Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A water-damaged letter crinkled as it was drawn from its envelope. Words had once spilled across the page in crisp black ink, but the familiar scrawl was now blotchy and smudged. The light of a candle, flickering, was only just bright enough to parse its meaning.  

After a moment, the corner of the paper dipped into the flame at the behest of a trembling hand. Ravenous fire devoured the message until but a memory remained.  

And so, it began.

If you asked Diluc when it all started, it was with the first murder attempt. But that was only his side of the story. It had been going on behind his back for far longer than that.  

Where it really began, perhaps, was with an ordinary day. 

In retrospect, he should have noticed. Kaeya had seemed happier lately, but it was summer, so who was Diluc to question it? He had never understood his brother’s appreciation for the warmer months, even as children, far before it had all gone south.  

So, he attributed it to that. Things were getting better between the two of them, after all, and April was over. No longer would spring’s rain drench them in heavy sheets, every drop a fraction of a memory. Diluc’s nightmares were getting fewer and farther in between, a sure-fire sign that things were looking up.  

Grief was a funny thing, between the two of them. It sat heavy and thick in the air, muddling their vision until neither of them could see properly. Every year on the 30th of April, they were both blind with it.  

But without fail, things always cleared up in the summer. 

This normal summer day—and quite possibly one far from where it all began, Diluc couldn’t be sure—was marked by an explosion outside Diluc’s bedroom window at seven in the morning. 

Adrenaline propelled him out of bed and to his window, and he threw open the curtains with a squeak of metal against metal. He squinted into the sunrise; there was smoke, and quite a bit of it to boot. It curled around the corner of the building. 

Heart pounding, he didn’t think twice before he pocketed his Vision and rushed down the stairs. At the protest of a maid, he rushed through the front door after grabbing only his coat. Surely, he hadn’t been the only one to hear that explosion, right? 

But today was a normal day, and his bare feet skidded to a stop in the dirt as the two biggest menaces in his life came into view: Kaeya and Klee. Of course, it was them. When was it not?  

Kaeya was laughing, the bastard. He had Klee’s tiny soot-covered frame tucked against his chest, and in front of them was... 

“My grapes,” Diluc lamented, feeling as if he’d aged fifty years. “What have you done to my poor grapes?” 

His brother only laughed louder, pulling back from Klee just a bit as he failed to keep his expression in check. “Now, Klee,” he said, face twisting. “What do we say when we accidentally blow up Master Diluc’s grapes?” 

Klee turned. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wide, and Diluc almost felt sorry for her. Almost. “Klee is very sorry for blowing up your grapes. It won’t happen again. ‘Cause now Klee knows that the bombs Sucrose made are volo—valo—” 

“Volatile,” Kaeya supplied, his smile now contained to manageable levels. “Is that it?” 

Klee nodded, clenching her fists in determination. “—and she should not try to share them with the crystalflies.” 

Diluc blinked in amusement, but it quickly faded when he looked back at the sheer destruction behind those two troublemakers. Klee reminded him a bit much of his younger self sometimes, which was to say she was chaos incarnate. “Thank you,” he said. “... I’ll just be a moment. Stay here.” 

Miraculously, Kaeya and Klee were both still there when he returned minutes later. Perhaps he had thought too negatively of Kaeya’s child-rearing strategies. He had very much expected them to run off and leave Diluc to deal with this mess on his own.  

Adelinde ushered Klee into the Winery to clean up with the promise of grape juice, leaving Diluc—now dressed in his day clothes, at least—with his smug-looking brother. 

Archons, the least Kaeya could do was look a bit guilty. For all the crying he’d done as a kid over the tiniest mistakes, he sure owned up to it all now. Maybe it had been a lie all along, just like everything else. 

“So?” Kaeya said, eyebrow raised. 

“So,” Diluc echoed slowly, “what’s this about?” 

Something Diluc very much liked to do was watch as his brother brought his thoughts into words. It was a split-second ordeal, but he could almost see the cogs spinning in Kaeya’s head as he calculated the most effective way through this conversation. This time, he settled on, “What, I can’t stop by for a visit on a beautiful summer day?” 

Diluc sighed, gesturing to the pit of destroyed trellises and grapevines. “And this?” 

“Merely an oversight. You know how it is.” Kaeya’s single eye met his, challenging. 

“Right. And I’m sure the Knights of Favonius will be informed of this oversight and will compensate accordingly.” Diluc matched Kaeya’s stare, challenging right back. You wouldn’t dare defy Jean.   

Kaeya broke eye contact and laughed uneasily, waving a placating hand. “Of course, Master Diluc. I wouldn’t dream of letting such an incident go unreported.” 

Such a blatant lie deserved none of Diluc’s time. He harrumphed and turned at the heel, heading for the front door. This mess wouldn’t sort itself out; he had today's work cut out for him. 

Kaeya and Klee stayed through lunch, which was much longer than Kaeya would have ever deigned to stay a year ago. During that time, they miraculously avoided setting fire to Dawn Winery property again, likely thanks to Adelinde’s efforts alone. She knew how to deal with rambunctious kids, that was for sure.  

Looking back, the only thing unusual about that day was that Kaeya didn’t tell him his reason for visiting until the very end. Normally, Kaeya came with a reason; sometimes it was legitimate, and other times it was complete and utter bullshit, but he always had a reason.  

This time, it was a thinly-veiled excuse, barely slapped on at the last minute. It was sloppy, even for Kaeya, as if he had forgotten in the first place how things were meant to be. They couldn’t simply want to see each other; they weren’t there yet. Not at all.  

“Albedo’s on Dragonspine again,” Kaeya explained. If anything, he looked sheepish. “Mona set off for Fontaine this morning, and she’ll be gone a while. Jean’s busy, as usual. So, it’s just me.” 

Diluc shifted his crossed arms, watching as his brother fidgeted under his gaze. Kaeya hiding something was nothing new. Hiding something poorly, however... it was as if he wanted to be found out. “And this concerns me how, exactly?” 

Kaeya pursed his lips. “Well—” 

“If you need help taking care of her, you can just ask, Master Kaeya,” Adelinde interjected as she entered the room. The girl in question walked obediently next to her, her tiny hand tucked into Adelinde’s. “Barbatos knows how difficult it would have been for me to handle you boys if I was your age. This sort of thing takes time.” 

Visibly relaxing, Kaeya nodded. “Of course. To be completely honest, I won’t deny that your help is welcome.” He shot Klee a look, and she stuck out her tongue at him. It was stained purple. 

“Adelinde gave Klee all the grape juice she could drink,” Klee announced. “Kaeya, you don’t even have grape juice in your house.”  

“Well, it depends how you define grape juice,” Kaeya said, reaching down to take Klee’s hand from Adelinde. “Anyway, we can’t have Albedo finding out you had so much sugar, can we?”  

When Klee pouted, Diluc took his chance to say, “Well, you can come back for more grape juice another day. There’s no shortage of it around here.” He shot a pointed glance out the window, where he could see the thriving green of the developing grape fields. Klee giggled at their not-at-all-secret secret.  

Suddenly, Diluc wanted nothing more than to send Klee off far, far away from Dawn Winery. This innocence, he felt, deserved to be protected. And he was hardly the man for the job; if anything, he would only harm her. For the first time, it became all too clear to him why Kaeya dealt with Klee in the way he did: she was like them. Like him.   

The idea of Klee spending time around him, enough to trust him and look up to him, made nausea churn in his gut. He was contaminated. She deserved this childish naivety; Diluc was glad Kaeya was preserving one child’s, if only just one.  

As Klee tugged Kaeya out the door, a spring in her step, Adelinde tapped Kaeya on the shoulder. “One part water to two parts juice. She’ll never notice.” A wink, as if Diluc’s entire worldview hadn’t just been shattered.  

“That’s why Father’s grape juice always tasted better than yours?” Diluc said flatly as the door swung shut.  

Adelinde turned away, hands tucked against her apron. She had the tiniest of smiles on her lips. “I said nothing of the sort.” 

The thick stack of paper in Kaeya’s hands gave a triumphant thump when he set them down on Jean’s desk. He brushed his hands together, commending himself for a job well done. And if some of it was days late—well, that was neither here nor there.  

It took Jean about five seconds to look up from the document she was reading, then three more for her eyes to land on Kaeya’s papers. “Finally catching up?” she said, her tone halfway between friendly teasing and scolding. It was a balance she had mastered, as both Kaeya’s close friend and his superior. And, of course, it was his job to get that tone to slip out as much as possible.  

“Something like that,” Kaeya said lightly. “With this season’s incoming wave of recruits, I thought I’d get ahead on some of the dormitory stuff.”  

Jean flipped idly through the stack of papers. “You mean that you finally finished approving the spring recruits’ dorms.”  

“Well, that too.” Kaeya put an affable smile on his face, leaning against Jean’s desk in the only place where there weren’t any papers. “Anyway, we need not draw this out. Instead, I thought I’d invite you to dinner.” He fiddled with a coin, weaving it from finger to finger. “Lisa’s already agreed. My treat.”  

“Oh.” Jean averted her eyes. “I… well, I apologize. I already agreed to help Marjorie with—”  

“It’s covered.”  

It hadn’t been all that difficult to clear Jean’s schedule, all things considered. There was no way Kaeya could manage it every day, but with both his and Lisa’s combined efforts, it was hardly a challenge to relieve Jean of her self-imposed workload. Mostly because so much of it was entirely trivial; the people of Mondstadt apparently had no qualms with asking the Acting Grand Master herself for help with missing pets and lost items, of all things. She was too nice for her own good.  

But she never would’ve agreed to go if they hadn’t allocated the work to somebody, and thankfully, a few kids from the Adventurer’s Guild were more than happy to help out. With compensation, of course.  

Jean’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Well, I can’t back out now, can I?” She reached for the stack of papers. “I’ve just got to file—”  

“Surely, that can wait till after dinner,” Kaeya interrupted. “Or am I mistaken?”  

“Oh, no, not at all.” Jean sighed into her hand, eyes scanning the disaster that was her desk. “Lisa’s coming?”  

“Yep. And you know how it is—if I went all alone, and you didn’t show, she’d probably abandon me right then and there.” He smiled cheekily, teasing. It was hardly necessary for him to convince her further; nevertheless, it was fun to watch her squirm when the topic of note was her own overworking.  

Unfortunately, and quite predictably, Jean read too far into it. “Oh, wait! Tell me, did I miss another important”—she stood and turned, setting a hand on the calendar hanging on her wall—“date?” 

There was a simple, two-letter word Kaeya could have used to answer this question, but he wasn’t in the mood for simplicity. “Why don’t you come along and find out?” 

Jean nodded, lips curving up into a fond smile. “I don’t see why not.” 

Dinner went well—not that Kaeya was expecting much else when it had been planned out by two of the Knights of Favonius’ best minds. Even Jean couldn’t weasel her way out of a relaxing dinner with two of the people who cared about her the most.  

The only blip in the whole situation was when Kaeya let it slip that he and Klee had accidentally blown up a chunk of Dawn Winery’s grape fields. But that had been a necessary sacrifice to avoid Jean noticing the argument breaking out between an innkeeper and a young woman just behind the fountain; otherwise, she would’ve likely taken it upon herself to mediate. 

He needed to maximize his impact while he still could, and that included preserving Jean’s sanity to the best of his ability. She was always going to find out about the explosion at Dawn Winery, but she didn’t need to know about every petty conflict that emerged between civilians. Solving the root cause was beyond him, but he could still help. 

Thankfully, Lisa had Jean’s back far better than Kaeya ever would. She was reliable like that; even though Kaeya got the sense she harbored a great many secrets, her dedication to Jean’s side never wavered. He had hope for the two of them. 

True to his word, Kaeya shelled out the necessary mora to pay for their food, even if it left his pockets a bit empty. Mora was getting a bit tight these days, but that was by design—really, he had quite a bit of savings he could dip into if necessary. That was one benefit of being a legal heir to the Ragnvindr name, even if he hadn’t known about it until a few months ago. Generosity came much easier with less risk involved. And anyway, he didn’t have much to lose. 

And after that, it was back to routine. He left on patrol while Jean and Lisa both headed back for Headquarters. Normalcy shrouded each movement, each breath, and Kaeya could only wonder how much longer it would last before everything turned on its head. 

Every word Kaeya wrote was painful. The scratching of the quill on paper was a foreboding incantation; its echoes seemed to fill the room, swallowing the clicking of the clock and the tapping of his foot on the hardwood floor.  

Perhaps he should have been grateful when his mental math was interrupted by a sharp knock on his front door. 

“Come in,” he called, and he listened as his visitor rooted around the front step for his spare key. The paper in his hands was incriminating, he realized, so he folded it up and shoved it into the gap between his sofa’s arm and seat just as the door unlocked with a click. 

Rosaria stepped in, wasting not one second before she took out one of her knives and began twirling it in one hand. “Kaeya.” 

“Using the front door this time, I see,” he said wryly, crossing his arms. “What happened to your usual mode of entrance?” 

“I break in through your bedroom window once and it’s as if that’s my whole personality.” Rosaria glanced around his living room, giving no indication that she thought anything of the state it was in. “Get a new joke.” 

“Constructive criticism for my sense of humor aside,” Kaeya said, “What is it you are here for? Don’t tell me it’s just my delightful presence; time runs short, and I’ll need more encouragement than that.” 

Rather than responding, Rosaria made her way to his kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets. He heard the telltale clink of bottles colliding and sighed to himself. 

This was good, probably. She clearly thought that his absence at the tavern today was a sign of something, and she wasn’t wrong; if he let her think she solved it, then she might very well neglect to look further into the issue.  

So, for now, he just had to relax. He’d hang out with her, and he’d give her whatever information she planned to use as a pretense for visiting. They were friends, so it wouldn’t be hard. 

The only difficult part about this was the folded piece of paper wedged beneath the arm of the sofa.  

He told himself that he was acting when it took him a moment to convince himself to get up and follow her; after all, he needed to play the part of someone who was feeling a bit beaten down, who only needed a night of good drinks and even better friends to start the next day fresh.  

Rosaria knew his kitchen better than he did, somehow, but he still managed to help as she made a tempting concoction of Fire-Water and sunsettia juice. He had experience mixing drinks, albeit limited, from his teenage years—not that much skill was needed in mixing a drink that didn’t even have a name. 

“So,” Rosaria started after everything was cleaned up. They were both sitting on the floor in front of the sofa—Kaeya's table was currently littered with documents and maps, and Rosaria always wanted a hard surface to rest her glass on. “What is it this time?” 

Kaeya could have played ignorant, but he knew she would see right through that in an instant. He sipped his drink. “Oh, you know. The usual.” 

“That sucks.” 

“Right? Anyway...” 

The best thing about being friends with Rosaria was her no-nonsense attitude. She did everything in such a way that Kaeya could clearly trace every line of logic behind her like footsteps in the mud. Relatedly, she only pressed where she knew she could make headway. This was how all these conversations went, now: she would ask him what was wrong, and if he was drunk, he would tell her. If not, he would shrug it off, and they would both move on.  

It was refreshing because he found that he didn’t want to talk about his woes the vast majority of the time. Especially not when she refused to talk about her own in return—that only made it awkward. 

Kaeya was very, very good at talking about anything other than his own problems. He considered himself exceptionally talented at both talking around his issues and creating conversation where there was none to begin with. With Rosaria here, he could easily become a nonstop source of chatter, and he did just that. 

He watched as her posture relaxed slightly, both due to the alcohol and his own well-being. She was easier to read than she thought she was, and things were going to plan. 

Unfortunately, just as he was getting into the details about Lawrence and Swan’s recent falling-out and the subsequent changes in shift timings, Rosaria interrupted him to say, “What’s this?” 

Kaeya felt his heart plummet as he caught sight of what she had found. Of course, she had found that paper he’d hidden. Why had she even been looking there in the first place?  

He forced any visible reaction from his face before it could ever appear. “I don’t know,” he said, reaching a steady hand out. “Can I see?” 

Instead of handing it to him like any reasonable person would have, Rosaria decided to be her usual nosy self and unfold it. Her eyes scanned the words for barely a second before Kaeya had leaned over and snatched it from her grasp, knocking over her glass in the process. 

He took it tight in one hand, rushing to find a cloth to clean up the spill. If he just played this off as normal, maybe she wouldn’t think anything of it. It only needed to be a problem if he made it one. He just needed to calm down.  

But Rosaria was too perceptive for her own good, and he knew exactly what she was thinking as he wiped up the mess. He knew, and he knew that she was wrong. And he couldn’t correct her because that would raise more questions than he could answer.  

She took a moment to finally say, “I really thought you were doing better.” 

“I am,” Kaeya replied reflexively, tucking the paper closer to his body. “This isn’t what it looks like.” 

Rosaria looked at him flatly, a hint of concern peeking through in her eyes. “Enlighten me, then.” 

Kaeya sucked in a breath, humiliated at how off-kilter he was feeling. He’d been caught red-handed, at least from her perspective. From his side, he’d made a potentially deadly mistake.  

She put her knife down on the floor, clasping her hands together in an unusual display of care. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t go to Jean right now.” 

“It’s old.” 

“The ink looks pretty new to me.” 

“It’s from a different seller than usual. Cheaper, dries much slower, but—” 

Her gaze hardened. “‘This isn’t what it looks like,’” she echoed. “So, what is it, then?” 

The paper crinkled in Kaeya’s grasp, and he wished he’d never written it in the first place. He should’ve hidden it somewhere else. She wasn’t supposed to notice. “A precaution,” he tried. 

She didn’t reply, only waited for him to continue. 

“I have a dangerous assignment soon. Abyss stuff, and you know how that can be... Well, I thought I’d get some of my priorities on paper before I go.” 

Skeptical, she picked up her knife again, twirling it. She was backing off; if he played it right, he could get her to drop the topic entirely. “When are you going?” 

“That’s confidential, I’m afraid.” 

“Surely, you could at least give me a timeframe to work with.” 

He narrowed his eye, considering. There was a chance she was going to take this as a confirmation of her suspicions, which was the last thing he wanted—but if she believed him, this could be the end of it. “Sometime soon,” he settled on. “You know, Jean hasn’t given me the information yet. I should really ask her.” 

“Hm.”  

It was with no little fear that it struck him: she didn’t believe him. If she followed through on her threat to go to Jean about this, then everything would go downhill. This needed to stay as quiet as possible, up until the very end, if it was going to work. Everything needed to be normal, and it seemed he was already failing at that. “It’s getting late,” he said, a last-ditch effort.  

“It is,” she conceded. “You’ll be fine for tonight?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kaeya said airily, pulling himself to his feet. The paper was tucked into his pocket, now, and he held one empty glass in each hand.  

This was going to be much more difficult than he’d anticipated.

‘Will you do anything?’   

Anything?  

‘Anything.’  

Tell me your plan, and we shall see.  

Chapter Text

‘There is but one way to separate a Sinner from his innate Sin. Tell me, Transcendent One—do you know this path of which I speak?’  

I have an idea, yes.   

‘Death is an inevitability in the eyes of the divine...’  

... but the divine does not dictate all.   

‘Good. You begin to comprehend.’  

What do you want from me?  

‘I only wish to make a deal.’

There were typically only two things on Kaeya’s mind this early in the morning: firstly, the bone-deep exhaustion that plagued him after every night of restless sleep. Secondly, an aching need for coffee. 

Typically, these two things would take precedence over virtually everything else he could have thought of. He could hardly find it in himself to speak in the first few minutes after waking up, much less waltz through the city with his usual air of confidence. It always took him at least half an hour to even consider leaving his room. 

But today was not a normal day. Today, he had an agenda that was almost more terrifying than the prospect of bumbling around the city like an idiot ten minutes after waking up: he had to talk to Rosaria about last night.  

The Favonius Cathedral was no less imposing with nobody standing outside it. Kaeya stopped outside its entrance, running a hand through his hair and silently praying that he didn’t look too disheveled. And finally, he entered. 

Kaeya hardly had time to register the bustling atmosphere of the early morning church before Sister Barbara barreled straight into him. He stumbled back, teetering for balance for a moment just long enough to be embarrassing, before he righted himself.  

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Barbara said, her voice high with stress. “Captain Kaeya—um, if you’re here about Jean’s request for—” 

He put up a comforting hand. “You can carry on. I’m here on personal business.” Poor Barbara was always on edge around him. It would have been more amusing if he didn’t see pieces of himself in her relationship with Jean. 

“Well, in that case...” Barbara frowned, leaning over to pick up something she had dropped upon their collision. “I guess you’re here for Sister Rosaria, right? I was just taking this to her.” She showed him the item in her hands; it was one of Rosaria’s knives, old and rusty. “I found it under one of the benches.”  

“Sister Rosaria actually lost something, huh?” Kaeya mused, taking it from her. Now that he could see the blade in its full sharpness, he felt rather fortunate that it had not contacted either of them in its untimely descent just moments ago. “Never thought I’d see the day. Well, I’ll be off, then.” 

Barbara looked flustered for a second, but her recovery was quick. She’d always been good at that. “Thank you, Captain. Have a nice day!” 

“Likewise.” 

After that, it wasn’t difficult at all to find Rosaria among the crowd. She was quite a bit taller than average and had a certain gloom about her. Besides, now that Kaeya had such a useful segue into conversation, he was feeling that much more confident about what he was preparing to do. 

It wasn’t difficult to get her to follow him out back—he only had to flash her the knife to catch her attention. After the backdoor swung shut, he leaned against the stone wall and regarded Rosaria with a carefully blank expression.  

Between his hands, he attempted to twirl the knife in the same way he’d seen her do it hundreds of times before. Except he wasn’t nearly as cool as she was, so it just tumbled out of his grasp and clattered to the ground between his boots. A shame.  

She didn’t laugh like he was hoping she might, and her expression remained flat, so he just picked it up and handed it to her. “Found it under the sofa last night,” he explained, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall again. “You must’ve left it there a while ago—it looks old.” 

She sighed, stashing it wherever she usually hid the rest of her knives. “And you’re here why?”  

“ To return it to you. Why else?” 

“I don’t know, maybe to convince me that last night never happened?” 

He smiled innocently. “You know me better than that, Sister Rosaria. I would never tell such a bold-faced lie... no, I just thought we might talk it through once more. Now that I’ve had more time to think, that is.” 

“Hmm.” She looked away from him, out to the city below, giving the impression of consideration. But anyone who knew her well could see the almost wistful look in her eyes. “I’ll humor you, but only because it’s during work hours.” The real reason remained unspoken, but neither of them pointed it out. 

Kaeya took a deep breath, feeling the sun’s warmth finally beginning to cast over him. “I wasn’t lying when I said it wasn’t what it looked like. I can promise you that much.” 

“But you’re still in danger.” 

“... I am.” 

“I see.” Smoke began to drift over from her general direction. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d started.  

He suppressed the urge to tell her to put it away. He could deal with smelling a bit like smoke if it meant keeping her cooperative. “You want me to tell you more.” 

“If you don’t, I’ll find out myself.”  

And he didn’t doubt that she would, which was the terrifying part. He couldn’t have her getting tangled up in this. It was far bigger than Mondstadt ever was, and what was happening was unavoidable. He had been prepared for this possibility ever since he had realized the true nature of his being placed in Mondstadt.  

It was funny to think that his father, in some twisted way, really had been trying to protect him. But now, they had run out of time, and there was only one thing that could buy them more of it. Whether Kaeya wanted to participate did not matter when his involvement was carved into his very existence.  

“I can’t tell you more,” Kaeya said honestly. “But I’ll let you know I am doing everything in my power to keep the city safe.” To keep the people I love safe .  

He had already chosen Mondstadt. If he fought this, the damage would spread far farther than this city. It was this or ruination, and no matter how said ruination could be justified by those in power, he would not accept watching as Teyvat burned to the ground.  

“And you?” Rosaria asked. 

“I’m doing what I can. But I assure you, there is not much that can be done on your part. It’s all on me.” 

“We’ll see about that.”

When Diluc was younger, he’d practically begged his father to let him join in on business meetings. Nothing was more out of reach for him than his father’s work, especially once he was on track to becoming a knight. He wanted to know what it was that was hidden in his father’s office that was so sensitive he couldn’t so much as lay his eyes on it, and he wanted to know what the adults were talking about that was too sensitive for his young ears to hear.  

But now, he knew. He’d been an extremely energetic kid with a pyro Vision, an almost unparalleled destructive force. Of course his father hadn’t wanted him around all that flammable paperwork and those major buyers. None of it had been anything interesting to begin with. 

As it turned out, it was a lot of effort to deal with damaged property. Normally, he would have Elzer deal with damage to the Winery, but Klee had blown up a chunk of one of his grape fields. That made this all the more difficult to organize. 

But, as he finished estimating the explosion’s impact on this autumn’s output, it was finally coming to a close. He’d received a missive from the Knights of Favonius not long ago stating that he would be duly compensated for both the property damages and their impact on revenue, so all he had left to do was send them the expected amount.  

When that was done, he slipped it into an envelope, finishing with Dawn Winery’s seal. Then he stood, briefly pausing to stretch. Such prolonged periods of sitting caused his back to ache something fierce. He grunted as his neck and back thanked him for his change in position.  

After he dropped the letter off with Elzer, Adelinde intercepted him on his way to the stairs. “Master Diluc,” she greeted, bowing her head slightly. “Would you like some tea? You have been in your office all day; perhaps a break could do you some good.” 

He paused, considering. While he still had work to do, now was a good time for an intermission. The beginnings of a headache were beginning to pulse in his temples, and a moment’s rest may chase it away. “Yes, that would be much appreciated.” He turned toward the sofa, then angled his head back toward her. “And in that case, have some prepared for yourself as well. You have also been working all day.”  

She smiled softly. “Very well, then.” 

As she left the room, Diluc lowered himself onto the sofa, fiddling with his gloves. He didn’t particularly like being left completely alone with his thoughts—he often found himself doing extra work simply to fill the time, a habit he must have picked up from Kaeya. 

He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it until Adelinde pointed it out. Now, he was making a conscious effort to slow down, if only to ease her burden just a little. 

But that meant getting used to his thoughts, which was hardly a pleasant experience. He’d already slipped into the routine of thinking about workworkwork while in his office or at Angel’s Share, and while tracking the enemy, his only thoughts were hunthunthunt. But what was there to think about at a time such as this? 

Definitely not his childhood, he knew that much. 

Hobbies? Well, he liked birds... and catching criminals. And chess! But it was useless to simply think about chess, short of playing a game against an imaginary opponent in his own mind. And he doubted that would be relaxing in the slightest.  

What was it Kaeya normally did when forced to be idle? He’d been like this for far longer than Diluc had. He racked his brain for the answer, scouring his childhood. 

It took him a moment to find the answer: it was him. Diluc. Of course. They had been practically attached at the hip, and Diluc had been a handful to deal with. There was nothing more occupying to the mind than young Diluc’s perpetual chaos.  

Well, it wasn’t as if he could fill that own gap with himself. He was incapable of amusing himself at this point, and he didn’t have anyone to amuse himself with either. He was at a loss. 

This was a bad idea. He should have found a book or something.  

A familiar voice startled him out of his thoughts. “Tea’s ready, Master Diluc.” 

“Ah, that’s right. Thank you, Adelinde.” 

The tea, just the right temperature to drink, was just as sweet as he liked it. She knew him well. After so many years by his side, it was no surprise. He wondered, faintly, if she was at all content with this life, with Father’s death and Kaeya’s departure.  

He’d asked her before if she wished to leave. It was when he’d returned after his three-year absence, head so much clearer than it had been upon leaving. At the time, she had denied ever wanting to go. He wondered—if he asked now, would her answer change? 

“You and Master Kaeya have been closer lately,” Adelinde said into her cup, posture still strictly professional. “I am proud of you and him both, you know.” 

“... Thanks,” Diluc said, unsure of what else to say.  

“You should consider inviting him to visit again sometime soon. He would appreciate it greatly, I can tell.” 

Diluc took a sip of tea to delay his inevitable response. “I wouldn’t want him to go out of his way. It’s over an hour to get here by foot, and the knights’ horses are in short supply.” 

“Well, it’s always worth it to ask, isn’t it? And if he says no, then you know for certain.” She set her tea down on the coffee table, folding her hands in her lap. “You needn’t be so withdrawn. He wants to talk to you more than you think.” 

She had told him that before, time and time again. It never really sank in. “I wouldn’t wish for him to go out of his way, even if he wants to,” he clarified. “The knights are already inefficient enough as-is.” 

“Then why not visit him?” she suggested. “No need to make it so complicated. You already go into the city every few days.” 

He couldn’t think of an argument against that because it was completely true. There was nothing stopping him from visiting Kaeya himself. Nothing at all.  

“You’re right,” he conceded. “Maybe I will.” 

At the time, he had no real intention of exploring the possibility. But six hours later, as he pulled out his mask and rode to the city in the dead of night, he wondered if maybe he should give it a chance. 

There was a minor threat in the city, just a few treasure hoarders up to no good. He dealt with them silently, scaring them off well enough that they’d never set foot in the city again. Then, his feet took him to Kaeya’s place as if they had a mind of their own. 

It was not far from Headquarters. It was in that row of Knights of Favonius-subsidized housing, mostly occupied by the more experienced and high-ranking knights who had outgrown the dormitories. Diluc had never visited before, but he knew who lived in each one by heart.  

Kaeya’s was one of the smaller ones because he lived alone. The only thing about it that denoted who lived there was an old doormat with three handprints on it, faded with age: Kaeya’s in blue paint, Klee’s in red, and what was presumably Albedo’s in yellow. Diluc didn’t like to think about what those colors had meant to him when he was younger.  

Even though he knew how keen Kaeya’s senses were, Diluc found himself inching toward his window. He could see a faint light, likely a lantern, through the curtains. It wasn’t that late, so he wasn’t surprised his brother was still awake.  

Kaeya was leaning over his table, writing something Diluc couldn’t see. His expression was pulled tight into a grimace; it was a face Diluc doubted he would make if he knew someone was watching. 

Moments passed and Kaeya did not move apart from the rhythmic motion of his quill against paper. Behind Diluc, a stray cat scampered up a small tree. A branch creaked slightly beneath its weight, and Diluc took that as a sign to melt into the darkness. 

Perhaps he would visit sometime soon. 

It was just his neighbor’s cat again. Archons, he was on edge.  

Looking back down at the paper on his table, Kaeya sighed. He should have done this a long time ago, before it became an emotional burden. Now, it only served to remind him of what was to come. 

This wasn’t how things were meant to be, he recalled. This was always the backup plan. Something must have gone wrong. His position must have been found out. 

He was special, but he was also expendable; he had never been truly unique. There was always... 

His eye widened and he froze, a bead of ink forming at the tip of his quill.  

If he was right...  

No. Don’t.  

‘This is an interesting development.’

‘You need not sacrifice a thing now, Alberich. Do the terms of our deal seem more agreeable now?’   

... No. I cannot simply—  

‘Is that so?  What a shame. In that case... I shall inform you of what you risk in defying me.’

Sacrifice was a funny thing. It was a concept Kaeya had always been painfully aware of, and it had taken root in his being from the moment of his conception to every second thereafter. He had always been a pawn. He knew that. 

It didn’t make this any easier, though. 

Kaeya stood, the paper held gently between his hands. It was now filled, beginning to end. He was lucky he was a Captain—it meant he had the authority to officialize it without a witness.  

If he hid it on his person, it stood a chance of being damaged. If he hid it anywhere easy to find, there was a good chance Rosaria would find it—she wasn’t above snooping around when she saw fit. So, his best option was to leave it somewhere in his office, just out of sight but somewhere relevant.  

For now, he left it in the drawer of his bedside table. Tonight, that would be enough. 

If this all went through, though... 

Maybe it wouldn’t have to happen.  

I accept your proposal.   

‘Good.’ 

Resigned—that was how Kaeya felt as he piled his books one by one into a box. His living room was spotless, devoid of dust and the many knickknacks it had built up over the years.  

His fingers were dry and chapped from scrubbing the floors for so long. He flexed them subconsciously, then carried the full box of books next to the door. It would come with him tomorrow. 

Forward time moved, far faster than he was comfortable with. He willed the distance between ticks of his clock to grow, to give him enough time to be truly ready.

If you can see my fate, what awaits me?  

‘Death, Alberich, and nothing more.’  

If you are who you say you are, won’t you help me out?  

‘Help you?’  

Does this not affect your plans as well?  

‘Such ways of thinking are hopelessly close-minded. I am more than anything you have borne witness to before.’  

I’d do anything.  

‘Anything?’   

... No. Not anything.   

‘Then you will die.’

Kaeya set the box down with an air of finality. His Vision pulsed at his hip along with his wavering resolve. It sickened him. 

There was one last thing he could think of to escape this mess, and as far as he knew, it was nothing short of impossible. 

He would destroy it at the source.  

Chapter Text

Mornings had never once been a relaxing part of Jean’s day. At a young age, her mother had awoken her early every morning with strict efficiency. Now that she was independent, Jean kept up the routine with a run with Amber. After being careful not to wake Lisa as she prepared, within half an hour, she was always beyond Mondstadt’s gates with Amber at her side.

This practice provided many benefits. For one, exercise woke her up better than coffee ever could. But that wasn’t really why she did it—no, it was a chance for her to truly clear her mind, just for a bit.

The main drawback of these runs, however, was that they left her dripping with sweat. It was less than ideal to have to set out two separate blocks of her schedule to bathe every day, but unless she wanted to smell like some of the teenage recruits after their afternoon training, it was a necessary sacrifice.

Today, Kaeya happened to intercept her in the few minutes between her return and her shower, which he knew irritated her. And he also knew that she would never say so to his face. Anytime he did stop her in this time window, in fact, it was usually because he expected the conversation to be over with quickly. She never really proved him wrong.

“Jean, hey,” Kaeya called from across the hallway, coming down from the stairs. He held a box between his hands, and it didn’t escape Jean how tired he looked—had he even gone home last night? She needed to start being more proactive about closing up.

“Good morning, Kaeya,” Jean said. A bead of sweat rolled down her back and she shivered; the heat she’d built up on her run had dissipated, leaving her chilled. “Having a productive morning?”

“Oh, you know me.” Actually, while Kaeya was a hard worker, it was anybody’s guess what he was up to at any given moment. He knew that. “Anyway, I wanted to give you this.”

She had not a moment to reach before he dropped the box into her arms. Briefly, she stumbled under its unexpected weight. “What is this?”

Kaeya smiled, but it didn’t even come close to reaching his eye. “I was simply doing some spring cleaning and thought I might hand these over to you instead of throwing them out.”

Spring cleaning. Huh. “It’s summer,” Jean corrected mildly. And she was painfully aware of the fact, what with the way her damp clothes stuck to her skin. “But that’s beside the point. What’s in here?”

“You’ll see,” Kaeya said, ever elusive.

… So, that was how this was going to be.

It was past noon by the time Jean got around to opening the box. It wasn’t that she had forgotten about it, but rather that she simply hadn’t had the time. Part of her had also expected Kaeya to return at some point to make sure she did, but he never showed.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but when she opened the box to find it piled full with books, it seemed almost obvious in hindsight. Kaeya had many books at home, most of which he had slowly amassed over the years with no clear intent behind it. As far as she knew, he had already read everything he planned on reading.

And, of course, she hadn’t. She hardly had time to read at all nowadays, but Kaeya knew her. He knew exactly what she liked, what caused her resolve to falter.

Many of her acquaintances had the impression she preferred books about Mondstadt’s history, which she supposed made sense from an outside perspective. She didn’t have anything against said books; it was part of her duty to stay informed, after all. But there were a select few people who knew of her love for romance novels, and Kaeya was one of them.

Kaeya’s own reading taste was more scattered. She’d once asked him as a child what he liked to read, and all he’d said was, “I’ll read whatever.” At the time, she’d chalked it up to his people-pleasing personality, but by now she had no choice but to believe him. At least if his bookshelves were anything to go by.

And this meant one thing: every time Jean visited Kaeya’s place, she ended up eyeing the collection on his shelf in secret. Wondering, but not daring to ask. He knew of this guilty pleasure of hers, but it was another matter entirely for her to act on it.

Jean ran a gloved finger over the worn spine of one of the books. She knew this one well; while it was light on romance, she recalled being especially enamored with its unique fantasy setting as a child. There had been perhaps two weeks or so where she had carried it everywhere with her, so long as she was out of her mother’s sight.

This copy was well-used, its spine cracked and its pages discolored around the edges. She wondered how many times it had been read, how many times Kaeya had read it himself. How many hands had flipped through these fading pages? It was a children’s book, but in the chaos of her adult life, simplicity was a comfort.

One by one, she picked through the selection of books. Some were old and some seemed untouched, but she could tell each one had been selected with care. It was far from Kaeya’s entire selection of books, and with each one, she felt as if he had eyes on the wish list she had never even written.

Halfway through the box, books stacked from the floor up to her knee, it struck Jean how odd this was. What would possess Kaeya to get rid of such well-appreciated books? Unless he had simply been overcome with generosity, there wasn’t a reason to give these to Jean instead of simply offering to lend them to her. Or even to pick one up for her from the library.

Well, Kaeya had always been rather unpredictable. This wasn’t anything new. She would have to ask him about it later if she wanted any shot at getting answers.

But for now, she smiled to herself as her eyes caught the cover of the next book: Vera’s Melancholy. She already had a copy of her own, gifted from Lisa years ago, but something was different from this one. She recognized it.

Upon opening the front cover, her suspicions were soon confirmed. With black ink, in familiar handwriting:

To: Jean

From: Diluc

Happy birthday!

Jean had been fifteen. She’d read it three times before her mother confiscated it, citing a nonexistent decline in skill. Just how had Kaeya gotten his hands on it?

She pictured how he would respond to that question. ‘Some questions are better left unanswered,’ he would say, a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘It’s only a gift. It won’t bite.’

“Thanks, Kaeya,” she whispered to herself through the ache of nostalgia, already thumbing through the pages.

With his fist poised over the painted wood of Kaeya’s front door, Diluc found himself hesitating.

This wasn’t a good idea. He was here without forewarning; he hadn’t even so much as suggested the idea to Kaeya before showing up on his doorstep on a random Tuesday evening.

But what else was he going to do with this plate of freshly baked valberry pastries? He’d seen it carried all the way from Dawn Winery to here, past the dozens of prying eyes; he’d even managed to ward off any comments with a brisk sense of purpose to his step and a stiff set to his shoulders. He wasn’t about to betray Adelinde after she had spent hours in the kitchen this morning.

Gritting his teeth, Diluc knocked on the door. He had to consciously hold himself back from tapping out the rhythm they’d created as children. That was surprising—until this moment, he hadn’t even been aware that he remembered it.

As he waited for a response, his fingers tightened around the edges of the plate, and he willed himself not to slip into the shadows and disappear. It was getting more tempting by the second. It would’ve been all too easy, with the sun dipping below the horizon and leaving a blanket of darkness in its wake.

Maybe Kaeya was still at work. It had been twenty seconds now, and the door still wasn’t open. He would wait ten more seconds, he decided, and then he would leave. He wouldn’t knock again.

But no. Kaeya shouldn’t have been at work because Diluc had checked. On his way here, because it wasn’t so far off his route. It was tough to get a view through Kaeya’s office window from outside, what with it being on the second floor and there being a covered plate of pastries in his hands, but he had managed. He always did.

The door opened. Diluc narrowly suppressed a flinch.

Kaeya was dressed down, only in his usual black pants and an undershirt, clearly not anticipating guests. He managed to suppress any visible reaction to Diluc’s arrival, though Diluc knew for a fact that he couldn’t have expected it. “Master Diluc,” he said, head cocked to the side. His bangs hung loosely around his face, not as carefully styled as they normally were. “What brings you here on this fine evening?”

“Oh, um...” Diluc frowned, mind racing in frantic circles. What reason had he planned out before? He couldn’t remember. “Adelinde made something,” he spit out.

“Did she, now?” Kaeya said. “For me?”

“... For you, yes.”

“Oh, well, tell her I said thank you.” Kaeya took the plate from Diluc’s hands before Diluc could utter a single word in protest. “Will that be all?”

“No,” Diluc said, taking a step forward as Kaeya moved to shut the door. He was in the doorframe, now, and he had a clear view into Kaeya’s place. He swallowed thickly, mustering up the courage to finally say, “I came to pay you a short visit.”

Diluc could sense the exact moment after those words left his lips that the tides of this conversation turned in his favor. As Kaeya visibly hesitated, his mouth stuttering open as he fumbled for words, Diluc felt his own confidence returning.

“Will that be a problem?” Diluc continued, challenging. He took another step in, removing his coat. The faint smell of soap greeted him. “I would hate to impose.”

“Um...” Kaeya crossed his arms and turned. His eye scanned the room, looking for something that Diluc couldn’t see. Then he sighed softly and said, “No, it’s no problem at all. Come on in.”

Content that the social situation was currently his to shape, Diluc divested himself of his outer layers and his boots before finally taking a short look around.

Kaeya’s front room consisted of a kitchen and a living room built in together, and there was a short hallway opposite to the entryway that led to two other rooms. Presumably, one was Kaeya’s bedroom, and one was the bathroom. There wasn’t much else that could fit in such a place.

It was... cleaner than Diluc had imagined. Kaeya, while appearing put-together on the surface, had always been rather scatterbrained as a child and was often prone to leaving things in places they didn’t belong. Had that changed?

Or maybe—Diluc thought, glancing at the closed doors beyond this room—Kaeya's bedroom was where all the chaos was. Maybe that was where the stacks of half-read books and collections of souvenirs were hiding. He had a hard time visualizing Kaeya had simply thrown them away.

“Make yourself at home,” Kaeya said, voice still betraying underlying tension. “And, if you don’t mind my asking, how long are you planning to stay?”

Diluc shrugged, already feeling the social balance pulling in the wrong direction. “Not long. You needn’t worry about me getting in the way.”

Kaeya waved him off, tsking. “Stay as long as you wish. It is only fair, after you so graciously hosted me at the Winery the other day with no prior notice.” He gestured to the lone sofa against the wall. “So? You should make yourself comfortable. There isn’t much else to find here, I’m afraid.”

Oh, right. Diluc had been standing here by the door for the past few minutes like an idiot. “Of course. I am certain your house hides no sensitive information or secrets of any sort.”

“You know me so well.”

They fell into silence as Kaeya sauntered off to the kitchen to set the pastries down. Diluc sank into the sofa, surprised to find that it was softer than it looked. At least Kaeya’s place had one thing going for it.

Otherwise, this whole place was kind of depressing. There was nothing here. Even the bookshelves were nearly empty, and the only decoration was a sad, wilted plant in the corner that Diluc doubted had been tended to in weeks. Perhaps he had grown too used to Dawn Winery’s lavish interior, but he doubted this was a pleasing way to live.

Had Kaeya been living like this the whole time?

Once again, he found it hard to imagine.

But that night had changed them both beyond repair. Diluc had pulled into himself, withdrawing and shutting out the surrounding world, while Kaeya had done the exact opposite. It had been shocking to return after three years only to find that his reserved, quietly charming brother had turned into one of Mondstadt’s most outgoing personalities. It wasn’t out of the question to think something as mundane as the way he decorated his personal spaces would change, too.

At first, the changes had sickened him. That had once been his role, and Kaeya knew why he had left his post. He knew every single detail of the situation, and Diluc hated that he was content to leave it in the past. He’d solved the issue, removed the corruptive root, but he was still a part of the system.

But now, Diluc was reluctantly beginning to accept it. This was hardly due to anything Kaeya had done, though; it was due to Jean’s openness with him in her goal of changing the Knights for the better that he really began to understand.

They were both stronger than he was.

Kaeya set a ceramic plate down on the coffee table, bringing Diluc out of his thoughts. The plate had two of Adelinde’s pastries on it. Kaeya sat next to him, far enough that they would not touch but close enough to be friendly.

For a while, the two of them simply ate in silence. Diluc could feel every movement his brother made beside him, making it impossible to forget where he was or who he was with. There was no way either of them was paying attention to the food, which was a shame because Adelinde truly was excellent at baking.

Diluc almost said something when Kaeya’s leg bouncing got to a point where he could feel the sofa shaking beneath him, but Kaeya beat him to it. “So, what brought this on?”

“This?” Diluc brushed his hands free of crumbs, then pulled his gloves back on. He debated deliberately misunderstanding Kaeya’s words, but ultimately decided against it. “If I’m not mistaken, you told me yourself that it is custom for family to visit every so often.”

Kaeya paused mid-bite, clearly having not expected such a clear answer. “I-I see.” He set the last quarter of his pastry down on the plate, valberry filling oozing out its side. “Then I must say, I would not have expected you of all people to abide by such customs, what with your propensity for defying the norm.”

“Some customs exist for a reason.” Diluc adjusted his gloves, letting his eyes fall to their familiar design so he didn’t have to look at his brother. “And I see no need for defiance under normal, functional circumstances.”

“Yeah, yeah. There’s no need to get into that spiel again; I can assure you that we all understand.” Kaeya leaned back, now entirely out of Diluc’s sight. “Anyhow, what do you suppose we should do now? You know, since you invited yourself.”

Now, that was a good question.

Somehow, Kaeya managed to rope him into a game of Genius Invokation TCG. It was only after Diluc had fumbled around activity ideas for about fifteen minutes that Kaeya had stood, walked to his room, and returned with his set.

Diluc was by no means bad at the game. It was a useful diplomatic tool when needed, and it was popular enough that he caught wind of any new trends surrounding it within days. He liked to think he was up to date.

But Kaeya was good. Diluc recalled Mondstadt’s tournament not long ago, how Kaeya had placed second. The kid who had beaten him must have been insane, because Diluc was in the middle of being crushed for the fourth time in a row.

“You chose such a bad deck,” Diluc grumbled, waiting for Kaeya to finish his turn. “Those cards have no synergy. How the hell are you winning?”

“The quality of a deck is relative,” Kaeya said, smirking. “And you have much to learn about this game before you even stand a chance.”

In the next game, Diluc beat him.

To be fair, Kaeya had clearly deliberately chosen the worst deck imaginable, but it was in the principle of the matter. Diluc shoved down any insult he’d felt at Kaeya’s deck because he had proven that Kaeya was, in fact, fallible.

“The quality of a deck is relative,” Diluc repeated, smug, as he killed off the last of Kaeya’s characters, “but zero times infinity is still zero.”

“So, I’m infinity?”

“No. You’re zero,” Diluc deadpanned.

Kaeya shrugged, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He began to collect the cards. “Whatever you say.”

They made quick work of cleaning up after their game; the mess was a far cry from how bad it had sometimes been when they were kids. Diluc distinctly remembered sobbing as he searched for the fifty-second card in his own set of playing cards while Kaeya tried and failed to clean up the juice that had been spilled in his urgency.

Yet somehow, things had been simpler then.

But this was progress. This was something, after five years of them being nothing.

If only he had noticed.

‘For family,’ Father had once told Kaeya, twin eyes of flame softening, ‘love is a promise. It is never earned.’

Today, Kaeya had a hard time believing such a generalization.

Not that he doubted Diluc’s loyalty to his family; no, it had nothing to do with the Ragnvindrs at all and everything to do with the Alberich Clan.

His role upon birth had always been that of a pawn. Five hundred years ago, when the Alberich Clan had split down the middle, there had been a conflict of interest. One Kaeya had only pieced together in full very recently.

Finding out he was a ‘descendant’ of the Abyss Order’s founder had slid everything oh-so conveniently into place. Chlothar Alberich, his collateral relative and his father’s uncle, had founded the Abyss Order.

After all, the mastermind was clearly not Anfortas Alberich. No, his grandfather’s and father’s mission was different from, even contrary to that of the Abyss Order. And of course, that was where he came in.

Regardless of noble intentions, both he and his father had been born for a purpose. There had been no love behind their conception, only hope for a nation that had long since been buried under the rubble. And if his father did love him—if his grandfather loved his father—then it changed nothing about what was expected of them.

There was more to that memory between himself and his adoptive father. He’d asked Diluc one morning, just a month after his arrival in Mondstadt, what his purpose was in the family.

At the time, it had been a given to him. Everyone was born for a purpose; for some, it was written in the stars, and for others, it was only the notion in the back of their parents’ mind. The way he saw it, people were always born to fulfill a need, whether they were aware of it or not. Unless they were an accident, which was a concept so foreign to his younger self that he hadn’t even considered it.

Besides, he had a good idea of what Diluc had been born for. He’d seen it in his adoptive father’s eyes.

‘What do you mean?’ Diluc had asked him, barely sparing him a glance as he ran through his warmups. At the time, he had just started trying to prepare for the Knights’ entrance exam even though he had years.

‘You know... why you were born.’

Diluc had shrugged, leaning over to touch his toes. ‘I guess my parents just wanted a baby? I don’t know.’

But he knew there had to have been more to it, so he’d asked Father as well. Father had gotten a peculiar look on his face for a few seconds, one Kaeya had come to recognize years later as the intersection between concern and confusion. Then he’d explained to Kaeya in very plain words what love and family meant to him.

Kaeya hadn’t interrupted him at the time to say that he was wrong, though he had believed it. And today, he found he understood better, if only because of his own love for others. But he still knew Father was wrong in what he had said; his birth father was family, but his love had only ever been earned.

His purpose for being born was being thrust in his face now, and he wondered how he had ever thought he might be beyond it.

How do you expect me to believe nothing can be done?

‘There is nothing I expect you to believe. Humans are rigid, narrow-minded creatures, and you are much the same.’

Yet you claim it to be the case.

‘It is I who knows all, yes.’

Kaeya was at a loss. His Vision pulsed at his side, sending waves of cool cryo energy into his hip. In one swift motion, he detached it from his belt.

He was tired. So very tired.

You’re lying to me.

‘That is not for you to decide.’

If there was only a way to do this in which nobody would be harmed.

He’d spent his whole life thinking his birth father was against Mondstadt—against the people, against humanity, corrupt. But his father’s intentions had always been for the people, for the restoration of what had once been lost.

The truest definition of a leader was one who had to make difficult decisions for the sake of those they love. And Kaeya’s existence, his purpose—that was the decision his father had made.

If he cooperated, then Mondstadt would be spared. Teyvat might come out unscathed. At the very least, he would postpone a centuries-coming calamity unleashed at the hands of his very own blood.

Kaeya’s father had never wished for a conflict between Teyvat and Khaenri’ah. The true conflict had always been between two brothers, Anfortas and Chlothar Alberich. It was humanity versus the Abyss—preservation versus destruction.

A wry smirk emerged on Kaeya’s face at the thought. Such dichotomies were not unfamiliar to him; there were fire and ice, Kaeya and Diluc. Sin and divinity.

His Vision, granted to him by a power even the gods did not understand, bore only two sets of wings. It was the only sign of the innate contradiction that was his status as an allogene.

The wood in his fireplace was a special type of hardwood that burned hotter than any other. He arranged it carefully with handfuls of kindling.

‘This is foolish, Alberich. Nothing will come of these pathetic grabs at freedom.’

For once, he did not respond.

‘You are well aware that this is impossible.’

So was I, he did not say.

The fire roared to life, at first slowly, but then all at once. It burned bright, and for a moment, Kaeya lost himself in it.

He could have almost believed he was outside, rain soaking through his clothes. His ears ringing, mouth numb as he spoke words he couldn’t hear. Only able to watch as his brother’s flame closed in on his face.

When he came back to himself, he was calm. More so than he had ever been before.

Kaeya dropped his Vision into the flames.

It was a final, last-ditch attempt to avoid fate when there were no options left. The moment he had received a Vision, his fate had been engraved into the stars. The stars told him of a choice: he would either choose Mondstadt and die, or he would choose the Abyss and survive.

And Kaeya didn’t want to die.

The flames receded for a moment as his Vision found its place atop the wood, then grew again. He let the dancing sparks burn into his retina, leaving specks of darkness in their wake.

There he sat, mesmerized, for however long it took for the flame to reduce to smoldering embers. Then he reached in, cupping his hands around his soot-covered Vision. He hissed in pain as it burned his bare skin, but any pain soon disappeared into the back of his mind as he wiped the soot away.

The surface of his Vision was still smooth, without a blemish in sight.

A sliver of cryo appeared next to it at his command. It was undamaged.

Kaeya threw it across the room, and it bounced harmlessly off the wall with a small thump.

Fuck you, he said to the Voice in his head.

‘You were adequately forewarned.’

But maybe, just maybe, he was the exception.

He had been hoping that cryo’s polar opposite would be enough to destroy it, but there were other options.

Kaeya stood, brushing his stinging hands off on his pants and leaving his Vision on the floor. Minutes later, he was hauling a large stone in from outside, just large enough to swing. His burnt fingers cried out in protest, but he ignored them.

He dropped to his knees right before the dim glow of his Vision, so visible in the otherwise unilluminated room. His grip tightened on the stone, and he lifted it past his shoulder before bringing it down in one firm motion.

Nothing.

So, he swung it again, and again, and again. Replaced his Vision as it skidded away after every impact, unharmed.

Panting, he swung it again. Something gave way.

Heart racing in his chest, he set the stone aside.

Nothing. Only the floor beneath his Vision was damaged, wood having cracked and splintered beneath his force.

Kaeya exhaled a sharp breath and brought the stone up above his head again.

When he brought it down onto his Vision one last time, it took him a moment to register the pain. But then it hit all at once, and he wrenched his hand out from beneath the stone, gasping.

‘Nothing will come of this other than your own destruction.’

I thought my destruction was already inevitable.

This wasn’t going to go anywhere. He’d known it from the start.

He picked his Vision off the floor and dragged himself to his room, his throbbing hand clutched to his chest and the weight of his fate heavy on his shoulders.

Who are you really? he asked finally, collapsing into bed.

His right eye seemed to pulse as the Voice responded, ‘I am Sin.’

Chapter Text

“How did this happen?” 

Kaeya sighed through his teeth, clearly suppressing pain, as Jean turned his hand over. It was swollen and bruised, and if that wasn’t already enough, it was burned to the point of blistering as well.  

“Well, I learned a tough lesson in not grabbing something with my bare hands straight out of the fire. And I later dropped a rock directly on it—I was helping Bennett search for bugs earlier, and I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been. And you know how things can be with him.”  

Jean didn’t scoff, although she very much wanted to. Barbara’s priority had always been treatment—she would nod her head politely at whatever the patient said, so long as it kept them still long enough for her Vision to work its magic. And Jean had a lot to learn from her sister’s expertise.  

She made quick work of Kaeya’s left hand, but his right was another matter. The burns healed up rather well, but the fractures would take a few days before all was in working order again. Once she was content to note that his bones had mostly returned to their natural state, she reluctantly came to a stop. There was only so much healing a body could take, and she could already sense Kaeya’s lagging behind. 

“You should go to the cathedral tomorrow if you wish to wield your sword any earlier than this Saturday,” Jean declared.  

Kaeya flexed his fingers, visibly stifling a wince at the movement. The fact that he could move them at all was already an improvement. “Everyone in the Knights of Favonius knows I’m ambidextrous, Jean.” 

Jean gave him a flat expression.  

“Oh, come on. I’m sure I could make it work. Some people’s ambidexterity is trained, you know.” 

“In four days.” 

“I’m a fast learner.” 

He looked into her eyes with the utmost sincerity he could muster—a look which Jean had learned to associate with him being up to no good at all. “Yeah, no. You’re welcome to sign off on all the documents you want with your left hand, though. If you feel so inclined.” She handed him a thin stack of papers. “This month’s supply of training equipment. Your favorite.” 

“Yippee,” Kaeya said flatly. He took the papers without complaint, though, and was soon off to his own office as if nothing had ever happened. 

Jean’s eyes lingered at the door even after it swung shut, and she sighed into her hand. She really did worry about him sometimes.

Diluc wasn’t good with kids.  

Somehow, nobody seemed to believe him when he said it. As if someone like him needed to explain at all why he was not to be trusted around children. He was like a dark storm cloud hanging heavy in the sky on his best days.  

Which was why it was especially perplexing that Kaeya was so persistent about him spending time with Klee. 

It wasn’t that Diluc didn’t want to spend time with Klee—she was endearing, he couldn’t deny, even if she was a troublemaker and a half—but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. At all. And he had things to do, so he didn’t have time for it anyway. 

Except that he couldn’t use that excuse because he had taken himself to Kaeya’s house. There was no way Kaeya would believe he had no time on his hands.  

“You want me to do what.”  

Kaeya smirked, flicking his coin up and catching it midair. “You know, Master Diluc, you’d think I’d asked you to kill a kid with how you’re reacting.” 

“Just Diluc.” His fingers tightened against his crossed arms. “And, Sir Kaeya, you know very well how bad of an idea this is.” 

Kaeya’s expression turned thoughtful in a way Diluc knew was teasingly performative. Then he said matter-of-factly, “Nah. I don’t see it.” 

So, that was how Diluc ended up knocking on Albedo’s front door with a basket of spices and some of Klee’s toys hanging on his arm. He had no idea what had possessed Kaeya to ask him of all people to do this, much less why Kaeya hadn’t done it himself. Most of the spices were of Sumeru and Liyue origin, leading him to believe that Kaeya had gotten them while on a work trip, and Diluc knew Kaeya was usually all for giving people his gifts and souvenirs directly.  

Thankfully, Albedo was actually home. Diluc’s intel told him that was a rare occurrence these days, but he supposed Kaeya wouldn’t have sent him here if he’d been expecting Albedo to be all the way on Dragonspine. 

“Mr. Diluc,” Albedo said. “What brings you here today?” If he was at all surprised to see Diluc at his door, he didn’t show it.  

“You can forego honorifics.” Diluc took the basket in both hands, eyeing the space behind Albedo and waiting for a conspicuous bundle of energy to hurtle in. “Kaeya asked me to bring you this.” 

“I see.” Albedo took the basket, examining the spice bottles within with his usual analytical gaze. “I suppose he intended me to pass these on to Alice next time she visits. Her taste in cuisine is almost as explosive as her personality... and I must admit I am not much of a cook myself.” 

Diluc shrugged, suddenly aware that he didn’t know what to do with his hands now that he didn’t have the basket to hold. “Some of Klee’s toys are in there too.” 

At the mention of her name, the child in question burst into the room, socked feet thudding sliding against the wooden floor as she came to a stop right next to Albedo. “My what?” she cried, much louder than necessary. 

Albedo seemed unperturbed by the sudden change in atmosphere. “Some of your old toys, Klee. You lost most of these over the past few years.” He handed her one—a little stuffed pufferfish—and said just loud enough for Diluc to hear, “Do you want to come in? I sense there may be something you wish to discuss.” Klee oohed and ahhed over the pufferfish, ignoring their words.  

“No,” Diluc said reflexively. Then he stopped, thought for half a second, and said, “Yes. If it wouldn’t be an inconvenience.” 

Albedo nodded and stepped in, gesturing into his house. “Come on in, then. I’ll be just a moment; you can make yourself comfortable.”  

While Albedo headed off into another room with Klee, presumably to set the basket down, Diluc stood behind their sofa. He did not sit on it—there was an odd bundle of fur on it that looked suspiciously like a cat, and it looked like it was sleeping. There was no way he was going to disturb its slumber. 

Wait... since when did Albedo have a cat?  

“That’s Mister Cinnamon,” Klee announced as she returned to the room, oddly perceptive to his confusion. “He’s kinda grumpy when you wake him from a nap, so you should be careful.” 

“Mister Cinnamon,” Diluc echoed, a small smile creeping onto his face. “That’s a nice name.” The cat’s coat was grey with stripes of black, with only the faintest hint of brown, so the meaning behind it was lost on him.  

“Albedo said that it’s not a very good name since it makes him sound way more fancy than he really is, but Kaeya thought it was really funny.”  

Diluc nodded along, listening carefully. “How long have you had him?” 

Klee brightened. She lifted a hand and counted her extended fingers one by one, mouthing numbers as she went. “Six weeks!” she exclaimed suddenly. “Klee found him outside in the alleyway, and he was covered in cinnamon for some reason. Actually, Albedo said cats shouldn’t eat cinnamon, so Kaeya said maybe it was a torture method made pacifically—” She paused, “—specifically for cats!” 

Archons, what was Kaeya teaching this kid? “That’s... interesting,” Diluc said, eyeing the ball of fluff on the sofa. Something deep within him suddenly ached to reach out and pet it, and he suppressed the urge. It was sleeping. Of course he wouldn’t pet it.  

“Interesting indeed,” came a voice from across the room. It seemed Albedo had emptied the spices from the basket, leaving only Klee’s old toys; he set it down, leaving it entirely at Klee’s mercy as he approached Diluc. “Although if you ask me, I think he got into someone’s food storage and escaped once he realized his mistake.” 

A look of silent understanding passed between them. Klee, now occupied with her newly found toys, wouldn’t notice their conversation so long as they kept it calm.  

Albedo leaned over to pick up Mister Cinnamon, only for the cat to hiss at him and leap out of his arms, then disappear into the kitchen. Klee took brief notice to this and called, “Don’t get into the cinnamon!” 

Well, that left the sofa free.  

Now sitting, Diluc took a brief moment to organize his thoughts before asking, “Has Kaeya been acting weird lately?” 

Albedo’s expression, as usual, betrayed no hint of surprise. “Weird in what way? I’m afraid Captain Kaeya has always had a rather eccentric personality.” 

“Oh, just... different from usual. Anything of note at all.” 

Albedo hummed. “I can’t say I pay close attention to his work, but he does not seem to be behind presently. As for his interactions with others... well, the only thing I must note is that he has not once stopped by in the past week.” 

Diluc crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on his elbow, thinking. “How often does he normally visit?” 

“At least every three days,” Albedo answered. “He’s relatively consistent about it. Klee has been worried about his absence—the last time she saw him was when they both visited the Dawn Winery, as I’m sure you remember.” 

Nodding, Diluc continued, “Then it is certainly odd that he sent me here when he is otherwise unoccupied.” He shot a look at Klee, who was still playing happily on the floor, then back at Albedo, whose expression was still blank. “Did something happen between the two of you, then?” 

“Nothing I am aware of. Shall I ask him tomorrow at work? Or do you suspect something else is amiss?” 

Diluc sighed. “I’m not quite sure what I think. But yes, please do ask—you will likely get through to him faster than I will.”

When Diluc returned, Kaeya didn’t seem to pay a second thought to the odd situation he had put Diluc in. “How was Klee?”  

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” 

Kaeya managed to look a little hurt by that. “Come on, Diluc. It was only a question.” 

“She’s fine.” Silence. “She was happy to see her old toys back.” 

“Good, that’s good. I spent three hours yesterday searching for them. Barbatos knows how she got one of them stuck underneath—” 

“What’s up with you?” Diluc interrupted. 

“H-huh?” Kaeya blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting to be called out now of all times. “Nothing, Diluc. Everything’s normal.” 

“Why did you send me to visit Klee? Why not go yourself—or at least accompany me. I don’t understand, Kaeya.”  

“Fine, fine. You caught me.” Kaeya put his hands up in surrender. “I hoped to facilitate a closer bond between the two of you. Are you good with children, Diluc?” 

“You know that I—” Diluc cut himself off, refusing to give in to Kaeya’s avoidance tactics. “A closer bond. Between me and Klee.”  

“ You heard me right.” 

There had to be more to it than that.  

And if Diluc wanted to bypass Kaeya’s impassable guard, he was going to have to keep pushing. He wasn’t going to let his brother hold another secret until his breaking point—never again. But for now, Kaeya’s guard was up, so he knew there was nothing he could do.  

“Adelinde said I should make sure you get dinner,” Diluc said suddenly, breaking the silence. “If you have anything in your kitchen, I don’t plan on disappointing her.” 

“Of course not,” Kaeya said, smiling just barely. “Although you can let her know she needn’t worry about me so much. I am no longer the helpless child she once knew.”  

“I’ll let her know.” Diluc removed his gloves and wondered how true Kaeya’s words actually were. Was he taking care of himself like an adult? The cleanliness of his house seemed to point in that direction, at least, but his drinking sometimes bordered on irresponsible on the worse days. Thankfully, he’d been slowing down lately. “So, what do you want?” 

Kaeya leaned a hand on his fist, smirking. “I wasn’t aware you could cook, Master Diluc. But anything’s fine. It’s not good to be selective with others’ kindnesses, is it?”  

Diluc sighed and didn’t bother responding. Instead, he started rummaging through the cupboards. One was empty, one near it, and in the next there were a few essentials. Some potatoes, which he could work with. “Where are your spices?” 

“Where do you think?” 

Was it at all necessary for Kaeya to dance around even the simplest of questions? Diluc opened the last cupboard and found some oil and eggs. Then he started checking through the drawers. There, too, there were no spices. 

So, he’d sent all of them to Albedo? That was weird.  

In his perusals of the kitchen, he’d only found oil, eggs, potatoes, flour, and some old, wrinkled apples that he was skeptical to touch. And tea and copious amounts of wine, but Diluc wasn’t sure how he was going to make dinner out of that.  

“Don’t you at least have salt?” 

“In the drawer to the left of the sink.” 

At least he had salt.  

“You know, Diluc,” Kaeya said from the table, still smirking into his hand. It was as if he got some sick joy out of watching Diluc flounder about uselessly. “You don’t have to cook me dinner. I don’t cook much myself, as you can surely tell.” 

Diluc set Kaeya’s one cutting board down on the counter, along with a few potatoes. “Don’t you eat?” 

“Of course I eat. A knight needs his sustenance. There’s no rule that meals must be consumed at one’s residence, as far as I’m aware.” 

That was a concept wholly unfamiliar to Diluc. He ate every meal in, if he could help it; aside from the time commitment it was to go to a restaurant, Adelinde’s cooking was what he was used to anyway. And he could imagine how expensive it was for someone with a lower income than his. His years away had taught him that much. 

There was nothing to grate the potatoes with, so Diluc made do with the sharpest knife he could find. He peeled them and cut each one into the smallest slivers he could manage. Adelinde had made these dozens of times, though he had never made them himself, so all he could do was try to replicate the process. 

Next, he threw in some eggs and flour, as well as an amount of salt that seemed appropriate. Very soon, he was scooping the mixture into hot oil in batches and waiting for it to fry. 

The entire time, Kaeya never stopped watching him. There was the smallest of smiles on his face and a distant look in his eye. Diluc would’ve asked him to help out but felt he shouldn’t interrupt whatever Kaeya was thinking about. It was rare to see him look so content. 

The smell was a bit off, but Diluc supposed it was to be expected given the ingredients he’d had to work with. He was sure there were at least onions in these when Adelinde made them. He plated them warm and made to set the steaming plate of them in front of Kaeya when his foot caught something and he stumbled. 

Somehow, he managed to save the food from splatting gracelessly the floor, though it was a close call. He set it down and glared at the broken wooden board that was responsible. “What happened to your floor?” 

“Oh, you know... heavy objects and cheap wooden flooring don’t exactly mix.” 

Diluc gave him a flat look. “Right.” 

“Reibekuchen?” Kaeya said, changing the topic as conspicuously as he possibly could. “My, I suppose you do know your way around the kitchen.” 

Diluc ignored his comment; it definitely didn’t seem like the compliment it was disguised as. “Do you have any sugar, at least?” he asked. “Otherwise, these will have to be plain.” 

Kaeya shrugged mildly, breaking a piece of one off and popping it in his mouth. He barely winced despite how hot they surely were. “If you didn’t see any, I probably don’t.” 

“Jam?” 

Kaeya gave him a blank stare, still chewing. 

“Right.” 

They weren’t so bad plain, all things considered. Diluc had eaten worse during his time away from Mond, and Kaeya had no room to judge since it was his lack of ingredients at fault. 

The two of them exchanged no words while they ate. Diluc stared into the plate while Kaeya seemed to stare straight through him. Each movement was robotic, as if he wasn’t even paying attention to the food in front of him. 

He didn’t ask if Kaeya was okay. But maybe he should have.

People were beginning to notice.  

The only blip in his façade had been hurting his hands, but only Jean knew about that. He’d been extremely careful to not let a single person know about that if they didn’t have to.  

There were a few things he could trace this back to. Perhaps Diluc was more perceptive than he let on, or Albedo knew something about what was going on. Or Rosaria had told him, but Kaeya doubted that. 

“My, Albedo—with the way you asked me that out of the blue, you’d think you picked up on something about me nobody else has noticed. Care to enlighten me?”  

Kaeya watched as Albedo’s thought process ran clear through his eyes. For how well he kept his expression in check, Kaeya found that his eyes betrayed more than most noticed. Whenever thinking through an especially difficult question, his eyes would move minutely as if he was visualizing equations in the air around him. He was doing that now. It was a clear sign that he knew more than he let on, and he was trying to figure out how far he could push.  

“I simply thought it odd that you sent Diluc in your stead to visit yesterday.”  

“Oh, that? I can—”  

“Have I wronged you, Kaeya?”  

Oh. Okay. He hadn’t been expecting that. What sort of awful signals had he been giving if Albedo of all people was doubting himself?  “No, no. Not at all. I’m just busy. I’d visit if I could.”  

“Klee misses you,” Albedo said.  

Ouch. “I’ll visit when I can. Tell her that. How is she liking having her old toys back, by the way?”  

Albedo sighed. “She is very glad to have them back but wonders why you did not deliver them yourself.”  

“I—”  

“Mr. Albedo!” came a voice from down the hall. Sucrose’s head of green hair peeked out from behind the alchemy lab’s door. “You told me to come get you when it’s bubbling!”  

Kaeya would never cease to be impressed by how much more confident Sucrose was when she was in her element. In any other context, he doubted she would’ve been able to shout so loud in the first place.  

“I suppose I’ll be off,” Albedo said, nodding at Sucrose before turning back to Kaeya. “I’m heading to Dragonspine again tomorrow evening. She’ll need company. I hope you won’t be so busy that you can’t help out.”   

Well, shit. That put a wrench in his plans. 

There was no chance Kaeya was going to spend any time with Klee tomorrow. Not if he could help it. He couldn’t risk her bearing witness to what was about to happen. Not if he didn’t even know when to expect it.  

As it turned out, it was hard to concentrate while so horribly aware of what was to come. And there was a lot to do: for starters, he had to make sure all the vital things were taken care of so as to not leave the Knights scrambling. Then there was the task of disposing of any suspicious personal items, of which he thankfully had very few. And, of course, there was the whole idea of leaving on a positive note.  

He half expected to see some Abyss Order on his patrol, or any sign that he had been spotted, but there was none. It was oddly anticlimactic, really. He would’ve loved to spill some Order guts while he still had the chance, Jean’s orders not to use his hand be damned. His hand felt fine, thank you very much.  

There was this one bandit leader outside the city he’d been leaving to his own devices for a while out of amusement, and Kaeya finally reported him to the Knights. They were going to have a harder time dealing with the treasure hoarders once he was gone, so he may as well make it easier for them.  

And when he returned to his office to flip through whatever documents were left unsigned, it was with an achingly hollow feeling in his chest. The only sensation was waiting.  

So long, he’d been waiting—waiting to betray Mondstadt, waiting for everything he knew to slip between his fingers like fine grains of sand. Now, he could only wait for the end.  

He needed a drink. 

Diluc was standing in for Charles today. That meant hours upon hours of the harsh smell of alcohol against his nose and drunken patrons rambling nonsense. He couldn’t say he enjoyed it, but Charles deserved a day off every once in a while.  

Once, months ago, he would’ve dreaded it more. It would’ve meant seeing his brother again, watching as he either narrowly avoided self-destruction or made a complete nuisance of himself. Knowing that Kaeya was better than that, questioning if he was right in thinking it. 

But Kaeya had been coming here less and less over the past few weeks. Diluc wasn’t even sure the last time he’d seen his brother beyond mildly tipsy. And their arguments—the ones where Kaeya knew just how to get to him and every drunken word that slipped past his lips only aggravated Diluc further—were dropping in frequency. So, Diluc didn’t dread that part as much anymore. And that was great, because Kaeya was here today. 

He’d ordered a plain Dandelion Wine, then headed off to a table against the wall. Minutes later, Diluc had prepared Rosaria’s order, and she’d gone to sit by him.  

There was absolutely nothing unusual about today, so Diluc couldn’t explain why every fiber in his body was screaming that something was wrong.   

A man Diluc didn’t recognize came up to the bar. Probably here for trade from Liyue, if his clothes were anything to go by. “I’ll have a Death After Noon,” the man said, brown eyes scanning the room with curiosity. “I have never been to the Angel’s Share tavern before, but I must commend you, Ragnvindr; its atmosphere is truly one of a kind.” 

Diluc began to prepare the drink, humming in thought. “Is it? Or is it perhaps the drinks that led you here?” 

The man laughed boisterously. “You got me there. I heard from a fellow traveler that I must taste your Death After Noon before I die. A morbid thought, but I thought I’d entertain it while I’m passing by!”  

“I was wondering why you chose this over our classic Dandelion Wine,” Diluc said mildly, setting the glass down in front of the man. The pale yellow of the drink seemed to shimmer in the tavern’s dim lighting. “Enjoy your stay in Mondstadt.” 

“You bet I will,” the man said, taking a sip of his drink already and sending Diluc a wink. 

That was one of many customers. Diluc gave himself a moment to sigh, roll his shoulders, and wash his hands before the last of the evening crowd rolled in. And when they did, it became the perfect time for everything to fall to pieces out of his sight. 

Poison. How original.  

It burned going down, in a very different way than the alcohol Kaeya was used to. If he had any chance of survival, he might’ve wondered what it was made of.  

How long did poisons typically take to set in after ingestion? It would take his body at least a few minutes to begin to process it, he knew. But already, he could feel himself breaking out into a sweat.  

He drained the rest of his glass in one gulp, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m not feeling my best right now,” he said to Rosaria, swaying a bit to come across as more drunk than he really was. “I might just head home and try to sleep this off.” 

“What, is your tolerance really getting that much worse?” Rosaria teased, running a metal claw over the rim of her glass. “Don’t tell me you need help getting home again. That was meant to be Venti’s job this time.” 

“ That was never Venti’s job,” Kaeya said, slurring slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. A burning pain blossomed behind his sternum, and he suppressed the urge to cough. “Anyway. I won’t be needing assistance, so you can enjoy your night in peace, Rosaria.” 

As good last words as any. He deposited his empty glass at the bar with only half a glance at his brother—any more and he might just hesitate. There was no dodging this, no use thinking there was hope to begin with. 

Heat seemed to roll off him in waves as he approached the door, and the night air did little to cool him. With a hand clutched to the side of his aching chest, he started home. 

On a normal day, the walk would’ve taken Kaeya ten minutes. But today, it seemed to stretch on infinitely, each step multiplying the distance between him and his peace. His legs soon trembled beneath his weight. Everything went fuzzy. 

He needed to find his way home. This was happening far too fast. 

Someone might have stopped to talk to him. He wasn’t sure. He said something, turned, and ran. 

Nobody could see this. Tomorrow, he would be found—but tonight, he needed to be alone.  

His heart was burning a hole in his chest. He collapsed, his knees crashing against cobblestone. The world around him was dark. Something hot and acidic spilled from his mouth and, for a moment, he thought he was choking.  

How painful was dying supposed to be? 

I’m not ready, he tried, speaking to no one; nobody answered. Pain lanced through his limbs, through his chest and up to his head.  

Then there were hands. Touching him, and he didn’t know where, only that they were warm. Too warm. He wrenched himself out of their grip, pressing himself against the cool stone ground. His collar was soaked in something wet. It was warm, too warm, and he clawed at it, begging it to disappear.  

Voices. Kaeya shivered, then wondered why he was shivering if the world was in flames around him.  

“No, you can’t—” He coughed. “I’m dying.” I’m meant to die. Please. Go away.  

The flames were licking at his skin now, burning. It was a familiar sensation. Burning hair, burning eyes, burning passion. Burning him.    

And then, in one final blissful moment, everything whited out. 

Chapter Text

‘I needed more time.’

The first thing that came back to Kaeya was sound. It was muffled, at first. Everything seemed to give off a collective hum that would sometimes grow louder and softer with no discernible end or beginning. 

He waited an eternity before this sound became clearer, until it seemed to be buzzing inside his very skull. Then the voices came, distantly familiar yet drifting in and out like waves on the beach. 

“—fever, we need to—”  

Waves crashed into the sand, rolling up until the water just barely reached his feet. He watched, mesmerized, as the water receded again. The blue of the ocean sparkled in the sunlight, and he dug his toes into the warm sand. 

“—happened! He was—”  

He rolled up the legs of his pants and waded deeper into the water, until the coolness of the ocean rose to his knees. Another wave sent a surge of cold water as high as his waist. He didn’t mind. 

This place in-between—it was better. He would stay here forever if he could. When the cycle began again, he would only experience the same mortal grievances over and over again. This was his intermission.  

In the water, his reflection shimmered up at him. It might have been five years old, drenched in rain, visible eye wide with terror. Or it might have been six, seven, eight. Eighteen, deep bags under his eye carefully concealed with a charming smile. Eleven, and maybe there was a shimmer of red next to him, grinning. If he concentrated, he could almost hear childish laughter.  

Why am I here? he thought to himself. I wasn’t ready yet.  

The world around him seemed to flicker in response. He leaned closer to the shimmering reflection of red, fingertips grazing the surface of the water. 

A wave pulled him under. 

Voices reached his ears again, muffled by the water around him.  

“—Vision!”  

For several perilous seconds, he didn’t know which way was up. Then he realized he didn’t need to know, so he kicked and kicked until the chilly water replaced itself with a warm embrace, one of familiarity. 

“Barbatos, please, I don’t—”   

I’m not ready, he tried again, and the warmth was becoming painful. It burned; he could feel his flesh sizzling, could smell the fire. It burned him from the inside out, and he was choking. 

That was when he heard her. 

“Kaeya, oh thank the Archons, Kaeya—” 

He knew that voice, he realized.  

“Jean,” he said, and the fire burned his throat.  

Slowly, he began to see again. 

At first, it was light. Pure whiteness. Then some shapes began to move, blurry, then sharper. 

Where was he? 

When was he? 

Clearly, he had died. He must’ve restarted the cycle, then, and where did that leave him? Did time always start from the beginning? No, time was never a sequence to begin with. Only a collection of occurrences that change depending on perspective. He had to remember that.  

Jean looked about the same. He couldn’t quite focus his eye on her face, check for those little creases she’d developed after years of stress. Next to her was Barbara. 

Now he knew. He was seventeen. That would explain why everything burned, why he could see the ceiling of the Favonius Cathedral above him. Why Diluc wasn’t here. 

Wait—Jean was talking. He should listen.  

“—us what happened?” Jean was saying. Her form split into two, then merged together again. He squinted.  

“Uhh,” he said. “No?” 

“Can you tell us what happened?” she repeated.  

“Um.” He became aware of the sensation of something wet on his forehead. It slid down as he rolled onto his side, and Jean pushed it back up. “I got hurt?” 

Jean shot a look at Barbara. Come to think of it, Barbara looked a lot older than twelve. That was odd.  

“No,” Jean said. “Not really.” 

“Oh.” 

Barbara stepped up, taking the wet thing off his forehead and putting it somewhere he couldn’t see. “You seem to have been poisoned, Sir Kaeya. If you could tell us anything about how it happened, it would greatly help us in curing you.” 

Cure? 

“No, no, no.” Kaeya swatted Barbara’s hand away as she moved to place the cloth back. “Don’t cure me.” 

Another glance between sisters. Kaeya wondered where his own sibling was. Diluc shouldn’t have left the country by now. Maybe he was quitting the Knights at this very moment. He laughed mirthlessly.  

“Why not?” Jean was asking now, and her hand was rubbing gentle circles over his.  

“I’m dying,” Kaeya explained. Barbara got the better of him and put the cloth there. It did make him feel better, so he stopped protesting.  

Barbara and Jean started talking to each other, but their voices seemed to drift away. Kaeya sighed, sinking into the sheets beneath him. Something felt wrong. He felt... present. 

A figure walked in and joined him, sitting at the foot of the bed. Kaeya didn’t bother to look up. He knew who it was. 

I’m not dead.  

‘You will die.’  

Not now?  

‘That is not for you to know.’  

Kaeya scoffed. Asshole.  

‘Your ultimate fate is written in the stars, Alberich, but the paths may wind insofar as they are made to wind.’  

You’re not making any sense.  

‘It is—’  

He shut his eye and ignored the Voice. If he wasn’t dead now, he wasn’t against waiting a bit longer. And if he was going to wait, he saw no reason to talk to this thing any longer.

It was astounding how quickly things went downhill. One moment, Jean was flipping through expense reports and blinking through the dryness of her eyes; the next, a lower-ranking Knight was bursting into her office and telling her urgently that she had been summoned to the cathedral. 

Those words, of course, never boded well. She could count on one hand the number of times she had been summoned there with such haste, and every single one had shaken her to her core. 

And when she learned that it was Kaeya, she found that she was not surprised. What was behind it was another matter. She had expected that one of these days he would wind up severely injured in combat after one too many reckless pursuits, but this was different.  

After Jean threw around some orders to make sure the only people tasked with caring Kaeya were people she trusted, Barbara quickly ran her through what they’d found out. He appeared to have ingested a toxic substance of some sort. There was some alcohol in his system, but it was negligible. His life was in danger. Diluc would be back soon; he was looking for Albedo because they needed someone with potions knowledge, and he was surely awake at this hour. 

And thus began the single most terrifying hour of Jean’s life. She watched as her younger sister and the other healers toiled over Kaeya’s prone form, searching for the source of his ailment. She dared not step closer; no matter how much she wanted to help, her healing abilities stopped at things she could see. Here, all the damage was internal.  

His fever was high, and he drifted in and out of consciousness, each time more delirious than the last. And when his Vision flickered for the first time, Jean thought she was going to faint. 

After Barbara sat her down on the floor next to Kaeya’s bed with a glass of cold water, she learned for the first time that a Vision could flicker without its allogene’s heart stopping. Kaeya’s elemental energy was disrupted, Barbara explained in gentle words.  

They got no information out of his feverish mumblings by the time Diluc returned with Albedo, whose ruffled hair told her he had just been roused from sleep. Jean’s fingers were still trembling around her full glass of water, now lukewarm.  

“How is he?” Diluc asked. His voice was deceptively level—Jean could see the wild look in his eyes.  

“Still in and out,” Barbara answered softly. She picked up a bowl of water from next to Kaeya’s bed, the ice in it long since melted. “He’s stable, but his improvement has stagnated. I’m going to go get some more supplies. Sister Rosaria should be here soon, and until then, Sister Edna is just outside, should you need assistance.” She met eyes with Jean for half a second before hurrying around the curtain.  

“It’s a poison?” Albedo said as soon as her footsteps faded, already approaching Kaeya’s bedside. He put a hand on his chin in thought. “Please tell me all you know.” 

And so, Jean explained everything she had pieced together—about the elemental flow in his body, the ingestion.  

“I see,” Albedo hummed. “While I do have some suspicions, it would be valuable to know the circumstances in which this occurred before I jump to conclusions. If this is related to the Ley Lines, I’m afraid I may be out of my depth.” 

Diluc lingered a few steps away from Kaeya’s bed, watching as he shifted restlessly in his sleep. Jean wished he would get closer, if only to admit his true feelings to himself. “It happened at Angel’s Share,” he said. “I was there, but I did not witness it.” His fingers tightened around crossed arms.  

“How long ago?” 

“Two hours, roughly.” 

“His body has likely absorbed it entirely, then. Whether a cure is needed remains to be seen—it is entirely possible that his body will flush it out on its own.” 

“I would rather not take such a risk,” Jean interjected. “The poison is of unknown origin. It was likely with the intent to kill, or at least incapacitate.” 

Diluc nodded, his eyes flickering again to the unconscious figure on the bed. “If the culprit wished to manipulate or take advantage of him in any way, they chose the wrong drug.” 

Albedo picked up Kaeya’s Vision from the bedside table and removed his glove, running a bare finger over it. “Still cool,” he said under his breath. “You said it flickered?” 

“Before they stabilized him,” Jean confirmed. “His heart rate and breathing were both elevated at the time, and he did not require resuscitation.” 

Albedo set Kaeya’s vision down again with a gentle click on wood. “I have an idea of what this may be about. Might you know of Lisa’s current whereabouts?” 

“She should be asleep by now,” Jean said, peering out the cathedral window. Although the glass was tinted, it was clear how late it was by the lack of light streaming in. “But please do wake her. Kaeya isn’t in the clear yet, so we need all hands on deck.” 

“Understood.”

Diluc didn’t know what he was doing anymore. 

He had been sitting by Kaeya’s bedside for the better part of the night, waiting in vain for his brother to become lucid. But every period of brief wakefulness had Kaeya delirious at best, and entirely indecipherable at worst.  

He hadn’t seen Kaeya this ill since they were kids. When they’d pulled him out of that late summer storm, chilled to the bone and caked in mud, half-conscious. That night that had changed everything.  

But this was different. This fever was no ordinary infection; it was as if the cryo core within Kaeya was melting.  

Nobody else was here right now. The sun was just barely beginning to shine in through the windows. Diluc brushed a damp strand of hair away from his brother’s forehead and pressed the back of his hand to the hot skin.  

The fever was going down. Diluc hadn’t been sure before, but he was now.  

He sighed, dropping his hand but not tearing his eyes off the vulnerable form of his little brother. 

Over the past few years, it had been all too easy to forget that Kaeya was breakable. Every emotion was carefully managed, so that even if Diluc could recognize them, he would never think to disrupt the precarious balance. Every injury was shrugged off with an easy smile and misleading words. Even when he was drunk, Kaeya seemed to withdraw the moment the cracks in his mask seemed to deepen.  

How could Diluc have forgotten how Kaeya had looked that night, bleeding in the rain?  

How could he let this happen? 

Inadequacy burned in his gut. He slumped in his chair, elbows on his knees and hands clasped behind his neck.  

What a failure of an older brother he was. 

“Mr. Ragnvindr,” came a voice from the curtain. A young-looking nun came in, and Diluc didn’t recognize her at all. “I sent word to Miss Adelinde of Dawn Winery, as you requested.” 

He blinked in surprise, straightening his posture. When had he asked her to do that? “Thank you. And you may call me Diluc. While I am here, I am a guest of the Church.” And he didn’t want to hear the words ‘Mr. Ragnvindr’ ever again if he could help it. The honor of holding that name had been buried along with his father. 

As the nun left, Diluc peered over at Kaeya again. His face was pulled into a grimace, as if he was in pain. The faintest of sounds escaped from his lips. 

“Kaeya?” Diluc tried. 

“Mm?” Kaeya shifted to the side, cracking his eye open. “Oh.”  

“It’s me.” 

Kaeya, for how pallid and sickly he looked, managed to pull off his usual smirk surprisingly well. “I can see that.” 

Diluc pulled his chair as close to the bed as it would go, until his knees were pressed into the edge of the mattress. “How are you feeling?” 

“Hmm.” Kaeya squinted at something behind Diluc. “Dunno. Bad?” 

That was to be expected. “You’re still running a fever, not to mention the other symptoms, so you’ll be stuck here for the time being.” 

Kaeya stuck out his tongue like a petulant child, not deigning to respond.  

Since Kaeya seemed more lucid now than he had been yet, Diluc mentally drew up the list of questions he’d filed away for later. “Do you remember what happened?” 

“Ehh—kinda?” 

Diluc waited for his brother to continue. Kaeya appeared to begin drifting off into the void after a few moments, so Diluc snapped his fingers. “Don’t sleep.” 

“So rude,” Kaeya grumbled. “Um. What was it again?” 

“Do you remember what happened?” Diluc repeated with more patience than he was aware he had.  

Kaeya frowned, shifting until his face was half-smothered by his pillow. His position made his already mumbled words even harder to understand. “Poison. I think. My drink was sooo bad, but I thought you were just having an off day.” 

“Flattering.” 

“You know it.” 

“Anyway,” Diluc continued, moving onto the next item on the list. If Kaeya was unsure if it was poison, he likely didn’t know what it was made of. “What are you feeling right now?” 

“All gross,” Kaeya said, making a movement that almost could’ve been a shrug. “Hot and sticky. And it feels like I’m burning?” 

“Burning?” 

“Like from the inside. In my chest.” He made a vague movement toward his chest, but his arm flopped back onto the bed halfway there. 

That was new and definitely had the potential to be helpful. They were getting somewhere.  

“Anything else?” 

“What is this, an interrogation?” Kaeya said, but his words had no bite. In fact, his voice sounded weaker than before. “No.” 

Something in Diluc really wanted to press more, but he knew it wasn’t wise right now. Not when Kaeya’s brow shone with a new sheen of sweat and his eye almost seemed glazed over with fever. 

So instead, he reached over for a glass of water that had been waiting on the bedside table. Barbara had managed to coax small amounts down Kaeya’s throat earlier, but not nearly enough to replenish the fluids he was losing through sweat. He leaned closer, helping Kaeya to sit up and holding the glass out to him; he didn’t let go, even when Kaeya gripped it with both hands, which earned him a little noise of displeasure.  

Once the glass was drained, Diluc let Kaeya sleep. 

“I’m sorry, but would you step outside for a moment? I need to speak with Jean,” Barbara said, eyes flitting to the side nervously. “Alone.” 

Apparently, Diluc wasn’t listed under Kaeya’s family contacts, while Jean was. That meant any confidential patient information had to be exchanged while he was out of the room.   

And that hurt almost as much as when he’d first heard Kaeya was changing his surname to Alberich. 

“That reminds me,” Jean said, her brief apologetic expression disappearing in seconds. “I was going to send Sister Rosaria to retrieve some items from Kaeya’s place, but she’s currently helping Albedo and Lisa at Headquarters. If you could—” 

“I’ll do it.” 

Kaeya’s place was different in the morning. Diluc had never seen it before the early evening, but the way the sun came in during the early hours seemed to emphasize how empty the whole place felt.  

The first door Diluc opened turned out to be the bathroom, so the one across from it had to be Kaeya’s bedroom. He took a deep breath before turning the knob and pushing it open. 

He didn’t know what he had been expecting, really, but it wasn’t this. 

It wasn’t the blackout curtains or the hideous mess of the bed—no, Diluc could’ve predicted those. It wasn’t the overflowing wardrobe, either. It was the stacks of boxes, piled halfway up the wall, some sealed and some still open.  

An uneasy feeling settled in his chest. He shuffled carefully around the boxes until he reached the window, where he drew the curtains open, illuminating the room in full.  

Nope. It didn’t look any better in daylight. 

Below the window was a stack of wooden parts and screws that must have once been Kaeya’s desk. If he was taking it apart—was he moving? Was that it? What reason did Kaeya have to move to another house? 

Diluc had to remind himself he was here to find his brother a few spare changes of clothes. He wasn’t here to judge him for his life choices. He’d relinquished that privilege years ago.  

Kaeya’s wardrobe was a mess, but thankfully still full. It didn’t take Diluc long to find a few comfortable-looking white shirts and the least miserably tight pants he could find. After a moment’s hesitation, he rummaged through the underclothes drawer as well.  

A few minutes later, he had a decently sized pile of clothes in his arms with nowhere to put it. But looking at all the boxes in this room, he bet he’d be able to find a travel bag somewhere. It looked like everything Kaeya had ever owned was in this room.  

The first box yielded nothing of use—it was full of winter clothing, and Diluc could only wonder why Kaeya had seven different sets of winter gloves. It seemed a tad excessive, considering he only needed them for a few weeks of the year anyway.  

The next was full of seemingly work-related files and supplies. Nothing of use. But the third box made him stop in his tracks, hand hovering over the items inside with trepidation.  

Where did Kaeya get this?  

Fifteen years ago, Diluc had had a little stuffed hawk. It was old and worn, a gift from his mother, who had since disappeared. He had cried and cried when he lost it, wailing apologies at his father, who failed to suppress his own discomfort despite telling Diluc it wasn’t his fault.  

This one was the same, albeit newer. Much less worn. Attached to it:  

To D:

Happy birthday. I thought  

It stopped, an abandoned thought. Diluc’s eyes lingered on the unfinished phrase, wondering. 

It was summer now; April had passed a few months ago. Clearly, something had stopped Kaeya from giving this to him. He wondered how long he’d been holding onto it.  

His gloved finger brushed a stray thread on the wing as he pondered the hawk. It was just as he remembered from his early childhood, before he’d dragged it all around the manor and given it a healthy dose of wear and tear. An emotion Diluc didn’t want to feel clouded the back of his mind and he swallowed thickly, tossing it into the pile of clothes he was taking.  

Beneath it was another stuffed toy, this one much older—a horse. Kaeya’s, and Kaeya hadn’t lost it because he never lost things, especially as a child. Every resource had been all too precious to him at the time.  

More gently than with the hawk, he set it down in the pile of clothes. Maybe Kaeya would want to see it.  

He found the bag in the third box and thanked the Archons for making it simple. There had to have been fifteen boxes in this room. And as he entered the bathroom in search of Kaeya’s toothbrush, he came to a decision: Kaeya would be staying at Dawn Winery for at least a few days once he got released, his job be damned.

“It’s standard procedure. I’m sorry, Jean.”  

“He didn’t—he wouldn’t— didn’t it happen at Angel’s Share? He’d never even—”  

Barbara shook her head. “As far as rules go, this is pretty straightforward. A poisoning with no clear culprit, easily lethal if not treated promptly.” A dark look passed over her eyes. “Do you remember what he said when he first awoke?”  

Jean heaved a sigh, setting her shoulders again. She was having trouble keeping her composure. “‘ I’m dying.’ That’s what he said.”  

“And he told us not to cure him,” Barbara added. “Sorry, but I’m afraid he’ll be under supervision until he is well enough to get through the check. I’m sure you understand.”  

“I just don’t get it—why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Why leave him alone with us?” Her eyes moved to the sleeping figure on the bed in front of her. 

Barbara pursed her lips. “… I’ll admit I personally doubted it myself and was attempting to make things easier for you and the Knights by bending the rules a little to give you some extra freedom. But then Sister Rosaria came to me with some concerning information, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.”  

Jean finally leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees and letting her hands dangle limp between them. It didn’t feel worth trying to seem tough right now. This was a lot to take in, and the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. A sick feeling turned her stomach. What did Rosaria know that she didn’t? “Fine, then. What does this ‘supervision’ entail?”  

Barbara’s eyes softened apologetically. “Until he wakes up, he’ll just have someone from the Church with him at all times. And you’ll be glad to hear it won’t have to go beyond that so long as he remains cooperative. So long as he regains clarity soon, he should be permitted to leave in a few days.” 

“And you’ll make sure nobody knows why? I fear that—”  

“I hope I’m not intruding,” came Diluc’s voice from beyond the curtain. “Is it alright if I come in?”  

“Come on in,” Barbara said before Jean could deny him entry. She nodded to Jean politely, in that way that made Jean feel like she was just the Acting Grand Master to her, and not her sister.  

Diluc pushed the curtain aside and dropped a Knights of Favonius duffel bag on the floor next to Kaeya’s bed. “I got a few days’ worth of clothes. It should be enough until he recovers.”  

Jean’s eyes lingered on Kaeya’s form for a second before she responded. He was doing better now, and his brief period of lucidity earlier was a good sign. But Barbara had told her the nature of the poison was likely to ebb and flow with a person’s elemental energy, so she didn’t want to get her hopes up. “Thank you. You should get some rest.”  

Diluc took a moment to respond, likely sensing the thick tension in the room. “I’m fine.” He glanced at his brother and said haltingly, “I found something that I think you should know about; correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t get the impression you know.”  

Jean immediately straightened. If Diluc had found anything of note at all, then maybe she could finally get answers.  

“His bedroom was full of boxes. Lots of boxes. Is he moving or something?”  

“Boxes?” Jean echoed.  

Diluc nodded. “Almost everything was in them. I had to search through them to find this bag.”  

Barbara shot Jean a curious look and Jean shrugged in response, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach worsening.  

“We’ll ask him about it,” Jean decided, decisively not jumping to conclusions. “Should we wake him up?”  

Barbara nodded; she wiped any hesitation carefully from her face in an instant as she put herself back in work mode. “Gently, though. He’s sleeping quite deeply. The fever treatment we gave him tends to have that effect.”  

Diluc first moved to shake his brother by the shoulder, then seemed to falter. So, as Diluc hung back anxiously behind her, Jean carefully tapped Kaeya’s arm, which still radiated warmth. “Kaeya,” she tried. She shook him a little. “Kaeya.”  

He came to slowly, first lifting his arm to half-heartedly swat at Jean. Then he rolled over, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he cracked his eye open. “Jean?” 

She breathed out a quick sigh of relief. “Kaeya, are you feeling up to talking to someone right now? We need to discuss what happened.” 

Kaeya’s brows furrowed, and he took a moment to respond. “When is it?” 

Diluc took a tentative step forward, as if expecting Kaeya to shoo him away. “It’s about noon.” 

“No,” Kaeya said, his eye sliding shut. His hand came up to rub at his forehead. “ When.”  

Jean and Diluc exchanged a glance, but Barbara seemed unfazed behind them, so Jean decided to keep going. “Friday?” she tried.  

“Hmm,” Kaeya said, squinting his eye open yet again but not looking in her direction. “Not what I meant.”  

This wasn’t going anywhere; in fact, she should probably let him go back to sleep.  

“Hey,” Kaeya said suddenly, his voice ice cold. “Stop that.” 

“Stop... what?” Jean asked, taking a step back.  

“Shut up, I don’t wanna hear it—not Jean, not you, just stop talking to—” His hands came up to grab at the sides of his head, fingers tangling in unkempt hair. “This wasn’t the deal. This wasn’t our deal. I’m not dead yet. Go away.” 

Diluc closed the distance between himself and his brother. His hands stopped just above Kaeya’s, almost touching but not quite. “What’s happening?” he asked once, but it went unanswered as his brother continued to mutter to himself. He turned, looking then between Barbara and Jean with urgency clear in his eyes. “What’s happening to him?” 

Barbara finally responded, carefully level despite the heightened tension. “Hallucinations. They’re more frequent than I would expect after his fever went down, but I’m afraid there’s not much we can do other than make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.” 

It took a few minutes for Kaeya to settle down again—a few minutes in which Jean convinced herself that Barbara was right. There was something off about this, and while suicide attempt was a big phrase that she never wanted to even consider... it would be dumb of her not to.  

This was Kaeya. She couldn’t claim that he was always doing well. She knew better than to ever assume that. He was far, far too good at containing everything in a little compartment within itself, slowly building up pressure until he finally exploded. That much, she knew. 

But she watched as Diluc hovered over his brother, concern he tried so hard not to feel etched clear in his face. And she thought that maybe she wouldn’t tell him unless it turned out to be true, because she didn’t know how much more he could take, either. 

Things like this never got easier. Losing people—coming close to it, or even just being separated. They’d all had their fair share of it. And if she could spare Diluc just a small portion of that terror—the terror that this wasn’t some threat they could extinguish, but rather an issue from within Kaeya’s very mind—then she would.  

That was, if he hadn’t figured it out himself already. The boxes...  

Now that Jean had let that thought sit, she knew exactly what was going on there. He was trying to make his death as convenient as possible. As if he thought that him dying in and of itself wasn’t going to wreck her.  

She needed to talk to Sister Rosaria. 

Kaeya felt awful. 

He was only vaguely aware of his body right now, and all it was giving him was pain. It radiated from inside his chest into his stomach and throat, searing. A flame had ignited in his core. 

Right now, he was in Mondstadt. He knew that much. The air was thicker in the ruins of Khaenri’ah, tinged with smoke and corruption. This wind blew with lightness and freedom; he could feel it in the way it settled across his skin, even before he opened his eye. 

And he knew he wasn’t in-between, either, because he could hear every last beat of his heart.  

He opened his eye slowly and laboriously, and he had to blink a few times to get it to focus. A sea of red flames burned in front of him, and he wondered how he hadn’t died in the fire yet. 

The fire looked an awful lot like someone he knew, he decided. It was all too tempting to believe he was here to stay. Soon, the Voice always told him. Soon.   

What did ‘soon’ really mean, when time moved forward, backward, left, right, up, down just like space? 

A feeling surged in his gut, and he found himself gagging. The fire next to him sprang to life and thrust something between his hands as fire spilled from his lips. 

Oh, how he wanted to be cold again. 

There was pressure on his back, then his forehead. A clammy hand. His adoptive father was looking at him, now, his expression unreadable. He spoke indecipherable words. 

“Don’t know,” Kaeya said, spitting acid from his mouth. It seemed everyone wanted to ask him what happened. He’d already told them all he knew.  

Father seemed disappointed by his response, somehow, but he didn’t sit back down. He brushed a strand of hair out of Kaeya’s face. “You’re going to get better,” he seemed to say to himself. 

“I’m dying,” Kaeya replied, hoping that this time, people would understand. It was his fate. There was no defying fate; he had tried. “No getting better this time.” 

“How do you know for sure?” 

He pondered this for a moment before saying, “Fate told me.”

Jean took in a shuddering breath as she dipped her quill into the inkwell. She had to work. She had to. There was no getting out of this, not with how short-staffed they were, but she couldn’t shake the nausea at the thought of leaving Kaeya alone. 

Her conversation with Sister Rosaria had been the exact opposite of comforting. 

What was she supposed to do with the knowledge that her closest friend was actually suicidal? Because the way Rosaria had put it wasn’t painting a pretty picture. If Kaeya had spent the majority of the past five years actively hoping to die, she had failed as a friend. 

But for him to do something so drastic today... something wasn’t right about that thought. Kaeya was reckless, and she knew he had more than his own fair share of struggles, but he wouldn’t do this. Not to Klee, especially, nor to any of the other people he’d grown close with over the years. He wouldn’t leave them voluntarily. She knew that. 

Rosaria had clearly talked this through with him before, and it stung that he hadn’t trusted her with it. But she understood; she was his superior, so there was only so much he could share.  

It was even more concerning that Rosaria also noted how Kaeya had been doing better lately. Either he had fooled them all, or this wasn’t a suicide attempt to begin with. Though Rosaria seemed pretty adamant that Kaeya could and would. Jean hadn’t seen Rosaria that worked up ever before, and she’d found herself inwardly sighing in relief that Kaeya had someone who gave him the care he deserved. Unlike Jean. 

So maybe it really was someone else. 

Whoever had done this to Kaeya, she would find them. Maybe she would take a page from his book and tip Diluc off and let him kill the culprit, even, because— 

No. She had a job. 

Ink had pooled beneath her stained the side of her glove. She tugged it off, tossing it aside to send with Noelle to the uniform wash later.   

There was a knock on her door. She set the papers to the side; in the past fifteen minutes, she had managed to write about half of her signature just once. There was no use pretending. “Come in,” she called.  

It was Lisa who entered. Jean immediately slumped in her seat, foregoing any pretense of productivity.  

“Hello, Jean, dear,” Lisa said, coming up to lean against Jean’s desk. She sat in silence for a moment before continuing, “I thought you might want to hear the good news.” 

“News?” Jean echoed, putting her head down on her desk. She felt Lisa begin to play with her hair, twirling it in little circles. 

“The Chief Alchemist and I had a bit of a breakthrough with the poison. Captain Kaeya will be just fine.” 

Jean sighed into the wood of her desk, staring through half-lidded eyes at the documents. She hadn’t noticed how tired she was. “What’s the poison?” 

“It’s a Liyuean poison made specifically for cryo allogenes, extracted from the seeds of flaming flowers. It can be deadly, but he’s already left the dangerous phase.” Lisa’s hand ceased its twirling and came to rest on the desk. “It’s mainly used for discreet and efficient killings. Its efficacy is quite low if the victim is given treatment on time.” 

“So, the poisoner was banking on Kaeya making it home,” Jean pieced together. 

“That would make the most sense. I suppose we’ll have to thank that pharmacist in Liyue for helping out, won’t we?” Lisa yawned and stretched. “But after so much work, I think I’m due for a break. Don’t you agree?” 

There was so much Jean had to do. She had to go check in on Kaeya again because she hadn’t in hours, and her endless list of obligations only seemed to gain items by the minute. But maybe the stress had made her pliable, because it wasn’t long before she and Lisa were sharing an evening meal. 

I thought I told you to stop talking to me.  

‘We are one. You cannot simply banish me.’  

Oh, really?  

‘I have no time for your foolish nonsense.’  

And what are you spending your oh-so valuable time on, pray tell?  

‘Must you know, human?’  

Must I cooperate?  

‘... I seek vengeance for that which has not yet taken place.’  

Time, Kaeya decided, was his most terrifying enemy. 

Chapter Text

Forty hours. That was how long it took after Kaeya’s poisoning before Jean finally learned the full extent of what the poison did. 

Albedo sent for her the second she got back to Headquarters after her last visit. Kaeya was doing alright, all things considered; now that they knew the effects of the potion, it wasn’t as scary to watch him suffer through them. His body would fight the sudden surge of unwelcome elemental energy within him, and eventually he would overcome it. The hallucinations were the worst part, really, considering that they weren’t a result of the fever as they’d all initially suspected. So, she was more concerned now with finding out what was behind this.  

Lisa, Albedo, and Sucrose greeted her once she entered the lab. She greeted them in return and took a moment to look around; it wasn’t often that she found herself in the Alchemy Lab these days when she could usually send a lower-ranking knight to summon Albedo when need be. It was messier than she’d expected, with sheets of paper and textbooks alike strewn across any free space that wasn’t covered by some sort of in-progress experiment. There was even a small row of jars that she suspected housed one of Sucrose’s experiments.  

“Thank you for your prompt arrival, Acting Grand Master,” Albedo said politely. He picked up a clipboard that seemed to have notes scrawled over every square inch.  

Lisa’s lips were curled into a small smile, but it was one that Jean knew to mask what she was truly feeling. It was never a good sign. “While Sucrose and I investigated the compounds in the poison to see if we could find a more efficient treatment, Captain Albedo took a brief foray to Liyue to have a chat with Dr. Baizhu in person. We’d exchanged briefly through letters but found it safer to talk in person. And Albedo found some invaluable evidence,” she said, turning to the man in question, “didn’t you?”  

Albedo nodded, eyes scanning the first page on his clipboard. “That’s right. He managed to connect me to a local potions expert, who then gave me some information about the production of this specific poison. 

“Essentially, it’s produced primarily in the small towns to the west of Liyue Harbor, not so far off from the Chasm. The process is rather simple, albeit expensive—you first take the seeds of the flaming flower and press them, then filter out the solids. The oil left behind is the poison, effective primarily to those with incompatible elemental energy in their bodies. Captain Kaeya has a cryo Vision, so this poison is a relatively natural choice for someone looking to take him out.” 

Jean nodded, filing that information away for later. 

“As for the treatment, I’ll let Sucrose explain that one,” Lisa said, a twinkle in her eye.  

Sucrose stammered, “Ah, y-yes, right away.” She pulled out a few sealed vials of a pale red fluid, setting them on the desk in front of Jean. “We initially thought that counteracting the pyro energy with Sir Kaeya’s cryo would be the natural solution, but after numerous experiments, that turned out to be a far from ideal solution. The best results we had were with the Heatshield Potion that the Knights already have in stock. Actually, in cryo-aligned biological material which has been damaged with pyro energy, the Heatshield potion works by acclimatizing the—well. All you really need to know is it does work against this poison as much as any other source of heat. It’s not a cure, but it should make the symptoms easier on him.” She stopped, taking in a shaky breath, and Jean wondered how it was possible for a person to talk so fast. “Sorry,” she squeaked. “If you need any clarifications...” 

“It’s fine, thank you,” Jean said, trying for a comforting smile. “I can work with this.”

Kaeya stared into the red substance Barbara had just handed him in a small cup. It was meant to help, but he could feel its warmth through the sides of the cup, and it wasn’t helping the waves of heat he could still feel rolling over his body in waves. 

His mind was remarkably clear right now, and that was likely due to the two glasses of ice water he had just all but chugged. It seemed that every time he thought he was getting better, his mind pulled him into the fog of hallucinations and delusions yet again. But maybe this would put an end to this.  

Embarrassingly, his fingers still trembled around the cup. It was barely heavier than a quill, yet he needed both hands to hold it up. His head pounded behind his eyes as he swirled it in circles.  

“You should drink it,” Diluc said, seeming well-intentioned enough. 

“‘You should drink it ,’” Kaeya mimicked. He was too tired to come up with anything clever.  

Diluc sighed, rubbing his temples. The bags under his eyes were especially pronounced today, and Kaeya swallowed his guilt as his brother said, “If you want to be released tomorrow, you need to prove that they can trust you. Otherwise, they won’t let me take you to Dawn Winery.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Kaeya stared again into the fluid. He didn’t trust it. Not for one moment. It almost seemed to laugh up at him. Haha, you thought! You’re not getting out of life that easily! He shook his head. He didn’t want to die.  

“So?” 

Kaeya didn’t give himself any more time to think about it before he tossed it back in one quick gulp. The sensation was... odd, to say the least. It burned, but not in a painful way at all. He sighed, dropping the cup in his lap as his fingers gave out.  

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Diluc said, and Kaeya was transported to the past. Adelinde was tending to him, bringing him bitter medicine when he was ill during the winter. Diluc’s words were the same as hers, a reflection of their shared experience.  

He barely remembered to respond. “Whatever,” he grunted, pushing the empty cup off his lap and sliding down until his back rested on the mattress. “I’m tired.” 

By some miracle, his brother let him sleep.

The treatment made him better for a short while, but Kaeya soon regressed to a feverish state once more. It was to be expected, apparently. According to Lisa, it would only work for about an hour at a time and would wear off afterward—it was mostly to provide temporary relief. They would have to use it wisely, then, so as not to overwhelm his body with it; Sucrose had advised her only to give it to him up to once per day. 

That meant watching as Kaeya’s body was wracked with pains for which the solution was right at Jean’s fingertips.  

At his worst, it was entirely unclear if Kaeya was conscious or not. His eye would flicker open and closed erratically, and he would mumble to himself, panicking about things she couldn’t see. When Jean visited during her lunch break the next day, she helped him to drink a cool glass of water—the only thing that helped him gain momentary clarity on a consistent basis—only for it to come back up in a matter of minutes.  

Dehydration was their highest concern right now, followed by whether he was a danger to himself. Jean did what she could, but there was only so long in a day she could be present. But she trusted her sister. Barbara was capable of helping him, more so than Jean had ever been.  

In the evening, she headed back over to the cathedral. As expected, she found Diluc sitting next to Kaeya’s bed, dozing in his chair. The position his neck was in looked uncomfortable, but she didn’t quite have the courage to adjust it for him. 

This was meant to be the time when they would decide if Kaeya was fit to be released. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be—it was the middle of summer, which was a low season as far as healing went, so there was no shortage of supplies. And Kaeya was still clearly unfit to take care of himself. 

But the difference here was that Diluc Ragnvindr himself was offering to take Kaeya to his residence out of concern for his safety. The area around Dawn Winery was largely self-sustaining, and Kaeya would have all the supplies he needed there, so it wasn’t a question of possibility. And Adelinde was capable of treating a fever and providing medicine.  

The real question was whether Jean and Barbara felt comfortable letting Kaeya out of their sight.  

Was it really a good idea to send someone away who had just nearly died of a rare poison? Someone who they still hadn’t confirmed had not done it to himself on purpose? 

But then again, if it was a murder attempt, who was better to protect him than the former Cavalry Captain himself, who next to nobody remembered was once Kaeya’s brother?  

So, the last hurdle was that mental well-being check that Kaeya had yet to pass. Jean hoped that he would remain unable to take it, but given the new treatment, she doubted it. And she really preferred that he pass it. She didn’t want to think about what it might mean if he didn’t. 

“You want him to take today’s dose now?” Barbara asked as she came in, setting the vial on Kaeya’s bedside table. “If he manages to pass the check without it, it would be valuable for him to take it just before setting off on the road.” 

Diluc seemed to startle awake and rubbed at his face. “Oh, sorry,” he said, his voice still thick from sleep. “Did I miss anything?” 

“Not at all,” Jean said. “You said we should give Kaeya the potion now?” 

Diluc looked between Kaeya and Barbara. Kaeya was asleep, as he often was due to the fever-reducing medicine Barbara was giving him. Jean didn’t doubt for a second that Diluc wanted to protect Kaeya more than anything. “Yes, I believe we should.”

Whatever it was that the Church needed Kaeya to discuss before they released him, he appeared to have done it well enough, because Diluc soon found himself calling a carriage up to the city center. As Kaeya struggled into a change of clothes, Diluc inwardly cursed the city’s hundreds of stairs. It should’ve been a crime that you had to climb so many just to get to Favonius Cathedral to get healed. Imagine having a broken leg.  

Getting Kaeya down wouldn’t be easy, but Kaeya was stubborn, and he was still riding off of the dregs of the potion. So, as long as they hurried, they might be able to get to the carriage before Kaeya was too far gone. 

When he finished changing, Kaeya tossed his old clothes down on the bed and wrinkled his nose. “That’s kind of gross,” he said. Indeed, they smelled quite a bit of sweat, but Diluc didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Kaeya then leaned against the wall, already looking a bit pale, and said, “Can we get going?” 

“The carriage should be arriving shortly, so I suppose now is as good a time as any.” Diluc picked up the Favonius duffel bag full of Kaeya’s clothes. “Can you walk on your own?” 

Kaeya scoffed as if it was a truly unreasonable question and followed after Diluc. Diluc narrowly avoided scoffing right back.  

The night air was cool on Diluc’s skin, but Kaeya’s forehead already had a sheen of sweat by the time they were outside. Diluc resisted the urge to grab him by the shoulder—he looked steady enough for now. 

There were few people outside at this hour, a calculated decision on Diluc’s part. Nobody would question what Diluc was doing walking the Cavalry Captain away from the cathedral, and nobody would have a chance to catch Kaeya in such a vulnerable state. 

Diluc took the first few steps before Kaeya, turning his head and watching out of the corner of his eye to make sure he didn’t fall. He couldn’t quite read Kaeya’s expression through the dark, but he saw the way his steps seemed to drag along as if through mud.  

Silence hung heavy in the air as they approached the carriage. This was their first time heading home together in years, and Diluc wished it was under different circumstances. That there wasn’t a killer on the loose who’d nearly finished the job Diluc had abandoned years ago. 

They’d come a long way since then. Sometimes, Diluc wondered how he’d managed to see his brother in such a way that day that he would turn his blade against him. Then he remembered what Kaeya had said, and a bitter feeling would arise in his throat. 

It was hard not to be angry at Kaeya when he tried so incredibly hard to make you angry. 

The man driving the carriage was one of Dawn Winery’s workers, Jurgen. Diluc quickly thanked him for coming at such a late hour before climbing into the carriage, keeping an eye on Kaeya as he hoisted himself up as well.  

Kaeya all but collapsed into the seat, panting softly. Jurgen quickly spurred his horse into movement, thankfully forgoing small talk for today. Diluc wasn’t even sure how he would explain this situation safely without lying outright.  

“You alright?” Diluc asked softly as the carriage bumped over the cobblestone streets. The sounds of a passing group of adventurers floated over from near the front gate, playfully lamenting their workload.  

“Mmm.” Kaeya tipped his head back tiredly. A hand game up and undid the buttons on his coat one by one. He shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor of the carriage. “It’s hot.” 

Diluc picked up the coat and folded it. He had a feeling Kaeya wouldn’t be needing it anytime soon; it had taken him months after obtaining his pyro vision to get used to the new change in temperatures, and he couldn’t imagine how sweltering the summer night seemed to Kaeya now. 

One night, he’d crept downstairs after waking up drenched in sweat for the third time that week. The box of mist flowers they used to preserve their food seemed as good a solution as any at the time. So, he’d checked around the corners, relieved to find that no maid had noticed that he was out of bed, and opened it. 

With a handful of mist flower corollas, he had returned to his bedroom, a triumphant grin on his face. The temperature might’ve hurt his hands on any regular day, but it was far from a regular day. So, he curled up in bed with them clutched to his chest, and he finally got a good night of sleep. 

But then he’d woken up in the morning to Adelinde stampeding around the mansion, wondering why their food had all gone bad. So, maybe he’d taken more than he should have. He quickly stuffed the melted corollas under his pillow and went about his day, and it hadn’t taken long after that for his body to grow accustomed to its new pyro energy. 

When Kaeya had gotten his vision... had he been cold? 

As a child, he’d sometimes come into Diluc’s room in the dead of winter. He would curl up next to him and tuck his frigid fingers under Diluc’s warm arms. Cryo Vision holders tended to run cold, didn’t they?  

He imagined Kaeya alone at night, freezing cold with nobody to embrace him. While DIluc had been off getting himself frozen to near death in Snezhnaya.  

Today, they were both warm. Kaeya was actually much too warm. There was surely a metaphor in there somewhere, but Diluc didn’t want to reflect on it.  

For now, there was about half an hour of time until they reached Dawn Winery. Kaeya’s potion was wearing off, and Diluc needed to keep his eyes out in case of an ambush.

Kaeya wasn’t sure when his brother across from him had turned into a candle, flickering by its lonesome in the middle of a dark room.  

He looked down and found a letter clutched between his hands. It was wrinkled and water-damaged. He recognized the writing on it. He knew it almost as well as his own. It was burned into his muscle memory. 

“ ...Clan, who did not have... ” his father’s voice guided him as he wrote. “Don’t forget to curve all the way down there. That’s right.” 

The voice melted away before he could latch onto it. The letter in his hands stayed, but the words seemed to swim with the movement of his eye, refusing to hold still.  

Eventually, the words formed a meaning: 

I do not have long left. Your position has been compromised. I have taken the necessary actions. Do not try to find me. It is already too late. They won.   

Fire consumed the letter before he had finished reading it. Something between rage and grief lanced through his chest and he put his head in his hands, fingers running over that horrible eye.  

He remembered the last words on the letter, although he had not read them.  

I am sorry.  

What good was a sorry if it came from a person he so thoroughly despised? 

He hated his father for being Khaenri’ahn. He hated himself for being Khaenri’ahn. He hated Khaenri’ah for ever having existed in the first place.  

No 'sorry’ could ever fix what Khaenri’ah had done to the world. To him.   

And the Abyss was right at the crux of it.  

This is all your fault, he told the Voice. 

A rare chill washed over him, but it resided alongside the heat rather than erasing it. The Voice responded, ‘ But it was always meant to be.’  

You started it.  

‘There is no ‘start.’ There is only the past, the present, and the future, all a matter of perspective. Revenge can take many forms, Alberich.’  

And what is it that you must take revenge for?  

‘The End.’  

There is no beginning, Kaeya repeated, head aching. What of the end?  

‘The End and the Beginning coexist, as does every moment in between. It is as much my fate to fight the future as it is yours to die.’  

Kaeya frowned. The world around him was blanketed in a haze of grey. The Voice dissipated, until all he could hear was his own heartbeat and the sound of wooden wheels over a dirt path. 

He didn’t trust the Voice. Somehow, and in some way, he could tell it was lying. It was part of him, after all. 

The first drop of rain landed square on Diluc’s nose. It didn’t take long before it was pouring. Delightful. 

Kaeya was out of it, which was either a curse or a blessing. He hadn’t stopped muttering to himself since they’d left the front gates, and they were only a few minutes away from the Winery now.  

Diluc shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around Kaeya’s shoulders, hoping to shield him a bit from the downpour. Within seconds, his own shirt was soaked through. He shivered. 

“This is quite the rain,” Jurgen called from ahead, barely audible. “Tunner did say a storm was coming. Shouldn’t be long till we make it back, though.” 

“Make it quick, if you can.” 

“Ground’s getting slippery, but I’ll see what I can do.” 

The rain reminded Diluc of things he didn’t want to think about. But he had no room to allow himself any of that right now—Dawn Winery was just coming into view, and his brother was still slumped over in his seat, half-awake and unresponsive. So, he dug his fingers into his bicep and set his sights on home.

Kaeya knew exactly when he was.  

Rain soaked through his clothes, through the cloak over his shoulders. Pain lanced through his feet and up his shins; how long had they been on the road? Days? His father was no longer strong enough to carry him. The curse worked fast. 

The ground was muddy beneath his feet. He had long since stopped caring whether he stepped on twigs or not—it was inaudible over the sound of water and booming thunder. He tugged on his brand-new eyepatch, still adjusting to the new sensation. 

Kaeya was unused to storms. It did not rain in Khaenri’ah, nor did the skies crackle with thunder. He saw the way his father tensed with each bolt of lightning that shot across the sky, as if expecting it to come down and strike them. 

His mission ran through his mind over and over again, a familiar voice in his ear. It told him of his purpose. Of who he was meant to be. 

One morning, in the long-smoldering ruins of Khaenri’ah, his father had asked him, “ What do you think, Kaeya? Is it a Sin to resent the gods? Or is it better to lower your head and do their bidding, if only to survive?”  

He still didn’t understand. He didn’t think he ever would. But one thing he knew was that his father intended to do the latter.  

He needed to stay out of the divine gaze, keep to himself. Hide his eye because it was proof. Stay alive so that this terrible power would not find anyone else. Become one of them, if it meant he would be ready when the day finally came. 

But the Alberichs did not have eyes on fate; his right eye, the eye that saw beyond the carefully placed veneer of this world, was not his own. There was only so much they could do. After all, they were impostors everywhere they went.  

They came to a stop atop a cliff overlooking fields of unfamiliar plants. There was an odd-looking building not so far away, and its lights were on. Nobody was outside; they were likely seeking shelter from this storm.  

His father’s hand came to rest upon his shoulder. He didn’t have to look to know that the skin was blackened as if charred, his fingers akin to claws. It squeezed gently, the final touch. 

“This is your chance,” he said. Kaeya stood frozen, unable to move as he stared into his father’s eyes—one blue, one a void of black. “You are our last hope.” 

Kaeya swallowed as tears burned behind his eyes.  

“Forgive me, Kaeya.” 

His father disappeared between the trees. Kaeya collapsed to his knees, taking in a deep breath. Mud soaked through his pants.  

When his father was far enough away, he started screaming. 

“Dad!” he screamed, though he had never called his father that before. “Where are you? Where—”  

He found himself choking on tears he hadn’t meant to create. Crying had never been part of this performance. But he had to continue. 

“Help me!” he shouted into the storm, but it was in vain. “Someone! Please!”   

He coughed, and warm tears spilled down his face, some pooling behind his eyepatch. His fingers grasped at the front of his cloak.  

“Dad!” he tried again. His voice cracked. “Dad!" 

No matter how much he screamed, nobody came for him. 

Shivers wracked his body. He had been here for what felt like hours already. He peered at the ground below the cliff, wondering how far of a drop it was. 

Nobody could hear him up here. He needed to get down. 

When he lowered himself over the edge, his arms trembled with the effort of holding his weight. His fingers were cold and numb, and his feet scrambled for a moment to find purchase on a ledge.  

The next step down was even harder. His arms shuddered as he searched for the next grip. His eyes still burned hot with tears.  

Then he slipped. 

In an instant, he was sliding down the cliff face, scrambling for purchase on anything as he careened downward.  

When he hit the ground, everything went dark for a few blissful moments. Then the pain hit. 

He curled inward, crying out as pain shot up his leg. Nausea swirled in his gut like a tempest, and something warm was seeping out of the back of his head. 

Kaeya flipped over onto his stomach. His target building was barely in view over the plants, and the view he did catch of it was doubled.  

Mud soaked through his clothes as he dragged himself forward, weighing him down.  

“Dad!” he tried for one last time. 

And somebody came.

Kaeya continued to whisper to himself as they pulled up to the Winery’s entrance. Diluc only caught a few of his words, each spoken with a desperation he’d never before heard from his brother.  

He had a good idea of what this was about, and he was quietly relieved that it wasn’t that night. Though that night for Kaeya likely meant more than one night, and Diluc had to wonder how Kaeya kept himself calm in the rain when every storm still caused Diluc nightmares and sleepless nights. 

There was much Diluc didn’t know about the night his father had found Kaeya. He’d been asleep at the time and had only been allowed to see him once the infection had cleared from his lungs.  

But there was one thing he knew: Kaeya never called his birth father ‘Dad.’ Nor was that what he had ever called his adoptive father.  

There was something so horrible about hearing him utter that name over and over again, like a mantra. It was unnatural.  

The carriage came to a stop and Jurgen went to tend to the horses. Diluc hesitated for only a moment before reaching over and tapping on Kaeya’s shoulder. 

Kaeya’s breath hitched, but he didn’t respond, so Diluc picked him up, letting his head and arms dangle over Diluc’s back. He was still concerningly warm, but the cool rainwater dampened the feeling.  

“Thank you, Jurgen,” Diluc said. “I’ll see to it that you are compensated.”  

Jurgen nodded. “I won’t complain. Hope the Captain feels better soon, though. He isn’t looking great.” 

Diluc felt the weight of his brother in his arms, the way his brother’s body trembled and shook. “He’ll be fine.” 

Hillie greeted him with a small bow when he entered. “Adelinde is preparing a guest room, so she sent me. Is there anything I can do to help?” Her eyes flitted briefly over Kaeya’s form before moving politely back to Diluc’s.  

“Some tea,” Diluc said gruffly. “And have Moco start the fire, please.” 

“Of course, Master Diluc.” 

He set Kaeya down on the couch along with the Knights of Favonius duffel bag, thankfully waterproof. Then he removed his soaking-wet outer layers until only his pants and shirt remained, halfway transparent with water. He would have to get changed as soon as he could. 

The fire and the tea were more for Diluc’s benefit than Kaeya’s; Diluc didn’t really know what to do with Kaeya, and Adelinde surely knew better than him. While he blew on his hot tea, he pulled a piece of paper out of the duffel bag. It was officially addressed to Kaeya from the Church, detailing recommendations for his health upon his release. He had full intent to pass it on to Adelinde. 

When his tea was nearly gone and the fire was still roaring strong, Adelinde hurried down the stairs. “Sorry for the delay, Master Diluc,” she said, breathing heavily. “Hillie and Moco didn’t tell me you’d arrived. Those girls...” 

Diluc set his cup down on the table and crossed his arms. “It’s no problem.” 

“How is... Kaeya?” Adelinde said, conspicuously choosing to avoid titles. “I’d heard he was ill, but I wasn’t informed of much else, I’m afraid.” 

Diluc followed her gaze to where Kaeya was curled up on the couch. He’d gone quiet, likely asleep now. Beads of sweat collected on his forehead, dripping down like the rainwater that had already dried off his skin. He was much paler than usual, as well. “He’ll be alright,” Diluc said confidently. “He’s safer here than there. It is far too easy to infiltrate the city, and Dawn Winery provides him with some cover. As far as the laypeople are aware, not much connects him to the winery business.” 

“Do you know who did it yet?” 

Diluc shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ll find out soon enough.” 

Adelinde gave him a knowing look before picking up Diluc’s empty cup. “I’ll wash this. Could you take him upstairs? My old woman body won’t let me carry you boys anywhere these days.” 

“I will,” Diluc said. “But Adelinde, you’re not that old. We just got bigger.”

Kaeya woke up sometime in the middle of the night to thunder. His eye met an unfamiliar ceiling, and he sat up with a start, scanning his surroundings.  

Dawn Winery. It took him a moment, but the recognition was there.  

His whole body felt sticky with sweat. He peeled the blankets off his form to find that someone had changed his clothes. He tried not to feel too violated.  

The floor was only slightly cooler than his bed, but his body thanked him when his feet touched it. He sat there for a moment as he adjusted to the movement, his head spinning.  

He could almost hear voices circling around him, whispering. Chanting something he didn’t want to understand in a language he wished he’d forgotten. 

Kaeya pushed himself to his feet. He felt steady for half a second before his vision darkened and he stumbled forward, ears ringing.  

The wall may have caught him—he certainly crashed into something before he slid to the floor. It was several moments before his vision came back, and the voices came with it. An unholy incantation grated on his ears. 

He felt the footsteps before he heard them. 

“Kaeya,” Diluc said from the doorway. His hair was mussed as if he had just gotten out of bed. “What happened?” 

“Tried to get up,” Kaeya managed, flinching away from his brother’s offered hand. “Go back to bed.” 

“I can’t sleep anyway. Why are you up?” 

He did believe Diluc when he said he couldn’t sleep. That much was obvious in the shadows under his eyes alone. “Trying to get to the bathroom.” 

He pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall this time. Diluc’s hand found his shoulder, gripping firmly. His touch sent waves of discomfort through Kaeya’s body, but he didn’t flinch away this time. 

“I’ll help,” Diluc said. A bolt of lightning illuminated the room and his eyes flickered to the window. “Should I close the curtains?” 

“I can do that myself,” Kaeya grumbled, not believing his own words. The voices around him seemed to swell, and he ignored them. “Hurry up.” 

The trip to the bathroom was short, but Kaeya was grateful for his brother’s firm grip on his shoulder by the time he was deposited by the door. He quickly shut the door behind him, then slid down to sit on the floor and removed his eyepatch. 

When he took it off, he could see things beyond the surface of the world. Things humans shouldn’t be able to see. Some of it was too complicated for him to parse, but one thing he could understand was the elemental energy. He could see much more clearly than with only elemental sight. 

Kaeya unbuttoned his shirt. Looking down at his body, he could see pyro energy flowing through his veins, spreading from his chest and outward. This came as no surprise. He’d pieced that together from what he’d heard in the cathedral.  

Can you show me how to see into the future? he asked the Voice.  

‘What is it you wish to see?’   

The bathroom floor was cool. He lay down, letting his bare skin lose some of its heat through the wood. I want to make sure you’re not lying to me, he admitted plainly. 

‘A foolish pursuit.’  

Yet you don’t deny it.  

The Voice didn’t respond.  

Here, the storm outside was barely audible. Kaeya concentrated on it, willing his heart to calm as he rested against the floor. He stayed in that position for a moment.  

Then a knock came from the other side of the door, interrupting him. “You alright in there?” 

Kaeya sighed, pulling himself to his feet by the rim of the sink. “Is it so hard to let a man pee in peace?” he shot back, letting a bit of bite emerge in his voice. 

Diluc shut up after that. Kaeya ran his hands under the water, then washed his face and let some drip over the rest of his body. It provided momentary relief to the heat, but not enough. 

But soon enough, he had to put his shirt and eyepatch back on and face the oppressive heat of the real world. He winced as the fabric clung to his sweaty skin. 

When Kaeya pushed the door open, Diluc was standing right there. He had to wonder if his brother had even moved an inch. It was verging on off-putting.  

“You alright?” Kaeya asked, attempting to shake off the dizziness standing had brought. 

Diluc startled. “I’m fine. Let’s go.” His fingers found Kaeya’s shoulder again, digging in almost painfully. 

“Right.” 

After Kaeya was set up in bed, Diluc lingered by the doorway. Kaeya could barely see him through the dim light that came in through the still-open window. 

“What is it you want?” Kaeya asked. He considered the warmth of the blankets for a moment before removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor, keeping his eye on Diluc.  

Diluc shifted his weight. “Who did this to you?” he said abruptly. 

Kaeya leaned back, letting the sound of rain wash over him, a reminder of the lies he would never expose again. “Don’t worry about it,” he said softly. “It was fated from the very beginning.” 

Chapter Text

“Master Diluc.” Adelinde’s voice was soft, careful. Diluc turned his head to see her in her nightclothes, a lantern hanging in her hand. She looked softer like this. Tired. “It’s late.” 

“It is,” Diluc agreed. He returned to staring at the small gap between the guest bedroom’s door and the wooden floor, straining to hear anything. Still, there had yet to be a sound. He’d already opened the door to peek inside not even fifteen minutes ago, and he wasn’t insane enough to need to check now.   

Adelinde exhaled softly, sitting down on the floor next to him. He saw as her fingers brushed the hardwood, bringing back a nearly unnoticeable amount of dust, and he saw as her eyes flickered to the broom closet. Leave it to her to think about cleaning in the middle of the night.  

For a while, they both sat there in silence. Adelinde’s presence was reassuring, and it alleviated a tension in Diluc’s body he hadn’t even noticed was there. He breathed through it, reminding himself: he had already checked the perimeter. He’d made sure Kaeya’s window was inaccessible from outside, and he’d looked inside only minutes ago. Kaeya was safe. Kaeya was as safe as he had been for the past four hours.  

The wind outside surged, howling. He winced as his headache worsened, not tearing his eyes off the door.  

“You should sleep, Master Diluc.” 

He went through the list of things again. Maybe he’d missed something. Maybe that was why Kaeya was so quiet. What if he was dead, now, and Diluc had done it again, and— 

Adelinde’s hand came to rest on his bare arm. She rubbed circles over his skin, over the burn scarring on the surface of his arm, but he could only feel the faintest hints of pressure. “Master Diluc. I’ll keep watch. Please get some rest.” 

“... You need sleep too, Adelinde.” 

“And I already got a few hours, Master Diluc. You need your energy. Think ahead, and tell me honestly you won’t need your energy tomorrow.” 

Diluc was too tired to think about it. 

... Which probably meant she was right. 

She tugged him to his feet by his elbow with surprising strength. “If I see you out of your room before dawn, you’re getting your breakfast cold.” What a threat. 

“But—” 

“Master Diluc.” 

He went to his room. 

He could’ve told her off. He was in charge of her, after all. 

But he didn’t, because she was right.

Kaeya was halfway out the window when he realized what he was doing and backtracked. He slipped back inside, rainwater still rolling down his face, and latched the window shut. The storm still hadn’t let up since last night, and it hammered relentlessly against the glass, now interrupted before it could make its way inside. 

He must have been far too used to sneaking out of the Winery if it was his first instinct upon waking up. It made sense—he hadn’t spent a full night here since Diluc was still away and he was too stricken with guilt to ask Adelinde if his presence was acceptable. Though he realized she had to have known all along what he was doing, and it was well within her character to simply accept it, likely with that fond smile of hers.  

Kaeya had to remind himself sometimes that nobody except Diluc knew what he’d said that night.  

The rain was heavy enough that Kaeya’s hair, already damp with sweat, now dripped water onto the floor. He would’ve done something about it, had his head not spun slightly with his upright position. If he could make it out the window, he likely wouldn’t get far. With a sigh, he sank again into the mattress of the guest bed that had once been his.  

Why had he even accepted coming here? If the plan went through, he would be killed at Dawn Winery. This place was probably at the bottom of his list on his ideal death locations, alongside anywhere in Klee’s vicinity. If he died here, he stood a good chance of being found by Diluc or Adelinde. He wasn’t so naive as to believe it wouldn’t destroy them both all over again. 

Sneaking out suddenly seemed much more appealing. 

“Master Kaeya,” came a voice from behind the door. He jumped, scrambling under the blankets to make his almost-escape less obvious.  

When the blankets were safely over him, he called back, “Come in.”  

Adelinde came in with a tray, propping the door open with her hip. “Breakfast,” she said. “I’d invite you downstairs to eat, but Master Diluc wasn’t feeling up to leaving his room just yet, so you’d be without company.” 

“Is he unwell?” 

She smiled faintly and the door swung shut behind her as she moved toward his bed. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that nights like this are hard on him, and he may need more time to adjust in the morning. I’m sure you can empathize, Master Kaeya.” 

Kaeya nodded distantly. She set the tray on his bedside table, and he wondered about Diluc. Was it true that Diluc had a hard time with storms as well? A pit of guilt formed in his stomach at the thought. 

Storms were hard for Kaeya for more than just one reason—beyond that night, his father had left him in one. But he’d been doing better with them lately, letting Klee drag him outside during rainstorms to play. Diluc had never had the chance to feel something so pure on his bad days. Not like Kaeya did.  

“Was the window open?” Adelinde asked suddenly, and Kaeya’s heart skipped a beat. He looked over to see her running a finger over the windowsill—the damp windowsill. Ah.  

“It just got a bit warm in here,” Kaeya said sheepishly, and it wasn’t a lie. “I wasn’t thinking it through. I’ll deal with—” 

She tutted. “Don’t move an inch, young man. If you think I won’t take this chance to coddle you, you are sorely mistaken. You’re more than welcome to help around when you’re back to full health.”   

He quickly drained the glass of juice Adelinde had brought, then picked at his breakfast while she made quick work of the windowsill. It was just some bread with butter, and he was glad she’d decided against bringing him anything warm.  

“How long do you think the storm’ll last?” 

Adelinde’s gaze followed his into the storm outside. She smoothed out her apron and said, “If we’re lucky, it’ll clear up by the end of the day. It’s not raining heavily enough to damage the grapes just yet, but it just might if it keeps up. Do you remember the summer you first came here?” 

Kaeya dropped the bread back onto the plate. “Yes. Of course I remember.” He’d never forget. 

Adelinde drew the curtain shut and came closer. Her fingers dragged through his hair, catching on knots. “The fields flooded that summer not long after you arrived. It put a dent in yield that year, but Master Crepus wasn’t all that worried. Your adoption was much higher on his list of priorities, I think.” Her fingers snagged on another knot, and he winced. “Do you mind if I brush your hair?” 

“Go ahead, by all means.” 

She left the room and came back shortly after with a hairbrush. Kaeya set aside his half-eaten breakfast and let his eye slip shut as she worked, tensing only a little when she tugged on an especially stubborn knot.  

It had been a long time since she had last cared for him in such a way. It would have been embarrassing to him a few years ago, but in his present state, he found he didn’t really mind. His hair clearly needed the care, and Adelinde had offered for a reason. 

Slowly, the tangles let up. “You could use a bath,” Adelinde mused behind him. “Are you feeling up to it?” 

“A bath would be nice,” Kaeya said. No matter how many times he changed his clothes, he couldn’t rid himself of that sticky feeling that sweat left on his skin. And maybe if he made himself more presentable, he could leave before fate reared its ugly head.  

“I’ll get the water running, then.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“To help.” 

Kaeya crossed his arms petulantly. “Why would I need help?” 

“Last night, you could hardly walk,” Diluc said flatly. “You may not be hallucinating right now, but you still look awful.” 

“You flatter me.” Kaeya moved his blanket to the side, shooting Diluc a challenging look as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Anyway, can’t I just take that thing Albedo made? If I’m going to be cooped up all day anyway, I don’t see why I can’t take it now.” 

There was an admission of weakness buried somewhere in there. “You can only take it once a day. Are you sure you want to take it just for a bath, and not something more strenuous like dinner?” 

“Stop arguing with a sick man,” Kaeya complained. “Just let me take it.” 

“Fine. It’s your day to waste.” Diluc fished the glass vial out of his pocket, tossing it onto the bed next to his brother. “Satisfied?” 

“More than.” 

Diluc watched from the doorway as Kaeya threw back the treatment like a shot. Then, he shifted onto his feet; Diluc didn’t miss the brief dazed look that passed through his brother’s eye, only to be quickly shaken off as if nothing had happened.  

Kaeya glared at him as he walked to the bathroom, but Diluc followed anyway, tugging at his gloves anxiously. It would take a few minutes for Kaeya to start feeling better, and Diluc wasn’t taking any chances.  

But he couldn’t do much about a closed and locked door.  

“I’ll be outside,” he called in, visualizing everything that could go wrong. Drowning. He could fall and hit his head. His fever had gone down, but what if he had a seizure? It wasn’t impossible. And Diluc hadn’t gotten the security upgrades fixed on the second-floor windows yet, and— 

“I bet you will,” Kaeya grumbled from inside, bitterness dripping from his voice. “But, you know… if you ever get bored of babysitting me, there’s a whole Winery here that you’re in charge of.” A pause, and the water switched on. “If you get bored.”  

Diluc sighed heavily. “You aren’t taking your bath cold, are you? It’ll only chill you.” 

“What’s it to you?”  

“Your well-being, for starters.”  

He could almost hear the wry smirk. “Since when do you care so much about my well-being, Master Diluc ?” 

“Are you being deliberately obtuse?”  

“Are you going to finally accept that I’m not a helpless kid anymore? I grew up, no thanks to you.”  

Kaeya wasn’t of his right mind—Diluc had to remember that. But the flames of anger deep in his gut—the ones Kaeya stoked with horrible glee—licked at the walls of their enclosure, barely contained. “What is it you want, Kaeya? You have to have accepted coming here for something.”  

Water sloshed as if Kaeya was sliding into the bath. Diluc let out a breath, momentarily relieved that he’d gotten in without a mishap. Into the cold water, because there was no way he’d drawn warm water so quickly. “I think the real question here is why you won’t let me take a bath on my own. What are you afraid of, Diluc?” The question came with a taunting lilt, the echo of a mocking grin that Diluc couldn’t see. 

Diluc didn’t respond—he just stood there behind the door, biting his tongue. His fingertips were surely going to leave bruises on his arms, what with how tight he was squeezing them. 

It had taken him three years to recognize this pattern of Kaeya’s, and another two to gain the restraint he needed to respond levelly.  

They lapsed into silence after that. Diluc stared blankly at the door as resignation settled into him alongside the unease.  

What are you afraid of, Diluc?  

Many things. He was afraid of tarnishing his father’s memory; he was afraid of Mondstadt falling; somehow, he was even afraid of Kaeya’s father, a man he’d never once seen the face of.  

But most of all, he was afraid of himself. Of failing again as an older brother, of letting Kaeya fall deeper and deeper into a pit he didn’t even know existed. Afraid of hurting him with his own two hands all over before he could stop himself. Afraid of watching as his brother’s blood stained his hands once more.  

The words came to his mouth slowly and painstakingly, each syllable laced with more than he could ever explain. “I’m afraid for you ,” he said. “People care about you, Kaeya.” 

There was a bark of laughter from the other side of the door. “I know that.” 

“I care about you.” 

There was another long stretch of silence. Diluc didn’t so much as breathe, his eyes set firmly on the little cracks in the wooden door. Maybe if he stared hard enough, the cracks would deepen and spread, and the door would eventually splinter, and he would be able to see for himself that his brother was alright. 

“I don’t need your care,” Kaeya said simply. Diluc heard him set something down. Water splashed again. “I’ve had a long time to get over it. So, do yourself a favor. Leave me here alone, where I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and go take a nap. And if you’re too dull-witted to see how much you need one, feel free to work, instead.” 

Before Diluc could respond, footsteps alerted him to a maid’s presence at the end of the hall. It was Hillie, holding a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other, giggling silently. She stiffened when he looked, her face flushing, and disappeared into another room. 

Weird. 

“Fine,” Diluc said. “Maybe I will.” 

On his way down the hall, he caught Hillie and Moco gossiping with each other in front of the broom closet. He ignored them; if there was work that needed to be done, Adelinde would have them on it in minutes.

Pain shot up Kaeya’s ankles as he landed on the ground in a crouch. He took a moment to gather himself before creeping around the corner, ducking low in the off chance someone was outside in this weather. 

Diluc really needed to invest in more secure windows. Although the windows in the bathroom were high up and had no latch, it had taken Kaeya very little time and only a few bruised fingers to pry one out of its frame. Maybe this would be a learning experience for his brother.  

He’d only been outside for three minutes, and his hair was already plastered to his face with rainwater. He wished he’d had the foresight to steal a coat or something—it wasn’t that he needed to preserve himself as much as he needed to get as far away as possible. 

The forest was too predictable of a place to run off to. He’d done it more than once during his childhood, in fact, enough so that Diluc would surely look there first. 

He imagined his brother tearing through the forest in search of him, continuing through the night, investigating until he couldn’t see straight anymore. And he didn’t doubt that Diluc would. It didn’t matter if this ‘murderer’ was after him or anyone else—the simple fact that there was a murderer to begin with was enough to send his brother on the warpath.  

And maybe, some weeks in, Diluc would be the one to find his rotting corpse. He’d probably have come to terms with it by then, just like Kaeya had all those years ago, his brother’s Vision flickering between his hands.  

In fact— 

Without hesitation, Kaeya ripped his Vision from his belt and threw it in the direction of the Winery. It landed somewhere among the grapevines, to be found sometime along the line. Maybe it would become a piece of evidence. Any sound it made upon landing was swallowed by the harsh winds and torrential rainfall.  

Where he was going, he wouldn’t need it.  

Mud squelched under his boots, and for the first time in days, he was cold. His legs took him over a hill, until he could just see the outline of Dragonspine through the fog. Albedo wouldn’t be there today. Kaeya had interrupted any plans he had when he got poisoned—and now, Albedo had no choice but to stay with Klee to keep her from asking too many questions.  

Klee—he didn’t want to think about Klee. Then he might start thinking about how much he didn’t want this, what the end meant.  

The irony of it all is that maybe he would have wanted this, a few years ago. No, he definitely would have wanted this. But Diluc had returned, and Lumine had found out about his lineage, and nothing had happened. And for the first time in his whole life, he’d thought that it might have been okay for him to just live. That maybe his Alberich blood was behind him, and he wouldn’t have to listen when his father contacted him. If.   

He’d gone seventeen years without hearing from his birth father. Seventeen years was a long time.  

Despite the bone-deep chill plaguing his body, there was a spark of warmth emerging behind his sternum again. It wouldn’t be long before he could hardly hold himself upright anymore. He quickened his steps, slipping between trees and keeping out of sight of the path.  

How long would it take until someone came to finish the job?  

He hoped the end was soon. Then he would have less time to think. 

The ground beneath him was peppered with snow, now. The rainwater mixed with it, forming a muddy sludge. His feet were numb, and if he still had a life to go back to, he might’ve been worried about frostbite. But as it was now, he just pushed on. 

The rain quickly turned to snow as Kaeya drew higher. Crystals of ice were forming on his soaked clothes, and his legs felt heavier with every step. Uncomfortable warmth emanated from his core, somehow providing minimal relief to his chilled extremities.   

He wouldn’t go too high on Dragonspine. That would be inefficient. If he circled around the base, he could make it to Liyue by the end of the day. If he didn’t die on the way there, which he likely would.  

What an insignificant death—to die somewhere along Liyue’s coast. It was something he deserved, in any case. For all the trouble. Maybe his next killer would give him something slow-acting enough that he’d have time to bury himself in the sand and preemptively hide his body. Everybody would have to give up on him eventually, and they would. And it was awful of him to deceive them all into caring in such a way, really. This was a favor from him to them, to make their parting easier. 

Familiar incantations drifted in from nearby, and Kaeya first brushed it off as his hallucinations returning. However, this was soon disproven when his eye caught the familiar blue of a hydro abyss mage. 

Maybe it was irrational. Maybe it was horribly reckless. But that was all beyond him, right now, so he didn’t bother to think before he sauntered in, summoning his blade.  

His fingers wrapped around the hilt, numb and weak. One hit could knock it out of his grip, he was sure. But he didn’t care if they killed him. He just wanted to talk. He said as much to the mage, mouth stuttering uncertainly around a near-forgotten language. 

The surrounding hilichurls immediately stopped dancing, their attention snapping to him.  

The mage sneered. “ So, you know the language of the Abyss.”  

“I do.”  

“What lies under the eyepatch, human?”  

Kaeya stuck his sword in the snow, leaning on it heavily as he reached up to remove his eyepatch. Cold air hit the scarred tissue, an unfamiliar sensation. He opened it and looked at the world around him, at the cursed energy emanating from the monsters’ forms. There was no hope for them, nor was there for him. Khaenri’ah was a hopeless nation. The threads of fate spoke only of their imminent demise. 

The mage paused for a moment before summoning its shield. “Send out a signal!” it cried. “The Sinner’s host has arrived!”   

A bolt of pain lanced through Kaeya’s head from his right eye. He doubled over, hissing.  

What the hell are you doing?  

The Voice didn’t respond.  

Kaeya threw his weight to the side just in time to avoid an incoming hydro bubble. He stumbled to his knees, then was back on his feet in an instant. His sword quickly found the corrupted hearts of the three hilichurls. 

Soon, it was just him and the Abyss Mage.  

“The End is near, human. It is time you relinquish your seat at the helm.”   

Kaeya could take down lone Abyss Mages in his sleep. He had everything he wanted out of this one, so he did just that. 

As soon as its shield was broken, he ran his sword clean through its heart to the ground. Black blood splattered in the snow, and a cynical smile came to Kaeya’s lips. 

The sound of his horse’s hooves against the path was the only thing keeping Diluc together. It was a rhythmic sound, akin to the predictable tick of a clock. If there was one thing he could rely on to stay consistent, it was time.  

Night had fallen hours ago. The raincoat Adelinde had draped over his shoulders did little to shield him from the rain, which still beat unrelentingly down on his back. 

“We cleared the Winery’s perimeter, sir,” one of his workers called, merging onto the path behind him. “Adelinde said she’d cover the Springvale direction.” 

“Search the forest around the Winery,” Diluc called in response. “I’ll investigate this way alone.” 

Soon, he was on his own again. His hands tightened around the reins, trembling with cold—the freezing temperature was a small price to pay for the assurance that the Vision in his pocket was still illuminated.  

The storm would be hard on his falcon, but they had been through worse together. Dusk had led him through the thick sandstorms of Sumeru and the fierce blizzards of Snezhnaya—a rainstorm wasn’t going to do her in.  

Rain landed in his eyes when he looked up to track her once again. An empty pit dug deeper in his gut the nearer the looming form of Dragonspine grew. He should never have let his brother be alone today. And now he was gone, had been for hours, and his only lead was taking him to a deadly mountain.  

His only advantage was the horses. Kaeya had time on his side, and he could be anywhere. Diluc could only pray that Dusk was leading him in the right direction.  

Wind whipped his hair around his ears, and the storm roared around him. The icy mountain grew before him, until the ground was slick with ice below. He skirted around the base; if he climbed the mountain and Kaeya wasn’t there, he’d lose valuable time. Dusk appeared to be cutting a straight path over the mountain, and he could only hope that she wouldn’t descend just yet. 

Halfway around the mountain, Diluc passed the border into Liyue. The Mondstadt flora changed little, but he remembered this land like the back of his hand.  

Crystals of ice formed on the surface of his coat and on Solstice’s mane. He imagined Kaeya freezing solid in the cold, rainwater turning to ice on his clothes. He imagined a murderer dragging Kaeya’s dead body along, blood smearing along the icy ground. Kaeya without his Vision, Kaeya who still had a fever, Kaeya who had almost died only a few days ago. 

Kaeya, who was probably dead by now. 

A lump grew in his throat, and he blinked back tears. Now wasn’t the time to break down. He hadn’t earned that privilege yet. He didn’t know for certain.  

Solstice slipped. 

Diluc didn’t have time to react before he was thrown off her back, landing heavily on his side. He slid until his back collided with the base of a tree. Winded, he pushed himself to his knees, brushing snow off his face to look for Solstice.  

She wasn’t far away, but the way she held herself told him she was injured. Diluc cursed, rushing to her side. His side ached fiercely; he gritted his teeth and ignored it.  

A few minutes later, he knew for certain that Solstice had injured one of her hind legs. It wasn’t broken, thank Barbatos, but he knew it meant she would likely be out of commission for a few days at least. That was how it typically went.  

Where was the nearest camp? The one at Dragonspine’s base was far, farther than Diluc could afford to return. His breath puffed out in front of his face in frantic clouds as he tugged Solstice toward the same tree he’d collided with only a minute ago. This would have to do.  

Solstice snorted as Diluc tugged a water-resistant blanket over her back. He was glad Adelinde had had the foresight to pack the essentials, because he didn’t know what he’d do with Solstice otherwise. He set a hand on her forehead, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll be back. Promise.” His hand lingered there, rubbing slow, comforting circles. 

Above, Dusk hovered in the air impatiently. Diluc took one shuddering breath and ran a numb finger over his brother’s Vision in his pocket before continuing on.

Night was making way for morning. Kaeya wasn’t entirely sure how he was still on his feet.  

He’d already slipped three times, and he was sure he had some nasty bruises to show for it. Not that he felt them. He didn’t feel much of anything at all anymore. Nothing except the heat. 

It should have been impossible to overheat so badly while walking through the snow in only a half-buttoned shirt and a thin pair of pants. The ice that had formed on his clothes had melted, and a mixture of sweat and melted snow dripped off him with every step. He brushed his damp bangs out of his eye, staggering once more as dizziness clouded his brain. 

If someone didn’t finish him off soon, he might just drop dead anyway.  

A bird called above him, and he looked at it disinterestedly, only for his heart to run cold.  

That red band tied around its left leg—it was Diluc’s bird, Dusk.  

Swearing, he broke out into a sprint.  

Wherever Dusk was, Diluc wouldn’t be far behind.  

The coast wasn’t too far off. He veered right, in the direction of the sandier Liyuean beaches, because he knew he wasn’t going to make it far if he stuck to Dragonspine. Fueled by only desperation, he kept his legs going. One stride after the other.  

There was no way he was going to let Diluc find him before he died. He’d already made peace with his end, had already internally said his goodbyes. If his fate couldn’t change, Kaeya would do what he could.  

Dusk called out again. It was a shrill sound, foreboding. It sent shivers through Kaeya’s body. How close was his brother behind him? Through the falling snow, Diluc would have to get close to see him.  

Chest heaving, he turned and cut through some bushes. He needed to get off of Dragonspine as quickly as possible. Twigs dragged along his clothes, and he was sure something tore. He kept going. 

He wasn’t sure how long he ran. At some point, there wasn’t any thought behind it at all. Only terror sinking its vicious claws into his back, forcing him forward. He wasn’t sure he could see anymore, or hear for that matter. Every step he took felt impossible, yet his legs continued to propel him forward even as pain lanced through his body. 

And then— 

Sand. 

The change in the ground beneath his feet made him stumble. He slammed into the ground, wheezing, fingers grasping at the sand. He picked up handfuls of it, let it slip through his fingers. His vision was fuzzy around the edges, and he swallowed back nausea. 

Why had he wanted to come here, again? 

When am I going to die?  

‘Do you truly wish to know?’  

So, you’ll finally tell me?  

It had to be soon. It had to be, or this was all for nothing. And the Abyss Order knew of his location now. His father was gone, and his dying message had been a notice of Kaeya’s imminent death. It had to happen. It had to be soon, because otherwise none of this made any sense. Otherwise, Kaeya might have to do it himself, because he didn’t know what could happen if he survived. 

The Voice—the Sinner— was a liar. It was only using him. Leading him on to get him to comply with its whims. If his fate truly was to die, then he needed to know for certain. And he needed to know when.   

Tell me.   

Visions flickered behind his eyes, and all of a sudden, he was somewhere else. A blinding pain tore through his side, and his body was wracked with spasms. He saw his bedroom ceiling above him as his head lolled to the side. 

People were there. He couldn’t see them, but he knew. He could feel their hands on his shoulders, their tears when they landed on his face. 

He felt as his heart stopped. As hands pressed down on his chest. As a voice he knew so well shouted through broken sobs that it wasn’t working.  

When he came to, he was choking. He barely threw himself to the side before bile spilled from his lips, pooling in the sand.  

‘Are you satisfied?’  

Kaeya didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and bit back the urge to scream.  

How had he overlooked something so important? 

He wasn’t going to die today. He wasn’t going to die until days from now, when this poison had finally left his system and he was back home. 

And that meant Diluc was going to find him today. 

But he was ready. He was fucking ready, and he would do it himself if he had to. 

But for now— 

His vision was rapidly darkening around the edges, and he couldn’t find the strength to keep himself upright. He slumped forward, cheek resting in the sand, heat still coursing through his body. Proof that he was alive.  

He didn’t even feel numb anymore. 

As he drifted out of consciousness, he almost thought he heard laughter. Two pairs of feet sprinted down the beach to the shoreline, and waves crashed in the distance. It wasn’t real.  

Just next to his limp hand, right in front of his half-lidded eye, was a starconch. Such a pretty shade of blue.  He summoned all the strength he had to move his hand and grab it, then tuck it close to his chest.  

Diluc would be delighted to add it to his collection.  

Chapter Text

The first thing Kaeya noticed was something sharp on his cheek. He squinted an eye open, wincing as sunlight temporarily blinded him. 

Everything hurt. But for the first time in a while, he could feel a pleasant breeze. 

A groan formed in the back of his throat, and he forced himself onto his forearms in the gritty sand to look at what had been poking him.  

A bird. Diluc’s bird. 

“You’re awake,” Diluc said, his timing impeccable. Kaeya turned, his neck muscles protesting at the sudden movement. His brother looked... awful, to say the least. But at least he wasn’t covered in sand. Kaeya could feel sand in his ear and under his eyepatch. That wasn’t going to be any fun to clean.  

“That I am,” Kaeya said, going for a light tone but stopping somewhere short. He shielded his eye from the sun with one hand, blinking away the last dregs of dreariness. “Well, I suppose the storm let up.” 

Diluc gave him a flat look, which only served to highlight the deep bags under his eyes. His hair was unruly and out of its usual ponytail, framing his face in a way that made him look so much softer.  

“Why the long face?” Kaeya asked, brushing some sand from his face. He knew he was being a bother, but he didn’t know how else to have this conversation. “I’m awake, aren’t I?” 

Diluc’s lip curled into a grimace. He took a deep breath before throwing an arm out to the side and exclaiming, “Are you fucking suicidal?” 

Kaeya froze for a moment as Diluc’s sudden shout sent ripples of discomfort through his body. “Now, let’s not go that far. I simply thought...” 

“ ‘Thought’ ? Were you even thinking?” Diluc’s voice had an edge of desperation to it. “You could have died! You almost did!” 

Dusk clicked her beak in agitation, moving off to the side. For the first time, Diluc didn’t seem to pay her any notice. 

“So, what were you thinking? And you’d better give me a pretty damn good reason, because I’m having a hard time trusting you right now,” Diluc said, his voice leveling. For the first time, Kaeya caught the red rimming his eyes. “First the poisoning, and now this.” 

There was no defense for this. There was nothing Kaeya could say that would make it sound reasonable. His only choice was to lie.  

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know. I-I must have been confused, really. I don’t know.” 

Something flashed in Diluc’s eyes. Something like fear. “And are you?” 

Kaeya’s heart skipped a beat, but he played ignorance. “Am I what?”  

Yet somehow, Diluc didn’t shy away from saying it outright. Even the Sisters of the Church had been more delicate than this, and they’d made it clear to him from the start what they were interrogating him about. “Are you suicidal?” 

“No,” Kaeya said simply. And he thought it was the truth. It had to be.  

There was no room for any of that right now if he was going to die anyway. What difference did it make if it was today or tomorrow, by someone else’s hands or his own? 

That didn’t really count. 

“I don’t want to die,” he said. He held Diluc’s gaze for several painful seconds, unable to move.  

It was the complete truth. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live, but that wasn’t an option. 

But Diluc had grown more perceptive over the years. His time abroad must have had him honing his ability to read others, because the Diluc five years ago would have let that slide. “Are you suicidal?” he asked again. A simple question, to most. 

Define suicidal, Kaeya almost said. But that would be far too revealing.  

“No,” he said, praying that Diluc hadn’t heard his voice waver. “I’m not suicidal, Diluc. That’s not what this is about.” 

Why was he the worst at lying when it really mattered? 

By some miracle, Diluc simply nodded. His gaze still burned holes into Kaeya’s skull, wild and terrified. Kaeya never wanted to see that look on his brother’s face again. “If you’re lying,” Diluc said, his voice breaking. “If you’re lying, then...” 

“I’m not lying,” Kaeya said. He picked up the starconch he’d found earlier and finally pushed himself into a fully seated position. It fit perfectly between his two hands, and he ran a fingertip idly over the rough ridges of its star. “I... I found this. For you.” 

Diluc’s gloved fingertips brushed Kaeya’s bare ones as he accepted the gift. It was a little thing. Diluc had probably seen thousands of identical shells in his life. 

“A promise?” Diluc asked quietly, almost inaudible over the sound of crashing waves. 

“A promise.” 

Diluc’s fingers closed around the starconch. Kaeya could see the questions running circles behind his eyes, and he could see the barely-suppressed anger. It was always anger with Diluc. He always had something to be angry about, and Kaeya didn’t think it was all about him this time. Not really. 

Kaeya was angry, too. He was worse than Diluc with this. He just handled it differently, put an exhaustive effort into perfecting the facade that hid what a monster he truly was from everyone he loved. His anger came out in snide remarks, in petty actions. In implosions he kept to himself because he couldn’t let anyone know how much hatred he held. 

This time, Kaeya was angry at fate. Even more so, he was angry at himself. Most of all, he was angry at Diluc. 

Diluc had tracked him all the way to Liyue in vain, and he was going to die anyway. There was nothing anybody could do about it. He resented Diluc for caring, because he shouldn’t. He hated Diluc for wanting him to stay, because that reminded him of why he loved being alive. How dare Diluc burn him, scar him, throw him out—only to change his mind at the exact moment when Kaeya needed him to turn his back? 

“I have something for you, too,” Diluc said, reaching into the pocket of his coat.  

Kaeya should have expected that ‘something’ to be his Vision, but he didn’t.  

“Elzer found it in the vineyard, half-buried in mud.” Diluc handed it to him with more care than such an object deserved. His hand lingered atop Kaeya’s for a moment, and for the first time in days, it felt warm in comparison to Kaeya’s own.  

“I suppose I must have dropped it in my haste to leave,” Kaeya said breezily. He went to clip it to his belt, only to find that the clasp he normally attached it to was broken. Hasty, indeed. “Well, thank you for returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve finally repaid me for that vase, huh?”  

Diluc lowered his eyes for a second, still thinking far too loudly for Kaeya’s liking. He reached over and idly scratched the back of Dusk’s neck. The falcon shifted contentedly, leaning into the touch. “When I was gone,” he started, but then seemed to second guess himself. 

When Diluc was gone. Kaeya wasn’t sure if he wanted to open that can of worms, but they weren’t going to get anywhere if he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to leave off on a fight, and the fact seemed all too clear to him now. “When you were gone?” he prompted. He hoped this conversation would stray far, far away from their previous topic. 

“When I was gone... how long did you have my Vision?” 

Kaeya set his own Vision down in the sand in front of him. He didn’t want to touch it any longer, and his belt wasn’t going to work anymore. “Not long,” he said. “Only a few months. Before that, Adelinde kept it in the safe in your office. The Knights had passed it over to her soon after your departure.” 

“She knows where the key is?” Diluc said, disbelieving. 

Kaeya shrugged. “Adelinde knows everything, doesn’t she?” 

“That’s true.” Diluc stopped scratching Dusk, letting his hands rest folded in his lap. “So, how did you end up with it?” 

“You might have more luck asking her,” Kaeya said. “She knows better than I do.” Albeit not for the reason he was implying. Alcohol did strange things to the brain, and had Adelinde not filled him in, he would’ve had no idea where the pyro Vision had come from.  

As Diluc contemplated something seemingly dark and brooding, Kaeya set to work removing what sand he could from his body. There was a lot of it, as it turned out. It had somehow found its way into the folds of his ears and under his nails, and he was going to be shaking it out of his hair for days.  

There was no use in dealing with his shoes yet, not while they were still on the beach. But he did turn away and take his shirt off, shaking it out in front of him and watching as sand fell off it like salt from a shaker.  

Somehow, it bothered him for Diluc to see him shirtless now that he was more lucid. At least his back only held the typical scars of a knight; though he knew for a fact Diluc had seen the discolored ripples of burn scarring across his chest and shoulder before, it didn’t make it any less disconcerting to think about. 

Kaeya still thought about that night every time he saw them, and he saw them every day. 

Diluc gave him his space, which almost made it worse. He wished Diluc wouldn’t care at all, that he would ask Kaeya why he was being such a prude and act like everything was normal when he saw what he’d done. But such actions were only ever Kaeya’s doing. Diluc didn’t pretend—not like that. That left Kaeya to do the heavy lifting. Anything to give their dynamic a semblance of the normalcy they’d once shared.  

He allowed himself a quiet sigh before he tugged his shirt back on and turned, still buttoning it. Now that it was back on, he could feel places where it had torn in his rush. 

Diluc finally moved for the first time in minutes. He stood, Kaeya’s forgotten Vision in his hands yet again. “You dropped it again.” 

“I was going to get it before we left.” 

Diluc gave him a look of unconcealed suspicion. “Sure. But we’d better get going. I left Solstice on Dragonspine.” 

Kaeya froze. “You what?” 

“I left Solstice. On Dragonspine.” 

How? Solstice had been Diluc’s horse for years. In fact, Kaeya was pretty sure he’d not even hit thirteen when she’d first been introduced to the family. He couldn’t hold back the hostile words that spilled from his mouth. “What were you thinking? It’s freezing there—literally! She could die—she could be dead already!” 

Diluc’s eyes widened, as if he had just realized the significance of this as well. “She was injured, and I didn’t know where you were, Kaeya! I had no choice.” 

“She was injured?” Kaeya was seething, barely keeping his voice from escalating to a shout. “I thought you were more responsible than this, Diluc! Why would you leave your injured horse alone on Dragonspine for hours?”  

As a teenager, Diluc had always been so close to Solstice. They spent all day with each other, after all. She was a cavalry horse, and officially a gift from Grand Master Varka upon Diluc’s resigning from the Knights. Brusk and disciplined, yet oh-so opinionated when given the chance. Kaeya hadn’t even known horses could dislike apples until he’d met her.  

For Diluc to leave her behind like that—had he really grown so cold after all these years?  

“I had a decision to make,” Diluc said, his voice wavering. “And I made it. Don’t make me regret it.” 

Kaeya’s blood ran cold. His hands tightened into fists and he drew as much willpower as he had into not lashing out, not starting an argument that didn’t need to happen while Solstice was still on Dragonspine.  

“I-I didn’t mean that,” Diluc said. “I don’t regret it. I won’t. But we should go. Are you up for the journey?” 

Kaeya pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he noticed just how sore he was. “It’s not like I have a choice.”

Diluc couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about Solstice. The heat of shame coursed through his body from head to toe as he walked—and even more, he was worried for her safety. 

The blanket he’d left her with wasn’t meant for Dragonspine. It was meant for winter storms in the much milder climate of the city.  

But he wasn’t so sure how fast he could get there with Kaeya dragging along behind him. 

Whatever motivation-fueled energy Kaeya had had appeared to have fizzled out, because he was looking a bit pale in the face. Even though Diluc had draped his coat over Kaeya’s shoulders, he still shivered visibly. At least his fever had broken, though the pyro affliction was less dangerous than hypothermia. 

He was half a mind to send Kaeya down the mountain in search of help, but he didn’t want to leave Kaeya alone right now. Especially not right now. He still had no idea what was going on; either there was a murderer after him, or he was actively suicidal. Neither made Diluc especially enthusiastic about giving him space. 

As soon as he could be sure of Kaeya’s safety, he was going to solve this. He hoped that meant hunting some killer down and not trying to convince his brother that life was worth living when he had a hard time convincing himself of the fact. 

But for now, Solstice was in view. Still standing—still alive.  

He could have cried with relief. 

She was shivering like a leaf, poor thing, and he rushed forward to set a gentle hand on her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you.” 

She moved into his touch, still trembling with cold. He summoned a small flame in his hand, holding it next to her. Some warmth, but not enough. 

That was when he heard a deep crunching of snow behind him behind him. He turned—Kaeya. Passed out in the snow, Diluc’s coat obscuring most of his body. 

Diluc was quick to drop to his knees and pull his coat away from Kaeya. His shivers were intense, but still present. His lips were tinted blue.  

He leaned over to shift Kaeya’s weight onto his back, but a spike of pain in his ribs made him nearly drop him straight back into the snow. His ribs—somehow, with all the adrenaline, he’d forgotten about them. They were probably bruised, if the waves of pain radiating down his side were anything to go by.  

It wasn’t far from here that this had happened. He could no longer see the tracks his sliding had left, but Solstice was still tied to the very same tree. 

Kaeya was unconscious, and he and Solstice were both too injured to carry anybody. Great. He definitely wasn’t tearing up in frustration right now. 

Diluc called for Dusk, and she landed on his arm obediently a moment later. She tilted her head to the side inquisitively, as if to ask him what was wrong. He bit his lip to muffle the sob that had nearly come out. “Jean,” he said. She tilted her head to the side again; he’d never sent her after Jean before. “Home. Go home,” he tried desperately. “Please.” 

Dusk ruffled her feathers, looking at him with wide, perceiving eyes. It was in moments like these where he thought he’d trained a human rather than a bird.  

Then she flew off, and Diluc could only try his best and hope that somebody was smart enough to follow her back to him. 

“Diluc,” came Kaeya’s voice behind him, weak but awake.  

Finally.

Jean hadn’t slept last night. This normally wouldn’t be a problem, but it turned out there was little coffee to be had while investigating a missing person’s case outside of the city. 

Maybe she could ask Adelinde to brew her a pot, but Adelinde looked shaken, to say the least. Not that it put a dent in her efficiency—as soon as she’d come to the city yesterday, she had explained every last detail of the situation to Jean.  

And now Jean had a sinking feeling that she had been right all along—and someone was trying to kill Kaeya. Or maybe kidnap him. If Rosaria was right and this had anything to do with suicide, Kaeya wouldn’t have run away from Dawn Winery into Liyue.  

But the truth of that was a matter for later. As far as anyone knew, Kaeya was simply missing, and Diluc had disappeared on his search for him. Last anyone had heard, Diluc was heading south. That left them an entire country to work with, not to mention Dragonspine.  

“Acting Grand Master,” Elzer greeted as she stepped into the main building. He ignored her state—unwashed clothes, unkempt hair, bags under her eyes as deep as the Chasm. “How is the investigation progressing?” 

She felt bad for Elzer—he was clearly pained by the fact that Adelinde had left the Winery in his control, therefore making him unable to assist in any way. There was work that had to be done, after all, and there were only two people aside from Diluc who had the authority to do it.  

“Nothing new,” she admitted. “Do you know where Adelinde is? I need to discuss some coordination. I had to send some knights back to the city due to our lack of progress.” 

Elzer gestured behind her, into the vineyard. “She hurried out just a minute ago. Couldn’t have gone far, but who knows where she was headed.” 

As it turned out, Adelinde was just saddling up an unfamiliar chestnut-colored horse with a black mane when Jean found her. She rushed to her side, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Adelinde—I’m so glad I found you.” 

Adelinde turned, still fastening the horse’s saddle around its back with quick and practiced motions. “Master Jean,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here. There’s no time to explain, but I need you to come with me.”  

“Did you find a lead?” Jean said, breath catching. 

“I believe I did.” 

Dawn Winery’s horses were in short supply, and this was the last one, so Jean heaved herself up onto the horse behind Adelinde. Adelinde didn’t waste any time before setting the horse into a canter.  

Jean carefully set her hands around Adelinde’s waist and held on. She hadn’t ridden a horse in months, but muscle memory kicked in and she adjusted into proper posture, letting her body move fluidly with the bounce of each of the horse’s steps. “Where are we going?”  

Adelinde raised one hand, pointing up into the sky. Jean followed the line of her finger to a bird. A falcon— Diluc’s falcon. She could recognize Dusk anywhere. “Wherever she takes us,” Adelinde said, leaning forward.  

Jean tilted her head to the side until she could see the path ahead of them. They were already veering in the direction of Dragonspine, which made Jean’s stomach twist uneasily. There was nothing good to come out of going missing on Dragonspine. She sent off a prayer to Barbatos pleading that Diluc had found Kaeya and that the two of them were alive and together.  

Eventually, Adelinde had no choice but to turn them off the path. The horse made a sound of displeasure but did not slow as the ground turned uneven, still muddy from yesterday’s storm.  

It was always interesting to Jean how fast the air transitioned from pleasant to frigid upon setting foot on Dragonspine’s base. Their path was covered in a fresh layer of snow, but given yesterday's storm, it was likely that it had been icy when Diluc had passed over.  

Eventually, the cold nipping at her nose drove her to seek solace in the warmth of Adelinde’s back. She tucked her face close to the hood of Adelinde’s coat, wishing she had had the foresight to bring a coat of her own. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled into the fabric.  

She could feel Adelinde’s voice rumbling in her back as she responded. “It’s not a problem, dear. Just hold on tight.” 

Jean’s breath caught in her throat. Although there were much more pressing things to worry about right now, she couldn’t help but think of her mother. Her mother, who had loved her and raised her and taught her everything she knew, but who she had never heard such warmth from before. And every time she visited the Ragnvindrs, even as a child, Adelinde had greeted her with open arms and a smile warm enough to make her feel right at home. 

Despite herself, she tucked her face closer, doing her best to ignore the smell of the best memories of her childhood on her nose. Cold wind tugged her ponytail undone, and she retied it with one hand.  

It wasn’t long until Jean spotted a smudge of red in the distance. It was hardly visible through the beginnings of snowfall, but as they drew nearer, there was no denying who it was. 

Diluc was trudging through the snow in only his short-sleeved shirt to protect him from the cold. Wearing his coat and leaning heavily on his left arm was Kaeya. Kaeya, who was very much alive and not held captive in some criminal’s basement. Diluc’s right hand was wound tightly around the reins of his limping horse.  

His agitated expression betrayed surprise when Adelinde stopped just in front of him. He stopped, his breath fogging in short pants in the air in front of him. “Jean,” he said. “You came.” 

Jean quickly dismounted the horse, landing in snow up to her knees. She shivered, already missing Adelinde’s warmth. “You’re okay.” 

Adelinde cut in, shooting a firm look to Kaeya, who shot her a clumsy thumbs-up. “We came as soon as Dusk found us. Are you injured?” 

Diluc shook his head. “I’m fine. You should take Kaeya back quickly—he’s fine for now, but I don’t think he’ll make it much longer in these conditions.”  

“Kaeya?” Jean said.  

“No rush,” Kaeya mumbled unconvincingly.  

Adelinde quickly unbuttoned her coat and handed it to Jean. “I’ll take him back to the city. Diluc, I trust you’ll keep her warm enough for you two and Solstice to reach the camp.” 

Diluc nodded. Jean took the coat, fumbling for a bit with the buttons with how numb her fingers were. Snow had already stuck to her clothes, and it was likely going to melt once she warmed up, but that wouldn’t be a problem if they were fast.  

Getting Kaeya onto Adelinde’s horse was a team effort. Jean pretended she didn’t hear Diluc’s breath hitch in pain as he hoisted Kaeya up. If he was still on his feet and walking, that had to be enough for now. She’d press him about it when they were safe.  

“I’ll send help to the adventurer camp,” Adelinde promised as she set off, Kaeya’s head tucked over her shoulder. “You two had better make it home just fine.” 

“We will,” Jean said, but her voice was lost in the wind. 

Shivering, she rubbed her hands together and watched through the falling snow as the figure of Adelinde’s horse vanished into the distance. 

Chapter Text

Now that he’d been back for a while, sensation was returning to Kaeya’s fingers. He flexed them carefully as Adelinde approached from next to him. He could see the words written on her face before she ever asked them. 

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” he said preemptively. He leaned closer to the fire, until the heat pricked uncomfortably at his still-cold skin.  

Adelinde lowered herself onto the floor next to him, adjusting her apron in her lap. “And I wasn’t going to ask.” She grabbed a handful of kindling from an old wicker basket and tossed it into the fire. “After all these years, you’d think I would have learned not to.” 

“That’s true,” Kaeya hummed.  

The real truth was, Kaeya wasn’t sure what he could even talk about. What part of this situation could he tell her? So often, he found himself wishing he could just let everything spill. Share his secrets, his lineage, his fate, and feel the oppressive burden on his shoulders lessen its pressure. But there was no way he could tell anybody, most of all Adelinde. She didn’t deserve that. 

“But just because I won’t ask doesn’t mean I don’t want to know,” Adelinde amended. The fire illuminated her face in soft, warm tones. “That has always been the case, I hope you’re aware.” 

Kaeya sighed as flames danced in his eye. “I know.” 

“Your father—Master Crepus was a kind man. He harbored a great secret, and it was eventually his undoing. I hope you know that nothing is worth keeping such a thing to yourself.” Her voice grew quieter toward the end. He saw her lower her head out of the corner of his eye. “No matter what it is, you’ll always be a good person. I know you.” 

He wanted to tell her. He wanted nothing more than to cry into her shoulder and tell her all that weighed upon him. She’d been so much more for him than his birth parents ever were. “I can’t.” 

“I understand.” 

Did she? 

Something deep down told him she did.  

Silence was never heavy with Adelinde. She had a way of melting into the background, her presence only a vague reassurance in the back of Kaeya’s mind. He was very familiar with what she was doing—he'd once done it, back before Diluc had left the Knights, when he’d still had something to gain from working in someone else’s shadow.  

The fire crackled in front of them. Kaeya hoped Jean and Diluc would be back soon. Diluc would be fine with his pyro Vision. He would keep Jean warm. Kaeya knew that they’d both be fine because he’d seen them in the future’s memories. 

So, for now, Kaeya let himself enjoy this. He wasn’t going to die here. Not today, and probably not tomorrow. Not as long as he stayed at Dawn Winery. He picked at the rug beneath his crossed legs, the one that had been there since his second summer here. He looked into the fire that reminded him of better days and lost himself.  

If he was going to die soon—in the privacy of his own house, far away from those he wished to hide it from—then he needed to make the most of his time here. He needed to remember what it was that made him love being alive, just a final taste of what it meant to be human. There was no place better than here to do that.  

And somehow, he needed to make sure he didn’t break in the process. 

“Are you hungry?” Adelinde asked mildly. 

The fire had left dots in his vision. He blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “If you’re offering to make something, you know I can never turn down your cooking, Adelinde.” 

Adelinde stood, tossing some more kindling into the fire. She picked up the fire poker and started rearranging the half-burnt logs. “Is that so? I seem to remember you were quite the fussy eater as a child.” 

A spark flew from the fire and disappeared as it hit the floor. Kaeya’s eye trailed after it, lingering on the floor afterward, and his smile began to feel unnatural. “My, what are these allegations? From my favorite cook, no less.” 

Adelinde swooped around him, her hand settling hesitantly atop his head. She raked her fingers through his hair, tutting in disapproval. “It’s already so messy. Is that... sand?” 

Kaeya smiled sheepishly, although she couldn’t see his face from where she was standing. “Yep. Diluc and I had quite the adventure on the beach.” 

She paused her movement before continuing. “The beach? It seems you and Master Diluc have much to catch me up on.” 

“I suppose we do.” Kaeya sighed. “Diluc will be hungry when he gets back. He spent a while searching for me.” 

Adelinde laughed softly. Her fingers drew circles on his scalp. “Is that your way of telling me to ‘get out of your hair’?” Her fingers withdrew from the top of his head. “Well, I suppose I will. You’re lucky I won’t make you help. Tomorrow, you won’t be so lucky.” 

“... Duly noted.”

Everything hurt—Diluc’s legs, his head, and his ribs most of all. Jean kept sending him little concerned glances out of the corner of her eye, but she thankfully seemed to read that he didn’t want her pushing right now. 

Tomorrow, he would have to oversee Solstice’s transportation from Dragonspine’s adventure camp back to Dawn Winery. He’d begrudgingly accepted Jean’s plea for him to leave her with the adventurers; he somewhat doubted their competency with security, but it was the only option he had. He needed to get home, and Solstice wasn’t going to last all the way back.  

The Winery was blessedly quiet when they crossed through the vineyard. It appeared Adelinde and Kaeya had already sent most of the investigation team on their way. One less thing for Diluc to deal with. 

The sun hung low in the sky, and judging by the lack of workers tending to the vines, the workday had already come to an end.  

As soon as he pushed the door open, the smell of Adelinde’s cooking hit his nose. As exhausted as he was, sitting down in front of a lovely meal sounded wonderful. There had to be a fire going, too. He could smell smoke, and flames crackled farther in. Unless the maids were being awfully calm about a housefire, he imagined his brother was likely warming up in front of the fireplace. 

Jean handed him Adelinde’s coat. “Tell her I said thank you. I’d best get going as soon as I have a word with Kaeya.” 

Diluc took the coat and hung it up on the coat hanger, then stepped back so as to subtly block Jean’s view of the front door. “You should stay a little longer. Warm up by the fire, eat dinner. It won’t be long.” 

Jean’s brows furrowed, and Diluc could see as she weighed her options. Haltingly, she said, “Sure. I’ll stay a bit—but I have to get back to Headquarters at some point tonight.” 

As much as Diluc appreciated that someone in the Knights of Favonius was taking their job seriously, he selfishly wished it wasn’t Jean. “Kaeya should be by the fire. I’m going to go get changed.” 

“Aren’t you going to—” 

Diluc cut her off, already starting for the kitchen to announce his return to Adelinde. “I’ll see him just fine over dinner.” 

The foyer disappeared behind him as he entered the kitchen, which was much better lit than the other rooms. Adelinde hummed softly to herself as she chopped vegetables, but ceased her tune even when she caught sight of Diluc. A little smile came to her face. “You got home with no trouble?” 

“None,” Diluc said. “It was a rather uneventful journey.” 

“An uneventful journey is a peaceful one,” Adelinde said. “Will the Acting Grand Master be joining us for dinner?” Her fingers moved deftly over the ingredients, cutting bottoms off asparagus stalks with practiced precision.  

“I somehow managed to convince her to stay that long.” 

Adelinde shook her head fondly. “ Never slows down, that one. Never has. She takes after her mother.” She set the knife to the side and threw the carrots in a bowl. “Just like you, might I say.”  

She always told him this, but he never understood what she meant; he’d never met his mother. As far as he knew, nobody had since he was born. There were no death records—he'd checked—but his investigations into her possible whereabouts also yielded nothing. But he had a feeling Adelinde knew more than he did, what with that fond glint in her eye that betrayed heaps less grief than everyone else felt. “What do you mean?” 

 “Well, you could say that Master Kaeya takes after Master Crepus in the same way you take after your mother,” she said lightly.  

That changed nothing. Diluc wasn’t any closer to figuring it out, and she knew it. “I’m going to go get changed,” he said, hovering by the doorway. “I’ll be back in few minutes.” 

Adelinde nodded, but then her movements came to a stop. She set her spoon down and said, “You know, one of these days, I’m going to give you both a good talking to. Yesterday only proved to me how necessary it is.” 

“... We’re getting better, Adelinde.” 

“If you want me to believe that, I’ll need one of you to tell me what happened yesterday.” 

Diluc didn’t answer; he was already halfway out the door.  

What happened yesterday... He had no reason to keep it a secret. But somehow, for some reason, Kaeya did. Kaeya was always keeping secrets, so Diluc could probably tell her all about it just fine. Not right now, though. Right now, he felt about five minutes away from collapsing from exhaustion. 

It wasn’t anything, was it? Diluc had just been trying to help care for Kaeya, and then he’d snuck out of the bathroom window with no warning signs whatsoever. It was almost as if it was a spur of the moment decision. Their argument had been mild, as far as arguments went—right? It was hardly more than banter.  

If there was a murderer after Kaeya, Diluc really wasn’t sure why Kaeya would leave. And clearly, he hadn’t been taken—his reaction to being found had made that abundantly clear. Try as he might to dodge the truth, he wasn’t one to do things that were outright contrary to reality.  

So, the only other option was that Kaeya wanted to get away from the Winery for some reason. Diluc had a few ideas as to why. He was still ill, so it wasn’t impossible that he’d run for some feverish delusion. Or he could’ve desperately wanted to get away for other reasons—with the storm, Diluc understood why. Or maybe he just wanted to be left alone so he could die in peace. Now that he thought about it more, that one made the least sense, but it stirred up a deeply uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.  

I’m not suicidal, Kaeya had said. But the realization that that was the reason the Church hadn’t let him leave earlier had shocked Diluc enough at the time that he’d let it overtake all the other options.  

Surely, there was a completely rational reason for this.  

“Master Diluc,” Moco greeted as he reached the landing. “I’m glad to see you return safely.”  

Diluc nodded stiffly; he really didn’t want to deal with anyone right now, least of all someone who took as much energy as she did. “Thank you.”  

“I hope that your—ahem, guest—is alright as well.” Her wide eyes pierced his, but she nibbled on her lower lip as she waited for him to respond.  

“Yes, Sir Kaeya is fine,” Diluc said. “I’ll extend your concerns to him, but he needs to rest.”  

“I just wanted to say… you two are both good for each other. I mean, you’ve seemed so much happier lately, and—”  

Diluc froze, a hand on the handle of his bedroom door. “What are you insinuating?”  

Moco reddened, eyes flitting to the side. “Um, well! I mean…” She shifted. “Your relationship?” 

Oh. That was awkward. This was the exact sort of chaos Kaeya reveled in, but all it did to Diluc was make him exceedingly uncomfortable.  

“My brother will be fine,” Diluc said gruffly, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. 

There was a muffled “oh” behind the wood.  

He listened until her footsteps trailed tentatively down the hall, and eventually down the stairs. Then he let out a heaving sigh.  

Somehow, it had slipped his mind that the newer workers knew nothing of Kaeya’s adoption. They surely knew that he and Kaeya had once been close—Adelinde brought him up often enough—but nobody had ever told them. So, he couldn’t blame Moco for jumping to conclusions. Even ones that made him recoil internally in shock.  

Friendly rivals, he could see. Personally, he would’ve more expected to come across as having a mutual agreement to share intelligence, but he supposed that was only how those who actively thought about intel would see it.  

Allowing himself another dramatic sigh, he got to changing his clothes. He gritted his teeth through the twinges of pain in his ribs as he tugged a shirt over his head. A short glance revealed that his side was heavily bruised, and he ran his hand over the affected area in search of a break, exhaling softly in relief when he found nothing.  

It wasn’t long before he was heading back downstairs. Unfortunately, he couldn’t embark on a late-night escapade like he normally would; he had guests, and he was still bound to the laws of formality. And Jean was his friend and Kaeya his brother. That too.  

Besides, there was no way he was leaving after Kaeya had shown what he was capable of yesterday. Not yet. Maybe once Adelinde fortified the windows he would finally go to the city again.  

It had been a difficult decision, but he’d somehow chosen Kaeya. There was something about this situation that rubbed him the wrong way, begged his attention. He’d have to pry some information out of Kaeya tonight. 

Adelinde sat at the table as soon as everyone else did. He’d convinced her to start eating with him recently; while Father had only asked her a few times if she wished it, Diluc had been much more persistent, and she had finally caved.  

The first bite hit him with a wall of flavor that reminded him of why he’d come back home. After being away for so long, he always seemed hungrier—probably was hungrier. No preprepared snack compared to a hot meal, and there was only so many times he could eat at a restaurant before he became hyperaware of every mora he spent. But those days were behind him.  

Content, he turned his attention outward.  

Jean was laughing at something Kaeya had said. Adelinde even bore a small smile. Leave it to Kaeya to crack a joke after a day like this. Diluc could almost forget that he’d found him passed out in the sand in the early hours of the morning, trembling with fever and clothes damp with melted snow and sweat.  

Kaeya looked pleased with himself—a little smug, even. He stabbed his fork through a piece of fowl, making eye contact with Diluc as he brought it to his mouth. “What? Is my humor not to your liking?” His mouth was full as he said it, and Diluc anticipated a scolding from Adelinde that never came.  

“No, it’s not that,” Diluc said. His fork made a scraping sound against his plate as he gathered a bite. “I just thought you might be tired. After such a long day, I mean.” 

Kaeya leaned back in his chair, the front legs tipping slightly off the ground. Again, Adelinde didn’t scold him. “Tired? I’d wager I’ve gotten more sleep than you have in the past few days, Master Diluc.” 

“Kaeya, you’re recovering from a poisoning attempt,” Jean said, foregoing all attempts to ignore the elephant in the room. “It’s alright if you are. Both of you.”  

Kaeya tutted, still rocking his chair back and forth on its rear legs. “You know how I feel about hypocrisy, Jean.” 

“I don’t—” 

“So, you all need some rest,” Adelinde interjected. She set her fork down gently. “Instead of worrying about something that you already know is true, let’s enjoy our company and the meal.” 

Kaeya let his chair fall back into its normal position with a thud against wood. “You know, Adelinde; you’re right. It’s not often we all get to unite like this anymore. So, let’s focus on something other than the obvious, shall we?” 

“Sounds good to me,” Jean agreed. 

Diluc grumbled under his breath. They were oversimplifying it. While he and Jean were simply tired, Kaeya had almost died. And they still didn’t know all the details of what had happened. 

He trusted Jean to press him about it as soon as she felt it made sense, but he had a feeling that it would end up later than Kaeya needed. She was far too permissive when it came to his attitude, only pushing when she could tell he was in the mood to share, which was rare. 

Adelinde, too, seemed to care more about Kaeya’s present comfort over his continued safety. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have interrupted what Diluc was trying to get across.  

Sometimes, it felt like they were all conspiring against him.  

The rest of the meal was nice, he had to admit. It was rare that he would have a chance to spend meaningful time with Jean or Kaeya to begin with, but to have them both visit him at the same time was a rush of nostalgia he’d been unprepared for.  

Everything was just like it had been back then. It was the same food, the same chairs, the same table. Adelinde still laughed the same way, a barely-audible chuckle that she covered with a hand. Jean was older, but still had the same smile; her eyes hadn’t lost their light, and despite the weariness evident in her features, she was still the same person she had always been.  

Kaeya—the only way Kaeya was different was in clear compensation. Compensation for what Diluc had done wrong, what Diluc was lacking.  

Once, he might have led this conversation himself. Filled the whole meal with conversation about his day and his aspirations. Kaeya would have easily settled into his role as the person who shot back at what he said with witty remarks and jokes.  

Today, words didn’t come as easily to him. It was as if there was a barrier between him and who he had once been; no longer did he even feel the urge to gossip or tell meaningless stories. He wished he did. 

At least Kaeya hadn’t lost that part of them.  

Soon, he was scraping the sauce off his plate with his fork only to have something to do. Everyone but Kaeya had cleared their plate, and Kaeya had conveniently eaten everything except the asparagus. That, too, was so incredibly normal.  

During a lull in conversation, as Kaeya began to tentatively nibble at an asparagus tip, Jean smiled politely and said, “Thank you both for having me. It’s great for us all to get together again after so long.” 

“You are always welcome to visit,” Diluc responded. He cast his gaze to Kaeya, who was making a face at his asparagus. “You, too.” 

“Who, me?” Kaeya rested his chin in his hand, giving up on both his asparagus and his table manners. “And here I thought I was only here for safety reasons. Who better to protect me than the—” 

Diluc cleared his throat. “Okay. That’s enough of that—Jean, can I have a word with you?” 

Jean’s easy smile fell into something more neutral. “Oh—of course.”  

Adelinde started collecting their plates as Diluc led Jean out of the room and down the hall. “Dessert will be ready shortly,” Diluc heard her say behind the wall.  

Kaeya’s voice was louder than hers, more easily audible. “Dessert? My, Adelinde. I almost feel manipulated. You know your desserts are one of a kind.”  

“And you know very well I’ll take any chance I can to serve you and the Acting Grand Master your fill,” Adelinde said as she disappeared into the kitchen, her voice fading away. 

Once they were out of earshot, Diluc came to a stop. There was no use in delaying this conversation. He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve for a second before saying, “I need to talk to you about Kaeya.” 

Jean nodded. It clearly hadn’t come as a surprise. 

Diluc took a deep breath. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him. One moment, he’s normal, and the next he’s making these bizarre decisions.” His eyes traced up and down the hallway, searching for signs of eavesdroppers. “He’s definitely hiding something, and I know it’s connected to the poisoning.”  

“You think he knows who did it to him?” 

“If he didn’t do it to himself, yes.” 

Jean frowned. She twisted a strand of hair around a finger, a mild slip in composure Diluc was surprised she’d still let him see. “I don’t think he did. Do you really think he would be so conspicuous about trying to escape if his intention was suicide? He’s smarter than that. He let you follow him for a reason.” 

“But he also wasn’t thinking clearly. He had a fever and we’d just fought. I think—I can’t really tell when we’re fighting these days.” Diluc crossed his arms. “Either way, we need information. Even if he did this to himself, things aren’t lining up how they would if it was simple. I need you to promise me something, Jean.” Finally, he met her eyes.  

“What is it?” 

Years ago, her response would have been, ‘ Anything.’ Those days were long past.  

Still, her gaze was unwavering along with her resolve. Whatever decision she would make, Diluc knew she wouldn’t make it lightly. 

“If I find information,” he started, “and I need to leave... I need you to not let Kaeya to his own devices. At all. I don’t care if it means he can’t go on patrols, his life is more valuable than that. If I leave—” He paused, thinking. “If I leave, then it’s not just some petty criminal looking to stir up trouble.” 

“What are you thinking it is, then?”  

Jean didn’t know of Kaeya’s background. She did know of a portion of what he got up to in his free time. What would Kaeya respond with? 

“Old enemies. People like me and Kaeya—we’re going to have enemies whether we like it or not. I don’t know everything about who might hold a grudge against him, but I have the means to figure it out.” 

Jean sighed softly. “Do you promise to be safe, Diluc?” 

“... Of course.” 

“Then I promise I will keep your brother safe as well.” 

Those two words uttered aloud—‘ your brother’— solidified the gravity of the situation. Jean hadn’t dared call Kaeya his brother in years. Sometimes, she even slipped back into ‘Sir Kaeya’ and ‘Captain Kaeya,’ matching Diluc’s own words.  

They truly were getting better, if Jean felt she could say that. 

Diluc wasn’t going to let anybody take his brother from him again. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I should add that the chances of this being a one-off attempt of a lesser criminal aren’t negligible.” 

Jean cracked a small smile. “I’m well aware, considering I’m in charge of the very knights investigating it.” Her smile fell, and she lifted a hand. “You’re hurt, aren’t you? You seemed to be in pain earlier.” 

There was no use in hiding it if she was offering to help. Diluc didn’t like to go to healers himself, but his childhood best friend was different. And she was right here. “... Yes. My ribs. They’re not broken, though—I already checked.” 

As Jean healed him, the smell of Adelinde’s dessert wafted in. He heard Kaeya exclaim in delight, likely starting to eat without them. How impolite. 

He would do anything to keep it this way forever.

Night fell, and Kaeya couldn’t stop thinking. 

This wasn’t anything new. On days when he wasn’t exhausted enough to pass out the moment his head hit the pillow—or even slumped over his desk, having failed to make it home in the first place—his mind seemed to work on overdrive. Sometimes the thoughts were welcome, but usually they only served to keep him awake until the early hours of the morning. 

The clarity of his mind contrasted his jumbled consciousness in the past few days, making it far too easy for him to slip into familiar patterns. It was only exacerbated by his present predicament, the hollow aching behind his eye that reminded him of what was to come.  

But there was no use in thinking about it. There was no strategizing or plotting that would help him defy fate. He’d tried, he’d hoped and dreamed, but that vision the Sinner had shown him was clearly the end. He’d felt his own heart stop, and he’d known with certainty that it was the truth.  

He had many questions—what did the Sinner want, if from its perspective, everything had already happened? Why would you strive for anything when you knew the ultimate truth? If Kaeya was just another host to be discarded, then what was the point of it all? Why choose him if he wasn’t any help to begin with? 

But none of it would be answered. The Sinner was no human. Its being had been corrupted from the very beginning, brimming with forbidden knowledge and abyssal magic. It worked in ways Kaeya could never hope to understand.  

Wind howled outside, sneaking in through the half-open window and making the curtains flutter. Shadows danced on the walls, these so familiar walls that Kaeya would be saying his goodbyes to in not so long. He would stay here as long as he could, embrace the familiarity and make excuses upon excuses to not waltz back toward the city of his death.  

It was loud. Maybe that was why he couldn’t sleep. 

He shivered at the breeze that met his exposed collarbone when he slipped out from under the covers. The window latched shut easily, and the room suddenly went stale, unmoving.  

Outside were the vineyards. He didn’t think about them, couldn’t, just like he couldn’t think about Klee or Rosaria or Albedo or fucking Genius Invokation TCG. Everything here was a reason to stay, echoing and blending together into a cacophony of dread. 

Kaeya’s sleeve slipped down as he lifted his arm. He ran his cold fingers over the exposed skin, tracing a line where there might have been a scar if things had gone differently. If he hadn’t been so careless.  

It had been a carefully calculated move, one made after carefully pondering an anatomy textbook. He’d been far too scared to do it anywhere else, and in retrospect, he was glad. He was glad he’d been too scared to do it the right way. 

That didn’t make the echoes of fourteen-year-old Diluc’s sobs in his head any easier.  

He was alive now. And sitting here in this room, he did know that he was loved. And he loved it here.  

Yet now that he finally cherished being alive, fate saw it fit to snatch his life from his grasp like candy from a child. 

Bitter laughter caught in his throat and came out of his mouth in the form of a shuddering breath. 

Not here, not now. Not anymore. He wasn’t going to go out crying. 

The curtains fell shut, and Kaeya turned for the door. The room was pitch-dark now, but he knew where to reach to open it.  

Diluc wasn’t hovering outside his door, though he had almost expected him to be. Kaeya wouldn’t have been surprised if Diluc had spent the better portion of that first night camped outside the guest room. It would be in character.  

Now that he thought about it—  

Kaeya crept forward, socked feet silent against the wooden floor. Diluc’s room was just across from the guest room, next to Crepus’ old bedroom that had likely been repurposed. Kaeya didn’t know; he’d consciously avoided this entire side of the hall.  

Hand reaching for the door handle, Kaeya hesitated.  

He’d run a risk of waking Diluc if he did this. And Diluc had clearly been exhausted.  

Besides, there was something else he wanted to do first.  

He glanced over his shoulder before opening the door to Father’s bedroom. It creaked as it opened, and Kaeya slipped in and closed it with a soft click.  

It was dark; the only light in the room came from the crack between the curtains, from which came a soft glow of moonlight.  

The room was completely unchanged.  

Paintings hung on the walls, splashed with color in familiar strokes. Birds; landscapes; a woman with brown hair, flaming red eyes, and freckles dusted over her nose that Kaeya didn’t recognize. He didn’t need light to recognize these paintings when he had seen their creation. 

Drawing the curtains wider open, he looked around again, disbelieving. It had been years. Diluc had so readily gotten rid of the mansion, severed ties to anything tethering him to the past. Or so Kaeya had thought, it seemed. 

After the fight, when Diluc had yet to sell the mansion, Kaeya had torn through Crepus’ office and bedroom in search of anything incriminating—both to him and to the Ragnvindr family. What little he’d come up with was easily tossed in a fire for none to see.  

But his bedroom at the Winery—Kaeya had expected Diluc to deal with that. After all, it was only a space on the side. It contained much fewer memories than their real home.  

If it was still here, Kaeya had to check. If he was going to leave this world, he had to at least make sure he left behind no traces. It wouldn’t do if someone found any information on him here. 

It was easy enough to find where Father kept his things. A quick inspection of the room revealed no floorboard out of place, the drawers in the dresser had normal bottoms. Every last typical hiding place was checked off, and soon the more difficult ones as well. It made sense that Father wouldn’t hide much here. 

Satisfied, Kaeya set out to inspect the obvious. The top drawer of the dresser next to his bed was full of trinkets, some old paintbrushes and notebooks, and an old folder. Kaeya carefully removed the notebooks and folder before sliding the drawer shut with a quiet click. 

He leaned against the windowsill for the moon’s light as he flipped through the pages of the first notebook. This one was frayed around the edges and discolored with age; each page was filled with elegant cursive and a date printed neatly at the top. He recalled Father keeping journals—every time they all returned to the Winery, he would surely add to them.  

It ended about two months after Kaeya was first adopted. Likely nothing of use yet, then—he'd been far too ill to give up any information even if he’d wanted to. And even as he’d improved, he’d barely spoken for the first few months.  

... But he would read through it just in case.  

He set it aside and moved to the next notebook. This one was spiral-bound with a water-resistant cover in a shade of faded blue. He recognized it, unlike the others; Father had carried this one around with him whenever he went outside.  

Each page revealed a different sketch of an animal or a plant. Some, he appeared to have later gone over in color, and others remained in pencil. Kaeya stopped for a moment on a page where a shimmering yellow caught his eye. 

My workers insisted I take the day off for my birthday, so I took the boys over to Liyue’s border. Kaeya was especially enthralled by the geo crystalflies.   

It was short and simple, yet it brought back a rush of memories. On an overcast day, they’d ridden over to the border, and Father had taken it upon himself to point out every notable plant or animal along the way. Diluc had quickly grown bored, but Kaeya, unused to aboveground Teyvat’s ecosystem, had been beyond excited. The crystalflies had surprised him most of all; while he loved the anemo ones back home, finding out that there were geo ones—and electro ones and pyro ones and every other element he could think of!—had sent him reeling. 

Now, such sights were nostalgic at best. In a way, he missed that youthful awe. 

But Kaeya couldn’t let himself get too carried away. After skimming through a few more pages, he moved to the next notebook. This one was made of leather and sealed with a strip of fabric wrapped around a button. It came undone easily, and he squinted at it in the dim lighting, shifting farther onto the windowsill to get better light. 

It was another journal. This one was old. Much older than Kaeya was.  

He was intruding. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from flipping to a random page in the middle. His eye caught the first sentence:  

She’s pregnant.   

Oh.  

He wondered if Diluc had read this, or if such nosiness was only Kaeya’s own trait. It was almost funny to think about.  

Well, he wasn’t going to find anything here. He set the notebook aside and opened the last one. The date on the top of the first page was five years after his adoption. This also wasn’t exactly what he was looking for, but he would need to check through it too. But the more urgent matter was finding the one that explained his younger years in the Ragnvindr family. If Father had speculated at all about Kaeya’s origins, it was likely in that journal. 

Kaeya gathered the notebooks into a neat stack and returned them to their drawer. Then he slowly began to pick through the room in search of the last one. Under the bed came up negative, as did behind the bookshelf and anywhere in the walk-in closet. Soon enough, he’d scoured the whole room top to bottom and found near nothing, save for a faded red ribbon and an old pocketwatch.  

Was it possible that Father hadn’t had a journal in those few years? Perhaps he’d been especially uninspired, or maybe taking care of Kaeya had had him far too busy.  

But there was no way Kaeya was going to let this matter rest. There were many other places in the Winery it could’ve been hidden. He knew for a fact it wasn’t among Father’s belongings in the mansion. Even if he had brought it back, Kaeya would’ve found it in his search. 

It clearly wasn’t in here, though, so he let the drawer slide shut and gave a final glance around the room. Not a thing was out of place. Moonlight still cast its faint glow through the room, reminding Kaeya of the hour yet again. 

Kaeya hoped this investigation would assuage his worries enough for him to fall asleep.  

Quietly, he stepped back out into the hallway and crossed the short distance to Diluc’s room. He thanked his many years of experience here for his careful avoidance of the creaky floorboards.  

Diluc’s door, unlike Father’s, was typically quiet to open. When Kaeya was younger—much, much younger—he used to sneak out of his room late at night to check on his family. First Father, then Diluc. The feeling of incessant danger was hard to pull free of, and it had seemed natural at the time. For so long, he had taken first watch as he travelled through Teyvat with his father. Danger was always the first thing on his mind come nightfall.  

Now, Kaeya was past that. It didn’t mean he wasn’t an expert on how to get around silently in this house, though.  

What Kaeya wasn’t expecting—but perhaps should have expected—was that Diluc would be staring right back at him when he cracked the door open. 

A pair of crimson eyes stared back from the near pitch-dark room, reflecting the small amount of light from the hall. Wisps of unruly red hair framed his face in a way that spoke of tossing and turning, and the alertness in Diluc’s gaze told Kaeya he had definitely not been sleeping.  

If he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, maybe Diluc would pretend this had never happened.  

Kaeya took in a quiet breath through his teeth before inching to pull the door shut. 

“Kaeya.” Diluc’s voice was quiet, yet perfectly audible. 

He paused, staring at Diluc through the crack in the door, “That’s me,” he said with a breathy laugh. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Straight to the point as ever, I see.” Kaeya withdrew his hand from the handle, crossing his arms. “I could ask the same of you. Why aren’t you sleeping, Master Diluc?” 

A poor attempt at deflection, really, but Diluc appeared too tired to see through the obvious bait. Kaeya heard him shift behind the door and say, “I heard Father’s door open.” 

Another uneasy laugh. “Did you, now? I can’t say I remember what that sounds like. Come to think of it, you surely don’t lack the funds to lubricate the hinges properly. If it’s such a recognizable sound, maybe—” 

“Shut up. Please.” 

Kaeya closed his mouth with an audible click.  

“What were you doing in his room?” 

He took a step back, falling into the shadows of the hallway. There was no need to control his facial expressions if nobody could see him. Then he took in a short breath, preparing himself for perhaps the boldest lie he’d told in days: “Father’s room? I thought you’d converted it into a study or something.” 

Diluc heaved a dramatic sigh. “We’re talking about tomorrow. Everything, Kaeya. I’m tired of your games. Every interaction with you is like a game of chess.” 

“I thought you liked chess,” Kaeya said weakly.  

Another sigh. Springs bounced as if Diluc had thrown his hand down on the mattress. “You should go to sleep.” 

“So should you. Yet neither of us is making any move to do so. It’s rather odd, don’t you think?” 

There was a long stretch of silence from the other side of the door. Kaeya moved closer, again peeking through until he could see the corner of his brother’s messy red hair.  

“I can’t sleep,” he heard Diluc admit quietly. “No use trying at this point. I know how it goes.” 

“You and me both.” Kaeya trailed an eye through Diluc’s room. He hadn’t seen into it in years, and it was hardly any different from what he remembered. Though the bedframe was certainly larger, and he didn’t remember Diluc having blackout curtains before. That made both of them.  

An impulsive idea came over him, and it was probably due to his exhaustion that he caved before he could even think it through. He opened the door just wide enough to slip in before shutting it behind him.  

It took his eye a few seconds to adjust to the complete darkness, but when it did, Diluc was still staring at him, an unreadable look on his face.  

“What are you doing?” Diluc asked. Kaeya wondered how many questions a man could ask before he eventually gave up on trying. His brother had to be near that limit.  

Kaeya shrugged with much more levity than he felt. “Sleepover,” he said simply before crash-landing onto Diluc’s bed. The mattress bounced a little at his impact, and Diluc gave a small ‘oof’ as he was thrown onto his back.  

“I don’t—” Diluc started, staring up at the ceiling. He ran a hand over his face tiredly. “You know what, fine.” Kaeya thought he saw the tiniest hints of a smile beneath his hand.  

Kaeya flipped over onto his back, giving Diluc ample room on the other side of the bed. His heart was already pounding from uncertainty—he'd anticipated Diluc’s reaction to be anger or annoyance, not simple acceptance. This was... 

Something new. 

There was a steady warmth beside him, thrumming with a familiar pyro energy only an arm’s length away. This was an echo of his childhood, one he’d been determined to reexperience just once before his end.  

Diluc’s breath soon evened out, and Kaeya slowed his breathing to match his. In, out, in, out—to live was to give and take, a cycle which he would savor up until his very last breath.  

Birds began to chirp outside as dawn began to emerge. It was summer, so they still had a few hours to spare before breakfast. Everything was perfect, exactly right now. 

And as Kaeya stared up at the ceiling, eye tracing the lines in the wood, he decided his dying wish had come true: Diluc no longer hated him.  

Chapter Text

Kaeya waited until Diluc had left the room to crack his eye open. He sat up, stretching for a moment and blinking away the dregs of sleep. He’d been awake for a while, but had feigned sleep while Diluc had gotten ready. It was a favor to both of them, really.

He glanced out the window as he heard voices drift in from outside. Some winery worker was pulling up a horse-drawn carriage, and Diluc was coming their way, his posture stiff. A few moments later, he got in the carriage, and they set off down the rocky path.

Back to business as usual, then. That made it easier for Kaeya to do what he had to.

Diluc’s bedroom was a treasure trove compared to Father’s. A loose board in the floor—one Kaeya had always been aware of—gave way to reveal his Darknight Hero uniform, and Kaeya wrinkled his nose at the dust that had accumulated in the space. He placed the floorboard back carefully, adjusting it until its unevenness was nearly imperceptible.

There were documents on his bedside table, which Kaeya quickly skimmed and deemed unimportant. He picked through Diluc’s shelves, thumbing through every notebook. Nothing of use.

Well, it was no problem. Diluc had an office, too. If anything important was in this building, it was likely there.

As Kaeya turned to the door, one last idea came to him. He turned again, shoving his hands underneath the mattress. The springs were cold against his hands as he lifted it from its frame.

There—a notebook.

Just how many notebooks did Diluc keep? He was starting to seem more like his father every day. Just another thing that made it obvious Kaeya had never been a true Ragnvindr. He laughed bitterly to himself.

The first page revealed familiar handwriting, and Kaeya felt his heart leap in his chest.

The date was four months after his adoption. He’d found it.

Giddy, Kaeya returned to the guest room with a spring in his step and tucked the notebook between the nightstand and the wall. Unless somebody was doing some deep cleaning, nobody would ever think to look back there. He would have to read it soon. Not now, because he didn’t know when Diluc would get back, and there were other things he needed to investigate first.

The hallway was still clear of maids. He could hear someone cleaning windows downstairs, and he hoped it was an all-day, all-hands-on-deck sort of window cleaning session. The less supervision he got, the better.

Of course, he couldn’t trust Adelinde to leave him alone fully. She always had a way of knowing what he was up to, regardless of whether she called him out for it or not. He recalled that, as a child, he had often thought he was getting away with sneaking fresh grapes from the kitchen until she alluded to it the next day, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Somehow, the pattern had kept up, even as he had grown older and his schemes more sinister.

But for now, he didn’t think it was too suspicious to poke around Diluc’s office for a bit. It wasn’t like he was going to spill Dawn Winery’s secrets to a business rival. Anything he would find was either of no use to him or family information that he should have had access to to begin with.

This search took longer, and the latter half was spent glancing periodically behind his back, straining to listen. Diluc’s office was chaotic, but the organization system was familiar and unchanged from years prior. Official documents were easy to find, but less-official records were more difficult, albeit possible.

There was a lot of information here, but Kaeya was pleased to find that Diluc had already told him most of the details relevant to Kaeya’s field of work. There was a thick stack of information on the Fatui that Kaeya would have to skim through later, but other than that, nothing stood out.

Not quite, that is.

Conspicuously, some things were missing. He knew Diluc’s connections spanned across the continent, so why were all his notes in his own handwriting? Had he simply burned all the letters he’d received, or were they hidden elsewhere?

Kaeya left when he was confident he wouldn’t find anything else. It was with a few things tucked into a neat stack under his arm: his adoption certificate, an old eyepatch that had been collecting dust in a bottom drawer, and one last thing that he didn’t want to so much as glance at, lest his heart beat out of his chest.

Thus began a long, long day of reading.

Diluc arrived back at the Winery around noon, Solstice wheeling along behind him in a carriage. The bumps on the path were surely uncomfortable for her injury, but there was no other way to get her back to the Winery to recover.

After passing her onto one of his workers, he headed straight for his office. Yesterday had put him behind schedule, and he had a myriad of obligations to complete. Not to mention the fortifications he’d promised himself he was going to install in the old windows. He needed to find a glazier, and securing the funds for reinforced glass and foolproof locks would require some budgeting.

A feeling of unease crept up his spine when Diluc first entered his office, but he brushed it off. Kaeya was eating lunch, the same meal Diluc had carried up the stairs with him to accompany him while he worked. Adelinde would have already told him if something was wrong in that area.

Clenching his jaw, he approached the window. The lock was still set in position where he’d left it, and the potted plant on the windowsill Adelinde so meticulously cared for hadn’t moved. Nobody could have come in through there.

Diluc drew his wardrobe open with a creak of the hinges. Nothing was out of place. Nobody was hiding anymore. His office was clear.

Finally, he sat down at his desk, discomfort still prickling at the back of his neck. As he smoothed out a sheet of paper to draft a missive on, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He dipped his quill in the inkwell. They were Kaeya’s footsteps, headed for the guest room. If he listened closely, he could hear a maid’s not far behind.

It was nothing of note. He set to work.

The first order of business was dealing with the new windows, as well as medicine for Solstice while she recovered from her injury. He wrote and signed a list of requirements for Elzer to take into consideration before setting it aside to bring downstairs later.

Then came the more routine stuff. It was tax season, and while both Adelinde and Elzer had the authority to calculate their figures, it was on him to review it all and sign it off. Then there were dozens of offers for collaboration from other businesses, which he sorted into vague piles of ‘maybe’ and ‘absolutely not.’

Overall, it was tedious work. This sort of thing—being the charismatic owner of an influential company—had never been his thing. He’d always thrived more through hands-on, mouths-shut kinds of business. If Father had survived, this job would have surely been passed to Kaeya.

And what a good winemaker Kaeya would have been. Diluc couldn’t even stand the texture of alcohol in his mouth. It was struggle enough to drink enough to remain polite around associates. Kaeya would never have that problem to begin with, and he’d pair it with his natural magnetism to boot.

Late in the afternoon, the sun dipped low in the sky, kissing the horizon. It was now at the right angle to cast light directly into Diluc’s eyes—normally, at this time of day, he’d close the curtains. But he wanted an eye outside, just in case Kaeya made to run off again.

Kaeya hadn’t tried anything yet. Diluc had gotten up twice to check on him, and both times he’d been in his room. The first, he’d clearly been feigning a nap, but Diluc thought that he was actually asleep the second time.

Diluc shielded his eyes from the sun as he wrote, his hand cramping from overuse. The paper almost seemed to glow in the sunlight, and the words were growing hard to read due to the contrast. Huffing in irritation, he hunched over the document to cast a shadow over it.

He was glad he didn’t have any important meetings scheduled for today. Tomorrow, he had a conference with a business partner from a newspaper in Fontaine looking to promote Dawn Winery’s products. It was a long and tedious affair to conduct such cross-border operations, so the paper had sent an official his way.

Now that he thought of it, he had yet to sign off on the guest’s hotel funding request. It was Dawn Winery’s job to cover the cost of travels because it was technically his proposition to begin with.

He groaned into his hand, adding another item to his ever-growing list of things he was falling behind on. With his luck, he would be up all night before he had a chance to check for new letters from his informants.

As if sensing his misery, a certain someone pushed the door open. Kaeya, likely here to stoke the flames with a red-hot poker, and maybe even exclaim in surprise when it inevitably burned him. That was how everything was with them these days.

Kaeya’s expression was pulled into a performative smirk, and Diluc could tell before he’d even said a word that he was up to something. He sighed in exasperation.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Kaeya asked innocently, hands on his hips. He tapped his foot against the floor, full of a restless energy Diluc hadn’t seen from him in days.

“Um...” Diluc looked down at the papers strewn across his desk, then rubbed his pounding temples. “Yes, actually. I was just in the middle of—”

“I don’t care, actually,” Kaeya said suddenly. He took a few steps in, letting the door hang open behind him. Diluc braced himself as a gust of wind blew in and slammed it shut in his place. The frame rattled. “Let’s do something.”

Diluc stood; their height difference already bothered him enough. “I’m busy,” he reiterated. “I actually have work to do around here. I’m not sure you’re familiar with the concept.”

Kaeya made a show of being wounded, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “Ouch,” he said. Then he changed the subject drastically, letting his arm fall to his side. “Anyway, it’s like... five-ish. You’ve been working since eight in the morning. Stop being boring.”

“Boring?” Diluc couldn’t help but echo. What was with Kaeya right now? He normally wasn’t quite so unpredictable, even if he was oftentimes hard to read. His mouth was still stretched into a crooked smile, one that felt vaguely unnatural. “I’m working. It’s not meant to be fun.”

Kaeya rolled his eye and came closer. Diluc could see the slight tremors in his hands as he crossed his arms. “Let’s do something,” he repeated. Only now did Diluc hear the tinge of desperation in his voice. Kaeya laughed sharply. “Come on, Master Diluc. You’ve always been so uptight. Would it hurt to appease your poor, dying brother just this once?”

Dying. A bolt of pain lanced through Diluc’s chest. Was that a hint? Was Kaeya trying to tell him something, dancing around the words because he was just as woefully bad at communication as he always had been? “Fine,” he grunted. “We’ll do something.”

Instead of lighting up like he might have once, Kaeya’s features relaxed slightly, as if he was relieved. “Great! Great.” He reached for Diluc’s arm, cool fingers wrapping around his brother’s wrist. “I was thinking—I don’t get to visit all that often, and it’s been a really long time since I got the chance to pick grapes, and—”

“Grapes won’t be in season for at least a month longer.”

Something flashed through Kaeya’s visible eye. His fingers faltered around Diluc’s wrist, then tightened again. “Please?” he tried.

Please. What had made Kaeya so desperate to pick grapes that he’d forego his usual methods of manipulation? This was only one step above begging.

Diluc let his brother drag him outside into the late afternoon sun. Who was he to deny his brother such a simple joy? After all that he’d messed up—burning Kaeya, scarring him, letting him run a way in a moment of delusion—a few unripe grapes and a moment of his time were a small price to pay. It was better than letting him drown himself in wine, inching himself ever closer to an early grave.

The air was stagnant, unmoving, as if Barbatos himself were waiting in anticipation. It aligned so perfectly with how Diluc felt; something was about to happen, and he knew it. There was something wrong. But for now—Kaeya’s cool hand around his wrist, the trembling abating—he struggled to see what would go wrong. What Kaeya was hiding.

Tonight, he would have a talk with his brother. Press him for information until he spilled every last word of what was going on with him. This couldn’t go on any longer. They’d both paid the price last time.

Grapevines climbed the trellises in winding, branching pathways splattered with bursts of green. Diluc always liked being among the plants, inhaling the fresh air and feeling the grit of nature on his hands. It was much better than being cooped up in his office. He often wished to take his shoes off and dig his toes in the dirt, just to feel as close to nature as he had as a child.

It was never his job to pick the grapes, not since he was a kid, but he helped every year anyway. It wasn’t the same without Kaeya, but it was a familiar routine.

Kaeya plucked one unripe, still pale green grape from the vine and popped it in his mouth. He bit into it with an audible crunch before his face puckered up.

Diluc suppressed laughter. “You should’ve expected that.”

Over a wince, Kaeya swallowed the grape and said, “I did, actually.” He sighed. “Archons, that was sour.”

Diluc raises an eyebrow. “And you still want to pick them?”

“They won’t poison us. I’m sure Adelinde can figure something out.”

“You want Adelinde to deal with the aftermath your impulsive decision.”

Kaeya shrugged, smiling innocently. “I’d say I thought it through pretty well.”

Diluc watched as Kaeya pulled the hem of his shirt up and started piling grapes into it. It was absolutely going to stain, and why Kaeya didn’t seem to care was beyond him. Careful fingers plucked each fruit from the vine one by one.

Hesitantly, Diluc followed suit. He removed his gloves and tucked them into his pockets, then rolled up his sleeves and began. Each grape lacked the usual squishy feeling ripe ones did, instead remaining firm even as he tightened his hand around them. He tossed each one into Kaeya’s pile.

Soon, sticky juice coated his fingers. It was reminiscent of younger days. He remembered the first time he’d been made to help out during harvest clear as day; about a year after Kaeya had arrived, the vines had flourished. The rain, humidity, and sunlight had all reached a perfect point, and in return, the grapevines had grown nearly out of control. Try as the workers might to prune them, the plants had sprouted a record-breaking number of grapes come autumn.

As soon as Father had given him permission, Diluc had dragged Kaeya down between the trellises, and they had filled buckets full to the brim. There was enough extra that the Winery storage couldn’t hold it all, so they went all out. It eventually turned into a competition, which he was still proud to say he’d won.

That night, Adelinde had introduced them both to the jam-making process. Their spoils were enough to last them through spring.

These grapes, though—unripe as they were—were clearly unfit for jam. There were a few things to be done with unripe grapes, but Diluc vastly preferred the sweetness of them when they hit their peak season. As most did, he presumed.

... Except Kaeya, who had just popped another in his mouth.

Diluc gave a sigh of exasperation as his brother’s face puckered up again.

“Still sour,” Kaeya said, his voice strained. He pulled the hem of his shirt closer to his body, enclosing the grapes in the pouch of fabric. A few spilled out the edges, rolling sadly in the dirt.

“And you continue to eat them... why, exactly?”

Kaeya shrugged. “Felt like it, I guess.”

Diluc trailed after his brother as he trekked back toward the front door. They really hadn’t been out here for all that long, and Kaeya already wanted to get moving. At Dawn Winery, it was a role reversal of an almost shocking scale. Kaeya had spent most of his childhood with every foot carefully placed in Diluc’s footprints, each step carefully chosen as an echo of his brother’s. Diluc had been blind to it until it had abruptly come to an end on his eighteenth birthday. It had always been so easy to overlook that he was always the once in charge, and now he was the unwilling participant in Kaeya’s schemes.

In the kitchen, Kaeya bossed Diluc around until there was a ceramic bowl on the counter that Diluc hadn’t even known existed. He then dumped the grapes in, letting his stained shirt finally fall over his stomach again.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Kaeya reached for the faucet and switched it on, setting the bowl in the sink. It took the pipes a few moments to bring up water, and they emanated a heaving groan. Eventually, the grapes were submerged, and Kaeya set to washing them.

A minute later, as Kaeya drained the bowl, Diluc finally asked, “What are you planning on doing with these grapes?”

Kaeya popped another in his mouth. He winced over his next words. “Adelinde will know what to do.”

“Adelinde is a busy woman.”

Kaeya’s lips twitched down into an almost imperceptible frown. “She’s never turned me down before.”

“She does care about you.”

With one hand running over the smooth surfaces of the grapes, Kaeya hummed softly. “... I know.”

What an abrupt change in demeanor. Diluc could still see a slight tremor in Kaeya’s fingers, a twitch in his eye, but his words came out softer than they had earlier. Almost insecure. Diluc didn’t know what to make of it.

“You’re not going to initiate it? What happened to that youthful energy from earlier?” Diluc asked in an effort to bring Kaeya back out of wherever he’d retreated to.

“It’s still here,” Kaeya muttered. He rolled a grape between his fingers absentmindedly, shooting a glance out the doorway. Then his posture stiffened, and he dropped it back into the bowl. “Oh, hey, Adelinde.” His voice quickly regained its false cheer, wiping away any last trace of unease he’d let slip through.

“What are you boys up to?” Adelinde asked endearingly.   She circled around, peering into the bowl on the counter. “The grapes are yet to fully ripen, as I am sure you’re both aware.”

Diluc nodded. “Of course. But somebody wanted to pick them anyway. He’s been entirely elusive as to why.”

“There’s nothing elusive about ‘I wanted to,’ Diluc.” Kaeya picked up another one and bit down on it with a crunch. He was getting good at concealing his reaction to the grapes’ sourness. “I wanted to pick the sour grapes, and you didn’t stop me, so I did.”

Adelinde’s smile was familiar, etched into her skin in the form of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. “Well, what’s the plan, then?”

Kaeya sighed dramatically. “Well, about that. You see, I failed to think quite so far ahead, Adelinde. You must forgive me. The poison must have clouded my judgment.”

“You’re fine,” Diluc said flatly. “It’s out of your system.”

“Then why am I still here, dear Master of the house?”

Adelinde took the bowl off the counter, interrupting their bickering before Diluc could respond. “Ma—Kaeya, you should go get changed. It’s unbefitting of your image to walk around in such a state.”

Because he seemed to lack any and all impulse control right now, Kaeya’s first response was to roll his eyes. But then he shrugged and said, “You got me there. I’ll be right back.”

Diluc watched out of the corner of his eye as Kaeya left the room. His steps were purposeful, confident, but Diluc could see in the set of his shoulders that something was wrong.

Why was Kaeya still here?

He was better, no longer feverish or in any visible pain. Though now that Diluc thought about it, maybe he was still in pain, and that was what this was all about—but no, he normally dealt with his pain differently. If he was going to hide it, why not take the opportunity to go back home?

Diluc wouldn’t have stopped him if he’d asked to go home at this point. He had Jean’s word that she’d look after him, and he had eyes all over the city himself. As much as it helped to know Kaeya was always only a room over, it simply wasn’t practical in the long run. One poisoning attempt could have come from anywhere. It would be a clear overreaction to hide Kaeya away if it had just been a Treasure Hoarder looking for trouble.

With Kaeya’s desperation to leave earlier, Diluc would’ve expected him to leave at his earliest convenience. Yet here he remained, almost desperate to reintegrate into the family. Except he was a full-grown adult with a job, which made this all the more perplexing.

“Let’s make verjuice,” Adelinde suggested, bringing Diluc out of his thoughts. “I can make a side salad with dinner tonight.”

Diluc hummed in agreement. “You haven’t made verjuice in a while.”

Adelinde opened a cupboard, sorting through it with the clink of glass bottles. “It doesn’t sell well, and you’re never particularly interested.”

“That’s true.” Diluc thought vinegar was just fine, and much less work to get his hands on. They didn’t have a steady verjuice export as the Winery had once had; it was falling out of popularity. Because of that, none of his workers had the right equipment to make it in bulk even if he asked.

She handed him a glass jar, then turned back to the cupboard. “You’ll want to take your gloves off before you start crushing them.”

After Diluc peeled his gloves off, he set to crushing the grapes. They were stiff, and it took more effort than he would’ve thought to crush them. He watched through the bottom of the glass jar as the grapes contracted and then split from his pressure, juice eventually coming out.

It took a few minutes, and he wasn’t done by the time Kaeya got back. For some reason, he was wearing the exact same outfit as he had been before, green grape juice stains and all.

“Where are my clothes?” Kaeya asked, leaning against the doorframe. “I looked in the duffel bag, but it seems I’ve run out.”

That’s right. Because Diluc hadn’t expected Kaeya to be here for so long when he’d packed.

“I must have the rest of your clothes set aside to wash,” Adelinde said apologetically. She held a mesh strainer between her hands. “You’ll need to borrow some of Master Diluc’s for the time being.”

A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of Kaeya’s lips. “Is that so? It’s been years.”

Diluc left the jar sitting in the half-mashed grapes and picked his gloves up from the table. He wasn’t the biggest fan of crushing grapes, anyway. “Come on, then.” He brushed past Kaeya in the doorway, feeling his brother’s eye on the back of his head.

There wasn’t much that Diluc was confident would fit Kaeya. He’d last without changing his pants just yet, but the stained shirt had to go. Their builds were quite different, but pants tended to be pickier about that than shirts were.

It didn’t take him long to find an old shirt of his that he didn’t care about. It had fit him once, back when he’d first returned to Mondstadt, but he’d since put on enough weight for it to become tight. He hadn’t bothered to get it tailored just yet. It fit Kaeya almost perfectly, settling over his shoulders and hanging comfortably over his chest and back, and it reminded Diluc yet again of their diverging paths.

“It’s a bit looser than I’d normally wear,” Kaeya commented as he idly ran a hand down each button in the placket one by one. His fingers caught on each for a moment before continuing down.

Diluc shut the wardrobe with a thud. “That’s because you dress for attention.”

Kaeya gaped dramatically, his hands moving to his hips. “I do not.”

“Mhm.” Diluc nodded. “Your peacock cape doesn’t inspire any stares whatsoever.”

“My real purpose is style. The attention is just a bonus.”

“What style?”

Kaeya pouted. “Like you’d know. You wouldn’t know a good outfit if it hit you in the face.” He gestured up and down, drawing attention to Diluc’s own outfit. “Case in point.”

Diluc didn’t think there was anything wrong with the way he dressed. He’d been dressing this way for years, and he didn’t see a reason to change now. And he was wearing his favorite tie, a maroon one similar to the one Father used to like.

... And Kaeya was distracting him. There was another reason he’d been so quick about bringing Kaeya up here.

Unfortunately, Kaeya seemed to sense the change in pace before Diluc even said anything. His eye darted to the side, and he turned for the door. “Best not keep Adelinde waiting, hm?” he said, tone imbued with false levity.

“Wait,” Diluc interrupted. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” Light, airy, and entirely fake. But Kaeya wasn’t slipping away that easily. Diluc had seen enough of his discomfort all day to know it went beyond recovering from the poisoning. He saw it in the rare tightness of his smile, as if even faking it was difficult.

Still, Kaeya paused in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, crossing his arms tight around his chest. Defensive. Closed. Diluc would have to pry him open like the stuck lid of a wine barrel.

Diluc tested out the next words a few times in his head before saying them. No matter how he rephrased it, it never sounded right. Finally, he simply said, “Why are you still here?”

Most people would have missed the look of fear that passed through his brother’s eye, but Diluc wasn’t most people, and he’d known Kaeya almost his whole life. Yet as if Diluc were any other, Kaeya plastered on a smirk and said, “That’s a rather unkind way of telling your beloved guest he’s no longer welcome, Master Diluc.”

“You can stay,” Diluc amended quickly, “but I want to know why. You have work to do, don’t you?”

Kaeya shrugged. “You’ve said it yourself. I’m a slacker. Lazy. Whatever else you might call it.”

Except Diluc also knew it wasn’t true. It was just another one of those things he said that neither of them believed. Now, Kaeya was bringing it back as if it was legitimate evidence, even though he knew full well he was carrying half of the knights on his back.

It did frustrate him at times that Kaeya wasn’t doing his job right, but with Diluc’s level of intel, he would have to be an idiot not to notice the work Kaeya had been putting in behind the scenes. So, he didn’t get it—if it was important enough for him to dedicate his life to it, why hide out at Dawn Winery?

Diluc huffed. “Is it about the poisoning? I’ve had a chat with Jean, and she’s taken precautions—”

“It’s not about safety,” Kaeya said. “Nothing is going to happen. It was just one-off, unfortunate happenstance. So, no, that’s not why I’m here.”

Diluc put a hand out, palm facing up. “And?”

“And I’m still recovering from the poison.”

That just didn’t make sense. Kaeya had never been one to let himself get cooped up indoors over illness or injury. This was a diversion from something Kaeya didn’t want him to think about—so what was it? What was Diluc missing?

Kaeya looked proud of himself. A little spark of anger ignited deep in Diluc’s gut as he watched his brother turn to leave the room. “Wait,” he said again. “We’re not done talking.”

“Fine,” Kaeya said, settling again against the wall, expression flat. “What is it?”

“If you know anything about how this happened—”

“It’s not important. End of story.”

“Kaeya, please.”

Kaeya started down the hall, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room. He offered no more than his back to Diluc.

“You’re doing a poor job of convincing me this wasn’t a-another suicide attempt,” Diluc spit out like acid from his mouth. “I really don’t want to believe it, Kaeya, but the more secretive you get—”

Kaeya froze. He turned slowly, his one visible eye seeming to peel every layer of Diluc back one by one until he hit bone. “That’s not what this is.”

“You promised you wouldn’t do it ever again. You said it to my face.”

“And I kept my promise.” Kaeya’s expression hardened, his eye growing dark. “If I wanted to die, I’d be dead. I’m not a dumb kid anymore.”

Oh, Diluc felt sick. “Is that your idea of comforting?”

Kaeya scoffed. “Isn’t that enough for you? I’m clearly alive right now, and I don’t even know when you started even caring—”

“I always fucking cared, Kaeya. You know that’s always been my downfall. I don’t stop caring, not even when being around you makes my blood boil—”

“Wow. I feel so loved right now,” Kaeya shot in, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Diluc sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. “The point is, I never wanted you to die. Never. So please, please tell me what’s going on with you.”  

Shoulders tensing, Kaeya turned back around and took a few quick steps to the stairs. “Nothing is going on. I’ll leave when I’m feeling better. Can we just go back downstairs, Diluc?”

“Kaeya—”

“Please.” Kaeya’s voice cracked. “I’m not going to put Mond in danger, if that’s what you want to hear. I’d never put Mond in danger.”

“And you?”

Kaeya smacked one hand on the wooden banister, and the sound reverberated throughout the room. “Stop—just stop! This isn’t going to get anywhere, and you know it. You know I’m a cold-hearted, incorrigible fucking liar, so can we just move on already?”

“You could just tell the truth, and maybe—”

Kaeya left. His posture rigid, back turned to Diluc, he descended the stairs. Because somehow, with very little prodding, Diluc had backed him into a corner.

He usually wasn’t this fragile. He normally fought back with more scathing insults, hitting right where it hurt over and over again until Diluc had no choice but to bite back. But now he had been the one to give in, and Diluc didn’t even know why.

“If that’s not what this is about,” Diluc said, raising his voice so Kaeya could hear him as he descended the stairs, “then what was with the spices? The boxes?”

“I don’t cook much anyway. Got it all during a trip to Sumeru,” Kaeya said as he reached the landing. “It was always going to be a gift.”

Such a simple answer, yet he’d avoided mentioning the boxes entirely.

As his brother disappeared into the kitchen, Diluc knew he had lost this battle.

Chapter Text

Spending time with Diluc was akin to popping outrageously sour grapes in his mouth and chewing them up. Unpleasant through and through, but it reminded Kaeya thoroughly of home.

Hours ago, Diluc had retreated to his room after a tense dinner. This left Kaeya draped over the couch, staring at the smoldering embers in the fireplace through a half-lidded eye and wishing for wine more than anything.

He could get up right now and get some. He’d come here often enough as a teen to know every foolproof way to sneak into the cellar. But he hadn’t done it in years—not since before the fight. It was a crime now. He wasn’t a Ragnvindr anymore.

As much as Kaeya didn’t want to spend the last stretch of his life locked behind bars, it almost sounded worth it anyway. He so desperately needed to relax. A great tension coiled around him, a snake preparing a meal out of what remained of his fragmented life.

Footsteps near silent on the wooden floor, Kaeya slipped into the foyer, which held the stairs both up and down. Stealth had always come naturally to him, since far before he could remember. He’d had to unlearn it when he came after Adelinde had proved too perceptive.

Night’s blanket of darkness settled around him in a shroud, and he knew nobody would see him as he picked the lock to the wine cellar. He knew just where to press up against the door so that nobody would see him unless they were really looking.

The lock was different from what he remembered. Diluc had likely gotten it replaced. It wasn’t really a problem, and it only slowed him down a bit.

Just as he heard a maid’s footsteps enter the foyer, he slipped inside, carefully tucking the lockpick into his back pocket. This was the only one he had with him here, seeing as he hadn’t packed his things himself, so he had to take care of it.

The wine cellar was pitch dark. Kaeya blinked a few times, but his eye didn’t adjust. Yet another thing he could deal with.  For a minute or so, he fumbled around in the dark, his movements halting. If he broke something right now, he wasn’t sure he could get away with it.

Eventually, his hand met cool metal. He traced a line downward until he found the flat wood of a shelf. Just a bit to the left, and—there. The neck of a bottle. The inward curve below its neck was stronger than in a typical bottle of grape juice, so it was almost certainly alcohol of some sort. Probably not too hard; those tended to come in much smaller containers.

Satisfied, he snuck back out to the living room. The embers in the fireplace still glowed faintly, and he eyed the pile of kindling and recently-chopped wood. Not yet, though, he reminded himself. He slipped the wine bottle under the sofa and leaned back, tipping his head back until his eye landed on the elaborate cornices.

As anticipated, Adelinde made her presence known a moment later. It was a deliberate thing, a sharpening of her footsteps and a subtle increase in the volume of her breathing.

“I was thinking of getting the fire going again,” Kaeya said easily, as if he’d been here the whole time. “It’s getting a bit chilly in here.”

“Or,” Adelinde said as she lowered herself onto the sofa beside him, “you could go to bed.”

“That’s the other option. Far less interesting, though, if you ask me.”

He wasn’t looking at her, but he knew she was smiling. She did that a lot lately. It was almost like before in that way, when everything else was so very different. “I’ll get the fire going, but I expect you to be off to bed soon.”

“Of course.” A winning smile, barely visible in the darkness, to punctuate the truth of his words.

Adelinde reminded him so much of his mother. Enough so that he wasn’t sure he remembered the feeling of his mother’s hands against his skin because it might’ve been the sensation of Adelinde, and anytime he heard her voice, it came in Adelinde’s familiar tones. He’d be leaving two people when he left the Winery next and finally faced his death. Adelinde wasn’t going to be there for his end.

Grief sank its claws into his heart, and Kaeya found that Adelinde was now tending to the fire. The smell of smoke drifted over, quickly obscured by a newfound burning behind Kaeya’s eyes. He sucked in a shaky breath through his teeth. Now wasn’t the time to grieve. It was idiotic to cry over something that hadn’t even happened yet.

The last time he’d seen his mother, she’d been the one in tears.

He suddenly remembered it with abject clarity. Her hands, gentle and seemingly unmarred by curse, cupped his cheeks. He looked into her eyes, into the abyss, and didn’t understand why rivers spilled from them.

Kaeya understood now. He knew why he’d been taken from her.

If only he could see her just once more before his death.

One warm tear slid down his cheek in defiance. He rubbed it away aggressively. Now was not the time. He could cry on his deathbed.

If Adelinde noticed his state, she didn’t point it out. She just gave him a quiet “good night” and headed upstairs to her quarters. Kaeya bit his lip to muffle the sound of his breathing as the crackling of the fire overtook her retreating footsteps.

As soon as she was clearly out of the room, he stood and pressed both his palms to his eyes. He allowed himself two deep breaths before throwing his arms back to his sides and following Adelinde’s trail up the stairs.

See—he had a plan. One that had taken both very much thought and almost no effort to create. It was the clear natural solution to a problem that had been plaguing him all day: the contents of Father’s journal.

When he’d first read it, it had nearly made him sick. The idea that Father had had these thoughts, not to mention the idea that Diluc had clearly read it—it was horrifying.

After retrieving the journal from upstairs, Kaeya settled back onto the couch, open bottle of wine at his feet. It wasn’t his favorite, just a dry red wine, but it would get the job done.

Then he opened the notebook. The first page was innocent, as well as the next several. When he flipped to the seventh, he tore it from the book. Then the eighth and ninth. He skipped the tenth before tearing out the eleventh. Mouthing the numbers to himself, he picked the book bare of anything incriminating.

Fire was a far more convenient way to destroy evidence than anything else. Time could not return these pages to their original shape, nor could the most intelligent alchemist piece them back together. Conveniently, and by design, the rekindled flame flickered in the fireplace before him, beckoning.

He’d burned the note, and he’d tried to burn his Vision. Now he was begging the fire to engulf his past self, whatever dregs Diluc’s horrible flame hadn’t seared away that night. He’d always been Kaeya Alberich, though he had once gone by ‘Ragnvindr.’ Nobody knew why he was in Mondstadt. His father was missing. Simple truths restored themselves as the flame burned away the edges of the crumpled pages, until all that was left behind was but a pile of smoldering ashes.

Kaeya took a swig of wine and let it sit in his mouth for a second, savoring the bitter flavor. It was so easy to leave things behind. Far easier than closing his hands around the things he loved and holding on tight, even as fate tried desperately to pry his hands away.

He did want to live. But he also didn’t want to go out kicking and screaming. It wasn’t a pleasant end.

Two thirds through the bottle, and the restless skittering of his heart was beginning to slow. The fire had again reduced to faintly glowing embers. A wall of exhaustion seemed to hit all at once.

There was the urge to stay awake, ever-present and only worsened by circumstance. He ignored it but chose to indulge in just one impulse. After draining the rest of the bottle, he made his way up the stairs and opened the door to Diluc’s room again.

It was childish to need this. But Kaeya would never once have a chance to be a child again, so he may as well do it now.

Morning came and went as fast as any other day, and Diluc hardly saw Kaeya between phases of work. The first time they truly acknowledged each other was during lunch, when they were all but forced to sit across from each other.

They sat in silence for a bit. Diluc had no idea what Kaeya had been doing all day, and he wasn’t quite sure how to ask. A muted tension had settled over them since their argument, barely relieved by their ‘sleepover.’

“You need to promise me,” Kaeya finally said, gesturing sharply with a roll of bread in his hand, “that you won’t do anything stupid.”

Diluc calmly gathered a perfect bite of meat and potatoes. “Every decision I make is carefully calculated.” There emerged a spark in Kaeya’s eye that Diluc knew he had to put out as soon as possible. “I’ve grown in that regard.”

“Have you, though?” Kaeya said around the roll, his words muffled. He chewed for a few seconds before continuing, “You did just tell me you were about to go on another murder rampage.”

“An investigation, Kaeya.”

“I suppose all those Fatui you’ve ‘investigated’ would agree, no?” Kaeya crossed one leg over the other, his foot wiggling. Still moving, still restless, but somehow better than yesterday.

Diluc gritted his teeth. “No harm will come to anybody unless absolutely necessary. Will that be all?”

Kaeya hummed around his bread, holding it in his mouth and crossing his arms. Absolutely not taking the situation seriously, it seemed—either that or putting on an air. “Actually,” he said after a moment, taking the bread from his mouth, “no. I don’t see a point in this at all.”

“Your being here is proof enough that there’s something more at play. If you won’t tell me anything, I’ll have to figure it out myself. You surely understand that.”

“You could just... not do anything? Because nothing’s happening?”

Diluc let his fork fall down onto his plate with a clatter. “You know I don’t believe you.”

Kaeya sighed petulantly. “Archons, Diluc, do you have to distrust everything I say?”

There was a beat of silence. Diluc cast his gaze out the window into the cloudy sky, no longer letting himself look at his brother. If this was how it was going to be—if every meaningful conversation of theirs was going to end in an argument—then there was no winning.

If Diluc responded, he’d fall right into Kaeya’s trap. Either he would brush off Kaeya’s comment, confirming his accusation, or he’d be forced to confront a topic he knew neither of them wanted addressed.

He had been trying to recognize Kaeya’s patterns. But as it turned out, it was much easier to recognize when he was being manipulated than it was to break free of it. “When near everything that comes out of your mouth is a bold-faced lie, I have no choice.”

Kaeya had won, but when Diluc turned around, he noticed his brother didn’t look proud of himself at all. Instead, his usual smile wavered, and his eye went unnaturally still.

“I’m sorry,” Diluc said. Two words he hadn’t said to Kaeya in years. “I didn’t mean that.”

For several moments longer, Kaeya didn’t say anything at all. He just sat there, not looking at Diluc, Diluc barely looking at him.

“... There’s nothing you can do, Diluc,” Kaeya said softly, so quiet Diluc had to lean in to hear him. “Please don’t get yourself tangled up in my problems. It’ll only make things worse for Mond. I can handle it myself.”

But Diluc couldn’t know that if Kaeya wouldn’t tell him what ‘it’ was. For every moment that went by where Kaeya didn’t make up another half-baked excuse, the pit of dread in Diluc’s stomach only burrowed deeper and deeper. With Kaeya, such truths said plainly only ever lead to disaster.

What Diluc really needed was hints. Kaeya was good at hints. They both were. For the past few years, they’d exchanged information almost purely at Angel’s Share, where they stood a risk of being found out if a single person figured out what they were saying. If Kaeya wanted him to know, he would know, no matter if Kaeya was comfortable saying it or not.

Before Diluc could figure out what to say next, Kaeya stood, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. As he left the room, he brushed past Diluc on the way and said, “Just trust me on this.”

Later, Diluc would find himself glad he hadn’t listened.

There was nowhere to go. Kaeya didn’t want to be here anymore, but there was nowhere to go. If he left, death could have him in a matter of hours. If he stayed...

He couldn’t be here anymore. Not with Diluc caring. Not with what he’d read in that notebook, not with Adelinde treating him like that same kid she always had even though she knew.

The guest room’s door took some force to lock, but he didn’t care if anyone heard him. He wasn’t going to run away again; he just wasn’t sure he could face anyone right now.

Kaeya threw himself back-first onto the bed, reaching up to undo the top few buttons on his shirt. He felt like he was choking. He didn’t know if he could breathe.

What gave Diluc the right to still care? Any of them? What gave him the right to be cared for in such a way? Discomfort built beneath his skin at the thought. There was no way this care was without a purpose. Maybe they had an ulterior motive. He could be useful. He—no. That didn’t make sense.

A pathetic wheeze came from deep in his throat, and Kaeya rolled onto his side. It was okay when people liked him for who he wasn’t. But this? This didn’t make any sense. Nothing made sense anymore.

And he was going to die. Now that he knew that everything had been okay all along. It must have been a cruel joke from the divine.

His Vision laughed at him from across the room, taunting. He so badly wanted to throw it out the window again, toss it in with the trash, anything. But he knew it would find its way back to him, as fate always did. He had no control.

Diluc was going to put his life on the line for something utterly hopeless. Kaeya could see it clear as day: Diluc tracing the poisoner, finding the culprit, and eventually linking it to the Abyss. Following it as far as it took him, whether that be the outer edges of the Chasm or the deepest, darkest corners of Khaenri’ah—it didn’t matter where, because the outcome was all the same. It all ended with Diluc dead, the flame that burned within him extinguished.

Everything, everything was spiraling out of control. And Kaeya wouldn’t even be alive to piece it all back together.

The mattress shifted. In a blind panic, Kaeya scrambled back to the headboard, back pressing against the firm wood. Panting, he locked eyes with the intruder.

Adelinde.

It was just Adelinde.

He hadn’t heard her open the door, yet there it was, wide open. He’d locked it, he thought, but maybe he hadn’t. And as quickly as his fear had died down, it picked up again.

What was she doing here?

The thump of Kaeya’s heartbeat was almost painful in his chest, and it was all he could to keep his voice from shaking when he said, “How’d you get in here?”

Adelinde smiled. “The door was wide open.”

Kaeya looked at the lock. He remembered locking it. He remembered.

“Are you alright?” Adelinde continued, either oblivious to his confusion or ignoring it. “Master Diluc asked me to check on you.”

“He did?” Kaeya said weakly.

Adelinde nodded. “I wish he would do it himself, but you both have a ways to grow, I fear. And it’s nice to be relied on in such a way. Like the old days, don’t you agree?”

It was as if he and Diluc had just had a normal brotherly quarrel, one to be quickly resolved with an apology and some time away. But that was so, so far from what was actually happening that Kaeya could have laughed. “No,” he said, not really responding to her question. “I don’t know, Adelinde.”

Her eyes softened, and Kaeya had to stop looking at her. If he kept looking at her, he might start thinking about his mother again, or he might start thinking about that Archons-forsaken journal, and both were a slippery slope.

She didn’t say anything for a while. She just sat there, carefully manicured hands tucked into her lap, silent.

Slowly, the pounding of Kaeya’s heart slowed, and he became aware of himself again. The tingling shooting down his fingertips, the lightness in his head, the inexplicable tightness in his throat. He took in her presence as it was, not how it might be.

When she did speak, it was reminiscent of long-gone sleepless nights, her gentle voice his anchor. “Kaeya,” she said, “you don’t need to tell me what’s going on. But I want you to know that no matter what it is, Master Diluc and I will stay by your side all the way through. We aren’t going anywhere.”

I’m the one who’s going somewhere, Kaeya didn’t say.

But as her words sank in, relief blossomed in his chest.

What reason did she have to lie to him about this? No, this was likely the truth—if it wasn’t, she was playing a confusing game. That meant she didn’t care that he was from Khaenri’ah. Anyone who knew about Khaenri’ah knew the kind of people who came out of it. He was no different, yet...

Tears burned in his eyes yet again. He wondered how many times he could cry before he’d run out of tears.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her everything.

And so he opened his mouth to speak, and no words came out. What was there to say? Of everything, where should he even begin?

She only looked at him expectantly.

Eventually, he managed to force out, “I’m running out of time, Adelinde.”

She didn’t ask him what he meant. Instead, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders as an unexpected sob wracked his body. He leaned over, burying his face in the shoulder of her dress, one hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.

“Let it out,” she whispered to him. “It’s okay.”

And so, he cried. He cried more than he had in years. He grieved things he wasn’t even aware he knew how to grieve, missed things he hadn’t let himself miss. Every time it calmed, it seemed a fresh wave of tears came over him.

Adelinde stayed throughout, ever silent yet still present. When he let himself feel the familiar fabric of her dress against his skin, the sound of her voice as she began to sing, he could only think about how he would soon part with her forever.

The song was gentle, a lullaby he recognized from his youth. It was ever-so-slightly off-key, because Adelinde had never been a good singer. But she still sang for him, and that had never mattered to him, and it didn’t matter now.

Pitiful sobs escaped his throat as the sound washed over him. He remembered her kind words when he’d first been adopted, the small smiles she hadn’t been able to hide when he and Diluc had gotten up to no good. He remembered helping her cook, the fond disapproval on her face worth the mistakes. Her tucking him into bed at night, bringing him soup when he was sick, helping him into his winter clothes before a trip out to Dragonspine.

If only he could have the privilege of missing her.

Instead, he would be the one disappearing.

Kaeya didn’t know how long he leaned there against Adelinde’s side, but it was long enough for his tears to slow and eventually cease. Her singing remained steady, the verses repeating themselves in a familiar loop.

Eventually, he took a shuddering breath and detached himself from her embrace. He cringed at the damp patch on the shoulder of her dress. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice gravelly.

Slowly, Adelinde’s song grew quieter and trailed off. Then she turned to him, her expression solemn. “There’s no need for apologies. Instead, talk to me.”

There were only so many places Jean could be at once.

Between Kaeya being presently indisposed and the entire Reconnaissance Company being away on a two-day stay in Dornman Port, she was working twice her official hours. Which honestly wasn’t far off of what she normally did, but it was enough to have her seeing double.

How long would it take for Kaeya to get better? She wanted him to take as long as he needed, of course, but a more selfish part of her wished he would hurry up. He was one of the few people willing to put in any extra work, which she couldn’t blame the others for avoiding, but... it was nice to have him around. Him and the other captains, but their numbers were dwindling enough already.

She’d have to send a letter off to Dawn Winery in the morning inquiring after Kaeya’s well-being. But that came after she dealt with the mess that was tomorrow’s schedule. From the looks of it, she’d be thoroughly occupied well past midnight. If she cut out lunch, she might be able to fit in a check-in with the Investigation Company on the topic of the murder attempt—thankfully, they were much less occupied than she was. It wasn’t all that common for attempted murders to take place within Mondstadt’s walls.

Now, it was three in the morning. She’d technically finished all of the day’s work at just the time she had intended. That left her three hours to sleep and wash before her morning run with Amber.

No guards were stationed outside Headquarters so late at night. She locked up and set off in the direction of home, yawning silently as a light breeze washed over her, a ‘good night’ from Barbatos himself.

When she was younger, she used to fear walking these streets at night alone. Rightly so; no matter which nation you lived in, it was never advisable for young girls to walk alone at night. But now, she knew she could overpower almost anybody who should choose to attack her at such an hour. It was comforting.

That didn’t stop her from being vigilant, though. Her knight’s instincts were carefully honed, after all.

Which is why she noticed when a cloaked figure darted by on a near rooftop. Footsteps silent, movements swift. A smile came to her lips.

If the Darknight Hero had returned, then Kaeya must have been doing better already.

Nothing. Diluc’s investigation had brought nothing.

The Fatui didn’t know anything, he’d gathered. The Abyss mage he’d dragged out behind the tree in Windrise had sooner died from his torture than admitted involvement. He’d looked into the treasure hoarder encampments around the city, but he sincerely doubted they were behind it. They would have left behind far more evidence. And Kaeya’s home was untouched. It showed no signs of being broken into, so either whoever was after him had given up, or they knew he wasn’t there. He hoped it was the former.

Really, the only thing of note was that nothing was happening. The city was deadly silent. Usually, after such a prolonged absence of his, he’d come back to the odd criminal sneaking about, even if they weren’t a real threat.

Complete and utter silence was never a good thing. In Snezhnaya, where waist-deep blankets of snow spread over every square inch of the land, Diluc had had to pay extra attention to picking up on even the smallest of noises. That way, when they finally disappeared, leaving behind an eerie silence in their wake, Diluc would know to seek shelter. Utter silence always preceded something. Before, it had usually been a blizzard—but here, on the other hand...

Diluc’s senses were honed enough to know that somebody was out there. He didn’t know who, and he didn’t know where, but he knew he would have to find them and put an end to this. For his brother’s life.

Chapter Text

What had Kaeya been thinking? 

Packing all of his things into boxes had been risky enough. He should have anticipated things wouldn’t be happening quickly enough to escape notice. And it was little things like that which stacked up—the small phrases he let slip, the poisoning, the document left in his desk at work that Jean would find any day now if he didn’t return. 

Each thing individually, he was sure he could explain away. But together? Even the dumbest of hilichurls could connect those dots. He was clearly betting on—planning for—the fact that he was going to die.  

It would’ve all gone perfectly if he had just died after being poisoned that first time. Sometimes, being alive was just... inconvenient. 

Kaeya laughed. He was doing that a lot these days, and it was rarely with good reason.  

Just hours ago, he’d sobbed into the shoulder of Adelinde’s dress over what fate had in store for him. Now, he couldn’t bring himself to care at all. His feelings toward the matter had leached out of him along with his tears, and now all he could think about was what a hassle it would be to convince everyone there was nothing to worry about. 

Briefly, he wondered to himself—what would happen if he just told them? 

But he’d entertained the thought before. He knew Jean, Diluc, Rosaria, anyone he could conceivably share this with, well enough. He knew that none of them would accept fate as the simple fact it was. In fact, in an act of sin worse than even his, they may attempt to go against it. Kaeya was informed enough to know his best bet was removing himself from the divine gaze entirely, but his efforts in that had borne no fruit. It was a lost cause. 

Kaeya’s dry laughter petered out into a sigh. He folded his last shirt, fresh off the line, and tucked it into the duffel bag. Maybe he could get away with wearing this outfit of Diluc’s home with him. It was rather comfortable, the fabric softer and more forgiving than what he usually wore. 

The little stuffed horse he’d found at the bottom of the bag seemed to stare up at him with its little beady eyes. He picked it up, almost apologizing to it out of childish habit for leaving it on the floor. This thing—he hadn’t given it a proper look in years. He’d barely spared it a second glance while throwing all of his belongings in boxes a few days ago, much more preoccupied with the hurry. The hurry that he, in hindsight, hadn’t needed. 

Its fur was matted and dusty, and he unwittingly recalled the time he’d accidentally dropped it in one of the wine barrels. Grape juice tended to stain; if he squinted, he could see the smallest amounts of discoloration on the previously white sections of fur.  

And with everything else, he dropped it back in the bag. It was best not to dwell on things like this. He’d be leaving for the city tomorrow, after all, which meant his fate was imminent. In death, there was no room to grieve youths ended too early. 

A maid had let him know of dinner just a few minutes ago. He supposed he should go downstairs. He wasn’t hungry, but this might very well be his final warm meal with his family, so he would go.  

Diluc didn’t want Kaeya to return to the city. As annoying as his brother was, his hesitation to leave Dawn Winery was palpable. And Kaeya had always been adept at sensing danger. If he thought it wasn’t a good idea to go back to the city... Diluc would have to trust him on that. 

If only he could trust him about literally anything else. 

Still, there was no stopping him. There wasn’t a single logical argument Diluc could find to justify the pit deep in his stomach that begged him to snatch his brother by the wrist and pull him back inside. Every worry was barely a hypothetical—and even more, now that Kaeya was leaving, he now had free rein to investigate as far as he wanted. It shouldn’t have bothered him so much. 

Kaeya’s expression, lines deepened by the harsh morning light, was pulled into a familiar smile as he said his parting words to Adelinde and Elzer. Diluc wasn’t listening—he could only look his brother up and down, trying to find even one hair out of place. Everything was far too perfect, from his carefully-ironed shirt to his freshly-combed hair. It was his normal outfit, his normal expression, and his normal mannerisms. There were no straws for Diluc to grasp at. With Kaeya, that could only ever be by design. 

“The least you could do is say goodbye, Master Diluc,” Kaeya said, hands resting on his hips just above his belt. Only then did Diluc notice the thing that must have been nagging at his subconscious this whole time— 

“Your Vision,” Diluc grunted.  

“Excuse me?” Kaeya said lightly. His hand twitched down to pat the spot on his hip where his Vision normally rested. Almost as an afterthought. 

Diluc looked around. He didn’t spot the pale glow of cryo anywhere nearby, so Kaeya hadn’t dropped it between here and the front door. That left... literally everywhere else. And judging by the small smirk tugging at the corner of Kaeya’s lips, this wasn’t going to be simple.  

“Your Vision,” Diluc repeated. “Did you leave it upstairs?” 

Adelinde cut in, “I’ll go search the guest room. Do you know where you may have left it?” 

“Oh, there’s no need. I remember now; I’ll get it myself.” 

Diluc very nearly scoffed. If his brother did truly mean to leave his Vision here, he was doing a lousy job at hiding his intentions. But he didn’t say anything. Not yet. 

As Kaeya made for the door, Adelinde stopped him. “Please, I insist,” she said, shooting a quick glance back at Diluc. This was probably another one of her schemes, and that usually meant he was going to be left alone with Kaeya so that they could ‘talk things through’ and ‘make amends’ like Adelinde always preached.  

Kaeya gave in rather easily and directed Adelinde to the guest room’s mostly-empty wardrobe. And as expected, Elzer followed her inside after a few polite words of parting. He had work to do, and Diluc couldn’t help but feel everyone had planned this out without his knowledge. 

Now that they were alone, the silence between them seemed to thicken. Diluc watched out of the corner of his eye as Kaeya adjusted the saddlebags on his borrowed mount. One of the Winery’s workers was visiting the Cathedral to hand over their monthly donation to the Church, and he would take the horse from Kaeya at the front gate if all went to plan. Although if Kaeya’s Vision proved hard to find, it was likely they wouldn’t.  

Kaeya was the first to speak, as he often was. “So, what is it? I can tell you want to say something.” 

Diluc allowed himself the sigh that had been caught in his throat. He may as well address a suspicion of his while he had the chance—for once, Kaeya was actually listening to him. “You haven’t used your Vision since you arrived here.” 

Maybe Diluc wouldn’t have heard Kaeya’s sharp intake of breath if there hadn’t been a momentary lull in the wind. Maybe he would’ve interpreted his brother’s words entirely differently if he hadn’t. “Haven’t I? Well, I can’t be certain. I don’t make a habit of using it outside of combat, you know.” 

Diluc didn’t believe him, but he had little ground to stand on in counterarguments. After all, he’d up and disappeared for three years the moment his brother had received his Vision. He couldn’t exactly say he knew what Kaeya did in his spare time, either, other than drink himself silly and fraternize with the enemy. “Surely you use it sometimes. I’ve seen you chill your drinks with it before.” 

“Did I drink while I was here?” 

... Huh. Had he?  

“But if it eases your worries at all, I can assure you this wasn’t purposeful. Here—look.” Kaeya’s left hand pulled at the dangling chain that normally held his Vision. It was broken in the middle. “It turns out, it’s a bit difficult to keep track of your things when you’re so used to them being literally attached to you at the hip.” 

At that, the front door swung open yet again, giving Diluc no time to question his brother further. Adelinde’s shoes clicked quietly on the stone ground, cutting sharply between them until the coils of tension tight around Diluc’s muscles eased. She tucked Kaeya’s Vision between his hands, keeping her own hands over his for a second longer than necessary. But she did eventually lower them, as she always would. 

After that, Diluc could only watch as his brother disappeared down the path. Anxiety stirred deep in his gut, and it made his fingers twitch for a claymore he hadn’t yet summoned.  

“You’re right to be worried,” Adelinde said to his side. He didn’t turn to look at her, his gaze still caught on that bend in the path where Kaeya had disappeared behind an outcropping. “But your form of worry can be a bit maladaptive.”  

“You’re calling me maladaptive?”  

“It’s not as if that bars your brother from being ill-adjusted, too.” Adelinde took a deep breath. “Do you smell that, Master Diluc?” 

Diluc paused. “Sunsettia?” 

Adelinde’s crow’s feet scrunched with her familiar smile. “You know your brother isn’t the biggest fan of my sunsettia tarts, so I thought I’d wait until he left to appease my craving. I don’t suppose you’ll want some before you get to work?” 

Diluc gave the worn path one more long look before turning. “That would be nice, actually.” 

“Captain Kaeya,” Eula said with a nod as she passed him in the front hall. She had a few of her men at her heels. “It’s good that you’re on your feet again. The Knights have been overloaded with work for the past few days.” 

“Is that so?” Kaeya said. “Well, then. I suppose I’ll swing by Jean’s office.” 

“She’s in the middle of—” 

Jean’s office door swung open easily, entirely unlocked. So, this meeting wasn’t confidential by any means. Surely, nobody would mind Kaeya having a quick chat with his boss to mitigate her stress levels a bit before the rest of the meeting. And surely, this had nothing to do with the sick feeling he’d been getting every time he thought about how he hadn’t seen her in days. Nothing at all.  

Hertha was the only person in the room aside from Jean, and she was holding a clipboard between her hands. At least it looked like she was on top of things, since she looked well-rested; her work was some of Kaeya’s least favorite to help out with if he could avoid it. She looked much more surprised than Jean did at his sudden entrance. 

“Kaeya,” they both said in unison. Hertha’s voice ticked up at the end, questioning, while Jean’s only sounded exasperated.  

“Morning, ladies.” Kaeya gave them both a wave. “Jean, I’m sure you were informed of my return.” 

Jean’s expression shifted into resignation as she flipped through a stack of documents on her desk. “I wasn’t expecting you back so early, but yes. I received word not long ago.” 

“Time waits for no man,” Kaeya said easily. “Anyway, I heard things have been a bit hectic, so I rushed to see if I could put myself to use.” 

“Well, since you’re already here,” Jean decided with a hum, “I suppose you could go ask Eula or Albedo where you might pick up some slack on their end. I’ll have your personal assignments on your desk by noon.”  

Noon came and went, and Kaeya soon found himself missing this morning’s adventure. He’d tagged along with part of the Reconnaissance Company in scoping out Starsnatch Cliff after reports of Abyss Order activity in the area. He’d missed moving his body, it turned out, and it did wonders to clear his head. But any good adventure had to come to an end, and now his entire hand was cramping up from how many words were going in the report. 

Was it really necessary for it to be four pages long? No, absolutely not. But Kaeya was going to draw that day out as long as he possibly could, and Jean appeared to have given him a much smaller portion of work than usual. Too nice, as always. He’d been in working order for days by now. 

He’d already worked his way through everything else she’d given him that could reasonably stay within Headquarters, which meant he would soon have another opportunity to stretch his legs as he tracked these arguably useless assignments around the city. Sure, half of these issues could have been filed as commissions for the Adventurer’s Guild. But for once, he was glad for the busywork. He wouldn’t go home tonight if he could help it. There were a few things he had to do in the city before he could allow his fate to come to a close. 

There was a little nagging suspicion in the back of his mind—wasn't this useless? Was his fate not to make the exact same decisions he was making now? As a child, he had always been told that every step he took was an unwitting leap in fate’s predetermined pathway; every decision was already made, and every decision would be made again. 

But surely, there was a way around things. Otherwise, the lesser gods wouldn’t try so hard to save their people and protect their land. And Kaeya was far from an ordinary person. This entity within him may contest the claim of godhood, but it was no human. By extension, that made Kaeya less than human as well.  

So, perhaps he could not circumvent fate—but maybe he could delay it. After all, the divine eye of his Vision had not been enough to keep the heavens from noticing the Sin brewing beneath his very skin. If everything ended the way they wanted it to, did they truly care what happened in between? 

Kaeya’s far from useful thoughts were interrupted when the door slammed open, and a familiar voice hit his ears all at once. “Kaeya!” A little bundle of red barreled in, brimming with a youthful energy only typical of Klee. “Albedo said you were back!” 

She came crashing into his side, and he very nearly fell straight off his chair. He flailed in an attempt to catch himself by the edge of his desk. As soon as he was steady, he adjusted her until she was sitting on his knee and returned her hug. “You’re getting a bit big for this, I must say,” he said. “A few more years, and you’ll break me right in half.” 

Klee withdrew from the hug, pouting. “Klee doesn’t want to break you in half.” 

“And you won’t,” Kaeya assured her. “In fact...” 

No. That was not where this conversation was going. Archons, he normally had more control than this. There was no need to bring up the fact he wouldn’t see her that far. 

“... I was thinking, do you want to come with me while I run some errands? We can even get a fun little gift for Albedo if you like.” He adjusted her lopsided hat. “How does that sound?” 

Klee, unlike most adults, tended to fall for even his most obvious trip-ups. She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with a grin. “Ooh, and maybe we can buy a sticky honey roast! Klee’s been craving them all week, but everyone’s too busy to go.” 

Kaeya stood, and Klee slid off his knee and slipped her little hand into his. It radiated the familiar warmth only a pyro allogene could hold, and a strange lump appeared in his throat that he quickly ignored. “I’m never too busy for a sticky honey roast,” he said. “I’ll add it to my list.” 

The first stop was the Cat’s Tail. The cool interior was a relief compared to the afternoon heat, and Kaeya spotted Diona behind the counter as he led Klee in by the hand. She was writing something in a notebook, and when he got close enough, he peered over the counter to look and caught one bullet point: ‘hilichurl fur.’ 

Well, he was sure she could make it delicious somehow. 

Diona took her time reacting to his presence, and when she did, the first thing she said was, “Don’t you grown-ups know not to bring kids in during tavern hours? The time for card games is over, and I’m not serving you alcohol with Klee around.” 

Kaeya smiled, pulling one folded paper out of his pocket. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’m here to speak with Margaret; is she here?” Klee extricated her hand from his as a cat approached from behind, and she kneeled down to pet it. He cast her a sideways glance as Diona dropped down from her stool and came around the counter. 

“She’s on break,” Diona said simply, hands on her hips, “so, you’ll have to come back later if it’s important.” She crouched down next to Klee, guiding her hand to pet along the cat’s side. “Pet her here,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her scathing tone with Kaeya. “If you touch Arrow’s paws, she’ll bite.”  

While Klee and Diona talked about cats, Kaeya found a suitable place to put the missive that wouldn’t be blown away by the wind. It wasn’t anything remarkable—Jean just had some concerns about the business, and Kaeya didn’t really care to investigate further. It was just another thing that should’ve been handed over to a lower rank but had landed on him instead. 

Now, Kaeya’s gaze fell to Klee and Diona yet again. The cat was purring now, her little face nuzzling closer as Diona’s hand scratched under her chin. Klee’s face lit up as she went to do the same. 

A warm feeling settled in Kaeya’s chest, but it brought a bitter taste to his mouth. There was no denying his role in Klee’s life, and to take it away so suddenly… Well, he was glad that he could now stay with her to the end without worrying that he’d die in front of her. Still, he wondered how much she could take before the brightness drained from her eyes as it had for Diluc. He hoped that she wouldn’t be there when they found him. 

For now, he’d do what he could to keep her flame alight. He pulled a handful of mora from his pocket, counting out the amount he knew he needed. “Diona—you wouldn’t mind pouring Klee a glass of apple juice, would you? It’s rather hot today, and we have a long afternoon of errands ahead of us.”

“You don’t have to bring her with you while you work,” Diona said. She stood with a huff and walked around the counter, her head barely visible behind it until she climbed onto her stool. “But, fine. Since I know she loves being with you for some reason.”

Kaeya set the mora down on the counter. “If you want to spend some time with her yourself, I’m sure she’d be glad to come visit.”

Diona’s hand tightened around the glass as she filled it. “You really think so?” she asked softly.

“Of course. Klee’s probably the most enthusiastic friend you’ll find.” And she would need as much support as she could get once Kaeya was gone. “Just give it a shot.”

When Klee went over to sit at one of the tables with her glass of juice, the cat she’d been petting trailed after her, rubbing against her leg. He was always surprised by how well Diona managed to facilitate the bonds between the cats and her customers when she really wanted to. 

They savored the cool interior of the Cat’s Tail for about half an hour, until Klee’s juice was long since finished and Kaeya could no longer draw out their stay without causing suspicion. He took his time as he returned Klee’s glass and stretched, but they were soon outside again.

“Where to now…” he mumbled as he led Klee through the center. There were a number of items on the schedule, none of them urgent. 

Klee paused, bringing a hand to her chin in exaggerated thought, and hummed. “Klee thinks… Klee thinks we should go to the Good Hunter right now!”

“The Good Hunter?”

With a nod that made her pigtails bounce, Klee said, “Yep! ‘Cause Klee’s really hungry, and Master Jean was complaining that the Knights never have time to eat nowadays. So, you’re probably really hungry too.”

He wasn’t going to turn her down, that was for sure, but Jean was the only one that problem really applied to. Most of the time he found himself missing meals, it was usually due to negligence more than being completely swamped with work. He had time to kill with how little work he’d been given today even, so sitting down for a meal would only serve him.

They ate. Kaeya was sure to give Klee her fill, but he found that the meat tasted like ash on his tongue. There was little enjoyment to be had when he was all too aware of the finitude of this warmth. But he pulled his lips back into a smile that did reach his eye, because if he was going to leave this world, it was going to be with Klee as happy as possible.

Diluc’s limited network of Fatui infiltrators rarely came in handy within the city’s walls, but now, he needed eyes more than anything. A double agent on his side was his best bet of getting past Kaeya’s discerning gaze undetected. Still, he would watch from the shadows where he could get away with it—even the best spy still had to rest, after all. 

Phase one of his plan was mostly to scope out the situation. He’d work as usual by day, and come evening, he’d spend as much time in the city as he could get away with. He couldn’t cover for Charles every day without drawing attention, but the mask on his face and the cloak draped over his shoulders were more than enough to keep him hidden from most.

Tailing Kaeya without being noticed was surprisingly easy at night. He couldn’t say he’d ever done it before, and he would have expected Kaeya would keep a better eye out. Yet another incriminating detail; if Kaeya truly had anything to be afraid of right now, he surely would have noticed Diluc’s presence behind him. If he had, he wasn’t making it obvious.

The dull chime of the church’s bells told Diluc it was an hour until midnight. A bit later than Kaeya normally left work, but nothing too unusual. He walked with his usual grace, hands in his pockets in a display of indifference which Diluc couldn’t place as a front or not. 

He soon disappeared through the door of Angel’s Share. As it swung shut behind him, Diluc caught a glimpse of Sister Rosaria at the bar, and a bit of the pressure in his chest abated. Kaeya had survived because Rosaria had been observant last time; if she was there, he was in good hands.

But safety didn’t mean there wasn’t anything to be gained through watching, so Diluc did just that. Perched upon a nearby roof, cloak whipping around him in the wind, he observed the door to Angel’s Share, waiting for the next person who might dare hurt his brother.

Kaeya was drunk. He was definitely drunk.

He hadn’t had that much alcohol in months. Or maybe a few weeks—time wasn’t exactly cooperating with him right now, and he wasn’t interested in trying to figure it out. He’d been avoiding the tavern, actually, now that he thought about it. For at least a few days before that poisoning attempt. Funnily enough, it didn’t seem he’d been poisoned this time.

He stumbled into his office and collapsed into his chair. He should work. Jean wouldn’t like it, but she didn’t have to find out. He was doing a favor for whoever would compensate for his absence.

A slight chill washed over him, and he cast his gaze lazily at the open window with a sigh. He was fine with being cold. It was better than relentless heat. Comforting, in a way.

Anyway, he should work. That was why he was here and not at home. 

Oh, and there was the fact he would die if he went home. That, too.

An inexplicable sadness came over him all at once, and he tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes. Pathetic as he was, nothing could stop him from working. That was the plan.

Yet somehow, the world around him seemed to fade into gray. He slumped forward as exhaustion took over, suddenly all too aware of his sleepless nights and the alcohol weighing heavy on his muscles. Yes, sleep was fine too. As long as he didn’t go home, he could work as much as he wanted. He could die when he was ready.

That is how it works, right?

‘You haven’t spoken to me in a long while, Alberich.’

Kaeya let his eye slip shut. Huh. I suppose not.

‘To answer your question,’ the Sinner continued, ‘None of this is within your control at all.’

If Kaeya had been more awake, he might have responded. He also might have noticed the light thud of a pair of boots on the floor, or felt somebody pick up the throw blanket from his sofa and drape it over his shoulders, chasing the chill from his bones. But as it was, he simply sighed contentedly and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

There was something about the prospect of confronting Kaeya directly that put Jean on edge. Maybe it was how odd he’d been acting since he’d returned from his leave. He’d taken nary a moment to himself over the past few days, seeming intent on outpacing even her in work, something he’d only rarely done in the past. It was likely he was compensating for missed days, so that wasn’t what truly bothered Jean—no, it was something else.

Somehow and in some way, something was happening. It was a vague assumption to make, but Jean knew it to be the truth. She also knew that Diluc was toiling away at this issue, attempting to get to its root before it could truly harm Kaeya. Her part was somewhere among the mountains of paperwork on her desk, though she hadn’t given it much thought since two days ago. There wasn’t much left to investigate, and Kaeya was still acting suspicious. More so than usual, that is. 

But the matter was, she had to confront him, whether he was interested in hearing her out or not. 

“I noticed you’ve gone on two patrols alone since you returned,” Jean started once she had Kaeya’s full attention. His visible eye gave no clues as to what he might have been feeling, every last hint of emotion locked behind steel bars. But he was paying attention, and that was enough. 

“I have.” Kaeya didn’t try to deny it. Jean wondered faintly where he was going to go with his defense, but he seemed to hold back, waiting for her to continue. She let her previous statement sit for a bit in hopes he would pick up on that train of thought, but he remained stubbornly silent.

Best she keep this direct, then. “I’d specifically assigned you company for a reason,” Jean said. “Yet you’re not listening—in fact, as far as I can tell, you haven’t followed a single one of our agreed upon safety precautions since your return.”

To Kaeya’s credit, he seemed almost surprised that she would point this out. As if it hadn’t even struck him that this was bad. But perhaps that too was an act. “Well, now that you point it out, I will admit I’ve been lax in following these orders. You have my apologies, Acting Grand Master. I’ll be more—”

“This isn’t as the Acting Grand Master, Kaeya,” Jean interrupted, rubbing her temple where a headache was beginning to build. “This is as your friend. It’s for your safety.”

“Well, as your friend, Jean, I can assure you that I am not putting myself in any unnecessary danger. You can take my word on this, honest.” Kaeya put a hand on his chest as if to emphasize his own sincerity. Jean didn’t buy it for one second. “If it makes you feel better, I can follow the precautions. But I assure you, they aren’t necessary.”

Yet again, Kaeya seemed to know far more about this situation than she did. If he wanted her to get off his back and stop harping on him about safety, he should have just given her the full story when she’d asked for his report. But he remained as reticent as ever. 

“Why aren’t they necessary?” Jean tried, well aware it was for naught.

Kaeya’s eye leveled with hers, almost a challenge. “Do you not think me capable of holding my own against some petty criminal? Have I gotten so weak?”

Except it wasn’t just some petty criminal, and they both knew that by now. 

Someday, Kaeya’s nonsense was going to send her to an early grave.

Unease crept up the skin of Kaeya’s arms as he stepped out of his boots and let his front door swing shut. This was the second time he’d returned to his own place since coming back from Dawn Winery. On the first night, he’d slept till the morning in his office; on the second, he’d worked through the whole day but hesitantly gone home for a change of clothes and a shower. Now, he knew he wouldn’t get away with sleeping on the sofa in his office for much longer. Jean was too attentive, and she’d surely noticed the times he had. 

Kaeya knew with abject certainty where he was going to die. He could recall the blurred outline of a doorframe, the wood just a little scuffed on the corner where he’d once scraped it while bringing in a new bed frame. There was no avoiding his bedroom. He could sleep on the sofa, everything he owned was in there. He was paying the price for his prior irrationality. Why had he packed everything up in boxes, again? To make things convenient for everyone? 

How strange. Now that he thought about it, it probably wouldn’t help anyone at all to have to sift through his belongings, what with how he’d sorted them. There was little rhyme or reason behind where he’d put each individual box and what was inside. Perhaps he had only been hoping for someone to notice.

Hah. Another ridiculous thought. Why would he want someone to notice after he’d spent the past several weeks exhausting every last bit of strength he had in the opposite direction? 

His fingers trembled around a glass full of water as he leaned over the sink. He couldn’t quite remember filling it up, but he knew he had. The faucet leaked a steady rhythm— drip, drip, drip. He must have. Archons, he was losing himself already.

Kaeya felt sick. Still, he drained the glass and filled it once more, finding that it did not satisfy the aching hollow in his chest the same way an indulgence in a bottle of Dandelion Wine might. But now was far from the time to break out the last of his stash of Dawn Winery’s best—Diluc would be over in a bit. They’d agreed upon a time, and Diluc wasn’t one for delays.

How utterly ironic it would be if Kaeya died before his brother even arrived. 

But he had to change his clothes beforehand. With how warm it was, his shirt was stuck to his back with sweat. He felt disgusting, and he bet he smelled even worse. Maybe he could get away with stashing a week’s worth of clothes in his office at work. That would be preferable to…

Kaeya cast a sideways glance at the door to his room. The door was open just a fraction, allowing him a glimpse at a few of the boxes, still stacked high. Mostly untouched, except for that someone must have gone rooting around in there after his poisoning to find his things. To their credit, everything was where Kaeya remembered it. 

For a few seconds, he simply stared. The door seemed to waver, warping around the edges, daring him to step closer. A foreboding incantation echoed in his skull. He wondered if the world, too, knew what lay in store for him. Or perhaps the world was simply another witness, powerless against the beck and call of fate, dragged along for the ride just as any human. 

A sharp pain in his chest had him tear his eye away. He nearly doubled over, setting the glass on the countertop with a sharp clink as he fought for his breath. 

Thinking about this wasn’t doing him any favors. It only ever ended with him worse off than before, his own mortality suddenly piercing through him in all its frigid ruthlessness. He shouldn’t look, shouldn’t think, should only go. He would get that change of clothes, and he would die or he wouldn’t, but either way, it was going to happen. What did it matter if it happened today?

He wouldn’t be able to see his brother again. 

Suddenly unable to swallow the lump in his throat, Kaeya collapsed onto the sofa and let his eye fall shut. Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop—

A sharp knock on the door rang through the room, impossibly loud.

Early. It was too early. This wasn’t Diluc. Diluc wasn’t one to deviate from the plan. Kaeya knew him.

Go away. He didn’t quite say it aloud, but the thought was there. Leave me alone. 

Maybe if he waited long enough, whoever it was at the door would think he wasn’t home and leave. There was no way he could face anyone in this state, even Diluc. He needed to get up, walk to his room, and—

Knock, knock, knock.

Kaeya remained frozen on the couch, eye glued to the ceiling. He was glad he’d left the curtains closed. What little light came through them left his home feeling dreary and depressing, but it kept whoever was out there from peeking in and seeing him. 

Knock. Knock.

The last one seemed softer, almost hesitant. Kaeya almost let out a breath of relief, thinking the person had given up, before he heard a familiar voice from the other side of the door. 

“Kaeya, I know you’re home.”

Diluc.

His brother was, in fact, early.

Mind scrambling to figure out just what could have had his brother arrive so far off schedule, Kaeya pushed himself to his feet. “One second,” he called, voice almost breaking. “Let me just…”

He took a look around. There wasn’t anything to scramble to clean up, not with all of his belongings in boxes save for a few necessities, but he still wasn’t ready. Could he get away with rushing off to his room to change before Diluc opened the door? Ah, but what if he died right then, leaving Diluc waiting out there for minutes, hours… just how long would it take for him to decide to break the door down, or to climb in through a window?

But before he opened the door, he had to deal with the statuette on the table—taken straight from Diluc’s room, and something he’d instantly recognized. It was carved in a dark material Kaeya couldn’t place, smooth yet worn with age, heavier than any stone. The red gem embedded just beneath the figure’s beard glowed almost as bright red as its right eye. It was familiar. Terrifyingly so.

Kaeya wasn’t quite sure where Diluc had gotten it, but he wasn’t giving it back anytime soon. Such powers were not to be trifled with. He knew his brother didn’t have ties to Khaenri’ah directly—he’d have figured it out by now—but Diluc had been known to look into the Abyss Order’s endeavors. 

After days of ignoring it on his table, Kaeya picked it up, feeling its cursed weight in his hand. It drained him to hold it, a familiar burden reminiscent of the home he’d long since turned his back on. The best he could do was hide it beneath the cushion of his sofa, and he internally cringed at the memory of Rosaria’s visit to him before, when he’d attempted something similar. Hopefully, Diluc would be less perceptive. Or simply less nosy. 

Kaeya hadn’t quite expected Diluc to still be there when he opened the door, but he was. He wasn’t carrying anything this time, and he was fiddling with the hem of his glove as his eyes flicked up to meet Kaeya’s gaze. 

“You’re early,” Kaeya said, hanging back in the doorway in an attempt to protect Diluc from the smell of his sweat. “Did something happen?”

Diluc clearly hadn’t anticipated Kaeya being so direct—either that, or he was surprised by Kaeya’s disheveled appearance. Both were his own fault, and his words carried no bite when he responded, “Nothing happened. Is it so odd that I arrived a bit early? I can wait for a bit at the tavern, if you need time.”

Well, that wouldn’t do. Kaeya did need the time, but he couldn’t have Diluc knowing that. The polite, normal thing to do would be to invite Diluc inside and excuse himself for a moment to clean up. That probably meant it was the best course of action. So, Kaeya should—

“Are you okay?”

“H-huh?” The word almost seemed lodged in Kaeya’s throat. He took a moment before continuing, “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

Diluc furrowed his brow. “It’s just, you seem a bit…”

“I’m fine,” Kaeya forced out before Diluc could go any further with that line of thought. The last thing he needed was a list of things about him that were out of place. He was aware enough already. “You can come in. I’ll need a moment though, since you caught me at a bit of a bad time.” A laugh. Easy, as always, and light—this wasn’t anything unusual, and Kaeya would just step through that door to his room, and it would be weird if he died now, right? There weren’t any traps there, at least as far as he could tell, and no sane person would break in in broad daylight.

The hallway was fine. Kaeya wouldn’t die in the hallway. He turned his back to his brother, not watching him, aware he was being rude but unable to do anything against it, and walked as close to the door as he could dare. 

Hesitating was no good. Diluc would notice him hesitating for more than a few seconds. Kaeya stared with wavering vision at the door, still slightly ajar, and stepped forward before he could think any more. 

Nothing.

That was the best way to describe the sensation that followed. 

A lightness came to his head, and his vision darkened around the edges, and he could’ve thought he was dead—but seconds passed, and suddenly he could see again. And he found himself on his knees, chest aching fiercely and his breaths coming in short pants, but he was breathing. He was alive. 

He stumbled to his feet, still dizzy with anxiety, and began to sort through his clothes. Anything was better than what he had on right now, and he needed to get out of this room quickly, get to the other side of that door again before he could think and before he could recall the feeling of that cold, hard floor against his back as Jean wept above him, her tears landing on his face. That same cold section of floor that he had to step over to leave this room. 

The bundle of clothes in his arms seemed to weigh him down, or perhaps it was his fate playing tricks on him. Kaeya sucked in another deep breath, nausea a cyclone in his stomach, and stepped out into the hallway.

Nothing. He’d survived, and in his arms, he held enough clothes for at least three days.

After stepping into the bathroom and out of his brother’s view, Kaeya quickly undressed and did his best to clean himself with a damp towel. There wasn’t time to bathe yet, so this would have to do. And soon, he was dressed, his hair was brushed, and he was almost giddy with relief. He was alive. He’d live to see his brother another day. Perhaps another two or three, or however many the world would give him. And maybe he’d never return to his room again. Maybe he’d break in through the window and take all of his things out that way, and he’d come up with excuses so nobody would think anything of it, and—

And he was getting ahead of himself. Diluc was looking at him oddly now, as if he’d said something out of place, though Kaeya didn’t recall opening his mouth. Then again, he didn’t recall leaving the bathroom either, and here he was.

“My apologies for the delay,” Kaeya said, lowering himself onto the sofa next to his brother. “I wasn’t anticipating such an early arrival. But it’s no matter, really. I didn’t have anything lined up before your arrival side from, well, getting ready. But that’s taken care of…” He trailed off, cringing internally. He may get away with nervous tangents around others in the rare chance that they escaped, but Diluc knew him well enough to recognize them.  

“It’s fine,” Diluc said after a moment. “But—if I recall correctly—you had something in mind for today?”

Straight to business, as always. Kaeya could have sighed in relief. “Ah, I suppose I did. It’s been a while since you spent any meaningful time with Jean, hasn’t it?” When Diluc opened his mouth to respond, Kaeya cut him off with, “And no, that shared meal a few days ago doesn’t count. That was out of necessity.”

“She didn’t have to stay,” Diluc replied, but he appeared to consider Kaeya’s words. “Otherwise… I don’t suppose I have. We maintain a cordial relationship, if that is what concerns you. We may not be as close as we once were, but I can still consider her a friend.”

‘Friend’ was a very loose term here. He was sure Jean saw it the same way, but it was awfully depressing for friends to go years without talking to each other barring necessity. If Kaeya could be close with both of them again, and he was leaving, then who else would bring them back together? 

Kaeya wouldn’t hide from the fact that he missed how they’d once been. Jean and Diluc had known each other even before Kaeya arrived in Mondstadt, and their bond had only morphed to eventually include him. And eventually, Kaeya had been the one to sever that link between them, just as he had once lodged himself there. As an apology, he would repair it. 

“Don’t you wish you could spend more time with her?” Kaeya asked, leaning back. With this distraction, he could feel the trembling of his hands abating, and he could finally relax. “I’m sure she feels the same. She’s quite the yearner deep down, as I’m sure you remember. The past means more to her than she’ll admit.”

“I’m not sure spending more time with her would make sense,” Diluc protested. “She’s busy, as am I. We simply don’t have time to run around playing games as we did when we were younger.”

“Says who?”

“If you take a look at her schedule—”

“Lisa and I have got that covered when need be. I assure you, she’s putting much more on her own plate than is necessary. She can afford a break to reunite with an old friend.”

Diluc narrowed his eyes. “What are you trying to do here?”

“Oh, you know… it’s saddening to witness old friendships fail to rekindle when it is indeed possible. Surely you understand my perspective here.”

Diluc shook his head and scoffed, as if offended by the notion that he’d be led astray like that. “Why now?”

The exact question Kaeya had been avoiding. Keeping his expression carefully level, Kaeya said, “Why does anything happen when it does? Perhaps it was fated to be today that I tell you this.”

“That’s not—” Diluc sighed. “Sure. Yes, I… will admit it would be nice to spend more time with her. If her schedule allows.”

“Well, then. How convenient that I’ve done the liberty of relieving her of a good fraction of both today’s and tomorrow’s work, no?”

Diluc laughed, then. It was subtle, an upward quirk of his lips and a sharp exhalation. Kaeya recognized it, though, and something warm swelled in his chest. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Diluc said after a moment, his expression finally under control. “Yes, let’s do it.”

It wasn’t that hard to convince Jean to come get drinks at the Cat’s Tail. Not when Lisa was in on it as well.

As it turned out, the three of them together commanded even more presence than they had as teens. It figured; while they had been two captains and one ordinary knight before, they were now a captain, the Acting Grand Master, and the renowned head of Dawn Winery. Not to mention they were adults. Diluc especially was a much more imposing presence than he had once been—he’d filled out and sharpened around the edges, and now people tended to treat him with far more respect than they would have before. Not that he wasn’t well liked, but it had always been in a more friendly way.

Suffice to say, they got some odd looks as they entered the Cat’s Tail. 

Perhaps they were triggering alarm bells in everyone’s minds by doing this. But maybe this was the first step in the right direction, the first reminder that Jean and Diluc were indeed friends, and they could spend time with each other without the safety of Mondstadt being at risk or anything important happening. 

Either way, it was a fine evening for drinks, and Kaeya wouldn’t let it go to waste. The Cat’s Tail wasn’t all that crowded, and those who were here tended to keep to themselves and enjoy their peace; all of the rowdier patrons, mostly young recruits into the Knights, would spend their evenings at the Angel’s Share instead. A few local drunkards chose to bide their time here, perhaps with the notion that such an atmosphere was less shameful than that of the city’s most beloved tavern.  

Diona was on shift today, and she seemed to regard him with slightly less contempt than usual. He told her she could make whatever she wished for him, then let Diluc and Jean order their own drinks. While they waited, an awkward silence swept over them, and Kaeya decided not to let it fester long enough for the other two to notice.

“It’s not so often all three of us get a chance to relax like this, hm?” Kaeya said mildly, resting his chin in his open palm with his elbow on the table. “It’s almost like old times.”

Jean gave him that odd smile he only ever saw on her when she was off work. “You say that like you aren’t the one who organized this.”

“Well, I suppose I am. But my point still stands, does it not? I mean, I spend plenty of time relaxing these days, but I can’t say the same for either of you. It’s nice to slow down for a moment, isn’t it?”

“... It is.”

“Hmph.” Diluc gave his usual noise of contempt, but Kaeya could hardly take it seriously with the rare shine in his brother’s eyes. He looked almost content. Perhaps he had needed this more than Kaeya had even known, even if they’d hardly begun. 

Diona handed Diluc his drink first, which made sense considering it was just a glass of grape juice. Diluc scoffed as Kaeya joked about how predictable he was, and Jean’s drink came not long after that. Then, after a bit of a delay for Diona to work her magic on Kaeya’s own drink, they sat at a table against the wall, right up next to a window.

Through it, Kaeya had a clear view of the cobbled streets below. Afternoon was making way for evening, and the sky had clouded over, surely a welcome relief from the heat of the earlier day. A motley group of young recruits ambled down the street, their voices not quite carrying through the walls of the tavern; one of them spotted him and waved, and he raised his hand in response, smiling through a sip of his drink.

Delicious, as usual. He would miss Diona’s drinks.

Kaeya allowed himself approximately ten seconds to mourn this corner of his life—the Cat’s Tail, the subtle shadow over the city deepening as the sun set beyond the clouds. The unique cheer of Mondstadt’s people, the way everyone knew each other. The feeling of the ice-cold glass in his hands, its ridges scored unevenly with the inexperienced glassblowing he knew had ticked Margaret off when she’d first obtained the order. 

Then, just as quickly as he’d started, he left those thoughts behind. It was with little feeling of loss or regret; he wouldn’t have any to spare once he finally said his goodbyes to the people he loved most. 

“Mondstadt sure is beautiful at this time of day,” Kaeya remarked softly, running his finger yet again over the uneven rim of his glass, letting the tip of his nail get caught in each notch.

“It’s rather overcast now,” Jean said, “but with how hot it was earlier, I can see the appeal.” Kaeya finally tore his eye away from the window to look at her and was pleasantly relieved to find she was looking at Diluc rather than him. Things were going according to plan.

Today may have been a selfish whim, but he wasn’t going to let it be about him.

“The heat is hardly the worst of it,” Diluc finally added, as if finally accepting the use of small talk. “The sun gets far too bright at this time of year. It can get impractical to navigate at midday.”

“While I do agree, I’d have thought you of all people would hate the heat. Since, y’know, you’re the one who always insists on wearing that heavy coat everywhere you go.” Kaeya took another sip of his drink. He thought he recognized the flavor of grass. It was a rather odd ingredient to include in a drink, but Diona had a way of making things work. “You should take it off for a change.”

“I do take it off sometimes,” Diluc said. 

Jean laughed. It was soft, but a bit of tension defused in Kaeya’s chest. “I can count the number of times I’ve seen you without it in the past year on one hand.”

“Sometimes,” Diluc repeated. He drained the rest of his grape juice, and only then did Kaeya notice he was a little red in the face, as if sunburnt. Had he spent a lot of time outside today? “Here. I’ll take it off now.”

When Diluc took his coat off, one thing became abundantly clear: he was sunburnt, conspicuously so. His face was quite a bit redder than his arms, and Kaeya could only blame his not noticing on the fiery red of his brother’s hair.

“What are you laughing for?” Diluc asked, draping his coat over the back of his seat. “Is there something funny about my outfit?”

“You seem to have gotten a lot of sun today. Does it hurt?” Jean said, taking a sip from her own drink. It was still halfway full; Kaeya knew that taking her drinks slowly was a careful habit of hers to restrain herself, and she was more than capable of drinking alcohol quickly. He’d seen her do it once or twice. 

“Does it…” Diluc trailed off, one hand drifting up to touch his face. He cringed. “How bad is it?”

Kaeya traced lines over the surface of his empty glass, watching the ice melt and mentally calculating if he had enough spare change on him to order another. Briefly, he interrupted his mental calculations to chime in, “I didn’t notice till you took your coat off. Your hair camouflages it pretty well.”

“All the more reason to keep my coat on,” Diluc muttered, lifting it off the back of his chair.

“Or you could leave it off and avoid the weird tan you’d get. Trust me, you don’t want your face so much darker than your arms. What will you do if there’s a heat wave? Just suffer?”

“If the citizens of Mondstadt care so much about my face being more tanned than my arms, then they’d be smart to keep it to themselves,” Diluc said, pushing one arm through a sleeve. “Besides, Mond hasn’t seen a heat wave in years. Barbatos has done well to keep our climate mild.”

Kaeya almost laughed at the idea of that bard putting effort into anything of the sort. Though he knew logically that Venti was pulling some strings behind the scenes, the weather was likely the least of his concerns now that it wasn’t immediately threatening to the people of Mondstadt. It wasn’t as if they were on the brink of famine like the people of old. 

Ah, and Diluc had his coat back on anyway. Kaeya resumed his mental calculations, sipping at the dregs of his drink, which by now amounted to mostly water from the rapidly melting ice. “I think I might order another drink. Anyone else? Still my treat, of course.” He had just enough for the three of them. 

“Oh, why not.”

Mondstadt’s walls were high, and it wasn’t easy to get to the top of them unless you were unreasonably good at climbing or had access. Thankfully, Jean’s master key let her up from the inside. Kaeya didn’t feel like telling her he’d been ready to scale the wall like they had as kids.

Now that the sun was down, Kaeya could almost shiver at the breeze that swept over them from up here. It was pretty, but in a very different way from the day or even the evening; Mondstadt had a way of quieting down for the night in a way the other cities Kaeya had been to never had. Only the stray lantern illuminated the city, and aside from a few unlucky workers on their way home from a late shift and the odd drunkard, it was quiet. 

When they turned around to face outward, over the barely moonlit Cider Lake, the world seemed even more peaceful. Everything beyond was reduced to a mere shadow, yet it was almost comforting. This was a nighttime landscape Kaeya had time and time again taken comfort in as a teen, and the same went for Diluc and Jean.

Though he doubted it had been as comforting for them as it had been for him, honestly. They had mostly used their nightly escapades up Mondstadt’s walls to let loose. Not that Kaeya would complain; he enjoyed letting loose now and again, although he was under no illusion they were hidden. Their voices tended to carry quite far this high up, in fact. He’d checked.

Something moved under the surface of the lake, causing the surface to ripple. Pale light refracted off the water, and Kaeya wondered if the disturbance was a fish or something. It had been a while since he’d gone fishing. The last time was his trip to Sumeru, where he’d met the Traveler. He bet that was the last time he’d go fishing in his life, and he hadn’t even known it at the time.

Just how many lasts had he failed to register, still deep under the illusion that his life had a chance of staying normal?

When he’d first arrived in Mond, he’d latched onto every experience as if it may be his last. Perhaps in that repetition, that habit that eventually morphed into acceptance, he had found a misplaced comfort in the mundane. Perhaps he should have anticipated all along that even the simplest of his actions may one day come to an end. 

Death came to everyone, after all. He was hardly unique.

Leaning against the wall and peering into the lake, Jean said, “I can’t help but think about the time Diluc fell over the edge.”

Kaeya almost laughed at the sudden shift in tone. Or perhaps it had only been him. “I’m still surprised he turned out fine. It’s a long way to fall.”

“I did have bruises, mind you,” Diluc said, “and it was entirely your fault that I ended up falling anyway.” Kaeya followed his gaze to the dandelion that had sprouted where Diluc had once fallen. 

“My fault? I hardly remember it being my idea to sneak into the storeroom of the Angel’s Share that night. I’m inclined to remember you convinced me to come along. Jean as well.”

Diluc scoffed. “Neither of you stopped me. And it was your clumsiness that ultimately sent me falling.”

“Or perhaps the fact that you were sitting on the wall instead of standing responsibly behind it,” Jean chimed in. “There’s no way you would’ve fallen if you’d stayed as we are now.”

Kaeya smiled at her cheekily. “You know, we aren’t drunk right now. Maybe we can do with being a little daring.” He hoisted himself up onto the wall, ignoring Jean’s audible protests, and let one foot rest in the crenel with the other tucked close. “C’mon up. It’s not actually dangerous unless you’re reckless with it.” He knew very well that wasn’t at all why Jean was hesitating. They were all capable and cautious enough now that they didn’t have to worry about falling over—but he wouldn’t indulge her needless worry over the rules. There was nobody watching. 

With a sigh, Jean climbed up next to him, and then Diluc next to her. Kaeya couldn’t hold back the grin that split his face as they both settled up on the battlement. He let his arm rest on his knee and let himself sink into the feeling of a once-youthful rebellion.

This was still against the rules, but there was nobody to get them in trouble for it. After all, they were the enforcers. And it was a small rule to break, a small price to pay to see Jean with that shy smile she only bore when she was letting herself truly relax. 

“This is childish,” Jean remarked, kicking her legs and letting her heels click against the stone of the parapet. “I can’t believe I let you both rope me into this.”

“It wasn’t me,” Diluc protested. “I had no say.”

“... The view really is great here at this time of night.”

Slowly, Kaeya nudged Jean and Diluc in the direction of independent conversation. Very soon, he didn’t need to decide each turn of topic himself, and he didn’t need to pick up slack from either end. His goal was coming together before him, just as seamlessly as he would have hoped.

Seeing Jean and Diluc here, laughing away like old times while he simply listened—it made him happier than anything else. He was warm with the knowledge that they would be okay without him.

A rustling from behind him was the first sign something was amiss. Kaeya was on his way home, then, and it was well past midnight. Jean and Diluc had split off from him not long ago, leaving him alone in these oddly empty streets. The warmth of alcohol still buzzed pleasantly beneath his skin, or perhaps it was that everything was just right.

He was almost inclined to ignore it. After all, he was hardly in danger of death out here. But there were many other things he had to worry about, if he thought about it—what if a criminal was scoping out their next target, and they would let Kaeya pass only to prey on the next unknowing soul who walked past? Or perhaps it was a follower of the Abyss, come to fish information from him before leaving him to his fate. Ah, perhaps he would die tonight. 

A movement out on a nearby rooftop had Kaeya turning, and only then did he recognize the flaming red of his brother’s hair. Any worry in his chest dissipated, and he mentally cursed his brother for partaking in his vigilante activities even on a night such as this. He raised his hand in brief greeting, just about ready to be on his merry way, when Diluc’s eyes widened in horror and locked with his.

But before Kaeya could so much as turn, a fiery pain pierced his shoulder from behind. 

Chapter Text

Kaeya had been stabbed. 

He knew the feeling. It took him a moment to register, to pull apart the thousands of sensations burrowing themselves deep in his shoulder, but he knew there was something lodged in there. Something sharp.

Adrenaline surged through his body. He turned. There was a hooded figure, obscured only further by the darkness, and Kaeya did not hesitate before he summoned his sword. Only his left arm was out of commission. He could make do with the other one. 

“A cheap shot,” Kaeya spat. The figure slinked deeper into the shadows, and Kaeya felt little comfort even as he heard his brother’s boots land on the ground just behind him. His grip on his sword tightened. 

There was a rush of air behind him as Diluc summoned his own weapon. “Show yourself!” he shouted, his voice deep with an authority Kaeya seldom heard from him these days, and maybe he was already feeling woozy from the stab wound because it almost made him laugh. 

The figure stared for a few more moments, withdrawing deeper and deeper into the adjoining alleyway. Kaeya couldn’t see their face, much less any other sliver of skin, and every moment they went without responding made the pit in his stomach plummet further. That alleyway was a dead end, but anyone with a good head on their shoulders could spot the easy-enough climb to a nearby rooftop. If they escaped…

The figure, previously hesitating, appeared to make up their mind and turned. The hem of their cloak was the last thing to disappear around the corner.  

Kaeya made to move in after them, but an outstretched arm stopped him. “Wait here,” was all Diluc had to say before sprinting around the corner himself. 

And that left Kaeya standing in the street, bleeding and alone.

Archons, he hadn’t even been somewhere particularly well-hidden. If this was another attempt on his life, that person had done a damn poor job. Though they’d nearly hit him somewhere far more dangerous, and Kaeya bet if Diluc hadn’t been there, he’d have been…

Well, there was no use dwelling on it. Maybe the wound was getting to his head already. Now was not the time to stop and think.

Sword still in his hand, Kaeya rounded the corner.

Nothing. It figured. Just a dank alleyway, barely bright enough for Kaeya to see the suspicious puddles over the chipped cobblestone of the street. Even Diluc had already disappeared up the stack of old crates that led to the rooftop, although as Kaeya moved closer, he could see the old wood of the crates still wobbling precariously as if they had just been stepped on with haste.

He made to follow, but a burst of pain in his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. It shot down his arm, and he barely bit back a groan. 

Right. He’d been stabbed.

Like it or not, he wouldn’t be able to keep up with anyone who’d disappeared that quickly in this state. 

Kaeya swore and reached over with his right arm to find the blade that he knew was still protruding from behind his left shoulder. The fabric of his shirt beneath was sticky and damp with blood, and he couldn’t bring himself to touch the handle for fear of jostling the knife even deeper. He’d go home and take it out there, then stitch himself up, and—

Could he really just leave Diluc out here to deal with his attacker?

The least he could do was check in on Diluc, Kaeya reasoned. As long as the knife was still in him, he wouldn’t start bleeding more. 

He made a few steps toward the stacked crates, intent on climbing to the top to get a good view of the above rooftops. He wasn’t in danger just yet. He was… fairly certain of it. This would be fine.

As he stepped up onto the first crate, it creaked and protested beneath his weight. The old wooden boards shifted and bent, and he was quick to scramble up to the next—but just as he did, something gave way on the lower crate and he found himself stumbling down.

With a barely-suppressed grunt of pain, Kaeya landed in a heap on the ground. He’d barely managed to twist himself so as not to impact the knife during his fall. Still, a burning pain ran down his arm from his shoulder, hotter than the dull ache that tugged at his limbs after his unplanned reunion with the ground.

Cursing, he pushed himself up with only his right arm. Even if he’d wanted to use his left, he could hardly sense anything beyond the pain and an odd static feeling that shot down to his hand. 

Kaeya didn’t notice he’d zoned out until a pair of boots hit the street just in front of him. He blinked a few times. “They got away, did they?”

Diluc hooked one arm under Kaeya’s armpit, hoisting him to his feet. Kaeya hissed in pain. “I dealt with them.”

Whatever that meant. Knowing Diluc, it could be anything from murder to leaving them tied up in front of Headquarters. 

“You’re just going to leave them?”

Kaeya wasn’t looking at Diluc, but he swore he could still see his brother’s baffled expression. “You’re hurt .”

“I can get home on my own.” Now upright, Kaeya retracted his good arm from Diluc’s hold. “I’m not bleeding out or anything. And I know first aid.”

Diluc shook his head incredulously, grabbing Kaeya by the forearm. “No. No, we’re going to the Cathedral—that blade could be poisoned, or it could have hit something important, and you’re—you clearly aren’t in a fit state to walk home alone. You were just sitting there until I arrived. How long were you going to wait before getting up? There’s someone out for your blood, Kaeya, and we can’t risk—”

“There’s no need to get so worked up over it. I’ll be fine.”

Diluc glared at him, unimpressed. “Someone tried to kill you.”

“Wow, such a big deal. Day in the life of a Knight, no?”

“There’s a knife sticking out of your shoulder. It’s still in there.”

“Then we can go back home and take it out.”

Diluc scoffed, his hand tightening around Kaeya’s wrist and starting to pull. “You’re clearly not thinking straight. So let’s just go to—”

“You can let me go back home,” Kaeya said slowly, reaching one hand up until his fingertip was just grazing the handle of the knife in his shoulder, “or I can take this out here and now.”

He wouldn’t die either way. There was no use in going to the Cathedral, no use in telling everyone that he’d almost been killed yet again when this wasn’t how he was going to die in the first place. It was all so unnecessary. If only Diluc would understand. 

But instead, Diluc only looked afraid. 

“You don’t—you can’t be making threats like that, not with an injury like this one.” Diluc was verging on pleading, and his hand was so tight around Kaeya’s forearm that it felt like Kaeya’s hand might just fall off. “This was targeted. At least let them look you over. They can’t force you to stay unless your life is in danger, so—”

“My life isn’t in any danger.” Kaeya wrenched his forearm out of Diluc’s grasp and took a few steps to the corner. He breathed a sigh of relief as the narrow alleyway transitioned into a wide street, finally giving him room to breathe. “Either come with me or go, I don’t care, but just trust me on this for once in your life.”

Diluc caught up to him in a quick second. “Why should I trust you if you refuse to explain yourself? You keep tiptoeing around everything, as if telling us what’s bothering you would get you killed. And if that’s the case, just—tell me at least that much. I can’t read your mind to help you.”

Kaeya choked down a bitter laugh. As if telling people the truth hadn’t gotten him nearly killed before. “Don’t help me, then,” he said. “Nobody’s forcing you to investigate this. It’s all you.”

He was walking just fine. He wasn’t even dizzy yet. He didn’t need to use his left arm to get home and stitch himself up. Diluc was just being annoying. 

Halfway down the street, Diluc once again returned to his side with a muttered “fine.” This time, when his gloved hand wrapped around Kaeya’s forearm once more, Kaeya didn’t protest.

The walk home was a bit of a blur, and Kaeya soon found himself being sat on the low stool in his bathroom he typically kept for Klee to reach the sink. Diluc sat on the rim of the bathtub behind him, making quick work of Kaeya’s shirt with a knife. Probably not the one in Kaeya’s shoulder. That one was still in there.

“I liked this shirt,” Kaeya complained. “Now you’ve gone and torn it to shreds.” A ribbon of fabric drifted to the floor next to his foot, the corner of it stained red. 

“It was already unsalvageable.” 

“You’d be surprised what I’ve mended before. You know, it’s not easy being the Cavalry Captain. Can’t keep your clothes from getting damaged in combat every so often. Bet you’d know.”

Diluc sighed in his ear. “I do.”

“Then why are you so—ow.”

“Hold still and shut up.”

Kaeya barely had time to figure out what Diluc was about to do before a lightning bolt of pain pierced straight through his shoulder. He cried out, straining against the hold of Diluc’s firm hand on his opposing arm. “What the hell?”

Diluc leaned into Kaeya’s shoulder with a towel. The pain was dizzying. “I had to take it out.”

“With no warning?” Kaeya panted, slumping forward until his good arm rested on his knee.

He could practically feel Diluc’s glare in the back of his head, but no response came. 

The next few minutes were a blur. He knew Diluc was stitching him up, but every last nerve seemed to be on fire, and he couldn’t quite pull the sensation out and distinguish it from the rest. He could only grit his teeth and wait.

The sink ran for a few moments, and he only noticed in its absence. Then Diluc gently wiped blood from his back with a damp cloth. It was cold. Kaeya shivered.

“Your leg,” Diluc said eventually, breaking the silence that may have stretched on for an eternity.

“My leg?”

“Turn around.”

Somehow, Kaeya only noticed the laceration in his shin when his leg was propped up in Diluc’s lap. It must have come from the crates. How annoying. He could probably use Vision healing to fix that one himself after some rest. 

“You’re not gonna cut that off, are you?” Kaeya asked as Diluc poked around the torn fabric of his pants. “I could mend this easily.”

“I shouldn’t need to,” Diluc said, “but your clothes should be the last of your concerns right now.”

Kaeya didn’t grace him with a response. Or maybe he was too tired to open his mouth. Or maybe a little of both. 

It didn’t take long for Diluc to wrap that wound up too, and after a quick once-over, he seemed satisfied. Good. Kaeya had other things to do, and he was sure Diluc did as well. What a waste of time this all was. 

Now, if only he could’ve convinced Diluc.

Diluc hadn’t been quite so ticked off in a long time. 

For starters, Kaeya had gone and gotten himself stabbed—not his fault, Diluc had to remind himself, but his whole attitude surrounding it was off-putting at best. He didn’t seem to care at all. Kaeya had never been the best at self-preservation, sure, but he’d also never been completely incompetent. This was another level. 

And then, after Diluc had spent the better part of an hour tending to his injuries, the first thing Kaeya had done was open the wine cabinet. Because apparently that made sense in that shriveled thing he called a brain. Fortunately, he’d listened when Diluc had lectured him about how bad of an idea it was to drink after significant blood loss. At this rate, Diluc had to take what small wins he could.

Now, Kaeya stubbornly refused to step foot in his bedroom and instead rested on the sofa. Maybe it was a ploy to get Diluc to leave for the night by taking the only space he’d think to sleep in here. It only made Diluc more inclined to stay as long as he physically could.

Diluc was barely holding back a rant that was simmering beneath the surface. The only thing really holding him back was that neither of them had had dinner yet, and dinner was doubly important with the traces of alcohol still in Kaeya’s system from earlier as well as the large volume of blood he’d spilled in the bathroom. Which Diluc still had yet to clean up, and he should really get to that before someone slipped in it.

Kaeya’s house was still short on groceries. Nothing new there. It left a bitter taste in Diluc’s mouth, one he didn’t want to confront. It had to suffice for now. 

With some stale bread toasting on the stove, Diluc could hardly do more than stare at his brother from across the room. From this angle, he couldn’t see Kaeya’s face, but the serenity of his posture seemed to suggest he’d fallen asleep. A portion of the tension that had mounted in Diluc’s mind lessened; there wasn’t much Kaeya could get up to while asleep. For now, his safety was entirely out of his own horribly reckless hands.

And in the hands of Diluc, who was arguably just as bad—but right now, Diluc was beginning to doubt he was comparable to his brother anymore. For some reason, he’d gotten better and Kaeya had gotten worse. And now Diluc had to live with the fact he was pretty sure his brother was waltzing toward some untold danger in his hopelessly passively-suicidal way. It was far too familiar, and it made Diluc’s skin crawl with discomfort.

Maybe Kaeya hadn’t told him what this danger was because he wanted to succumb to it. 

The acrid smell of burning bread hit Diluc’s nose and he swore, quickly removing the toast from the heat. Upon flipping it, he decided it was far too generous to call it ‘toast’ anymore. It was completely blackened. Adelinde’s disappointed voice echoed in his head—it was such a simple food to fail at, too. 

Soon, Diluc brought two slices of toast over to Kaeya. They were both cooked just the right amount, because Diluc had standards, and he wasn’t about to serve his injured brother burnt toast. As for toppings, he’d been pleased to find a jar of brand-new jam, as if Kaeya had bought it in reaction to Diluc’s last visit. 

As it turned out, Kaeya was awake.

Kaeya’s eye was open, staring blankly at the floor, and Diluc still could’ve convinced himself he was asleep if it weren’t for the subtle twitch of said eye to look at Diluc as he approached.

“Are you comfortable?” Diluc asked, setting the plate in front of Kaeya on the sofa. Where it was, it wouldn’t fall onto the floor unless Kaeya made any sudden movements, so Diluc retreated to the kitchen to get his own food. 

“I should be asking you that,” came Kaeya’s belated response, “since you’re my guest and all.”

“And you’re the one with the stab wound.”

Silence fell over them for a few moments, and Diluc quickly filled it with the grating sound of scraping the burnt surface of his toast with a knife. During his years away, he’d become quite used to eating burnt, spoiled, or otherwise unappetizing food—he’d only stopped when, after his return, Adelinde had gently informed him that researchers at the Akademiya had classified burnt food as unhealthy. Unlike the taste of rotting food, though, the taste of this had never bothered him. 

He wasn’t like Kaeya, and he certainly wasn’t going to set a bad example for his little brother either, so he watched the sad blackened crumbs fill the sink and tried not to think about the food waste he had no reason to worry about. After he was done, he set aside his now-concave toast and switched the tap on, watching the burnt crumbs swirl down the drain. 

Diluc didn’t like this flavor of jam. Kaeya seemed to like it well enough, considering he’d bought it. Although he wasn’t eating it very fast right now. Maybe that was just the blood loss exhausting him; Diluc hadn’t missed how his brother’s complexion had gone almost ashy, and even though he’d claimed he was just fine, that had clearly been to get Diluc off his back more than anything.

“Tomorrow—”

“Could you—”

Diluc paused, tossing the last bite of toast into his mouth, and then he gestured for Kaeya to go first. 

“Could you stop staring at me like that? It’s hard to eat with you looking at me with those owlish eyes of yours.” Kaeya set his toast down, throwing his leg languidly over the arm of the sofa.

“How many times are you going to compare me to an owl just because it’s my constellation?” Diluc said with a scoff, returning to the kitchen with his plate. He couldn’t be blamed for staring; Kaeya’s blood supply wouldn’t replenish itself, and he’d just wanted to make sure Kaeya was eating properly. 

“As many times as it takes for you to see the truth, dear brother.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Water would probably help, too. Diluc found the largest glass he could find in Kaeya’s cupboards—not very difficult, since it seemed he only kept three glasses to begin with—and filled it to the brim. Something childish within him urged him to warm it with his Pyro just to see Kaeya’s reaction. But Diluc wasn’t a child anymore, so he ignored it. 

After setting the glass of water on the floor next to the sofa, Diluc carefully averted his eyes before speaking. “First thing in the morning, you should go to the Cathedral. There’s a lot of room for complications with stab wounds.”

“You’d know,” Kaeya said lightly, as if Diluc’s prior experiences were a joke. And maybe they were to him, if this was how he dealt with his own injuries. 

“I would. And it’s not worth risking. The longer you wait, the longer time there is for it to heal incorrectly. You could sustain permanent damage to your arm, or it could get infected—you need a Vision healer, not just stitches.” Not to mention the chance of the blade having been poisoned. The slower-acting poisons couldn’t be eliminated just yet. 

Diluc made the mistake of shifting his gaze from the floor to his brother for a split second. Kaeya’s lips were pulled back in a sardonic grin, a familiar one, and it sent a shiver down Diluc’s spine.  

“So what does it matter if I lose an arm, Diluc? What’s an arm, a leg, an eye—were you thinking about my future as a Knight when you burned me that night? What if I’m done fighting, what then?”

“I thought you wanted to be—”

“Do you really think anything in my life has been my choice? Don’t forget not everyone’s as privileged as you, Master Diluc. Some of us had to work for what we have. Some of us had no choice at all. That’s life. I got stabbed—why can’t you just… let that be the end of it? People are always meddling where we don’t belong, giving ourselves room to hope, when in reality, we’re all careening toward the same fucking preprescribed ending from the beginning.” 

Heavy breathing filled the room. Diluc was sure Kaeya wasn’t eating anymore, but he couldn’t bring himself to look anyway. 

“I did work for—”

“You know what I meant.”

He did. “I don’t know what you mean with everything else, Kaeya. Why not try to make your life as comfortable as possible? Are you so self-destructive that you can’t—”

“Oh, we’re talking about me being self-destructive now.”

“Stop interrupting me.” Diluc took a slow breath, dragging the chair he’d been sitting on closer to Kaeya and clicking his tongue as it briefly got stuck in the still-broken floorboard. Finally, when he was properly situated, he let himself really look. 

The grin had disappeared since he’d last seen Kaeya’s face. Now he just looked hollow, silent as he finally gave Diluc room to talk. 

“You can’t expect me to believe that you’re not putting yourself in danger right now. Nothing you’re doing makes sense if you truly want to survive. If this was really a simple murder attempt, and you know more than you let on, you would let us heal you. But you didn’t, which means it’s more complicated than that, and Archons, Kaeya, do you have any idea what this looks like?”

Kaeya didn’t move or visibly react in any way, but he responded all the same. “You know I can’t tell you everything. You’ve known, and you were fine with it until now.”

“That was until there were two attempts on your life.”

“Two can still be a coincidence.”

“That’s not how this works, and you know it.”

“... Can we not do this now?” Kaeya asked, setting his half-eaten plate of toast on the floor and flipping onto his back with a wince. 

“When will we do it, then?”

“Maybe when I haven’t just been stabbed? Literally any other time, Diluc.”

“But you won’t be getting that far, will you?”

Kaeya froze, turning his head to look at Diluc once more, wide-eyed. 

Diluc continued, “You’ve been planning on dying. I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Pushing himself up and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, Kaeya said, “I’m not suicidal. I’m not going to kill myself. How can I possibly get you to believe me, though, when you’re so obstinately—”

“You’re not only planning on dying. The way you’re responding to these attempts on your life, the fact that you tried so desperately to get away from the Winery…” Diluc swallowed thickly, closing his eyes and rubbing them with his hand. “You sent them after yourself, didn’t you?”

Silence, for a few seconds; Diluc could only hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Then, the silence was broken by laughter. 

Kaeya laughed and laughed, and then he said, “I can’t say I was expecting that conclusion. You’ve really outdone yourself, brother mine.”

Diluc couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. “So? Did you—”

“Do you really think it would have failed twice if I was behind it?” 

For once, Kaeya sounded rational. But he still didn’t defend himself, didn’t say what this was really about—there was no way Diluc could trust him until he found out the whole truth. 

“Maybe you wanted it to fail,” Diluc tried weakly. “Maybe you just—you hoped someone would find you and help, and…”

“Does that sound like something I would do?”

Did it?

Diluc hardly had a grasp on Kaeya’s deeper intentions these days. Anything could’ve been as much a celebration as a cry for help. 

He opened his eyes again. The room was barely lamplit, yet it seemed bright in contrast. Kaeya was still on the sofa, slumped forward, his head bowed. Because his bangs obscured his face, Diluc couldn’t see expression, which was probably for the better. 

“You need to tell me the truth,” Diluc said firmly. “If not me, then Jean. Someone.”

Kaeya’s shoulders rose with a slow, deliberate breath. “I can’t.”

“Then help me understand.”

Another slow breath, as if Kaeya was holding himself back. Knowing him, he was. He always was. “Some things aren’t up to us.”

“‘Us’?”

Kaeya shook his head, tucking his legs up next to him on the sofa again and lowering himself gingerly against the arm. “We don’t make the decisions.”

Diluc was beginning to feel queasy, though he wasn’t sure why. Something about this didn’t sit right with him—had his brother fallen so suddenly into such a fatalistic mindset? Or was there someone pulling all the strings behind the scenes, forcing his brother’s hand against his own will?

Or perhaps it was both, and had always been both. Kaeya was in Mondstadt for a reason, and Diluc knew that reason well enough. 

“What decisions?” Diluc asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

As if deep in thought, Kaeya hummed lightly, squinting up at the ceiling. “The important ones.”

Chapter Text

It had been hard for Diluc to convince himself to leave Kaeya’s side, but this would never come to a resolution otherwise. If Kaeya wouldn’t do anything about this himself, then Diluc had to. So, he’d dragged Kaeya off to the Cathedral come dawn and had taken off toward the last place he’d seen the attacker. 

Adelinde would be upset that Diluc hadn’t come home last night. He didn’t have time to feel bad about it, though, and she would surely understand when she found out about the extent of the danger Kaeya was in. She could wait. She was used to waiting. 

Crouching atop some residential rooftop, Diluc peered around a dormer to survey the location he’d last seen the attacker. He’d been close to catching up, but as they had approached Mondstadt’s walls, Diluc had been forced to decide between answers and his brother’s safety. 

Naturally, Kaeya’s safety would always come first. 

Diluc knew for a fact he’d landed a few blows on the attacker. In situations like this, something even more useful than slowing the opponent down was often to make them distinguishable from ordinary passersby. A well-aimed fist to the cheekbone would leave a bruise to last days. A kick to the back of the knee could leave them limping for even longer.

So, he’d done just that, even as the attacker’s hood had proven difficult to tug from their head. With such a heavy blow to the leg, they couldn’t have made it far without horses. Springvale kept a good watch on any horses returning and exiting the area, and if they hadn’t used horses, then they couldn’t have made it far on foot. 

If Springvale had nothing, then Diluc would have to search in the other direction and hope the attacker had decided to stop by Dornman Port before leaving the country. That direction was much less foolproof, so Diluc could only hope that the attacker hadn’t gone that way, or he was in for a much longer search. 

Springvale was quieter in the morning than the city was, but there were still enough people out and about. The night guard should’ve been wrapping up around now, so Diluc beelined for the first scrawny young man in a Knights of Favonius uniform he saw. 

“Master Diluc,” the knight mumbled, averting his eyes as if he was scared of Diluc. “Um, what can I do for you? At your service.” He saluted clumsily, seemingly as an afterthought. 

Diluc tried to ignore the blatant error in the knight’s conduct. “I’m looking for somebody.”

It wasn’t hard to use his status to his advantage in systems such as this. The Knights were technically not meant to provide the public with just any information, especially not without knowing the intent behind it, but Diluc was quite aware he was far from the average Mondstadter. With Dawn Winery as the backbone of Mondstadt’s economy and his former position as the Cavalry Captain, it was in the Knights’ best interest to stay on his good side. And he honestly didn’t care enough about their cause not to twist it to his advantage. 

Hah. Maybe he had learned a thing or two from Kaeya. 

Soon, Diluc was halfway across Springvale and headed for the stables. The Knight had recounted the appearance of several ‘suspicious’ characters to him, and only one had fit the injuries Diluc had been waiting for. The man seemed fairly good at blending in, if the amount of prodding it had taken for Diluc to hear of him was anything to go by. Still, after reaching a bit, the knight had eventually remembered a limping man with a bruised cheekbone who looked to be of Liyuean descent.

The Knight had claimed not to know which direction the man was heading in, but Diluc happened to know one single thread he could grasp onto: once a day, exactly at dawn, a shipment of Dawn Winery’s goods would depart for Liyue. If the man was trying to flee to his home after his botched murder attempt, it wouldn’t exactly signify the most intelligent killer. But then again, anyone who had failed in such a way clearly wasn’t a first-rate assassin.

If the man had been hired—which Diluc suspected he was—then it wasn’t unlikely that the person responsible was strapped for mora. Either that or they’d been misled. After mapping out the possibilities in his mind, Diluc shoved the presently-irrelevant thought away and decided to focus on convincing the stablehand that he did in fact need to borrow a horse, and no , it could not wait until tomorrow. 

If only his own horse hadn’t been injured. Things would’ve been a lot simpler. There was no way he’d make the journey to Liyue on foot as quickly as he needed to.

Eventually, pockets heavy with ten thousand mora and a grin on his face, the stablehand introduced Diluc to a stubby mare named Dandelion. She was a brutish thing and much smaller than Solstice, and she was a bit slow to follow his commands, which was far from ideal. Diluc wasn’t practiced in riding other horses anymore, but he was surprised to find she rode just fine despite seeming to be the least-ridden horse of the bunch. Perhaps she was only a bit weaker than the others; he didn’t have much to carry anyway, and she was more than quick enough. 

Liyue wasn’t so far from Mondstadt on horseback. If all went to plan, he’d be back before the end of the day with much-needed intel.

“You’re sure you’re not ill?” 

Kaeya couldn’t stop the sigh that arose from deep in his chest. This was probably the tenth time today he’d heard that very same question, and his answer never changed. “I’m quite well, Outrider.”

“You still look—”

“Shhh.” He wiggled a finger close to her face, then pressed it to his lips. “The camp is just around the bend.”

Amber pressed her lips together in a frown for just a moment before visibly giving up. 

They inched closer. There was a rocky outcropping just before the camp, but Kaeya had scoped it out a few days ago, so he knew just where to expect it. Besides, he could faintly hear the horrid chant of a Hilichurl—the sound was grating on his ears, even from so far away. He wished every day that he didn’t know their language. 

How bothersome that Jean would force Amber along on this mission. He could’ve cleared this camp alone any day, and he would’ve been far more efficient about it. But she’d nagged and nagged about how he was in danger, and how he looked unwell, and how he shouldn’t have been on missions alone so soon after being poisoned anyway. And now Kaeya was crouching here with Amber at his side, and he suspected she wanted to be alone just as much as he did. 

After a few silent cues, the battle began. 

One benefit of dragging an archer along was that he could be rid of the exploding barrels before even engaging with the enemy. At the very least, it eliminated some risk, even if it was a bit boring. 

As Amber picked off the barrels one by one, taking out half the Hilichurls along the way, Kaeya summoned his sword and dashed a wide arc around the camp. They’d noticed Amber by now, but all the archers were down, which meant he had just enough time to catch them from behind before she’d have to run. 

The smell of burning grass mixed with the acrid stench of burnt abyssal flesh. Kaeya smiled wryly, reminded of his origins for just a moment. He was hardly different from these poor creatures he was relieving from their misery. 

The first Mitachurl went down with a few calculated jabs to its sides. The flesh on their backs and chests was thick and meaty, but anyone with enough precision could kill them after learning how. Kaeya withdrew his sword, taking a moment to sort his balance. With his left arm useless at his side, he’d found himself having to adjust his stance in ways he hadn’t anticipated. 

Two more Mitachurls and a small group of Hilichurls left untouched by the explosions were all that was left. He could trust Amber to deal with the Hilichurls from a distance, so that left him with the Mitachurls. One of them looked injured already, its fur singed and skin weeping with angry burns from the explosion. He took to that one first, but not before dodging a heaving slash of the other’s smoldering axe. He narrowly avoided its blow, and he could feel a line of wind hit his back where he would have been hit. 

Kaeya’s grin only sharpened. It had been too long since he’d had a real fight. Perhaps this would take the edge off. 

Welcome adrenaline surged through Kaeya’s veins as he fought. He let himself get lost in the hum of it, a pleasant buzzing beneath his skin, and he elected to ignore what it was he was fighting.

They would thank him anyway.

Who was he to think these thoughts even now?

Kaeya sidestepped to avoid one Mitachurl’s axe cleaving half of his face off, and then, whirling around, he impaled the other one straight between its ribs and through its heart. Thick black blood spewed from the wound, flecking Kaeya’s shirt. What a pain it would be to clean.

One to go. 

Out of the corner of his eye, the last Hilichurl fell with a cry. Amber would probably approach from the side now, but her presence was unnecessary. Whatever made her feel useful, he supposed. 

What Kaeya wasn’t expecting was for Amber’s shout to reach his ears just as the body of the last Mitachurl disintegrated at his feet. He swiveled around, barely noticing the incoming Hilichurl club in time to—

Yet his arm didn’t quite make it. He’d visualized and calculated the action quite clearly: he’d reach up just as the Hilichurl got close enough and knock its weapon straight out of its grisly hands. But instead, his arm seemed to give up halfway, bursts of pain shooting down to his fingertips, and he was soon greeted with a solid blow to his jaw. 

It was more embarrassing than anything. Hilichurls didn’t even hit that hard. 

The poor thing fell to a jet of cryo without him even casting it a glance. Perhaps that was because his eyes were squeezed shut in pain, but that was neither here nor there. 

“Are you okay?”

A number of sarcastic responses seemed to build and settle on the tip of Kaeya’s tongue. No, Amber, I’m not okay. Do you have any idea how much this wounds my pride? Or even, I’m fucking great. I love taking Hilichurl clubs to the face. But instead all he said was, “I’m fine. Let’s get going.”

His jaw ached. It would probably bruise badly later, but he could tell it was nothing severe, so it wasn’t worth worrying her about.

“Are you really? I mean, you should have been able to block that—”

“We all,” Kaeya began pointedly, “have moments of weakness. I’m still quite qualified as Cavalry Captain in spite of it, I’d hope. Unless you expect us to all be perfect, Vennessa-esque heroes.”

Amber smiled sheepishly. “Well, that’s… that’s not what I meant! You’re clearly ill or something, and I just wanted to…”

“Oh, are you that worried about me?” Kaeya said sweetly through the cryo-imbued hand that still rubbed at his throbbing jaw. “That’s new.”

It was easier than it should have been to get a rise out of her. Amber had always been rather perceptive, so all Kaeya could do was turn her own questions on their heads. That, at least, would last him until they got back to the city. If Amber would let him off without mentioning it to Jean was another question.

“I don’t know!”

That was the third finger. Diluc didn’t like doing this. He really didn’t. 

“Who hired you?”

… But there were some things far more important than his own discomfort. 

The man wept and wailed, and Diluc was getting really sick of the noise. He didn’t want to think about this man as a real person, lest it cloud his judgment. For now, the only thing he was staring at was the thing that had attempted to murder his brother. 

The blood on Diluc’s shirt probably wouldn’t wash out without Adelinde’s help. Diluc didn’t know why that bothered him. Perhaps he had grown far too used to bloodshed to care about what really mattered.

“Index next.” Diluc pinned the man’s hand down with his own. Blood seeped through the already-red palm of his glove, deepening the color. The blood on his hands was fresh yet again. 

“No, please, I—I can’t, he’ll kill me—you—” 

The man’s scream pierced the night air yet again. His index finger, severed from the second joint, rolled sadly in the grass to join the other three. 

Four out of ten. 

The scent of searing flesh filled the air yet again as Diluc cauterized the wound with the flat of his knife. He’d long since separated this smell from that of Kaeya, hadn’t he? Nothing could compare to the time he’d burned his brother. This was a much lesser sin. 

How many fingers did it usually take to break a man? Diluc forgot. He’d been in Mondstadt for far too long, away from the battlefields and away from his organization. He was growing rusty. Forgetting what it meant to be on Teyvat’s side. 

Some sacrifices were necessary. This man could so easily give up the name, the appearance, anything about the man who had hired him, yet he remained tongue-tied. 

Why did Diluc feel so sick?

The screams finally died down. Diluc wiped the flat of the blade against his pants and let the moonlight glint off the edge of it yet again. He couldn’t let the man forget how sharp it was. 

“Thumb next.” Diluc ignored the way the man was wriggling in his bonds, arms and legs straining against the knot Diluc knew for a fact would hold, and grabbed his hand yet again. He pinned it to the stone once more and set the tip of the blade atop it, allowing it to dig just deep enough for a dot of blood to bead up on the surface. 

For every drop of blood spilled, Diluc weighed it against what the man had done.

It was never enough. If this man had successfully killed Kaeya, then Diluc would have never let him see the light of day again.

But he was nice. He wouldn’t kill as easily as he would have at eighteen, nineteen, twenty. 

He was after information. That was all. 

“Are you sure you want to lose your thumb?” Diluc said flatly, giving the man a level stare. “It’s rather important.”

The man took a heaving, wheezing breath and shook his head in a silent plea. 

“Who sent you after him?”

The man took a moment to get his words, coughing and spluttering before eventually forming distinguishable sounds. “W-what does it even mean to you, anyway? Surely such a guy isn’t worth all this trouble. I mean, he doesn’t belong there anyway. He’s basically infiltrating the Knights, so isn’t it better if—”

“Who told you that.” And it was a statement, not a question. 

The man laughed uneasily, almost frantically, his eyes seeming to bulge out of their sockets with desperation. “What, you didn’t know? That he’s a—”

“I don’t care what he is,” Diluc seethed, seeing red. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me who sent you.”

“I can’t.” 

The screaming died down quicker this time. The man slumped backward against the tree stump behind him, unconscious. He didn’t awaken when Diluc cauterized his wound either.

It probably wouldn’t take long for the man to wake up, but impatience had Diluc twitching, itching to do something other than just sit here waiting, and he was so, so tired of doing nothing while Kaeya pretended there was nothing to be done about it because Diluc was doing something right now, and he would make it work. He would. 

If he couldn’t get this man to spill the truth, he’d kill him for what he’d done. 

Five fingers left. Diluc wasn’t confident the fingers were working, but he had other options.

The man groaned as he came to. Diluc grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up to eye level from where he was kneeling. “Are you ready to explain yourself?”

No response. Diluc didn’t bother to wipe the blade off this time before digging the tip into the man’s neck. 

A bead of crimson blood rolled down and soaked into the man’s collar. 

Kaeya’s blood soaking through Diluc’s gloves, staining his sleeves, slick and bright over the bathroom floor. 

He dug the knife a little deeper, relishing the man’s gasp of pain. 

Kaeya laughing, joking, as if he hadn’t almost—

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Diluc said before he could stop himself. “I’ll kill you right here if you don’t tell me who sent you.”

“You wouldn’t,” the man said, a wavering grin emerging on his face. False confidence. Or was he goading? Did he think he still had the upper hand?

The moment their eyes locked, all color drained from the man’s face along with his smile. 

“W-wait a minute. You never asked my name, did you? My name is—” Stalling. Full of useless hope, as if anything could excuse what he’d done. 

“I don’t care.” Diluc tugged the man’s hair back, forcing his neck to arch and the blade to dig deeper. “Tell me who sent you.”

“I-I don’t know—”

The sharp edge of the blade slid deeper into the man’s neck like warm butter. It would’ve been so easy to end his life right there. 

“Please— I can—I still have something! Just don’t…” 

The man whimpered as if expecting Diluc to strike the finishing blow right then and there. How pathetic. 

“Tell me.”

Jean’s voice had once been soothing to Kaeya’s ears, but these days it only seemed to nag and prod at things he didn’t want to deal with. Such as, “You’ve been getting injured a lot lately, Kaeya.”

“Well, you know me,” was Kaeya’s response, punctuated with a laugh, though it was cut off with a light hiss as Jean’s calloused fingers brushed the tender skin of his cheek. “You’ve always been on my case about being reckless.”

“Barbara told me you had a visit to the Cathedral today.”

“Oh, did she?” Kaeya laughed again. Soon, he’d have used up all the laughs he could without becoming awkward, and then he’d need to find another strategy to lighten the mood. “I wasn’t aware you two were talking.”

Jean seemed a bit taken aback, and her fingers faltered next to his face for just a second. “We’ve been getting better lately. And we never stopped talking in the first place.” Not like you and Diluc. 

“In any case, it was a minor injury. Diluc was just being fussy about it, that’s all. You know how he gets.”

“I do,” Jean acquiesced, “but he’d gladly treat it himself if it seemed safe, and I know you don’t like going to the Cathedral.”

That was right. Kaeya definitely didn’t like going to the Cathedral. For many reasons, really, and none of them were reasons he could share. “Ask Barbara if you must. It really was a minor injury.”

Barbara had only seen his leg, after all. Diluc had made one fatal oversight when he’d dragged Kaeya to the Cathedral that morning, and it was that he’d trusted Kaeya to bring up the right injury. Though Kaeya couldn’t blame him. He clearly didn’t have Kaeya’s situation figured out in the slightest. 

Jean sighed lightly. Her healing was coming slowly today, and Kaeya could tell she was tired. He definitely wasn’t helping. “I just think I might,” she said. “I never know with you these days.”

“Your choice, though I can assure you it’s a waste of time.”

And Jean continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “It’s like you don’t even care anymore. This is far too reminiscent of how you were during that year after Diluc left.”

Not Jean, too. Kaeya was really tired of talking about suicide. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not the case. You said it yourself earlier: I’m still not perfectly recovered from the poisoning, so of course I’m going to be a bit clumsy. Everything’s been far from life threatening, and I can assure you I know my own limits well enough to keep it that way.”

At least she seemed to go along with the change in topic. “If you’re not recovered, you should be taking more time off.” 

Overly generous as always. But Jean would probably work through anything herself as long as she could still hold her quill and read words. 

She lowered her hand and tugged her glove back on, and Kaeya tested out the movement of his jaw for a moment. The swelling was gone. Vision healing was truly something else. 

Kaeya stood. For the briefest moment, his vision tunneled, and he was abruptly reminded of just how much blood he’d lost the day before. But as quickly as it had happened, it went away, and he found himself saying, “There’s no need. Really, Jean, some residual side effects are nothing to worry about. I’ve already been cleared for duty.”

The best part was that he wasn’t even bluffing, and she knew it. And that was how he escaped her office without her ever figuring out about his arm.

Convenient, because when he returned to his own office, he noticed that the bandages had bled through. Splotches of blood had emerged on the white fabric of his shirt, barely obscured by his hair’s position over and behind his shoulder. 

He wasn’t surprised. That fight earlier hadn’t exactly been easy on the wound, and he hadn’t managed to gather the time to himself to replace the bandages earlier anyway. 

It was late, and he was confident he and Jean were the only ones still in Headquarters. The building was closed for most after midnight anyway, and that hour had long since passed. That was probably why he wasn’t as cautious as he should’ve been when he’d gingerly tugged one side of his shirt off and peeled back the bandages. 

“What do we have here?”

… And he’d left the door unlocked. Of course. Leave it to Lisa to walk in at just the wrong time. She was kind of like him in that way. 

He didn’t have to tell her to close the door; she did it anyway.

Instead of explaining himself, he continued to peel the blood-stained bandages off of his shoulder. He dropped the soaked gauze pad into the trash can next to his desk, and only then did he look at Lisa. 

Her expression didn’t tell him much, but he hadn’t expected it to. She had a way of keeping her composure better than even he could. She had her arms crossed, weight shifted to one leg, looking at him as if waiting for him to speak. 

There was no reason to hide it now. It wasn’t like she’d unsee the bandages, or the open first-aid kit Kaeya had dug out of his desk drawers. 

“I didn’t take you as someone to barge into others’ offices unannounced,” Kaeya eventually said, pressing a fresh gauze pad against the wound. He could barely see the stitches from this angle, but it looked like Diluc hadn’t done a very good job. Kaeya would’ve expected better of him. Had he been stitching himself up so haphazardly this whole time?

“I didn’t take you for the type to hide injuries that could potentially impact your performance, either,” Lisa said sweetly. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell Jean? She’s been worried about you, you know.”

Biting back a sigh, Kaeya said, “I know. There’s not really anything I can do about it.”

Lisa came closer and took the gauze pad gently from his hand, holding it in place while she rummaged through his first-aid kit for bandages. Her voice was soft when she spoke, as if they stood a chance of being overheard. “I suppose I should take your word for it. You would know better than any of us, I suspect.”

Kaeya managed a noncommittal hum as Lisa wrapped the bandages snugly around his shoulder and under his armpit. He’d never really gotten a read on just how much Lisa knew about him, only that she was more likely than perhaps anyone but Albedo to recognize his eye. 

“Regardless, I hope you know Jean is always eager to help. She’s hardly managed to sleep a wink lately with all her fuss over you. If you could find a way to put her at ease…”

“... I’ll see what I can do.”

Kaeya wasn’t sure what there was to do, at this point. But maybe he could figure something out. For Jean.

It didn’t matter that he’d already tried.

“Someone’s really trying to kill you, aren’t they?” 

The question came so suddenly that it left Kaeya mentally scrambling for a half-decent response. “Something like that.”

Lisa’s hands moved away from the bandages. They were tighter than before, though not enough so to be constricting. Somehow, she seemed much more experienced about it than Diluc. Or perhaps Diluc had simply not been in the right state of mind. 

“You would tell someone if there was a danger to the city.”

“Of course.” His answer came without hesitation. 

But then he thought about it a little more. He couldn’t say there was no danger to the city. In fact, he knew that to be false—but there was quite literally nothing to be done about it from their eyes. The only people who stood a chance of altering fate already knew what was to come. It was useless to tell them all now, so why not spare everyone such needless agonizing over future losses?

He was all too familiar with the feeling by now, after all. 

If Lisa picked up on his wandering thoughts, she didn’t comment on it. “Make sure you get some sleep. I’ll have Jean lock up soon, and you should try to avoid her seeing that you haven’t left yet.”

Kaeya nodded, a small smile coming to his lips. “You really do know how to persuade her in ways the rest of us don’t, huh?”

Lisa chuckled, leaning back against Kaeya’s desk as he buttoned his shirt. “The secret’s in not being a hypocrite, you know. You should try it out for a change.”

“... Maybe I will.”

Chapter Text

Though it was well past midnight when Diluc arrived back at the Winery, he took little care to soften the sound of his boots as they thudded up the stairs. There was no need. Every maid was a heavy enough sleeper to let the sound pass them by—every maid except one.

“Master Diluc,” came Adelinde’s voice from the landing. She was quick to descend the few steps separating them, bringing herself down to his level until he had to look down to meet her eyes. “Are you injured?”

It was a familiar routine between the two of them, but that didn’t mean the worried crease in Adelinde’s brow was any shallower this time around. Diluc knew he didn’t look great right now; he hadn’t eaten in a while, hadn’t slept in even longer. Without a change of clothes, there was little he could have done to hide the bloodstains on his shirt.

“It’s not my blood,” Diluc said—another familiar phrase, another part of the exact same routine. 

Adelinde nodded grimly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sometimes, Diluc would shove her off and tell her to leave him be. Sometimes, he would barely resist the urge to cry into her shoulder, because when had his life become what it was now? And sometimes, he would say nothing, and she would help him anyway. 

Today, he didn’t protest as she tugged him by the elbow to the bathroom. He didn’t really have it in him to deny her this. 

Diluc didn’t say anything when he wordlessly tugged his shirt off and handed it over to Adelinde to deal with later. He bit his tongue when she started running the bath, and he remained silent when she handed him a glass of water and urged him to drink up.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her about Kaeya. But—she already had enough on her plate as it was, didn’t she?

Kaeya was fine.

He had to be.

Adelinde dipped a hand into the half-filled bathtub, swishing it around for a moment almost absentmindedly. There was a distant look in her eyes, one Diluc didn’t quite recognize.

A searing guilt swelled deep in his chest, and it took him a few minutes to figure out where it had come from. There were a multitude of things he had to be guilty for—he’d tortured a man to the brink of death less than twenty-four hours ago. He’d returned home with little care for the late hour and had taken Adelinde’s care for granted; she wasn’t paid for this. 

And Kaeya had been hurt due to Diluc’s own negligence. 

Was Kaeya even alive right now? Something, anything could have happened with his brother’s present mindset. Without Diluc there—

“Something was different about today,” Adelinde said, a simple statement. She tugged him by the wrist down to the floor. The cool exterior of the bathtub pressed uncomfortably into his back, but he was fine. Everything was fine. 

She didn’t ask, but her question hung unvoiced in the small room, settling in the space between them until Diluc felt compelled to answer it anyway.

“Kaeya got hurt,” he started. His throat was tight, but he didn’t stop. “Two nights ago. Stabbed.”

Adelinde froze behind him, and he could tell she had stopped breathing. But after a moment, her movements resumed; she shut the water off, sighed softly, and tugged his hair tie free from his ponytail with gentle fingers. “Is he…?”

Through gritted teeth, Diluc forced out, “He should be fine. I stitched it up and dropped him off at the Cathedral in the morning.”

“... There’s more.”

Another simple statement. Diluc swallowed and added, “I followed the man responsible.”

That much should have been obvious, but he didn’t have anything else to say. Nothing that wouldn’t make everything worse. There were some things he couldn’t say.

It was funny how soon after his coming of age he had started to understand why Kaeya kept all the secrets he did. 

Adelinde stood, Diluc’s bloodstained shirt held folded between her hands. “Shall I prepare a light meal?”

“That won’t be necessary. You can get some rest—I’ll get something quick after I bathe.”

The door closed with little ceremony, and Diluc listened as Adelinde’s heels clicked softly down the hall and eventually disappeared. 

Now alone, Diluc was quick to remove what remained of his clothes and slide into the bath. The water was warm, enough so that the air felt thick with steam but not hot enough to burn him.

There were many things he didn’t want to think about, and just as many things he needed to think about. They all seemed to buzz around in his head, bouncing off the inner walls of his skull, resonating with each other into a dissonant hum in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite shake. 

Without meaning to, his fingers found their way to the long scar that curled around his left thigh, ending just above his knee. The edges were jagged and uneven, and the center was paler and slightly sunken in. Most of the scarring was from the infection, but all Diluc remembered was the stab wound. He’d been bedridden for days.

If Kaeya was in that state, alone— could Diluc trust that he’d find someone to help him?

Diluc let his body slide forward in the bath until his chin was submerged in the water. He should probably wash his hair since it was getting wet anyway, but he found his muscles to be uncooperative. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything.

The water was pink. There’d been more blood on him than he’d thought, and he cast his eyes lazily downward to find some crusted on his wrist, right where his glove and sleeve would occasionally part. With his knuckles, he rubbed away at the patch of dried blood under the water until it disappeared in a billow of red. 

More blood on his neck, a little more on his cheek. A few spots of it on his chest where it had soaked through his shirt. It came off easily, flaking into the now-lukewarm water, soon to run down the drain as if it had never been spilled in the first place.

Diluc could wash his hands of every criminal he tortured, every Abyss Order lackey or Fatui footsoldier he would hound for information. This one, he would forget about as well, but the information he’d provided had been—

Well, Diluc had a lot to think about, after all.

Until the water was cold, he sat there in the bath, waiting for some sort of resolution that never came. Then he sat there a bit longer, fingertips dancing idly over the surface of the now-pink water, his brain running blissfully empty. 

It was nice, sometimes, to let his mind run blank. Let the tension mounting in his shoulders and in the back of his skull ease, unfocus his dry, itching eyes. Forget he existed for just a moment, or maybe several, and let the clouds whisk his consciousness away until he could barely understand his own existence.

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed when Diluc finally pulled himself out of the water, paying little mind to the water he was tracking over the floor as he pulled the plug and absently watched the stained water swirl down the drain. He dried himself, dressed again, and extinguished the lamp illuminating the room as he left. Everything was routine.

Until he entered his office, he didn’t have to think again. But now that he was back—

Something was missing.

He’d left it just there, in the drawer next to his desk. Adelinde wouldn’t have opened the drawer; it was one of the places Diluc kept firmly off-limits, even during the deepest of her cleans.

Of course, he wouldn’t keep anything especially incriminating in this drawer. That wasn’t the problem. But the fact that such a thing—a miniature carving depicting some Abyssal monster, of all things—had gone missing… well, it didn’t bode well. There were very few reasons for it to disappear when Diluc knew he hadn’t touched it, and only one of them made practical sense.

The question was, then: what was Kaeya doing stealing a relic of the Abyss Order?

Kaeya’s shoulder wasn’t doing well; he wouldn’t deny it. At this point, he had to carefully weigh his options—he could keep the injury a secret, thereby potentially letting it affect his performance as well as draw attention to him. Or, perhaps scarier, he could go to the Cathedral and let them patch it up, inviting all sorts of questions he was fully unprepared to answer.

Lies were something Kaeya had always been confident in. What he was not confident in, however, was his ability to override the obvious. One widely known fact: someone had tried to kill him recently. Another known fact, though perhaps less gossip-worthy: he’d been evasive about it. If anyone were to find out he’d been stabbed, he’d be in hot water. 

Lisa didn’t appear to have told Jean about it, for better or for worse. And somehow and by some luck, Diluc also hadn’t told anyone what happened. Just that Kaeya had been injured, and then he’d run off to do his typical vigilante routine. Kaeya had some idea of where Diluc was off to now, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on when he had much more pressing matters at hand. Such as the fact that he could hardly move his left arm.

Right, that was definitely a problem. There was only so much he could accomplish with his limited Vision healing, and it certainly wasn’t enough to fix the internal damage he was sure he’d sustained somewhere deep in there. Each movement of his arm sent sparks of pain down through his elbow and to his hand, and he’d been inclined to ignore it until he’d dropped his coffee straight on the floor a moment after taking it off his desk.

So, Kaeya was now on his hands and knees on the floor, trying to soak up the coffee with an old cloth and avoid cutting his fingers on the shards of ceramic all the while. He distantly hoped nobody would walk in right now—while he could explain it away as happenstance, it was still unusual enough to be noteworthy to anyone paying attention. Besides, it was embarrassing.

Not much time later, Kaeya had successfully disposed of the mess and was back to work, this time without his coffee. It was fine; he wasn’t Jean. He could last a few hours without coffee. 

Usually.

He also usually got more sleep than Jean did, but he doubted he had for the past few nights. Tapping the end of his pen against the hardwood of his desk in thought, Kaeya stared at the words on the paper in front of him, willing meaning to appear in his mind. The smell of coffee wafted up from where he hadn’t quite been able to scrub it out of the floor, only further reminding him of today’s failures.

Twenty minutes later, he left. It was late anyway, and he hadn’t eaten since noon, so he had a valid excuse to stretch his legs and rest his eye. He’d hardly progressed through the stack of paperwork Jean had given him on his own request, having clearly overestimated himself. Theoretically, if he were to be cooped up in his office for far more of a day than he normally would, he should get proportionally more paperwork done, but it didn’t appear math was on his side today.

The nighttime breeze was blissfully cool compared to how stuffy Kaeya’s office had been. He’d need to open the window if he was going to sleep there tonight without sweating through his clothes. 

It only occurred to him a few moments before the Good Hunter came into view, and when it did, his fears were confirmed: it was closed. The hour had drawn on just late enough for him to miss closing, and Sara was nowhere to be seen. 

Well, he needed to eat somehow, so this was as good an excuse as any to stop by Angel’s Share for a drink.

Charles was manning the bar today, which came as no surprise. He gave Kaeya a level stare, one that only seemed to appear on the faces of customer service workers nearing the end of their shift. Kaeya quickly ordered both his drink and a light meal, smiling lightly to himself as he recalled Diluc’s conspicuous decision to include bar snacks not so long after Kaeya had complained about the lack of them. Through that scowl and that attitude, it was so plainly clear how much Diluc cared about… everyone. Everything.

Kaeya wished he would care less.

“Pardon me for asking, but are you alright, Captain?”

Kaeya lifted his good arm to rest against the bar, ignoring the sticky bartop, and cocked his head to the side. “Tonight is a lovely night—do I really look so worn?” He brought his left arm up to touch his face for emphasis, but a sudden bolt of pain caused him to stop halfway. Slowly and nonchalantly, he let it come to rest at his side again.

“You do seem tired.” Charles gave him his food first and didn’t start making his drink yet. 

“Oh, well, you know how it gets sometimes with the Grand Master away. Jean and I can only do so much.”

Charles seemed satisfied, or perhaps he had simply exceeded his bandwidth for social interaction for the day and wanted to stand there and look professional for a bit in silence. For Kaeya, all that meant was that Charles had stopped asking about his well-being, and that his drink was on its way.

The food sat heavy in his stomach, and he knew it would only make him feel queasy with anxiety later, but he needed the energy for work tomorrow, so he forced as much down as he could. His drink came as he slowed down, and soon enough, his tongue was greeted with the rich sensation of Death After Noon. He hadn’t felt like straying from his usual today; with how things were going, there was comfort to be found in routine. 

From where he’d moved to the table in the corner of Angel’s Share, he could see practically every patron here at the tavern at this time of night. It was late enough on a weekday night that most reasonable people were probably at home and preparing to sleep, leaving only the drunkards and the otherwise mentally unwell. And him, of course. 

Kaeya wasn’t necessarily planning on coming back here before his death. This could very well be the last time he saw any of these fools, the ones who wept themselves dry with their face tucked into their arms atop sticky wooden tables, draining glass after glass of alcohol as if it could fill the gaps they’d left in their own lives to come here and drink, and drink, and—

Well, perhaps he was being too presumptive. Some of these people had well-rounded families, spouses, jobs, hobbies—so what if they came here every evening for just a tiny break from the mundanity of it all? Kaeya wasn’t so different from them, in a sense, and he could understand where they were coming from. Not that he was one of them, of course. 

None of these people knew he would be dying soon. Kaeya wasn’t under the illusion that his presence didn’t have an impact on the atmosphere of Angel’s Share; when any single regular, however quiet or boisterous, stopped coming, their absence was felt by everyone. He found that not coming for more than four days in a row would have his drinking buddies asking after him more often than not. Rosaria would often find him much sooner. 

Nobody came to bother him today because today was a normal day, by all measures of the word. His absence had been well-known enough, and he’d openly visited the Cat’s Tail with Jean and Diluc the other day, so nothing about his drinking habits showed any reason for concern. 

Kaeya was careful to savor the last sip of his drink. If he wanted to keep up the illusion of normalcy, he couldn’t order another. Death After Noon was rather strong, but one glass did little more than give him a pleasant buzz nowadays. This would likely be his last sip, so he had to make it count.

Or, if fate wished to continue its horrid game, perhaps he would find himself returning five, ten, a hundred more times before he finally met his grisly doom. The thought swept over him along with a sense of unease, and he set his glass down on the table with a solid thunk as a way of interrupting this train of thought. 

I have a choice to make, don’t I?

‘It has been some time since we last spoke, Alberich.’

Oh, come on. It’s only been a few days. You say that every time. 

Kaeya reclined in his seat, finally done surveying the room around him. He let his gaze fall on the chandelier hanging from the second floor’s ceiling, letting the light burn into his vision. 

‘Perhaps you and I see time on entirely different scales. Tell me—around what do you orient your sense of time’s passing?’

Does it matter?

‘I simply wish to know.’

Kaeya had nothing to lose by indulging this Sinner, at least. The day and night cycle. The months on my calendar, days of the week. Important events, sometimes. Festivals, birthdays…

‘I ask this of you, then—what is it that truly decides how much time has passed?’

Kaeya furrowed his brow. Time is a subjective experience. We choose to measure it with—

‘A foolishly human perspective,’ the Sinner interrupted. ‘Time does not pass. That is the correct answer.’

If time doesn’t pass, how has it been ‘some time’ since we last spoke? 

‘Even a great Visionary such as I experiences time as any mortal would.’

Kaeya stifled a laugh with his fist. Someone from a nearby table gave him an odd look, which he ignored. You were just trying to sound fancy, weren’t you? 

‘Your question from before—’

This time, Kaeya laughed fully. You’re ridiculous. This so-called ‘Sinner’ was starting to feel much more like one of those stuffy scholars at the Sumeru Akademiya.

‘You have already made your choice.’

Kaeya paused, running his finger idly over the rim of his empty glass. Already made my choice, huh?

A choice could mean a great many things. It could mean an action, or perhaps simply a shift in values. For the longest time, he’d anticipated it as something climactic—perhaps a willing walk to his own death, or a joining of hands between him and one of the two opposing forces. Deliberation had only caused him further distress, and he’d eventually resigned himself to a constant reminder: the choice would come eventually, whether he was ready or not, so he must choose.

But apparently, he’d already chosen.

What choice did I make, exactly?

‘Do you not already know?’

… I might, he lied, but maybe it wasn’t a lie at all. Resigned, he chewed on the inside of his lip and let his gaze trail over to Charles, who was still diligently manning the bar for what few patrons remained. Maybe another drink was in order. 

The Sinner didn’t seem to have anything to add for a while, and though Kaeya had more to say, he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to say it. Perhaps now he could revel in what little time he had left before he confronted the truth of it all and took it to his grave.

When Kaeya ordered one more, Charles paused wiping down the bartop to give him a flat stare. Kaeya was well aware closing time was in five minutes, and Charles knew that he knew. The intentions behind the request were obvious.

Unlike Diluc, though, Charles would only cut Kaeya off when he was concerningly drunk, not just slightly tipsy. 

Kaeya didn’t bother to savor this one. Charles simply blinked at him as he returned the glass only moments after taking it, clearly holding back a multitude of questions they were both well aware Kaeya would never answer. Through the burning in his throat, Kaeya muttered a quick “good night,” making himself scarce before Charles could utter a word of protest.

The night was warm as far as nights went, but it didn’t quite drive the chill from Kaeya’s bones, just as the alcohol hadn’t. He tried not to think of the many questions simmering in his mind, but they only seemed to bubble up further until they were all he could think about as he ascended the stairs to Headquarters. He let himself in; nobody was usually here at this time of night, save for the odd captain drowning in work. 

No light shone from under Jean’s office door when Kaeya passed by, which meant she had probably clocked out already. That made things simpler for him. He slipped into his office and cracked the window open, letting a pleasant breeze in. 

Sleep didn’t come easy. Perhaps it was that he was far too tall to fully extend his legs on the sofa in his office, or perhaps it was the thoughts.

He’d already made his choice, apparently.

The thought didn’t sit right with him. His choice— the main one, the one he’d been agonizing over since he was a kid—could he really have made it subconsciously? He felt as torn as ever, stretched thin between his homeland and Mondstadt, and he didn’t want to have to choose. He didn’t want to have chosen. 

Perhaps the Sinner had been speaking in odd timelines again. Kaeya hadn’t made his choice yet, but from some perspective—from the view of the future—maybe he had. 

Breaking free from fate was a tall order, but that voice in his head—the one of Sin—had referred to them as transcending together. As if they could together weave a new fate, one where Kaeya may die, but he at least would not have to choose.

You have already made your choice. 

What a load of bullshit. 

Chapter Text

Diluc left for Liyue again in the early morning, this time after leaving a note as to his whereabouts. Ideally, he wouldn’t have returned to Mondstadt last night at all, but he had an obligation to those who worked for him to be… more or less present. 

There was apparently a village just west of the Chasm where a number of suspicious proceedings took place. The man Diluc had interrogated hadn’t been very specific as to who in this town was responsible, claiming the whole agreement had taken place through a series of disguised intermediaries. The only person he’d been able to point to was a farmer who lived on the outskirts of the village, saying it was “likely” this man who had given him the hit assignment.

The frustrating thing was that the man had seemed entirely unaware of why he was listening to the order in the first place. Apparently he’d just been passing through and had been intercepted, which hardly made sense given the intensity with which he’d refused to explain who’d sent him. There was clearly something more at play. 

Farmland stretched in layered fields around the southeast of the village. It was a small place otherwise, with only a few houses and buildings scattered about. Only one farmer officially owned land according to the local map Diluc had procured, so that would be his first stop. 

The house at the head of the fields was quaint and worn with age, though Diluc got the impression it still fulfilled its purpose well enough. The front door was constructed of a pale wood that echoed hollowly when Diluc knocked. He was sure he could kick it in easily if he so wished, but he had no reason to. 

There came no immediate response. Diluc shifted his weight, his boots crunching on the gravelly ground. The farmer wasn’t necessarily in his house. In fact, if Diluc had to guess, he was probably out tending to the fields. Perhaps he had family, though, who could come to the door. Diluc would rather make a favorable impression here so as to establish his innocent intent, and snooping around would be counterproductive. 

Footsteps around the corner of the house soon revealed a short Liyuean man with sun-spotted skin and deep wrinkles. “It’s not so often we get a visitor around these parts, though we’ve had a bit more activity as of late.” He extended his hand, and Diluc took it; their handshake was firm, and Diluc could feel the farmer’s calluses even through his gloves. 

“Lukas Schuster,” Diluc said after a moment. It wasn’t an alias he’d used much.

“Lin Yuqian. You’re a cobbler?”

“My father was. On paper, I’m an adventurer.”

Something shone in the farmer’s dark eyes. “Left the family business behind to pursue glory and riches?”

“I left it in my younger brother’s hands. He’s more than capable.”

The farmer chuckled lightly, brushing a sweat-soaked strand of hair from his forehead. “Well, I suppose that’s more than my son had when he left home. He was an only child…”

“You live alone?”

After looking around for a moment, the farmer heaved a deep sigh. “S’pose so. Not that I’m in complete isolation out here. The village is home to a couple hundred.”

“A couple hundred, you say?”

“Yes, and—oh, we’re getting rather sidetracked, aren’t we? What is it you’re here for, Schuster?” 

The transition was almost jarring. Normally, the people he spoke to in such a manner would entertain small talk for as long as it took for Diluc to figure out the basic information about their lives. Here, this man had rerouted the conversation, while being quite obvious about it. Perhaps he was simply busy… or there was more at play. After all, this was likely the man who had ordered Kaeya’s death.

“I’m only passing through the area for a commission nearby. Forgive me for bothering you—you see, I haven’t got a map of the area, only this one.” Diluc pulled a map out of his pocket, this one larger and showing the entirety of Teyvat, careful not to accidentally grab hold of the smaller map and expose his lie. He carefully smoothed out the creases, pointing to the barely-visible mark of this village for emphasis. 

The farmer—Lin—clicked his tongue. “That won’t do. Is the Adventurer’s Guild always so unprepared?” He said it in a tone that was so strikingly familiar that Diluc almost completely lost his act. Maybe the Knights of Favonius were more similar to the Adventurer’s Guild than he’d considered.

Diluc produced a nervous chuckle from the back of his throat. “Honestly, sir, it might just be me.”

To Diluc’s luck, Lin ducked inside with the promise of letting Diluc in after a quick moment to tidy up. Diluc snuck a quick peek in as the door swung shut, but there was nothing out of the ordinary—just some relatively minimalist furniture and the hint of the smell of incense. 

Not a minute later, Lin returned out to invite him inside, and it was no different from what Diluc would have expected from such a house. He’d briefly stayed in a number of other homes while traveling Teyvat, mostly out of desperation for shelter or resources, and this one did not stand out from any other home in rural Liyue. 

The smell of incense intensified, hanging thickly in the air similarly to how a smoker might cover up their scent with aromatic perfumes. Diluc quickly removed his boots and set them next to the wall, scanning the room for any abnormalities. Most experienced criminals would not leave clues to their trickery in plain sight inside their house, and neither did this one, ostensibly. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” Diluc asked mildly, raking his eyes over the pile of farming tools propped up in the corner. Well-used but clean, probably spares. Nothing unusual yet. It would be useful if he could get away with taking a look into his toolshed, too. 

“Sure thing. Right this way.”

On the way, Diluc didn’t get much of a chance to peek into the one other room in this small house, but he suspected it was Lin’s bedroom. There was a backdoor at the end of the hall that was held firmly shut with a rusted metal chain, also not particularly unusual. Given the tracks in the small layer of dust on the floor, it seemed it had been opened recently. 

In the bathroom, Diluc quickly picked through all the possible hiding spots for anything suspicious. It didn’t help that he didn’t know what exactly he was looking for—a bloodied weapon? A log of killings? A pouch of savings worth more than an ordinary farmer would make in a lifetime?

Or even just something that would give him a motive for his actions. Perhaps this was a simple action of purely malicious intent, or perhaps he was a member of the Abyss Order sent to finally silence the Khaenri’ahn traitor. 

A serial killer would be interesting, but sending someone else to kill your target in a completely different city was hardly typical of one. So, the real question was—

What did a Liyuean farmer stand to gain from killing Kaeya, of all people?

Lin’s bathroom gave Diluc nothing. He quickly washed his hands to preserve the illusion and exited, smiling gratefully to Lin as if he hadn’t just picked through his home in hopes of finding something incriminating.

This was fine—Diluc had another idea, and he would take advantage of this farmer’s apparent hospitality. 

Through some careful conversation, Diluc managed to direct Lin to offering him tea and a bite to eat. That would give Diluc the time he needed to pull what information he needed straight from the farmer’s lips. The tea was light and bitter, and Diluc was not concerned about the slim chance it was poisoned. He’d trained partial immunity to most common poisons, and Lin had no way of knowing it would take far more to kill Diluc than it would the average person. 

There was always a layer of innate risk to such a thing, of course, but it was worth it if it meant figuring out who had done this to his brother. Blinking the memories of Kaeya’s blood-painted wooden floor out of his eyes, Diluc took another polite sip of his tea before speaking. 

“You mentioned you had a son?”

Lin appeared to cast a nervous glance into the hallway, but it may have been a trick of the light. “Indeed. Just about your age, left the moment he came of age to join the Adventurer’s Guild just like you.”

“Maybe I’ve met him,” Diluc said lightly. The heat of the teacup was beginning to burn his fingertips, but he was used to the sensation. “Is he based anywhere in particular?”

With a dissatisfied grunt, Lin shrugged. “Hell if I know. He left in the direction of Sumeru last I heard of him, but he isn’t the type to settle down. It’d do him some good to dig down roots, stay with the family. Get married. But he never listens to me, does he?” 

“I’ve been primarily based in Mondstadt,” Diluc said, “so I can spend some time at home helping around the family business when my brother needs it. If he’s around and about a lot, I doubt I've met him more than in passing.”

“Not too much of a shame. He was never a chatty one.”

Lin’s son wasn’t the only one, not that he needed to know that. “What’s he like?”

“Well, you get the idea already. Too ambitious for his own good. Stubborn, quiet, had a good head on his shoulders but seemed determined not to put it to use.”

“On the farm?”

Lin looked at him like he was insane. “Farm work requires much more than pure physical prowess, I’ll have you know, Schuster.”

Diluc blinked, mind not quite processing his alias for a moment. “I suppose so, sir.”

After that, he let the silence sit for a bit as he finished up his food and tea, conscious not to press too hard. He let his eyes wander a little, enough to seem curious but not nosy.

Before Diluc could figure out his next move, Lin suddenly straightened his posture and said, “So, what are you really after?”

So, Diluc had been found out. No big deal. He could work with that. 

“I’m after information,” Diluc said plainly, wiping the ring of condensation from his teacup off the wooden table with the cuff of his sleeve. 

Lin didn’t respond, clearly waiting for him to continue.

“I did need the map, that much wasn’t a lie. But I did come here on commission to investigate an incident originating in the area.”

“And that incident is…?”

Diluc spoke calmly, confidently, and crossed his arms to force himself not to visibly clench his fists. “A murder.”

Lin’s reaction was normal. A moment of pause, a wondering glint in his eye, another small shift in posture as he adjusted to the news. “I don’t know anything about a murder in the area,” he said lowly, “but if you’re going to ask anyone, I’d recommend asking the banker.”

“The banker? This is a very small town, isn’t it?”

“Beats me why he’s here, but he is, and everyone knows he’s up to no good.”

Probably Fatui. Whether or not Lin was innocent, that was a good place to start.

Kaeya was halfway home, the moon chasing the sun out of the sky, when a set of metal-tipped fingers wrapped themselves around his arm. The movement jostled his shoulder out of the careful position he had been holding it in all day as he was pulled into the alleyway. He hissed in pain and whirled around to see who it was, though he already knew.

“Thought so,” Rosaria said, self-satisfaction bringing her lips up into something like a smirk.

Kaeya forced his expression to slacken despite fire radiating down his arm. “What do you want?”

Rosaria’s gaze was impenetrable. “Just to talk.”

There wasn’t any choice but to let her come home with him. After all, if he told her to get out of his way, she’d only find a way to get whatever she wanted on her own, and Kaeya had enough experience to know she wouldn’t necessarily make it easy for him. He led her into his home. 

She’d been to his house hundreds of times before, but she still clicked her tongue when she entered, jabbing at the broken floorboard with the toe of her shoe. “You haven’t fixed this yet?”

“You’re one to talk,” Kaeya said with a scoff, recalling the state of her apartment the last time he’d visited. There was a reason they usually spent time here instead. 

Rosaria simply hummed in response, eyes trailing in wide circles over the room as if searching for something. 

There were a number of things she could be looking for. His will, for instance, though that was better hidden now. Anything incriminating. Something to criticize, because he could see in the anxious line of her back and the stiffness of her shoulders that she had something she wanted to say, but she was almost worse than him at talking things out. 

Best to get it over with.

“You wanted to talk?” Kaeya said, tone forcibly light. He sank down on the couch, carefully concealing the spot of blood he’d not yet bothered to wash out. The sudden movement sent another wave of pain arching across his back and down his arm, but he bit his tongue and smiled, patting the spot next to him. 

She did not take his invitation to sit. He watched as she turned toward the window, inhaling, fists clenched. Then she turned sharply, her voice louder than he expected. “What the hell are you doing?”

Kaeya laughed uneasily. “Now, Rosaria, there are just so many things you could mean by that—well, I’ve been working quite a bit lately. I recovered from the poison, and I’ve actually been trying to cut down on my alcohol lately—that’s pretty much everything relevant, I think.”

Her lip curled, and she stalked over to him, heels clicking rhythmically across his wooden flooring. “That isn’t”—she grabbed him by the elbow and pulled— “all of it.”

Kaeya bit his lip and hissed in pain, opposite hand immediately shooting to his shoulder. “Rosaria, please, you’re being—”

“What is that about?” she said, voice louder now, gesturing sharply in the direction of his arm. “Tell me, Kaeya, before I go to Jean and—”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, just…” Kaeya took a shuddering breath as he relaxed his shoulder again, shooting a glance at his shirt. No blood; it was probably fine. “I was injured the other day while Diluc was over because we picked a fight with some Treasure Hoarders we shouldn’t have. I even went to the Cathedral. He practically dragged me there. See? Nothing concerning.”

“If you went to the Cathedral, why are you still injured?”

Kaeya winced internally. “In my defense, it didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.” And it still wasn’t. There was no way this injury would kill him. It was unremarkable.

Rosaria gritted her teeth, metal claws clicking against each other as she visibly held herself back. “That isn’t all of it.”

“Then what, pray tell, is there left to say?”

There was a long stretch of silence. A stretch in which Rosaria’s stare almost could’ve seared a hole in Kaeya’s forehead, and he could do little more than do his best not to wither under her gaze. Then she took a deep breath. “This isn’t so different from before, is it?”

Her voice broke at the end. Kaeya’s heart skipped a beat. 

“It’s so, so different from before,” Kaeya said, for once completely honest. “I’m—what are you even talking about? I haven’t done anything against myself, and the Cathedral would’ve kept me if I was still under suspicion, so—”

“I don’t know how you’re hiding what you’re doing so well,” Rosaria interrupted through clenched teeth, “but I’m going to find out everything.”

Kaeya laughed deeply. It hurt. “That makes two of you.”

Rosaria faltered. “Diluc? He’s investigating this?”

“Who knows, at this point,” Kaeya said, indulging his childish need for ambiguity. Come up with convincing lies, and no one will ever doubt you; come up with conspicuous half-truths, and nobody will know the truth, but everybody will know you are a liar. And maybe, if you are lucky, you’ll trigger enough alarm bells in everyone else’s minds for them to do something about it, and maybe, then, you won’t be alone. Except Kaeya would always backpedal the second someone got too close to finding the truths he so desperately wanted someone to find, so it was a useless endeavor from the start. 

Hah. He’d never thought about it like that before. Being so close to death really did things to a person. 

“Never mind that,” Rosaria said. “There’s probably nothing to investigate in the first place. What game are you playing?”

“Genius Invokation TCG, most frequently. I’ve been playing it quite a lot,” Kaeya replied and immediately winced. There was a time and place for jokes.

“Kaeya.”

“Rosaria.”

Kaeya shoved his hands beneath his thighs to quell their shaking, wishing Rosaria would just sit down so he didn’t have to feel so powerless next to her. But standing up would betray a tension he couldn’t afford to display.

Rosaria paused, taking a moment to find her words. “You can’t die, Kaeya.”

Kaeya barely held back another burst of laughter. “What?”

“You know what happened last time. Would you really do that to Klee? Jean? Do you know how much you mean to this city—”

“Rosaria—”

“—to me? ” 

“I’m not going to kill myself,” Kaeya said bluntly, but as he did, a wall of grief seemed to slam into him from behind. He almost choked on his next words, but he managed to get them out clearly. “I wouldn’t do that. To you, I mean.”

Rosaria looked afraid.

Kaeya thought he finally understood.

“I want to survive,” he continued, “but that isn’t in my control. There’s nothing anyone can do about it. That’s just how it is.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

It did. Far more than he could ever explain to her, it did. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“Do you know how hard you make it to trust you?” Rosaria bit out, spinning a curved dagger in her hand in one tight, anxious circle. “You were poisoned, and now you’re getting reckless, and you mean to tell me this isn’t under your control. Have you proven that you didn’t poison yourself, or was everyone just so disoriented by your tangled web of lies that they couldn’t figure out how to contradict you anymore?”

“I didn’t poison myself,” Kaeya pushed, finally rising from the sofa to meet her level. His head spun with anger, anxiety, grief, something. “If I was trying to kill myself, wouldn’t I be smarter about it? Wouldn’t I—”

“You weren’t last time,” Rosaria snapped. “I don’t want to find—” She cut herself off, squeezing her eyes shut for just a moment. So painfully close to losing her composure in a way Kaeya hadn’t seen in years. “I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t find you like that again.”

“You won’t find me,” Kaeya said before he could think it through.

Bad choice of words.

He wanted to tell her he wouldn’t be leaving her. He knew intimately what it felt like to be abandoned by those you cared about, and likewise, he understood the feeling of meeting him—someone who would simply accept her for who she was, never expecting more, simply existing together. He couldn’t imagine the grief of losing her, and he knew, had always known that their bond meant more to her than she ever stated aloud.

But that didn’t change his fate. 

Fear crossed her face, this time unrestrained. “I’ll find out what’s going on with you,” she said, head tilted down even as her frigid gaze met his. “I’ll talk to Jean again. I’ll talk to Diluc, and I’ll find out everything, and you’ll survive.”

Kaeya laughed bitterly. “Good luck.”

Maybe it was good to indulge her. Perhaps she needed this, one last thread of hope to desperately cling onto as he careened ever faster toward his demise. 

“If you truly wanted to live, you’d tell me everything,” Rosaria added, seemingly as an afterthought. 

“There are some things that take precedence far over any of my wants.”

“What about everyone else?”

Everyone else would die, too.

That was the truth of it—destruction was imminent, and Kaeya wasn’t sure of exactly when it would occur, but it would. His death was merely a precursor to it. There was no use in attempting to change what markers in fate’s pathway had already been predetermined; the Sinner, the Visionary living in Kaeya’s head, had already given up, it seemed. Its ultimate goal of vengeance was only a reaction to something that may as well have already happened. Vengeance against who, Kaeya didn’t know, but it was useless to wonder. He was powerless to stop it.

If he was to be an instrument in some ancient Sinner’s revenge plan, then so be it. Kaeya was not a good man, and he never had been. The Sinner could be rebelling against all that was good in the world, and it would change nothing. Kaeya’s destiny had always been that of a pawn, a vessel. A fate passed onto him by a bloodline overrun by men far too self-important for their own good.

Kaeya poured himself a glass of wine, and Rosaria as well. They both needed it.

It was with the scent of alcohol still lingering on his breath that a knock on the door resounded through the room. Kaeya cast a wary look at Rosaria, who simply shrugged. 

It was Albedo. 

“Sorry to interrupt you at this hour, but Sucrose and I recently discovered an irregularity in Dragonspine’s nighttime climate. If you could watch over Klee for the night—”

“I’ll do it.”

And so Rosaria went home, and Kaeya made it through another night without anyone finding him out.

It was late morning when Kaeya returned to his house, first through his bedroom window. He gathered a few more days of clothes in his arms and climbed back out before entering through the front door like normal. 

He could keep going like this indefinitely, he reasoned. There was no guarantee that the injury that caused his death would be caused in the same place as he died, but it was a reasonable guess and a risk he wasn’t going to take. 

When he got to the hallway, his arms slackened, and he dropped the bundle of clothes straight onto the ground with a light thump.

A trap, strung up high above his bedroom door—dangling Flaming Flowers suspended over a crackling line of electro from a source Kaeya couldn’t exactly see. He was sure he’d find out if he stepped through the door.

Again, he laughed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Laughing at fate, at the absurdity of it all.

This flimsy trap, of all things, would kill him?

Chapter Text

Kaeya used to be suicidal.

It started as a passive thing, a distant promise he clung to like a lifeline from the very moment his birth father abandoned him in that storm: if everything ever truly fell to pieces, there was always a clear path out.

The intention hadn’t started until years later, and it came on gradually. There was a night here and there spent wondering how much longer he could keep up this charade of his, feeling the cracks in his willpower begin to take root and spread, creeping up inside him until the sun broke the horizon and shone light upon the lands of Mondstadt once more, and he remembered he was doing just fine. Sometimes, the sun would only chase the feeling away in part, and he would be left all day feeling fragile, as if he were crumbling. Other days, he felt normal, only the distant aching hollow in his chest reminding him that he would never truly belong.

It was never really about dying, even when he first tried to kill himself that night when he was thirteen. Dying, Kaeya thought, was only something you could do if you were truly living—could someone whose whole “life” had been thoroughly eclipsed by falsehood truly be considered “alive”? 

For someone like him—a traitor down to his blood, a liar through and through—death was only the resolution of it all. A final respite from the burden of his sins he’d brought upon himself by daring to exist in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

So, the first time, it was a simple decision. Diluc had just been appointed as Cavalry Captain, and things were going well. Too well. The further Kaeya climbed up—the more he was loved—the more a feeling of wrongness seemed to enclose around him from all directions. None of it was genuine, and death almost seemed noble a deed.

A parasite could perhaps be forgiven if it exterminated itself before it could truly harm the host. Rational, selfless, necessary; in many ways, he justified this decision to himself despite being fully and disgustingly aware of how much the Ragnvindrs cared about him. 

But, of course, he survived. And the Ragnvindrs could never truly understand what he’d been thinking that day, nor would he ever tell them, but he resolved that day to never hurt anyone that way again.

He’d only kill himself if it was necessary, not as a precaution. For as long as he could keep going—keep lying, keep making others happy, keep his life so carefully in line—then he would stay alive, because that must have been the right thing to do. He never wanted to see Diluc cry like that again.

Then there were the other times.

The justifications those times were spread thin, a barely visible layer of reason wrapped haphazardly around his absolute disdain for his own life. Perhaps everything had already fallen to pieces when Father had died, he would tell himself. He’d already ruined the only thing truly keeping him bound to the city, so why did he still care? And maybe, then, it was better if he left. 

But those were just excuses. The guilt was most of it, this simmering, bubbling self-hatred that seethed beneath his skin, heated by the flame which he tried and failed to douse with wine that only made it grow hotter. It disfigured and warped his mind until death, however selfish, was what Kaeya wanted more than anything else in the world. 

He didn’t just up and decide to kill himself one day. Once again, it was a slow unraveling—he’d drink more, get injured more often, and distantly hope that one day he’d be skewered by the stray blade of some Treasure Hoarder or have a heart attack in his sleep. And he liked to think he was pretty normal about it. He kept himself under control and useful, and if his injuries got bad enough that he struggled to keep up, he’d get them healed. It wasn’t unusual to be reckless. He was one of many. 

… Kaeya didn’t retain any memory of the other time he really, genuinely tried to kill himself. 

He must have been drunk, drunk enough that he could now only grasp onto the barest flashes of emotion to confirm his actions that night. Then, of course, the frigid rush of reality coming back to him a few minutes later as he giggled to Rosaria about how funny it was that he’d tried the same thing twice and failed both times.

She hadn’t found it as funny as he did.

But really, it still wasn’t about death. If he’d truly wanted to die, he would have. He’d have gone and picked out a lethal poison, and he would’ve filled the tub for good measure, and he would’ve gone out without anyone suspecting a thing until it was too late. What he’d done while drunk wasn’t him. It was a pathetic grasp at his closest approximation to salvation. 

Now, Kaeya didn’t want to die. He knew it for a fact, and until a few weeks ago, he’d had every intention of staying alive until the universe either did it for him or forced his hand. That day had finally caught up to him. 

Kaeya liked being alive. He liked reading Klee to sleep at night and playing with her in the rain. He liked those little sandwiches Noelle sometimes made him when she noticed he was too busy for a lunch break, and he liked the feeling of the summer sun on his face. 

He liked grapes almost as much as he liked picking them with Diluc, laughing and ignoring the way the red juice stained their hands and sleeves. He liked the minute twitch of Jean’s lips whenever he said something out of line during a meeting, a hint of a laugh she wouldn’t let out. He liked helping Albedo with experiments he didn’t understand just to see his enthusiasm. 

Kaeya would miss the warmth of hot cocoa on a cool winter day. He’d miss the way light refracted so interestingly from the cryo crystals formed of his Vision, casting pretty rainbows into the sky if the sun hit it just right, and he would miss sitting across the bar from Diluc and making a nuisance of himself just to make his brother laugh. He would miss late nights spent drinking with Rosaria, and he would miss her, too.

Perhaps he would even miss seeing Adelinde every so often, however bittersweet it was. He would miss crouching at the foot of Father’s gravestone, and he would miss loving everyone so deeply that it sometimes hurt.

Today, Kaeya didn’t want to die; however, today he would.

Somehow, Diluc had traced the problem back to its root, and he only had a few bruises to show for it. That was good—where he was going, he’d need to be at full strength.

Perhaps he could sneak into Lin’s house while he was asleep and catch him off guard, pin him down by the neck with the threat of suffocation until he was forced to reveal the truth. There were many ways Diluc could go about this, but he knew one thing for a fact: there was another man in cahoots with Lin, and that man had been the one to pay the banker to have Kaeya killed. 

Diluc was prying Lin’s window open, his eye set on the man’s sleeping form, when a heaving force crashed into him from the side, sending him sprawling in the dirt. Strong hands gripped the fabric of his shirt as knees kept him pinned by the waist, and he was forced to look up at his attacker before he could even process what had happened. 

The first thing that struck him was an eye. A shimmering blue eye with a star in the middle, more defined than the one Diluc was familiar with but similar enough. The other eye socket sat empty, sagging in on itself with tendrils of black curling around the man’s cheek and beyond his hairline, visible yet in the night. Deep blue hair interwoven with pale strands spilled over the man’s shoulders messily, and Diluc noticed belatedly that the man’s hands were trembling, even as they held Diluc firmly in the dirt. 

“Who are you?” Diluc choked out through spasming lungs, though one clear idea had already solidified itself into his mind.

The man muttered something, barely audible beneath the heavy thudding of Diluc’s heart in his chest. Or perhaps he hadn’t spoken at all. But the next time he opened his mouth, it was louder, his voice gravelly and shaky like that of a much older man. 

“He must die.”

Diluc shifted in the dirt, beginning to push himself up by his arms against the straining pressure of the man’s arms. “He must…?”

“My son. You cannot save him.”

“No,” Diluc bit back, finally pushing the man off him. “No, there’s still time. I can still—”

“You don’t understand,” the man said, still kneeling in the dirt as Diluc rose to his feet. “He must. The world—if we wish to survive—”

And suddenly, Diluc knew. 

Everything clicked into place.

“It was you.”

“The scales—I didn’t wish to do it, I truly didn’t, but…” The man—Kaeya’s father dug his fingers into the packed dirt below, chest heaving. “I don’t have much time left. We are running out of time. The Heavenly Principles—” He cut himself off with a strained, sharp cough. 

“I don’t care what sacrifice you think he should be part of,” Diluc hissed. “You haven’t so much as looked at him since he was six. What do you know of—of his fate? Why do you get to decide if he lives or dies?”

Kaeya’s father coughed again and again, and the coughing fit slowly transitioned into a low laugh. “The Heavenly Principles’ reawakening has always been prophesied to coincide with the death of the bearer, though the events themselves were never expressly connected. Drawing it forward a stretch is simply in the favor of the people.”

“The bearer?” Diluc echoed hollowly. None of this made any sense.

“Of the eye.”

Diluc’s eye flickered to the man’s empty eye socket, halfway obscured by his hair, and his stomach began to churn. 

As if continuing a well-rehearsed speech, Kaeya’s father continued, “The eye must never be transferred to the hands of the Abyss Order, yet its own presence is that of the Abyss. When the eye is ready, it will take over. If we are to have any hope of winning this war, we must kill the host before the eye can take hold.”

Diluc’s next words came as a low growl from deep in his throat. “Why did you pass it along to him? Why not keep it for yourself and throw yourself off a cliff—why kill him?”

Kaeya’s father was still kneeling in the dirt, but he looked up just enough for Diluc to see the glistening reflection of the moon in a tear as it rolled down his cheek. “The Abyss has their eyes on me,” he confessed. “Not Kaeya, not yet. They didn’t know about him. If we could hide him, I hoped—” He squeezed his eye shut, casting his head down. “I regret it more than you will ever know.”

“I’ll kill you,” Diluc said, voice frigid. “I’ll kill you, and then I’ll save him, and Teyvat can deal with its own mess.”

“I’m already dying.”

Even though the man was wheezing, trembling, coughing up a lung, it hadn’t occurred to Diluc that there might’ve been another factor to his desperation. There wasn’t much time left before he would no longer be able to be sure of his plan’s success. 

That was convenient for Diluc, who couldn’t care less about Kaeya’s “fate” and “role to play.” 

Good riddance. 

“His fate has already caught up to him, I’m afraid,” Kaeya’s father continued. “I am not responsible for what happens next. That he is still alive proves that I failed.”

“So you were the one who—”

“Poisoning, the first time. The second—what was it?”

“He was stabbed.”

Kaeya’s father frowned. “I wish I hadn’t needed to go that far.”

“You failed both times,” Diluc said, frozen with anger so intense he was nearly lost for words. “You failed. If you needed to kill him, why not—”

“I did consider asking him to do it himself.”

Diluc saw red. Of course this, of all broken parts of his brother, also came from his sorry excuse for a father. Of course. He should’ve known. Spluttering over his words, he managed, “You deserve none of the love he’s given you throughout his whole life.”

Kaeya’s father suddenly hissed in pain, bringing one hand up to his empty eye socket. Diluc saw as the black tendrils seemed to spread further, taking over what little unmarred flash the man had left. He muttered, voice thick with pain, “Perhaps not. But that is the price I must pay for doing what is right.”

“Tell me,” Diluc said, lunging forward all at once and driving his boot into the man’s throat, pinning him on his back, “how do I save him?”

Kaeya’s father wheezed, choking under the pressure of Diluc’s boot. “It’s too late.”

Thankfully, Diluc had sharpened his blade relatively recently; it cut through his neck like butter.

There was something wrong with Kaeya.

It was so obvious that Jean could’ve laughed at herself for how repetitively this phrase ran through her mind—there was something wrong. Something about Kaeya.

She’d known this for weeks now. Or perhaps it had been true all along. It wasn’t worth reflecting on the past when something had clearly changed. Now, every sharp knock at her door had her momentarily convinced someone had come to inform her of Kaeya’s passing, or another severe injury, something. But nothing came.

Jean couldn’t focus. To a certain level, stress only fueled her into productivity, urgency propelling her through mountains of paperwork and duties and missions, but there was a tipping point beyond which she would crash. She had reached it days ago. 

Kaeya wasn’t doing anything to assuage her worries at this point. Every lie was frayed around the edges, only further proving to her that he was breaking, but she still couldn’t tell just what was wrong. 

She did know she wanted to check on him. He hadn’t shown up for work today, which was probably why she was shaking so badly she could hardly write. Or perhaps that was the caffeine. 

He’d spent the night with Klee, and he’d even dropped her off at Headquarters just before noon, but then he’d returned home. 

Why?

He hadn’t mentioned being sick. It was late afternoon now. Normally, Jean would only send for someone on their first day of absence if their whereabouts were unknown or if they were specifically needed, but neither applied here. He could easily write it off as sick leave when he returned tomorrow, as long as he did return.

As long as he did. 

Her quill slipped in her hand, drawing a thick line of ink across the page and staining her glove. She swallowed thickly, tossing the paper in the growing pile of crumpled forms, and pushed herself to her feet. There was no way she could sit in here any longer. She would do what hands-on tasks she could, and she would stop by Kaeya’s place on the way. Yes, that sounded good. Better than sitting holed up in her office, entirely unable to formulate a complete sentence.

Jean’s head pounded. She greeted someone in the hallway as she exited Headquarters, but she didn’t register who it was. Her legs carried her faster than they usually did by pure instinct, and she found herself making a beeline to the row of Favonius housing despite her prior intent to prioritize work.

With Kaeya’s curtains drawn tightly shut, Jean could only see through the barest sliver on the side, but something compelled her to squint through that opening rather than immediately knocking on the door. 

The inside was dark, barely bright enough with what little sunlight came in for Jean to see Kaeya. And Kaeya was there, alive and breathing, seemingly uninjured—but he was just standing there.

For several long moments, Jean didn’t breathe. Kaeya stayed frozen, standing there in the center of the room, facing into a hallway cloaked in darkness. He was staring at something, she assumed, but she didn’t know what.

Something told her she didn’t want to see his expression right now. 

Eventually, she knocked on the door, two sharp raps that seemed to startle Kaeya out of whatever trance he was in. He hurried, tugging the curtain to cover the narrow gap just a moment before he opened the door. “Jean,” he said breathlessly.

She took a moment to take him in. He looked tired, a sheen of sweat visible on his forehead, but otherwise in one piece. A soft exhale of relief escaped her lips. “You didn’t show up for work today,” she hurriedly explained, not eager to push too far while he could still slam the door in her face. 

And it really did look like he might. Kaeya was clearly stressed, his lips pressed into a thin line, not even trying to smile. “I’m not feeling well,” he replied hollowly. 

Hollow was, indeed, the best way to describe how he spoke—a dim sort of resignation under a thin veil of detachment. It didn’t fit how he looked at all. She would have expected his voice to tremble as his hands seemed to, but it was steady as ever. 

She let it go, departing with well wishes and one long, futile look at him to try and parse what she was missing. 

That was something she’d regret for the rest of her life.

Here, at the very end of his life, Kaeya was finally staring freedom in the face. 

The end of it all stood before him, carefully within his sight. Everything was perfect. His shirt was thin and flammable, his mind light with the lingering effects of wine, and he was ready. 

Supporting the family business even until his dying breath—he wished he had it in him to laugh. It was funny to frame it that way. Diluc would’ve scoffed at him in that indignant way of his and simply said, You’re just an alcoholic. 

Well, Kaeya wasn’t one for labels. There were things he knew and things he didn’t, and an infinite number of things between that weren’t worth his consideration. Now, there were a few things he knew for certain.

Kaeya would die tonight, and Jean would find him. 

It was fated, in that strange way that fate wove itself from within a person. He knew he would die here eventually, but the trap was fairly obvious. Whoever had made it hadn’t put any effort into hiding it. Maybe they hadn’t needed to. 

What had come first, he wondered: the memory of his future demise, or his demise itself?

Or perhaps they had always coexisted, as the Visionary loved to claim. Perhaps Kaeya had always been fated to remember his own death as an inevitability, only to welcome it with open arms out of sheer resignation.

Was it a self-fulfilling prophecy, or had Kaeya never had control to begin with?

Was he always going to kill himself tonight?

Kaeya didn’t want to die, he decided distantly, as if that meant something. If he could control anything, at least he could control his futile wishes and dreams.

He wasn’t procrastinating; he was just waiting.

Waiting for the sun to go down, maybe. That sounded about right. Who killed themselves in the daytime? So unromantic. 

Another freshly-opened bottle of wine went thoroughly stared at. Kaeya drummed his fingertips idly against the table, wondering what they’d do with all his things. Maybe packing everything into boxes had been a good idea, after all. It had raised some alarm bells in his friends’ minds, sure, but it wasn’t as if it would change the outcome. He would die all the same, and now they would have that much less to deal with.

Most of it would go between those he cared about most. He’d already given some of it away—books, spices, some candles. A bad idea, in retrospect, because giving your things away was supposedly a warning sign of suicide, and he didn’t want anyone thinking that was what was going on. 

Hah. That was exactly what he was doing, wasn’t it? Killing himself.

Might as well commit to the bit. Maybe he should douse himself in oil just to make it more efficient. Overload and oil were an explosive combination. 

That would probably cause more damage to his house, though, and that would cost Mora to repair. Mora that the Knights didn’t have. So, no, he’d try to keep this as clean as possible. If he was going to give up like this, the least he could do was make it simpler for everyone else who had to deal with the fallout.

Humming just to fill the otherwise silent room, Kaeya ran a finger over the edge of his eyepatch, right where it met his skin. He slipped his finger underneath, feeling the lumps of scar tissue he’d grown far too familiar with.

Truth. That was what this was.

Kaeya had lived his entire life as a lie. A happy lie, at times, but still a lie. 

Truth would always triumph over happiness, and the ultimate truth of Kaeya’s life—his fate— was to die. 

This time, when Kaeya pulled back the curtain to check the sun’s position in the sky, he peered out with both eyes. He could see the truth of this world plain before him in the form of fate itself, woven deeply and securely into every last thing out there, from the blades of grass to the people still milling about the streets despite the late hour. Everything had a future, as everything had a past, and he could see it all.

Not that he could understand it, he mused. Maybe he could’ve learned, had he not been raised to ignore it all along, but everything was… jumbled, as it was now. Like looking at a script you’ve never seen before that twisted and morphed before your eyes.

But it was truth. 

The sun had disappeared below the horizon, but lingering hues of paler blue lingered in its wake. Kaeya took a quick swig of wine, his first in hours, and let it sit in his mouth for a moment as he stared outside. This would be his last time seeing the city he had dedicated his life to. The city that had picked him up out of the mud and given him a new home, one that loved him without question. One he had never belonged in in the first place.

It was a charming place. Much calmer than Khaenri’ah. Long had Mondstadt been free of major strife. This era of peace would eventually come to an end—it was just as inevitable as Kaeya’s death tonight, and it wasn’t far away.

But for now, he hoped they could make the most of it while it lasted, keep living in this peaceful bubble where every problem was of society’s own making and not of some higher power far beyond their reach. They were all so impossibly small, and Kaeya loved them all, loved the city with far more of himself than had ever been safe.

Diluc wasn’t in Mondstadt today. He’d return eventually, possibly with information and possibly not, only to find that his mission had been in vain. Kaeya didn’t care enough to feel sorry for him anymore. 

He swallowed. Warmth, however shallow, was what he would go out feeling. The searing of fire on his skin, the burn of alcohol down his throat. The lingering remains of once-positive memories.

Kaeya let the curtain fall shut and headed to the hallway, where he leaned against the wall opposite his bedroom door, staring once again at the trap.

He wondered how long he’d lie there, dying, before Jean found him. He wondered how badly it would break her. Everyone.

… It didn’t matter. Wondering was for hypotheticals. This was reality. 

You got what you wanted, Kaeya told the Sinner. I hope you’re happy now. 

He received no response. Smirking bitterly then, he allowed himself one more moment to bask in the irony of it all.

Then he took that final step forward.

Chapter Text

Jean could only think about everyone who wasn’t here. Her father and her mother. Grand Master Varka. Diluc. Anyone she could normally look to for guidance was conveniently gone when she needed them the most. 

There was a pit in her stomach, dense yet hollow, and there was a humming in her head that seemed to drown out everything. She just wanted to lie down. Sleep wasn’t an appropriate response to the situation, though. There were investigations to organize, letters to send, forms to fill out. A funeral to plan.

Jean really hoped someone else would handle that one. She wasn’t sure if she could utter his name aloud without breaking down.

Then again, she hadn’t cried since last night. Not since—

No. Not now. She wouldn’t think about him right now. Anything but him. 

Well, she was in charge of the investigation. But she was on the verge of shuffling it off to someone else at this point, because standing in that Archons-damned hallway again was already enough to have her choking down the urge to vomit. But she had an obligation. She was the Acting Grand Master. Regardless of whether she could handle this, she had to. 

Lisa kept giving her tea, but Jean wasn’t sure it was helping. Maybe it didn’t matter if she felt better, when she still had a body capable of doing what needed to be done. The entirety of Mondstadt was grieving, even though she hadn’t even meant for the information to get out yet, and they needed a strong face.

Jean was young. A few years ago, when Grand Master Varka had left the city, he’d left everything in her hands. Her mother had contested this—she had barely turned twenty at the time, after all. She was hardly fit to lead a whole city. But Varka had insisted she was capable, and she’d been more than willing to take his word for it, even through the doubt tugging at the back of her mind. He was her boss, and if he said she could do it, she could— that was how it worked. There was no alternative. 

For the first time, she was truly beginning to question his judgment beyond a nagging doubt. 

Staying calm under pressure? Jean could do that sometimes. She was accustomed to pretending she’d gotten five times the sleep she had, or that Mondstadt’s safety was a total nonissue, even when the opposite was true. She could get work done even when she could hardly focus her exhausted eyes enough to read, and she could find it within her to fight even when terror struck her to her very core.

But this? This was different.

And it was so frustrating, because she knew Varka would handle it infinitely better. 

Jean wanted nothing more than to run away. A cruel, selfish urge. Move on, pretend none of this had happened. Put the funeral and the investigation and her entire childhood with him behind her. Go to bed and shut the world out. Anything but being here, awake, in this reality. She’d spent so long pondering this as a hypothetical, but it had always been only that. 

Failure was not something she could afford. It was a failure of judgment that had let it happen to begin with. 

If only she had arrived just ten minutes sooner. She’d known something was off about him. She’d known, but she’d foolishly told herself she was overthinking it, that he was fine, that checking in on him could wait a few more minutes while she finished just one more task. 

Scorch marks littered the hallway. Someone had already cleaned the blood, but a few wood chips remained scattered about that were reddened in spots. She swallowed thickly, once more taking note of the exact dimensions of the explosion, as if that would help. There wasn’t really anything to uncover that they hadn’t already.

It was a trap. A lousy one, at that. No clear origins. The main question was how it had actually worked. 

But there were no signs of struggle, no signs of conflict before the explosion. Jean was the last person who’d seen him alive, and there hadn’t been anyone else there in sight. But he had been looking into the hallway—right at the trap.

Or maybe a person.

That was their only lead.

Somehow, Jean found herself sitting across from Adelinde at a table in her house. She didn’t remember going home, and she certainly didn’t remember inviting Adelinde over, but here she was.

“Master Diluc told me he’d be back soon,” Adelinde’s voice faded in. Her hair was as neat as ever, her clothes smooth and well kept, but her bloodshot eyes didn’t escape Jean’s notice, nor did the tight line of her lips before she took a careful sip of her drink. Tea? Juice? Coffee? Jean couldn’t even remember what she’d served her own guest.

“That’s good,” Jean replied hollowly. She didn’t really have anything else to say, but Adelinde’s words loosened the coil of tension in her chest just a bit, and she felt that she may have been able to breathe easier. 

She found a cup in front of her and hesitantly took a sip of amber liquid. Apple juice, it seemed. Not usually her first pick to serve to a guest, but it would do. 

Adelinde took a long breath before she spoke, hands tucked onto her lap where Jean couldn’t see them, shoulders rigid. “Elzer and I were looking for the go ahead with the date we had planned.”

“The date?”

“For the funeral,” Adelinde said softly. 

“Oh, right.” Jean supposed she didn’t need to tell Adelinde she’d forgotten the planned date as well. She wasn’t even sure she’d internalized it in the first place. 

“We were thinking of holding it in a week. It should be enough time to gather everything we need without drawing it out.”

A refutation settled on the tip of Jean’s tongue. He deserved to be mourned forever, she thought. He deserved better than just one funeral a week from today, and for everyone to simply move on a fterward as if he’d never existed. As if he hadn’t made their lives what it was today.

But Jean simply nodded and said, “That sounds fine.” After all, who was she to contradict Adelinde? She couldn’t even bring herself to say his name. Adelinde knew what she was doing. She’d done this before—lost family. 

Crepus hadn’t been Jean’s family like he’d been to Adelinde, no matter what Jean had liked to believe as a child. That was different, and this was, too. Jean had lost a friend; Adelinde had lost a son.

“Will you be okay?” Jean asked in spite of herself, staring into her half-empty glass and wondering when she’d drunk so much of it. 

Adelinde took a moment to reply. “No,” she admitted softly. “I don’t imagine I will. Not for a while. But it will get easier.”

“How can people just… move on?” Jean asked, all too aware of how ridiculous she sounded. It had only been a day. Just a day. Of course she wasn’t going to feel just right yet. But where she was now, she felt like she’d never be okay again. 

“Would he want you to mourn him forever?”

“No,” Jean said. She didn’t have to think. It was just something she knew.

Several empty minutes later, Jean went to the kitchen to wash their cups and noticed for the first time that it was night, late enough for the sun to have disappeared completely. 

Twenty-four hours.

She took a trembling breath and washed the cups.

And when she put the dried cups away in the cupboard, she finally cried. Sobs caught in her chest before they could fully form, and she pressed one gloved hand against her mouth, trying in vain to stifle the sound. 

He really was gone, wasn’t he?

Rosaria was livid. Jean wasn’t at all surprised. 

What she hadn’t been expecting was for it to be a loud, teary anger. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Rosaria cry. Not until today.

It ignited something in her, an ire that she hadn’t known she was capable of. 

How dare he hide from them? How dare he let such a thing happen?

But the thoughts were fleeting. She pulled Rosaria into a hug before she could hear a word of protest, and Rosaria actually let it happen.

If only he had known how badly this city would crumble without him. Maybe he would’ve told someone what was going on. 

Jean wasn’t angry, she reminded herself. His life had never been fair, not from the very beginning, so his death wouldn’t be fair either. 

Rosaria also wasn’t mad at anyone in particular, but Jean was glad she’d found her when she had. It wasn’t clear what would’ve happened if she hadn’t, but the look in Rosaria’s eyes said enough.

Even so, she didn’t have it in her to stop Rosaria as she departed without saying a word.

Exhausted, often teary faces began to blend together. How had one man made a friend of so many? 

Amidst it all, Jean recalled the burns. Pyro and electro seared into his flesh, a chunk of his torso missing. Chunks of skin, muscle, and sinew strewn about because the explosion had torn him apart. She’d been able to see bone. 

It was gruesome enough that she almost hadn’t noticed he had his eyepatch off. 

It was her first time seeing his eye. She’d wondered many times about what lay beneath that eyepatch, never daring to ask. He’d joked about it a few times, never quite letting her know the truth.

A scar. Not that old, by the looks of it, and she’d realized breathlessly that she knew exactly where it came from. An iris, bright red. Barely visible from his half-lidded eye in the dark.

A chill had run down her spine like ice water. She’d known, then, that she was seeing something she wasn’t meant to. A quick look around had led her to his barren kitchen, where his eyepatch lay discarded on the table. 

So, she’d put it back on him, lifting up his head to loop it around the back and trying not to think about how she was touching a dead man. Her dead best friend. 

Part of her knew it was wrong—why force him to cover up his secrets, even beyond the grave? 

But she couldn’t get that sliver of red out of her mind. It was terrifying. 

She got the impression that, even after death, it could still see. 

And she didn’t want it to see her.

Klee asked where he’d gone. 

An innocent question, but Jean found herself lost for words all the same. What could she say?

It was useless to hide death from children, least of all someone like Klee. She would find out eventually, and it was cruel to lie to her about something so important. 

But Jean couldn’t bring herself to say it. Couldn’t even say his name. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Jean said. It was the best she could do. 

She was lost. She wondered why Albedo had passed Klee over to her of all people today, but then remembered Klee’s other caretaker was dead, and Albedo probably needed room to grieve himself. 

Lunch was a quiet affair. Klee seemed to sense that something was wrong and that it might help if she was quiet. It only made Jean more guilty. She couldn’t even put on enough of a face to let Klee be herself. 

Normally, Jean would let Klee tag along as she did some of her easier tasks for work, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be the one who explained what had happened to her. Albedo might be better suited for the task, and he still hadn’t told her yet. Probably for a reason.

“Master Jean, are you tired?” was what Klee asked as Jean was washing up after their meal.

Normally, Jean would say no. This time, she was honest. She let Klee drag her off to bed with the promise of a nice nap, because she wasn’t sure she could do anything else.

What an awful guardian she was, that a child needed to care for her.

At least Klee decided to nap with her, otherwise Jean might’ve had to turn down her request. It didn’t seem like Klee was in the mood to make trouble right now, though, with him gone.

Her pillow was wet when she awoke, and Klee was curled up next to her leg, peacefully asleep.

Jean didn’t know what to do. She was lost.

It was hard to convince the people that everything was okay when Jean wasn’t sure it was. Her right hand was dead. Grand Master Varka still had most of the Knights’ forces away, and Diluc was out of town. They were more defenseless than ever. 

A brave face did wonders for morale, though, so Jean kept herself carefully in line as she addressed people’s concerns. No, Grand Master Varka wouldn’t return for this; his mission unfortunately took precedence. Yes, the funeral proceedings would be held in a week, and anyone could come as long as they remained respectful. No, there were no looming threats on the city.

No, there was no clear evidence pointing toward what had happened.

A white lie, but a necessary one. 

Tell the people a murderer had been after him, and they would panic. Tell the people it had been suicide, and that would open a whole other can of worms—for someone as beloved by the people as him to take his own life was unthinkable for most. Neither option was something they could afford people thinking, but both seemed at least likely. 

Everything was fine. Jean pretended she didn’t know Amber was crying behind her as she gave her speech. She pretended she still cared about the grief of the masses when it was her best friend who had died. 

She had a job to do, after all.

Suicide wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar concept to Jean, and she’d spent a lot of time thinking about it lately. When she worried about him dying, images of it would flash through her mind—him at the bottom of Starsnatch Cliff, his body mangled from the fall. Him hanging from the ceiling, his snapped neck still suspended at a nauseatingly unnatural angle. Him bleeding out in the bathtub. Him having gone cold and stiff in his bed, poison having already taken him.

But she’d never anticipated finding him halfway blown up, viscera spilling from a gaping hole in his side. It couldn’t have been entirely on purpose, but there was nobody out there who could’ve done it aside from him. She wanted so badly to cling onto it being done to him against his will—and perhaps it had been—but she couldn’t deny that he’d been giving up. 

Jean didn’t know what she’d do if Diluc returned empty-handed. That was the last chance she had at proving her best friend wouldn’t do something so awful to himself, that she’d been too much of a coward to prevent. 

“Someone was trying to kill him,” Lisa told her in the early afternoon as she was sitting under the tree at Windrise. From here, she could see the path that led to the city in the distance. When Diluc returned, she’d know. 

“He wasn’t trying to stop them.”

“That doesn’t mean he wanted it.” Lisa rarely talked in such a straightforward manner, but she was subdued now. Sad, almost. Was she feeling the failure too, or did she feel it was out of her control? 

Selfishly, Jean wished everyone felt guilty for his death. 

“Why would he give up?”

“How do you know he gave up?”

“He didn’t tell us anything.” Jean set her hand gently on the tree root beneath her, feeling its solidness in the palm of her hand. It was reassuring, in a way. “If he’d only told us, then…”

Lisa exhaled softly, her composure barely wavering. “There’s a lot that we don’t know about him, Jean. It’s just as likely that he had a valid reason to hide until the very end as he didn’t.”

“I was his best friend,” Jean cut in. “I should’ve been a safe person to tell.”

She knew it wasn’t entirely true, and that there were some secrets that could never be told.

She knew.

“Did he trust us at all, Lisa? Any of us? Or was our friendship…” 

Fake. 

But, no. Jean knew it was real. She’d learned how to read him, even if she’d never been able to figure out what secrets were behind it all. She knew how he liked his coffee, and she knew he liked talking about those cheesy romance novels with her even though they both pretended not to enjoy them. She knew that his concern for her when he forced her home late in the night was real, and she knew he wanted nothing more than to leave his past behind him, whatever it entailed. 

“Perhaps there were simply parts of him he didn’t want to matter,” Lisa suggested. “Not everything is within our control.”

Sometimes, Jean got the feeling Lisa knew far more than she shared.

“And how are you doing?” Jean asked, finally remembering to ask that important question, because the grief wasn’t just about her. It was far too often that she settled so easily into the role of the comforted when Lisa was around, while Lisa became the comforter. 

Lisa took a moment to respond, as she often did when Jean asked her something so direct and genuine. “I’m alright,” she eventually settled on. 

Jean let them lapse into silence again, hoping to encourage Lisa to continue speaking. If for nothing else, simply to hear someone she loved talk. She didn’t want to sit alone with her thoughts right now. Not when she could feel the memories of two days ago bubbling up in the back of her mind, ready to resurface. 

And after several long moments, Lisa finally continued, closing her eyes against the afternoon sun. “We had a brief conversation only a few days ago. He was injured.”

“That one on his back,” Jean realized aloud. One of the injuries that hadn’t aligned with the way he’d died—a half-healed wound behind his left shoulder. There had been stitches, which meant someone else had known since he would’ve been unable to reach the wound and stitch it himself from there. She’d assumed it was Diluc who’d helped him out until now.

Lisa nodded. “Someone had been out to get him for a while, I believe. We discussed this briefly, but he was evasive about it, and I let him go with only a few words of advice.”

“You didn’t tell me?” Jean tried not to jump to conclusions, but anger was already building beneath her skin. 

“Would he have trusted me again?” 

No, he wouldn’t have. 

“I encouraged him to tell you about it.” 

“But he didn’t.”

“He didn’t,” Lisa agreed, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. Jean wondered if she was starting to get emotional, too. Maybe some release would be good for Lisa, with how carefully under control she always was. “I could’ve done more, Jean.”

“We all could’ve done more.” 

The silence was lighter this time. Jean let her gaze drift from Lisa back out into the distance, waiting. 

It was a few long, quiet minutes before a figure appeared in the distance on a horse, rapidly approaching. They were moving much more quickly than anyone should’ve been on these city paths. Jean almost stood up to go shout at them to slow down, but it didn’t take long for Jean to recognize that smudge of flaming red hair. 

Diluc was back.

Diluc was beyond exhausted, but there was no time to slow down. He needed to find Kaeya as soon as possible, and if not Kaeya, then someone who knew where he was. Time was running out.

That was why it was such a relief when Jean called his name from beneath the tree at Windrise. Quickly, he brought his horse to a stop in front of her and Lisa, dismounting. “Jean,” he said breathlessly.

He didn’t linger on how exhausted Jean looked, or how it looked like Lisa had been crying—Lisa, of all people, should’ve set off alarm bells in his mind. 

But he didn’t notice a thing, far too intent on his goal. 

“We need to get to the city now,” Diluc said, urgency heavy in his tone. “Fast.”

“Oh,” Jean said, looking lost for a split second. “What is it?” 

“I’ll tell you as we go. “ 

Jean pushed herself to her feet, and they both mounted the horse quickly. Diluc might’ve felt bad about leaving Lisa alone like that, but this horse could only carry two people, and he needed Jean more. He nudged her to pick up the pace as they approached the front gate, and Jean only barely protested even though it was against the rules. 

Through the gate they went, and a guard started calling something about slowing down before cutting himself off halfway through, seemingly having realized who he was talking to. Soon in the city center, taking them in a sharp turn around the fountain,  Diluc finally asked, “Where’s Kaeya?”

Jean stiffened behind him. “Where’s…?”

Diluc’s heart plummeted in his chest as she trailed off. He brought his horse to a sudden halt, nearly throwing them both off. 

Turning around to face Jean this time, he repeated, “Where is he?” 

Somehow, he knew what was coming before she said it. It was in her eyes, in the way she looked at him. Everything seemed to quiet around them in anticipation of her words. He knew he didn’t want to hear them.

“He’s gone, Diluc.”

Chapter Text

Diluc could have laughed.

He also could have cried, screamed, broken down on the street right there. But he didn’t. 

“He’s dead?” he found himself asking, tone almost disbelieving. 

Jean only nodded, a slight inclination of her head, before she tore her gaze from his and muttered something about getting out of the street or they’d cause a scene. Diluc only stared for a few moments longer, ears ringing, and then directed his horse onto an adjoining, far less busy street. 

Kaeya was dead.

Diluc had failed. 

“Bring me to him.”

“He’s—”

“Please. Jean.”

Jean sighed, and Diluc felt her shift in the saddle behind him. “It’s bad, Diluc.”

“I can handle it.”

If it was Diluc who had been too slow to save Kaeya, too caught up in his own head to notice, then it was only fair that he would see what had become of the brother he had failed. Besides, a part of him just had to see it. He needed to know that it was real. That it had really, truly happened, and that Jean’s words weren’t just Diluc’s mind playing tricks on him. 

Jean made him slow down and hand his horse off to a Knights’ stablehand before leading him up the steps to Headquarters. He swallowed thickly, not even able to conjure up any negative thoughts about the Knights over the mind-numbing buzz in his skull. It seemed all he could manage was to follow her down into the basement, trying not to think about the last time he’d been down here. 

Last time, though, he’d been here with no permission. And now the Acting Grand Master herself was escorting him down. 

It was dark, and the glow of cryo imbued in crystals lining the walls was barely enough for Diluc to measure the space between the walls of the corridor. The temperature dropped rapidly in the short distance, and he knew it would only get colder once they entered. It didn’t bother him, but he made sure to step closer to Jean as he saw a shiver run through her body. 

There were two keys to unlock the door—one Jean could unlock with the master key usable in most Ordo buildings, and another she had to have picked up from her office at some point. That she was simply carrying it around in her pocket caused a lump to form in Diluc’s throat that he couldn’t swallow down. 

Inside, Diluc ducked closer to Jean as his eyes adjusted to the lower lighting. This place was normally empty or near it, considering Mond’s small population—unless there was an attack of some sort, they usually only had to accommodate one body. And of course, today there was only one as well. 

There was an unlit lantern on the table nearby, and Diluc contemplated lighting it as Jean made to unlock the compartment Kaeya must have been stored in.

Right. Kaeya was—

All at once, it struck Diluc how odd this was. How as a kid, he’d been so attuned to his brother’s presence that he’d been able to predict just the moment he’d come downstairs for a glass of water in the evening, and could pick out the sound of his footsteps in the hall of Headquarters even on a busy afternoon, and even now, he was never in the same room as Kaeya without noticing. 

But now, Diluc sensed nothing. 

He lit the lantern and picked it up. The hinges of its handle squeaked, filling the room with their unpleasant sound. Now that the room was brighter, Diluc found the tension wound up tight in his chest didn’t loosen at all, but he needed to see this. 

Jean sighed through her nose. Diluc could see the frown on her face now, and guilt barrelled into him before he could tear his eyes away. Not now. He could have his crisis later. 

With a creak, Jean opened the compartment. 

For several long moments, Diluc wasn’t sure what he was seeing. 

No. That was wrong. It was clearly Kaeya, or at least something that looked like Kaeya. The same features, the same eyepatch, hair that framed his face in the exact same way it always did. A sheet covered him from the middle of his bare chest down, and Diluc wasn’t sure he wanted to look beneath it. But he would.

He would.

This felt so wrong. 

But Kaeya’s skin was ashen, and he was so still, and it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. After everything, Kaeya couldn’t be reduced to this empty husk . Where was that smirk of his, those infuriating turns of phrases, that laugh? Where was it all?

This wasn’t Kaeya. 

This was… something, but it wasn’t Kaeya. 

Diluc wasn’t permitted to touch anything, so Jean was the one to pull back the sheet, seeming pale as she did. 

The wound was gaping, a cavern in Kaeya’s left side that seemed to have been cleaned out. Even the skin around it had been wiped of blood, but Archons, Diluc could still see far more of Kaeya’s insides than he had ever wanted to. 

He averted his eyes for a moment, stomach churning, and realized that Jean was standing off to the side, near the wall. Not looking, and he could understand. 

If she had the key in her pocket, she’d clearly been down here before. And Diluc could understand why she wouldn’t want to see this again. He swallowed, resisting the urge to gag.

There was more than just the most obvious wound in Kaeya’s side. His left arm—the one attached to the very shoulder Diluc had stitched up only a few days ago—was bent at an awkward angle, and Diluc was momentarily upset that they hadn’t even bothered to set it. But with how ugly everything else was… would there have really been a point? 

Kaeya’s Vision was the next thing that drew Diluc’s attention. It had been set square in the center of his chest, and it was just as dull and lifeless as his brother was. As Kaeya had met his fate of death, so too had the gods severed their divine gaze upon him. 

There were also burns, some minor lacerations. A lot of it wouldn’t have been so severe on its own, but in combination, it was too much. The last time Diluc had seen Kaeya this badly injured had been—

A muffled sob came from Diluc’s right. 

Hastily tugging the sheet back over Kaeya—because rules be damned, his friend was crying—Diluc turned to Jean. She had a hand cupped over her mouth, her shoulders drawn up in now-silent tears, and he couldn’t see her eyes in the dark. 

He realized suddenly and disturbingly that he didn’t know what to do. 

They were friends, but Diluc only knew how to comfort another version of her. The her he’d known years ago, before everything happened. Before he left, and she grew up without him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, only realizing how dumb it sounded when it had already left his mouth.

Jean lowered her hand as Diluc stepped closer. He could faintly see that her lips were pressed into a thin, trembling line, her composure waning. She opened her mouth, but only a choked gasp came out, and she crashed into his chest.

Oh. 

Diluc’s hand reluctantly found the back of Jean’s head, and he tucked her face closer to his chest. He could feel her chest shuddering with barely-repressed sobs, and he wanted to tell her to just let it out, but the words wouldn’t come to him. He just accepted it as her arms wrapped around him, gentle but intense and heavy all the same. 

“Why did you leave?” Jean said eventually, not moving from the embrace.

Excuses spilled from Diluc’s lips. “I had to find who was doing this to him. I needed to—”

“You always leave. When he’s struggling and when I don’t know what to do.”

And Diluc couldn’t argue with that. He had left. He’d left a few days ago, and he’d left when he was eighteen. But he couldn’t apologize, not for the driven pursuit of justice and not for taking matters into his own hands when nobody else would. 

There was one thing he could apologize for, though.

“I’m sorry you were left alone.”

She had done well, but her supports had crumbled beneath her, including him. But he wasn’t the one at fault for that, for what he needed to do. Those broken pillars traced back to the very structure of the Knights of Favonius that she led.

Jean sobbed into his chest, openly now. He wondered if this was the first time she had let herself cry like this, or get angry. She was always blaming herself, so she deserved this chance to think a bit selfishly. Blame someone else for a change. Diluc could take it. 

“I should have noticed sooner. Come back sooner,” Diluc muttered into the top of her head. And there was so much he could take the blame for, even if he would never regret leaving—he had failed, after all. If he hadn’t delayed his investigation for so long, perhaps he would have come back in time to use his newfound knowledge to save Kaeya. Save Jean all the trouble, too.

They’d been closer lately. They had even spent some unstructured time together a few days ago, which was—

Oh, Diluc felt sick. 

Jean seemed to sense some change in him, because she pulled back from his chest and looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “What is it?”

Pieces were falling into place. That day that Kaeya had dragged them both around the city, “rekindling a childhood friendship”—that had been for this. The bond between Jean and Diluc, even in Kaeya’s absence; this hug. 

“Nothing,” Diluc murmured, tucking her in close once more. “I just—” Everything. There was so much to say, but nothing to say it for. It was all over. “He’s gone.”

“He is.” 

Diluc wasn’t sure he’d ever come to terms with it. He certainly wasn’t over Father. Both Father’s and Kaeya’s deaths had been unjust and cruel turns of fate, nothing Diluc could take lying down. He would never again be that naive kid he had once been, who Mondstadt had once known. 

Jean’s sobs had ceased, save for the occasional catch of her breath in her throat. Diluc held her close still, desperately willing his eyes not to burn, because he knew Jean needed him to be the strong one just this once. After years of her being strong for everyone else. 

Anger seethed beneath his skin, but just for now, he could at least do this.

Relief was a horrible emotion to feel upon your brother’s death, but Diluc found himself feeling it all the same. Late at night, slouched over his desk, unable to stomach the tea Adelinde had brewed him, Diluc thought he was glad Kaeya had at least died early enough.

At least the eye had never taken over. Kaeya’s father had said he’d failed, but his plan had worked just in time, and now Kaeya would not be overtaken by forces far beyond his own control. 

After a whole life shaped by decisions far above his own, Diluc was glad Kaeya could at least rest in death. At least he had that. But Diluc wished he would’ve had the chance to have just one more conversation with Kaeya, just one.

Father had always painted those things that meant a lot to him. People he loved, creatures he found fascinating, the fleeting sunset or a scenery he happened to pass by. Diluc now understood why, after becoming a single father, Crepus had latched onto such a hobby.

There were hundreds of pictures of the Ragnvindr family around the Winery. Not nearly as many as there had once been in their manor, but enough. Far more than there were pictures of them after Father’s passing.

And that was the problem. Diluc hadn’t realized there was anything he wanted to preserve until it was gone. Now, all he had was some letters. Far too many letters.

He’d never let go of the letters, even if he had rarely responded to them. 

With blurry eyes, he stared down at another one of Kaeya’s letters from during those years apart, guilt brewing in his gut. So much of what he’d done had been necessary—he maintained that position—but he had abandoned Kaeya. He’d abandoned the same kid who had been left over and over again by the people he loved the most. What a horrible brother he was.

And now it was too late to fix it.

Adelinde’s dress was a familiar black, and her face was familiarly solemn. 

Diluc almost wished she hadn’t bothered to iron his suit. This one was newer, unfamiliar, because he was a different person from the last time he’d attended a funeral. Bigger, older. 

He also wished Adelinde would cry, because maybe then he would finally, truly feel it. But instead she kept up her grim countenance, and Diluc withdrew into the notion that this could almost be a normal day. 

She turned him to face the mirror as she combed his hair, and he didn’t even bat at her hand and tell her he could do it himself. He didn’t look at his reflection either, opting to stare at his hands—gloveless, and he felt ripped open. Exposed. 

A day this depressing wasn’t what Kaeya would have wanted for his funeral, Diluc thought faintly. But if Kaeya wasn’t around to make light of the situation, then who would? 

Certainly not Diluc. He’d lost that quality years ago.

Deft fingers pulled Diluc’s hair into a ponytail, tighter and neater than he ever made it himself. Something felt wrong about wearing his hair as he usually did, because nothing about this situation was normal, but the only other idea Diluc had was to chop it all off. That was probably a bad idea. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to do the speech?” Adelinde murmured softly, as if she were scared he would shatter if she addressed the funeral more loudly. 

With a low hum of affirmation, Diluc finally raised his eyes to meet his reflection. 

He looked bad. 

Something dark in him joked that Kaeya looked even worse.

“I couldn’t do the speech,” he found himself saying.

Why had Kaeya been the one to die, of all people?

Father?

Why did the world taint those with pure hearts, and fate steal them?

Diluc was just as unclean as Kaeya, just as much of a sinner. They had both killed, but it wasn’t them. They had been corrupted, as had Father, and now Diluc was the only one left. 

He could only imagine a world in which none of this had happened. Where he and Kaeya could’ve lived happily, blissfully unaware of just how horrible this world could be. Where Kaeya wasn’t born with the weight of a dead nation on his shoulders and Father had never gotten his hands on that Delusion and Kaeya had never needed to come clean to Diluc because he’d never lied in the first place.

For a moment, he sat in the warmth of this alternate reality, so far away that he could hardly visualize it. Perhaps he would not be Kaeya’s brother in that world, and perhaps they never would have even met. But Kaeya would not be cold, mangled, dead in a coffin right now, and Father would not be buried under feet of dirt, and Diluc would not be preparing for a funeral.

And perhaps they would’ve been that much happier for it.

Diluc couldn’t say he’d ever imagined Kaeya’s funeral before it happened, but he was all too suddenly in the midst of it. The people of Mondstadt couldn’t possibly understand what this felt like, but it was still a public affair. Kaeya had been a friend of many. 

Never before had Diluc truly imagined Kaeya would die before him. But here he was.

Voices droned on in the background, emotional ones he tuned out. He tried to keep his attention on the people in the front row—Jean, Klee, Adelinde, a few others. Kaeya was more to them than a friendly face and a helping hand, but Diluc wasn’t sure any of them loved him like he did. 

That was the nature of family, wasn’t it?

And then the Church choir was leading a familiarly solemn hymn, and it filled the Cathedral, and everything felt wrong. 

Paying homage to Kaeya in a building he so often refused to enter, with lyrics composed in honor of a god who was not his. Singing about Kaeya, for Kaeya, when he wasn’t there. Everyone singing together. Everyone’s voices layering together into a single sound that lacked the one thing they were all here to honor. 

Diluc wasn’t singing, and he wished Kaeya was here to stand in silence next to him as well.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Jean pressed a tissue into his hand from beside him. He nodded at her, taking it in his hand but not using it. Tears dripped off his chin and onto the polished Cathedral floor.

The voices continued, swelling and softening in harmony, and Diluc had never missed Kaeya more. He’d never felt more alone.

And faintly, he thought—was this what Kaeya had felt, all those years ago? When Father had died and Diluc had cast him away, and he’d had no family to return to, stuck where he was, in a place that reminded him of what could have been?

Diluc had taken Father’s death as fuel, and maybe as an excuse. Anything but sitting there and simply accepting that his father had died, that the Fatui’s sick schemes had corrupted even someone like him. So, he’d disappeared. Become someone new, and left behind the person whose father had died in his arms.

But now, Diluc wasn’t sure he had anything to leave behind. Nothing to run from, nothing worth fighting for, because the injustices that had stolen Kaeya were just that insurmountable, and Diluc was already tired. So, so tired.

The choir led them into the next hymn. This one was mellower, yet still achingly melancholic. Diluc finally raised the tissue to wipe halfheartedly at his face, knowing it was useless if the tears wouldn’t stop coming. 

He hadn’t cried this much in so, so long. 

Music, he realized, had always been special to them. Between Adelinde’s gentle lullabies and required music lessons, silly songs created together on a whim and family concerts, music had always been something they did together . An expression of love far beyond words. 

Perhaps that was why he could no longer control himself.

Still, in this setting, with evening sunlight filtering in through the colored windows of Favonius Cathedral, the people of Mondstadt singing in mourning of a connection lost… 

It was only part of the picture. And Diluc had once caught Kaeya singing a song to himself—an upbeat, unfamiliar tune—while they were crouching by Cider Lake and catching frogs as children. Words Diluc couldn’t understand in a language that was only familiar in hindsight. 

And maybe, just maybe, some of the togetherness Kaeya deserved was lacking. A whole nation’s worth. 

Kaeya had never had the chance to say goodbye to Khaenri’ah, and Khaenri’ah had never said goodbye to him. He would eventually depart from everyone’s memory as easily as any other Mondstadter, and Diluc would still not know any of his life from before he arrived here. Who he had loved, where he’d gone home to at night—all permanently separate behind a wall of secrets and facades. 

Diluc didn’t like Khaenri’ah, but he knew enough about Kaeya to know he missed his home, and this funeral service wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

Kaeya was a Mondstadter, but he was so much more than that, too.

The singing stopped. Diluc sat down again, and when he wiped his face this time, it stayed dry.

Only a few people lingered after the end of the service. Elzer and Adelinde were two, along with Jean. They weren’t talking; perhaps there was too much to say, or nothing at all. Kaeya’s casket sat near the front, awaiting its coming burial. Diluc wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but he never would be. 

He just wanted to talk to Kaeya for one last time. He had hundreds of apologies, hundreds of reassurances, hundreds of things left unsaid with the promise of “later.” But later was now, and it was too late, and Kaeya would never hear these things.

At the very least, he hoped he had known the true Kaeya. If a liar, still some version of his authentic self. Something more than what fate and duty had required of him. 

The sun was setting. People would be here to help with the burial any minute now.

Jean came to sit next to him. She was close, close enough for their shoulders and knees to touch just a little bit on the bench. Neither of them said anything. As far as they knew, there was still a lifetime left for the two of them to express what they needed to to each other, but now was the last time they could be with Kaeya. 

Unlike before, Jean didn’t initiate any closer affection, so Diluc was the one to shift his hand down and interlace his fingers with hers. He hadn’t done this since they were kids, but he hadn’t really been there for her since they were kids, either.

Her hand was cold and tense, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back. 

They were there for each other—that was Kaeya’s final gift to them.

Chapter Text

Creak.

Diluc’s hand jerked from Jean’s grasp, and he was on his feet before he could think. She looked up at him with a question in her eyes, and he wondered for a moment if he had been the only one to hear it, but then the scraping started. 

A gritty, harsh scraping eagerly filled the silence of the Cathedral, echoing between its walls. Blood rushing in his ears, Diluc’s eyes snapped toward the casket as if to verify what his ears were telling him.

There was nowhere else it could have been coming from. The room was nearly empty, and the sound was coming from the same direction as the casket, and it took him all of five seconds before terror hit him like a bolt of lightning.

He must have sworn aloud, because Jean was at his heels as he rushed toward the casket. 

“What’s going on?” came Adelinde’s voice from not far behind, still oh-so-composed in a way Diluc knew would shatter in a matter of minutes.

Jean reached for the latches of the casket. 

“Don’t open it,” Diluc spit out. “Don’t touch it. We can’t open it.”

Jean retracted her hand but remained hovering over it. “What do you mean?”

She was afraid. He could see it in her eyes.

The scratching came more desperately now, and a thumping from within the casket shook it from side to side, its corners thumping on the tile floors. Diluc watched, unmoving, as the lid of the casket struggled against the tightly-shut latches. 

Shit.

This was—

“We need to open it,” Jean said, panicking. “He’s in there, Diluc. Archons, he’s… I don’t know how he’s alive, but he’s alive, and—”

“Diluc, what’s happening?” Adelinde’s voice cut through the commotion once more.

She knew that he knew something, and that meant he needed to speak. But there was no simple way to explain this, no way for Diluc to even formulate what was going on before him. 

There was a heavy thump that nearly caused the hinges to give, and Diluc threw himself at the lid of the casket, pinning it shut beneath his weight. It shuddered and thumped, straining below him, nearly throwing him off. 

“Diluc!”

With a surge of pressure from below, Diluc found himself flung into the air. A moment later, he slammed awkwardly against the floor with a grunt, barely confused for a second before panic surged through his veins anew. 

It was too late.

By the time Diluc scrambled to his feet and set his eyes on the casket again, it was open.

Out came a familiar hand, movements jerky and abrupt as it slowly grasped the edge of the casket. Then it pushed, leveraging its weight with a creak of wood, and Kaeya stood.

Except, it wasn’t Kaeya.

Well, it looked like Kaeya, but Diluc knew it wasn’t him. He knew. But he knew that body, and it was the same one he’d known his whole life, with all those scars and the same wounds that still gaped open and that had killed him. 

The figure straightened, a slow upward roll of its spine, joints cracking and roiling beneath its skin. Diluc watched, barely swallowing back the acid in his throat, as Kaeya’s left elbow, previously broken, snapped into place, bones forcing themselves back together even as flesh still sagged helplessly around the joint, as if the skin had detached from what lay inside. 

Kaeya’s head tilted up then, though his hair still hung limply from his head, matted and clumped with dried blood in places where they had not fully cleaned it. Diluc watched as the figure raised its hand and slowly, deliberately parted the strands, tugging Kaeya’s eyepatch from his face.

Red.

A glowing, shimmering red. 

It saw him. It wasn’t just looking—it was seeing. 

Red pierced the air between them, running straight through Diluc’s eyes into his soul, and a long shudder ran through his body—he’d seen Kaeya’s eye before, but it had never been like this. It had been dimmer, milder. Asleep.

A familiar violent impulse shot through Diluc’s spine and down to his fingertips, but this time, a second, more paralyzing emotion kept him rooted in place: fear.

“Kaeya,” came Jean’s voice from beside him, thick with emotion and concern that Diluc could hear even through the thumping of his heart in his ears. Diluc could only remind himself that she still didn’t know. 

More voices—“Kaeya!” Adelinde called, and Elzer was speaking too, but Diluc couldn’t move, couldn’t speak as the eye kept him pinned in place with an invisible weight.

All too suddenly, but somehow also at a snail’s pace, the body wrenched its arm to the side with a grinding of bone against bone. Its fingers flexed, and then its nails pierced a hole straight through space.

It took Diluc a moment to understand what he was seeing, because it truly did look like this creature in his brother’s body was tearing a hole in reality. Abyssal energy filled the room, and Diluc’s skin prickled with an indescribable discomfort.

He knew what this was. He wasn’t stupid.

Diluc leapt forward then, surprise on his side, his arm outstretched. If he could just grasp his brother’s wrist, pull him back before he could jump through, then maybe—

Just as his fingertips brushed the skin of Kaeya’s forearm, his brother’s body fell through the hole. 

Without hesitation, Diluc threw himself after him.

“ What are you—” 

A sharp force pulling the back of his suit jacket forced him to the ground. He went sprawling, the wind knocked out of him as the portal spasmed for one short moment and vanished.

The air became lighter, thinner, as the abyssal energy dissipated.

Diluc swore. Then, dragging himself to his knees, he allowed himself one slam of his fist against the ground. 

It was too late.

“As far as anyone knows, Kaeya was buried five hours ago.” Jean bit her lip and tapped the end of her pen against the solid wood of her desk. The events of today hadn’t quite settled in yet. She’d barely processed Kaeya’s death, and now this. “That makes it much easier than it otherwise would be to hide what happened. There are only four witnesses, and we must keep it from getting out.”

“No word to Grand Master Varka either, then,” Diluc said bitterly, as if he expected Jean to consider the Grand Master an exception to this decree. 

“Of course not.”

“Good, then. That’s a start.” Diluc’s eyes pinched shut, and he rubbed them with one hand. He looked as exhausted as Jean felt. “We need to find him, though.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.” As Diluc often did.

“Your hesitation is of no help either,” Diluc bit back. “If you don’t come up with a plan, I will, and I don’t imagine you’ll appreciate that outcome.”

Jean didn’t like that she’d grown into a world where she had to negotiate with Diluc, but she took it with dim resignation. “If I come up with a plan, will you follow it?”

“Depends.”

This whole conversation was far too curt. Neither of them was thinking straight, and Jean was so painfully aware of that, but they could afford none of their simple comforts right now. With what Diluc had told her, they were running out of time.

There was still much they didn’t know. How the eye was connected to the Heavenly Principles—what the Heavenly Principles reawakening even meant. Why the Abyss wanted the eye so badly, and what they were going to do with it now that they had won.

But Jean was under no illusion she could sit back and let everything happen. So, she would power through this, as would Diluc, and nobody would know of what had happened in the Cathedral earlier today. Not even Lisa.

“I’ll contact the Traveler. I resent to so frequently asking for her help, but we are out of our depth tackling this alone,” Jean decided.

Diluc hummed in agreement. “She might be able to give us some new insights as well. I think… she might know more about certain aspects of Kaeya than either of us.”

“Certainly more than me,” Jean said pointedly. There was far too much going on for her to be hurt by how much she didn’t know, but that didn’t change how lost she was. 

Until a few hours ago, she hadn’t even known that Kaeya was Khaenri’ahn. Now, that was one of many things she couldn’t give the hours upon hours of thought and consideration it deserved, because somewhere down the line, Kaeya’s eye had turned out to be a ticking time bomb. 

And they were all getting caught up in the explosion.

She wondered how much he knew of it. Somehow, she doubted he knew all of it—if he had, he probably wouldn’t have stopped at that one suicide attempt years ago. Though, if fate worked how Diluc had implied it had—

No, Kaeya wouldn’t have given up like that. Right? Not when the entirety of Teyvat was at stake. 

Or perhaps she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did.

The more her thoughts descended into that fallen nation his ancestors hailed from, the more turbulent the mess of trepidation and fear turning in her gut became.

She had never really known him.

“I’ll need you to speak with Adelinde and Elzer. Make them aware of the gravity of the situation, but only give away as much as you have to.” Jean took a slow breath, pressing her hands firmly against her desk to keep herself present. “Tonight, I expect Venti will visit the Angel’s Share. Tell him to meet me in my office as soon as possible, preferably before tomorrow morning.”

“He surely knows something,” Diluc said, still nodding in agreement at her plans. “I’ll stop by the tavern for a moment, then.”

“We’ll just need to make sure we can leverage that something to our advantage. Thankfully, I don’t doubt Venti will stop at nothing to protect his people.” Jean cast her gaze down. “Just like us.”

He wouldn’t turn his back now, would he?

She hoped he was already fighting for them.

Venti didn’t go to the tavern every night, but she was confident he would go tonight. There was no missing that something had happened, and words carried in the wind. Especially through an open window, though Jean doubted he needed even that. This was no ordinary prayer.

“Are you satisfied with my plans?” Jean asked, shaking herself out of her thoughts. She could think when she didn’t need to be moving, but she had far too much she knew she needed to do now. 

Diluc nodded. “We’ll need to reconvene tomorrow, but this is a fine first step.”

He was likely planning something more. Jean was under no illusion of perfect obedience from him—definitely not these days, and not in this situation. But as long as he followed the framework she had laid out, they would be fine until tomorrow. Then the Traveler would likely be here, and Jean didn’t want to be overly optimistic, but her presence would change things. 

This would’ve been so much easier with Kaeya.

After some quick parting words with Diluc, Jean headed straight for the Adventurer’s Guild. They ran a tight ship behind the scenes, even if some of the adventurers themselves were a bit rusty. If it was the Traveler, it would be efficient.

Katheryne was far more eager to help than any normal person would’ve been an hour past midnight, and Jean appreciated it. Anything to reach the Traveler faster—Katheryne supposed the Traveler had last been spotted in Sumeru, so she was a ways away, but not as far as she could have been. It was on Jean’s walk back to Headquarters that a figure dressed in black intercepted her on the street, swooping in from a nearby rooftop. Her first thought was Diluc, but the figure was far too small.

She wasn’t left guessing for long, though, because when the figure stepped out of the shadows, it was unmistakable who it was. 

“Rosaria,” Jean said, surprised. “What can I do for you? It’s a bit late right now.”

Rosaria narrowed her eyes, visibly scanning the street for any passersby before leaning against the stone facade of someone’s house. Matter-of-factly, she said, “Something happened after the funeral.”

“Something happened?” Jean asked, resisting the urge to worry her lower lip. Had trouble already started cropping up? Had Rosaria seen something? 

But the look in Rosaria’s eyes told a different story. It was determination, suspicion, nothing else. “You tell me.”

Rosaria was rarely this direct with her. Jean’s job didn’t often let her share information freely, and Rosaria typically respected that— typically.

Perhaps not when Kaeya was involved.

And then, Jean had to wonder—did Rosaria know Kaeya was from Khaenri’ah? How much did she know about him that Jean, his lifelong friend, had never heard?

Now wasn’t the time to beat herself up over her failures as a friend. Messing this up would be the biggest failure of them all. “Nothing happened,” Jean said, pulling off the confidence better than she’d expected. “It’s just… it’s hitting harder now. Now that he’s been…”

Rosaria nodded, some tension in her frame relaxing just a bit. “Believe me, I get it.”

“You left pretty quickly after the funeral,” Jean pointed out, not quite sure where she was going with that. 

“Kaeya would’ve hated that funeral anyway.”

Jean wasn’t so sure. She thought he might’ve appreciated how many people cared for him in such a way, even if the atmosphere was unpleasant. She would’ve gladly let someone as close to him as Rosaria tag along to the burial. Still, she nodded.

If only she could tell Rosaria, too.

Consciousness was fleeting, coming and going like the rhythmic push and pull of waves against sand. Familiarity settled warm on his skin—or maybe it was the sun.

Kaeya could spend the rest of his life like this, he thought passively. This was nice. It wasn’t home, but something sweeter. Respite from who he was, a childhood bathed in chilly seawater and caked in sand. How it should have been, and maybe once, if temporarily, how it had been. 

The distinct lack of laughter in his ears was what first drew Kaeya’s thoughts to the surface of his mind, breaching layer upon layer of contentment and acceptance. It didn’t take him long to realize where he was after that; he’d been here before. 

Am I dead? he asked, pushing himself onto his elbows. Sand shifted below him, but he couldn’t really feel its coarseness against his skin. His senses were dulled, if pleasant, as if he simply knew what was there without really, truly feeling it. 

There came no response, but Kaeya’s senses were suddenly flooded with the abstract notion that he was correct. He was dead.

Somehow, that was fine. Maybe he had earned this break, this eternal rest.

Memories returned to him moment by moment, sand through an intricate timepiece. With every grain, flickers of truth appeared in his mind, vivid yet transient. He sat there in the sand, simply letting it all filter through him without protest, the perpetual cycle of waves burning into his retina.

It was the same thing over and over again—one wave that would crest and roll over itself, not quite reaching his toes; a smaller wave that would be overtaken by another long before it could break; a set of medium-sized waves, one after the other, that compounded with each other but were not quite enough to complete the pathway left by the first. The same exact waves.

When Kaeya’s memories had finally come back to him in full, he found that he had almost drifted to sleep.

Don’t fall asleep, he told himself, yet unsure as to why. 

Distantly, he knew he was needed somewhere.

Discomfort sank into his body, a bitter and nearly welcome contrast to the unexplained contentment. He was here for a reason. He’d stepped into that trap, and that meant—

Frigid water crashed into him, sending him sprawling on his back and flooding his mouth before he could react. For a moment, he scrambled for purchase in the sand below, until the water eventually pulled back out to sea and he was left shuddering on the ground.

He was cold. Cold and wet and none of the pleasant sensations he’d felt before. 

This was more real. 

Kaeya pushed himself onto his hands and knees, spitting salt water into the sand. He could feel it more clearly beneath his hands now, each grain rough against his skin. 

He was trapped. He had no idea what he was doing here, but he was sure it was connected to his eye. As everything was.

It was sickening. 

He should’ve gouged that eye out while he still had a chance, then destroyed it. Cut his ties with his past once and for all. Had he really just… given up?

Was that what this was?

No, that wasn’t it. He knew how things panned out—he’d known from the very beginning. Some things were simply meant to be, and time was far from linear when it came to those events that existed so concretely. They were as much a fact of the past as the future, no matter what time and place he looked at them from.

Lighting split the skies overhead along with a crack of thunder, and a dreary darkness swept over the beach alongside a feeling of desperation.

He needed to get out of here.

His death had been foretold, but he’d never known of anything after it.

Eyes scanning the beach up and down, Kaeya took in his surroundings. There wasn’t much—only this coastline that seemed to extend in both directions infinitely, an endless ocean on one side and sand on the other. His range of sight was rapidly narrowing as the fog around him grew denser, and as lightning cracked once more overhead, the first raindrops began to fall. 

The only other way was down.

Another wave surged from the side, reaching Kaeya’s hips. The tides were rising, or perhaps it was only the storm. He took off, away from the ocean with its turbulent waves and into the vast expanse of sand, the rain and wind only growing stronger as he fled.

Eventually, he all but crashed to his knees and began to shovel sand by the handful. He just needed to dig down. Dig until he found something, anything other than this useless facade of happiness carefully covering his new prison. 

The pile grew bigger and the storm stronger. Kaeya shivered, water dripping from his nose and chin as he dug, dug, dug. It was deep enough, now, that he had to reach a whole arm’s length in to scoop more sand. Was it possible that this went on forever, too?

But then, his fingers struck something solid. Gasping, he scrambled to push more sand away. The object was smooth and hard—it didn’t shift and morph like the sand. In the dim, clouded sunlight, he couldn’t quite see what it was.

Just a bit more. 

This had to be his way out, somehow. 

Movement caught his eye as he cleared away a hand-sized portion of sand, and he realized with a sudden jolt that he was looking through glass. Desperation fueling his movements, he moved more and more sand away, pushing, pulling, scraping until he could fit himself in there with his face right up next to it and see.

He saw his brother.

It wasn’t just his brother—it was everything. His life, his death, and him as Kaeya’s body perceived him right now—standing there dumbly with shock, in his nice suit, and the dim lighting was still enough to make out the Cathedral flooring beneath him. Blue hair framed the image, and Kaeya knew it was his own.

“Diluc!” Kaeya yelled, pounding a fist on the glass. “Diluc, listen to me! You have to—”

“Kaeya!” he heard someone shout. Not Diluc— Jean.  

He felt ill. Ill and desperate and insane, and so cold. 

The glass wouldn’t budge beneath him. The sand surrounding him slowly melted away, as did the storm, as did everything until he was left pounding at the glass uselessly in a place where nothing else existed, because that was where he truly was. 

He’d never felt more helpless in his life, and that was saying something. 

The perspective suddenly shifted to the side, and Kaeya’s stomach dropped, but he never stopped pounding. It was useless at this point, but he couldn’t help but pray for the glass to shatter under his fists if he just hit it one more time. 

He saw his own hand raise, and he saw the portal open. 

He could do nothing as his body stepped backward, and he could not reach out to his brother’s last attempt at leaping for him, no matter how much he wanted to. This wasn’t his body anymore. He wasn’t in control. 

When his body finally reappeared in its destination, Kaeya instantly knew where they were: the Chasm. 

Chapter Text

“You wanted to talk to me, Acting Grand Master?”

Jean startled and nearly fell straight out of her chair. “Venti,” she said breathlessly, resting a hand on her chest.

“The one and only.” His voice was light still, but as he swooped around and landed gently on the floor in front of her, she noted that his expression was far more neutral. “A certain redheaded winemaker should be making his way in aaaany minute now.”

Not five seconds later, there was a sharp knock on Jean’s door. In came Diluc, electing to walk straight to Jean’s desk and forego pleasantries. “Have you already told him?”

Jean shook her head. “Not yet. Though I suppose…” She turned to face Venti, whose countenance remained impassive. “I presume you are aware of what happened earlier to—yesterday.”

There were years behind Venti’s eyes, but Jean wasn’t sure she could see much more. He was carefully guarded when he responded, “Yes, I do know of what the Abyss has done to Kaeya.”

It was a very general statement, and Jean realized he likely was playing it safe. There was only so much both she and Diluc knew or even could know, and she was under no illusion he would readily share everything with her. She hoped, however, that he would still share what was necessary if it came to it. 

“His father foretold the reawakening of the Heavenly Principles,” Jean continued.

Venti’s eyes darkened subtly. “His father?”

“He wasn’t with the Abyss Order, but he was somehow connected, as far as we could tell.” Jean looked to Diluc for confirmation, to which he nodded. “Diluc… dealt with him.”

Thankfully, Venti didn’t press for any more details. He didn’t need to. “What is your plan then, Acting Grand Master? I’m rather impressed you have taken it upon yourself to help, but you should be more aware than most that you are out of your depth.”

From anyone else, it may have seemed like a jab at her capabilities, but from him, Jean could tell it was concern. And rightfully so—such matters as the heavens and fate were not normally dealt with by ordinary humans, who most often led lives that didn’t give them even half a glimpse of what everything truly meant. But Jean was different, and Diluc was too, and it was all because of Kaeya. Kaeya, who was no “ordinary human.”

“I’m not sure yet,” Jean admitted, “but we are working on it, and we’ve sent for the Traveler as well. Our general goal is to find Kaeya, and we’re hoping she might shed some light on exactly what we should do after that.” That big, looming question made Jean a bit sick to her stomach. She wasn’t certain just how fate worked, but it seemed the Heavenly Principles would absolutely reawaken. Kaeya’s father apparently hadn’t mentioned anything further, which meant that even if the future was set in stone, Jean did not know it.

She may as well march forward toward her death if that was what was destined of her.

“Traveler, huh?” Venti got a strange look in his eyes. “This might be just what we needed. Beyond that, you need not fret over the heavens—as an Archon, that is my duty, not yours. I will at least buy you the time you need to prevent anything from worsening.”

The Traveler arrived just around midday, a gentle grace about her as if she had just gotten a good night’s rest. Good—even if that had delayed her a bit, her being well-rested would prove an advantage.

That thought may have been a bit hypocritical coming from Diluc, but he was too tired to care.

She’d apparently been talking to Jean for a few minutes, likely catching up on the situation, when Diluc entered Jean’s office once more. He’d been in and out all day, mostly through the window so as not to incite suspicion from her fellow knights. Somehow, nobody had noticed him climbing in even once. 

“Paimon still can’t believe Kaeya—what did Kaeya do, even? He died, and then he got possessed?” 

Of course, Paimon was there too. Diluc’s head already hurt, but at least there was someone there whose demeanor wasn’t solemn and dull. 

“That’s pretty much it,” Jean said tiredly. “I wish I could offer more, but we’re a bit lost for ideas right now. We need to somehow find him, though.”

“You said Kaeya’s father and the Abyss Order were both involved?” Traveler asked and shot Paimon a silent look, receiving a nod in return.

Jean hesitated for a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable. A second too late, she responded, “Yes, Kaeya’s father was trying to keep the eye away from the Abyss Order.” The eye itself was of the Abyss as well, but Diluc was yet unsure of what they had been planning to do with it. What they were probably doing with it now, if the eye had full control. Whatever it was, it was a drastic enough move to reawaken the Heavenly Principles.

And that was what was truly alarming. They really had no idea what kind of power they were up against. Still, they had no choice but to try. 

“I have some ideas,” Traveler said after a moment of thought, “but I may need to bring in a certain knowledgeable friend.” 

Diluc looked at Jean, then back at Traveler. “I trust any friend of yours to be honorable, but for the sake of this specific mission, would you mind telling us a bit more about them?”

Traveler nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowed. Paimon spoke, seemingly in her stead. “He’s like… tall and brooding, and he’s Khaenri’ahn just like Kaeya.”

“Another living Khaenri’ahn?” Diluc said, not fully surprised. Already, this man sounded familiar. 

“Yep! And he knows all about the Abyss Order, since he was there when it was first created. So, if anyone’s going to be able to help us, it’s him.” Paimon bobbed in the air, hand on her chin. “Hmm, did Paimon forget anything important? Oh yeah, he has that mask on the right side of his face. Since you mentioned Kaeya’s eye, Paimon thought that might be relevant too.”

And it likely was, if this man was another Khaenri’ahn. There was yet so much for them to uncover, it seemed. 

“Aside from this friend of ours, our best option is to systematically work through all the major Abyss Order strongholds we know of. You said he teleported?” Lumine asked. 

“It did appear so,” Jean said. 

“Then he could be anywhere.”

Diluc sighed. “The Abyss Order is always moving. We aren’t going to have much luck if we just look at their strongholds in general. We need to establish what exactly he would be looking for… or, whoever’s controlling him.”

Jean hummed in affirmation. “That’s true. Whatever he’s about to do is somehow connected to the Heavenly Principles’ reawakening. Likely, he’s making a major move against them, so we need to look at what places might have a strategic advantage against…”

It wasn’t like they thought of directly attacking Celestia all that often, or ever. Even if they wanted to fight, they would never have the means necessary to do so. The Abyss Order was far more powerful as a whole than they would ever be—Diluc had learned as much during his time away from Mond. 

Traveler hesitated for a bit before interjecting, “The Abyss Order has been working on a new project recently.”

“Oh, right, the Loom of Fate!” Paimon said.

Well, that sounded ominous. 

Paimon continued, “Paimon doesn’t remember all the details, but it’s basically a device the Abyss Order is using to weave Ley Lines. They can do a bunch of scary stuff with it, like create fake memories.” She shuddered, and Diluc wondered what exactly these two had gotten caught up in since the last time he’d seen them.

Fake memories were definitely alarming, because the nature of memories meant that any false ones should have been near indistinguishable from reality. That alone was a level of power capable of toppling Teyvat in the wrong hands. Diluc felt the hairs on his arms raise.

“How much do you know about the Abyss Order?” Traveler suddenly asked, her expression grim. 

Diluc looked to Jean, and she motioned for him to speak. “I know a lot of their intentions and movements, but little of their internal structure. I know they have a… prince, a leader of sorts, and I know that Kaeya’s eye is connected as well. How, his father never told me.”

Traveler crossed her arms, looking out the window in deep thought for a few long moments while Jean and Diluc waited patiently for her to speak. Just like Venti, she clearly knew much more than she would tell them, but was willing to give up some of it for the sake of helping. “And do you know much about the Alberich family?”

Alberich . It was the name Kaeya had come into Mondstadt bearing, and he had held stubbornly onto it even during his adoption. Father hadn’t forced him to bear the Ragnvindr name because it clearly meant a lot to him; he could be of two families at once if need be. 

There was Kaeya’s father, who had clearly been positioned against the Abyss Order in some way. The role as “bearer” of the eye seemed to be passed down between members of the family, if his words were any indicator. 

Beyond that, Diluc knew nothing. He shook his head, as did Jean. 

“The Alberich family was a large and successful noble family in Khaenri’ah, but there were few survivors of the Cataclysm. Among them were Chlothar and Anfortas Alberich, though I’m not sure of their relation to one another. Anfortas commanded a section of the military and eventually disappeared, and Chlothar eventually went on to found the Abyss Order.”

Diluc froze, and Jean flinched beside him. 

“Kaeya’s father—”

“I can’t be sure, but I think he’s descended from Anfortas.”

Diluc breathed a sigh of relief. Kaeya being directly descended from the Abyss Order’s founder wasn’t something he was at all ready for. The events of the past few weeks were already enough.

Paimon said, “But what do we know about Kaeya’s eye, anyway? Paimon knows a lot of Khaenri’ahns have something weird going on with their eye, but she doesn’t think Dainsleif has the same thing going on as Kaeya. Kaeya’s eye was red, right?”

Diluc nodded. “It was definitely red. I’m not sure about Jean, but both of the times I saw it, it also gave me this strange feeling… as if I was being watched. Not perceived as a normal eye would, but something more unsettling. I’ve learned in recent years not to let feelings like that slide when they come on so suddenly, especially more than once.”

“I felt it too,” Jean added, thankfully not wondering aloud when Diluc had seen Kaeya’s eye the first time. Maybe she thought he was referring to his corpse.

Traveler hummed in thought. “I have some ideas, but I’ll go find Dainsleif first—it isn’t anything that would help yet.”

“I know where he is.”

Wow, that had been unexpectedly simple. 

“And?” Diluc asked impatiently next to Jean, and she found herself internally thanking him for his brashness. 

“Just hours ago, I noticed an unusual surge of energy in the underground section of the Chasm. I first thought it to be Abyss Order activity, and your observations all but confirm it.” 

Dainsleif was walking quickly enough that Jean had to jog at times to keep up. She tried not to focus too much on how he looked, and those all-too-familiar symbols he adorned himself with; she’d seen him in passing before, but never with the full context that he and Kaeya were connected.

There wasn’t much she knew about him aside from that he was Khaenri’ahn and that the Traveler trusted him, and she suspected he wasn’t one to share much about himself unless absolutely necessary. After all, he was practically dragging them across the city after only hearing them out and uttering a total of two sentences.

Now that it was roughly midday, their group drew a lot of eyes as it cut straight from the Knights of Favonius Headquarters to the city center. Despite her status as the Acting Grand Master, Jean was probably the least interesting person here; between Dainsleif’s strikingly unusual mode of dress and the Traveler, it should have already been clear enough that something was afoot. Add in the head of Dawn Winery, and her presence was only really there as a final nail in the coffin. 

Soon, they arrived at their apparent destination. Dainsleif came to a stop next to the strange device Traveler had activated years ago when she had first arrived in Mondstadt and looked between them each pointedly. “Travel will be quick, and after that it’ll be a short walk until we find him. We must make haste, or it will be too late by the time we do arrive.”

“Travel will be quick to the Chasm?” Jean echoed, more curious than surprised. With the specific people here, it was no wonder they had something more efficient than horseback; she just had to wonder how it worked. It was such a distant world from the one she was used to. 

Dainsleif nodded. “The Traveler should be able to get us there in a matter of seconds. Now, if anyone has anything left to add—”

“What do you mean by ‘too late’?” Diluc asked, a hint of a growl under his breath, though it was carefully concealed from the public under a rigid and relatively professional posture. 

“... There are many possibilities, none of which are worth dwelling on instead of acting. Let’s go.”

Kaeya had a decent idea of what was going on right now, but he only knew one thing for certain: he’d been tricked.

Well, not exactly. The Sinner had only shown him the truth, and if the truth was self-fulfilling… that was that. But Kaeya had certainly been misled, because he’d been entirely unaware of this specific part of the Sinner’s plan. 

Of course it had more to gain from his death than simply being passed onto the next host. Of course it gained complete autonomy through turning his body into a walking puppet. Everything was so perfectly horrible. 

Still being conscious, though… he couldn’t say he’d have ever expected that. He supposed his body couldn’t survive with no soul at all, so this prison was the next best option. If the Sinner trusted it so, then perhaps it was a hopeless affair to even attempt and escape.

That didn’t mean Kaeya wouldn’t try.

In this vast, endless mindscape, there was nothing left but to try. Kaeya would not give in to the false comfort tugging at the back of his mind like the offer of a warm hug, because it wasn’t real. Succumbing wasn’t in the cards, not until all hope was lost. And right now, Teyvat was still standing, which meant Kaeya was still needed.

The Chasm was immediately recognizable, even through the impenetrable pane of glass—not because of any specific landmark, but because he could feel it. He’d been here before, but never this deep underground. The feeling had never been quite so intense, so distinct. There was no mistaking it. 

Nothing good could come of the Abyss Order setting up base in the underground Chasm of all places. 

Kaeya watched intently; there was nowhere else to look with the endless, encroaching darkness surrounding him. It was as if he was meant to be looking, and though Kaeya was oh-so tired of doing just what he was meant to do, he only had it in him to comply. 

Anticipation crawled through Kaeya’s arms and to his fingertips just as he witnessed his body begin to shudder forward. Somehow, he could feel what it was doing, albeit distantly; it was somewhat similar to the feeling of expecting a blow to the face that never came. Still feeling it, still recoiling, still wincing, all without actually experiencing it. 

Resignation came to him almost as intensely, and it wasn’t his. 

Failure?

Kaeya sucked in a breath through his teeth, pushing himself to his feet and backpedaling to put distance between him and the pane of glass that showed him the real world. But no matter how far back he walked, steps ever more frantic, the pane of glass embedded in the ground stayed right beneath his feet. 

The feelings never went away. Failure. Resignation. Intent.

He had to restart, go back to when this all began as he had so many times before because this was his fate. 

His fate?

No, Kaeya’s fate had been to die. There was nothing else after that. Death was final. This fate that he could see so clearly wasn’t his.

But it was in his body.

He tripped over thin air, stumbling backward onto the ground, eyes still glued on the outside world. 

There were members of the Abyss Order about, some of them chatting amongst themselves in a familiar tongue. Kaeya watched his body utter commands to a few, though the words were muffled and incoherent. He strained to understand them; he could tell they were speaking a language he knew, or at least had once known, but it almost felt as if someone had stuffed cotton in his ears. Sounds were not halfway as clear as what he could see below him. 

Kaeya shifted onto knees, leaning as close as he could to the glass without pressing his face up against it. It remained clear, barely visible as a barrier in the first place, yet undamaged despite his many attempts to destroy it. 

Should he try again?

Intention burst forth in his mind yet again, and he knew he didn’t have much time before he’d be back where it had all begun. What that meant, he didn’t know, but he knew he didn’t want to find out. Not if it was what had led to this mess in the first place.

It was no use trying to break the glass; he’d only waste time and tire himself out. He needed something else. Something to connect him with whoever was at the helm. 

The only sense that Kaeya could get with absolute clarity was sight, but he stood no chance of influencing what his body saw. He could hear, albeit only slightly, and he had the vaguest notion of sensation. All of those were tangible, but Kaeya was getting one clear stream of feeling from a place far less concrete— emotions. 

He could still feel it all, slowly filtering in from around him. It had originally come on suddenly, just as suddenly as he’d found the glass, but now he couldn’t leave it behind. So, perhaps the solution was to embrace it. Lean in, let himself feel all those foreign feelings until they became his own. Until maybe he would gain some hold in his own body again. 

It sounded far-fetched, but it was all he had.

A tidal wave of emotions bowled him over as soon as he ceased resisting, and he was left gasping. Alongside his own trepidation, a new surge of despondency swelled in his chest, pushing against and merging with Kaeya’s. Frustration bubbled up beneath the surface of his skin, and Kaeya flinched, resisting the urge to tear at his hair.

This was intense. Far more so than he suspected this creature’s emotions actually were.

Perhaps this was the price of holding the emotions of two within one mind. 

Gritting his teeth, Kaeya focused his energy on expectation and intention. He would take a step backward. He would take a step backward. Kaeya was kneeling on the ground, but he had the full intention of taking a step backward.

Tumultuous emotions formed a tempest in his mind, and he pushed through it, shielding his face from the relentless winds and unending fall of raindrops. Focus. He needed to focus.

Just one step backward.

Haltingly and suddenly, the body jolted back. Kaeya heard a soft gasp of surprise beneath the roaring in his ears, and only then did he realize it was actually raining. 

He was on the beach again. Lightning split the skies, illuminating what was all too suddenly sand beneath Kaeya’s fingers. The glass was just a sliver now, and he shoved clumps of wet sand to the side to clear it again, pressing close to see through it even with the rain pattering against its surface and blurring it. 

Diluc. 

Diluc, and a few other people that Kaeya couldn’t see. It didn’t matter, though, because Diluc was coming in fast, hand hurtling closer, until—

Boom. 

Kaeya was thrown onto his back by a sudden lurch in the ground beneath him. The sand trembled and shook, and for a few long moments he only seemed to sink. But then it stopped, and Kaeya was left panting, rainwater streaming down his face and into his eyes and mouth. 

As soon as he caught his breath, he flipped over and pushed himself onto his knees again.

He could only see sand.

Kaeya’s body spoke, but it wasn’t his voice that came out. This one was gravelly and weak. “This is new… perhaps we are finally breaking free.” His eyes wavered weakly, and Diluc winced at the wound he had inflicted on what had once been his brother’s temple. 

Diluc didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant before the being fell unconscious. 

Chapter Text

‘I had a brother, too.’

Did you, now?

‘Yes. Once, hundreds of years ago…’

It took Diluc a moment to see past the blood, to remind himself that head wounds just bled a lot and he hadn’t hit Kaeya hard enough that Jean couldn’t fix him up in seconds. But for those few long moments, all he could see was the red of family staining his hands once more. 

He shifted closer to Kaeya’s body, still on his knees as he tucked his brother’s head onto his lap. His eyes were closed, and Diluc hesitated before brushing Kaeya’s bloodied bangs aside to gently pry his right eye open. 

It was duller now, but Diluc still tensed under its piercing gaze. He heard Dainsleif and Jean shuffle behind him, coming closer, but he did not turn away. 

“We need to remove it,” was the first thing anyone said. Dainsleif. Straight to business, as a man like him would tend to be. 

“We can’t just do that,” came the immediate protest from Diluc’s lips. “It didn’t work for his father before, so I don’t see why it should work now.”

And it was Kaeya in his arms. No matter how wrong this all was, it was still his brother’s body. He would not desecrate the body of the deceased; he was not so cruel. And perhaps he was still holding onto that tiny sliver of hope. 

“We need to destroy it,” Dainsleif clarified, impatience already seeping into his tone. 

“As if nobody’s thought of that before,” Diluc spat, tucking Kaeya’s head closer to his chest. Close enough, and maybe nobody would touch him. Close enough, and maybe Diluc could bring him back. 

“Whether you like it or not, that eye is precisely what connects him to that… Sinner inside of him. We must destroy it.”

Diluc spared a glance over at the others. Jean, the Traveler, and Paimon all lingered not so far back, poised for battle, as if expecting that Kaeya’s corpse might leap into the air and strangle them unwarned.

Well, it wasn’t so far-fetched, Diluc would freely admit.

“This isn’t easy for me either,” Dainsleif gritted out, as if the words were a great burden to him. “That eye is a remnant of someone I once knew myself.”

There was a faint “oh” from the side as Paimon appeared to come to some conclusion.

“What do you mean?” Diluc couldn’t help but feel a little impatient himself, however aware he was of his own hypocrisy. He didn’t have solutions. He’d charged in with nothing other than the futile wish to see his brother one more time and the misplaced belief this stranger would know what to do.

“It’s… a long story. But it was some hundreds of years ago that I once had a brother, too.” Dainsleif paused, looking wary, before continuing to speak. “He is no longer here in his physical form, but I know his work when I see it.”

Something firm squeezed around Diluc’s heart. He tried not to think too much before responding, “And you want to destroy it?”

“We have to destroy it.”

There was no room for questioning in Dainsleif’s tone, and perhaps that was why Diluc cast a glance at his greatsword. Considering, but not making any movements. Not yet.

He hadn’t decided.

What are they doing to my body?

‘I… don’t know. We are both blind to the outside world, it seems.’

So, he really did knock me out. 

‘... Indeed.’

Diluc  heard the familiar click of Jean’s shoes against stone approaching from his side, and he caught a glimpse of her legs through the hair obscuring his face. She lowered herself onto the ground next to him, inhaling before saying softly, “It’s just his eye.”

Just his eye.

It was just his eye, but it was also so much more than that. 

It was the same thing Kaeya had hidden for his entire life, that he never should have had to. It was the same eye Diluc had nearly blinded years ago, the eye that had broken everything. The eye Kaeya had never asked for.

But it was part of Kaeya, was it not?

Who was Diluc to decide his brother’s fate for him once more? 

Scar tissue spread from Kaeya’s brow down to his cheekbone, nearly meeting his ear. Diluc brushed the skin with one gloved finger, feeling as if he could choke. 

Diluc would do anything to save Kaeya from his fate, even if it meant taking his eye in its entirety this time. He could. 

But he wasn’t sure he could manage doing harm to his brother once again.

“He’s dead,” Diluc said to nobody. “This isn’t him.”

He wasn’t sure if his words were a comfort or a mere reminder. Fingers splayed out over Kaeya’s unmoving face, Diluc thought long and hard. 

“We don’t have much time before he wakes up,” Jean remarked. She was still crouching next to him, her face set firmly. So much more resolute than Diluc felt. “Do you need someone else to—”

“ No,” Diluc bit back with a gasp, shifting his arm to shield Kaeya from Jean’s outstretched hand. 

Diluc wasn’t sure he could do it, but he would never again let another soul lay a hand on his brother.

“Okay, I won’t touch him,” Jean placated with her hands up, her voice level. “But you need to do this.”

Need.

Fate was a cruel thing. 

Kaeya usually kept a dagger hidden near his ankle. Diluc didn’t let his brother’s face out of his sight as he inched over to roll his pant leg up, and sure enough, it was there. It hadn’t been taken from him, even in death. 

It was sharp. More than sharp enough to do what Diluc needed to do.

Diluc had tortured before. He’d even gouged eyes before, but this was different. Maybe he’d grown used to disconnecting himself from the screams until they sounded less than human to his ears, another obstacle to his relentless pursuit of the truth. Maybe he’d grown used to the blood, grown to tolerate the gore and the viscera if it took him where he needed to be. 

But for the first time in years, as Diluc looked down at the unconscious body in his lap, his fingers trembled around the dagger with something far worse than anger. 

Clenching his teeth together, he lowered the shiny tip of the knife until it pressed ever-so-gently against Kaeya’s eyelid, resting atop a raised line of scar tissue. The dagger was shiny, likely either unused or carefully maintained. So perfect that it only made Diluc ill. 

Perhaps, as it had been Kaeya’s fate to die, it had always been Diluc’s to hurt him.

Eventually, a bead of blood formed just under the point of the blade, though Diluc hadn’t pressed down just yet. It was due only to the shaking in his hands.

“I’ll heal him when you’re done,” Jean said softly, and it was all Diluc had not to flinch. “He’ll be fine.”

“His body,” Diluc corrected, “will be fine.”

Kaeya was already dead. 

This monster wasn’t worth even a quarter the care he was giving it. 

And suddenly, images flashed through his mind all at once: bringing the dagger up above his head, then down again in a tight arc, piercing straight through that horrid red eye like a perfect shot to a target. Bringing it up again, blood sloughing off and splattering over his clothes, bringing it down again. Up and down, dagger driven deep into Kaeya’s eye socket until there was nothing left, only red. Blood streaming down his face like tears, dripping off his chin, metallic in his mouth. Staining his clothes and his hands, pooling in the cavity that had once been Kaeya’s eye. 

But the knife, in reality, was still there. Hovering just a little bit over Kaeya’s eyelid, sometimes tapping the bead of blood it had created in time with the shaking of Diluc’s hand. 

Diluc took a shaking breath in, the leather of his glove squeaking as he tightened his grip. 

It was, in theory, not hard to gouge an eye out. They weren’t so firmly rooted in there, beyond one tough spot in the back. He needed to get rid of everything, so it would perhaps be a bit more invasive than it otherwise would, but he knew what he was doing. He’d be fine. Kaeya’s body would be fine. 

He pressed down.

‘Brothers will always turn against brothers. That is the natural order of it all.’

Speaking from experience, I see. 

‘Many years of experience and many lifetimes observed, yes.’

It was anticlimactic. The blade went in just as easily as Diluc had expected it to, and some blood began to well up in the area around it, not yet spilling out. He shifted it to the side, feeling a tension pull against the blade, still giving in easily to its sharp edge. 

Just carve away the flesh around the eye. That should be enough. 

Diluc didn’t want to think of the possibility of this eye corrupting his brother more than that. 

The tip of the blade caught on something. Reluctant relief flooded the back of Diluc’s mind—the optic nerve. If he just severed this, then he could scoop the eye out relatively easily and get to work hacking away at the rest of the surrounding flesh. 

But it didn’t go through.

No matter how much Diluc pulled, bracing his hand against Kaeya’s browbone, the dagger would not pull through.

It was much more solid than any nerve, that much was certain.

This was no ordinary eye. Considering it had grown into Kaeya rather than Kaeya having grown it himself, it wasn’t surprising. 

Diluc gave it one last heaving pull before relaxing his muscles, swearing.

“What’s wrong?” he might have heard someone say from nearby. 

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t, so he just sat there on his heels, trying not to think about what he was about to do to his brother’s dead body.

With a gentle click of metal against stone, he set the dagger down next to him. His teeth grated together, and his whole body trembled. He didn’t want to do this.

Well, there was no backing out now. 

Two gloved fingers slipped into the incision he’d made with a squelch that made him gag. Breathing in deeply through his nose, he waited for the momentary nausea to pass, his fingers sitting there in the carved out pocket of Kaeya’s flesh.

It was warm with the false life the monster had given this corpse.

Moments later, he continued. He searched for a moment with those fingers until he found something firm, solid, and thin rooted in the hard bone. He prodded at it as gently as he could behind the weight of Kaeya’s eye, but it did not give, nor did it bend. 

The base was firmly planted there, no signs of being loose in any way. Diluc wrapped one finger around each side of it, resting the foul eye itself in the nook between his fingers. 

Then, he pulled. 

He pulled and pulled, other hand braced against Kaeya’s face, but it didn’t budge. It had grown itself into his skull—it was part of him now. 

Diluc wouldn’t give up so easily.

What are you doing? Let go—get out of my head!

“I need a cloth,” Diluc said, and someone pressed one into his hands not a moment later, forgoing talking. 

Something soft beneath Kaeya’s head might lessen the effects of what he was about to do, but it was akin to trying to treat a stab wound with a child’s colorful plasters. Still, Diluc would gladly take anything that made this just a little more bearable. 

He laid Kaeya out on his back, arms to the sides and the back of his head resting atop the cloth. Blood was beginning to streak down the side of his face now, pooling in his ear and already staining the cloth. Diluc didn’t let himself linger on any of it. He couldn’t. 

Diluc placed one knee atop Kaeya’s right shoulder and the other over the left until he had his brother pinned down. Then he reached down with his clean hand and tilted his brother’s head to the side, baring the half-gouged eye to the world. 

Distantly, Diluc instructed someone to come over and hold Kaeya’s head down. He kept his free hand where it was, providing just a bit of extra support. 

And with his right hand, covered in blood so heavy Diluc could’ve thought it had soaked through the leather already, he reached into the eye socket once more. 

This time, his fingers found their prior locations easily—some indentations had already formed as the area had adapted to his previous attempt.

This time, he would give it no choice but to come free.

Straining, knees pushing against Kaeya’s unmoving shoulders, three hands pressed against Kaeya’s face, Diluc pulled.

‘You’ll come to regret this—’

Will I? Or will I be glad to finally be rid of you?

“I can feel something moving,” the person in front of him said. It was the one holding Kaeya down—the Traveler, Diluc now realized. “Keep pulling.”

Diluc didn’t know how the Traveler could possibly know what was going on inside Kaeya’s head, but he only had reasons to trust her.

There was a sound.

The faintest whine, then a twitch of Kaeya’s lips where Diluc’s hand was pressed against his face. 

Diluc felt the blood drain from his face, and the world seemed to go fuzzy for a long moment.

“Stop,” came a voice. Weak, desperate, and Diluc almost stopped—almost faltered—but it wasn’t Kaeya’s. “Please stop .”

Diluc choked on a dry sob and kept pulling. Anger burned in his muscles, anger that this monster would use his brother for such a display, anger that nothing was working. 

He stood, his boots now planted on Kaeya’s shoulders rather than his knees, using the increased leverage to pull with his entire weight. He tried not to think about how he could feel his brother’s body straining weakly beneath him, see his chest rising and falling in desperate agony. 

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t Kaeya.

“Please,” the voice begged once more, its voice cracking. “Don’t do this to me again.”

Again. 

Diluc fell to his knees, his muscles giving out all at once. 

Beneath the red sheen of blood, Diluc could see the ripples of scar tissue. Remnants of that night. The first time he’d done this—the first time he’d attacked his brother’s eye.  

And he was doing it again. 

“Get up,” someone said from next to him. Urgent. “Keep pulling, you’re almost—”

He couldn’t do this anymore.

With his gaze cast down, the fiery red of Diluc’s bangs blended in with the bloodbath that painted the cavern floor around them. Over Kaeya’s face, in his eye. Soaking into his hair. 

“Thank you, Diluc .”

Archons, the voice was so wrong. Yet it thanked him, as if it were his own brother and not some parasite that had embedded itself in the body of someone innocent.

Diluc pushed himself back onto his feet, looping his fingers around the eye one last time. It was intact still, hadn’t so much as dented. 

One last time, he began to pull. Pushing through his feet into Kaeya’s shoulders and the cavern floor below, pulling with everything he had. 

The monster screamed. 

It gave way. The momentum threw Diluc backward.

Then, all at once, it was completely silent. 

Silent except for the ringing in Diluc’s ears and the rapid thump of his heart. His unsteady gasps for air. 

Diluc was sitting halfway on top of Kaeya’s leg. A corpse’s leg. 

He didn’t need to look over at Kaeya’ head to know what it looked like. He could feel the eye in his hands, and he knew he’d taken a chunk of Kaeya’s skull out with it. 

Even if Kaeya had been alive… this was no mere eye gouging.

Blood dripped from Diluc’s jaw. It had splattered all over him in that final moment, as he’d wrenched the eye out.

Someone was kneeling in front of him. Jean.

She reached over and prodded at his closed fist, prying his fingers open. “We still need to destroy it,” she explained weakly. And she was pale, concerningly so, though Diluc doubted he looked any better.

“How?” Diluc asked, resenting the way his voice broke.

“I can handle that,” Dainsleif said, boots coming to rest just in front of Diluc. Diluc didn’t look up to see his face, but he did see his hand open in front of him.

Before handing the eye over, Diluc gave it one last look. 

It was slick with blood, strings of flesh still attached in some places he’d less carefully carved out. The blood only partially obscured the now-dull red of the eye. Out the back, where the optic nerve should have been but also extending farther back, was instead a long strip of something tough—likely the same material the eye had been made of. A stone of some sort.

At the end of that rod of stone: a small chunk of bone where Diluc had dislodged it from Kaeya’s skull. 

He supposed now would’ve been the appropriate time to cry or vomit, but instead he passed the eye over to Dainsleif with little ceremony or fuss. “We need to clean the area,” he said dimly, examining his blood-soaked hands. “Make sure there’s nothing remaining before we heal him.”

The idea of finding out that there were still traces of that cursed eye embedded in Kaeya’s skin and having to carve into his face again made Diluc’s stomach churn with discomfort. No, he’d make sure here and now.

This time, when Diluc positioned himself above Kaeya’s face, it was with the clean edge of that cloth he’d laid out beneath Kaeya’s head before. He tried not to think about it as he pressed it into the cavity in Kaeya’s face, against soft flesh and hard bone, soaking up the blood until he could see the pale white of Kaeya’s skull.

The flesh and bone there looked normal, no hints of discoloration or anything, and he didn’t detect anything with his elemental sight. For good measure, he picked up the dagger once more and scraped off thin sheets of flesh where Kaeya’s body may have touched the eye. There wasn’t much he could do for the bone without removing a chunk of Kaeya’s face, so it would have to do.

For now. If that thing woke up inside him again… Diluc would have no choice. 

Presently, Kaeya’s body lay unmoving. Unconscious, but still breathing. That could mean one of two things: either his body was keeping itself alive without the eye’s power, or the Sinner was still in there. 

As if on cue, the body inhaled sharply, its chest shuddering. It groaned.

It sounded like…

Unfounded hope bloomed in Diluc’s chest. 

“Kaeya?”

A groan. “Diluc?” And Diluc could suddenly only hear Kaeya’s voice, weak and raspy but unmistakably there. “... It hurts.”

Diluc could’ve sobbed in relief. He repositioned himself to sit on the ground next to Kaeya, bringing his brother’s head to rest in his lap once more. “You’re okay,” he said, at a loss for words otherwise. Dozens of other thoughts swarmed in his mind, and sorry was at the front of it all. But he doubted Kaeya wanted to hear that right now.

Jean crouched next to them, and her hands shook as she healed Kaeya. Diluc kept him carefully still, exhaustion rooting him in place along with the blissful relief that his brother was alive, breathing, thinking in his arms once more. 

Skin knitted together, repairing itself from the damage Diluc had done, and Diluc felt bones shifting and rearranging in Kaeya’s left shoulder. Kaeya whined once more in pain, and Diluc finally took his bloodied glove off and placed it on the back of Kaeya’s head, gently raking his nails over his brother’s scalp in comfort. 

Diluc didn’t get a chance to let Kaeya’s return to the living truly settle before Dainsleif appeared next to him, wiping bloodied gloves on the front of his pants. “I disposed of it. We must leave, now.”

“How did—”

“You can ask questions on the way. The Abyss will be on our tail, and we need to lose them quickly.” 

Frustration implanted itself in the back of Diluc’s brain, but he didn’t act on it, instead scooping Kaeya up and tossing him over his shoulder. “Are you with us, Kaeya?” he asked, barely able to hear himself. 

Kaeya only groaned in response before the Traveler teleported them once more.

“If we go back to Mond now, they’ll follow us there,” Jean said, her voice fraught with tension and exhaustion. “But he needs healing. More than I can give him.”

Kaeya was unconscious now in Diluc’s lap, likely due to the sudden strain of the Traveler’s teleportation. They were in Wolvendom, close enough to the city to see it across Cider Lake but far enough so as to not lure the Abyss Order there. 

“How do we know they’ll follow us? We destroyed the eye, and that’s what they’re tracking, isn’t it?” Diluc said. He looked awful, blood flecked all over his face and spilled up his sleeves. His hands played nervously with a blood-crusted strand of Kaeya’s hair. 

“It’s completely gone,” Dainsleif pushed. “With any luck, they’ll be after me and not him. But with no objective, they will need someone to pursue.”

“No more objective?” Paimon echoed. She’d been strangely quiet until now, having hidden while Diluc removed Kaeya’s eye. He didn’t blame her; it was for the better that she stayed away from that sort of thing. 

Dainsleif cast his eyes down, deep in thought. “I cannot claim to know everything, but given what you told me about this situation, I believe we may have broken free from a certain fate. Or, rather, we followed it on a technical level, but reversed it afterward.” Dainsleif frowned. “It is not unheard of, but I would imagine this is not the first time this has happened. This exact chain of events… this may be more so the culmination of many identical pushes against the bounds of time. Otherwise, I don’t imagine Kaeya himself is influential enough.”

“I might be,” Lumine admitted, “but I don’t think I changed much myself.”

Perhaps we are finally breaking free. 

That was what the Sinner had said just before falling unconscious earlier. A cycle came to Jean’s mind, of a man living his life over and over again, pressing again and again against the walls of fate until everything eventually came crumbling down.

The prophesied ending was good for nobody—it would have awakened the Heavenly Principles, and the Abyss would lose just as much as the people of Teyvat would. 

And in the end, they had broken free and won.

Jean couldn’t be certain yet, and she would need to have a chat with Venti to make sure her suspicions were correct, but if this was true…

Then she could imagine how the Abyss Order might become desperate to find new power wherever they had lost it. 

“Surely, they have backup plans,” Diluc said. “It’s a useless pursuit. We have nothing to give them beyond our lives.”

“Revenge,” Dainsleif said, “is not out of the question, given who they are.” 

“I can handle it,” Lumine said suddenly. “You both can go back to the city, and I’ll make sure nobody follows you. Like you said… it’s useless anyway.”

Jean found that there was nobody in this world she trusted to protect them more than the Traveler at that moment. So, she looked over at Diluc with a sharp nod. “I’ll put out extra wall guards just in case. Let’s take him home.”

Chapter Text

There was a small clinic behind the booth for the Adventurer’s Guild near the city entrance for quick care and emergencies. It was unreasonable to expect those with dire or mobility-restricting injuries to make it all the way to Favonius Cathedral on their own, given that it was so deep in the city and up so many stairs, and people also often got more minor injuries treated there so as to keep the work off the Church’s back. Jean briefly contemplated bringing Kaeya in there—for one, it was much more convenient, and for another, subtlety was key if she wanted to avoid undue panic. Until just a few hours ago, Kaeya had been dead, for Barbatos’ sake.

But when she poked her head around the corner to catch a glimpse of the clinic, Bennett caught her gaze with a small wave. He was limping and appeared singed, but appeared to be in good spirits.

More than anything, they needed to keep Kaeya away from people he knew on a personal level until he was in better shape. Until they could be certain he would be fine, and that they wouldn’t cause a disruption unnecessarily. 

Jean waved back, smiling tightly before turning back around. “Not there,” she said under her breath. “You can get us to the Cathedral undetected?”

Diluc, with his black coat draped over the body slung over his shoulder, appeared to consider this for a moment. “... I can. Keep close.”

Mondstadt was entirely different from the shadows, Jean found, but Diluc moved through them as effortlessly as a falcon carved through the skies in pursuit of its prey. She wasn’t unfit by any means, but she didn’t know the dark corners of this city nearly as well as he did, so she found herself straining to keep up even despite the full-grown man over his shoulder.

True to Diluc’s word, they didn’t run into anyone until they were already under the looming statue of Barbatos. By then, it was near impossible to remain unseen, so Jean grabbed the arm of the first Sister she saw with urgency in her eyes, and they were soon being beckoned through a side door of Favonius Cathedral. 

From there, Jean could only watch as the Sisters of the Church tended to Kaeya, tendrils of exhaustion pulling her down now that she knew for certain that Kaeya was safe. And he was; he was breathing, he’d been talking, he was here again. But at the same time, Jean knew she couldn’t rest yet—not until Kaeya was fully present, until she could talk to him and ask him and look into his one remaining eye to be completely certain, beyond all doubt, that he was alive again. 

Until then, she wouldn’t leave his side. 

The Church had other ideas, immediately offering to send for someone from the Knights to discuss the matter from a more strategic angle. Jean declined, pushing down the momentary guilt. As long as nobody from the Church revealed that Kaeya was back, she had all the time in the world. 

That being said, she was missing work entirely unwarned. She hoped Lisa would do fine in her stead, as per her instruction. 

Diluc also wasn’t faring very well, and she couldn’t blame him. Someone had brought the both of them chairs to sit on while the Sisters tended to Kaeya, and he hadn’t so much as sat in his, instead staring blankly at Kaeya’s yet-unmoving form on the cot. Every once in a while, gloved fingers twitched, still crusted over with blood he hadn’t had time to wash. It was all Jean could do to not think of what had happened only a few hours ago, and she had only watched. Meanwhile, it had been Diluc’s hands that had dug into Kaeya’s skull for that evil eye. 

An indefinite amount of time passed, in which Jean only sat there, praying silently to herself and wishing she were a powerful enough healer to have fixed Kaeya entirely on her own. 

Someone came to her eventually, a young Sister with thin, brown hair pulled into a bun and piercing eyes. “He’s completely stable,” said the Sister, “but some of his injuries don’t seem to have healed properly, so he may need surgery to set his body on the right course.”

Jean swallowed thickly. “Surgery?”

“Nothing life-threatening, but we will need to take him somewhere more isolated.”

Diluc spoke up for the first time in hours. “You want us to leave.”

“It’s protocol,” the Sister said apologetically. “In any case, it shouldn’t take too long. Only a few hours.”

Guilt surged through Jean with renewed intensity, but she bore it with a nod and said, “Understood.” 

It took Diluc a bit longer to detach himself from Kaeya’s side, but he eventually did so with only a long hesitation by the doorway.

Jean would do what she could to be sure of Mondstadt’s safety, but some things were quite firmly out of her reach. She could not predict the actions of gods, nor could she make a real dent in their affairs alone. Still, she had no choice but to do what she could. And right now, that meant contacting Venti. 

According to Diluc, the prophesied events included Kaeya’s death and the eye taking over, both of which had been technically fulfilled. The reawakening of the Heavenly Principles, on the other hand… 

Somehow, the other two events seemed to have gone differently than they were meant to have, all while still following the required frame of events. But any world in which the Heavenly Principles decided to take action against anyone in Mond was one Jean wasn’t sure they could all survive. 

“You called?” Venti sing-songed, drifting in through Jean’s open window along with a gust of air. He landed on his feet with a flourish. 

Jean breathed a sigh of relief. “You didn’t take long.”

“Even Mondstadt’s most unemployed bard can arrive on time when things truly matter.”

“I wouldn’t say a bard is ever technically unemployed,” Jean said, “but speaking of your duties…”

Venti’s expression shifted from laid back to something more serious in a quick moment, pretenses of lightheartedness gone with the wind. He leaned against Jean’s desk and started, “I believe I should begin with the good news: the Heavenly Principles have not made any move to attack, nor do they seem to have reacted by any measure to the events of today and yesterday.” 

Jean breathed a quick sigh of relief. “And the bad news?”

“As of yet, there isn’t any,” Venti said, a hint of his light tone emerging in his voice, almost sounding forced. 

“And that’s not a good sign.”

“It is not.” Venti glanced out the window, out to the bustling city painted in the afternoon sun. “With any luck, nothing will happen at all. The Heavenly Principles are… not beholden to fate in the same way as you or I.”

“What do you mean?”

“... There’s always the sliver of a chance that we followed the prophecy in such a way that did not require their intervention.”

“That’s good news, then, isn’t it?”

Venti frowned for a short second, and Jean knew him well enough to know any show of hesitation was deliberate in some measure. Still, he shifted back into his jolly attitude a moment later with a grin. “I suppose it must be, huh?”

I’ll keep looking, Jean heard from that. I’m not completely sure of Mond’s safety, but as far as I can tell, things will be alright. 

Sometimes, that was the best any of them could do.

Kaeya wasn’t quite sure when he woke up, or when he truly became aware of himself again. For the longest time, he still felt trapped inside his head.

Pounding at invisible walls, praying to have control again. Pleading.

But slowly, his senses began to return to him. 

First, the distant sound of voices, the hum of life around him. The unmistakable sound of shoes against stone floors, birdsong muffled by thick walls, the rustle of stiff bedsheets. 

Next, sensation. A distant sort of pain, not particularly unpleasant but still unmistakable, in a thick layer over his whole body. His fingers, dry and stinging, against fabric. A strange pressure over his left arm. 

Then, all at once, Kaeya wrenched his eyes open. 

Only one cooperated. 

Momentary panic flooded his mind as his body refused to follow his commands, and his hands shot up to his face with a bolt of pain from his shoulders to his wrists. He searched, prodded the area, but found a thick layer of bandaging in the way. Desperately, he began to peel it back, before a cool hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Careful, or we’ll have to rebandage it,” the voice said. It was familiar. Sister Edna, maybe?

Kaeya said something, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. 

“It’s not there anymore,” Sister Edna said apologetically. 

Inexplicable relief flooded Kaeya’s body. 

It wasn’t there anymore. 

The reason he couldn’t control it was because it was gone, and because it was gone, it couldn’t control him. 

Right?

It had to be so. For the first time in so, so long, Kaeya felt light. 

“We couldn’t find your Vision on your person,” Sister Edna apologized further.

Kaeya shook his head. His words took a moment to come out, his lips heavy like lead. “I know where it is.”

And he felt drawn to it, far more than he ever had been before. He knew where it was. 

Maybe he was disappointed that it was still active. Maybe he wished it had gone out for good, when he had…

“I died?”

“We thought so, at least,” Sister Edna said. She appeared to pause and think for a moment. “I’ll be right back. Do you want me to let your loved ones know you’re awake yet, or should we keep it to the Church for now?”

His loved ones…

He wondered, briefly, who that was in her mind. 

“I don’t mind.”

A light pressure against Kaeya’s chest awoke him from his half-asleep state. 

“Mister Cinnamon, get off Kaeya’s bed!”

Klee. 

Peeling his remaining eye open, Kaeya looked at his guest—guests. Klee and Albedo, the latter of which had just scooped his cat into his arms, relieving Kaeya of the pressure on his chest. 

“Klee,” Kaeya said, emotion swelling in his chest all at once. He couldn’t quite place what it was, but it made his eye burn with unshed tears. 

Klee looked at him for a moment, then took a few hesitant steps forward, her hand outstretched. Her finger came to rest on his cheek, just below the bandages. “Kaeya’s still here?” she asked. 

It was as if he wasn’t there to answer her himself. Still, he nodded. “I’m here, Klee,” he told her, “and I’m not leaving.”

Never again. He wouldn’t be another loss in her life, not if he could help it. 

He’d lived. 

Her hand stayed on his cheek, not moving even as she crawled onto the cot next to him and curled up under his arm, not so different from how Mister Cinnamon had done it only a few minutes prior. 

“Is this okay?” Albedo asked Kaeya, and Kaeya nodded. 

“I think she needs this.”

Kaeya had no idea what had happened after he’d killed himself. There was a gap in his memory between stepping into that trap, blinding pain, and then waking up locked in the confines of his own mind as his body pushed itself out of its coffin. 

But he knew that he’d been dead for long enough. Long enough that the Sisters of the Church still looked at him with wide eyes, whispering things they didn’t think he could hear about medicine and miracles from the gods. 

“Speaking of, is there anything you need?” Albedo asked. 

Kaeya thought to himself for a moment, reaching a hand across to run it through Klee’s hair soothingly. He found he didn’t mind the pain. “Maybe stay here for a while?”

So, Albedo brought up a chair to Kaeya’s bedside and sat down, Mister Cinnamon in his lap. The cat was alert, eyes peering curiously at Kaeya even as Albedo’s hand gently stroked his fur. 

Now reassured that his time was not limited, Kaeya shifted his head to look down at Klee once more. Her face was pressed into his shoulder, or rather the thin fabric of the shirt the Church had put him in, and her hand had drifted down to grab onto it, grip unrelenting. 

He allowed his hand to come and rest over hers, gently prodding at her iron grip. I’m not going anywhere, he said without words, because he knew what this felt like. Intimately, he was familiar with the feeling of being a child at the whim of guardians who seemed ready to turn their backs on you at a moment’s notice. 

As a kid, he might’ve done quite the same thing to Master Crepus and Adelinde in the few years after they’d taken him in. He remembered having a difficult time parting ways when Father had to leave on business trips, or when he had to leave for training at the start of the day. Hands wound tightly around Father’s fingers, digging firmly into the fabric of Adelinde’s apron. But  worse, there was nothing more painful than losing somebody and knowing you’d never get them back. 

And something told him his death was something Klee had known with her whole soul. 

Death wasn’t something you could hide from children easily, try as you may, and his funeral was no secret. 

“Hey, Klee,” Kaeya said, failing in his attempt at a light tone. “Get up to anything fun while I was away?”

Away. Not gone, not dead, just away, and just for a bit. 

Klee lifted her head, hair mussed a bit from where Kaeya had been playing with it. “Hmm, well Lisa was really nice to Klee while you were gone. And Klee was even allowed to talk to Dodoco in the library as loud as she wanted, and Lisa even said she could pick out a book to take forever, no conte—consequences.”

“Is that so?” Kaeya gave her a small smile, tilting his head back to his pillow again. She snuggled up closer to him, and he felt her grip on his shirt relax. “What book did you choose, then?”

“Klee doesn’t remember,” Klee admitted. “Everything was really sad, that day.”

Kaeya felt another strange emotion swell in his gut. Guilt, maybe. “You don’t need to be sad anymore, Klee.” Then, after a moment, he added, “But it’s okay if you still are.”

It clearly hadn’t been easy for her, after all. 

They both stayed there for a moment, and Kaeya let himself soak in the things he was feeling right then. Guilt, a hint of sadness, relief. Renewal. 

For the first time in his life, fate wasn’t looming over his head, a horrible guillotine of inevitability with an unpredictable operator. And for so long, he’d attached his connection with his family in Mondstadt to a certain fakeness, a pretense he kept up to feel safe. But now that he no longer needed his secrets, he found that he loved the two people in the room with him no less. 

“Where’s Diluc?” Kaeya asked eventually, trying to sound more casual about it than he truly felt. 

Albedo jolted, and only then did Kaeya notice he’d been dozing in his seat. It was an endearing sight. “Yes?”

“Do you know where Diluc is?”

Albedo’s hand came to rest on Mister Cinnamon’s head. “Last I heard, he was discussing related matters with the Acting Grand Master. He wanted to see you rather urgently though, and she as well.”

That was another weight off Kaeya’s chest. They were both safe, and not only that, but they also wanted to see him. 

Even after everything.

Diluc didn’t quite love being cold. Not after braving the frigid, endless winters of Snezhnaya for months on end. Still, the cool weight in his pocket, upon which he rested a gloved palm, was strangely comforting. It lessened the nervous heat pouring off of him in waves, or perhaps it was simply the summer air. Regardless, Diluc was sweating. 

It had been difficult to convince himself to leave Kaeya’s bedside, and even more so to convince himself to return. But he had never been one to relinquish his duty, especially not of the self-imposed sort. 

Kaeya was home. Not in the Cathedral anymore, because he’d been completely cleared, and also not in his own apartment, but rather Jean’s. At Jean’s, it was possible enough to lay low without chancing a walk over a front step decorated with dozens of bouquets of flowers. It also gave her ample time to fret over both him and how she would present his return to the broader public.

Not that her efforts were worth much, really. Diluc had already heard a passing rumor of Kaeya’s return only a few minutes after returning to the city. If it had already made its way out of one drunkard’s mouth, it was surely halfway around the city by now. Whether or not the people would buy it was another question.

With a careful application of some of his brother’s theatrics, Diluc let himself look like he was grieving as he made the short walk to Jean’s place. He pulled a long face, kept his shoulders minutely hunched, barely perceptible yet enough to influence everyone’s subconscious all the same. 

Before entering, he took a deep breath. 

Kaeya was not only alive; he was well and speaking. Well, and speaking, and asking for him. 

The door was unlocked, so Diluc let himself inside, immediately greeted by the smell of herbal teas. His eyes needed only to scan the entry area for a second before they landed on his brother. Kaeya was sitting there, knees drawn up next to him on the sofa, looking none the worse for wear, all things considered. 

But then, as Diluc called his greeting, Kaeya turned his head, and Diluc noticed the white of a bandage over his eye rather than the familiar eyepatch. 

Right.

Memories—no, sensations, feelings came over Diluc all at once, unbidden. Echoes of last night still fresh in his mind.

He winced, shook his head as if to clear it of the thoughts.

“Are you alright?” Kaeya asked, and it was one of the dumbest things Diluc had ever heard. 

“Are you?”

“I’m holding up,” Kaeya said, giving Diluc a weak but seemingly genuine smile. “... Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

Diluc came to sit on the sofa near him, a cushion apart from Kaeya’s feet. 

Kaeya faltered, fingers absently playing with a strand of his hair. “You saved me, didn’t you?”

The question made sense. Diluc had, in a way, saved Kaeya. But there was so much more to it.

“I took your eye,” Diluc said, “and I killed your father. Are you not—”

“You what.”

Diluc took in a sharp breath. 

Of course Kaeya didn’t know. He’d been unconscious almost the entire time, had only just woken up. Of course.

“He was dying,” Diluc started to explain. “He put you in danger on purpose, and he—”

“He was dying,” Kaeya said, hollow, “and my fate was sealed anyway, and you killed him.”

“But he was still trying to kill you,” Diluc said, beginning to feel sick. “He’d tried to kill you, several times. Such a man is not worthy of calling himself your father.”

Kaeya pulled the blanket he’d had folded up in his lap up to cover his legs, clenching his fists tightly in the fabric. “Was I not worthy of calling myself your brother when I lied to you for years?”

Diluc gritted his teeth. “That was out of your control, and you know it.”

“It was out of his control as well.”

Except it really, truly hadn’t been. Because he’d put the eye in his son rather than keeping it for himself well into old age, perhaps under some misguided hope that his son could be temporarily happy, but it was still condemning. He’d still set Kaeya up for death when he could have chosen himself. 

But Kaeya knew all that, Diluc reasoned. He knew all that, and he still believed his father had done what he had believed was best. 

He deserved so much better. 

“Don’t you resent him?” Diluc said after a few carefully measured breaths. This would not become a fight. 

“Of course I resent him,” came Kaeya’s quick reply. 

For a few long seconds, neither of them said a word. Diluc ran his thumb over the cool stone of Kaeya’s Vision, wondering when would be a good time to hand it to his brother. He had the impression it was unwanted.

“I already knew he was dead,” Kaeya continued eventually. “You didn’t make much of a difference.”

Diluc took that with a nod. He didn’t really have anything else to say.

He didn’t regret what he’d done to Kaeya’s father, but he wished he hadn’t had to hurt Kaeya, too. He wasn’t all that much better than the man he’d killed. 

“Where’s Jean?” he asked instead of continuing on the topic. 

“At Headquarters. She’ll be back in a few hours.”

“The tea?” The smell still lingered in the air, but there wasn’t a cup of it anywhere Diluc could see. 

“Lisa stopped by just before you.”

Simple answers. Far too simple compared to the tempest in Diluc’s mind. He still found himself grasping for purchase, even though Kaeya’s self-presentation was calm. 

For now, his confusion and guilt could wait. His brother was alive again, the only thing he’d truly wished for in these past few days. 

So, Diluc moved in a little closer. Just close enough that Kaeya might hug him if he so desired, but not so close as to necessitate it. “Everyone missed you,” he said, hand still on Kaeya’s Vision. Waiting. 

“Did they, now?” Kaeya said lightly. “Here I thought it was just Klee. Did you miss me too, Master Diluc?”

Diluc frowned. However joking the title was, he didn’t like to hear it. “Of course I missed you.”

Kaeya shifted almost imperceptibly closer, hand falling from his lap to the narrow gap between them. “Then I’m glad to be back.”

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you died,” said Rosaria, throwing the elephant in the room down on the table along with two freshly-poured glasses of wine. Kaeya picked one up and rather quickly brought it to his face, eager to relieve himself of the stronger-than-usual smell of smoke emanating from Rosaria’s body. “I mean, you’re back. Talking to me and all.”

Kaeya hadn’t seen Rosaria like this in a while. It was rare that she would initiate topics herself for positive reasons, but her relief was palpable. “Drinking wine again with the loveliest lady in all of Mondstadt, no less,” Kaeya added for her. 

“Hm,” was all she graced that flattery with. “Rumor has it you never died in the first place, and it was all part of some convoluted plan to throw the Abyss off your trail. That your doing?”

Smiling coyly, Kaeya shrugged and said, “Who’s to say?”

“Nobody saw your body, either,” Rosaria said, metal claws clicking against the neck of her glass. “Or rather, almost nobody.”

“Convenient, how it all lined up.”

“You make it sound planned.”

“Wasn’t it?”

That joke would’ve been in bad taste with anyone else, but Rosaria simply took a long drink from her glass, eyes narrowed, and said, “You are the type to coordinate your own funeral, I guess.”

“And more. I’ll have you know, there’s a lot to be done in preparation for your own death.”

Rosaria glanced around the room, where Kaeya’s belongings were still strewn about, being returned to where they belonged. “Sure, why not.”

“Making it simpler for everyone, you know?”

They both knew there was more to it, but Rosaria didn’t press the topic. Kaeya stretched his sore muscles with a wince as they sank into silence, still not fully recovered despite the large amounts of healing he’d undergone post-surgery. 

This dynamic of theirs was comforting for the both of them. Kaeya didn’t doubt that his death had been hard on Rosaria, and it was all he could do now to return to what they had once had without his fate casting a shadow on him like a looming stormcloud. She would believe him when he said he didn’t mean to die, now, and he would be telling the truth. 

He’d told everyone the basics of it all. How he’d felt trapped into his fate, how he hadn’t known exactly what the Sinner had been planning until it had happened. None of the less flattering and more unimportant details, but everything necessary to make it clear this would never happen again. 

No more secrets, Jean had made him promise. 

Kaeya wasn’t sure he could keep the promise, but he’d made it anyway. He would do what he could to be honest when it was truly important, at the very least. No more messes worsened because he assumed they were too grave for his friends to handle. They’d handled this, after all. 

The Vision at Kaeya’s hip was proof—he was now free.

Visions were a strange thing.

They tied you to the stars, to fate, but left your ambition open all the same. Provided a chance at ascension, just a chance. No promises. 

Until now, Kaeya’s Vision had only had two sets of wings. But when Diluc had handed it back to him just a few days ago, it had been with a third. 

Wings—freedom, Mondstadt’s main virtue. Kaeya’s ambitions had reached the heavens in the land of freedom, and only now was he truly free. He’d erased his previous role, feigned completion. The person he had needed to be for so long had vanished without a trace.

Everyone had a fate; not a single person was free of it. But Kaeya’s role, written in the very stars themselves, had been death. The inability to achieve anything higher than his purpose itself.

And now, Kaeya could soar.

It was good to be alive again. In control of his body, his life, everything. Free to love and to be. 

Food tasted better than it had in years. The sunlight was warmer, conversations more engaging.

Even as he squinted at the bills for his house repairs, wondering just how they’d manage to rip him off this badly, he appreciated that he was alive enough to experience such discomforts.

He felt drunk on life, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever go sober again.

“What does he want?” Jean asked. 

“Just a visit, apparently.”

Diluc had invited Jean and Kaeya to visit. Just visit, nothing else.

A visit among friends. 

Jean found she quite liked the idea. 

It had been a while since they had been just that—friends. Not coworkers, not constrained to life-consuming duties and obligations. Not separated by emotional barriers on all sides. And Jean wasn’t quite used to being made aware of her own shortcomings here, given how obvious Diluc and Kaeya’s conflict with each other had been, but right now she could recognize that her sights had been too narrow. Far too focused on what she believed she had to do over anything else. 

That day with Diluc and Kaeya had been wonderful. Perhaps that was the first hint at what she’d been missing out on all this time. 

So, that evening, Jean took advantage of Lisa’s good will to leave locking up to her, and she headed off to Dawn Winery with Kaeya, just because she wanted to. 

Ever since his return, he’d seemed different. For a few days, he’d been tense, but said tension had seemed to melt off him until he was left lighter than ever. She could’ve sworn he walked with an extra spring in his step. 

Some of it, she knew, was for show. Kaeya had always been a performer at heart, and he’d do anything to assuage her worries. But truly, it was unnecessary; for the first time in years, when she looked into his eye, she didn’t see what she could now recognize as fear. 

Today, he was a bit subdued. He surely wasn’t immune to feeling down, even now, but Jean had hopes some time with his brother would cheer him up. Now that the stakes were lower, they could all truly enjoy themselves, Kaeya included; that was surely a start.

They ate, talked, existed together. There was no discussion of what had happened for the first several hours, but nobody made any effort to avoid the topic either; to Kaeya, this was a reminder. While everything had changed for him, the past needed not linger forever. 

Still, tension lingered from days prior. He’d been too tired to indulge Diluc’s obvious need for discussion upon receiving his Vision back, and neither of them was the sort to set time aside specifically to talk. Their communication was as subtle as ever, practiced over years of reading each other’s minds as twins might, connection frayed rather than severed by their now-strained bond. 

When Diluc said he needed to step outside for a moment, Kaeya took that as the hint it was and excused himself moments later, slipping out from the lamplit warmth of the Winery into the cooling summer night. 

Diluc acknowledged Kaeya with a small nod when he came to stand beside his brother. For a while, neither of them said a word, and Kaeya’s thoughts trudged slowly onward, prodding at his memories and the events of the past few weeks for the appropriate thing to say.

But to Kaeya’s surprise, Diluc was the first to speak. 

“I believe I should apologize again,” Diluc said haltingly, gaze settled far away, on the moonlit horizon where Kaeya had once appeared from all those years ago. 

“I don’t think—”

“Let me,” Diluc interrupted. “I need to say this.”

Kaeya shut his mouth. Perhaps this was more for Diluc than for him. 

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you. And I’m sorry that I hurt you again.” Diluc hesitated, crossed arms tightening around his chest. “Sorry that your life went this way. It wasn’t fair.”

“Nothing is ever fair. That’s just how things work.”

“I know,” Diluc said. “You still deserved better, though. Father, he…”

He didn’t need to finish the thought for Kaeya to know what he was getting at. Everything had been perfect for him for so long, only for the facade of ease, of love and goodness had crumbled out from under him unwarned. His father had given so much; Diluc had given so much, only to learn that goodness itself did nothing to protect one from the world. And that maybe his life until now had been more a privilege than anything. 

Kaeya had always been familiar with this, and had spent years only waiting for everything to fall to pieces. But toward the end, he’d even let himself believe he’d finally earned himself happiness.

“I forgive you,” Kaeya said. “If it helps, I forgive you.”

“... Thank you,” Diluc said. Then he just stood there for a bit in silence. 

Somehow, Kaeya got the feeling there was more he wanted to say. But his hesitation was okay; he had a lifetime to find the right words. And Kaeya knew something he wanted to say as well, a phrase he’d turned over time and time again in his head. 

“I’m glad to be here, you know.”

Diluc looked at Kaeya, finally, eyebrows drawing up subtly. 

Kaeya continued, “I don’t have to be here, but I am. And I hope you know that means something.”

“You’re free now,” Diluc said softly. 

“I am, and I’m choosing to be here.”

“By my side?” Diluc said with a scoff, but his messy attempt to lighten the mood didn’t get far at all.

“Of course,” Kaeya said as earnestly as he could. And he did feel it—none of this was because he had to, not even just to be safe. Not anymore. “But also here, in Mondstadt.”

“Alive, too?”

Kaeya let the question hang in the air for a moment, unsure how to respond. Then he looked out on the moonlit grape fields, the ones he’d so desperately dragged Diluc through mere weeks ago in hopes of living his childhood out one last time before losing himself entirely, and echoed, “Alive.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” came Jean’s voice from the door as she approached.

“You aren’t,” Kaeya reassured her reflexively. Diluc remained silent. 

“Adelinde wanted to let you both know dessert is ready.” Jean stopped on Kaeya’s other side, leaving him between her and Diluc. 

Kaeya felt… happy. Perhaps a touch overwhelmed by the prospect of it all, heart still aching from all that had happened, but happy. 

“Can’t we just stay out here a moment?” Kaeya asked. “Just the three of us.”

The three of us , Kaeya repeated in his mind. He’d set Jean and Diluc up to be friends without him, expecting to be gone forever, but here they were. All three of them. 

“Why not?” Jean said.

Diluc nodded. “Just a moment, though.”

Kaeya took a step back to lean against the wall. A slight shiver ran through him as a cold breeze swept through, and for once, he relished the sensation. 

Perhaps all wasn’t well, and things weren’t perfect. Perhaps he was a little cold, and a little sad that his father had died before he’d had a chance to see him again. Perhaps he still hadn’t shaken the lingering dread, or the aching hollowness of what had once been his eye. But for the first time, he felt no urgency. He didn’t need to address those things now, or solve a single thing. He wasn’t running or hiding, and he wasn’t pursuing a goal.

And even though things weren’t perfect, right now he could just let himself stand here between two of the people he loved the most, past and future be damned. 

Kaeya was alive, and he was free.

And perhaps Kaeya was feeling a little listless, now. 

Just a little.

For so long, he’d dreaded everything that would eventually come to pass—his fate, his father’s return. Everything had gone into making the most of what he had while it was still there, almost living on borrowed time.

But now… 

What did Kaeya want, really?

For once, he had an entire lifetime to figure it out.