Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hatred. 

Pure, unadulterated hatred. 

There was truly nothing left in this world for him anymore—no father, no brother, no knights…. Trust was such a sacred thing, but so fragile, like a brittle, orange leaf fallen during the autumnal months. Ready to be crushed and shattered into tiny pieces in an instant. 

He couldn’t even begin to rationalize the past hour, let alone the past day. Adrenaline kept his veins electrified within as he trudged through the forest, away from where he had left his brother— former brother—there’s no way he could call him family. Not after that. He could still feel the fire that melted ice mercilessly, flames that instantly cauterized an open wound done by his blade. Diluc couldn’t tell if the sick feeling in his gut was guilt or disgust. 

The rain pelted through his clothes, piercing his skin like bullets. Piercing through to his soul. 

Images of his father’s death played through his mind once more—the malice that consumed his very life, like a fire eating through dry brush. As if his life meant just as much as a fly’s. Just as easily as Father had fended off the drake with those chains and black flames. He could still feel the way his father’s ribs and lungs collapsed so effortlessly under the weight of his claymore, crushing his heart like a batch of grapes in his hands.

He almost had a repeat performance of that night not long ago, but with his brother. 

Rage, anguish, betrayal—it crashed over him like an ocean wave, crushing him under its weight and slamming him against beach rocks ruthlessly. His sword was still spattered with blood. He discarded it as soon as he realized. What a fool he was. He didn’t know what to do with himself—he just tried to kill his little brother, and for what? 

For the truth, for the betrayal, for the lies, the years of wasted time—he really spent eighteen years under the roof of a traitor and his own bedroom sat right next to a spy. Of all the people, it had to be the two he loved the most? How much of his life was real? How long was he supposed to go on living in this fantasy he had created for himself? Was his father ever going to tell him the truth? Was he fated to receive that cursed Delusion like an heirloom? Did Father expect him to follow in his footsteps? 

Is that why he was always so adamant about him joining the Ordo? So he could turn him into a mole? So he… and then Kaeya….

Diluc swallowed thickly, his once-sprint slowed to a stagger, mud from the earth splashing and caking his boots. He was soaked to the bone, and chilled to the touch. He wondered if this is how Kaeya’s new Vision made him feel—was it a comfort to him now, or did it make him feel so helplessly alone and empty? Then the thought melted away with a deep ache at the memory of how he left Kaeya in that field. 

Truly, how much deceit could his heart take?

Finally, his legs trudged to a stop. The storm in his mind suddenly calmed into a dull nothing. Empty—he felt nothing but a quiet venom that burned in his stomach, settling down like hot coals. Diluc raised his eyes in front of him—a tall blonde woman dressed in red stood across the path while a lantern in her hand lit the landscape around her. She appeared heavenly, like a divine specter—a holy judge. Her eyes filled with a sorrow he had only ever seen on his father’s face whenever he had to discipline him or Kaeya after misbehaving. He didn’t know who this woman was—but the sheer power that emanated from her made his heart quiver and bow low, as if he were a submissive puppy facing a dangerous wolf. 

Still, defiance bubbled up in him and he fixed a scowl at the woman while his fists balled tightly at his sides, nails digging into his palms. 

“Sir Diluc,” she began, her voice piercing through the drums of rain—sound fled out of his mind, replacing the air with deafening silence. It threatened to choke him. The formal way she addressed him made him tense. “For being so capable, so much weighed upon your shoulders, none could possibly have thought you could stoop so low as to nearly end your own brother’s life.”

Why did she sound so… despondent? Sad? 

Diluc’s jaw ached from how tightly his teeth grinded together.

“What do you know?” he seethed. “I don’t even know you.”

“And yet I know you,” she replied, voice even and chilling. “I know much more than you think, boy. ”

He sneered in response. “As if you would. I’ve never even seen you before and yet you claim this? You have no idea the hell I’ve been through—”

“Shall I hazard a guess?” she interrupted him, chin lifting. “May Master Crepus rest in peace, darling. I sense you’ve discovered an unsavory truth about your father’s past, given the way you shield that Delusion in your pocket, and now your poor brother has to shoulder the pain of rejection by you and your temper, despite having done nothing deserving—”

“He deserves plenty!” Diluc shouted, bristling like a feral cat, teeth bared. “What more should a traitor receive than to be outcast! He’s lucky I hadn’t killed him—”

“And why didn’t you kill him, pray tell? Was it out of mercy? Or perhaps because he was blessed by the Cryo Archon? Had he been able to overpower your flames, then? Or did you simply snap back to your senses, realizing with horror and disgust that you nearly incinerated your little brother into ashes?”

Diluc felt his stomach stir with nausea—he wanted to throw up. The image of his dead father, cold and painfully still, stuck to the ground with his sword like a skewer—then Kaeya, blood drenching the right side of his face, his normally bronze skin then bubbling red—he was nearly burning alive. By his own hand. His brother’s—

“He’s not my brother,” he finally choked out. “I renounce him. I’d rather die than accept a lying traitor as my own.”

“Is that how you really feel then?”

“Without remorse .” 

The woman’s expression fell, a look of heartbreak on her face—for a second, Diluc wanted to take back what he said, but the words stuck in his throat. 

“Very well.” The lantern in her hand began to burn a bright purple-and-red as it hovered above her palms. 

Ah—she was a witch, wasn’t she? 

Diluc narrowed his eyes at the witch, his brows pinching tightly as a wild and untrusting look filled his expression. His fingers twitched—he felt his Vision sway slightly at his hip when he took a defensive step back. The woman stepped forward—

Suddenly, the sound of sizzling hit his ears before he could process the white-hot shock that splintered across his back—then he smelled it; a scent he had never considered could exist until he tried to burn Kaeya just hours before—it was nauseating, sickeningly sweet and putrid—how could such a smell so close to death stick to him so quickly? She was trying to burn him alive, set his sins on fire and let it consume him whole—wasn’t she?

Perhaps this was due; perhaps he had not suffered enough, or perhaps his sins were too great to live past 18. He wondered what sort of person he had to have been in a past life to deserve this hell? This slow broil, like roasting over an open flame, the fire slowly eating away at his flesh and his soul—except, the pain was centralized across his spine, and when he could process his senses again, he realized he was fallen on his hands and knees, throat raw and torn to shreds after his scream shook the forest court. His body was stripped from all warmth inside; whatever she did rendered him trembling with weak limbs, breath heavy with internal rot.

“Wh… what did you do to me?” he mumbled, swallowing thickly as he struggled to lift his head.

The woman looked down at him with pity, as if this was hurting her too. As if she regretted him too.

“A lesson,” she said, voice lowly and soft. Slowly, she knelt in front of him, her slender hand curling around his chin and lifting it up. “You know so little of the world, young one, and yet you let hurt and misunderstandings burn you with such terrifying vitriol. Let this curse be your teacher; should the day you find forgiveness and understanding in your heart again and you rectify what you have broken with your own hands be the day you are allowed back into society. Until then, your monstrous actions will carve a new vessel for you to wander through the wilderness with.”

He tried to follow her words, string them together within his mind to give them some sort of meaning, but a new sluggishness washed over him and he struggled to even keep his eyes open—until a dull ache pinched in his stomach. Then it melted into his bones, his spine, his muscles—an ache pulsed into a sharp throbbing, then into piercing agony. 

He groaned breathlessly when his back arched suddenly out of his control, the sound raising into a howl when the pain didn’t go away—the ex-captain staggered to his feet helplessly, blindly stumbling around as if to try and escape the anguish that attacked every atom, every stitch in his body. His very skeleton felt like it was stretching and shattering all at once, bones grinding in his ears as movement dislocated and rearranged them under his skin. Ligaments and cartilage pulled tight and twisted, his muscles and tendons snapped and reattached in different places, straining and bending in ways that couldn’t be natural. He couldn’t breathe—he tried to claw out of his own skin, the skin that grew and bubbled and bristled in ways that wasn’t his, it wasn’t his, wasn’t his, wasn’t —the pain reached a mind-numbing crescendo—

Something in his mouth broke, then broke again, and again—little shards of glass in his mouth, surely; he clenched his jaw too tightly. Under the fallen beads of white that spilled out of his maw—larger, sharper bones ripped through his gums, cutting through his upper lips and drawing a line through his cheeks—the taste of acrid iron filled his mouth, and he choked on the substance, falling back to his knees before retching globs of red spit onto the grass by his hands—no, his claws—

No, his….

His spine ripped through his skin. His arms and legs folded under him as the sound of fabric tearing accompanied the new sensation of rain battering on his skin—on something else, on hair—on his… his…. 

Tears blurred his sight—his thoughts melted into a fiery storm in his mind, blending words into shreds just like his throat, torn and gorish—his entire body pulsed like one large, gaping open wound, exposed and absolutely vulgar, hideous—even as he laid on his side, a newly born abomination to the world, disjointed, hollowed and refilled, shattered and strewn apart, tied together, glued and wrapped in fake skin that wasn’t his, a shape that wasn’t his, a vessel that wasn’t his, blood ruined his skin—hair, fur, feathers, sticking them together with a stickiness that even the rain couldn’t wash away—it stained his teeth, his tusks, clotted his larger nostrils, drenched his fingers, his nails, his claws. Why did he have claws? What was this? 

His bones were boulders made of cast iron, sinking him into the ground and toward the center of the earth, into the Abyss—except, he was still drenched under the bullets of rain, its downpour merciless and ignorant to his suffering, causing ice to creep toward his heart and fuse with his bones. He heaved breathlessly, a terrible ache numbing his mind—he couldn’t lift even his eyelids. Then, the numbness swallowed his senses one by one leaving him an empty corpse—

Something jostled him awake, and above him he saw a blue-haired traitor over him, soaked to the bone with a deranged look in his eye—his sword raised above his head and poised to sink into him.

It had been hours. The storm wasn’t letting up—not that Kaeya cared. He was at home—his temporary home, now—how long did he have now, until Diluc returned and cast him out himself? Finished the job? Kill him like he had Fath— Master Crepus? No, that was cruel to think. 

The fireplace in front of him did nothing to warm him. Try as she might, Adelinde couldn’t get a response of any sort out of him. He remained dull and unaffected as she tended to his wounds—stitched his cuts closed, soothed his smoldering skin with burn cream, wrapped them up with gauze, so soft and tenderly, gentle and caring like a mother. So patient, kind—so undeserving of this work. Undeserving of him in her presence; she deserved so much better than this life. 

“The storm has yet to stop,” he heard Adelinde mutter to Elzer as they both gawked out the window. Kaeya continued to keep his shivering under the blanket, across the dancing fire that taunted him. She continued; “I hope the Young Master is alright…. Should we gather a search party soon?”

“Give him some more time, Adelinde,” Elzer hummed. “He’s much more capable than we give him credit for. He is the Calvary Captain, afterall.” 

Not anymore, Kaeya thought to himself. He wasn’t seeing the fire anymore; he saw Diluc’s look of absolute contempt and disgust sneering at him.

Why? Why did he have to open his stupid mouth? On this night of all nights?

Of course he knew Diluc would react that way—he expected it. So why did it still hurt? Why did he even have to say anything in the first place? He knew in his heart Mondstadt was his home, truly and whole-souled. There was no hesitation in his mind; if push came to shove, he’d give his life for Mond, for the Ragnvindrs, for Diluc—

Why couldn’t he let his own past die? Let it shrivel up like a weed under the sun, smashed into dust by rocks and boulders, breaking it into particles that couldn’t even hold a form anymore. 

He loved this family; what was he without it? 

He loved Diluc; who was he without his brother?

The Alberich clan was ground to dust; Khaenri’ah was no more, not even a footnote in history—why did he have to choose between his family and the concept of a corpse? A dead society he was never truly born into, only by name?

Why couldn’t he just shut up?

Kaeya couldn’t keep track of the time—he blinked, and Adelinde sat beside him, her hand on his shoulder gentle and warm, a compassionate look of concern on her face. The fire before him was nearly dead, a single ember still burning between the logs. 

“Let’s get you to bed, now, Master Kaeya,” she muttered soothingly, her hands finding their place under his elbows to help him to his feet. He let her mindlessly with a hum. 

“Where’s Diluc?” he found himself suddenly asking—why would he ask that? Why did he care—the second Diluc came, he’d kick him out into the rain, or hurt him— kill him—no, no, he wouldn’t—not in front of Adelinde… he….

Adelinde gave a small smile, obviously strained and pushing back worry in her heart. “Elzer is out looking for him, don’t worry. Let’s get you to bed.”

He numbly nodded his head, letting the maid guide him up the stairs and toward his room. 

He blinked—Kaeya was tucked under his sheets, an old boar plush sheltered between his arms. Hours passed by, the drumming of rain hitting the glass window and the ticking of the clock boomed loudly in his head. Elzer wasn’t going to find Diluc—he had no idea where he went, where the fight was. 

Restlessness kept his eyes open. As the clock continued to tick-tick-tick , irritation sizzled in his chest—he sat up abruptly and swung his legs off his bed. He grabbed his Vision and his sword sheath and snuck out of his room and through the back door of the manor. 

The rain was cold. Somehow, his Cryo Vision felt warmer than the weather.

Kaeya let his feet lead him mindlessly to the place he had confessed his darkest secret, then past the rolling hills, through the trees and brush—

The stench of blood hit his senses, dropping his heart to his feet when he saw clumps of grass and dirt pulled from the ground around the opening. Clothing—no, more like torn cloth —littered the area. His eye narrowed—through the haze of the night, the torrent the storm threw at the earth, he recognized the vest his brother wore earlier that day, torn into four pieces. 

Thump-thump-thu-thu-thu-thu-

Cryo filled his veins and he held his breath, his eye widening as it roved around the area—Kaeya stepped further through the brush, his boots sinking in the mud, but he didn’t care. Strips of fabric, strewn about like confetti, spatters of blood staining the white and blacks, settling into the earth as if to water the plants itself. He saw a pile of bloodied, broken teeth. Dread drowned him.

Something awful happened here.  

“Diluc?” he tried to call out, but his voice cracked and he nearly choked—fear scraped at his mind, threatening to seal his throat shut. He coughed to clear it then tried again: “Diluc? Where are you? Adelinde and Elzer are worried, he—”

Ice traveled up his spine as he stepped further into the clearing—a mountain of shivering fur, massive almost like a bear, laid bundled up against a tree not too far away from the mess of clothing and blood. The creature itself was drenched, not only in rain but blood as well. He wondered whose it belonged to—Kaeya couldn’t bring himself to move an inch. He was glued to the ground. Cursed to stare and stare and stare—not even breathe. 

The creature was unlike anything he’s ever seen—not a hilichurl, not even a mitachurl, or anything related. A bear? A lion? Its mane was long and scarlet, fur brown and white with darker—feathers? An abomination; there was no way this was real. This couldn’t be real—it had to be an illusion of some sort. What was that thing?

He looked closer—its eyes were shut, and it breathed slowly—its massive teeth stuck out of its jaw in an underbite, red smeared and dripping as if—as if it had….

… torn something to pieces….

Terror struck Kaeya’s heart—an arrow through the bullseye. 

Helplessness, dread, regret, despair unlike anything he’d ever felt—Diluc, was he—had this creature—? 

Thumpthumpthumpthump—

His chest started to rise and fall drastically—What happened after Diluc left Kaeya alone? He remembered he staggered away, disappearing into the forest’s edge—he still had his vision, where was—? 

There. He caught sight of metal—hope seized his heart, squeezed it like a prize he was desperate to receive—and the knight dove for the object, wiping the mud that caked the gem off, and—

Grey. 

It was grey.

Tears welled up in his eye, mixing with the rain that poured down his face. Like a puppet, his strings were cut and he collapsed to his knees—a choked sob escaped him. 

No, no—how could this have happened? Why today, why when everything else had happened, and Father was dead, and Diluc was angry, he had rejected him, had hated him, wanted to kill him, all out of grief and pain, and he couldn’t even make things right again, couldn’t even fix what he broke—but now, Diluc was with Father, and Kaeya was all alone, and….

And…. 

Kaeya stumbled to his feet.  

He turned and limbered past the tattered clothes, the patches of blood, even the creature itself, Diluc’s Vision held tightly in his hand—he wanted to go home. Home to Adelinde, to Elzer, back to Father and Diluc, back to how things used to be. Before Diluc turned 18, and everything went upside-down and gutted and emptied, fallen to pieces. 

He paused when he saw something silver stuck in the ground behind a tree—oh, Archons. It was Diluc’s claymore. Red marred its once pristine surface. 

Kaeya stared at it dumbly. Silence filled his mind, deafening him to the hiss of the world as it poured out its own anguish in the form of acid water. He felt frost climb up his fingers as he reached for the hilt, wrapping his hand around it. He always wanted to wield a claymore like his brother—Diluc was strong and knew his center of balance perfectly, like the back of his hand. He wielded it like a hammer. Always so cool. Kaeya could never get it to stay in his grip, the weight being too much for his slender mass to weigh it around.

He felt a giddiness bubble up in him then. His feet moved on their own—back to the crime scene, back to the gravesite, the warzone, the dreamland, the nightmare. He blinked, and the knight shuddered, holding the claymore above his head, above the creature who took his brother away from him —

He couldn’t even feel properly angry—no thoughts swirled in his mind, just the misery and heartache, the loss of his best friend, his own brother, even if just by name—how he was going to have to bring the dead Vision back to Adelinde, how he was going to have to plan two funerals— how he couldn’t even bury his brother’s own body.  

What a truly empty world this was. 

Finally, emotion sparked in his chest when the beast jolted, eyes fluttering open sluggishly. Kaeya sneered at it in distaste, chest heaving with the weight of the sword and his own bursting seams. 

Hatred. 

Pure, unadulterated hatred. 

Chapter Text

That night, Kaeya returned home less of a human.

The cold Vision of his brother was presented to the remaining branch of his extended family. He could hardly keep himself together as Elzer led him to the Cathedral to have a healer look at the large gashes across his face, the broken wails of a heartbroken pseudo-mother shattering the illusion that perhaps that night had been nothing but a bad dream. 

How the mighty could climb to such great heights, only to slip and fall down a ravine, leaving nothing but crushed skeletons at the bottom—so the great Ragnvindr clan has been reduced to its staff and an adopted spy with Khaenri’ahn roots. It was so ironic, Kaeya could throw up and cry over and over again—he really was destined for greatness, wasn’t he? How awful. 

How awful of Diluc, to have thrown the responsibility of planning two funerals onto Kaeya’s shoulders—wasn’t he supposed to be the younger brother who leeched off the eldest? 

The funeral came and went—it was a dark time for Mondstadt. Hunting parties formed to track the foul beast down and end its life for taking one of their own, yet nothing ever came from it. The ‘Blood-Red Beast’, as the Knights dubbed it, had vanished as mysteriously as it came—but Kaeya kept his ear to the ground. Nothing was ever that simple. 

Some even thought the beast was a made-up fantasy by Kaeya’s traumatized mind, the shameless gossipers even going so far as to theorize that the former Cavalry Captain had offed himself and Kaeya couldn’t process his grief like others could—if only it hadn’t been for the scars the creatures left behind, and the crime scene itself. 

“Sure ,” Kaeya had once screamed at a poor civilian after hearing a rumor like it, “ Let me disfigure myself to justify the story I told! That’ll make it loads easier to believe!”

Eroch was deposed from his place in the Knights, after a rather cold and unfeeling Kaeya was left alone with him one hot afternoon—he was exposed for the traitor he was and after the doors to Varka’s office closed to leave the two in silence, no one had seen or heard of the former inspector since. Kaeya never asked for details and a public trial was never held. He had simply… stopped existing. Which was fine by him.

Out with the old, in with the new, as they say. As Kaeya’s bandaged face was free to be unwrapped, so did the Ordo, being practically uprooted from top to bottom—a full-scale investigation of each member was put into effect, weeding out any and all possible threats of betrayal to the Knights and to Mondstadt. Varka allowed Kaeya the honors of leading one team while Jean helped with another—Kaeya’s new pronounced facial scars served a nice purpose of intimidating any weaklings out of the Ordo and pouring out any secrets, and what would you know—several moles were plucked out of their comfortable roots and dealt with… “ properly.”  

The Dawn Winery was… relocated, for a lack of a better description. No one seemed to want to step foot in that building again, and when they did, it was full of haunting whispers and sent Adelinde to her knees in mourning over and over again. Eventually, with Elzer’s help, Kaeya—as the new and only ‘family head’, he could never bring himself to abandon the lost legacy of the Ragnvindrs anymore—made the decision to move the vineyard to the other side of Springvale, away from the old Dawn Winery. He named the new manor Dusk Winery—corny, he was aware, but a theme he couldn’t well abandon either. Call him soft, sentimental even, but he was attached to it all.

Most of the staff moved to the newly acquired manor and those who had lived in the outskirts of the Dawn Winery were compensated with new homes within Springvale. The old crops were transplanted in their new home and Angel’s Share was kept running smoothly as always—the old winery was left otherwise abandoned. It was the only thing Kaeya could bear leaving behind. No one in Mondstadt dared to try and purchase the land, either. Newcomers tried—but were quickly dissuaded after many native villagers and city dwellers convinced them of how the land was haunted.

Kaeya never believed the rumors, of course—bored civilians loved to gossip and stretch the truth as usual—but he had to admit too, the estate left him cold and shivering sometimes. He wondered if Diluc’s spirit wasn’t satisfied and lingered around, just to cause Kaeya grievances. He wondered if he was still angry at him. 

He wondered if he still hated him.

A year had then passed since the incident. Ursa was reported to have been slain not half a year after Kaeya’s life fell apart, its remains found in Dragonspine by some members from the Adventurer’s Guild—but no one could claim the glory, not even that pretentious envoy from Snezhnaya, of which he couldn’t care enough to remember his name. 

Then two years passed. Kaeya found himself elevated to his brother’s old position of Cavalry Captain, a title he found himself extremely undeserving of—but Varka, Elzer, Adelinde and Jean were all adamant that he did deserve it. Even after all that had happened, even after Kaeya had broken down one night and spilled everything to his family—to the family that was left—they still thought he deserved the honor of the title ‘Captain.’ 

He drank in memory of Diluc and Father that night—they laid side-by-side, a bottle of old Dandelion wine at their father’s head, and Diluc’s lifeless Vision at his own. He raised a toast to the fallen and dedicated his service to breathing life into their legacy.

A third year was looming over the horizon and reports from Snezhnaya began rolling in about a ‘red monster’ terrorizing their numbers. Kaeya so desperately wanted to take his cavalry out, extend an olive branch to the land of snow and ice, offer their assistance in capturing and ending the life of the beast—except Varka had taken all of his men and horses on an expedition, leaving the Cavalry Captain without a Cavalry. 

And of course, as the Acting Grand Master, Jean said no. 

They entered the third year with a barrage of windstorms—and the rise of an ancient dragon. Paperwork began piling up with complaints of destroyed crops and livestock numbers dwindling and Kaeya cursed Varka for leaving when they needed the numbers in this rising crisis. What could a meager human army do against an entire freaking dragon? Turns out, not much. 

Then came the answer to their prayers, a godsend—the golden-haired Traveler and her silver pixie arrived by storm, quickly bringing an end to ‘Stormterror’ and returning ‘Dvalin’ to his former glory. Of course, not everything was all sunshine and rainbows after that. There was still the pesky and quite concerning entourage of the Abyss Order and their numerous attempts at infiltrating Mond—and the amount of times they got uncomfortably close to even the bridge was enough to make Kaeya tug harder at his ties abroad and call on a few favors. 

Between treasure hoarders, the Abyss Order, and now the lingering Fatui—of whom Kaeya wouldn’t even trust to take care of a flour-sack baby—the Cavalry Captain truly had his work cut out for him. All that wasn’t even counting the weekends he stuck around Angel’s Share and helped behind the counter. Carrying on his family legacy and all that…. He wasn’t very good at bartending and has definitely lost his temper on more than one occasion, tossing out belligerent ‘guests’ of Mond when their impertinence got to his nerves. Other times, Charles had to be the one who kicked him out after he snuck one too many glasses of wine while on the clock. 

He tried his best despite it, though; the loose lips of traveling merchants and fatui members and the like served him better than some information brokers underground. Sometimes it was worth the disappointed sigh of Charles when he fumbled a drink here and there. In the end, though, Kaeya knew he just wasn’t built to be a bartender—a bar tenant definitely, but the one serving? It left much to be desired.

If it were Diluc, on the other hand, he’d be a pro. Diluc was always great at remembering small details, things that didn’t matter to most people—he was meticulous and hardworking and… honestly, he was just the real deal. Whatever he worked on, he would put his entire body and mind into it. Whether it was keeping his room clean, or dealing with the duties of the Cavalry Captain, it was always 110% with him. So genuine and devoted to whatever he got his hands involved in. He was something Kaeya would never be—and could never hope to see again.

He would have made a better heir than him—better captain, better bartender, better… well, better Ragnvindr.

Kaeya sat in front of his family’s graves, sipping from an almost-empty wine bottle, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Of course, nothing ever did. No spark from the Vision, no rumble of earth shaking to reveal an undead corpse somehow alive yet not…. It was always painfully peaceful here. He took another sip before spilling the rest out onto Father and Diluc’s graves—a toast, he tried, thought to be so clever through his drunken haze, before he lifted his brother’s Vision, placing a loving kiss full of anguish and longing into its cold core, before he returned it to its home nestled against Diluc’s headstone. 

As the sky darkened, another peaceful day in Mondstadt coming to a close, Kaeya stumbled away back home, oblivious to the red glow that returned to the gem’s center for just a moment, before resuming its three-year slumber.

Chapter Text

A thunderous roar echoed through the containment room, chains clanging together as the beast it held fought and struggled against them. A man stood outside the cage, watching—studying the creature as it strained against its bounds, tied to its neck and both wrists. 

The beast had been at it for several hours, never ceasing in its attempts at escape or even just to maul its captors. Even when its shackles were slackened every so often, giving up only a little pull, for the beast to charge at the bars—only for it to be yanked senselessly back to its previous place. Over and over, never learning its lesson. 

During its last attempt, a glob of spit actually flew onto the man’s mask when it got near the bars—he simply scoffed and wiped it with a nearby assistant’s sleeve. 

“Come now,” he huffed. “I know you’ve a sentient mind in there; why not use it for once? It’s been five hours, have you not learned the rules to your incarceration yet?”

The beast merely snarled in contempt, its owlish eyes ablaze with nothing but animosity and rancor—not a drop of humanity in its bones to be seen. Perfect—less of a legal mess his team had to deal with. Not that it mattered to him anyway.

The man, finally, seemed to grow tired at the show; he wrote down something on a clipboard with a click of his tongue and a hum—then lifted his attention back to the struggling monster. “That’s enough,” he said, raising a hand. “You’ve shown your endurance rivals no other, but I’d like for the examination to continue.”

With that, he snapped his fingers and electro burst through the chains attached to the beast, electrocuting it until the scent of burning feathers and fur filled the air—finally, with a groan, the beast fell limp on the ground face-first, seemingly lifeless with the only movement being subtle twitching from the outpour of elemental energy. The Doctor clicked his tongue in dismay—another test subject wasted, it appeared; he should probably lower the electro dose next time—then he heard the creature’s haggard breathing, just faint enough to be caught. That was when the Doctor noticed a symbol on the beast’s back—an eight-pointed star burnt like a branding along its spine. 

The Doctor smiled, then chuckled. “Interesting…. Will wonders ever cease?” 

How could he have been so stupid? 

Of course it was a trap—yet they say hindsight is twenty-twenty, and that it was in this case. 

For as long as he could remember, he had braved the desolate winter of Snezhnaya, possessed by a spirit of animalistic bloodlust after doing away with his own humanity, embracing the hulking beastly form he was cursed with—and all the features that came with it. Claws as large and as long as a bear, teeth and tusks that could tear through any thick hide it came across, along with strong horns atop his head. His sharpened senses helped keep his wits about him and his larger stature added muscle that could rival ruin guards and the tallest fatui skirmishers—thankfully his coat of fur and feathers kept him somewhat warm in this Archon-forsaken land. For the most part. 

Regardless of the natural coverage, he still tried to cover up with any cloaks and large clothes he could scavenge anywhere—he wasn’t about to let his psyche go completely; there was still a little bit of pride left in him. What little remained, that is. He took what he could get with what he could use to cover himself. His owl-like talons kept catching in whatever fabric he pulled over his legs, tearing the ends to shreds but—it was better than nothing.

Except now he had nothing. He was an animal in a cage, serving as nothing but a science experiment and zoo spectacle. Whatever clothes he had on had been lost during the last battle—the trap he had so stupidly fallen into. 

After nearly… he couldn’t remember—the years were blurring with the snow—How could he have let his guard down so easily? Perhaps he was tired—exhausted, really. He truly was. He should have known they wouldn’t leave their plans out like that, easy for anyone to read. They had trapped him like a woodland creature then muzzled him like a dog.

Of course they wouldn’t even spare him the mercy of a quick death. They had to make the ordeal as humiliating and demoralizing as possible. 

Granted, apparently they thought they were dealing with a human assassin—but what they got looked to be anything but. He still resented them, especially when the Doctor could tell immediately that he had intelligence beyond that of a mindless creature and even tried to coerce him into speaking. The man only ever received a vulgar insult as ‘evidence’ to his intelligence—yet, even knowing he was sentient, they still denied him any dignity. 

Now, the beast laid on the floor of the cage, fur and feathers puffed up with bits of electro still clinging to his pelt—limbs twitching and breath coming in in arduous puffs. His mind was numb but still, he fought to keep his eyes open and his consciousness in its place. The beast’s ear flicked when the metal gate to his prison strained open, followed by the echo of footsteps. 

He couldn’t move, even when every inch of his body screamed DANGER DANGER DANGER— every muscle tensed and released involuntarily as electro continued to grip him. Half-lidded eyes peered up at the Doctor, breathing quickening as the man kneeled in front of him. Behind the mask, he couldn’t decipher much—but his smirk told him everything. 

“I may not be a man of magic, but I know a hex when I see it,” the man began. The beast tried to growl at the man, but it teetered out into a whimper instead. He focused on his breathing, more of a hollow panting. The man seemed to find amusement in the tremors that coursed through the beast’s body. He shivered when the Doctor moved his hand through his mane, stroking him as if he were a pet. He felt trapped. 

The Doctor hummed, twirling a strand of scarlet hair between his fingers. “What must you have done to become like this, I wonder? Were you cast out of society? Did you take a life? Whatever it is, it seems you’re no longer wanted in any case, given how powerful that curse mark upon your back is.” He let out a chuckle—it sounded like a death rattle, and not for himself. 

The man stood and the beast tried to track his movements, but the man walked out of his line of sight quickly after. His heart started to beat senselessly in his chest, off-beat and desperate for safety, for a miracle, for anything. The whine that squeezed out of his throat was involuntary, but the beast didn’t care at this point—the terror that seized him made him jerk senselessly away from the man, though the distance between them was minimal. 

The Doctor tutted in amusement. “Regardless, I’ve yet to face a hex I couldn’t crack.” 

Light enveloped his sight, nearly blinding him—the ground under him burned—the beast wheezed breathlessly, the shock sending cryo through his gut as whatever the Doctor activated slithered in between each follicle and cavity in his body—in his soul—and something inside him was torn open—

….

….

….

He was in a dark room, slouched on his knees and feeling utterly soulless. 

His heart beat slowly, the steady thump echoing in the void around him. The only sound that reached his ears.

Dully, he stared at his hands on his lap—his claws, the red, brown, and white fur that coated them and his knees. The tail that wrapped around his body almost protectively. Red hair draped over his eyes, shielding him from his world. 

Slowly, the beast raised his head—before him laid a mirror. It was broken, a spiderweb of cracked glass decorating its exterior—but he could easily see the image of a man, bare to the world, with red, unruly hair draped around his head and around his shoulders like a torn cape—his eyes were hollow, devastated, and—

Soulless. 

When the beast moved, the image moved—he raised his paw, the image raised its hand. Was that him? Was that what he was supposed to look like? What was missing? Is this who he was before he lost himself to the ruthless cold of Snezhnaya? 

How long had he been stuck like this? How long had he been here? He knew he was here for revenge, for seeking the death of—of whoever was responsible for… for….

Someone died, who was it? Who were they to him? 

Who was he? 

Hey. Wake up.

He opened his eyes with a sharp gasp, and he was back in that cage again, except—

Hands, human hands—the fingers twitched and he felt it move; felt it touch the cold ground—he was cold. He was freezing. A shiver ran through his skin, a wave of ice rippling over him and he suddenly couldn’t stop trembling. His teeth clattered against each other. Slowly, he clenched and unclenched his fists then shifted to push himself up, muscles aching and quivering with the strain. Eventually, he got to his knees—then raised his head.

The Doctor sneered down at him in stoic intrigue. “My, you really are the spitting image of him, hm? Well, I wasn’t expecting this sort of development—yet it makes sense that you would come here.”

The beast—no, the boy—no, no, the man—he couldn’t think—was he even human anymore? Even if he saw human hands attached to him, he didn’t feel right—whatever was done to him, he was put together wrong. Like a puzzle with all the pieces in the wrong spots, forced to fit in places they weren’t meant to. His body shuddered as he curled into himself, the cold freezing him from the inside-out. And yet, the Doctor stood there, looming over him as he shivered, his eyes seemingly peeling through his skin and into his inner core. He stared back defiantly, growling even if his teeth no longer held the same sharpness from before. 

“Although,” the Doctor continued with a hum, ignoring the pitiful attempt at intimidation and drawing closer to the redhead, kneeling on one knee—leaning in, holding his chin between his fingers. His face was longer than it should be—why did it feel so wrong? Why was he so wrong? The growling grew louder, more aggressive. The Doctor didn’t care. “I must say, that curse did quite the number on your features. One could hardly consider you his son anymore, much less a human.”

Who? Whose son?  

The hand under his chin released him roughly, only to raise and grab onto—his horns that didn’t go away—why were they still there? He was still cursed? Why couldn’t he remember? What did the Doctor do— the boy groaned in agony as the man roughly shook his head with his horns, his brain knocking back and forth in his skull while the skin on his scalp holding the horns threatened to break from the pressure. 

“To think, Brighella’s own son would fall right into my hands like this. How fortunate am I?” Insufferable chuckling—amusement, dread, glee, horror—helplessness, subjugation. He caught the Harbinger’s eyes, full of mirth—his smirk grew wider. “But of course, you would know him as ‘Crepus,’ wouldn’t you?”

Diluc bristled as a burst of adrenaline and hatred gushed through him and he lunged at the man, his growls turning into a roar of defiance—finally, words formed in his throat— “Get my father’s name out of your mouth!”

The Doctor regrettably stood easily out of Diluc’s range, the redhead stumbling to the ground and choked on the metal collar wrapped around his throat before another clap of electro seized him and he was rendered into a heap of twitching muscles before the Harbinger. The Doctor hummed then left the cage again. 

“So he does speak,” the man sighed as the cage door slammed shut behind him. Diluc glared at him with half-lidded eyes, fighting to stay awake as his body jerked on the ground like a fish out of water. The Doctor scowled—out of disgust, out of contempt, disdain, apathy. “Unfortunate. Well, let’s pack you back up; afterall, humans have long-since bored me—I’ve yet to study a human-turned-beast, however.”

There was no time to brace himself for the sudden agony that gripped him. The light returned, the burning sensation overwhelming all his senses—his teeth broke against the pressure as he jerked around on the floor, the white pearls falling out just as larger teeth rose to replace them—bones snapped and muscles stretched and twisted, breaking and resetting, painfully reconstructing his body over again while blood dripped from his lips and soaked the ground around his face—he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t—

He was unconscious before the rest of his transformation could register as mind-numbing pain. 

Days blurred into senseless sounds and colors, the chains of endless pain from the Doctor’s boundless curiosity throwing such frivolities such as time into the trash. As the clock ticked down to his inevitable death day, Diluc felt less and less like a living being and more and more like a slab of meat on a table. His senses were clouded by nothing but hands and scalpels—the Doctor had peeled the beast open like a fruit, explored his internal anatomy as if he were examining priceless artifacts—all while Diluc laid almost lifeless pinned to an icy cold table, his mind helplessly numbed just to cope with the brain-breaking horror of it all.

He feared not even death would offer reprieve for him.

At some point, the Tsaritsa herself had visited his prison, her icy gaze scanning his body crumpled to the floor, collared and chained like a dog to the wall with two bowls of water and stale bread beside him. He was utterly pathetic, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care. His half-lidded gaze watched her in turn with exhaustion and apathy.

For a supposed icy leader and god, the Tsaritsa’s eyes held quite a bit of sympathy and sadness—Diluc couldn’t imagine why. Then she spoke—

“You are a creature of deep heartache.” She said it like a statement—it must have been true, then. Diluc’s chest ached constantly, and it wasn’t just from the Doctor’s research—he felt hollowed out and weary, tired from fighting for his life every second of the day. Even now, every breath felt like it might be his last—and yet, death would never greet him. Perhaps she would be the one to grant him this mercy?

Instead, the Tsaritsa entered the prison cell, leaving the door open. Something red glistened from under her white mantle, and Diluc wondered if this was it—would this be his final moment? 

She kneeled in front of him and set a red jewel down by his face, before her hand carded through his oily mane almost tenderly—Diluc hated the fact that he leaned into the touch. It was almost healing. Nauseating. Wordlessly, Diluc glanced between the offering and the archon, silent in his questioning, though he otherwise didn’t move or make a noise.

“A returned emblem,” she answered simply. “Consider this a gift and a mercy—you are to be executed in one week’s time, but I shall grant you some semblance of dignity before then.”

She couldn’t even kill him then and there. What a scam. Diluc let out a broken whine and let his head fall to the side in defeat, eyes closing. The returned Delusion beside him hummed in his head, urging him to stand, leave, fight back, anything— but he was just… tired. What use was passion and revenge when hope for oneself was lost beyond saving? 

There was no help coming, there was no way out, no rescue, and no escape.

The Tsaritsa left and he missed the company.

Diluc didn’t know what time of day it was when an explosion rocked the building, shooting white panic through his heart and sending chaos throughout the staff and guards—several were sent away as backup, talk about a monster outbreak near the eastern end buzzing through the soldiers all while Diluc struggled to get his breathing under control. It was mere minutes later when the only two guards left at their posts suddenly slammed into each other and slumped to the floor, knocked out cold.

Diluc’s head snapped up in alarm and he scrambled to his feet shakily. His eyes bore into the dark of the hall until a blue light in the shape of dice lit up a woman’s form. She wore a white version of a fatui agent’s uniform and a mask—an obvious but clever disguise, one Diluc didn’t doubt had flown under the radar. 

He eyed her warily and growled as she approached his bars—then with a snap of her fingers, the blue strings that flowed around her spun into the lock of the cage and clicked it open. The lady swung the door out wide and raised her hands in defense—a peaceful gesture.

“There we are, buddy, easy. I’m just gonna undo the chains on ya, alright?” She approached slowly, as if facing a wild animal, and, well—to be fair, by all accounts he felt like one. One that was hurt, scared, tired, and cornered in a cage. Diluc’s arms and legs shook from holding himself up—he didn’t have the energy to fight, to protect himself. He had no choice in anything anymore. 

He let out a huff through his nose and bared his teeth, growling. The woman stopped in her tracks, then lowered her head, as if to make herself smaller. Diluc huffed again as she stepped closer anyway. He let her after it processed that she had no weapons in her hands. He eyed the door, then the woman, then the door again. He needed these chains gone. 

The woman got close enough to feel his breath on her face, and she kneeled down—then reached into her coat to take a set of keys out, all the while muttering soothingly. Even if Diluc felt his heart in his throat, he didn’t move an inch. He felt like a statue as she maneuvered around him, felt the key slide into the hole of the choking collar, into the holes of the chains around his wrists—felt freedom for the first time in… he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t remember. 

He flexed his claws underneath himself then slowly stood up to his full stature, towering over the woman easily—he looked at his claws, saw the way the fur around his wrists were scarred and burnt, flexed his fingers again then looked at the woman who gawked in amazement at him. Then she smiled, posture so strangely casual and calm despite the dire circumstances.

“Well, aren’t you a surprise? Come on, let’s get you out of here, big guy.”

Chapter Text

The door was open. 

Diluc stared at the lack of bars between him and the two unconscious guards outside, the hallway, the prison gate across the hall—

The door was open.

His wrists felt cold, charred, broken, free. He could stand without being yanked to his knees, could raise his head, breathe deep, stretch, walk—

The door was open.

Dottore had left the door open many times, a test, a taunt, torture for his mind, tempting him to fight his restraints one last time before the electro would inevitably run through his body and send him gasping for air on the floor. A psychological game, which one would break first—except this time was real. This time Dottore wasn’t here. This time—

The door was open . 

He glanced at the woman beside him, gawking up at him in awe and reverence—he let a huff out through his nostrils and took a few steps toward the gate, almost scared that the door would slam shut at any moment. The woman walked beside him, letting him go through the entrance first—he had to duck to get out. He stepped over the unconscious guards then turned his eyes toward the woman again, suspicion in his owlish eyes.

“Who are you?” he rasped.

The woman’s eyebrows shot up in shock when he spoke—she took a step back and sputtered a bit before taking a deep breath and forcing herself to regain her composure. She rolled her neck awkwardly as she took the lead down the hall. “I was… not expecting you to speak, not going to lie there. We were, uh… under the impression you were, hmm….”

“A mindless beast? I’ve been told.”

“Well, we knew you had above average intelligence for a… creature of your state, let’s say…. In any case, you can call me Orchis,” she said, lowering her voice as they turned a corner after she cleared the hallway. “And you? They call you anything, big guy?”

Diluc huffed through his nose in annoyance at the thought of these people calling him anything but his actual name. Beast, Red, The Spawn, Experiment 184— the list went on. He wasn’t too sure about sharing his name with her yet either, given how ‘Orchis’ was definitely a codename. Diluc came up empty handed.

 “Not anything useful, really. I had one before, but… I’d rather not use it here.” Or anywhere. ‘Diluc Ragnvindr’ is no longer human.  

Orchis hummed with a contemplative nod. “Intel said they knocked you ‘round pretty good down here. Not surprised then—but don’t worry, we’ll fix that too, if you’ll let us.”

“Who are you with?”

“I can explain all that when we get out of here, don’t worry.”

Fair enough. They had a common enemy, it seemed, so he’d leave those types of questions for later. “Do you know where the exit is, then?”

“Just about,” she admitted with a partial sigh in his voice. “The tunnels get a little twisty in the dark, but we’re going the right way at least. We might run into some agents eventually, though, so brace for that.”

Diluc snarled a bit at the thought. His fur bristled as a new flame, like a flickering candle growing steadily, erupted in his chest—just the thought that they might try to keep him from leaving, returning to that death trap, torturing him just to see how much he could handle—they’ll have to drag his corpse back in pieces before he falls to them again. The Delusion the Tsaritsa returned to him burned cold around his neck, buried in his fur. 

“Oh, trust me, I’m looking forward to it,” he darkly chuckled, flexing his claws. He didn’t miss the smirk on Orchis’ face at the comment. 

“Good to see that Anti-Fatui spunk wasn’t kicked outta ya.”

Diluc chuffed and sneered to himself. They couldn’t wring that out of him even if they stretched him inside-out then wrenched his heart from his chest. He’d still burn a fiery indignation—he’d out-last the sun with his heat. 

The sound of a bowstring pulling taut reached his ears and that was all the warning he got before he launched himself in front of Orchis, polarizing black flames licking his fur when he raised his arms in a brace—hydro hit his chains like a rock to a wall, the elemental arrow shattering and sputtering into vapor. The steam couldn’t even disperse before another bolt of hydro pierced the veil—Diluc had less than a microsecond to process the speed of the attack, only managing to dodge his head to the side as the weapon passed, slicing through both fur and skin. 

The beast growled ferociously and took control of his chains again—like an old glove fitting perfectly, he slipped into the familiar fighting style as though he was never held captive in the first place. The chains wrapped around his claws and with a roar, more black metal shot from his Delusion and toward their assailant, winding and twisting in the air—the attacker deflected the incoming chains with their weapon, a polearm that lit the dark hall an eerie blue—didn’t they have a bow? No, didn’t matter, focus, Diluc—

Orchis took her chance with the distraction then, sailing past him with her own hydro-infused glow faster than he could properly process—she slipped in between the flurry of blazing chains and slices of hydro in the air with elegance and precision, before coasting around their opponent, her shining string wrapping around the person as if they were a fish—the hydro-infused string tightened around them, locking their arms and weapon to their sides, and suddenly Orchis had them at her whim.

Diluc huffed and lowered his arms—but not his guard. 

“Alright there, hotshot, we’re gonna take it nice and easy now,” Orchis growled lowly, yanking on the strings.

The assailant—a ginger-haired man—only seemed to grow more amused by the second, entertained even—Diluc sneered at the look on his face all the while his fur began to stand on edge. Familiarity itched at the back of his neck, eyes narrowing with a low growl as the man chuckled. 

“Take it easy? But the fun’s only just begun!” 

The string snapped and Diluc bolted forward just as the ginger pivoted on his foot, hydro-infused blades aiming at Orchis’ neck—black chains snapped the weapon out of his hand and whipped Orchis away by accident before Diluc found his own claw wrapped around the man’s own neck, tackled to the ground. He growled ferociously, foam gathering at the corners of his lips—the sound of choking mixed with laughing felt foreign yet right at home to his ears. 

Kill him. Snap his neck. Crush it.

The man’s scent of bloodbloodbloodabyssblood hit his nose like a boulder and he scoffed at the smell, disturbed and suddenly distracted—right before he felt feet kick against his chest, throwing him off his prey target with a startling amount of power. 

The yelp that left Diluc’s throat was involuntary when he hit the ground with a thud, dazed. He pushed himself up and shook his head to dispel the dizziness—behind him, he heard Orchis regain her composure and taking shots at the ginger with her own bow with the strings of her elemental dice snapping at him here and there, but it wasn’t looking too good for her. Orchis was obviously skilled in battle, but so was their assailant; it seemed where she excelled at sniping long-distance, he was just as proficient at close ranged melee. Being forced to utilize this relatively small hallway for a battleground wasn’t quite ideal, especially for the bow-using Orchis. 

Kill him. He’s going to trap you again.

Diluc grit his teeth and brought himself to all fours, charging at the man again, his claws scraping the tile flooring as black flames trailed him—the man dodged skillfully, a laugh echoing in the chamber even as he parried an arrow from Orchis that brushed right over Diluc’s back.

“They said the monster outbreak might’ve been a distraction and sent me to check on things here,” the man suddenly explained as his polearm snapped into dual swords, quickly and almost effortlessly countering the chains Diluc sent his way. “Good thing, I was hoping to get a chance to fight you before your sentencing.”

Kill him. Burn him. He’ll cage you again. He’s one of them .

Diluc growled angrily when the realization hit—this was a freaking Harbinger. Of course it was—he was Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger—one of the youngest, if Diluc remembered correctly. His youth didn’t make him any less dangerous, however. 

Not that it mattered; anyone who chose to align themselves with the Fatui were marked for death in Diluc’s eyes. 

Kill him. He’s mocking you.

The smile on the man’s face felt like poison, making his skin crawl—the desire to tear his face off his head like paper was almost overwhelming, and the growl that had been rumbling in his chest grew into a roar as he pushed against the now-broken tiled floor to barrel toward Tartaglia. The ginger was faster, though, dashing to the side as Diluc slammed the wall—he pivoted to follow the Harbinger’s path, rage filling his veins as he lunged at Tartaglia again. Orchis followed his pattern, aiming her shots behind the Harbinger to corral him toward Diluc’s grasp—but no matter how many times they nearly cornered him, he weaseled his way out like a snake, finding each hole they left and squeezing through with ease. Each time, it felt more and more like a taunt; a challenge, as if they were letting him. As if he was in control of this step and dance. 

Hate him hate him hate him—

It made his blood boil.

Kill him kill him kill him—

Finally, Tartaglia slipped up—the beast’s hand gripped his face and redirected him to the ground, tiles cracking and splintering off with the force. Once again, the beast had the Harbinger pinned, a massive hand wrapped around a smaller neck, digits threatening to squeeze until his head popped off—the beast’s muzzle was mere inches away from the man’s face, hot air breathing on his skin while saliva dripped from its frothing lips. The beast kept its hind legs on Tartaglia’s ankles, keeping him still, trapped— trapped like the beast, pinned and strung tight, chained in place with no room to move, all the while knives and a chaotic grin sought to tear him open, and—

“Hey, snap out of it!” 

Except, he was out of that cage. He was almost free. Diluc blinked and the sound of feet on tile and hydro bubbling registered in his ears. Right. Orchis, she was rescuing him. He wasn’t free yet, but he wasn’t locked under chains and a scalpel anymore. He glanced down at his opponent, a pale ginger, the Eleventh Harbinger, blue in the face and gasping like a fish. Blood dripped down one side of his face while bruises swelled up and darkened around the other.

Huh, he bled. 

Two thin arms wrapped around his raised arm, poised to strike the Harbinger, to crush his head into the concrete, break it like a crumbling gravel—someone held him back with all their strength and Diluc finally let go of Tartaglia with his other claw, startled at himself and letting the ginger choke on fresh air desperately—glancing up, he saw Orchis, her eyebrows furrowed in partial concern, partial… He couldn’t tell the other half. 

“Listen, I wanna be rid of the Harbingers as much as the next guy,” Orchis hissed out, a tinge of panic in her voice. “But if you kill him here, the political fiasco that’ll come after will be too much even for the Network to help you, so snap out of it and focus on escaping, first!”

He opened his mouth to reply, but found his tongue to be heavy in his mouth—like it was swollen and dry, not moving. What was there to say? His eyes snapped down the hall when he heard more footsteps echoing against the walls, and Orchis tensed beside him before relaxing with a sigh; two men dressed similarly to Orchis, dark obviously stolen Fatui garments and masks, stopped before the scene, seemingly out of breath. 

Diluc growled threateningly but Orchis threw her hand out. “Stop, they’re with me. Dusk Bird, Crow, where is Goose?”

The first one huffed and crossed his arms, seemingly not bothered by Diluc’s attempt at intimidation. “That meathead is running around with slime allurant with a swarm of them at his heel.”

Orchis clicked her tongue in response before the second man continued, “In any case, he knows where to meet us and I doubt he’ll get caught. He always manages to weasel his way out of the problems he makes for himself anyway. But forget about that, we’ve secured an exit, it’s not too far away now.”

“That’s perfect.” Orchis stood up and moved the unconscious body of the Harbinger to sit against the wall. She checked for a pulse and sighed in minor relief before ripping off a piece of Tartaglia’s coat and wrapping it around his head. “It’ll keep them from making a full blown war over the kid. Come on, let’s get a move on, Big guy.”

Both of the men watched her tend to the Harbinger’s wound with incredulity. “Lady Orchis, did… did you two face off with one of the Harbingers?”

“It wasn’t our choice,” Orchis answered with a shrug. “‘Sides, Ol’ Red here’s the one that roughed him up.”

Diluc grunted and stood at his full height at the mention before huffing through his nose. He didn’t deign that with a response, instead sliding his eyes over to the two newcomers. One flinched a few steps away while the other looked on with arms crossed and a hum, seemingly impressed. He had to give that one credit; to not flinch at the hulking red beast? It had to take guts—of that, he would admit.

Or he just didn’t care.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. Diluc huffed again then leaned forward toward the spy that held his place, hot breath against his mask—then he cracked his jaw open, voice teetering out in a deep drawl, “So, where is this exit you mentioned?” 

The poor guy suddenly choked, nearly falling on his backside and scrambling away with his partner who was equally freaked out, apparently. “It- you - you talk?!”  

Orchis sighed with a shake of her head, then made her way past Diluc and her two stooges. “Alright, enough dawdling already! We’re behind schedule as it is. Crow, you said you both secured the exit? Then let’s get a move on already. I want us out of here yesterday !”

“Yes ma’am!” they both chanted, still rattled by the sentient beast but not willing to put their good standing with Orchis on the line either. Diluc huffed again before following after the three down the hall and leaving the ginger Harbinger alone with his wounds. 

It wasn’t too long before the sound of feet hitting the tiles met their ears—a man with short hair, dressed similar to the two assistants of Orchis, came barreling down the hall toward them. Orchis and the bird duo tensed at first before recognizing their missing third—Diluc wasn’t so calm though. The potent stench of mist and flaming flower extract came off the man in waves, almost smothering every other smell in the place. He snorted and sneered in disgust, hand raising to cover what he could of his muzzle. 

“Goose, there you are,” Orchis greeted with a sigh. “I was starting to think you got yourself lost somehow.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Dusk Bird muttered under his breath before Crow elbowed his side. 

Goose groaned dramatically. “Why was I even given that codename? Couldn’t I have something cool like ‘Red Vulture’ or ‘Sacred Ibis’?”

“The only thing ‘Sacred’ about you is your ability to get into trouble, you meathead.” Crow smirked with a tilt of his head. “‘Sides, I think ‘Goose’ fits you!”

“Enough, you two,” Orchis interrupted before Goose could attack his coworker. “Goose, report. Did you plant the seed?”

He scoffed. “Of course I did, and it worked like a charm too. Nearly got swallowed by the slimes those potions attracted!” Goose then turned to Crow and Dusk Bird, a single eyebrow raised in sarcasm. “You’re welcome , by the way.”

Crow clicked his tongue and glanced away while Dusk Bird chuckled at him. 

“Anyway, the exit’s unguarded. They’re all preoccupied with our little ‘present’.”

“Then let’s hurry.” Orchis turned her attention to Diluc, a smile pulling her lips. “Come on, Big Guy, let’s get you out of here once and for all.”

Red eyes raised to the other side of the hall—he could see the door open. Sunlight, burning red like a blaze, lit the walls as they followed Goose to their escape. The musky smell of the sewer-like enclosure he was previously trapped in gave way to the fresh smell of snow and the purity of wind. 

The door was open.

This was it. 

It was almost too good to be true, and yet—the wind greeted him like an old friend, moving through his hair and feathers, almost pulling him to run faster, get out faster, don’t worry, you will be free again. His eyes burned as he stared at that blazing sun across the horizon, the light dipping low and casting fire over the land. The world bled with its warmth, and Diluc missed it so much. 

Finally.

The door was open. 

He made it out.

Chapter Text

Four months later….

Once upon a time, he imagined a homecoming full of cheer and jubilation—a party held in his honor, a toast for all. He dreamt of the reception that would keep the lights of the Ragnvindr Manor on for days in celebration of the Prodigal Son’s return. The bottles of champagne that would be popped in his honor—the cheers for his name, the laughter, the applause, the tight hugs—hoping to never let go—

And yet, it was a festival meant only for his dreams. 

Now, Diluc looked upon the land he once called home with a deep longing in his soul. He arrived from the north, assisted by the Network that had rescued him. It had taken him a long, long time to recover from the torture he had endured by the Doctor’s hands. There was damage done to his body only healers with Visions could help mend together—not to mention the nerve damage from the constant shocks of concentrated electro. The skin around his wrists was mangled and pink, devoid of any fur or feathers—according to the doctors provided by the Network, it would unfortunately stay like that for the foreseeable future. 

Bones had to be broken and reset—one of the healers had mentioned how mind-boggling it was that he could even hold his own against a Harbinger and win while his arm and tail were in such conditions. He was forced into a brace at one point until his slouching could be fixed since apparently he was “making his ribs worse with how he stood” —even though he spent half the time on fours anyway. 

Still, it was a welcome change—people who understood he was not a mindless creature or a monster, despite his appearances, treating him like a sentient being and not something to gawk at behind metal bars or while strapped to a slab of concrete. Even if they had initially thought him to be something they could tame. It didn’t matter in the end. 

He had escaped, he was free. He never had to be back there again.

The Network itself was… interesting. They had taken a liking to his head-on approach and the way he tore through the Fatui like flame to a brush—they coveted that strength and hatred for their ranks, and the moment they had offered, he accepted. In exchange, he was given training and anything else he needed for his position. Safety, protection, but also shelter, food, clothes, healing—

Unfortunately, all good things must come to its inevitable end and his first assignment was given; return to Mondstadt and reverse the curse. Which meant trying to find Alice, who was near impossible to track down, or… 

Well, at least he wasn’t entirely alone in his endeavor. He had been promised that their magic researchers would also be looking into the curse to reverse it, so there was at least some hope. He’d avoid everything to do with him if he could help it.

So here he was, begrudgingly and almost entirely against his better judgment, peering down at the old Dawn Winery, its foundations once solid and firm, now laid in near-ruin. He had been told that the Dawn Winery was no longer in use, the business having been moved to some other location but—seeing the barren land with his own eyes, the way the structure of the manor was disheveled and broken down, the houses that had been littered about once bustling with life, now dead and silent… He felt empty inside. He had seen many corpses over the past few years, seen the light fade out of an enemy’s eyes—been the source of their deaths, and yet… 

Somehow, this felt like looking at a dead relative’s open casket, and the corpse was rotting. 

The place he had grown up in, had spent many summer days with Kaeya and his father, chasing crystalflies in bottles and helping to harvest the best grapes in the field for his own grape juice—only to see it abandoned, stripped of everything that had once given it life and meaning, forsaken—Diluc tried and failed to hold back the growl that built up in his chest, instead cutting himself short and tightening the black cloak that hid his form in the moonlight. 

Through the night, he shuffled through the deserted homes of the people he had once known to work loyally for his father, men and women who had their own lives—of which he now knew nothing about. He supposed they had all moved on. He couldn’t quite blame them—but the idea was bizarre to him; he couldn’t imagine moving past that day. Even if the last three years were a blur that tasted like iron on his tongue, he could never forget that day. It would haunt him until the day he died. 

By the time the sun began to peak over the horizon, painting the tree tops with brilliant golds and reds, Diluc had made a nice ‘nest’ of sorts in his old home with salvaged material he found in the empty houses around the old vineyard. There wasn’t much since it seemed that most of everything was moved out; he could only really find some old blankets, torn up bedding that wasn’t worth taking or salvaging and pots and pans that had no significant value. 

Old forgotten food cans once lost in the back of dusty cupboards made for a fine collection in the large kitchen on nights he couldn’t find food for himself via bird traps and wrestling wild boars to death. He kept the fireplace lit only at night to avoid the smoke drawing any attention and avidly avoided the room that had once belonged to his father—in fact, all the rooms on the second floor remained untouched by Diluc. After a week of living on his own here, he had created a cozy little nest of every soft material he could find in the land in front of the fireplace, fitting his larger form almost perfectly. Each night was either spent outside scouting or curled up in his ‘bed’ staring blankly at the flames that danced in his vision. 

Just… contemplating. 

Days turned into weeks—he experienced the reason for the Winery’s disheveled appearance in the form of one of Stormterror’s wild wind gales tearing through the land. It wasn’t strong enough to lift him off the ground but there were definitely a lot fewer shingles on the roof after the storm passed than when he had returned. Though, he supposed he ought to count his blessings, considering the torrent of tornadoes that had terrorized the City of Mond in the distance, the dragon soaring in the air miles above. Diluc couldn’t help but stare in absolute awe at the event. 

Traitorous thoughts snuck up into his mind: was Kaeya there? Was he okay? Was he being lifted into the air like a speck of cotton? What about Jean? Adelinde? Elzer? Please, not his special people —

Then, the storm abated and Diluc let out the breath he had been holding after the seconds ticked away, and the great Anemo Dragon flew away just as a small speck of a—human? He couldn’t tell—floated back down to the city. 

A few moments passed before Diluc huffed through his nose and turned his gaze away. The strong gusts were powerful enough to damage the houses around the Winery—he had to make sure the structure of the Winery itself was intact then.

It was weeks after that incident when he had scavenged a large claymore for himself—his claws had served him well and would continue to serve him, but the beast needed some sort of change in tactic or something to shake things up or else he was just going to lose his mind. As the days went by tearing through Hilichurl camps, slime nests and the like, Diluc had seen the great Anemo Dragon only a handful of times after the initial scene—gradually, the storms had ceased and Diluc considered the matter settled. 

He couldn’t be certain, however—his only outside communication took the form of his messenger hawk sending updates weekly from the Network (and a few personalized letters here and there from Orchis). It was only so useful.

Isolation was… well, isolating. It wasn’t something he didn’t deserve, however. If this was his punishment for his sins, then so be it. He counted his blessings anyway; isolation in the skeleton of his old home was a million times better than a frosty execution by the people he hated most in the world. He would take this over seeing the Tsaritsa and her goons over and over again forever. At least he was closer to his father’s ghost here than in that tundra hellscape.

He had gotten used to this life anyway. The only things he spoke to were the ghosts that hung in the corners of his worn down home and the creatures that dared to come near him—and the messenger hawk who visited once a week. It was a nice routine, somewhat. 

So imagine his surprise one night while he stood in the middle of a bloodbath by his own hands and blade, the broken carcasses of Hilichurls and Mitachurls strewn about around him in a now-destroyed camp, when a gust of fresh wind blew through his fur and feathers and the strings of a lyre sang with it. 

Diluc felt ice shock his heart then drop it to the pit of his stomach in terror—eyes blown wide as he turned to see a young boy sat atop one of the Hilichurl towers, strumming to his instrument as if there wasn’t a blood-soaked beast surrounded by the corpses of his enemies. As if there wasn’t a care in the world. Diluc remained frozen where he stood, gawking at the other until the song came to a seeming end and he opened his eyes, smiling down at the beast. 

He wanted to run. He wanted to hide into the night and never come out again—someone saw him. Should he kill him? No, no, he can’t kill an innocent person, he would never do that ( except that he did do that. He continued to do that. He would continue to do that still ). But he saw him—he saw him, he saw him, he saw him—was this kid going to run? Scream? Why wasn’t he doing that already? How did he get there in the first place? Diluc should just run. Maybe he ought to roar at the kid—scare him off. No, just run—

He twitched, as if to start away, but he stayed frozen where he stood. Something in him—in his soul, his very core, told him to stay. That he was safe. The wind wasn’t strong, just enough to play with his long fur and slight feathers. It felt like hands caressing his face and drawing him closer. It felt like a friend.

The boy’s smile remained as he opened his mouth and spoke, “Why, hello there, Sir Diluc! Oops—well, I suppose it’d be Master Diluc now, yes?”

Despite how kind and playful the voice of the other was, his words made Diluc’s lungs seize—ice water filled his stomach, threatening to drown him from the inside out as his mind began to twist into knots with words he couldn’t quite process correctly. How did he know who he was? How did—

The wind around the beast danced through his red fur again, a light suddenly emanating off the boy as he made to move off the tower—and when Diluc expected him to simply fall and hurt himself, the stranger drifted down, as if he weighed only that of a feather—then suddenly it clicked. His mental storm stopped in its tracks and the tension that strangled his form released him.

“The Anemo Archon,” Diluc breathed out, almost in relief. How long had he spoken to another being? A true conversation? He didn’t have paper to reply back to most letters he received, and when he was supplied with it, there was hardly anything worth saying other than reporting he was still alive and well. For some reason, he felt tears spring to his eyes. “Lord Barbatos.”

How was he supposed to conduct himself in front of a god? He wasn’t religious, hardly at all—mostly going to the cathedral when his father took them, and he remembers only ever praying to Barbatos only twice in his life. The memory of his interaction with the Tsaritsa still stung in the back of his mind as well—but she wasn’t his god, and she never would be. Barbatos was the god of his homeland, the god of Monstadt. His god. 

Someone in his corner, hopefully. 

The archon’s smile turned to one of sadness and Diluc felt his ears pressed down on his head. The smaller boy—man? This was a god, he was no child—then giggled and shook his head. “The one and only! But I go by ‘Venti’ these days. The best bard in the world!” 

Diluc felt like cold water had been splashed on him, shocking him yet keeping him in the moment—a fish out of water, as they say. What was he supposed to do with this information? The beast just stood there dumbly. Barbatos—no, Venti, he said—took his dumb silence as a response and giggled again, much more genuinely this time; almost thoroughly amused by the beast’s reaction.

“I would have visited you sooner,” Venti then continued. “But I had a bit of a… situation I had to deal with that my friends and I recently finished settling.”

“Why are you here?” Diluc found himself asking. The words found their own way out of his muzzle.

The bard looked at him confused—then that sad expression once again made his lips quirk up. He was pitying him—but Diluc couldn’t find it in himself to be visibly upset at that realization. He just felt empty. 

Musical notes fluttered in the breeze—the bard had begun to play.

“As a child of the wind you were born, and that you will forever be sworn.”

Diluc kept his gaze firm on the bard.

“Though your form may have been made anew and your heart has been split in two, you remain just as precious today as the day you went away.”

Tears filled his eyes again.

Venti, the merciless god of freedom, using words so sweet, so kind, so sharp , as if they were weapons, piercing his heart and lungs and every other organ in his beastly and unsightly body, continued on as if he weren’t suffocating the ex-human. 

“I’m sorry my winds couldn’t reach you where you were, Master Diluc.”

A shaky inhale, sharp and threatening to shatter the hard exterior Diluc had spent years molding—he shuddered out an exhale and fought the tears that melted into his fur around his face. He grimaced as he choked and sneered at Venti—though they both knew it was a meaningless gesture, a hollow and empty threat that meant absolutely nothing. A poor attempt at saving what little face Diluc had left.

Venti came closer to Diluc as he silently cried, fighting off whimpers that beat against his chest. 

The bard hummed as he inspected the beast. “I can’t reverse what’s been done, but I do know someone with the power to purify. She purified a corrupted seed effortlessly—she may be able to help stave off this curse.”

Hope, like an ember, sparked in his chest—his ears pricked up attentively before they flattened again, a foot coming down to squash the hope inside him. Shame washed over him.

“No, no one must see me like this,” he muttered, eyes falling away. “The Knights of Favonius will be on my hide right after—and then what? Not even you could stop the mob then.”

Disappointment showed clearly on the bard’s face, his form deflating almost before he regained his composure. “At any rate, I suggest you consider it before making any real decision—I’ll do what I can to support you in the meantime, Master Diluc.”

“It’s—just Diluc,” he interjected. “Please.”

“Diluc,” Venti amended, though not without a great sadness and understanding in his eyes. “Then let’s part with a final message, yes? Welcome home, Diluc.”

That night, sleep was hard to come to—but this time, he wasn’t plagued by nightmares or rotting thoughts. Instead, he contemplated the bard, his entire visit and each word of comfort he offered. It was hard to wrap his head around. This was his home, yes, and on paper it made sense, but really agreeing with that and feeling his heart accept it was another thing entirely. Was this truly his home? Was he welcomed here? After all he’s done? After what he looks like ?

Soon, the morning sun gave its greeting and Diluc made his way out into the empty fields to tend to the few crops he was able to salvage. The storage thankfully had an untouched crate of plant seeds—so at least for a time, he’d have tomatoes and berries. 

He heard a rustle nearby—and he stood still, ears straining to listen to what the sounds were telling him—a bird? Animal? Or an intruder? The beast’s heart began to deafen him with its thunderous beats.

The rustling continued and he decided to retreat into the manor until the unknown entity left his territory—he waited for only five minutes before the door creaked open. He felt exposed and torn open, caught with his hand in the cookie jar per say—a deer in a lamp light. 

He turned—and ran upstairs. His heart shook with agony when his eyes caught the intruder’s eyes—his heart collapsed to his feet as he locked himself into his old room. 

Why?

Why? Why why why why why why?

Why was Adelinde here?

Chapter Text

The day in the life of the Head Maid of the Ragnvindr Household began at 5AM. She began with getting her own affairs in order, cleaning her room and getting ready for the day before anyone else could be up. She prepared for Hillie and Moco to arrive from their nearby shared housing, setting the fire to get the house warm before the Master woke up, then the task of cleaning, dusting and polishing began. 

When the sun poked its forehead over the horizon, that was her cue to start on breakfast and boil water for coffee and tea. One of the girls would set the tables—that was typically when the Master would begin to rise—while the other finished preparing the Master’s clothes for the day. 

The rest of the day was devoted to cleaning and helping wherever was needed, whether that be the kitchen, making tea, being a listening ear to the Master, running errands, fixing clothing…. 

This is how it has been for Adelinde for over twenty years.

She was fourteen when she was taken in by the Ragnvindrs, having come to Mondstadt at a young age—alone and desperate for work. She was fifteen when the Master’s first heir, Diluc, was born—and when his mother took her last breath, all at once. She had then been unceremoniously thrusted into the unofficial role of ‘mother.’ 

At first, she resented the position she was in—she was to feed, play, wash, and change this newborn child that wasn’t even hers for months while Master Crepus mourned the loss of his wife. Some days he couldn’t even make it out of his room, and the poor baby would cry and cry and cry — 

Begging for his father, his mother, anyone—and Adelinde was always there at his side, whether she wanted to be or not. She was fifteen and instead of shopping and exploring, she was stuck in this manor, tending to an infant who couldn’t stay still or quiet for more than an hour.

But, little by little, she grew fond of the boy. She would look into his scarlet eyes and see his mother, the woman who had so graciously taken her in despite her age—had taught her things her own mother couldn’t and had taken pity on her. Perhaps it was the grief in her heart that had made her resent the child for months—nevertheless, the Master eventually climbed out of his grave of grief and reclaimed his role as father and Master of the House. 

Life resumed, as it always would.

Then, when Diluc was five, little Kaeya came into the picture. By then, Adelinde had slipped into the role of ‘pseudo-mother’ easily and eagerly. 

Watching the boys grow was a blessing and honor. Diluc, despite being the troublemaker between the two, growing into that of a kind, doting, and protective older brother, and quiet, gentle, shy Kaeya who was at one point afraid of his own shadow, following his brother’s footsteps right behind him, developing into a confident and charming young man. 

She was proud of the two as they celebrated the success of their entrance exams into the Knights of Favonius. Adelinde often wondered if this was what the Mistress would have felt—if it was right to feel this way for her. If she should be feeling this way—if it was right to be here in her place at all.

Long were the days where she had once cried herself to sleep in rage at the infant who wailed endlessly into the night—despite her guilt, Adelinde found herself cherishing this new family she had now become a part of. 

Then… There was Master Crepus. A loving father and devoted husband— was . He was a devoted husband. Being a widower had certainly taken its toll, but the man did his best regardless. But he was not a perfect person, and neither was Adelinde. 

As the years went by, the boys grew into teenagers and more often out and about than at home, there was… temptation. On quiet nights, Adelinde would often stay restless, her mind stuck on one man and heart fluttering over the way he looked at her, the way he smiled at her, the way his hand would brush over hers when passing something—

It was inappropriate and would lead to insurmountable scandals and problems the Ragnvindrs didn’t need. She wouldn’t dare sully his good name, so she stayed silent, keeping her chest as the eternal prison it was meant to be for her heart.

She weighed her options often, if she should tell or not—but fate made every decision for her in the end.

Diluc’s eighteenth birthday had arrived like any other. It was supposed to be wonderful—a party at Angel’s Share, then come home. The death of the Mistress was devastating—but the death of the Master was gutting. She had wondered at one point: How much more can this family take? Then, as if the Fates were mocking her personally, Diluc was ripped away from them brutally. 

How devastating it was to stand before the empty caskets of the man she loved and the boy she cherished as her own. 

The months after felt like an all-consuming void. Grief drove her to a state of constant mania, working, working, working—doing anything to keep her mind away from the despair in her heart, until one day it all came crashing down when she collapsed in the middle of the day. Young Master Kaeya and Elzer forced her to bed rest until she was well enough to continue working—both mentally and physically. 

From then on, she tried to find more productive ways to keep her mind at peace—she would go on walks to Starsnatch Cliff or Windrise to find comfort in the winds. She eventually found that peace when a particularly warm gust of wind blew through the air, rustling the leaves around her as if to make them dance, and as she peered up into the branches, she found a brown owl perched nearby. Her desperate heart took that as a sign—permission, from whom she didn’t know, but permission all the same, to move on. Live her life, let the grief in her heart pass through the way it should naturally. 

Adelinde found she could breathe a bit better that day. 

“Master Kaeya!”  

“Adelinde!”

The two stared each other down like two warriors, neither batting an eye and both standing their own ground. 

Adelinde threw his coat down. “It has been three weeks since I’ve seen you even sit for a cup of tea at midday—”

“I’ve been at work!” Kaeya threw his arms in the air in exasperation, as if that excused anything.

“Work? Hah! When you’re not out captaining a non-existent Cavalry, tell me what you’re doing, hm?”

“I told you! Work! You know, Angel’s Share? The place I’m also in charge of?”

“And when was the last time Charles was manning the bar by himself, hm?”

Kaeya suddenly looked as though he swallowed a lemon. Adelinde smiled smugly, taking that as her own victory while she nodded with a sarcastic ‘tone’. “Yeah, hmhm. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t keep tabs on that? Hm? Acting Grandmaster Jean finally forces you to take a break and what do you go and do? You go straight to that damn bar and work some more! Honestly, what am I going to do with you?”

Kaeya took a deep breath in response, sighing loudly as he rubbed his temples. “Really, Addie, isn’t this just the pot calling the kettle black?”

The maid raised her brow threateningly, arms crossing over her chest. “With all due respect, Master Kaeya, I would choose your next words carefully.” 

The tables had turned suddenly, the dynamic shifted. Adelinde was no longer winning, as horrible as it sounded. It was the Cavalry Captain’s turn to look at her with a cheeky grin, his chin pointed high. “You’re not the only one with an ear on the floor, you know. I’ve heard from my own sources that you haven’t taken that vacation you promised to take since last year.”

Dread. 

Right, the trip… the trip she had “planned” to take to Fontaine for a week at the behest of both Kaeya and Ezler, before she suddenly and inexplicably “lost the ticket” and “missed the day” and couldn’t go…. That trip. 

Adelinde found herself looking away. 

Kaeya’s grin grew more smug by the second. 

The maid patted her dress down, flushed. “Well, in any case—”

“Don’t you change the subject—”

“—I’ll offer you a deal.”

Kaeya paused, then crossed his arms, eyes full of suspicion. Adelinde huffed then continued, “I’ll take today off if—and only if—you also take today off.”

The young master’s expression seemingly passed through the stages of grief before settling on a look of betrayal and begrudging. The maid kept her eyes firm on him, never backing down—this would be the moment when a younger and cheekier Kaeya would roll his eyes and mockingly groan out: ‘okay Mom.’ A part of her missed those days—instead, the young master sighed and stuck his hand out. “If that’s what it’ll take to get you to find a hobby, then fine….”

Adelinde smiled at him with a prideful look as she took his hand in hers. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Master Kaeya.”

The man just sighed again with a shake of his head and went on his way.

It was just after morning and Adelinde decided to wear a nice sundress—her favorite shade of turquoise. It was a gift from Kaeya that she simply never had the chance to wear much, but the weather was nice as ever and it was just going to get dusty and moth-bitten in her closet anyway, so—why not? An old green shawl covered her shoulders and a sunhat shaded her eyes from the rising sun.

She wasn’t heading anywhere specific; the maid simply let her feet guide her way as her eyes admired the beautiful scenery around her. She carried a basket of food and snacks in case she found a nice spot to have a picnic—it was when this thought passed her mind that she realized where exactly her feet had brought her.

The old dilapidated form of the Dawn Winery greeted her—she felt her breath stall in her throat, a reaction she’s still had to battle with even after all these years. The grief was easier to deal with now, but it never truly left. Blinking the emotion from her eyes, Adelinde continued down the path. The trees were still in good health; perhaps one of the small hills would make for a nice place to rest—

Adelinde froze in her place. There was someone in the fields—working it? The woman quickly moved to hide behind some bushes, setting her hat and basket down—her now free hand began shuffling along the floor, looking for a stick of some sort. Who was there—a squatter? A treasure hoarder? This was probably an insanely stupid decision, who knows how dangerous the person was, if there were more—

But this was a precious place…. Something in her chest was screaming to go there—yes, this place was precious, but something in it was moreso. 

A soft breeze flowed behind her, as if to push her.

A newfound bout of courage bubbled up in her. She stood from her place, a tree branch secured in her hand and brandished like a weapon—the sound of her against the bush alerted the person in the field and they ran off into the building. Adelinde cursed and ducked down again at the movement—a moment passed by and she swallowed nervously before standing again and slowly making her way to her old home, branch still in hand. 

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears as the door drew closer. The entrance had seen better days.

The door was unlocked, but given how brittle the internal lock was now, it wasn’t that surprising. Her hand felt wet with sweat as it inched closer to the handle—she felt her heart trembling, just moments away from shattering depending on what she found behind that door.

Light flooded into the dead building, illuminating a creature in the foyer—scarlet, massive, horned, and feathered. Adelinde dropped her stick as air escaped her, her heart freezing over and turning to dust at the same time. The creature—the beast—its eyes turned and met hers, and all the fear she had felt just a moment before vanished. 

In the second their eyes met, it felt like minutes. In that second, she could see the terror in the creature's crimson eyes, wide, owlish, but also, alarmingly, like a child. Many a night did she wake to little Kaeya crying from a nightmare, or small Diluc frightened by a storm. Why was this beast looking at her with that same type of terror? 

The second ticked by, time returning to its original flow—the beast made a pitiful sound, like a whine or yelp—then it bounded up the stairs and a door slammed shut. A click followed after.

Adelinde stood frozen in the entryway. What just… happened? The creature ran away from her. Why was it so scared? What- what should she do now? Should she go find a knight? Leave, never return? 

The better part of her mind told her yes, leave, find help, save yourself —and yet, a deeper part of herself, her heart, told her to stop. Go forward. Something precious is here and it needs you here.

As if to corroborate that feeling, a gust of wind blew through the building, the broken shutters around the manor began shaking and battering the walls, startling the maid back into her body and in the present. Her breath came in shaky, and she took a hesitant step forward. She felt like a newborn foal, learning to walk again. 

She shuffled at first, fighting against the pounding in her chest—her hand came up to her shawl, keeping the edges tight and together and fiddling with the fringes. Slow, deep breaths—the stairs creaked when she stepped on it, then to the next, then the next—what was she doing? Why was she approaching this beast? 

This beast who… had just locked itself in a room like a child.

Adelinde swallowed as she approached the room—she had heard the click of the lock, but a turn of the knob confirmed the lock wasn’t working here either. She cracked the door open, peaking her eye through the sliver—the beast was crouched in the corner, balled up and trembling like a terrified cat, almost. It was wearing… clothes, and nice clothes at that. A cloak and an expensive-looking coat. 

Adelinde’s brows furrowed in confusion, opening the door further. Finally, she found her voice: “Hello..?”

The beast flinched, its trembling halting—it turned its head around and to her shock, its face appeared soaked. Trails, as if it was crying , tracked down from its eyes. It sniffed—no, no, it sniffled . How was she afraid of this creature, when it looked so… miserable. Pitiful, even. Then its eyes—such a sad expression, terrified of her presence, but beyond that, she recognized those eyes. 

Scarlet, beautiful eyes, the same eyes that had been his mother’s before she passed. While he had certainly taken after his father in terms of looks, his eyes remained evermore like his mother. 

Adelinde’s heart screamed when pieces of an invisible puzzle began clicking into place one by one—pieces she hadn't realized fit into their respective slots. Her eyes burned. There was no way—

And yet…. 

A mother never forgets her child’s eyes.

Her lips quivered as they parted, hesitating to even guess . “Diluc?”

The creature froze, its eyes welling up—it was as if it wanted to disappear. Its form was stone-still. It didn’t want to be seen by her. It looked like a deer caught in lantern-light on the road. Then, agonizingly slowly, the beast raised its head—where terror overwhelmed, a look of… hope entered. Disbelief as well. 

Its maw opened, an exhibit of sharp teeth on display—then a croak of a voice piercing Adelinde’s lungs. Tears poured over as she heard the timid words by the beast— “A…Addie…”

Her hands flew to her mouth, breath catching in her throat just as relief pounded at the gates of her mind—step by step, she stumbled forward, wanting so desperately to ignore how the beast—how Diluc —backed into the corner, further away, trying to become as tiny as possible, yet her heart screamed and weeped . My baby boy.

“Diluc- Diluc, is that you?” Adelinde wanted to fall to her knees, beg and plead for it to be him—she didn’t care what form he took, what he looked like, just that he was here , that he was alive. He was alive.

“Don’t!” 

She couldn’t help but flinch—such a sharp and intimidating voice, drenched in emotion booming at her, and yet, she only stopped for a moment. 

“Please—” the beast— Diluc —pleaded, his voice breaking into brittle pieces. Anguish seeped through the cracks and he looked away, unable to even look at her anymore. His hands covered his face, shoulders rising to a hunch. “Don’t- don’t come any closer. Please. ”

“Diluc…” Adelinde whimpered, the dam overflowing as she shook her head. A sob broke free. “Never—I will never leave you alone again. Diluc, please, look at me.” 

Every beat of her heart, she stepped closer until she was able to kneel at his side. Her hands raised to touch him, unafraid of him even though he looked like a monster from hell—he could never become anything other than her little boy, the same ray of sunlight she helped raise. Her heart broke when his form shuddered, a choked whine squeezing out from him until he dissolved into sobs. Adelinde followed his steps, letting the dam break and the floodgates open. Her hand fell on his shoulder and though he flinched, he didn’t fight her, didn’t pull away—he melted into the touch and she took that as a sign to delve further in, maneuvering him to turn toward her while her other hand reached for his face, moving his paws away from his muzzle. 

“Look at me,” she soothed, voice lowering to a whisper. Diluc’s eyes danced everywhere but her face, but finally relented when she pressed her palm gently into the soaked fur of his face. Through the tears, Adelinde managed to smile. She sniffled past her soggy nose, loosened by tears even as they kept running. “There you are, child.”

Gingerly, Diluc’s hands rose to meet her own, a soft and warm connection returning between them. Another whimper slipped from his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut as more tears melted into his facial fur. “Don’t,” he croaked. “Don’t, please. I’m not- I’m not….”

Adelinde hushed at him, pulling his massive form toward her into a warm embrace. She pressed her face into the fur of his neck, using him to hide her vocal heartache. Years of yearning for her child again broke a barrier—it felt like that day she lost him was being overwritten, done again and sewed over. Fixed. The days she would stare vacantly out a window, hoping to see that flash of scarlet again in the fields—they all fluttered away like ash in the wind. Soon, Diluc’s own arms wrapped around her, and by the Archons, he was like a heated blanket, swaddling her—the thought came so suddenly and without warning, she couldn’t help but give a wet laugh as she tightened her hold on him. She could tell Diluc was being as gentle as he could be without crushing her. Adelinde’s heart swelled again, but with love. 

“Thank you, thank you,” she muttered, nuzzling her face into him. “Thank you, Barbatos….”

The moments passed like molasses, both soaking in the comfort of each other, but eventually they broke free of the embrace after their emotions were calm enough. Diluc still wouldn’t meet her in the eyes, but she took both her hands to each side of his face and forced him to look at her. 

“Diluc, honey, I love you,” she began, voice suddenly pleading. “Tell me what happened that night.”

He closed his eyes in anguish, then whispered the truth.

Chapter Text

In all honesty, there wasn't much from that fateful night he could remember. After spending so long in the never ending tundra of Snezhnaya, his memories began to bleed together with his fantasies and dreams—blending water with oil but getting it so mixed up, it was impossible to unravel. 

It was only through Dottore’s ‘intense means’ that he even remembered his own name, let alone his own father. 

He remembered the terms of the curse—but he kept that in the secret cards held against his chest, refusing to divulge his true shame to Adelinde. He could barely handle the fact she knew what he looked like now, he would likely drop dead where he stood if he had to see the look of absolute disappointment and heartbreak on her face if she knew what he had done. What he refused to do now.

“I went to Snezhnaya for answers,” he had explained, his eyes lowered to the side and muzzle dipped. Adelinde’s look of sympathy and pity burned him. He closed his eyes to hide his shame. “I didn't find any.”

At that, she had caressed his cheek and drew him in for another hug. He couldn't find it in himself to tell the truth; not the full truth. Not to her. It was too shameful, too horrific. 

She already saw the electro burns that laced around his wrists like bracelets, the scars that his own tusks had carved into his lips, the way he flinched and melted into her touch—she wasn't stupid, and he knew that. She could put the puzzle pieces together, but she was tactful and considerate—she wouldn't say it to him, wouldn’t touch that reality. 

He couldn’t tell if it was for her sake or his.

It was hard for her to go back home after all that. Diluc tried to feed her what scraps he had around the place, but Adelinde refused, saying she would return with food for him instead. It became a back-and-forth battle of mutual refusal—Diluc vaguely wondered if Adelinde had taught him to be stubborn by accident. 

It was before sunset that she finally forced herself to leave, at the behest of Diluc himself, insisting that Elzer would be wondering where she was if she didn’t return soon. Adelinde almost burst into tears again at the thought of leaving him by himself—but he insisted he was fine. 

She wanted so badly to tell Kaeya, Elzer, even Jean—yet he had snapped at her suddenly at the idea before he calmed himself down, curling into himself like a child, then begging her not to tell anyone. He made it seem as though he would die if anyone knew—and suddenly, she had remembered the hunt of the ‘Blood-red Beast’ that had taken place the weeks after Diluc’s “death” and thought: oh, perhaps that’s true, actually.

(“Diluc, we must tell Master Kaey—”

“NO!” His voice boomed, nearly shaking the windows themselves—Adelinde couldn’t fight against the full-body flinch that overtook her at the volume, the way his pupils narrowed in such an inhuman way, his teeth bared and muzzle wrinkled in a snarl—she felt her heart squeeze, both in fear and anguish over her boy. Despite his age, he was still just a terrified child stuck in a body that wasn’t his, wasn’t he?

Diluc’s fur flattened almost as fast as it bristled and he quickly backed away, trying to appear smaller than he was, realizing what he had done. “N-No, please, please, you mustn’t mention me to anyone. I beg of you, Addie. Please.”

She searched his face, searched the eyes that couldn’t match hers—then swallowed, fought away her tears and nodded, holding his claws in her dainty hands tightly. Her thumb rubbed circles into his fur. “Okay. Okay, Diluc, it’s okay. I’ll keep this secret.”

“... Thank you…”)

That day marked a change in both of their day-to-day lives. When Adelinde had the chance to herself, she would work on stockpiling large sheets and fabric to bring to Diluc when she could. It tore at her soul to be away from him after all this time, but she had to grin and bear it. 

Every morning after she finished her morning routine, she would gather her things and an extra meal into a basket and set out to the Dawn Winery like it was clockwork. She heard the mutterings from the other maids; talk that she had met someone and was sneaking out to meet with them—well, it wasn’t far off from what she had told Master Kaeya when she returned home that first night. 

(“My, Miss Adelinde, you had us worried there—Ah? What’s got you positively glowing?”

“A-ah, I’m—well, I suppose, I have met someone today.”

“Oh ho ho? You sly doll, why not have this mystery someone over for dinner sometime?”

“Oh, Master Kaeya, it’s not like that…. Besides, he’s, ah… rather shy, let’s say….”)

Adelinde really didn’t know how long they could keep the charades up, however. As the days went by, fabric stitched and cut, baskets filled with food, eyes watching with curiosity as she left day after day to spend time with her boy—it would only be a matter of time before those curious eyes turned into ones of suspicion. But at the moment, Adelinde wasn’t too worried. Everything she did for Diluc was on her off-time, things bought with her own earnings, food prepared for herself with the excuse of “Whoops, made too much, haha!” 

It lasted about a week before she found out about the basement. 

‘Investigate suspicious activity around the old Winery.’ 

When Lumine accepted this commission along with Bennett, Razor, and Fischl, she wasn't expecting to be sworn to a sort of secrecy. The instructions she was given by Katheryne were just “see Swan for more information” then when they went to him, he made them swear to keep it on the down-low.

“The old Winery is like a drug to Captain Kaeya,” he had said in a low whisper. “If he finds out something is up there, he’ll raise hell about it! I sniped the report as soon as I found it on the board so I’d rather have an accomplished adventurer like you check it out in our stead.”

Well that was one way to start a commission. Lumine shared a curious glance at the three explorers joining with her before they made their way to the location. 

On the way, Bennett wondered aloud: “What kind of ‘suspicious activity’ do you think they’re talking about?”

“One has pondered over this as well, and to the answer, your illustrious prinzessin has considered the possibilities of those who wish to plunder the earth of its riches,” Fischl declared. 

Razor stared at her then chuffed, mildly irritated. “Princess speaks nothing.”

She sputtered in return before Oz, who sat on her shoulder, interrupted “What Mein Fräulein means to say is she theorizes treasure hoarders to be the nuisance in question.”

‘Treasure Hoarders’ seemed to be the only thing Razor understood and he nodded. 

“It could be a new camp of hilichurls settling in,” Paimon offered, then Lumine smirked at her, hands ghosting up in claws as her fingers lightly crawled over the pixie’s side. 

“Or maybe some spooky ghosts are haunting the place.”

Paimon squealed in horror before she smacked Lumine over the head. “Traveler! Don’t scare Paimon like that! Now Paimon doesn't wanna go!”

Lumine laughed, her three friends chuckling in amusement at their antics. “Oh Paimon, I’m only joking,” she relented. “I’m sure it’s only some squatters or something benign like that.”

The traveler turned to her team then. “Alright, are we ready? Let’s head out then.”

And so they did—and when they got there, it was… quiet. Eerily so. The old vineyard was grown over and dried save for some patches of leftover plants here and there; like nature reclaiming its territory. The mansion itself looked like it had seen better days—the scars of Stormterror’s rampage on full display with how the land was in such disrepair. 

Lumine couldn't help but wonder how it must have been like before it was abandoned. How many people bustled around like busy bees in these streets? How many people lived on this land? Cultivated it, nurtured it, loved it? Lumine had been joking about there being ghosts here before, but now… well, she would be surprised if there weren't any ghosts here, really.

As the group of adventurers marched through the overgrown fields, fighting off the chills that threatened to shake each of them out of their skins, Lumine glanced up at the top floor of the mansion. A sudden gasp nearly choked her when she saw a dark figure in the window—then she blinked and it was gone. Her heart squeezed in her chest then dropped to her stomach—she felt peeled open and vulnerable, like something had just pierced through each and every shield and piece of armor with just its eyes. Something was definitely here. Her grip on her sword tightened.

“What is it? Did you see something?” Paimon then gasped, drawing even closer to her friend. “Did you see a… a ghost?!”

Golden eyes remained pinned to the broken window. The torn curtains drifted along with the tug of the breeze. Maybe there was a draft that made it move on its own like that… and yet, she could have sworn…. 

 “I thought I saw something, but I think it was just the wind,” she muttered, not entirely convinced. “Come on. Bennett, Razor, you both scout the North side and Fischl and I will patrol this area.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Bennett saluted at her while Razor nodded and with that the two headed off toward the opposite side of the old winery, the older of the two cutting down the brush with his sword as they stepped through the overgrowth. Their idle conversation drifted along in the wind, just barely audible before Lumine, Paimon, and Fischl began their patrol. 

Fischl sent Oz to scout the air for anything out of the ordinary while Lumine focused her energy into using elemental sight. 

“Ohh, Paimon hopes there’s no ghosties around…” Paimon muttered at her companion’s side, hands nervously twisting around each other. 

Sword in hand, Lumine swung the blade around to cut a path toward the old building. “Look at it this way, Paimon: if it’s ghosties, then we don’t have to fight them!”

Paimon crossed her arms and huffed at her. “Sure, sure, but they’re still scary to Paimon!”

“Fear not, O my dearest pixie subject, for I, Fischl, will see to it personally that no harm will befall you nor our beloved Honorary Knight! It has been decreed!” Fischl posed with flair, hand raised under her raised chin. “No specter shall place a single ghostly digit upon my charges!”

Lumine opened her mouth to comment before the crack of overload split the air with a scream following after—

The traveler didn’t waste a moment to charge after the sound, heels clicking on the stone floor of the winery’s terrace. “Crap—come on!”

Circling the building, her eyes focused on the cut-out path Bennett had marched through—and yet, the field was empty. Except… elemental sight showed her the trail of red and purple. It concentrated around a certain point, and she could see the remnants of electro fizzling some of the plants and the burnt circle of a fight… But no Bennett or Razor. 

Lumine looked to Fischl as she and Paimon caught up. “Can you see anything with Oz?” 

With a hand over her eye and her brows pinched, the blonde focused as Oz flew overhead. Slowly, she shook her head. “No, my eye in the sky sees nothing but empty fields.”

“Oh no… What if something bad happened to them?” Paimon worried. 

“It’s okay, they couldn’t have gone far,” Lumine placated. “Let me try following their elemental trail again…”

And sure enough, their trail continued with a third party’s unknown element. Was it a vision bearer? It didn’t track like a hilichurl or mitachurl. Lumine bit her lip as she followed the track of the two boys, as well as the rather… large bird-like footprints scraped into the dirt. “Be on guard,” she whispered to her two friends who tagged after her. 

There—she could hear muffled yelling through a cellar door. The girls raced to kneel at the doors. “Bennett! Razor! Can you hear us?” she called out not too loudly while she pulled at the chains sealing the entrance. 

“Traveler!” Bennett cried. The sound of shuffling came through as he drew closer to the door on his end. “Be careful! There’s a big monster out there—it’s definitely not a mitachurl or- or really anything we’ve seen before!”

“Yeah, I saw the footprints,” Lumine sighed, then looked at Fischl with a gesture for her to keep Oz’s eyes on lock. “Are you two okay?”

“Ahh… Razor’s knocked out cold, but otherwise we’re fine… I, uh, may have been the one to knock him out, ahah….” 

She put her head in her hands. She really didn’t want to believe in Bennett’s ‘bad luck curse’ but then there were times like these where she really had to stop and wonder… “Other than that, you’re both okay? The creature didn’t hurt you too badly, did it?”

“No, not at all! A-and that’s the weird part, too—it didn’t try to really… fight us at all? After we, uh… blew ourselves up, it just carried us off to here and locked the doors and left.” 

That was… definitely concerning. 

“Alright, hang tight, I’m gonna try to break the chains.” With her sword in hand, she aimed it between the chain links and lock and twisted until the metal broke and the chain gave way. 

“Traveler!” Fischl cried suddenly just as Lumine reached down to open one of the cellar doors—Fischl and Paimon screeched behind her just as a looming shadow fell over her. Snapping her head back, that’s when she saw it; neither mitachurl or lawachurl, no it was something entirely different. 

It was like nothing she had ever seen before, with eyes burning hotter than phlogiston lava itself. Fur, feathers, and hair covered its body in a way that Lumine couldn’t possibly try to guess what sort of beast it was. Its nostrils flared with its enraged breathing, teeth bared in an angry snarl—it was every bit a beast that Lumine had only ever read in fairy tales, only it wore a cloak and pants as if they were made especially for it. 

Then, her eyes flickered around it, searching for her friends—she felt her stomach drop with her jaw when she realized in its giant claw, it held Fischl and Paimon together like they were nothing but kittens being pulled by the scruff; dangling, lifeless. 

Before she could react, its other claw grabbed her by the face and she was thrust into the dark, cold cellar—Bennett yelped as she fell on him, and Fischl was thrown on top of her—Lumine scrambled to catch Paimon immediately after, the pixie falling into her arms.

 The doors slammed shut behind them with a heavy crash, and she could hear the chains she had just broken moments ago clanging together. Setting Paimon down gently, Lumine climbed to her feet and rushed to the door, climbing the short stairs two at a time before slamming her shoulder into it. 

“No! Let us out!” The doors didn’t budge, unsurprisingly. A growl left the blonde as she punched the frame. “Argh!”

A voice replied from behind the doors (oh, stars, it could speak? It could speak. Oh.), deep and gravely, as though it wasn’t used to speaking much but so full of authority and power, she felt her ribs quake. “Behave,” it growled, a commandment. “I’ll deal with you later, trespassers.”

“Wha—” Lumine gawked at the light that squeezed through the crack of the doors, watching the beast’s shadow leave as it stomped away. Gritting her teeth, she banged on the metal with the fists again, shouting to it, “No, wait, get back here! Let us out!”

She beat her fists into the metal until Bennett gently pulled her away. “Traveler, take a deep breath,” he calmed, wrapping his hands around hers and guided her down the short stairs. “There’s gotta be another way out, we just gotta find it!”

Lumine let out a soul-emptying sigh and rubbed at her face in aggravation. “Yeah… Yeah, okay. Let’s just… let’s wait for everyone to wake up, and…”

Bennett smiled at her, a bright smile she could barely see with such little lighting in the large, dark basement. What… was that thing? It was no being of the abyss, that she could tell, so that meant they were dealing with something else entirely…. It was sentient, dressed well somehow…? Not a treasure hoarder, nor a Fatuus, so what else did that leave…? 

A ghost? No, definitely not. It seemed non-violent somehow, quickly incapacitating her friends without truly harming them; a feat only skilled warriors could achieve. Sentient, well dressed, well spoken…. 

What did they get themselves into this time?

Chapter Text

Claws trembled as Diluc wrapped the chains around the door handles, tying them as simple as a ribbon—something he definitely could not do before this body, and yet it was a strength that came as easily as breathing. 

And yet, he trembled. 

His heart shook with terror. 

Someone saw. People saw him. 

Five people, in fact—Diluc felt tragically exposed, like his protective shell that he had convinced himself was as strong as iron and unshakeable was so easily and so suddenly cracked wide open. It felt like his warming home had been broken, and a cold unforgiving snowstorm washed in—it was shocking his system, almost. 

His mind buzzed with anxiety as he patrolled around the area for any more stragglers. Why were they here? Exploring? No, he heard they were scouting the area, so they were here for something—for what? There was nothing here except for him… The land? Whatever trash that was left by the old tenants?

… Him? 

Then that would mean someone else had seen him, or someone had been snooping around his grounds when he wasn't around and reported activity and these travelers were from the adventurer's guild—and they'd have to report back to the guild who would report back to the Knights, and then… 

And then…. 

Diluc took a shuddered breath in, stomach flipping as wave after wave of horrible what ifs hit him. He made his way back into the old winery and shut every window and closed every curtain. The nest he had made for himself of blankets and pillows Adelinde had brought for him felt cold when he settled in it, where his old room used to be. He stared out the window like a guard dog, watching for every inch of movement over the horizon until the sun began to burn red and he could finally sense Adelinde’s arrival, her scent traveling along the winds like a bell. 

She should have been a comforting figure—and yet as she opened the front door and called for Diluc, he stayed put, ever vigilant with his gaze stuck to the landscape outside. 

Adelinde called for him again, and he could hear the creaking of the old stairs as she made her way to his room—he was motionless as the door squeaked open, his pseudo-mother stepping through with a gentle, “Diluc?”

His ears pressed down on his head as he turned somewhat to face her. “Adelinde,” he greeted in a mumble, trying and apparently failing to sound normal—the way her face shifted told him she knew something was wrong. He grimaced and looked away as she came closer, stepping over the blankets and pillows that made up his raggedy ‘nest’ and kneeling to sit next to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“No, everything is fine.”

“Was it breakfast? Are you hungry?”

“No, Addie, I’m fine…”

“You seem hungry; I brought food. Let me go fix something up for you.”

“Addie, please…”

“Diluc.”

“Adelinde.”

Adelinde stood up and placed her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes in a scrutinizing glare at him—he tried to mimic her with his face, but found her to be… a bit intimidating despite their extreme size differences. He broke first and a whine escaped him, ears pulling back and eyes twitching away.

The woman sighed and sat by him, placing a hand over his arm and teasing his feather-fur in a delicate manner, imploring him: “Tell me what’s going on, Master Diluc. Please.”

Diluc holds strong for about a minute before the forced silence and expectant gaze of the head maid breaks him and he caves with a dramatic sigh.

It’s only about ten minutes later that Adelinde is stomping down the stairs, Diluc trailing after her in a desperate attempt at stopping her without stopping her—it was like some childish instinct inside him that wanted her to fix all his problems, but at the same time there was an intense feeling of dread drowning him as he argued back and forth with her.

“Addie, please, they were intruders!”

“They’re innocent adventurers, Diluc! Honestly, you’d think—This is Mondstadt, for crying out loud! Of all the nations, I would hope that Mondstadters are the most accepting—”

“You don’t know that! Seriously, Adelinde? Look at me!”

“ And? Were those poor adventurers hurting you?”

“I don’t know what they wanted, Addie! I didn’t hurt them either!”

“They could have been hurt when you hurled them down there like some sacks of potatoes!”

“Now you’re just exaggerating.”

“Master Diluc, I thought I taught you to use your words when dealing with things like this—”

“Oh, so I was supposed to predict some strangers coming into my land while I’m looking like this and what? Have a cup of tea with them?”

Adelinde gives Diluc a disappointed frown as she reaches the door to the cellar, hand on the doorknob. While she has seen the wanted posters of the ‘Blood-Red Beast’ (Kaeya has been very passionate about that hunt and never misses a patrol for it), it never occurred to her that Diluc was that creature—She hesitates as the thought passes by but it’s instantly squashed by the fact that Diluc has several people locked inside his basement. She doesn’t deign him with a response, instead turning the handle of the door and marching down into the basement. “Hello? Adventurers?”

And there they were; Two boys, two girls and a pixie sitting at the bottom of the stairs, looking tired and spooked, standing in defensive positions with their weapons drawn—that’s when Adelinde freezes, recognizing them all in one way or another; most of all the pixie and the eldest girl. 

Her mind screeches to a halt. She turned her gaze back to Diluc. “You trapped the Traveler down here?!”

“The who?” Diluc howled back, baffled. “I’ve been living here for the past year, when would I have time to know who ‘the Traveler’ is, Addie!”

“‘Addie’?” ‘the Traveler’ echoes, brows pinched in utter confusion as she trades glances with her friends; the blond boy shrugs in response while the pixie floats out from behind the older blonde-haired girl. 

Paimon shrieks, “Adelinde!? Be careful, that monster might hurt you!”

Adelinde in turn sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. Diluc throws his hands up in exasperation. “I’m so sorry, dears,” Adelinde begins, stepping closer to the adventurers to help dust their clothes off and inspect them for injuries. “None of you were hurt, were you?”

“Uhhh, I’m sorry, who are you?” the blond boy asks hesitantly. 

“This is Adelinde!” the pixie squawked. “What are you doing with the big scary monster?! Let’s get out of here before it attacks us!”

“ Paimon ,” the older blonde scolded the pixie before turning back to Adelinde with a kinder expression, though still heavily guarded. “You’ve got a bit of explaining to do, Miss Adelinde.”

“I suppose I do, don’t I?” Adelinde sighed before turning back to Diluc who stood with his nose crunched and his head hunched low, eyes narrowed in an obvious attempt at intimidation. The gray-haired boy growled in response to Diluc’s body language but the head maid merely scoffed and stomped over to the beast, grabbing him by the sleeve and shaking his arm. “ We’ve got some explaining to do. Stop that, Master Diluc, you’re scaring them.”

“They’re in my house, Addie.”

“And you tossed them in the basement, I think you’re even.”

He simply growled in response before trudging upstairs like a petulant child. Adelinde shook her head in dismay before beckoning the adventurers to follow her. “Please, you’re safe here. Master Diluc won’t do anything when I’m around. I’ve brought some snacks to share as well.”

“Snacks?!” Paimon squawked before wasting no time in following Adelinde up the stairs, her prior reservations forgotten at the mention of food.

Lumine, on the other hand, took a bit of time to process what just happened. Why was Adelinde here? Kaeya mentioned her being busy these days outside the winery, was… was she harboring that beast all this time? And, well, now that she thinks about it, it never did hurt them, just trapped them down in the cellar. Didn’t even engage in battle. Or, maybe she should call it a ‘He’. His name was Diluc right? Where had she heard that name….

“‘Diluc…’” she heard Fischl mutter to herself as they ascended the old stairs. “One finds herself stunned, for your excellency recognizes such a name but cannot draw it to the forefront of one’s mind…”

Razor made a confused sound, to which Oz easily translated: “The name of this ‘Diluc’ is familiar, but I can’t quite place it….”

Lumine hummed to herself, agreeing a bit before leading her group up the stairs. 

By way of snacks, Adelinde seemed to go all-out—though it was strange to be sitting on the barren floor for this in such a large mansion. Lumine would have been disturbed and thought it haunted if not for the current circumstance and how at-ease Adelinde was. It was strange. The blonde regarded her as she told the tale of Diluc, cursed on the night of his 18th birthday to become a beast, with no known way to reverse it. And poor Kaeya, thinking his own brother was dead….

Paimon had asked why they didn’t just tell Kaeya, but Diluc, who had stowed himself away upstairs instead of joining them in the main foyer, had shouted at her that no one can know. The Traveler almost got up and started yelling back at him to not talk to Paimon that way but Adelinde’s sigh stopped her. The maid pushed herself to her feet and brushed off her dress. 

“Well, I hate to push guests out, but I do think it’s time for me to get back to Dusk Winery,” she said as she bent over to pick up any leftovers. She packed them all together and set them on a broken table by the stairs, like it was a countertop. She turned to them with a tired smile. “I’ll walk you all out.”

“What about you?” Bennett asked as he stood up and helped to clean the area. “It’s getting late, after all…”

Paimon hummed with a nod. “Yeah, it doesn’t feel good to let you walk home by yourself!”

“Let us meet you by the entrance of the old winery, at least,” Lumine chimed in as she helped Adelinde pack her own things she had brought. Finishing that, she drew close to the maid and cupped her hands in her own. “We’ll walk you home, okay? It’s the least we can do.”

Adelinde knew she was fighting a losing battle, so with an exasperated smile, she finally nodded and patted Lumine’s hands with her own. “Thank you, dears. I’ll check on Master Diluc and then meet you all outside.”

Lumine nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” Turning to her adventurer’s group, she gestured for them to follow and they made their way out of the decrepit house and waited by the stone stairs leading to the empty vineyard. They sat in mildly awkward and tense silence before Bennett broke it, rocking on his heels with a whistle.

“Soooo… that happened.”

“That was… a lot,” Paimon muttered. 

Oz perched upon a stone pillar beside Fischl as she mused out loud, “Certainly, this event has given our company much to ponder over.”

Razor cringed his nose at her. “Frilly princess say too many big words. Blegh.”

She sputtered in response, turning her flustered face to the wild boy just as Paimon and Lumine stifled giggles. Bennett only managed a partial grin which fell flat a moment later as he leaned against the stone fence and crossed his arms, appearing deep in thought. Lumine caught his shift in mood and frowned, moving to sit by him. 

“What’s on your mind, Benny?”

“Hm? Oh,” the blond scratched the back of his neck and hummed nervously. “It’s just… my stupid bad luck seems to have gotten us in a mess again.”

“No, no, Benny!” Lumine tilted her head, brows shooting up. “Don’t go thinking about stuff like that; none of this is your fault. It was bound to happen anyway, us getting caught and finding Diluc—”

“And that’s another thing!” Bennett shot up. “I feel bad for him! What a horrible thing to happen to someone…. I’d probably be scared too.”

The Traveler couldn’t help but smile at him, albeit sadly. He had such a big heart, of course he’d feel for the giant beast that locked them in a basement. “Oh, Bennett.”

“He smelled like scared,” Razor suddenly added, seemingly done with his background squabble with Fischl (of which he seemed to have won). 

Paimon tutted, looking sad. “Oh, well, when you put it like that, now Paimon feels bad too….”

“If one had been forced into isolation such as he, your Prinzessin would no-doubt exhibit such feral behaviors as well,” Fischl joined in, crossing her arms dramatically. “Why, should One have been aware of such a thing occurring under her dominion, she would have never allowed such isolation and solitude to take place—thus, your Prinzessin would have scoured the entire surface of Teyvat itself to procure a counterspell to our dear Master Diluc’s plight!”

“That is to say, she feels bad too,” Oz added after four heads swiveled to look at him. Yeah, easy enough. 

“We should maybe do something, then?” Paimon suggested, voice timid and unsure—when it’s spelled out the way Fischl and Bennett did, Lumine agreed. Maybe they ought to do something for him, visit every so often or so….

Finally, Adelinde stepped out of the abandoned mansion and smiled gratefully at the group of adventurers. “Thank you all for waiting.”

“Of course, Adelinde,” Lumine returned her smile and stood straight as the group began to escort her back to Springvale. “How is he?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. He’s just… let’s say emotional. ” The head maid then frowned a bit at her own wording, shaking her head. “I don’t mean to say that unkindly, either. Master Diluc has always been quite hot-tempered, even in his youth. Despite that, he’s always been a reasonable person too. He’ll recover from this shock and—I trust you all.”

“Aww, thanks Miss Adelinde!” Paimon beamed and Bennett added: “That means a lot!”

The other two chimed in with agreements and Adelinde smiled once more. “Thank you all as well. I knew you would be understanding, Traveler.”

“Weirder things have happened, honestly,” she shrugged. 

Bennett kicked at a rock and shrugged. “I’m a bad luck magnet, so weird things always happen around me. I’m used to it.”

“And Razor lives with wolves,” Paimon pointed out, just as Razor ran ahead to sniff out the land—his head popping up above the dried brush at the mention of his name. 

“And Mein Fräulein has simply been buzzing with excitement at the find of a real life— mffph—” Fischl clamped Oz’s mouth closed with her hands suddenly. 

“Ehem! What my loyal servant means to say is One would want nothing more than to tear away the burden that has fallen upon Master Diluc’s person, dissolve the sin away from his flesh and—”

“Okay, okay, let’s… tone it down juuuust a teeny tiny bit for a moment,” Lumine interrupted with a soft smile, hand on Fischl’s shoulder as she pinched the air with her other hand. “What we mean to say, Adelinde, is we understand. Maybe not fully, but we get it’s a… a situation. And I can see the reasoning behind his reaction to us.”

She tried to put herself in Diluc’s shoes—or, she’ll say place. Being cursed, mistaken for a mindless, dangerous beast, hunted and forced into isolation with only one person to keep as company. What did he do during the day, she wondered? Hunt for himself? Or just stay cooped up in that old, barren mansion, all day and all night? Then to find a gaggle of dumb adventurers on his property, sticking their noses where it didn’t belong, probably scaring him half to death—Lumine could understand why he reacted the way he did. She wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t have reacted the same way if she were in his place.

A tension that the traveler didn’t realize Adelinde was carrying suddenly disappeared and her shoulder fell, a look of deep gratitude and relief on her face. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. Thank you, truly.” Then she took a few steps ahead of them, walking with purpose and stood in their way. A serious look donned on her face. “With all that said, however, I beg of you—all of you—to please keep Master Diluc’s presence a secret. Not a word should be spoken of tonight. Please.”

They all exchanged glances with each other (Razor having rejoined them a moment prior) and nodded at Adelinde. 

Lumine held the woman’s hands between her own again, hoping the firm hold gave her confidence in her words, eyes meeting her own. “We promise. You don’t have to worry about a thing, Adelinde.”

Chapter Text

She couldn't get him out of her head. 

He was like a virus sabotaging and infecting everything she thought about—a commission? Huh, I wonder how Diluc is doing. A simple grocery stop? Huh, I wonder if Diluc ate today. Sat down for bed? Huh, I wonder if Diluc’s up now?

Lumine couldn’t help but scream into her pillow as the last thought crossed her mind. 

Why couldn’t she focus on anything other than him? 

He smelled like scared.  

Razor’s words echoed in her mind, and she felt her heart squeeze—a giant beast-man like him? Scared of her and her team? It almost sounded preposterous if it wasn’t Razor who said it. The feeling came with a pang of loneliness. 

Augh. Thankfully Paimon was fast asleep next to her. 

Turning to lie face-up, she stared at the ceiling in the spare room she and Paimon were given by Kaeya in the Dusk Winery. Knowing Diluc was living in his old, decrepit, rundown home as an exile while she was living it up in a nice mansion that should be his home left a bad taste in her mouth. It was only because of the kindness of Adelinde and Kaeya that she was even here; the two wouldn’t hear a single word about Lumine and Paimon camping it out in the wilds and the stupid Fatui had all the rooms booked at the Goth Grand Hotel in Mond (it didn’t help that Adelinde completely bribed Paimon against her with the promise of food), so there they were. 

Tomorrow , she thought as she traced the geometric shapes on the ceiling of the guest room, tomorrow I’ll bring Diluc a gift basket as a peace offering. 

And that’s how she found herself with a basket of goodies heading toward the old Dawn Winery with a very frantic Paimon trailing after her; the basket was fitted with fruits and a variety of sandwiches. Paimon squawked in her ear about how this was a bad idea, but Lumine continued to calm her fears, reminding her of what Adelinde had said before. The little pixie was hardly assuaged, but she had faith in her friend, so she seemed to let it be until they got to the abandoned building. 

Diluc wasn’t in sight at all—not that she thought he would be anyway, but still a tad disappointing. The pair made their way to the front door—the lock seemed broken, but it would be rude to barge in uninvited so she opted to knock instead. 

“Um, Diluc? Are you there?” she called out. “It’s me; Lumine and Paimon. We met the other day?”

The old building groaned and creaked as the silence dragged on until she heard thumping footsteps followed by scratching behind the door. It cracked open a smidge and she saw his piercing eye through the crack. “What are you doing here?” he growled out.

Lumine somehow didn’t feel intimidated by him. Instead, she smiled kindly and lifted the basket as Paimon floated behind her into view. 

“We brought gifts!” Paimon chirped happily.

“I felt bad about how we left off last time,” Lumine began, but before she could finish, Diluc slammed the door closed.

“I’m not interested in your pity.”

Huh. What!!

“Excuse us?!” Paimon squawked, indignant at the treatment—and Lumine felt the same! What the hell!! Ignoring manners, the blonde forced her way through the door anyway. 

“This isn’t ‘pity’, this is just being nice, you jerk!” she yelled after him. He was halfway to the pile of pillows and blankets he had gathered by the fireplace in the main living room area when he stalled and glanced back at her, expression sour. She marched up to him without a care for anything and swung the basket toward him. “We just brought some food as a gift for you, so take it!”

The beast growled in response, straightening his form with a mild crack of his spine as he reached his full height—she thought that he kind of reminded her of Biram, but the man still had at least two heads over Diluc. She mirrored Diluc’s sneer as he drew closer, as if to challenge him despite the sharp teeth he bared. He huffed in her face like a bull, his hot breath thick as smog.

“Stars!” she coughed, waving her hand in front of her face as if to banish something foul. “You’re so stubborn—just take the stupid basket, it’s not a big deal!” She shoved the basket into his hands and spun on her heel, ignoring how he sputtered—she heard Paimon fail to quiet a snicker.

“Yeah, just accept her gift!” Paimon tacked on, carefully keeping her distance despite her attempt at backing the Traveler up. “It’d be rude not to!”

That’s when some sort of understanding or- or acceptance fell on his face, though he still didn’t look happy about the situation he was in. Sniffling and cringing his nose, he looked at the basket and grumbled to himself as he opened the lid. “...What’s in it?”

Lumine crossed her arms, stopping before she made it too far away, only partially glancing back at him. “Some fruits and sandwiches.”

“We uhh… didn’t know what you liked, or anything,” Paimon added a bit shyly. “And we didn’t know if you had any allergies either, but there’s some Fisherman’s Toast, Breakfast Sandwiches, and even some sunsettias and berries!”

Lumine could have pulled out all the stops for Diluc, but she thought this was plenty generous already; especially for a prickly guy like him. She didn’t need a thank-you or anything, she had more self-confidence and self-respect than that, but it still felt nice to be appreciated for her hard work. She watched his expression as he sifted through the carefully wrapped meals, undoubtedly finding the surprise Crocodile Jerky too if his confused and astonished face was anything to go by—then it grew soft, contemplative. 

The traveler lowered her arms and relaxed her posture, turning her body back toward the beast-man—huh. She thought he would have at least set it down and not looked at it until they left and here they are…. She watched him wage some sort of internal battle until one side won—which side it was, she couldn’t say—but she found herself fixated on how gentle he became with the basket as he stomped over to his “nest” area and set the basket down on the fireplace’s old mantel. 

Huh…. Diluc was an interesting guy. 

He turned his head partially, eyes not at all attempting to meet hers. “... Thank you. It was very kind of you.”

And wow, didn’t that feel like a child saying something their parents told them to say. But, appreciation was appreciation, so Lumine would take it. 

“You’re welcome!” Paimon happily answered for her. 

Lumine nodded a bit pridefully. “It’s not healthy being isolated here all the time,” she began suddenly. “I mean, I understand—and I know you have Adelinde, but having only one good relationship and barely anything else isn’t healthy.”

Diluc sneered at her. “And what do you propose I do about that?”

Cheeky little….

Lumine pursed her lips and gave him a pout that was drenched in attitude. “Paimon and I will come around more often. Maybe I’ll bring the others too—you know, Bennett, Fischl, Oz and Razor.”

Diluc’s guarded expression morphed into confusion. “ Why? ” 

The Traveler shrugged. “I want to. Besides, maybe we can help look into this curse of yours?”

That seemed to get his attention, though he still remained guarded—she watched with mild and barely-hidden amusement as his ears perked up and then folded down again, as if he was trying to hide his own intrigue. “... Really?” He sounded dubious. “What’s the catch?”

“You’ve never had a nice thing done for you, have you, Master Diluc?” Lumine tutted, though she failed to sound teasing—it came off more as sad. She couldn’t help the way her eyes softened. He really had it rough, huh? 

The Traveler then stepped toward the towering beast-man and extended her hand. “Here; let me try something.”

“What are you doing?” Diluc recoiled from her. It was awkward coming from a man with giant owl feet. She almost wondered if he was going to trip over his own pillows and blankets for a moment.

“Relax,” Lumine calmed, taking a deep breath and not moving. “I can purify things. Let me see what I’m working with here, okay?”

“Purification?”

Lumine nodded with a hum. Diluc’s eyes looked down at her hand as he hesitated—then slowly, he placed his massive paw down on her palm. So, so tiny in comparison. If he wanted to, he could easily crush her hand, and yet he was almost overly delicate with his placement. Taking another deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused—

What she found was a solid wall of pure magic. 

No abyssal energy to be found—not even anything malignant. Was this really a curse? Her brows furrowed as she pushed through, spectral hand placed on the wall, then yelped. Metaphysical thorns shot out of the wall and a deafening roar pierced her mind. The force of the rebound pushed her out and onto the very real floor. 

“Traveler!” Paimon shrieked as she quickly floated over to her, the blonde struggling to push herself up while she tried to gather her bearings. Paimon fumed as she turned to Diluc who stood there dumbfounded. “What did you do?!”

“I didn’t- I didn’t do anything, I—” 

“It’s- it’s fine, Paimon,” the Traveler interrupted, finally pushing herself up and pressing her fingers into her temples, massaging the skin there. “I’m fine, I was just startled is all.”

Diluc looked unsure. 

No, no, he looked—he looked scared. Lumine frowned and shook her head gently, still feeling a bit dazed by what just happened. “You did nothing wrong, Diluc. I just thought… I thought there’d be something… malicious about your curse, like maybe abyssal energy or something corrupted but… all I found was a solid wall. Whatever it was kicked me out, kinda violently. I’m sorry, Diluc.”

He seemed to deflate at that. She hadn’t noticed before, but his tail that almost seemed to drag ever so slightly behind him absolutely drooped at the information, mirrored by the fall of his ears. He sighed then and collected himself, ears back to form and his tail raised off the floor somewhat. “It’s… fine. I knew better than to get my hopes up in any case.”

Okay, now she felt bad. Lumine frowned again. “Hey, we’ll help you out, okay? Two- no, five heads are better than one, right?”

He shot her an incredulous look, and she smiled. 

Since then, she had brought Bennett, Fischl and Razor around to meet with Diluc. They helped around the old winery and with the crops he was trying to grow as well as cleaned around the building (as well as three teenagers, a pixie and a star-traveler could help with, anyway). Diluc was still very prickly, but after a few weeks of teenage stubbornness vs beast-man stubbornness, Benny’s Somewhat Unofficial Adventure Team won out in the end and the beast-man actually started remembering and using their names (win for team BSUAT! That’s short for Benny’s Somewhat Unofficial Adventure Team—).

She thought about it earlier, but it was only when she’d fallen into bed that night that she remembered she knows some of the most powerful… Well, one was maybe a witch and the other was an incredible alchemist, but regardless—some of the most powerful people in Mondstadt. They were resting in the Knights of Favonius HQ that night, so Lumine took the chance to slip out of the knights quarters (thank the stars Paimon was a heavy sleeper) and into the Library, where she quickly found Lisa organizing returned books. 

“Ah, hello there, cutie,” Lisa greeted when she noticed the blonde enter. Lumine smiled in greeting. “What brings you around here so late?”

“I actually wanted to ask you a question.”

“Oh?” Curiosity sparked in the mage’s eyes as she slid a book into the bookcase and turned to give the Traveler her full attention. “Perhaps I can help. Let’s sit down, shall we? What can I help with, my dearest Traveler?”

Lumine shook her head with a smile. “I won’t be long. I was just wondering what you know of… uh… transformation curses.”

Lisa raised a brow. “Transformation curses?”

“Or maybe transmutation? Something along those lines.”

The woman tutted her finger to her lips, thinking. “Hmm… with curses like that, there’s usually a condition needing to be met. Either for the curse to be laid or for it to be released.”

“Oh, I see…” Lumine cupped her hand around her chin in thought. There was very little she actually knew about the curse, except for the fact it was not malicious or harmful to him, nor was it abyss-aligned. But someone definitely didn’t want any snooping into it.

“Now, there are also hexes, which are somewhat different,” Lisa continued, moving  through the library to look through some books—notably from her forbidden books section. Lumine followed her. “Curses are more long-term and intense, while hexes are more short-term and less intense.”

No, that didn’t sound right… Lumine hummed along anyway, taking in the information. Anything was better than nothing at this point. “Can they be non-malicious?” 

“Hmm, I suppose that depends.” Her fingers danced along the spines of different books, half of which Lumine can’t read. She pulled one book out and cracked it open before skimming the pages. “Hmmm… there are many forms of transformation spells and transmutation spells; but you said curses specifically, yes? Typically with curses, there’s always a certain… how should I say… requirement to reach in order to break it, if there is one. Some curses are just there to curse and only the one laying it can break it, however.”

Well, that didn’t sound good. A sour look crossed Lumine’s face. She actually had no idea if there were any conditions like that—she didn’t remember Diluc mentioning if the curse had requirements or not…. And if it was something specific… he would know if there were, right? How fair would that be, to place someone under such a deep curse and not tell them if there was any way they could break it? 

But… if there wasn’t any way it could be broken….

“Oh, don’t look so put-out, dear,” Lisa started, catching her expression. Lumine tried to pull herself together, but it was obvious she was getting upset over this. Lisa closed the book she was browsing through and set her hand on Lumine’s shoulder. “I hate to see my cutie all upset over this. I won’t ask why you need to know this, but it must be someone important to you. There are many types of transformation spells, like I said, but it’s not limited to just magic. Take this book and look through some of the stories. In the morning, try seeking out Albedo. He should know a bit about transmutation alchemy as well.”

Lumine accepted the tome, holding it gently as the librarian passed it to her. “Thank you, Lisa.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Oh—and please try to return it within the next two weeks, yes?”

Lumine didn’t even have the chance to step foot inside the alchemist lab when an almost-maybe-kind of explosion puffed a cloud of anemo out the door and rocked the building with a minor shockwave. The Traveler poked her head into the room frantically in case anyone was hurt—but all she saw was Sucrose sitting on the floor coughing and sputtering, a few anemo crystalflies fluttering about. Albedo stood a bit away, a geo construct he clearly used to hide behind dissipating as he noticed the Traveler’s appearance. 

“Ah, Traveler, you’re just in time.”

Sucrose seemed to panic at that. “T-Traveler?!” 

Lumine chuckled, stepping fully into view now. “Is everything alright here? That was a nasty explosion.”

“Yes, though thankfully nothing was damaged.” Albedo stepped around a table and helped Sucrose to her feet, shooing the crystalflies away all the while. 

Sucrose coughed a few more times as she was helped up. “Sorry… I guess I accidentally put too many dandelion seeds.”

“There’s no problem, Sucrose. The only way to success is through failure; now you know what’s too much and too little for next time.”

Lumine tilted her head at the exchange. “What’s the occasion?”

“Ah,” Albedo smiled. “It’s a special assignment for this year’s Windblume Festival.”

“Ah, ye-yes. I’m trying to create something similar to Liyue’s fireworks, but with something more… I don’t know, flowery? It- it’s still a work in progress.” Sucrose adjusted her glasses with a sigh. 

Lumine smiled softly at her. “Hey, don’t worry; there’s still a lot of time before the Windblume Festival anyways. I believe in you!” 

That brought a bright smile to the young alchemist’s face, and the sight made Lumine’s heart warm. 

Albedo agreed with her too, adding, “You still have many test vials to try as well. Don’t feel bad.” Then the blond turned his attention to Lumine. “So, what brings you around? Is there anything we can help with?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Lumine nodded. “I asked Lisa last night, but she said to visit you two and get your opinion on it; say someone curses someone else with a, like, transformation or transmutation curse. Could alchemy help reverse it?”

“Huh, okay, well that’s a very specific theoretical situation. Let’s see…” Albedo covered his mouth in thought. “Magic and Alchemy run very close, and may even interact every once in a while but depending on the conditions of the curse, using alchemy to reverse it can be… a bit dangerous.”

Oh no. Lumine’s smile faltered. “How… dangerous are we talking here?”

“Well,” Sucrose interjected, adjusting her glasses again—that seemed to be a nervous tic of hers. “Like Mr. Albedo said, it depends on the curse. I’m not as well-versed in magic as Miss Lisa is, but if past studies still hold true today, the deeper the curse, the harder to untangle.”

“Untangle?”

“Think of it like this:” Albedo continued. “Placing a curse on someone is like tangling their wires. Usually, there’s stipulations or requirements that must be met in order for the curse to ‘untangle’ itself, typically in a specific way. The curse itself would know how to untangle itself, moving backwards to undo the damage done, as if nothing had happened.

“But if alchemy is used to untangle the knots… it wouldn’t know the ‘blueprints’ of the tangles and wouldn’t know how to move backwards through it. It would be like tugging the wires out of its tangles, which risks breaking them. The cursed individual would likely be ‘rebuilt’, so-to-speak, incorrectly. Another way of putting it would be like forcing a ‘reset’ on the individual, but doing so would risk a ‘corrupt file’, putting both their mental and physical wellbeing in jeopardy.”

Lumine found herself frowning at this information. Another dead end, and a dangerous one at that. She immediately ruled alchemy out of her mind for possible solutions. 

“Shoot…” she clicked her tongue with mild irritation. 

Albedo regarded her with sympathy. “Apologies, Traveler.”

“Yes, I’m sorry we can’t be of more help to you,” Sucrose added sadly.

Lumine shook her head. “No, you two have been more than helpful. Thank you.”

There was… perhaps one more place to try.

Lumine stood in front of the large Cathedral and the giant statue of Barbatos. The usual crowd was there; but no Venti. Hm. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she crossed her arms. Theoretically, she could just call his name or even simply head to Angel’s Share (where he most likely actually was at this time of day), but… she thought maybe she could ask Barbara about healing—

—At least, she would, if a certain Calvary Captain didn’t draw her attention. She spotted him just above the stairs, making his way around the back of the Cathedral. 

That’s curious…. 

 She quickly charged up the stairs to catch up before slowing down, dipping behind the pillars of the Cathedral. She watched him casually strolling toward the graveyard, hardly worried about anyone’s attention on him—

I wonder what he’s up to… Lumine couldn’t help but think. Maybe there was some sort of secret tunnel system? It was worth a shot, at least, right? She followed him further toward the graveyard, only stopping when she saw him standing over two graves. 

Oh. 

Oh.  

Shame poured over her like hot water and she straightened herself.

Her feet moved for her—she found herself stepping into place next to Kaeya, who didn’t seem surprised or startled by her appearance at all. She made sure to step in line with his uncovered eye, too.

She read the gravestones; Crepus Ragnvindr and… Diluc Ragnvindr. 

She felt her insides grow cold, but gave nothing away on her face. 

Finally, Kaeya broke the silence. 

“My adoptive father and brother,” he explained. “They both died within days of each other. Just after Diluc’s eighteenth birthday, in fact.”

Lumine listened hard and well, swallowing as subtly as she could. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, genuinely. 

What was happening. If Diluc is dead, then who the hell was at the Dawn Winery? Should she mention the beast claiming to be Diluc to Kaeya? She then remembered Swan’s words, about how Kaeya was sensitive to anything related to the winery. She bit her tongue and waited. 

“It happened a long time ago,” Kaeya sighed. “But, I still try to visit every so often. I’m not sure if they appreciate it, but… someone has to.”

Lumine stared at the gravestones—at Diluc’s gravestone. How clean and pristine it was despite the subtle wear on the marble. It must’ve been an expensive headstone. Flowers decorated the base of it, and a wine bottle was set against Crepus’ stone. She caught sight of the grayed out Vision at the foot of Diluc’s.

“Diluc was a Vision bearer?” 

She’s seen plenty of dead Visions—Kazuha’s friend’s old electro vision came to mind—and it never really got easier to see them. It was different than seeing a corpse; it was like a broken off piece of their souls, visibly not there. Dead. Because that’s what they were—dead. It was… sad. 

“Yep,” Kaeya confirmed, a sad smirk twitching his lips. “Pyro, in fact. Perfect for him, really, considering how hot his temper could get.”

She thought back to Diluc—the beast-man squatting in the abandoned Dawn Winery, potentially trespassing and masquerading as a dead guy. How quick to anger he was, yet he always made sure never to raise a hand on anyone despite his volatile temper. She swallowed again, licking dry lips. 

“How did they…?”

She almost didn’t want to ask.

Kaeya inhaled sharply, expression growing dark as he stared past the gravestones and past the fence, past the lake and even past the very sky itself. “Father’s death was… complicated. Ursa the Drake had attacked the caravan he was in…. As for Diluc’s…”

Lumine didn’t know what she was expecting—

“A massive red beast killed him, just a day after. The Blood-red Beast, we call it.”

—but it wasn’t that. 

Stars dammit. 

Chapter Text

They wouldn’t. Leave. Him. Alone. 

What was with children nowadays, anyways? What gave them the right to stomp into his world and take control of things the way they saw fit? They were stubborn as hell, too. Diluc tried so hard to ignore them, lock them out—he even tried to scare them away, but they and the Traveler were persistent and believed him to be harmless (to them… yes, probably rightly so. Still, it was offensive as hell). 

Thus, the little crew of junior adventurers stuck around like flies to stink. 

Day after day, they showed up like diligent workers to a job, even bringing tools to work the land—Diluc had only a small patch of his once vast land growing a small assortment of easy crops (carrots, sweet berries, tomatoes and some leftover grape vines—the easy things), and he knew it didn’t take a genius to care for plants that could otherwise survive and thrive on their own in the wild, but… watching these kids struggle with a hoe was starting to actually damage his psyche. 

Diluc sat inside his sorry excuse for a home, watching the Traveler and her friends argue about the difference between a dried root and a weed with his snout against the window. It was still daylight hours; he couldn’t risk being spotted by a wandering knight patrolling the area or some hunter, but he was growing restless and nearly stir-crazy and it was taking everything in his body not to stomp out there and teach these dumb kids how to not kill a perfectly healthy plant with nothing but sheer stupidity. Thankfully, he had Adelinde, who sat by him with a cup of tea and good company. 

She hummed in amusement as she watched the junior adventurers bicker amongst themselves (really, it was mostly Paimon, Fischl, and Razor bickering—Lumine and Bennett were the peaceful ones minding their own business and planting some new seeds they had brought from the market). 

“I’m glad your friends are keeping you company during the day,” she said. 

Diluc rolled his eyes and lifted his head to give her an unamused look before settling himself back down on the windowsill. Friends? Hardly. He felt more like a glorified babysitter to them. “I wouldn’t call them that.”

Adelinde’s eyes sparkled that way it did when he said something funny despite meaning it with his whole chest. She lifted her cup of tea to hide the smile on her lips. Diluc huffed. 

When his attention returned to the unlikely group of teens, pixie, and one Traveler, they had stopped arguing and had turned to sparring, it seemed. Lumine and Bennett seemed to have finished what they were doing and were sitting on the sidelines as Fischl and Razor danced around each other; a wolf and a raven. They were both experienced in their own right when it came to fighting, but of course both of them were young and lacked certain… control, he noticed. 

He saw it in the way Fischl’s feet would stumble every so often as she twisted about—though her flurry of electro covered this almost naturally. He saw inexperience in Razor as well, with how he threw himself into each attack, and though yes, there was power behind every swing, he was also sloppy and slow. They both left themselves too open for attacks. The realization left him with a sour taste in his mouth. 

Adelinde nudged him a bit and he tore his eyes away from the adventurers, a silent question sent her way. She smiled knowingly and gestured to the group. A scowl fell on his face almost instantly. He shook his head. 

No, nuh uh. No thanks.

Adelinde raised a brow. 

Diluc huffed again. 

The head maid’s brow rose higher.  

Oh for the love of—

Diluc groaned and pushed himself to his feet. “Ugh, I cannot with you.” 

“I’m glad we can agree on a compromise.” Adelinde was way too happy with that delivery. All Diluc could do was grumble under his breath as he ducked his head to leave through the front entry. The door closed with a thunk, and all eyes raised with varying forms of surprise. The beast shifted somewhat uncomfortably as he huffed through his nose and straightened his coat, head lifted high under the gobsmacked gazes of the younger party.

He glanced at Lumine who smiled at him brightly, waving hello while Bennett stood up and Razor dug his claymore into the dirt. Paimon waved at Diluc as she floated to Lumine’s side and Fischl summoned Oz to her side, a hand passing over her sweat-laced forehead. 

“Good morrow, master of the land, Lord Diluc!” Fischl greeted, graceful as ever. “Hast thou revealed thineself to bask in this day’s glorious sun? Or to join your esteemed guests in a dance of blades?”

He blinked. She was certainly a peculiar one, wasn’t she…. He thinks he understood that. 

“Erm, no,” he coughs into his paw and clears his throat. “I’m simply a spectator. I wanted to see what sort of damage you lot have done to the land already.”

Lumine feigned hurt, hand to her chest in mocking. “Us? Damage the land? No.”

Bennett gave a lopsided grin. “Well, there was the bit ago—”

“We don’t talk about the overload reaction, Benny.”

“Oh! Right.” Bennett looked at Diluc with an innocent smile. “The land is as healthy as ever! Don’t look at the burnt spot behind you.” Paimon smacked herself in the face. 

Yeah, he figured something like that had happened (the explosion wasn’t exactly subtle an hour ago). At least it was away from the crops. The beast shook his head and resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he crossed his arms and regarded his “esteemed guests.” 

“I saw the spar you two were having,” he regarded the Prinzessin and wolfboy, both of which subtly tried to hide their bashfulness. “You were good.”

Razor perked his head up at that, and Diluc knew if he had a wolf’s tail, it’d be wagging—while Fischl simply seemed to puff up with pride. 

“If a bit sloppy.”

Diluc resisted the urge to smirk when the two deflated. One could never be too confident in their own steps, afterall. 

“How about you two run that through again?” he offered then. “It’s best to train with someone experienced overseeing the match. I can help with some pointers.”

“Really?” Razor beamed. 

Against his better judgement, Diluc nodded—and that was how the evening passed by. Eventually, Adelinde came out to pass along refreshments and cool cloths for each of them and the sun was falling over the treeline, signalling the younger members to begin packing their things to leave. 

“Oh, Traveler!” Bennett began as he helped pick up the tools they had brought. “You’ll still be here for the Windblume festival, right?”

Lumine nodded in confirmation. “That’s the plan! Acting Grandmaster Jean wanted my help with some of the setup this year.”

“Okay, great!” Bennett smiled and finished putting the tools away in the storage room (the same one they had been tossed in days before—it was nothing more than a silly memory to them, apparently, though Diluc couldn’t imagine why). As he returned, he waved goodbye to Diluc and Lumine and caught up with Razor and Fischl again. “Bye, Mr. Diluc! I hope you can give me some pointers tomorrow with sword fighting too!”

Ugh. Of course they were coming back tomorrow too. It had been nonstop since the first time. Though, he didn’t feel the urge to push back too hard, even somewhat… looking forward to it, even. The thought made him frown. He shouldn’t be looking forward to it—these kids needed to stay away from him and his property; they were going to bring unnecessary attention and end up driving him out and hurting themselves in the process. Who knew what could happen. The thought didn’t settle well in his stomach at all. 

Lumine hung around despite Paimon having left with the kids. She finished some last-minute touches on the garden she and Bennett had commandeered from him, then smacked her hands together to dust the dirt off them. Diluc regarded her inquisitively. 

“Windblume Festival, hm?” he began, curiosity getting the better of him. And… Did he hear her say Acting Grandmaster Jean? Something… unsettling and gross twisted his stomach at the name, a hint of cryo in his throat that made the pads of his hands feel hot and uncomfortable. Heat made the fur and feathers around his neck rise up but he forced himself to settle down. He cleared his throat. “I suppose the Ordo has you picking up their slack?”

The blonde hummed with a shrug. “They’re short staffed,” she explained. “Something about Grandmaster Varka taking the entire Cavalry off on some escapade a few years ago? Jean’s been in charge in his absence…. Do- do you know her?”

Diluc looked away at that. “I did,” he admitted after taking a deep breath. It was getting a bit harder to breathe, but he managed through the strain. “We were friends when we were little.”

Lumine nodded, humming in acknowledgement. They were silent for a bit, though Diluc struggled to call it awkward. They simply sat in each other’s company as the sun fell behind the trees and the stars began to poke out of the night sky’s cloth. The traveler let out a sigh then, pushing herself to her feet before gliding her eyes down to Diluc with a smile. 

“It’ll probably be tough, but I hope you can come anyway,” she said so easily. 

Diluc wanted to laugh at her. The idea was far away from his mind—he had forgotten that the Windblume Festival was even a thing until today. Of all the things he had to worry about and consider in his list of priorities, it wasn’t even a concept. 

Even the thought of being around more people made his throat seize up and his lungs deflate in his chest. He was not ready for anything like that. Even if he wasn’t a… 

Well.

He didn’t deign to answer her, simply taking in a deep, even breath to calm his racing thoughts—then out again. His breath shook. 

Lumine, the woman with infinite patience and none at all, smiled at him anyway. “It’s okay, it’s still a while away. In any case, I’ll see you tomorrow, Diluc! I’ll walk you home, Miss Adelinde.” 

Tch. How did they all get it in their heads that they can just invite themselves to his home without his explicit invitation? 

Though, he supposed it’s a moot point, seeing as he hasn’t rejected them much either. His silence might as well be agreement, its own form of complicity. He huffed through his nose as he watched her leave and wait toward the entrance of the vineyard. Adelinde made her way down the stairs beside him. 

She pressed her hand into his shoulder, passing a quick goodbye kiss on his horns as she softly said, “You did good today, Master Diluc. I’ll see you tomorrow. I left some more food for you in the pantry, too.”

The beast touched her hand gently, his own form of farewell and nodded his thanks. “Be careful.”

Then he watched them leave as the moon rose overhead. 

Alone again.

Finally, he stood up and returned inside to start his patrol. 

—

“Keep your grip strong.”

“Grip strong. Yes.”

“Good, just like that. Stance wider—yes, good. It’ll keep you more balanced.”

“So no one will make Razor fall?”

“Exactly.”

Another day, another group of (the same) self-invited guests. They had successfully wrangled him into tutoring them in sword fighting, and Bennett was right next to Razor, following his instructions to the letter. Fischl was off to the side somewhere, prettying up something or other in the garden that was no longer his. 

Lumine was… not there today. 

He tried not to be upset over that. 

“With a claymore, you’ll be using gravity and momentum to your favor,” he explained. “Longer swings will give you stronger punches with them. Your goal is to take your enemy down with as few swings as possible, sacrificing speed for power. This will make you more vulnerable to attacks, however.”

Razor processed his words slowly, seemingly running his mind over each definition one at a time before it clicked and he nodded. “Hmhm!”

“Meanwhile, with a shortsword,” Diluc turned to Bennett. “You sacrifice power for agility. Ideally, you should be able to land more hits and dodge just the same, nicking your opponent with more swipes than they can land on you.”

Both boys took a moment to consider the advice, looking down at their weapons as though they had more to add. 

Diluc crossed his arms. “Though, each style has its own merit. It all depends on the person. I see you both match your own style as well—Razor, you understand the weight between your blade and yourself, and Bennett, you use your speed to your advantage. Keep that up.”

“Thank you, Mr. Diluc!”

“Many thanks, Mr. Beastman.”

Diluc cringed at the name, but didn’t comment as the boys began to practice with his words in mind. Just as the beast was about to stand back and watch them, his ears twitched at the sound of feet stomping through grass and bramble, snapping twigs and pushing branches aside with haste. His fur bristled and he stepped in front of the teens. 

The footsteps were… angry. A hunter? A knight? He wasn’t ready to be found yet—he knows it’s inevitable, but so soon? He didn’t want—

His thoughts froze in their tracks when Lumine stepped into the open, looking pissed. He relaxed his stance but confusion still crossed his features. 

“Traveler—”

She had her sword out and pointed at him—at his heart. Her eyes seethed with rage. He felt his ears press down on his head, a step taken back. 

“ You, ” she spat with every ounce of vitriol her small body could muster. “You thought you could play us? Play me? ”

Confusion rang his brain like a bell. “Excuse me?”

“Imposter!” she shouted at him. “I spoke with Diluc Ragnvindr’s brother today.”

Ice froze his stomach and crept into his lungs. He felt like something was choking him from the inside-out. He found it hard to swallow, hard to breathe again—Diluc opened his mouth to get a word in while the younger adventurers behind him began to shout in defense of him. 

“Hast mine beloved knight gone mad?” Fischl cried as she ran over. “What ails thee?!”

Bennett stepped closer while Razor stood off to the side, confused as ever. The blond boy begged: “Traveler, don’t hurt him!” 

Still, her eyes remained trained on him—watching his every minute movement. Every stuttered breath, every raised feather. She was much more experienced than these adventurers. She inches the blade closer to him, and he grits his teeth. He could easily snap the blade in half with just his jaw, but he won’t. He won’t hurt her.

“Who are you really?” Lumine demanded. “I went to his grave today. His brother said a blood-red beast killed him.” 

Diluc couldn’t quite stop the way his hands shook at his side, or how his tail inched under him—his nostrils flared quickly with his speeding breath. Despite his fractured memories, he remembered that night clearly now—saw himself torn to shreds on the forest floor, mud and blood mixed together, but he was him. Diluc, the blood-red beast, was the one shredded on the forest floor, coated in mud and blood. Soaked to the bone, and freezing from the touch of cryo in the air. He remembered blood drenching his claws as he ran and ran and ran, the blood that covered Kaeya’s face—

“Diluc Ragnvindr is dead.” 

The blade was close to his neck now, and he edged away minutely. 

“So I’ll ask you again,” she hissed, voice pressed tightly between her teeth. “Who are you really?”