Archive of Our Own

Kaeya Alberich had not been a sturdy child. Though anyone would admit he's filled out nicely over the years, he'd been rail-thin and quite delicate when he was very young, and this had really done him no favors. Like most adults, he doesn't remember the very first time he ever fell ill, but he does remember the first time he was sick after arriving at the Dawn Winery. The instance stands out very clearly in his memory, in part because he'd been so certain he was definitely dying.

Though it had been late summer and the weather hadn't been especially cold, Kaeya's first taste of life above ground had been a chilling, horrific experience. He'd been told stories of how those blessed by the archons lived beneath a bright, brilliant sky not meant for sinners like him, but the sky that night had been black and split with blinding veins of furious white light--even the ground shook with what he could only describe as the sound of the earth splitting apart. Water had cascaded from above in waves, soaking him to the skin as it thundered across the countryside like the subterranean waterfalls of the rivers that threaded their way across the red earth of his homeland. The air had felt electrified, leaving the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end like when he ventured too close to a power relay.

He remembers a tart, pungent smell in the air, like burning wire, like hot wet metal, sharp and clean and ever stronger with each flash of angry white light, each crack of the earth breaking apart. He remembers wind, unlike anything the moving turbines beneath the ground had ever created, whipping around him in tight, cold circles, pulling at his sopping wet hair and his drenched, heavy cloak. He remembers shaking so badly he couldn't even grip his father's hand as the man had taken him by the shoulder and bade him stay here, called him the hope of his people, and then vanished into the sheets of water driven down from the sky, fading into the obscurity of the trees like a shadow merging with the night.

He isn't sure how much time had passed; he recalls the way his legs ached from standing, how his feet ached from the cold, wet ground, how his head ached from all the noise and the strange low pressure of the air. The wind had picked up further at some point, pulling at the hems of his cloak, pulling at his hair, pushing against his back and sending tremors down the length of his spine. It had driven his feet forward, bidding him up the hill, toward the golden light shining through the windows of the strange building nearby, its impossibly huge spires reaching toward the blackened sky, so high they disappeared into the mist. He remembers staring up and up and up, his mouth falling agape, gawking at the massive structure, and then doubling forward coughing as he inhaled the cold water that fell from above.

Things get fuzzy after that--his knees are cold, muddy where he's dropped to the ground, his breath rattles wetly in his chest, the patch over his right eye feels like ice pressed against his face, and his fingers grip the sodden mantle as if it could help keep the chill away. A wide, warm hand finds his back, takes his shoulder, and for just a moment he thinks his father has returned for him. Kaeya remembers snapping his head up, expecting to see his father's face, and there's a moment's confusion when instead he sees fiery red before everything just goes dark.

The next several days are a kaleidoscope of terror, his memories a mess of shards of fractured color and noise. The fiery red and a deep booming voice had quickly given way to soft honey gold, bright green, and a far gentler sound. The words had made no sense to him, but the timbre had been docile and soothing. As frigid as everything had felt before, suddenly the world was far too hot, leaving him soaked in sweat beneath heavy blankets, feeling as if he were drowning in the depths of a bed far too big and far too soft. Hands had fussed carefully around his face, trying to remove the patch from his eye, and he'd screamed and screamed until his throat was raw and breathing hurt, and finally the patch had been left where it was, the gentle voice conceding softly as the hands had pulled back, leaving him inexplicably yearning for their cool touch against his burning cheek once more. Breathing had still hurt when the screaming was over, and he had gasped like a caught fish, struggling desperately to take in enough air, clawing at his neck and pawing at his chest, begging them to open up and let his lungs expand.

There's something a bit sad, he thinks, about the way his entire first impression of the wonderful world above ground was steeped in fear, in pain.

Adelinde had never told him if he'd actually been in danger those first 72 hours he'd spent at the Winery, but Kaeya remembers purposefully going into Crepus' library after taking ill the same way several more times in the following six months, wondering if he was just going to be sick the entire duration of his stay in this strange land so far from home, determined to find out what was wrong with him. Though he struggled yet trying to read the common language, though he didn't know how to correctly pronounce a lot of the words, he had been able to find his symptoms in a book and figure out what was likely plaguing him. 'Pneumonia', he'd learned, often damaged the lungs permanently after the first case, making one far more susceptible to repeat infection, and he'd closed himself in the room they'd told him was his, refusing to speak to anyone for the entire rest of the day. How could his father have left him here to die? Was that the 'hope' he was meant to be for his people? Was his death the end goal?

This line of thought had upset him so badly that he'd ended up bedridden again, leaving both Crepus and Adelinde baffled as to what had even caused the ailment.

Of course, despite his somewhat precarious constitution in his youth, Kaeya had eventually grown hardier (largely thanks to Adelinde's wholesome meals and very assertively affectionate fretting), and those childhood bouts of illness became mostly a thing of the past. He had worked hard to regain strength in his lungs, pushing himself to run laps around the Winery grounds until he could run faster and further than anyone else, until he could hold his breath longer and swim deeper in the lake than even Diluc could. He knew he'd never be able to match Diluc in raw power, but what he lacked in brute strength he more than made up for in speed and cunning, and slowly but surely, the fear that his father had left him here to die had faded, leaving him with the equally heavy but slightly less frightening idea that he had some grand greater (perhaps sinister) purpose that would one day be revealed. Thankfully, by that time, though a fierce storm often still left his head aching, he was no longer so brittle and breakable that stress left him infirm.

And that is precisely why he knows that the pounding in his head and the ache in his bones aren't that. The ferry service from Port Ormos to Liyue Harbor is a tried and true transit route, and it had been peaceful and gone without incident, though it had taken the better part of the day. Kaeya's had a lot on his mind after this mission, of course, but there's no way he's so weak that it's actually a problem. He's going to walk from the Harbor back to Mondstadt just to prove it, too! Why, it would be ridiculous to waste the resources to call for a carriage. He's the Cavalry Captain!

(Which would usually mean he's on horseback, not walking, but details.)

By the time he reaches the Wangshu Inn, the sun has nearly set, and everything in him is screaming to just stop for the night. They aren't expecting him back at Headquarters until tomorrow evening anyway, but... no, he could get so much done in the extra time, he really should keep going. He's already halfway there. Surely the encounter with that man--Dainsleif--in Sumeru can't have affected him so much that he can't walk this distance. He's made this journey on foot dozens of times! The uncomfortable itching sensation in his lungs isn't really there, he's not really short of breath, it's all in his head, he's imagining it! He's just a bit tired, but he can make it back to his office. He can deliver his report tonight and then take it easy tomorrow!

... He's never been very good at taking it easy, but maybe he'll really try this time. He'll only bring home one stack of paperwork instead of two.

And so he just waves jovially at Yùhuá where she stands at the railing near the lift and keeps walking, crossing the fancy bridge north of the inn and continuing along the road through the marsh. He gives a nod to the Millelith soldier standing guard at the stone bridge further along the route, and then pauses at the sight of the glowing Statue of the Seven to his left. He's heard so many stories of how the statues can heal the injured, have even brought people back from the brink of death, and he's always assumed it's just rubbish. Jean swears he owes his life to the Statue that stands vigil over the Winery, swears that it kept him alive--though barely--after his fight with Diluc, long enough for her to find him nearly 24 hours later, but... he can't imagine that's true. Healing powers channeled through a Vision are one thing, but there's no way a stone statue could ever have such abilities, after all. Moreover, why would a statue of a god bestow any such blessing on the godless?

Ugh, but his head is killing him, and... maybe he is a little winded, actually. A quick rest beneath the statue couldn't hurt, right?

"Begging your pardon, Rex Lapis," he says quietly with a chuckle as he sits down at the base of the statue, letting his back fall against the stone with a sigh as he draws one knee up and drapes his arm over it. "You don't mind if I rest here a moment, do you?" he asks, tilting his head back to peer upward, though he can't actually see the carved figure of the god of Geo from this angle. If Liyue's late archon (or his ghost) has any complaints about a Khaenri'ahn heathen resting in the glow of one of his statues, however, there's no indication so far as Kaeya can tell.

Kaeya jerks awake with a ragged gasp, disoriented, and turns to smother an unexpected fit of coughing into his elbow. Ugh, had he fallen asleep? For how long? It's fully dark now, had anyone seen him? How mortifying! Struggling a moment to catch his breath, he fumbles for his timepiece, squinting at it in the blue glow of the statue, then sighing with relief when he sees he's only missing about twenty minutes. He plants a hand over his covered eye and presses his palm against the dull ache behind the patch, but finds that the overall pain in his head seems to have subsided a bit.

Getting to his feet with a grunt of effort, Kaeya arches his back, grimacing, before heading back toward the road. He turns over his shoulder a moment to glance back at the statue, his eye narrowed a bit. He's still not entirely sure he believes that that silly fellow from the funeral parlor is actually Morax, and he can't decide if there's much of a resemblance between him and the statues (nothing like the resemblance between Venti and the statues of Barbatos, which Kaeya remains baffled no one ever seems to bring up), but... well, he might have to pen an anonymous letter of vague appreciation anyway. Just in case.

He's not quite sure how he manages to make it to the border of Mondstadt, really. His legs feel like lead, and every single step up the stairways of Stone Gate feels like climbing the karst pillars of the stone forests. He passes a waypoint as he drags his feet along the boardwalks, now empty after the fall of night, but the headache had returned quite quickly after his departure from the base of the statue, and he really doesn't think he can handle any bonemelting tonight. Inanely, he finds himself wishing Lumine was here with him, though not just for the way her presence seems to decrease the side effects of teleportation significantly. Fiddling absently with the chain across the collar of his shirt, he continues along the darkened wooden walkway, his heart twinging as he remembers the look of absolute horror on Lumine and Paimon's faces as Dainsleif had spilled the truth.

'I suppose that was why my father left me in Mondstadt after all...' Why had he said that? He had had his suspicions as to his ancestors' involvement with the Abyss Order for a while now, but he didn't know. How could he have known? He'd been but a child when he'd last seen or heard from anyone from his homeland, and it wasn't as if he was going to find Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About The Abyss Order, But Were Too Afraid to Ask on the shelves of the library at Ordo Headquarters.

'I trust you, Kaeya,' Lumine had said, her golden eyes clouded with something like uncertainty. I think... I guess, he had heard quite plainly as follow-up, though she hadn't said it aloud, and the knife still twists into his heart even now.

Had it even really been the truth at all, or was this Dainsleif character just trying to corner him? After finding him skulking about Mondstadt, he'd dug around for anything he could find about this strange, shadowy figure, and had come up mostly dry. Surely he can't be the Dainsleif, the Twilight Sword, who had fought for the kingdom as it had fallen... can he? For that matter, learning so abruptly that Lumine and Paimon had been working with him, apparently for at least several months now, had come as an extra shock. Lumine has always been even more reserved with stories of her past than he is, but he'd thought they had at least built up this much trust, that she would tell him about this man she had been working alongside in her quest, even if she kept what they'd learned together to herself.

Maybe he'd overestimated his importance to the illustrious Traveler. Maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to bring her in closer than arm's length. Maybe he should have remembered that getting close to people is the quickest way to get hurt. Maybe a sinner should remember his place.

Maybe it doesn't matter.

As he rounds a corner, at last he sees the spire of blue light from the Statue of the Seven that overlooks the Winery, shooting up toward the heavens like a spear, and he pauses a moment in his steps to just gaze at it, a wistful sort of yearning gripping him in the moment. He had already known that his history was far more sordid than he's ever let on, but somehow hearing it said aloud, especially by a stranger, had rattled him right down to the marrow. The remaining two nights he'd spent in Sumeru had been mostly sleepless, any fitful rest riddled with the consuming fear that Lumine's somewhat timid goodbye in front of the spice stand in Port Ormos had been the last thing she would ever say to him. He hadn't even been able to bring himself to go into the teapot abode to find her, to try and explain himself. What if she'd revoked the Realm Dispatch? What if he's no longer welcome there? He'd been too afraid to even make the attempt, for the bone-chilling fear that it would fail.

He's tired, and shaken, and he thinks he hasn't wanted this badly to just go home in longer than he can remember.

Kaeya still remembers the day he first really started thinking of Mondstadt as 'home'. He'd been nine years old, it had been about a year and a half since he'd been taken into the Ragnvindr household, and Crepus had taken him and Diluc on a business trip to Liyue. They had stayed at some fancy inn he can no longer recall the name of, but he'd found the sheets scratchy and the staff overbearing, and trying to eat with chopsticks had been so frustrating he'd honestly wanted to cry. It wasn't until the carriage had crossed back into Mondstadt and the steepled red roof of the Winery had risen into view again that he'd realized the reason he'd been so anxious and crabby during the trip was because he'd wanted to go home.

And even now, every time he crosses the border on the northern road, every time the soft breeze and the scent of dandelions and sweet flowers fills his head, it still feels the same as it did all those years ago. Mondstadt is home, more than Khaenri'ah ever was, and after this particular expedition he's especially glad to see these familiar rolling green hills. Even if that fear of having broken Lumine's trust still hangs over his head, it all feels less daunting now that Mondstadt is within reach, and a sense of relief floods through him.

A sense of relief... that is quickly dashed when a sprinkle of rain begins to fall from overhead. What starts off as a few scattered drops quickly becomes a full-fledged shower, and Kaeya closes his eye, rubbing his face with both hands.

"Figures," he mutters with a sigh and a shake of his head. As if this trip hadn't been harrowing enough, it seems he won't even be permitted to go back to his apartment in peace.

He might have an umbrella in his inventory, but in the time it would take him to look for it, he would end up soaked anyway, so rather than waste time, he just wills his exhausted body to keep moving, following the road along the waterside, under the rocky overhang that serves as the only real physical marker between the two neighboring nations. As he passes a trio of seelie courts mirrored by a trio of lamp grass, the weight of his feet seems to lessen, just a little, to know he's finally back on Mondstadtan soil. He knows the terrain around the Winery better than anyone, save perhaps Diluc, and quickly veers to the northern side of the road. Cryo slimes tend to gather at the water's edge ahead, and he does not have the energy to try and deal with them right now, especially in this weather. It will never be anything but ironic, he thinks, that the rain that should give him such an advantage in most fights instead tends to leave him distracted and aching, in head and heart both.

Passing the waypoint, glowing pale blue in the dim grey of the rain, Kaeya knows he's in the clear and makes his way back to the road. As he continues east down the path, the pale golden light from the Winery windows appears through the gloom, and something catches against his ribs, twists painfully behind his sternum, and he ducks his head to cough into his elbow again. He's never quite managed to stop thinking of the Winery as his home, but he supposes it never quite will be again, really. He'll insist until he's blue in the face that he has every right to be there any time a certain redhead tries to grumble otherwise, but he knows in his heart that even if the staff still cares greatly for him, Diluc isn't so keen on having him drop in, especially without warning.

He sucks in a breath, grimacing at the way his chest pulls, then shakes his head and grips his upper arms with both hands. It's March, and spring is just around the corner--the Windblume Festival is already underway, for that matter--but the air is still chilly at night, and the rain leaves him shivering. He knows Adelinde would usher him inside without a second thought, would scold him for even hesitating, but... he can't do it. In just about any other situation, were he out and about on a warm clear night with all of his usual chutzpah in place, he would march right up to the Winery and invite himself in for a nightcap, just to watch the vein in Diluc's forehead bulge.

But not tonight. Not after what's happened, not laden with the heavy guilt of his own history dragging behind him like a cloak of chains. Diluc had all but disowned him on a night much like tonight, and he can't bring himself to risk being thrown back out into the rain like an unwanted stray.

(Kaeya knows Diluc isn't actually that cruel, but the rain is miserable, and he's very busy feeling sorry for himself, and his head hurts and his bones hurt and his chest hurts and breathing hurts and logic isn't really even making a cameo appearance in this show tonight.)

So when he reaches the curve in the road, where the Dawn Winery sign sits silently in the downpour, Kaeya casts a pining glance toward the warm light of the big gabled house up the hill, then turns instead to his left, to avoid stepping into the actual vineyards. He'll make his way back to the road on the other side and continue north from there. He's almost there, he can go a little further, he can drag himself back to the city, back to his dark, empty apartment. He'll worry about the report for Jean tomorrow; he doesn't want to see anyone tonight, certainly not his colleagues, his subordinates. They shouldn't see their commanding officer--see the Cavalry Captain--looking like a half-drowned cat, after all.

Trudging through the wet grass, already drenched clean through his boots, he stumbles into the road and then pauses a moment to grind the heel of his hand against his covered eye, grimacing. Ugh, pathetic. He's a Cryo, the rain is supposed to be a boon for all of his abilities! So why does it just leave him feeling empty and cold? Why does it make his right eye ache like there's a pit behind it, sending a deep, throbbing pain pulsing through his whole skull, down his spine, and radiating across his back?

"... Master Kaeya?"

Kaeya startles viciously, sucking in a sharp, surprised breath, and then instantly regretting both actions as he doubles forward coughing, feeling as though an icy hand were gripping his spinal column and twisting sharply.

"Whoa, hey, are you all right?"

A hand takes his shoulder, and he scrambles to try and regain his poise, clearing his throat roughly and forcing himself upright. Light blue eyes and silver hair glint in the gold light of a portable lamp, the rain peppering a staccato rhythm against an umbrella overhead.

"E-Elzer?" He clears his throat again, giving the other man a baffled look. "What in the world are you doing out here in this awful weather?"

Elzer arches one eyebrow dubiously. "I could ask you the same thing," he says, "but it actually wasn't raining when I left the main house, so I assume it wasn't raining when you went out, either."

Kaeya frowns, but can't deny he makes a valid point.

"I was walking Hillie and Moco home," he says, gesturing to the little bungalow behind him where several of the young female maids live together on the grounds. "They stayed late to help clean up after Master Diluc had a meeting, and I didn't want them to have to walk alone in the dark. When it started to rain, they insisted I go back with an umbrella." He looks at Kaeya with a tinge of sympathy, tilting his hand to nudge the umbrella forward enough to cover his head as well. "Seems you weren't so lucky, whatever errand you came from."

"Sadly not," Kaeya says, brushing his sleeves off as if the gesture makes a difference. "But a little rain never hurt anyone, ultimately."

"Unless you happen to be a Pyro slime," Elzer retorts, and Kaeya manages to disguise a cough as something like a laugh (he hopes).

Elzer isn't that much older than he and Diluc are, despite his silvery hair perhaps suggesting otherwise. Kaeya knows he'd also been very close to Crepus, having thought of the man as a father figure, and though he hasn't known him as long as he's known Adelinde, Kaeya cares for Elzer a great deal. He's well aware that without Elzer's hard work, the Winery may well have suffered significant losses--perhaps unrecoverable losses--when Diluc had left for Snezhnaya. He has a great respect for the man, and certainly doesn't want Elzer to see him in this state.

"Why don't you come to the house and warm up a bit?" Elzer suggests, jerking his chin a bit up the road, his expression tipping into concerned now. "You know Adelinde and I are always happy to put you up; you should at least wait out the rain."

Kaeya realizes he's squinting a bit through the pain in his eye, in his spine, and takes a slow breath, schooling the discomfort out of his expression.

"I was just headed back to the city," he says casually, "I have a report to submit. It's not that far. Besides," he adds with a strained chuckle, "I'm already soaked, I might as well just go all the way."

He just needs Elzer to wish him well and head back toward the house. He really doesn't think he can keep this nonchalant act up for very long. His head seems to ache more with each passing second, and there's a sort of prickly feeling crawling up the back of his neck. He just needs to make it back to the apartment, and then he'll be fine.

"Anyway, I should get going," he says, shaking his head quickly to try and clear away the ringing in his ears, the throbbing behind his eyes, and he gives Elzer what he hopes passes for a smile. "I won't keep you, but do say hello to Adelinde for me, won't you?"

Kaeya doesn't quite wait for an answer, turning on his heel to continue northward along the road. He makes it two steps before Elzer's hand is on his arm, arresting his forward motion.

"Master Kaeya, are you sure you're all right?" he asks, but his voice sounds too quiet, the pounding of the rain drowning him out. Ah... no, wait, it's the pounding in his head. "You don't look so good," he thinks he hears as the pounding only grows louder, the prickly feeling creeping further upward, leaving his face feeling flushed even in the cool air.

"It's nothing, Elzer," he hedges, tugging weakly at Elzer's grip on his arm. "Really, I'm just a bit tired."

"Then, please, come rest at the house," Elzer says, his words sounding echoey, diffused, like he's underwater. "It's gotte... ...ther late... ...o troub... ...linde will cert... ad to see..."

Kaeya stares at Elzer's mouth, trying to parse the words that don't quite meet his ears, but he's finding he can't see much better than he can hear. Elzer suddenly looks infinitely far away, like he's staring at him the wrong way through binoculars, and the ringing sound in his head has become overwhelming, dissonant, like both hands slammed down on the keys of an organ.

"...ster Ka...?"

He looks up, meeting Elzer's eye. He can see his mouth moving, but the sound is lost amid the din in his head. He sees the older man's expression pinch in confusion, then it warps with alarm--

"Miss Adelinde, do I get sick all the time because the archons are angry with me for not obeying my father?"

"Oh, certainly not, Master Kaeya, where did you get a silly idea like that? Have you been sneaking off again to read those grim fairy tales after you've been put to bed?"

"N-no, of course not!"

"Besides, what makes you think you've disobeyed your father, anyway? He left you here, in the care of the archon of freedom, didn't he? Surely that means he wanted you to find your own path..."

It's too warm.

With a soft groan, Kaeya begrudgingly finds himself reacquainted with consciousness. Oh, stars, how his head aches, and he's quite certain that if he tries to open his eye he's going to be physically sick. So he just breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to quell the nauseous feeling in his gut and the throbbing pain in his head.

It's too warm. Hadn't he been freezing only a moment ago? Why does the rain sound so strange now? Why can't he feel it?

Is he dead?

Something soft brushes his forehead, and he forces his eye open, just a little.

"Ah, there you are," a familiar voice says, hushed and affectionate, and Kaeya groans again as vague understanding washes slowly over him, his pride suddenly toppled like a sandcastle at the mercy of the tides. He's in one of the cushy chairs from the sitting areas on the first floor of the Winery house, where guests are invited to relax while they wait to be seen by Master Diluc. They're much softer than the chairs at the dining table, with padded raised arms. He recalls vaguely how he would bundle himself up in a blanket and sit in one of these chairs when he was small, pretending someone was holding him gently in their lap. Adelinde had figured out what he was doing before long, though, and had quickly started picking him up to hold him in her lap in the chair instead. He still thinks it was one of the best feelings he'd ever experienced in his life, back then.

Maybe still, even now.

The chair sits in front of the hearth, which explains why the rain had sounded wrong--it wasn't rain at all, but the crackling of the fire--and why he's suddenly far too warm. Something like shame curls in his belly as he realizes he's still in his rainsoaked clothes; he hopes he hasn't ruined the chair.

"Adelinde."

His voice is gravelly, and he clears his throat with a grimace, forcing his eye open the rest of the way, forbidding himself to give into the queasy sensation in his stomach and the taste of bile on the back of his tongue.

"You've a bit of a fever, Master Kaeya," she says quietly with a click of her tongue where she leans over him, and he figures perhaps that... has also played a role in the too-warm thing. Maybe.

"How did I...?" He clears his throat again and closes his eye, feeling a bit dizzy.

"You met Elzer on the road," she says, shifting to stand up straight, "do you remember?"

"...Mm," he replies noncommittally, and he can almost see the way she puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head just so.

"You gave him a bit of a scare, fainting dead away like that," she chides him gently, and he sort of moans, though whether it's in pain or embarrassment he can't quite decide.

"How long was I out?" he asks, cracking his eye open again.

"Only a few minutes, I think," she says, dabbing at his forehead with a cloth again and looking at him a bit sadly. "Elzer brought you inside in a bit of a panic, so I dragged the chair over here and he sat you down, and the rest you were awake for after that." She gives a quiet sigh. "I'm sure he invited you inside before it got to this point."

"I didn't want to trouble anyone," he says with a shake of his head, figuring that confirms her presumption well enough. "I suppose I owe you both an apology, then."

"Nonsense," she tuts. "The only thing you should be sorry for is pushing yourself too hard, but we both know that's one of your more immutable qualities."

He manages a watery smile, but doesn't refute her words, instead closing his eye again, a crinkle forming between his brows as he furrows his forehead, as if that might help will the headache away. Adelinde's hand presses gently against his brow, smoothing the determined wrinkle beneath her cool touch.

"Are you in much pain?" she asks, and he shakes his head. "Don't lie to me, young man."

This time he laughs, barely, and manages to keep himself from coughing more than twice.

"Really, what in the Thousand Winds were you thinking, out so late in the rain like this?" she asks, her voice still soft and gentle, belying the sternness of her words.

"In my defense," he says, "it wasn't raining when I left."

"He isn't lying about that part, you know?" Elzer's voice pipes up then, and Kaeya opens his eye again to see the other man approaching from the direction of the kitchen, a tea tray in his hands. "It only started raining shortly after I left the house with Hillie and Moco."

His hair and clothes are wet, and that coil of shame in Kaeya's gut pulls tighter; Elzer hasn't even changed out of his own wet clothes yet? He'd made tea instead?

"Don't champion his bad behavior on technicalities," Adelinde says with a facetious sort of sniff, reaching for one of the cups of tea and dropping a dollop of honey into it before offering it to Kaeya carefully. "Drink this if you can," she says. "It's ginger and rosemary, it should help you feel less dizzy and nauseous."

Kaeya takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the way it rattles against his ribs, and accepts the cup with a mumble of appreciation.

"You're heavier than you look, Master Kaeya," Elzer teases gently. "I keep forgetting how tall you've gotten. I used to be the taller of us."

Kaeya pulls stiffly at the back of his neck.

"Guess that's what I get for eating my vegetables like Adelinde told me to," he replies, and she swats at his shoulder.

"You refused to eat any vegetables except roasted kohlrabi until you were nine," she reminds him. "A year and a half, you refused to eat anything green on your plate at all."

"Green didn't match the planned aesthetic for my meals," he insists, and then looks at Elzer. "Thank you," he says, "for your help. I... don't quite know what happened."

"Seems to me you were a little more than only 'a bit tired'," Elzer says, giving him a smile. "Next time, maybe just accept the invitation given?"

"Now that I know you'll manhandle me into the house anyway?" Kaeya chuckles weakly. "I just might."

"Didn't I hear you were doing work in Sumeru? Is that what you've just come back from?" Elzer asks then. "And before that, you were dealing with an influx of corrupted ley line energy around some rather dangerous domains, weren't you?"

"Yes?"

"And before that, it was corrupted ley lines out in the field," Elzer, says, tapping his chin, "and you assisted in the preparations for Windtrace as well. And before that--"

"Elzer, dare I ask, have you been stalking me?" Kaeya asks with a weak laugh, and Elzer folds his arms over his chest.

"It just seems like you never get a day off," he says with a shake of his head.

"I believe 'you're one to talk' would be the appropriate response, here," Kaeya replies, though Elzer's posture doesn't shift.

"I'm just saying, if you need a break, I'm sure Acting Grand Master Jean would give you one without question," he says. "Especially when you're clearly a bit run down." His expression softens a bit. "Even if it was just for an evening to unwind, after work, I hope you know you are welcome here any time."

Kaeya hesitates, then gives him a wan smile. "I do know," he says.

"So long as you know, I suppose," Elzer says. He leaves the tea tray where it is and excuses himself, disappearing around the corner into the alcove where his desk sits, and Kaeya frowns down at the cup of tea in his hand, sipping carefully at it. There's a moment of not uncomfortable quiet, and then Adelinde turns and reaches for something else on the tea tray, offering him a small plate with muffin on it. Kaeya laughs.

"Bit late for sweets, isn't it?" he asks, and she gives him a long suffering look.

"Something tells me it's been hours since you last ate, Master Kaeya," she says, and looks at her, hangdog.

... When was the last time he ate? The ferry had left Port Ormos quite early that morning--it feels like weeks ago, somehow. He'd eaten something called fatteh for breakfast at the recommendation of one of the locals, and there had been a snack bar with samosas and pita pockets and talumba on the ferry itself; he hadn't been hungry when he'd reached Liyue Harbor, but how long ago was that, now? How long had he been walking? Everything feels as though it had happened in some other lifetime.

"If you have to think that hard about it," Adelinde's voice breaks through his contemplation, "perhaps you'd better just eat the muffin."

Kaeya chuckles lightly, but accepts the muffin, and his smile broadens a bit then.

"There's no way you could have possibly known I would visit tonight," he says, pulling a bit of the crumbly muffin off to pop into his mouth. "Do you keep coffee cake on hand just in case?"

"Always, Master Kaeya."

The immediacy of the reply makes his ears feel a little hot (though that might just be the fever. Or the fire. Who knows?), and so he just dutifully eats the muffin and finishes his tea, then sighs and rubs his face with both hands.

"I've probably ruined this chair, my clothes all soaked like this," he says apologetically, and she shakes her head.

"The chair is replaceable," she assures him, and she doesn't have to complete the thought. Adelinde has always been this way with him; she knows him far too well, knows he struggles to accept compliments or kindnesses unless they're given obliquely. Not all kindnesses can be delivered in an indirect manner, of course, but she had learned very early into his stay with the family that things handed to him were often shied away from, but things left for him to find were much more easily accepted.

"On that note," she says, polishing off her own tea and then getting to her feet, "we should get you some dry clothes to wear, anyway. You certainly can't sleep in that."

"Sleep?" He looks up at her, eye wide as if the word sounds foreign to him, and one of her thin eyebrows inches toward her hairline.

"Yes, sleep," she says. "You know, that thing most humans need six-to-eight hours of per night in order to be healthy and happy?" She holds her hand out for him to take. "Come now, you're doing yourself no favors sitting around in damp clothes."

"Adelinde, I really can't stay--"

"Master Kaeya, please do not mistake this for a request," she says in that tone she had used rather often with him and Diluc in their youth, usually after they'd broken something or been caught sneaking snacks between meals. "Elzer has already sent a message off with our fastest hawk, to be delivered to the knights--"

"You what?" His voice cracks and he turns to cough into his elbow roughly, then gives Adelinde a mortified look. "He what?"

"--saying that you stopped by the Winery on your way home and we were so fortunate you did, as there was a break-in and one of the wine cellars was looted," Adelinde concludes then.

"Wait, it was?" The gears in his head are definitely not going full-speed at the moment, but he's already trying to determine who would be foolish enough to rob the Dawn Winery of all places.

"No, nothing of the sort," Adelinde says then, shaking her head with a smile and reaching out to fondly run her fingers through Kaeya's hair, "but I know better than to rat you out for being a poor mortal human being like the rest of us. I imagine it may take days before you're satisfied with your analysis of the crime scene."

"What about Diluc?" he asks before he thinks better of it, and Adelinde's expression falls a bit.

"He's already... left for his evening constitutional," she says, her eyes skirting off briefly, and Kaeya knows exactly what she's talking about--knows she knows he knows--but nothing more is said about that. "Do you really think Master Diluc would send you back out into the rain unwell?" she asks quietly then. "I know you two have your differences, but you have to know he still cares for you greatly."

He's not sure he agrees on 'greatly', though he does believe that Diluc still cares to some degree. They do talk more now than they have in years past, Diluc seems a bit less annoyed to see him swagger into the tavern on those nights he works the bar, but Kaeya isn't certain they'll ever fix what he broke.

"I just... don't want to be a bother," he says lamely, and Adelinde shakes her head.

"I know Master Diluc has turned up on your doorstep at all hours on more than one occasion," she says. "He's told me, albeit begrudgingly. I've seen the way you've dressed his wounds after his... evening job has taken a bad turn. You've never turned him away. I don't believe you ever would. Won't you extend him the same benefit of doubt?"

He wants to say it's a bit different--he's not bleeding out from a knife wound, after all--but he knows he's splitting hairs.

Her hand is extended toward him again, expectantly, and he stares at it a moment, stares at the fine lines that cross her palms, at the calluses on her fingers from years of hard work cooking and cleaning and caring for the household. Though most Mondstadters only know of the long family lines of the noble clans, Adelinde's family is actually one of the oldest in the nation. The Krügers were innkeepers by trade, as their name has always signified, and their family tree has roots that stretch all the way back to the time of Decarabian. Adelinde seems to have a genuine passion for her family's métier, taking pride in that hardworking history, but Kaeya does find it a bit hypocritical that she's so quick to chide him for his workaholic nature when she's always got her own nose to the proverbial grindstone.

"Come now," she says, smiling that mysterious little smile of hers that says she knows far too much for anyone's good. "You'll never catch the thief if you've caught cold first."

Kaeya knows better than to argue, really. He can lie flawlessly to just about anyone, but Adelinde has seen through him as though he were made of crystal ever since he was small. She's always known he carries too many secrets with him, knows that he keeps them locked up tight inside for the safety of everyone around him--she's always known that there was far more to him than he's ever admitted to her, and though most of him hopes she will never know the details, there's a tiny part of him that genuinely wishes he could tell her. He can't. He knows he can't. Even without the fear of a repeat of that fight with Diluc, he fears if she knows the truth, she'll be in danger should the target on his back ever light up like the signal fire he worries it truly is. Whatever his father left him here for, there's no denying his ties to the Abyss, and if plausible deniability is the only way to protect the people he loves, he will keep as many of them in the dark as he can, for as long as he can.

But he is very tired. And his head hurts so much. And his lungs itch and his eye feels like someone's run it through with the fireplace poker and... sleep actually sounds like the most wonderful thing in the world. So maybe he can just... give in this time, just this once, and let Adelinde win.

He takes her hand and she pulls him carefully to his feet, not letting go until she's certain he's not going to topple; she deftly ducks under his arm and takes his hand again, this time draped over her shoulder, and she starts toward the stairs.

"I can walk," he protests, largely out of habit, and she hums in affirmation.

"You can sing and dance and stand on your head, too, last I knew," she says, "but I'm not going to ask you to do any of those things right now, either, and certainly not without assistance."

"I think I can still turn a cartwheel," he adds facetiously, and she nudges him with her hip.

"Maybe tomorrow, Master Kaeya."

He's always a bit surprised to see that his childhood bedroom still looks the same as it did when he'd left the Winery nearly seven years ago now. It looks a little emptier without his field reports cluttering the desk, without his collection of fancy quills and inkpots displayed on the bookshelf beside it, without his coat draped over the chair, but little else has changed. There's still the same four-poster bed made of cedar wood, stained dark and polished to a high shine. There's still the long, low dresser made of the same wood lined up against one wall, and the same deep ocean-blue curtains draped over the windows. The curtains had been a rich crimson color when he'd first come to stay with the Ragnvindrs, to match the curtains in most of the other rooms, but the first morning he'd been alert and witting enough to wake with the sun, he'd screamed and cried at the bright red light that lit up the window, terrified that the fires of the fall of Khaenri'ah had followed him even here. He hadn't been able to tell them that, of course, but the curtains were changed, and nothing more was said about it, and there's something terribly comforting in the knowledge that the curtains have remained this mismatched blue all these years. It makes it a little bit easier, every time, to believe it when they tell him he's always welcome here, that he'll always have a home here.

Most of his clothes had stayed behind here, as well. He'd taken very little with him upon his departure, because most of his belongings at the time hadn't felt like they were his to take: they'd been bought by the staff, or had belonged to Crepus, and removing them from the house had somehow felt like theft. Once he'd recovered a bit from his injuries, he had asked Jean to collect his quills and inkpots, the books that he'd purchased himself, and a few very specific items of clothing that he had bought with his own knights' wages, but absolutely nothing else. She hadn't questioned the request, and he remains grateful she never has. He's several centimeters taller now than he was seven years ago, and a good bit broader as well, but he manages to find some nightclothes that still fit adequately. Adelinde takes his wet clothes to be cleaned and dried in the morning, and returns a few minutes later to turn down the sheets.

"I can do that too, you know," he chuckles, and she takes an extra moment to fluff the pillows before turning to look at him.

"Turn-down service is offered to all guests of the Winery, Master Kaeya," she says without missing a beat. "If you insist that you don't live here anymore, then I'm afraid I have no choice but to treat you as an honored guest, with all the inevitable amenities."

"Sometimes I think you're better at loopholes than I am," he mutters with a shake of his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pressing his hand against his eyepatch with a grimace.

"Well, you did learn from the best," she replies, and he can hear the smile in her voice. Slender fingers close around his wrist and pull gently, and he glances up at her with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "I have one for you to sleep in," she says, knowing exactly why he's hesitating. She's never tried to remove his eyepatch since that first night, has never once asked why he keeps it covered, though curiosity always shines in her gaze when she looks at it. "Yours is wet, you'll get an eye infection that way, you know?"

"Yes, yes, I know." He had. Three times. Before he'd finally agreed to sleep with the soft medical patch she'd kept offering him over the span of the first few months of his stay. "I feel like I still need to dig my heels in sometimes, though," he says with a bit of a smile as she turns her back to allow him to change it out, "for old times' sake."

"Ever the willful child, I suppose," she says, and his hands fumble a moment as he unties the eyepatch.

"Heh... do you suppose that's why I've taken ill, this time?" he quips, quickly slipping the soft white patch over his still-damp hair and then placing the black one on the table beside the bed.

When she sees he's placed the item on the table she turns back to him, and he's surprised to see a deep melancholic look on her face.

"I hope not," she says softly before moving to sit down to his left side on the edge of the bed, at a respectful distance but still within arm's reach. "Though your mother I have never been, I would hate to think that anything I've said has ever brought you harm or illness for your choice to do as you please."

He makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, which sets him coughing again, and he waves her off as he ducks his head into his elbow and takes a moment to catch his breath.

"Adelinde, I... was kidding," he says quickly then with a shake of his head. "I didn't even think you remembered that old story anymore."

"You were always so preoccupied with that one," she says. "I know such stories are meant to be cautionary tales, but you took so many of them so fiercely to heart." She looks at him with a shallow smile. "I worry you were very sad, often, when you were a child."

"I wasn't sad at all," he assures her, reaching over to take her hand, and then he looks thoughtful for a moment. "... Well, okay, I was despondent when Master Crepus wouldn't let us keep that stray cat we found by Tunner's house."

Adelinde hides gentle laughter behind one hand. "He was terribly allergic, can you blame him?" she asks, and Kaeya finds himself laughing, too.

"Now? No," he says, "but when Diluc and I were eight we thought it was a very small price to pay to save all the animals."

"You kept trying to sneak them inside and hide them in your bedrooms," she says, shaking her head hopelessly.

"And somehow he always figured us out."

"It was probably the fact that he couldn't stop sneezing."

"... Possibly. He never gave away the secret." He squeezes her hand then, before releasing it and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I hope you can believe me when I say that I look back on the childhood I spent here with little but joy," he says then. "Things with Diluc have been... strained, since Master Crepus' death, but I'd be lying if I said I don't miss you and everyone here terribly."

"You know you can visit any time," she says, a grain of accusation in her tone. "I don't presume to know what troubles you so all the time, I know you have a lot of responsibilities, and there's much about your work that I don't understand, but..." She sighs and holds his gaze. "I know you, Master Kaeya," she says, "and I know that when you have too much worry in your head, and too much strife in your heart, this is what happens to you. When it all becomes too much, when you refuse to release any of the pressure of your life, your body will eventually force you to stop, like it did so many times when you were little, like it did tonight. It's been this way since you were seven years old, and I imagine it will be this way even long after I'm gone."

"Adelinde..."

"So, please," she says, getting back to her feet and dusting off the front of her skirt, "when you are troubled this way, when something weighs on you so heavily that it pushes you to the ground this way... please don't just suffer in silence. Don't just keep bottling it all up until the pressure crushes you. What would have happened if you hadn't run into Elzer, I wonder?" she posits, but her voice is soft, worried, with no trace of scolding this time. "What if you had fallen further along the road and been found by monsters instead?"

He doesn't have an answer, and she waits a moment before she brushes his hair away from his eye and then steps back again.

"Losing Master Crepus long before his time wounded all of us deeply, and we still miss him very much," she says, "but I know I speak for everyone here when I say that if you left us, Master Kaeya, we would not recover, and I'm sure we're not the only ones."

The utter plainness of her words, the straightforward delivery so that he cannot possibly mistake her intent, it leaves his chest tight. Or... well, his chest was a bit tight already anyway, and he doesn't like the way breathing still hurts, the air rattling in his lungs unsettlingly the way it did when he was so sick so many years ago. But her point is taken all the same, and he lowers his gaze to stare at her shoes.

"What if... I'm not what everyone thinks, though?" he asks quietly, and it's as close to telling her the truth as he thinks he might ever come.

He watches her take a step forward, and her hands reach down to cradle his face between them, lifting it gently.

"It doesn't matter what anyone thinks, Master Kaeya," she says. "The people who know you, who really know you... we know." She smiles warmly at him. "Nothing that troubles you so here"--she touches the top of his head--"will ever change the person we know you are here." The backs of her fingers brush across his chest, over his heart. "I know you will always have your secrets, and it's okay if you never tell me any of them," she says, "but no one, not even you, is a good enough liar to be false about what I see in that pretty blue eye of yours."

Kaeya stares at her a moment, his eye stinging, and then he exhales sharply, dragging the heel of one hand across his cheek and knowing there's no way she doesn't know why. Which is why he's not really surprised when her hands move and she gently wraps her arms around him, standing between his knees, his head held gently against her chest. She says nothing, simply standing there for a long, quiet moment, and he lists against her, eye closed, feeling safe in a way he feels with few others. He sees her more as a sister than a mother, really--she isn't that much older than he is--but either way, hers is an affection he's never felt compelled to pull away from, a love that somehow doesn't evoke his flight response. She knows this, and weaponizes it in his moments of greatest need, like the devious mastermind she is.

When the moment has passed and he feels within inches of just nodding off wreathed in her arms, Adelinde takes a careful step back and bows neatly at the waist.

"I hope you can get some much-needed sleep," she says. "I'll be staying in the main house here tonight, in case you require anything further."

"A-Adelinde, no, you should go ho--"

"If there's nothing else, I'll leave you to rest, now," she says without breaking stride, not even letting him finish his thought as she turns and heads for the door. "Sweet dreams, Master Kaeya. Breakfast will be kept warm for you, so please don't even think about waking up early; you are forbidden at the table before 9am at the very earliest."

She's gone with a sweet smile and the gentle click of the door latch, and Kaeya flops backward onto the bed, staring up at the familiar old ceiling. His head is still killing him, but somehow... his heart hurts less than it has in quite some time.

Kaeya wakes feeling achy, groggy, which is unusual. Most of the time, he snaps awake and sits right up and knows there'll be no going back to sleep for many many hours. Today, however, he thinks he could just lie here, half-swallowed by this bed that still feels a bit too big and a bit too soft, and fall right back asleep.

His skin feels clammy, and pressing a palm to his forehead is inconclusive (since his hands are always cold anyway), but he's pretty sure he's still got a low-grade fever. His chest still feels tight, and his head still aches, but after what he has to think is at least double his usual amount of sleep, it all feels far less overwhelming. Pushing himself upright with a grunt, he stretches his arms and presses at a knot in the back of his shoulder with a grimace, then casts his eye to the morning light filtering through the curtains over the windows, limning them in brilliant blue like the still waters of Cider Lake. A comfortable feeling settles behind his ribs and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

At least it's not raining anymore.

He rubs at his face a moment, then moves to swing his legs over the edge of the mattress, pausing with a groan when a wave of dizziness washes over him. Oof, okay, maybe he really had overdone it a bit.

He's considering going back to sleep after all when something on the floor catches his eye, and he takes a slow, deep breath to try getting to his feet again. This time he manages, though his balance is questionable, and he minces carefully toward the bedroom door. Taking to a knee, he reaches out to pick up the envelope that's been slid beneath the door. It's plain white, unembellished, sealed only with a drop of gold wax, no stamp or any sort of indication of who it's from. Flipping it over, his eye widens a bit as he sees his name is scrawled on the front, in a neat, loopy hand he would recognize anywhere.

Swallowing hard, his heart thumping in his throat, Kaeya carefully gets back to his feet and pads back to the bed, sitting down on the mattress and gingerly breaking the wax seal to get to the letter inside. It's folded perfectly in half, and for a long moment, he can't bring himself to unfold it, afraid of the words he'll find there. He squints at the writing he can faintly see through the back of the paper, his hand shaking a little, and finally the suspense is too much for him. Flipping the letter open with his thumb, he squeezes his eye closed as if that might buffer its contents, and then slowly, so slowly, cracks his eye open again to read.

Kaeya,

We've missed you at the teapot these past few nights. It's been awfully quiet without your stories over dinner, and Paimon has threatened to eat the last of your mint candies if you don't come back soon. I wouldn't test this threat, she's eyeing them as I write this. Miss Jean informed me you were called away to the Winery before you managed to return to the city, so I hope this letter finds you there before you are swept off on some other errand, because our parting in Port Ormos has left me troubled.

I owe you an apology. I should have told you about Dainsleif sooner, and I especially should have known you were already keeping an eye on him. You're always five steps ahead of everything going on in Mondstadt, and it wasn't fair to keep this from you when in all likelihood you already knew. My silence on the matter probably stung. I know you understand the difficulty of discussing one's history, and Dainsleif has touched a nerve on that subject that has made it all the harder to bring up. When you made the assumption I was too busy to speak with you at the spice stand, your discomfort with the whole situation was made more than clear, and I need you to know that hurting you was not, and never is, my intention.

I will never be too busy to listen if you want to speak about something. I may struggle to be open about certain things in my life, about my past, but this is not a reflection on you at all, and I hope these words will help you to not worry about that in the future. What Dainsleif said surprised me, but in the end, the deeds of your ancestors don't matter unless you uphold them in the present, and your own efforts have proven you beyond reproach, as far as I'm concerned. I trust you. We trust you. And we both want to apologize for giving you any idea otherwise.

Hoping to see you at the Windblume Festival, and please at least drop by the teapot for dinner sometime soon. Otherwise, I'm not sure how much longer I can guarantee the safety of your mint candies.

With a shaky breath, Kaeya folds the letter and places it back in the envelope, then presses it against his chest for a moment.

In retrospect, he thinks he should have known better. Lumine may be a bit taciturn by nature, but she is nothing if not warm and honest, straightforward and sincere. Really, she's so many things he is not, and perhaps that's the entire problem: were their roles reversed, he wouldn't have trusted him in her place, knowing what he knows about himself, but plastering his own self-loathing onto her hadn't been fair. So whatever apology she feels is owed, he's now settled on offering one in return.

But that can wait. Right now, he thinks maybe he's not actually so eager to go back to sleep. He can smell something delicious going on downstairs, and having eaten nothing but a muffin in the past twelve or so hours, breakfast is starting to sound like a great idea. He might even have the energy to send a few barbs Diluc's way, given the opportunity. Setting the letter down beside his eyepatch on the bedside table, he gingerly gets to his feet again, finding them steadier now, and changes into a pair of slacks and a turtleneck shirt he finds in the closet.

He checks the clock on the wall and frowns.

It's 8:47.

Well, it's not quite 9:00, but... something tells him Adelinde will overfill his plate for him regardless. He's always been a willful child, after all, and some things really never change.