Work Text:
Prince of Nothing
He used to have it all. A home, a family, a future. A bed to sleep in and a reason to wake up.
Kaeya lets out a shuddering breath. Dragging his worn-out soles through the forest, he wonders how much time has passed since he was last held. He was only seventeen when his life was upended, still secretly seeking the comfort of his mother’s embrace in the wake of a nightmare.
And now, here he is. Fleeing mortals and their hounds lest they hunt down all that remains of Khaenri’ah.
If only they could succeed. If only their blades could tear him apart like they say they will and rid him of his curse. But alas, the gods had other plans for Kaeya when they brought the end of his country, punishing their quest for knowledge in a one-sided war.
He has been seventeen for far longer than he should.
Spring is his last hope.
As he nears the pale pink light playing through the foliage – his guiding star in a sea of thorns – Kaeya comes to a halt, bracing himself for disappointment. He’s spent so long looking for Spring, sourcing its warmth from extinguished campfires and plucking its pink buds in meadows, yet each time, the petals melt into ashes before they can lead him to their dawn, and the fire fizzles out under his shadow.
He shivers in his coat. Closes it upon his chest, but the cold that seizes him comes from within. It pulses along his heartbeats, waves of frost streaming in his veins. All around him, the trees bare their branches little by little, proof of his passage.
He resumes his journey with a forlorn sigh, avoiding the decay he sows through the forest as if by doing so, he could fix it all.
“Please,” he breathes, his hands shaking as he reaches for the vines that cover his exit. “Let this be it…”
He’s not sure who he’s praying to. The gods are not exactly on his side.
Still, someone out there must have heard him.
The vine in his hand remains intact.
Kaeya breaks into a smile. Then, the years of grueling search come crashing down like a curtain call. His vision blurs, and his body gives out under this exhaustion only the immortal can know.
The last thing he remembers as he hits the ground is a shadow bending over him.
He wakes up somewhere pink.
Flowers on the windowsill greet him first thing. Some glow, some breathe, some dance to an imaginary music. None wither.
It’s been so long since he’s seen alive blossoms.
Where is he? What is this place that smells like a garden in bloom?
The door opens. A young stranger pushes it with his back, carrying a wooden basin filled with water, and blankets underneath. When he sees Kaeya, he flinches.
“You’re awake!” He exclaims, spinning around, then clumsily puts the basin on a stool. “I found you passed out in the forest. How are you doing? Can you speak? You look exhausted – what happened to you?”
So many questions… Kaeya’s head pounds in pain, his ears whistling. Everything is so bright, every corner of this room buzzing with life and colors, it’s blinding him. Even the stranger is all rosy cheeks and vibrant red hair, his eyes gleaming like rubies. Could it really be him – the remedy to Kaeya’s curse?
“You must be disoriented,” he continues, apologetic. He twists his hands together, fidgeting with the drapes of his toga. “Um… You don’t have to speak. I brought some water to clean your wounds, and a few blankets – you’re deathly cold.”
Suddenly aware of his bare chest, Kaeya drags the sheets over his shoulders as blood rushes to his face. He finds it in him to nod, but he hasn’t spoken to anyone in… how long has it been? “Thank you,” he says, his voice hoarse from lack of use. How shameful. He hates the sound of it. For a while, he practiced speaking to himself, afraid to forget speech in this cursed immortality. But silence echoed his loneliness, so he eventually stopped. “Where am I?”
“The Spring Realm! I’m Diluc,” he introduces himself. “Where do you come from? You were mumbling something in your sleep, but I couldn’t quite catch it. Oh!” He puts his hands over his mouth, his eyes widening. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching you sleep or anything! I just… I wanted to make sure you were alright. Do you need anything?”
Kaeya manages to croak out the word ‘water’, and Diluc is already scurrying to get him a glass.
He’s never tasted water this good. Crystalline and almost sweet. He could cry from it. While he downs his glass, Diluc tries to sit on the stool, only to knock the basin over himself. He lets out a yelp, watching in horror as the puddle seeps through the planks, but all Kaeya can see is his body through the drenched toga.
The nubs on his chest look like little cherries.
Kaeya chokes on his water.
“My wooden floor!” Diluc whines. He runs to fetch a towel, then mops up the floor to mitigate the damage while Kaeya resists his barest instincts to stare at his minuscule breasts. Whatever Diluc’s gender is, it’s doing something to him. Something oddly…
Warm.
“I’m a mess, I’m so sorry!” Diluc babbles. Kaeya can’t look at him. All he sees is nipples. “I’ll get you another—”
“I’m fine,” Kaeya finally replies. “And I’m ready to answer your questions.”
There, Diluc settles down at last. “Let me help,” he offers already, and the word squeezes around Kaeya’s heart like the embrace he longs for. “What’s your name?”
“Kaeya,” he says. It tastes like ashes. “I’m the last survivor of my country.” He shows his hands, with his nails blue from the cold. Some things are worse than death.
Diluc reaches for his hands, gently holding them. At the contact, a lump lodges in Kaeya’s throat; it’s the closest thing to affection he’s received in decades, and he is so desperately starved. “Eternal winter,” Diluc guesses. For a moment, Kaeya forgets the cold.
He weakly nods, his heart plummeting as Diluc lets go. “I need something to break the curse. Spring beats Winter, so I thought…”
Diluc’s toga is no longer wet. His eyes are shining as he says: “I am Spring.”
The last word resonates tenfold. Flowers grow by the windowsill, in the vases, along the vines that cover the door frame. They bloom in every color, a feast for the eyes.
Kaeya sighs in pure admiration. Before he can think better of it, he’s smiling.
Spring.
One day, Kaeya decided to leave the ruined boy behind and keep walking. No matter how much he craved abandonment, believing himself undeserving of salvation, he hoped, and hoped, and hoped some more, until it took roots in his heart and shielded it from his demons.
And all these efforts have culminated into this boy who puts the sun to shame.
“Please, help me,” Kaeya murmurs, his voice breaking. “I don’t know who else to go to… I’ll do anything if—if you can make the cold stop.”
Diluc considers him quietly. He squirms, the gesture making the mattress shift. “Anything?”
“ Anything . I’ll devote my life to it. Please ,” Kaeya repeats, swallowing his tears.
Diluc looks away. His cheeks are red as poppies. “I only want one thing.”
“What is it?” Kaeya insists. Whatever the answer, he knows he can do it – or trick Diluc into thinking he can. He’s never been below lying to get what he wants.
But what Diluc asks for is something Kaeya could never lie about, if only because he wants the same thing.
“A friend.”
Prince of Everything
It’s a heavy burden, to be the bearer of all things new. The rebirth of the world, the light that melts the ice to reveal the burgeon underneath.
Ever since Diluc was born, it’s all he remembers. From his youngest age, deers would rest next to his cradle, yearning for the warmth of his presence while nursing their babies, and as soon as he learned how to waddle on two feet to follow their fawns, flowers bloomed along his steps.
He doesn’t know how he came to be. Doesn’t have parents or a family like most living things do.
One day, he simply opened his eyes, nestled in a giant rose, and that was it.
He’s had time, since then, to question the reason for his existence. Who made him? Why does he look the way he does – so alike humans yet too different to be called one?
Was he ever wanted?
Centuries have passed, and he still doesn’t have the answers.
But he knows who he is.
He is Spring.
And he was all alone until Kaeya came along.
For the past century, Diluc’s only visitors were the animals he befriended, then their offspring, and the offspring of their offspring. Sometimes they come to say hello, play, or show him their babies. Other times, they beg him to put them down, when they’re too tired to go on.
Meanwhile, humans rarely dare to explore the forest. Back when he was a child, he could sneak into their village to play with the little ones, but now, even though he’s not an adult yet, he is too old to pass his gaucheness for child-like confusion.
How does one befriend a human?
He sighs, glancing toward the bedroom door. Kaeya has barely left it during the past month. If he ever ventures into the house, it’s because he needs to bathe or relieve himself, and when Diluc is in the garden. Though Diluc makes sure to stay outside as much as he can to make him comfortable, he worries as the food supplies in the kitchen barely deplete.
What should he do?
As he stares out the window, a bird lands on the windowsill, dropping a berry next to him. Thank you,” he says after kissing her head, gratefully eating the gift.
And then, he stares back at the door.
For the first basket, Diluc chooses cheese, berries, and bread that he baked himself. It’s not much, but he doesn’t know what Kaeya likes yet, and he doesn’t want to overwhelm him.
To perfect his gift, he adds a handwritten note – humans put a lot of value in little things. His cheeks burn as he wills his hand to shape the letters; he hasn’t held a pen in forever, so his handwriting must look awful.
At night, he leaves the basket near Kaeya’s bedroom then heads to his own.
The next day, the basket is empty.
Kaeya’s favorite fruits are raspberries and peaches. He likes wine (why?!), water with lemon inside, and tea, but never touches grape juice (ridiculous!).
Diluc has stopped counting the days since the first basket. He never got an answer from Kaeya, and rarely sees him, yet he can’t help but grin every time he finds another empty basket. Even the note is gone. When he thinks about the pile of notes Kaeya must have kept, his heart flutters like a hummingbird.
After two weeks, Diluc gets his first answer, written in beautiful penmanship.
Thank you.
Diluc has never been so excited to go to sleep. Every morning grants him a new reply from Kaeya, and he devours his words like it’s his last supper on earth.
Did you bake the bread yourself?
It tasted amazing.
Thank you! I did!
Do you want me to bake you anything?
I don’t want to be a bother.
You already do so much for me.
It’s no bother! I enjoy baking.
You’re sweet.
Do you know how to make chocolate-chip cookies?
What’s chocolate? Where can I find it?
It’s so good. Sweet and creamy, with a deep flavor. You’d love it.
Back home, we imported it from Natlaan.
You could ask the birds if they know anything.
How do you know I talk to the birds?
Have you been watching me?
The next day, Diluc stalks a shadow through the window, staring at him.
He can almost glimpse a smile.
Maybe…
Little steps are still steps forward.
First, Kaeya looks through the window.
Then, he opens it, and smiles when Diluc beams at him.
And finally, he comes out of the house.
Storms are rare in the Spring Realm, but when they do strike, they strike hard .
Diluc wakes up to a violent wind howling into the corridor. They must have forgotten a window open. Fearing for his trinkets, he rushes to close it, but the sound he hears in the newfound silence has nothing to do with rain.
His breath catches. Gently, he knocks on Kaeya’s door, flinching as the crying stops. At the risk of upsetting him, he opens the door anyway, but he wasn’t ready for the sight of Kaeya in tears.
His heart squeezes in distress. He can’t stand to see him suffer.
Without a word, Diluc slips into Kaeya’s bed and cuddles him. “I’m here,” he says, and he tries not to cry as Kaeya hugs him back, his sobs doubling down.
Later, he learns the gods took Kaeya’s mother on a stormy night.
Home is where the heart is.
Though Kaeya enjoys the Spring Realm, it’s not his home yet. His gaze lingers somewhere only he can see, a gaping void left by missing bricks in a house.
Sometimes, the brick is a grave.
Diluc has made countless graves before for the generations of animals he’s buried. However, he’s never made one for a human. A part of him is afraid he will offend Kaeya, but it’s worth a try. After all, everyone deserves dignity in death.
He builds the grave next to the rose he was born into. It’s just a few stones piled together with a wreath of calla lilies, but it feels adequate anyway, to share the closest thing he has to a mother, dead since long, with Kaeya’s.
When he shows it to him, Kaeya takes his hand.
They sit in silence next to both mothers. Kaeya doesn’t cry this time, but the harrowing sorrow is still there, pulsing along his heartbeats, bleeding through their joined hands.
“You know,” Kaeya starts, and though his voice is heavy with grief, there’s some relief that soothes its edges. “For my tenth birthday, my mother built me a swing. I would play on it for hours.
“The day the gods killed her, everything burned in the fire – the castle, the bodies inside, the stables, the gardens. But the swing was intact. It felt like another punishment.”
Diluc scoots closer to Kaeya. He goes as far as resting his head on Kaeya’s shoulder, but it’s the furthest he dares. “I could build you one,” he offers.
Kaeya thinks for a moment. Gently, his thumb rubs slow circles against Diluc’s hand. It’s almost scandalous. “I would love that.”
Diluc grins.
He’s not good with words, but it’s another story with his hands.
Diluc has never seen a swing before. However, thanks to Kaeya, he manages to recreate one that they tie to the tallest oak in their garden.
By the time it’s done, Kaeya is able to dress down and even stay barefoot, and his nails have returned to their normal color.
“Alright, it’s done,” Diluc announces, nearly jumping in anticipation. “How do we play?”
To demonstrate, Kaeya sits on the plank, holding the rope on each side of it, and he pushes on his feet. The swing moves back and forth, creating a soft breeze that ruffles Diluc’s toga.
“Like this,” Kaeya says. He scoots to the edge of the swing, then pats the empty space next to him. “Do you want to try it?”
He doesn’t need to ask twice. Diluc flops on the plank so hard, even the tree seems to whine. A few leaves float down while he flails, and to help him catch his balance, Kaeya wraps an arm around his waist, bending forward so Diluc can hold onto him. When they’re finally stable, Kaeya can’t stop laughing, and Diluc’s breath catches.
He’s never heard Kaeya laugh before.
It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever witnessed.
“You’re so cute,” Kaeya says, his grip tightening around Diluc’s waist.
Diluc’s heart lurches at the contact. Why is he feeling so hot, suddenly? What is this ache between his legs that throbs whenever Kaeya touches him, or when he sees his naked back?
He exhales ever so slowly, then swallows.
Sometimes, he can’t help but stare at his neck and wish to press his lips to it.
“Are you ready?” Kaeya calls him, meeting his gaze. His one seeing eye is so blue, Diluc can’t look away.
Still, he nuzzles closer, sinking into Kaeya’s embrace – seeking more of his touch. He grins. “Ready.”
He’s buzzing with excitement as Kaeya gets the swing going. His heart sways alongside it, and he yelps as they pick up speed, gripping Kaeya’s shirt. But as the seconds go by, Diluc finds himself laughing gleefully, kicking his feet the higher up they go. The wind is in his hair, combing through his red curls like the mother he never had, and each time they reach the highest point, he sees his garden in a new light. The birds that made a nest near his chimney, a cat lazing around on the balcony. There’s a whole world above the ground.
By the time the swing stops, their laughs fizzle out, replaced by a sated silence.
He feels Kaeya’s tears before he sees them. Like translucent pearls, they glide down from his cheeks to Diluc’s.
Diluc presses his palm to Kaeya’s heart.
There is no more cold.
He’s not sure why, but he starts crying too. Be it the happiness that they finally broke the curse, or his love for Kaeya swelling tenfold as he kisses Diluc, there’s no shortage of reasons.
“Welcome home, Kaeya.”