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Chapter Text

The courtyard smelled faintly of soap and lilac water.

The sun was already low, casting a burnt-gold hue over the cobbled paths and rows of rose bushes. Adelinde stood beside a wide wooden tub, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her apron streaked with suds. She watched, with a barely hidden wince, as the new maid fumbled with the linens, wringing them incorrectly and splashing water everywhere.

“No, no—stop,” Adelinde said, exasperated but not cruel. “Fold it first, and then you wring. You’re soaking it, not drowning it.”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss Adelinde,” the maid stammered, her face pink. She tried to correct her grip and dropped the sheet entirely into the grass.

Adelinde sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’ve been over this—these linens are Mondstadt’s finest. They’re not rags for scrubbing tavern floors. Try again.”

The girl bent down to retrieve the sheet, muttering apologies.

She looked toward the treeline. The wind rustled the leaves gently. Another quiet evening, she supposed.

Then—

Something moved.

A figure. Barely visible through the fading light. Staggering. Limping.

Her brows furrowed.

“Is that—?” she muttered under her breath, shading her eyes.

The figure stumbled again. The shape of him was odd, his gait disjointed and slow. Like a drunkard—no, worse. He wasn’t walking. He was dragging himself forward.

She stepped forward cautiously. “You there! This is private property—state your business!”

No answer.

And then—

Then she saw it.

Red.

Not just red.

His red.

Her stomach dropped.

No.

No, it couldn’t—

The figure took one more step forward.

And collapsed.

Face-first into the grass.

Adelinde’s scream tore from her throat before her mind had even caught up.

“DILUC!!”

She ran. Her legs were too slow. Her heart was already ahead of her, breaking before she hit the ground. She tripped on the flagstones, barely caught herself, and skidded to her knees beside the crumpled figure.

“No—nonono— Diluc —” she gasped, her hands already on him, turning him over with trembling fingers. “Oh, my Archons—my boy—my sweet boy—”

His body was warm, too warm. His face was barely recognizable—blood caked down his temple from a gash that split his forehead nearly to the brow. His lip was torn, his skin pale beneath the filth and blood. His stomach… oh, gods.

She clamped a hand over her mouth.

“ No, no, no— ”

His abdomen was torn open. Not a clean wound—ragged, as if torn by claws or shrapnel. Blood soaked through the waistband of the boxers that were the only thing he wore. His right arm hung at a grotesque angle. One hand was mangled—his finger barely attached by a strip of skin. Bruises bloomed dark and ugly across his ribs. His chest rose shallowly, too shallowly.

“ ELZER!! ” she screamed, voice cracking. “ELZER, COME HERE!!”

Her voice echoed across the estate like thunder. Windows opened. Doors slammed.

But she didn’t wait. She cupped his face with both hands, sobbing openly now. “Please—please, Diluc—wake up, please—don’t do this to me—not like this—Barbatos, please—”

“Adelinde—!”

Elzer arrived, panting, skidding to a stop. He froze. His eyes locked onto the broken body at her feet.

He went white. “Is that—oh gods—”

“Yes, it’s him!” she snapped, shaking, cradling Diluc’s bloodied head against her apron. “Don’t just stand there! Help me!! ”

More maids and footmen poured into the courtyard. Some gasped. One screamed. Adelinde whirled on them, eyes blazing, grief-sharpened.

“Don’t you dare stand there like fools—GET HIM INSIDE!” she bellowed. “MOVE!!”

Elzer dropped to his knees, already lifting Diluc under the shoulders. “Carefully—carefully—don’t move his arm—”

A butler, younger and wide-eyed, stepped in to help. Between them, they lifted him—slow, steady—blood dripping from his side with every movement.

Adelinde stumbled to her feet and followed, hand over her heart, her prayers muttered between sobs.

“Barbatos, please—bring him back to me—I don’t care what he’s done—he’s mine, he’s mine— ”

They brought him through the great doors of the manor. Every servant stopped what they were doing to watch. Whispers followed them like ghosts. Adelinde didn’t hear a word. Her eyes never left Diluc.

When they reached the second floor, the door to his bedroom swung open without a creak.

The room was untouched. Dustless. Preserved. As if waiting.

They laid him on the bed—on pristine, pale-blue sheets. Now ruined with red.

Adelinde collapsed beside him.

His hair—his once-long, vibrant hair—was hacked short, uneven. Matted with blood. His body was so thin, too thin. What had they done to him?

“Don’t die,” she whispered, clutching his limp hand between hers. “Don’t die, my love. I raised you—I fed you, bathed you—I kissed your scraped knees—I stayed up when you had fevers—don’t leave me like this, please…”

Her head dropped to his chest. His heartbeat was faint, but there.

“Call the Cathedral!” she screamed over her shoulder. “NOW!”

A maid scrambled out of the room.

“And get Kaeya— now! ”

Elzer touched her shoulder gently. “He… he looks bad.”

“He is bad,” she snapped. Then her voice broke again. “I don’t care if he’s bleeding on the carpet. I don’t care if he’s half-dead. He’s home. He’s home, Elzer. My boy’s home.”

She kissed his bloodied knuckles. “I told him to come back. I told him I’d wait. I waited. Four years. I waited.”

Elzer said nothing. Just sat beside her. Holding her shoulder. Holding her up.

Around them, the room filled with servants—some crying, some stunned into silence.

But all Adelinde saw was the boy she once carried, who once laughed loud and wild in the courtyard, now broken and bleeding in her arms.

The moment was broken by the thunder of boots against the hardwood floor.

The door burst open.

Healers.

Four of them, dressed in the robes of the Cathedral. Their faces paled the second they saw the bed. The young ones halted in the doorway, gasping, while the older woman at the front—a seasoned medic with silver streaking her hair—took one sharp look and muttered, “ Barbatos preserve us. ”

“Is that—” one of the younger healers whispered. “Is that the Ragnvindr—?”

“It’s Diluc, ” Adelinde snapped, not looking up. “ My boy.”

The older healer stepped forward. Her face went stiff with something like recognition. “I knew his father. Lord Crepus… We worked together during the old flood season.”

Adelinde didn’t care. Didn’t even blink.

The woman cleared her throat, gently. “Lady Adelinde… we need you to step out so we can work.”

“What?”

The word barely sounded like her voice.

“Just for a moment. We need space, and calm. Please,” she said kindly. “You’ll only be in the way—”

“ In the way? ” Adelinde rose like a tempest, hands shaking. Her apron soaked in Diluc’s blood. “You want me to leave? You want me to walk out on him now? After four years? When he’s finally back?”

“Ma’am, it’s for his safety—”

“ NO! ” she shrieked, lunging forward. “You will not touch him without me here! He is my son—I raised him—I held him when he had nightmares and now you want me to leave him—”

The healers startled back.

“Adelinde—” Elzer’s voice cut in, hoarse.

She turned on him next, wild. “Don’t you dare, Elzer—don’t you dare ask me to move—I just got him back—I just —!”

“I know, ” he said, stepping forward. “I know. But they need to help him.”

One of the younger healers flinched as blood dripped from the bed to the floor.

“If we wait any longer,” the older healer said, firmer now, “we’ll lose him.”

“I will not leave him again! ” Adelinde howled. “Do you hear me? I WILL NOT —”

Elzer caught her from behind.

It wasn’t gentle. It couldn’t be.

He wrapped both arms around her shoulders and yanked her back. She thrashed violently, screaming, feet scraping the polished floor, heels slamming into the rug.

“ Let me GO! ”

“I can’t, ” Elzer whispered through clenched teeth, dragging her toward the couch just outside the room. “You have to let them save him, Addy— please. ”

She kicked him in the shin. Scratched down his arm with her nails. Hit his chest with a closed fist again and again, sobbing like an open wound. But Elzer only held her tighter, lowering them both to the couch. His arms caged her in as she collapsed against him.

“He’s dying—Elzer— he’s dying! ”

“He’s not, ” Elzer said, breath shaky, eyes red. “He’s not going to die. He’s too damn stubborn.”

“You didn’t see him—he was so cold—I couldn’t wake him up—his hand—his stomach—”

“I know. I know.” He pulled her head against his chest and held her as she cried—loud, raw, shattering. The kind of grief that split the quiet of the manor like glass cracking underfoot.

Adelinde never cried.

Not when Lord Crepus screamed at her.

Not when Kaeya arrived, unannounced, in the arms of a stranger.

Not when Diluc ran away.

But now she wept so hard the sound shook the chandelier.

The doors to the manor burst open again.

This time, it was not the clatter of medics.

It was Kaeya.

He was panting. Breathless. Shirt clinging to his chest with sweat. Eyes wide, wild, panicked.

He didn’t even speak—he just looked around with terror until his eyes landed on her.

“ Adelinde? ” His voice cracked as he sprinted toward her. “Is it true? Tell me it’s not a joke— tell me it’s true! ”

She didn’t say anything. She just got up and ran to him.

She threw her arms around him with such force that he staggered backward two steps.

“ Kaeya— ” she whispered, breath caught in her throat, hands trembling as she cupped his face like she used to when he was a child waking from nightmares. “ He’s home. My sweet boy. He’s really home. ”

Kaeya’s face went completely still.

Like a clockwork mechanism halting mid-turn.

“Home…?”

She nodded, smiling through her tears. “He’s alive. He came back to us.”

Kaeya swayed.

He didn’t feel the tears when they came. He didn’t notice how hard he was shaking.

“I—” His voice failed.

Adelinde wrapped her arms around him again. Held him as tightly as she could. “I know, I know. It’s too much. It’s too much, I know. ”

Elzer stepped over and gently guided them both back toward the couch.

Kaeya didn’t sit. He collapsed.

Adelinde held his head against her shoulder as he wept silently. The kind of tears he hadn’t shed in years—hot and terrified and childlike.

Elzer sat across from them, his face drawn.

“I should’ve written you sooner,” he said, quietly. “He only just got here. Maybe ten minutes ago. We didn’t even see him come up the road—he was walking. Limping. Like a ghost. Then he just… fell.”

Kaeya looked up, eyes glassy. “How bad?”

Elzer hesitated.

“ How bad, Elzer? ”

The butler swallowed.

“His stomach’s torn open. We think it was claws. His head’s split. His hand—his finger was nearly off. He’s got internal bleeding. Bruises all over. Arm broken in two places. Too thin. Hair hacked off. Wasn’t even wearing clothes. Just… just boxers. And blood. So much blood.”

Kaeya lurched forward suddenly, slapping a hand to his mouth.

Adelinde pulled him in before he could fall.

Kaeya dry-heaved but didn’t vomit. He just sat there, shaking violently.

Adelinde stroked his hair. “He’s here. He’s here, Kaeya. You’re not alone anymore.”

“But why? ” Kaeya choked. “Why now? Why like this? What happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Elzer said, voice heavy with sorrow. “But I think whatever it was… he barely survived it.”

Outside the bedroom, they could hear the muffled urgency of healers shouting instructions. The rustle of robes. The clatter of instruments. The unmistakable, awful sound of blood hitting the floor.

Adelinde looked toward the door. Her hand gripped Kaeya’s tightly.

The clock struck seven .

The bedroom door opened.

Adelinde was already on her feet.

The healers exited slowly—one by one—faces grim, hands soaked to the wrists, stained red beneath their gloves. The youngest couldn’t meet her eyes. The middle-aged man behind her looked pale and haunted. And the woman—the eldest, the one who had spoken first—walked out last, jaw clenched tight, posture rigid.

Adelinde nearly knocked over a side table as she rushed forward.

“ What happened? ” Her voice cracked like thunder. “*What’s wrong—what did you do— what happened to him? ”

Kaeya stood right behind her. His hands were cold and clenched so tight they trembled.

The eldest healer took a long breath. Held it. Then exhaled through her nose like she’d been preparing herself for this moment all her life.

“He’s stable,” she said.

Adelinde blinked.

“…Stable?” Kaeya echoed.

The healer nodded. “Alive. For now.”

A rush of air left Adelinde’s lungs. Her knees nearly buckled. “He’s…?”

“But barely, ” the healer continued, holding up a hand. “Don’t misunderstand. He’s alive because we forced him to be. He’s breathing only through magical assistance. His lungs have nearly collapsed. And his heart… it’s barely beating.”

Kaeya’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“We don’t know how he got here,” the woman went on. “We don’t know how he was walking. Truthfully, he shouldn’t have made it to the front gate. He shouldn’t have made it out of wherever he came from. He shouldn’t have lived through last night. But he did.”

Adelinde’s fists curled at her sides.

“We can’t promise you anything,” the healer said, softly now. “You should understand that. He’s not stable in the way you’re hoping. We’ve stopped the bleeding. We’ve set the bones. We’ve kept him alive—for now. But we don’t know if he’ll stay that way. We’ve done everything we can.”

“…That’s not good enough,” Adelinde whispered, voice shaking.

“It’s all we can give,” the healer replied. “We’ll return in four hours to check for signs of organ failure. But if something changes, call us immediately. And if you have anything left to say to him…”

She trailed off.

Kaeya flinched.

“…Say it now.”

Adelinde surged forward.

Elzer stepped in and grabbed her wrist.

“ Adelinde. ”

“ I will kill them, ” she hissed through her teeth. “How dare they—how dare they talk like he’s already—!”

Elzer shook his head. “They’re telling the truth. That’s all. They’re not giving up. They’re giving you time.”

Adelinde’s chest rose and fell rapidly. Her lip curled. She didn’t move.

The healer gave a polite, shallow nod, then turned and led the others out.

The door closed behind them. The silence they left in their wake was unbearable.

Kaeya stood frozen at the doorway.

He hadn’t even looked inside yet.

Adelinde didn’t wait.

She stormed in, feet slamming the floorboards, and then—

She stopped.

Her heart nearly stopped with her.

Elzer moved to follow, but paused at Kaeya’s side.

Kaeya stood rooted in place, eyes glassy and distant, as though afraid to look. Afraid that if he saw what lay in that room, he would crumble entirely.

“Elzer,” Adelinde said hoarsely from within, “bring him.”

Kaeya didn’t move.

“She means you,” Elzer murmured, placing a gentle hand on Kaeya’s back. “Come on.”

“…I can’t,” Kaeya whispered. “I… I can’t see him like that.”

“You have to,” Elzer said. “He came home. You don’t get to look away.”

It was cruel.

But it worked.

Kaeya stepped forward.

One foot.

Then another.

He walked into the room.

And the breath was punched from his lungs.

It didn’t look like Diluc lying there.

Not really.

His face was pale—almost blue. His lips cracked and bloodless. His body nearly swallowed by the weight of the sheets and blankets piled on him, trying desperately to keep him warm. Tubes threaded in and out of his veins. His chest barely moved under the pressure of the enchantments keeping him breathing. A sigil pulsed faintly against his ribcage, a direct anchor to magic that had replaced his lungs.

His hair was chopped and matted. His forehead was bandaged. His mouth was swollen. One hand wrapped in splints and cloth. The other… hanging limp, still streaked in dried blood. The machine beside the bed beeped slowly—once every few seconds.

Kaeya stared at him.

“…Oh gods,” he whispered. “He’s…”

“Don’t,” Adelinde snapped.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Diluc’s bandaged hand in both of hers, rocking slightly.

“Don’t say it,” she begged. “Don’t you dare say it.”

Kaeya moved forward like a puppet on strings. He fell to his knees at the foot of the bed, hands limp on his thighs. His throat tightened. His vision swam.

“He’s not—he’s not really here. He’s not— that’s not him, ” Kaeya whispered.

Adelinde turned, her eyes red, hollow.

“Don’t you recognize him?” she said softly. “That’s your brother.”

Kaeya didn’t respond.

Elzer entered at last, walking to Adelinde’s side and rubbing her back in slow circles.

She leaned into his hand, eyes never leaving Diluc’s face.

“…He’s going to be fine,” she whispered. “He’s stubborn. So stubborn. He’ll come back. He always does.”

No one responded.

“I used to have to force him to take naps, you know,” she said to no one in particular. “He’d stay up reading, or climbing trees, or dragging Kaeya to the lake even when I told him no. And now look at him. Look at this stubborn, beautiful boy. Can’t even open his eyes.”

Kaeya closed his own.

Adelinde bent forward, resting her forehead against Diluc’s hand.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare leave me now.”

A long silence.

She swallowed and lifted her head slightly.

“I raised you. I watched you take your first steps in this manor. I heard your first word—mama.”

Kaeya opened his eyes again, but said nothing.

Adelinde clutched Diluc’s hand tighter.

“You’ve been gone four years. And I prayed every day you’d come back. I left your room untouched. I made tea for you on your birthday just in case. And now here you are. So don’t—don’t you leave now. Don’t die on me. You hear me? You don’t get to come back and then leave again. I won’t survive it. ”

Her voice cracked at the last line, and she bit her lip until it bled.

Kaeya finally stood.

He walked forward and looked down at his brother.

“…Why?” he whispered. “Why did you come back like this? Why not sooner?”

He reached out a hand—hesitated—then laid it gently on Diluc’s shin through the blankets.

“You idiot,” Kaeya choked. “You absolute idiot.”

Elzer sat beside Adelinde.

He said nothing.

Just placed a hand on her trembling shoulder and let her lean against him as the morning light crept across the bloodstained floor.

It had been two days .

Kaeya hadn’t left.

Not once.

Adelinde hadn’t asked him to stay. She had demanded it. Grabbed his wrist and said “You are not leaving this house. Not until I say so.” And there was no arguing with her—not when her voice sounded like it had been scraped raw by grief.

So Kaeya stayed.

He slept on the couch. Or pretended to. Mostly, he just sat. Listened to the ticking of the old clock. Watched Adelinde walk in and out of Diluc’s room every hour. Sometimes she went in with tea. Sometimes with a cloth and warm water to wipe his brow. Sometimes with a story she whispered like a prayer. Sometimes, she came out crying.

Kaeya never asked.

Elzer brought meals that no one touched. Nurses came in shifts, silent as ghosts. The house had become a grave, and Diluc its centerpiece.

Then the third morning came.

Kaeya stood quietly by the doorway, arms folded, watching the nurse do her routine. She was young—barely twenty by the look of her—but careful, methodical. She hummed a little under her breath as she rewrapped Diluc’s bandaged forehead.

Kaeya stared at his brother.

He looked the same as always now.

Still.

Empty.

Gone.

Then—

The nurse froze.

Kaeya blinked.

“…What?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

He stepped forward just as she whispered:

“His eyes…”

Kaeya’s stomach twisted. He rounded the edge of the bed.

Diluc’s eyes were open .

Wide. Red.

But there was no glow. No light.

No recognition.

Just… blankness.

Like staring into glass.

The nurse’s breath caught in her throat.

“He… he shouldn’t—he’s not supposed to be conscious,” she whispered. “He’s not—”

“What the fuck is going on?” Kaeya snapped, taking another step forward. “Is this normal?!”

“I don’t—he was in a deep coma—he can’t —”

Diluc’s eyes moved.

Slowly.

Unnaturally.

They slid across the room like they were searching for something—but still unfocused. Kaeya stepped closer, heart pounding.

“Diluc…?” he said, voice barely a breath. “Hey—hey, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

The nurse pulled a penlight from her pocket with shaking fingers and leaned forward, flashing it once.

No response.

The pupils didn’t dilate.

Not even a twitch.

But then—

Diluc’s eyes locked on her.

Not slowly.

Sharply.

Kaeya’s heart nearly stopped.

The expression that twisted across Diluc’s face was inhuman.

Hatred. Pure, primal hatred.

His brow creased. His lip curled. His whole body, still wrapped in gauze and splints, trembled.

The nurse stepped back, suddenly afraid.

“Sir—please—”

Diluc moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

He sat up as if he’d never been injured.

Tubes snapped. The IV line tore free. Blood splattered across the sheets.

Kaeya shouted, lunging forward.

“ Diluc! Stop—wait—!”

But Diluc grabbed the nurse.

One hand around her neck.

He slammed her into the mattress and screamed in her face, a sound so raw it didn’t even sound like his voice anymore.

“ You think I don’t see you?! You think I don’t KNOW who you are?! ” he bellowed. “You’re not a nurse! You’re him! You’re Dottore! ”

“Sir—please—!”

“ SHUT UP! ”

He slammed her head into the bedframe once—twice—three times.

Kaeya could barely process it.

Blood was already on her temple.

Diluc was screaming.

“ YOU CAN’T FOOL ME ANYMORE! You think I don’t see the mask?! You think I don’t feel it?! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!*”

Kaeya finally moved.

He launched forward and grabbed Diluc’s shoulders, yanking him off the nurse.

“ STOP IT! DILUC—STOP!”

Diluc turned on him like a wild animal.

He shrieked .

His hands flew to Kaeya’s hair, yanking hard— ripping .

“ LET GO OF ME!! ” he howled. “ YOU’RE IN ON IT TOO, AREN’T YOU?! YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW?! ”

“ It’s me! ” Kaeya yelled. “It’s Kaeya! Look at me! LOOK AT ME!”

But Diluc didn’t see him.

Didn’t hear him.

There was no recognition in his eyes. Just blind terror. Rage. Madness.

Two nurses burst in. Adelinde and Elzer behind them, faces pale.

“ DO SOMETHING! ” Kaeya roared. “He’s hurting people—he’s hurting himself! ”

One of Diluc’s fists connected with Kaeya’s jaw, sending him reeling.

He hit the wall hard—vision spinning—collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Blood trickled down his temple.

Diluc staggered back, clutching his ribs, his broken arm swinging uselessly at his side.

“You bastards! ” he screamed, spitting foam. “You fucking monsters—how many times do I have to die before you leave me alone?! ”

Adelinde stepped forward, tears already flowing.

“ Diluc, please—”

He turned on her too.

His whole body shaking.

“ Don’t call me that! ” he choked. “That’s not my name! That’s not— he’s dead. That boy is DEAD. You killed him—ALL OF YOU—!”

And then—

He began to shake.

Violently.

His knees gave out.

His eyes rolled back, white swallowing red.

And he collapsed.

Adelinde screamed.

Kaeya crawled forward on hands and knees.

Elzer was already grabbing Diluc’s shoulders, trying to stop the bleeding again, shouting for the nurses.

Adelinde collapsed beside him.

“No— no—NO! ” she sobbed. “Don’t do this—don’t you DARE do this again!”

Kaeya pressed a trembling hand to his brother’s cheek.

It was ice cold.

He stared at the empty face. The still chest. The reopened wounds.

And whispered:

“…What did they do to you?”

The room was chaos.

Blood smeared the white linens. Gauze hung like shredded paper. A nurse was sobbing quietly against the wall, her face bruised and shaking from where she’d been thrown. The others scrambled for supplies—sutures, new IV bags, sedatives. Elzer barked orders, his voice trembling beneath the forced steadiness.

And Adelinde—

Adelinde knelt beside Diluc’s body like a woman possessed.

“No, no, no— no! ” Her fingers trembled as they hovered just above his cheek. “ Don’t do this to me, not again, not again— ”

“He’s still breathing,” one nurse said quickly, kneeling beside her. “Pulse is shallow but there. Stay back—please—we have to sedate him now—”

“No!” Adelinde snarled, grabbing the nurse’s sleeve. “Don’t touch him. You’ve done enough!”

Kaeya pulled himself upright, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. His legs ached. His head pounded.

His chest—felt like it was cracking open.

He walked forward, slowly.

Adelinde was whispering something now. Rocking slightly, her hand pressed over Diluc’s heart, as if to keep it going by touch alone.

“…You’re okay, my boy. You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I’m here. I’m here, sweetheart…”

Kaeya knelt beside her.

His voice came out rough, low. “He… he thought she was Dottore. The nurse. He said—he said they were tricking him.”

Adelinde’s eyes never left Diluc’s face.

“They did trick him,” she whispered. “Whoever they were—whatever they did—they broke him. They broke my boy.”

Elzer returned with another nurse. This one looked older, calmer. She gently approached, carrying a new mask and a vial of clear liquid.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, voice soft but firm. “We have to sedate him. He’s torn his sutures. He’ll bleed out again if we don’t act now. ”

Adelinde opened her mouth to argue—but Elzer knelt down and touched her shoulder.

“Let them,” he murmured. “Please. Let them help him.”

“…You better, ” she said hoarsely, turning to the nurse with burning eyes. “You better not hurt him again. You better not so much as breathe wrong near him.”

The nurse nodded solemnly.

They worked fast. Kaeya sat silently, watching them reattach the IVs, thread new gauze over the ruined bandages. They placed the mask over Diluc’s face. The steady beep of the heart monitor returned—slow, but present.

Kaeya didn’t realize he was crying again until the salt hit his lips.

Adelinde turned to him.

Her voice was shaking. “He thought you were part of it.”

“…I know.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“I know that too.”

“And yet—you’re here.”

Kaeya blinked hard, staring at the floor.

“I don’t care if he tried to kill me,” he whispered. “I don’t care if he never remembers me again. I just want him to live.”

Adelinde reached for him suddenly—hugged him so hard he could barely breathe. He collapsed into her, hands gripping the back of her blouse, finally letting the sobs shake his body.

“You’re the only brother he has,” she murmured. “Even if he doesn’t remember that right now. Even if he hates you. He’s still your family.”

“He’s all I had, ” Kaeya choked. “And I thought—I thought he was gone. I buried him, Adelinde. In my heart, I buried him.”

“I know.”

They stayed like that for a long time.

Eventually, Elzer spoke from behind them.

“The nurse is going to stay in the hall,” he said quietly. “We’ll rotate only the most trusted staff. No strangers. He doesn’t need more fear.”

Adelinde nodded, gently pulling away from Kaeya to look at him.

“You saw his face,” she said, eyes red. “That wasn’t rage. That was terror. ”

“I know,” Kaeya whispered. “I saw.”

“He’s not safe, Kaeya. He doesn’t feel safe. Not even in his own home. Not even with us.”

Kaeya rubbed his face. His hands were shaking again. “Then we have to make him feel safe again.”

There was silence.

Then Adelinde looked up at Elzer. Her voice cracked like glass.

“I don’t want to leave his side,” she whispered. “I want to be here when he wakes again. I have to be here.”

Elzer gave a short nod. “I’ll bring blankets. And food.”

Kaeya exhaled shakily.

“I’ll stay too.”

Adelinde looked over at him.

She reached out and took his hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You—he needs you. Even if he doesn’t know it.”

Kaeya looked at Diluc’s face again. So pale. So still. Yet stained with dried blood and sweat and madness.

He whispered, almost too soft to hear

“…Come back to me, brother.”

2 months.

The sun hadn’t risen yet when Elzer walked into Diluc’s room, expecting another quiet morning of chart-checking and monitor-listening. Two nurses were changing the dressings on his abdomen, speaking softly, when one of them froze.

“Elzer,” she said.

He turned around. “What?”

The younger nurse was staring down at Diluc with wide eyes. “He’s looking at me.”

Elzer’s throat tightened. He stepped closer.

“Sir?” the older nurse asked gently. “Diluc?”

Diluc blinked slowly.

His pupils were dilated—responsive. His eyes, no longer dull and distant, flicked between the two women. His gaze was groggy, unfocused, but awake .

“My gods…” Elzer whispered. Then louder, stronger— “ Adelinde! Kaeya! ”

Footsteps thundered through the manor within seconds.

Adelinde burst through the door first, Kaeya right behind her, still in sleeping clothes and half a boot on. She looked like she’d aged five years in two months—and she had. But the moment she saw him, truly saw him—

Diluc’s eyes widened just a little. Recognition didn’t fully form—but his head turned.

“ Diluc, ” Adelinde gasped, hand flying to her chest. She took two shaky steps forward, then covered her mouth as tears welled up. “ Sweetheart— you’re— you’re awake! ”

Kaeya stood frozen at the foot of the bed, eyes wide.

“Is he really—?” he asked hoarsely.

“He’s tracking movement,” said the older nurse. “Pupils dilate. He’s conscious. And that—” she tilted her head as Diluc weakly turned his face away when she brought a cup of water toward him “—is an annoyingly stubborn refusal to drink.”

“I don’t wan’ …” Diluc mumbled, voice rough, dragging. “M’fine. Don’… don’ need… ” His mouth twisted, as if forming words took effort, his lips not quite catching up to his thoughts. “’s jus’ water.”

Adelinde leaned forward, kneeling beside the bed. “You need it,” she whispered, tears already rolling freely down her cheeks. “You’ve been asleep for two months, Diluc. Two months. You almost died. ”

Diluc groaned, throat thick and gravelly. “I… I didn’t, ” he muttered slowly, slurring. His consonants tangled. “’M fine. E’rythin’s okay…”

Kaeya blinked hard and stepped closer. “He’s talking like—like he’s drunk,” he muttered.

Elzer frowned and turned to the nurses. “Why’s he slurring like that? His voice sounds… strange.”

The younger nurse hesitated. “There may be… residual trauma. Swelling. Possible concussion-related effects. Aphasia’s not out of the question, but… it could also just be muscle fatigue from disuse. We’ll know more in time.”

Diluc scowled weakly. “ ’M not… concussssed,” he slurred, rolling the “s” too long. He tried to sit up again, propping himself up with one arm—but immediately winced. His shoulders shook. “Jus’ tired, ‘kay? Stop lookin’ at me like I’m—like I’m…”

“Like you almost bled out in my arms?” Adelinde snapped. “Like I had to pray to Barbatos every hour of every night just to keep you alive? ” Her voice cracked. “I’m allowed to look at you however I damn please, young man. ”

Diluc blinked slowly.

“…’s jus’ drama,” he mumbled. “Too loud…”

Adelinde let out a shaky laugh—one that turned into a sob halfway through. She reached up and touched his face, gently brushing hair from his forehead. “There you are,” she whispered. “My stubborn, impossible boy.”

Kaeya stepped up to the side of the bed and sat down slowly near Diluc’s feet.

“Can you talk?” he asked softly, his voice gentler than it had been in years. “Really talk, I mean.”

Diluc turned his head toward him—his eyes unfocused, but trying. He was quiet for a few seconds.

“…I’m talkin’ now,” he grumbled, but his slurring was more pronounced now, almost childlike. “Y’don’ listen, as usual…”

That voice.

That voice was unmistakably his, but not how they remembered it. It was deeper, roughened by disuse, and—there it was—faintly colored by his old accent. The one he’d lost as he grew older, trained out of him through formality and discipline. But now it curled around his vowels like an old scarf—familiar, worn, and deeply painful to hear.

Kaeya let out a breath.

“…Your voice,” he said. “It’s—your old voice.”

Diluc blinked at him again. “…Wha’s wrong with it?”

Adelinde smiled through her tears, even as her hands trembled. “Nothing. Not a thing. You just sound like you did when you were little.”

Elzer placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her.

The nurse leaned in again. “Can you drink, sir?” she asked gently. “Please. Just a sip.”

Diluc hesitated. Then, finally, nodded.

She brought the cup to his lips, and this time he didn’t pull away. Water dribbled down his chin as he swallowed messily—but he drank.

Adelinde was crying again. Silently. Her hand curled around his, as if he might disappear if she didn’t hold on.

“You scared me,” she whispered. “You scared all of us. I thought I lost you, Diluc. I thought I lost you. ”

Diluc opened his mouth to answer—but his eyelids fluttered.

“‘M jus’ tired,” he slurred. “Really tired…”

The nurse looked at the others quickly. “He’s crashing again. This is normal—his body’s still unstable. He’s been awake longer than we expected.”

Adelinde leaned forward quickly. “No, no, no—stay awake, sweetheart, just a little longer— please— ”

Diluc’s eyes rolled slightly. “’m here,” he mumbled faintly. “Still here…”

His body sagged. The machines picked up slightly but remained steady.

He had passed out again.

Adelinde let out a sob and buried her face into the blankets beside him.

Kaeya reached forward and rested a hand on her back.

“…He’s alive,” Elzer said quietly. “That’s more than we had yesterday.”

Adelinde didn’t answer for a long time. When she did, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“…But for how long?”

Chapter Text

The morning light was soft through the windows, filtered by thin curtains that fluttered slightly in the breeze. The Ragnvindr estate was quieter than usual—muted in reverence, as though it dared not break the fragile peace of the boy who’d come back from death.

Diluc lay propped up against a pillow, his face turned toward the window but eyes unfocused. His skin had color again, though faint. The bruises had yellowed, the bandages were fewer. But his body still looked small beneath the sheets—fragile in a way that once would’ve embarrassed him more than death itself.

Adelinde dipped the towel into the basin and wrung it out carefully. Her hands were gentle, practiced. She sat beside him and dabbed softly at his cheek, sweeping the warm cloth over his face, tracing his temple, brushing back his hair.

“You’re pampering me,” Diluc muttered, scowling faintly. His voice was steadier now, more understandable—but each word still carried that worn edge of exhaustion, and the slightest lilt from his childhood— his accent, unmistakable now that he wasn’t guarding it.

Adelinde smiled without looking at him. “You’ve got a fever again. And dried sweat on your face. I will be pampering you until that changes, Master Diluc.”

“Stop callin’ me that,” he grumbled. “Sounds weird.”

Kaeya snorted from the nearby armchair, one leg flung over the other. “You’ve always been weird about formality. Even when you were five. Remember when you made the guards call you Captain Ragnvindr of the Dining Room Patrol ?”

“Shut up,” Diluc muttered, and his cheeks flushed lightly. “That was a joke.”

Kaeya held up a hand in mock surrender. “Oh, of course. A very serious joke. With printed badges and uniform rules.”

Adelinde smiled and flicked her towel lightly at Diluc’s forehead. He scowled deeper.

“When can I get up? ” he grunted, glaring at her like she was the reason gravity still existed. “I’m not a corpse anymore. Let me sit. ”

She stood, drying her hands on a towel, and gave him a pointed look. “Stretch first. For a week. Maybe then we can talk about sitting up on your own. You’re still barely holding down soup, my dear.”

“‘S ridiculous,” Diluc muttered. “I’m a grown man.”

“Then act like it,” she quipped, smacking his shin lightly.

“ Ow—! Adelinde!” he whined, yanking his leg up slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Call it motivation,” she said sweetly, folding the towel.

Kaeya burst into a short laugh.

Diluc glared at him. “Why are you even here? Don’t you have things to do? Like… making friends or ruining someone’s day?”

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a smirk. “Rude. And no—I’ve been ordered to stay close. Adelinde didn’t ask. She pointed.”

“I didn’t ask,” Adelinde said over her shoulder.

Diluc sighed and laid back deeper into the pillows.

Kaeya tilted his head. “You know,” he added, “your accent’s made a comeback.”

Diluc’s eyes slid toward him slowly. “Huh?”

“Your accent, ” Kaeya said. “That old Mondstadt drawl you used to have when we were kids. The one you worked so hard to kill. It’s back.”

Diluc blinked. He hadn’t noticed. He reached for the words—tried to speak carefully, flatten the tone like he always did. But the syllables were looser, softer, shaped by that old lilt.

He groaned and rolled his head away, burying his face in the pillow. “Great. Can’t even talk right.”

Adelinde paused, hands stiffening slightly—but then she resumed wiping him down with measured care.

“I haven’t…” Diluc began, muffled. Then he sighed and lifted his head slightly, voice quieter. “I haven’t spoken the language of Mondstadt in so long, I… forgot how.”

The silence hit the room like a dropped stone.

Adelinde didn’t stop wiping his face, but her movements slowed. Her eyes were damp.

Kaeya’s expression changed too—his playful smirk fading into something heavier.

“You forgot?” he asked quietly.

Diluc didn’t answer.

Kaeya leaned forward again, slower this time. “What happened to you, Diluc?”

The redhead’s brows pinched. “Don’t.”

“I mean it,” Kaeya said, more firmly. “What happened? Where did you go? Why did you think—”

“I said drop it. ”

“ No. You came back half-dead. Your voice is different. Your eyes don’t look at people the same. You barely exist when we talk to you—”

“Kaeya.” Diluc’s voice darkened.

Kaeya didn’t stop. “Just tell us. Please. We—”

“ Drop it! ” Diluc snapped, sitting up slightly. His breath caught in pain and he slumped again, but his glare was sharp. “You wanna help? Stop asking’.”

Adelinde crossed the room in an instant and smacked Kaeya in the back of the head.

“ Ow! ”

She scowled. “Do you have any idea what he’s been through? If he’s not ready to talk, then you don’t push. ”

Kaeya rubbed the spot. “I wasn’t trying to push—”

“You were. ” Her voice cracked. “And you scared him.”

Diluc didn’t say anything. His breathing was heavy. His eyes stared at the ceiling like it had betrayed him.

Adelinde sat back down beside him, her hand stroking his hair again, gentle and slow.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said softly. “Not now. Not ever, if you don’t want to.”

“…I don’t,” he muttered after a long silence. “So don’t brin’ it up.”

Kaeya nodded quietly. “Alright.”

They sat together in silence after that. The breeze still stirred the curtains. Somewhere outside, a bird chirped—sweet, far-off, and unaware of anything but spring.

Diluc let his eyes close.

It took three full weeks.

Three weeks of Adelinde’s hawk-eyed vigilance, of Kaeya’s constant hovering, of nurses treating Diluc like glass—three whole weeks before Adelinde finally permitted him to sit upright with his feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

And Diluc had taken it—of course—as permission to walk.

The moment the door clicked shut behind Adelinde and Kaeya that morning, when they excused themselves to speak downstairs, he moved.

Slowly. Painfully. But determined.

His legs trembled the second they touched the floor, and the cold wooden boards bit into his bare feet. But he pushed through it—one hand on the wall, his back hunched and his breathing uneven. Each step was awkward and sluggish, as if he were learning his body again from scratch.

He limped down the hall with all the grace of a reanimated corpse, palm dragging along the wallpaper for support.

The first room he checked was empty.

So was the second.

He pressed onward, his brows deeply furrowed, eyes darting around each space like he expected to find something missing. Like something important had run off and he had to catch it before it slipped away again.

By the time he reached the third room, his chest was heaving. Sweat clung to his temples. His hand trembled as he touched the doorframe.

Then—

“Gods above, you really are a stupid fool.”

Diluc turned sharply—too sharply—and nearly lost his balance.

Kaeya leaned against the hallway wall behind him, arms folded, a smirk playing on his lips. His expression was more tired than amused, though, and there was a quiet tension in his jaw.

“You’re going to pass out,” Kaeya said, stepping closer. “You’ve been upright for two minutes, and you already look like you’re about to keel over.”

“I’m fine,” Diluc grunted, trying to brush past him.

Kaeya blocked him easily. “You’re exhausting yourself. You should be in bed. ”

Diluc tried again, shoulder-checking him with a clumsy shove, but Kaeya barely budged. He limped stubbornly toward the next room, gritting his teeth. “Leave me alone.”

“I will not,” Kaeya said, voice harder now. “You’re going to collapse and break something, and Adelinde is going to murder us both.”

“Then maybe she’ll finally stop hovering,” Diluc snapped. “She’s not my damn mother.”

“No. But she raised us like one. And you’ve given her nothing but gray hairs and tears ever since you left.”

Diluc stopped in his tracks.

Kaeya’s voice shook, but he didn’t back down. “You died, Diluc. Or you might as well have. And now you’re back, and you don’t talk, and you pretend you’re fine when you clearly aren’t, and she—she sits up at night crying in the kitchen so you won’t see it—!”

“Shut up,” Diluc muttered.

“She’s terrified,” Kaeya hissed. “We all are. And the least you could do is stay in bed like she asked—”

“ Why are you even here? ” Diluc barked suddenly. “I told you to stay away. I disowned you.”

The words hung in the air, sour and cold.

Kaeya’s face twisted—just slightly. He chuckled once. “So that’s how it is now, huh?”

He stepped forward and grabbed Diluc’s sleeve.

“ Adelinde! ” Kaeya shouted down the stairs. “ Come see what your favorite is doing! ”

Diluc’s eyes went wide. “Don’t—!”

“ He’s walking around like a lunatic! ” Kaeya kept yelling. “ Your golden boy’s about to faint in the hall— ”

Thundering footsteps.

Then Adelinde appeared at the top of the stairs—and for a split second, her face went ghost white.

“ What in the name of Barbatos— ”

Diluc barely had time to speak before she was at his side, her hands flying to his shoulders as he wobbled in place. She looked between him and Kaeya with something like betrayal.

“What were you thinking?! ” she shouted, voice higher than either of them had ever heard. “ You could’ve— You could’ve fallen— hit your head— What are you trying to do, kill yourself again?! ”

“I just—” Diluc started, swaying.

“ Back to bed. Now. ”

Her tone was terrifying. Final. Kaeya stepped back instinctively.

“I was only walking—”

“ Now, Diluc! ” she screamed, grabbing his arm to turn him gently but firmly back toward his room. Her voice cracked, high and ragged. “Don’t you ever— ever —scare me like that again—”

Her hands trembled on his back as she guided him down the hall, her eyes brimming.

Kaeya stayed frozen in place as he watched them disappear into the room. Adelinde didn’t say another word. Neither did Diluc.

A loud thud shook the upstairs hallway.

Followed immediately by Adelinde’s sharp gasp—“ Kaeya! ”

Kaeya bolted.

He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t need to. The panic in her voice was enough.

He sprinted through the door and skidded to a halt.

Diluc was crumpled on the floor near the bed, one arm weakly bracing him up, his legs tangled awkwardly beneath him. His skin was pale—unnaturally so—and his hair clung in damp strands to his forehead. He looked lost, like his body had betrayed him and left him behind.

Kaeya blinked once.

And then—he laughed. Loudly. Incredulously.

“ You absolute idiot. ”

Adelinde immediately smacked him in the back of the head. “ Kaeya! ”

“What?” he said between wheezes. “He looks like a newborn deer! Look at him—did you fold yourself into the floor?!”

Diluc didn’t respond. He just sat there, glassy-eyed, arms limp.

Kaeya’s laughter died the moment he realized he wasn’t moving.

“…Hey,” Kaeya said more gently, stepping closer. “You good?”

Diluc blinked at the wall.

Then mumbled, “I’m gonna throw up.”

Adelinde nearly screamed. “ I told you— ” she turned on her heel, rushing out the door—“*Just— stay there—Kaeya, don’t let him— ”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kaeya muttered, already kneeling. “Oh, gods…”

Diluc’s whole body trembled. His lips were parted, and a low, wet gag was already crawling up his throat. Kaeya winced and reached out, grabbing Diluc’s thick mess of hair, pulling it back quickly and clumsily into a loose knot. It wasn’t pretty, but it was out of the way.

“Just—breathe. Don’t throw up on me. Adelinde’ll kill me .”

Diluc heaved.

It was a dry, painful sound at first, like his stomach was twisting in on itself. Kaeya’s hand rested lightly on his back.

Adelinde burst back in with a bucket, half-panicked. “Here—!”

Just in time.

Diluc vomited. Hard.

It was awful. Loud. Wet. Violent.

His whole body shook with the force of it—he hunched over the bucket like a dying man, retching again and again, until all that came out were groans and sharp little gasps between dry coughs. Kaeya turned his face away but kept a hand steady on Diluc’s shoulder.

Adelinde crouched beside them, her face pale as she held the bucket for him. “There, there—let it out, sweetheart—it’s alright—it’s alright—”

By the time he was done, Diluc slumped to the floor like someone had cut the strings holding him up. He lay on his side, arms around his middle, breathing in shallow, wet pants. His face was ghostly. His lips had gone gray.

“I told you,” Kaeya muttered, trying to hide how shaken he looked. “Told you you’d pass out. But no— ‘I’m a grown man,’ right? ‘I can walk’— ”

Diluc didn’t answer.

Kaeya leaned over him. “Hey. Hey. You can’t just lay here like this—c’mon, up. Let’s get you back into bed before Adelinde actually dies of stress.”

Diluc’s eyes fluttered, but they didn’t focus. A low whimper pushed out of him.

Kaeya’s teasing fell away. “Okay. No jokes. Got it.”

He slipped one arm around Diluc’s back and one under his knees and began the slow, painful process of lifting him. Diluc groaned like something in him was breaking, but he didn’t fight it—he couldn’t. His arms hung limp as Kaeya cradled him.

“Damn,” Kaeya muttered under his breath. “You’re heavier than you look.”

“Don’t—” Diluc rasped hoarsely, eyes half-lidded. “Don’t touch me.”

Kaeya snorted. “You’re welcome. You’re lucky I’m still soft for you.”

He carried him to the bed with more care than he let on, slowly lowering him back into the sheets. Diluc groaned and curled in on himself, his breathing still shallow and shaky. His hair had fallen free again, sticking to his pale cheeks. His body was slick with sweat.

Adelinde quickly covered him with a blanket, brushing hair off his forehead with trembling fingers. She was still holding back tears, her face locked in a mask of control—but Kaeya could see the cracks.

Diluc didn’t open his eyes. “M’sorry,” he murmured faintly. “I just… I thought I could…”

Adelinde’s hand paused on his forehead.

Then she said softly, “Just rest, my little flame. Please.”

He quickly did what was asked, falling asleep soon after.

Kaeya sat down hard in the chair near the bed, rubbing his temples.

“Well,” he muttered. “That went great. ”

The moment Adelinde was sure Diluc had drifted into an exhausted sleep—his breath slowing, his trembling subsiding—she rose from the bed.

Kaeya was already pacing.

“Kaeya,” she warned gently.

“No. Don’t—don’t ‘Kaeya’ me right now.” He turned sharply toward her, his hands thrown up in frustration. “Did you see him? Did you see the way he looked at me?”

“He’s sick.”

“He’s himself. That’s the problem.”

Adelinde’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Kaeya snapped, running both hands through his hair. “He’s not drugged anymore. He’s not seeing monsters or calling me Dottore. He knows who I am, and he still treats me like I don’t matter!”

Adelinde’s voice dropped into warning territory. “Watch your tone.”

Kaeya’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t stop.

“I have stayed by his bed for months, Adelinde. I’ve watched him vomit blood, I’ve washed his hair, I’ve read to him while he was unconscious! I—” He cut himself off, swallowed hard, then gestured toward the door. “And the moment he opens his eyes for real, he looks at me like I’m nothing. Like I’m a burden.”

Adelinde folded her arms tightly. “You are not a burden.”

“He thinks I am.”

“He doesn’t know what he thinks!” she shot back. “You don’t know what he’s been through, Kaeya!”

“Neither do you!”

They both froze. Kaeya’s own words seemed to slap the air still. His chest heaved once—he regretted it immediately—but he didn’t take it back.

Adelinde’s voice lowered. Quiet. Dangerous.

“Do you think I’ve been standing around doing nothing ? You think I don’t sit by that bed and wonder what horrors he’s remembering when he flinches in his sleep? What he dreams about, that makes him wake up screaming with his eyes wide open and no one in them?”

Kaeya dropped his gaze. He couldn’t argue with that.

“I know he’s hurting,” Adelinde said. “And I know he’s lashing out. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

Kaeya let out a bitter laugh and leaned against the wall.

“He doesn’t. Not anymore. He hasn’t, for a long time.”

“Kaeya—”

“No,” he said. “Let’s stop pretending, Adelinde. He disowned me. Remember that? He said it to my face. And I just stayed. Like a dog begging for scraps.”

Adelinde’s voice shook. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Kaeya asked, arms out, breath short. “He’s being an asshole. A plain, cruel, bitter asshole who hates me and won’t say why!”

“He doesn’t owe you an explanation right now!”

“Then why the hell am I here?!”

The door creaked open.

Elzer stepped in, eyebrows high and expression wary. “What in the name of Barbatos is going on?”

Kaeya turned his back quickly, rubbing his eyes. Adelinde looked flushed with fury.

“Nothing,” she said curtly. “It’s nothing.”

“It is very much something,” Elzer said, shutting the door behind him. “You’re both shouting loud enough to wake the city. I thought the boy had taken another fall.”

“He did, ” Kaeya snapped. “Because he’s a damn idiot who thinks he’s invincible.”

Elzer blinked at Kaeya, confused. “I thought you were the one keeping him from doing something stupid.”

Kaeya let out a strangled laugh. “I tried. He told me to get lost. Then he threw up all over the floor, and I still had to carry him back to bed.”

“Elzer,” Adelinde said, trying to reign the conversation back in, “he’s still healing. We don’t know what damage has been done to his body. Or his mind.”

Kaeya snorted. “We don’t even know where he was! Or who did this to him! But sure—let’s all sit around hoping he comes back with hugs and kisses.”

Adelinde bristled.

“Kaeya,” Elzer said cautiously, “I know you’re upset. You’ve been incredible these past months, and I respect that deeply. But you do need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” Kaeya shouted.

Adelinde gave him a sharp look.

“…Okay, I’m not calm,” Kaeya admitted, voice cracking. “I’m—furious. I’m scared. I’m tired. And I keep thinking—what if he never forgives me? What if this is it? What if the Diluc I knew really is gone?”

There was a long, heavy silence.

Then Elzer said quietly, “Then we learn to love the one who came back.”

Kaeya didn’t answer. His throat worked, but no sound came out.

“He’s still our boy,” Adelinde said, voice trembling. “Even if he’s broken. Even if he never fully recovers. Even if he hates us. He came home. He came back to us.”

Kaeya swallowed hard. “But he didn’t come back to me. ”

Adelinde moved closer, her expression softening. She reached out, rested her palm against Kaeya’s arm.

“You don’t give up on family. Not like this.”

Kaeya looked at her.

And in a whisper, he said, “You think he still loves me?”

Adelinde’s eyes misted over.

“I think,” she said, “he doesn’t know how to show it. Not yet. But I believe he does. Deep down, past all that anger and pain.”

Elzer nodded. “And if he doesn’t?” he said gently. “Then you love him anyway. Because that’s what you’ve been doing already.”

Kaeya exhaled shakily and leaned into the wall again, pressing his hands to his face.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Okay. I’ll stay. But if he throws a book at me again—”

Adelinde gave him a watery laugh. “Then I’ll help you throw it back.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, the only sound in the room the distant rustle of a blanket as Diluc shifted in his sleep.

The room was dim when Diluc stirred.

No sounds but the occasional creak of old wood and the soft hush of wind pressing against the windows. His eyes opened slowly, lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks, and for a brief, disoriented moment he didn’t know where he was.

Then the ache settled into his joints, and the dull pulse behind his temple reminded him.

Home. Still. Somehow.

“Ah. Look who’s decided to rejoin the living.”

Diluc blinked. Elzer sat nearby, perched neatly on a stool with a soft towel in one hand and a folded shirt in the other. His sleeves were rolled up and his graying hair looked slightly mussed, as though he’d been up all night.

The butler smiled faintly. “Good morning, Master Diluc.”

Diluc winced. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll consider it a win that you’re lucid enough to complain,” Elzer said lightly. “Come now. You’ve been sweating like a dog. It’s time to change your shirt.”

Diluc groaned and turned his face into the pillow. “I’m not a child.”

“No,” Elzer agreed calmly, rising. “But you’re acting like one. Sit up.”

When Diluc didn’t move, Elzer reached down and gently slid an arm behind his back to lift him. Diluc hissed under his breath, glaring but not resisting. His body was weak, barely compliant.

“Just kill me,” Diluc muttered, cheeks red.

“Not before you’re clean,” Elzer said. “That would be unsanitary.”

Diluc glowered at the ceiling.

Elzer peeled off the soaked nightshirt carefully, folding it with practiced ease and tossing it into the basket by the door. He picked up a clean one from the side table, soft cotton and freshly pressed.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” he commented, slipping the new shirt over Diluc’s head.

“I would,” Diluc mumbled, dragging his arms through the sleeves with effort. “This is pathetic.”

“It’s recovery,” Elzer said. “Not weakness.”

Silence fell for a moment as Elzer buttoned the shirt at Diluc’s chest. His hands were careful, respectful, but deliberate.

“Kaeya’s worried, you know,” Elzer said softly.

Diluc’s expression didn’t change.

“Adelinde too. Of course. She barely sleeps. And…” He paused. “I suppose I am, too.”

Diluc’s jaw tightened.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Elzer asked. “What happened, I mean.”

Diluc’s head jerked slightly toward him. His eyes flashed.

“Don’t push me.”

Elzer didn’t flinch. “I’m not. I’m asking.”

“Well don’t,” Diluc snapped, voice low but harsh. “I didn’t invite you here to prod and guilt me.”

“You didn’t invite me at all,” Elzer replied evenly. “I came because I care.”

Diluc turned his head away, jaw clenching. His hands fisted in the fabric of his blanket.

Elzer continued buttoning, slower now. “You can’t keep shutting everyone out. We’re not enemies.”

“You’re just a butler,” Diluc spat.

The words dropped into the room like a stone into water.

For a moment, Elzer didn’t respond. He stared down at Diluc, something unreadable passing through his gaze.

Then—he smiled. Just barely. Sad and knowing.

“That so?”

Diluc didn’t answer.

“Is that what you really believe?” Elzer said gently, finishing the last button.

When Diluc still didn’t respond, Elzer leaned back and folded his hands.

“You’ve called me when you were scared,” he said quietly. “You’ve asked for me when you were sick. I taught you to tie your first cravat. I held your hand when you broke your arm falling off the training dummy. You cried into my coat when your mother passed.”

Diluc’s face tightened.

“I’m not just a butler,” Elzer said. “And we both know that.”

Diluc’s fists trembled.

“I don’t need anyone,” he mumbled.

“You say that every time someone gets too close.”

“Just leave.”

“Diluc—”

“I said leave, ” he snapped, shoving Elzer’s hands away as he tried to adjust the sleeves. “I can fix it myself.”

The cloth was crooked, half-buttoned now. It looked ridiculous. But Diluc didn’t care. His breathing had quickened. His skin was pale. His hands trembled even as he tried to look composed.

Elzer stepped back, studying him with tired, gentle eyes.

“Stop being like this,” he said, voice quiet. “Come back to us.”

Diluc didn’t answer.

Elzer turned toward the door.

“I’ll come back when you’ve cooled off,” he said softly. “But I’m not giving up on you. And neither are they.”

He left without another word.

The room felt colder once he was gone. Diluc sat alone on the bed, shirt half-finished, sleeves wrinkled. His eyes burned, but no tears came.

He clenched his jaw, shut his eyes, and turned his face toward the wall.

Chapter Text

The morning began quietly.

Warm sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Ragnvindr estate, casting golden rectangles onto the floorboards. A soft breeze stirred the curtains. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, unbothered by the weight that hung in the air.

Diluc moved slowly, grunting under his breath as he swung his legs over the bed. Adelinde stood at his side, holding his elbow as he pushed himself up. He was steadier than he’d been in months, and though every joint ached and the muscles in his legs trembled with exertion, he was upright.

“You don’t have to grip me like I’m made of glass,” he muttered.

“You aren’t made of glass,” Adelinde said, tightening her hold just slightly. “You’re made of stubbornness and poor decisions.”

Diluc huffed a breath that was halfway to a laugh. “I’m going to shower.”

“You’d better not lock the door.”

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m not leaving it open either. I have some pride left.”

Adelinde helped him as far as the washroom, then left him be. He washed slowly, carefully. His fingers tugged through wet strands of hair that now fell past his shoulders. The warm water ran red for a moment—not with blood, but dye. He hadn’t tended to it in months.

After the shower, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Thinner. Paler. Eyes shadowed, skin marked with fading bruises and scars that peeked just over his collarbone. But the haircut helped. Adelinde had given him one the night before, quiet and focused, trimming the weight off his shoulders and the bangs from his eyes.

Still. He didn’t recognize the man staring back.

By the time he dressed and returned to the main room, Adelinde had breakfast prepared. Kaeya had said something cryptic the night before— “Be ready for what’s coming tomorrow.” Diluc hadn’t asked what he meant. He figured it was another one of Kaeya’s dramatic flourishes.

So when he sat down to a bowl of warm porridge, sipping his tea in peace, he thought that was it. This was what Kaeya meant. He was moving again. He was healing.

And then the door opened.

“Diluc?” Adelinde’s voice floated from the entryway.

He looked up, halfway through a sip of tea.

Kaeya walked in. And behind him—her hair lighter than he remembered, tied back in a loose braid, her blue eyes wide and filling with tears—stood Jean.

She stopped just past the threshold, hands twisting at her sides. Her mouth opened, then closed. She stared at him as though seeing a ghost.

Diluc’s breath hitched. He set the cup down, too quickly, and it clinked against the saucer.

“…Hello,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Kaeya, what the hell is your problem—”

Jean surged forward before he could finish.

“ Diluc! ”

She wrapped her arms around him, tightly, suddenly, crushing him to her chest.

“Whoa—!” He stumbled, chair screeching back, arms raised awkwardly midair like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Jean—wait—”

Kaeya was there in an instant, prying her off. “Jean—Jean, careful—he’s still recovering—”

“I’m fine! ” Diluc snapped, cheeks red. “I’m not a damned porcelain vase!”

“You say that every time you are, ” Kaeya muttered.

Adelinde appeared at the door, eyes narrowed. “Diluc. Stop arguing. ”

Jean’s hands clutched his again, her voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me to come? Why didn’t you say you were back? Why didn’t you say goodbye? ”

Diluc blinked rapidly. “I—”

“You just left, ” she said. “You just disappeared like we didn’t matter. Like I didn’t—like we weren’t—” Her voice cracked.

“I didn’t know—how—” Diluc stammered. “I didn’t want to—put anything on you—”

“That’s not your choice,” she whispered. “You didn’t get to decide how I’d feel. You didn’t even let me try to understand.”

He dropped his eyes, unable to look at her.

Jean looked at his hands, her eyes catching on the thin scars along his knuckles. “Your hair is shorter,” she said suddenly, her voice small.

Diluc swallowed. “…I forgot how to speak Mondstadt for a while. and my hair um…”

Jean’s eyes brimmed again. She squeezed Diluc’s fingers, desperate. “What happened to you?”

He looked cornered, shoulders tense. “Jean, I—please. Not now.”

Adelinde stepped forward quietly, her gaze softening. “Come, dear. Let’s go into the kitchen. Let him breathe a bit.”

Jean hesitated, then looked to Diluc.

He gave her a tiny, uncertain nod.

She sniffled and let Adelinde guide her gently by the arm, wiping her face with her sleeve as she went.

Kaeya lingered for a moment.

Diluc didn’t meet his eyes.

The door to the kitchen shut with a soft click, and Diluc sagged into the chair again. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the tea, now cold.

He didn’t look at Kaeya, but the sharp set of his jaw said everything.

Kaeya crossed his arms, leaning against the nearby wall. He waited for the silence to settle. It didn’t take long.

“You had no right,” Diluc said coldly.

Kaeya arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You had no right to bring her here.”

Kaeya let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re joking.”

“I didn’t ask for her,” Diluc snapped. “I didn’t want anyone else to know I was here, let alone— her. ”

“She’s not just anyone else, ” Kaeya snapped back, stepping forward. “Jean was our childhood friend. She’s been worrying herself sick ever since word got out you were alive.”

“That’s not my problem,” Diluc said, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. “I don’t need this. I don’t need people showing up and sobbing and asking me questions I don’t want to answer—”

“Oh, sorry, ” Kaeya sneered. “Is it inconvenient for you that people actually care ? That someone might want to see you after all this time?”

Diluc’s eyes flashed. “I didn’t ask anyone to care.”

“No, you didn’t,” Kaeya said. “You ran away instead. Like a coward.”

Diluc’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “Don’t you dare.”

“Why not?” Kaeya stepped closer. “You ran off without a word. No note. No goodbye. Not to me. Not to Jean. Not to Adelinde. We thought you were dead, Diluc. For years.”

“I was dead,” Diluc hissed. “The person I was? He’s gone.”

Kaeya’s voice rose. “Oh spare me the drama. You think you’re the only one who’s suffered? You think your pain gives you an excuse to treat everyone around you like trash ?!”

“I didn’t ask for this circus,” Diluc snapped. “You didn’t ask if I wanted visitors. You didn’t ask if I was ready for Jean.”

“Because you’d say no to everything, ” Kaeya shot back. “You’d say no to anyone who tries to reach out, to help, to understand! That’s what you do. You push and push until there’s no one left!”

Diluc laughed bitterly. “And what, you’re the one who’s still here out of what? Pity? Guilt?”

“I’m here because I care, you jackass!”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Diluc snapped. “Dragging people into my house like it’s a reunion party? Did you invite the Knights too? Varka? Maybe get a bard to sing about how tragic I am?”

Kaeya’s nostrils flared. “You don’t get to act like the victim when you’re the one who left.”

“I had to leave.”

“You had a choice.”

“ No I didn’t! ”

The room stilled. Diluc’s voice echoed in the quiet, louder than he meant, rough with something that almost sounded like grief.

Kaeya’s expression faltered for just a second. “Then tell me why, ” he said, softer. “Tell me what happened. What was so bad that you couldn’t even say goodbye to her. To me. ”

Diluc’s eyes burned. “I owe you nothing.”

Kaeya’s face twisted. “You selfish bastard.”

“And you’re still the same manipulative brat you’ve always been.”

Kaeya lunged forward. “You wanna say that again?!”

“ You think I don’t see what you’re doing?! ” Diluc shouted, pushing against his chest with the strength he barely had. “You’re not doing this for me. You’re doing it for yourself. So you can say you tried. So you can pretend you’re the better man.”

Kaeya shoved him back—not hard, not to hurt him, but enough to unsteady him. “You think I want to be here watching you rot away?! You think I enjoy seeing you like this?!”

“I think you enjoy having something to blame me for.”

Kaeya’s voice cracked with fury. “I stayed. I took care of the city while you were off playing martyr. Don’t you dare act like I’m the problem.”

“Then leave!” Diluc shouted. “If I’m such a burden—then get out! I didn’t ask for you to come here, or for you to stay!”

The door to the kitchen flew open.

“ Enough. ”

Adelinde stood there, her face pale, her voice cold. Behind her, Jean was frozen in place, her red eyes wide.

Adelinde stepped forward, not raising her voice again—but her presence filled the room.

“I will not have this house filled with screaming and hatred. Not today. Not ever.”

Both men went silent. Kaeya looked away, breathing hard. Diluc clenched his fists, his jaw trembling.

“I know you’re both angry,” Adelinde said quietly. “You have every right to be. But this—this is not the way.”

Kaeya turned his face away. “Sorry,” he muttered, voice low.

Adelinde turned to Diluc.

He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“I just… want to be left alone,” he murmured.

Adelinde stepped forward, her voice trembling—not with anger, but something deeper. “Everyone in Mondstadt was worried sick about you, Diluc,” she said, hands clasped tightly in front of her. “You disappeared without a word. No body, no message. And now you come back like… like this. Half-dead and colder than winter. People care. They deserve— we deserve—a glimpse of you.”

Diluc flinched as if struck.

He stared down at the floorboards, jaw tight. “Who told them I was even back?”

Adelinde hesitated.

“Word spreads fast,” she said softly.

Diluc let out a bitter laugh, dry and humorless. “Of course it does.”

Jean stepped forward slowly, her expression gentle but exhausted. “Diluc… if you really want to be alone,” she said, “say so. I’ll go. I just—”

“He doesn’t know what he wants,” Kaeya cut in abruptly, voice sharp. “Don’t listen to him.”

Diluc’s head snapped toward him.

Kaeya continued, arms crossed. “He’s pumped full of pain meds and probably hasn’t slept more than three hours in days. He shouldn’t even be standing , let alone making choices.”

“ Don’t speak for me! ” Diluc bellowed, the sudden force of it tearing from his chest. His voice echoed across the walls, raw and ugly.

He instantly slapped a trembling hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “I—sorry. That was…”

He turned away, shoulders tight. “I’m sorry.”

Kaeya, stunned for a beat, quickly recovered with fury. “Don’t apologize to me if you don’t mean it. Mean something, Diluc! For once! Either kick her out or stop sulking like a ghost!”

“Kaeya, please—” Jean tried to interject.

Diluc gritted his teeth, his voice cracking. “ You want me to kick her out?”

Kaeya’s eyes flared. “I want you to stop pretending like you’re the only one who’s hurting!”

Jean stepped between them, “Enough! Please, both of you!”

But Diluc was barely listening. His eyes were distant, his breathing shallow. “I didn’t mean to scream,” he mumbled, more to himself than to them. “I just—I don’t want this. I didn’t want any of this.”

“Then say it, ” Kaeya snapped. “Tell Jean to leave. Be the villain you think you are.”

“Kaeya—!” Jean gasped.

“ Do it! ” Kaeya barked.

“I don’t care anymore,” Diluc rasped, shaking his head. “You all do whatever you want. Say whatever you want. I don’t care. Just… stop screaming. Please.”

His knees wobbled slightly, but he gripped the chair behind him. He wouldn’t fall. Not again. Not in front of them.

Jean’s eyes glistened again, tears barely held back. “Diluc…”

He looked away. “Stay, go—I won’t stop you.”

Adelinde stepped forward and put a gentle hand on Jean’s shoulder.

Jean sniffled, nodding slowly, wiping her eyes. “I… I’ll go sit down,” she whispered. “Let you breathe.”

She left the room with Adelinde, quiet footsteps echoing as they disappeared.

Only Kaeya and Diluc remained.

The air between them was heavy, strained.

Kaeya ran a hand through his hair and looked away. “You used to be the one who never gave up on people,” he muttered. “Even when they didn’t deserve it.”

Diluc didn’t answer.

Kaeya scoffed. “Guess you’re not that person anymore.”

Still, no response.

Kaeya leaves to the kitchen behind Adelinde.

The kitchen was quiet at first—too quiet.

Kaeya sat slumped at the long oak table, elbows braced against the surface, hands tangled in his hair. The same hair Diluc used to mess up just to annoy him. Now it felt like a memory from another life.

Jean sat beside him, silent but warm, her hand resting on his back, then slowly sliding up to give him a gentle side-hug. Kaeya didn’t resist. He leaned in slightly, eyes distant.

“He’s being a child,” Kaeya muttered, voice taut. “A full-grown man acting like a baby.”

Adelinde stood at the stove, not cooking anything—just staring down at an empty pot like it might offer answers. She sighed, then turned and leaned against the counter, folding her arms.

“I know,” she said softly. “He is being difficult. Impossible, even.”

Kaeya let out a bitter laugh, muffled. “Impossible? He called me a nuisance. Jean just wanted to hug him, and he acted like we were assaulting him. He’s mean. Just—just mean. ”

“He’s hurting,” Jean said, just above a whisper.

Kaeya pulled away from her a little. “We’re all hurting. That doesn’t give him the right to treat us like strangers. Or enemies.”

Jean didn’t argue. She just rubbed his back lightly in slow, calming circles.

Adelinde moved toward the table and sat down across from them, her expression grave, lined with quiet sorrow.

“I know it doesn’t make it easier,” she said, her voice gentle, “but we can’t give up on him.”

Kaeya turned his head slowly, locking eyes with her. His were glassy—on the edge.

Adelinde continued. “He’s still in there. Somewhere. He came back for a reason. He’s just… not ready to show us who he is now. Not yet.”

Kaeya exhaled sharply and rubbed his face. “What happened to him?” he asked, voice barely steady. “What happened out there that turned him into this?”

Neither woman had an answer.

Adelinde bowed her head. “Whatever it was,” she murmured, “it broke something in him. Maybe not forever. But enough.”

Kaeya blinked hard and turned his face to the side. “He’s mean,” he said again, but this time his voice was quieter. Thinner. Hurt.

“I know,” Adelinde said softly.

Kaeya’s lip trembled, and he quickly wiped at his eyes. “He wasn’t always like this.”

Jean stayed close, her warmth steady beside him.

“I know,” Adelinde repeated, her voice hitching just slightly.

Kaeya finally looked up again, his blue eye dulled with emotion. “I miss him.”

Jean sniffled beside him, eyes shining.

“Not this one,” Kaeya whispered. “Not this ghost. I miss my Diluc.”

Adelinde reached across the table and laid her hand over his. Hers was warm, solid. Motherly.

“I know,” she said again. “We all do.”

The manor was quiet at night.

The wind outside whispered against the windows, and the faint creak of old wood echoed through the halls, just barely noticeable beneath the low, constant hum of the hearth in the main sitting room.

Diluc sat in the armchair by the fireplace, draped in one of Adelinde’s thick knit shawls. His hair—still damp from his evening bath—clung to the back of his neck. A faint flush lingered on his cheeks from the heat of the fire, but his eyes were distant. His posture slouched, one leg tucked under the other like a boy caught in the middle of something he couldn’t explain.

The silence was broken by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps approaching.

Kaeya leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, silhouetted in the flickering firelight. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stood there, watching him.

“I thought you’d be at your house.” Diluc said finally, without looking up.

Kaeya shrugged, stepping in. “Didn’t feel like it.”

He walked over slowly, cautious, almost tentative, and sat in the chair across from him.

Silence settled between them again. The fire popped once—wood cracking as embers rose into the chimney.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Kaeya said after a moment, eyes on the flames. “You’re being a pain.”

Diluc’s eyes flicked toward him, tired. “Then leave.”

“I also meant what I said about missing you.”

Diluc didn’t respond. His jaw clenched. He stared harder at the fire, as if it might burn the words away before they sank in.

Kaeya sighed. “I know you didn’t ask for any of this. Not the visit. Not the questions. Not me.”

“No,” Diluc muttered. “I didn’t.”

Kaeya tilted his head slightly, watching him. “But you’re still here. Which means some part of you… wanted to come back. You could’ve died out there and no one would’ve ever known.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” Diluc muttered, voice low.

Kaeya leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Then what was the plan? You just disappear? Forever? Not even a goodbye?”

“That’s not fair—”

“No?” Kaeya’s tone turned sharp. “You walked away from all of us. From me.”

“I had to.”

“You didn’t have to stay gone.”

Diluc looked at him then. Really looked. His face was pale, eyes rimmed red from fatigue or maybe guilt—Kaeya couldn’t tell.

“I didn’t think I’d survive,” Diluc whispered. “So I didn’t see the point.”

Kaeya’s throat tightened. He leaned back slightly, stunned by the honesty.

“Is that what you want me to tell Jean?” Kaeya asked after a beat. “That you didn’t say goodbye because you were already dead to us?”

Diluc closed his eyes. “That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.”

“I just…” Diluc’s voice faltered. “I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.”

Kaeya frowned. “Like what?”

Diluc opened his eyes again. “Like a failure. A wreck. A disappointment.”

Kaeya leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly, his breath shaky. “You know,” he said quietly, “it was easier being mad at you when I thought you were choosing to be cruel.”

“I wasn’t trying to be cruel.”

“Well, you did a damn good job.”

Silence again. Heavy. Sad.

“I didn’t want to come back,” Diluc whispered, barely audible.

Kaeya looked at him, but said nothing.

“I wanted to keep running. But something kept pulling me back. The thought of this place. The sound of the wind in the vineyards. Adelinde’s soup. Your stupid laugh. Jean’s letters—”

“Wait,” Kaeya blinked, sitting up straighter. “Jean sent you letters?”

Diluc didn’t answer.

“You read them?”

Still silence.

Kaeya gave a weak chuckle. “Unbelievable. She cried over those letters. She thought you’d never read a word.”

“I kept them,” Diluc admitted. “All of them, yours too.”

Kaeya stared at him.

Diluc turned his head away.

“Why do you always make it so hard to love you?” Kaeya asked softly. His voice wasn’t angry anymore. Just tired. Just hurt.

“I don’t want to be loved,” Diluc whispered. “I just want to feel like I deserve it again.”

That silenced them both.

The fire crackled gently. Kaeya reached into his coat and pulled something out from the inner pocket.

A small envelope.

He stood up slowly, walked over, and gently placed it on the table beside Diluc.

Diluc looked at it with wary eyes.

“It’s from Varka,” Kaeya said. “He wrote when he heard you were back.”

Diluc didn’t move.

Kaeya stood there for a second longer, then stepped away. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Kaeya—”

Kaeya stopped at the doorway.

Diluc didn’t look at him, but his voice came quietly.

“…Thank you.”

Kaeya lingered for a moment, hand on the frame.

Then he left.

And Diluc, alone again, stared at the envelope in the firelight—like it might bite him.

But eventually, with trembling fingers, he reached for it.

— To Diluc Ragnvindr,

You’re alive.

I keep writing that at the top of every draft. Then I scratch it out like I don’t believe it yet.

But you’re alive.

Adelinde wrote me. Kaeya too. Said you’re home. Said you’re breathing. That’s all they said at first. Not how. Not why. Just that you were back in Mondstadt. I had to sit down when I read it. My hands were shaking so badly, my cup spilled over the report I was writing. I didn’t even care.

I keep looking at your name and wondering what you look like now. I keep wondering where you’ve been. And—archons above—I keep wondering what happened.

Are you alright, kid?

I know you wouldn’t have come back unless something broke in you—or something bigger broke around you. You’re not the type to wander home just because you missed the smell of the winery. You were always too proud for that. Too determined. Too stubborn. I admired that in you. I hated that in you. And I loved that in you.

Gods, Diluc. Where the hell did you go?

I think about that night all the time. The night you left.

You gave me a damn heart attack. I’m not mad at you, kid.

We searched for you for weeks. No— months . I sent out patrols. I lied to the Church, told them we had a high-level fugitive on the run just to keep them out of it while I kept your name off the damn bounty boards. We made posters. We spread them as far north as Snezhnaya, as far west as Fontaine. I had scouts camp out near Dragonspine for weeks thinking you might be hiding up there. You always liked the cold, even when you said you didn’t.

I cried. [Diluc sees the words scratched out, with the ink pressing heavy against the parchment.]

You were just a boy, Diluc. I know you think you weren’t, but you were. You shouldn’t have had to carry so much. I should’ve stepped in. I should’ve done more. I keep thinking—what if I’d just said the right thing that night? What if I hadn’t let you walk out that door? What if I’d held you tighter?

I failed you. And I will always be sorry for that.

I’m writing this from camp. We’re somewhere deep in the chasms north of Liyue—one of the places I told you about before your eighteenth. Remember that night? When I sat you down and told you I’d be leaving soon? You looked so serious. But you were proud. You said you’d handle things here.

You did more than handle them. You fought. I know you did. You must have.

But I worry what you used to fight. I worry what it did to you.

Did you keep it? The Delusion?

Did you destroy it?

Please tell me you did. I won’t be mad if you didn’t. I won’t shame you. But I’ll beg you again now, like I should have back then: don’t let that thing claim your soul . Whatever power it gave you, it’s not worth what it takes. I’ve seen it happen to others, Diluc. You’re not immune.

You never were. You just always pretended to be.

There’s… more.

Eroch is gone. Banished from Mondstadt. Officially and for good. I know you had your suspicions about him long before I did. And you were right. I’m ashamed I didn’t listen to you sooner.

I’m sorry for that, too.

If you want to come back—to the Knights, to us —I will make it happen.

All you have to do is ask. One letter. One word. I don’t care what you’ve done. I don’t care where you’ve been. You are welcome. You are missed.

You can have your title back. Or not. I don’t care if you’re a Knight or a bartender or a storm on the wind. Just… let me see you again. Let me look at you and know for myself that you’re really alive.

Write to me. Or visit. Just once. And if it helps—I’ll come to you. I’ll wait in one spot for days, for weeks, if that’s what you need. You tell me where. You tell me when.

You don’t have to be okay. You don’t have to have the answers. But don’t carry this alone anymore. You never had to.

You were never alone.

You’re not now.

I know it’s hard to believe after everything, but I love you. I really do. Not because of what you’ve done. Not because of who you used to be. But because you’re you . And no matter how much time has passed, no matter what the world’s done to you, you’re still worth loving.

Still worth saving.

I’m here.

Always.

—Varka

P.S. I’d appreciate a picture or two.—

Chapter Text

The morning sun bled gold across the kitchen floor, slicing past the tall windows and glinting off the edges of the polished countertops. The manor, so often still and heavy with silence, felt unusually warm. Calm. Even the clock ticked quieter today.

Diluc stood by the pantry, head tilted, arms crossed, eyeing a jar of preserves like it had personally insulted him.

He was alone. For the first time in what felt like weeks. He could breathe.

No Adelinde fluttering with folded linens and concerned brows. No Elzer lingering like a polite shadow. No Kaeya perched nearby with a stupid book he clearly wasn’t reading.

Just peace. And jam.

Then the kitchen door creaked open, and that peace shattered like glass underfoot.

“Good morning, convalescent boy,” Kaeya drawled, sauntering in with all the grace of someone who had slept in too late and didn’t regret it at all. “I heard the healers cleared you. Personally, I think they’ve gone soft. You need another year—minimum—of bedrest. Maybe two.”

Diluc groaned, audibly. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious.” Kaeya pulled out a chair and flopped into it with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, the very idea of you unsupervised is terrifying. You might trip on a tile and combust.”

Diluc rubbed his temples. “You’re in rare form today.”

Kaeya grinned. “You bring out the best in me. Why are you dressed?”

Diluc turned slowly, deliberately, as if Kaeya had just asked why the sky was blue. “Because I’m going into Mondstadt.”

A pause. Kaeya blinked. “Into town? Like… with people?”

“Yes. Shocking, I know.”

Kaeya’s expression shifted into something between genuine concern and theatrical offense. “Why now? Can’t we just… I don’t know, stay home and play cards or something? There’s a new deck Elzer bought. It has enchanted illustrations. One of them winks at you.”

“I need air,” Diluc muttered, grabbing a pair of gloves. “And I need to see how Angel’s Share is doing.”

“Oh.” Kaeya perked up. “You’re just visiting?”

Diluc hesitated. “I’m going to take it back over.”

That did it. Kaeya slammed both hands on the table. “You’re what?”

Diluc didn’t flinch. “Angel’s Share. It’s mine. I’m resuming ownership.”

Kaeya shot up like he’d been electrocuted. “You could come back to the Knights. You know—stable paycheck, free armor, weekly barbecues. And moral superiority.”

“The Knights of Favonius,” Diluc said evenly, “can burn to the ground for all I care.”

Kaeya clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “You take that back! Seventeen-year-old you would have beheaded you for such treason.”

“Seventeen-year-old me was an idiot.”

“You—! You—!” Kaeya sputtered. “Okay, well—your hair was cooler back then, anyway.”

Diluc, infuriatingly calm, adjusted the buttons of his coat and made for the door.

“Wait, you’re actually going?” Kaeya followed him, aghast. “Like, now?”

“Yes. The door is right there.”

“You can’t just go into town without backup. You’ve barely stood for more than ten minutes in the past month.”

“I’ll manage.”

Kaeya narrowed his eye, then, with a sudden gleam, slung an arm around Diluc’s shoulders like they were best friends in a tavern tale. “Then you’ll need a guide! A charming, stylish, knightly companion.”

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Kaeya.”

“You need someone to lean on if you faint.”

“I won’t faint.”

“You did last week.”

“I had a fever.”

“You’re pale now.”

“I am pale.”

“See? That’s a red flag.”

Diluc tried to shove Kaeya’s arm off, but the man was annoyingly persistent—like a very smug barnacle. “Stop clinging to me.”

The kitchen door opened again. Elzer stepped in with a small stack of papers and looked up just in time to witness Kaeya hanging off Diluc like an overgrown coat. He paused.

“Ah. Master Kaeya. I see you’ve volunteered to accompany Master Diluc on his outing.”

“I did!” Kaeya grinned.

“No, he didn’t,” Diluc muttered.

“I agree,” Elzer said with a slight smile, placing the papers on the counter. “It’s wise. Just in case something happens.”

Diluc’s groan was so long and dramatic it could’ve won awards. “I just got cleared—”

“Master Diluc,” Elzer said gently, “you’re free to go out. Not free to fight off a crowd. Or sudden nausea. Or gravity.”

Kaeya smirked triumphantly.

Diluc sighed. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just don’t annoy me.”

Kaeya’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As Diluc opened the front door and stepped out into the bright, humming streets of Mondstadt, Kaeya followed close behind, hands in his pockets, whistling a tune.

Ten seconds into the walk, he whispered, “Don’t worry. If you collapse dramatically in the plaza, I’ll cradle your head like a tragic widow and weep just loud enough for bystanders to call a healer.”

Diluc didn’t even look at him. “You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

And together, the two brothers walked into town.

The wind picked up slightly as they neared the gates, carrying the sounds of morning bustle—distant laughter, wheels rolling over cobblestone, hawkers setting up their stalls. The familiar walls of Mondstadt rose before them, bright and clean against the sky, and for a heartbeat, Diluc hesitated.

He hadn’t been here—not really—in years.

Not as himself.

Not in daylight.

Kaeya, walking beside him, didn’t say anything. But he slowed his pace just enough to match Diluc’s more cautious steps.

As they approached the city gates, the Knights of Favonius standing guard straightened immediately. One younger knight nearly tripped over himself to salute, but it was the older one beside him who dropped his sword with a loud metallic clatter .

“Diluc?!”

The man’s voice cracked. His eyes went wide. “Captain—! Is that really you?!”

Diluc flinched.

He barely had time to recover before the older knight stumbled forward, hand outstretched like he’d just spotted a long-lost brother. His armor creaked and jingled with every step. “By Barbatos—it is you!”

Kaeya raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Diluc instinctively straightened his back, squared his shoulders. His lips tugged upward—into something that resembled a smile. Forced. Brittle. But it was the best he could do.

“Good morning,” he said quietly.

“Captain, I—!” the knight stammered, grabbing Diluc’s hands in both of his. “I can’t believe it! You’re here! You’re alive! When the rumors started—I—I didn’t know what to believe! And then the news about Master Crepus, and Sir Eroch, and then everything just went quiet, and—!”

Diluc blinked, lips parting, but no words came.

What was his name? The knight’s face was familiar. Pale hair. Broad shoulders. Kind, eager eyes. He’d been under his command, hadn’t he?

“…Lukas?” Diluc guessed, voice low.

The knight beamed. “You do remember me!”

Kaeya muttered under his breath, “Unfortunately.”

Lukas gave Diluc’s hands a squeeze. “Sir, the entire Order’s missed you. I—I’m so sorry for everything. What happened to your father, to Sir Eroch—I still don’t understand how all of that—! And then the way you vanished, and the state you came back in—Sir, it’s been chaos.”

Diluc’s false smile crumbled. His expression flattened, and he slowly tugged his hands away, one at a time. “It’s… okay.”

Lukas didn’t seem to notice the discomfort. “We kept your office the same, you know? I mean, no one’s officially using it. Some of us thought you might come back. I told everyone, I knew you wouldn’t leave for good. Not without a word. And I get it—maybe something happened out there, maybe something terrible, but whatever it was—”

“Lukas,” Diluc said softly, a note of warning in his tone.

“—you can tell us about it when you’re ready, of course. Or not! Either way, we’re just glad you’re alive. And—hey—do you think you’ll rejoin the Knights? I mean, even just as an advisor? Your swordsmanship alone—”

“Lukas,” Kaeya barked sharply.

The knight paused, eyes wide.

“Back to your post.”

Lukas hesitated, glancing between the two brothers. “But—”

“Now.”

Kaeya’s tone left no room for argument.

Lukas groaned like a scolded schoolboy but started to backpedal toward his station. “Alright, alright—sorry. Sorry, Captain. Sorry, Acting Grand Master—uh, former? Pending? Anyway—I’ll catch you later, Sir Diluc!”

“Please don’t,” Diluc muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Diluc said quickly, forcing a second, even more miserable smile. “Later.”

Lukas gave a thumbs-up like an overeager puppy before jogging back to his spot beside the gate. The younger knight beside him watched the entire encounter with wide eyes.

Kaeya waited until they were safely through the gates before chuckling under his breath.

“See?” he said with a grin. “I told you you couldn’t come into the city alone.”

Diluc rubbed the back of his neck, gaze locked firmly ahead as if he could will himself to disappear into the crowd. “He talks too much.”

“He always did.” Kaeya gave him a sidelong look. “You were his hero, you know. Probably still are.”

“Well,” Diluc sighed, “his standards are dangerously low.”

Kaeya laughed. “You say that like it isn’t obvious.”

They walked deeper into Mondstadt. The wind smelled like flowers and freshly baked bread. The streets buzzed with people. But the air still felt heavy somehow.

Like the city remembered everything he’d done.

Everything he’d lost.

Kaeya didn’t say anything more. But he stayed close.

Just in case.

The streets of Mondstadt were alive—vibrant and familiar, yet somehow different than Diluc remembered. He heard the sounds before he registered the stillness: a stall vendor pausing mid-call, a broom halting mid-sweep, the dull clatter of dropped fruit. It was like the city inhaled all at once and then forgot how to breathe.

People were staring .

Diluc’s spine straightened. His hands, gloved and clenched at his sides, began to sweat. His heart thudded, steady but loud, and with every step, he could feel more eyes on him. Some confused. Some awed. Some wary.

Kaeya noticed the tension like it radiated off him in waves.

He casually stepped ahead, lifting a hand in an easy wave and flashing his most charming smile at the onlookers. “Good morning!” he called, voice bright. “It’s a fine day, isn’t it?”

A few murmured greetings. One or two brave enough to smile back. But most still stared at Diluc like they were seeing a ghost.

“Don’t worry,” Kaeya muttered under his breath, not looking at his brother. “They’re just stunned. Give it time. You’re a walking legend, after all.”

Diluc made a quiet noise of disapproval, tightening his shoulders. “This was a mistake.”

Kaeya snorted. “It’s only a mistake if you turn around now. Keep walking.”

More people began to approach. Some were familiar faces—people who thought they’d known him well in their youth. Shopkeepers. Tavern patrons. The blacksmith’s apprentice. Even Flora from the flower shop gasped and pressed her hands over her mouth as they passed.

They all looked… too happy . Too eager. Like they’d been waiting to say something, but now that he was here, they didn’t know what.

“Lord Diluc,” an older woman said softly, her voice cracking with age and awe. “We’re… we’re so glad you’re safe.”

“Welcome back, Master Ragnvindr,” another said, clasping their hands together. “You’ve been missed.”

Diluc forced a nod, a smile. Hollow. His face ached from holding it.

The crowd didn’t swarm him—but the weight of their attention felt heavy. Like every step made him sink deeper into mud. He hadn’t realized how deeply he’d vanished until he saw their reactions. Like he’d risen from the dead.

And just when he thought it couldn’t get worse—

“Oh no ,” he whispered.

“What?” Kaeya asked, but then followed his brother’s gaze ahead.

Standing stiffly just outside Angel’s Share, hand on his sword hilt, was a Knight of Favonius.

Huffman.

Diluc’s stomach plummeted.

Of all the people— Huffman ?

Kaeya looked over at Diluc and instantly burst into a quiet laugh. “Oh Archons. You’re sweating.”

“I am not ,” Diluc muttered, wiping his gloved hand down his coat. “Why is he here?”

“He’s guarding your tavern, apparently,” Kaeya hummed. “Isn’t that sweet?”

“He’s going to talk to me.”

Kaeya grinned. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

“Archons,” Diluc muttered again. “I was horrible to him.”

Kaeya’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, painfully horrible.”

“I called him pathetic. More than once.”

“You said he was unfit to wield a broom, let alone a blade.”

Diluc closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. “Can we go around?”

“Too late,” Kaeya said, sing-song. “He sees us.”

Huffman had turned, half-greeting Kaeya with a formal “Captain Kaeya—” before he froze mid-sentence. His gaze snapped to Diluc. His mouth parted. He blinked like he couldn’t trust what he saw.

Diluc wanted to sink into the stones beneath his feet.

Kaeya giggled again and placed a hand on Diluc’s back, giving him a not-so-subtle push forward. “Do you remember Diluc?”

Diluc flushed instantly.

Brightly .

He cleared his throat. “Huffman,” he greeted stiffly. “Good… afternoon.”

Huffman blinked again. Then smiled, slowly, uncertainly—but warmly. “It’s really you,” he said, voice soft with surprise. “I—Archons. You’re really here.”

Diluc wanted to apologize on the spot. For everything. For every snide remark. For looking down on him. For treating him like a stain on the Knight’s uniform.

But instead, he said, “Yes. I’m… I’m back.”

“I heard rumors,” Huffman said, stepping forward, hands respectfully behind his back. “But seeing you here is…” He gave a small shake of his head, like he couldn’t believe it. “Are you okay?”

The question landed hard. Simple. Sincere.

Diluc blinked. “I’m… fine.”

“You’ve been gone so long. The whole city’s been wondering. And after everything that happened with Master Crepus, and then Eroch, and… well…” Huffman’s expression faltered a little, but he quickly recovered. “I’m really glad to see you, sir.”

Diluc stared at him. And hated his younger self all over again.

“You’re guarding Angel’s Share?” he asked, voice quiet.

Huffman nodded. “Yes, sir. A few shifts a week. We didn’t want anything to happen to it. It’s important to the city. And… well, to you.”

Diluc looked away, embarrassed, throat tight. “Thank you. For… that. Really.”

Huffman smiled. “Of course. It’s an honor.”

Diluc shifted on his feet, unsure what else to say.

Huffman saluted gently. “Welcome home, Master Diluc.”

He turned to resume his position, but not before saying, with a hopeful smile, “I’ll see you around?”

Diluc forced a nod. “Sure.”

Kaeya waited until Huffman’s back was turned before leaning in, grinning. “That went better than expected.”

“I feel like garbage,” Diluc muttered.

“Good,” Kaeya said brightly. “Growth.”

Diluc narrowed his eyes.

Kaeya shrugged. “Hey, you handled that well. I mean, I do recall you once told him to his face that the only ‘valor’ he had was in his dreams.”

“I know ,” Diluc groaned. “Stop reminding me.”

They stepped toward the tavern, the front door only steps away now.

Kaeya clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Welcome back, Master Diluc.”

Diluc rolled his eyes. But he didn’t shake him off.

Not this time.

The moment they stepped through the doors of Angel’s Share, the scent of wood polish and old bottles hit Diluc like a wave. Familiar. Grounding. Like stepping into a preserved memory.

The bar looked almost exactly the same.

A few things had changed—the lighting was warmer, the stools looked newer—but behind the counter, Charles was just where Diluc remembered him. Mixing a drink, sleeves rolled up, focused, calm. The same way he’d always been.

Diluc’s eyes lingered. He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d missed him.

Charles caught sight of the two entering. His hands faltered only slightly, the ice clinking oddly in the glass he was shaking. His head snapped up.

“…Master Diluc?”

His voice was warm. Amazed. Disbelieving.

Then he smiled, so wide and genuine it made something twist in Diluc’s chest. He handed off the half-finished drink to a confused patron with a quick apology and came around the counter, not caring that others were watching.

Without a word, Charles pulled Diluc into a firm, solid hug.

Diluc stiffened—not expecting it—but he didn’t pull away. His arms stayed by his side, unsure, but his shoulders relaxed by degrees.

“…It’s good to see you, sir,” Charles said softly.

“Thank you,” Diluc murmured. “For taking care of this place. While I was… gone.”

Charles stepped back and shook his head. “It’s the least I could do. Everyone missed you.”

Diluc glanced around. The tavern wasn’t packed, but there were enough patrons to make him feel exposed. Too many eyes. Too many whispers. People half-turned in their seats to stare. He felt heat crawl up the back of his neck.

Ugh. This was a mistake.

Charles seemed to sense it. He gave a respectful nod and returned behind the bar without pushing the conversation further.

Kaeya, ever the opportunist, clapped Diluc on the back and grinned. “Well? Still alive?”

“I’m not drinking,” Diluc muttered, already walking toward the bar stools.

“Never said you had to,” Kaeya said, tugging him toward a seat. “Just take a breather. You look like you’re about to combust.”

“I’m not—”

“Sit.”

Diluc groaned but obeyed, settling stiffly onto the stool.

Kaeya slid into the seat beside him with a satisfied hum. “See? Not so hard.”

Charles returned, a towel slung over his shoulder. “What can I get you both?”

“Water,” Diluc said quickly.

Kaeya rolled his eyes. “Make that one water and one Sunrise. Heavy pour.”

“Coming right up.”

As Charles stepped away, Diluc let his fingers drum quietly on the counter, trying to ignore the hushed voices around them. He could hear his name once or twice—“That’s him, right?”—and the occasional whisper about Crepus, about Eroch, about disappearance .

He stared at the wood grain in front of him, jaw tight.

“Ignore them,” Kaeya said gently, swirling in his seat to face him. “They’ll stop eventually.”

“I didn’t come here for attention.”

“You came here for Angel’s Share. And unfortunately, you’re the most dramatic thing to happen to Mondstadt in years.”

Diluc grunted.

Charles returned and placed a glass of water in front of Diluc, and a tall, brilliantly colored drink in front of Kaeya.

“Thanks,” Kaeya said, taking a long sip. “Still got the touch.”

Charles gave a small smile and walked away again.

To Diluc’s right, someone shifted. A figure in a green cloak leaned forward on the bar, swaying just a little. A half-full mug of dandelion wine sat in front of him. He looked too young to be in a tavern—soft-featured, short, with bright teal eyes that sparkled unnaturally. His cheeks were flushed with drink, but his posture was relaxed, as if this was where he belonged.

Diluc glanced sideways at him.

The bard was watching him.

“…Can I help you?” Diluc asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of his tone.

The boy grinned. “No, but I think I can help you .”

Diluc blinked.

Kaeya nearly choked on his drink.

“I’m Venti!” the bard declared cheerfully, extending a hand that smelled faintly of alcohol and apple cider. “Resident bard, bringer of song, admirer of redheads.”

Diluc stared at the hand.

“…You’re drunk.”

“Not very ! Just… creatively inspired!”

Kaeya laughed into his glass.

Diluc finally, reluctantly , shook the offered hand. “Diluc.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Venti said brightly. “I’ve heard all sorts of stories. The firebird of Mondstadt! The prodigy who vanished into the night. The shadow of a king who fights with flames.”

Diluc pulled his hand away, expression flat. “Those are all exaggerated.”

“Not according to the tavern tales!” Venti leaned his chin into his hands, watching Diluc like he was reading a book he’d already memorized. “They say you are the uncrowned king!”

Kaeya, wheezing slightly: “Okay, that one’s new. I like it.”

Diluc looked like he regretted leaving the house.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Venti continued, his voice quieter now. Softer. “Back in Mondstadt. Thought maybe you’d never return.”

“I didn’t plan to.”

“And yet,” Venti gestured around them, “here you are.”

Diluc took a long sip of his water, not meeting his gaze. “I’m just here for the tavern.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

There was a beat of silence. Kaeya shifted slightly. Even he felt that one.

Diluc didn’t answer.

Venti smiled again, though this one was gentler. Almost sad. “It’s good to have you back, Master Diluc.”

Diluc looked up, surprised. There was no teasing in the bard’s voice. No mockery. Just genuine warmth. And something else beneath it—something knowing.

Something ancient.

Before he could respond, Venti raised his mug. “To homecomings. However late they may be.”

Kaeya clinked his glass against the bard’s with a grin. “I’ll drink to that.”

Diluc just sat quietly. Eyes low. Hands still.

Then, finally, he lifted his water and tapped it gently against the rim of Venti’s mug.

The cobblestones were slick with evening dew, and the moonlight spilled in gentle patches through the archways and leaves, softening the sharp lines of Mondstadt’s rooftops. The city, once bustling, had quieted—lamps flickered in windows, and the hum of music and laughter from Angel’s Share was a distant murmur now.

Kaeya trudged beside Diluc, arms folded behind his head.

“I still say I deserved another drink,” Kaeya muttered.

“And I still say I would’ve had to carry you,” Diluc replied, hands in his coat pockets.

“Pfft. As if you could. I’m taller now, remember?”

Diluc glanced sideways. “Barely.”

Kaeya gasped in mock offense. “You wound me.”

“You’d survive.”

Their boots clacked softly against the stone as they passed through the archway leading toward the cathedral courtyard, shadows playing over the fountain and flowerbeds. It had been a long time since they’d walked like this. Not running errands. Not on missions. Just walking.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thoughtful. Companionable.

Then Kaeya broke it, voice lighter than before. “So, serious question.”

Diluc sighed. “You never ask those.”

Kaeya ignored that. “Are you really going to take over Angel’s Share again?”

Diluc hesitated.

“…Yes,” he said eventually. “It’s something I can handle. And it… matters. It was Father’s, once. Before everything.”

Kaeya raised an eyebrow. “You hated working under Crepus back then.”

“I did,” Diluc admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about the place. Or the people in it. Or what it meant to the city.”

Kaeya smiled faintly. “That’s a very Diluc answer.”

Diluc didn’t respond to that.

The Knights of Favonius headquarters loomed in the distance, rising pale and noble against the darkening sky. The banners flapped gently in the night wind. When they reached the base of the steps, Diluc slowed to a stop.

Kaeya halted beside him.

“You sure?” Kaeya asked. “We’re right here.”

Diluc looked up at the building for a long moment, then away. “I’d rather not go in.”

Kaeya let out a short, dry laugh. “Still hate the place, huh?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Diluc didn’t answer at first. The wind stirred his coat. “I don’t want to see what’s changed. I don’t want to see who’s sitting in Varka’s office. Or… what they did with mine.”

Kaeya tilted his head. “You know your Vision’s still in there. They kept it. They kept everything . It’s probably just gathering dust.”

Diluc’s expression hardened slightly. “They should throw it out.”

Kaeya frowned. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Diluc turned away, footsteps already retreating from the steps. “I don’t need it.”

“Don’t deserve it, you mean.”

Diluc flinched.

Kaeya jogged a few paces to catch up, voice gentler now. “You know that’s not true.”

“I abandoned the Knights. Left the city. I turned my back on Mondstadt. You really think the gods would still see me as worthy of a Vision?”

Kaeya rolled his eyes. “Archons aren’t that petty.”

“You would know,” Diluc muttered.

Kaeya huffed. “I’m being serious, Diluc. You didn’t lose your Vision. You didn’t throw it away. You left it. Because you were hurting.”

“I still am,” Diluc said flatly. “And I’m fine without it.”

“You’re not .”

They reached the bridge leading out of the city, the stars now glimmering over the lake and faraway hills. The road home was dark, the path lined with trees. But familiar.

Kaeya reached out and grabbed Diluc’s arm, pulling him to a halt.

“Please,” Kaeya said, voice quieter. “Just let me get it for you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s mine ,” Diluc snapped. “And if I wanted it, I’d go get it myself.”

Kaeya stared at him for a moment, then let go.

“You’re so frustrating,” Kaeya groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re annoying.”

“I know,” Diluc said, not looking at him.

The silence returned, longer this time. A little heavier. Their boots hit the wooden planks of the bridge, and the water below whispered and rippled in the breeze.

Eventually, Kaeya broke it again.

“…Do you think you’ll ever want it back?”

“I don’t know,” Diluc said honestly.

They walked the rest of the way in that quiet—not uncomfortable, just quiet. The night wrapped around them like a blanket, the stars shimmering in a sky that seemed to hold more space than it had when they were kids.

The gates of the winery came into view, warm lights glowing in the windows like a welcome home. Adelinde had probably left something in the oven. Elzer would be pacing, trying not to hover.

Kaeya slowed his steps as they reached the path up the hill.

“…You know,” he said casually, “I’m proud of you.”

Diluc stopped walking. “What?”

“For coming back. For… even just walking around town today. That’s a lot.”

Diluc didn’t know what to say. His mouth opened. Closed again.

Kaeya smiled crookedly. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll do the talking. I’m better at it anyway.”

Diluc rolled his eyes, and Kaeya nudged his shoulder.

They walked the rest of the path in silence, up to the winery.