Chapter Text
Objectively, Diluc knows it’s a bit of a reach to think that the drunk bard that frequents his tavern and looks at him with impossibly knowing eyes could be his Archon.
Sometimes, however, his suspicions become too strong to ignore.
Like when he wanders around the church square, warm morning sun pleasant against his face, and hears a melody coming from below the statue in the middle, a bard with a striking resemblance to Barbatos himself strumming a lyre before a small crowd. Diluc wonders what the Church would think, then remembers Deacon Dahlia is supposedly his Herald, and wonders if he knows.
“Thinking too hard about something, are we?”
Kaeya’s sultry tone is grating, but Diluc has been expecting it. He had seen the Captain across the square a few minutes earlier, and knew it was a matter of time until he decided to pester him.
“The Knights must be awfully short on work if the Cavalry Captain can afford to idle around the square in the middle of the day,” he retorts automatically, the barbs coming easily after weeks of practice.
“You wound me, Master Diluc.” Kaeya brings a hand to his chest with a dramatic sigh. “For your information, it happens to be my day off. We do get those every once in a while.”
“Joy,” Diluc mutters.
Next to the statue of Barbatos, the bard finishes his song and bows to the applause of the crowd, thanking them as mora tinkles inside the hat placed on the ground at his feet. Diluc thinks he briefly glances their way, but it’s hard to tell.
“Nice weather today,” Kaeya says, looking up at the sky. Diluc feels his patience quickly depleting.
“What do you want?”
Kaeya raises his hands with faux innocence, which only irks him further. His day had started pretty well — Diluc had actually found the energy to face it in a slightly more positive mood than usual, and even went for a walk around the square, foolishly thinking he’d be left alone with his thoughts. Now, his estranged… someone threatens to ruin it.
“Just wanted to give you a warning,” Kaeya says at last, more serious than before. If Diluc didn’t know any better, he’d think the other man’s tone was still too light, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “The storm from beyond Brightcrown Mountains looks like it’s approaching Mondstadt, and we have yet to figure out the Abyss Order’s motives.”
The information is nothing short of alarming, so Diluc puts his issues aside for a moment and nods seriously.
“I’ll tell the people at the Winery to be careful,” he says in reply, just in case someone is listening. Mentally, he’s already thinking of doubling his nightly patrols, just in case.
The main street in the market district is bustling with life, lively under the festivities decorations and full of people tending to their business, doing their shopping or simply hanging out and talking under the sunlight. Diluc nods at those who call out a good morning to him and quickly slips into the alley that leads to the Angel’s Share.
Charles is already inside the tavern, sorting crates of wine to take to the venue in Springvale. He doesn’t look surprised to see Diluc there, and even though he doesn’t say anything about getting his mind off work like Adelinde would, there’s a slightly judgemental raise of eyebrows.
“I thought you weren’t joining us until the evening, Master Diluc.”
“Change of plans,” Diluc says, not unkindly. “I’m afraid I’m not going to make it to the festival tonight.”
“Pressing business?” Charles guesses. It’s one of their code phrases for his… alternative activities.
“Indeed. Are these going to Springvale? I’ll take some of them.”
On the way to the gates, where a cart is stationed waiting to be loaded with their wine crates and other drink ingredients, he bumps into Amber, who seems to be coming back from patrol.
“Master Diluc!” She greets brightly, never one to have her spirits dampened, although her smile is ever-so-slightly pinched. “Getting everything ready for tonight?”
“Just taking these to Springvale,” he tells her with a gesture towards the mountain of crates. Out of the corner of his eye, Diluc sees Donna from the flower shop looking at them intently and decides to cut the conversation short. “Have a good day, Amber.”
“You too!”
She’s probably coming back from Brightcrown Mountains, now that he thinks about it. Despite Kaeya’s warning, the Outrider doesn’t look any worse of wear, pinched smile notwithstanding. Diluc is going there as soon as he can to see it for himself.
After almost an hour of work, Diluc manages to fill the cart with the crates and other boxes, so he takes the reins and sets off in the direction of Springvale, hoping there aren’t any problems on the road.
Almost immediately after crossing the bridge, he notices the stowaway traveling with him.
“Seriously?” Diluc arches an eyebrow at the bard currently lying on his back over the canvas he has painstakingly put over the crates to protect them.
Venti grins, looking perfectly at ease. His braids sway lightly in the wind, and Diluc feels a breeze caressing his own face.
“Well hello there! Care for some music for the road?”
“Only if you haven’t stolen any wine.”
“Of course not! Who do you take me for?” Venti brings a hand to his chest in mock-offense, sitting up cross-legged and taking out his lyre. “Any suggestions?”
Diluc shrugs and the bard starts strumming an unfamiliar melody, humming under his breath as well. It’s not a particularly cheerful one — in fact, the notes feel distinctly melancholic, and it makes him wonder what exactly could prompt such a song from Venti, who had seemed perfectly happy earlier in the square.
“It’s an old ballad,” he explains once it’s over, discarding the lyre in order to switch positions and kneel over the tarp, leaning on the back of Diluc’s seat. “Came to me last night in a dream, a tale of two dragons and their legacy.”
“It sounded sad,” Diluc says, not knowing how else to describe the song. Venti chuckles lightly.
“The tale ended in tragedy, yes. But that does not mean all of it was bad.”
“Tell me more about it.”
Diluc listens to Venti’s tales all the way until they reach Springvale, at which point the bard gracefully jumps off the car and bows his thanks at him.
“See you tonight, Master Diluc,” he says, a promise that makes Diluc’s heart jolt oddly and guilt burn in his chest at the same time. “You will dance for Windcoming Day, won’t you?”
“I will make no such promises,” Diluc replies noncommittally. Venti gives him a bright smile, then disappears down the path towards Wolvendom.
He turns to the venue, where a couple of his workers are already waiting for him. Together, they unload the cart, putting everything in its correct place.
Some adventurers from the guild offer to help as well and Diluc spends some time making sure things are ready for the evening’s festivities. Everyone is in high spirits, which feels contagious, and he eventually finds himself having a late lunch with Cyrus and a few other adventurers.
“The kid almost didn't make it,” Cyrus booms, clapping a flustered Bennett in the back. “Good thing we had a spare key to the backroom!”
“Sorry about that,” Bennett rubs the back of his head.
“Just don’t go anywhere alone and you’ll be fine for tonight,” the older adventurer ruffles his hair, grinning. “Take Razor and Fischl with you at all times.”
“That is a good idea. Always better to travel in groups,” Diluc interjects, earning himself a shy smile from the unlucky kid.
“As the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, it would be a tremendous honor to valiantly follow you to the ends of this fine world,” Fischl, another member of the Guild that Diluc has never interacted much with, declares.
“Razor goes too.”
Diluc stays with them until the sun reaches its highest peak, then makes his excuses and leaves the venue, catching the knowing eyes of Charles, who had arrived shortly after him with the rest of the wine.
The trip to Brightcrown Mountains is relatively easy, the gathering clouds providing some relief from the afternoon sun, but Diluc refuses to let his guard down. With the Abyss Order, one can never be too careful.
Avoiding the scarce Knights of Favonius stationed around the area is easy, and soon enough Diluc is standing at the top of a hill that overlooks the city of Mondstadt on one side and the Mountains on the other.
Just like Kaeya said, there’s a storm approaching.
The first raindrops start to fall not ten minutes after he’s gotten there. Diluc barely notices them, busy fighting off a squad of rogue hilichurls that spotted him on the edge of the hill. He sends them flying with a burst of pyro and watches with satisfaction as they disintegrate in thin air.
“Yah!”
There’s hardly any time to rest before the next wave is practically on top of him, this time accompanied by a couple of Abyss Mages. Diluc fights them off, soaked to the bone, and the mitachurl that appears right after, and two other Mages as well. By the time he’s finished with all the creatures, the storm is waning, a few gaps between the clouds letting the setting sun break through.
Diluc runs a hand through the damp hair plastered to his face and frowns. From his vantage point, he can see the city of Mondstadt perfectly well, and the skies are still blue over there. The dark storm clouds, however, keep moving forward, and if he squints, he can see clusters of Abyss creatures running underneath them, not in a straight line towards the city, but towards…
Springvale.
The festival venue.
In an instant, Diluc is on his feet and running down the hill. His exhausted muscles protest the added exertion but he ignores them: the priority is alerting everyone. Lightning strikes nearby, too many times in a row to be fully natural, and he dodges the bolts as best as he can.
A large shadow flies past, loud roaring mixing with the howling wind. Diluc looks up fast enough to see the outline of wings against the clouds, lit up by lightning.
He curses under his breath and wills his legs to go faster. There’s really no way to tell the time with the sun hidden behind the clouds, but he guesses the festivities must just be getting started, which means everyone will be already gathered in the venue.
“Just what are the knights doing?” He wonders, annoyed.
It takes a whole lot of running and fighting a couple of monsters by the roadside for him to arrive at the edges of Springvale, and by that time, the battle is already there.
“Master Diluc!” Someone shouts — Charles, half-hiding behind the counter in the Dawn Winery tent. He looks over just in time to catch the Frostshield Potion being thrown his way and drinks it up in one swift move.
His timing is impeccable, because right as Diluc turns around, a cryo samachurl sends a row of sharp icicles his way.
The venue has been plunged into complete chaos. Knights of Favonius run to and fro, attempting to fight the abyss monsters the best they can, but it’s clear they’re getting overwhelmed. Jean is nowhere to be found, Diluc notes, but a few of the Captains are already taking charge — like Albedo, who is shielding people using his Geo powers for defense and combat at the same time, or Kaeya who is fighting off two Abyss Mages at once.
“Where’s the patrol squad?” Diluc asks a nearby knight, the two of them jumping to dodge several ice spikes.
“They got here five minutes ago!” He replies. “Apparently the monsters overwhelmed them!”
Diluc resists the urge to scoff and instead focuses on the battle, slamming his claymore over the nearest enemy he sees.
Some time later, a burst of wind blows off three hilichurls that had been closing in, and Diluc doesn’t know why he’s slightly disappointed when he sees Jean has just arrived instead of a certain bard.
“Diluc!” She shouts after giving orders to the surrounding knights, looking every bit the Acting Grandmaster she is. “Take some rest, we’ve got this!”
He’s reluctant to follow her orders —not a Favonius Knight anymore, a snide voice says at the back of his mind— but his entire body aches fiercely, and Diluc’s got the feeling that the next time he gets knocked down he might not get up.
So instead of fighting, he focuses his efforts on corralling the stragglers running from the battle and finding them a safe place to hide. The village of Springvale hasn’t yet been attacked, and the hunters offer their houses for anyone to barricade themselves in.
“Help!” Someone yells desperately. Diluc scans the area and finds a young man trapped beneath the remains of a tent, a few hilichurls advancing on him.
Immediately, he takes out his claymore again and slams into them with furious flames. The hilichurls quickly disappear and he puts down the weapon with relief, then turns to help the man.
A sharp pain suddenly pierces his side, sending him tumbling into the ground. Diluc gasps, looking down to see an electro-charged arrow embedded on his abdomen. There’s still some energy on the item, as it shocks him again, burning the skin around the wound.
The hilichurl responsible is already charging up another arrow, this time aiming directly to his head. Diluc shuffles back on the ground as fast as he can, but he knows he won’t get away in time.
Suddenly, the wind that had been howling nonstop stills completely, and Diluc watches as an arrow whizzes past and hits the hilichurl square in the head, making it disintegrate almost instantly. There’s a hand in his shoulder, another one tugging at his arm, urgent voices calling for a healer, and the pain in his abdomen keeps flaring up.
The last thing he sees before passing out is a pair of very familiar teal eyes looking into his, glowing with pure anemo energy.
When Diluc comes to, the first thing he sees are the great branches of the Windrise Tree above him. His head is propped on something soft and green, like a piece of cloth all bunched up. It takes him a few blinks to recognize it as Venti’s usual cape.
“What…?” He tries to sit up, but a hand on his chest stops him, and then the bard himself appears into his field of vision.
“Relax, Master Diluc. You’re safe here.”
“But the Abyss Order—”
“It’s taken care of. The Knights of Favonius managed to secure the area and no one was hurt.”
A memory flashes through his mind: wings outlined against dark clouds, a large shadow flying past.
“The dragon—!” He sits up with urgency, batting the hand away.
Venti’s expression turns grave. He’s sitting on stone steps next to him, a Statue of the Seven practically beside them. The moonlight filters through the tree leaves and creates streaks of pale light across his face. Were they in any other situation, Diluc would have stopped to secretly admire his otherworldly appearance.
“The locals are calling him Stormterror,” he says slowly. “He… went to the city while everyone was in Springvale.”
“Did he attack anyone?”
“No. Not at all.” Venti is strangely vehement on this, and Diluc suddenly remembers that day in the ruins of Old Mondstadt.
“You knew its name,” he frowns at the bard. Not accusatory, just curious. “Dvalin.”
Venti sighs. The motion makes his shoulders slump a little, some of his usual whimsy vanishing, and he suddenly looks much older than what he appears to be.
“We… know each other. Or used to. He didn’t seem to recognize me, not that day nor tonight.”
Diluc attempts to cross his arms and winces as the skin around his abdomen throbs faintly, a reminder of the arrow that had been embedded there.
“Careful. I healed what I could, but it’s not perfect. If Deaconess Barbara were here, she’d tell you to take it easy for a few days,” Venti says, eyeing the spot where the wound had been.
“Thank you.” For the first time, Diluc looks him in the eye.
“Don’t mention it,” Venti smiles softly. “Might as well hire me as a personal bodyguard, Master Diluc, with all the times I come to your aid.”
“I could look into that,” he teases back tentatively. The bard’s smile widens. “And please, just call me Diluc.”
Why is his traitorous heart beating so fast? Diluc can't think of a least appropriate moment to feel so uncharacteristically nervous, especially when it has nothing to do with Mondstadt's safety. The bard before him, so full of unspoken secrets, keeps blindsiding him with the intense feelings growing inside his heart.
If Kaeya could hear his thoughts, he’d probably laugh for days on end and then call him an idiot. Diluc quickly dispels the image from his mind. He has enough with one complicated and confusing person in front of him, doesn’t really need to be thinking of another one.
“It would be my pleasure,” Venti says, one hand to his chest.
And what should I call you? Diluc thinks, but he holds his tongue. He knows the answer. He’s just not ready to voice it.
They stay in Windrise until Diluc feels strong enough to stand up and walk, enjoying the breeze and listening to the sounds of nature in the late night hours. Venti hums a tune under his breath, seemingly content to keep him company indefinitely.
“I should go see if everyone at the winery is doing well,” Diluc says at last.
Venti walks him all the way until the road splits in two different directions, just past Springvale, the first rays of sun just starting to peek in the horizon. There, he turns back to Mondstadt, after offering Diluc one last smile and playfully reminding him to take it easy. Gone is the serious expression from when they had talked about Dvalin, and Diluc can’t help but wonder just how much of it is a mask and how much is the real him.
That night, after Adelinde has stopped fussing about his wound and everyone has gone to sleep, Diluc makes a prayer to Barbatos. Not for a good harvest, or for his employee’s health, as he sometimes does, but for the future of Mondstadt. He asks for guidance and is rewarded with the wind gently caressing his cheeks. You’re doing just fine, it seems to say, putting his heart a little bit more at ease.