Chapter Text
The sky over Dawn Winery is still gray-blue when Diluc finishes his fifth lap.
Morning mist clings to the vines, dampening his boots, soaking the cuffs of his trousers. His lungs burn. His legs ache with a familiar, deep-set pain that has long since stopped surprising him. His shoulders feel like stone.
He doesn’t slow.
Five laps. Always five. No less.
He crosses the invisible line near the cellar doors and finally stops, hands braced on his knees, breath coming hard and fast. Sweat drips from his hair into the dirt below. His claymore leans against the wall nearby, already nicked and scratched from the morning’s work.
Six in the morning.
He straightens quickly when the thought crosses his mind—don’t linger. Lingering looks like weakness.
“Again,” he mutters to himself, and reaches for the next weapon.
By the time the sun fully crests the hills, Diluc’s arms are trembling.
Thirty minutes with each weapon. Claymore. Sword. Polearm. Bow, even though he hates it. Crepus insists a Cavalry Captain should be proficient in everything. Even at fifteen. Especially at fifteen.
His Vision practice comes last.
Fire curls around his hands, obedient but demanding, heat licking at his skin as he forces it into tighter, sharper forms. Control. Precision. Efficiency. Crepus hates wasted energy.
Diluc grits his teeth, sweat stinging his eyes, and holds the flame longer than his body wants him to.
It’s fine, he tells himself, the way he always does.
This is what captains do.
When the clock inside finally strikes eight, Diluc is shaking.
He exhales, slow and measured, and extinguishes the flame. His hands feel raw. His chest feels hollowed out. He straightens his posture anyway, wipes his face with the back of his arm, and retrieves his coat.
By the time he pushes open the doors to the manor, the smell of breakfast hits him full force.
Warm bread. Fried eggs. Coffee.
His stomach twists painfully—hunger and exhaustion tangled together.
At the table sit Crepus, already dressed for the day, posture immaculate; Kaeya, feet swinging slightly above the floor; and Adelinde, setting down another plate.
They all look up at once.
Adelinde smiles immediately, soft and warm. “Good morning, Master Diluc.”
Kaeya’s face lights up. “Diluc—!” He hops down from his chair, moving instinctively toward him—
—and then stops.
He wrinkles his nose. “You’re… really sweaty.”
Diluc lets out a small, awkward laugh. “Ah—sorry. I’ll clean up in a minute.”
Kaeya rocks back on his heels, hands clasping together, shy smile tugging at his mouth. “You always are after training.”
Crepus folds his hands on the table. “Did you complete your exercises?”
Diluc straightens automatically.
“Yes, sir.”
Crepus’s eyes flick over him, sharp and assessing. “All of them?”
“Yes, sir.” Diluc swallows. “Five laps. Weapon drills. Vision control.”
A pause.
“And?”
Diluc lifts his chin just a little. “I’ve improved greatly with my claymore.”
It’s not bragging. It’s reporting. He knows the difference.
Crepus hums, low and noncommittal. “You still favor brute force over economy of motion.”
Diluc nods immediately. “I’ll correct it.”
“You will,” Crepus says, tone flat. “A captain cannot afford inefficiency.”
“Yes, sir.”
Adelinde steps forward then, as if sensing the tension tightening like a drawn string. She opens her arms and pulls Diluc into a hug without hesitation.
“Oh, my poor dear,” she murmurs, squeezing him despite the sweat soaking through his shirt.
Diluc yelps. “Adelinde—! I’m gross—!”
She laughs softly. “Nonsense. You’re a growing boy.”
Kaeya giggles outright, covering his mouth. “You look like you ran all the way to Mondstadt and back.”
Diluc snorts despite himself, warmth blooming briefly in his chest. “Feels like it.”
Adelinde releases him but keeps her hands on his shoulders, peering at him with gentle concern. “You’ve pushed yourself hard again.”
“I’m fine,” Diluc says quickly, the words reflexive. “Really.”
Crepus’s gaze sharpens. “You will not be late to breakfast.”
Diluc nods again. “I’ll take a quick shower and come right back.”
“Five minutes,” Crepus says. “No more.”
“Yes, sir.”
Diluc turns toward the stairs, every muscle protesting with each step. Behind him, he hears Kaeya hesitate.
“Um—” Kaeya glances at Crepus, then at Adelinde. “Can I wait for him?”
Crepus barely looks at him. “Eat.”
Kaeya shrinks slightly, shoulders curling inward. Adelinde reaches over and squeezes his hand reassuringly.
“He’ll be back before you know it,” she says gently.
Kaeya nods, but his eyes follow Diluc up the stairs until he disappears from sight.
Upstairs, Diluc leans against the bathroom door for just a second longer than he should.
His hands are shaking again.
He stares at them, flexes his fingers, forces them still.
It’s fine, he tells himself again.
Father knows what he’s doing.
Downstairs, Kaeya pokes at his eggs without eating much.
“He trains a lot,” Kaeya says quietly, almost like he’s apologizing for it.
Crepus takes a sip of coffee. “Discipline builds strength, Kaeya.”
Adelinde’s lips thin, just barely, but she says nothing. Instead, she slides Kaeya a piece of bread.
“Eat,” she murmurs. “You’ll need energy today.”
Kaeya nods and obeys.
But his eyes flick back to the stairs again.
Waiting. Always waiting.
For Diluc, for his brother.
Diluc comes down the stairs at a jog, boots thudding too loudly against the polished wood.
He’s damp again—hair still slightly wet, uniform jacket hastily fastened, collar crooked despite his effort. The Knights’ insignia sits bright against his chest, freshly polished. He smells faintly of soap and heat.
“Sorry—!” he blurts the moment he sees the table. “I—”
Too late.
Kaeya is pushing his chair back, plate scraped clean. Adelinde is already gathering dishes, humming softly to herself as she stacks them. Crepus is still seated, one hand resting on the table, eyes fixed on Diluc with visible displeasure.
“You took longer than instructed,” Crepus says.
Diluc straightens immediately, heels snapping together. “Yes, sir. I apologize.”
Crepus exhales sharply through his nose. A sigh—not tired, not gentle. Irritated.
“Hm.”
Diluc moves quickly to his seat, sliding into it and pulling the plate toward himself. He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t think. He eats.
Fast.
Too fast.
Kaeya lingers beside the table, watching him with wide eyes. “You missed the jam,” he says softly. “Adelinde made the—”
“Kaeya,” Crepus cuts in. “Go dress for the Knights.”
Kaeya stiffens.
“What?” He looks between Crepus and Diluc, panic flickering across his face. “But—I wanna stay with Diluc.”
Diluc swallows a mouthful too quickly and smiles at Kaeya, bright and reassuring. “I’ll see you later, okay? It won’t take long.”
Kaeya doesn’t move.
He steps closer instead, small fingers curling around Diluc’s sleeve. Then, more boldly, he wraps an arm around Diluc’s arm and presses himself there, hiding his face against Diluc’s shoulder.
“No,” Kaeya whines. “I wanna go with him.”
Diluc laughs softly, easy and warm despite the tension crawling up his spine. “Hey—hey, it’s alright. I’ll be right there after.”
Crepus’s chair scrapes back an inch.
“Kaeya,” he says again, sharper. “Go.”
Kaeya shakes his head, clinging tighter. “Please.”
Adelinde sets the dishes down a little harder than necessary and steps in. “Come now, young master,” she says gently, placing a hand on Kaeya’s shoulder. “You don’t want to be late.”
Kaeya looks up at Diluc, eyes wide and pleading.
Diluc gives him a grin, exaggerated and cheerful. “I promise I won’t disappear.”
That earns a weak, reluctant huff of laughter from Kaeya—but he still doesn’t let go until Adelinde carefully pries his fingers loose.
“Come,” she murmurs. “I’ll help you.”
Kaeya allows himself to be guided away, but he looks back over his shoulder twice, three times, until Adelinde ushers him up the stairs and the bedroom door closes softly behind them.
The sound echoes.
Crepus’s hand moves fast.
Smack.
Diluc’s head jerks to the side, sharp sting blooming across his scalp.
“Eat with manners,” Crepus snaps. “You are not an animal.”
Diluc freezes—then immediately straightens, posture perfect, hands folding neatly.
“Yes, sir. I apologize.”
His voice is steady. Practiced.
He slows. Chews carefully. Sets his fork down between bites. He doesn’t rush now. He doesn’t look up.
Crepus watches him the entire time.
When Diluc finishes, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and folds it precisely.
Crepus sighs again, longer this time.
“What are your duties today?”
Diluc brightens slightly, seizing the question like a lifeline. “Captain Varka said I’d be assisting him this morning—mostly paperwork. Reports from patrols, scheduling. Simple things.”
“‘Simple,’” Crepus repeats dryly. “You are a Cavalry Captain. Nothing you do is simple.”
“Yes, sir.”
Crepus studies him. “You will also be watching Kaeya.”
Diluc nods at once. “Of course.”
“Ensure he does not injure himself.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Or embarrass this family.”
Diluc hesitates for half a second. “He won’t.”
Crepus’s eyes narrow. “Do you know his schedule?”
Diluc blinks. “Ah—no, sir. Not exactly. Probably… training?”
Crepus’s hand snaps out again.
Smack.
“Focus,” he says. “You should know.”
Diluc bows his head immediately. “Yes, sir. I apologize.”
Crepus stands, towering over him. “Your brother barely qualified for the Knights as it is.”
Diluc lifts his head, unable to help himself. “He’s just nervous,” he says quickly, words spilling out with earnest warmth. “Kaeya’s really smart. He just—does better when he’s not being stared at.”
Crepus scoffs. “Weakness.”
Diluc presses his lips together. “He’ll improve,” he insists, too open, too hopeful. “He always does. He just needs time.”
Crepus’s gaze sharpens, dangerous. “You had no such issue.”
Diluc smiles faintly. “I had help.”
Crepus says nothing.
After a long moment, he turns away. “Do not let sentiment dull your judgment.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door closes.
The house feels colder without him.
Diluc exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his head once—just once—before standing. He glances toward the stairs, expression softening immediately.
“I’ll watch him,” he murmurs to the empty room, like a promise.
Adelinde returns quietly, as if she’s afraid to startle him.
Diluc is standing near the doorway, tugging at his gloves, shoulders squared too tightly for someone his age. The moment he notices her, he relaxes just a fraction.
She smiles at him—soft, proud, aching all at once—and reaches up to straighten the crooked edge of his collar.
“There,” she murmurs. “Much better.”
Diluc huffs. “It was fine.”
“Mhm,” she hums, smoothing down his sleeve anyway. “Perfectly fine. Just like you.”
She leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek.
Diluc whines immediately, face flushing bright red. “Adelinde—!”
He doesn’t really push her away. He barely even tries. His hand lifts, halfhearted, palm resting against her wrist.
She laughs quietly and cups his face with both hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks. “Be careful today, alright?”
Diluc’s expression softens. He nods. “I will.”
Footsteps sound on the stairs.
Kaeya appears a second later, carefully descending one step at a time, tugging at the sleeves of his Knights’ uniform. It’s slightly too stiff on him, too new. He stops at the bottom and looks between them.
“Do I… look okay?” he asks, voice small.
Diluc turns fully toward him and grins. “Yeah. You look like a real knight.”
Kaeya’s shoulders loosen immediately. He beams, stepping closer and slipping his hand into Diluc’s without hesitation, fingers lacing tightly.
Adelinde watches them with a fond smile. “Good luck, both of you.”
“We won’t need it,” Diluc says lightly. “But thanks.”
Kaeya nods enthusiastically. “Yeah!”
They head out together, boots crunching against gravel as the winery fades behind them.
Kaeya gets distracted almost immediately.
“Oh—Diluc, look!” He points at a bird perched on the fence. “That one’s really red.”
Diluc sighs, but there’s no real annoyance in it. “Kaeya.”
“And that cloud looks like a horse.”
“Kaeya.”
“And—”
Diluc gently tugs his hand. “Eyes forward, knight.”
Kaeya giggles and stumbles a little before keeping pace.
They walk for a bit before Diluc speaks again, voice casual. “You excited?”
Kaeya looks up. “For what?”
Diluc raises an eyebrow. “Your birthday.”
Kaeya’s eyes widen. “Oh! Yeah! I almost forgot!”
“You forget everything,” Diluc teases.
“I do not.”
“You do.”
Kaeya sticks his tongue out. “I’m almost fifteen.”
Diluc smiles. “Almost.”
“I’m gonna grow taller,” Kaeya declares. “As tall as you.”
Diluc laughs. “That’s the plan?”
“And as strong,” Kaeya adds quickly.
“You already are strong.”
Kaeya groans dramatically and bumps his shoulder into Diluc’s arm. “You’re such a meanie.”
Diluc pokes his side. “You’ll grow. Just taking your time.”
Kaeya swats at him. “Stop it!”
Diluc pokes him again. “Patience.”
Kaeya squeaks and suddenly takes off running toward Mondstadt.
“Hey—!” Diluc laughs, breaking into a run after him. “Kaeya!”
They burst through the gates, Kaeya slowing abruptly once the crowd thickens. His bravado vanishes instantly. He turns, darting back to Diluc’s side and grabbing his arm with both hands.
Diluc laughs softly. “There you are.”
Kaeya mutters, “Too many people.”
Diluc lets him cling without comment.
They spot Jean near the cathedral steps, just finishing a conversation with Barbara. Jean turns—and smiles immediately.
“Diluc! Kaeya!”
Kaeya lets go of Diluc just long enough to dart behind Jean, peeking out dramatically. “Jean,” he whines, “Diluc’s been so mean!”
Diluc throws his head back laughing. “I absolutely have not.”
Jean laughs too, hands on her hips. “Oh? What did he do this time?”
“He poked me,” Kaeya says indignantly. “Multiple times.”
“Just a bit.” Diluc adds.
Jean shakes her head, amused. “You two are impossible.”
Kaeya relaxes, stepping out from behind her but staying close. He looks between them with open admiration, eyes bright.
“Are we late?” he asks.
Diluc checks the sun. “Nope. Plenty of time.”
Jean nods. “Varka’s still inside. You’ll be fine.”
Kaeya exhales, visibly relieved.
Diluc ruffles his hair. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
Kaeya smiles up at him, trust unwavering.
“Okay,” he says softly.
The moment they step inside the Knights of Favonius headquarters, the noise swallows them whole.
Boots on stone. Voices overlapping. Laughter from somewhere down the hall. The familiar chaos of knights coming and going, armor clinking, papers being shuffled from hand to hand.
Diluc moves through it with ease.
He knows this place. Knows the rhythm of it, the unspoken rules, the way people part for him without realizing they’re doing it. His back straightens instinctively, his steps purposeful.
Kaeya lags half a step behind, fingers still hooked into Diluc’s sleeve.
“Diluc,” he murmurs, tugging gently.
Diluc glances down at him and smiles—easy, bright, the kind that always makes Kaeya feel steadier. “You go with Jean, alright?”
Kaeya’s smile falters. “But—”
“I’ll be right here,” Diluc says, squeezing his hand once. “And Jean won’t let anything happen to you.”
Jean turns back toward them, already understanding. “Come on, Kaeya,” she says gently. “I’ll show you where today’s drills are.”
Kaeya hesitates, eyes flicking between them. Then he nods, shoulders drooping just a little. “Okay…”
He lets go, reluctantly, and follows Jean down the corridor. He looks back once.
Diluc gives him a thumbs-up.
Only when Kaeya disappears around the corner does Diluc turn toward Varka’s office.
He knocks.
Once. Firm. Respectful.
“Enter!”
The door swings open a few minutes later, and Varka’s booming presence fills the hallway before Diluc even steps inside.
“There you are!” Varka grins broadly, reaching out and ruffling Diluc’s hair the second he’s close enough. “Thought I’d lost you to paperwork already!”
Diluc laughs despite himself. “Sir—!”
“Inside, inside,” Varka says, ushering him in.
Diluc takes the chair across from Varka’s desk, eyes immediately drawn to the mess—papers scattered everywhere, maps half-unfurled, ink-stained notes layered over one another.
Varka drops into his own seat with a satisfied grunt and slides his glasses onto his nose.
Diluc gestures toward the desk. “Sir… what’s all this for?”
Varka follows his gaze, chuckling. “Ah. That.”
He leans back, hands folded over his stomach. “In a few years, I’ll be heading out on an expedition.”
Diluc’s brows knit together instantly. “An expedition?”
“A long one.”
Diluc frowns. “When?”
Varka waves a hand dismissively. “Not anytime soon. You won’t have to worry about it.”
Diluc exhales, but it’s not enough. “Sir, with respect… I’d like to know more.”
Varka studies him for a moment, something softer creeping into his expression. Then he leans forward, voice dropping conspiratorially, coming closer until he’s nearly whispering.
“If you keep improving the way you have,” he murmurs, “you could be the acting Grand Master while I’m gone.”
Diluc freezes.
His face goes red in an instant. “W–what? S-sir—? Me?”
Varka bursts out laughing, loud and unrestrained, and reaches forward to give Diluc a playful pinch to the cheek.
“Relax, kid!”
Diluc groans, rubbing his face. “Don’t joke about things like that!”
Varka grins, eyes sharp but warm behind his glasses. “I never joke with you.”
The laughter fades. His voice stays firm.
“I mean it.”
Diluc stares at him, heart pounding. Then his expression breaks into something bright and earnest.
“I—I won’t disappoint you,” he says quickly. “I’ll work harder. I’ll do whatever it takes—”
“Hey.” Varka raises a hand. “Enough.”
Diluc stops mid-sentence.
“You still need to be a kid,” Varka says gently. “I didn’t tell you this to stress you out.”
Diluc shakes his head immediately. “I’m not stressed, sir. If anything—” His eyes shine. “This just makes me want to do better.”
Varka’s smile falters.
He studies Diluc’s face—so young, so serious, carrying expectations that should never have been placed on him.
“…Maybe I shouldn’t have told you,” Varka mutters.
Diluc leans forward, earnest. “I’m glad you did.”
Varka sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re impossible.”
Diluc grins. “I learned from you.”
That gets a laugh out of him.
“Alright,” Varka says, tapping the papers. “Let’s get to work.”
For the rest of the day, they organize reports and schedules side by side. Varka complains loudly about bad handwriting, Diluc carefully corrects mistakes, and between it all, Varka keeps a watchful eye on him proud, protective, worried.
Because no matter how strong Diluc is…He’s still just a boy.
By the time the clock strikes five, Diluc is already half out of his chair.
“Dismissed,” Varka says, waving him off. “Go. Before you start reorganizing my desk for fun.”
Diluc laughs. “I would never, sir.”
“That’s exactly what worries me,” Varka calls after him.
Diluc leaves with a spring in his step, familiar warmth in his chest. Five o’clock. Kaeya always waits for him. Sometimes by the training grounds, sometimes sprawled on the steps outside HQ, sometimes clinging to Jean like a shadow until Diluc shows up.
He scans the courtyard.
Nothing.
He frowns, turning slowly. Training rings—empty. Knights milling about—but no small, dark-haired boy pacing nervously or waving too eagerly.
“…Kaeya?” he murmurs.
He walks faster. Checks the training field. The armory hallway. Jean’s usual post.
Jean isn’t there.
That’s when the unease hits.
Sharp. Immediate.
He grabs the first knight he sees. “Hey—have you seen Kaeya?”
The knight blinks. “Uh—no, Captain.”
Another. “Kaeya? Did he leave already?”
A shake of the head. “Sorry, sir.”
Another. Another.
No one knows.
His heart starts pounding.
He spots Huffman near the sparring area, laughing with another knight. Huffman trains with Kaeya sometimes—far older, far rougher, and Diluc has never liked it.
Diluc strides over. “Huffman.”
Huffman straightens immediately, saluting with a grin. “Captain Ragnvindr!”
Diluc doesn’t return it. “Where is Kaeya?”
Huffman’s smile falters. “Ah—well—”
Diluc steps closer. “Where is he.”
Huffman scratches the back of his neck. “He, uh… he got sent to the cathedral.”
The world narrows.
“…Why,” Diluc says quietly.
“Well—there was an accident,” Huffman says quickly. “Someone slipped, or—something like that. I didn’t really see—he just started bleeding and crying and—”
Diluc doesn’t let him finish.
He slams Huffman back against the stone wall, forearm pressed to his throat.
“What,” Diluc growls, eyes burning, “did you do to him.”
Huffman gasps. “N–nothing! I swear! Captain—!”
Diluc’s grip tightens for half a second—
Then he lets go.
He turns and runs.
The cathedral doors slam open hard enough to echo.
A startled sister looks up. “Young sir—?”
“Kaeya,” Diluc pants. “Where is he?”
Her expression softens instantly. She points down the hall. “Second room on the right.”
Diluc doesn’t thank her.
He barrels down the corridor and throws the door open.
For one horrifying moment, all he sees is white.
Then—
Kaeya.
Lying in the bed.
His shoulder wrapped thickly in bandages. His face pale, eyes red and glassy.
Crepus stands at one side of the bed.
Adelinde at the other.
Diluc’s heart drops into his stomach.
“Kaeya,” he breathes.
He moves without thinking, crossing the room in three strides and going straight to Adelinde’s side—awayfrom his father. He drops to his knees and wraps his arms around Kaeya carefully, afraid to hurt him.
“I’m here,” Diluc says quickly. “I’ve got you. Are you okay? What happened—?”
Kaeya lets out a small, broken sound and clutches Diluc’s uniform with his good hand.
“I—I fell,” he hiccups. “It hurt—Diluc, it really hurt—”
Diluc’s jaw clenches. “I know. I know. You’re okay now.”
Diluc’s jaw clenches. “I know. I know. You’re okay now.”
The blow comes without warning.
Crack.
Pain flashes white behind Diluc’s eyes. His head jerks forward and he lets out an involuntary groan, one hand flying up to cradle the back of his skull.
“Ow—”
Kaeya gasps sharply. “Stop—!” He clutches tighter to Diluc’s uniform, panic flooding his voice. “Please—father—stop, please—!”
Crepus doesn’t hesitate.
Another strike.
Then another.
Each one sharp, deliberate. Not wild. Controlled.
“You should have been watching him,” Crepus snaps. “That was your responsibility.”
Diluc curls slightly inward, instinctively shielding Kaeya with his body even as his vision swims. His head throbs, hot and aching.
“I—” He swallows hard. “I’m sorry, sir—”
“What,” Crepus demands, voice cold, “was more important?”
Adelinde moves fast.
“Enough,” she says sharply, grabbing Crepus’s arm with both hands and holding it there, physically restraining him. “That’s enough.”
Crepus scoffs, yanking his arm back. “Don’t.”
But he steps away.
Kaeya breaks.
He buries his face into Diluc’s chest and starts crying in earnest, small, shaking sobs that soak through Diluc’s uniform. “Stop—please—please don’t hurt him—”
Diluc wraps his arms around Kaeya automatically, stiff but protective, one hand still pressed to his aching head. Every pulse of his heartbeat sends another wave of pain through his skull.
“It’s okay,” Diluc murmurs, voice strained but steady. “I’m fine. I’ve got you.”
Crepus turns his attention back to Kaeya, tone clipped. “Your shoulder is dislocated.”
Then turns to Diluc.
“You failed him.”
Diluc closes his eyes. “I apologize.”
“Speak up.”
Diluc forces his voice louder, despite the pounding in his head. “I apologize, sir.”
Crepus scoffs. “You don’t take anything seriously.”
Diluc flinches, but says nothing.
Crepus turns and leaves the room without another word.
The door shuts.
Silence crashes down in its wake.
Adelinde exhales shakily and kneels beside Diluc, cupping his face gently. She presses a kiss to the crown of his head, right where it hurts most.
“Oh, Diluc,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
Diluc winces, then shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says quickly. “I’ll be okay.”
He looks down at Kaeya, whose fingers are still tangled desperately in his coat.
“Hey,” Diluc murmurs. “Look at me.”
Kaeya doesn’t lift his head. “I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I messed up—I should’ve been more careful—”
“No,” Diluc says firmly. “No. Listen to me.”
Kaeya hesitates, then looks up, eyes red and wet.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Diluc says, softer now. “We’re just gonna focus on you. Okay?”
Kaeya sniffles. “…Okay.”
A healer steps in quietly, breaking the moment.
“We’ll need to reset the joint,” she explains gently. “He shouldn’t move much. There will be some pain.”
Kaeya tenses immediately.
Diluc tightens his hold. “I’m right here,” he promises. “You can squeeze my hand as hard as you want.”
Kaeya does.
When it’s over, Kaeya is exhausted, slumped against Diluc’s chest, bandaged and trembling.
On the way home, Kaeya clings to Diluc in the carriage, face pressed against his shoulder, refusing to let go.
Diluc doesn’t try to make him.
He stares out the window, jaw tight, head still aching—but his arms never loosen, Not once.
By the time the carriage wheels crunch into the familiar gravel of Dawn Winery, Kaeya is barely awake.
His lashes flutter, face pale against the dark pillow of Diluc’s coat, one arm pinned carefully to his side. Adelinde helps Diluc guide him inside, both of them moving with quiet, practiced care—as if any sound might shatter what little peace Kaeya has left.
“Easy,” Adelinde murmurs as they settle him onto the bed. “There you go, darling.”
Kaeya whines softly, blinking up at Diluc. “You’re staying?”
Diluc forces a smile, brushing his hair back gently. “I’ll be right outside. You need sleep.”
Kaeya pouts weakly. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
It takes both of them to convince him to lie still. Adelinde tucks the blankets up around him, smoothing them down with maternal precision.
“Rest now,” she says softly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Kaeya finally drifts off, breathing evening out, fingers loosening their grip on Diluc’s sleeve.
Diluc steps away carefully.
The moment he closes the door behind him, the smile fades.
He exhales once, slow and steady, then turns down the hall toward Crepus’s office.
The door is ajar.
Crepus sits at his desk, pen moving steadily across parchment, the scratch of ink loud in the quiet room.
“Come in,” Crepus says without looking up. “Sit.”
Diluc obeys immediately, hands folding neatly in his lap.
“What did you do today?” Crepus asks.
Diluc answers automatically. “Paperwork with Master Varka until five, sir. Patrol reports, scheduling, supply inventories.”
Crepus nods. “And Kaeya?”
Diluc hesitates. “If I’d known—”
Crepus raises a hand. “Enough.”
Diluc stops at once.
“It’s fine,” Crepus continues, voice calm now. “He’s home. He’ll heal.”
Diluc nods. “Yes, sir.”
Crepus glances up at him, studying his face. The tension eases from his posture, just slightly.
“Did Varka say anything of importance?”
Diluc straightens, hope blooming. “He did, actually.”
Crepus’s brow lifts. “Oh?”
“In a few years,” Diluc says carefully, “he’ll be going on an expedition. He said that… if I improve enough, I could be acting Grand Master.”
Crepus’s expression shifts.
The hardness melts. His eyes soften. A smile spreads slowly across his face.
“That’s spectacular news, son,” he says warmly. “Amazing.”
He stands and comes around the desk, placing a hand on Diluc’s back. The touch is firm, approving.
“That means the training is working,” Crepus says. “Varka is noticing.”
Diluc smiles back, relief flooding him. “Yes, father.”
Crepus leans down and kisses the side of Diluc’s head. “Get ready for your afternoon exercises.”
Diluc’s smile widens. This—this is good. This is right.
“Yes, sir,” he replies easily.
As if the blows had never happened at all.