The train rattled.
Even though it was warm, the cold still seeped into the cabin.
Diluc coughed.
And coughed.
And coughed.
It wasn't loud anymore.
Or harsh.
They were small now.
Soft.
And far too painful.
Childe cursed under his breath, rubbing Diluc's arm to comfort.
Wiping away the blood on the spare blanket.
Diluc was limp against his side.
Head tucked in the crook of Childe's neck.
Breaths hollow and long suffering.
It didn't ease Childe's growing worry.
The Pyro Vision in his hand flickered.
The usual shine turned to soft glow.
Childe never knew what it was like to hold a Vision in this state.
The gentle warmth that emitted from within felt almost too cold.
It really scared him.
Because Diluc was fading quickly.
And the journey from his home to another town did not help.
There was no train.
No transport.
It was all by foot.
Childe could feel the heat that radiated from the fever.
That came back with a vengeance.
Diluc was delirious.
He barely talked.
Barely walked.
The once clear crimson eyes were glassy and unfocused.
Childe looked out the frosted windows.
Caught a glimpse of the glistening palace on top of ice.
And prayed that they'd make it on time.
._._._._._.
The floor was cold.
The bird in her hand was the same.
But it never bothered her.
The metal bird chirped in her hand.
Trilling its iron beak when she petted it.
Whispering under her breath.
It stayed and listened.
Took in every word.
Before it flapped its metallic wings.
And took off.
Frosty eyes trailed to her window.
The sky fading from grays to blacks.
She knocked the ice from her skin.
Brushed away the little shards in her hair.
And turned her head to the side.
"Pedrolino," she started, "Our borrower is overdue."
She didn't need to hear to know he heard.
"Ensure that Dottore completes his duty without fail this time."
She took one step.
Confident and purposeful.
Before she stopped, "Also, prepare a summon."
Her cold, frosty eyes narrowed in the slightest.
"I want to see Childe the second he arrives."
There was a soft shuffle.
Until it was gone.
Leaving her to herself.
The Tsaritsa straightened her back.
And looked through the frost covered glass.
Toward the land where freedom reigned.
"Isn't it wonderful, Barbatos?"
The frost grew.
Crawling across the tiled stones from the hem of her skirts.
"How a father's love can run so deep for his children."
._._._._._.
The world seemed too quiet.
Too dead as Kaeya rode.
All he could hear was his own breaths and his own horse.
He had lost sight of his father.
But he knew where he went.
Kaeya, himself, rode down the same path six months ago.
He counted the lack of rain as a blessing.
It was hard to navigate.
The clouds had obscured the full moon.
Kaeya could barely see a thing.
He was only able to hear it before it happened.
A loud roar was his only warning.
Kaeya swore at the rush of air.
The claws missed them by a foot.
His horse was terrified.
Despite being the Calvary Captain, Kaeya was still thrown off.
He landed flat on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs.
He couldn't gain it back.
Not until he scrambled to his side.
And dodged yet another set of claws.
Kaeya pushed himself to his feet.
Cursing how the boots felt too tight.
He looked up.
The drake looked at him once.
Boring its gaze into his own—
Until an odd trill of a bird flew by.
It was so sudden.
So well timed.
It drew Ursa's attention.
And led it away from Kaeya.
It only two seconds.
Two seconds to realize.
Two seconds to run.
Kaeya ran.
Pushed himself up the steep cliff.
Chased after the drake.
Because time never waited for anyone.
._._._._._.
Childe almost ran.
His steps were fast.
Heavy.
He cared not of the looks he gained.
Of the shock on some faces.
The Pyro Vision was already tucked away.
Hidden from all eyes.
But Diluc was in his arms.
No longer able to stay up.
Childe had prided himself at being strong.
Carrying the Firefly should be nothing to him.
And yet he could feel his muscles burn.
And his lungs heaving.
It almost made Childe stop.
Since when was he so desperate for a stranger?
Inside, Ajax laughed.
Because really, Diluc was no stranger.
He was family.
Part of Ajax's family.
And Ajax would do anything to protect them.
Hence why Childe kept his fast pace.
Refused help from the messenger that summoned him.
The Tsaritsa summoned for him.
She waited for him.
And who was he to refuse her?
._._._._._.
Kaeya was late.
Almost too late.
He arrived in time to see his father standing far too close to the edge.
He called out with everything he had.
Screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Father, behind you!"
His warning was on time.
His father turned on his heel.
The odd box was still in his hands.
Crepus barely dodged the strike for his head.
In his haste, the box clattered to the ground.
Rolled down the steep angle to Kaeya's feet.
And released its contents.
Kaeya blinked at it.
It looked so simple.
A fingerless glove with a ruby gem.
Like a Vision.
Like Diluc's Vision.
But duller.
Lifeless.
The drake roared.
Growling at his father.
Kaeya abandoned the glove.
Even stepped on it as he ran to his father.
His own Vision seeped into life.
Cryo came to his call.
Icicles swirled around him.
It was a skill he hadn't quite managed to master just yet.
One he should still practice off the battlefield.
But there was no time.
It was all or nothing.
Kaeya weaved the ice to his will.
Aimed for the drake.
It ripped a gash somewhere.
Enough to topple Ursa to the side.
It clawed desperately at the ledge, screaming and wailing.
It gave Kaeya the chance to appear at his father's side.
Anything he had to say was drowned out by Crepus.
"Kaeya—"
Whatever happened then was too fast for him.
Too fast to know what happened.
Until it was over.
There was a long wail, growing faint.
Kaeya could hear the drake wailing before it violently cut off.
The silence was almost deafening.
It must've fell.
The sky was brightening.
Kaeya was on his back.
All of the aches and bruises hit him then.
The back of his head throbbed at the impact.
Crepus had pinned him down.
Hands planted beside his head.
"Are you alright?" he asked so quietly.
His eyes were concerned.
Kaeya almost answered.
But he was so still.
Because he felt too warm.
Too wet.
Kaeya almost didn't want to look down.
But he did.
He did because he needed to know.
He needed to know that it wasn't his own.
Red dripped down.
Seeping into his own clothes.
And it wasn't his own.
"Kaeya," his father called to him.
Crepus even placed a shaking hand to force Kaeya's eyes away.
Away from the wound.
Away from the life draining from his father.
"Don't look," Crepus said rather pointlessly, "Are you hurt?"
Kaeya wanted to scoff.
Maybe even yell at his father.
Because of course he wasn't hurt—
But Crepus was.
Kaeya tried to say something, anything at all.
But his mouth refused to move.
So he shook his head.
The smile on Crepus face looked so relieved.
So endearing.
So lovingly.
"Good."
Then his eyes rolled back.
And the weight was dropped on top of him.
Kaeya finally moved then.
His arms snapped around his father.
"Father? Father? Hey— Father— wait—"
Kaeya shifted, hauling the heavy weight off his body.
Crepus didn't move.
Even when Kaeya gathered him in his arms.
Desperately shaking him.
Calling for him.
Because no—
Crepus couldn't leave him.
Shouldn't.
And yet—
His father—
Did not move.
Did not breathe.
Stayed so utterly still.
Got colder and colder in his arms.
Kaeya tried.
He really tried.
To cover the gaping slash that ripped through his father.
To stop the bleeding.
Through it all, Kaeya yelled.
Screamed.
Begged his father to not go.
Kaeya wailed until his voice was hoarse.
Because he was on his knees.
And held on to the last of his family.
._._._._._.
Jean was late.
So, so late.
She was not fast enough to bring help.
Not fast enough to reach Kaeya.
She should've broke every rule.
She should've just stolen a horse.
Should've left the second she saw Kaeya flying down the streets of Mondstadt from her window.
Dawn broke over the horizon.
Jean had slipped off the borrowed steed.
Ignored Varka's shouts to slow down.
Almost tripped over an empty box.
She could see Kaeya in the distance.
At the top of Starsnatch Cliff.
When she got closer, her heart plummeted.
Red.
There was so much of it.
Jean almost heaved at the red soaked dirt trail.
Avoided stepping into it.
She stopped a few feet away.
Frozen in her spot.
Kaeya sat on his knees.
Red seeped into his clothes.
Covered his hands.
Smeared across his face in careless attempt to wipe away his dried tears.
Jean almost cried then.
When Kaeya lifted his eyes.
Periwinkle dead and so, so hollow.
He merely frowned.
Exhausted grief laced his tone.
.
.
"You're late."
.
.
._._._._._.
Childe was on his knees before his Tsaritsa.
Diluc barely breathed.
Barely moved against his chest.
Almost too still, too cold.
Childe looked up at her.
Desperate and bared for her to see.
He didn't care if he was unsightly.
His Tsaritsa looked as beautiful and cold as he first met her.
Childe almost didn't know what to say.
Didn't know how to put his words into the request he had.
But in the time it took for him to form the words— the right ones—
His Tsaritsa waved a hand of dismissal.
"Why haven't you killed him yet, Tartaglia."
It wasn't a question.
It was a demand.
One that sent a wave of sheer cold into his bones.
"This goes against my plans."
Childe almost couldn't answer.
But he could barely feel Diluc breath.
Barely feel the warmth that the Firefly always held.
"I can't kill my family," he said.
His voice loud and clear in the frozen air.
The Tsaritsa's eyes were almost sharp.
Hardly any love.
But Childe knew how much she loved.
How much it drove her to become the way she was.
He knew that she gave mercy to those who loved and loved and loved.
"Your family?"
It sounded so cruel.
Mocking.
But Childe held on to Diluc, "My family."
Cerulean eyes never wavered.
Because Diluc was part of his family.
Because Diluc had been sewn into the tight knit siblings.
Because Diluc forged a place where Ajax called home.
His Tsaritsa observed him longer.
Lax on her throne.
Before she closed her eyes, "I see."
She moved from her throne.
Stepped down the steps to meet them.
Knelt to the floor with her skirts pooled around her.
It was only then that Childe loosened his hold on Diluc.
Still supported the Firefly as she reached for the hidden Vision.
It was almost dark.
Only a soft pulse of red kept it alive.
"This child," the Tsaritsa spoke, "born under that absentee, yet blessed by passion."
She almost seemed to smile, "he feels like you."
Childe blinked.
Stayed still as his Tsaritsa caressed his face.
"Like the Abyss."
It took everything to not respond.
To not take the silent, deadly bait she laid before him.
Childe knew better than to take it.
Even though he didn't understand why.
"But he's different from you."
The Tsaritsa's hand fell away, "Like me."
Childe gripped Diluc a little tighter.
Almost afraid to find out what she meant.
"Let this be a lesson, Tartaglia."
Her voice was so endearing.
So gentle.
She lovingly brushed a lock of red from the Firefly's face.
"Before a Phoenix revives."
Her voice was so warm.
So caring.
And yet.
She stared unlovingly at Diluc's flickering Vision.
.
.
.
.
"It needs to die first."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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.