was a little different than normal friendship. There was no actual status of their relationship, but people began to learn to leave them alone when the Acting Grand Sage and the ‘Honorable Mondstadt Delegate’ were together; when Kaeya was present in the city, Alhaitham took a longer lunch breaks and he would be absolutely unreachable during weekend. Kaeya merged into Alhaitham’s life like fish to water; He was already well-acquainted with Cyno and Collei, and his close relationship with those two made it easier for him to befriend Tighnari. He showed proper respect to Lesser Lord Kusanali, and his knowledge about art and romance (because Kaeya is Mondstadian) charmed Nilou and her theatre group of friends. And last thing last (and much to Alhaitham’s distaste), Kaeya unsurprisingly became best drinking buddy for both Kaveh and Dehya.
And that’s why Kaeya was now comfortably lounging around inside the Acting Grand Sage’s house, bare feet propped up the couch and everything.
“Haravatat… the one who studies semiotics and languages?” Kaeya asked again, rolling his body so that now he was laying down on his stomach, the pillow was then used to prop his chest. “Huh, that’s explain the book you’re reading right now.”
Alhaitham flipped a page, “That is correct.”
Kaeya sit upright, curiosity shining through his only visible eye, “How many languages do you know?”
Alhaitham flipped another page, “Enough for me to graduate from my Darshan.”
One eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the half-assed answer, “And how do I know how many is that, exactly?”
The Acting Grand Sage smirked as he let out a soft chuckle at that, the sounds were so melodious but it made Kaeya wants to just chuck the pillow into the dendro-user’s smug (handsome) face all the more. “I thought you’re the knowledgeable and erudite Kaeya Alberich, surely this simple information did not slip past your great information circle?”
And so Kaeya threw the pillow — which Alhaitham unfortunately dodged.
“Smartass,” Kaeya grumbled to himself, but there was an apparent smile on his face. Yes, Kaeya did know how many languages a Haravatat student needs to master before they are credible to graduate: it’s fucking 20 languages. He did know, but as someone who habitually trying to maintain a conversation — it was Kaeya’s attempt to lengthen the conversation, by asking the conversation partner to answer and explain instead, even when he already knows the answer. It was originally meant so that the conversation partner felt appreciated and included into the conversation topic. But Kaeya also knew that Alhaitham dislikes small talk and pleasantries, and he would rather you just go straight to the point from the very start and not beating around the bushes.
Haravatat… languages..
A question popped out inside his mind, and it made the Mondstadian knight pause. Having thrown away the pillow to Alhaitham’s vicinity, Kaeya was left with nothing to fiddle with, so he clenched his fist tightly to prevent himself from fiddling with his own gloved finger. “…Do you know Khaneri’ahn, then?” Kaeya asked, trying to sound casual. In his own ears, Kaeya didn’t detect any nervousness in his tone, so he would have to give props to himself for that.
“The language of Dahri people…” Alhaitham mused, his eyes still glued to that godforsaken book. Kaeya vaguely remembered that Khaenri’ah was called Dahri in Sumeru, it’s an archaic term that the Vahumana Darshan uses when studying about them. Alhaitham threw a glance at Kaeya, “Why do you ask?”
If the knight had anymore pillows in his reach, then he definitely will chuck them at Alhaitham again, with the genuine intent to hurt. “If you are acting oblivious then let me tell you that you are doing very poorly at that. You know why I ask you this.” Kaeya could not help but be amazed at the other’s insensitiveness when it comes to other people’s emotions and feelings. He knew about it beforehand — that Alhaitham was not deliberately doing that on purpose, but seeing the actual proof for that from time to time never fails to surprise Kaeya.
Their eyes met, and Alhaitham's teal orbs seemed like they were shining under Kaeya’s scrutinize glare. “And perhaps all I need is the confirmation for my speculation, that’s all.”
Of course— Alhaitham was a really smart and clever man, so it’s totally nor surprising that he was able to connect the dots himself. Kaeya never told him about his Khaenri’ahn lineage. He didn’t exactly know what characteristics Dahri people are and how much he has those characteristics, and he also didn’t know how much the Akademiya — Alhaitham, knew about them. There’s a popular tale that had been speculated it was telling about Khaenri’ah, the tale said that they have fair skin and light hair — and Kaeya has none of those descriptions. Yet Alhaitham didn’t get baited by the mainstream myth, and this made clear that (1) Akademiya did have some information about Khaenri’ah, and (2) its information was accurate enough to the point that Alhaitham could guess his origin.
“You are an asshole, you know that?” Kaeya said, still holding his glare.
“My roommate always makes sure to remind me of that every single chance he got.” Alhaitham helpfully answered. The mention of Alhaitham’s roommate — Kaveh, made Kaeya hope that the Kshahrewar scholar was indeed present at the house, the blond man would definitely join him in giving Alhaitham the side-eye. The architect had been absent more often since he got a sponsor for one of his projects, departing to the project site at dusk and returning home late at night. Kaeya had run across his drinking buddy only twice during his two weeks stay in Sumeru City, and he visited Alhaitham’s abode quite frequently.
“And he’s right about it.” Kaeya huffed, rolling his eye so hard he could see his brain.
“I just need you to say it, Kaeya.”
Kaeya bit down a curse, pouting. The blue-haired knight had rarely lost in a staring competition, but Alhaitham’s unmovable stare was a really tough opponent to defeat. The cavalry captain exhaled loudly, throwing himself back to lean into the couch’s backrest, “Fine. I am curious if there’s someone else besides my own reflection that I could talk to in my supposedly mother language.”
There, the cats were out of the bag. Saying it aloud felt weird for Kaeya — openly admitting that he hailed from the Land of Sinner, and acknowledging that he misses something from the fallen kingdom. He remembered how the first time he tried to divulge this specific information, all hell broke loose, the burnt scar around his right eyelid throbbed in response to his thought. But look at him now, exposing himself so easily to the scholar. “I don’t know how to describe it but the fact that I know this language but so far I can’t even use it because it's not known anymore…”
Suffocated by the current tension in the air around them, Kaeya lowered his head. He just couldn’t bare to face the Acting Grand Sage after basically stripping all his masks, the masks he crafted meticulously his whole life.
“It feels… kinda lonely.”
Kaeya didn’t know what face Alhaitham made, hearing the things he just said. The topic was suddenly went south so quickly, and Kaeya wondered since when did he get open and vulnerable so easily in front of the others. An irrational fear began clawing up — What if Alhaitham reacts the same way Diluc did? What if he rejects me because of this? Cold sweat began forming on Kaeya’s temple as another thought barraged its way into Kaeya’s mind, Is this a mistake?
“Then, you could talk to me.”
Before Kaeya could spiral more into his self-doubt and diffidence, Alhaitham spoke to him in a slow and unhurried, yet thoughtful tone. Kaeya snapped his head so fast, surprise and shock clearly painted on the knight’s face. His brain short-circuiting, trying to process the sudden switch of languages. The familiar tone, the familiar words, the familiar language—
Alhaitham was speaking to him in Khaenri’ahn language.
Kaeya was so surprised, his brain stopped working properly. That itch to use his mother language, that urge to be understood — suddenly vaporized into thin air as his brain had a hard time coming up with a response in the appropriate language. Spending almost all his life speaking in Teyvat language, Kaeya now even thinks in Teyvat. When the question of the said language popped out in his mind, Kaeya was actually worried that it will take his brain some time to get used to the changes, but it was terrifyingly easy for Kaeya’s brain to turn its gear back to Khaenri’ahn. The reply sits at the back of his mind, all Kaeya needed to do was to actually say it aloud — but his tongue felt like covered with lead and his throat was closing off, it was so hard to speak.
All he could do was croak a hoarse,
“... I-I can’t believe this...”
Alhaitham, on the other hand, failed to notice how much turmoil he caused the other man just by speaking his mother language. He went off explaining the reason for his knowledge about the said language with utmost fluently,
“It was purely a mere curiosity that brought me to study this language.”
Kaeya was forced to gulp down the rising bile in his throat. Everything about this — this conversation felt too surreal, too good to be true. The voices in his head pointed finger at him, what if the archons and Celestia heard this? Would Alhaitham be in danger for knowing Khaenri’ahn language? The nation was erased from the face of Teyvat afterall, wouldn’t it be normal that anything regarding the fallen kingdom would be labeled as a forbidden knowledge?
“Is Khaenri’ahn a f-forbidden knowledge in Akademiya? W-won’t you get into trouble for learning this?”
Kaeya couldn’t help but ask, there was a prickling fear that he somehow endanger Alhaitham’s safety just because he wanted someone to indulge his selfishness — to indulge his desire to be understood. Sensing Kaeya's growing anxiousness and realizing the reasons behind that anxiousness, Alhaitham quickly answered him,
“No, it’s not really forbidden knowledge. It is just that there are very limited—almost nonexistent, knowledge sources about Khaenri’ahn. It’s making studying this language almost impossible.”
Alhaitham explained, offering a little smile to soothe Kaeya’s heart. The smile did ease Kaeya’s heart a little, but the thumping of the Knight’s heart didn’t recede. The knight won't admit the blooming ember of hope inside his heart, the tiny little hope that maybe- just maybe, his language was not lost in time after all, and there were more people out there who could speak the language.
“T-then, how do you learn about this…?”
Forcefully shoving the fear aside, Kaeya now paid great attention to Alhaitham’s Khaenri’ahn; there was an obvious stiffness in the pronunciation, it was given since Alhaitham self-taught the language; there was no one to give him a proper example and demonstration, and so Alhaitham has to resort in learning how to pronounce each word through the phonemic chart alone.
“When the Akasha was still active, as the Grand Scribe of the Akademiya, I have more authority over the knowledge shared inside the terminal… and that included the restricted access server. That’s where I found knowledge about Khaenri’ahn language. It’s restricted, yes, but it’s not forbidden.”
Alhaitham’s gentle voice carried comfort over the air as he weaved words together like a delicate tapestry. The knight closed his eye, letting the concordant chain of words (his mother language) to permeate into his being. As Kaeya listened, he was transported back into a forgotten kingdom, a dreamless nation with a starless sky and pitch black painted over the horizon. It was such a weird experience — Kaeya never longed for the lost language, yet now that he heard someone else using it… now that Kaeya actually using it… there was a melancholy feeling about it. There was an unexplainable pain in his heart, grieving over a homeland that he never actually lived in.
“Me being a Haravatat scholar aside, I also thought it was wise to learn about this language since there are several ruins in Sumeru that are using Khaenri’ahn ancient script. Surely enough, when I was doing my thesis project, I happened to come across a ruin with almost a fully reserved relic with Khaenri’ahn script. It was an astounding founding for my team— Kaeya?”
Alhaitham stopped his explanation midway when he sensed that Kaeya so far didn’t respond to anything he just said. Both of them love to talk when it comes to things they were interested in. And even though their conversation was usually interspersed with other things such as reading reports or books, or even when they decided to do their paperwork together — they were always acknowledging each other’s stories, be it with a hum, any noises that signify that they were listening, or just a single nod here and there.
“Kaeya?”
Alhaitham asked again- switching back to Teyvat language, but Kaeya still hung his head low, eye clenched shut. There was a rustling sound — book being closed and footsteps, and Alhaitham was then kneeling in front of Kaeya, clasping his hands around Kaeya’s clammy ones, and giving them a little squeeze. The firm pressure brought Kaeya’s attention back to reality, and the painting of his homeland disperse like a morning mist. Kaeya blinked his eye open to see a worried look on the Acting Grand Sage’s face, “Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”
“N-no… just— Just continue talking, please… I- I want to hear more…”
Everything was suddenly blurry for Kaeya. He belatedly realized that he was crying, tears trailing down his face and soaking through his eye patch. The loss of the familiar language tugged something on Kaeya’s heart as his dam suddenly broke. Overwhelmed with grief, and all his emotion spilled away. He sat on the edge of the couch, shoulders shaking as he struggled to hold back his sobs, biting his lips- trying to keep the ugly sounds silent. The tears streamed down freely on his face, and he couldn’t stop them no matter how hard he tried.
“I’m— I’m just so happy, I don’t know why…
Kaeya tried to say between stifled sobs, the tears just wouldn’t stop. He didn’t even realize that he was speaking in Khaenri’ahn again. Alhaitham moved to sit beside Kaeya, and then the knight felt arms wrapped around him as the scholar pulled him into a warm hug. He didn't say anything, he just held Kaeya as he cried. The warm gesture only fueled more tears to spring out, his body was wracked with silent cries.
They stayed like that for a few more moments, before Kaeya lightly shoved the other man, dried trail of tears visible on his face. The crying eventually slowed to a trickle, before stopping completely, and he wiped the tears from his face. Kaeya took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
“I’m sorry…”
Alhaitham lightly shook his head, one hand reaching out to help Kaeya wipe out the remaining tears. Kaeya unconsciously leaned into the touch, too tired to think about their intimacy which was totally not in the platonic friendship spectrum, “No, don’t be sorry.”
And because Kaeya’s self-loathes were so severe, he blamed himself for making their peaceful afternoon time into a trauma-dump therapy session. Way to go, Alberich… Alhaitham is already busy enough that he finally found time to spare for you and yet all you do is wasting his time and cry like a bitch, Kaeya bitterly thought to himself. Wall after wall began to be constructed again around his fragile heart as Kaeya readied himself to freeze his emotion just like before-
“… Kaeya, look at me please?”
But before the wall was up and standing, Alhaitham called out to him, using Khaenri’ahn this time. His voice was almost pleading, like Alhaitham was aware that Kaeya was building up his defense and closing himself again. His voice was almost pleading… like he was desperate for Kaeya to just look at him.
So Kaeya did. He forced himself to look at Alhaitham, and what greeted him almost wrenched out another sob from him; Alhaitham was looking at him like Kaeya meant the world. Like he said before, Alhaitham is honest, he hides nothing — and Kaeya could only see pure adoration in those teal orbs.
“If you ever feel lonely, you can always talk to me.”
Alhaitham reached out to Kaeya’s hands once again, gently taking it in his own. He brought Kaeya’s right hand close to his lips, kissing the back of his hand tenderly.
“I’ve read somewhere that to understand someone’s language means to understand someone’s heart.”
Alhaitham then brought his head up to press a light kiss on Kaeya's forehead, whispering into the skin.
“Let me understand your heart, Kaeya.”
If you ask Kaeya, was it lonely to be the only one who speaks the dead language? The answer finally shows itself. As the winter snow began to thaw, and the chill in the air slowly but surely receded, the first warmth of spring began melting away the loneliness in Kaeya’s heart. A tiny, green sprout of spring fought its way against the thick layer of snow on the ground — a symbol of hope and renewal. For Kaeya, the sprout — Alhaitham, was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was always the promise of a new beginning, a chance to start anew.
Because Kaeya Alberich spoke the dead men’s language, yet he found Alhaitham who understood the language nonetheless.
Kaeya smiled,
“Thank you.”