Work Text:
A strong gale whipped his red hair, loose strands danced wildly in the air. He held tightly onto the handle of his claymore, its bloodstained blade sunk deeply into the snow. Biting winds nipped at his cheek, staining the fair skin with a hue of red. The cold air rushing over his face made his eyes squint, his long lashes glistening as snowflakes blew onto them.
Through the sliver of his vision he was able to see an expanse of white with a few lumps of colour. The chorus of groans and weeping that accompanied the howling winds had subsided into a deathly silence.
Raging winds petered down to a faint breeze, the rapid flapping of his jacket slowed to a light flutter. The momentary break allowed him to fully open his eyes and assess the carnage around him.
Fog obscured his vision, but he could see things in his immediate vicinity. Blood painted the sheet of snow surrounding him. Cicin mages and fatui skirmishers were scattered about. Their bodies angled unnaturally, like dolls tossed carelessly on the floor. Their clothes burned, the charred fabric melting into their skin. A dust of snow covered them like a blanket, a white layer that thickened with the passage of time.
A body clad in black lay in front of him. The mask it wore chipped, to reveal a lone brown eye staring skyward. The lifeless orb confirmed the fatui agent's death, but that knowledge brought little comfort. If Diluc could kill him all over again, he would. What that man stole was irreplaceable.
Diluc swayed, his shaky legs struggling to keep himself standing. Each breath was a laborious burden, his chest heaving as he exhaled misty puffs into the chilly air. It would be a miracle if he found the energy to locate a shelter. Even now, it was a wonder that he could stay upright.
The sticky fabric of his shirt clung to his skin as his blood spilled from the wound on his stomach. He pressed a hand over the injury in a poor attempt to apply pressure to slow the bleeding. His vision blurred and his limbs felt heavy as his life's essence leaked from him freely. Distant memories of claws raking down his back made a chill run down his spine, the past reminiscent of his current predicament. It wasn't the first time that he found himself at death's door in a frozen wasteland.
A burst of frigid air made him hunch over to steady himself. His boots sank deeper into the snow to ground his body, the brunt of the cold lashing at his face. In its wake, was the icy caress of a frosted lover as the wind settled. An illusion of comfort.
It continued like a melody, the roaring of the winds a crescendo. Each strong gust, belting in his ears, accusatory, as if he had committed a grave sin. A sin he solemnly acknowledged. As the winds ebbed to a slower pace, however, the pain he felt was worse than any accusation. The silence left him alone, forced to listen to his omega instincts wail inconsolably, his mind festering with guilt and grief.
It wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth this.
One moment he was hidden and gathering intelligence, the next an unavoidable dance in the throes of battle. Each step deliberate, familiar in the snow. His partners, though different in name and face, were fatui all the same. It was a dance he performed several times on his lone journey away from Mondstadt. One he was confident in.
A confidence that shattered in seconds.
In hindsight, the decision to come out alone was foolish. On any normal day he was capable of taking down a fatui stronghold, but the same could not be said about the battle moments ago. A battle where he couldn't get hit under any circumstance. It proved more difficult than he anticipated. He was agile, able to swing his claymore with ease, but if he needed to take a calculated blow in the heat of battle, he would. The scars littered on his body proved that. Taking a hit or two to gain the advantage was a small sacrifice to pay for a sure victory. So he was unaccustomed to fighting when his own body was his greatest impediment.
It was unreal how fast it happened. A misstep he rarely made. Another principal dancer joined the blood splattered stage, the swift movements of the agent vastly different from the skirmishes before. They danced with fire, blazing in the whirlwind of falling snow. One step to the right when he should have taken a left, and a knife pierced through the skin of his stomach. The sharp blade dug its way into him, the hot metal rotating, searing him with a numbing pain. Blinded by fury, Diluc struck back, his claymore knocking the agent to the ground. Lifting the hilt high, Diluc thrust the blade down, pushing through the resistance of flesh and bone. Refusing to stop until he felt the chest moving under his blade cease.
If he could turn back time for a moment, there were many things he would change. This, however, was one incomparable to the mountain of burdens that he struggled to shoulder on his own. This one carved itself inside of him. A scar so deep that it would mark him in every way.
His vision struggled to stay alight as he attempted to warm himself. The red glow flickered like the embers of a dying fire, his vision a mirror of his passion, his emotions- his will to live. It reflected the despair in his heart from an unfathomable loss. The flame that was his soul, now nonexistent, too cold to spark the fire of his vision.
Frost from the air seeped into his skin, chilling him along with the frozen guilt that weighed deeply inside. His teeth chattered as his body shivered for the warmth that his vision could no longer provide.
Isolated in the snow and heavily injured, Diluc was coming to terms with the possibility that the mercy given to him when he was last at the cusp of death, may not be given to him a second time.
This time, however, he wasn't truly alone. Through his bond he could vaguely feel an intimate tug. Anguish, fear and uncertainty rushed through it in waves. Diluc, usually able to control what feelings he sent though the bond, must have let his mind send his emotions unfiltered. His body fell into a state of survival, instinctively calling out for the presence of his alpha.
It was comforting to have a loved one share his pain during his last moments.
With bleary eyes he watched the snow whirl in front of him, fading in and out of the white fog. In the distance he could make out a grey silhouette, the fuzzy figure gaining clarity as it moved closer. Sluggishly, Diluc pulled his claymore from the snow, heaving the cumbersome weapon into a battle stance. He held his breath, his body tense as the silhouette grew larger. Gripping his claymore he stood his ground. If he was going to die, it wouldn't be without a fight.
As the figure approached, the blurred outline turned into finer lines, until a familiar blue head emerged, dashing toward him. Diluc released a baited breath, his rigid body becoming limp with exhaustion.
Finally, he was safe.
His claymore fell to the ground as he reached a leather clad hand forward. A high whine was caught in his throat as strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Diluc buried his face into the fur on Kaeya's shoulder; the spicy aroma of cardamom blending together with the fresh woodsy scent of cypress. It was a soothing concoction that Diluc associated with love and devotion. Yet the relief he felt mixed with a deeper guilt as his mate surrounded him with a tender warmth.
With Kaeya cradling him close, Diluc allowed the cracks of his independent facade to break. Only in Kaeya's embrace did he allow himself to do so. A single tear rolling down his cheek turned into a stream, his body trembling along with his distressed whimpers. Through it all, his mate held him close, the alpha's own body shaking with sobs.
Today was meant to be a joyous occasion. When they returned from Dragonspine, he was going to tell Kaeya all about his pregnancy. It would be his first Father's Day gift to his mate.
How was he supposed to tell Kaeya that he was responsible for the death of their first child?
Gloved hands grasped the alpha's clothes firmly, his shoulders shaking as he grieved. He felt Kaeya's chest lurch as the younger barked orders. Around them was the chatter of several other voices. The conversation sounded like a mumble in Diluc’s hazy mind, the omega unable to piece the indistinct words together as he fought to stay awake.
A day that was meant to celebrate fathers, would be a day to mourn the loss of their first child.
Another special day stained in red.
Just like his birthday.
His world turned black as he succumbed to the temptation of sleep.