Archive of Our Own

"Leave," Diluc roared, eyes stinging with tears, presence as menacing as a god under the lamplight of the vineyards, "Leave, and don't you dare ever come back". 

On the ground before him, shielded by a sheet of ice, Kaeya could do nothing but nod. The lump in his throat constricted his airways and clogged up his words. The tears that had been threatening to spill throughout their whole fight pricked at his eyelids now that his front had been shattered.  

"Goodbye." He managed to rasp, pulling himself to his feet, legs shaking like a newborn colt, as he slunk away into the bitter twilight.  

Behind him, he could see smoke billowing into the air, from the scorched vines that had been caught in the fray. The winery, surrounded by smoke and embers, etched itself in amber against the darkening sky. Watching the place he had called home grow smaller and smaller with each shaky step he took, backlit by the consequences of his own lies, Kaeya felt all of the burning emotions in his chest - the fear, the anguish, the guilt, the anger - slowly wither away into something more empty. Something hollow, that spread from the inside out and made him feel bitter inside. The hollow he had tried to fill with the pretty lies of a new life and a loving home and a city welcoming him with open arms. 

Traitor . Some voice in his mind spoke. This day was always coming, and you knew it.  

He didn't have the energy to argue with it anymore. He'd once imagined that perhaps, when he came clean, it would be under the same darkening night sky that he stared up to now, perhaps on Starsnatch Hill, picking cecilias to be brewed into a new batch of flavoured wine the next day. Perhaps, he'd have pointed out his constellation - Pavo Ocellus, fated to cover its secrets with vibrant plumage and alluring dances and glittering eyes. Perhaps, he'd have told him how he didn't believe in fate - and that perhaps, he didn't want to hide at all. 

In his mind, Diluc would have noticed that something was wrong. That he was speaking too wistfully, or that he was once again murmuring in tongues that hid some heavier meanings. He'd ask him what was wrong, place down the basket of ceclilias, and take a seat next to him at the precipice of the cliff. 

Kaeya would say, "all these years you've played along with my lies, to get me out of trouble. Can you play along with one more?" Then, he'd finally tell him the truth. And his red eyes would look shattered, and his tongue would go dry, but Kaeya would promise, promise that he would never leave. That he was telling him this because he'd chosen a side. He'd chosen him, he'd chosen Mondstadt, and nothing could ever change that. And then they'd both cry - Kaeya, too, because even the wicked aren't infallible - and they'd go home to the Winery a little bit further apart, but a little bit closer together at the same time. 

There was no going home to the Winery now. 

As he crunched his way down the path behind the winery, shadowed by the looming cliffs of Wolvendom, Kaeya let himself feel hollow. He let the emptiness settle in again, and this time didn't try to ward it off with protection spells of wishful thinking. He felt his limbs grow heavier, and colder, and let the nausea bubble in his stomach. He let the cold wind chill him, and when he stubbed his toe against a particularly stubborn rock on the dirt path, the pain didn't bother him. He let the power from the new vision pressed against his hip creep its way from his pelvis up his spine, into his chest, into his skull. He let the cold take over. 

After all, you only light a fire for a cold man. The smoke still billowed above the trees. 

It wasn't until he reached the reached the stream that marked the border between Mondstadt and Liyue that Kaeya finally placed himself amongst the crisp grass, pulled his knees to his chest, and let himself cry. The leftover dampness from the earlier rainstorm muddied the earth and crept its way up the dress pants of his winery uniform, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wouldn't exactly be wearing it again, anyway.  

The tears felt like acid against his face, but he didn't care. He cried until his head hurt, but he didn't care. He couldn't breathe with his face pressed against his knees, but he didn't care. It was almost as though the tears were the only thing left within him, now that he was so hollow, and he had no more restraints to stop himself from pouring out of his own body.  

Kaeya didn't cry much. He learned early on that it was easier to convince people that you were fine, than it was to convince them that your tears were over nothing. Once someone started crying, others knew that something was wrong. Then they would pry. Not that he wasn't well-versed in protecting his past from prying busybodies, but he found it was far harder to do so when his tears betrayed him, gave them that excuse to pry just a little bit more, and when he was most vulnerable. 

But right now, in this moment, he was hiding from nobody. So, he let the tears pour from his eyes like the secrets had poured from his mouth not even an hour earlier. He let himself sob into the night, out here where nobody but the cryo slimes on the bay could hear him.  

After a while, he had no more tears to shed. He wiped his eyes, pulled his knees from his chest, and just sat in silence, letting the hollowness spread bitterly through his body. His mind felt numb.  

However, despite it all, there was a small part of himself that still felt he'd done the right thing. He'd ruined everything, that's for sure - ruined his own life. Lost his home, lost his closest friend, lost his life. But he still felt, somewhere deep inside himself, like this was meant to happen all along. The moment he realised that his time in Mondstat was starting to feel a little bit less like a mission, and a little bit more like a life.  

Isn't it so unfair that some people don't such powerful decisions to make? 

He supposed, then, that he may as well just choose Khaenri'ah, now. There was surely nothing left for him in Mondstadt. But even just the thought of that made bile rise in his throat. When he was a child, Kaeya once thought that his decision would be a choice between becoming one of two men - the last hope of Khaenri'ah, or a Knight of the Ordo Favonius, dedicating his life to the protection of Mondstadt. But as he'd grown, he got a subtle feeling that somehow, for some reason, it would be far more complicated than that. Now, soaked in his own tears in the crisp night air at the bank of a river, Kaeya realised that he could never choose to be one of two men, because that's not who he was. He was not a neutral character, destined to take one of two paths and evolved into the hero that route needed the most. Instead, he was an amalgamation of all of his experiences, a strange swirl of Mondstadt and Khaenri’ah that were so deeply intertwined, that they could no longer be separated. He could never choose Mondstadt or Khaenri'ah, because he was both. The different pieces of himself had assembled in such a way that if you were to remove even one, the whole house of cards would come tumbling down. He could never choose which version of himself to be, because he was both. He had been this whole time. 

But that was too difficult of a thought to process right now, so he pulled himself once more to his feet, and began walking aimlessly into the night. Now, he had a more pressing matter to consider: where did he go from here? 

*** 

It took Kaeya a few hours to walk to Mondstadt, by which time the sun was starting to creep over the horizon, signalling the early break of dawn. By now, he was tired, cold, and wishing that he had the chance to pick up some of his possessions before he left - even just a warmer tunic, or perhaps a bag to carry some food in. He stood in a wooded area close enough to the bridge to see the walls of the city, but still not close enough for Swan, the Knight patrolling the gate, to notice him. He didn't know if he could stand to face him - they were mere acquaintances, had met a few times during Kaeya's training, but were in different regiments. The only time their paths had really crossed was at the ceremony where Diluc was promoted to Cavalry Captain, and the memory alone stung enough that he decided he'd rather remain out of sight for the time being. 

So, he set up camp near a nearby pot - wasn't there usually some member of the adventurer's guild manning it? - and thanked Barbatos that the fire was still burning. Roasting himself some apples from a nearby tree, he sat himself on the ground as he listened to the crackle of the flames. He'd once found the sound comforting, but now it left him strangely unnerved. He figured he'd probably never feel the same about fire, now. Well, at least he was self-aware. 

While his food was roasting, he found himself fiddling with the vision that now lay against his hip. Awfully convenient for it to automatically attach to his belt, he thought. He'd always assumed that for most people, the vision would just appear as a stone, and the bearer would have to find their own casing for it. Maybe Wagner made them, for a price. But his vision appeared in its case entirely, something that he thought was strange. Though, when he observed the casing more closely, he couldn't help but notice there was something... odd, about it. He had little experience with visions, that is true, but he'd seen many of the knights with visions slung around their waists, over their shoulders, around their necks. And he might be a traitor, but he also had all of the qualities that came with such a role - he was intelligent, sharp, and most importantly, incredibly observant. And he was absolutely sure that the visions the other nights carried were circular, with three wings on either side, representing the city of freedom. His own vision had only two wings. He stroked them with his thumb, feeling the two ridges cool under his grip.  

Fascinating, he thought, even the Archons wished to remind me that I don't truly belong.  

For a while, he contemplated experimenting with his powers. He knew that most vision bearers were adept at using their elemental resonance in different ways and learned different skills and fighting skills to compliment what felt the most comfortable for them. He, however, couldn't quite bring himself to use them - not just yet. It was bizarre, and incredibly out of character, for an individual whose first instinct when he discovered something knew was to mess with it until he found out how it worked. He'd always reasoned that the only way to catch a disadvantage is to know less than your opponent, o he'd always made sure that if there was something unknown, he'd figure it out before he was blindsided by the consequences of its own ignorance. However, right now, the vision on his hip signified nothing but pain, and he couldn't bring himself to try out the divine gift that saved his life. 

Did it save his life? That's a bitter thought. He chuckled roughly to himself. Would Diluc have killed him, out there in the vineyard, if Celestia hadn't have taken pity on him? 

He decides he doesn't want to know the answer. 

By now, his apples have roasted, so he pulls them off the fire and bites into the skewer he'd made. Not bad, he figured - sweet, and a little bit sour. Perhaps, with a little refinement and a little meat, this would be not too bad of a dish. Fruity skewers, he figured, tasted far better than the meat and mushroom ones he'd had out on expeditions before. 

It was dawn by the time he had finished his food, but he was exhausted. Now that the shock had subsided, and there was no more adrenaline running through his veins, the overwhelming tiredness from the events of the night caught up with him. he rested against the log behind him, finding it wasn't actually too bad of a headrest, given the circumstances, and let himself finally drift into slumber.  

*** 

When he awoke, it was at least midday. He knew that because the sun that glared in his eyes was far too bright when he blinked them open to the sound of someone's voice which was way too loud and high-pitched for a man half asleep. Suddenly, his shoulders were shaken, and he was jolted fully awake in an unceremonious manner. He was greeted by the extremely concerned face of a girl, who couldn't have been older than 16. He recognised her vaguely as one of the knights-in-training in the Outrider division but couldn't quite put a name to her face. 

"Oh, thank Barbatos!" The girl exclaimed, relief clear in her voice. "You're alive". 

Kaeya sighed and pulled himself up with his elbows that he was seated upright against the log.  

"That I am". 

"Kaeya," the girl scolded, "The knights are going to be worried sick about you! What are you doing out here all alone? And sleeping on the job, no less!" 

Ah, yes, he was supposed to attend work this morning, wasn't he? He supposed he'd just forgotten in the turmoil of the night before, not that he figured anyone would blame him. 

"You know who I am?" he questioned, sceptically. He knew some of the knights-in-training, but he figured that it was rare for those at different stages to acknowledge each other. He'd always put it down to his astute observational skills, and jarring need to know everyone around him. Because if he knew everyone around him, nobody could sneak up on him. Nobody could catch him out. "And I'm fine - I just decided to take a walk out in the wilderness last night to prepare for a late-night patrol I have next week. You know, it's always better to have a trial run. Let's you know what you're in for when you do something new. Why, perhaps you should try it yourself?" 

The girl grimaced, her chestnut hair fluttering around her face as she did. 

"Not a chance!" She said, indignified. "Sleeping out here after it rained so hard yesterday? That's just... gross! And of course I know who you are - everybody's talking about you. The newest knight in the Cavalry Division, knighted at just seventeen, deft with his sword but sharper with his tongue. Kaeya Alberich - that's you, right? Diluc's brother?" 

Diluc's brother - that was a title that now stung more than he'd expected. The Ragnvindr family had done everything he needed for him, taken him under their wing, feed him, clothed him, trained him as a knight. But he was Kaeya Alberich, not Kaeya Ragnvindr, and the strange amalgamation of identities within him had always felt too uncomfortable to agree whenever the difficult topic of changing his name had arisen in the household. But Diluc's brother? He supposed it was true, to the people of Mondstadt. To the people who didn't know that Kaeya had helped to run the winery, but felt more like an assistant than an heir. That he'd shared seven - well, now eight - of Diluc's birthdays with him, but that when Diluc had given the first slice of cake to his "brother", it had tasted a little bit more bitter than it would have if he'd said nothing at all and let Kaeya live in his blissful charade without reminding him of the truth. That when they attended events and galas, and everyone would mention to Crepus what a fine young man he had grown to be, he would smile and shake the hands of the men and bow to the ladies and block out the part of his mind that called him a liar, a spy, a traitor. 

"Yeah, something like that." He muttered, and then grimaced at how insecure he sounded. He took a breath and put his mask back on. "Well, it's wonderful to know that our peers are paying attention to me. Ah, well, perhaps they can't help themselves. I've always been told I have the most dazzling eyes." He said, smugly. 

The girl was not impressed. 

"Well, eye." she said, "But yeah, I've heard about you." 

Kaeya shrugged, and the girl held out a hand to him. He waved her off and stood up by himself, dusting off his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

"I'm Amber, by the way." The girl - Amber - said. "You should probably go and report to Varka, and admit how much you've been slacking. Training or not, he's... not gonna be impressed with this stunt you've pulled. Looks bad to have a knight asleep right outside the city in the middle of the day". 

Kaeya supposed that was right. But he still wasn't sure if he felt up to performing his duties right now. 

"I'm not going to see Varka." He told Amber, "But can you pass on a message for me?" 

She looked confused, but responded, "Sure, what?" 

"Tell him I'm on grievance leave for the foreseeable future.” He said. 

Amber startled. "Grievance leave?! Are you okay?" She queried. Kaeya considered telling her that it was none of her business but figured that people would find out eventually anyway. He sighed. 

"My father died yesterday".  

Amber's face fell, and she looked at him with the sorriest expression. Kaeya felt nauseous, he hated pity. 

"I'm so sorry," she said, "I'll tell him right away!". 

Kaeya smiled. He supposed it wasn't too bad being looked out for every once in a while, as long as people kept looking out, and never in. 

"Oh, and Amber?" he called, as the girl was walking away, "Consider this some... in-the-field training for you, too. Looking out for weary citizens beyond the city's gates. You're going to make an excellent Outrider." 

To that, Amber beamed. "Thank you!" she said, "I'll remember you said that!" 

Kaeya didn't doubt for a second that she would. 

*** 

After about 4 hours of wandering the streets of Mondstadt feeling sorry for himself, Kaeya figured that it was probably better that he returned to work, after all. He felt like an empty shell of a person, sure, but he figured it would be better to be an empty shell of a person with something to do, than it would be to keep walking around aimlessly while his mind found unique ways to punish him more, and more, and more. Liar, spy, traitor.  

So, he found himself striding into the Knights of Favonius headquarters with his famed smile on his face, greeting the people he knew, nodding at the people he didn't. He eventually found himself in Grandmaster Varka's office where he was ushered to take a seat. The Grandmaster shuffled awkwardly around the room a little, made sure the door was bolted, and then took a seat facing him. 

Varka's eyes looked sad. "I'm sorry to hear about your father, Kaeya." 

Kaeya knew this conversation was coming. 

"It's fine," he said, "It's truly an unfortunate affair, but I suppose everyone has to lose their parents at some point. Even their adopted ones." Kaeya mused the latter statement to himself. He'd not really comprehended until now that this was the second time he'd lost his parents. He supposed most people couldn't say that. 

Varka looked down at the table. 

"Yes, I suppose," he said, "but I was told that your father died in... especially unfortunate circumstances." 

Kaeya's breath caught in his throat. How did he find out about that? What else did he know? Was his secret out already? He was expecting exile, but had no idea that it would come about so soon. 

"Yes, he did." Kaeya clarified. He shook his head, "How did you find out?" 

Now, Varka stood and wandered to the window, gazing out over the lake beyond it. He'd been refusing to make Kaeya's eyes all conversation, but now it seemed he couldn't even bring himself to face him. 

"Sir Diluc came by my office this morning, and explained the situation, when..." he spoke, voice heavy, "he resigned". 

Kaeya jolted but tried to stay calm. He coughed slightly into his fist, and readjusted himself in his seat. 

"Diluc resigned?" He questioned? This was a shock, even to him. Sure, Diluc had seemed devastated - furious, even - when the Knights failed to send out a division to protect his father last night, but Diluc loved the Knights. He had dedicated the last eight years to them, training from as early as he was allowed to train, and when he was knighted at age fifteen, the celebration had brought half of Mondstadt to the Winery. 

Varka sighed. 

"Yes, he resigned this morning. He said that after his father had died, he wouldn't be able to rest until he'd gotten justice. Until he... found something to believe in again." Varka turned to him, and the eye contact made Kaeya wither. "He left on a solo expedition to Snezhnaya this morning. He said to not wait for him. That he will not be back for many years, if he returns at all." 

A piece of Kaeya shattered. He nodded and smiled. 

"I see. I'm glad he's found a way to process his grief." He said. 

Varka's gaze got heavier, more intense.  

"Why aren't you with him, Kaeya?" He asked. 

Getting straight to the point. Kaeya appreciated that, in a way. He picked up a coin from Varka's desk and flipped it between his fingers. He thought of another lie.  

"We took the news in very different ways. I was upset, but Diluc... he was angry." He said. It wasn't all a lie. "So, I figured I would give him some time to process his grief on his own. I think we had very different connections to father. After all, Diluc was his only son."  

Varka shook his head, sadly. 

"Crepus Ragnvindr had two sons, Kaeya." He said, softly. "I don't know why you still falter in saying that. He loved you." 

I know, Kaeya thinks, and that's what makes it so much worse.  

He must have faltered, slightly, because Varka didn't press him further. Instead, he sat back down at the desk and addressed him directly. 

"I'm glad to see that you have chosen to return to work, however. With Diluc gone and Jean just returning from grievance leave herself, I was concerned we'd be low on capable young knights for a while". 

"Wait, Jean was on grievance leave? Why?" Kaeya questions. He supposed, now, Jean was his only friend. He'd never really connected with anyone outside the Winery, and while Jean had been closer to Diluc than himself, they'd shared some sort of connection in their fondness for him. And she'd laughed when he'd made bad jokes or flirted with the wrong person. Sometimes. 

"Her parents split the week prior. Don't worry, this isn't confidential - she wanted it known that she and Barbara will be taking different names from now on. She's dropped her father's name, by the way. She's going by Gunnhildr now." He explained. 

Kaeya figured he should probably check up on her, now that Diluc was gone for her to lament her worries to. She was a kind girl, she deserved it. And in reality, he wouldn't mind a friend right now, either. 

Not that he deserved one. 

Varka turned to the shelves behind him, before lifting a deep-red bottle that Kaeya was familiar with. It was dandelion wine, but not from the Winery. The brand that they sold at the Cat's Tail, instead. Kaeya felt oddly relieved about that. Varka offered him the bottle with an outstretched hand. 

"Take this, Kaeya. Consider it a gift - I imagine not much will comfort you following his parting, but perhaps when you drink this, you'll remember that there are people who care". 

You wouldn't , Kaeya thought, not if you knew what I'd done.  

He didn't say that out loud. Instead, he smiled, said thank you, and slid out of his chair to walk towards the door. 

"Oh, and Kaeya?" Varka called, causing Kaeya to turn to look at him one more time, "Keep the Mora. I don't know if you'll need it, but... just in case". 

Kaeya then noticed that he was still holding the coin he'd taken from the desk earlier. He nodded at Varka, flipped the coin, caught it in the same hand, and slipped out of the room. 

*** 

Jean's apartment was in the middle of the city. He knew this from all of the times Diluc and him had stopped by after training, to grab a drink and talk for a while before their long walk back to the Winery. 

Kaeya figured that in paying her a visit, he could perhaps also bargain for a place to stay that night. His next paycheck wasn't for a while, and the Mora he'd gotten from Varka wasn't nearly enough to get a hotel room for the night. 

Selfish , Diluc had called him before, you selfish manipulator, never thinking about anyone but yourself.  

Liar, liar, liar.  

And here Kaeya stood before Jean's door, about to manipulate his grieving friend to give him a place to stay for the night. 

I really am the worst.  

Jean answered the door almost immediately, not wearing her Knights' uniform, but an aqua blouse and palazzo pants that were still far more proper than what Kaeya would wear on a day off. She smiled, but her eyes looked tired. 

"Kaeya," she said, softly, "I heard the news."  

Kaeya gave a soft smile. 

"May I come in?" 

Jean led him up two flights of stairs to her top-floor apartment, which was just as tidy as it had ever been when he stopped by after training growing up. I guess she doesn't just clean for guests , he figured, not like me . 

She sat him down on a soft chair and handed him a coffee which he didn't know he needed as much as he did. He watched while she fluffed a pillow on the couch opposite and rested upon it. 

It all felt awfully melancholy. Kaeya decided he didn't want to do melancholy anymore. He put on a charming smile, laid one arm against the side of the chair, and asked: 

"So, Varka said you're using a new name. It suits you. ‘Gunnhildr’ sounds regal - perfectly suiting one of the most valiant Knights of Favonius". 

Jean rolled her eyes, used to Kaeya's nonchalant flirting. 

"Don't be like that." She said, "But thank you." 

Kaeya smiled. 

"My pleasure." He wasn't good at talking about his feelings - hell, look where that got him yesterday - so wasn't sure whether to address the source of Jean's new name, lest risk reopening some wound. 

He didn't have to worry for too long, when Jean turned the conversation to him. 

"Varka said he's gone," Jean said, not quite questioningly. Kaeya answered the question, if there was one, anyway. 

"Yeah." 

"What happened?" She asked, honestly. 

Kaeya debated telling her. Jean had been a true friend, though if not more to Diluc than her, but he knew that everything that Diluc had mused about her one night in the vineyards when they had stolen a bottle of wine from the basement - that she was honourable, kind, perfect - was true. If he couldn't find a friend in Jean, he couldn't find a friend in anyone. Perhaps his not-quite-brother's not-quite-girlfriend may not have been the best pick of people in which to divulge the heart-wrenching secret that had turned his brother away, but she was truly the best option he had. 

And she'd keep it a secret, he knew, for as long as he asked her. Because she truly was honourable, and kind, and perfect. 

But he couldn't. Because as soon as he told her, the whole of himself - the mess amalgamation of Mondstadt and Khaenri'ah and memories he couldn't quite forget and feelings he couldn't un-feel - would be on display. And she'd see him, all of him, and she could turn him away. She could shut him down, she could hand him over to Varka. Calling him a traitor and a liar, or she could just not want to be near him anymore. He wasn't sure which would be worse. He wasn't honourable, nor kind, and far from perfect. But perhaps he could be, on the outside. 

So, he cocked his head to the side, shrugged a little, smiled a little. Didn't quite look Jean in the eye.  

"Father died, you've heard about that. Diluc went to try to save him, but he was too late. I wasn't in the winery at the time, I was out on an expedition - but I came as soon as the messenger told me what was happening. I wasn't with them though - I wasn't with them when he died. And I suppose he hated me for it, seeing that I wasn't by his side when he... when he had to..." Kaeya faltered. 

Jean treaded carefully. "He had to what?" 

Kaeya took a deep breath and flattened his hair against his shoulders. 

"He had to kill Father himself," Kaeya breathed, "to spare him from the pain." 

It was the truth - he hadn't lied, not at all. Just omitted details. Omitted that Diluc hadn't turned from him then and there, that he’d let Kaeya wrap an arm around him and guide him, sobbing, back to the Winery. Omitted that he had held Diluc while he sobbed in his arms, and that his heart had broken when Diluc told him wearily that he was all that he had left. That that was the moment he realised he couldn't lie anymore, that it was all too wrong. 

That it was his truth that turned him away, or rather his lies. Eight years of lies and lies and lies, and Diluc spun into a rage about him using his family, using his father, using him. That he was a user, a manipulator, and that he deserved no mercy.  

That his father didn't die for this.  

Jean stared down into her coffee cup. "He must be broken." She said, numbly. 

Kaeya sighed and looked anywhere but her eyes. "Yeah." 

"But I'm sorry, Kaeya, this isn't about him, you're here with me now, and that probably isn't what you needed to hear." 

Pure, pure Jean. Ever the therapist, trying to comfort him even while digesting the fact that her maybe-too-close-for-a-friend had killed his own father, and probably disappeared from their lives forever. It felt final, devastating, crushing, yet when he looked at her gentle smile caring more about his comfort than allowing herself to grieve, Kaeya thought, once again, that he couldn't possibly keep lying. 

But he's not taking that risk again. 

"I'm alright", he lied. "I'm doing okay. It seems as though since Master Crepus wrote no will, the whole estate has gone to Diluc, so I'm a little hard on my luck right now. I was wondering if I could catch a favour?" He said, sweetly, charmingly, manipulatively. 

Jean's eyes shot up, and her mouth shaped into a little O.  

"I'm sorry, Kaeya, I don't have a spare room here. You can stay, of course, but I can't promise it will be the most comfortable for you-" 

"Jean, I'll sleep on the floor." Kaeya reassured, calmly. "Thank you". 

Jean smiled, though she still seemed worried. 

"At least take the sofa, it will be more comfortable". She recommended. 

However, when Kaeya eyed up the small, two-seater sofa - perhaps it would be better described as a loveseat - and compared it to all six-foot-two of his gangly body, he realised that maybe the floor would be a better option. 

He explained this to Jean. 

"Ah, right." She said. "Well, uh, you can stay out here, if you want, but there's a rug in my bedroom that might be more comfortable but I can't quite get it out here through the hall" 

She looked flustered, and embarrassed, even. Kaeya realised that he might be intruding on her generosity. 

"Thank you. I'll grab a blanket or something from Marjorie's." And then, becoming suddenly aware of his reputation, he felt the burning need to clarify. "Oh, and uh, Jean, just so you know, I'm not here to try anything, I promise. I respect you greatly and I'm a good guy, I promise, and I'd never want to make you-" 

He was cut off by Jean's slight giggle. She was red-faced even at the implication, but she waved him down with her hand. 

"I know, Kaeya." She said, gently. "You're here because you're broken, too, I can see it in your eye." 

Kaeya stopped, at that. Their eyes locked, and Kaeya felt so incredibly small. Whatever new mask he was trying to rebuild for himself fell to the ground, and he felt scared, and open, and seen. 

Jean noticed.  

She spoke again. "And I suppose, now that... now that he's gone... that you're my closest friend". 

Kaeya felt heavy. 

"Yeah, I suppose so." 

*** 

The first day staying at Jean's apartment was uneventful. He'd gone to Marjorie's, like he said, and bought a plush feather blanket with the Mora he was given by Varka. He slept on the rug on the floor of Jean's bedroom, while she fidgeted on the bed at the other side of the room, relentlessly asking - was he comfortable? Did he need water? Was the blanket warm enough? 

Kaeya still didn't quite feel human when he drifted into sleep, but at least he knew he was safe. 

When he woke up, Jean was gone. She's always been one to arrive to work hours before she needed to. When she was promoted to Captain on her nineteenth birthday, there was no celebration like there was for Diluc, but they still presented her with a bouquet of small lamp grass and calla lilies and told her how proud they were of her. And it was true - Kaeya knew she deserved that promotion. If he was honest, he truly believed she'd be the new Grandmaster. 

Regardless, he got ready to head to the Knights for work, only to realise tha t he didn't have his Knights' uniform anymore. It was hung in his wardrobe with the rest of clothes, in the Winery, where he had been told he hadn't dare ever go back. 

He sighed. He supposed he could go to work in his Winery uniform, but it was charred from the fight and splattered with blood (he really should actually check his wounds, he figured), and muddy from the night he spent outdoors. It wouldn't be the best image for the Knights. 

On the other side of the room, however, hung Jean's spare uniform. A black button-up shirt, a white waistcoat with some embellishments, and some thick, woven leggings, though black instead of her usual white. 

She wouldn't mind . He mused to himself. After all, I'm her closest friend.  

After deliberating whether it would be immoral to borrow Jean's clothes while she was being so hospitable in letting him stay with her, and landing on the fact that it would be bullshit to pretend that he could salvage his morality at this point, Kaeya grabbed the uniform and slipped into the bathroom to change - just out of habit. 

Jean was only a few inches shorter than himself, so while the leggings were a little on the short side, he managed to get into her clothes just fine. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror, and faltered for a second. He'd always just dressed the same as Diluc, who had a stocky frame - he'd been muscular from the moment he was old enough to build them, broad-shouldered with a wide waist. So, the boxy Winery uniform had fit Kaeya just fine, but hadn't quite flattered him the way it did his not-quite-brother.  

But Jean's clothes? They clung to his body, accentuated his slender waist and lithe hips, and felt snug and tight and he liked it. And the leggings - well, they showed more than he'd like, but the dark fabric just about covered the contours of his body that he'd rather not have everyone see, and he couldn't help but admit he felt confident . 

Kaeya knew he was attractive. It was why his casual flirting made girls blush, and his charming smile worked to win over whoever he was trying to gain the favour of. But he'd never truly been confident . All of his ministrations had been underpinned with a level of awkwardness that only a truly insecure person could manage, and he never paid more attention to himself than he needed to look good. 

But now? Kaeya felt confident. He felt like the version of himself he'd want to see in the mirror. And it wasn't quite real, but it would do. 

It fit the flirting and the charming smiles and the batting eyes and the level of mystery that came naturally with the distrust he regarded people with at a first encounter. 

He took a deep breath, pulled his boots on, and left the apartment for the Knights of Favonius Headquarters.  

He only managed to make it to the Good Hunter when he bumped into Amber in the town square. 

"Oh, Kaeya, hi!" She said, enthusiastically, "I've been meaning to catch you since yesterday to make sure you were doing okay, and- Archons those pants are way too tight for you!" She squealed, jerking her head to stare at the sky and grimacing. 

Kaeya felt himself flush, and was about to retreat into himself when he stopped himself. No, he remembered, this was who he was now. Brash and bold and cocky and confident. He just needed to act like it. 

"And you're way too young to be noticing that." Kaeya scolded.  

Amber scoffed and looked down, but only low enough to meet his eyes. Which, granted, still required her to crane her neck up. Kaeya had never noticed she was quite so small. 

"Tsch. You're one year older than me. Whatever, pervert." Amber chided. 

"I'm the pervert?" 

"Shut up." 

Amber shook her head. 

"Anyway, I wanted to check that you were doing okay." She said, "You didn't look in the best way when I found you, but Varka said you weren't taking the grievance leave after all. Are you alright?" 

Kaeya put a hand on his hip and smiled, leaning into his hip. He reassured her he was fine, before bidding her farewell and taking confident strides towards the stairs. Amber rushed to catch up with him. 

"Wait, Sir Kaeya!" She called. Sir , he mused, that's a different level of respect to usual . 

Kaeya let her catch up with him. 

"Um, I was wondering, since you mentioned my, um, "field training" yesterday", she said abashedly, swaying slightly, "I was wondering if you could put a good word in with Captain Jean? I, uh, heard you're friends, and I know she's not an Outrider, but, I figured it would be better than nothing". 

Kaeya smiled his charming smile, and reached out to ruffle her hair.  

"Sure," he said, and then gestured at the hair he'd just messed up, "But you won't be made a knight looking that untidy," he said. 

"What?!" Amber yelled, "You did this!" 

Kaeya just chuckled and made his way to Headquarters. 

*** 

When Kaeya arrived at Headquarters, Jean was there to greet him.  

She blanched upon seeing him. "Are those my clothes"? 

Kaeya stretched his arms above his head and hummed in agreement. "Sure. Thought I looked good, sure hope you don't mind, Captain Jean." 

Jean shook her head, though smiling slightly. 

"Not at all. It's... good to see you feeling a bit better, Kaeya." She said, later adding, "I'm taking on the duties of the Cavalry Captain as well as the Dandelion division until a new leader can be found. You're on patrol today - north side of the city, behind the Angel's Share." She grimaced. "That's not... too much to ask, right?"  

Kaeya's heart dropped, but he smiled and said: "Of course not." 

The patrol did, in fact, go fine. As did his next patrol, and his next one. And before he knew it, the day had passed wholly uneventfully, and it was time for him to head back to Jean's apartment for what he assumed would be an uneventful evening, too. 

Jean wasn't there when he got back, either. Another late night for her at work, he assumed. Every night for Jean seemed to be a late night, and every morning seemed to be an early morning. But, then, she'd always been like that. As diligent as ever. 

When Kaeya slumped back on the chair in Jean's foyer, he felt heavy. And for the first time since his Father died, he just let himself feel heavy. He didn't cry, he didn't sleep, he didn't make himself go for a walk or go to work or make idle conversation with people he didn't care about right now. He just let himself be numb. 

He supposed he'd never truly let himself process his grief. Well, better late than never. 

His Father was gone. Wait - adopted Father. He needed to remember that. His real Father had been gone for a long time now. This wasn't the first time Kaeya had lost a family. 

Perhaps that's why he wasn't grieving like people seemed to expect him to. Why he wasn't sat in his bed, crying aloud, spilling to anyone that would listen. Maybe that's why he just felt this bitter, empty numbness. 

Perhaps he'd gotten a bit too used to losing parents. 

He loosely remembered being around eleven, when Master Crepus had taken him to work in the vineyards for the first time. It was dark out, since he'd been busy managing the Winery's affairs all day, so he'd handed Kaeya a lantern and told him to hold it at all times. 

"So I don't lose you," he'd said, with a smile in his eyes. Kaeya remembered feeling warm, in that moment, and not just from the lantern. 

Well, he'd certainly lost him now. 

Kaeya picked at the skin at the side of his fingernails. It hurt, and he liked it.  

He remembered one time when Master Crepus had scolded him for that, telling him that if he was bleeding, he wouldn't be able to help pick grapes. It made Kaeya stop, most of the time, because he loved helping the Ragnvindrs pick grapes - it made him feel like a true part of their home. He also loved reading, and staying up too late with Diluc on the weekends, sneaking into his room to make forts with his sheets and listen to Diluc tell him the best stories he'd heard that day. He'd always ask Kaeya for his stories too, but he was reluctant to tell them - he didn't want to let inspiration from his past or his parents or his homeland slip in, seem a little bit too real, give him away. He didn't talk much, back then, anyway. 

Kaeya wished he'd told Crepus and Diluc so many stories. Not of his past or of his parents or of his homeland, since he'd seen how that panned out, but just the fairytales he'd read in books. They always listened so carefully when he spoke, considering he did it so little as a child. He'd never felt so listened to. 

Kaeya felt his head beginning to ache. The light was starting to hurt his eye. 

He'd never taken off his eyepatch in front of Master Crepus, but he'd also never pressured him to. He'd asked a few times, but Kaeya had panicked, begged him not to touch it, not to see. Crepus had looked concerned, but respected his wish nonetheless. Never insisted on bathing him or coming into his room after the lights were out and Kaeya had taken the patch off for the night.  

All he'd ever reassured Kaeya of, was "I'm sure whatever is underneath is beautiful". 

A tear slipped down from underneath his eyepatch. He brushed it away with his palm. 

He didn't like this. He didn't feel like he could do anything. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bottle of wine that Varka had given him. He'd better keep this one a secret, he figured, lest Varka get in trouble, since he was still only seventeen. He reached out and grabbed it, the neck slender in his hand. 

He pulled himself to his feet to grab a corkscrew from Jean's cabinet, opened the wine, and drank it straight from the bottle. 

The taste was sharper than their regulars at Dawn Winery, with fruity undertones. Kaeya found that he loved it. It reminded him just enough of home - not really home, he scolded himself - without quite stinging his raw, open wounds. And it was strong. He liked that. 

By the time Jean returned home, Kaeya had made it through at least half of the bottle. 

And Jean, selfless and kind and exhausted, helped him sling his arm over her shoulder and let himself be dragged to her bedroom, where she tried to offer up her bed, but he climbed into his makeshift arrangement on the floor. 

Jean sighed, tucked the blanket around his shoulders, and let him grieve in his own, destructive way. 

*** 

It wasn't until two weeks later that they finished the second half of the wine. Jean had returned home from work even later than she usually did, slamming the door behind her when she arrived. Kaeya was jolted from his recline on the sofa, and watched as she stormed her way into the bedroom and slammed that door, too. 

He knocked quietly. 

"Jean?" He whisper-spoke, loud enough to be heard through the door but not loud enough to startle her. "May I come in?" 

There was no answer for a while, but then the door opened, Jean with tears streaming down her face and a look that looked more pained than he had ever seen her. She looked vulnerable. Kaeya felt like he was intruding. 

You are her closest friend , a little voice whispered. 

So he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and guided her to sit on her bed. He wasn't quite sure if it would be appropriate to take a seat next to her, or to return to his pile on the floor, but when he tried to leave, she grabbed him and pulled him back to a spot on the bed that wasn't close enough to touch her, but wasn't far enough to be distant, either. 

Kaeya supposed she really trusted him. 

He waited for her to speak. 

"I guess I'd just been waiting my whole life for it to happen." She said in a choked voice, wiping tears from her face. "From as young as I could remember, I always remembered my father and Barbara getting a little bit further away, a little more distant, every day".  

Kaeya sat and listened quietly.  

"And then, by the time they split, they were barely still together anyway." Her voice was starting to clear slightly, but she still sounded muffled and small. "When he became the Cardinal at the Church of Favonius and Barbara followed in his footsteps, I knew that eventually that distance would be a little too far to cross". 

She took a breath to steady herself. Kaeya waited. 

"Barbara became a deaconess today." 

He couldn't hide his surprise. 

"But she's so young!" 

"She's twelve," Jean replied, "So she's old enough. I guess I always knew she was following in his footsteps, but I think attending the ceremony today really set in stone that we'll never be as close as I hoped we would. And that... that they never truly loved each other, either." 

She leaned back against the wall, letting her head tilt back and staring at the ceiling. There were still tears trickling down her face, but they were silent now. 

Kaeya cleared his throat, and then felt awkward, and instantly regretted doing it, but it was too late now. 

"I'm sorry, Jean," he said, "About Barbara. It must be hard, feeling like you're losing a sister." 

Jean suddenly startled and turned to him. 

"Oh, gods, Kaeya, I didn't even think, I'm so sorry." She exclaimed, looking remorseful. 

Kaeya didn't mind at all. It was apples and oranges, and he hoped he conveyed that well enough. "It's fine," he reassured her, "It's not quite the same." 

"But she's still here." Jean said. 

"But you had to watch her slip away." Kaeya said. 

Jean didn't seem to know how to respond. 

Silently, Kaeya walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the unfinished bottle of wine from a few weeks prior. He grabbed a glass from the kitchen and made his way back over to Jean. He offered the glass to her, and he had to admit his surprise when she took it. He pulled the cork out of the bottle and watched as the red liquid sloshed into her glass. She swirled it in her hand, before bringing it to her lips and tasting it. 

"I don't drink much." She said. 

Kaeya just nodded, and sat back against the bed, pouring his own glass of wine.  

They drank together, quietly, sadly, until the night drew in and Jean fell asleep upright and Kaeya cleaned their glasses and went to sleep on Jean's rug again. 

*** 

In another two weeks, Kaeya got his first paycheck since he left the Winery. 

"I guess this means you can finally get rid of me," Kaeya exclaimed as he swung through the door, sealed envelope with his monthly earnings in hand. 

Jean looked up from the paper she was reading. She put it to the side and smiled. "Perhaps you should spend your earnings on some new clothes, instead. Stop stealing my leggings. It's not been too bad having you around." 

Kaeya sent her a wicked grin. "But I like the leggings". 

"Buy your own, then." 

"Maybe I will." 

*** 

It wasn't until Kaeya's eighteenth birthday that it came apparent that the wine wasn't just an adornment to Kaeya's grief, a necessity in his new life. He'd originally gone for a drink with Jean and some of the knights from the Research Team at the Cat's Tail, but they'd since migrated and now sat around a small table in the corner of the Angel's Share. It was the first time Kaeya had been in here since he left the Winery. He found that it felt an awful lot more small - somewhat suffocating. When they were younger, him and Diluc had managed to hide in a back corner with a small bottle of wine stolen from the cellar that he definitely should not have been drinking at that age, but the bar was too big and too busy for Master Crepus to notice them over the patrons and the music.  

It felt an awful lot smaller now, like there was nowhere to hide. Charles kept catching glances of him over the bar, but Kaeya just turned away and reclined into his chair, resting his legs on an unoccupied seat opposite him.  

The metal rhinestones on his leggings (his own, this time) glittered a little in the lamplight, and he'd braided his hair today, since it was a special occasion. And if he'd started wearing shirts that were a little bit lower cut, and waistcoats that were somehow even tighter, Jean hadn't said anything to him. If she'd noticed the way he lent over the table at the Cat's Tail with his back arched and his voice low to chat to some girls on a night out, she hadn't said anything. If she'd noticed that he needed someone to tell him he was good, beautiful, charming, she hadn't said anything. 

Kaeya hadn't actually told the research team that it was his Birthday. He wasn't quite sure why, but he didn't quite feel like celebrating. 

He was nothing to celebrate, after all.  

But he also knew that he wasn't going to get through this day without a substantial amount of wine, and now that he was finally old enough to get his hands on it legally, the tavern was probably the place to be.  

When he sauntered over to the bar to pick up drinks for his companions, Charles looked him up and down in a manner equally confused and concerned. Kaeya didn't flinch - instead, he rested one elbow on the bar and leaned into his hand, asking what the bartender recommended. 

Charles cleared his throat. 

"Well, we have a new wine cocktail that we brewed up in honour of the Master's passing", he said. Kaeya nearly gagged, but didn't. "It's called a Death After Noon - do you want to try it, Kaeya?" 

What a disgusting name. Kaeya ordered five all the same. 

He slipped back into his seat at the table and handed his drinks over to his companions - Jean, the Captain of the Research Team, his little green-haired assistant who had only been knighted around a month ago (he really should congratulate her for that, he figured), and the man that ran the Alchemy stand in the town square. He didn't know their names, and didn't care, either. It was probably better that way. 

He sipped his drink. It was tangy and sweet and a lot stronger than the wine on its own would be. It reminded him of a time when Master Crepus had returned from a "meeting" in Snezhnaya and brought back some fire-water, given to him as a gift. At sixteen, he wasn't quite sure what it was, other than some kind of vodka, but the bottle had no seal, so he'd slipped a little bit into the wine he'd stolen from the cellar that night. He remembered the burn when it slipped down his throat, and how it kind of hurt, but how he loved it all the same. How the next morning, he'd been incredibly ill, but Diluc had sat with him on the bathroom floor and held his hair and hugged him and told him it would all be over soon, even though he knew that anyway. How Diluc had run downstairs and bitten his tongue and lied - he hated lying, too - to his Father, saying that Kaeya had come down with some sort of fever and the maids shouldn't attend to him today, but that he'd probably caught it already, anyway. How Diluc had sat at the foot of his bed in the dark, since the lights hurt his head, and they'd passed the day just talking - about how amazing it was that Diluc was to become a Captain soon, about how lovely Jean had been when he'd fallen in training the day prior, and, most bitterly, how grateful he was to have a friend as kind as Kaeya. 

Kaeya downed the rest of his glass in one go. 

The green-haired girl across the table looked concerned, but didn't address him. She sipped her drink and looked down at the table. 

Finally , Kaeya mused, someone who knows how to mind their own business.  

He'd have to catch her name. 

The Captain, sat next to him, took his empty glass and stacked his own on top of it. Kaeya looked at him - he had ash blonde hair that fell just in front of his eyes in a way that was beautiful, but Kaeya knew he wouldn't suit himself. The man rested his elbows on the table and spoke to him. 

"You know, you have the most fascinating eyes." He mused, "Or, eye, should I say." 

Kaeya's interest was piqued. 

"Oh?" He said. 

"They're incredibly blue," he said, "and I can't help but notice that the shape is quite striking". 

To an outsider, it may have sounded flirtatious. Well, as flirtatious as one could speak in a voice so distinctly monotone and disinterested. Perhaps, Kaeya should act as his wingman sometime, as the man would certainly not be getting anywhere himself. 

But no, Kaeya knew what he was referring to. The star of Khaenri'ah, branded into his body in his eye, that he'd managed to get this far with nobody ever noticing. Many people had strangely shaped pupils, and he'd assumed that the rest of Mondstadt had just thought little of it. 

Kaeya checked his eyes - no star, but with rings and colours of an alchemy table. Probably related to his fate, Kaeya figured, his constellation. 

But then, how did he know? 

"Who are you?" Kaeya asked, smoothly. 

"You invited me out for drinks." Was the man's blunt response. 

Kaeya sighed, but brushed his hair out of his face in a way that he hoped looked coquettish enough to anyone that may be watching their exchange. It was an easy front. 

"Your name." He requested. 

"Albedo." The man said, "From the Research Team." 

Kaeya took a moment to brush the hair from Albedo's eyes - to which he did not look impressed - and stand from his seat to get himself another drink from the bar. When he stretched, arched his back and held his hands above his head to crack that little joint between his collarbones, he noticed a man at a table to the side of them staring at the curve of his waist. When Kaeya noticed, he sent him a wink, and the man startled and jerked his head back to his table, staring at the wood fervently. 

Kaeya was starting to like this new version of himself. He'd been annoying and flirtatious and charming before, but always in his Brother's shadow. Here, he could shine. 

While he was ordering his next drink, a woman took the stool at the bar next to him, and smiled at him a way that was sweet but just a little bit too sickly and made him uneasy. But he smiled back, charmingly, and ignored the feeling in his stomach that you shouldn't be doing this, this isn't you.   

When Charles handed him his Death After Noon, the woman took it from his hand and took a sip. She batted her eyes up to Kaeya's face and spoke invitingly. 

"Well, I was going to ask you to buy me a drink, but this is sweet enough for me." 

Kaeya swallowed the lump in his throat. The uneasy feeling in his body that said no, don't do this, you don't care about her got pushed aside. After all, Kaeya had always had too busy thoughts to care about more than one person. Now that he was gone, he might as well revel in the benefits of his new life. 

"Though," the woman said, "I'm not quite sure what you're going for, dressed like a girl and looking like an advert from one of those magazines." 

Kaeya's throat went dry. He spoke quietly. 

"Well, I was enough to bring you over here, wasn't I?" 

Jean watched from the table as it all unfolded. Missed the joke that Timaeus told her when she was too busy watching Kaeya take the girl's hand and lead her away from the bar. Only noticed that she hadn't finished her drink when Albedo asked if she was planning to finish it, as she watched Kaeya kiss the girl against the wall. Only realised that she was staring when Sucrose grabbed her elbow and asked if she was okay. 

She was fine, she reassured. Sucrose followed her eyes.  

When she turned back to Jean, Sucrose's eyes were dense with pity. 

"Um, Master Jean," she stuttered, in a way that was far too formal for the occasion, "Um, forgive me for being too, um, forward, and please don't be mad if this is inappropriate, but do you, uh..." She trailed off again, before seemingly finding her words, "Do you love him?" 

Jean hadn't been expecting such a question, but she found that it wasn't hard to answer. 

She shook her head. 

"No." She replied, honestly. But she chewed her lip and maybe it was the alcohol that made her continue. "But I'm a little bit worried that he doesn't love himself, either." 

*** 

Jean had never paid much attention to Kaeya's eyes before. It had been several days since she'd overheard Albedo's conversation with Kaeya, and Jean couldn't help but feel as though there was another meaning to what he had said, another conversation that hadn't been spoken with words. Kaeya was charming and smooth-tongued and bright, but he hadn't seen quite right when he spoke. Nobody else would have noticed that, probably. He probably thought that she didn't either. 

So, for several days, Jean had been sneaking glimpses at his uncovered eye whenever Kaeya and her were resting in the evening. The star was interesting, and in the past, she'd probably have thought it beautiful, but not interesting. Now, it was bothering her. 

When she stopped by the library to drop off the books she'd borrowed this week, she figured she might as well feed into her own curiosity. Not that she'd known where to start, necessarily.  

So, after checking in her booked to the librarian, who waved her away lazily while resting her head on the desk, (Jean wondered why she was so tired all the time, she never actually seemed to do much), Jean found herself at the back of the library, running her fingers across the spines of old books that had probably not been taken from the shelves in years. They were coated in a thick layer of dust, but when she brushed it aside, she could just about make out the rough writing engraved on the spines - Sumeru before the Cataclysm, Decarabian's Legend, The Guili Legacy . It looked, she figured, like she'd found the section on ancient world history, that wasn't relevant to any scholar's studies nowadays in Mondstadt. No wonder they were so dusty, she mused, but she doubted she'd find anything about mysterious eyes here. 

Just as she was about to leave, however, something caught her eye. A book that looked out-of-place on the shelf, absent of the dust coating that adorned the others, with a deep purple cover and golden lettering. She picked it up, tried to read the words on the spine. 

They were in a language she didn't understand. 

And underneath the title, at the base of the spine, was the four-point star that she'd seen in her best friend’s eyes. 

The librarian suddenly turned the corner. Jean startled. 

"Hey cutie," Lisa said, "You need any help all the way back here?" 

Jean shook her head, and fiddled with her ponytail - an old nervous trait she'd never quite gotten rid of. 

"No, uh, thank you, Lisa." She said. 

As Lisa was walking away, though, Jean suddenly realised that this might be the only chance she'd get to ask about the book. 

"Actually!" She called, taking a few steps towards the librarian and waving her back.  

Lisa turned and crossed her arms, sitting into her hips slightly. Jean suddenly felt as if she was asking for forbidden knowledge. She wasn't sure why. 

"Yes?" Lisa prompted. 

Jean took a breath. She held up the book. 

"Do you know what language this is?" She asked. 

Lisa's eyes suddenly narrowed. She took the book from Jeans hands, and examined the cover. On the front was the same star that was on the spine, only this time with eight points, a smaller star behind the larger, with four points each, perhaps. Lisa shook her head, and placed the book under her arm. 

"I'm sorry, Jean," she said, more sincerely than usual, "But I should have moved this into the restricted section long ago."  

Jean was confused. 

"The restricted section?" She questioned, "Why?" 

Lisa looked like she'd just been told something morbid. 

"Nobody is supposed to read this anymore", was all she offered. Then, suddenly, she looked more suspicious than sad, and said: "More interestingly, I didn't think anybody could ."  

Lisa walked away with the book, and Jean was left feeling more confused than when she came.  

*** 

When Kaeya came home that day, Jean couldn't maintain her curiosity anymore. During the day, she was honourable, and kind, and perfect, but at home, she could be real. And she felt like her and Kaeya were starting to be more real around each other. At least, more real than they were outside.  

Jean wished away the thought that maybe her act was becoming as much of a mask as his. 

When he came sauntering through the door - tipsy, she noted, again - she decided that if she didn't ask now, she never would. 

"What is special about your eye?" 

Kaeya stopped dead in his tracks. Jean felt oddly threatened. She cleared her throat and continued. 

"I mean, I hope that didn't come across as rude," she clarified, "But the other day, when Albedo mentioned your eyes, I couldn't help but notice - they are special, aren't they? The star?" 

Kaeya dropped himself onto the sofa, and reclined against the arm. 

"Relax, Jeanie," he said, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the new nickname, "I think he was just marveling at my beauty. He's a scientist, after all - very observational. And, he's pretty. You think I've got a chance?" 

Jean sighed, and moved from the chair to the sofa, to sit beside him. 

"That's not what I meant." She said. 

Kaeya smiled - smirked, even. "But that's all it was." 

Jean found herself to be a rather trusting person. She liked to hold people at her word, even if her position in the Knights meant that she had to doubt outlanders more often than not. She liked, at least, to be able to trust her friends. 

But that ? That was a lie. And she was sure of it. 

She figured that if he refused to answer her question, he at least owed her some information. Something that she'd been curious about for a while now. 

"Kaeya?" She started. 

"Hm?" 

Jean steeled herself. He wouldn't be angry, she knew. He wasn't an angry person. But perhaps the only thing worse than anger was disappointment. 

"Why aren't you a Ragnvindr?" 

Kaeya didn't seem to know how to answer that letting his head fall back over the top of the sofa and chuckling softly, picking at the skin next to his nails again. A few full minutes passed before he let out a long, heavy breath, and turned to Jean. 

"Because my name was the only part of myself I had left to hold on to." He said. 

Jean was surprised at his honesty. She figured, if they were being open, perhaps she could ask for just a little bit more. 

"Are you holding on to anything else?" She asked. 

Kaeya turned away from her suddenly. She saw him rake his hands through his hair when he turned back to her and said, assuredly. "No." 

He got up, then, and sauntered off into the bedroom, brushing past her as he did. He still smelt of alcohol, she noted. 

Alberich , she thought. That's what she had to go off of. 

***  

Another few months passed before Kaeya felt ready to use his vision for the first time. It had been slung around his hip for nearly a year now, and people had asked about it, but never pried. Whenever he was asked about why he didn't use it in battle, he always made some quip about how it would make him too strong, and carried on. 

But today, he was in the fields with the cavalry, riding out towards the Thousand Winds Temple to investigate some abyssal encampments that had apparently set up there. The journey didn't take too long by horseback, but once they arrived they had to dismount due to the precarious state of the ruins. The knights took the dirt path that led to the centre of the ruins, before stopping before a large ring, surrounded by pillars and teeming with caves. Cells? Kaeya wasn't sure. 

But in the distance, he could see a ruin guard, sat in the centre of the ring. He wasn't sure if it was active, but decided that right now, with their limited troupe, it wasn't worth the risk. 

But his decision didn't save them from the danger. 

Suddenly, behind them, three abyss mages appeared out of what seemed like nothing. All pyro, Kaeya noted, how ironic, still out to kill me. He heard one of his men scream. One of the knights towards the back of the group, a woman with auburn hair and whose name he didn't know, was asking if anybody had a vision. 

I have a vision . He thought. He didn't know how to use it. 

But the mages had elemental shields, and he seemed to be the only one with a vision.  

He stood in the centre of the group of knights, as the abyss mages, and a large number of hilichurls who had followed them (it must have been twenty? Thirty? Kaeya couldn't count them all) surrounded the knights. The seven of them were outnumbered, he noted. They didn't seem afraid of their swords, outstretched in all directions. Kaeya was smart - the depth of his skill came from his mind, not his strength. If he could only break the shield of one mage, the others would just attack until it found the strength to get back up again. They were tactical, in that way. He'd need to find a way to take them down all at once. 

Kaeya felt the air around him grow cold. He was scared, very scared, but he couldn't show it. Let the elemental energy flow through your body , he remembered Master Crepus telling Diluc when he was struggling to light a fire in the Hearth one time, the energy comes from all around, not from inside you.  

The air grew colder. 

"Group around me!" Kaeya cried. The knights obeyed him, since they didn't know who else to follow. 

Suddenly, the air around them crystallised, bursting into sharp crags of pure ice that whipped through the air around them, bludgeoning the hilichurls and striking the mages out of the air. They spun around the group like some sort of wretched carousel, some glacial waltz, and whipped the blood from those they had hit into the night sky. 

Kaeya focussed harder. The storm grew stronger. 

He drew his sword and thrust it towards the mages. He felt the energy before he saw it, coursing through his veins, and erupting from the tip of his sword in a shot of piercing icicles that froze the air before him and pinned the abyss mage to the ground, slicing through its body. He watched as blood pooled from where the ice pierced its body, watched as it writhed in pain until it couldn't anymore.  

He let the whirlwind die for just long enough for him to order the knights to leave. He thrust up a wall of ice - like that day , his mind chimed in - and ushered them to run while the barrier was in place to shield them from the mages. 

He took out the other two mages with relative ease. He wondered if fighting with a vision always came so naturally. 

Finally, it was just the hilichurls left before him. He drew his sword, threatening, and they stumbled back. He should kill them, he knew, but the thought made him sick somehow.  

Choose a side , the voice in his head screamed at him. Choose, you coward.  

He knew little about the fate of his homeland, but he knew about the curse. He knew about his people, how they were devolved to these creatures - monsters - by the wrath of the abyss, or perhaps some unknown God. He wasn't sure how it happened. He'd become desensitised to it over the years. When he was first training with the knights, at age fifteen, they'd made him storm a hilichurl camp. All of its inhabitants were slain. He remembered staggering to the nearest bush and gagging until there was nothing left in his body when he saw their remains. He remembered convincing his fellow knights that he had the stomach flu. He remembers them helping to carry him home. 

These hilichurls are frightened, and his knights are safe. 

I can't. He told the voice in his head. I can't choose, not yet.  

So he lowered his sword, took a step towards the hilichurls, puffed out his chest, and bellowed with the most powerful voice he could muster. 

"Yeye biyaba suma haniupa, eleka!" He called, voice commanding. You leave this place, now! He hadn't used this tongue in a long, long time. It felt powerful. 

The hilichurls stopped still and stood, staring at him as though enraptured. 

"Eleka!" He reasserted, broadening his shoulders and looking down upon them, like bugs, or perhaps, like subjects. Now.  

The hilichurl at the front of the pack made some sort of strange gesture - maybe a dance? - before falling to one knee. 

"Lawa." It called.  

"Lawa." The hilichurls behind it echoed. 

And then, as he'd commanded, they abandoned the camp, scurrying off into different directions and vanishing into the undergrowth.  

Kaeya turned on his heels and left to regroup with his troupe. The feathered cape he'd bought from Marjorie's the day earlier billowed in the wind behind him, regally. 

Lawa , he thought to himself, I've not heard that before.  

Perhaps he'd need to break into the restricted section of the library more often. 

*** 

When he returned to the Headquarters, Varka was waiting to see him. As soon as he strode through the doors, he was pulled into the Grandmaster's office. Varka took a seat at his desk. Kaeya sat opposite him. In the corner was one of the knights from his mission that day. 

Kaeya smirked, relaxing into the chair a little. 

"Am I correct to assume that this isn't because I've done something wrong, this time?" He asked, smugly. 

Varka laughed, before looking at him in a way that was a little bit too authoritative and a little bit too serious. 

"You saved my men from a massacre, Kaeya," he said. "You have my deepest gratitude". 

Kaeya felt like more was coming. This was far too formal, far too serious, far too big. 

"But you risked your life - that was thoughtless." Varka continued.  

"I wasn't going to die." Kaeya drawled. 

"I know." Varka said. "You're far too selfish for that." 

If only you knew. Kaeya thought. What he said, was... 

"Why am I here, Grandmaster?" 

Varka sighed, as if he was about to say something difficult. He probably was, Kaeya figured. Kaeya was a difficult man, after all. Nothing was ever simple when it came to him. 

"What you did today displayed loyalty to the knights above all else, and the authority of a true leader," Varka said. Kaeya didn't like where this was going. "The Cavalry has been without a Captain for nearly a year now. Jean can't possibly keep managing two divisions on her own. We need a man who can lead." 

Kaeya was prepared for what came next. 

"Kaeya," said Varka, "I want you to be the Cavalry Captain." 

Kaeya didn't even have the strength to say that he was honoured. 

"No." Was all he said. 

Varka looked shocked, as though he'd never had a knight turn down a promotion before. 

"May I ask why?" He queried, disappointment evident in his voice. 

Because I am no replacement, the voice in Kaeya's mind said, because I am not his shadow.  

"Because I don't think that I am the right person to take on that role, and I don't want to" Was what he said instead, matter-of-factly. "Why, is that not the reason all people turn things down?" 

Varka just sighed, told him very well, and offered Kaeya a substantial bonus for his bravery instead. 

He didn't turn that down. 

At least he'd be able to finally buy an apartment with the raise. 

*** 

Kaeya did buy himself a place. Towards the south of the town, a bit east of Jean's, and a bit north of that strange Witch with the seal on her door. He hoped she caused him no bother. 

It was nice to have a place to himself, but it felt awfully empty to be on his own, for the first time in years.  

You deserve to be alone, said the voice, you did this to yourself.  

He decorated scarcely. Don't pretend you deserve comfort.  

His nights were far more uneventful, without Jean. He went to the tavern more, just to do something. 

Just to feel something. He shut the voice up with another Death After Noon. 

And every night, when he slept, he felt a little bit colder than before. 

*** 

"It's at the Winery," Jean said, while handing him the documentation for the mission, "Is that okay?" 

It had been a whole year now since Kaeya had left. Well, left was a generous word. Since he'd been threatened to never return. 

He supposed he couldn't avoid the entirety of South Mondstadt forever. 

"Oh, a trip back home? Why, how could I say no? I've heard they hired some new maids, recently. Perhaps I'm of the age to catch their attention, now?" 

Jean sighed, and sent him away. 

So that's how he found himself at the doors of Dawn Winery, speaking to some new maid called Hillie as she explained the recent influx of slimes that had been terrorising their vineyards. 

He took them out quickly. Less than half an hour's job. 

But of course, Adelinde had to come running out of the manor to express her gratitude for the knight who had saved their crops. And she had to blanche when she noticed that it was him. And her expression had to fall and her arms had to drop and she had to stare, silently, at the changed man before her, in a feathered cape and a shirt that was cut just a little bit too low and clothes that were a little bit too tight, who smiled the same but didn't have the same glimmer in his eye anymore. 

And she had to invite him inside for tea, and to tell him to gather some of his old things. 

The tea passed easily enough. How had he been? Fine. Where had he been? In Mondstadt, working for the Knights. Was he happy? Yes, he was happy. 

No, he was not.  

And when he went upstairs to gather some of his old clothes, his books (he hoped nobody had opened them and seen the messy Khaenri'ahn scrawl in the margins), his ornaments, he couldn't help but notice that before he left, Diluc had left the door to his room slightly ajar.  

And of course, he couldn't stop himself from slipping inside. 

It still smelled of cedarwood and small lamp grass, still as comforting as the warmth of a crackling fire. He let his body melt into the nostalgia, a little bit. Let himself feel like he was supposed to be here, like it was one of the days that Diluc had work and he didn't, and that he was waiting in his room for him to come home. Lying across his chair so that he didn't have to miss him. Reading his books, admiring his paintings, breathing his air. 

He wasn't here anymore, but Kaeya still found himself sauntering into the room, about to let himself rest in the velvet red chair in the corner.  

Before something on the bed caught his attention. 

There, in the sheets, glowing red and warm as ever, was Diluc's pyro vision. Still in its casing, as if torn directly from his clothes. Glowing bright and true. 

He's alive. Was the first thing that Kaeya thought. A vision only fades when its owner dies, he knew. That meant it was alive. 

The second thing the thought was, why didn't he take this with him?  

Against all logic, he swiped the vision from the bed and slid it into his pocket. The warmth against his thigh was comforting, and real, and it made him want to cry. 

And then, abandoning his quest to retrieve his own belongings, he strode down the hall to his father's study. 

Why didn't Diluc take his vision? He thought. Was he going to face something that somehow would make having a vision too dangerous? The beast that killed his father? 

No, Kaeya thought, the beast died.  

But how did his father kill it? 

Kaeya opened the door. 

The study was exactly the same as he remembered it. Master Crepus was a messy man, and there were still papers strewn across the desk, the floor, the cabinet. 

Kaeya sifted through them all, and found nothing. 

He began to search the drawers of the desk, the cabinet, the chest in the corner of the room. He found nothing. 

Until he noticed that the top drawer of his father's mahogany sideboard was locked. 

Kaeya wasn't sure why, but his heart was pounding in his chest. His search was frantic, and he still wasn't quite sure what compelled him to do this. He shook the drawer until the lock gave way (and made a panicked mental note to make sure that his locks back home were better), and paled at what he saw inside. 

A stack of letters - there must have been a hundred - addressed to Crepus Ragnvindr, from Snezhnaya, with the sender listed as Fatui HQ. 

Brighella, the first one read, You have done well.  

The Knave has warned us that one of her children stationed in Sumeru has caught the sightings of a beast. It is violent, and untamed. It ripped through a village without even seeming to tire.  

The Doctor won't tell us what he knows about it. I know, he's exhausting, and I've done all I can to get him to speak. He won't.  

But he's convinced that it's coming for you.  

Prepare your Delusion. Keep your son safe.  

I cannot get there in time, but am sending you my thoughts. Be powerful.  

Sincerely,  

Pierro.  

Underneath the letter was a small, ornate box. Kaeya opened it. It was empty. 

Prepare your Delusion, Kaeya thought. 

His father was with the Fatui.  

He stopped breathing for a moment, and then started again. He felt like he was crying, but there were no tears. He thrust the letter back into the drawer, slammed it shut, and bolted from the manor. 

His father hadn't died to an unexpected attack from a hideous beast. He was no hero for shutting it down. He was with the Fatui, and had a Delusion. Did that make him a higher-up? Kaeya wasn't sure. He didn't know if he wanted to know. But he did, because he was angry.  

That beast didn't kill his father. Diluc didn't kill his father. His Delusion did. 

Brighella, Brighella, Brighella, who was that? 

His father had died because he was with the Fatui. Because some beast sought, what, revenge? Kaeya didn't know. His father had died because he was a rat, undercover, living a double life. Manipulating all of those around him to believe he was some pacifistic, kind businessman. He had ruined Kaeya's life because he was a liar, a spy, a traitor. 

A liar. 

Kaeya ran as far as he could away from the winery, and screamed into the wind until his lungs were raw. 

*** 

In the next few weeks, Kaeya felt himself soften, slightly. He finally had a response to the voices that plagued his mind, beating him down every time he almost felt happy. 

You're a liar. But not the only one. 

You're a spy. But not the only one. 

You're a traitor. But not the only one. 

Perhaps having Diluc's vision with him made him a little bit warmer, too. A little bit more mellow. When he drank his Death After Noon, it went down a little bit easier. It felt less like the wretched hangover he'd gotten from the fire-water, and more like the soft buzz he'd had when he and Diluc took a picnic to the Barbatos statue for their lunch break when they were sixteen, and he'd pulled out the little flask of dandelion wine he'd secretly poured in the morning, and Diluc had asked if he would ever change, and then told him not to. When he tied his hair in the morning, it felt a little bit less painful, and a little bit more like the time that Diluc had taught him how to use a ribbon to put his red, red hair in that high ponytail of his. And when he leaned across the tables at the bar, and caught the girls staring at him in the square, and winked at the man at the Good Hunter who'd looked to a little too long when he bent down to pick up the napkin he dropped, he felt a little bit less guilty, because Diluc had always told him that he should be less insecure.  

And when he kissed the girls at the bar, he felt a little bit less sick for being manipulative. Because he wasn't the only one.  

And when he told them pretty lies, like I love you , and I promise , he felt a little bit less like he deserved to die. Because his father didn't deserve to die, either. 

And when he saw Jean at the headquarters, he finally felt like he could talk to her, a little bit more. About his not-quite-brother from his not-quite-family who he never quite let himself be loved by, but now felt a little less guilty about that.  

When he brought her lunch on a particularly busy day, he arranged her sandwiches into four triangles and put them in a line, and told her that that was the way he had liked them the most. 

When he joined her expedition into the cliffs of the Brightcrown Mountains, he'd told her to fight back-to-back with him, cover his weak spots, because that is how he had liked to fight the most. 

And on the second anniversary of her Captainhood, he'd given her a bouquet of small lamp grass, because that is what he would have wanted her to have. 

There were no calla lilies in it this time. 

For some reason, he thought Jean looked at him with pity. 

*** 

Around a month later, Varka said that he was leaving on an expedition to Snezhnaya, and that no, Kaeya could not come. That he was taking all of the horses, and most of the cavalry, and some of the cartographers and foot soldiers. But no, Kaeya could not come. 

"Protect Mondstadt." He'd been told. 

He was kind of hoping for a trip to Snezhnaya to tear the throats out of some Fatui, but oh well. 

*** 

Jean was declared the Acting Grandmaster the day after Varka's expedition left. 

The first thing she did was knight Amber, the Outrider. She beamed at Kaeya during the ceremony, who sent her a wink, and gave her a coupon for the Good Hunter at the end of the day. 

The second thing she did was declare Windblume a national holiday. Kaeya had seen the stack of romance novels in her bookshelf, but had chosen not to say anything. Who'd have known she was really such a romantic? 

The third thing she did was call Kaeya into her office. 

He sat to face her, the same as he did with Grandmaster Varka, to have the same conversation as he did with Grandmaster Varka. 

"Grandmaster Jean!" He grinned as he settled himself on his side of the desk. He smiled, though his charm was sincere this time. "Congratulations." 

Jean flushed and looked away. "It's nothing," she said, "Just more work to do, if anything." 

Kaeya rolled his eyes, which made her giggle a bit. 

"Well, I should add that I'm honoured, really." She added, "It's truly a blessing to be entrusted with the protection Mondstadt. Maybe one day, I'll truly get the chance to be like her..." 

"Vanessa?" 

"Yeah". 

They sat in silence for a moment, before Jean cleared her throat. 

"Do you know why you're here?" She asked, knowing that with his sharp intuition, he had probably predicted this conversation anyway. 

"You're asking me to lead." Kaeya affirmed. 

"The Cavalry," Jean clarified, "The Dandelion foot division is still under my command, and I think I can handle it." 

Kaeya stayed quiet for a moment, and then said... 

"You know what I said to Varka." 

Jean nodded. "I know, but it's different this time." 

Kaeya was skeptical. "How?"  

Jean suddenly looked at him in a way that made him feel like she was looking beyond the mask. 

"Because I'm asking you as Kaeya Alberich, not Kaeya Ragnvindr." 

Kaeya was briefly stunned to silence, but found his voice again. 

"I can't lead. Not Mondstadt." He said, voice cracking a little "I'm..." a liar, a spy, a traitor, "not who you think I am." He settled on. 

Jean stood up from her chair, which made him feel inclined to stand too. She made her way over to him, and met his eyes with conviction. 

He was actually somewhat nervous. 

"You're hiding some secrets," she said to Kaeya, "in your eyes, in your past. Who you are. I'm not naive, Kaeya. I've... investigated that myself. But I couldn't find anything out, and I won't, Kaeya, until you feel ready to tell me."  

Kaeya held his breath. She looked briefly at the floor before meeting his eyes again. 

"You've spent the last year-and-a-half getting your act together, but..." she said, and placed her hand on his heart, "I know who you are in here, and that's someone I would trust to protect me, to protect Mondstadt, time, and time, and time again."  

She took one last breath. 

"So please, as a knight, and as my best friend," she said. "Lead with me." 

And then she hugged him, and Kaeya's head fell into the crook of her neck. And if a single tear fell from his eye, well, nobody needed to know. 

"If you insist." He said. 

*** 

Jean swung by Kaeya's apartment that night to deliver him some documentation he'd need to review now that he was the Cavalry Captain. Kaeya thanked her with some flowers - calla lilies, this time - and they settled on the awkward wooden chairs in his lounge to make arrangements for his new management of the division.  

The ceremony would be tomorrow afternoon, at midday. He'd walk out of the Headquarters with Jean, and there would be fanfare, and he would face the people of Mondstadt as their newest Captain. 

And, Jean offered, her right-hand man. 

Second in command of Mondstadt. That was something he'd never quite thought he'd be. 

Perhaps, if he thought about his life in a more wicked way, he could applaud himself for doing an excellent job as a spy. He'd managed to sweet-talk the de-facto ruler of Mondstadt, gain her trust, her favour, and wrangle himself not only into Captainhood, but into the role of her most trusted advisor. Her right-hand. There was no better position he could possibly be in to gather intel, to adapt, and to perhaps, someday, usurp. 

He suddenly became hyper aware of the vision in his pocket, burning into his thigh. 

A spy, but not the only one. 

A liar, but not the only one. 

He breathed deeply. 

A leader, but not the only one, trusted by the citizens of Mondstadt. Honourable, kind, perfect.  

He didn't believe it, not yet, but maybe one day he would. 

Jean seemed to notice him grabbing the outside of his pocket, resting his hand against the cloth. 

"What do you have there?" She asked, teasingly. 

He was glad they'd gotten this comfortable with each other. 

Sighing, Kaeya pulled the vision from his pocket, and put it on the table between them. Jean's eyes lit up, and he wasn't sure if it was the light from the vision reflecting off of her face, or if she was genuinely glowing. 

"Is that...?" She whispered. 

Kaeya smiled, softly, warmly, and it was real this time.  

He gave a breathy laugh. "Yeah." 

"You kept it." Jean said. 

"After he left, yeah." Kaeya said, "For a while I didn't even know that he'd left it behind." 

Jean picked up the vision and cupped it in her hands, staring at it as if in awe. 

She was as beautiful as his brother had said. Not Kaeya's type of beautiful, but he could see why she was his. It made him want to ask the question he'd been putting off asking for over a year now, even though it made a grotesque lump form in his throat, for a reason he didn't know. 

But he had to know. 

"Did you love him?"  

Jean nearly dropped the vision in her hand. She blushed furiously, and couldn't look him in the eyes. That told Kaeya everything he needed to know. He'd seen Jean stare wistfully at her romance novels sometimes, when she thought of her parents, and he knew that she wondered if one day, in some universe, that could be her. 

He felt almost angry that her chance may have been taken away. 

"I..." Jean stammered, embarrassed.  

Kaeya didn't want her to feel ashamed.  

"I... maybe" she managed, eventually. Kaeya felt odd parts happy and relieved and ill. "I definitely could have." She finished. 

They sat, not speaking, in a manner that was neither awkward nor comfortable. Until Jean spoke again. 

"Did... did you?" She asked. 

"What?" Kaeya suddenly felt very uncomfortable. 

"Love him?" 

Kaeya didn't know what to say. No , he should say, of course not. Diluc was the closest thing that he'd ever had to family, he supposed. He was warm and bright and made him feel happy. But that's what family did, right? That's why there was small lamp grass in the vase on his sideboard, and that he'd burned some incense that smelt like cedarwood, and when Diluc slipped into his room to hold him close when he'd woken up screaming from his nightmares, he thought that he might just want to stay right there forever. 

That was why he'd held onto his vision all this time, right? 

All he managed to say was, "He was my brother." 

Jean smiled sadly. 

"Maybe, to the world who saw Kaeya Ragnvindr." She said. "What was he to you?" 

And Kaeya didn't know how to answer that. He thought of his dreams of telling Diluc his secret under the stars, of laying himself bare, of maybe letting someone trust him (love him?) finally, for who he was. He thought of the uneasiness he would feel when Diluc would muse about Jean, how she was so honourable, so kind, so perfect, even though he agreed. He thought of how soft his hair was, when he let him braid it one summer. Because when they'd sat at the dinner table with their father, he'd always felt like a guest. A wanted guest, a loved guest. But he always knew that he didn't quite deserve to belong. 

"That's immoral," he told Jean, "That's disgusting." 

He stood up from his chair and stumbled his way into his bedroom, knowing that Jean would follow. He shoved his head in his hands and tugged at the strands of hair that had slipped from his ponytail throughout the day.  

Jean stood in the doorway. 

"Since when have you cared about morals?" She asked. 

Liar, spy, traitor . She wasn't wrong. 

"When you go the bar, in those clothes that you wear, you love the attention." She says, voice oddly rough for someone stating something so calmly, "From the women, sure, but from the men, too." She adds. 

Kaeya laughed, in a way that he thought sounded sane enough. Probably not. 

"I'm bisexual, Jean," he said, "That tends to happen." 

"That's not what I mean and you know it." 

Kaeya pried his head from his hands and looked at her. When she realised he wasn't going to say anything, she carried on. 

"What I'm trying to say is... I think you like the attention... because you miss it. You're trying to make do." 

Kaeya knew, deep within himself, that she was probably right. But he also felt sick. And wrong. And disgusting. And he also couldn't help but wonder... 

"Why do you care?" 

Jean finally made her way over, and took a seat on the bed next to him. 

She touched his arm, lightly. 

"Because I think," She said, carefully, "That we're more similar than you think we are." 

And Kaeya didn't want to cry. He hoped he wasn't crying. He'd cried far too many tears in the last year-and-a-half. 

He slung his arm around Jean's shoulders and held her in way that meant she wouldn't quite be able to turn and look into his eyes. 

And for the first time in a long, long time, he admitted defeat. 

"And if I was?" He rasped, disappointed in nobody but himself, "Would you think I was wrong? Disgusting? Somehow even more fucked up than I already am?" 

Jean was quiet for a moment, and then said, "He was beautiful, wasn't he?" 

To which Kaeya replied, with the last of his breath, "Yeah." 

"And Kaeya?" She said, "You're the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius. You can't have fucked up too badly." 

Kaeya released her shoulders, so that she could turn towards him again. He laughed, quietly, as if only for himself to hear. 

"Yeah." He said once. "Yeah," he said again as if to convince himself. And then - "and you're the Grandmaster." 

Jean smiled at him. "Yeah." She echoed. 

And Jean slept on the floor of his apartment, for old time's sake perhaps, or maybe to show that, somehow, they'd ended up in this together. 

*** 

At the ceremony, the next day, when Kaeya strode out of the Knights of Favonius headquarters to the sound of a grand fanfare and the chorus of the citizens of Mondstadt flooding into the town square, he felt good. 

A little bit empty, and a little bit guilty, and a little bit like a fraud. But still good. 

And when the banners swung around him, and the people cheered, he felt like maybe he could find a place here, still, after all. 

And when Jean walked up to her podium, he managed to catch her eyes, and they felt powerful, together. 

And when Jean spoke to the city of Mondstadt, and with her most powerful voice introduced him as a Captain to the people... Well, maybe he'd even say he felt proud. 

"May Lord Barbatos protect Cavalry Captain Kaeya!" She declared, and the people did too. 

And Kaeya couldn't help but feel like maybe he had, and maybe he would. 

For as long as he stayed in Mondstadt. 

For as long as he never had to choose.