Warnings: language, blood, injury
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Dottore was a lingering shadow in the corner of Childe's eye.
It was a quiet threat.
One that continued to grind against Childe's nerves.
It pushed his anxiety.
And hell, did Childe do everything to make sure that Diluc didn't notice.
But those crimson eyes were far too sharp.
Far too observant.
And yet, far too understanding.
"You're not telling me something," Diluc said once.
The Firefly rested his broken claymore in his lap.
Far too many cracks to be considered safe.
It looked off in his lax grip.
Childe looked at him.
Dared to lie before those crimson, crimson eyes—
But Diluc dismissed the claymore.
Gone from his gloved hands.
"Don't worry. I can wait."
It was an open out.
Something Childe could take—
But how long did he have?
Ajax absolutely swore to himself to protect him.
But was he really?
Ajax grabbed Diluc's hands, "No."
The Firefly blinked at him, confused for a moment, "Hm?"
"No, it can't wait—" Ajax gripped him harder.
Even stared angrily at the Firefly's Delusion, "I—"
His words died on his tongue.
Because he realized—
How?
How should he tell the Firefly?
That the Delusion that he wore-
That the "blessing" the Tsaritsa so lovingly gifted—
Was the very reason Diluc's father no longer breathed.
Yet, the Firefly stared at him.
Those crimson eyes still so kind, so patient.
Diluc trusted him.
Wholeheartedly placed that fragile trust into a Harbinger's hands.
And Ajax knew then.
It was far too late to turn back.
He took in a deep breath and never dared to let go of the Firefly.
"I need to tell you about Mondstadt."
._._._._._._.
Diluc had always wanted to know what happened at home.
What happened to his father.
What happened to Kaeya.
To Elzer and Adelaide.
And even Jean.
But he couldn't ask.
He didn't know who to ask, or even how to bring it up.
He thought to ask Ajax.
To ask if he could just tell him something.
But he didn't.
Couldn't.
Maybe he overthought it before.
Or maybe he was just overwhelmed.
The sheer warmth Ajax's family had melded into his bones and stayed there.
He wondered when he could listen to Father's dramatic stories again.
Stand in his room as Mother took his measurements yet again.
Spend spare time to share a story or two with Ajax.
Draw crystalflies and ruin guards with Teucer.
Walk with Anthon as the teen read his book.
Or even learn another fish dish with Tonia.
At times, it slipped his mind.
The Delusion that sat on his hand demanded his attention.
The promise of release weighted heavily on his own ability to master it.
He pushed himself so he could just leave.
To which home, he almost didn't know.
He wouldn't deny the fact that he wanted to see his family again.
Both the warm home of Ajax's.
And the distant home of his own.
This Palace felt like a cage that kept him in.
An extra layer to that piercing gaze of the Tsaritsa.
And Diluc could not bring himself to trust the one that Ajax admired.
He didn't trust anyone within these walls.
None but Ajax.
Ajax, who was a child of Snezhnaya.
Ajax, who had gone through the Abyss.
Who understood Diluc differently from those around them.
Who was a ruthless Harbinger that cared so openly.
Wore his heart on his sleeve and smiled.
Diluc trusted him.
Which was exactly why Diluc stood in place.
"I need to tell you about Mondstadt."
Crimson eyes were wide.
"Diluc— About half a year ago, your brother, Kaeya is the Calvary Captain now. He's just about as good as you, from what I heard. You'd be pretty proud of him."
Diluc had almost smiled.
Not once had he ever doubted his own brother.
Adopted or not—
But he didn't.
Not when Ajax looked far too stressed.
Far too upset.
"Your father— I heard he really grieved over you. He really loved you, Diluc. I know he did."
Ajax laughed, as if he was trying to convince himself that instead of Diluc.
"Not long after, he… he suddenly died. I heard he died protecting someone."
Diluc felt his heart fall, deeper and deeper.
Because Ajax wasn't done.
He wasn't done—
"I— I don't know what really happened, but you need to know."
His breaths slowly crippled with every word from Ajax.
"Before you woke up, Dottore gave me a Delusion."
Hands trembled under Ajax's tight grip— a grip that refused to let him go.
Because a certain dread slowly clawed its way into his chest.
Diluc didn't take his eyes off of the cerulean that wanted to wail.
And saw nothing but the rawest honest truth from the one he trusted.
"This Delusion was taken from your father, Diluc."
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If Diluc felt his chest constrict violently, he said nothing.
("...Papa?"
"D-Diluc?! Wha—You're— No, you can't be—")
If he felt this thing called betrayal on his tongue yet again, he said nothing.
("Rest now, Diluc, it's okay."
"But I don't want to.")
Instead, he gently pried his hands from Ajax's own.
Ignored his own voice threatening to scream.
And smiled.
Ajax didn't reach for him.
Cerulean eyes held nothing but grief that Diluc couldn't quite understand anymore.
"...Diluc?"
If Diluc had something to say, he said nothing.
("Father? Are you.. sad?"
"Sad? Ah, I was just thinking. Your mother would be so proud of you, my son. So very proud.")
Instead, he lifted a trembling hand.
Ruffled the unruly ginger locks.
And walked out of the room.
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._._._._._.
His steps echoed horribly in the near empty halls.
The night sky held nothing but stars.
Similar to the Abyss that took his fears and drilled it under his skin.
His Vision glowed by his side.
As if to comfort him.
To calm him.
His Delusion stayed dead on his hand.
As if to toss him aside.
To let him rot.
A odd calm had settled over him.
But he could feel his own emotions stirring beneath his skin.
Grief, anger, resentment, sadness—
It whirled into some wild mix he no longer could decipher anymore.
The only thing he had enough sense to do was walk out on Ajax.
The teen he had looked as his younger brother—
Completely undeserving of any outburst to come.
Diluc did not want Ajax there to see him break yet again.
He was almost there.
To the training hall he was allowed.
A place that was slowly considered as his own.
Somewhere he was free to let loose.
He was almost there—
"And what is a little bird like you doing at a time like this?"
Diluc's feet stopped.
Even rooted itself in place as he turned to look.
Crimson latched with wine.
Dottore's smile was visible in the dark.
His stance far too casual as he leaned carelessly against a wall.
"If I were you, I'd scurry back to that thing you call a brother."
Diluc didn't move.
Only felt a brief flicker of anger through the cold burn of his simmering emotions.
Ajax was not a thing.
Ajax was the only honest thing that ever happened to him within these walls.
"Oh? What happened to your polite manners, Sir Ragnvindr?" Dottore's voice floated in the air.
"Did they die with that father of yours?"
Diluc's lax hands suddenly dug into the skin of his palms.
Scarlet dripped past his fingers and pooled by his boots.
An action he didn't mean to—
No, it was an action that kept him sane.
Composed.
Polite enough not to attack the one who just slandered his father.
A father he still loved—
Still couldn't believe was—
That damn, damn Harbinger came closer to him.
Even clapped his hands in exaggerated praise.
"Ah! I see, I see! Looks like that brat finally told you, huh? I'm surprised he didn't last very long though."
Dottore sighed, shook his head as if he was beaten at his own game.
"And here I was looking forward to tell you myself."
Diluc stiffened.
"Then again, Dear Master Crepus was too easy of a target to put away."
Something in Diluc broke.
What, he didn't know.
The only thing he was aware of was the heat.
Black fire flickered so dangerously.
Smeared burns into his clothes.
Licked at his exposed skin.
And he freakin' missed.
A loud boisterous laughter echoed around him.
He definitely missed.
The Delusion glowed ominously.
A deep scarlet in the starlit night.
The Vision dulled to a pale glow.
A washed rose at his hip.
Diluc stood up, chains limp in his readied hands.
Crimson eyes far too cold to reflect any other emotion.
"So… you did it."
Dottore stepped out of his hiding place.
Far removed from the damage Diluc inflicted.
"Did I say that? Whoops."
Diluc didn't know what flooded into his veins.
But anger wasn't far from it.
He moved far too recklessly.
Threw his chains at the Harbinger that laughed, and laughed and laughed.
Spoke of how beautiful he seemed to dance within those pitch black flames.
Of how lovely the black stained wings unfurled compared to marigold feathers.
Of how sweet the Delusion curled around him like a treasured light.
Of how he surpassed the man who begged for that same Delusion.
Of how Diluc finally, finally mastered it.
There was a fleeting thought that passed his mind.
A fleeting wallowing grief that slipped through his fingers.
A fleeting wail of denial that couldn't slip from his tongue.
A fleeting will to just stop.
It was strange—
To feel so empty.
Yet so full at the same time.
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The black flames flickered around him.
Burned away the tears that endlessly fell from his face.
And the power of the Delusion delved deeper and deeper.
Diluc blinked, and Dottore was beneath a boot.
His chains had impaled the Harbinger's weapon in midair.
Pointed at anything but them.
Diluc had Dottore at his mercy. But the Harbinger merely smiled up at him.
A smile so twisted in unfiltered glee.
"Is that all you have?"
._._._._._.
Ajax ran.
He ran the second he heard something break.
Ran even faster when he felt a power so familiar.
He even cursed himself for letting Diluc go off on his own.
But the unnerving smile on the Firefly's face made him stay in place.
He didn't know what ran in Diluc's head at the time.
Didn't know if Ajax did the right thing—
Ajax cursed yet again in his head.
Stumbled down the halls and nearly bulldozed over someone else.
But he paid no attention to them.
He could only watch in utter awe at the flood of fire that burned relentlessly.
That nipped mercilessly at his clothes.
Even his hasty shield of hydro was no match to the heat.
Gone in the second he called it forth.
But he was able to see it.
Just for a split second in the flames that flailed.
Of the Firefly that stood in the midst of it.
Of the corroding wings that seemed etched in his back.
Diluc was all too calm.
All too still.
And his crimson eyes were far too hollow.
There was a vulgar curse behind him.
One so vulgar that it stopped Ajax in his tracks.
Scaramouche pulled Ajax back, quite literally throwing him away from the growing flames.
"You want to die, dumbass?!"
Ajax almost retorted.
Almost snapped about how he wasn't weak to die off like that—
But the words died on his tongue.
The lavender was alit with an anger that didn't sit right.
Something that seemed oddly… protective?
Scaramouche had a nastier curse on his tongue.
Lavender glared into cerulean, "The hell did you do to your damn brother?!"
Ajax actually flinched at his scathing tone.
But answered so damn honestly, "I told him what he needed to know."
For the first time in his life, Ajax swore that the Sixth looked genuinely upset.
Not the condescending haughty look he always had.
Not the usual annoyance that he threw around.
It was a look that told Ajax something else entirely.
Scaramouche looked so damn tired.
As if he was facing something once again.
Lavender narrowed dangerously, "When this is over, you damn well owe me."
._._._._._.
Dottore was having the time of his life.
He was so curious when he learned where that Delusion had gone.
Given to a mere boy just barely in his adulthood but the Tsaritsa, no less.
A mere boy that had caused such a ruckus of seemingly impossible feats.
He picked around and learned that the newest master was the Ragnvindr's son.
The very child that was supposedly died all those months ago.
A death he apparently caused too early to gain an advantage over Mondstadt.
He counted his blessings when the Tsaritsa excused that failure.
When he watched the boy from a distance, Dottore could help the grin on his face.
How optimistic the boy was.
Protected a bloodthirsty fool of a Harbinger.
Saw that Tartaglia thing as a real brother instead of a monster.
Promised to go home to a place that surely believed he was forever gone.
He had been so curious that he bothered to leave his experiments for a little while.
His excitement only grew when he realized something absolutely terrible.
The Ragnvindr knew nothing of his home—
Nothing about his own people.
All too wrapped up in his own affairs within the Palace walls.
Dottore took that chance that the First created.
Knowingly or not.
Took the moment to curb his distaste for Tartaglia.
Just to taunt the Harbinger to a tripping point.
Just to see how things would play out.
Because really, that boy was far too strange.
All of the evidence was there, and he wanted to know every inch of it.
Which was why he let himself get beaten to the ground.
Half in awe at the crimson flurry before him.
At crippled wings that struggled to stay up.
Black flames angrily burned at him.
Chains thoroughly sealed his weapons.
It wasn't like he needed them anyway.
He could get away just fine.
He just wanted to see—
What made this boy so dearly treasured in his Tsaritsa's eyes?
"Is that all you got?"
He almost seen it.
That split second those hollow, hollow crimson eyes flickered with a tiny light.
A quiet ambition hidden so deeply within that torrential empty grief.
That split moment, he saw nothing but a child.
A child all too perfect for his experime—
Warm liquid splashed across Dottore's exposed face.
Obscured his vision for just a moment.
The heavy weight on his chest was gone.
Dottore sat up and scowled.
The flames were gone.
The aftermath scorched the walls.
His weapons finally dismissed themselves.
Too broken to be of use now.
The body of the Ragnvindr heir was at his feet.
Crumpled and unresponsive.
Corroded wings shattered.
Bit by bit.
It was a pity to watch it go.
The Sixth Harbinger stood before him.
A horrible scowl marred his perfect face.
His hands dripped with blood and stained his clothes.
Black feathers were already fading away from his fist.
"Scaramouche," Dottore spat, "You ruined it."
Lavender burned angrily down at him.
And the Sixth smiled, tilting his head, "Oh, I'm sorry. No thanks for saving your shitty life, Dottore?"
There was threat under those words.
One that Dottore knew that he had to back off.
Right then and there.
After all, he knew better than anyone than to get on the Sixth's bad side.
…If he hadn't already.
Dottore raised his hands in wordless surrender.
Those lavender eyes stayed on him a moment longer.
It was unnerving to see the other like this.
Something so ridiculous on the Balladeer's face.
Scaramouche finally, finally looked away.
Grabbed the crimson mess on the floor.
And dragged the limp body away.
Further and further away from Dottore.
As much as Dottore wanted to get up and follow, he knew better.
It was not a matter though.
Dottore had his fill.
._._._._._.
Scaramouche dragged the body behind him.
Tartaglia had stayed exactly where he left him.
Cerulean eyes were wide, caught between horror, confusion—
Too many emotions Scaramouche didn't want to bother with ever again.
There were a lot of things that Scaramouche didn't give a shit about.
Didn't bother to even care about anything but his own curiosity.
But the body in his hands made him remember something.
("Kunikuzushi? That's quite a name. I'd rather call you Kuni.")
Something he had left behind a long time ago.
Of thousands of maple leaves in the midst of autumn.
Of a smile that was far too kind despite centuries of suffering.
("Hm? Oh, you made it! Just in time for the leaves to turn red.")
Of such a kind person who told him stories of birds made of pyro.
Of birds with such long, long lives with this faux form of immortality.
Even proved it before him despite the Anemo Vision that adorned his obi.
("…Kuni? You look terrible—Ah, I'm sorry. I'll do my best not to do that again.")
Memories he tried to erase to protect something.
Scaramouche dropped the body into Tartaglia's arms.
Who scrambled to cover the horrid wound that cut across Diluc Ragnvindr's stomach.
The same action he did once when he knew nothing better.
("Stop fretting, Kuni. I promise, it's all healed. It's just a scar now.")
The Sixth only backed off when he could no longer sense Dottore around.
"Take care of your damn brother, Tartaglia."
(Childe had looked at him then.
Eyes still wide when he realized that the wound was not that deep.
Just the faint trace of Electro that must've shocked Diluc to a dreamless sleep.)
Scaramouche stepped past the other Harbinger.
Resigned himself to forget once more.
To forget the thousands of maple leaves that he adored once.
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("Threading through the years,
As free as the autumn winds,
A wish this bird dreams— "
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Ahaha, how did that sound, Kuni?")
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