Archive of Our Own

“Deep beneath a world's snowy peaks, dipping mountains and long open plains, there is a city guarded by the mood. The City of Freedom. Situated where the Seelie court once danced and sang, it is a beautiful, tirelessly growing city of wine, music, romance, and long forgotten strife. This city is named Mondstadt—why is that, you ask? Well, it’s quite a long story, but I can tell you the best parts.”

“There was once a wisp on the warm summer breeze, blown into a storm which cut through the frozen wasteland outside of its perimeter. And within sheltered a large group of mortal people. He had little cares or woes, simply happy to finally have found a place which was safe from the dangerous frostbite. That is—until he heard a very pretty sound.”

“Following the song, he met a young man, and this young man infatuated him.”

“Taken by his beautiful voice and the lyre which he strummed softly, the wisp stayed by his side and became his closest confidant. Following him back to a beautiful civilization built into a long parched quarry, and together there they shared life. That is, until an ancient war tore through this civilization of old. Even back then, it had been called Mondstadt, for the god who ruled above it all fell in love under the moon's soft glow. Mondstadt, he’d said, meaning the City of the Moon, was a place where love shone brightest in all of the world.”

“But his love—though once had been returned—no longer shone so brightly as his obsession with control. Which grew and festered in his heart much to the people’s horror.”

“Like the moon, the love he and his lover once shared waned and darkened until there was nothing but a deep seeded resentment for his vanity and tyrannical rule. To her, he had become a king which she would not bow to. The mortal people, this young man whom the wisp loved, and the cage they together were trapped in became not a city but a graveyard. Under a full moon the war raging between mortal and divine finally ended as that god was struck down by none other than the woman he loved the most. She who he had built this city for.”

“But—Decarabian was not the only one to perish. The young man the wisp loved lost his life too. And the wisp was stranded with nothing but the vibrato of what had once been their home, their life, and his one sided affections. Under that moon's glow, which made the young man's dark hair shine white, the wisp watched him stare up at the moon—moonlight finally visible again through the screaming hurricane—and soon that wisp became the new god, inspired by that boy's final words.”

“The first thing he tried to do was bring back the boy with his newly received power. Alas, it could not be done. But it was much too late to revoke the power with which he’d sworn to keep, and instead he took what remained of this civilization and brought them to the South-East. Over a pool of water which reflected the stars and the moon in the sky the people began a new city, a new Mondstadt—born not from a tyrant—but from a flighty wind spirit and his hope for a future which could protect the dreams of it’s people, instead of clipping their wings.”

“After this, no one is quite sure what happened to that god. He disappeared—as soon as he came he was gone, and Mondstadt grew anew, stronger than it had ever been before.”

…

“Venti—that was a great story you made up! Sing us another and perhaps we’ll share some of this wine with you, ha ha!” A burly man says, smacking his knee and gulping down his glass of Mondstadt’s finest liquor.

Sitting on a stool across from him was a young man, dark hair pulled into two braids that framed his face, but with eyes which shone a startling teal in the tavern's dimmed candle light. In his lap he held a miniature harp, which he played absentmindedly as his eyes followed the cup which chipped as it was carelessly smacked back onto the aged wood table.

Pushing loose strands out of his eyes as he struggled to once more play his song, he gave a helpless smile, sitting up a little straighter. “Perhaps you would like to hear a tale of a Huntress? A beautiful lady with hair white and creamy skin, like she’d been touched by the moon?”

The tavern was quite lively, and at his announcement a few more men sat down in a circle around the bard's slightly raised platform stage, vaguely interested at least. It seemed all it took was the mention of a beautiful maiden and they’d pay him handsomely, so he scanned the crowd once to ensure he had their undivided attention.

Behind the bar at the other side of the tavern he did not notice that even the bartender—a man named Diluc, leaned forward and placed his head onto his gloved hand, fluffing his dark fur jacket out behind him as his eyes narrowed towards the performance. It seemed even he was sure he had never heard this story before, and he was willing to listen.

When the bard strummed his harp just once the boisterous laughter and boisterous conversation died down. It was such an enchanting sound, played over and over to perfection to create a melancholy and beauty which no other performer in the land was known to emulate. Though they gave him a hard time, Venti was the favorite of the tavern goers, and when his spontaneous bouts of inspiration happened, they were happy to pay him not in coin—but in alcohol—as was his request.

Something which the bard knew better than to take, but grew restless and desperate for all the same.

The story within the music went something like this—a huntress from the Western peaks, mountains of unforgivable cold abandoned her home and the god with which she swore allegiance to—a god known as Andrius, the king of blizzards, to follow another. The god known as Decarabian, a familiar name. This inspired a fury within Andrius, who had lost his best hunter to another, and forced the two to hide within Decarabian’s terrible storm as Andrius froze the land as far as the eye could see.

But it did not convince them to bow, for they simply did not mind so long as they were together. Hiding in the storm created by Decarabian their love was strong, and within his biting winds the air was warm and comfortable. Even if the storm tore the grass from the ground and left the land barren, within the city they created the people rejoiced and called them their saviors, unknowing that the blizzard had only begun because of them.

Ah, these stories connect. Diluc thought to himself, wiping the inside of a glass. This must be the lover which the god named the city after, and this was some fantastical retelling of the city's origins, told by Venti.

It wasn’t a bad tale at the very least, and Diluc found himself leaning forward to hear the bard better. He told it with such startling focus—as if he had been there himself and was attempting to recall every detail. It was easy to get lost in his voice and the way his expression shifted as if he was reliving each moment of it.

Eventually, the story ended in tragedy. The two lovers went to war, and they killed one another. It was not a happy ending, but few stories of old were. It was how Mondstadt was born according to legend, and this could never be changed.

As the bard's voice grew tired his audience applauded him loudly, clapping their hands and offering him their glasses or loose coin which he took without question, grinning widely.

Diluc scoffed, moving out from where he’d stood in the shadows to join the group. As soon as the bard saw the movement, he downed the alcohol without any proper manners or self respect. When Diluc stood before him, snatching the emptied glasses from his hand he only laughed, tilting his head to the side shamelessly.

Offering up to Diluc the coins clinking together in his outstretched palm, he shamelessly requested more wine straight from the source. Unbothered by the scowl of the bartender.

Diluc wrinkled his nose at him in disgust. “You’re too young to drink boy, get out of my bar.”

Smacking his hand and causing the coins to clatter to the floor and roll across the stage, Venti only laughed, rubbing the sweat off his forehead and leaning down to pick them up one by one. “Only you say that Diluc—and I’m much older than I look, you know!”

“I don’t believe you.” He said dryly, turning his harsh glare to the men who had offered up their drinks to him. They all looked away or shrugged helplessly, throwing up their hands as if to say ‘wasn’t me’.

“Sor-ry Master Diluc.” One man said. “He refuses to take any other payment but coins and wine. And he uses those coins to buy wine in the end, so what difference does it make?”

The bard, having now retrieved all the coins he’d dropped, stood up, brushing off his white tights and humming a tune mostly to himself. He cast a look over his shoulder at the establishment's owner, meeting Diluc’s glare, then giggling again at the harsh look he was met with. Turning to face him with a wobbly twirl, his oversized green cape blowing over empty bottles and glasses on the tables around them, he lifted one finger and pointed it at the man.

“Diluc’s just upset I make him serve more alcohol—he hates the stuff! Can you believe that? A bartender that hates wine! It’s a travesty! An absolute travesty!” The bard dramatically feigned a faint as he slipped the coins into a small brown satchel, bowing his head to his audience as he tied it closed again. “Thank you dearly gentlemen for your hospitality and the wine, but I believe Diluc is two steps from kicking me out again ah-ha!”

Diluc— in fact—was.

“Boo!” One man cheered, clearly a little drunk as he gave the bartender a light shove. “Come now Diluc, don’t ruin our fun! Even if you try to stop him he’ll just go to that dreadful bar down the way—you know the one with all the cats? You’ll lose our patronage! Do you want that?”

Closing his eyes and rubbing his temple in agitation he grunted out a half-reponse, shaking his head no before pointing a finger accusingly at the performer. “No more wine, you can sing and dance and strip for all I care but you will not drink any more tonight. When will you learn your lesson? You can’t handle it.”

Blinking up at him with those bright eyes the bard smirked, his expression suddenly much too mischievous, causing Diluc’s own to darken. Jumping back on the stool he strummed just once, waving Diluc off with his free hand. “Shoo shoo now! You never like my songs anyways so how about you go entertain the glassware? They’re your own audience!”

The men barked out light laughter while Diluc clicked his tongue, resigning himself back to the counter, unwilling to argue needlessly. Every now and again he would glance over towards the performance, more so out of a genuine curiosity than to check if the bard was swigging more drinks—and he was, Diluc need not check on that. But as the evening turned to night the bard's singing became rougher and less elegant, his words slurring together and his cheeks darkening a rosy shade of pink as he fought back against the drinks he’d consumed.

When he fell backwards off the stool causing his audience to roar with laughter he finally threw his arms up and exclaimed that was all for the night. Still on his back he hummed more to himself, giggling and pressing the back of his fair hands to his cheeks and forehead, which only made him laugh some more.

Diluc, on the other hand, was not laughing.

Dragging the bard by his ridiculous cape off the stage he kicked him squarely on the back out the tavern's heavy door and down into the snow without giving him a second glance. Letting the door slam shut, he turned back to the men who remained, gesturing with a jerk of his chin for them to skedaddle back home to their wives. He’d allowed them to stay until the bard ended his performance, but listening to his off key singing had only worsened his headache and spent all his patience. He wasn’t even meant to be here so late.

Taking the hint the men grabbed their coats, bumping shoulders and exchanging new plans to come another night. Anyone too intoxicated to walk away was hauled off, leaning on or simply being carried by one or more of the patrons. Diluc watched them go with an air of disgust, scrunching his nose at the smell of alcohol that wafted from the lot of them. When there was nobody there but him and his staff at last he let himself breathe a long exhale through his teeth, trying to relax the tension in his shoulders.

“Master Diluc, that was very proper of you…” Mumbled one of his waitresses, and he glanced her way, giving her a polite nod. She was a shy but hardworking lady with black hair that she tied up in a messy bun, and though she wasn’t too old her eye bags made her appear much less youthful than he knew her to be.

“Charles deserves a night off,” he said sternly. “And I know these men. I’m sure by tomorrow they won't even remember the trouble they caused us, but that doesn’t mean I should harass them now.”

She mumbles something else he can’t hear, turning away to place her rag on the counter before speaking up with a smile. “Thank you for giving me the extra hours, I’m sorry I forgot to ask sooner. We were quite busy tonight—must have been that bard. He always brings in a lot of business.”

Scoffing, Diluc undoes his red hair, letting the high ponytail fall and flutter out across his shoulders. Doing so eases some of the pain in his neck and he rubs gingerly at his scalp before deciding on a reply to her. “Don’t mention it Claire. I’ll walk you home. It’s bitterly cold and late so allow me to make you something hot to eat as well.”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, waving her arms in front of herself. “Oh goodness you’re too kind—I can’t trouble you to do that for me Master Diluc!”

“A warm beverage then?” He asks, but he’s already reached up to grab a pot and set it over the stove which has turned to nothing by embers. Snapping his fingers over it, the rubied gemstone hanging from his waist flashes once and the fire bursts back to life.

“Ah—Well, I suppose that’s alright then…” She mumbles, taking a seat at one of the bar stools and watching him work shyly. “You really are too kind. People say you’re—well I mean—people talk too much at the best of times…”

She trails off tapping her fingers on the counter and avoiding his gaze.

“That I’m rude?” He fills in for her, chuckling to himself as he reaches down behind the counter and lifts out from a basin of ice a glass bottle of cream, pouring some into the pot before capping it again and recovering the cold container. It was mostly melted by this point in the day, but the milk was still cool.

The waitress plays with a piece of her hair, brown eyes looking at anything but him.

“Something along those lines.” She agrees.

He ignores her vague comment, stirring into the cream spices he kept for certain cocktails and a splash of his preferred juice. When the drink begins to bubble he crouches down, lifting his hand over the flames and lowering their power, the fire obediently going down for his command.

Sighing in satisfaction when the drink starts to smell both sweet and spicy and the color grows to be golden, he removes the drink from the stove, reaching under the counter to grab two mugs, pouring half for her and half for himself. She eyes the drink with an expression that mixes curios and disgust together, carefully taking the cup when it’s offered out to her.

“What is this?” She asks, sniffing the steam rising up from its top. “It—it smells strange.”

Diluc takes a sip of his own, licking his lips at its eclectic flavoring. “It’s known commonly as moon milk. It’s a recipe I learned from Kae–“ He pauses, shaking his head. “I learned it a while back.”

“Huh.” Is her only response.

“I usually make some before I sleep because I find the warmth comforting.”

Nodding her head she slowly raises the cup to her face, taking a small sip, then another. Turning her head curiously she glances at him then back at the drink, blowing on it as she swirls it. “It tastes like the autumn season.” She says.

Diluc smiles at her, a rare sight indeed. “I always thought with all the honey in it that it’d taste more like Spring.”

Spluttering on her next sip, she swallows loudly, returning his smile with her own, then frantically covering her mouth as she daintily wipes the milk off her face. What a sight to see—Diluc Rragnvindr smiling.

Before she can give a verbal response he turns away, putting out the stove's fire and wandering around the tavern to blow out the candle light and douse the fireplace, grabbing his black gloves and nodding to her. She scoots off the stool, pushing it back in and following him once he’s sure he’s done everything but dishes for the night. Holding open the door she slips out and he follows after, locking the door behind him.

“B—barbatos, it sure is chilly tonight.” Claire mumbles, putting her coat on quickly, Diluc holding her cup as she does so.

“Good that you’ve got a warm drink tonight.” He says with a curt nod, handing it back when they finish. Taking it back carefully so as to not let it spill, she waves for him to follow her down the right street and he does so at a leisurely pace, passing by a silhouette he barely takes note of.

Making pleasant conversation about the coming chill and about the newest wines they’d be selling they chat as they walk. She talks about her cat, Diluc tries to seem invested, and they walk the rest of the way with the crunch of snow beneath their boots. And, when she finally is safely inside her home, he bids her goodnight and turns away to retrace his steps.

Her home was in the opposite direction of his own, not that Diluc especially minded. But it brought him right back to where he started as he turned the corner to head down the stone stairs and out into the wilds. But, this time, he could not ignore the small silhouette pressed against the tavern's wall. No matter how much his legs wanted him to.

Shivering and smelling of alcohol was the young bard, Venti. His head laid down and hidden in his arms as he leaned forward onto his knees, curled up quite pitifully. He looked like he’d half frozen to death already.

Sighing, Diluc stopped in his tracks. Leaning down, he mumbled the young man's name. “Venti?”

The boy peeked up at him, cheeks even redder than they had been before from the biting chill. When he realized it was Diluc, he groaned and turned his face away, seemingly too drunk to even bother pretending to be playful tonight.

“G–go, a—away.” Was all he chose to say through chattering teeth, closing his eyes slowly as if that had been a complete conversation. Which to him perhaps, it had been.

Diluc tsked under his breath, lowering himself to a crouch in the cold snow. He spoke softly but sternly. “Venti, it’s very cold. You need to get indoors.”

The bard sniffed loudly, acting defeated, rubbing his shaking hands together while refusing to meet the man's eyes. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t get up either.

“Seriously.” Diluc huffed out a puff of white air, taking off his overcoat and draping it over the frail form in front of him. “I warned you. Nobody lets a drunk in their house this late. And now you treat me like I’m the bad guy? I could have mugged you, or simply left you here to freeze. Do you understand me, Venti? I’m trying to help. But if you’d really rather I left you here–”

“I—I never said that…” Venti snarls quietly, pulling the coat around himself tightly. “P—please, f–freeze to your h–hearts content Master D–Diluc…”

Staring for a long, hard moment at him, Diluc’s expression uncharacteristically softened, and he rubbed the back of his head.

“No rhymes tonight, then? Must be serious.” Diluc pointed out as he sat down, leaning on the wall next to the bard. Without his jacket, it was quite a bit chillier, but with the gemstone at his waist glowing like a tiny flame he had all the warmth he could need right at a moment's notice.

“N–no rhymes.” The boy mumbled, more to himself than to Diluc. “I—I’m too cold.”

“Are you really? How did I not notice such a thing?” Diluc mumbled flatly, sounding a bit harsher than he meant to.

The bard finally meets his eyes, lips pressed together. “Y—You sound like Kaeya.”

The nobleman stiffened at the comment, looking away first as he crossed his arms over his chest. The two sat in silence then, watching the snowfall that had begun to slowly cover them in speckles of white. Most of the snow melted as soon as it touched Diluc, of course, but it seemed to gather onto Venti, his dark hair sprinkled in white and his eyelashes blinking rapidly as ice formed right over them.

Noticing this, Diluc reached down and unclipped the gemstone from his belt, leaning over and offering it to the bard who took it out of his hand carefully with a look between the rock and Diluc himself. The heat radiating off its surface wasn’t much, but it was enough it seemed for the bard as he stared down at it before pressing its round red surface to his rosy cheek, the glow catching in his eyes.

Chuckling to himself as it melted the snow falling near it he said quietly. “T—to think I’d find such c—comfort in a vision…”

“You don’t have anywhere to sleep tonight do you?” Diluc changed the topic, and Venti shrugged his shoulders weakly.

Sitting forward from the wall, Diluc looked up at the starry night sky. It wouldn’t be morning soon, and it seemed the snow was falling harder as the minutes went by. At this hour it would be impossible—or at least highly unreasonable, to find an inn for the bard. But what was more unreasonable would be leaving a drunk out in the cold of the street.

“Venti.” He called, and the boy stirred. “I’m going to head home, are you going to sit out here wallowing yourself to death or do you want a warm blanket and something to eat?”

He couldn’t believe he was offering this conniving— reckless— thieving brat a single drop of his kindness. But seeing him in such a state, knowing he truly could die and nobody would notice until morning—if not far later, was a dark enough thought to convince him to be generous. Diluc may no longer be a knight, but he still had his own morals. Some would say the young man deserved the punishment coming for him, that it was karma for refusing to heed a warning, but Diluc had been a foolish young man once too.

Everyone made mistakes.

He could remember when he and Alberich had refused to heed their elders' warnings—dancing through the woods, playing in the creeks, climbing to the tallest trees, and sneaking sweets from the estates cooks without an ounce of shame, sharing in these minor misdeeds knowing fully well it was wrong of them. It wasn’t their brightest moment, but it felt like they shone brightest when they worked together to win those tiny glories.

The bard lifted his head completely for the first time that night, his raised knees lowering as he turned to face Diluc.

“S–seriously?” He questioned quietly, his eyes searching. “You’d let me do that? After all my trickery?”

But, he found no trace of unkindness. Diluc stared at him earnestly, his expression turning much gentler as he stood up, turning back and offering his gloved hand out.

“Promise not to steal any grapes and we’ll see.” He says sternly, and the bard lets out a small laugh, taking his hand and stumbling upward into him. Guiding him gently, Diluc allowed him to continue holding his Vision to his shivering chest, pulling the unsteady and still heavily intoxicated bard along his side to the stables behind the back of the tavern.

Allowing him to sit in a pile of hay for the time being as he got his steed ready, his beautiful mare Annabeth, quickly settled and saddled for departure. She huffed at Venti, who reached up to rub her cheek with a surprising amount of confidence.

“Nice sea horsey…” He slurred out, smiling widely even when the horse snorted right in his face.

Diluc watched a little while too, then reached down and hoisted the bard up from under his armpits even as he protested weakly, squirming and laughing—ticklish it seemed, and set him upon the saddle in front of him. He wasn’t sure he trusted the bard to not fall into the snow if he didn’t keep his eye on him.

It took some time, but eventually the young lad was situated with his arms around the horse's neck, drooling all over her black mane and snoring lightly. She didn’t seem too upset, her wise eyes glancing back at Diluc and trusting him completely. Venti would awaken every time he was bumped gently back as they followed the rough dirt path from Mondstadt to the winery. But otherwise, he was still, and Diluc was only glad he hadn’t gotten sick yet on the way.

This feeling too was reminiscent of the days gone by. Diluc, always the better rider, carried his brother home, listening to him chatter about anything that came to his mind. Even with a broken leg, or a sore and scrapped arm, he would just talk. He could always talk like that. Hours and hours without ever growing bored as he let his charisma run wild.

Only after hearing a soft voice did Diluc feel himself pulled from his thoughts and the hazy memory, the bard mumbling a soft thank you he can barely make out, his face scrunched up and eyes dripping with tears

Diluc pretends he doesn’t see—simply guiding his steed along to avoid any more rocks or sharp declines.

***

When they reach the Dawn Winery at last, the moon has already risen visibly into the sky overhead. The vineyard looks lovely in the moonlight, the snow covering what would be the trellises for next year's harvest glimmering like diamonds. The large estate covers much of the land surrounding the border to the country of Liyue, an ideal location for trade but also a common spot of thievery and pests. Such as the one Diluc has brought willingly. Venti remains asleep, more deeply now it seems, and Diluc envies his rest as the view of his home comes into view, just the sight of it leaving him far more drowsy, the weight of the day finally drooping his shoulders. 

Made of ancient stones and slate, the windows are darkened of light or activity at this time of night. Ivy grows in a hugging embrace around the front door and well beyond it, persistently climbing both fence and stone to reach as much as was possible. Even in winter it seems the pesky plant will continue to fight until the bitter end to stay alive, and he respects that tenacity so he doesn’t order it to be taken down. It looks quite pretty too, so it may stay. 

What surprises him is when he reaches the front door, it opens. Already dressed in a night gown comes a familiar servant. 

“Moco?” He startles, horrified to see her awake.

She gives him a polite bow, eyeing his passenger with open surprise, her mouth hung slightly ajar. He never has guests, so he could understand her confusion.

“Of course Master Diluc! We were all beginning to grow worried with how late it's gotten. We were afraid you might have been attacked or been hurt in the ice! I offered to stay up and wait, and I’m glad to see you’re still well.”

Diluc can only shake his head, breathing out a long defeated sigh. “You should be resting. It’s late. I’m sorry for the time. It was a... very busy night.”

Moco nods, but she makes no movement to go back inside, instead offering her hands out to take the reins from him.

“I’ll get your steed settled for the night so that you may get indoors. And... who’s your guest?”

Hopping down from the saddle, Diluc reaches up, plucking the bard from the horse. He awakens with a start, and he childishly kicks, holding onto the horses neck petulantly. She simply eyes him with aged patience, indifferent to how he must be dragged off her. Diluc, having none of his antics, throws him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“He’s a regular performer at the tavern but he’s got nowhere to go tonight. I—in a lapse of judgment—told him he could shelter here for the night. But be warned, he's the pest who kept stealing our grapes for the past three years.”

Clasping her hands together, Moco’s eyes shine. “Ohh, Master Diluc! You’re always so kind! Helping even that brat! Shall I start some hot soup? We have plenty of extra blankets too!”

“No, I can do it.” Diluc tries to say, but Moco immediately refuses, taking the reigns from him with a flick of her hand. 

“Absolutely not!” She chides. “You go inside and warm up! You look about frozen solid! I’ll start a bath for you and tell Hillie to prepare a guest room for… does this boy have a name?”

“Venti!” The bard shouts over Diluc’s shoulder, squirming to no avail. Then he seems to regret it, groaning and clutching his head.

“A bucket might be good as well.” Diluc says with a shudder, the sudden image of the bard vomiting down his back coming to mind. “Thank you so much Moco, don’t stay out here for too long either.”

“Don’t have to tell me that! Could turn into a snow angel standing still out here.” She murmurs, leading his mare towards the stables with gentle encouragement with a lit candle in hand. 

He was honored to have such hardworking staff—his father really had chosen well who to put his trust into. There was nothing he could do to ever possibly repair the life he had given him. 

Diluc pushes open the door to the manor and breathes in the scent of cedarwood with joy and relief, a far more welcoming scent compared to the alcohol still clinging to the bard. Most of the manors candle light has been blown out, but the moment the door swings closed with a slam, activity begins to stir to life again at once. Coming down the stairs after only a minute or two is Millie, who takes one look at him and his package before turning right back around and starting that guest bedroom.

Depositing Venti onto a padded cough with red and purple feather pillows, Diluc watches as the bard rolls over and groans.

“Do not vomit on my furniture.” Diluc says dryly.

Venti only holds up a thumbs up, then lets it weakly fall back down to cover his mouth. “T–Takes more than this to make me sick, Master Diluc.” He speaks out from between his fingers.

“We’ll see.”

Not long after, the servants are running about and pester and prod Diluc into being led to a hot, comforting bath. He leaves Venti in the care of Millie who is far gentler than himself, gently wiping the bard's mouth whenever he vomits, which he does, and rubbing circles into his back.

Diluc enjoys the bath of course, but he finds he can’t sit and simmer in it knowing his servants are up on his behalf and won't rest again until he is tucked into his own bed. Just like when he was little, refusing to rest until Kaeya came upstairs with him instead of chasing fireflies outside or hiding in the coat closet. He'd stomp his foot and cry if he so much as knew Kaeya hadn't come home yet—and they'd have to drag the boy home kicking and screaming just to make Diluc go to bed. Then, Kaeya would sneak out of his room still full of energy where Diluc was not, and he would open Diluc's door as silent as a shadow, crawling up into bed and keeping him awake even as he tried to kick him off. He was the one who'd made Kaeya come home—and every time Kaeya tried to make him regret it. In the moment, sure, he may have felt frustrated, but eventually Kaeya would settle down too and hug Diluc like he was the only thing tethering him there.

And he was.

He doesn’t linger long in the bathe with his meandering thoughts. Only long enough for the water to truly cool, since his staff went to the effort of warming it. He didn't wish to think of such things.

When he returns from his bath he at the very least feels better. Refreshed. Softer, cleaner, but even more tired. He’s a bit surprised to come down the stairs and find Venti is still awake—and almost groans when he sees that he has sat up, bright and cheery, with a lyre once again laid in his lap. He seems to be taking requests, playing each servant any song of their choosing. And, when Diluc’s footsteps cause the steps to creak, he glances over his way and waves. It'd be hard to tell he'd been getting sick when Diluc had left him.

“Ah, Master Diluc returns! Let me play you a song for your hospitality! It’ll help you fall asleep!”

“No thank you, I much prefer the silence.” He says, rubbing his hair with a towel. “Feeling better already?”

“Why of course! Your staff are wonderful! They even made me this tea! And gave me this blanket!” He waves a fluffy, white blanket, and Diluc pauses, staring at it for a moment.

It had been Kaeya’s favorite blanket. He tries not to grimace at the realization. 

“Master Diluc!” Venti clears his throat, plucking a few off-key notes. “Do you already know of the story of the Great Wallwick?”

Diluc merely shakes his head as he takes a seat, and Moco hands him a steaming cup of tea in a pretty floral teacup. 

Venti cheerfully scoots forward “Oh my! It is the story of a man who helps a stranger from the destroyed lands from before. The most miserable person he's ever seen, beaten, starving, and passed out half submerged in a river. While all others pass him by, traders and doctors, pastors and knights, judging him based on his origins and the lot he’d been given in life, that old man—Sir Wallwick, offers the other man all that he has. Takes him home, feeds him, clothes him, and asks for nothing in return!”

“Oh, I know this story!” Millie excitedly says, scooting closer.

“Ah ah, don’t spoil the ending my dear!” Venti chastises her lightly, pointing a finger. “Bard’s code, you have to let us finish our stories or we’ll die on the spot!”

“Venti…” Diluc grumbles, only for the bard to turn his finger onto him, smile widening.

“Hush hush, I'm not quite done! Low and behold, that man he saved was a god. But you know what Sir Wallwick did? He asked for nothing in return from the god. Even when offered anything in the whole, wide world! Not even to return him to his past glories! He refused everything!”

“Doesn’t that sound like you, Master Diluc?” Moco whispers playfully.

“What past glories would I even have?” He whispers back, rolling his eyes. He'd never done anything so ostentatious.  

“Maybe a past life?” Venti cocks his head to the side, a knowing smile alight on his lips. “Or perhaps a time you wish you could return to?"

"Seems quite unrealistic." 

"Does it?" Venti asks, putting his finger to his lip. "You know… that god rewarded him all the same. Do you know what the God gave him?”

“... What?” The bars little audience said out of unison from each other.

“Time.” Venti said simply, plucking a silent note on his lyre. “He gave him time. As much time as he needed. Even if he reached six hundred years old, he would have time to achieve for himself the things he desired. No divine intervention, just time. That’s not such a bad reward is it? And the man never knew, because in the end he needed very little time at all. He achieved what he sought out to do, and the god could smile knowing he wasn’t needed after all. This truly was a man of integrity.”

“I liked that story." Millie says with a laugh. “There is beauty in helping other people, even without expecting a reward. Even when they come from bad roots, there still might be love in them.”

“But you shouldn’t let people use you unnecessarily, Millie.” Diluc corrects, feathers ruffled. "Not everyone can be trusted. Sometimes those origins effect the present." 

“Of course, little Diluc.” She amends, dropping his title entirely. “Even when you were a boy you’ve felt that way. Always trying to repay every little gift. Never willing to just be a child like any other. It's hard to repay a god though, so I bet you wouldn’t ask for a reward either. I’m surprised Crepus never learned of this story. It sounds just like him”

“It defeats the purpose of doing good if you receive a reward.” Diluc says childishly, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms. “Of course father would never have spoken of it. Now, bed everyone. I’m sure we are all exhausted. Bard, get a glass of water and bring it up with you. I don’t want you wandering these halls at night.”

“Yes Master Diluc!” Venti mimics the servants, standing up too quickly.

He almost immediately tumbles, and everyone reacts at once, righting him with shared looks of amusement and annoyance.

“Oh my, maybe I’m not quite sober yet…” He says, flicking his hair dramatically. 

The servants laugh at his antics—and Diluc, in spite of himself, snorts. And if he smiles, just a little, that's between only himself and his pride. 

***

The next morning, the bard is no where to be found. On the bed which he'd been given is a letter, addressed to them all, and a bottle of wine. The letter reads:

"Thank you kindly to each and every one of you. I have not been shown such kindness since... Well, it has been longer than I'd care to admit. You make a wonderful family, and I am honored you've given me the chance to meet each of you. The wind smiles upon each of you, and I hope that I haven't humiliated myself too deeply with my behavior. You are all allowed to call for my services without payment and I will sing for you any song you desire to hear! I mean it! Any song! As for the wine, I stole that some time ago— My apologies, I couldn't resist. But it seems very old and perhaps precious, so I have seen fit to return it. I hope that Master Diluc enjoys it, even though he hates alcohol, and if he doesn't want it then pretend I poured it out for all of you servants and enjoy it in his stead! May Barbatos guide you." 

- Venti

***

After Mondstadt faces the return of the great dragon, Dvalin, many things changed for the people. Jean earned both the knights and the people in the city's respect, the Traveler from afar had left for the country of Liyue to search for their family, and the bard Venti continued to sing his songs now for the patrons that adored him—and for the dragon which he oft called down from the sky to sing for.

Diluc’s life stayed much the same.

Although, he was now far more willing to pour the pompous bard a glass or two without his usual air of contempt. It wasn’t just a bard sitting there on the stool after all—it was a god far wiser and more weighed down than he would ever know. He still stole from Diluc, ran off with his grapes in the summer evenings and played harmless tricks on the servants with twisting winds and big smiles but… he also treated Diluc with more respect as well.

Gone was his character. When it was just them alone, Diluc would pour him a cup of dandelion wine and watch him stare at his own reflection in it for a long time. He would share stories, like that, but he would leave his lyre where it sat against his stool. No rhyming poetry or flowery lyrics. Just his woes offered freely to the bartender. Little details of life which he most likely had shared with only his closest friends.

One day, he even came in and explained it was his birthday. That day he drank until he was more alcohol than water—if a holy entity can even be described as such. He admitted then that it was a lie. It wasn’t his birthday, it was his birthday. Some unknowable other which had been lost to time The lies he wore on his skin like a tapestry, hiding beneath the fabric was the true Venti. Or rather, the true Barbatos.

Diluc had forced him to stay and drink a final cup with him. He’d grimaced the entire time, hating the metallic taste of the drink, but the way Venti had looked at him both with awe and with gratitude made the foul alcohol worth sharing.

… And one other thing had changed.

Standing behind the bar on a regular, autumn evening, Diluc washed glasses and kept his eye on the customers. It was a nice, calm evening. Nothing too exciting had happened, which was exactly how he liked it. There were two different couples enjoying dinner, and one man Diluc had discovered was named Stanely who seemed to live in the tavern year-round even when he didn’t nurse on a drink of his own.

The door chimed, and his eyes flicked up to greet whoever had entered. It wasn’t who he’d expected—a blue haired young man with an eye-patch instead of a short bard with braided hair.

Lithe and confident, the knight swaggers his way into a seat right across from Diluc, laying his square chin into the palm of his hand, leaning forward.

“Best that you have, please.” Kaeya says, starry-eye staring right into Diluc’s soul.

“Alright.” Diluc says softly, fetching a rounded bottom-heavy glass and flipping it over slowly. Reaching up, he wraps his fingers around his drink of choice, pouring the dark viscous liquid into the glass. Passing it over to Kaeya without touch, he pushes it across the wood, watching it ripple.

Kaeya picks it up, eyeing it with some suspicion. Then he shrugs, smiling to himself, and takes a swig.

When he coughs into his fist, Diluc fails to fight back a little smile.

“Grape juice?” Kaeya wheezes out, coughing again. “Really Diluc? We've been over this! This isn’t even alcohol!”

“You said the best that we have, Kaeya. This is our best. As decided by the bartender.”

Kaeya leans back, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment before swirling the grape juice around, leaving a purple staining residue for only a moment before it slides back down and mixes in.

“Never change, Diluc.” Kaeya says with a light laugh.  But he sets the glass down, pushing it back over. “But really, if you’re going to make me pay then please at least add something alcoholic to this. Make it worth my while.”

“... It’s on the house.” Diluc finds himself saying.

Freezing like he’d been turned to stone, the only part of Kaeya that seems to dare moving is his eyes. Blinking rapidly, before settling on the cup, which he very stiffly takes back.

“... Thanks.” Is all he says, taking a dutiful sip of it again.

Diluc just grunts, wetting a rag and whipping the counter down roughly. Every imperfection rubbed away beneath his fingers. He doesn’t look up again. Afraid, perhaps. But Kaeya makes no conversation either. Diluc can feel him watching him closely, but he keeps himself busy, counting the minutes and reorganizing his shelves to put the tallest bottles behind the smallest ones. Changes the order of his wine glasses, and cleans dishes as the couples leave leaving the two of them alone.

When the bell to the door chimes again, he glances back out of habit. But nobody has come inside—it seems somebody has instead left. But, the only person left should have been...

Laying on the counter where Kaeya had been sitting, placed delicately into the empty bottom of his wine glass, is a tiny flower bulb. A lamp grass that glows faintly even as its petals stain darkly with the touch of ebony.

Reaching down into the glass, Diluc retrieves the flower with trembly fingers. He twirls it between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a long sniff. The delicate smell brings back a wave of memories—Kaeya at the forefront of all of them. Kaeya, making him a flower crown. Kaeya, decorating cake with the flower— unaware it was toxic to consume and crying about it until Diluc had hugged him. Kaeya, wrapped up in a fuzzy white blanket with a cold, annoyed he can't go outside. Kaeya, getting into the wine cellar and getting tipsy before he's eventually discovered. Kaeya, singing off-key to a song Diluc doesn't know, but that he likes all the same. 

Kaeya, bleeding and crying, drenched in rain that freezes upon touching an unnatural shield of frost. 

...

But lamp grass was always Diluc’s favorite flower, not Kaeya's. Because even on the darkest night, the flower led then home.

Tucking the flower into the pocket of his jacket, he shakes his head knowingly. Glancing up at the oft unused second level of the tavern, he isn’t surprised by what he sees there. With legs hanging down from between the railing, Venti gives him a slow wave and a tired sort of smile that says it all. He had done nothing—he'd just wanted to watch. There are no words exchanged, and that feels like a gift itself. To be granted silence at that moment. To be given the freedom to choose.

He looks at the flower many times that night, and each time he does—he smiles.