WhIP

by footfungus

nederlands verhalen over mijn otp

80. Chapter 80

Main ContentHidden Trinkets

Betsubara

Summary:

He remembered only the panicked click of Jean's heels at his side; the short journey from the apartment to the alchemist's side at the alleyway's backend was a blur of shadowed limbs and thoughts conjured from deep in his own head, mauling through drapes and walls to the centre and screaming.

Please don't be his body. Not again.

Not again not again not again.

"Albedo!" Jean called, beckoning the man to face them as they drew further into the enclosing gloom of the interstice. His face twitched at the sight of them, blond wisps of his hair dissolving into the light by his chest, his entire front alight in a crystalline blue. He turned fully as Diluc's shoes scraped across the ground, halting at the sight of his cupped hands.

The hitch in his breath came involuntarily, but stripped his body of all function, and strapped his muscles up in tight binds that pulled violently at his throat, slowly pulling him under.

Lying in Albedo's hands was a Mondstadt cryo vision missing two of its wings.

OR

While investigating missing people reports, Kaeya disappears overnight. Blind to what he's getting himself into, it's up to Diluc to save him.

Notes:

This was a very long time coming everyone, just to say. I started writing this like two years ago and completely forgot about it until about 6 months ago, where I actually got serious and started writing this shit. Very proud of it haha.

Without going too deep into my own insecurities, Kaeya reminds me a lot of myself, so I figured it'd be therapeutic to write about him. It's also just super fun. Buckle in (with your water and your snacks of choice) cuz this is gonna be a long, angsty ride.

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Thursday evening, the rain was vicious on the roofs of Mondstadt homes, loud and thunderous. It flooded the streets, cobblestone reflecting the light of street lamps like pools of gold scattered across the pavement. Flags were caught up in the violent sways of the wind, and windows wobbled nervously in their panes.

It appeared suddenly earlier that day, when Kaeya was still outside patrolling with Huffman. They had looked up at the grey clouds unbothered, and although Kaeya considered it might rain, it always worked in his favour with his cryo vision, so if anything, it was probably a good thing.

What he hadn't considered was that, just on their way back from Springvale, the light drizzle would turn into a downpour. His grip on his sword became slippery, and any hope of seeing beyond two feet in front of him was void, the water sticking to his eyelashes with every blink.

They made it to Mondstadt at about 6pm, irritable and soaked to the bone. Amber greeted them at the door of the Favonius headquarters, and laughed loud and long enough for Kaeya to feel his face contort in annoyance.

"You both look like drowned rats!" She giggled behind one of her hands. Kaeya smiled at her, flicking some strands of hair out of his face with frozen fingers.

"How astute of you, Amber. Although won't you also be bearing the rain?"

She stopped laughing at once, and sighed. There was a stack of paper held tight and slightly crumpled to her chest, Kaeya caught sight of faces printed onto the front of quite a few of them, and the brief flutters of font that spelled out a bold 'MISSING'.

She followed his eyes down to the stack, disdain in her voice, "I need to post these on the bulletin board, but I think they'll just get wet if I put them on now."

He really wasn't in the mood to solve other people's dilemmas. He had left a scented candle burning in his office before he left for patrol, and it was calling for him where he could see it flickering through the window above them.

"Perhaps wait until tomorrow–" He tried.

"Are you sure? What if it rains tomorrow as well! Maybe I should ask Jean." She bounced on the balls of her feet impatiently, and his eye twitched again.

"Yes, ask her. I'm sure with her resourcefulness you'll find a solution." He said. Huffman had long left without him, likely already on the way to the knight dorms to change, and yet he had to stand in the doorway and watch the younger girl tilt her head in consideration.

"Well, I suppose you're right–"

He was, damn it.

"Thanks, Kaeya!" And with that she ran back inside, completely dry, leaving him considerably more frozen and annoyed than before.

He'd sashayed inside, waving to the knights scattered around the ground floor, and closed the heavy wooden door of his office behind him, then wrapped his arms around his shoulders with a full body tremor. Hours later, glued to his work, his clothes still clung uncomfortably to his skin, the drying fabric stuck to his skin and unpleasantly cold as he shivered in his chair.

Although inside was significantly warmer than outside, it did nothing to ease the chill. It had surely seeped into his bones, and he knew it had long passed the short time limit he had to protect himself from illness. No amount of scalding showers would save him.

It was hardly the time to feel sorry for himself, however. So he took a moment to wring his lengthy hair out, leaned dangerously close to the burning candle on his desk to help it dry, before getting back on track. Maybe, as the skin on his arms prickled with goosebumps, he could admit to himself he should have done something about the cold. But admitting it would make it a real problem, and he didn't have time for that.

Fortunately– or unfortunately– Kaeya could keep himself productive with the lovely stack of paperwork at his desk. He could've sworn it was taller than before he left, but his office lights were off and most of the knights had already gone home for the day, so whoever left them there was long gone.

Unless it was Jean. But not only did he think she wouldn't have the time to step away from her own paperwork, she also wouldn't be the type to hand off more work to subordinates unless necessary.

And so he sat, and worked. While the rain outside slowly turned into a storm.

They were one of the many things in his life Kaeya had a love-hate relationship with. Some days they allowed him to hide away with a stack of work almost undisturbed, the melodic sound of rain beating the window panes helping him to focus. It also gave him an excuse to whip up hot chocolate, rich with cream and maybe some whisky if the day was longer than planned. A drink he rarely indulged in, with his more mature tastes, but always reminded him of a time long forgotten.

Adelinde used to make both him and his brother hot chocolate on days like this, extra cream for them both. Even father would sometimes sit with them by the fireplace, wrap a blanket around them and tell them a story of knights and wind.

Other days, storms reminded him of exactly what made that time so long past.

"You're a lying traitor."

"I never want to see you again."

And somehow, on an evening where the rumble of the sky and the howl of wind were more inviting than the well lit but cramped study he sat in, it managed to fuck him over and give him the best of both worlds.

If it wasn't bad enough, the extra patrol he took that day, a couple hours before his and Huffman's shift, left his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, and the pen slowly slipping from his fingers with every sentence he wrote.

He couldn't exactly say no to the young knight who asked. The poor kid was trying and failing to hide congested sniffles behind his hand, his eyes red rimmed from tears still spilling and his feet dragging behind every step. He was clueless to what happened, but stepped in to give him a hand, and the look of uttered gratitude and awe that fell upon his tired face made it impossible to regret it.

Nothing ended up happening on either patrol, bar the usual slimes and a couple of odd jobs from nice old ladies who insisted they introduce their granddaughters to him one day. He knew the point of them, he had to keep the people of Mondstadt and their loved ones safe above everything else, but that didn't stop them from feeling pointless when his sword never even left its sheath.

He pulled the fur of his jacket a little tighter around his shoulder, until it tickled his chin pleasantly. The paper he stared at for the past however long ago had yet to change. Perhaps if he glared a little harder, it would squirm in fright, wriggle like bait on a hook until words formed all on their own.

It described a thief running rampant across Mondstadt city for the past month, their spoils ranging from cheap jewellery to a tabby named Jojo from the Cat's Tail. The list detailing each and every one of their wrong doings was so thorough, Kaeya wouldn't be surprised if somewhere in the report it notated their bathroom breaks between their life of crime. And yet, there was barely anything on their appearance. Their clothes were torn and draped over their form down to their ankles, obscuring their body. They also wore a large hood that hid their face and any identifying features.

It seemed they liked to work in the shadows.

Well, they weren't particularly good at it. If Kaeya wanted to steal jewellery, he would have at least left a replica of some kind, or anything to throw off his trail. Poor Mrs. Krause in the mid city noticed her late mothers necklace was missing immediately, and the knights found obvious signs of a break in through her broken window.

But then again, if they were so reckless, how did they manage to steal a living cat from a bar of all places? Where closing hours were way past the stroke of midnight, and the owner lived directly above the establishment and would have heard the commotion.

What was the time anyway? He looked up at the clock above the door to his office– 10:57pm. His official shift ended almost six hours ago.

He stared, considered getting up and leaving the report to do whatever it pleased while he staggered to bed, then sighed and turned back to the paper with a light slap to the face. Just another hour or so. He just needed to finish the report of his patrols, write up some numbers for record sake, then give it all to Jean.

He might as well finish up his paperwork as well, if he was tired tomorrow anyway at least he could be tired and have nothing to do. A couple pages on the routine check of supplies, the cost and expenses of each one. Easy, it was routine after all. Just some basic equations.

He scribbled out an estimate answer of prices, before he realised he skipped an entire variable, and reached down to write up his calculations on a scrap piece of paper he found wrinkled in the wastebasket.

His writing came out scratchy and wobbly, the wet ink barely holding on the creased ridges of the paper. In a moment where his head drooped with exhaustion, the quill slipped, and a bold, frightened black line drew across his work, ruining it.

It's fine; there's another couple sheets on the routine check of supplies, this time for water and food on the next three expeditions, and the last three as well.

It's fine. Just– more maths. Adelinde told him he was good at it as a child, and he certainly wouldn't want to prove her wrong.

He wondered if the Traveller did calculations before their expeditions. With the amount of running around they did, it must be something of a norm. In fact, Kaeya wasn't even sure if they had a home. Did they sleep outdoors? In inns every night? Archons, he never realised how exhausting living up to the name 'Traveller' must be.

He made a mental note to offer up the couch in his living room the next time he saw them, perhaps the bed if they'd take it. Without thinking, he wrote a real note on the edge of his paperwork with the same thought.

The quill paused for a moment, and he looked at his stilted hand in bewilderment, then at the sheets on his desk; they were completely filled out.

Oh, well then.

The clock ticked, begging for his attention, and stared back at his widening eyes with a bold 3:04am.

The words on his page weren't words anymore, and no matter how quickly or how heavily he blinked, the film in front of his eye just wouldn't budge.

Briefly, he wondered if he was going blind in his left eye, as a punishment for pretending his right eye was unusable. He wasn't worried about it. Too much, anyway.

He braced himself on his desk as he stood slowly from his seat, the world tilted rapidly to the right, and he barely stopped his head from cracking against the wall. His legs wobbled with the force pushing down on his shoulders, and he let out a shaky sigh.

It– might have been a bad idea staying in wet clothes for so long. Thinking about it, there was probably a spare change of clothes somewhere in the HQ, or at least a spare shirt. He should have thought about that before his fingertips went numb.

He wasn't that cold, was he? He wasn't completely resistant, but he was blessed with at least some immunity to the cold. He reached down to glide his fingers experimentally across his vision, feeling it respond in kind; it did feel a little colder than normal, maybe the weather was affecting it.

It couldn't possibly be anything else.

His palm hesitantly made contact with his forehead, just to check. There was no way of being certain, he supposed, but to him all he felt was his visions lasting coldness on the tips of his fingers, and the pleasant warmth of temperate skin.

He breathed another quick exhale, before snatching up all the paper on his desk and pushing himself towards the door. Jean would have a stapler– he didn't have the energy to search for one in his office, they liked to hide from him even on good days.

He ambled down the corridor, the dim light of two or three candles and the moon's persistent glow through the torrential rainfall lit his way down the stairs. A few stray knights were spread around the floor, nursing mugs of coffee or reading a book. Some curiosity filled Kaeya watching them, and he wondered if he could get away with asking about their late night without sounding too nosy.

But no, he couldn't. He had a reputation to keep up after all, childish wonder wasn't part of it. It hadn't been for years.

Light poured out beneath the door to Jean's office like a beacon, he drifted towards it and knocked quietly out of consideration for the late hour.

"Come in."

Jean was slouched over her work with her pen poised over the page, a cup of coffee sat to her right, half empty but still steaming, and the few books to her left layed open and spread around her desk. She looked up at him as he entered, dark circles painted under her eyes, but Kaeya soaked in the weary smile she sent his way.

"Kaeya, you're still here?"

He chuckled dully, and took measured steps towards her, "I hadn't intended to be, but this paperwork was calling out to me, you see."

He stood and waited until her eyes trailed down to the paper in his hand, then she gestured to the thankfully small stack of work on top of a book on civic planning. He placed the papers on top with confusion. Whoever in Mondstandt complained about civic planning to the knights of all things, he'd like to have a chat with about the dangers of caffeine consumption. Perhaps not so subtly point them towards a certain blond knight, and hope they'd be less inclined to send her nonsense.

Jean dropped her pen with a quiet clatter, and Kaeya cursed how he barely concealed a flinch at the sound. It really was too late to be anywhere but asleep in bed.

"That reminds me," she said, and straightened her back, "I had meant to discuss something with you."

"Oh?"

She nodded, "There's been a distressing amount of missing people cases recently, we've received two just this week, and five this month."

Yes, he recalled seeing something like that in his own paperwork. There had been some rise in the amount of abyss mages wandering around south east of Windrise, and a post-it note had been attached with the brief mention that a resident suspected it might have something to do with her daughter that went missing last week. In his lethargy he'd completely forgotten about it.

"Ah yes, I've heard mentions of it." He said to Jean, and she nodded again.

"I was wondering if you could look into it? Ask around some, perhaps follow a couple leads, find any information that clues us into this being more than a coincidence."

He paused, "You believe it to be?"

"I wouldn't disregard the possibility, no."

Searching for missing people was absolutely not part of his job description. But what actually was had become irrelevant as soon as the Grand Master left with his men, and so he'd slowly descended back into his old habits when he was a simple knight– doing the dirty work.

That is, so Diluc didn't have to.

Jean, the master mind reader that she was, figured that out long before he was appointed the Cavalry Captain. Kaeya wasn't particularly ashamed to admit that if she didn't give him an official assignment, he would have looked into the situation anyway.

"Of course, I'll get started tomorrow morning."

"Excellent." Her face softened drastically, and within Kaeya spread an uncomfortable churning deep in his gut, as if his mind and body were being invaded by her gaze. He resisted the urge to cross his arms, and instead lifted an eyebrow with a smile.

"When was the last time you had some rest?"

"I could call you a hypocrite, Acting Grand Master."

She huffed, "Kaeya, please, no more of that. There's no need to be so formal with me, at least not when it's just the two of us."

He disagreed, but he wasn't actually sure what forced him to do so. Some instinctual, irresistible habit he was too scared to break from– like most things in his life. Who cared? He didn't.

He shuffled around the room for a stapler, and found one on top of a thick book about geography on the shelf behind Jean's desk.

"They say the walls have ears, Acting Grand Master."

He felt her eyes on his as he slid back around her desk to grab those reports, stack them cleanly, then put them back down, unsatisfied, and stack them again.

"I want you to be able to tell me if something is wrong, Kaeya." She said, stern but downcast.

"Nothing is wrong."

He answered too quickly.

"...Do you not trust me anymore? Since…"

Paper finally stapled, he stopped to think as she trailed off. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, that was never the problem. Although, he wondered suddenly what kind of things she told a certain red head he absolutely did not trust with his feelings, and if that unconsciously factored into his decisions.

It was within her right to, she's not the one who fell out with the man, and it's not like Diluc cared about any Kaeya related gossip. If they ever showed genuine concern about each other again, it would surely be the end of the world. Because time would be nebulous, and lose all meaning, like they were adrift in a sea of memories and events that had no consistent chronological order.

Either that, or he was dying. Only then would he consider that thing called honesty that he scarcely remembered how to do properly anymore.

Diluc, however, would be dead and gone before Kaeya began to pretend the feeling was mutual. Likely staring at himself in his bathroom mirror, blade in hand, or in the eyes of an opponent in an open field as they struck him down. Either way, he could count on that fleeting hope being included in his final thoughts.

Well, there was nothing for him to talk about anyway, his problems weren't really things to be shared, as a general rule. With that, he dropped his reports back onto the pile in between them.

"And do you not trust me?" He smiled, and batted his eyelashes at her for good measure. Her laugh was weak and empty.

"Go home and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ah, right. He supposed he couldn't sleep on the sofa of his office, someone would get suspicious. "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow, Acting Grand Master."

He waved as he turned, but caught sight of the sadness that tainted her smile.

"Goodnight, Kaeya." And the door clicked shut behind him.

It felt finite, in the strange way most things do late at night. As if the day would be your last, the night painted a picture of solitude, until the sun would shine bright through your window once again in the morning.

He followed his legs out the entrance of the headquarters, the knights on shift huddled underneath the portico, the rain strong enough to slap against the brick and bounce off the outer walls of the building. Like a barrier that separated them from the rest of the world, thick with feisty wind, made of something vicious.

He offered a half hearted wave to the knights, which they returned with casual salutes, and used a trail of energetic puddles to lead him home.

Like most nights, more than he enjoyed admitting, Kaeya looked up and wondered if these were his last moments. If he'd wake up unable to feel the warmth of the sun, or the scorch of morning coffee in a china tea cup. If he'd walk to work blind, unable to spot the cheerful red of Klee's dress as she rounded the corner giggling, or the colourful array of bottles in Albedo's lab as evidence of his dedication and hard-working nature.

If he'd step into Angel's Share, and watch the sway of unfamiliar red hair with boredom– taste nothing but tar and dust in his drink.

His life was composed of so many broken pieces, stuck together with cheap glue and squeezed into a small space where it all used to fit so perfectly. He wondered if one day it'd all merge together into a perfect little circle again, or if it'd crumble with age and fall away. He wondered if it'd already gone one way or the other, and he hadn't noticed the difference.

Blinking the rain water from his eyelashes, he took in the chipped oak wood of his front door. He had enough sense to check the locks and make sure nothing was tampered with, then fumbled for his key. It slotted easily into the lock, with a resounding click, and the door peeled open.

He took one confident step with the door still closing behind him, before it clicked shut, and the smile on his face crumbled into something comfortingly blank. He stumbled over to his couch like a drunk man, and face planted into the pile of cushions and one soft, baby blue blanket.

Adelinde knitted it for him, after a bout of vicious night terrors. Kaeya wasn't sure if it actually did help with quelling them, or if he just naturally grew out of it. Either way, he kept it folded neatly on the arm of his sofa, as it smelled like home.

Not that he didn't have nightmares. He just got used to not having something– someone– to cling to. The blanket was enough, and kept away from his bedroom on purpose. He wasn't a child. Besides, the only person who would recognise it was Diluc, and Kaeya would consider it a very drastic situation for the man to even be knocking at his door.

Did he even know where he lived? Kaeya had never told him, it never mattered.

"I never want to see you again."

Whatever, it never will matter, most likely.

He needed to find a list of the missing people tomorrow, perhaps also note the families of each. There was always a chance missing people left on their own, or were coerced into leaving. Questioning the families was a good place to start. Mr. Dietrich was first, a greying man with weak muscles who lived downtown, because last week he called him pompous behind the back of his much more amiable wife. As true as it was, he didn't appreciate being called out. At all.

If not, then descriptions of the missing would do. He'd find them, there was no question, even if he took the long way round.

Nodding, he peeled himself regretfully off the sofa, and floated over his furniture to the locked door of his bedroom. He locked it automatically back up behind him, then checked the lock of his window, and the lock of his door again, then fiddled with the window lock on his way to draw the curtains. The bed was unmade, in his daze to get up and get some paperwork done before his shift. The covers bore their gaze up at him knowingly– he ignored it.

Clothes fell away in a daze, corset and cape swapped out for a soft cotton tunic that rested slightly too big on him, and a pair of warm brown leggings. His eye patch was pulled off and placed on his bedside table, his hair pulled out of its loose ponytail, the hairband left wrapped around his wrist, and he trailed his hand through it to comb out the tangles.

His hair was nowhere near as easily tangled as Diluc's was, Kaeya remembered watching Adelinde brush out the knots for what seemed like hours, marvelled at the silky red strands that curled around the brush with every stroke, until finally evening out into a wave. Then they'd head to bed, and he'd wake up with it just as tangled as the night before. He'd pout about it, but when Kaeya would tease him, they'd giggle until their faces turned red.

Kaeya's hair didn't curl, but it did tangle. Although it still swooped across his back and shoulders much neater than his brothers ever would.

The bed was beckoning him, the moonlight bouncing off the white sheets. Kaeya flopped down unceremoniously on top of the buddled covers, and crawled under them. He disturbed them when he breathed, the fabric fluttering, and for a moment he imagined he was relaxing under the morning sun, Barbatos' breeze twirling around his hair.

As he fell deeper into sleep, away from conscious thought, he watched as hair the colour of burning flames was swept up by the wind. Eyes that twinkled with amusement met his own, paired with a face round and youthful and wrinkled with joy.

It was a nice dream.

–––––––

Thunk. The smell of burning flesh. A viscous scent that clogged the air and evaporated grass dew.

Thunk. The sound of a body slamming against the ground, and a cry that tore from someone's throat, burning all the way up and out.

What?

Another thunk, like a repeating cassette tape. A scream.

Someone was screaming.

His eyes shot open, the world spinning, his right eye screaming as it burnt up under his palm. His skin was boiling where it touched his sheets, sizzling.

It was too quiet.

He scanned the room, watching the clock in the bathroom opposite his bed tick with each breath of exaggerated silence. There were no footsteps, no voices, only the circumambulatory motion of a clock and the shuffle of fabric under his head as he shifted.

The air was stiff and musky with the scent of rain, long gone and replaced with the eeriness of a cloudless night sky.

His instincts were screaming. Something was wrong, someone was here. Danger. Run.

He sat up slowly, drew away from the bed covers without a sound, and crouched on the floor in front of his window. Another thump echoed through the panes, the distant shuffle of clothing and inaudible muttering.

At this time of night, it could've been anything from a stray cat to a horrific murder, right outside his bedroom.

He reached up with the delicacy of an insect, moving only as much as necessary, and wrapped his fingers around the lock of his window.

It was still locked, untouched.

Good, at least no one climbed in.

With that, he stood, and shuffled towards his sword in the corner of the room. His feet pitter-pattered on his wooden floor, cold underneath his socks. He slipped on his boots and slid his weapon out of its sheath, the sharp blade ringing as he drew it.

If they weren't in the house, they could be armed outside, waiting to ambush him. He needed to be prepared. For what, he had no idea, but if he relaxed he was dead, or at least someone would be. The ringing in his ears told him so. It was too quiet for something not to be wrong.

In a moment, he paused, then slid on his black eyepatch secure and tight over his eye. He nodded to himself, and crept up and out his window onto his thin balcony like a spider.

The air was unforgivingly tight, strenuous in its grip around his lungs. It was as if the world was frozen in time, not a soul in sight, so polished and silken his presence felt like a stain on the freckled cobblestone street below him. To his right, down the waterpipes of the apartment building, was a poorly lit alleyway. So close to his house, he knew its isolation from the rest of the streets made for a perfect spot for dealings and assaults.

He, admittedly, ignored most instances down there. The balance of crime and goodness was important after all; too much of either would lead to disaster, he knew first hand. Mondstadt, also, rarely had any crime, and it was generally a very safe place to walk around alone in. Even in the dark, if you were ever so inclined to, he knew a little spark knight who definitely was.

On another note, he didn't really want his apartment known to everyone in the city, and focusing on one alley would absolutely give it away. The few that knew were enough.

Tonight, though, was distinctly different. The earlier sounds of distress, indicative of something more than a simple illegal purchase of goods, faded out into a ghostly silence. Any evidence of life was gone.

It's possible he dreamt it all up, but there was a pasted bitterness and thick tar stuck on his tongue, and a palpable feeling of dread sitting like iron in his gut. Every instinct told him something was very, very wrong, and he needed to find out what.

Foregoing safety– because what was the point– he jumped off the edge of his balcony, using the railings of the Juliet balconies below him to slow his fall, and landed as softly as possible on the cobblestone. His sword clattered against his side despite his solid grip, and he winced at the sound.

No going back now, if this criminal was worth anything, they absolutely heard him.

The walk to the head of the alley was short, with the weight in his hand grounding, he tip-toed down the narrow interstice, blinded by the decreasing lack of light the deeper he went. His left hand trailed along the damp concrete as his guideline, until his eyes adjusted, and he stopped with a jolt.

There, barely visible, was a figure lain askew on the rough pavement, in a position that implied they fell down in a dead faint. Their clothes were dirty but untorn, and their age on the older side, reflective of the thinning hair on the edges of their beard and sideburns. Trickles of blood were dripping down the side of their head, like viscous ink in the darkness, and one of their arms was bent unnaturally; disfigured.

It hit him suddenly– Mr Dietrich. Of course, because the Archon's enjoyed playing with his feelings and capitalising on his bad luck. Seemed they scored a monopoly when he cursed someone in his head earlier that evening.

He inched forward, close enough to see the man's chest rise and fall rhythmically, if not slightly strained. Still alive, then. Just knocked out. Despite his grudge on the man, he breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

Although, judging by the severity of his head wound, which was to say, fairly mild, he couldn't have been out for longer than a few minutes. There was no way someone got away in such a small amount of time, the alley was a dead end, and he walked straight down the only exit.

As if summoned, a figure stepped out from the shadows from Kaeya's blind spot. Hooded with a coat that flared out and disguised their shape. Up close, he saw long, nimble fingers deformed around the knuckles, and a shadow of a stubble along their jaw.

"I wondered when you'd show up." A deep, distinctly male voice croaked.

Kaeya squeezed the hilt of his sword, "My, you've been waiting for me? I'm flattered."

It would explain why they were less than ten yards from his apartment. Although his motivation could be anything from misguided revenge to a hedonistic thirst for fighting.

A crackling huff of air left the man's mouth, similar to a laugh. "You seemed lonely, little knight. All alone in the rain."

Little? Hardly, he'd been doing this for years—

Wait, rain? Just how long was he being watched? Since he left Hq? All day?

The man stepped forward with an exaggerated heaviness to his limbs, as if large weights were pulling on his wrists and ankles; a gait defined by muscular power. Kaeya imagined him groaning and mumbling as he shuffled along like a brainless monster, but instead he spoke with power and eloquence.

"You're perfect," he spat, "Desperately alone, but strong. I can't wait to show you off."

Show off– as in– to a seller? As a monument like a monkey in a travelling circus?

Oh no, Archons– no. He was not about to be some pretty jewel in a cage, death would come for him long before that.

Just what was the plan exactly? This was turning out to be something far bigger than a murderer, something far more sinister.

It took the restraint of every muscle in his body not to take several, panicked steps backwards, and instead laugh humorlessly, "I'll take the compliment, strange yet respectable traveller."

A groan echoed behind him, Mr Dietrich stirring at his feet. His gaze bore into the back of Kaeya's ankles, likely wrought with confusion.

He couldn't afford to crouch down and explain, not that he really had an explanation to give. If this criminal was here for them, Kaeya swore on his oath as a knight he would protect them, but something told him that wasn't the case.

What was he supposed to say? Sorry sir, it seems there's a man looking to sell me as a carnival prize, and used you as a randomly selected civilian to gain my attention.

Yeah, no. He was sure they hated him enough.

"You're not gonna help him?" The man laughed, watching them like actors in a stage play. He seemed perfectly content to stand and wait for Kaeya to make a move, watching with eyes that burned like rotten wood.

His limbs were pulled tight under his gaze. It was reminiscent of the longing, unyielding stare predators gave their prey, radiating desire. He trailed his eyes down Kaeya's neck at a steady, painful slow pace. Then across his shoulders, around the fat of his thighs, and circling over his grip on his sword.

Was he waiting for an opening? Or was he simply relishing in watching him squirm? He didn't seem interested at all in Mr Dietritch, who crawled up onto his hands and knees.

"Stay down for now, Sir," Kaeya whispered over his own shoulder, "you've been badly injured."

"How noble! I love it!" His chuckle crackled like a dying flame, "Come on, fight me– fight me!"

He bounced on his toes, but his cloak barely lifted past his ankles, and the ground groaned beneath him in a strange balance of seeming immovable yet still finding the lift to sour upwards. He shifted his weight back and forth with his fists curled up near his chest, and tweaked his fingers towards himself in a patronising 'come here' gesture. Through the contempt, a long forgotten ball of fear was tugged on in Kaeya's heart.

He was twenty-one years old, for Archons' sake, there was no need for a disciplinary hand sign to cause him such distress, but he couldn't help it. Something about the man assisted towards this aura of denigration and sadistic delight– something Kaeya was trained to obey so instinctually even years of Crepes' patient, loving parenting couldn't fully erase it.

"Show me what you can do, little knight." They laughed, and he knew even if Mr Dietritch wasn't behind him, he could not let this man roam free any longer.

He swiped his sword around in quick, vicious strokes, but the man shuffled away for each one. The walls of the alleyway seemed to shrink with each swing, the tip just missing the ridges of the concrete. It was impossible to put any momentum into his strikes; to calculate the severity of his swings. There was no way to be merciful to this man.

If he tried playing it safe, he'd die. He'd have to kill them.

He struck again, this time thrusting his sword forward in a stabbing motion, and watched the man stumble only an inch backwards, before springing towards him with a fierce right hook. Kaeya barely dodged.

Another punch, then another– shooting for Kaeya's face, his jaw, the soft underside of his ribcage. In one particularly synchronised attack that left them both stumbling backwards the man's hood flew off his head, exposing his angry snarl. He made mental notes within the stress frayed edges of his mind. A peppered jawline, broad nose, short dark hair that tickled his ears. Jean would need to know every possible detail in the morning.

He scrunched his nose as he growled, glaring at the sword in Kaeya's grip. Did he really expect to win a sword fight with his fists? Was he so cocky to believe he could win without any sort of backup plan? Perhaps he expected Kaeya not to bring his sword at all? In that case, he was being underestimated. He could use that.

The man shuffled forward again, ready for another load of heavy punches, when another groan echoed out from behind him, croaky and muffled. He turned his head just enough to catch Mr. Dietrich in his peripheral vision, as the man shifted to lift himself onto his elbows.

Shit. If he got in the way they were both screwed. Guess Kaeya needed to make some time for them.

He rushed over with his eyes still on his opponent, then crouched down as much as he was able without exposing any weak points. He placed a stern hand on the man's elbow. He wasn't sure why he expected them to stay down the first time; obviously he wasn't thinking properly.

"You're safe now, Sir," he hummed, "the Knights of Favonius will have this sorted."

"Sir Knight–"

"I'll get you out of here, don't you worry." He winked and tried to ignore the sweat building on his forehead. There was only so long he could take that predatory stare, like his skin was tearing away as teeth pierced him down to the bone and dragged slowly raked down the length of his figure.

They took a single step forward, his boots thunder strikes, and Kaeya swept his sword up from his crouched position, forcing the man to draw back. There was no way he would win the fight if the man got in close.

He stumbled, and as if a switch was flipped, his expression quickly filled back up with rage. He took two cruel Bowie knives out the side of his boots, then flipped them up backwards in his grip, like attaching them as extensions of his arms. Rushing forward, he aimed straight for the sensitive skin of Kaeya's belly.

He sprung upright and swung his sword over and over, but somehow missed by an inch each time. For every tiny nick the glisten of their blood set off something like a firework inside him; each tug on his sword as it slid across flesh sapped a drop of his strength.

He didn't want to fight people today– that was probably the problem. Everything was too muted, the sky a lifeless grey, the greenery shelvering building windows almost sere. Perhaps even the windmills Kaeya couldn't see lacked the wind to keep them spinning.

He felt absent, in a weird way he couldn't even begin to describe. How long had it been? Did it even matter? The life that buzzed within him seemed to be the only life left in the world, pulsing like a star that would eventually explode. His hands felt as if they'd jitter off his arms, but when he glanced down, they barely shook.

He didn't need this tonight. He didn't need this at all. He was going insane. He was losing his mind.

Enough. He needed to try harder.

He arched his sword up from below the man, aiming to take his hand off. He let out a panicked grunt and pulled himself back just in time, the edge of his wrist nicked. The knife fell to the floor with a clatter, and Kaeya took the opportunity to thrust his sword forward with a burst of cryo. He screamed like a roaring bear, the frost crawling up the tattered sleeves of his cloak and burrowing into his exposed skin.

"Shit!" He cried, "You mother fucker! Where's my fair fight?!"

Should have thought of that before trying to murder a man.

He placed his hand slowly on Mr Dietrich's head again, minding the injury, and caught their eye. They dwarfed below him, the wrinkles on their face wrought with pain and hesitation.

It was still strange, being someone with influence; to manage the safety of strangers in the palm of your unsteady hands, sometimes your presence alone enough to quell their fears. He stayed on a pedestal above the average citizen, standing, the gilded seat too mighty, and held their hopes close as glowing weights on his chest.

The height was immense, the fall would break something, for sure, but he was up there.

Mr Dietrich was a callous man. His confidence came from a place of ignorance, and his sense of humour boiled down to that same intolerance for… other.

He was racist, is what he really meant.

He looked at the fear in the man's gaze, however, and sighed. It was his job to protect the people of Mondstadt, along with their innocent adoration for freedom, by any means necessary. Emotions were funny things, like shapeless puzzle boxes, that he could toy with to get the results he needed, but at the end of the day he defeated the enemy and he got those relieved smiles.

Protecting these people made him something. It made him more than a boy in the rain.

"It'll be okay, sir. I promise. Just stay down for now, please." He said, and turned away as they nodded.

The cloaked man was slouched over, watching him with freakishly wide eyes. He pushed them both back further and further, desperate to separate the two men between him. A readily equipped second knife was in his right hand, held close to his chest as he dodged each jab of Kaeya's sword.

If he kept pushing, it'd give him a moment to think. Perhaps he could walk them out of the alley, then gain full movement back on his sword? Then, he was confident it wouldn't take long to incapacitate the man. If not, maybe he could create a wall of ice behind him, and form a sturdy cage for Mr. Dietrich while he fought? He wasn't having the greatest night– or morning, whichever it was– but he probably had enough control to build it thick. Thick enough that the frost within would completely disguise what lied inside.

He stabbed pointedly towards the man's chest. Yes; now he had a plan. If he separated them all not just at a base level, but entirely, then going all out would be much easier.

As quick as the breeze, they whirled around his jabs like executing an old dance. His footwork jumped between heavy-footed and clumsy to energetic and ductile, back and forth between each dodge. It was only when Kaeya flung another burst of cryo at his feet, coaxed into clenching his sword's hilt painfully tight in irritation, did the man stumbled closer to the moon's light at the alley's mouth.

Yes!

They stopped in place, still as the wax figure supposedly in the halls of Sumeruian museums, and laughed boisterously, acutely triumphant, with those horrible, bright eyes. Kaeya faltered immediately. Was– he missing something? Did he get too confident? A wide smirk suddenly started to grow on his face, sharp as if carved on a chisels sharp edge. Why were they so…?

They threw his knife in a calculated arch towards Mr. Dietrich on the floor, the blade whizzing past Kaeya's cheek. Powered with the kind of force that would embed a blade into someone's skull.

Time turned into thick treacle as he watched it travel closer and closer to its target, in a way familiar and instinctual from past experiences; he knew what he needed to do. He held his breath and disappeared into sparks of dust, dissolving and travelling through the wind with practised coordination. In a flash and a star filled blink, the alleyway expanded, and the light of the moon at its entrance squeezed inwards. The speeding knife flew for his groin, and with no time to spare he snatched its hilt up from the air, missing by millimetres, the blade slicing deep into his palm.

"Fuck."

The man was closing in– he swung his sword desperately, and felt the pull of their skin being split along the hilt, but it wasn't enough. Two separate fists dug themselves into his stomach, squeezing his diaphragm. The knife slid out of his grip as he gasped for breath. Another force from under his chin flung his head backwards, his body following with a series of uncoordinated stumbles.

One more slammed into his temple and, in the dark night, he barely noticed the world fading to black until he was suddenly leaning heavily into the damp walls of the alley, dizzy beyond words. He dropped his sword. It clattered to the floor and beneath a large boot; with it the instant flood of debilitating panic.

He could barely see, his vision was fuzzing out around the edges, but a large mass was coming in straight ahead of him, stretched out for the centre of his face like the gaping maw of a crocodile.

What a stupid fucking mistake. If it wasn't butt fuck hours in the morning, he would have prepared for that move as soon as he spot the bowie knives. What was wrong with him?

He forced freezing energy through his fingertips, the frost turning his breath foggy, and coated as much in front of him as possible with ice, blanketing the whole alleyway. He heard a pained cry, then the angry sound of crystals shattering under a bloody fist.

"You fucker. You coward!"

"Fucking piece of shit, I'll break you!"

Again, from where he clung to the alley wall, burning ice burst from his hands. He directed as much as he could into the ground. If he couldn't push him away, then the next best option was to stop them in place. It didn't matter that his knees were also beginning to numb around the cold, his feet fully trapped in blocks of ice.

If he was to use his own body as a shield to protect this man behind him, so be it. Apparently he didn't have the intellect to do much else.

If only it wasn't an alleyway. If only it wasn't the middle of the night on one of those painful days when he couldn't think straight.

If only—

He pushed one blast after another, over and over and over again, until his vision stopped spinning and instead shook like the sweets in a jar.

If only—

He saw the squirming monster in front of him crouch, then with a swish the rope attaching his vision to his hip was cut away. He watched hazily as it bounced away from him, shuddering with the flashes of frost that pooled into his hands the longer the power surged through them.

It's fine, he trained for this, just in case—

The power poured, but sputtered without its source. He couldn't feel his fingers.

His low half was nearly entirely encased now, but his opponent's neck was starting to freeze. Just a little more.

He was way over his limit for elemental energy, he knew that. Any longer and he'd faint on the spot. The ice around their shoulders crackled and fizzled away, the ice around the knee exploding with a forceful twist. He pushed a little more out and watched it seal again.

There was a vicious smile on their face, stretched abnormally at the corners, too wide for his face. It shone in the darkness, nothing else but a manic grin and wide, murderous pupils, Something inside him was screaming like a child; terrified shrieks that cancelled out logic. He couldn't breathe past it. Then two hands with long, gloved fingers drew in from either side of his face. He flinched back into a solid body and the overwhelming smell of smoke.

He spasmed, but with no luck. A cloth was pushed up against his airways, while the other hand quickly wrapped around his neck and squeezed.

There was another one. Archons, of course there was another one. Why was he so stupid that he didn't even consider an accomplice.

How many were there? How badly had he miscalculated? Were there other victims tonight that he failed to save?

Diluc was going to kill him.

His limbs were falling away, the world was fuzzing around the edges. He tried desperately to hold his breath, but his airways were squeezed tighter and he drew in a pathetic gasp that tasted of cigarettes.

This was surely it, he was going to die. Everything he could still grasp; his sight, the pressure against his back, the cold of his ice, it only brought him pain and discomfort.

Ah, how familiar. Perhaps no matter the circumstances, he truly was destined to die painfully.

Ice was meant to melt naturally, slowly, but instead it exploded with a bang as he let out a muffled whimper. His world, like the film in front of his eyes tore to make room for another, abruptly set ablaze.

His body was gone, blown away and left in sizzling pieces. He could taste the tar and metal in the air.

He couldn't breathe, and his ice was dissolved by a raging fire. He began to burn.

The ground came up to meet him, slapping him against the floor in an imitation of a marionette with its strings cut. He barely felt a thing. Diluc must have come to finish the job, and burned his remains.

Fire licked the dewed grass dying under his cheek, bright as the sun; searing, beautiful, saturated rubies and citrine crystals. It was awe inspiring. It burned.

His vision was just out of his reach, its blue light reflected just a little in the pulsing waves of the fire, gently flickering. A tiny, insecure voice in his head wished it would burn like the rest of him, as if it never existed at all. He would be that little boy again, tainted by the darkness, but stood proudly next to the brightest, most polished child in the world. Free.

Diluc was going to kill him, just as he promised.

A short knife was discarded closer to his feet. To his fizzled mind, its blade glistened like a beacon.

Several sudden jabs were forced down upon his skull, each gone in a matter of milliseconds, but the resounding wave of pain left him gasping through numb lips.

Right, the bad guys. His brother needed his help to get rid of them. He recognised the faint sound of footsteps stomping around, parting through the fire like wading through the sea. It wasn't strong enough.

He had to stop the bad guy, or good people would get hurt. He had to.

Their feet were right in front of him.

He reached for the knife with hitching breaths, held it in a sloppy, unfeeling grip, then struck down with all his might through the flame-licked shoe in front of him. Echoed across the field was the muted squelch of sliced flesh, and the quiet crush of gravel as the knife's point grazed the ground beneath the sole. The man screamed, tripping into walls and crumbling against them. Out of reflex alone he flinched and yanked the knife free with a slight effort, the resulting cry one of an enraged bear.

"You fucking coward." He whispered. There was a warm liquid pooling between Kaeya's fingers, and a hand yanked his head back with a violent tug on his hair.

Right, there were two of them. They came from behind him, that first time. He wondered if Mr. Dietrich was dead.

How pathetic, Jean would have at least kept him alive. If Diluc wasn't so engulfed with rage trying to kill him, the bad guys would be in a jail cell already.

He was dropped back into the dirt like trash, as a slight respite from the world. The flames were almost comforting.

Then there was pain, nothing like the fire, agonising as it verberated through his head fast enough to spin the landscape around him. Repetitive shots of white hot pressure that rippled like the skin on a snare drum. They likely wished to knock him out before Diluc went for the kill, how merciful.

But— just maybe— he wanted to be awake and see the blue sky one last time before he went.

He caught a glance at the grime on one man's shoes, smeared with blood, before the pain strangely vanished into a sense of incomprehensible numbness. His thoughts fused and intertwined like strings of yarn, until they disappeared all together.

His vision went blindingly white, then frighteningly, irrevocably black.

Notes:

1. I hope you enjoyed! I've been working on this for a long time, and I'm quite proud of it. I hope the fun I had with this comes through in the writing, but please do lmk if you see any mistakes or have any improvements, as always. Especially with things like formatting tbh, ao3 has been a bitch lately.
2. I realised in my last fic that I was actually terrible at making good lengthed paragraphs lol. I went through and edited that one later, then thought really hard to fix it when writing here. So more than anything, if the spacing is terrible lmk! I'll try harder :)
3.I know Kaeya's hair isn't actually in a ponytail. But please, I can't face the truth. I'm just going to continue pretending indefinitely.
4. I read on tiktok somewhere people talking about their fav genshin lore bits, and someone said that Mondstadt's crime rate canonically significantly decreases when Kaeya isn't drunk. That's the funniest thing I've heard in weeks.
5. I'm sticking with the hc that Kaeya's life before Crepes was pretty terrible, and that his dad wasn't a great guy. The Weinlesefest event made me think he wasn't so bad (since he sounded so apologetic in Kaeya's memory) but I like the idea that Crepes was a better dad since it gives Kaeya more reason to pick them over Khaenri'ah, so lets say his old dad was 'problematic' and call it a day.
6. This time, I can tell ya'll that I've written quite a bit into upcoming chapters, so it won't take me like 5 years to bring you chapter two lol. Fingers crossed I can make a solid upload schedule. See you soon!

Chapter 2

Notes:

So I've suddenly realised that writing about Kaeya for therapeutic reasons means he's my comfort character. Huh.

Anyway on that note he's not in this chapter lol. It's all Diluc and Jean detective team bby.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was a knight, of all people, who clued Diluc in that something was wrong.

The tavern was the same as every other evening, bustling with an excited air, swamped with enough orders to worsen his developing headache. A group to his right were celebrating a birthday, at least three rounds worth of empty beer glasses on their table. Upstairs, two girls were gossiping about their love lives and rating the attractiveness of men on a ridiculous, purposefully nonsensical scale.

They were all quite boring conversations and, as he frequently reminded himself, none of his business. For one thing, he didn't need to know where he stood on Mondstadt's attractiveness scale, and he would like to forget he ever heard that, please and thank you.

Unfortunately, it was unavoidable as the bartender— and waiter, because why pay someone to do what he could easily do himself— that he would overhear the conversations of his patrons.

They didn't need to know that. Diluc thought it was obvious, and it wasn't his job to clue people in.

At that thought, a gang of young knights strolled through the door looking for a drink. They were scrawny and pale, radiating the kind of energy that only came from the inexperienced and naïve.

Lightweights. After years in the industry, he knew from one glance. One of them looked barely of drinking age, his eyes trailed nervously across the counter, it was likely his first time trying any type of alcohol.

He never understood people's obsession with drinking as a sign of adulthood, but as long as it got him customers, he supposed he wasn't one to judge.

The loudest of the bunch sauntered up to the bar as the others sat down, his smile wide and confident, "Good evening, Master Diluc, Sir! I'd like to order a round of dandelion wine."

He hummed a reply. The knights were, more often than not, perfect reservoirs full of info he could use, from dangerous sight locations ordinary citizens weren't privy to, to important business information they thought as gossip worthy, and nothing else. Maybe tonight they'd have something useful.

One day, he swore he'd find a dirt pile of knights, tied up together by loose string and left completely immobile while the enemy skipped away. He's never met a more inefficient group in his life.

Diluc slid the wine across the bar top with the tips of his fingers, the alcohol circling around the glass. The knight sat down with a thump and a resounding cheer from his companions, the wine wobbling much more dangerously in his grip.

Diluc eyed them from afar, because you could never be too certain. If they got too careless, he would need to kick them out. It had happened before.

He kept his hands busy cleaning beer glasses and serving other customers, the repetitive motion enough to relax any lingering tenseness in his muscles, and listened.

The tallest and lankiest of the bunch scooted forward in his seat, "Did you hear the news about Sir Kaeya?"

Another gasped, then nodded gravely.

"Yeah, I heard. Do you really think he's gone missing?"

He—

Kaeya… was missing?

He put a beer glass down with an audible thud, then hastily picked up another to keep his hands busy. It almost cracked in his grip.

Kaeya was missing, huh?

It's— it's fine. He was probably just on a long expedition with the traveller, or unwinding at home neglecting his work. There's no way Kaeya of all people was missing.

"Sir Kaeya's missing?"

Not that it mattered. No, it didn't matter at all. Kaeya could do whatever he liked with himself, it was none of Diluc's business. He didn't care.

"Well that's just it! Me and the fella's were thinking we hadn't seen him for a while, and Wyratt was telling us he overheard Master Jean talking to Miss Lisa—"

"That guy? He's so strict, how'd you get him to spill?"

"Does it matter? Anyway—"

"Of course it matters! Imagine all the shit that guy must overhear, he's bound to know something that'll keep patrols interesting for once."

Barbatos help him, Diluc was seconds away from rounding the counter and strangling the man.

His companion glared, "Do you want to know or not?"

They put their hands up in surrender, while the other two rolled their eyes and nodded.
"Alright, so, Master Jean was saying how Sir Kaeya hasn't been to work since Thursday, and no one has seen him around since. Apparently they were thinking of getting some outside help to look for him."

Was it so strange for Kaeya to miss work days? He never did before as a lower knight, only complained, but Diluc's impression of the man had since drastically soured. He frequented the bar so often nowadays, he just assumed that also meant hangovers were spent at home slacking off.

He was probably passed out in his living room, starfished on the floor and drooling all over himself.

Passed out for several days…

That wasn't really normal. What if he gave himself alcohol poisoning? What if he was so hungover he couldn't take care of himself? What if he threw up and choked and couldn't breath and—

And—

And, Diluc didn't care. Kaeya could take care of himself, and even if he couldn't it wasn't Diluc's job to babysit him.

He didn't care. He couldn't care less.

The men looked shocked, "Is it really that bad? Doesn't Sir Kaeya miss loads of days?"

The quiet man on the right suddenly spoke up, "Sir Kaeya does a lot of work out in the field, much more than us anyway."

"Where'd you hear that from?"

He shrugged, "Told me himself. He asked me once to give a message to Master Jean; said he does so much away from Hq that sometimes he forgets to inform the acting grand master of all the details."

"You did a favour for Sir Kaeya? Man, wish he'd hand out his work more often, then we'd all get a turn."

He held back a scoff, and scrubbed his frustration into a whiskey glass. Doing favours for Kaeya only caused more problems, which he left for others to clean up like a child. It wasn't nearly as amazing as lower knights made it out to be.

"Why the fuck would you want more work to do?"

"Speak for yourself, man. I'm bored out of my mind on duty, I need more things to do." He wiggled his eyebrows a little, "Besides, I hear talking to Sir Kaeya's an experience in of itself, Swan told me he's on a totally different wavelength."

The quiet one nodded again after taking a long swig from his wine, "Oh yeah, it's like he's a thousand thoughts in front of you. I hear even talking casually with him feels like a mind game. It's amazing, but it must be exhausting."

"Right?"

Diluc couldn't even begin to place why, but hidden below his amusement at hearing negative gossip about the knight was this ball of seething irritation. He felt the need to stomp over and correct them, despite having no idea what to actually correct them on. They were right, after all, talking to Kaeya was beyond exhausting. Like talking to a machine that had a set reaction for every word you threw at it, incapable of having a genuine conversation. It felt ridiculously fake.

Still, gossiping about it in a pub had to be some kind of insubordination. Diluc could have them fired.

The door in front of him suddenly creaked, then swung open. He snapped his head up, expecting no one else but Kaeya. He had an incredibly annoying habit of appearing immediately after he was mentioned, or immediately after he crossed Diluc's mind. It used to be funny.

But instead of the swish of his blue hair, a shock of bleach blond caught his sight. The point of her white shoes did not follow the same confident stroll of the cavalry captain, but instead a polite elegance that screamed austerity, as he'd known her since adolescence.

Jean caught his eye lightning fast, and raised her hand in a terse hello.

He tried to quell the panic stirring in his gut. Jean never came to the bar after her shifts— unlike a certain someone— and he knew her well enough to know relaxing with some alcohol to keep her warm was the last thing on her rattled, overworked mind.

It's not as if she came to spend time with him, absolutely not. He cut that tie years ago.

She shimmied around the bar stools, choosing instead to stand and lean in over the counter. People parted like the Red Sea in her presence, and he leaned an appropriate amount into her.

"Master Diluc— Sir— good evening," she fumbled over her words in a way reminiscent of their younger years, "May I speak with you for a moment? It's important."

But then, if not for relaxation, her only reason to talk to him was for business. If something serious happened, if someone, or everyone, was in need.

Perhaps Kaeya really was—

No. No. Who cared? He didn't.

For some ridiculous reason he couldn't decide if idly chatting with Jean was far worse than any danger Mondstadt was in. He could fix the latter issue, at least. Much more efficiently than any of her knights, in fact.

He shifted his gaze to the clock; it was just ten minutes until closing time, but that meant most of the customers were drunk or very close to wasted, and decided ten minutes was close enough.

"Of course." He said, then placed the glass and cloth in his hands in the space between them. He strolled past Jean towards the seats in the tavern, collecting empty glasses between his fingers as he went, and began prompting customers to leave with their companions. Those still nursing their drinks were forced to abandon them, and they left in packs of twos and threes, while he stood behind them all with a stern expression until they eventually filed out.

When he turned minutes later, he found Jean waiting as he left her, patiently standing in between his bar stools. He turned fully towards her, and crossed his arms, unsure what to do with them otherwise. Seemed it wasn't a sitting down event.

She took a deep breath, "It's— about Captain Kaeya."

No, no, no, no—

Seriously? Again? He didn't need this tonight, he's heard enough Kaeya gossip for the whole month. That asshole could be dead in a ditch in the middle of the Sumeru desert for all he cared. Because he didn't care.

"Jean."

She shook her head, "It's urgent, Master Diluc, I wouldn't lie to you."

He caught the tiniest hint of bitterness hidden beneath her words, like a warning, and felt the irritation pool out through his feet. Right, this wasn't about him. If Jean was here in person to talk to him about an issue, it clearly wasn't the time nor place to argue. Even if he didn't care, The least he could do was listen to what she had to say before he decided.

He bowed his head briefly with the wash of guilt, "Apologies, go on."

She nodded, "Captain Kaeya has missed three full days of work, and no one has seen him since Thursday evening, myself included."

So it was true, then. True that Kaeya was… gone.

Oh god he was gone—

He was—

Well, it couldn't be that serious, the man would probably turn up on his own in a short while.

"I figured it wasn't particularly unusual for him to run off on his own."

She bit her lip, then let her shoulders sag inwards with a sigh. He watched her shift from the Grand Master into the Jean he's always known; tired, slightly apologetic, and with enough love in her heart to fill thousands. It was jarring.

"Normally I'd agree," she looked up at him imploringly, "but there's been an abnormal rise in missing people reports these past few weeks. Surely you've heard?"

Unfortunately he had. There was an increasing number of abyss mages spotted south-east of Windrise that set him more alert than usual, but when he tried to investigate as usual, he was greeted with nothing but news of several missing people all around the city. They likely weren't connected, it was extremely rare for the abyss to cooperate with ordinary criminals. Diluc understood it more to be that these rumours around missing people were all anybody cared to talk about, scared as they were for their safety.

He nodded solemnly, and Jean continued, "I asked him to investigate it, Thursday night, and he agreed to start in the morning. A couple hours ago, a body was found outside of his apartment."

A—

A body?

He was wrong, this was suddenly far more serious. Far bigger than Kaeya.

"Fresh?"

She shook her head, "I called for Albedo just before I left, but they looked at least a day or two old."

He paced back around the bar counter, finding one last glass to clean while he thought. If there was a body, the general consensus must be that Kaeya was the murderer, then vanished to run from his crime. But Kaeya wasn't a murderer. He was a master deceiver, and used others like chess pieces on a rotting chess board, but he wasn't a murderer.

Especially since— after what Diluc said—

No. Not that again. Focus.

"If he happened to try investigating the missing people earlier than I asked him to," Jean said, "then maybe…"

Then maybe, what? He was kidnapped? Fell into the same ditch all these other civilians fell into and was slapped on a missing person poster? The concept itself sounded outlandish. Kaeya simply wasn't one of those poor innocent souls who were kidnapped and brutally murdered, it didn't happen to people like him.

He realised he didn't have any reasoning to back up why it didn't happen to people like Kaeya. It just— didn't. He was far too slippery for that.

He dug his fingers into his coat sleeve out of reflex, and found his hands shaking. Why— Why were his hands shaking?

He didn't give a shit about Kaeya. He didn't.

"Have you searched for him?" He said, and was given something on the border of a glare.

"Of course I have, that's why I came to you."

"Well, there must be somewhere you haven't looked."

She sighed in a way he felt he should've been offended by, "I've checked everywhere in the Hq and asked every knight on patrol now and since. The only place I haven't looked is inside his apartment."

He tensed his jaw, keeping his irritation simmering low.

"Why didn't you check that first?" He said. Did she not see how serious this was? Someone was dead.

"I found out about the incident not a few hours ago, and saw no reason to make checking there a priority without back-up."

That still left the issue, "Why would you need me?"

"Because— well, as much as I hate to admit it, Kaeya isn't my only priority at the moment, and I can't spend all my time looking for him. But…" she paused, staring at her shoes, "Out of the two of us, you're much better at investigating Master Diluc. I have a feeling this'll turn into something I'm incapable of solving alone."

It's been a while since Jean spoke her feelings to him so clearly. He should feel flattered, but instead he frowned. Did she truly believe this was so big a problem she'd need his help? Or was there another reason she was getting him involved? Kaeya would probably come running back soon to explain himself out of trouble.

"You're perfectly capable of doing something as small as this, Jean. You don't need my assistance."

Because it was small. It was. Kaeya— Kaeya was fine. Kaeya's always fine.

She looked up at him then with the pleading eyes of a puppy, desperate and sparkling blue like the sky's reflection on water, not dissimilar to her sisters'. It suddenly hit him that they were in an empty building together, alone, without the need to keep each other at arm's length.

Suddenly it was just Jean and Diluc, as it used to be years ago, when he thought of this woman as a treasure and one of the few who had a key to his heart. When he was a naïve teenager who didn't care about labelling things like friendship and happiness because those kinds of things didn't need to be labelled to be real.

Now he could barely greet Adelinde without wondering if that was something he was allowed to do, or if she was annoyed by him too.

"Please, Master Diluc? If something that awful happened to him because of me, I don't know what I'd do with myself." She shook her head, as if to banish the thought away, "For my sake if not his, and for his sake if not mine, help me this once?"

For Kaeya's sake, huh?

He couldn't care less what happened to that man. He was a liar, a cheat; he was selfish, arrogant, and aggravating in every way he knew how to be. He found joy in hurting others, he thought it was funny tying strings to people's wrists and tightly around their necks and forcing them to dance.

He was a…

He was a… traitor. He didn't deserve sympathy.

But—

If something truly awful happened to Kaeya, if he really was taken or tortured or brutally murdered, he wasn't sure he'd know what to do with himself either.

"Okay." He sighed, "I'll help you, just let me lock up."

—

Jean guided him up Mondstadt city towards the more expensive apartments, closer to the Favonius headquarters and the church. It was the smallest district in the whole city, defined by the more polished pavements with cleaner brickwork and facing, and the lush, trimmed greenery that trailed along the paths and building edges.

No other part of Mondstadt was so resolutely pristine, as if frozen in its beauty. It was unlike the demonstrative passion that other streets displayed, windswept and colourful and aged by the care of the people, but Diluc grew up fond of that kind of chaos, and frankly found the nobles' cleanliness a little unsettling.

He technically counted as one, but the paths to the winery twined and were softened by years of wear. It was… charming. Familiar. The same as always since his childhood. He'd never ask Adelinde or any of his staff to do something as pointless as refurbishing it. Instead of thud through dirt, though, the stone under his and Jean's boots clicked like clock hands as they walked. It was a cloudless night, bright with speckles of stars, and yet the wind was strangely absent.

He felt goosebumps travel along his forearms anyway. Other than convenience, he'd never understand why Kaeya chose such a desolate place to live. It was as stagnant as a graveyard.

The church told stories of wind being a euthanizing, comforting spirit that cleansed the world of its sorrows. A lack of it in trying times meant danger, or worse, the Anemo Archon abandoning you. Diluc heard the same in the bedtime stories Father read to him as a child.

Venti would vanish and run for the high heavens the moment you asked so much as for him to pay his tab. Still, those stories were fixed in his mind to some degree, and he had no doubt they were fully embedded into Jean's.

It made sense, then, why her shoulders were hiked up to her ears, and her heels clicked harsher the further they walked. He hoped that was because of how religious she was, and not because she knew exactly what they'd find at Kaeya's apartment, and didn't want to see it.

"Was there another reason you wanted me to investigate?" He asked the back of her head, "Surely there are other knights available to look for him."

Not that he thought they'd do a particularly good job, but there must be a couple knights to spare for this sort of thing.

She tilted her head towards him, "Kaeya is one of the best knights we have, and I trust your skills more than anyone else's."

He nodded. That made sense, he supposed. Something wasn't really adding up, though.

"Earlier, you said you didn't have the time to spend looking for him," Jean built her back up like a brick wall. "Why did you accompany me?"

She was the Acting Grand Master, after all, and so he understood she was likely the busiest person in all of Mondstadt. If she truly didn't have the right men to work on this case, then fine, he would help her as he agreed, but how much time was she willing to spend guiding him with her workload?

"I—" She slowed, the last click from her heel dissolving into eerie silence. When she turned to face him, her eyes shimmered like glass. His jaw dropped to the floor.

"I'm trusting you to find him, Master Diluc." She said, and what else could he do but nod?

He may despise Kaeya, but Jean was once a very dear friend. One he trusted and respected. He never wanted to upset her.

"Promise me you'll do what it takes to find him, even with your… situation."

He flinched. Situation made it sound senseless, like a tiny spat between children, "I will."

"Promise me. Please."

"I promise, Jean."

Her nod was far more confident than he deserved, when the words tasted dry on his tongue and fell from his mouth mindlessly. It's been years since she came to him, earnestly and with bundles of trust. It was his fault she stopped; he was too jaded now, too unapproachable.

For Jean, he'd find Kaeya. Not for himself, never, but for Jean.

She continued to walk, and he had no choice but to follow after her smile, "Have you been here before, Master Diluc?"

"What?" Where? To the higher districts? Of course he had.

"To Kaeya's house."

Ah. Well…

He knew where Kaeya lived, not just the general direction, but the exact apartment and the way his door creaked painfully when opened at a certain velocity. It was one of the first things he investigated when he arrived back in the city after his time away; he was never truly certain if the man wanted to side with the abyss, or if his comments that night were hypothetical and sarcastic.

Although, most likely—

No. He'd think about it another day. It didn't matter anyway.

To keep the city safe he did a thorough check on Kaeya's life— his living accommodations, his drinking habits, how often he ate out, the amount of friends he had. All of it was important information in case he ever did decide to betray them all.

Despite that, he never once visited, or stepped anywhere close. What reason would he have to? It's not like Kaeya would invite him over for tea. He told Jean as much, and she hummed lightly, in the same way she did the other day when Klee exclaimed she'd never go fish blasting again.

"If you asked, I doubt he would have said no."

Yes, he absolutely would have.

"I don't care."

She laughed brittlely, "You need to be more honest with him, Master Diluc."

Honest? Please, he wasn't the one with honesty problems.

His brain was rapidly turning to mush, thoughts and feelings collapsing in on each other in a mangled pile he felt he was trapped under. So he ignored her, too exhausted to argue.

They turned the corner to half a dozen knights circled around Kaeya's apartment building, the light from a couple distant lampposts bouncing off their chest plates. The building looked just as DIluc remembered it— clean brickwork, slightly aged wooden framework, and a neat line of bushes at the entrance that he knew Kaeya didn't look after.

Jean glided through the crowd, her hand up in a silent wave. It felt like every single knight's head shot upwards the second he trailed behind her, something in their eyes Diluc didn't bother defining. One yipped like a startled dog, and gazed somewhere near his scalp where his hair fell as if to cover it.

He had know idea what they thought of him, and frankly, couldn't care less. It was annoying enough when older knights stood to attention in his presence, he didn't need the younger, less experienced once doing it too.

This was why he stayed away from Jean. Archons, he wasn't some exotic creature.

Left of the apartment was an alleyway, barely two metres in width, and in the dark completely blacked out by the walls on either side. It still managed to stand out, though, with the amount of people guarding its mouth.

The chief alchemist was standing just to the left of the scene, a clipboard in his hand and a concentrated furrow in his brow. He looked up when they approached, as if the thud of their footsteps was all he needed to pick them out of a crowd.

"Ah, Jean." He murmured.

"Albedo, I'm glad you're still here. Any news?"" She gestured to the scribbles in his hand, and he nodded solemnly.

"I took a couple samples of the blood as you asked, and examined them personally. It seems the victim was a man named Ivo Dietrich."

He racked his brain to put a face to that name, and eventually landed on a retired salesman who lived in the lower levels of Mondstadt city.

Oh. Him.

He felt bad for his poor wife, at least. She was a kind woman, if a little unassertive. Maybe he'd give her a gift in condolence once this was all over.

"Also," the alchemist continued, "from the structure of haemoglobin and such, it seems the majority of the blood on the ground came from neither the victim nor someone from Sir Kaeya's age group."

He sensed more than saw the internal sigh of extreme relief from Jean that mimicked his own. He knew it. Kaeya couldn't have done this. It was too outlandish, too brutal, not to mention too sloppy. There was zero chance that man was murdered by Kaeya, as he'd known all along.

What would he have done if he was wrong?

No. Enough of that thought.

"So there was someone else." She said,

"There was. I suspect an adult man somewhere between thirty to fifty years old."

How many men in that age group lived in Mondstadt city? Perhaps the culprit was from Springvale, or even a different nation? But then what drew them to a back alley behind a Mondstadt apartment building?

How many people did they have to investigate? They must have defence training to some degree, to go up against Kaeya. What kind would depend on the victim's injuries.

Wait.

He stepped forward, "Was any of the blood Kaeya's?"

As if it pained him to say it, for the first time since they arrived, Albedo's eyes drifted dazedly towards the crime scene. It was clear to Diluc, then, that the man had moved no closer since retrieving those samples, and instead chose to examine far away from the gruesome scene. As if he witnessed something truly horrific.

He knew very vaguely that he had a friendly relationship with Kaeya, going off how often the latter mentioned him. Perhaps the notion that it was Kaeya's blood plastered unseemingly across the pavement was too much to bear for him.

Diluc tried not to think about that.

"Yes." He said slowly, his eyes twitching between them and the scene, "it's a guess, but by the pattern, I believe… I believe his head was bashed in."

Jean audibly gasped, and he suppressed a shiver, in what felt like something between horror and simmering rage. Archons, he was beaten?

The full picture was starting to form in Diluc's brain, piece by piece like a dirtied jigsaw puzzle. If someone other than the knight attacked the man, it was likely Kaeya was there to protect them. But what kind of power could overpower him so overwhelmingly? How did he fail?

And most importantly, where was he taken in the aftermath? This was not an accident, whoever did this wanted to cause pain.

Jean swallowed, "...Do you know if— how serious—"

Albedo stopped her with a sigh, "There's no way of knowing, since head wounds tend to look worse than they are. But if they left the first victim, I'm hoping that means they also would have left the second behind too."

Meaning if Kaeya was murdered, they would have abandoned his body like Mr. Dietrich's. It's something they could only pray to be true.

The clipboard in his hands dropped to his side, and without it his stern build melted away into an exhausted slouch. He tucked a stray blond strand behind his ear and breathed out the same sigh stuck in Diluc's throat, eyes glued to the alleyway.

It was something Kaeya used to do, that slouch. There was this little deflating ritual he did after they spoke to nobles, or the first time Adelinde washed his hair, or the first time he called Father, 'father'. It wasn't like ordinary relief, he remembered, more like putting down an ancient pretence he carried around with him. Diluc used to laugh at it.

Was that something he still did? He had a horrible feeling the answer was no.

Not that he cared.

Albedo's smile was wane and kind, "If it's Kaeya, I'm pretty confident he'll be okay in the end. You needn't worry yourself sick, Jean."

She hummed, "I'll be fine."

The man opened his mouth, but stopped, and huffed forcefully out of his nose. It was a weirdly fond gesture that threw basically everything Diluc knew about him out the window. He'd never tried to interact with him properly in a non professional setting.

Did the archipelago count? They said maybe a sentence to each other the entire trip.

"You're welcome to look around. I believe the knights here wanted to leave the more thorough searching to you." His blue eyes locked with Diluc's for only a moment, tainted and overwhelmingly full of sympathy, then he nodded, and drifted down the alley.

He swallowed down the bitterness in his throat, his next breath thick and strained. What— was that about? He was fine. It's not as if he'd lost a good friend, like Jean. Nor has he lost a colleague.

What did it matter to him if Kaeya was gone? It didn't. He was getting fed up with people who thought it did.

He was a knight, though. A captain at that.

Right. He may not matter to Diluc, but as a citizen of Mondstadt it was important Kaeya returned to perform his duties as usual. It would be a shame to lose one of the only capable knights, after all.

Jean placed her hand on his shoulder, her grip steady. He just managed to hold back a flinch at her touch. Gods, he forgot she was there.

"Come on, I'll leave the crime scene to Albedo. There might be a clue in his apartment."

He nodded. Right, if something actually happened to him, he must have left a clue. With a man as meticulous as Kaeya, it would be laughable to assume otherwise.

Up the stairs they went, through the entrance to the apartment complex and up wooden planks so thin and rickety it was impossible to feel any sort of stability when climbing them. The bannister dipped when Diluc put his weight on it, unable to cope.

An unpolished oak door faced them, aged, but easily the most structurally secure thing he'd seen in the whole building. There was a basic lock that matched all the other doors, a cheap bronze coloured keyhole, but the metal was littered with scratches, as if Kaeya missed the lock one too many times.

Kaeya never used to lock his door at the mansion, nor the winery. At least to Diluc, it was always opened after he knocked twice, even if he could just walk in whenever he liked.

"How are we getting inside?" He asked, turning to Jean, but she pulled out a stained key from her cloak's pocket and wafted it in front of him with a teasing smile.

"Kaeya gave me a spare key years ago." She slotted it smoothly into the slot, and turned it with a click. To his surprise, there was no creak or whine when she pushed the door open, only a gentle thud when it hit the wall.

He didn't have a spare key.

Then again, why would he?

Why did he care, again? It was simply another reminder of how separate their lives were from each other.

Another reminder….

"Sir, are you coming?"

"Right behind you."

They shuffled inside, facing an open plan kitchen. A couple dirty plates were stacked into the sink, plain oak chairs untucked and a single drawing, colourful and childish, was stuck to the fridge with a cheap magnet.

The living room included a large window on the far wall with a towering view of the city. Diluc could make out shadows of moss growing along the pipes of nearby rooftops, and a local pigeon nestled under an overhang. A small burgundy sofa stretched across the length of the floor, cushions worn, and a fireplace sat in front of it, the wood long burnt to ashes.

"I'll check the kitchen." Jean said as she shuffled towards the stained cupboard doors. He hummed, and drew his fingers along the windowsill as he walked, collecting dust.

He wasn't sure if Kaeya was the type of person that would clean before guests arrived, but Diluc was under Adelinde's influence, and so there was a likely chance he was as well.

Probably no planned visitors, then. Shame, that would have dwindled down the suspects significantly.

As he turned, he caught sight of a fluffy blanket draped carelessly across the arm of the sofa. Knitted with a deep navy blue wool, he could see it was clean and washed meticulously to keep the fabric from shrinking.

Adelinde knitted that for Kaeya's 14th birthday, after a bout of horrendous nightmares he refused to talk about, in hopes of prompting a more restful night's sleep. He distinctly remembered wrapping his brother up like a baby bird, laughing as he whined about being too old for coddling. She mentioned it, once, not long after he returned. He searched for it with minimal effort, before deciding that it was simply fated to be one of the many things lost to time. Never did he suspect the knight took it with him when he moved.

"Find anything?" Jean called, eyebrows creased in worry. He shook his head.

The edge of the blanket was pulled off the arm and down the length of the sofa, as if tossed, or bundled in a person's arms as they slept. He bet on the former. The image of Kaeya wrapped around a worn, well-loved blanket, his legs tangled and nose buried in the fabric, was a somehow disturbing image; a painful image.

"He's definitely been here, at least," though it was anyone's guess how long ago that was.

Jean nodded, then sucked in a startled breath to his left, "Master Diluc, come here."

He rushed over to the next door, the entrance to what he assumed must be the bedroom. She looked at him with concealed nervousness, hidden from everywhere but her eyes, where it radiated.

"Kaeya locks every door before he goes to sleep."

Does he? How does she know that?

Did he tell her? Doesn't Kaeya keep everything personal to himself?

He knew Kaeya told him nothing. He knew that, but he also assumed he told everyone near to the same amount of nothing.

…Just how segregated from his life was he?

"Sir?"

"Does it matter?"

Jean nodded. "We need to check everywhere."

She stared at the lock, then drifted her eyes over to him expectantly. It took him a moment to realise, and he stared back in stunned disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

"We don't have a choice."

"We do, actually."

"There's no other way in."

"The windows?"

She crossed her arms, "You'd rather scale three stories than break a door?"

He sputtered, "I can't just— wreck his house."

"I'll replace it later—"

"And tell him what, exactly?" That Master Diluc barged into his home and ripped it apart like a barbarian, all in an effort to find him? Every word sounded worse than the last.

Jean set those pleading, doe eyes on him again, "Sir, please, he's been missing for days."

Ugh.

Whatever, just as long as he was not around when she explained. He didn't need the looks.

"Fine." He huffed, and Jean shuffled out of his way.

He drew his leg up into his chest, and with a sharp breath, smashed his boot just below the handle. It broke away from its frame and collapsed down onto the floor, splintered.

This was ridiculous. It wasn't a Fatui base, it was Kaeya's house.

Jean slapped him on the back as she passed him and glided over the wreckage; facetious.

It was a quaint bedroom, beyond the broken entrance. Well lived in, and painted in browns, beiges and hints of cool blues that gave the impression the walls were tightly bound around the room like wrapping on a present. There were scattered messes on the floor, but there was a strange pattern to them. A small stack of documents on the bedside dresser, quills and crumpled paper near the waste basket, and some mora next to the clothes hamper where Kaeya's white blouse hung over the edge. The messy kind of organised.

The bed was unmade, the quilt in complete disarray, shaped in a bundled arch like the edge of a bird's nest. If he squinted, he could make out the curve of Kaeya's back that bent perfectly in line with the covers, and the mop of his hair in the dip where his head layed.

He snapped his head away so fast his neck cracked, but found Jean staring at the spot. It was like looking at the chalk that outlined a body in a crime scene— a spot where the man should obviously be, carved out for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

"The window is open," He said, and failed to keep the shake out of his voice, "maybe they came through that way."

Jean shook her head, "No, Kaeya double checks the locks every night. If someone managed to break them, he would have heard it."

He does?

Right, Jean knows all about this stuff. He was past this.

Would Kaeya even have time to react to that? The bed was roughly two steps away from the window, and half-asleep, he wasn't so sure there was anything Kaeya could have done in that situation. At least not without some sort of evidence. Cryo residue perhaps, or slash marks from his sword.

Then, what? He was incapacitated and dragged back through the window? He shuddered even conjuring the image of his lifeless body being pulled around like a child's toy.

But no; if he was dragged, or even carried, there would have been some displacement on the desk or the lock. He reached out to test it, pulling the window shut. There was an inaudible click as the lock slid right back into place, undamaged.

No one came in, so the only other option was Kaeya went out.

He said as much to Jean, and she nodded decisively with a hand on her chin.

"So he heard a fight outside, and left through his window to investigate. Did he suspect someone was in his house, and that's why he avoided his door?"

He waved her off, "If I woke up to a strange noise I'd likely suspect the same." Although he would have checked his house to be sure. If the bedroom door was locked from the inside, Kaeya must have gone straight for the window. Did he not care about the contents of his own house? Sure, checking the window would prove no one entered his bedroom, but not the rest.

Did he just forget? It's possible if he just woke up, but that didn't sound right. Whatever, it didn't matter.

Jean nodded again, "Right, so, he left out his window and into the alleyway."

"Then saw Mr. Dietrich being attacked and interposed." He added.

"But failed— somehow— to protect him, then vanished along with the criminal."

He stared at his feet in silence.

That was the question, wasn't it? How did he fail?

There was no way he lost a fair fight; Kaeya was one of the best swordsmen in the knights, and had a ridiculous amount of raw power in his vision. Most criminals were overwhelmed by the former alone. In an unfair fight, there's a chance his swordsmanship was bested, but he still had his vision, and he knew the man wouldn't be opposed to using it as long as the outcome was in his favour.

So how did this criminal beat a vision holder? Did they also have a vision? Or did they find another way to combat ice?

"If Mr. Dietrich died before he arrived…" Jean said suddenly.

"No, he was most likely alive." He replied. Kaeya wouldn't have fought otherwise. He didn't care about justice like Diluc did, for the rage quelling glory.

There had to be some kind of trick; a weakness, an unfair advantage, something they were missing.

"We should check the crime scene again," He sighed, "maybe there is something your knights missed."

Jean nodded, and if she was alone her shoulders may have collapsed from their rigid position. He watched as she traced her eyes across the frame of Kaeya's window, clenching her fingers as if to measure the weight of the glass from a distance. He frowned, and a billowing swell of warmth rose in his chest while she thought, the silence between them comforting and thick like the growing dust in the air somehow understood their plight.

If only he had the courage to comfort her, but with the way they were now, he'd be surprised if it had any effect. What would he have done, a couple years ago? Were there words that worked well to quell her fears? Did he hug her?

He missed the days when he was her friend, but at least she still had Kaeya. They must have looked after each other while he was gone.

Standing silent in his bedroom, though, it was like Kaeya never existed, the world corporeal and ever-moving without him. Yet Diluc could trace the path he took with startling clarity, from his fur-lined cape draped unceremoniously on the floor as it fell from his hands, to his head dipping out from under the window pane and out into the night. He knew Jean could see the same.

"Let's go." She said, after turning towards the damaged door frame with another nod. He followed her out the apartment in silence, his thoughts jumbled and reeling from the quiet. Passed the kitchen table, the floor creaked and bent under their shoes, and a tiny squeak echoed beneath them. It was grating.

Where was that annoying voice he was so used to?

They shuffled down the stairs single file and stepped out into the night, the moon's light dulled by passing clouds. Diluc could feel the furrow in his brow deepening as he watched them idly drift by, his knuckles knocking against Jean's as he saddled up next to her in the entryway.

A strong gust of wind was what they needed, to push them readily along and illuminate the houses beyond him. Perhaps Venti would be willing to indulge them a little, and grant them some feeble, angelical based hope that this case would be solved.

Then Kaeya would be found safe, relatively unharmed, and the ones who took him would be dead.

He liked Kaeya, right? They drank together a lot. Surely it wouldn't be too much to ask.

"Master Jean!"

Their heads whipped up together, the veins in Diluc's neck throbbing from the strain. A strangled inhale from Jean was the only warning he got before a pale-skinned knight flew in front of them. He huffed into his knees inches from their shoes.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She scrambled.

Something must be wrong. Something was wrong.

Was someone else injured? Did they find another clue?

Did they find—

Oh Archons. Did they—

Kae— did they find—

"The chief alchemist asked me to find you right away, ma'am! It's incredibly urgent!"

He remembered only the panicked click of Jean's heels at his side; the short journey from the apartment to the alchemist's side at the alleyway's back–end was a blur of shadowed limbs and thoughts conjured from deep in his own head, mauling through drapes and walls to the centre and screaming.

Please don't be his body. Not again.

Not again not again not again.

"Albedo!" Jean called, beckoning the man to face them as they drew further into the enclosing gloom of the interstice. His face twitched at the sight of them, blond wisps of his hair dissolving into the light by his chest, his entire front alight in a crystalline blue. He turned fully as Diluc's shoes scraped across the ground, halting at the sight of his cupped hands.

The hitch in his breath came involuntarily, but stripped his body of all function, and strapped his muscles up in tight binds that pulled violently at his throat, slowly pulling him under.

Lying in Albedo's hands was a Mondstadt cryo vision missing two of its wings.

Notes:

1. Thank you all for your wonderful support! Living has been hard recently, and seeing all your love helped me to feel a little better! I hope you're all doing well, and I'll do my best to make this fic a great one for you xx

2. I've been trying to make Diluc's pov a bit more introspective than Kaeya's, so hopefully some people picked up on that. They're pretty similar people to me so it was kinda hard to make them feel different, but Kaeya always says Diluc's in his own world, so I figured making him the kinda guy to get stuck in the past would work. It's for a future, smarter me to ponder if that's a good characterisation of him or not, but let's call it a personal headcanon for now that Diluc is terrible at staying in the moment, no matter how hard he tries lol.

3. That also means that Diluc's pov's are weirdly exhausting to write. He's so nostalgic like all the time and it has legit sent me into dissociative spells while writing. Fucking thanks Diluc.

4. I've taken to making Mondstadt city bigger in this story, cuz it's way too small for the capital of a nation. I read a fic that gave it districts and I thought woah, yes, that's amazing. I don't really go into it in this story, so just know that it's a thing.

5. I saw someone's bookmark which said they thought my writing was too flowery and slow. First of all, tysm for your comment! Not sure if you wanted me to see it and it sounded a bit mean haha, but I'll take it as constructive criticism! I like my style, so can't do much about it being flowery (although I promise I'll keep that in mind for the future) but if everyone else finds the paragraphs too long I'll separate them a little, and I'll do better at including more action driven scenes for yet to be finished chapters in this story. Hope that's okay! Thoughts everyone? Just so i'm listening to the crowd and not just one person online haha.

Chapter 3

Notes:

This took a little longer than I wanted it to, sorry for the wait! I wanted to get this out around Kaeya's birthday, but I caught the winter flu going around that frankly slapped me in the face with nausea, and couldn't really concentrate on my docs. All better now though :) Happy belated birthday Kaeya, yo!

This time it's a shorter chapter! I just felt it would be a little better on its own for formatting sake instead of slapping it at the end of chapter 2. It's more Kaeya action though! Hopefully that makes up for it xx

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

*Four days ago*

The light coming from between the thin linings of wood creeped under his eyelid, and then his world exploded outwards.

What—

Where…

The inside of his mouth tasted of sand, his tongue too heavy and clumsy around messy intakes of breath. He rolled it against his teeth, relishing in the smooth surface, and across the dry edges of his lips.

Where—

Why was it so…

So—

He sighed through the creases of his mouth; it came out crackled and dull. He remembered this quiet. The way he took up the world, encompassed it in its entirety within his being. His breath resounded like a storm, without the chime of life to fill the echoes, and his skin prickled with the weight packed underneath. It was the complete absence of wind.

It was familiar; the quiet. His life in Mond was bright and loud, filled by windswept laughter and grapes sharpened in barrels. Between those times though, he stewed in lifelessness. He sat on the floor and peered up at nothing, he stared at mirrors and saw a shell devoid of an inside, he woke up with scratched lines of red up his arms.

Then there was just…

Just—

Red.

Red.

Red.

Red.

Red, red, always red—

Always red. Always red—

He froze to the core— frozen in time as his flaming world was overshone by blue.

Just like that night. Fueled by chaos. Left to wither and dull.

Even the red was gone.

He wriggled the fingers by his hip, watching them twitch. Tiny pins danced across them, held up by little strings like the hammers inside a piano. They were coated in glooping blood, flaked around his forearm, but pasty in the centre of his palm, just off from a pourable liquid. He canted his wrist away from him and watched his palm flop over, feeling nothing but violent tingles and the pressure of the wood underneath him.

Wood.

Wood… like a box? Carved into polished planks and held by wheels and screws and knobs.

Was he—

Was he…?

He felt directionless frustration boil in his gut. Why— what was he doing? Why was it so hard to think?

Something was wrong.

He lifted his arms up into the air, and pulled his elbows down on the solid wood. With a heaving breath, he pushed his weight onto the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms, and within seconds found himself gazing down at his boots.

That was— easier than he thought it'd be. So no pain, then. Just numb.

A willpower thing, then?

He quickly shoved his hands onto the wood and shot upwards, but blinked, and thunked back fully onto the floor.

Archons— fuck—

His fingers were trembling in front of his face, scarlet oil bursting from his palm, shaking as if to detach themselves. Something overwhelmingly sour bubbled into his throat, thick and disgusting, and suddenly he was gagging on dry air. Tendrils of panic rose with each jolt through his body, his chest spasming with the first real stabs of pain he'd felt since he'd awoken.

When he finished, he flopped onto his back away from the mess and stared at the blurred ceiling, made of wood.

Well… that definitely hurt; his palm was pulsing in agony. Not a willpower thing. Maybe he wasn't just numb? Was he Injured more than he thought? Sick?

Okay. Focus, Kaeya.

He slowly slid his eyes closed, and took a long breath that creaked through his lungs. On the second breath, he imagined the fresh gust of wind from Jean's vision was sweeping over him, cleaning his wounds. The magic tickled his skin like seeds on a dandelion's stem, and the sand on his tongue dissolved into mint. His chest stung in burning floods, tight and pained with a growing sense of wrong. Even with Jean in his mind, he couldn't bring a full breath through his lips without flinching.

Okay. Okay. He was—

Okay. He was laying on wood. Thick wood. Above him was more wood.

He was in a box. No, a room?

A distant rumbling below him jostled the ground beneath his head, shooting a bolt of white agony through him like a rubber band tightening around his skull. He shouted and scrambled for purchase between the thick wooden planks, whimpering through each pulse.

Definitely— definitely injured. His skull was being split in two. There was something gaping in his hand, like the mouth of a cave, and when he shifted distant spikes of pain throbbed somewhere around his sternum, under the soothing cotton of his nightshirt.

Maybe… maybe he was on something? Something that would block his pain. Something that would numb him.

Was he— drugged?

Oh Archons, he was drugged.

Who— when—

D-drugged—

Okay. He was—

Calm down, Kaeya. Focus, Kaeya.

He was in a wooden box; a wooden room.

There was something beneath him that clattered like a horse's hooves, monotonously and held back only by the force of the wind. Like wheels.

His eye shot open, pained by the light. A carriage!

Yes, yes that must be it. Light crept through thin, torn fabric made up along the wall to his left, shifting through arching tree leaves and wispy clouds, spilling over Kaeya's skin. He waved his fingers through the rays, and watched the glow warp around them like glistening jewellery. Delicately, he lifted his torso off the floor and pulled his head up through a series of rolls and shallow breaths. He took the sun grazing his nose with warmth as a sign to smile with pride.

He was sitting in a carriage. For what reason, he hadn't a clue, but he was injured and drugged up on something that incapacitated him— as if separating him from his senses. It was likely something to keep him docile. He drifted a hand through his hair, catching on matted strands around the back. His fingers came back sticky with darkened blood. With each inhale, another cell of clarity speared through him; whatever it was, it seemed to be wearing off.

He needed to get out. If he could get on his knees, maybe he could think better. He tested his weight on his right hand. With the other useless, it was near impossible to lift his entire weight, but he would try.

He held his breath, and pushed on his buckling hand. He shot up, and slid his legs underneath him before he fell back down. The room was tilting. His head felt as if it was being pried open by clawed fingernails, and saliva was pooling under his tongue, but he was upright.

"See? Totally got this."

Now to get on his feet.

He heaved a breath, but the carriage jolted to a stop, sending him flying forwards. It was only the initial thud that registered, and everything after evaporated into white noise. He blinked back to himself with his forehead flattened against the floor and an ache behind his eyelids.

The weak rumbling noise from below him was gone. There was silence.

The wheels. The wheels weren't moving anymore.

If they weren't—

Why would they—

The lightened fabric on the far wall rippled like pond water, then lifted, the sun creeping in from the widening gap and spreading across the inner walls of the carriage. Kaeya's boots stained red with excess layers of dried blood, and the skin on his face burned a sun-kissed brown.

A figure swept into the empty space. Tall, brawny and draped in a thick cape that sucked in light like a cavernous pit. He stepped into Kaeya's space, under the carriage's hood, and a trimmed shadow of a stubble formed along his jaw.

Oh.

Oh, Archons.

He felt himself gasp like a fish as memories flooded him. An alleyway, hidden by the night and shaped by the moon. A man with quick feet and muscle packed to the bone. His sword, his vision, his legs encased in ice and frost that travelled along the ground and stone walls.

Diluc.

"Oh? Awake, I see." He tutted, "That won't do."

He trundled closer on uneven feet, the carriage's entrance dipping under his hefty weight. Littered across his arms and chest were sweeping cuts that split the fabric, deep enough to ooze. One of his feet was shoeless, and wrapped tightly in thick wads of bandages.

Was— that him? He didn't remember doing that, only the cryo, and then the sudden burst of fire, but he had a pretty good feeling that he had something to do with it.

His chest swelled in pride. So he did do some damage.

The man snarled at him like a beast, his lips tipped up in a cruel smile, "Hey, Ди́мочка, He's awake."

He blinked. Who?

The man dropped to the floor and snatched up Kaeya's bicep, his fingers roasted by fire and burning into his skin. He yanked, and Kaeya felt his nose drag painfully across the floor.

No, no, no, no—

He pulled back with a snap, and crushed his knuckles into their chin. They barely winced.

"You'll have to do more than that to get to me, little knight." His laugh sent goosebumps up Kaeya's arms. He was dragged up, and he slammed his knees back down for stability, pulled into the sun's yellow light. The initial jolt travelled all the way up to his brain.

"Oi, Ди́мочка!"

No, no, no—

What were they going to—

His wrists were swiped from the air, trapped in hot iron vices. He heaved away on an open gasp, but this time there was only a solid wall of resistance, and he made half an inch of progress before he was pulled forward into the man's space again.

He needed to—

He couldn't let them—

He rolled backwards, the wood pressed like concrete onto the small of his back, and pulled his knees to his chest. He kicked and bucked at their ribs desperately, hitting one after another with clumsy limbs. His ankle was grabbed and pushed aside. He kicked at their inner arm, and it drew back idly inwards. He clawed at the hand on his knee, and they shook him off like a piece of lint.

He scrambled to kick and crawl and strike at any openings he could reach. The man took every punt with a laugh, as if he was leaving himself open on purpose. He pulled Kaeya under him by the waist with sharp and piercing fingers, his nails digging into the stitch lines of his tunic and the bare skin of his hips where the cotton rode up. His fingers felt like ice blocks.

He squirmed, but it was useless. He was trapped beneath them.

Someone cleared their throat, as if reprimanding a child, and a new figure stepped in from the sunlight. Their limbs were lithe and spindly as if lined with wire, and beneath their flattened strands of hair were dull, clouded eyes that eluded colour and light.

"You call me that again and I'll kill you." They said, deadpan. They flexed their fingers in neat silk gloves made of polished snow. Kaeya followed the movement with a frantic gaze he couldn't control.

Who—

A-another—

He didn't recognise them. Not at all.

Were they accomplices? How many were there?

The new man shuffled closer, something like disgust on his face as he rolled his eyes across his companion, trapped above and around Kaeya's body like a snare trap. He seemed avidly against crawling into the carriage out of some terrifying, narcissistic pride that twisted Kaeya's stomach into knots. He stood just behind them, waiting, observing with clinical eyes. Like Kaeya was an attraction. A body sewn onto a bed with thick needles and a gaping chest.

The larger man pushed his wrists to the wood in one seamless motion, too sudden for Kaeya to react. He found himself staring up at the arching white fabric of the carriage's roof, and breathed in cloying aftershave from a stranger's neck.

"Such an obedient little knight." He whispered, his stubble brushing against the ridge of Kaeya's brow. He stared pointedly down at the gap in Kaeya's shirt, where his chest fluttered in panic and his skin shimmered with sweat.

He shook. He couldn't move.

They could do whatever they liked to him. He would have to take it like he wanted it.

Fuck that fucking drug.

Fuck that stupid fucking drug.

Fuck drugs. Fuck drugs.

Fuck his life.

The scientist man drew forward. In his white hands was a bottle and a cloth.

They were going to put him under again.

He hadn't—

He—

He needed to leave something. No one would ever find him.

No one—

No, no—

No one—

Above him, now. Their black cloak fluttered as they walked. Their heels clicked on the wood like the tick of clock hands. They didn't smell of sweat, nor perfume, nor the sterile scent of disguised death. Following them was an overpowering rustic smell, made up of decay and rot, like oil poured into a tree hollow. The antithesis of nature.

The smell of smoke, like cigars.

He yelped, pain racketing through his head. His mouth was agape, barely holding onto a scream.

Oh archons—

Oh—

Oh archons—

There was so much—

Hands—

Hands like the gaping maw of a crocodile—

He couldn't breathe–

He couldn't—

There was—

Red.

There was—

Red.

Red— Red.

Red— Red— Red.

Red—

Ah—

What—

He scrambled for a thought, any thought, that wasn't drowned by insanity. They slipped from his hands like snowflakes in a storm.

This was the man who—

The man who—

Red—

Re—

Diluc—

Diluc.

Diluc.

He drove his boot into their body over and over, racing for freedom. His lungs rushed to explode. Neither of them moved.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe—

He couldn't breathe—

Fire—

There was so much fire—

So much—

So much—

He was dying.

He was going to die—

Diluc was going to kill him.

To kill him… he was going to—

Diluc would kill him—

Kill him—

Kill him—

Kill him, kill him, kill him—

Traitor!

Kill him, kill him, kill him—

I never want to see you again—

Kill him, kill him, kill—

I hate you!

Was that it? Did Diluc kill him?

Diluc killed him.

Diluc killed him.

Diluc killed him—

There was a cloth above him, damp with medicine, steadily inching closer.

No, not again. Please not again.

There had to be something he could—

Something—

There was a light creeping in from the ripped walls, distinctly different from sunlight. Its glow was warm like an outstretched hand, mint green and overwhelmingly bright, enough to fight the sun for attention. A breeze disturbed the fabric, following the light. It flickered through the gap as if calling to him.

An archon statue. Barbatos's archon statue.

Archon, huh?

Maybe—

He sucked in a deep breath, and stomped on the man's bandaged foot as hard as he could. They exploded with a roar, and their companion hurriedly stepped back in disgust.

If he could just—

Free, free, so he could just—

He climbed to the other side of the carriage and dug his fingers into the ripped wall. Hands reached for his ankles, but that was fine, he used their violent pulling as momentum to tear down the length of the fabric and claw openings with his bare hands. The Anemo statue stood proudly in the distance, the archons' wings curled around his proud form, and his hands cupped around a solid ball, as if to offer freedom like a gift.

He stared for a moment, somehow awed. His vision was distorted and swayed as if flooded by sea water, but the bright blue glow stuck out like a ring of buried jewels.

Please Barbatos. God of Freedom. God of Mondstadt.

Please hear his call, even if it's from a lowly Khaenri'ahn.

"You've done it now, you bastard." The larger man snarled, and grappled for Kaeya's lower half. He slipped, his chin hitting the wooden flooring and his teeth knocking together with a loud click. He clung to the ripped fabric like a lifeline.

Maybe he could—

He threw himself at the wall again, and waited until he was slammed back into the floorboards. He came down with clenched fists and a heavy shoulder, and the floor dented under his weight.

Yes! Yes—

Again, he slammed himself into the floor, clawing the wall as he went. He squeezed his hands tight enough for his nails to dig into his skin, and his left hand gushed blood.

"I'm gonna beat you black and blue!" They screamed.

Go ahead, it'd leave more evidence.

He was pulled and twisted and strung out like a day-old meat hung in storage, but he kept fighting. Their grips were starting to squeeze too tightly, his legs a minute away from being torn clean off. His shirt was ripped around the sleeves, the cloth clinging by a couple stitches, and his boot was ripped from him as he kicked the man's face. He lunged for it immediately.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be alone.

He wanted to drink more, He wanted to hug Klee. He wanted Jean to ground them both after sneaking out to blast fish.

He wanted to see Rosaria. He wanted to see Barbara. He wanted to see Albedo.

He wanted more of Sara's food. He wanted more of Adelinde's tea.

He wanted… he wanted to talk to Diluc more. He wanted to visit Father's grave.

He hurled the boot out of the opening, as far as he could throw towards Barbatos's statue. It probably wouldn't make it far, but the intent was there, and he hoped to every Archon in Teyvat that was enough.

He looked after Mond, didn't he? He protected the people he loved.

Just once, wasn't it enough? Please let it be enough.

Please Barbatos. Please, Venti.

The length of his hair was snatched up fast as lightning and hauled high above his head. He screamed when his head snapped upward, his scalp burning and the vice in his head compressed tight enough to crush. His chin was captured by nimble white gloves, dull eyes staring blankly into his own.

"You don't get to break yet, little knight." The other said, and gave a forceful tug on his blue locks, clumped in a loose ponytail. He sobbed out a pathetic moan.

"You sure are feisty, I like that about you, but you'll pay for being such a hassle."

A cloth was forced up against his mouth, wet and heavy with the scent of chlorine and soot. It burned down his throat and set fire to his lungs, the air thinning by the second. He screamed, then felt the moment his eyes rolled back into his eyelids. They dropped him like a ragdoll.

No. Not again. He didn't want…

He couldn't…

Help. Someone help.

Please…

He fell away; drifted on freezing winds. The cold mora, previously trapped in his shoe, slipped from his fingers and disappeared into the void.

He floated.

And floated.

And floated.

Who was he kidding, no one would come for him.

He had to hope; had to pray.

Why would the gods help someone like you?

He was a child of Mondstadt. Barbatos loved his children, it said so in every story.

He was a child of Khaenri'ah. The Archons despised the children of Khaenri'ah.

Diluc would come for him.

What? Why him?

Diluc would always come for him. He promised.

Diluc would never come for you.

Diluc was—

He hates you.

Diluc was—

Diluc was pouting.

He pulled and squished the fat on his fingers, gaze drawn to them. Father's trouser leg was soft against Kaeya's cheek, and smelt of grapes and lavender. He gazed around the folded fabric, not fully willing to pull his face away. Even with the metre or two of distance, he knew Diluc wasn't actually looking at his hands, and stared instead at the thoughts rattling around his head.

He was annoying. Why did he have to go quiet? Kaeya was trying to be mad at him.

Father's hand cupped his shoulder, wide-gripped around the joint. His palm pulsed with warmth.

"Diluc." He said. The command in his voice made them flinch, "You need to apologise."

"But—!"

"No buts."

He was still pouting, but his eyes drifted to Kaeya's. They were a bugged, shimmering red that reminded Kaeya of the shiny ball hanging from their Father's ear, or the bracelet wrapped around one of the new maids' wrist. Adelinde told him the word was 'Jewellery.' but he thought that was too complicated of a word to describe his brother's eyes. They waved and rippled differently under sunlight than under the flicker of fire, and were so very different from Kaeya's dull blue one. He looked away.

"Sorry, Kae." He whispered through puffed lips. His voice came out silly; it made Kaeya smile.

"What did I do this time?"

…What?

He crossed his arms and cocked his hip to the side in that way he did only out of defiance. From Kaeya's spot on the floor the curtains blocked out the sunlight, but Diluc's upper half was painted in yellow where he towered above him, as if he dipped himself in the rays like one would dunk a biscuit in chocolate. Kaeya blanked him. There were more important things he needed to concentrate on, like the wall.

Diluc sighed. He tightened his grip on his own arms, and his sleeves rolled up past his wrists. He hit a growth spurt the week before that made Kaeya laugh about as much as it pissed him off, "Kae, come on, I can't fix it if you don't tell me."

"I shouldn't have to tell you."

"You mean you don't want to tell me." He tutted. What an asshole.

The walls on the upper floor of the mansion were dark mahogany and lined with decorative square ridges, scaling from ceiling to the border following the edge of the floor. The varnish forever captured the wood's age circles, pleasantly smooth under Kaeya's hand; he counted to five before Diluc sighed explosively, and scanned the hallway for any of the maids.

Kaeya gave him the minute to check, then watched idly as he crouched onto the balls of his feet in front of him. He lasted half a minute in a staring contest, before flopping back properly on the floor across from him and crossing his legs.

"Look," He said, "big brother's sorry, whatever he did. Will you stop avoiding him if he promises to make it up to you?"

Kaeya chose not to answer. Why was he even indulging him anyway? He didn't want to talk to Diluc.

"Kaeya? Are you even mad at me?"

Father combed through the hair clinging to Kaeya's neck. He drew the stray strands over his shoulder around into his palm, his fingers dancing on his skin like warmed kisses. The rain outside the window pittered harmlessly against the Winery's window panes, and suddenly, Kaeya's eyes burned a little.

"I'm sure Diluc didn't mean to break your toy—"

Diluc perked up, "I didn't! I promise I didn't!"

"Shh, son."

Diluc deflated like a balloon, and Kaeya giggled.

The swarm of anger festering in his gut was gone, healed by a cool balm. He liked his horse plushie. Its fur was a pretty white, and its muzzle was chocolate brown and cold when he hugged it. He liked feeling the hard button of its nose against his face, and the way its limbs were floppy but heavy like beanbags. He held it in two halves against his chest, the stuffing inside falling from the tear. The fur around his grip was wet from his tears.

But what did he know about being mad, anyway? He couldn't be mad at Diluc for long. It was impossible.

Father deflated too, always a replica of his son, and pulled Kaeya closer to his hip. Diluc grinned.

He couldn't bring himself to lie to his brother. Not really.

He sighed, "I guess I'm not."

Diluc collapsed, a relieved chuckle escaping his lips. He crawled forward with his noodly arms and flopped next to Kaeya under the window. Finally he wasn't so shiny, but the flyaway hairs peeking from his high ponytail caught the rays, and left him with a halo.

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

He shrugged with one arm. Whoops.

Diluc immediately glared at him, then snatched Kaeya's closest wrist off the ground and pulled it towards him. He bit his lip to stop the scream, relishing in the metallic taste of blood, but couldn't hold back the sharp intake of breath. Diluc winced, then frowned in concentration, again in sorrow, and again in anger. He was always so expressive, like he had no filter at all. It made Kaeya smile despite himself.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me. How bad is it?" He gave the tiniest yank on Kaeya's arm, sending a hot bolt of agony through the limb that shot inch by painful inch all the way through to Kaeya's shoulder. His yelp echoed through the hallway.

"It was an accident, right Diluc?" Father said.

"Right! I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to break it!"

"How do you feel about that, Kaeya?"

He nodded. What else could he do? He wasn't angry anymore.

"It's okay, Diluc."

"It's absolutely not! What if it's broken?!"

"It's fine."

"I said don't lie to me, dick. We need to get Father."

He shook his head desperately. That's the whole reason he hid from Diluc in the first place, for Archon's sake. Curse him for forgetting.

Diluc looked conflicted, "It'll only get worse if you hide it, Kaeya."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do! Don't say things like that."

He reached for Kaeya's other arm and, with the gentleness of a crystalfly, lifted him off the ground and stood with him in the sunlight. He scanned him over and over, patting down his shoulders, and it was when he turned Kaeya around on his heels that he realised he was looking for more injuries.

Fine. He supposed he deserved the mistrust. He allowed himself to be manhandled like a puppet on a string.

"How about Adelinde?" The boy said, and trailed his fingers slowly down to the wrist on Kaeya's injured arm.

He thought for a moment. Was she likely to tell Father? There was a chance, but Kaeya happened to know Adelinde was extremely good at keeping secrets when needed. If he could manage to convince her…

He nodded. Diluc responded by lighting up like a firework, then poorly concealing it with a determined and emotionally charged nod. Kaeya chuckled.

"I'm sorry, again. I'll buy you a new one, Kae. I'll save up my pocket money!"

"You're so stupid, brother. Why did you hide it?"

"M-maybe Addie can fix it!"

"Come on then, Adelinde will know what to do."

"What does it matter?" He said, completely by accident. Diluc whipped around, but somehow managed to keep their linked hands steady. He stared at Kaeya with incredulity and worry plastered on his face that pierced straight into Kaeya's chest. He resisted the urge to drop his eye to the floor, or worse, to shake in Diluc's grip.

"You're hurt Kae, of course it matters." He smiled, "It's okay to ask for help if you need it; no one will be upset with you."

"I'm still your brother, right Kae?"

He frowned. Where was he again?

Father left him standing without a buffer in the middle of their living room, the phantom heat from his hands radiating along his spine. Only Diluc and the fire burning at his back, lighting him up orange like the inside of a grapefruit, stood in front of him. He never once considered disowning Diluc over something like a toy. His chest burned at the thought. He didn't want Diluc to go. He'd never disown him willingly, not without torture.

"Kae?"

"Of course you are."

He smiled, bright as the sun. It shone like the first rays of dawn, ignited dew and reaped energy into life as a persistent, reliable source. Father had a smile that looked like home, but while he was the same as Diluc in most things, his brother was special in this. Father may have felt like home, but Diluc felt like warmth itself. Like light and happiness and life. Like everything that made home worth longing for.

"You're big brothers here—"

"—to help you, okay Kae?"

"I'll always be here to help you."

Diluc didn't smile anymore. That wasn't Kaeya's fault, but sometimes nothing, not even alcohol, not even the edge of a knife, could convince him it wasn't.

He choked on a gasp.

He was upside-down, lugged over a shoulder and staring at a trail of snowed footprints receding behind him. The ground crunched with every bump, something like gravel spreading out around heavy boots. Oil wafted ahead of them, the taste metallic and nauseating, where the downwind breeze picked it up and carried it down the path. He gagged.

Snow. Oil…

Where— was he?

He— He could walk. He wanted the floor.

He wanted…

He whined. His torso was being crushed. The arm around his waist wrapped in one singular arch, bracing him tight against a shoulder blade, and he couldn't manage a full breath. He wriggled; kicked at hardened muscles and burrowed his fingers into the fabric of a cloak, but nothing happened.

He needed… he needed to get down. He needed—

There was something he needed to do. He needed, needed to do—

There were trees.

Trees…trees…

He needed—

Someone was coming. He needed… he needed to help them.

He reached out blindly to the side, and snagged the twigs off a tree branch with a quick snap. It fell from his fingers seconds later.

No, no. He needed to help. He had to help.

He reached for the next shadow, and this time, wrapped his whole arm around the trunk. The jolt that followed sent his lungs spasming, and he coughed until he saw stars.

Yes. Yes. He would help.

Someone was coming. They needed his help.

He smashed his forehead into the tree, hoping his blood would splatter like a painting. Again, and again, and again until the tree wasn't there anymore. Until Diluc struck and his sight went dark and there was nothing but a rainstorm in his arms. Until the world went red, then periwinkle, then black as night.

He heard a tut, then claws dug into his skin and yanked him from the wind. A whine shot from the back of his throat as he sunk his fingers in deeper, his nails chipping away under the strain, and with a final tug something crackled and snapped away under his grip, ashen in his palms.

He was pulled back, lain limb on a broad shoulder. He prayed to Barbatos those marks stuck around.

"Useless fucking drugs." Someone said, and with a jab to the head, he was gone.

Notes:

1 Tysm for all the comments as always! I'm so happy you all like my writing, and I promise to keep it up and finish this fic! It's already completely outlined xx

2. This was actually one of my favourite chapters to write, or at least one of the most anticipated ones. It took me writing it to realise that yes, I actually do have to write something, and I can't just stare at it while Jim in the back reads my mind and writes for me. Hopefully it's still pretty good despite the writer's block.

3. I read a fic a while back that was so horribly fast-paced it made me dizzy, but I thought here I could use it to my advantage to show how Kaeya feels drugged up. I hope you got dizzy reading this— you're welcome, I did it on purpose.

4. Also for that 'red' section, I wanted to make it kind of scary, so my inspiration for that was 'just monika.' If anyone gets what I mean. Honestly this whole thing kind of came out like poetry.

5. Ди́мочка is a nickname made from smoke guy's name, which you'll find out in later chapters. If my Russian is right, it's basically an overly endearing, affectionate version of his name. I think it's pronounced Dee-Mo-chee-ka with emphasis on the Mo.

6. I wrote most of this while listening to my classical playlist. Went from Bach's Air to Stranvinsky's The Rite of Spring. It was bizarre, I recommend.

Chapter 4

Notes:

Happy New Year everyone! Any resolutions? Mine is to get more sleep (I'm losing a braincell per blink ffs).

This chapter is more Diluc, although I still can't decide which out of him or Kaeya I prefer to write, and every chapter I change my mind. Lemme know which you like more?

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A vision was said to lose its light when its user died, as if a manifestation of their life flickering away into nothing.

Cryo visions were a bright and clear blue, like the sky, like sunlight glistening on snow. They froze air and sent sparkles across rivers and crafted pillars of shimmering water. Unlike pyro visions, they admitted a soothing chill that tickled Diluc's skin and frosted his fingers through his gloves, like holding a snowflake.

Kaeya's vision was larger than his. While Diluc could hold his own comfortably between two fingers, Kaeya's encompassed his whole hand and sat like a ripe fruit cupped in both his palms. The golden wings were glossed and tinted blue from the reflective light that travelled up to his chin. He thumbed across the four of them and soothed the pointed tips.

If it was bright, he was alive.

If it was blue, he was alive.

He never had the chance to examine his vision up close before, but he knew. There was no one in all of Teyvat who had a vision like Kaeya's.

Jean was crying. Her tears lit up above the shining vision and slipped down her cheeks like crystals. He only had life left in him to stare.

"He wouldn't leave this here." she mumbled. Her knights had followed the alchemist out the alleyway, muttering something vaguely distraught and sympathetic. The two of them stood alone in the dark.

No, he wouldn't. No one would willingly abandon their vision.

Maybe this was a warning. A show of power that overwhelmed one of Mondstadt's fiercest fighters. A threat to those who wished to oppose them.

Or he was already dead.

No. His vision—

You're lying to yourself. You're hallucinating.

This is all you have left of him now.

Is it his fault? Is Kaeya gone because of him? Was this his punishment?

Jean sighed, "Let's not give up yet. There's still leads we can follow."

"I never want to see you again, you hear me?!"

"—Traitor!"

She shuffled closer, her hand millimetres away from Kaeya's vision. He watched the blue light shrink under her shadow, dying right in front of him, and choked on the thick emotions clogging his throat. He snatched the trinket away from her to fit snug against his chest, as if to hide it inside him.

If this was all he had left— if this was his last connection to his brother— he needed to protect it.

He couldn't lose it. He couldn't—

He wouldn't—

And what right do you have to hold onto it? It's your fault he's gone.

He saw more than felt his own chest rapidly expanding on catching breaths, panic sowed deep into his skin like flesh wounds. The wings on Kaeya's vision dug into the line of his wrist, and he hung onto the soft pulses of energy that pressed up next to his heart, like a second heartbeat.

God, what if it went out? Was there anything he could do?

He's dead. You killed him.

He's alive! He has to be alive—

That vision's going to die out any second. He's dead and alone and it's your fault.

No—

Why did you do it? Why did you kill him?

He didn't— he didn't—

It hurt. It hurt so much.

Why did you do it, Diluc?

Kaeya. Kaeya. God, Kaeya.

Jean heaved a shaky breath, and scanned the alleyway, top to bottom, as if someone was waiting to jump out of the shadows. Her eyes met his, full of resignation and sorrow, and in one move she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head down to her neck.

"I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to do this alone." she sighed mournfully. His muscles tightened as he tensed in her hold, overcome by the smell of mint leaves.

He hadn't been hugged properly in years. It tingled, like sparks from a fire pit spitting on his skin.

"I need to get back to work. I can't look for him. I'm so sorry." she drew back to stare him in the eye, her gaze wobbly but certain.

"But I'll do everything I can from here, I promise. I'll give you as many knights as you need."

"I'm not going to look for him." he said, on instinct. It felt wrong coming out his mouth.

"You will, I know you will. I'll help as much as I can."

He nodded. Kaeya's vision was trapped between them in his hands, lighting up their fronts, and painting their clothes and the underside of their chins.

"We can ask around tomorrow; talk to Mrs Dietrich. I'll make time for that."

He nodded again. She was right, his vision was bright and bold, and lit up the alley from floor to wall in a pale blue. He was still alive.

She pulled away, and with her went the warmth from her hold. Her fingers glided over his own as her arms fell, holding the vision between them like a bowl of water or a delicate ice sculpture, and squeezed around his knuckles in a way meant to soothe. He shivered when she let go.

"Okay?" she whispered, and he withered. Her gaze reminded him of Adelinde's.

"Okay."

She smiled, "You should go get some sleep. I'll trust you to keep his vision safe through the night."

He watched her drift backwards out of the alleyway, disappearing into the darkness, out of range of the visions icy glow, and reappearing in the light of the moon. Her hair was set alight by the lampposts behind her, her white uniform clear and billowing. He followed her slowly, the claustrophobic walls expanding out into the city's streets, and wondered if his own hair flared like spreading fire.

"I'll come find you in the morning, Sir," she said, and gave him a tiny wave that fell short half way, "You rest the best you can."

"Right."

"We'll find him, Master Diluc. I promise you."

He couldn't hold onto that promise, not yet at least. It was still too fresh and raw, his body wrought with emotion. He wasn't ready to be so optimistic.

He nodded regardless.

She padded away, her figure drifting into the distance. He watched her leave with a heavy heart.

He wasn't going to look for Kaeya, he couldn't. Why should he care enough to look for someone like him? He should be plastered onto a missing person poster and dealt with by the knights like every other missing person.

But the knights were inefficient.

So what? He'd be found eventually.

And if he wasn't? What if he died before they got to him? What if he needed him? He clutched the vision tighter in his grip, worrying his thumb over the gem.

He couldn't very well leave a man to die. If he had the power to do something, perhaps it was his duty to.

He couldn't leave him, but he shouldn't care either. He needed to save him, but what good would Master Diluc do for Sir Kaeya?

He sagged, the exhaustion seeping through his body, grating his bones. It was probably somewhere around midnight, and the world was dead. Travelling all the way to the winery would be impossible, the walk would nigh on kill him, and it was impractical calling a carriage so late at night.

The tavern it was. He still had the key he locked up with earlier that evening, and there was a storage room in the attic with a bed that was falling apart. It would do. It was enough.

He slowly trekked through the city, down the numerous stairs, the pavement stained by the lampposts beams like warm spotlights. He slipped around them out of habit, sticking to the comfort of overhanging shadows and prowling down the lethal amount of stairs. His feet were heavy and dragging, his shoes wearing down on his soles and his calves beginning to burn.

Kaeya's vision cooled his hand, the chill seeping through his gloves. Even at midnight, where the air was frigid and bitter, the jewel exuded a distinct type of coolness that separated itself from its surroundings. It was familiar, somehow, and warmed his soul like candles did in the dark, or steam from tea did to a headache.

It was ridiculous. What kind of insane thought was finding a cryo vision warm?

It truly was like holding a soul. Kaeya was prickly, and he felt that in the bite of the cold, but his brother was a sincerely kind and helpful child. He was reckless, and had a fondness for secrets, like how the elemental energy stirred in his grip as if searching for darkness, and how it sang with overflowing power. He was hardworking and strived for the best outcome during hardships, just like how Kaeya's ice sculptures stood as solid walls or glistening finishes on stone.

At least, that's how Diluc remembered the boy. Kaeya was— cruel. He tied you up in knots just because he was capable of it. He did everything within his power to humiliate and irritate you. He wasn't Diluc's brother.

And yet Diluc could feel kindness from the trinket in his hands; the need to protect, the desperation to help, the want for connection. It soothed the frostbite like a balm.

The Angel's Share was ahead of him, its tiled roof towering into the blackened sky as one imposing silhouette. The flora draped down the stone like torn fabric, ragged and halted in place by the lack of wind. The hanging light above the door framed the doorway, casting sharp shadows across the edges of the windows and the upper balcony, and lit the bricked path at Diluc's feet.

He shuffled up to the door and pulled out his key, smooth as the vision in his other hand. The door slid open with the tiny ring of the bell above him, echoing into the tavern like a raven's call.

The lights were off, the chairs untucked and askew, but he left the place spotless. The rag he used to clean glasses earlier was still folded neatly on the counter, in front of the stalls. He stared at the empty space with what felt like a tangible void in his chest, waiting for something to fill it.

He needed to do stock soon, lest he run out of wine for his patrons, and there were at least three separate business meetings booked within the month he needed to attend.

He owned a tavern. He owned an enormous winery, one of the biggest assets to the alcohol industry in all of Teyvat. He was too busy, far too busy. He didn't have time to go out and look for an estranged acquaintance.

If it was anyone else, his help would be completely unwarranted. His time was limited and frankly, precious, his character revered under his father's legacy. Missing person cases were the knights' job, and in no way his.

It was unwarranted; there was absolutely no reason for Master Diluc Ragnvindr to look for the knights' cavalry captain.

He looked down at the blue jewel in his grasp, his hands shaking. Kaeya was nothing to him, at least in name. It should be like that in every way, right? It was that way.

He didn't care. He couldn't care. It wasn't fair to anyone if he cared. It wasn't fair to Kaeya if he cared.

So he didn't care. He didn't.

He shuffled up the spiral stairs to the door on the third floor, a square window at his back, the light of the moon shining through onto his coat. He flipped through his keys and stopped on a small bronze one with a circular handle, and used the clear blue light as a torch to guide it into the lock.

He stepped inside, and locked it securely behind him. There were no windows, the attic covered by a thin layer of dust, and the ceiling low and slanting. In the far left corner, between interspersed groups of barrels and a single desk without a chair with a pot of ink in its centre, was a low, rickety bed. The frame was chipped, but it held fairly well. It wouldn't break under his weight.

He sat on the mattress, his coat billowing out behind him, feeling it dip. It was lumpy, but there were no protruding springs or stains, so he felt no need to replace it with everything else he had to focus on.

He drew his hands to his lap, and stared down at the cryo vision once again with a sigh. It still pulsed patiently in a steady rhythm, and the symbol for ice glistened on its surface bright and clear. He stripped off his gloves and held it in his bare hands, his fingers tinged blue, as if the ice was creeping up the length of his arms.

Holding his breath, he silently reached out and caressed the centre of the jewel with his thumb. He wiped across the snowflake shape and expected its edges to smudge or blur like wet paint, but his thumb came back unstained. He pressed a little harder; nothing cracked or broke. The pad of his thumb turned red from the cold.

He was never this gentle with his own vision. As a child, he admired it like treasure from the bottom of the sea, all magical and mysterious. It was a gift from the gods, an honour and a miracle. Father's pride was enough to deeply influence his opinion on it.

But that terrible night in April, he threw it onto his desk in his room like trash, without a care in the world. He had no use for the gods— his father was dead. His brother was a monster who used him like a chess piece for his whole life, his love a lie crafted out of glass and flaking skin. He wanted revenge.

It somehow ended up in Kaeya's possession by the time he got back, without a single nick or a dull edge, as if brand new. He never actually found out how. Did he retrieve it himself after Diluc left, despite Diluc forcing him to leave? Or did Adelinde give it to him? What did he do with it, for all those years? Was it left in an abandoned drawer, out of sight, or did Kaeya watch it like Diluc was with his cryo one?

Did he hold it close and caress the golden tips? Did the tips of his hair and fingers bathe in its red light, dipped in the warmth of the flame? Did he weep?

Or did he crack it under the heel of his boot?

Why did he feel the need to hold Kaeya's vision close? To protect it like one would a small child? It was as if he could connect to the man through the jem in some way, and understand his thoughts.

What happened in the time he was gone, to make his brother so bitter? Was it the time itself, wasting away their youth and innocence? Or was the current cavalry captain the person under Kaeya's smiles all along?

Was his brother gone forever, left as a memory, or did he never exist at all?

He didn't know. He wondered if he'd ever know. What right did he have to know, when he was the one who drove his brother away? In some ways, it didn't matter if it was real, not to him. The emotions he experienced were real, part of his life and the person he came to be, and that was enough.

But it was gone.

He flopped back onto the pillow and tugged his legs onto the mattress without removing his shoes. Adelinde would kill him, but tonight, he couldn't bring himself to. The ends of his coat bunched around his thighs as he shifted, the fur warm and light.

He should move Kaeya's vision, lest it end up underneath him in the night, or bury into his skin and leave a bruise. He could move it to the floor by the bed, or place it on the desk opposite him next to that lone pot of ink.

But— what if it went out while he slept? Would the fading light wake him if it was all the way across the room? What if it was taken in the night? He locked the door, but his instincts still screamed at him, waiting for an ambush.

No, he'd keep it by his side, his hand cupping the back and his fingers curled around it like a cage. He watched the light slip around the length of his fingers, swelling out into the room and over his body, like a candle in the abandoned wing of a tower. He marvelled at just how blue his pale skin turned, his normal white complexion amplifying the colour.

Next to him, if the worst was to happen, it'd wake him. It had to wake him.

He sunk into his coat, burying his face into the collar. There were no blankets, and Kaeya's vision sucked all the heat out of the room, but he found his eyelids fluttering as he stared at it. He drew it towards him until the wings touched his nose and breathed, his breath hot over his knuckles.

Breathe. He breathed.

Kaeya was alive. He was going to find him, with Jean by his side. He would be okay.

He didn't know if he was the right person to find Kaeya. He didn't know if Kaeya would be happy to know Master Diluc was looking for him.

He didn't know why Kaeya brought him so much pain; why looking into his eye felt like looking through fog, lost in the rain, and why his smile burned like a stab wound. He withered a little inside everytime he saw him, waiting for the ball to drop. He caught his wry gaze and felt as if his skin was burned down to the bone, his mouth filled with sharp teeth and his nails stretched out into vicious claws. As if he was a monster made of fire.

He didn't know if it was right for him to hold Kaeya's vision. He didn't know if he deserved the comfort.

But what he did know was that Kaeya was alive. He could be alone and suffering, or even dead eyed and helpless, but he was alive. He felt it in the ice under his fingernails, and in the freshness of his next inhale.

Breathe. Kaeya was alive. Breathe.

For better or worse, he would find him. What came next was up to tomorrow's Diluc, and the DIluc after that.

Breathe.

He drifted comfortably into the darkness, shrouded in blue light, and with the lining of his coat warming his chin. It felt like home.

—

Jean knocked on the tavern door at five in the morning. A horrible hour when the sun barely peeked out over the horizon, casting blinding streams of light between overcast clouds and the drifting morning breeze. She must have guessed he didn't head to the winery so late at night, and probably saved time in thinking that way, but he still wasn't happy to be pulled from bed.

He ignored her stare as he locked the tavern door behind him. He patted himself down for dust, and redid his ponytail, but there was nothing he could do about his wrinkled clothes. It was probably lucky she came to him so early, because with the way he was looking, there'd be rumours Master Diluc was accosted in an alleyway, or suffering from extreme exhaustion.

"Are you alright, Master Diluc?" she asked anyway. He was hoping she wouldn't bring it up, but he supposed it wasn't really within her nature to ignore it.

"I'm fine," he said, and gripped Kaeya's vision tighter. He slipped his gloves back on when he woke up and held it tight in his right hand, savouring the cold. His own vision hung from the rope on his hip, but he couldn't bring himself to tie them both together there. He needed Kaeya's in his hands, where he could feel it. He needed it close.

Jean eyed him, "Right. Well, I promised I'd ask around about Kaeya, so I'm here to accompany you."

For how long, exactly? He thought she was too busy.

Unless there was another reason? Why else would she ask for his help so desperately if she was going to follow him?

"I'm here to help you, Jean, but if you're here for my sake, then please feel free to find a knight who's less busy."

She stared at him for a moment, "Sir, I trust your skills more than anyone else's. Did I not say that before?"

"Jean. Please be honest with me," he leant against the doorframe, crossing his arms and pressing Kaeya's vision into his armpit, "Why are you here?"

She stared, and for a minute, seemed close to bursting into tears. He shook himself out of the sudden panic; he didn't want to upset her, but he needed answers. Asking for his help was one thing but, when he was being seemingly chaperoned around the investigation, it was almost pointless for him to be there at all.

"I— I would like your help to find him."

"Then why follow me?"

"Sir, would you truly look for him if I wasn't here?"

…Yes? Wait, no.

It didn't matter. He promised her, so he would help her. Did she think he was that dishonest?

"You don't trust me."

He couldn't care less about Kaeya, he didn't care about him at all. She clearly believed, even with his assurance, that hate was enough for him to abandon her sincere pleas for help without her presence.

He deserved it. He wasn't subtle with his dislike of Kaeya.

It still hurt.

He couldn't help but feel a little bitter about the whole thing. He knew their relationship was strained at best. He knew he was only an acquaintance to Jean. He knew that, but did he really mess up dramatically enough to completely tarnish his moral compass in her eyes?

Yes, you did mess up that bad. It's no wonder she doesn't trust you.

She's on Kaeya's side. Everyone should be on Kaeya's side. Why would anyone trust you?

Have you forgotten what you did—

"I'm sorry Jean, I… have not given off the best impression as of late."

You're a mons—

"Oh, no, it's… the opposite."

A mons—

Huh?

She looked at him sorrowfully, "You promised me you would help. I believe you, Master Diluc. You're not one to break promises."

But—

If it wasn't that—

"...Then?"

She stayed silent. He didn't understand. If she believed him, why was she following him? She was just as busy, if not busier, than him.

"I— well—" she stuttered, "I need to come with you for this, just for a little while."

"Why?"

"For my sake, please, Sir."

He cringed, squeezing his biceps and the vision in turn. If only he could get her to drop the Sir.

"You don't need my permission, Jean." he sighed.

She hesitated, but nodded with obvious relief, "Right. Then let's go."

They travelled across the city to Mrs Dietrich's house, the sun licking his face and burning into his dark clothes. He traced the light of Kaeya's vision around his front and over his gloves, and followed it down to his own vision. The pyro glow was more diminished than Kaeya's, neater and spreading equally as if poured into a perfectly sized champagne glass. Kaeya's sweeped out like it was overflowing, thrumming with power. In the sunlight, it lit his arms up like sulphur fire.

He wondered of a sudden if he looked ridiculous, doused in harsh lights, walking around with his growing collection of visions and flaunting them like trophies.

He could hide Kaeya's vision in his coat, inside his breast pocket, tucked by his chest where he'd feel it, but he… didn't want to do that.

Perhaps it wouldn't be as obvious if he tied it up next to his own, where the lights would clash and blend, and diffuse each other.

He didn't really want to do that either. In the upper room of the Angel's share, he would have gotten away with it, but out in the city he wanted it in his grip. There he knew it was tangible from its heaviness, and knew it was alive from its glow.

They stopped in front of a small house tucked against the city's lowest walls, an older lady standing outside, talking to some knights. Her greying hair was pulled up into a neat bun, highlighting her peaky features, and snug around her neck and waist were the strings of her apron, faded and well-used.

The knights snapped their heads over to Jean, and paused to turn and salute. She raised a hand in dismissal, and Diluc watched them all scurry away under their gaze. They glanced at him like he'd take their head off, and he tried not to smile. What on Teyvat made him look intimidating, dressed in bright lights and ruffled clothes?

"Grand Master Jean, and Master Diluc." the woman greeted, drawing his attention. She clasped a handkerchief in her hands and settled it at her sternum, her eyes senescent and saddened.

"Are you here to question me, dears?"

"If that's alright." Jean said softly, and Diluc deflated. All his anxiety trickled away, building from the moment he woke up, only to dissolve in the lady's presence. He didn't particularly care about Mr Dietrich, in fact, if he had to place an emotion he would choose somewhere between disappointment and disgust, but seeing his widow was sobering.

She didn't deserve to lose a loved one; not many people did. He hoped she could find some peace after everything was done.

Mrs Dietrich smiled at them both, her face warped by lines and wrinkles that told of weariness and sorrow. She caught Diluc's gaze with something warm and apologetic in her eyes.

"I heard our Sir Kaeya was caught up trying to protect my Ivo. Poor dear." she sighed, and bowed her head in his direction. He nearly flinched in horror.

She continued, "I know Ivo wasn't the kindest to him, but I couldn't be more grateful that he thought to help despite that. I want you to know that, Master Diluc."

What was he, Kaeya's guardian? He fought the reflex to scrunch his face up in distaste, and put on his best polite smile.

"It's behind us now," he said, "I can only express my condolences for your husband."

It was behind them now. Kaeya wasn't his brother, nor were they anything more than strained acquaintances. The reminders needed to stop.

Jean nodded, "It was his job, Ma'am. I'm sure he was happy to help."

If he's still alive—

No—

You're never getting him back—

No. No, he was fine.

He slid his gaze down to Kaeya's vision, cold as always, his cuffed sleeves still outlined by the light. He concentrated on the chill beneath the fabric of his gloves, and breathed through the feeling of his skin tingling, as if the cryo was seeping past his clothes.

Mrs Dietrich sighed, and turned to Jean, "Please, ask your questions. I'll answer as best I can."

Jean stood up straighter, poised and stern with her shoulders in line with Diluc's, and her lips thinned in concentration. He watched with interest as she composed herself, her behaviour so quickly switching from the sweet woman he remembered, to a calm and efficient leader.

She always seemed to hide it from him, as if he was still in charge of her. He wished she would break the habit.

Maybe once he earned that respect, maybe once he was her superior, but from day one he thought of her more as a friend than a subordinate. It was unnecessary for her to treat him so courteously, a mere formality she was welcome to drop when they were alone, and he wished he could convey that in a way she understood, because nothing seemed to work.

Was he too unclear? Did he give off the impression he wanted to look down on her?

Did she… want him to look down on her? Would it make her feel better if he was less friendly? Was he looking at everything all wrong, and it would be better to never rebuild their friendship?

He wasn't sure he could… that he wanted to—

"Did you see your husband leave the house at any point in the night?" Jean said.

Mrs Dietrich shook her head, "We went to bed together as always, around eleven o'clock. I'm afraid he must have left while I was asleep."

Jean hummed. Her voice was even and colourless, as if she was reciting an ageless script, her expression pinched in and her brow furrowed in thought. He took the tiniest of steps back, fearing he'd break whatever trance she'd perfected for herself, her demeanour dissolving like cinder from a campfire. Perhaps it was best to leave all the questions to her.

"Is there any reason you can think of as to why he may have left?"

The older woman shook her head again.

"Could you think of a reason why he was attacked?"

At that, she winced, wringing her handkerchief like a washcloth. Her smile was wobbly.

"Ivo is very… outspoken. He isn't particularly liked for it," she looked at him again, as if to apologise.

He pointedly ignored the pride that swelled in him under her gaze; the protective instinct trapped inside him preening at the attention. It was once his job to fight against the crass and ignorant people in the city, who thought his brother was alien or even frightening with his sparkling eye and darker skin. They had no idea what kind of person Kaeya was, and didn't wish to know, and as a child that infuriated him.

What Father didn't see, Diluc strived to see instead, and guard his brother from their prying eyes. He didn't deserve any of it, especially not at such a young age.

Diluc figured siblings were forced to form an unspoken structure around their relationship, as everyone was forced when in the constant company of another. For some that meant a hierarchy of sorts, a clear leader, and for others it meant abject denial of each other's presence. For him, his brother was his equal, a steady friend in emotion and in action. But there was also an inherent fondness, a habitual almost desperate need to protect that Diluc was sure Kaeya didn't experience. It was something honed by a different kind of love than just companionship, but from being the older one, and the happier one, and wanting to share that with the ones he held dear.

Kaeya deserved to be defended. He grew to be strong and resilient, but he still deserved to be loved and protected. Diluc treasured the responsibility.

Not anymore, he didn't. He didn't care anymore. Kaeya could look after himself.

He doesn't need you.

He doesn't want you.

He had no need for pride or compassion for that… that traitor. All he felt was the distant echo of his feelings for his brother, ones that no longer applied to the calvary captain of Mondstadt.

"Is there anyone specific you can think of that might have wanted to harm him?" Jean asked, and Mrs Dietrich smiled wearily, "I wish I knew, Grand Master. I admit I don't know much about Ivo's relationships."

She looked down and wrung her handkerchief in her hands, the cotton twisted around her fingers. Her gaze was searching, as if the answer was sewn into the fabric with an invisible thread.

"No, what I mean to say is, I never had the courage to stick up for those he spoke badly of. For poor Sir Kaeya." she sniffed, her eyes filled with resignation, "Perhaps… no, I can't bring him back, but perhaps I could have been more helpful to you both if I paid more attention."

Diluc watched her with misery in his bones.

It was too familiar, too real, watching her suffering.

He understood the fear of unique individuals on a basic, adult level where people were constantly ostracised for benign differences. He knew in the real world, it was natural to be cautious of change, but deep down he couldn't help but think it was ridiculous. He never thought of Kaeya's skin as strange or disturbing as a child, just different and new.

Mr Dietrich was one of the many who thought differently. He called him inferior to other knights, made insensitive and frankly false jokes about how he was harder to spot in darkness, or painfully easy to find in daylight, and told others his touch was cold and bruising.

It was wrong. So, so wrong. More than that, it was all lies.

Kaeya moved like a peacock; the lines of his silhouette were long and flowy, his footsteps light and measured, and his gaze bore weight like the unblinking eyes decorating a peacock's feathers. He wasn't bruising to anything, especially not people, and Diluc never liked how viciously Mr Dietrich would spit the word cold.

His brother wasn't— cold. He hated when people called him that.

In the time he was gone the citizens of Mondstadt all grew fond of him, and it brought a peace to him that settled his core. He hoped the man changed as well, but he seemed crueller than ever.

He wished he paid more attention, while they were alive, and asked him to keep his comments to a minimum. He wished he wouldn't have needed to at all.

But if he asked Kaeya, would he have told him? Would he even show if it was affecting him, or hide it away under that cocky smile?

No, there's no way. Kaeya wouldn't tell him a thing. The knowledge of that stung like frostbite.

What does it matter? Why was he so upset about something so small?

Mrs Dietrich was complacent, she barely muttered more than an apology for her husband's actions. That was almost worse than the racism itself in some ways, and his anger extended out to her, but he couldn't help but hurt alongside her.

She must be so lost. Even with her husband's hurtful personality, it was clear she loved him. She saw the good in him, but Diluc knew love, and he knew in no way was she oblivious to the bad. She saw the bad and loved him anyway, like holding burning sand and watching it slip through your singed fingers, awestruck by the flakes of shimmering glass.

Diluc knew that love was vast and overwhelming, the extent of its reach too large to overcome, but he also knew it was dense and tended to nestle deep, and that's where it became frightening. That's where it sat like a glass ball, delicate and searing, but heavy with light and colour, like magic. You couldn't rid yourself of it, because you didn't want to, no matter what you told yourself.

He wished he knew how to love normally. It was an intense thought, but one of his clearest ones in a while. He wished the people he held dear weren't so impossibly difficult to let go of, but harder to hold on to. He wished their faults were enough to break glass as thick as the years.

He wished he loved normally. He wished it wasn't so painful holding heated glass.

Jean shook her head, "You've been a big help, ma'am. We're grateful for anything you can give us."

She shook her head in distress, as if to rid Jean's words from her mind. Her eyes were slowly filling with tears, and Diluc watched Jean wilt in sympathy.

"Just one more question, if that's alright." she whispered. The older woman nodded.

"Did anything happen on the night that might have been strange? Even if it doesn't seem relevant, anything would be helpful."

She took a deep breath, seeming to collect herself, and hummed in thought.

"Well, it could be nothing, but every morning I choose something of my mother's jewellery to wear. A silly little tradition for an ageing lady like me." She laughed wetly, and Diluc felt the ache in her words echo through him.

"Not at all," Jean breathed.

She smiled with gratitude, "I planned on wearing one of her necklaces that I picked out the night before, but when I awoke it was gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes. It was less than an hour ago. I thought at the time that… that Ivo may have taken it for one reason or another. That's when the knights knocked on my door."

DIluc shared a look with Jean. Was it stolen? What was the chance of thievery on the same night of a murder, from the house of the victim no less?

"Was the necklace expensive?"

"I believe so. I wouldn't dare sell them, but I seem to remember they were worth a fair amount of mora."

"Is it possible someone could have snuck in to steal it?"

The woman paled, "I— suppose it's possible. I keep her jewellery in my vanity, but the bedroom window was open."

Was it possible? Perhaps it was taken as a prize of sorts, after Mr Dietrich was attacked, in a spontaneous act derived from a sick victory. Were they stupid enough to attempt a robbery immediately after a much worse crime?

Unless it was taken before…

His eyes widened. If, as a married man, a stranger approached him in the dead of night with his wife's necklace, and an ultimatum to comply, what would he do?

"I see now." He said. Both women snapped to him with bewilderment on their faces, but in a snap decision he thought better of saying anything else with Mrs Dietrich present. If he was right, and her husband was blackmailed with her safety, it was sure to break her heart in its entirety.

"Thank you for answering our questions, ma'am." he said instead.

She nodded hesitantly, "Of course. I would like this person captured for my husband's sake, of course, but I understand you're both looking for Sir Kaeya?"

Jean whipped back around to her and stuttered, "Well, yes, but—"

"There's no need, dear. I understand. My Ivo may be— gone, but Sir Kaeya is not. That child is a treasure to the whole city, and I know I'm not the only one who thinks so. No matter what Ivo said, he is helpful and kind beyond words. He has always belonged in this city."

She spoke sternly and aggressively, finally grasping her chance to express her frustration. Diluc shuddered under a wave of pride and protectiveness, strangely close to tears.

Yes. Yes, Kaeya was—

Was…

No, Kaeya wasn't kind, nor was he helpful. He was lazy and handed out his work for others to do. He didn't bother with things he found difficult or troublesome, and was a master liar and manipulator. He was the furthest thing from kind.

Wasn't he? Why was praise for someone other than himself, for someone cruel and undeserving, so warming?

She laughed, "I want you to focus on saving him. I'm sure, for once, my Ivo can wait."

He heard Jean sigh, and turned to see her hands shaking with emotion.

"I— the knights will do everything they can to find him, ma'am," she said, "as well as the person who's responsible for all of this."

"Good."

She waved them goodbye sweetly, her eyes wet with tears, but her smile warm. He'd send her a gift when this was over. A proper one that would convey his sorrow and amity for her. He'd find one to express his gratitude.

Gratitude— for sticking up for Kaeya. For caring about his safety.

It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter. It wasn't his job to protect that man. He found some twisted comfort in denying it ever was.

But… he'd send her a gift anyway.

Jean was strangely silent, her stride proud as always as he followed her up the stairs to the knights headquarters, but he remembered that look in her eyes. It was the same look she gave him when he returned after years away, sitting in her office chair and staring ahead at him in her doorway. Something lost and pained, burning with grief.

"What do you know about this, Master Diluc?" she said, looking at him with only her eyes, sparkling in the sun.

Hm? Oh.

What did he know about, what? The case?

Well, no ordinary murderer would think to obtain blackmail material before a killing, especially if Mr Dietrich was already alone in the late night, so it was agonisingly clear the culprit was after Kaeya from the beginning. There's also the possibility they originally had no intention to kill the merchant and planned to use him only as bait.

To kill him anyway though… that would suggest they had no qualms resorting to abrupt murder, outside of their plan, which made them unquestionably dangerous.

He knew the moment the knights' chief alchemist described the scene, the way Kaeya's blood was splattered in a horrific arch, his head crushed under brutish hands. Knowing Mr Dietrich's part in their plan only confirmed what they already knew— that they were calculated, and they were cruel.

Why go after Kaeya, though? He had no idea. Was it because of his strength, or his standing? Were they after any knight, and Kaeya was pulled from the draw?

Was there a chance they knew… knew about—

"Traitor!"

"I hate you—"

He opened his mouth to tell her his thoughts, but she interrupted him, "Is this a Dark–Knight Hero matter?"

A—

A— what?

"What are you talking about?"

She cocked a wry smile, "Did you see someone with jewellery perhaps?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Sir, please."

How on earth did she know? Was he too obvious? He never tried to be particularly subtle, but no one except Kaeya and the traveller had figured it out.

"I— no, it isn't that."

"What, then?"

"I–I wondered if the thief stole the necklace before the attack. If they did, they may have had some leverage over Mr Dietrich that they used to lure him."

Her eyes widened, "I see."

Stop, no. They weren't just going to ignore that, were they?

"How did you…?"

She paused, "Know?"

He nodded, feeling like a child caught with his hand in a sweet jar, "Did Kaeya tell you?"

She cocked a tiny smile, "I should have figured he knows as well."

For some reason, he felt his face warming up, his face fading into his hair.

"It's a ridiculous name," he scoffed.

"Ah. I seem to recall Kaeya was the first one to use it."

Of course he was. He should have guessed from those letters that he was up to something.

Jean chuckled, her eyes sparkling. He pushed back the fondness building in him, fighting to keep it off his face. He was pretty certain it'd frighten her, or disturb her, or something like that.

"Grand Master!"

Diluc swung around, one of the older men in the adventurer's guild jogging towards them, his gait doddery and panicked. Jean's smile dropped like an anvil.

Just like before, at the front of Kaeya's apartment. The anxiety boiled in his gut and ate through the tenderness, shuddering through him.

He needed a serious break from all these sudden twists; it was messing with his heart. Could he go one day without feeling like he was hanging by a thread off the edge of a cliff?

"Master Jean, and Master Diluc! Thank Barbatos I caught you!"

"What is it?" she said. She sounded as confident and professional as always, but Diluc caught the lack of warmth, and the breath in her voice gave away her exhaustion.

"It's Bennett ma'am, he's missing! No one has seen him since Saturday."

Missing?

Another one?

Bennett— that was the clumsy child in the adventurers guild with the pyro vision. He was avoided by fellow adventurers and newcomers to the city, and followed Kaeya around like a lost puppy. Diluc thought the locals loved him, he knew the traveller did.

Saturday… That was four days ago. Did it really take four days for someone to notice?

Jean tensed next to him, her nerves strung up like wires.

"Where was he last seen?" she said.

The man crossed his arms and hunched in place, as if hugging himself, "At home, ma'am. He told us all he was off to visit that wolf boy in Wolvendom."

Another citizen lost, vanishing into the wind. What was going on?

To take a captain of the cities defence force was a big move, but on top of that, multiple citizens were taken with seemingly no correlation to one another.

So, which was it? Were they taking large groups of citizens, which would be harder to track as they piled up, or were they looking for a fight by taking a man of obvious importance to the city?

He turned to Jean with his mouth open, but stilled. She stared ahead of him with her jaw clenched, her teeth grinding like shifting tectonic plates, and her eyes wrought with agony. He shivered at the confusion hidden there, as if he could hear the swarm of thoughts in her head, overwhelmed by the weight of them.

The man fumbled, "Master Jean? Are you alright?"

"I've had enough." she said, shaking down to her toes. Her eyes landed on Diluc's like a hailstorm, the ice bruising his skin.

"We'll find him, Sir. I promise you."

She turned on her heels and stomped up the stairs, the wind guiding her and the sun glaring down on her figure. The tailends of her coat danced in Diluc's face, drifting quietly behind her, and swelled the extent of the power in her form. Her heels clicked like the sound of a deathknell.

He'd never seen her so… overwrought. He'd never seen her in the kind of distress that broke through her masks and leaked into her appearance.

How often did she break, all on her own? How often was she suffering?

"Jean?" he whispered, and he couldn't bring himself to call for her any louder.

She sniffed, "I'm sorry, Master Diluc. I can't take this anymore— I've changed my mind."

She marched up the city with the wind guiding her, and into the Favonius headquarters, the doors large and imposing, heads snapping towards them when they entered. Diluc caught himself visibly wincing under their gaze and rushed to walk at Jean's side. He caught the edge of the desperation in her eyes.

Her office door was unlocked, and swung open under her hand. She sped through the expanse of it, where the middle of the room opened up for the books on the left and the couch's hidden under the windows on the right, and straight to her desk. The large window framed her stance like leaves did for the trunk of a tree, the sunlight illuminating the flyaways in her ponytail, and the varnished wood of the furniture.

He hesitated in the doorway, his fingers caught between the hinges.

Was he… intruding? How much of her anguish was he allowed to witness?

She flung open the drawers at her hip and pulled out several slips of paper that she scattered in front of her. Her quill was balanced in a pot of ink at her side, hidden amongst the clutter of lone books and paperwork, and she sat sideways on her chair as she snatched it up and furiously scribbled a note, the sun beaming intensely onto her back.

Diluc shifted on his feet opposite her, nervously drawing his eyes over her face. Her cheerfulness was gone, replaced with thinly veiled panic, her face pale and the bags under her eyes boring above her cheekbones. He'd never seen her like it so up close, mere metres away from her.

He pressed forward, and drew around her chair to stand behind her. When she made no move to stop him, he leant forward with his arms crossed for stability, skimming over the wet ink on the page with his eyes.

Slowly taking form was a note, addressed to Lisa, for a leave of absence. It was worded informally, more of a note to a friend, and Diluc knew, as the Grand Master, she had no obligation other than courteousness to write one at all.

"I thought you said Kaeya wasn't your top priority?" he asked.

"He isn't."

"Then?"

She stopped writing and looked up at him, dwarfed by his height. It hollowed out his chest, seeing her so small, his tongue too big in his mouth, and his skin itching as if skinned from another and wrapped over his bones haphazardly.

From her chair, she reminded him so much of her sister. The kind eyes, the polite way she held herself, like he belonged in the church steeples high above her and where she prayed. Barbara was still a child in his eyes, but Jean… it unnerved him.

He swallowed down his discomfort and stayed still.

"He's much more important to me than you realise, Master Diluc," she said, "It's… not responsible of me to look for him myself, but we have so few knights to look for him, and I can't just— I can't just leave him."

She stood, and he shuffled back out of her way in a rush, too caught up in his thoughts.

He knew Kaeya was important to Jean, in the same way she was important to the two of them. She was close to family in his eyes, his ever-present love for her comfortable and developed naturally from when they were little.

He hadn't a clue what she thought of him now, not truly, beyond her refusal to understand he was no longer above her. For Kaeya, though, if her feelings were the same, it would be as if Barbara was the one taken, or her mother.

After that night, he tried not to think too much about that kind of thing, let alone Jean's stance on the matter. He was an idiot for not realising how strongly this was affecting her.

"I'm sorry for lying to you. The truth is, I hadn't a good enough excuse to take charge of this, and I hoped having you take over would put my mind at ease. I don't care about needing an excuse anymore."

She nodded at him, "I'm coming with you. Lisa can look after the knights in my absence, perhaps Albedo if he's up for it."

He searched her face, looking for any deceit. Did she truly wish to come along, with her workload, or was she lying earlier about trusting him?

He wouldn't blame her.

"There's no need to come if you're still trying to chaperone me," he said.

"No Sir, I promise you. Kaeya's… like family to me. I can't leave him."

How much did he miss, while he was gone? He never had the courage to think about it, but where did Kaeya go after he left? Was it possible he went to Jean? Did she take care of him?

Did she heal his wounds? How bad were they? Did she take him to the church, or did she heal him slumped over her couch, struggling to breathe through the pain?

Did— he tell her? Did she know how cruel he'd been? Did she resent him?

Pathetic. You're a monster and everyone knows.

At least Kaeya had a hand reached out to him. At least he had the ear he searched for, which Diluc failed to give him. What right did Diluc have, to cause such harm, when all his brother wanted was for him to listen?

She's right to hate you. He's right to hate you.

You should hate you.

Jean hesitated, ever so slightly, her gaze wavering over her note, "Don't make me reconsider this. Just this once I want to be spontaneous in something. I want to save him myself."

Diluc nodded, feeling as if his head was on a coiled spring. She loved Kaeya, he'd always known that. She deserved to be by his side.

Kaeya trusted her. He trusted her infinitely more than he did Diluc.

You lost that, you monster.

Your fault. It's all your fault.

"If you truly don't wish to help then you may leave, I won't hold it against you. I apologise for taking up so much of your time, Master Diluc."

He didn't want to help in the first place; he had no place in the case and had no leads to follow. It was Jean who asked for him, convinced she couldn't do the task alone.

But, no, she could do it, she just felt she shouldn't. That her emotions about the situation weren't enough to abandon her work as the leader of the knights, that Diluc would get the job done without her.

His promise was null— she no longer needed his assistance, and he had no disillusions about her capability as a knight. She would find Kaeya.

But…

He— he wanted—

Kaeya used to be his responsibility. It was his job to protect him.

He thought… that there might be a part of him that still held onto that. The part of him that ached for the family he used to have, and the part that craved the burden of brotherhood. It was buried deep within him, dangerously fragile and tender, but he felt some joy in unearthing it, like it was meant to be flaunted.

Kaeya was… cruel, deceitful, a traitor. He lied to Diluc his whole life. He didn't care about Father. He used them like matches, tiny sparks left to die out for a greater purpose.

But—

If he wondered, just for a moment, that he was lying to himself, that he was wrong…

If he was wrong, then…

"I'll join you." he said, "But where will we go? There aren't many more leads."

She looked at him with a soft delight, her smile small and private, and nodded, "If I'm right, it's no coincidence all these people are being taken. We'll head for the last known person."

He nodded. Wolvendom it was.

Notes:

1. In the original draft, Mr Dietrich was alive, and it's him Diluc and Jean talk to in this chapter. I thought it fit better to have him die, but I'm saying this because there's a couple short scenes in my docs of Ivo being an intolerant asshole, and Diluc slowly losing it lol.

2. I did a bit of research into writing poc characters just to make sure I didn't say anything offensive as a white writer, and I have to say, I'm so glad I did! I had no idea how oblivious I was to some big no-no's! That being said, the internet could only get me so far, so if anyone notices anything insensitive anywhere in this fic that isn't character voice please let me know! I'd love to learn and make sure it doesn't happen again in my writing.

3. I had a wonderful person help me edit this chapter! Let's call them Moon. This took longer than I would have liked because of the holidays, and they helped me fix the things I was missing. Idk if they're reading this, or if they'll be back for later chapters, but ty! I'm very grateful.

4. Speaking of which, sorry this took so long! This was literally the worst chapter to write and it might genuinely be a bit shit, but when I finished editing it I thought a win is a win, and posted to release myself from the bloody misery. I'll try to be a little faster and write better for future chapters xx

5. If you've just come from chapter 3, especially if this story is finished at the time you're reading it, I recommend this is where you take a little break! Go drink some water or god if it's 3am for you like it is for me rn, go to bed and come back rested in the morning. One of us has to lol.

Chapter 5

Notes:

I literally spent all month trying to get Xiao's weapon as a Xiao main, and came out empty handed. I got Faruzan on the weapons banner ffs, my luck is the worst :(

Hope you enjoy the new chapter haha.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

As he stared out from the back of the room, searching for cracks in the stone or light passed the bars, and with the back of his eyes aching from the strain, he realised the walls weren't really walls anymore, and just masses of darkness.

There was this layer of fog, thick enough to seem to warp and bubble like porridge in a pot, draped over what must have been the actual walls, but Kaeya couldn't figure out where they stopped and where the abundance of murk began. The edges of his body vanished into it, the wisps of his torn shirt lost in the obscurity, eaten away and gnawed around his chest. It was as if he sat on a tongue in the jaws of a monster, counting the seconds until he was devoured.

He shifted where he was slumped, drawing his legs inwards and bowing his aching head over his knees, his hair flowing over his shoulders. He woke up with his hands tied together above his head, high enough for his back to start twinging by hour two. The knot was intricate and tight, the rope digging into his wrists, and he couldn't hold onto a thought long enough to do anything about it.

His hand was killing him. There was dried blood plastered around his wrist and marked down his forearm in flaky streams, and he couldn't feel the tips of his fingers, but he knew by the way his palm throbbed that he likely needed stitches.

The room was square, he knew that much, and there was so little heat the air felt dry and frozen, his body sucked clean of warmth. Beyond him were metal bars that stretched out into more endless black, but if he squinted through his headache, he made out something resembling an endless corridor.

The bars were too thick to slip through, naturally. He wouldn't make it that far anyway.

He was trapped.

It was funny, in a way, how quickly it all went wrong. Less than a day ago he was falling asleep in his office, struggling to do paperwork under the sound of rain and the persistent itch under his skin. Then it was a blur of agony and heat and cloying chemicals, his clothes ripped and his hair yanked into clumps like a child's doll, and then he awoke in a cell.

There was humour in how innately pathetic it was. He sat in the aftermath of the chaos in an empty room, devoid of light and sound, his own sighs a disturbance to the peace and, at the same time, his only companion. It was as close to hell as he'd ever reached, and to that, he could only laugh.

He was also guessing, really, how long it'd been. It didn't really matter, did it?

How long would it take for someone to come looking for him? It sounded arrogant to assume only a day, so no one was on their way, at least. He'd be trapped for a while.

Was a week too soon? Two? Two weeks was about how long an ordinary missing person would take, what with how they were stacking up. Was that a more realistic baseline?

He hadn't a clue where he was, either. That'd certainly affect how long it'd take. Perhaps underground? His cell was fairly simple, but it was entirely possible there was a web of complex tunnels that drove away outsiders.

So… to wait it out, until either safety or insanity came for him, or escape— at the risk of his life.

He sneezed, gasping when his brain rattled around inside his skull. The cough that followed pulled at his ribs and snagged as if it tore something.

Ugh.

Wait, then escape. Yeah, that sounded nice, go team.

Through the gloom, the metal bars rattled and shrieked as if in fear, then parted like the teeth on a snare trap. A tall figure made of muscle and steel bones lumbered in through the entrance, limping on a bandaged foot. In one of his hands was a steel lantern that's light soared through the dark and over the cobwebs and grains of stone littering the ground. In the other hand was a cheap bowl, dented in the shape of a death grip, filled with escaping steam.

Kaeya stared up at him, watching as the man rattled the bars until they closed and stumbled forwards. His hair was alight, the colour of burning leaves, and his cloak brushed the bandages around his ankle. He made it all look like a dance, swaying to an inaudible, crude rhythm, the fluidity betrayed by the power in his footsteps and the heaviness in his arms.

He remembered the weight behind his grip, pressed down in that wooden carriage. It was blurry and made his head pang, but he could feel the anxiety and claustrophobia as almost tangible bricks in his hands. The heat from his breath on his face, burning on his forehead, and the pressure of his gaze boring down on him. He'd be scrubbing it from his skin for weeks.

He stopped just shy of Kaeya's socked foot. Right— he forgot he only had one boot.

The man dropped the bowl, frisbeeing it in such a way that it skidded rather than cluttered across the floor and neatly settled against his knee. Then, he sunk down with his legs crossed, and held his chin in his free hand with a huff. He placed the lantern next to the bowl, and raked his eyes up from Kaeya's feet to his forehead as one would regard a caged animal.

"You're calmer," he said, and frowned, "it seems drugs only make you writhe; you're docile when you want to be, aren't you?"

Kaeya said nothing, holding his breath and waiting for his heartbeat to slow. He traced his gaze over the slope of their broad nose and the glint in his brown eyes, and memorised the features as best he was able. They sat motionless, still as a doll, and seemed to dominate the life in the air the longer they waited. It was as if the darkness gained eyes, the void staring back at him; like a sleep demon ogling him from the corner of his bedroom, patiently lingering.

He was so close, God, why that close. His instincts were screaming at him to run.

With his arms up, his entire torso was open for this man. It would be distressingly easy to plunge a knife into his gut and out again before he could blink. It was just as easy for him to strangle him, or smooth his hands under Kaeya's shirt and explore.

He'd fight, God he'd fight, but he shivered at the chance that he'd lose. There were many things he'd done for the sake of info, some more provocative than others, but that— that was too far. In the state he was in, there was no boundary they wouldn't be able to cross, and to take that much would be to cleave off part of his soul.

He wasn't positive he'd recover from something like that.

"Mm, how boring." The man stared some more, then tutted through a sigh as he leant back away from the light, his face disappearing further into a void. He waved a limp hand at the bowl between them; the size of his hands made Kaeya flinch.

"You must be hungry," he said, "when was the last time you ate?"

He fought to not worry his lip. If any amount counted, then the afternoon of the day he was taken. Noelle brought him a tray of jam biscuits the size of mora, powdered with sugar and shaped like cat paws. He ate two.

Before that, if only meals counted…

Who cared? He didn't.

"Go on. It's potatoes."

He gazed down at the bowl, the steam billowing up to his face. The contents were a mushy paste, deluged and pale as chalk, dolloped in with a metal spoon. It was obviously tasteless and bland; Kaeya didn't need to taste it to know it'd stick to the lining of his throat like glue.

Yeah, no. There was no way he was eating that.

He raised an eyebrow at the man and twisted his wrist in its bindings, cringing at the way his skin chafed and warmed from the sting. They grinned as if they were waiting for it.

"Ah, you can't reach can you? Guess you'll have to go without."

He blinked in disbelief. Was that his game, to humiliate him? Well, that was easier. Kaeya had never lost that game once, and he wouldn't anytime soon either.

He made a show of smiling earnestly, canting his head down and peering up at the man through his eyelashes, "You wouldn't feed it to me, would you? Your ropes are ever so tight."

"You'd trust me to slip a spoon past your lips, would you?" They said, "and you were ever so reclusive earlier."

Bastard.

"Well, if you're so worried for my character, perhaps it'd be better to untie my hands." Kaeya said, and shook his good hand for emphasis.

The man blinked, then heaved a dry chuckle, "Straight to the point, huh?"

He tucked his feet beneath him and shifted to his knees, his arm reaching out to cinch where Kaeya's wrists connected between his extended grip. His looming gaze pinched into something distinctly pleased and diabolical, the curve of his lips paled by the lantern between them, and the sweat in his pores close enough to taste. He leant forward until his weight was crushing down on Kaeya's pulse points and his chin was digging into his hairline.

He slid his wrist up to the slipperiest part of Kaeya's left hand and squeezed.

He bit his lip and swallowed a gasp. The second, tighter squeeze bolted down his arms and coiled his body up like a puppet of a string. The third held the pressure and bleached his vision with stars.

God, make it stop. Make it stop.

His hand was melting. His arms were hot enough to burn through bone.

He couldn't breathe, it was too much. He was burning up and his lungs shrunk with every breath and he couldn't breathe.

Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it—

He felt the weight dissolve, and the agony bloomed into an overwhelming sting that encroached outwards from the centre of his palm. There was a give in the rope that wasn't there before, the cracked blood on his wrists slick with liquid.

W-what the fuck. What the fuck.

Why was that so fucking horrible? Why was it so hard to think?

He wrestled his eye open and found molten eyes inches from his own, deep as the abyss. Their hand was wrapped loosely around his forearm, thumb sweeping through the trail of blood, and it felt dangerously close to a caress. He thinned his lips and tried not to scream.

"Afraid we're not gonna let you go that easily, little knight," he said, and grinned like a maniac.

What— what—

Even he wasn't that fucked up. What the fuck.

He huffed his hair out of his face, his fingers twitching in the aftershock, and said, "Could I at least have a name, strange yet respectable traveller?"

"Ah, now that I can do!"

The man tipped backwards into his earlier cross legged position and flattened his palm to his breast, bowing like one would to royalty. It made Kaeya's skin crawl.

"My name is Ignat." He declared, "I'll be taking care of you from now on."

Ignat. He rolled the sound of it around in his head, feeling the way it punched on certain sounds and flowed on others. A name meaning fire, light, the sun. He stared into the eyes of the man sitting across from him, his smile twisted up in grotesque joy, and wondered if his parents were joking.

"I can't be the only one you're taking care of, can I?" He asked.

Ignat chuckled, "well, I suppose I can tell you that much. Not like you'll be seeing them."

"Oh?"

"We took a bunch of commoners from your city; just snatched them up like mora on the pavement," he made a leisurely grabbing motion inches from Kaeya's face, to imitate stealing his nose.

How bad was their security? It couldn't be that bad, could it? He needed to try harder.

"Why take such weak people?" He asked, almost to himself, until a thought came to him, "Do you need cannon fodder?"

"You're smart, aren't you?" He cooed.

But then why take him? They had to know he was a knight, right?

Ignat sighed, "Ah but I love the fighters, that's why you're my favourite."

He shifted in his binds, "My, what an honour. What else do you like about me?"

He spread his arms wide like a circus ringmaster introducing an act, "Why, you're so strong! And so kind too— I see everyone in your city is in love with sweet captain Kaeya."

So they did know. Why was he taken, then? Why was he in a cell on his own?

"You flatter me! Although I'm sure most of my charm comes from my looks, wouldn't you agree?" He tilts his head. It was the only reason he could think of.

"Of course! That vision of yours certainly added to your shine."

Ah.

"Ah, is that why you wanted me?"

His smile faded away, the sudden silence corrosive and biting. Kaeya held his breath under their relentless stare.

"You trying to get answers?" He asked, the enmity in his voice grating against the walls.

"You'll answer them, won't you?" Kaeya smiled, "For someone as charming as me?"

Ignat sat again as still as a doll, his limbs stiff with age and his gaze disturbingly penetrative, his eyes burning in the lantern-light. He searched for something in Kaeya's expression, reached to latch onto and snatch away some emotion. Kaeya kept himself as still and as silent as possible, but Ignat must have found a crack in his mask, and unlocked his jaw. He could almost hear it creak.

"You certainly are one of the most liked men in the nation, little knight," he said, stretching the syllables, "I wonder, are you more liked than even Master Diluc?"

What?

Diluc? What did Diluc have to do with this?

Unless… do they think—?

No, no. Archons, please no.

"Master Ragnvindr?" He laughed, trying to sound disbelieving and oblivious, "I wouldn't dream of comparing myself to him!"

"No? Surely he picked up some mannerisms from you, his dear brother?"

They do know. Oh, they know.

What did that mean? Were they threatening him? Were they actually after DIluc?

Was he blackmail material?

That didn't make any sense. Why him? Diluc would never come, not for him.

Their intel must be out of date; They can't go after Diluc, he won't let them.

"Is that what this is about?" He said.

Ignat clicked his tongue, and leant forward and grabbed Kaeya's chin between his clawed fingers, pulling him in closer until they're ear to ear. His breath ghosted over Kaeya's temple, and he shivered.

"You don't get to act cocky, not in your situation," he hummed, "Now, you'll be a good little knight and hold your tongue, or we'll make this harder for you, and go after your brother too."

His heart was pounding like crazy, but he refused to give this man the satisfaction of seeing it on his face.

If they hurt Diluc, if he was injured in any way, he'd make them regret it. He'd tear through his binds and use it to strangle them; he'd kill them before they even looked at another hair on his head. It didn't matter if Diluc resented him afterwards, or if he cast him out again— he'd give up his whole being if it meant his estranged brother was safe.

"I can't wait to break you proper," Ignat said, and roughly shoved Kaeya away from him, his head snapping away and his neck cracking with the force.

If questioning visions was what made him snap, then that had to be it. It was his vision.

But— why? What did his vision have to do with Diluc, if anything at all?

"Traitor!"

No. Not that. It couldn't be that. There had to be another reason.

A red light appeared outside the room, pooling in around the bars and a spindly figure. Kaeya watched over Ignat's shoulder as the door opened and a man slipped in, his limbs lanky like snake bodies, and his face pale and dead looking. He strolled in with a clipboard in his hand, his fingers clawed around the edge like knives.

His eyes snapped down to the man's belt, light spilling out into the room and up the lines of the man's coat. Sat at his middle was a snezhnayan pyro vision, fashioned with an angular border and a tip pointed towards his navel, glistening as if slowly heating. He froze, feeling as if his skin was burning off under its reaching light.

It wasn't Diluc's. Diluc's was smaller, about the size of a wolfhook berry, and adorned with golden wings. The light of Diluc's vision seeped into the world like warmth from a pulsing candle, not like blood pouring down cracked plaster. It was nothing like Diluc's.

It looked like Diluc's. It had the same pulse, and the same heat. The longer he stared the quicker his eyes began to melt.

"Ди́мочка," Ignat said, and sent the man a wry smile.

"I told you not to call me that."

He just laughed.

The man drew closer, stopping just in front of Kaeya, his boot inches from dirtying the thin fabric on Kaeya's legs. He looked down with only his eyes, his chin held high, as if he was considering a rat or a possum in a dirty alleyway. Following him was the prominent smell of smoke and soot on his skin, buried in his pours.

Diluc didn't smell like soot; he barely smelt of ash. Whether it was before or after obtaining his vision, Kaeya thought if he had to delineate a smell, it would be something like the sunbeams on sandy pebbles, and wood dust. The two were nothing alike, and yet watching the man reminded him of that night. Of the anger, the way Diluc held his claymore at hip height as he stomped towards him, as if weightless; of the terror.

"He's awake, then." They said, quickly and bluntly, "Good. We can get started."

He shivered. Started?

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ignat said to him, reading his face.

"Would you tell me?"

He hummed in fake thought, "Let's see… if I kill you later, I guess it doesn't matter what you know, does it?"

What a comforting thought.

"How confident are you that people won't look for me?" he said.

Ingat laughed, "We don't care, we'll beat them back all the same. Question is, does Mondstadt need you, little knight?"

What did need have to do with it? He was a citizen; that's pretty much all that mattered.

Were they trying to break his morale? Please— he wasn't that fragile.

"There's no point in playing with him."

Ignat only hummed, and stuck his hands into Kaeya's hair, gathering a bundle of strands. He yanked them into the air, the force straining Kaeya's neck and pushing his knees into the stone beneath him. He tried desperately not to make a sound, but couldn't stop the way his face scrunched up.

The other man pulled a rope out and pulled it tight between his fingers, tugging on each end as if he was snapping a belt. He crouched down next to Ignat and reached for Kaeya's outstretched neck.

He pulled back quickly and struggled in Ignat's grip, twisting his head and pushing his knees between them both as a barrier. They kept their filthy fingers tight by his scalp, and when he tried to kick, they yanked him up higher, their touch like gunk from a drain. He dropped his knees before he suffocated.

"Been wanting some payback." Ignat said, and as he spoke his friend pushed forward and wrapped the rope around Kaeya's neck, looping it twice and tightening it for good measure. Kaeya wheezed, lightheaded from the lack of air rushing to his aching head. He sat up taller to dull the pressure, and watched in dismay as the man tied an intricate knot at his throat.

It was humiliating. He was being strung like ham.

They both leant back when they were done, and he watched the two admire his neck. Ignat swept his hands down the length of the rope and drew it into his lap, holding the end like a leash.

He really was a monkey in a cage, just like he thought he'd be.

The man in the lab coat stood up, fussing with the seam of his gloves in the way Diluc did, equivalent to rolling up his sleeves. Some desperation clawed through Kaeya watching him do it.

"What's this for?" He said, his voice cracking.

Ignat chimed in, grinning wildly, "This is to keep you tamed. Can't have you fighting us while we work."

"Work?"

Work? What the fuck.

"We need some data points before the other one gets here," the other man said, staring at his clipboard.

Other one? What— there's another one?

He nodded to himself, and said, "Go on."

Ignat rushed forward, latching on like a hungry bear. He pulled on Kaeya's pointer finger from his bleeding palm and twisted until it snapped.

His vision went white, the pain sharp and so tangible he could taste it. He didn't realise he was screaming until his throat started to burn.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Not again, not again— God, please stop—

He thrashed and on instinct alone kicked his legs into Ignat's gut. As soon as his foot connected, they tugged on the rope and choked him. He gasped into the ceiling and tried to remember where he was.

What the fuck. What the fuck was that.

He heard the scribbles of writing from the other man, writing his observations.

What the fuck.

"Good, again."

He shivered. They broke a second finger.

This time, he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through the pain, his ribs screaming at him. He could feel himself shaking hard enough to knock his knees together, and for his teeth to audibly grind. Clearly feeling it through his grip on the rope, Ignat laughed out loud.

"Look at you, trying to fight it," he muttered, "I wanted more of those screams."

"Do another." the other one said.

Ignat hummed, "We shouldn't break him too much."

He heard the click of footsteps, and found the man crouched at Ignat's side, ogling at him. Kaeya huffed his heated breath in their face just to piss them off.

Cowards, tying him up. If he had his vision, he would have frozen them feet to neck already. If his head wasn't pounding he would have knocked them out and strolled out of the dark room, and traced his way home. They just caught him off guard last time, with the drugs and the storm and the pyro vision. He could've beat them; they were so sure of their skills, so pompous and above themselves, but all it'd take was a sharp sword and burst of cryo and they'd be blubbering on their knees.

"Working on two data points isn't enough," the man said, "if you insist on keeping him relatively unharmed, then at least break one more finger."

In an act of defiance that would have his father turning in his grave, Kaeya gathered all the excess saliva in his mouth and spat in the man's face.

Their eye twitched, and rage spread across their numb expression so suddenly he flinched. From one second to the next, they slammed their hand into the back of his head and shoved him against the wall, igniting his vision. He felt something in his head explode. When they lifted him he saw only blobs of colour formed by the lantern light, and the pyro vision's bold red.

God, red— so close to his skin, close enough to burn. It was too much.

The man wound his arm up, as if ready to do it again, when Ignat's hand landed in the small gap between them.

"Now, now, Dmitry," he said, and Kaeya just barely cleared his vision to see him squeeze the other's bicep, "we need him alive."

His nose was bleeding, probably. He could feel the warmth coating his upper lip like lava.

He thought the well kept one, Dmitry, was the voice of reason out of the two— the more sane one. He felt their fingers dig into his scalp impatiently, and realised he was wrong. Dmitry wasn't there to control Ignat, Ignat was there to control him.

That was so much worse. Great, a sadist and a sociopath, and the sadist was in charge.

Dmitry let go of his hair and let him flop over himself, his breath coming in wheezes. He struggled to slow it down but no matter what he did it wasn't working.

"Break his finger." Dmitry said. Ignat did so immediately without warning.

Kaeya screamed until he couldn't hear himself anymore, until the burn clawed up his throat, but he made an effort to draw in on himself and hold the pain as if locking it in a box. He focused on keeping it shut, imagining himself wrapping rope and chains over the lid, and pressing his hands down on the top with his whole weight. Tears gathered in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

"I miss when he was drugged up," Ignat said. He twisted the rope around his fingers like a cat's cradle, and seemed to not care when it pulled at Kaeya's throat. He gagged a little.

"Give him any more and we risk him becoming addicted to them," the other said, as if nothing happened.

"Awh, you're no fun, Ди́мочка."

They stared at him as the agony slowly unwound, waiting, and he hated it. He hated it so much.

He wasn't a toy, and if he was, he would never be theirs.

Dmitry nodded, swishing upright and staring down at Kaeya's hands. He could feel his fingers twitching, each one sending another bolt through his palm, and the blood was tickling the dip in his neck where it dripped down. He doubted it looked like a hand anymore.

"That'll be enough. Well then." He turned and left as quickly as he came, out of the lantern's light and back into the dark hallway. The red light of his vision followed him like a trail of fire, bold around his coat's ends as if his steps sparked embers. Ignat laughed.

"Charming, isn't he?" Kaeya didn't see the humour.

"Charming as you are," he croaked.

They growled at him, "We're far from done with you, little knight."

He huffed a laugh through his pain. He was done being sweet to this man— there was no point if he gained nothing but a taunting remark back.

"You can use me however you like," he said, "I'll make sure the knights personally retrieve your payment in blood once I'm free."

Ignat sprung forward, his fingers drilling into his skull, and slammed his head into the wall under his hands. He gasped at the impact, the rope on his neck pulled tight. Compared to his fingers, he barely felt the ache.

"I don't like people like you," he sneered, "always so confident, when they're just a little piggy in a straw house. My favourite pastime is making assholes like that submit."

"Pot calling kettle," Kaeya said. They yanked the rope further away, his head kept pressed against the stone, and suddenly he couldn't breathe.

"You keep talking and i'll rip your fucking tongue out! We'll get what we need and then I'll kill you like the pest you are, don't you dare think I'm bluffing!"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was really just toddlers he was dealing with, the kind of man-child that thought yelling would get them what they want, or would instil fear just from the volume alone. He stared at them through the headrush until they let go in a huff, and the wave of air to his lungs sawed his ribs into pieces.

Somehow the brute was far less intimidating than the brain. At least he was predictable.

"If that's not enough, I'll hunt down your brother too. He'll make a good gift for the fatui."

The fatui, huh? He should have guessed.

Were they hired? That was just sad, they really were just pawns. He almost felt bad for them.

Almost.

"You do that and I'll kill you myself," he growled. They wouldn't touch his brother.

"Hah! Aren't you a knight? Think you could get away with blatant murder?"

Like he cared. He refused to let Diluc die before him. He refused to plan another family funeral, only to peer down at the rain beating against the tombstone, water a colder substitute for his lack of tears, wondering if anything was glaring back. Wondering if the roles should have reversed.

His one true comfort in life was that Diluc was safe, tucked away in the grapevines of his winery, or nestled in behind a counter with an empty wine glass in his hands. It didn't matter that he hated him, not really anyway. If Diluc was safe, then that was enough.

He'd gladly lose his job if it meant Diluc was safe. He'd gladly die if it meant they didn't touch him.

Ignat clicked his tongue at whatever expression was on his face. For seemingly good measure, he used the rope as leverage to get off the ground, yanking Kaeya's head forward one last time, his nose grazing his knees.

What a sore loser.

They marched out the room and slammed the barred door shut, the rattle echoing. He snatched the lantern up as he went and plunged Kaeya back into darkness. He breathed; He'd never take the silence for granted again.

What a mess.

The fatui were known for trying to get away with loads of crimes, but kidnapping? Perhaps a first. He could only assume someone more insane was ordering it, and they had to be someone who was interested in whatever data was collected on that clipboard. From his memory, the most likely and obvious candidate was Dottore.

What a wretched man.

He wondered if they remembered him, and that's why he was targeted. Not that he really cared.

Okay. Think Kaeya. Waiting around for help wasn't a promising idea anymore, it'd be better if he could find a way out and warn someone. Who knows what the fatui was planning next.

He wouldn't make it past the door, that was more true now than it was when he woke up. If he waited until they came back, perhaps he could overpower them enough to knock them out, and escape before they awoke.

It was… a plan. It was better than nothing.

He sat up straighter and breathed slowly through his nose and out his mouth, just like Father taught him. What he needed was conserved energy, or he'd have no chance. He focused on the pounding in his head, the creak of his ribs, and the ache that took up the entirety of his left hand. He imagined placing them as delicately as possible in that withered box, and held it there, secure in the bass of him, away from the world. It helped only a little.

He could only pray he'd be stable enough before they tried to break something more important than a finger.

—

The rest of the day passed in a blur. When sleep dragged at his eyes he accepted it as an easy out, and fell into that in-between state where reality became subjective. Where pain and numbness shifted on a seesaw, and darkness grew into commonplace. He came to find their 'check-ups' were a routine occurrence, some of them physical, some not, and with each one he felt a part of his control slip out of his hands and into theirs.

They didn't hold back on their comments. Worthless this, helpless that. Knights this, Diluc that. He quickly grew bored of their nonsense. They didn't need to tell him the knights weren't coming, because he knew they were, and he had faith enough in Jean to know she'd find him once she set her mind to it. If not, he'd find a way out, and then he'd bring the knights to the criminals himself.

They didn't need to tell him Diluc wasn't coming either, he knew that very well. What would a wine tycoon, the richest man in Mondstadt and a busy business to prove it, be doing working on a missing person case? It didn't make sense, and so it wasn't true.

He was nothing to DIluc, and so Diluc was nothing to him. They wouldn't go after his brother if they knew he meant nothing to him.

Wait… his brother?

No, no. When did he start doing that again? God forbid Diluc could hear his thoughts.

Diluc wasn't his brother. Diluc wasn't his brother. He— well, Kaeya didn't hate him, that was impossible, and he was frankly stupid to deny it, but he wasn't his brother.

He was protecting an important member of Mondstadt's political climate. He was protecting a citizen.

There, that was better.

God, he was exhausted. Was it just the drugs that were messing with him? They hadn't given him anymore, he didn't think. If it was in the food he wasn't eating it anyway.

He was so tired. He felt sick.

The bars rattled in the darkness, the long lined shapes warping as if the abyss was speaking to him. There was a sudden creak, and the door to his cage swung open, the corridor tenebrous and all expanding, like a gateway to hell.

"Surprise," Ignat's voice called, the only way Kaeya knew he was there at all. Fabric rustled, bunched up or wrung in a fist, and a mass flew out of the dark and landed heavily at his feet, the slap of flesh smacking against the stone echoing off the walls. They gasped, their breath wheezy and hoarse, and filled with agony. He reached for them immediately, his instincts pulling him towards them.

It took a second for his eye to adjust, catching wisps of pale hair and the curl of their spine. He stopped on a bright fabric wrapped around their arm, with extra fabric that stuck out like rabbit ears. When he drifted his gaze up to their face, he found bright, doe eyes staring at him— the first light in the room in hours. He knew by the way they shone that they were green.

He felt something shatter, and as if in mourning, something else inside him wept.

Bennett. Oh Archons.

The bars slammed shut.

Notes:

1. I read a fanfic the other day that used the line 'the webbed maw of a fissure directly over the bed.' I thought it was so cool it stopped me in my tracks, and I've been using it for inspiration for some spookier scenes in this story, as well as things like the little nightmares games.

2. I know little to nothing about Russian names, so idk if Ignat and Dmitry's names are good choices or not. If anyone reading this thinks they're too cliche or just funky sounding, lmk.

3. I'm not intimidating in the slightest, but writing this chapter made me realise I literally have no idea how to be lol. Are the bad guys scary? Lmk that too.

4. Moon has indeed come back to help me beta read this chapter! And so I added the beta-read tag because wholly fuck thats a thing I can do now. I'm not sure if they'll stay sticking around, but just so it doesn't get annoying repeating myself, I'll thank them in the notes of the last chapter if they do.

5. Writing this fanfic at a regular updating pace has made me have to face my possible undiagnosed adhd. It's been ridiculous haha; while editing I ended up playing music on spotify with a youtube video of 'coffee shop bg noise' and rain noise playing under it, like some nightmare noise orchestra, just so I wouldn't get distracted. It sorta worked.

6. Sorry these are taking so long btw. I've ended up writing around a chapter a month, which imo is too slow cuz it means I won't finish this until like the end of the year, and that's ew. I'll try and be faster xx

7. Ao3 has been an absolute bastard with formatting, so sorry if you see anything weirdly spaced! I've gone through all the previous chapters and fixed all the issues I found, but I might have to do it all over again when this work is completed.

Chapter 6

Notes:

You won't believe me but I was actually writing a short story for a competition lol, so that's why this chapter is so late. Did I finish said short story in time for the deadline? Irrelevant (maybe next year).

This chapter might also be a bit all over the place, I'm not super happy with how it turned out lol. Lmk you're thoughts :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The sun was still in the east when they made it to Wolvendom, the trees softening its glare. Their branches swooped and stretched over the path with jagged shadows, heavy with the weight of their leaves. They croaked under the passing wind, concealing stretches of dirt and greenery beneath where Diluc stepped, as if the darkness was caressing the edges of his clothes and leaving a trail.

The sunlight appeared in burning spots, which was ridiculously distracting. They occasionally passed across his nose or cheeks, warm and painfully different to the rest of Wolvendom. He expected his skin to start peeling off or something, just to keep up appearances as a creepy forest.

He kept his eyes down at his boots, tickled by wet grass and sunk in mud. As he walked he searched for any broken twigs or suspicious stains, maybe even lone slips of fabric stuck to the ground. Bennett had been missing for days, and so any obvious clues were likely washed away or tampered with, but it was worth it to check.

The kid was the first, and only, clue they had to finding Kaeya and the people responsible for Mr Dietritch's murder. He refused to lose leads out of laziness.

Jean was beside him, squinting at the sun escaping through the tree leaves. She stumbled every now and then on stray twigs trapped under her heel, her expression immovable. Diluc had a feeling she wasn't particularly happy with him, even if she hadn't said anything. He felt she hadn't been happy with him for a while, and only now was it showing, in a situation where her politeness was the last problem on her mind.

She was allowed to be mad at him, he figured. If she really did know the truth of that night, especially the facts from Kaeya's mouth, then her anger was warranted.

It was Kaeya's fault, he told himself, but he couldn't deny the blind rage he experienced that night, and how disarmingly wrong he felt in his own body for the longest time after, as if a part of him was burnt away. He imagined if the story was told from Kaeya's perspective, especially if it was summarised in any way, he sounded like a mad man; possessed.

Kaeya may have caused the anger, but he didn't create it, nor wield it. It was a different kind of fear to feel yourself disconnect from your own mind, so poignant, yet Diluc barely remembered it.

What he did remember from the events of that night was a disconnect, like someone else danced him through it on puppet strings. It would be simpler if the emotions that went with it felt like someone else's too, but he knew he would be forever haunted by how they were unquestionably his.

If it was over anything else… would Jean have locked him up? Would she have done so anyway, if it was anyone other than Diluc?

She was watching him.

He flinched internally and realised he was staring. Jean frowned at him, her eyes bemused. He looked off to the side and pretended he wasn't running from her gaze.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"Fine."

"You're awfully quiet."

He was always quiet, "I'm keeping an eye out."

"We can talk and walk, can't we?"

"You should keep your ears open."

She frowned, "You can talk to me if you need, Master Diluc, you're too stuck in your head."

Stuck—

He wasn't stuck in his head, they were investigating a murder case, for Archons sake. Was it a crime to be worried about missing something important?

"We're looking for Razor, aren't we?" He scowled, the irritation sharp on his tongue.

"Well, yes, but—"

The bushes on his right began to rustle, shivering in the shade. He whipped his head around and pulled Gravestone from the air, the leather of the hilt tough under his gloves. Grey hair suddenly ran out the shrubbery, dressed in branches and a thick hood, framing his red eyes. He locked his eyes on Diluc's, crushing leaves as he inched closer. His eyes snapped to his ponytail as quick as lighting, but the minute it did he paused, and lowered his weapon to his side.

Jean lit up. Razor dismissed his weapon entirely when his eyes met hers, the tension falling from his shoulders. Diluc dismissed his own as she hurried towards him with relief on her face.

"Razor! There you are, I'm glad we found you."

"Master Jean, and… Fire Master." He said, and watched them approach with cautious eyes. Diluc didn't know much about the kid, but his disjoined sentences were often inherently kind, under the bluntness, and he seemed to carry an intensity with him that screamed sincerity, and that Diluc related to. He was a good kid.

Wait, Fire Master? That was… a lofty title. Didn't he call Klee 'burny girl'?

"We were looking for you," Jean said.

He nodded, "I am here. What do you need?"

"You're friends with Bennett, aren't you?" At that Diluc straightened up. This was news to him.
"Could you tell me about the last time you saw him?"

If Razor lived in the forest, there's a chance he was here the same day Bennett went missing, and he saw something. Diluc forgot he lived in a forest, so caught up in his own head he swore he was losing memories.

The boy was well built, for a teenager, and his gaze was made of steel, but numerous scars littered his body, both minute and frighteningly large, from years of mistreating himself. Or, no, it was more likely for many years the boy was oblivious on how to take care of himself.

Would it be too forward of him to bring him hot food, occasionally? Or better still, an invitation into the winery whenever he was hungry or injured? Adelinde wouldn't mind, and they had plenty of food. He could get away with it on account of being Master Ragnvindr; he got away with most things that way.

Razor hummed and tilted his head like a puppy. He seemed to be gathering the words.

"Bennett… here Saturday." He said, "Had food."

Diluc continued, "What time did he leave?"

He squinted at nothing, "Sun was high, like now. He… need to help lupical."

Lupical?

The confusion must have shown on his face, so Jean leant into his shoulder and whispered, "His family, I think."

Oh.

That means Bennett went home, or at least, he was on his way home— he never made it that far.

He pursed his lips in thought. They must have taken him on his way back to the city, snatching him off the path like a branch off a tree. The kid had a vision, right? Most vision users knew self defence. Did he fight, or did they knock him out and lug him along, dead to the world?

Razor's hand fell onto his arm, the static from his fingers buzzing through the fabric of his coat sleeve. He flinched like a lightning bolt struck him.

He stared up at him imploringly, "Bennett… is okay?"

He could be dead. So could Kaeya.

No, no—

Kaeya could be dead.

He looked at Jean, and she looked at him with resignation in her eyes, but slowly nodded. The kid would find out eventually, for better or worse, and he— he could take it. He needed honesty.

"There's been a rise in missing persons cases as of late," he said gently, "and I'm afraid Bennett is now one of them."

Razor's face scrunched, his eyes beady and burning, and he widened them in shock. His grip slipped off Diluc's arm, as if it suddenly weighed more than a boulder, stunned to numbness.

"Bennett is missing?"

Jean nodded hesitantly, "We're looking for Sir Kaeya, and Bennett went missing around the same time."

He stared down at his boots in silence, brow furrowed in concentration. Diluc hoped the shock wasn't too much for the poor boy, but they couldn't stay long to comfort him.

Bennett was still out there, and now, they had no leads on where he was taken. There was a chance he wasn't with Kaeya at all, or that they were suffering all the more the longer they waited.

He couldn't just leave them to suffer, it was his problem now as much as it was Jean's. Bennett… he was barely the height of Diluc's shoulder. He believed Kaeya would protect him— for some reason he just knew he wouldn't leave a child defenceless, but if they were separated…

Razor's eyes jumped up, "I want to help."

He caught Jean's eyes again, crinkled with worry. They were out of leads, but it wasn't safe to bring anyone else along, for multiple reasons. They couldn't risk other people's safety like that, especially not a child who wasn't a trained knight.

"You've helped plenty, Razor," Jean smiled, "We can look for him faster now we know where he was going."

If he was going home he and Jean would have already walked down the path he took not an hour ago, but Diluc didn't say anything.

Razor shook his head. He slipped in front of them both with his arms spread wide, blocking their exit, "I want to look. I want to help more."

"I'm sorry, Razor, but—"

"Bennett smell is strong," he blurts out, "like… like fire, and grass. I… find him."

His… smell?

Jean bit her lip, "You can track him?"

"Yes, yes."

To track him… was that even possible?

It wouldn't be an easy job, would it really be okay to let a teenager come along? What if they were taken from under their noses? Or worse, what if he was targeted by the criminals after they left? He felt sick just thinking about it.

They needed another lead, and a tracker would give it to them, but the danger…

But Kaeya—

He watched as Jean crouched with her hands on her knees, settling Razor with a stern look,

"You can come with," she said, and Diluc's lungs collapsed inwards, the air squeezed from his lungs.

"You can come with us, but—! You have to promise us you'll stay close, and stay away from danger. If anything goes wrong, you come straight to us, okay? No running in on your own."

He nodded furiously, "Yes! No Lupical hurt! Razor will… protect!"

"No. We'll protect you, understand? We won't have you getting hurt."

He huffed indignantly, exasperated in the way only children claimed to be, and the scene reminded Diluc of Klee's energetic squabbles with the knights. How she whined and bounced on the balls of her feet, like every emotion was fueled by too much energy to contain in her little body.

The boy raised his hand up, shaking it once or twice in the air for emphasis, "Razor will stay and protect, and— you stay and protect as well."

Jean hesitated, then reached out to clasp his hand in her own, and shook it lightly.

"Okay, deal."

He grinned, and with a second of thought, took off through the trees. He brushed aside branches and shrubbery, and made a path through the bushes for them to follow. He jumped between the spots of sunlight shining through the tree canopy like a game of hopscotch, slipping past muddy trails and broken branches, athletic in a practised sort of way. Diluc followed behind Jean's coattail with his eyes to the ground.

Razor brought them out into a clearing and skidded down the nearest hill, his nose twitching. Diluc watched as he scanned the area with shaky eyes, then jumped towards the next downward slope and tumbled down it.

Did Bennett fall down a bunch of hills? Or was he just that sporadic and easily distracted?

"Razor," he called, and the kid snapped to attention, "can you tell if Bennett had others with him?"

"Alone," he said immediately, and stuffed around the stump of a well-wrought tree, "Bennett strong. He work alone."

He was kidnapped, he didn't say, because as stressed as he was he wasn't going to take it out on a child.

A branch snapped under his boot, and something about the way it cracked sent goosebumps up his neck, like a warning. He shot his head up and found himself staring at the high edges of Drunkard Gorge, Razor balanced precariously close to the cliff end, eyes closed in concentration.

Jean made a sharp gasping noise, forced up her throat, and Diluc reacted before he could think. He dove for the boy's waist and tugged him back until his unruly hair was tickling Diluc's chin and his body was locked securely against him. He flattened Kaeya's vision against the exposed skin of his hip on instinct, wrapped up in the space between his body heat and the icy gem.

Razor jumped so fiercely he growled, head-butting him. He held on in fear of the images flashing past his eyes, where the kid plummeted into the ravine below and splattered like a water droplet.

He stopped resisting when Jean rounded them, her face weary.

"Fire Master," Razor said, the frustration palpable, "I won't fall. Let go."

"You very nearly did," he spat out.

"I would land."

He would not.

"On the island," the boy sighed, and he shifted his head towards Jean, "On the— dragon. I landed."

Jean sent Diluc a conflicted look, the corners of her eyes crinkled in confusion. The anxiety was still tingling in his fingers and he nearly groaned aloud at the insanity of it all.

"You jumped into the sea. There was water to break your fall, and I'm sure Dvalin helped your descent."

He pointed at the gorge, "there's water."

"There's streams. That's not enough to break your fall."

At that, he huffed, and violently sunk his nails into Diluc's coat sleeve, elbow driven into his gut. He stumbled backwards before Kaeya's vision was dislodged from his grip.

"Razor!" Jean shouted, but the boy sent the two of them a stern look, as if to say 'watch,' then he raced to the edge of the cliff and jumped.

They ran forward in a blind panic, dropping to the floor and peering down the harsh rocks. Razor slid down the edge of the rocky wall, and slid down to another overhang without issue. He landed in the stream below them, the splash soaking the path and reaching high above him, rolling across the floor to a stop.

Sitting down a good fifty metres below them, Diluc watched with relief as their hooded figure looked up with a small smile, covered in mud and dripping in water, but unharmed. Jean audibly groaned by his side.

What the fuck, kid. When Diluc got down there he was going to strangle him.

He pointed to his left down the east end of the gorge, towards springvale, leaning over the cliffside where Razor could see. He and Jean could probably make the jump down, but after that display, he wasn't going to encourage reckless stunts off cliff edges.

The kid's tiny head nodded. He marched off down the path without a care in the world.

"I know he grew up in the forest," Jean muttered, "but seriously?"

He sighed explosively, "Let's go, we'll meet him at the mouth."

They followed the cliff edge down, the terrain eventually flattening out into the gorge's dirt path. Razor was standing just in view on the right, fiddling with the hood of his coat.

Jean looked tempted to wag her finger at him, her nose scrunched and her hands clenched with nerves. He righted on the boy with a forced hush to her voice, as if holding back a yell.

"What were you thinking? You could have gotten seriously hurt!"

He whined, "I am fine."

Diluc gave into instinct and put his hand on the boy's hair, soft as kitten fur and filled with twigs, "We can't protect you if you perform stunts like that."

"I will protect myself, Fire Master. I do not need help."

He sighed, how did he explain this, "You are a child—"

"I am not a child—"

"You are a child, and so not only is it our responsibility to protect you, but we want to protect you, understand?"

His brow furrowed, his gaze wandering under the mess of his locks. It was so, so tempting to ruffle them and watch the kid squawk like a baby bird, but it wasn't as if that was something normal for 'Master Diluc Ragnvindr', so he refrained.

"Razor is sorry," he said, "I— understand now. I will be more careful."

Jean deflated, "As long as you understand, that's more I can say for some children I know."

Diluc was too frazzled to laugh, but he appreciated the humour.

Razor pouted, shuffling out from under Diluc's palm and trudging further up the path, leading them through the scent trails.

He took them up the rocky path, distinctly the opposite direction of Springvale. He suddenly realised that every step was leading them closer and closer to the dawn winery, the trees building up into more congregated patches, and the shrubbery richer in colour.

So close to his house… was he really so close by?

Eventually, he stopped at an open area, where the path opened up between rocky hills and spans of grass. Razor paused, sniffing the air one last time, and turned to them with a worried frown.

"Smell… the smell is gone."

Jean startled, "Gone?"

"Too weak and— grapes smell too strong. I don't… I can't? I can't find it."

Diluc knew it would happen eventually, after all, Bennett went missing days ago, but the disappointment clogged his throat like a golf ball.

That was their last chance. Without it, they were back to square one.

Things would only get worse for the two the longer they took to find them. What if they were too late?

As if to answer his prayers, he caught a glow from the edge of his eyesight, unnatural and uncanny in the daylight. Rays of light bounced off the archon statue with an overwhelming brightness, the ring of anemo energy alight and beaming like a spotlight.

He dragged his feet over the dirt path, pulled to the light like a moth to a flame. It called to him through the clusters of trees and the thin body of leaves that made up the surrounding bushes. The closer he got, the stronger it became, and soon his sight was lost in the brilliance.

"Diluc? What's wrong?" Jean asked. He tilted his ear towards her, but couldn't bring himself to look away from the light. It pulsed with a burning sort of energy, surging through the air, as if otherworldly. The kind that was imbued with excellence and power— that of a god.

"There's a light. Over there." He said, and guided her eyes to the statue.

She stared silently, her and Razor a short distance behind him. When she opened her mouth, it came out as almost inaudible, "Are you talking about the Lord Barbatos statue? It looks the same as always."

But— it definitely wasn't.

Archon statues didn't shine that bright, they didn't blind nearby travellers, and it was mid-day for Barbatos's sake.

He took a chance and closed his eyes, settling in the darkness. He made an effort to clear his thoughts of anything and everything except the view from behind his eyelids, breathing deeply. If it was just a mind thing, it'd go away eventually. Usually, anyway.

He opened his eyes to the same light highlighting the grass, blue like a winter lake, intense with the energy of Celestia.

Was he hallucinating? Was that it? Had he finally lost his mind?

You're a mess, Diluc. You're a lost cause—

No. There was definitely a light there, completely unlike the usual glow around the sculpture's base. He trudged closer with a fog clogging his head, guided by something he couldn't describe. His chest pounded, but he felt warm and lighter in its presence.

His companions followed behind him, "Master Diluc… there's nothing there."

The light congregated onto a collection of bushes, just out of sight of the statue and bounced unnaturally off the ground to scatter over the leaves. He stopped just shy of walking through them, and in a blink the glow vanished, the bush shadowed by the rocks, as if it was never there at all.

Lying at his feet was a boot.

No…

He bent down to pick it up before Jean could get to him, and held it up next to Kaeya's cryo vision. The stitching was clean and delicate, the leather fashioned to fit a narrow ankle and a wide foot. He thumbed the inside of the folded collar and met a soft, insulated insole, left to freeze in the dirt. The loose belt looped above the heel was torn, and the blue ornament that jingled when Kaeya walked was missing, lost in the grass.

He could feel the cold deep in his fingers, burning with his panic, as if his next inhale would seal the boot in frost.

It was Kaeya's— there was no doubt. It was Kaeya's but the man himself was gone and missing clothes and the only clue they had was that a child went missing at the same time and a boot—

Razor appeared at his side, a saddened rumble in his throat. Jean's breath stuttered by his ear, "That's—"

"He was here." Diluc said, the words cloying and foul. Kaeya was here, minutes from the winery, suffering. His clothes were possibly ripped from his body and discarded, his torment witnessed by Barbatos in the anemo archon's light.

Did he pray? Did he discard his shoe hoping their archon would lead others to him? God, how desperate was he? How much was he suffering?

Diluc was in his bedroom, tucked away under linen sheets, his hair combed and the ends of his curls wet with conditioner. The candles in his room were lavender scented, and his pyjamas were heated under an iron before presented to him in a nested folded pile on his bed. He was asleep, maids at his beck and call, while Kaeya was alone and attacked less than five minutes from safety.

What if his shoe was all that was left of him?

He shivered involuntarily, feeling as if he was freezing from inside out. Jean jumped and gripped his shoulder around the tassels on his coat, and under her touch, he wondered if he was likely to dissolve the minute she let go.

"Where… where do you think they were going?" She asked, and she slowly began to rub his arm. He doubted he was cold enough to actually warrant it, but her palm soothed the goosebumps that prickled his skin, heated like the sunlight.

"If they came from the city, they must have been heading south," he said. That meant either Stone Gate, or up the northern side of Dragonspine. He didn't know which was worse; on one hand, Liyue was much further from home, and it'd overall take them a longer time to find Kaeya. But on the other hand…

Dragonspine was dangerous, susceptible to landslides and influxes of abyssal monsters. Not to mention, freezing.

Jean sighed, "I suppose we should check Dragonspine first. If Bennett has a pyro vision, hopefully he'll be okay against the sheer cold. If he's with Kaeya they'll keep each other warm."

Razor huffed, "Bennett is clumsy. There… more danger."

How reassuring. So neither of them were okay.

He secured Kaeya's boot tight in his grip, his vision close to his chest against his core, where the cold seemed to spread into him as much as it seeped out of him. He turned and marched towards his home, "I'll have Adelinde call us a carriage. We'll be there before sundown."

He swept down the path to his home, dry leaves grazing his ankles and tickling his gloves like ghostly breaths, Jean and Razor scurrying behind him. He stepped onto his property with a palpable calmness, his lungs less constricted, and the collar of his shirt less irritating and tight.

He rounded the length of his house and marched straight to his front door, reaching for the knocker, when Razor tugged on his coat. He turned to see both his companions shuffle hesitantly on their feet, Jean refusing to meet his eyes.

Razor hummed at him, "Diluc is rich. Not… not normal; for me."

Ah. His shoulders fell, "You're welcome to enter whenever you please, as long as you let the maids know."

It was the least he could do. The boy was friends with Klee as well, wasn't he? It was only fair he let him in if he let the little girl in.

He hesitated, then nodded. When Diluc pushed the door open he had saddled up at his side.

It was as if the cold was pulled out of him, the rush of warmth so strong he felt his face flush. The tension in his shoulders fell away, the click of heels against his polished floor and the scent of grapes homely and familiar. He watched Razor circle around him with wide eyes, his sight tracing up the stairs and the gleaming crystals that made up the chandelier over his head.

Adelinde appeared in front of them, the skirt of her dress billowing around her legs in waves as she stepped into his space, her eyes sparkling. She looked a little red, a little out of breath, but he felt the relief on her face as if it was reflected onto his own.

"Master Diluc, welcome home," she smiled, "I see you brought guests."

Jean stepped forward, "Hello, Adelinde. It's nice to see you again."

"And you, acting Grand Master."

"We won't be here long, Adelinde," he said, and stepped around the two of them. He brought Kaeya's belongings together into one hand and cinched them between his fingers, "I'll need you to book a carriage."

She frowned, "Where to, Master Diluc?"

"Dragonspine."

She hummed quietly, "Would you like to stay for lunch, at least? You must be hungry."

He paused. How much of a delay would that be?

Razor's stomach rumbled through the silence, his face flushing pink. Adelinde chuckled politely behind her hand.

"We'll take it with us," he said. It wasn't like he'd let a growing child go hungry.

She nodded, "I'll prepare you a basket, but please, let me prepare some tea."

Jean piped up, "That would be lovely, Adelinde."

The maid met his eyes, looking for permission. He sighed and nodded; tea wouldn't hurt.

"Understood, Master. Moco," she waved the younger maid over, skittish as always in his presence. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and bowed to them all, following Jean with something akin to reverence in her eyes. He left Adelinde to explain and gently guided Razor towards the fireplace, the boy enraptured by the purple light of his vision bouncing off the floor.

Jean followed placidly and sat next to him, smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothing. She looked up at Diluc with a weary smile as he slowly settled Kaeya's boot onto the table, deflated and resting by her palms. He wished, for a moment, that it wasn't so hard to look at. How it looked so lifeless when he stared down at it; how the leather felt rough and the golden adornments dull where he brushed over them.

"The carriage shouldn't take much longer than thirty minutes," he said.

Enamoured with the floor, Razor said, "We bring food for the others, too?"

Jean looked at him sadly, "I doubt it will take only a day to find them. If we bring food it'll go bad before we can give it to them."

That's right, wasn't it? It could take weeks to find them on Dragonspine, if they were even there, and they had no idea what state they'd be in when they got there. Warm food might be the last thing on the list of care they would need, and they could be entirely incapable of even enjoying it.

The kid whined, "They'll be hungry though, won't they?"

"Try not to worry too much, Razor. Kaeya will keep Bennett safe until we arrive, and we'll make sure there's good food for them back here."

Back here, that's right. Diluc was bringing them straight back, too. No running to the church, through the mass of wandering eyes in the city. Home was closer, and safer, and lit by a brick fireplace that drove away the cold.

He wanted Kaeya in a place like that while he recovered; like home.

"Kaeya…" Razor parroted, as if tasting the name for the first time, "Kaeya is— grown-up with fake smile, right?"

He frowned. That was a horrible nickname. It made his skin crawl.

"His name is Kaeya." He said without thinking. Razor slowly nodded, watching him with wide eyes.

Great, good job, Diluc. You scared a child.

"Master Diluc," a woman called. He nearly flew out of his skin, Hillie standing at his side with a small stack of papers in her hands, her long hair tucked cleanly behind her ears. Her eyes danced between his and the grooves on the varnished wooden table, where Kaeya's boot lay.

"What is it?" He asked.

She stuttered, "Ah! Well, I-I thought I ought to let you know that, uh..."

He nodded along to encourage her, and eventually she got to the point, "The stack of paperwork in your office has been getting rather tall, Master Diluc, sir. I— was just on my way to add to it."

She lifted the paper in her hand as if it were some sort of prize, her silk gloves vanishing into the edges, and his heart sunk. He watched the walls and floor fuse in the distance, and Hillie's face diminish into its base colours, as he imagined his office to be bursting with towered stacks of papers. He'd pluck one from within his reach and watch the room fall inwards on top of him, trapping him.

He'd only been gone for two days, but it was autumn, and he suddenly realised his workload must be immense.

Jean sighed, the air hitting his coat sleeve, snapping the world back into focus. The sympathy in her eyes shone in his peripheral, but she made no more noise, and simply watched him.

"I'll… see to it when I return, Hillie," and he thought it'd be good to have something to ground himself with when he returned, as a beacon that solidified the room and kept the roof from bending outwards or the walls expanding into a banquet hall to fit all the papers.

He reached for Kaeya's boot, curling his fingers around the ankle and the loose buckle attached to it, and presented it to the maid with both hands, balanced with the cryo vision. She stared at it with wide, curious eyes.

"Take this with you," he ordered, "Put it on my desk where I can see it."

She nodded quick as a hummingbird, lifting it away from him and locking it to her chest. She weaved her fingers around the gem like she meant to bend the air, but her fingers skimmed the edge of one golden wing, and she flinched as she retreated. Her lip wobbled.

"Of course, Master Diluc. Right away," and she swept away up the stairs.

In her absence he set his eyes on the frost pulsing into his palm. In his hands, it produced a growing amount of cryo that seemed to encompass him entirely, reaching from his toes to the tips of his hair, but when he looked at it directly it shrunk into the small jewel it was in reality. If he tried, his fingers would encroach over the whole sphere like a lock to a key, and it would burn each of his fingertips.

He was back where he started, where his only connection to Kaeya was a sparkling orb, crafted and designed specifically to ward him off.

He still couldn't bring himself to let go of it.

"Fire Master," Razor called out, his voice distant. Diluc whipped around without thinking, his neck cracking.

The boy watched him through his bangs, his red eyes sharp and painful, as if his gaze was a knife neatly slicing his skin off. His eyes stayed bright as the rest of the room dipped into darkness, drained of colour.

"Sit?"

Diluc smiled, his mouth full of acid. His nails felt like Rifthound claws, his teeth like saws.

"I'll be right back," he said, hurriedly standing, and moved to the farthest door illuminated by the main chandelier.

He needed to get away, or anything could happen. He stared at the cryo vision with desperation, warding off the stickiness of his skin and the way it bloomed a vicious, viscous red.

His fingers were blue, not red. His fingers were blue.

No one was dead.

Monster—

No one was dead.

He followed the rumble of boiling water, matching the lightness of his footsteps with the fluttery way it travelled through him, like a cat's purr. He bounded through the doorway, and found Adelinde in the kitchen, leant over the stove and a steaming steel kettle. Her nose was red from the heat, stray wisps of her hair curling at the ends, and three of their tea cups were settled on the counter beside her, waiting to be filled.

Her shoulders were rising and falling.

She stared down at the fire sightlessly, her palms soothing the fabric of her apron as one would the creased edges of a sheet of paper. He wondered, through the brain fog, if he walked into a private moment, made for her alone, that he was sure she didn't get enough of.

How many times was she to push her feelings aside for the sake of her job— for the sake of him? He wished there was some way he could convince her against it, but he remembered Father was just as unsuccessful.

He took a step, and she looked up at him slowly as if nothing was on her mind, her smile gentle as always.

"Hello," he whispered.

She beckoned him forward with the tilt of her wrist, "hello, Master Diluc."

How he wished it was simpler. If he could bring her peace of mind the way she brought it to him, the way she'd done since he was a child. If he could express that to her as an adult in a way she'd understand— in a way he'd understand as it left his mouth.

"I assume this isn't a regular trip." she said. He stood at her side where her skirt swept against his leg and watched the fire breathe under the kettle's base, the air thick and damp. He fought the illogical urge to plunge his hands into it, to taint his skin with the familiar feeling of burns, afraid somehow that Kaeya's vision would be affected where he held it between the two of them. The blue light spread onto Adelinde's white glove, as if Kaeya was with them, his hands in each of theirs.

He shook his head.

She hummed low and straightened one of the tea cups. Bone china, adorned with blue flora, "Your paperwork has slowly been piling up higher."

"I heard from Hillie," and then, "I'll see to it when I return."

"Is this trip so important?"

He hesitated. Was it?

He would feel responsible if something tragic happened to Kaeya when he had the power to stop it, and he wouldn't be able to concentrate until he found him safe.

He also… wanted to be there for Kaeya, for some reason. He never wanted to before. His body knew before his mind, from the way his limbs shook at the thought of losing the man, and the warmth in his gut at the thought of protecting him.

He wanted to follow the feelings buried in him; the doubt, the giddiness, the lasting anxiety he couldn't shake. Adelinde didn't need to know; it was a piece of him shrouded in darkness, and cracked in fractals by extended trauma. Until it made more sense, he wanted to keep it to himself. It seemed precious, in that way.

"It is," he said.

She looked up at him, shrunk by his height. In her eyes was a fondness she seemed to carry with her like a treasured jewel, as if her love was a vision of its own kind, and its persistence something magical. She reached up and cupped his cheek, the silk of her gloves warmed by the fire, and he felt impossibly small.

She thumbed the apple of his cheek, "It's not just any missing person you're searching for, is it, Master Diluc?"

He sighed, "I suppose the vision gave it away?"

"Word travelled to me long before you arrived home."

He breathed in the soap on her uniform, fresh and sweet like cream and the earthy smell of tea leaves. It was a different comfort to Father, distinctly faint, unlike the way Father took up rooms and filled cracks with his presence, but it brought the same heaviness to his chest.

"I suppose the Acting Grand Master commissioned you?"

"Something like that."

"Well," she said, "he'll be very happy to know you've come for him."

He flinched. What did that have to do with anything?

He wouldn't.

He couldn't care less what Kaeya felt. When did he ever?

He hates you.

"I don't care."

She slipped her hand down to his neck and began to knead a knot in his shoulder, one he didn't even realise was there until she pressed and the ache travelled down his whole arm. He shuddered, moisture gathering in his eyes.

"Perhaps this is your chance to be more honest, Master Diluc."

He was being honest. He hated liars.

"I'm not the dishonest one."

"Ah, but don't you think Master Kaeya could use a little more honesty?"

"Kaeya doesn't care about honesty."

She hummed.

Kaeya had always been a good liar. He carried secrets close to his heart, and made melodies out of words in ways Diluc struggled to comprehend. Most took it as a virtue, and it wasn't as if Diluc minded. He never lied to Diluc.

Except he did, every day. He lied so much they began to collide with the truth; whole orchestras made of half-truths and falsehoods laid so deep they may as well be truths of their own. Diluc was just too naive to notice.

Why would a man like that care about honesty? What benefit would a liar get from the truth, other than to use it against him?

"I hate you!"

"Traitor!"

He flinched backwards out of Adelinde's grip. She watched him as if he was breaking apart, made of fine china and cracking under her delicate touch, painted blue, like their tea cups.

"He deserves a bit more honesty, at least," she smiled. His sight went a little red at the thought of it. Kaeya deserved the furthest thing from honesty. He deserved whatever karma was coming for him, living through lies. He deserved the punishment.

He did. He deserved it.

"No—"

"Would it hurt to be kinder to him?"

"Adelinde."

She went quiet, still as porcelain. It made his ears ring.

The kettle began to scream.

It— it was fine. Everything was fine.

You're so impulsive—

What's wrong with you–

He watched Adelinde lift the kettle of the heat, the fire spitting inches from her gloves. She poured the water into the teacups like wafting a fluttering snowflake, slow and patient, the china tinkling like a windchime. He focused on it, and quelled his anger to the sound of rising steam.

"He was such a quiet child, when Master Crepus brought him home," she crooned, "He was worried the poor thing would never utter a word more than his name."

He remembered. When they first met, he shook Kaeya's hand and announced his name with conviction, as Father taught him. Kaeya was soaked to the bone, his grip clammy and stiff as ice, but he looked at him with wonder, like he was the only source of warmth for miles. It took him three days to repeat Diluc's name back to him, and it died inches from his lips, hushed by nervousness.

"He grew out of that," he said, because he did.

"Are you sure, Master Diluc?"

What… yes?

What was she implying? That the frivolous Captain Kaeya was too shy to ask for help? Too scared?

Ridiculous.

Except… maybe it made a little sense—

No, no it was a stupid idea.

Adelinde huffed at whatever expression he was making. She turned and reached for the sugar in the cupboard above her, silently ending their talk.

"Go sit with your guests, Master Diluc. I'll bring you your tea and pack you some lunch you can take with you when the carriage arrives."

He nodded slowly, and marched like a toy soldier out the kitchen, the fire on the stove dying out behind him with a single breath. He caught Razor roaming his eyes over the wooden beams holding up the ceiling, his eyes filled with wonder, and Jean idly tightening her ponytail at his side.

Diluc slumped as discreetly as possibly into the chair next to them, the fire licking his shoes. He held Kaeya's vision securely in his lap and watched the blue light dance on his skin.

"All good?" Jean said. The boy's head snapped up to him when she spoke, and he nodded.

"All good. We'll be off as soon as the carriage arrives."

Adelinde brought them tea a few minutes later, brewed to perfection, with a rich, floral taste and a hint of mint. He took a sip and felt his muscles relaxing, the warmth spreading from his chest and loosening the tightness. It was just her to know exactly what he needed, the kind of brew to soothe his nerves and clear his head.

He let go of a soft breath, letting the strands of his thoughts drift off and wonder, safe to weave and travel without knotting. Razor across from them started by sniffing his teacup, cupping it to his face with both hands and blinking rapidly at the slow rise of steam. Diluc sipped his tea with more intent, pretending to ignore the kid's stare.

The boy copied the shape of his hands, poised around the handle and balanced beneath the base. He tipped the liquid over his lips without swallowing, and licked them curiously at the taste. He heard Jean chuckle into her drink beside him.

Kaeya reacted the same when he first tried tea, all those years ago. Father slid the teacup across the table towards him, smiling kindly, and Diluc picked up his own cup and demonstrated how to taste it, whistling over the top of his brother's cup and letting the tea flutter and cool under his breath. He took his first sip like it was poisonous, preparing himself to swallow, but he drew back with such honest confusion on his face that Diluc giggled.

Quiet and shy; that's how he was for a while. Adelinde couldn't possibly be right, but Diluc had seen first hand how Kaeya took kitten bites at the beginning of every meal, and how he went suspiciously silent when you called him out on his lying, as if holding in his embarrassment.

Diluc could only imagine it was another half-truth, another facade, another excuse. Why would he ever believe the elusive cavalry captain of Mondstadt was an introvert, a scared child, too shy, of all things, to talk to the ghosts of his past?

Jean and Razor were muttering beside him, caught up in their own conversation, but their voices were muffled and buzzed like static, lost on his ears.

Even if Kaeya told him the truth… how would he know what was real?

Didn't he used to just know? How did he do that, again? Why couldn't he do that anymore?

He sighed and brought his cup to his lips, but it'd cooled towards the wrong side of tepid. He realised in his stupor he'd left the tea balanced between his hands on the table, slowly losing its comforting heat.

Something was seriously wrong with him. He needed to stop worrying about such ridiculous things.

"Master Diluc," Adelinde called, and he turned to her holding a picnic basket in her arms, smiling softly, "The carriage has arrived and is prepared for departure."

Jean reacted before him, patting the nonexistent dust off her clothes and heading to the entrance. Razor fumbled after her.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Adelinde," she said.

The woman bowed, "no need, acting Grand Master. I'm happy I could be of service."

They moved out the door as a unit, until it was just Diluc and Adelinde in the doorway. She sent him a different kind of smile— smaller, as if wrapped in a little box with a ribbon bow.

"I'd like to see you off, Master Diluc," she said, and he nodded. What did he ever do to deserve her kindness?

The carriage was parked idly on their dirt path, the wheels painted with mud, but the back open roofed and lined with a raised wooden bar on the inside, as a seat. He watched Razor dance around the stallion held by the reins, their coat like dark chocolate in a bain-marie, and their eyes bright with youth.

"Here, Master Diluc." Adelinde placed a woven basket in his hand, heavy with the smell of pastry and fresh grapes. He held it with one hand and measured the contents by its weight, Kaeya's vision secure in his left palm. Compared to the basket, it was as light as a snowflake.

"Thank you, Adelinde."

She nodded to the three of them, "please come back safely. I'll await your return."

"We'll be back," Jean said, and Razor nodded animatedly.

"Razor will help and… be back with friends."

Under his chin, she shuffled closer and held her hands close to her heart, the worry sparkling in her eyes. She smiled and whispered, "I hope you find him, Master Diluc. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to ask you to bring him back safely too."

She bowed as always when asking for something, as if she had no right. He understood when she did it to Father as an age-old sign of respect, but as he grew older, he also understood the way his father's nose scrunched in displeasure whenever she tried it.

He wanted to bring Kaeya home safely, as well. He never planned on doing anything but.

"I will."

She waved them off as they climbed into the carriage, her kind smile sinking into the distance behind them.

He watched her disappear with a heaviness in his gut, but he needed to go.

Maybe… things would make more sense when he got Kaeya back. Maybe he could ask him.

Razor reached into his space without warning, the freshness of the forest clinging to his hair, and lifted the woven basket away from him. He settled it back down in between the three of them and looked up at Diluc with wide eyes, as if asking for permission.

Right, the food. He wafted the kid's hand away and handed it out himself, passing two sandwiches to him filled with cheese and cucumber, and watched his face light up in joy. Jean took her's with more subtlety, nibbling at a corner with absent eyes.

He watched the boy happily munch on his food, and found himself saying, "You don't need to come with us the rest of the way, Razor, if you'd like to return."

Jean seemed to have been thinking the same thing, and added, "That's right. You've been very helpful, but we know which direction we're going in now. There's no need to follow."

"No," He said, with such sureness in his tone Diluc jumped. He swallowed his food and looked up at them both with burning eyes.

"I saw Bennett, but he is gone. He ate with me, was with me. I— should have stopped him."

Oh. Oh… no. That's not fair. That's the opposite of what Diluc thought he'd say; what wished he'd say.

Jean frowned, "Razor, no—"

"But—" He burst out, "I will help… now. Bennett is lupical. I will protect lupical."

The power in his voice was overwhelming, like the steady commands from a general. The strength of his convictions was painfully carved into Diluc's bones, and it must have shown on his face, because when their eyes locked, the boy deflated a little. He shuffled to face him with something shy in his gaze and said, "please."

He nodded. It was dangerous, but Razor could apparently take it, and in the event he couldn't Diluc would protect him. He wasn't willing to deny him.

They lit up with a stunted smile, and somehow he could tell it carried extreme gratitude to it. He sat back into the corner of the carriage with a satisfied huff.

Diluc looked out around them, to the plains of grass sparkling in sunlight. In a gradient, the scene was slowly beginning to turn a muddy brown, sapped of life and damaged by the encroaching frost. Still, the sun bore down on his shoulders, and lit the breeze as it swept past him, licking his hair. He stared as it slowly began to dip towards the west, the stars winking into view.

There was grape juice in the basket, rich and with a sweet scent, stored in glass bottles. He reached for the bottled water settled beside them and sipped on it quietly, appreciating the way it tingled on his tongue. He left his share of the sandwiches tucked away for later, and he passed the time by watching the clouds drift above them, bulbous and ever-changing in their shape.

Dragonspine was a large area for them to cover, with many dangers and mysteries hidden in the snow. If they weren't careful, they could be lost in the sheer expanse of it. The rocks were unstable, and could cave in beneath them, or the paths could be bruised beneath the snow and form an impossible labyrinth for them to navigate.

They'd need to prepare for the worst— for their search to come up fruitless, or worse, for one of them getting too injured to continue.

Did they bring bandages? Oh, they didn't bring any bandages. They didn't bring gauze either, or disinfectant, or painkillers or anything.

They had Jean, it'd be alright—

Oh, but what if she was injured? He should have thought about it before they left. Why didn't he think of that? What was wrong with him—

Jean nudged him with her elbow, cutting into his ribs. She cocked her head forward at Razor, tucked up in a ball against the carriage wall, asleep in the light of the setting sun. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his hair was slowly slipping into his face where his chin was dipped down. He was slumped, peaceful, as if nothing in the world would touch him in his slumber.

He was a good kid, Diluc thought. A little reckless, but weren't they all, at that age? Like any child, he deserved to be safe and happy, in an environment that encouraged childhood wonder. He prayed the journey wouldn't be too hard on him.

"He looks cold," Jean whispered, and as if on que he buried further into his arms, and drew his sprawled legs closer to his core.

Diluc didn't really have to think about it— he stripped his coat off the leant forward onto his knees, settling the sleeves over Razor's shoulders and tucking the fur lining over his arms and under his thighs. He moved away soon enough to watch the kid snuggle into the fabric, sighing.

It was strange; taking his coat off, having his skin on display. He was so used to every inch of his pale skin being hidden from the sunlight, but Jean's sleeves brushed his arms like cream on a spoon, and the sun burned his pores like steam from a kettle.

Father had the same light complexion that he did, a similarity that Kaeya used to tease him for. He was forced to wear big, straw hats that made his hair poof, and was slathered in sunscreen up to his ears. His brother would steal his hats and parade around in them like a child trying on his father's boots, and made a fuss about how Diluc's skin was sticky from the cream on hot days.

What would Kaeya do now, if he saw him on a hot day? Would he act out those memories, or would he pretend they never happened at all?

On that island… he remembered their days at the beach as children. Hearing him echo those times so sweetly, with such fondness on his tongue, was sickening. It felt like a cold shower; it felt like coal burning in his chest.

He hated it. It wasn't like they could go back.

Those days were so far behind him.

He could feel himself shivering, and looked down where his crossed legs under his tremors. Jean must have seen, and surreptitiously leant into his side, her arm pressed against his and the fabric of her cape folded into his coat. He hadn't the heart to push her away.

"It'll get colder from here on out. Perhaps you should get some rest." She gestured to Razor's bundle with her head.

What would Jean do, if Kaeya was gone, he wondered. He imagined she'd grieve, lose herself to her work and wither under its weight. He imagined the parts of her that he could reach would be locked away, his hands pressed flat against the walls of brick and mortar where the heat of his palms wouldn't hurt her. He imagined he'd never touch her again.

"I'd rather stay awake," he said.

She sighed, "You'll feel better."

Who said he felt bad?

"And you'll keep watch, I presume?" He dipped his voice in sarcasm, and wielded it like something sharp.

"I think you need it more, Sir."

That was unfair. Jean needed the rest more than anyone, with the layers of stress that surely swathed her. He wasn't going to pretend she wasn't affected by everything.

Why was she so insistent on helping him? He didn't get it, shouldn't she hate him? No, she was too kind to hate him, but he doubted she cared much about his well being. It didn't make sense.

"Sir—"

"Could you stop calling me Sir?"

She reeled back, "Apologies, it's a habit."

A horrible one. It reminded him of who he wasn't, who he could no longer be, and how the identity he was left with was diminished and vacuous. How addressing someone as what they no longer were, felt like admitting their present self didn't exist at all. That if Jean thought to blink, he'd billow into the air like steam and vanish.

He sighed. The constant shivering was making him irritable, and it'd only get worse the closer they got to Dragonspine.

"I'm not your superior anymore, and I don't believe I've given you a reason to see me as such since my return, so you can stop addressing me as one."

Did he, though? Did he ever give the impression that he wanted to command Jean? That her voice was null if not bolstered by his?

"Alright, Master Diluc," She said, and settled back against his side, "I'll try harder, I promise."

Diluc, Archons, was it so hard for her to just call him Diluc?

Did he not deserve it anymore, was that it? Did he cut her off so completely when he left that she no longer felt comfortable saying his name?

Jean was his friend… but, she wasn't, was she. A friend was a mutual kind of thing, and agreement, one he broke.

He didn't know what that meant for them, really. He tried to face others with as much as his goodness as possible, as Father taught him. He remembered a time when he welcomed others to take tiny parts of him like embers the size of apple seeds, in hopes he could do the same, and they'd plant them together to watch them bloom. Father never taught him what to do if they didn't offer him anything at all.

No one taught him what to do if he didn't want to, one day; how to navigate relationships without offering that tiny ember.

He knew that… they didn't have that anymore. Jean saw him as simply another person that would come to drift in and out of her life with no consequence.

Maybe he was thinking too hard.

But… no one called him Diluc anymore. Not the knights, not his staff, not the woman sat next to him nor the boy sat across from them. Not their God.

Kaeya called him Diluc sometimes.

No— stop.

He bit his lip through a burst of shivers, burrowing into his skin. When it passed, he saw Jean tracing her face with her eyes. Only Barbatos knows what she found there.

"I still think you should rest," Jean muttered.

"I said I'm fine."

She hummed, "would it be rude of me to say I don't believe you?"

Would it? "I—"

"I've realised these past few days that you're very apt at avoiding anyones inquiries about your health."

"It's… foolish to focus on secondary issues when the main issue is more pressing."

What was he even saying?

Jean was quiet for a moment, and she turned to face him head-on. Her hair swished in the slow wind and her shoulder rolled against his own, but never did she move far enough to separate from him entirely.

"You're just as stubborn as you've always been, I see."

He thinned his lips as he stared at her, an inch of space between their noses. Of all the things he'd been called, he didn't expect 'stubborn' to be the one that resonated with Jean the most.

The tip of her nose was red, bitten by the cold, and the line of her jaw was tense. He drifted his gaze and lingered on her eyes— how he could feel them both pulling each other inwards like magnets the longer he held her in his view.

"There's something comforting about it, I suppose," she continued, and her words slipped through the air like a secret, "to know despite the distance, I can still recognise you."

"You don't need to look so hard," he said, because he could only despair at what she might find.

"And if you won't tell me, what else am I supposed to do?"

Not look. Just— stop looking.

"Master Diluc…" she started, but in the silence he imagined he whispered the essence of his begging, and she seemed to restart, "Your feelings— they matter to me. You shouldn't have to process them all alone."

And as if she stabbed him, he realised what the problem was. He didn't know if the little ember he gave her as a child, the piece of himself, had suffocated with time. He didn't know if she truly cared about him, but he realised all of a sudden that it didn't matter if she did or didn't.

It didn't matter, because…

Because—

I don't believe you.

Who would be stupid enough to touch a monster made of fire? Who, out of that number, would smile at the burns they bear?

He didn't— believe her.

"I'm fine."

She was so close, "Since you picked up his vision, you haven't once been okay."

He flinched away, their shoulders ripping from each other, the freezing air hot compared to his skin. He found himself staring at the teenager in front of him, where his nose was pressed into the folds of the blanket he was cocooned in, and appreciating the distance between them.

Kaeya's vision was in his hand, where it had always been. He found himself squeezing it, as if attempting to crush the gem down into a diamond, but before it broke he came back to himself with a shiver.

God, no, no, what would he have done if he destroyed it?

It's all you ever do.

Jean was frowning, her eyelids drooping with something akin to exhaustion. He watched her breathe through her nose slowly, his own breath caught in his throat.

"You need to talk to him honestly, Master Diluc."

"Stop."

"For your sake. Don't you want to hear what he has to say?"

No, he didn't. He truly didn't.

Does she know what happened? Does she know anything about how he acted that night? What Kaeya was thinking, when Diluc cut him down in a fit of blind rage?

He didn't want to think about it, about how Jean treated every burn on Kaeya's body, wiped away every tear that fell from his burnt eyes. He didn't want to think about how his name was uttered like a distant evil force, hushed by fear.

"Master Diluc."

"Don't, Jean."

Please, don't. Please don't touch him.

She paused for only a moment, before trying again, "You can't avoid it forever."

Diluc sighed, and dragged his thumb across the wings of Kaeya's vision, appreciating the way it dug into his skin.

No, no he supposed he couldn't.

The carriage jolted to a stop, flinging their bodies to the side and almost out the back of the carriage. He slammed his hand down and barely kept himself from crushing Jean beneath him, and Razor's head thunked against the wood, his eyes scrunching from the sudden pain.

He whipped his head around to complain, but the coachman stared out to the distance with a slackjaw, his fingers rubbing nervously at the horse's reins. His words died on his tongue, and he followed their gaze silently.

Ahead of them was Dragonspine, the green landscape gently but thoroughly covered by white. Closest to them, some yards ahead where the earth began to rise, the snow was light and sprinkled around spindly trees, brown leaves desperately holding onto their branches. They watched him without a breath of a breeze at their spines, scared still by the mountain air.

Hidden between the depth of trees and snow was a carriage, its roof frozen over and the tarp covering the back thrown open, abandoned. He couldn't make out the damage, but it was clearly destroyed, not simply hurt by the journey, and left behind in a hurry.

He leaned back on his heels and met Jean's worried gaze, Razor's bleary eyes staring at them. She nodded without a word and moved to wake the boy properly, while he climbed out the carriage and strolled around to meet the coachman's eyes.

"This'll be far enough, thank you." He said, "I'll make sure you're paid well on your return to the city."

They jumped at the sound of his voice and nodded, "Of course, Master DIluc. It's no trouble at all."

His horse huffed, stomping its hooves in the frosted grass, and Diluc reached up to sooth down their neck with his gloves. He found most horses liked the feeling of silk.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" the man said, just as Razor dropped down out of the carriage and scurried to his side. He bundled up Diluc's coat in his arms and held it to his chest, savouring the heat.

Jean slipped into his space, fiddling with the edges of her cape and smoothing out the creases. The man dipped his head at the sight of her.

Diluc sighed, "We'll be fine, thank you for your concern."

He smiled wearily, "Of course, Master Diluc. I'll be off, then."

And with the snap of the reins, he was gone.

They walked the short distance into the snowy landscape, upon the carriage in seconds. He plodded through the snow as quick as his legs would carry him— he wasn't going to hesitate. If they found a dead body, so be it.

It was simple, with a cloth roof that was pinned to the wood with nails, and well made wheels carved to plough through uneven terrain. It was all too normal, too untouched.

On the next step, he watched Razor tense up straight like a spring board, his face clouded in distress. Diluc quickly sped to where his eyes pointed.

The left wall was torn open into a gaping hole the size of a lawachurl, the edges ripped into vicious looking strips, as if clawed out by a cornered animal. The carriage floor next to it was dented, like a crater, and through it all was a trail of red that spread around the carriage and up the fabric.

Diluc rubbed it between his finger and thumb. The blood was dry, but with enough force, it printed onto him and smudged down the cloth. He desperately blinked away the image of it running in floods and pooling at his feet.

Further along the path was a trail of broken twigs, snapped off nearby branches. He wandered through the havoc with horror in his gut, over hidden footprints and burdened by the knowledge that Kaeya was likely dragged down the same path, injured and screaming for help.

The furthest tree was wrapped in claw marks, thin and barely breaking the bark. The ridges were filled with the same red found in the carriage, and splattered around one side in excess. The centre was sunken in, just the same as before, but in a way that reminded him of the ground in the alleyway beside Kaeya's apartment— rounded, and filled with blood.

It was what Diluc expected to see in Kaeya's room that night; the chaos and panic befitting a crime scene. He expected it, but that didn't mean there wasn't a rising sickness in his throat, threatening to debilitate him. He traced his fingers along the scratches in the bark, and imagined Kaeya's frostbitten fingers desperately pawing at the trunk as he was pulled away.

God. God.

Razor appeared at his side, his boots leaving a messy groove in the snow, and his fingers tight around the fabric of Jean's sleeve, pulled behind him. She reached for Diluc and held his bare arm delicately, but her touch sparked and burned his frozen skin. Her hesitance made him feel like horns were growing out from his head, and his eyes were tainted with the evil fitting for a monster.

"Master Diluc— you're trembling."

He was? He felt a little like he was dying.

The familiar warmth of his coat was thrown across his shoulder, the tassels cuffing his chin. Razor hovered with his hands in front of Dilluc's face, his fingers twitching, balanced on his toes.

"Fire Master is… sad?" He asked, his brow furrowed, "Angry?"

Both, probably.

What was there to be upset about? Kaeya's safety wasn't supposed to be a personal concern of his; he wasn't supposed to care on anything more than a professional level, and yet he couldn't deny the sorrow that pulsed through him, the grief so strong it wrought his cells with panic.

If he lost Kaeya… if he lost him all over again, for good this time—

Archons, what would he do? Who would he be, except a husk in the wind of misery.

"We'll find him, Master Diluc." Jean said, when his eyes flickered over hers, "We'll get them both back safe and sound."

Razor, however, looked grim. He smashed his hand against his nose with excessive force, hiding his face in Jean's back, "I smell— medicine. Strong, powerful. Dizzy."

Diluc almost heaved. Gods, that's why he lost in that alleyway fight. That's why he failed and was taken and a dead man was found at the back of his apartment. They drugged him.

How could he possibly fight back in that state? Was he even alive anymore? How long could he last, like that? How long would Diluc last? He had to be injured, was he breathing? Was he able to take care of himself at all while captive?

How late was he? Was it too late—

"Which way does it lead, Razor?" Jean asked, her gloves velvety and smooth on the hairs of his arms.

The boy pointed forward, towards the heart of Dragonspine.

She nodded, "then we head up. Come on."

He was pulled ahead by the two of them, saddled up against him. He couldn't bring himself to form a reply, only to force his feet to move, one after another.

He had to find them— he… had to find Kaeya. If he died before Diluc, and joined father up in the clouds, he'd never forgive himself. He'd never recover.

He needed to find his brother. He needed to save his brother.

And so he would. He promised himself at that moment that he'd bring his brother home, and pour him some of Father's vintage wine, and swaddle him in blankets thick enough that nothing would ever reach in to hurt him again.

He wasn't going to break another promise.

Notes:

1. I hope I'm doing a good job at illustrating a timeline without just saying it outright here in the notes, but if anyone is truly confused on where Kaeya is while Jean and Diluc are active and vise versa, please lmk in the comments! I'll clear it up for anyone xx

2. This was also one of my favourite chapters to write, next to chapter 3, mostly because I got to cram in a bunch of character interactions, which are always super fun. Actually I think the very end of Jean and Diluc's discussion during the carriage ride was the second thing I ever wrote for this fic, way before the plan. You'll see the first thing i wrote a bit later on.

3. Sorry this chapter is a bit long btw, like even longer than chapter 1. For the sake of keeping the back and forth pov thing i'm doing I needed this all to be in one chapter, and I didn't have the heart to cut out anymore than I did. Hopefully it makes up for how long it took though.

4. I did some research in game while writing this, and unless I'm an idiot, I found there isn't really a way to Wolvendom from the city that doesn't involve scaling cliffs or swimming the width of cider lake. I tried my best to make it accurate and made notes on the mini map and everything, but take every journey to and from Wolvendom mentioned in this chapter with a grain of salt.

5. Just to clarify, Diluc held a struggling teenager away from a cliff edge with only one arm around their waist for a solid minute. I'm clarifying that because I live for the strong Diluc agenda, and will continue to leave little titbits of it throughout this story because it's my fic and I said so :p.

Chapter 7

Notes:

I wanted to get this out earlier lol, but once again I failed :/
In case any of you are worried, I promise I won't abandon this! We're halfway there, and my control on my demons is slipping by the hour, but this fic will be finished! Thank you for being so patient xx

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Time dragged, stretched like skin and raw with the emptiness of the confinement, the darkness never ending and encroaching. Bennett was knocked out mere minutes after he arrived, barely grasping the stone under his palms before his eyes fluttered shut, and he fell in a heap.

Kaeya tried to stop them. He did.

He growled and screamed as they lifted the boy like pig meat and bound him to the wall. He spent the next however long searing the ropes into the bones of his wrists and neck; pulling, twisting, and yanking in an effort to reach them. For all his struggling, his only reward was completely losing feeling in his left hand. It simply burned, skin and bone dissolved by what felt like boiling blood and air made of fire.

He failed at the first hurdle to keep the boy safe. Before the first hurdle, even.

The small blessing was that he was relatively unharmed, and that they'd taken to leaving him to rot, no more injured than when he arrived. His face was littered with tiny, superficial cuts and bruises. A red bruise on his jaw, another on the apple of his cheek, a slice above his eyebrow, a cut on his lip. His nose was bleeding, but not broken from what he could tell in the dark.

For someone as clumsy as Bennett, Kaeya would have assumed he tripped on the way home, or had a particularly rough encounter with a hillichurl.

Not that he was kidnapped. Anything but that he was beaten and thrown into a desolate cell without his will.

He couldn't imagine what they needed with a child. His vision was bright and powerful, but he was still too young to properly wield it in the ways they must be looking for. Was the user unimportant to the Fatui, or did they specifically pick a child, with a lesser mind and an easier broken moral?

Perhaps it was all a game to them.

In between one thought and the next, a stuttering inhale echoed out into the cell. Kaeya whipped his head around before he considered the spike of pain that would stab his brain through his ears, and he winced violently.

Bennett's eyelids fluttered, small gems of light. His head rolled back into the stone as if too heavy for his neck, a quiet, wonderful groan pulled from his throat. The visible exhaustion seemed mirrored off Kaeya's soul, the way he twisted his wrists above his head an exact copy of the ache steadily straining Kaeya's back.

He snapped up with a gasp, wriggling like a fish on a hook. His eyes bulged out in blind panic, and his ankles struck the floor and knocked against the ground.

"Bennett," Kaeya whispered, the words scraping his throat like sandpaper. The kid's eyes locked onto his like beacons, unusually bright in the empty room. He reached out with his gaze and captured them in a vacuum separate from the rest of the world, blazing green and lit by sunlight.

"Sir Kaeya," he breathed, cinched still in awe. Kaeya closed his eyes at the sound and let the boy wrack his eyes across the mess he'd become. The knot fastened at his throat, and the trail of rope snaked around his feet. The dried blood cupped in his hand with mangled fingers, tipped down his arms and clumped in his hair. The red that must paint his lips and contour his eye, dyeing his eyepatch.

He was likely the furthest thing from the elusive cavalry captain the boy was used to. He probably looked dead, like a corpse from centuries ago, left to decompose.

"Where are we?" Bennett said.

He stifled a cough, his head floating off his body, the room tilting, and thought about what he should say back.

Was it better to lie? Was it worth holding onto the image of a responsible, self-confident adult?

He didn't know where they were. Fuck, he had no idea.

Bennett took his silence as an answer, and sighed shakily, "so we're lost?"

"Are you injured badly?" Kaeya asked, ignoring his comment. There were some wounds he'd be unable to recognise in the dark. Fatal ones.

The boy shook his head vigorously, the collar of his tunic sweeping against his neck, "No, Sir, but— you are, right? Are you okay?"

He felt like shit, if he was honest with himself. He wasn't sure how long he'd been trapped, but he was so used to the dark that both his body and the air around him had ceased to exist, transparent and immovable. He felt with a detached sort of accuracy that there were bruises on his insides, messing with his lungs and the solidity of his brain. His skin was wet with steam.

Whatever was happening to his hand wasn't good, but he hadn't the energy to figure out the details. It was there, and also not there, replaced by a powerful flame. That was enough info.

"I don't have my vision on me," Bennett said, rushed, as if fueled by shame, "but as soon as I get it back, I promise I'll heal you, sir!"

What optimism. It was at once blinding and refreshing, like a beam of sunlight.

"There were two men who took you, no?" he asked, and the boy nodded.

He couldn't imagine how scary that was for a child.

"Their names are Ignat and Dmitry. I've come to learn they like to… pay visits to collect data."

He blinked, "Data?"

Those were the words they repeated to him every day, during and after every beating. They never elaborated, but Kaeya connected the dots, and figured the cell he'd become so used to was a taster of sorts for Dottore's experiments in Snezhnaya.

They were playing with them, like children who opened their toys in the store, dancing them across the bleached, well trodden floors, before bringing them home.

"I'm as lost as you, I'm afraid. But—" he said, and caught Bennett's gaze and held it with all his strength, "I promise you on my life that I'll keep you safe. I'll get us out."

It was a promise he could make, for once. One he was certain he'd uphold. He would do everything within his power to keep the kid safe, even if it meant peeling away pieces of himself like worn rope.

Hold the reins of your own horse before helping others onto their saddle, they say. It was a good lesson, but he had no qualms disregarding it in a situation so dire.

Bennett muttered inaudibly, pushing upright and sitting on his knees. He searched the room for the first time in its entirety, scanning the empty, warped corners that Kaeya stared into once a minute. He prayed the dark wouldn't steal the light from the boy's eyes, slowly draining it away in the hours to come.

He decided then that he never wanted to see that light flicker out— that any humanity Kaeya held onto would vanish with it.

"How did they get you, Sir?"

"Hm?"

Bennett chuckled. A raspy, lacklustre thing, "It's just— you're super strong! How did they manage to grab you?"

"They caught me off guard, is all," he said, "don't worry."

It was half true, anyway.

He nodded, and shimmied as close as he could in his binds, his feet kicking out towards Kaeya. He smiled with a level of spirit he couldn't possibly feel, wincing through the roll of his knee.

"I think they took my vision while I was out, I think," he hummed, "It's probably somewhere here. What about you?"

He lost his. Gods only know where it was.

He didn't really care.

"Ah," is what he said, "it may still be where I first encountered them."

Bennett brightened at this, his grin painfully weak but genuine, "Then whoever's looking for you must have it!"

He blinked. He hadn't really considered the possibility that someone would find it, although it was obvious in hindsight.

Who would even be looking for them? The knights were so thinly staffed these days, would any of them have the time?

Maybe the Traveller? Wherever they are nowadays, they always seem happy to turn up in a pinch. He felt— a little cruel asking that of them though. This didn't feel pressing enough to call the honorary knight away from their journey.

The bars flung open, Ignat's wide figure conjured and created by the shadows. Dmitry trailed behind him, juggling his clipboard littered with notes in one hand and a Mondstadt pyro vision in another, smeared with mud. He stared down at Bennett over his nose, eyes narrowed in disgust, but the boy perked up at the red light, as if he could here it call to him

Ignat smiled, all teeth, "Liking your roommate?"

Kaeya growled. He was used to the man's senseless chatter after several sleepless nights,

"What do you want?"

"So cruel! Play with me a little, won't you?"

His eyes drifted pointedly to his partner, who'd taken to holding the pyro vision in front of Bennett as if on the other side of a glass exhibit case. His gloves were striking against his black cape; those of a nobleman's.

Ignat tracked his eyes up his arms and to the boy's tied wrists, then back down to the criss cross ties at the centre of his chest. Kaeya hurled himself away from the wall and snarled, his blood boiling.

"You're not touching him."

"Oh?" Ignat said, "And you'll stop me, will you?"

The man strolled to his right, crouching at Bennett's feet and holding his chin with his grimy fingers. He turned the boy's head left and right, peering under his chin and breathing into his ear. His eyes stayed on Kaeya's.

"I found your weakness, little knight. Incidental, but who am I to ignore an opportunity, hm? What say you? I keep my hands off the boy, and you behave."

Repulsive; both of them. They deserved to drown in the abyss.

Bennett was glaring, his eyes sharpened into steel weapons and his jaw locked tight as he seethed. His head was held upwards, but his eyes bore down with a resentment uncanny on his face, as if his eyes could light the man on fire.

"Fine," he said. He wouldn't behave, not in the slightest, but if it kept Bennett safe he'd let them believe it for a while.

Dmitry stepped forward nonchalantly, "I've got the child."

"Perfect."

The man crossed the small distance back and gathered the tail of rope off the floor, teasing it forward. The knot pushed painfully against Kaeya's Adam's apple, and he fell into a fit of throat shredding coughs.

"You would look lovely in something more… regal, don't you think?"

Kaeya glared at him blearily, struggling to catch his breath.

"Oh, I have just the thing!"

He pulled out a golden necklace from the pocket of his cloak, a delicate piece made from swirling gold bands twisted around one another like fractals, imbued with intricate details that were distinctive of Liyuen jewellery makers. Rounded cerulean gems shaped the arch of the band, sparkling even in the dark.

He held it up by its ends an inch or two out from Kaeya's neck, over the rope, "My, now aren't you a looker. Прeлесть."

"You make a habit of stealing jewellery?" Kaeya croaked, because he recognised that necklace from the collection of a certain merchant wife.

"What makes you think I stole it?"

He didn't have time for games. He couldn't have them hurting Bennett.

"Hm? Something to say?"

"Leave the kid alone. We're toys, aren't we? Aren't toys better when they don't break?"

"Not for me," Ignat sighed glumly, "The best part is when they break."

"Well, isn't it more satisfying if they last longer?"

"Hm, you may be right, little knight," he leant into his space and waved the necklace at his nose, as if to enchant him, "but luckily, the child isn't like you. His vision will help with Ди́мочка's experiments until we get back. He's much more useful.

He pockets the necklace, stuffing it into his trousers, and pulls at the rope without warning. Kaeya choked noiselessly.

"Although, not much else going for him, is there? Being a bad luck charm to your whole city must get tiring."

"You know nothing about him," Kaeya coughed.

Ignat laughed, his teeth pulled into a rotten grin. He creaked forward until his breath was ghosting the shell of Kaeya's ear, and huffed, "Oh, but I do know this. Il Dottore will make good use of the boy, just as I'll make good use of you."

"And the best part?" He cooed, "You won't be missed. You two are the bad omens of your own lives, the makers of your misery. We take you out of the picture and put you to better use— the people of Mondstadt will flourish without you. Isn't it just poetry?"

"The people of Mondstadt love me," he said, somewhat tauntingly, "they love Bennett even more."

It wasn't entirely true, just a fallacy in hopes of saving face. What he did know, however, was that he was a knight that kept people safe, and guided other's to do the same. His usefulness as a weapon was a strength he'd happily flaunt, if it proved he was worth something.

"Ah, I disagree," Ignat tutted, and pulled the rope up into the air above their heads, forcing Kaeya onto his knees, "In the time I've watched you, I've seen the lives you come to ruin with your presence. Does brother dearest not ring a bell?"

He couldn't help it. He flinched.

Ignat chuckled in delight, "Oh, so he does mean something to you. With the way you force yourself upon him, I was convinced his feelings meant nothing to you at all."

He was wrong. Diluc didn't care if he was there. Diluc didn't notice him at all. There was no way it upset him.

He only wanted to irritate him a little, remind Diluc he existed, just for a little while. To get too attached would mean to rebuild a crumbling bridge on the wrong foundations. To speak kindly would mean forcing his ex-brother into something he didn't deserve.

It wasn't cruel, it wasn't.

"Diluc has nothing to do with this." Kaeya growled.

"Oh contraire! He's what makes you oh so unlovable."

The man reached around into his own boot and pulled out a sharp bowie knife, tinted with rust. He flipped it around his fingers like performing a party trick, the blade catching the red light of the pyro visions across the room and cutting into Kaeya's eyeballs.

He drew it close, reaching into Kaeya's tunic where it dipped and sliced between his pecs. The sting was sharp and unpleasant, uncomfortable enough to make him squirm, but Ignat bowed inwards with his face in Kaeya's hair, the knife poised just shy of plunging straight into his chest.

"Everything you touch turns to dust, he's proof of that. Nothing you ever say or do will fix what you broke, and for every moment you walk this land he loses another chance at happiness."

What did they know? God, Barbatos, how much did they know?

Kaeya watched Bennett in the corner of his eye, straining in the dark. Dmitry had dropped the kid's vision on the floor like trash, lain deserted behind him. His hands were grasped viciously tight around the ball of his knee, pushing it aside as Bennett kicked and wrestled out his grip. His other hand was fiddling with the rope wrapped around the boy's neck, knot tight under his Adam's apple.

Nothing will fix it, Kaeya knew. Nothing will ever fix what he broke, or cushion the damage from the initial catastrophe.

Diluc was happier without him, he'd known that for years. His smile was a secret, precious thing, his joy a treasure Kaeya was no longer privy to. With Kaeya around, his eyes spoke to the sheer weight of exhaustion and anger pressing on his bones, and his words relayed the bitterness.

He knew that. Archons, he didn't need it spelled out for him.

"Aren't you tired of it?" Ignat asked, "Of destroying what little happiness he has with your presence alone? You're cursed, little knight, cursed to hurt the people close to you, to hurt everyone who knows your name, all because you exist. Isn't that sad?"

Stop it. Please stop it.

It wasn't true. He was useful. He was helpful.

He meant something to someone, right? Jean, Klee, Aether—?

"He will never love you, and neither will anyone else, because you're a crumbling mess of a man who can't accept when he needs to quit. Your whole life is built upon miserable lies, and you don't even believe them, do you? Everything you are is fake, a pretty little facade. Don't you ever feel ashamed, or beneath it all are you just an emotionless slate incapable of feeling?"

Even so, he was still useful. He'd become a visage, without desires or a soul to tuck away its woes, if it meant Diluc was safe.

"Leave Diluc alone," he whispered.

The man bent his wrist, pushing his blade deeper into Kaeya's chest. The blood pooled out like magma, dripping in rivulettes and burning a path down the centre of his chest.

"Hah! I couldn't give less of a shit about your brother. It's the Fatui that cares, but who am I but a loyal servant to them."

"Then—"

"If it'd make you scream louder, my dear, I'll gladly slit his throat. His head would fetch a pretty penny in Snezhnaya after we're done."

No. No, God no. He wasn't letting that happen.

He'd kill him. He'd kill them.

Bennett gasped, his head flying back into the wall under Dmitry's cruel grip. His gaze shuddered erratically over the dark walls beyond him, mouth agape in a silent scream, as he was knocked over and over into the cold stone as a victim to their kidnapper's tantrum.

"Stop!" Kaeya screamed, tearing his throat, "Stop it!"

Ignat watched unmoved, his knife still poised at Kaeya's core. He tutted as he stood like a disappointed parent, strolling across the room towards the two, and his fingers came to rest deep in Bennett's hair, locking him in place.

"Now, now, don't break the poor thing."

"He's useless if he won't submit," Dmitry said.

"What did I tell you about these kinds of subjects? They'll break eventually, don't worry your pretty head."

Dmitry let go, stepping back to stand next to the discarded vision. Kaeya followed him with his eyes, wondering if his gaze could bore holes into the man's skin, and he'd sink to the floor in a heap of mangled limbs and blood.

Ignat crouched, resuming his position with Kaeya in front of the kid. He held Bennett's chin with the sharp tip of his knife, and stared up at him where his head was packed into the wall, moulded into the stone.

"How did you get a vision, little one?" He whispered," Pity, perhaps?"

Bennett looked up. His breaths were shallow, weakened by the dizziness Kaeya could see in his wayward eyes. He wasn't entirely sure the boy was with them.

"Not much of a talking, are you? Ah, but I know you are, We've been watching you for a while, you and all your so called friends you force to be with you. Does that scare you, little one?"

Kaeya balled his numb hands into fists. How long had they been watching them, deciding which innocent citizen to take?

Ignat tutted, pushing Bennett's head down and meeting him in the eye, "Oi, kid. I'm talking to you."

Nothing. He made only a second of eye contact, long enough to convey clearly that he was present, then looked away. He stared back at his vision settled by Dmitry's feet, the red light bouncing off his eyes as if they were clean mirrors, void of emotion.

Kaeya fought off a smile. Either the men in the adventurers guild taught him that, or his stubborn nature had him default to it. It was so ridiculously reckless and stupid, but somehow exactly what babies like Ignat would hate.

Ignat shook him roughly. He reached for the rope and pulled it up above their heads, squeezing the kid's neck. Bennett took the abuse without flinching, pushing up on his knees and watching the darkness stretch up the walls with him.

"You think you're clever?" Ignat muttered, "You won't be for long, you little shit."

He threw the rope away and whipped around to his partner, "Ready?"

Dmitry nodded.

Kaeya saw the barest flicker of fear buzz in Bennett's eyes, obnoxiously obvious despite the dark fuzz of air separating them, and lunged forward, fighting against the wall. He scrambled, digging his wrists into his binds and squirming forwards, the dried blood ripping off layers of his skin.

"Don't touch him!"

"Same as last time?" Ignat asked, advancing. His partner answered by scribbling the beginnings of his notes onto his clipboard.

Ignat reached forward, discarding his knife on the floor beside him, clattering with a ring. His hand cinched around one of Bennett fingers, encasing it in its entirety. The second he did, Bennett snapped his legs out and pummelled a series of clumsy but fierce kicks into the man's chest. Ignat grabbed his ankles with a growl and pushed in until Bennett's knees touched his ears.

He filled the space between them, sat between the boy's legs, holding his knees with each of his hands, and Kaeya saw red.

He screeched, the sound surging from somewhere unknown, and faced the darkness ahead of him to rip himself from the wall. The rope buried into his skin, and the boiling blood from his wrists slicked his hands like soap. He rubbed them together violently.

Dmitry walked forward, his eye twitching.

"Ignat," he said bluntly, "I told you to break his finger."

"He's fussing," Ignat snapped, and swept another weak kick off his arm. When he reached up, Bennett bit his fingers and crushed down on his bones, fueled into urgency by his panic. He pulled himself up and settled all his weight onto his tied hands, mouthing the edges as if trying to eat through them.

Dmitry wasn't bothered, watching, "then break his arm."

Kaeya gasped, fighting.

Fuck! No—

"We shouldn't break them too much, I told you—."

"What was it you said about them breaking eventually regardless? Break his arm."

Ignat hummed, "A good point."

He slid in and curled his fingers around Bennett's extended arm, and the ropes around Kaeya's wrists slithered up over his broken fingers, drenched in blood.

He tore himself loose without thinking, tearing his muscles and shooting across the cell. His legs locked with cramps, sending him sprawling across the floor and floundering for traction. He ploughed forward with his hands outstretched and snatched Ignat's discarded knife off the ground. It slipped from his weak grasp, but he twisted his wrist and used gravity to launch it at the man's face.

He missed by an inch, and mimicked the clatter as it fell away with the drop of his body, his hands smashed between his chest and the stone, the pain excruciating. He felt the gash on his hand expand in a cry for help.

He cut something, though, he knew he cut something.

Bennett's right hand was free, a shallow slice on his wrist bleeding through the gap in the rope. He sat slacked in shock, his weight held up by the tangled bind still tight around his other hand.

"Run!" Kaeya screamed, and grappled for the knife again. He couldn't let anyone else touch it.

He picked it up with zero force, tucking his weight under it and leveraging it into the air. Ignat was upon him in an instant, eyes the piercing teeth of a carnivore, and Kaeya brought his hand down to stab him in the stomach.

Ignat pulled back, the tip of the knife slipping between the two of them. Kaeya heaved it up and stabbed again, his jab flying harmlessly through the air.

Hands appeared at his throat, arms ensnaring him. Ignat yanked him away from Bennett and folded him into his chest, the crown of Kaeya's head tucked against his throat. He bucked wildly, but Ignat's elbow came to rest over his windpipe and sealed him in place. The pressure was just enough to choke the wind out of him.

Bennett was in front of him, twisted around to face his trapped hand and crawling at it with his free one. He was balanced awkwardly in a half standing, half crouched position, biting and fiddling with the knot with his forehead pressed harshly against the wall.

Dmitry towered over him, motionless. He stood silent like an alligator waiting to snap, both pyro visions lighting his front and creating an abyss given halo around his silhouette. Kaeya stabbed blindly at the space behind him, desperately holding onto the knife, digging his teeth into Ignat's arms and kicking off the floor for support.

He watched the rope detangle from Bennett's wrist and prayed his gaze burn like a match to a candle wick. Anything to get the kid out faster.

He could run for help, wherever that was. He was quick, nimble, and well-trained. It'd be tough to trudge through the landscape on his own, but he'd make it.

Archons, he hoped he'd make it. If he didn't—

Bennett's rope loosened, worn by bite marks and scratches. He shot away from the wall as if electrocuted, stumbling to his feet. His eyes fixed onto Kaeya's, and for a moment all the heartache and misery in the world gathered into their shared glance, when he turned to Dmitry and rushed for his Mondstadt vision.

The man took one, large step backwards out of reach until the backs of his knees were in line with Kaeya's face. He watched with wide eyes as his body took over, his mind lost in the panic, and he swung the knife forward into Dmitry's legs.

Ignat snatched his wrist out of the air, fingers sharp against his cuts. As if suddenly made out of the blood that poured from him, the knife slid out his grasp and into Ignat's steady palm.

"Uh uh uh, little knight. What did I say about misbehaving?" He growled, and squeezed his arms tighter around Kaeya's neck. He was choking in an instant.

"You wanna be a bitch? Fine. I'll have to be a little more brutal with my toys, won't I?"

Ignat twisted the knife with a flick, pointing it down over Kaeya's body. The blunt edge mirrored a warped image of his expression, his eyes bright against the blood glazing his skin, coloured like wine. He traced the shape of his reflection like one of a stranger— their pupils dilated, skin pallid, hair clumped into dirty tangles and greasy flyaways.

The knife came down fast, the face dropping out of sight, as it sank down to the hilt into Kaeya's thigh.

For a small moment, there was only an uncomfortable pressure, the muscles in his leg quivering from the force. Then the pain blasted through him like a firework directly on his nerves, sudden and burning and inescapable.

He screamed until the cell turned white.

"Ah, now this is what I wanted! What's the point of having a test subject at all if they won't scream when I break them?!"

His body was shutting down, the pain so excruciating it overwhelmed every other sense, expanding out his body and weeped through his skin like corrosion. He scratched his fingers over the arm across his neck in an attempt to ground himself in reality, blood pooling under nails.

Ignat just laughed, a touch hysterically, "The child wasn't taught any manners!"

It burned. Oh, god it burned.

"Traitor!"

Make it stop—

"—hate you!"

No, stop it!

Bennett was tackled, his punches swift and strong, but easily deflected by Dmitry's open palm and his limbs ensnared behind his back. He squirmed like dying prey, his shouts beating in and out of Kaeya's hearing in a mind numbing, irregular pattern. He dropped to the floor in a heap, his head at Kaeya's knee.

Kaeya gasped, jolting in Ignat's grip despite the pain.

God, he was right there. Just a little more and he'd have the kid in his arms. He'd cocoon him like a baby in a blanket, like an artefact precious to history. Just another inch and he could keep him safe.

Dmitry yanked Bennett's arm back, the weight of his knees forced on the centre of the boy's back. He twisted the wrist backwards, and with a jovial click, his arm snapped.

His scream was dark and unbridled, filling the darkened air like a flash bomb. Kaeya watched in horror as the boy's face scrunched in agony, his mouth agape. His cries echoed so poignantly it was as if it'd mutated and no longer belonged to him; a monster of its own.

Kaeya would have thrown up if he could breathe.

Ignat took the moment to squeeze his arms tight around his throat, his elbow protruding out, cutting off all air from his lungs. He gagged, pathetically clawing for release, while his vision quickly darkened.

No, no, no—

"You see that, little knight? You're worthless."

No—

"You can't save anyone."

Bennett—

His fingers fell off his hands. His body was malleable and defined by the fire in his wounds. His eyes were rolling back in their sockets.

Bennett dropped, crying out. His skull shattered across the floor and scattered into pieces, the shards of his screams piercing Kaeya's skin. Ignat threw him down next to him, the light of pyro energy dimmed and dull, as if his gasps were swallowing the flames.

The stone was cold against his cheek, like snow from a concave burrow, and he welcomed the feeling against his heated skin.

He blinked, and the red light burned brighter than ever. He blinked again and it was gone, only darkness.

"We need more rope," a voice said, and Kaeya turned his ear towards white gloves inspecting the wall. He rubbed the edge of the frayed rope with his fingers, slipped from the hook in the stone that kept them immobile.

A chuckle; "Better be quick, they're more unstable than the other prisoners. Wouldn't want them getting out, would we, Ди́мочка?"

Ah, he knew it. All those missing people that were building up, they had to be close by.

That'd make his job easier. He told Jean he'd find them, didn't he? He couldn't remember.

A bowl appeared by his hands, cool water lapping the sides and spilling out onto the floor, creating tiny black dots of moisture. He felt sick.

Obsidian eyes, the colour of nothing, of apathy, locked onto his. They bore into his with a silent command, the Snezhnayan vision at his waist slithering out into the darkness and holding it with invisible chains.

"You will drink that, and eat the food we give you, understand?" Dmitry said, "You're useless to us if you starve."

Kaeya closed his eyes.

"Understand?"

He nodded.

He wished they were dead.

The cell door slammed shut and locked with a click. He barely felt the echo.

Something yelled in anger, and Bennett flashed past him, scrambling for the exit. He rattled the bars with all of his weight, collapsing onto the metal and reaching out through the gaps with anguished fists. Kaeya watched him from the floor, curled up.

He called out for him, his eyes wide and desperate, "Sir Kaeya, we have to do something! Those people… if they're others they need our help!"

His vision was waxing in and out, darkness caressing him, pulling him down. If he blinked too long he was sure to lose himself to it entirely, all his energy gathered into his next breath escaping his mouth. Try too hard, however, and his chest would scream at him, a sharp stinging pain pulling at his ribs whenever he gasped.

His hand was on fire.

"It's no use Benny," he whispered. His throat was tearing itself apart. He couldn't breathe.

Bennett rounded on him, slipping away from bars and blocking Kaeya's view with his body, spitting his words out, "No use?! Sir, you can't mean that! We can't just give up!"

He stared up at the boy's beaten face, and in the brightness of his eyes, he saw his brother. The determination and passion sparked like two flints to steel, flickering with life. He saw the future waiting for the kid in the light of his eyes, and wondered for a moment if he deserved the pleasure of witnessing it.

Would the boy be safer if they never met? Would he be happier if they never saw each other ever again?

Would Diluc?

"They'll notice if we take off now," Kaeya croaked, wiggling his fingers and watching them move numbly, "we need to wait until the time is right."

Bennett faltered, flopping back onto his knees. Up close, the bags under his eyes looked heavier, his bruises darker. His spine curled inwards, his body folded around his own injuries like a baby bird hidden behind its wings.

"But—" he said, "if we wait, they'll tie us back up again."

"We'll have to take the risk."

If they tried now, it really would be no use. He doubted he'd make it across the cell, let alone through the deep labyrinth that awaited after. They had to pray there'd be a chance later.

Bennett's voice began to wobble, painfully child-like, "They'll hurt us again."

Oh, kid.

Kaeya moved his burning hands, pushing them down on either side of his head and slowly lifted himself off the ground. Each inch sucked out litres of oxygen from his lungs, leaving him the wrong side of hyperventilating, but he pulled himself upright and remained there. Bennett hesitated as if scared to taint him, but eventually scooted forward and held himself under Kaeya's chest, pressing against his wounds like a bandaid.

He took half a second to pant into their grey hair, the floor tilting under him and the stone cold against his back, but reached up and curled his healthy fingers around the crossed scar on the boy's shoulders. He squeezed in a way he hoped was reassuring.

Bennett looked up at him with an assuredness he felt undeserving of, waiting patiently for his answer like a chess pawn waiting for its turn. His palm pressed carefully against Kaeya's tunic as a sort of counter pressure to the pounding of his heart, eyes yearning, but grip steady.

He refused to let him down.

"I know it hurts," he huffed, bowing forward, "but you just need to power through it for a little longer, okay kid? I promise I'll be with you, and I'll get us out of here as soon as I have the chance."

Bennett nodded obediently, "Okay. I believe you."

"Good."

Good. That was good.

Fuck.

He twisted his leg around carefully, the wound pulling at the edges and deep in the meat of his thigh. The muscles clenched around the knife jumped and hitched with every breath, the pain inescapably sharp and radiating through his whole body. He could feel the ache in his teeth, and the agony shaped into breathlessness.

They got him alright.

He could use it, though. It was risky to remove it, but having a knife on hand would be a big advantage.

Could he use it against them, somehow? If not as a weapon, then as a threat of some kind? Would they fall for that?

Dmitry didn't seem to be carrying any weapons, but he had a vision, which was dangerous enough on its own. Was he strong enough to dodge a knife attack? He seemed slight, but he'd learnt his lesson not to anger him.

He… tackled Bennett, didn't he?

He looked, and noticed the boy's right arm was bent at a nauseating angle, his inner elbow blotchy and bruised. He held it close even as he moved.

Right.

Then, what if Kaeya went for something debilitating, like the back of his knees, or his ankles? Something easy to reach that would distract him with an excess of blood loss.

But— if he went wrong, they'd go after Bennett.

Something soft and damp was drawn across his brow, smooth as a bubble floating in the air, water dripping down his nose and wetting his upper lip. He flinched violently away from it.

"Sir Kaeya," Bennett called, following him and pressing the cloth harder against his skin. He pulled back for only a second to dip his bandana into a bin of water left in the corner of the room and kicked into their space, wringing the cloth, then bringing it back up to Kaeya's hairline with the water still dripping down his forearm.

He gnawed his split lip, "You're warm. I think you have a fever."

He did? He felt more like his vision was malfunctioning. That he was dumped into a burrow thick with snow and left to shrivel in its depths, the cryo energy pouring out of him in irregular bursts.

Not that it did that. Visions weren't supposed to do that.

A knife wouldn't work on Ignat. He was heavy, built like a bull, and— that's right, he fought with knives didn't he?

He'd parry it. Then they'd go after Bennett again.

"Sir Kaeya." He said again. It was grating on his nerves for some reason.

He needed to kill them. It was the only way to keep them from Bennett for long enough to escape.

His hand was cupped by fluttering fingers, carefully avoiding the purple bruising and broken bones. The deep slit made in the alley was red and swollen around the edges, the blood painting his palm suspiciously cloudy. It hummed with heat, breathing like a mouth, yawning as if expanding. He watched Bennett lift it up to his face, inspecting them with wide, panicked eyes.

"It's infected. Oh, it's infected! This is really bad… no wonder you have a fever!"

Should he go for their necks? He… couldn't really stand.

It was the fastest way to kill them, though. He just needed to slit their throats. That was simple enough.

Kill them both at once. Ignat first, Dmitry milliseconds after.

He could do it. He was a trained knight, he could do it.

"Oh, what do I do— I don't have my vision. What if you get blood poisoning! Barbara told me that was super bad, Sir Kaeya, like death kind of bad!"

Okay, that was getting annoying.

"You can hear me, right? You can still see and everything? Does breathing hurt? You've gotta tell me if it gets worse, I'll… I'll get help! Or— no—"

"Bennett."

He jumped as if on a spring, and Kaeya realised the shaking in his hands wasn't entirely his own, "What? What is it?"

"Just Kaeya is fine," he said, as tenderly as he could.

The boy startled, "Oh! I'm sorry! It's just— I thought it would be polite since, you know, you're a super important knight and all."

He laughed under his breath, "I'm no different than any other Mondstadt citizen."

"Well, I guess, but you're really strong! You keep us all safe, that's important!"

He wasn't strong at all. Everything about their situation happened because of one bad night, that was all. He could have taken them, beat them away and kept Mr Dietrich alive, then brought them to the knights holding cell to deal with in the morning. They weren't particularly strong, no stronger than a lawachurl. It would have all been so easy.

Instead, he failed. He was unstable, and was lured into an alley and fell for the oldest trick in the book. He was sure many citizens in Mondstadt wouldn't have fallen into that trap.

That's probably why they went for him in the first place. What a joke.

He sighed, "Most people would have dodged that, I think."

Diluc definitely would have dodge it. Jean too; neither of them would have fallen prey to a drugging attempt, nor panic when under the influence of it. Panic was for later, they knew.

"...Kaeya?"

"Mhm."

"I think you should sleep," he muttered, husky and somewhere in between nervous demand and a comforting coo. He leant back out of Kaeya's space and gently corralled the two of them back into the wall with an open hand on his shoulder, the bandana tangled in his blue hair.

He shook his head against the stone wall, "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're hurt."

"And so I need to be ready when they return."

Conserved energy, he remembered. That was important.

Bennett scooted closer, his knee knocking against Kaeya's healthy leg. He drew his bandana up to the baby hairs on the back of Kaeya's neck and back down again.

"If you wanted to keep watch for those guys, I'd be happy to do it for you, and I can wake you up if they come back."

He shook his head again. He had to stay awake and plan. Keep them safe.

His thigh twitched. The knife was deep, but it seemed to have avoided arteries. He'd survive.

They needed the knife. He could get them out if he had a knife.

Better get it over with.

"Hand me your bandana," he said.

The boy did so hesitantly, worry in his gaze, "why?"

He wrapped the fabric up into a wad and sat it on his lips just out of reach of his tongue, clenching it between his teeth. The cloth squelched in his mouth, and water dribbled down his chin and into his open shirt like a beam of ice.

"I'll buy you a new one when we get out of here," he mumbled, then reached down and gently wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the knife.

Bennett was on him in seconds, floundering, "W–what are you doing?"

God, what was he doing?

"Trust me," he huffed, though for whose benefit he didn't know.

"Wait, I don't— this doesn't look like a good idea!"

The boy latched onto his hand, keeping him still. His haste forced the knife to shift under their combined weight, and Kaeya gasped in agony.

"Don't do it! It'll just make it worse—"

"I have to," he said. He didn't have the energy to explain.

"No! I won't let you!"

"Bennett—"

"How are we gonna escape if you bleed out?! What if you get infected worse than you are, I can't heal you without my vision Kaeya!"

For Fuck's sake.

He swallowed the last of his pride and let out a pathetic sob, souring it with his exhaustion and pain. He loosened his grip the slightest amount, enough for Bennett to feel him wilt under his hand, and whined like a dying animal.

"L–let go," Kaeya whispered, and watched the boy's face fall.

"I don't—"

"It hurts. Please…"

He hesitated, his green eyes frantically scanning the way their fingers interlocked on the handle. Kaeya shivered and gasped as his grip slowly fell away from the knife, his hands retreating to hover between them, as if his pacifying stance could erase the wound and the blood.

Now.

Kaeya held his breath, the pressure on his lungs immediately unbearable, and yanked upwards. The knife ripped through the air like an arrow, whistling merrily. The pain spiralled up and around his whole body, shooting up to his eyelids and down to his toes. His hands locked into fists, blood spilling from his palm and ache pulsing in his fingers, and he bit down hard to stop a scream.

If he made any noise, they'd know. He was already counting on them being dumb enough to forget they buried a knife in his flesh, he doubted they'd ignore it if they saw it in his hand.

The kid grasped the knife around Kaeya's fingers, uncurling them one by one until the weapon fell to the ground, the clink of the blade scraping across the stone ringing in his ears.

"Sir— Kaeya," he mouthed, the faded freckles under his eyes damp with tears, "please stop."

He couldn't get a word out. The air was thinning; he was suffocating.

He shook his head for hours, until his hair was curling into his nose and mouth.

The blood was gushing out of him, his pants soaked red. He needed to be quick.

He reached in and ripped the bandana from his mouth and slid the length of it under his thigh, pulling it up and tying a clumsy knot with the ends. He held it loose, millimetres off his skin.

He couldn't scream. He couldn't scream, no matter what. If he screamed the plan would be ruined, and they'd punish the kid, and he wouldn't be able to stop them.

"Wait! Let me do it, please don't— just let me do it—"

He shook his hair out. It felt both a sticky mass of sweat and like a comfort blanket swaddling him.

He could do it. He would do it. He wouldn't scream.

He wasn't going to make a child do it.

He heaved a useless breath and pulled the knot tight as it would go, grinding his teeth into dust. He curled inward to his core as if to capture the pain and hide it where it couldn't escape, head pressed to his chest and his lungs made of paper.

The pain exploded, and one by one his senses shut off. He gazed at the darkness, vaguely aware something was there, but too dizzy to comprehend it. The ground shrank into the size of a penny, holding him up from the void he towered over. For a second, he tipped backwards and dropped into it, horizontal with the world and sunken into its depths.

Then a weight pressed against him, and the ground reappeared under him like a slap to the face. The stone wall rose to cradle the back of his head, lolled sideways, his neck thin as a straw and held up by itchy binds of rope.

His whole body ached, his fingers twitching as the pain bounced in and out of focus. His entire lower half was drowned in blood, his thighs sticky and glued to the floor, and the yellow bandana peaked through the mess with two bunny ears, floppy from watered down fluids.

Bennett was tucked into his injured side, as if his weight could somehow erase the pain. He held his injured arm to his chest and dropped his chin onto his knees, hair tickling the rips in Kaeya's sleeves. He didn't seem to care that blood was seeping into his shorts and the bare skin of his legs.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, voice inaudible. Kaeya took a selfish moment to catch his breath instead of comfort the boy, and pray his lungs would stop spasming.

"It'll help. Trust me."

He was quiet, but something about the way he shuffled closer told Kaeya it wasn't out of anger.

"You shouldn't take objects out of wounds," he whispered.

Kaeya huffed, "did… Did your dads— tell you that?"

He shook his head, small, "learnt the hard way."

Oh, Bennett.

"My dads taught me how to tie it up though; said if I was gonna get hurt I ought to know how to fix myself up."

"Your dads care for you," he said, a question on his tongue. Bennett breathed his answer in the spaces between Kaeya's wheezing.

"It's their job to, right?" He asked, "That's what they always tell me."

"That's true."

"I mean, they probably worry a bit too much."

"Mm, maybe."

"You have a family too, right, Kaeya?"

He blinked rapidly. He didn't really talk about himself much to anyone, and only those he'd experienced his childhood with knew how he was back then. It wasn't out of unease per say, nor shame, he just found it was no one else's business how he lived his life, and didn't care to share.

He was… very different as a child. Difficult, even. He didn't need the questions.

It wouldn't hurt to be a little honest, though, now would it? Bennett was a good kid, and they needed to pass the time somehow…

"I had a brother, once." He sighed, and the words tasted strange on his tongue. It wasn't as if he ran away from the fact, but to say it out loud again was like eating a delicacy he'd lost to time. Bitter, but nostalgic.

Bennett nodded in interest. He snuggled further into his spot and gazed at him with those luminous eyes. Kaeya dropped his nose into the crown of Bennett's head, long strands of his hair falling around the two of them like a barricade. They both reeked of sweat and metal, their scalps doused in buckets of oil, but any vanity he cared to hold on to was long gone. The company was worth more than escaping the smell.

He gathered his breath.

"He was an innate worrier, always in his own head. He spent hours every day worrying about absolutely nothing, as if he was physically incapable of not overthinking. Despite that, he always sought the best in the world."

That was just who Diluc was. A thinker, a daydreamer. He was an emotional hurricane filled with curiosity and wonder, burning with life. It fueled Kaeya in ways he didn't know was possible.

He stumbled through the early days of his life in Mond constantly weary, life in the light far too different and overwhelming. Diluc seemed to make an unconscious effort to change that, leading him around like a shepherd and his wayward sheep. He collected little trinkets from his world and presented them to Kaeya with open, welcoming hands, his only motivation to share it and bond with his new brother.

It took Kaeya a while to realise he didn't care what he got out of it, not really; that he was someone who found joy in sharing the things they loved with the people they loved, and nothing more.

Soft blankets woven with care, whipped cream melting in chocolate, screaming laughter at the top of his lungs, the warmth of fire. The taste of the wind, and the way crystalflies tickled his fingers to say hello, before drifting away on the breeze, free to fly. All things he never would have experienced before, and things he would never have wanted to experience without the guiding light that was Diluc.

"It was ridiculous," he sighed, strangely lacking any irritation, "I have no idea how he managed to be so… passionate about life without exhausting himself."

"He sounds nice," Bennett hummed, slurring a little. Kaeya felt his own face drop, the smile pulling at his cheeks slipping away.

Maybe once that was a word he used to describe his brother. The way he grinned with his eyes, his entire body glowing with mirth. The way his fingers glided over everything he touched like his arms were feathered wings; heavy handed, but sweet, as if encouraging life into the world.

What warranted describing a person as 'nice'? Was it the effort they put into considering others, because even present Diluc had that in spades. Was it the amount of love they held in their hearts, something so precious it became inseparable from them, integrated into their core?

Was it that, or was it the way other's felt around them? Could Kaeya consider Diluc kind if simply his presence shattered him, and stole wayward shards of his body without remorse? Did it even matter what Diluc did to him anymore?

Bennett shifted, his nose frosted at the tip and slipping into the ripped holes where Kaeya's sleeves would be. He pressed his face into the skin and breathed unusually slow, in a way Kaeya realised was meant to be encouraging, his chest rising at a steadier pace than the persistent stutter jolting Kaeya's body.

"When we were kids," Kaeya whispered, and Bennett's eyelids flickered, "I could read him like an open book. He was always so— bright. And pure, like this ball of fire that never went out. It was something I ended up relying on him for, and he never really gave me a reason to think he'd ever change. He… he was so consistent with it it hurt sometimes."

Once, his brother shook him awake before the sun could, his eyes glistening like prisms in the dark. He slept with Father those first few nights, but he managed to slither out of the towering bed without a sound, and Diluc whisked him down the hill of the estate to watch the sunrise skip across the lake.

Kaeya remembered that moment not for the view, but for the way Diluc grasped his hand in the silence. He danced around life with excitement, taking as much in as he could in every moment, but he held him through that sunrise as if he'd drift away like a dandelion seed. As if the rays would fall through him, exposing him as something uncanny and imaginary. It was the moment Kaeya realised he wasn't just another moment for his brother to dance around, but a friend he wanted to dance with instead. A permanent fixture.

He let go, when Adelinde found them, their hand's dropping to their sides. Diluc let him without a word, his smile never dropping, and it was catharsis.

"But, one day I—"

One day, they—

"One day, I broke something, something we both cared about. And afterwards, I couldn't understand him at all."

He lost everything that night; his family, and his home. Suddenly the freedom he'd been introduced to with such warmth was vast and terrifying, like the freezing depths of the sea in a storm.

Diluc, in so many ways, introduced him to freedom. The good, and the bad.

Bennett shivered, the tremor passing through his body into Kaeya's. He pushed his face into the boy's grey locks and gasped as the world spun.

"But— if you both cared about it, why did you break it?"

He laughed, "Why indeed."

If he tried a little harder to collect himself, organised his words into something more honest, maybe Diluc never would've left.

If he picked the night after, or the night before, maybe Diluc would have understood.

If it wasn't for Celestia, maybe Diluc would have killed him.

"I guess I felt guilty. I wanted to make him understand, but I didn't think it through."

What did he want that night, he wondered? Did he want Diluc to accept him? For them to be on equal ground before they went on to mourn their father? Or was he just too much of a coward to rid Diluc of the trouble?

If it wasn't for Celestia, maybe it would've worked.

Bennett hummed into the darkness, his head dipping. He was almost completely swaddled into Kaeya's armpit, but he lifted his head onto the ball of his shoulder every couple minutes, keeping Kaeya's neck from bending too far downwards.

"My dads… they told me that family means someone who will always be there for you, and keep you safe. They make you less sad and alone, you know? And they're different from friends 'cause they stick with you forever, even if sometimes you don't want them to."

"So… I mean," he mumbled, "even if it's all weird right now, your brother's probably always gonna stick with you, so you don't have to feel alone if he's there. And maybe you can fix all the things that went wrong."

He wasn't there, was the thing. For years, he was gone.

Kaeya took care to shelter his brother's vision, the gem so wonderfully and horrifyingly red it carved a home in his soul. He polished a shine into the golden wings, kept dust from slipping between the cracks and dulling its vigour. He saw first hand how it gently flickered out one night, the bold light slipping off the walls and the pads of Kaeya's fingers, quietly turning grey. He felt the warmth leave the room like a hushed breath to a small candle, and he thought his brother was dead.

He left him alone without so much as a goodbye. He found out not a day before that his brother would be gone forever, and wrote him a letter in a blind panic of ink and tears. He still had no idea if Diluc read it.

"I don't think it's that simple, Benny. It's not something we can just… fix."

"Sure you can," he said, "You wanna talk, right? Maybe he does too. My dads said if you both wanna talk then you just gotta do it, and you'll feel tons better after."

He doubted Diluc wanted to talk to him about anything, let alone that night.

It was better the way it was. Diluc was safer, happier even, when Kaeya wasn't in his life to mess it up, and vice versa. There was no need to trample a perfectly good garden of roses on the impossible chance they'd grow back stronger.

They wouldn't.

Still, he sighed. The kid was only being positive, and it wouldn't do good to ruin that.

"You're dad's are very learned, aren't they?" He teased, using a non-existent strength in his arms to pull Bennett into his side.

At that, a sleepy smile stretched along the fabric of Kaeya's tunic, snuggled closer, and the murmur, "Dads say every dad is super smart."

He thought about a man in his memory wrapped in red, his hair pulled back out of his eyes, creased with laughter lines. His laughter rang like a church bell, chin bristled, and the red gems decorating his ears and the lines of his clothes sparkled, set alight by his warmth.

"I guess they are," he began, but the last of his words were cut off by his throat closing up, and his body was wrecked by coughs.

Bennett jumped as if he was shot, a startled gasp flying from his mouth, disturbingly close to a sob. He lunged for the rope around Kaeya's neck and began to claw at the knot, twisting and straining at the thin frays, while Kaeya blindly tilted his sputtering away from the boy's face. When nothing happened, he began pulling on his own rope, violently shaking the knot at his throat as if to threaten it loose.

Tears slowly gathered in his bright eyes, wide and wet with distress. Kaeya watched each one slide down his cheeks with panic squeezing his lungs, and he reached out with his clean hand to rub them away.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Kaeya whispered, barely any of it actually escaping his mouth, "I'll get you out of here, I promise. Don't cry."

"I'm not worried about me!" He screamed, pawing at Kaeya's neck and chest, pressing painfully on his ribs, "I can take a couple assholes that like to break bones. I don't care!"

He should care. He deserved to be a kid in a kidnapping situation, for Archon's sake; just because he was clumsy didn't mean he deserved the pain.

It wasn't fair. It was just two bastards trying to act bigger than they were. They were just compensating for their lack of a life. They were just dickheads who hadn't a shred of empathy.

It wasn't fair, dammit. It wasn't fair.

"People are coming, you know that right?" Bennett rambled, suddenly looking desperate, "They were just trying to scare us."

"And you're not replaceable," Fuck off, he'd never be replaceable. Mondstadt would bleed to death without Bennett in it.

"I know that! I know— but Kaeya, you know people are coming right? Say you know people are coming."

He stared down at him in confusion. What was he getting at? Was he still scared?

"They'll come for you, I promise."

"No Kaeya, you," his face was scrunched up in distress, the downward crease of his eyebrows awkward above his bright, innocent eyes, "I'm worried about you!"

About… him?

Why? He didn't get it.

I mean, he did, but it was fine. He'd get the kid out, he promised. Sure he'd follow him, escape as soon as he was able, but…

Well—

"Don't worry about me, I'll be okay, I promise."

"You're not okay! I–I know you're just trying to protect me but you're way worse off than I am!"

He blinked, his eyelashes sticking together in clumps.

It wasn't like he was dying, he'd manage.

"You are gonna get out, right? We'll get out together, don't you dare make me leave without you!"

Well, if it came to that—

"You've gotta get out! You still have to teach me how you do that flashy sword thing! The one where you move super fast and catch them from behind. A–and Klee told me you take her out on picnics a lot, so you've gotta make it out so you can take her on another one. You've still gotta talk to your brother!"

Talk to—

Ha! Absolutely not. Diluc wasn't his brother, just another citizen— the Master of the Dawn Winery, a famous nobleman.

Diluc wasn't coming.

"If Diluc comes they'll kill him."

Bennett's breath stuttered. He shot his hand up and slapped it on Kaeya's forehead, startling a gasp out of both of them. His touch was so cold it burned.

"It doesn't have to be Master Diluc, the knights could come. Grand Master Jean is your friend, right? She wouldn't leave you."

Jean was far too busy to come. He understood that better than anyone.

It would have been nice to see her again. How long had it been? Days… weeks?

He missed home.

"Kaeya…"

Bennett's hand was on his neck, his grip solid and warm. His tears were falling in individual drops like the faucet in Kaeya's bathroom, hitting his shorts with an echoing clink, as if slapping ceramics. The air was cold, and the light was off, but his gaze shot through the darkness.

"We're gonna get out together," he said assuredly, green on dull blue, "You'll let me protect you, right?"

They didn't have long until they and the other prisoners were transferred to Snezhnaya. They'd likely be herded into a carriage, kicking and screaming, then shipped off through the Liyue and beyond, or west into Fontaine. He couldn't stop them.

He had heard stories of the land— how the earth was sealed by the snow, frozen in time. How the trees bowed with the weight of their sins, and the people worked through the acrimony and loss with steeled hearts. In a land like that, toughened by the freedom Barbatos fought to save his worshippers from, he couldn't protect anyone.

He had to get them out before then, escape using a ridiculous, half baked plan that he conjured deliriously, and have the confidence to believe it'd work.

If it came to it, he'd get Bennett out and hold them off. If he had to, he'd save the child, and go out with a bitter grin, knowing he did something good.

Kaeya nodded, smiling with his eyes, "We'll get out together."

"Promise?" Bennett asked.

"Promise."

He just prayed there was a chance.

Notes:

0. PLEASE read this! Imma put this fic on hiatus for a bit. I promise not for too long! Writing each chapter immediately after posting in a loop was sorta draining my motivation, so I wanted to give myself time to finish writing the rest of the chapters all at once, instead of just the next one. If all goes well, the writing quality should be better, and the updates will be much, much faster. I hope that's okay!

1. I don't know what my obsession is with all these kids imprinting onto the respective adults in their areas, but I'm especially in love with Bennett giving mr cool knight Kaeya cuddles. There's no way Kaeya isn't protective of him and platonic cuddles are a notion I plan on yelling from several rooftops hitherto and henceforth.

2. Again, I'm not russian lol, but if my research is right Прелесть is an endearing term that means 'charm' or 'beautiful.' I think it's pretty strong, at least coming from Ignat's mouth. I think it's pronounced pre-ear-list, but I'm probably butchering it lol.

3. This is another pit stop! If you're reading this fic all in one go I recommend you stop here and go to bed or take some sort of break! I think from here on there's a lot of cliffhangers, so I think this is a good spot so you're not up all night wondering what happens next. This might also be the last good place to stop because of that haha. So go to sleep! I'll still be here in the morning.

Chapter 8

Notes:

We're back! I hope the wait wasn't too painful haha.

I planned on posting this when I'd finished writing all the chapters, but spoke to someone who gave me advice that if I get serotonin from posting then that should be my priority, so here we are lol. This won't have the quick posting that I'd like it to have, but I'm much further ahead in chapters than I was before, and I'm not stopping! I hope you enjoy what's to come :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The shivering, Diluc came to realise, was a constant thing. It held his muscles tight and bound, wrought with ache like stretched-out rubber. He breathed in painful, shallow huffs through his mouth, clouds on his lips. No matter what he did, it wouldn't stop.

Razor was tucked into his side, a blanket tangled up around his wet boots. Diluc hiked it up to their chins exactly once the night before, tucking the ends around the boy's neck and holding him close. He fell asleep instantly, strands of his hair tickling Diluc as he buried his face into the tassels on Diluc's coat. His fingers were tinted red from the snow.

The past two days, they got lucky with the mountain's weather. The wind ate away at the tips of his ears, burrowing under his clothes, but the snowfall was primarily gentle. After a few hours, when the sun began to dip, Jean suggested they settle in Albedo's camp a short distance from the trail. He watched the snowflakes gather on her scalp as she guided them, her hair sparkling.

Day three began with a storm, harsh and unending. The exit to the cave was blocked by a thick wall of ice that flew inwards in bursts, obnoxiously bright, like a crack of lightning. Diluc stared out at it with a weary gaze.

Razor's furrowed brow was pressed into his arm, his cheeks pleasantly flushed with warmth, and decided to leave the blanket at their feet.

He should calm down. Maybe a deep enough sigh would vanquish his shivering entirely. Maybe that was all he needed.

But… he couldn't.

Like it was that easy. Like panic wasn't something he deserved.

He couldn't.

Jean sat by the fireplace, stirring a pot full of simmering vegetables with a wooden spoon she found in a random drawer. She skirted around Albedo's equipment scattered over almost every flat surface, firelight bouncing off the glass jars and cylinders, unbothered by the way they shined. Diluc took it upon himself to ignore it all.

In a dim cave cluttered with mess, the pristine bottles disturbed him.

He'd come to realise that the alchemist had all manner of things tucked away, though. Diluc wasn't particularly fond of rummaging through another's things, but Jean brushed aside wayward paintbrushes and propped up fallen objects with confidence. She, at least, was sure Albedo wouldn't mind.

She clearly knew him better than Diluc, considering how unsurprised she seemed when she retrieved a collection of wooden bowls tucked away in a drawer, next to a pack of crayons. Piled up next to her feet, she quietly watched the ingredients she'd thrown into the pot.

He wasn't looking in any which direction, really— his sight was blurred by exhaustion. He let his eyes wander aimlessly over the stone walls, damp but sturdy, and back down to the soil sunken under his weight.

Jean sent him reassuring smiles every few minutes from across the cave, the apples of her cheeks wet from the steam. He was too tired to react to her.

Kaeya was out there, somewhere, suffering. He knew he was suffering, after seeing the state of that abandoned carriage. There was no way he was okay.

Every night, as his eyes fluttered shut, his dreams played back the destruction he witnessed. His feet were sealed to the snowy path, as if one with the soil that soaked up Kaeya's blood. He watched two murderers wrangle Kaeya's limbs into his chest, balled up as if tied by a rubber band. They lugged him away from the wreckage as he screamed like a child, begging for help. Kaeya's nails dragged harshly across tree bark and snow and skin, nails chipped down to his wrists.

Then, Diluc saw his own blade grind across his brother's face, whistling in the rain, the lights from the winery windows a sickly yellow. His body lunged forward without his consent, hurling his sword down from the string of Kaeya's eyepatch to the heel of his boots, slicing his body in half. The blood splashed out in waves, his arms peeling to the ground in two different directions, as he fell into a heap.

A singular, blue eye would stare at him, glazed over by death. It bore into his soul, and he couldn't move.

Monster.

He couldn't sleep. Wouldn't dare to try.

Kaeya's vision was cupped in his hands, the light preserved and safe in the hollow of his palm. He held it to his sternum, freezing him through his shirt and to his core. It only made the shivering worse, but he refused to put it down. The second he did, something wild and angry would scream at him, demanding he pick it up before the worst came to pass. He listened out of fear.

Its glow was bold, as always. A brilliant, bold blue. In the snowstorm, he struggled to keep track of the pulsing energy flowing out of it, but the shadows of the cave kept it in his sight, sheltered by his body.

Jean placed a bowl in front of him, the broth inside rich and earthy with steam billowing up to his face. She sent him another one of her quiet, understanding smiles, as if he was made of glass. Razor hummed into his shoulder, eyes flickering at the quiet tink of the wooden bowl touching the stone.

"I have food," Jean whispered, holding the second bowl cupped in her hands and wafting it under his nose. His gaze was glaringly bright in the presence of the snow, like spotlights. He gently pulled the bowl out of her grip and tipped it up into his mouth, gobbling it down.

Jean sat opposite them, huffing with exasperation, her shoulders soft with the line of her body. He traced the expanse of them, and hoped with enough pressure from his stare, they'd look as wired as he felt.

They'd ventured outside several times already, digging through clouds of snow and trudging through paths, in case footprints were left in the dirt. It was difficult enough to find anything in the snowy terrain, but the storm stopped them in their tracks.

What would have happened if Diluc thought to worry earlier, before Jean felt the need to find him? If he worried sooner about Kaeya not turning up at the tavern for a drink, or the lack of sightings of him around the city. If he cared a little more, would they be in the situation they were in? Would Kaeya be safe, or was it inevitable no matter what?

He was such an idiot. His brother was suffering and he didn't even think to check on him, some brother he was.

The word didn't bother him anymore. At some point, his mind had allowed it to filter back into his mental vocabulary, as if nothing had changed. Kaeya and brother used to be two different concepts, two different people in his inner world. The panic had fused them into one; the idea of losing Kaeya begged the question of what would happen to the brother in his memories.

His brother was gone, and yet Kaeya remained, but if Kaeya was gone, his brother would never return.

It sent shivers up his spine. It was as if his body was physically rejecting it, or perhaps the leftover bitterness was manifesting as literal chills.

Razor slammed his bowl onto the floor between his legs, startling Diluc upright. His head was slowly slipping down the wall, neck straining as it pulled his body to the side. He blinked away the stars in his eyes.

Jean watched him, smile gone. She pointed at his bowl with her eyes and back up to his face, employing him to eat. He looked away.

He wasn't hungry. The cold had sapped his appetite from him.

Kaeya was out there, inches away, or on the other side of the mountain, rotting in the snow. Every second they spent sitting on their asses in the light of a fire was another second he spent suffering, possibly dying.

The paranoia was thick, suffocating, and sticky like glue. He struggled to stay human under its influence.

"I— I need to go back out there," he said, and once the words spilled from his mouth he jumped to his feet, fueled by panic. He dropped the bowl an inch off the floor, and the stew swirled around its inner edges, threatening to tip. Razor stopped it with his foot.

Jean stood up with him, sighing. She placed herself in front of him with patronising, placating hands, "There's no point when you're in such a state."

He gaped at her, throwing his hands up in disbelief, "A state? Would you rather I be calm about this? Unbothered?"

"Master Diluc," she said, and his eye twitched, "you won't find anything like this and you know it."

"So what?! You want us to sit and wait another day to find him?!"

He didn't know why he was shouting, it wasn't as if he was mad at Jean. All she was trying to do was help.

But he was mad. He was so painfully angry at her— at her and himself and everything about the damp stone walls that surrounded them. It bubbled and boiled in his chest, lit by the ache in his heart, rushing like a tidal wave. He made no move to stop the fire rising through his skin, because why should he?

"Calm down. I know you're frustrated—"

"I know you're in my way!" he growled, his teeth bared and sharp like a shark's bite. He hoped she cut her hands on them.

"Just sit down and eat, please. We'll try again when the storm's over."

"Don't you want to find him?!"

Her face flickered with hurt, and he spitefully relished in it, "You know I do. How could you say such a thing?"

He stalked towards the barrier of falling snow leading out of the cave, the solid stone pulsing through his calves. Jean ambled backwards to keep in front of him, heels imitating the slow tick of a clock, and her hands still up in surrender. For half a second, he saw his brother as he stumbled back on mud and traced the length of his weapon with wide eyes, waiting for him to charge through the rain and kill him.

"Get out of my way, Jean!" he screamed, ploughing forward. His voice echoed through the cave like a choir, and Razor's boots scurried against the rocks, blocking him in on both sides.

Jean's eyes widened, "I can't do that. You need to calm down—"

"You think I can't take a fucking snowstorm?!"

Razor's breath hitched.

"You're not going out there while you're panicking," she replied softly, "I won't let you."

"Oh, and you're suddenly the voice of reason, are you?!"

Razor's hand landed delicately on his coat sleeve. He flinched at the burn of his grip and violently pulled away with a growl.

Jean faltered, her hands dropping. She mouthed around the edge of a word, staring silently, and he took the chance to push past her uneven stance and run into the wall of snow.

"Fire Master!"

Their presence lingered at his back like a dying candle, and disappeared in a matter of seconds. The sky exploded, dissolving into a void of white ice and harsh wind that bit into his face, gnawing at his nose and eyes. He fought against the force of the storm, stomping through the snow that had built up to his ankles, spitting on his clothes.

How dare she. How dare she keep him from looking for his brother, for trying to save him from the pain he must be suffering through—

Kaeya's vision was still in his grasp, the golden casing warm compared to his frozen fingers. He glared at it sightlessly.

What did she know, anyway?! Why did she get to control him, he was perfectly capable of continuing on his own. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't broken. He refused to be pushed aside because, what? Because she knew Kaeya better than him? It wasn't as if she cared more than he did!

She… did, though. A couple of days prior he didn't care at all.

He slowed to a stop, his feet catching. He traced his eyes over the mountains of snow built up from the last few hours, towering in chaotic heaps, and realised he was trapped. A labyrinth had formed around him, made from the elements and woven into the landscape as if nothing at all was there, invisible.

His own vision, bright as the sun, burned into his leg and smattered red sparkles across the snow at his feet. He ignored it, in favour of gripping Kaeya's vision tight as if it were a compass.

A few days ago, he wouldn't have bothered to look for Kaeya. The lingering thought that Kaeya was suspiciously absent in the Angel's Share was not enough for him to investigate on his own. Without Jean's intervention, he likely would never have known his little brother was kidnapped.

He would be the same as any other citizen, the ones who saw Kaeya for what he weaved with his lies, and not for the childhood they shared.

He would have never known, until Sir Kaeya of the Knight of Favonius was pronounced dead.

He shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest and squeezing. Fuck, he did it again. Why was anger the emotion that ruled him lately?

Pathetic. Monster.

He needed to apologise.

He took a step back, and swayed, his knees nearly giving out on him. The fog of exhaustion crept across his eyes, blurring his vision and sucking the energy out of his limbs. He felt the world tilt on an axis, the ground tipping up into the sky.

Shit. He couldn't afford to pass out in the middle of a snowstorm. Not when Kaeya was still missing.

What if he never found him? What if he was doomed to fail from the start?

The minute Kaeya was taken, it was all over. They left the blood as a warning, his cryo vision as an evil ploy to make them hope, only to kill him the first chance they got.

The light of his vision was the last connection he had to his brother. The pulsing blue flickering in the snow.

Flickering…

He froze, body stiff and boots sinking deeper into the ground. He pulled Kaeya's vision up to his face and studied it intently.

It was flickering. Dimmer— the cryo energy weak and wilting. It was slowly dying out.

He shuddered as if his body was tearing itself apart, the last frayed strands of his being snapping away, and tried to breathe.

It was fine.

Oh God.

It was fine. He— he was just seeing things.

The light rippled over his fingers. They went from bright blue to a malnourished looking grey, the gem silenced for a heartbeat, then back again into a full beam. It tried twice more, losing power.

He was dying. His brother was dying. Dying. Dying.

Kaeya was dying.

He couldn't breathe, each inhale burst out of him as if ripped from his lungs and slipping from his grip. He clung to the vision like a lifeline, creating crevices made of bruises with the tips of the golden wings, slick with snow.

It was all his fault. If only he wasn't so pathetic, holding onto a grudge that scarcely existed in the first place. If only he wasn't so fueled by emotions, too blinded by his own wants and desires to see the suffering he caused.

Kaeya was cold-hearted and cruel. He enjoyed forcing himself into Diluc's life; he relished rubbing all his mistakes in his face.

Except he didn't, did he? Who was Diluc to assume Kaeya knew how he felt? How his presence seized Diluc's heart and squeezed until it ached for days. How every minute he spent in the other man's space was another wound he'd have to face come evening, locked in his office with only his paperwork for company. How he spent his days forcing himself to forget about his brother; if he was safe, if he was happy, if Lisa had treated him to tea, or if he stole half of Jean's paperwork.

He locked a part of himself away in hopes the solitude would destroy it, force it to die. He shunned Kaeya and everything he represented, convinced they'd be happier. Convinced Diluc needed it.

Convinced Diluc deserved it.

His knees were wet, deep in the snow. He sat Kaeya's vision on top of them and looked down in horror as the ground unwound beneath him. An expanding pit of glistening white, the size of a nation, with a tiny blue light at its centre. Below was limbo, an all-encompassing void, miles yet millimetres away from swallowing him whole.

His hands were monstrous, spindly like an insect's and as large as mountains. His body stretched and thinned, growing egregiously tall and unfit for the size of his brain, oh so small inside him. He held the tiny light as if lying in wait, seconds away from smothering it.

He choked, and began to sob.

There was rain, heavy and powerful, flooding the ground. He disappeared into it, finding comfort in the way the edges of his body evaporated, raindrops bouncing off his coat. The grief was still raw, his father's blood fresh on his hands and the ends of his hair. If he tried hard enough, he'd lose sight of it in the downpour. Eventually, he wouldn't have to try at all, his body foreign to him.

Kaeya stood ahead, his back unnaturally straight, his fists clenched at his sides. He stared at him with an eerily dull look in his eyes, one Diluc couldn't place while his head was so full.

He wanted to sleep. He wanted to move. He wanted to scream like a rabies-infected animal, dribbling and crawling manically on all fours with dirt staining his skin. He felt as if he was standing on a thin wire, exhausted down to his bones, but he knew that if he didn't tense he'd tip over into a void. He could feel himself shaking from the strain.

"Kaeya," He muttered, lost in his ears to the roar of the rain. He remembered voicing it as something of a question, but Kaeya, several metres in front of him, flinched as if he screamed.

"I need to tell you something," he said. Diluc closed his eyes at the sudden rush of weight on his body, the wave of ache, and was half a second from passing out.

"It can wait," he decided. Whatever was so important to call him out into the rain could wait until he collapsed into his bed, and hopefully died in his sleep.

Kaeya bit his lip, "It can't."

Then get on with it.

Kaeya was grieving too. Kaeya processed things differently from him. Kaeya was grieving too.

"I know… I know you don't really want to talk right now, Luc, but I have to tell you this, okay? I— don't think I can keep it from you anymore. It's not fair."

His voice sounded like an untieable knot.

He felt his breathing pick up, chest full of emotion so thick it took up the space around his lungs. Why couldn't it wait? Why couldn't Kaeya fix his own problems? That's what wasn't fair.

He sighed breathlessly, "Just tell me."

Kaeya opened and closed his mouth like a fish, as if willing the words to form in the space between his lips. His stare held anticipation in it, trying to find something in Diluc's face. He had no idea what.

"If you're not going to say anything—"

"I was placed here by Khaenri'ah."

He stared, not comprehending. What did Khaenri'ah have to do with anything?

An ancient nation. A godless land; lost to time and punished for its peoples' sins. It's where monsters were born.

"Huh?"

Kaeya heaved a long, exhausted breath, "My father; he left me here on purpose to get close to the Ragnvindr clan. To… infiltrate."

Close, as in, observe? As in, uncover their secrets?

"So you're a spy."

His face twisted in anguish, but he said nothing to deny the claim.

What the fuck did that mean.

His brother was fake? His brother saw him as a tool? His brother saw the whole nation as a tool?

Was everything they went through a lie? Did none of it exist?

"You're a spy."

He said nothing.

Did he care that Father died?

"And you intend to, what, sell us out to the abyss? Use us as a means to win some war your people have fabricated?"

He said nothing. Diluc wanted to reach over and rip his throat out.

"You've been lying to me?"

You feel nothing for me? For us?

Am I just a chess piece in your scheme?

Kaeya stared at him, disgusting resolve in his eyes. He opened his mouth in slow motion, the creases of his mouth cracking as it stretched. His words hit like a gunshot.

"You and I both know that I've always been a liar."

There was acid on his tongue, coating his throat; there was blood sliding down the back of his ears. His jaw fell slack as those grains of feeling disappeared in an instant. He lost something, then. The human ability to connect life to living; the sense of time and direction that came instinctively, and without it, he fell numb down to his bones.

He couldn't explain the rush of anger that flooded him, nor the exhaustion evaporating off his shoulders and the power that swept through his blood. He clenched the air until his sword sank into his grip, and as if pulled by a puppet string, crept forward on stiff legs.

Kaeya froze, his eyes snapping back and forth between the blade and however the pain had taken form on Diluc's face. He shivered like a dying bird.

Diluc didn't believe it.

"Did you kill Father?" he growled, "is that what you're telling me? Did you send the monster that attacked us?"

He thought for a moment that he saw the man shake his head, in disbelief or horrified denial. He didn't know if it was Kaeya or his own mind that played it off as caused by the rain. He prowled forward, lifting his sword away from the mud and parallel to the floor. The veins in his arms popped like fireworks.

"You disgust me."

Kaeya took a short breath, and pulled his sword from the rain. He held it in line with his chest and stood poised, his feet shoulder wide. A steely, unrecognisable glare fell onto his face and overshadowed the mistiness in his eye. It only angered him further.

He ran, his blade parallel with Kaeya's chest as he swung the sharp edge in a wide arch, aiming to split him in half. It fell short by millimetres. He spun around, sweeping his sword upwards, where Kaeya slipped out of its range on quick toes.

Disgusting. Running like a coward.

He watched the eyepatch, the way the dark fabric dampened at the edges from excess sweat and rain beading past Kaeya's nose. Its sleek design was a fallacy in itself. He knew what hid beneath it. He knew it shined like amber in the moonlight.

He flicked his sword up, blade to the sky, high above their heads. Fire swirled from the hilt, licking the sharpened rim of his weapon and tattooing angry burns into his palm, engulfing his fingers. Imbued with power, he caught the falter in Kaeya's steps as he stared, the resulting heat drying the water from his lashes. Diluc tipped his weight, and swiftly brought his wrist down on Kaeya's head.

He flinched backwards, scuttering away like a mouse, and dodged the guillotine swipe of steel. The fire latched onto the nearest source of heat and surged across his skin, stalking up his arms and striking him in the chest. He screamed.

Diluc sliced up at his eye, the eyepatch split down its centre. Blood welled and streamed from Kaeya's eye in seconds, drenching his cheek and chin, his golden eye— no, abyssal eye, slashed. For that, he wasn't treated to a scream, and instead a sudden intake of breath that boarded on a hiccup. He watched the man collapse to the floor, holding himself like Father would for them on evil nights. Like Father never would again.

"Was everything a lie?!" He screamed, and swiped down on his head. Kaeya caught his sword with his own, thin blade, grunting in agony. Diluc nearly reached out to rip his head off with his bare hands.

"How could you?!"

He bit his lip, watching the grass, as if time was kind and sympathetic. Diluc wanted him dead.

He wanted him dead.

He tightened his grip, his broadsword soaring into the air a final time. The light of the fire caught the edges of his brother's jaw, flyaway strands of his hair curling as the ends died, his body framed by decay. His blood looked to be glowing.

"You're not my brother, traitor," he sneered. Kaeya raised his sword, and Diluc outpaced the falling raindrops in the race to his neck.

He attacked, bearing down on Kaeya's weapon, when the air solidified under his strike. Light pooled together into the space of a singular molecule, compact and fused by the sudden rush of frozen rain. At the touch of his flames, it crested into a fierce explosion, launching him back where he slammed into the trunk of a tree. Frost flew out in every direction, racing out as far as to reach the toe of his boots. His eyes shot up, and watched as the winery cracked like a shattering mosaic, blinded by light.

A cryo vision, gifted from the gods. Its surging power settled in the confines of a small, ethereal gem, and dropped into Kaeya's open hands.

They locked eyes. His unwounded pupil was blown up in abject terror.

Impossible. A mistake made by the gods, an error, something.

Why did he get a vision? What great wisdom had the gods seen in his actions, what meaning did they grasp from the apathy in his gaze?!

Unfair.

He stumbled upright, his hair littered with shards of icicles that slipped down his neckline as he stood. It was only through Kaeya's lingering eye he noticed his chest was heaving in outrage, shivering as rain soaked him down to the bone.

He needed him gone. He needed something to leave, to break in a thunderous roar like an ice cap shuddering as it split from the force of crashing waves and the heat of his breath. He needed something to die, and to watch it die, as punishment for the fracture he hacked into the earth through the body of his father. As a consequence, for a sinner's only chance at sanity was to succumb to the monster they nurtured.

It wasn't fair. Why was Kaeya forgiven? Why was Diluc still locked up in chains while that monster roamed free?

You need to hate Kaeya.

He didn't want to do it anymore. He didn't want to be a monster.

You want to hate Kaeya.

He didn't want to be alone.

You hate Kaeya. He's a monster.

Adelinde, young and with a smile like newborn dandelions, once settled him down with a bedtime story that his mother used to recite. The baby bird missed their mother, it went; the baby bird lost its home. He asked her one night, when the candles burned low, why the baby bird cared so much about a home he willingly flew away from, and why he still held onto the ones he left behind. Her voice sung like a siren's call in his mind.

You couldn't rid yourself of love, she whispered, because you didn't want to, no matter what you told yourself.

"It's your fault!" he said, falling through his own feet, "It's all your fault! What were you doing while we were here?! Spilling family secrets to an abyss mage?! If you got here faster he would still be here! He wouldn't have suffered because his so-called son didn't care! I wouldn't have had to— to—"

He could feel the blood on his skin. He could feel it seeping into his pores.

He wanted to rip his hands off.

Kaeya sat silently, bowing over his new vision, the glow of energy bouncing off the rain and obscuring his face. Diluc only saw the wideness of his eyes, and the life falling away from them the longer he stared into the gem's lustre.

"I never want to see you again, you hear me?! I hate you! I hate you!"

Blood pooled down the length of Kaeya's hair, spilling down his neck and painting him red. His hands shook as if they were holding a dying star.

Diluc ran away.

He rushed to the winery porch and slammed the door shut, the hinges singing in pain. The maids took turns gasping in horror as he stormed past them, their teeth gnashing and hands stretching grotesquely towards him. The blood was slick as it spread to his chest and arms hidden under layers of clothing. It mingled with the cuts and scrapes patterned across his body. It became a part of him.

He came back to himself in the hallway, faced with the closed door of his bedroom, hands shaking, and realised for the rest of his life there would be no one to whisper goodnight to. There'd be no playful fights, no stories to share or shoulders to rest upon in tired hours. There'd be no life in the winery, or in the mansion, except the meagre amount he could claim to be his own.

Father's delusion was in his hand. It pulsed red. It dripped with blood.

Kaeya's vision was in his hand. It was a stagnant, immutable grey.

Kaeya was dead.

He was dead. Everyone was dead. He was alone and he would always be alone, because he was Diluc Ragnvindr and aside from not needing others to soothe his loneliness, he didn't deserve them either. He was broken and ugly, and the life people shared with him was sucked out of them as if he were vampiric and biologically designed to kill the people who he cared for.

It was his fault. It was always his fault and he didn't know how to change it, because how do you change the parts of you that define how the world perceives you? How do you become someone you're not, if not to simply die, and become nothing at all?

"—iluc,"

God he hated himself. He hated himself so much. He didn't deserve the understanding on Adelinde's face when he returned, the kindness in her hands. He didn't deserve to hope one day Kaeya wouldn't flinch when he yelled. He deserved hate, he deserved guilt.

He deserved—

"Master Diluc!"

He gasped, choking on snow. The storm bellowed in his ears, flocks of snowflakes ploughing down on his head and piercing his eyes. His breaths came sporadically, punctuated by wheezes and heaves.

Jean sat on her heels, palms open and relaxed. Her hair whipped around her face and carried the bitter scent of dandelions to his tongue, her perfume like lavender and thistle.

"You need to breathe," she said, her voice shaking in the wind. He took the time to inhale once, and let the exhale explode out of him as per its want.

Kaeya's vision was alight, shining a merry blue. The cryo symbol imprinted on the gem glistened as a stark reminder of the power lingering under his fingertips, and on his next hitching breath, it flooded out. Frost travelled up to his wrists, burning a trail of meandering patterns on his skin. The cryo energy pulsed in his hands like a storm of its own, and he watched a wave of ice boom out of him on all sides and fuse with the snowfall, driving snow away from him.

Jean flinched, frost coating her skin. She eyed his hands with unease on her face, and he bowed under her gaze with his eyes squeezed shut, overcome with dizziness.

He couldn't bear to scare her— not Jean. It was bad enough that Kaeya struggled with his presence, he couldn't handle another friend tiptoeing across a pit of needles, as if that made him feel any better.

If she despised him she needed to leave. He needed to leave, lest he haunt his loved ones any longer.

Archons, he was so cold.

Jean shuffled closer. She settled herself on the ground and brought her open hands to her lap where her palms faced his bowed head. He could feel her gaze burning into the lengths of hair whipping his cheekbones.

"Master Diluc—"

He sucked back a sob, "please don't call me that."

She paused, "Sir."

He shook his head violently. That was so much worse.

He— he knew they weren't close anymore, but he hoped in her memories he was more than a noble figure, or her superior.

What if you don't have a name?

What?

Master Ragnvindr. Head of Dawn Winery.

No. That's not…

Monster. Murderer.

No.

You don't deserve a name.

"Diluc."

He gasped, his neck shooting up and cracking from whiplash. Jean gazed at him with grief wrought in her eyes.

"Oh, Diluc," she sighed, breathless, and placed her gloved hand on his arm. She gently pulled him forward until he tipped into her space, the healing smell of mint relaxing the muscles in his face as she pressed his forehead to her shoulder.

"What are you fighting?" She said, warm with age and feeling, as if the words were trapped in her throat for years. He watched them shatter his world on impact.

He never considered it properly, but she was right. Every moment was a struggle, every day he climbed out of an expanding chasm, sinking his teeth into dirt and blood, desperate to escape what he'd done. He spent four long years breaking fingernails and slicing his hand on jagged rocks, and finally made it to a place of rest, in sight of freedom. He finally found his exit, and Kaeya pushed him back over the fall.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn't they just talk? Why, after everything he tried so hard to come to terms with, after the years he spent finding himself again, did Kaeya make him feel as if nothing had been accomplished at all? Why couldn't they both be happy? He wanted his brother back. He wanted him loved, and well-rested, and safe. He wanted to make him happy, and well, if running away only made it worse, then why was he still running? Why was he still fighting it?

He was a liar. He was a coward.

"I miss him."

She inhaled sharply, her hand steady at the back of his head, interlocked with his hairband, "I know."

She didn't.

"I— I'm not supposed to miss him."

"Why not?"

And that's it, isn't it? Why wasn't he allowed to miss a loved one; why wasn't Kaeya allowed to be a loved one?

He exhaled a wobbly breath, grief rushing to escape his mouth, "Because it's my fault he's gone."

Jean gathered him in her arms, held tight in her grasp, the right kind of painful. She breathed softly into his hair, deep from her chest up to the gentle rise of her shoulders. He copied her, and between one breath and the next, tears gathered once again in his eyes and soaked into her clothes.

"I said it was his fault," he said, larger and bolder than he thought capable, "I told him Father wouldn't have died if he arrived sooner. I blamed it all on him and told him I never wanted to see him again. Who the hell does that, Jean?"

You're a monster, Diluc.

A monster.

Jean sighed, "You were grieving. You still are, I think."

He closed his eyes, "I wasn't the only one, is the thing."

Saying it out loud made it more real. He wrapped his arms around Jean's back and locked her body with his own, fingers clawed into her shoulder blades and the bridge of his nose buried in the nape of her neck. She moulded around him like candle wax.

"I was so lost," he whispered, "I didn't know what I was doing. I don't think I was really there at all, but I broke something, Jean, and I don't think I can get it back."

"You made a mistake," she said back, temple pressed to his ear, "and maybe for a lesser man, I'd condemn you for it, but you're not a bad person, Diluc. I know you're not. Your mistakes may shape you, but they don't define you."

He scoffed bitterly, "Kaeya would not agree with you."

"Kaeya is arguably more emotionally constipated than you are. Definitely, even. It'd be a Celestia-sent miracle if I ever have a conversation like this with him."

That was new. He huffed a laugh out of his control, Jean's smile bright and warm in his hair.

"There's mistakes that can't be fixed, but I promise you this is not one of them. I can't truly speak for Kaeya, but I've seen how much you miss each other. You're both just… too hurt to see it,"

She reached up and wiped the tears out of her eyes, "Call me naïve, but I want you both to be happy. If just one of you reaches out, I have faith you'll meet each other halfway."

He hummed wordlessly. He wasn't going to force Kaeya to reach out to him in any capacity. That truly wouldn't be fair.

"I found him about a week after Master Crepus passed, you know?" She murmured, "He was tucked into a random alleyway in tears; told me the burns were from a Mitachurl."

There was no anger in her voice, he found. No disappointment. If she knew the truth of that night, nothing in her tone gave her away. He was selfishly grateful for it.

"How bad was it?" He asked.

"Diluc, I'm not sure…."

"Please."

She sighed, and gently pulled away from him. She held his arms and faced him with sad, sunken eyes.

"His hands were burnt up to his forearms, and he had a concussion he clearly wasn't treating. He wouldn't let me see his eye."

"You didn't treat his eye?"

She shook her head, "He insisted he could handle it himself. I had no choice but to believe him."

Oh yes, because a man who'd resolve to collapse in an alley instead of getting help would treat his own injuries.

He breathed through his mouth as if sucking on a straw. It was a long time ago. Kaeya was fine, "You're sure that was all?"

She gave him a weak smile, "That was all."

Was he asking too much? Being too forward? God, he was sick of questioning everything that left his mouth like a bad ventriloquist.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, "I'm not trying to insinuate you neglected him somehow."

She squeezed the muscles in his forearms, her gloved hands smoothing out the wrinkles in his coat, "You know how he is; even if I pushed, the wall would only grow thicker. Did I mention how uncannily similar you two are?"

Those walls were nonissues to Diluc, or they used to be. He walked around them just fine, or better yet, lowered them far enough to the ground that they became a simple fence he could step over. He took pride in being able to breach those walls— eventually, he became one of the reasons they existed in the first place.

"I should have been there," He said, staring at the blue cryo light bouncing off Jean's gloves. He was glad he left, for the most part, but he knew what message it sent to leave without a proper goodbye.

"If those four years brought you any sort of peace," Jean said, "then I'm glad you went. I want you to be happy, Diluc. More people than you know want you to be happy."

Not Kaeya, though. Never Kaeya.

Kaeya hated him, despised him, and frankly he had every right to. Diluc was so convinced that hating him was the right thing to do, to the point of gaslighting himself. He snapped, and snarled, and glared, and fought, all because of ideals he'd placed in his own head and taken as gospel. What sane person would suffer through that and accept self-sabotage as the motive?

He never hated Kaeya, did he? Was it really hate if it only lasted for an instant, fueled by anger and the emptiness it rattled around in like a muzzled dog? No, if his motivation was skewed, it was right to say the emotion itself was as well. He was to blame for the destruction of their bond, and he was to blame for giving time a chance to devour its remains.

How is that forgivable? He… couldn't see how it would be. He broke them, and he deserved every ounce of loneliness that laid waste on his soul, if not the suffering Kaeya endured tenfold.

"He could have died."

"He's alive."

"You don't—!"

You don't know that.

He couldn't bring himself to say it. He couldn't bear to think.

Jean hummed in understanding, "Let's find him first."

Find him and bring him home. Bandage his wounds, and have Adelinde make her herbal tea that Kaeya would squint at. Shove his vision into his awaiting hands and watch it light up like a child, cradled in its master's palms.

He smiled a little. He could worry about how Kaeya fit into his life after he was safe. He could work on being the brother Kaeya deserved; the brother Diluc desperately missed being.

He felt a shift in the frozen wind on his fingertips, and looked down.

Kaeya's vision pulsed proudly as beautiful frost crawled up to Diluc's elbows, swirling merrily into branches. It slipped into the lining of his sleeves and across the hair on his forearms, freezing them into goosebumps.

Visions weren't supposed to activate without their user. They weren't supposed to overflow.

It was almost as if it was yearning for its master, desperately reaching out with hungry paws. He had the distant thought that he should be scared, the ice fighting to take hold of his body and trap him, the gods punishing him for protecting a broken vision of his own creation. Instead, he twirled his arms around to capture the fractals forming on his elbows, and gaped in wonder.

There was so much power in a singular tiny gem, so much it couldn't contain it all.

Despite himself, his chest swelled with pride. Kaeya was amazing.

He moved his arm in circles, watching the frost crawl towards the blizzards ahead of them, warping around his fingertips and pointing ahead like a compass. The vision burned brighter to the left, reaching for the snow with growing limbs of ice.

He grunted at the feeling. If it was reacting to Kaeya, maybe he could follow it.

Jean trailed her hands down to his outstretched hand, her thumb at his pulse point and her palm cupped under the weight of Kaeya's vision. "Come on, we need to get out of this storm."

"Wait."

She stopped, brow furrowed. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, dizzy with residue panic, and she quickly followed.

He gestured to his arm, "I think… I think it might be reacting to Kaeya. If I could follow it—"

"Master— I— Diluc," Jean fumbled, "it's too dangerous. The storm's too strong, I can barely see a foot ahead of me."

He shook her hand off his with zero effort, and took a large step forward. The frost at his fingertips began to solidify, forcing his hand to still and binding his palm to the pulsing gem in his grip. He grinned as the wings bore into the side of his thumb, locked in place.

"This'll guide me," he hummed, and took another step just to feel the vision's golden casing shift against his hand like a key to a lock.

Jean rushed to match his pace, "Diluc, it could be reacting to anything. We'll look together when the storm's over."

He took another few steps, "It'll be too late by then."

"We can't just leave Razor."

"Then go back. I'll find him on my own."

Her white hands appeared at his side, reaching towards him. She yanked on his arm and twisted until the clouds of her breath fluttered across his nose, startling the smile off his face. Her face shone like a crystallised shard of ice, lit by the glow of Kaeya's vision, and he wondered, on his pale skin, if he appeared transparent in the snowstorm.

Jean brought both their hands together between them and held him as if he'd bolt, chest to chest. Her frown was stark in the gem's light, her touch melting the frost on his fingers. He desperately ignored the urge to shuffle away and cross his arms.

"Be serious," she pleaded, and squeezed his hands as if she knew how uncomfortably close she was, holding his gaze, "You know how dangerous this is."

The danger was inevitable the moment he agreed to investigate a murder. He said as much to Jean, and she shook her head, "This is different and you know it. I asked you to help me find Kaeya, not to run blindly into danger without any backup."

"What difference does it make?" He replied, "they're likely armed; we'd need to ambush them at some point regardless."

He knew it was dangerous, obviously, he knew. Who cared about a little danger when your little brother was being tortured?

He'd take them all out in one sweep. Then no one would be hurt.

"You're not thinking clearly!" Jean cried, "I'm just as worried as you are, but if you'd let go of that gem for one second and listen to me you'd realise how stupid of an idea this is!"

He growled, "I have to find him, Jean. He's out there being subjected to who knows what right now—"

"And what if they find you first? What if they take you and Kaeya's vision both and leave you in the middle of a snowstorm, Diluc?! We have no idea what they're capable of, they could take you out in the cover of the snow and you'll be no use to anyone if you're horrifically injured before you get to him."

"We're already far too late. Waiting for the storm to end could kill him for all we know!"

"We'll all go."

They whirled around in a flash, greeted by purposeful footsteps crunching through the wind, and a distant purple light yawning wide in the stretch of white landscape.

"The storm is strong," Razor said, and it took his sodden boots disturbing the snow around Diluc's heel for the boy's hardened gaze to become visible. He held tight to his broadsword that drew a deep line in the snow, his hair flying unkempt around his face.

"But it's not strong enough to stop us. We'll find lost grown up without hurt."

He looked at Jean. Her hair was bright and glistening in front of her narrowed eyes, her nose scrunched at the wind.

She sighed, "Razor, it's not really safe—"

"I am not a child," he said, and caught Diluc's eye with a powerful courage swimming in the depths of his gaze. He stood with a straight spine and faced him straight on, the weight in his words steady on Diluc's shoulders.

"I can protect you, and me, at the same time. I'm not a knight, but I am strong."

He smiled fleetingly at the boy, trying to appear reassuring. He recognised the fiery resolve from his own youth, ready and willing to prove his worth. He may still be a child, but Diluc never once denied the strength he held at his core, and the passion in his hands.

They didn't have time for this discussion. Not with Kaeya's ice creeping up his arm.

"It's not your strength we're particularly worried about Razor," he said, "I trust you're strong. I just can't, on good conscience, let you get hurt while we're still perfectly able."

"Consc–ience? I… don't know what that means, but I won't be hurt. I will be useful."

Jean stepped towards him, "You're plenty useful already, Razor—"

"Fire Master wants to go on his own."

Diluc winced. He could already tell his own words were about to be thrown in his face, and wasn't much in the mood for it. Jean gave him a cautious look, as if he'd run off if she wasn't looking.

"He does."

"If he goes, he will be hurt. That's what you said, right? He won't be hurt if we all go."

If it got them moving, so be it. He nodded, accepting the compromise, and watched Razor's shoulders drop in relief. Jean moved her head back and forth between them, her brow furrowed, and Razor turned to her with a similarly intense stare, "I won't be hurt. I'll listen to what you say, and stay away from danger. Just let me fight."

She huffed out what Diluc thought to be a restrained laugh. She latched onto Razor's wrist, and then Diluc's, placing herself between them like a link in a chain.

"Alright," she hummed, "We'll go together."

Diluc began to walk, their bodies secured to his right hand, and Kaeya's vision similarly stuck to his left. The storm showed no sign of letting up, pelting him on all sides like a harsh whip. He used the cryo vision as a guide and recentered the three of them with each surge of energy.

For days, he'd considered the vision a lifeline to his brother, proof he was holding on. Suddenly, it seemed as if it was his own lifeline instead, paving a way through the storm with its glow. They walked for an age, pushing through the storm's cries. He focused on the disconnect between temperatures, how Kaeya's ice settled kinder on his skin, and shone brighter like frostbitten hands holding him steady.

In time, the weight in his bones doubled under the pressure of snow, the dizziness bringing his feet closer to his head. Jean seemed to enjoy squeezing his wrist whenever time went from void to cumbersome, her grip grounding him.

There was an opening, hidden in the corner of his eye, the ground sunken in between heaped snow and a cluster of trees. He dug the toe of his boot down on his next step and jolted to a stop, grunting as Jean and Razor's combined weight flew into his back.

"What?" Jean called, muffled by the wind, "What is it?"

He stalked forward, the snow crunching. Frost thickened on his skin with each step, reaching up his arm and strengthening around the bend of his elbow. He winced at the burn and flexed his arm, cracking the coating and winding his arm around to keep his circulation going. It glazed over with more of Kaeya's ice two steps later.

Rocks formed an arch, buried in the ground, swept undercover. They shaped inwards, and the area beneath was damp with melted snow.

A cave entrance. It was a cave entrance.

He summoned his sword, shaking Jean's hand out of his own and readying the weapon in front of him. He wasn't much of a threat with his dominant hand encased in ice, but he'd swing with all his might, and hope that was enough to break a bone.

Razor hurried to his side, the tip of his broadsword leaving a trail in the snow beside his footsteps. Jean's breath brushing his ears, warm and mingling with the minty wind.

The storm growled, echoing into the cave entrance. A faint, breathing grunt flew out the opening, shallow breaths surrounding it and growing louder at every gust of wind. He steeled himself, shoulders tense as if moulded from wire, and planted his feet more firmly into the ground.

Two unsteady shadows emerged, collapsing into each other, and burned into the shape of figures in the sunlight. Their gaits were clumsy and broken, their bodies weeping blood from a frightening amount of injuries, fabric hanging off their bodies and drenched in it.

The taller of the two stumbled towards them, dragging his companion along and sheltering them from the storm with his bowing chest. His face was drowning by blood, cascading down his mottled neck and past the inner lining of his tunic, torn beyond recognition. He snapped his head up at the sound of their footsteps, a blue eye Diluc could recognise a mile away wide in disbelief.

The sword in Diluc's hand went slack, the deadly point grazing the snow.

Kaeya.

Notes:

1. A wild Kaeya appears! Quick, get your pokeballs out before he escapes.

2. Very random but thought I'd mention that when I first joined this fandom I immediately fell in love with Diluc, but the people around me convinced me no one liked him, and it was somehow a very niche group of us who saw how sweet and handsome and passionate and not a dick he is. I'd like to apologise, I now understand I am not alone.

3. My point is I would marry this man on the fucking spot, and I'm so glad ya'll get me.

4. Yes, in this fic Kaeya's vision malfunctions under stress. By which I mean it spills out power even when he's not using it. I won't say much more in case I spoil future chapters, but I'm curious about y'all's thoughts on that.

5. Whether Jean knows why Diluc and Kaeya fought is up to you btw. She's definitely smart enough to figure it out, but then again I'd believe it if she had no idea, insofar as to convince herself not to think about it hard enough to connect the dots. Either works I think.

6. If any of you were wondering, Diluc is left-handed in the manga. In the game he's right-handed, so he's most likely ambidextrous, but as a left-handed person myself I like to imagine his dominant hand is still his left.

7. This sounds silly because I'm the one writing the damn thing, but I'm so glad we've reached the point in the story where Diluc isn't in denial anymore. He'll be so much easier to write now, his thoughts were so confusing.

Chapter 9

Notes:

Thank you sm for over 500 kudos! As well as for all the bookmarks and lovely, lovely comments. I'm so happy this fic is well received, it's literally taken me forever. I was gonna wait a bit to post this so as not to get all ya'lls hopes up that updates are gonna be this quick, but fuck it, you deserve a treat for all your patience 3

Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter than usual btw! It seemed fine in my plan, but I didn't realise how short this chapter would be until I wrote it out. Look forward to longer ones in the future :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It had been at least a week since Kaeya was taken.

He had no real way to be sure, of course, but he knew. The concept of days had a specific feeling to it, this sense of drifting time that tasted of laziness and sand on the roof of his mouth. Days were structured, a reminder of the mundane. They were listless.

Weeks, however, had a different feeling, one on the border between routine and disturbing. The jump from weeks to days was highlighted by a sudden sense of stretching obscurity, life flashing past. If days tasted like sand, weeks were a desert with no conceivable end in sight.

From then, he would have no idea how much time had passed, but he knew minutes earlier when he unglued his eyelashes from his cheeks, and took in a large gulp of darkness, that days had become weeks.

Bennett was asleep, his exposed skin riddled with blotches and cuts. Kaeya traced his eyes over the broken arm, hung high above his head by the ropes around his wrists, and the way he grimaced even in sleep. Neither of them were breathing properly. His own lungs were full and sticky, struggling to push air out of his body. He watched the darkness warp in a way it hadn't previously, lapping at the edges of his mind, and sending the cell bars in front of him adrift like moving clogs.

His injuries burned with a new vigour, as if eating him slowly from the inside.

He was sick of it, truly. To say nothing of how he felt before, a week of constant pain and shared misery was beginning to break his hold on his sanity. His mind was a sanctuary from the torment, an open field for his thoughts to wander through. He was reminded, however, of how fickle the brain was. How illusions were little comfort when his body ached the way it did, and he quickly grew tired of the green grass and eerily blue sky. (maybe explain)

There was something terrifying about being bored of your own mind— like destitution, or a sick form of ventriloquism. It was too much, even for him.

There was life screaming from outside their cell. He could hear voices of young women and withered elders keening in anguish and desperation. It was his job to protect those people, and he couldn't get to them.

Dmitry's dark shoes appeared in his sights. He looked up to find his impassive stare follow him around the room, still and unmoving like the bob of a pendulum as the cell swayed around him.

"We're leaving," he said, "Compose yourself."

"What are you doing to those people?" Bennett rasped. His gaze flickered to the cell door behind Dmitry, and Kaeya realised Ignat was conspicuously missing. Busy with other cells, he was sure.

"You'll see soon enough."

Kaeya looked at Bennett. The boy's bleary eyes locked onto his own like a positive magnet, searching. He read the prickles of goosebumps and tension on his skin, and nodded silently. Whatever was to happen, he was ready for it.

Kaeya had already hacked away at his binds. He kept them intact just enough to stay secure around his wrists, and with a tug, they'd snap.

The cell door was open, a thin coat of torch light dressing the bars. Dmitry assumed, with their weakened states, that it'd be of no consequence. He was right, in most ways, but if Kaeya was to convince himself that tenacity and optimism counted for anything, it would be to spite the man.

Their kidnapper turned away, his cloak whipping around and skimming over Kaeya's face. He advanced towards Bennett with a foul stench under his nose, his fingers replaced with needles. When they fell onto the boy's skin, he flinched violently at the sting. Kaeya used it as his signal.

He reached back and pulled the knife out from his neckline in a flourish, swiftly slicing through the weakened rope. He lunged across the room before Dmitry breathed, pushing himself to his feet with pure adrenaline and stabbing his exposed neck. He dodged, but not before the blade scraped across his collar bone and deep into his chest. He reached for Kaeya's head and squeezed it in his grip like wringing a sponge.

Taking a chance, he dropped the knife and kicked it into the space between Bennett's shoes. The kid didn't even look at him, snatching it between his ankles and clenching the hilt between his teeth. He heard the snag of tearing rope as Bennett flung himself across the room, and the boy flew for his pyro vision at Dmitry's belt with a gasp.

Dmitry kicked him when closed in, shoving him back into the wall with a cry. White gloved fingers hovered just shy of Kaeya's throat, and he bit down hard until the fabric went moist and he tasted iron.

He was violently shaken off, cloth hanging from his teeth, when his neck was squeezed and old bruises sung in pain. He gasped and writhed, dragging his nails down Dmitry's skin, blood welling up from under his fingernails. His skin was on fire, but for a moment, he felt the warmth leave his body and wondered briefly if it was the end. If, after all his efforts, he'd go out suffocating.

It… wasn't that bad. If he tried, he could imagine the silk gloves and heated hands belonged to—

Dmitry gasped, his fingers spasming, and Kaeya was on the floor. He coughed breathlessly as colour and sound came back to him, shivers wracking his form.

A knife was in the man's shin, Bennett bent over the protruding hilt. He wrenched it out fiercely and, seemingly invigorated by his success, stabbed the man deep in his spine before he could react, his eyes blown wide in disbelief.

Kaeya's vision flickered. His energy drained down to his toes and out his body, a husk of his consciousness the only thing keeping his heart beating. He blinked, and Bennett's desperate green eyes were looming over him, dragging him upright with one arm and grunting in exhaustion.

"Wake up, please—" he cried, and dragged him through the open cell, into the hallway. Kaeya kicked as best as he could off the floor, relying on momentum to push them forwards. He hadn't the time to relish their freedom before he flew into the opposite wall and smashed his face into Bennett's back, his groan echoed.

"Knife," he said, because a couple stab wounds was not enough to keep that monster down and they couldn't afford to be defenceless this early into their escape. Bennett wafted the bloody metal vaguely in his eyesight, but hid it in an instant, and draped Kaeya's arm over his healthy shoulder.

"Give it—"

Bennett heaved a breath, "I've got it."

"No."

"I'm n-not giving it to you."

He frowned. Whatever, as long as one of them had it; perhaps it was better for him not to, when the world looked upside down and his body was falling apart.

"We need… need to move."

"Can you walk? M-maybe we can take him—?"

"Go," He hissed, and shuffled away from the cell door and along the limitless hallway that extended before them. On step two, dreadful eyes bore into his back like snake fangs, the stone walls illuminated by burning light. Bennett swung around, the motion twisting Kaeya in half, cutting sharp into his stomach like a guillotine. He collapsed to the floor and retched through the wave of pain, his throat spasming around nothing.

Light burst through the hallway, Bennett crying in pain and dropping to his side. He gazed up in time to watch their only weapon melt into molten steel and drool to his feet, Dmitry lit by the heat in his gloved hand and snarling in fury.

Fucking Hell.

"Come here, boy!"

He yanked Bennett backwards by his belt. The air hummed with heat— seconds later and the boy would've been screaming in agony from second degree burns.

Kaeya shook his head in disbelief. They were insane. They were both insane.

Bennett leaped out of reach. He ducked under Dmitry's advances and latched onto his own vision still trapped on the man's hip, alight under its master's gaze. The man lunged at him, and inches from Kaeya's face, a massive explosion of heat surged from the boy's palm and struck the air with a violent bang. Kaeya flew back, eye to the ground and the squeal of destroyed air ringing his ears.

He winced, gasping for breath. Dmitry was slumped on the floor, blood soaking his cloak and greasy hair flopped over his eyes. To his side was Bennett, completely unconscious.

Archons, if he couldn't fail at his job enough.

He scrambled onto his knees, crawling like an insect under warning of death. The blood was expanding, drooling from his fingers, and before anything else, before breathing, he pawed through Bennett's hair in search of a cut. All he found was a bump at the crown.

So none of the blood was his. None of the— none of the blood—

He peered over Dmitry's prone form. His breaths were slow and steady, the blood pouring into his ear and down the side of his jaw. Up close, his features appeared worn into the shape of distaste, wrinkles lining his sweaty brow. There was a sadness to it, as if the man's entire life was spent in a state of lasting enmity and discomfort.

His life must be difficult, with all that built up. Kaeya didn't feel sorry for him.

He grabbed Bennett's vision, tied to Dmitry's belt. It took less than a second to untie it, and fasten it to Bennett where it belonged. The damn kid was brave. Reckless, but so damn brave. In another life, he would've made a fantastic knight.

They needed to move. Dmitry may be out, but that explosion was loud, and it wouldn't take much to get Ignat's attention and send him charging towards them.

He lifted Bennett, staggering to his feet. He took his first few steps completely blind, his senses finally exhausted to the point of a shut down. His fingers were blurry white blops, like distant lanterns in a downpour, the walls damp under his hand. Blood drowned his leggings, the bandana around his thigh loose and rubbing harshly against the open wound. He moved laboriously, balancing on one leg and hobbling down the corridor.

In less than a minute, Ignat's enraged scream bellowed out from behind them. His footsteps shot him behind his eyes, wrapping around his head. He didn't have the energy to speed up— he barely had the energy to think.

If he caught them, it was all over. If Kaeya was right, and they were to be stuffed in a cart on a one way trip to Snezhnaya, this was their last chance. Would he give them the mercy of killing them? Or would they be his toys forever?

Light pooled over the floor ahead of them, trickling in around thick flakes of falling snow. The hallway opened up into sunlight and wind, staining his blood stained clothes and abating the heat on his skin. A drop of snow landed on his cheek, and he gasped, savouring the cold.

Fresh air, like menthol and mud. He tugged Bennett along the walls and swept his hand across the firm rocks, rough with erosion and layers of ice. He tilted his forehead into it, moaning in relief. With time on side, he'd stay for another hour, but Bennett's weight was heavy and solid against his side, his breathing shallow. Ignat would be on top of them in seconds if he didn't move.

Snow crunched under the weight of footsteps. He snapped his head up and winced through the resulting dizzy spell, squinting through the snow storm.

Diluc.

He was in front of him, his jaw slack as if weighed down by bricks. His hair fought furiously with the wind, strands lashing out angrily like chains of rubies, stark against the winter sky. The tip of his broadsword was dipped in snow, and in his other hand was a cryo vision, frost travelling over his arm and up to his elbow, as if squeezing it dry of energy.

Kaeya's cryo vision. He could tell, even from several metres away. It called to him, begging for his attention and writhing like an injured bird.

It's entirely possible Diluc was handed it somewhere along the way, in fact that's much more likely than— I mean there's no way he—

There's this chance that maybe… maybe Diluc found his vision in that alleyway, and had been searching ever since. That his stupid brother had left his winery and his work and the protection of Mondstadt, abandoned it all for however long he was stuck in that stupid cell, all to find the man he disowned.

Fuck. Fuck.

His eyes were so bright, like gemstones, the sunlight taking extra care to highlight the hope in his gaze. His fingers twitched around his sword hilt, his skin pale as the snow he stood in, stance wide and immovable as steel. He felt frozen, as if Diluc cast a spell.

The way he was looking at him— it was every bit the bright, caring eyes of his brother, and it was terrifying.

"Kaeya," he breathed, soft and sweet. He dropped his sword and let it vanish into the wind, taking rushed steps towards him. Kaeya flinched violently, tripping over his feet and slamming into the wall. Diluc looked as if something struck him.

Good. Fucking… good. He needed to stay away. He couldn't let him anywhere near him. He couldn't—

Why was he—

God, of all people—

He refused to look away, overcome with the fear Diluc would tackle him to the ground, perhaps run him through with his sword. Diluc slowed to stop, his face carefully blank, but Kaeya could feel his lingering stare.

"Kaeya! Oh my god!"

Jean to him, her hair swamped in snow. A smaller body followed her, red eyes wide and glossy with worry. He gripped the wall and braced himself for their combined weight, Jean's arms encircling him and her frozen fingers gently carding through his scalp. Razor, he realised, had thrown himself over Bennett's shoulders, holding his chin and scanning his body. Bennett groaned at the attention.

Kaeya's legs began to buckle. He leant into Jean's hold, closing his eyes and breathing in the mintiness and the lasting remnants of her perfume. Her skin was ice, her palm steady at his waist, and his wounds relaxed the power they held over his mind. She squeezed him closer, keeping him off the ground, and it felt like his body would come apart without her.

"Kaeya," she cried, his shoulder wet with hot tears, "Oh, thank Barbatos we found you, you're covered in blood—"

"We need to go," he whispered, cursing his trembling legs, "He followed me, we need— need to go."

She stared imploringly into his eyes, "What are you talking about, who followed you?"

He let Bennett slip from his hold and lowered him gently in Razor's arms, ready and waiting to catch him. The lack of weight pulled him to the floor like a ball and chain, his knees buckling as Jean tumbled down beside him.

"There's others," he said in a croak, because she needs to know, "Inside. The missing posters, Jean."

Her eyes widened, "How did you escape? Did you manage to incapacitate the people who took you?"

Ignat roared behind them like his fangs were thirsty for blood, his voice amplified by the echo. He shook his head quickly, and pushed on Jean's arms, prying her hands off his bloodied clothes. He searched her face for any evidence that she got it, that she realised how much danger they were in.

"We need to go," he pleaded, and felt his eyelashes flutter with exhaustion when she nodded.

"Okay, okay, I'll come back with reinforcements. Right now, getting you and Bennett to safety takes priority."

Diluc snapped into view, the ends of his hair twisting into unkempt tangles and knots, gaze like a doll's. Kaeya watched the lengths of hair that framed his jaw swish in the wind, and the studied focused furrow in his brow, cringing away from his eyes. So close, he dreaded to think what Diluc might find if he looked at him. So close, he prayed whatever spite spewed from his brother's mouth wouldn't sink deep into his skin where everyone would see.

He closed his eyes, waiting, but Diluc muttered like the words were crumbling on his tongue, "can you walk?"

Can he…

Huh?

He nodded. Diluc shared a look with Jean over his head that they seemed to think he couldn't see, and part of him wanted to scream in their faces, but the dizziness made it impossible to decipher anyway. Were they being patronising on purpose? Were they plotting his murder?

He didn't care. He didn't care.

"Give me your arm," Diluc said, his hands shockingly warm on Kaeya's skin. He tried to hide a flinch, but wasn't successful, judging by the way Diluc's finger fluttered uselessly around arm for several seconds, ticklish and meek. He wondered if he'd give up, and the world would do him a kindness to keep his vulnerable self out of Diluc's hold, where he'd surely flake into dust.

He didn't. Of course he didn't, Diluc wasn't a coward like him.

Jean clasped his other arm, and together, they lifted him onto the tips of his feet. He cried out in pain, fire pulsing around his muscles, blood weeping from his thigh. Razor crouched and tipped Bennett's body onto his back, winding his broken arm around his neck and his legs at his waist. He stood by the storm's edge and stared at Kaeya's leg, expression grim.

He didn't know much about the kid— he knew precious little about Bennett's life, and so Razor was more of a mysterious figure he'd heard from in passing tales. He seemed self-assured, though; kind, like rain on the leaves of a tree.

"Kaeya, you can barely stand. Are you sure—"

He opened his mouth, when Ignat's furious gaze locked onto the back of his neck, presence like a death knell. He saw the boy's shoulders hitch as Kaeya snapped his mouth shut, his teeth clicking.

Shit. Shit.

"Found you."

No, no, no, no, no, no, no—

"You're not getting out that easy, no fucking way!" Ignat screeched, his feet slapping the ground as he limped towards them, eyes wrapped around Kaeya's throat.

He tugged on Diluc's sleeve, wringing the fabric like he was rubbing a genie lamp and praying somehow he'd make him go away. That he and Jean weren't a figment of his twisted, feverish imagination, and there was use to all their struggling. That Bennett wouldn't have to suffer for a second longer and Kaeya could go home.

Go away. Go away. Go away.

Razor yelped, "Master Jean!"

Jean conjured her sword. A burst of wind shot past Kaeya's ear and swept Ignat away from them, his screams dissolving into coughs as he adhered to the wall.

He whipped his eyes to Jean, gaping, and she squawked, "Move, quickly!"

They dragged him into the storm, snow barreling down on his skin like leather whips. Ignat disappeared in seconds, the last glimpses of the cave's rock walls vanishing from Kaeya's sight. He focused on his feet, placing one foot in front of the other, feeling as if he was floating.

Left, right, left, right. Left… left, right.

"Come back here!" Ignat screamed, panting like a dog. Kaeya watched through his hair, eyes locked onto the furious scowl on his face, when it warped in a manic grin, sharp at the edges. He squirmed, and Ignat licked his lips sensually.

"You running away from me?" he whispered, his voice muffled by the snowstorm. It rumbled through the ground and up through Kaeya's body like lightning. His arm was pulled higher around Jean's shoulder, her fingers tense against his battered wrists. She shushed him quietly when he grunted.

Ignat ignored her, "I wasn't done playing with you, pretty knight! You think I'mma let you run away after you beat the shit out of my partner?!"

Kaeya growled at him. He was safe. They were safe. He got Bennett out for Archon's sake, why couldn't that be the end of it.

"Come back so I can break you some more!"

The mountain rumbled, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Snow barreled down the mountain side, barreling down on rocks and sloped ground, heaping together into a wave steaming towards them, uproarious. High as the clouds, it rolled across trees and shallow caves without disturbance. If anything, it gained speed with each disruption, pushing the freezing air along with it. Kaeya gasped in horror.

"Seriously?" He whispered. Diluc silently nodded.

Razor turned with Bennett still on his back, his claymore in his empty hand. He coated his weapon in electricity, his hair buzzing with static, and threw an arch of purple lightning off the tip of his swing. It sliced through the wind and hit Ignat head on, locking him in place.

"Go!" He screamed. Jean let go of his arm, and Kaeya yelped in surprise as his legs buckled. Diluc caught him before he collapsed, swinging his arms under his legs and sweeping him into his arms. He opened his mouth to protest, but the burning grip of Diluc's fingers squeezed his weeping thigh, and he quickly clamped his jaw shut. He resigned himself to laying slack in Diluc's grip and tried not to throw up.

Did he have to be so warm? He carried him like one would a swaddled baby, it was embarrassing.

He stared at Diluc's jaw, eyelashes fluttering. His chin was prickly, a smattering of hair around his ears and upper lip. His skin looked ghastly, the red rim to his eyes the only smidge of colour on his sunken face. He looked just like Father, sipping wine after a long day of work. Father, smiling down on him as he shuffled him off to bed. Father, after—

After…

"Run to the first shelter you find, Diluc! We'll hold him off!"

"Don't be ridiculous! You get hit by that and you're going down with him!"

Their boots clamoured through the snow, but he floated. He didn't know how Diluc was managing to keep the force of his steps from resonating up into his arms, but whatever he was doing, Kaeya hoped he never stopped.

Shelter, he was supposed to be looking for shelter.

But— he was so tired, and it was finally warm.

Purple lightning reflected on the coat under his fingers, and Razor flew into a tree, cushioning Bennett's body with his own. He crumbled from the impact, falling over his friend's body and cocooning him as Ignat stalked towards him. Jean ran after them, standing tall between them as wind circled around her stance. It cut harshly into Kaeya's eyes.

Diluc was panting in his ears, his piercing eyes frantically scanning their surroundings. He snapped back and forth between Razor's fingers pawing around Bennett's head, Ignat cackling on their other side, and the snow rolling towards them all.

They were trapped. In less than a minute, they'd suffocate to death.

Jean poured energy into the tip of her sword, a tiny tornado forming. She sent the blast as Razor reached out and coated it with violet lighting, the energy fusing with the falling snow and forming a grand explosion that flew past them and shot Ignat off his feet and several yards out of sight.

If Kaeya was alone, he might have relented. Though unpleasant, there are far worse ways to die.

But Jean was here. Children were here. Diluc was here. People who risked their lives to find them, fighting through a snowstorm with their faces to the icy wind. He refused to let them be crushed by metric tons of snow.

He promised Bennett he'd get them out, and he promised they'd get out together. He couldn't very well break a promise to a child, now could he?

He craned his neck over Diluc's shoulder and looked around. After a moment, he found a small, inconspicuous burrow, left of Ignat's figure trembling in rage. It sat tucked away under a mound of snow, obscured by the storm.

"Diluc," Kaeya called, his brother finding his eyes with a snap. He gestured weakly, the avalanche deafening and blocking the sunlight as it rose above them.

"There."

Diluc sprinted, "Jean!"

"Up, now Razor! Follow them!"

"But—"

"Take him and go!"

They skidded into the burrow on Diluc's knees, where he dropped Kaeya and crouched over his body, his tie hanging over Kaeya's nose. He pushed back on Diluc's chest and flung his head back, watching the snow upside down, as it cascaded down over trees and shot rocks the size of his head down the mountain side.

Razor flew in, Bennett tumbling after him. He coughed out icy air into his friend's neck, his eyes glazed over in pain and swimming in fear. Kaeya grabbed his arm, thumbing the last of the heat he had stored into the boy's skin. The burrow wouldn't be enough to save them from all of nature's might, but with any luck, they wouldn't be buried. He hoped that wasn't breaking his promise. It was the best he could do, really, the kid had to know that. God, he hoped he did.

Jean yelped. She crashed to the ground seconds away from their shelter, Ignat's hand a vice on her ankle. Diluc's chest rose with his own as their breaths hitched.

She— she wasn't going to make it.

She wasn't—

A flood of cold wind assaulted him as Diluc flew out of the burrow, kicking Ignat off of Jean with flames on the heel of his boot. He snatched her up by the waist and launched her across the storm, her body crashing heavily at Kaeya's side, elbows banging against the wet rock.

Diluc caught his eyes, two points of life in the centre of winter's wrath. There was no fear, no plea for safety or refuge, only the slump of his shoulders as his concern melted into relief.

No.

No, no, no.

Don't you dare.

Don't you dare!

"Kaeya!"

He jumped out of the burrow, scrambling on his hands and knees for purchase. The terror on Diluc's face as Kaeya stretched his hands out was the last thing he saw before the snow hit and the mountain folded over them.

Notes:

1. Uh oh lol.

2. I've been asking Siri to read my writing back to me, as a way to check for mistakes. Gotta say, while it's pretty effective for spelling mistakes and such, his robotic tone is convincing me that everything I write reads like drying paint. Where's the passion?! The energy?! I'm going insane.

3. Just a little food for thought thing ig, but I purposely knocked Bennett out this chapter because, with him unconscious, Diluc would find them faster. Luck doesn't really work as a quantifiable, usable thing in real life most of the time, so I didn't wanna outright say in the story "it must have been cuz Bennett was unconscious" or smthn like that. But yeah, if you're wondering why Diluc just managed to stumble across them, it's cuz Benny's out.

4. The avalanche, however, is my fault. My bad gang.

Chapter 10

Notes:

I've had a couple health problems recently (nothing too serious, dw) and honestly been tryna sort my life out in general, so chapter 11 might take a bit to come out. I've taken to writing bits of this fic on public transport so you won't be waiting for too long haha, thank you all for being so lovely and patient!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Kaeya awoke to a mouthful of snow, and a headache that would send Barbatos himself to the floor in agony.

His eyes were heavy, his fingers numb and the tip of his nose humming like a bee sting. The snowfall had stopped, but in lieu of being drowned from above his limbs were trapped in several inches of packed snow. He rescued his legs easily, leaving craters in the shape of his calves.

Diluc was below him, his breath hitching against Kaeya's stomach. Their arms were tangled, Kaeya's pinned to the ground as his brother twitched. He kneed him in the side and watched his eyelashes flutter, and again until his face scrunched in a grimace. He turned on his side and knocked Kaeya off him, curled up in pain.

He flopped over with a groan, the back of his tunic soaked and sticky. A cliff side greeted him, towering over him like the leg of a giant. He huffed at it angrily.

Did the other's survive the avalanche? Hopefully the burrow stayed intact for long enough. They could be one their way home, but he had a feeling they were too reckless for that. Were they looking for them, possible miles out of their way, in an entirely different section of Dragonspine?

At least he knew they were still in Mondstadt. He was right about the cold air in the cells reminding him of the famous mountain.

God, he was so done.

All this because his brother didn't know what self preservation was. He'd like to blame it on those years away, where he got banned from a nation, or died at the hand of a harbinger, or whatever was in that report, but he never really had it when they were children, did he? What child would join the knights at ten and have self preservation skills?

"I— can't believe you."

Diluc groaned, "What now?"

"An avalanche? Seriously?"

"Like I have any control over natural disasters."

Kaeya climbed to his feet, the ground loose and uneven under his heel. He stomped his socked foot down and ignored the fierce stabbing pain shooting through him, breathing harshly through gritted teeth. It was too hot— the heat was paralysing him, and Diluc was making it worse.

Diluc reached for him, but he pushed him away, and spat each word with full force like something revolting, "You think you're so fucking slick, dont you? Stupid, incapable of subtlety— of patience. Always fucking brash and— and stupid!"

"Stop it, sit back down!"

"You always just t-turn up and put on a fucking show— like some kind of circus act," he took another painful step, "Ah! Archons, why do you have to be so reckless, huh?!"

"Kaeya, stop it! You're hurting yourself."

He growled, "well, it's not as if I can allow myself to wither away in the snow! If Jean was here it wouldn't be so bad, but, oh wait, someone had to throw us off the edge of a cliff!"

"You know damn well I had nothing to do with—"

"Didn't you?" He whipped around. Diluc watched him with wide, imploring eyes, his brow scrunched and his lips pressed together in a thin line. He looked wholly uncomfortable in his own body, the wind sticking locks of hair to his cheeks and the snow soaking his knees. In his hand was Kaeya's cryo vision, clenched tight around the golden wings.

He fought against a look of disgust, "why are you here, Diluc?"

He went silent. It stung, and registering the source of the pain only hurt more.

"Just— let me see." He whispered, and reached out for Kaeya's waist. He slapped his hand away, just to hear the sound of his skin meeting Diluc's frozen fingers.

"Why are you being so combative?" he growled, face twisted in irritation. Good.

"Oh, I wonder."

Diluc lunged at him, grappling for Kaeya's sides. He stumbled back, tripping over his feet and crashing to the floor, barely cushioning his fall. The agony radiated up his spine, and he hissed harshly through his clenched teeth.

Asshole. Why was he always pushing? Always in the way?

They wouldn't even be there if Diluc hadn't turned up. He would have got Bennett out just fine on his own.

Diluc collapsed to the ground in a heap, his knees clashing like cymbals. Kaeya's head shot up in concern, but Diluc watched him angrily, apparently unaware of how hard he hit the ground.

"For Archon's sake," he cried, crawling towards him, "let me help!"

Kaeya leaned away from him, "I'm perfectly fine."

"I'm not stupid."

"I beg to differ! You clearly can't take a hint."

He reached out again, slush circling his body as he instinctively melted the snow, and Kaeya was hit by a sudden wave of anxiety. He tensed his shoulders and stared as his brother's large hand encroached ever closer to his exposed skin and torn clothes, his fingers sturdy and littered with scars.

If he suddenly snapped out of it— dropped the strange, diplomatic act and wrung Kaeya's wounds under his grip like a dirty washcloth— Kaeya wouldn't be able to defend himself. He'd die quietly in the snow, painting the serene landscape with his blood. It'd be poetic.

Diluc stopped, millimetres away, his eyes glazed with something dark and cold. He followed the moment of Bennett's sodden bandana and grimaced, as if the pain faded out of Kaeya's body and soaked into his.

"Come here," He pushed, and sat back on his heels. His gaze was cavernous.

"Fuck you, Master Diluc, I'd rather freeze to death."

His hands faltered, "You can't be serious."

If he waited long enough, maybe Diluc would leave him there, too kind of a soul to deal the final blow himself.

His lips thinned, the light in his eyes hardening into lifeless steel. Cold sweat streaked down his jaw, and in Kaeya's peripheral, his knuckles turned white with stress. He'd take it to mean anger, if the man wasn't startlingly pale, and his eyes weren't red-rimmed. The harsh winds may have caused it, but for all the dainty qualities of his complexion, Diluc had never been delicate.

He was crying. At some point, recent enough for the evidence to linger on his face, his brother was crying.

He extended his wounded leg between them, waiting for some sort of punch line. Diluc startled and latched onto him in an imitation of Adelinde's panicked grab from their youth, as if he'd fly away. He stopped himself from smiling.

This was getting ridiculous. A kitchen knife and a bathroom mirror was one thing, but hope? It'd kill him.

He winced as Diluc untied the knot in Bennett's bandana, scrunching it into a wad and using it to wipe away the blood already pooling from the wound. His touch was light and fluttery, dabbing the dirt and muck from Kaeya's leggings in small increments; Weinlesefest would hit tomorrow at the rate he was going. He made to snatch the cloth for himself, but God Diluc's hands were shaking, and he let the man slap him away.

He must have been through a lot before they found one another. For someone he was supposed to be estranged to, a week was a long time to go without hearing of one another. Kaeya would have panicked far sooner at radio silence. He… hadn't seen Diluc panicked in years, though, if panic was what it was.

Panic over him? Panic for him? It didn't make sense. It was wasted.

"How old is this?" Diluc muttered, tonality lost somewhere in the rhythm he'd created with his hands. He uncovered the entirety of the stab wound, deep to the muscle in Kaeya's thigh, and stared at it. His eyes were moving, examining him like a red eye of a ruin guard, but he sat uncannily still in thought. If Kaeya wasn't so close, his brother's hand separated from his skin by a thin layer of cotton, he'd be convinced Diluc wasn't breathing.

"Does it matter?" He said. Being stared at so intensely was flattering, normally, but coming from Diluc it was just discomforting.

"Be quiet. If I wanted a genuine response I wouldn't have said anything."

Well, ouch. He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but Diluc came to life. He reached up and loosened his tie with a quick pull, snapping the red jewel off the knot with a click and unravelling the fabric to its full length. Kaeya gaped, but snapped his mouth shut before it got embarrassing.

"How altruistic of you," He crooned, "I didn't take you for the type. And to think, a certain girl in the city would kill for a piece of your clothing, especially if you gave it to her yourself."

Diluc's face scrunched, as if tasting sour grapes, "it's just a tie. Lift your leg."

He stayed still out of spite. Diluc reacted with nothing but an angry huff, and snatched up his ankle. Kaeya held his breath, but Diluc held him gently, and lifted his foot onto the tip of his own knee, soaking his thigh with snow left on the bottom of Kaeya's heel. He cradled the knife wound with the length of his tie.

"This'll hurt," he whispered, like one would soothe a baby. Kaeya fought the urge to kick him in the dick, just for the satisfaction of watching him flop over in pain.

"Just do it," he said. Diluc, thank fuck, was familiar enough with first aid procedures, and took his words as they were. He tied a quick knot and tightened it without hesitation, pulling it taut and politely ignoring the withered gasp that flew from Kaeya's lips.

Archons, that wasn't going to get any easier, was it?

He blinked away the dark spots, his fingertips burning where they sunk into the edge of claw marks in the snow at his sides. Diluc had a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, the corner of his lip twitching up into a bitter smile. By the time Kaeya pulled a full breath it was gone.

"Show me your hands," he said, and held his own out encouragingly.

Kaeya scoffed, "You plan on ripping a sleeve from your shirt next?"

He looked at him wearily, as if the world sat heavy on his shoulders, and it only fueled the fire in Kaeya's chest. He wasn't letting the asshole off that easily. Where did he get off, playing the good guy?

"I smashed my head on the rocks during the avalanche. Can't do very much about a head wound, can you?"

Diluc froze, "You couldn't have, I kept a hold of you the whole time."

The whole time, huh? It wasn't as if he was conscious enough to refute it. The snow hit hard and fast, his vague memory of the fall similar to a weighty whip slapping him across the landscape.

Did that mean Diluc took the brunt of the falling rocks?

Kaeya leant away, falling back on his hands, "Are you sure? I wouldn't put it past you to imagine it, Master Diluc. Who knows what illusions of grandeur you come up with?"

Diluc's hands began to shake, his face twisting in anger. The line of his back seemed strung tight, as if a wire was coiled around his spine, his skin damp with sweat. If Kaeya didn't know any better, he'd say his eyes were glazed over.

He frowned, served him right.

"You're lying to me, again."

He realised suddenly that he closed his eyes at some point, "You asked, didn't you? Was I lying about my leg?"

"Enough. Show me where you're hurt."

"I just told you. You're not losing your hearing, are you?"

He saw the walls building in Diluc's mind, tall as ramparts. He watched with a masochistic smugness as they climbed higher and higher in the space between them, until hopefully Diluc couldn't see him anymore.

"Fine," he said, quick but not snappy, and stood up, doing nothing to stop Kaeya's ankle slamming into the snow with a thud, the shock travelling up to his injured thigh. He grit his teeth, refusing to cry out.

"Get up, then. We best find shelter," he turned away, crossing his arms. Kaeya looked up at him in disdain.

He was acting completely different from the Diluc he'd grown used to. Diluc was angry, he burned like charcoal and hissed with embers that spat at your skin. He wasn't supposed to care.

He tried to stand, but his knees buckled. Falling over zapped the last of his energy, his wounds burning with a new vigour. For a second, he thought the white spots invading his vision would expand, and he'd pass out. The adrenaline was running out, the blood stuck to the roof of his mouth and his limbs as weak as a fawn's.

Diluc sighed. He tugged one of Kaeya's arms over his shoulder, holding what felt like all of his weight on his own. His face was a blur of red hair.

They walked. The snow storm had calmed into a gentle trickle of snowfall, melting on his skin. It felt a little like it was rotting him, spitting and bubbling on the surface of his skin as it boiled.

"We really are going to freeze, at this rate," he mumbled.

Diluc rolled his eyes, "what do you want me to do? Carry you?"

God no. It was embarrassing enough the first time.

"Oh, I don't doubt you could, Master Diluc. Was that what you wanted to hear?"

His face soured, brow furrowed. He laughed facelessly, as if scraping the sound off his tongue, shallow in his throat, "I wasn't fishing for compliments, no."

What was happening? Where was the yelling? The frustration?

"You weren't? What a surprise! I'm sure when we're frozen into ice sculptures they'll consider you a legendary piece of art. Second to me of course."

"Seriously?"

"I can see it now. They'll find us centuries later, immortalised in blocks of ice."

"Kaeya—"

"Museum statues, that's what we'll be, mere statues in the caverns of the Akademiya in Sumeru."

Diluc laughed at him, "You're such a child."

He really wasn't mad, was he? Why wasn't he mad?

It was a good thing, if Diluc was ignoring him. It was supposed to be a good thing. Why did it hurt so much? Why wasn't Diluc screaming at him, like he was supposed to?

They came to a cave under the snow, bigger than the burrow, but significantly smaller than the cell walls Kaeya was accustomed to. The far end dropped downwards, the back wall hidden in the darkness and indistinguishable. Diluc let go of his arm and stood him against the driest wall, the stone craggy and biting on his back. Kaeya wasted no time sliding down it, staring at his singular boot and praying he wasn't breathing loud enough to draw more attention to himself.

Was it because he went missing? Diluc wouldn't get mad at him because he was kidnapped. He was too worn down, after being forced to search for him.

That had to be it. He was just defaulting to politeness.

Diluc shed his coat, letting it fall in a heap on the stone. He reached up and ripped his shirt sleeve clean down the seam, folding it in half. He uncuffed Kaeya's cryo vision, and presented it to him like a valuable from a volt of treasure, both hands cupped under its base and settled in fabric.

"Here. Make some ice."

"What for?" He mumbled, eyeing Diluc's hands hesitantly. His vision felt like a warm beacon pulling him in. He missed how it numbed the tips of his fingers, the cold a stark contrast to his sweaty palms.

Diluc sat in front of him, crossed legged and hunched under the low ceiling. There was something nostalgic about it, like polished floorboards and fireplaces. He scrunched his nose as if he wasn't wrought with the grief of it all.

"Just do it," Diluc sighed, "It's not as if I could do anything nefarious with a wet piece of cloth."

Kaeya sat his vision in his lap, the rope on his belt missing from where he usually tied it, and chilled the space in between his hands until pebbles of ice formed. He tipped his palm and dropped them into Diluc's waiting palms, where he folded the cloth over them and warmed the fabric until the ice melted into water.

He turned it over, and slapped it onto Kaeya's forehead.

He gasped, "Wha—"

"Shush. I could feel that fever out in the snowstorm."

"Don't shush me, what the fuck—"

"Prove to me you can act like an adult and I won't have to shush you."

He wrestled Diluc's hand off his face, the cloth slopping into his lap, "I can do it myself!"

"No you can't, I know you're way sicker than you should be. An infection doesn't do this."

"I'm fine!"

"I don't believe you."

Of course he didn't. When did Diluc ever believe him?

"You're being ridiculous, If I had the chance I would've—"

"That's bullshit and you know it is! Put that cloth to your head or I'll hold it to your face for the next hour."

"You're threatening me now?"

Diluc slapped the cloth over his eyes. He reached for it blindly with his left hand, the crippling cut on his palm battered away by Diluc's hands, and he sucked in a scream that would have shocked the walls of the cave out into the snow. They both froze, his hand pulsing it time with his quickening heartbeat. His brother's bright eyes latched onto his wounded palm, and Kaeya sighed. He already knew what was coming.

His wrist was snatched, Diluc yanking him forwards, and Kaeya watched as the walls he worked so hard to rebuild between them crumble in the reflection of DIluc's eyes.

"Your—" he started, bringing his other hand up to cradle the back of Kaeya's hand, as if holding a crystalfly, "Gods, this is what you were hiding? Why didn't you tell me?"

He racked his brain for the most annoying answer, and settled on, "If I had a reason, would you try and convince me I was wrong?"

Diluc's gaze shot up, too close, eyes filled with a horrible soup of frustration, hurt, and unadulterated confusion, "Convince you— you thought to leave a wound like this unattended because I wasn't convincing enough?"

No, he was plenty convincing. That was the problem.

Stay away, for Archon's sake. Stop asking. Stop worrying.

Kaeya blinked twice, slowly, "You have a terrible way with words."

Diluc, for a bizarre second, looked glossy eyed, "you're impossible."

"Too impossible for Master Diluc?"

"Shut up."

He used a wet cloth to dab at the wound, raw around the edges and weeping blood. The drool burning down Kaeya's wrist looked vaguely yellow in nature, the nauseating kind that seeped into his pores. Diluc mopped it up, bathing him in water warmed by his vision's heated touch, tracing gently down to his elbow. He cleaned with a level of meticulousness one would give to a crime scene.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He muttered, inaudible if Kaeya wasn't sitting so close. He barely registered it, shivering like a newborn foal and feeling even smaller, but Diluc's hands were shaking as he tied the cloth around him. He pulled it tight, but slowly; considerately, his fingers scarred weights holding Kaeya in place.

"What would you have done, if I showed you?"

"I said shut up," he snapped, "it doesn't matter what I would've done, you don't hide infected wounds."

And when have you cared what I hide?

"I don't hide infected wounds from anyone but you."

"Funny," he scoffed, "I have it on good authority how little you tell others, not just me."

Good Authority? "You mean Jean? Why would I burden her with more unnecessary stress?"

Diluc hesitated, wrapping the cloth around his hand, "I doubt she'd turn you away, if that's what you're concerned about."

He gaped, "You think I'm scared of a little rejection? Please, Diluc. Am I some petulant child to you?"

"You're far more annoying than a child could ever be."

"I see." He nodded solemnly, "You're welcome to leave this petulant child to freeze to death in this decrepit cave. I'll write your name in my blood on the stone, just so they know who to convict for child murder and neglect."

"Will you let it go already? You're stuck here with me, suck it up."

"Awful luck, really. For all the good you've done, I'd think you want me to die, Master Diluc."

"Shut. Up."

"Needlessly complex, though, there's other methods you could have used to kill me quietly. Perhaps a shot of strychnine in my wine? How about luring me into an ambush? Oh, is that what this is? Now that I think about it, you have quite a lot in common with that man back there, similar tempers and all. Are you the man he's been working for? I seem to recall him mentioning a certain red-haired vigilante—"

"Enough! That's a filthy lie!"

Finally, some anger. He only had a second to relish in it, wincing at the volume, before Diluc's face crumbled in heartache, "Sorry, sorry, I just—"

He pulled at Kaeya's wrist, yanking it back under his inspection, "Archons, Kaeya, I don't want you dead."

Why not?

Do what you're told, for once.

"And yet, here we are, hypothermic and all."

He didn't expect Diluc to latch onto anything he was saying, God knows Kaeya wasn't, but suddenly a pale hand was hovering at the back of his neck, heat pouring from Diluc's palm. His touch wafted back and forth along his spine, reaching as high as Kaeya's scalp, where it soothed his headache, "If you seriously think I planned this, either you're losing your touch, or you think I'm imbecilic."

"Careful," he hummed, "that sounded like a compliment."

Diluc scoffed, "I daren't compliment you, I'd never hear the end of it."

He used to get mad so easily, his little tells and idiosyncrasies written all over his face; in the depth of his eyes. Kaeya didn't mean to set them all off, at first, but one look at Diluc's expression and it was as if he could feel exactly how to burn his short fuse. He could taste it in his bones, like second nature, like a sixth sense. His presence alone was enough to make Diluc's eye twitch. It was enthralling, and infuriating, and oh was it easy.

So why, why, why, why—

Why was he— apologising? What was the point of apologising?

He was supposed to get mad, it made sense that way. He was supposed to get mad.

What did it mean anymore? Was Diluc done with the anger? Was he manipulating him? What would he possibly have to gain from that?

Diluc shuffled, and sat back against the wall. Kaeya stared out into the snow, at the gentle way it soaked into the stone entrance and the heaps of white landscape, and didn't know whether to smile or scream. The sudden branch in choices was acutely horrifying, the game broken. What role was he supposed to play now? The villain? The victim?

Himself? How did that go again? He didn't remember, not around Diluc.

He let Diluc hold the weight of his head, his hands like stars, and took a tiny leap of faith.

"I'm not actually hypothermic," he whispered, fragile as glass. Diluc cradled his neck with his eyes closed, his under eyes sunken and weary. His skin looked translucent around the height of his cheeks, pulled taut over his bones, but his touch stayed soothing and warm.

"If you were," he said, "you wouldn't feel like a hot iron."

"It's not that bad."

"No, it is."

"How— uh, how… do you figure?"

Diluc gave him a strange, if gentle, look, "that wound looks terrible, Kaeya. I'm sincerely surprised you're even awake."

Barely, if he was honest. He couldn't really hear anything beyond their cocoon, his breathing heavy in his chest. He wasn't going to tell Diluc that, though. He couldn't. He'd explode, or something.

It was more than that, though. He wanted… he wanted to be strong. He wanted to look strong, and prove that he was capable. He cared about what Diluc saw in him, and wasn't that just the most pathetic thing he'd thought for years.

Diluc went stiff, his eyes snapping towards the entrance like twin flames. Kaeya watched him scrutinise the reflection of the icicles clinging to the rocks, frowning wearily. He pursed his lips when the echo of a footstep froze him in place, the light crunch of snow under skittery shoes.

He leaned, catching Diluc's gaze and searching it for answers. Diluc nodded, and together they crawled away from the stone walls, the ground growing damp under his knees. He pushed Diluc's hand out of his way, poised to push Kaeya back, but twitched at the heat pouring off his fingers. He breathed easier with them close, like steam from a sauna. He ended up loosely lacing his fingers with Diluc's as he peered over his shoulder, like a child.

The crackle of packed snow grew louder, quick steps merging together as someone scampered up the rocks. Dmitry flew in, lunging as they scrambled backwards, his face warped in rage. Cracked blood flaked from his greased hair and the length of his neck, his anger throbbing in his straining muscles as he blasted them off their feet with a wave of fire.

He smacked a dirty cloth on Diluc's mouth, holding it over his nose and snarling dangerously. His other hand wrapped tight around Diluc's neck, shoving him to the floor and squeezing the life out of him.

Kaeya kicked him in the face, cracking his neck to the side. The force was enough to knock his hand off, where Diluc scrambled away and gasped for air. He coughed forcefully into his arms, blinking rapidly, struggling to climb to his knees. Dmitry's eyes bore into Kaeya's soul, and he shivered.

That cloth— he could smell the chemicals it drowned in from across the cave. The burn still resided at the back of his throat, cloying and thick, like smoke from a forest fire. He kicked Dmitry violently in the shoulders and neck, crawling back on his elbows with his heart in his mouth.

Diluc appeared, yanking Kaeya back and squarely placing himself between the two of them, standing tall as a brick wall. He kicked Dmitry in the gut and sent him flying to the cave entrance, his hands screeching and sliding in the snow.

"Know him?" Diluc croaked, slurring. Kaeya fisted his hands in the back of his coat and stared up in wonder.

That cloth knocked him flat on his ass when they used it on him. It turned the midnight sky white with rain, his limbs dissolving as they hit the ground. To walk that off was ridiculous. How was Diluc talking? How was he upright?

"He has a pyro vision," Kaeya muttered, and wrung the fabric under his hands in an effort to keep his brother from shaking apart, holding his body together. Diluc's shoulders rose to his ears as his breath hitched, his back muscles quivering. The disturbed anger on Dmitry's face leered over the line of his figure, straight into Kaeya's eyes. He ducked, the fur at the ends of Diluc's coat tickling his thigh.

He couldn't beat him as he was. He wasn't entirely sure Diluc could either, or if he was playing as a hero by keeping his head off the cave floor. Either way, their only exit was a nondescript drop behind them, or on the other side of that maniac, so they had to get past him somehow.

The cave wasn't big enough for a claymore, the ceiling a metre or so above the red curls that tickled his forehead. He'd give Diluc his sword if it'd be any better, but an arching swing would clip the side of the rocks, and leave them wide open. He simply had to pray their hand-to-hand combat was strong enough.

Dmitry shot forward. He imbued his fists with flames that wrapped around his gloves, knuckles wet with steam, his scowl loud and enraged. He clawed at Diluc's face, snapping like teeth at his skin. Diluc dodged, thrusting the man's arm away with the heel of his hand and drawing in close, punching him in the gut.

He folded in half, gasping. Kaeya squinted, watching his brows relax with confidence. A small vial rose from his cape filled with clear liquid, cracking under the heat of his palms.

"Diluc—" He called, but it was too late. The vial exploded in Dmitry's hand as Diluc reached forward, and the medicine drooling from his fingers slapped over Diluc's nose and eyes. Kaeya desperately tried to separate them, digging his nails into Dmitry's arms and kneeing him in the side until he ripped away.

He could smell it. Oh god, he could smell it. It was revolting.

Diluc grunted in pain and careened dangerously, bowing over his knees. The edge to his stance flagged and folded into jelly, his head bobbing. Kaeya pressed on his arms and held him upright like two clamps on plywood. He scrambled further into the cave and dragged Diluc bodily. If they sat there like cattle they'd be dead in minutes, the least he could do was try to move.

Dmitry jumped him, crawling forwards under the low roof of the cave and shoving Diluc into the cave wall, reaching for Kaeya's foot. He yanked and Kaeya screamed as if his leg was tearing open, his head pooling down to the stab wound in his thigh and streaming out of him. The smell of burning skin rose from Dmitry's fingers, adding to the agony.

His hand rose to Kaeya's face, searing heat warping the air, when Diluc fell between the gap and bowed over Kaeya's stomach. He snarled like a rabid dog, nails chipped and clawing into the stone on either side of Kaeya's body. Dmitry's eyes widened in enraged disbelief.

Kaeya couldn't breathe. He pawed at Diluc from where he wrestled Dmitry's hands off his legs and wished, childishly, that he was in his brother's arms again. That his safety was no longer reliant on his own dwindling strength, but a guarantee. That Diluc wasn't arched over him, his back taking the brunt of Dmitry's anger, acting as a meat shield.

"What are you doing?" Kaeya whispered, batting Dmitry's hands off the shelter made from Diluc's arms. Soon he'd grow tired of their stalling, and burn a hole through Diluc's torso the size of a boulder.

"Stop—" He gasped, his leg twitching on reflex, "Move, Diluc—"

His eyes were clouded and sightless, his breathing weak. He clearly wasn't conscious anymore, and whatever instinct he was running on was pathetically self–sacrificial. Dmitry put his hands flat on Diluc's back, and he watched his brother wince noiselessly like a dying beast in its last moments.

Absolutely fucking not. Not today. Not ever.

Kaeya heaved himself off the ground, wrenching them backwards with his arms around Diluc's waist. An act like that would get his head chopped off if either of them were in any sort of mind to care.

Dmitry didn't follow. He had a second to wonder what atrocities that implied, before the ground disappeared beneath his fingers. He yelped, grasping at the air, but Diluc's weight tipped them into the void. The headrush stripped his limbs of any function, rock walls a blur of scenery speeding past his vision. It knocked him out before he hit the ground.

––––––

The rocks were black holes, he realised, framing the edge of the cave and the ground. He brushed his cheek across them, and they bit harshly into his skin, but when he opened his eyes he was greeted by nothing. If he pushed, his limbs would sink into the abyss, swallowed like a fly stuck to a web. At least in the cell there was candlelight flickering between the bars, just enough to define the beadiness of Bennett's eyes. From where he sat he couldn't even see his hands.

He craned his neck upwards. A tiny ray of light gazed back at him, dulled by overhanging rocks and the length of air that separated it from him. The cold air from outside travelled down to their pit, but he was sticky with sweat and felt more like he was stewing in a sauna, the ground damp with condensation and blood.

No Bennett around to bring optimism. He no longer felt guilty wishing he was dead.

Dmitry was lounging, arms crossed and eyes like wounds. As if to taunt him, he stood directly next to Diluc's unconscious body.

He was breathing— that was enough. Dmitry's vision cast an angry glow over him, where his shoulder rose every few seconds. The curls of his hair were twisted and tangled, flattened only by leftover flakes of snow, stray ends stuck to his cheeks. It shone like beads of ruby. Kaeya stretched out his good leg and tapped his brother's boot. It was enough. It had to be enough.

Dmitry strolled towards him. He yanked Kaeya up by his chin, squeezing his jaw bones until they groaned and lifting him an inch off the ground. It took his breath away, echoed pain through his blood like electricity.

"You," Dmitry snarled, "are much more trouble than you're worth."

He slid his hand down and squeezed Kaeya's bruised neck, "You will keep quiet and behave from now on."

"Let me go," Kaeya croaked, "I can't— let me—"

"No."

He was on fire. The air was thick with smoke, his blood boiling as it poured out of his wounds, his skin pink and angry. He was dizzy and he was tired and he was on fire.

God, he couldn't take it. He couldn't take the pain anymore. He wanted to die.

Dmitry ripped his eyepatch off, the silk of his gloves scraping over his skin as the string flung from his scalp. His vision light bore deeply into the back of his eyes, as if blinded by a laser beam, and he cried out in agony. The man prodded his brow bone, pressing harshly into the scarred surface and prying his eye open, peering at his pupil. His breath tasted of tar.

No one except Diluc had seen Kaeya's eye, he made sure of it. For people like Jean and the traveller to know his birthplace was one thing, but the eye— the eye he couldn't excuse. There was nothing about a swirling golden eye that screamed innocence, and nothing that refuted his sins.

Dmitry inched closer, observing him like a rat in a laboratory. He manhandled him as if his body was a negligible accessory to the abyssal glow between his silk fingers.

"Fascinating," he whispered, "and a pity. If only you were more pliant, Lord Harbinger would have loved you."

"Keep touching my brother and I'll rip your fucking spine out."

Kaeya jumped. Brother?

Oh, Diluc. God, Diluc.

Dmitry tutted. He turned to Diluc, who met his gaze with a glare that would break the clouds. Kaeya couldn't find it in himself to flinch, it was familiar, in a way that made it safe. Passionate and hypnotic like the child he knew, but lethal, like the man he spent his days dancing around. It was as if the two Diluc's he'd come to know were clashing into one.

"I'm surprised, Master Ragnvindr." Dmitry said, and out of spite or emphasis, he violently pushed Diluc's head into the rocks behind him with a palm to his forehead, a resounding crack shooting down the wall and through the floor where Kaeya felt it beneath his feet. Diluc closed his eyes, and didn't make a sound.

"We were under the impression you despise your brother. It was one of the factors we investigated to see if he would make a good candidate. Ironically, it seems you care enough to protect him. Sir Harbinger would appreciate his company even more now, perhaps he's useful after all."

Diluc huffed, "you're dumber than I thought."

The man recoiled in fury. His hands balled into fists. Kaeya opened his mouth to tell Diluc of the man's nature, that his temper was that of a toddlers, but quickly closed it. He wanted to see Diluc specifically bring the man down a peg, make him squirm like a snake trapped by its tail.

"You took a Knight of Favonius," he hummed, the dizziness in his voice, "the quartermaster, at that. You call that intelligent? Or do you not understand the force that's now against you?"

"How dare you!"

"What's your plan, exactly? Wait for your friend to get here so you can drag us out? Take us one at a time and come back for the other later? You're ridiculous."

"You know nothing—"

"I know enough. Whatever game you're playing won't work, you couldn't craft a good one if you tried."

Dmitry punched him in the nose, hard enough to crunch. Kaeya gasped, throwing himself at the stone floor, reaching for wherever he could and tugging uselessly at Dmitry's cloak. Diluc spat the excess blood from his mouth and glared.

"I don't play games," Dmitry growled. He heated his hands with his glowing vision until steam poured out his gloves, and drove his open palm into Diluc's chest. He melted through the fabric like water on paper, searing the shape of his hand into the muscle of Diluc's sternum. Kaeya scrambled at Diluc's clenched fist, clawing at the space between the two of them. His cryo vision was tucked neatly into his brother's breast pocket, blue light caressing the collar. If he could grab it, he could help. He could at least make enough chaos to direct their kidnapper's attention to him. Anything.

Dmitry stomped on his hand, the pain like a bolt of lightning to the heart. He fell into the darkness, and only came to a foot away in a heap with his throat torn to shreds.

"You won't escape from here!" The man screamed, nose to nose with Diluc, "You're knights won't find you, and there's nothing you can do to stop me from completing my mission. You're under my command now, understand?"

Diluc wafted his hand over the burn and set the man's glove on fire, clawing his burning fingers up their forearm, "I don't care to listen to your shitty villain soliloquy."

Dmitry reeled back and slammed his fists down, one after another, using Diluc like a punching bag. Kaeya squinted up at them, searching for his brother's gaze. He took every hit like bursts of wind, his head held high even as he winced in pain. His eyes were deep set with exhaustion.

He didn't understand. Why wasn't he fighting back? Why didn't he let him help? Why was he so unbothered?

"Diluc," he said, "Diluc, Diluc."

Why are you helping? Why aren't you fighting?

"Diluc, stop, Diluc."

Why do you care so much? Why do you care so much—

Dmitry's burning hand hovered over his face. It was only then that Diluc resisted, bucking with both feet at the man's torso and shoving him into the opposite wall. With him went seemingly all of Diluc's energy, and he bowed over his knees as if all his muscles were keening.

Dmitry shot to his feet, red in the face. He reached blindly for the tangled red curls that burned in the darkness, "How?! Did those drugs do nothing to you?!"

Diluc spat blood on his shoes. His ponytail went up like a bonfire.

"Diluc!" Kaeya cried, lunging for him. Dmitry's eyes snapped to him as he crawled, the deep black of his iris pinning him to the craggy stone. He held his brother up by the burning ends of his hair, wrapped tight around his fingers like the grip of a snake's body, and tugged him around until his eyes locked with Kaeya's. His teeth gnashed at Diluc's ear.

"Resist and I'll kill him," he whispered, and Diluc's eyes widened in horror.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I? He's expendable, unlike you."

Diluc's hands started shaking. Kaeya watched incredulously as he went limb in Dmitry's hold, his ruby eyes filled with sorrow. He stared as if Kaeya vanished into thin air, as if the darkness absorbed him whole like the jowls of a predator. It was the most bizarre emotion Kaeya had seen on Diluc's face in years.

"Diluc?" he whispered, "What are you doing? Fight back."

Dmitry huffed, releasing Diluc's hair and taking frayed strands of pleated jewels with him, "How interesting. I wonder, if I threatened Master Ragnvindr's life, would you react as he does?"

Kaeya growled. It didn't matter if he was taking the bait, or that Diluc searched his face as the sound rose from his throat, he needed this man to know that only torment will come from toying with his brother's life, "You'll have to go through me."

Dmitry laughed, "Perhaps I will."

He snatched up Diluc's vision, tied to his belt. The light hummed low as it fluttered away from its master's touch. He reached for the cryo vision, but Diluc slapped him away, staring him down. Not even the famous master Diluc glare that could subdue gods seemed to phase him, but he stepped back, and stood.

"I'll let you keep your luxuries, Master Ragnvindr," he hummed, "if only because your brother is too weak to use it. You will hand it over when we leave."

He left them there, limping away without a word. Kaeya watched him fizzle out as he travelled further into the cave, downward sloping, twin pyro lights shrinking into nothing. He suspected the cave deepened, with how far they fell, but somehow he knew Dmitry found a way up, where the walls rounded back on themselves and heaved up into the snowy landscape.

Kaeya stumbled forward, crawling towards his brother. He peered up at Diluc's watchful gaze, soft like feathers grazing his skin. The most he did was twitch and linger on his scar. No anger, no bitterness or seeping edges of disgust. It was as if he was taking his time to admire it, to stare unabashedly into Kaeya's golden eye and wait in a way he daren't do before.

"Diluc?"

"Is the other one the same?" He croaked, and raised an eyebrow. He really wasn't going to react? What the fuck was wrong with him?

"No, he's smarter."

Diluc simply rolled his eyes, as if it was all some inconvenience to him. Kaeya wondered suddenly if Snezhnaya had ever treated him to a similar scenario. If he was so unconcerned because in all the ways that counted, he'd been through it before.

"That was stupid," he said, "you should've fought back."

Diluc hummed, stretching his legs. Several layers of his curls crinkled and frayed from Dmitry's ministrations, his hair an inch below his shoulders instead of sweeping across his lower back. He'd had that long length since childhood.

"Are you listening to me? I said you're an idiot. I don't need your pity, Diluc, or did you just think it'd be impressive to sit and take the torture? He's not gonna go any easier on you and you know it, what the fuck were you thinking? The other one will take it as a challenge, Diluc."

"Shut up, Kae."

"I'm still your brother, right Kae?"

Sweet Barbatos. He was going to be sick.

He laughed, loud and shallow where it echoed around his tongue, crafted half way out his mouth. Diluc narrowed his eyes at him, "I can't believe it, you're delirious!"

"Why are you so loud?"

"You're lucky it's only me, Diluc, you could spill a secret that destroys someone's life! I wonder what I could uncover from such a golden opportunity, how about a game of fucking twenty questions?"

"You're impossible. Kaeya—"

"An insult only dulls the more you use it, Diluc. Now, what's your favourite colour? How much do you pay Adelinde? Why didn't those drugs knock you out?"

"Be quiet." He kicked his foot out gently, for seemingly no reason other than to shoo Kaeya away from him, "don't think I've forgotten how feverish you are."

"You're the one who was drugged and beaten. You seriously think I'm going to let you be his punching bag for my sake?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine!" He screamed, and Diluc's head shot up like a flickering flame on the wick of a candle, his gaze fluttering over him. Kaeya worried his lip between his teeth and savoured the bitter, copper taste.

They were stuck, well and truly. Neither of them had the energy to walk, and Dmitry could come back any second and decide to kill one of them, while the other had no choice but to sit idle and watch. They could wait for Jean, but Kaeya truly had no idea how far up the mountain they were before the avalanche hit. She could be a good mile away, and in an underground cavern, it would take a miracle for her to find them.

He promised himself he'd protect Diluc, but in the moments where it mattered most his injuries left him too weak to lift a finger. He was useless, and a failure, and his chest hurt so much it was like his heart was trying to burst out of him.

"Kaeya?"

He looked up. Diluc was watching him intently, a small, fragile smile on his face. He felt like a child again, and he simultaneously hated it and ached for whatever part of him Diluc was seeing.

"I'm fine, I promise. My priority is getting you to safety now, and we will get away from that creep."

He didn't get it. He didn't get it. Diluc hated him. Diluc was supposed to hate him, it was normal, it was safe.

What was happening? Was he dying? He had to be dying, right?

He hated it. He felt sick. He wanted to claw his own skin off.

"Oh, I suppose that's what you told Jean—"

"Jean isn't here," Diluc said softly, in the same way Father would greet him as a small, scared child.

He grit his teeth, "What makes you think I'd make it far enough?"

"I can help you. I'll carry you, or something."

"I don't need help from you," he hissed, grasping for any sense of normalcy. Nothing ever goes right when they get along. Nothing.

Scream at me. Hate me.

Diluc nodded. Slowly, gently, with a sick resignation in his eyes.

Kill me.

"I get it. I– have a lot to make up for, and I will. You'll have to deal with me for a while, okay? You can hate me as much as you like once we get out."

He wanted to scream. He wanted to dig his fingers into his wounds until he met bone. It was all his fault, his fault, not Diluc's. He was the one who needed punishment. He was the one that needed to die. Diluc needed to hate him, He had to hate him, because God, he didn't know what it meant if he didn't.

Death, surely? Something far worse? Either way, it could only mean imminent doom.

Notes:

1. I know it breaks the pattern to have this chapter as Kaeya's pov, but after some consideration I decided I wanted this chapter to be his so I could have more time fleshing out his mental state. You'll see why in the next chapter, which'll go back to normal and be Diluc's pov.

2. Was it cruel of me to make Kaeya gaslight his brother as a defence mechanism? Oh yes, very much so. But like, it fits the kind of way someone like Kaeya would demean someone, and I needed that sweet sweet pain.

3. Diluc, by the way, is just built different. That's the only reason why he's not dead from a drug overdose, and can handle that much anaesthesia while still being conscious in general. No other reason.

Chapter 11

Notes:

Ah, how I've waited for this chapter. Happy holidays!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Considering the barren cells Diluc spent an indecipherable amount of time in while in Snezhnaya, a shadowy pit with tall, craggy walls was a preferable option. The light was intrepid, streaking through the dark from small crevices above them, Kaeya's vision safe and bold against his chest. Diluc's vision was uncomfortably far, but visible, which he considered a blessing. He was close enough to his brother to reach out, should their company get nasty, and his limbs were free from shackles or needles. An improvement, or a welcome surprise, he should say, from what he expected.

Those drugs, whatever they were, were strong, but Diluc was confident escaping their confines wouldn't be difficult. He really wasn't worried about his own safety anymore than he worried about the lengths of his hair. The issue was Kaeya.

He was ill, without a doubt. In the snow, his blood tainted his skin like tree sap, sticky and stark in his greasy hair. His pupil was a pinprick, trapped in the dark for too long, and when Diluc picked him up in the storm he melted in his arms like molten lava. Since, his pallor sunk into a sickly grey, burning up and over his cheek bones. He was getting worse at a frightening rate, jumping back and forth between shivering anger and submissiveness, brain to mouth filter dissolving.

His palm was ripped open with a vicious, gaping maw of a wound. The image of it was burnt into his eyes, raw around the edges, pus like foam on a seabed of limestone. Sickly yellow discharge soaked through the ripped fabric of Diluc's sleeve, already redundant and wet with blood. The thigh wound was miraculously healthier, like that meant anything, but he couldn't walk. It was the kind of wound he expected, and the kind he knew he'd have to face. It was naive to assume Kaeya would be unharmed, but God, it didn't make it any easier to look at.

Dmitry lingered nearby, his gaze steely. He stayed close at all times, never drifting out of sight for longer than five minutes, watching for hitches in their breath or shifting in their feet. It seemed like he recognised when those foul drugs began to wear off, and took a stance against the rocky wall, watching Diluc. Not as stupid as he thought, then. Go figure.

Frankly, Diluc could think of far more threatening kidnappers, namely ones with joyful gleams in their eyes, and an intricate mask adoring his face, as if others were puppets in his stage play. Dmitry, on the other hand, was stoic, and brittle. His anger lingered under the surface of his skin. He lacked control, and made up for it with disgust and antipathy. It honestly was a little sad.

The man stepped forward. He glared down at them both like cattle, fingers twitching. It was a little hard to see in the dark, but his back was covered in blood. It brought Diluc joy knowing Kaeya and Bennett got a hit on him.

Without much prompt, he arched over them. He crushed Diluc's chest under the heel of his boot, sharp like a knife, and the bones caved inwards under the force. His breath was abruptly stripped from his lungs, echoed by a deep crack. He cried out, biting his tongue until it bled. Kaeya lurched off the wall and launched across the cave like a frightened beast. His fingers nipped at Diluc's arms, his eyes bright and glazed with concern. He scrambled for purchase and gnawed at Dmitry's outstretched leg with the cutting edges of his hands and teeth.

Diluc pulled him back, his arms burning from the strain. He put himself between the two of them once more and took the vicious blows Dmitry took to his back, locked like chainmail around his brother's head. At this point, there was no way it wasn't targeted, but the least he could do was minimise Kaeya's injuries. He'd gladly take them as his own, if that's what it took.

Kaeya cried deliriously, brow damp against his neck, "No, Diluc. Stop it—!"

"Shh, it's alright," he said. Now more than ever, it was his job to keep Kaeya safe and sane.

Dmitry grabbed Diluc by the scalp and wrenched his head back until his neck cracked. His eyes, suspiciously, were on Kaeya, and the way he swiped with his nails at Dmitry's gloves. With a yank, Diluc slammed down on his back, and began wailing punches on his face. The stone was like barbed wire on his burns.

Kaeya started screaming, trying to climb over Diluc's head and fasten himself into a helmet. He pinned him down so he'd stay out of the way. "Why are you doing this?! I thought you wanted me!"

Diluc's ears were ringing, but he read Dmitry's lips, "If this isn't enough to break you, then you're useless to me."

He sent another eye watering punch to his nose, when Kaeya sunk his hand into Diluc's shirt and pulled free his cryo vision, the blue light escaping through the gaps between his fingers. The cold reached new heights as the air shivered to a stop, Diluc's skin riddled with goosebumps and Kaeya's fingers like icicles. Crystals of ice formed around them, weak and crumbling into elemental dust that rained like hail on their wounds. He could feel his bruises ageing, and watched the deep cut in Kaeya's hand seal slightly around the edges where he gripped Diluc's collar.

He'd watched it happen before, but as Kaeya's golden eye swirled in the light and his pupil a small pinprick like a distant star, this time, it felt like he was witnessing a miracle.

The icicles slipped from his grip, slicing his arms. He flicked his wrist and launched them at Dmitry, where they dissolved on contact. One made it deep enough to leave a weeping gash on the man's neck, blood streaming steadily past the dip of his shoulders. Diluc caught Kaeya as he collapsed, breathing as if he ran a marathon. He balled his fists into the ruined fabric of Diluc's shirt, trembling dramatically. Diluc held him to his chest and carded his fingers into his scalp. He radiated heat like a furnace.

To hold him so close was a foreign feeling, but he wished he could hold him tighter. Swaddle him in blankets, bandage his injuries. It was ridiculous, but he wished he could lock him in a tower away from all this blood and chaos, where no one would hurt him ever again. No criminal, no knight, no dead family. Alone where he'd be safe.

"Don't do that again," he whispered, "you're too injured."

Kaeya squirmed, "He's still— I need to—"

"You need to calm down first—"

"Calm down?!"

"That's enough," Dmitry said, towering over them. He ripped them apart like two opposing magnets and wrenched Diluc's arms behind his back, brandishing the length of rope that tied their visions to his waist. Both pyro visions dropped to the floor, obnoxiously close, just out of reach. He tied Diluc's wrists before he could even attempt to reach for them.

He threw Kaeya into the far corner, leaving him in a heap against the wall, "You've tried me for the last time, insect. I'll be leaving you here in a pile of ashes."

Diluc gasped. Each breath wrenched his bones like rattling clogs, "Don't touch him!"

"Enough!" He snapped. He snatched up his vision and pressed his silk hands into Diluc's back. He torched over his aching burns, hotter than before, the smell of searing flesh nauseating. He stopped only when Diluc started screaming, "You will sit and be quiet! You're lucky you're wanted by the harbingers, or I'd let Ignat tear you limb from limb!"

He coughed, "Am I supposed to be frightened?"

"Perhaps you already are," he growled, "you're brother, on the other hand, has proven his uselessness to me."

Dmitry picked up his own vision and left Diluc's discarded on the floor, several metres out of his reach, "You will stay here while I prepare. If either of you have the strength to leave, I'll kill the other one, understand?"

He nodded. It wouldn't be as impossible as the man seemed to think it would be to burn his way through the rope with his vision, if he could reach it. He'd carry Kaeya on his back to the cave exit, using his naturally cold hands as a balm for his burns. If not, he'd climb back the way they came.

Dmitry left, swerving around the edge of the rocks that swept him out of Diluc's sight. Kaeya folded over himself in the corner, his limbs weak and akimbo. His skin had turned ruddy, the icy balm of his vision proving useless against his fever. Diluc reached out his feet, hooking Kaeya's ankle, holding him within reach.

Kaeya flinched. He glared at Diluc with furious vigour, his mismatched eyes alight with fury, "Don't touch me."

"You're hurt," Diluc said, reaching, "let me see."

He kicked him in the shin, "I said… I don't want pity."

"God, Kaeya, I'm not pitying you," He growled. They didn't have time for this, "He's going to kill you—"

"Why do you care? Why don't you just let me die?"

He grit his teeth, "Who… cares about reasoning right now! You won't believe me anyway, just let me look at you."

"No," Kaeya said, and curled as far away from Diluc's reach as he could in the small cave. There was a glaze to his eyes that spoke of his stubbornness, fever bright and as loud as neon, as if he couldn't hear anything else, "stay away from me. I don't want you here."

"Well, I am here. Suck it up."

"Go away!"

"Where the hell do you expect me to go?!" He yelled, and shook his aching arms from emphasis, the rope digging into his wrists, "You want to get away from me so bad? Get up and leave before he comes back."

"I hate you."

That stung. He sighed, shifting his knees and sitting in the silence. He promised himself he'd be more honest, but it was hard to want to when every turn was blocked by a wall of violent flame.

"Can you make it to my vision, over there?" He asked, and gestured with his eyes. Kaeya didn't seem to be following them, "It's not far, and after, I'll carry you out. I'll take you straight to Jean, okay?"

"I hate you," Kaeya muttered, "I hate you, why are you here?"

"Kaeya, the vision—"

"No! Why are you here?!"

Maybe he really was too far gone for this, any of this. He was probably running on empty. Diluc watched him warily, where his chest heaved and his brow glistened with sweat. He desperately wished they could've had this conversation when Kaeya was of a more lucid mind, but if playing along was the only way to get through to him in his state, then he'd be truthful.

"You know why I'm here," he started, slowly, "Jean and I came to save you, after learning you were missing. I couldn't just do nothing."

"You've never cared before," Kaeya mumbled.

He frowned, "You've never been missing before. For over a week, mind you."

"You went missing for years! Didn't care then, huh?!"

Is that what this was about? "Listen, Kaeya, we'll talk more once we're out of here—"

"Why? Question too hard for you?"

He hummed, "If that's how you feel—"

"Feel?! Since when did you give a fuck about how I feel?!" Kaeya screamed, "You spew all this bullshit and butter me up as if nothing ever happened— but you still beat the shit out of me and left me for your four year pity party! I was the one who had to clean up your mess, Diluc! Me!"

His jaw fell to the floor. Those years were torturous, painfully empty and unending, as if he had fallen into limbo. Diluc barely kept his sanity. Every day in that cursed country was suffering. Every path, every encounter— it burrowed itself into him, indenting his skin, and it burned. It wasn't a pity party.

"I left to hunt down the people that killed our father!" He yelled back, the words tearing his throat, "You laughed off his death like it was nothing!"

Kaeya laughed hysterically, "Y-you think I didn't mourn?! Please, Master Diluc, I'm not this heartless caricature you keep pretending I am!"

He knew that. He knew that.

Even still, he remembered the storm he ran from all those years ago. He looked down over his father's body, floods of rain drowning the grass and cutting into the earth. His hands were pale and bony, made of foreign, sticky blood, the corrosion spreading up to his forearms like a disease. Father was still, his life seeping into the fabric wrapped around Diluc's knees, rising up and soaking into his clothes, as if stolen.

He lifted his head, stuffed like a balloon, the ground miles away from his eyes. In front of him was a fog thicker than rock, bleaching the rain black. The world was blinding, and deafeningly silent. His hair clung to his skin like sodden fur, curled into his eyelashes, and he didn't feel a thing.

His eyes landed on blue; like periwinkles, like frost kissed lakes. The only clear sight for miles.

"I saw you, Kaeya!" He cried, echoing. He would never forget; the numb despair pooling in Kaeya's eye, the shivers that wracked his thin frame as he melted in the storm, and the creeping upturn of his lips into a terrifying, manic smile.

His brother made a vicious growling sound, deep in his throat and built up by anger. Diluc rapidly blinked away the image of Father's body. He sat in a cave, and Kaeya jolted himself forwards like he was trying to claw Diluc's face off, "You didn't see a fucking thing! All those years of suffering, I was alone!"

"Oh, like I didn't suffer!" He scoffed. Jean found Kaeya alone, refusing to treat his injuries. He fought through the pain without help, retreating into dirty alleyways and behind locked doors for the chance to break, if only for a moment. Diluc didn't get that luxury.

Kaeya suffered in the first place because of you.

"And that's all my fault, is it?! You couldn't even stand being in the same nation as me!"

Kaeya had friends. Diluc's company was reduced to his sword, and the blood tattooed on his skin.

Father's blood. Kaeya's blood.

He hated it. He hated it so much. Why couldn't the suffering just stop. He sighed shakily out his nose and clenched his fists, nails digging small crescents into his skin.

"I didn't mean to leave you, Kaeya," and out of his control, his sincerity was buried by irritation, "I just… had to go. I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have stayed with me! Was it really that hard to be around me?!"

"We were children," he said, because they were, weren't they? "You know what happened, we would have only made each other's pain worse. Without Father there—"

Kaeya screamed, "You should have thought about that before you killed him!"

Whatever planned to leave his mouth next was lost. He mouthed uselessly around the air as it thickened, breath trapped.

What?

Yes.

W-what—

You're a monster.

No—

It's all your fault.

All your fault.

All your fault.

Kaeya flopped backwards into the wall, his gaze trained on him. His eyes were filled with horror so poignant it cut through the cave like a chainsaw, his chest stuttering.

It's your fault!

You're evil. You're demonic. You break everything you touch.

You're a monster made of fire.

Monster.

Monster.

Monster.

"I didn't… Diluc—"

Monster.

Diluc was gone.

"Then what? What made you think that was a good time to tell me the truth, huh?! You just had to be selfish and have your moment in the spotlight! Can't you go five seconds without trying to outdo everyone else's problems with your own?! You didn't care at all that he died— you saw me in a pool of his blood and you smiled!"

"I—"

"Did his death make you happy?! Was that it?! Are you so sick in the head that watching me drive a sword through his heart was funny to you?! Did it awaken some purpose in you?!"

He shook his head with a snap, "No, I—"

"Oh, but it's always about poor Kaeya, isn't it?! Gods forbid any of us want to mourn, Kaeya's upset too! God forbid my father fucking dies, 'cause brother dearest decides now's the perfect time to tell me he never loved us anyway! Why did he have to die for you to confess you're a spy who's been syphoning off our family for ten years?!"

"I'm not some stupid fucking spy!" He screamed, a piercing sound, out of his control.

"Then what are you?! A tool for them to extend their reach, an experiment?! Are we all just pawns in your chess game?!"

"I-I don't know!"

"Liar!"

He choked on his sobs, "You think they told me anything?! I was seven years old, Diluc!"

"And yet you cared enough to ruin my life! I don't care how old you were, you spent a decade lying to the people who took you in for some mission you decided was better than any love we ever gave you! You picked a ridiculous revenge story over us, and you're telling me you don't even know what you were supposed to do?! Bullshit!"

"Stop! Stop, stop it! Stop it!"

Kaeya shook his head wildly, snapping his neck back and forth as if to fight off the evil wrought in his own head. His lip was bleeding, bitten through by his own teeth and split down the middle. He shuddered through choppy gasps that wrecked his frame. His eyes were whipping around the room as if rolling out their sockets, clouded over, lost to the darkness bleeding off the walls.

He snagged at his hair, wrenching his wrist like a possessed man, "I'm not a spy! I'm not a spy! I don't know what they want, okay?! I don't— I don't know!"

He seemed lost in his own head, broken down in the way a psychotic deceiver would never be, and it shattered the crimson sheet of glass and anger Diluc was seeing through. His breaths lodged themselves in his lungs, his fingers tingling, and the tar left from his words careened him over an edge, dangerously close to throwing up.

"What—"

"A-all that's left is a city of monsters," Kaeya said, breathless and out of Diluc's reach, where he flinched at the term, "who would I even report to?! Do you seriously think I'm capable of looking you in the eye while ratting you out to the abyss?!"

"Kaeya, you avoid me like the plag—"

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Stop talking like you know anything that was going through my head! You can't read my mind, you can't! You can't!"

"Kaeya—"

"Shut up! If Father was alive I-I wouldn't have had to choose! Father wouldn't have made me choose! I never had to think about those monsters again if I didn't want to, but he died and what if they came for me and what if they came for you and God if I just picked them there'd be nothing to hold onto and you'd hate me like you were supposed to!"

Kaeya never spoke about Khaenri'ah. Throughout the entirety of their childhood, he dodged the subject, as if saying the events aloud would make it real, summon remnants to his side, and drag him back. He was terrified of even mentioning it.

"What would I even tell them— Master Diluc hates them?!" He screamed, starving for breath, "M-master Diluc wakes at the sound of a pin drop and you couldn't kill him if you tried?! What the fuck could I possibly tell them that they don't already know?!"

His eyes were wild and blindly racing around the cell. Diluc gazed into them, and found deep, sightless pools, his pupils like craters. He fucked up. Badly. He writhed, reaching for his brother, held back by his binds. If he could touch him, let him know he was with him, maybe he could bring him back. He could convince him whatever he was seeing wasn't real.

Not again, please. Please, please—

Kaeya's words dissolved into muttering, lost between panicked gasps, "They left me in a foreign land with some great purpose I couldn't even wrap my f–fucking head around—"

"Kaeya," he called, "Kaeya."

"I don't remember any of their faces; I don't know what they want from me—"

"Kae, no—"

"I just wanted to go home but I didn't have one anymore—"

"Listen—"

"But you found me and I could leave that cursed place behind and you really made me believe it! J–just fucking long enough for it to fucking hurt!"

He started laughing. Horrible, numb cackling that echoed off the stone walls, loud and grating like a fog horn. It sounded nothing like anything Diluc knew his brother to be, and the horror overwhelmed him. Before he knew it, he was sobbing. Dry heaving on nothing, "Shh, Kaeya, Kae, calm down."

Kaeya gasped, finally catching his eyes. He flung his head back into the wall with the force of a cannonball, but withered inwards on himself with his head to his knees, weeping, "You're s-so cruel, Diluc! Why did you have to make me believe I could be happy here?! That I didn't have to think about my supposed purpose! Why?!"

"Kaeya—"

"I told you because I love you!"

He…

Loved—

He loves me. He said he loves me.

My brother loves me.

He couldn't breathe. His body was tearing apart, stuck in a loop of agony that wrecked its way through his organs and into the cells of his skin. He could feel the pain in his eye sockets, and the nape of his neck, so violent it bent him in half.

No. No, no this wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't right.

His brother loved him. His brother loved him and the weight was suffocating. Frost crawled up his neck, fixed around his chest. He almost retched at the sensation.

"I–I can't take it anymore, I can't!" Kaeya wheezed, shaking down to his toes, "I wanted you to kill me, it would've been so much easier if you killed me, but you just left me in a ditch while you went off and f–found fucking closure!"

No— no, no, no—

Kill. God, why would he kill him. He wouldn't—

"Why are you here?! All we've ever done is fucked up each other's lives over and over and over again and I'm sick of it! Why don't you just kill me now and get it over with?!"

"You don't mean that… you're lying," Diluc whispered, voice lost.

"Fucking bite me, asshole! If you're going to question everything out my mouth then why should I even try?!"

He was right, of course. It seemed like Diluc was incapable of interacting with him now without hurting him. He didn't want to lose him, but it wasn't like he had a right to choose if he did or didn't. Diluc was dangerous, they both were, like the elements they controlled. The resulting steam would only scold Kaeya's skin with more burns.

Still. Still.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said, and the tears slid down his face like melting icicles. His thoughts sounded like anguished wails, tearing through the meat of his forehead and eating through his brow bones. It felt like a lie on his lips, a horrid tale conjured by his sick, twisted brain, even as his heart squeezed up his throat, "I'm… not going to hurt you."

Kaeya stared through him, his skin wan and oily, strands of his hair stuck to his flickering eyelashes. His golden eye burned as it wandered lifelessly across the plains of Diluc's face. He looked through him as if he was never there, "Then leave me alone."

Diluc nodded. Right, that was safer, wasn't it?

Poor, monstrous Master Diluc. Evil Master Ragnvindr, a name taken by force through bloodshed and despair. Did he really think it was enough to realise how stupid he'd been? Did he really believe he could make his brother forgive him with a couple kind gestures and an ounce of care? Did he really think he could make him feel safe again?

No, Kaeya was safer without him. Kaeya was happier without him. He was a fool for ignoring such obvious signs of distaste because, what, he cared too much? Because he wanted to keep his brother safe all on his own like a big boy?

Pathetic.

Jean was wrong— they were never meant to fix it. Diluc broke them too harshly, too irreversibly. There was nothing he could do.

Dmitry strutted around the corner, slithering into their space and peering down his nose. Both pyro visions were clipped onto his belt, the knot tight and unyielding to his pendulous steps. He latched onto Diluc's face immediately, swooping into a crouch and blocking his sight of Kaeya, "You're crying? How— interesting. I hadn't considered…"

Diluc ducked, but Dmitry snatched him up by the jaw, staring with yawning, dead eyes. "You're more than I hoped for, Master Diluc. To hold onto these… emotional tendencies, despite the stoicism you uphold. I can see why Lord Harbinger likes you so much."

Fuck Dottore, he didn't care, "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

"Hm?" Dmitry said.

Diluc snarled at him, his chin wet with tears, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Up there, you could have killed me with that drug and taken Kaeya, but you didn't. Tell me why."

Dmitry circled around him, slivering like a snake stalking its prey, "We were told to find people who wouldn't be missed, whose lives were inconsequential to the greater masses. Lord Harbinger sees this as an optional factor. All he needs are people with weakened wills who'd submit to experimentation, with a little… persuasion."

He turned to Kaeya, where he folded over himself in the dark. A thin film of haze coated his eyes, his gaze a thousand yards away, like a discarded children's puppet. Dmitry ran his fingers under his chin, walking his fingers down his throat. Kaeya leant away on reflex, "Ignat chose your brother because he enjoys the thrill of breaking those wills with his own hands. I saw no issue with it, but now, he's far too much of a hassle."

No.

"You, however, are quite high on the fatui's hit list. I'm sure Lord Harbinger would be thrilled to have you as his test subject, and I know just the way to persuade you."

He jolted, "Don't you dare!"

Dmitry reached for Kaeya's neck, pressing him against the stone. He slid his fingers neatly over the bruises, lining them up like rotten puzzle pieces under his grip, and began to squeeze. Kaeya's eyes fluttered, his limbs lax and unmoving. He met Diluc's eyes over Dmitry's shoulder, and blinked like he was falling asleep, weary from life.

"Ah," Dmitry hummed, "I see you finally understand. Too late."

"Leave him alone!"

"If this is how I pacify you, Master Diluc, I will see it done."

There was fire in his bones, fury building up in his blood. He heaved forward, his claws digging into the metal around his wrists, searing marks into his skin as he thrashed, "It'll change nothing, I'll never submit to you."

"No?" He said, and squeezed a little tighter, a little more, until Kaeya choked, "I'm being kind, Master Ragnvindr. Would you rather I burn him to death? Maim him? Treat him like the vermin he is?"

Don't touch him. Don't touch him.

Kaeya closed his eyes. His skin was ashen, white as snow, the tips of his fingers a glacial blue. Diluc sobbed, his throat burning. The air was thin, the taste of ice on his breath as he heaved.

God, he was so pathetic.

Please don't—

If only he wasn't such a liar.

Don't touch him!

Why did it have to be Kaeya, why couldn't it have just been him—

Their hands squeezed tighter around Kaeya's throat. His voice cut out, the last of his withered gasps dying and the wired tension in his muscles vanishing. His head began to droop, the last of his energy crushed and crumbling, while Diluc prayed his hands would sever at the wrist, if only for a chance to move.

Don't touch him—

He couldn't lose him again!

Don't touch him!

There was a swelling in his chest, the elements fighting for life in his bloodstream poured together into a single mass, swirling with energy. Sweat drenched his clothes, his jaw clenched at the waves of heat and frost took over his body. He blinked away the red and blue lights flooding his sight, his ears ringing themselves raw, and screamed,

"Kaeya!"

Wings of fire burst from his chest, sharp as talons, and clashed with an overpowering flood of ice. Dawn's feathers solidified into swirling crystals, her beak lined with frozen teeth. The blaze reflected like prisms across the icy surface as she soured into the dark room and exploded. He fell to the floor in a heap, bowed over himself. The foreign power under his skin was thick and unending, deep as the sea and blending seamlessly with his fire. He wheezed, pawing at his face. He felt like he was glowing.

His wrists were burnt, scarred over his pulse points, when steam seeped out of the wounds where ice incased them, soothing the heat, as if his body protected itself from Dawn's wings. He gasped. Kaeya's vision, no doubt, he knew the personality. He saw first hand the way his brother's ice encroached over his skin like a child, curious of untracked plains. He recognised the way it's healing grasp stung.

Dawn dissolved before his eyes, wisps of her attack dancing with shards of ice, scattering in the air. Her final few breaths lingered over Dmitry's body thrown against the far side of the room, blown away by the impact. Her beak tore a boulder-sized hole through his chest, blood flooding his lap and drowning the pyro vision that sat at his naval. flickering.

He locked eyes with Diluc, wide and fearful. The blood spilled from between his teeth like water down a drain, the dying carcass of an animal resting on his tongue.

"How?" He whispered. With the last licks of fire of the man's vision, the light vanished from his eyes, dead.

He didn't care. Kaeya was lying lifeless between them. Diluc flew across the room, tripping over his own vision by his knee, scrambling on all fours. He dug his fingers into his brother's clothes and sighed with his whole chest in relief.

"Kaeya," he called, and tipped Kaeya's body onto his back. His eyes were open and glassy, his gaze mindlessly scanning Diluc's features. The heat from his panting breaths thickened the air between them.

"Luc?"

"I'm here," he replied on instinct, and slipped his palm over the fuzz of eyebrows and under Kaeya's bangs. He burned with fever, "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Kaeya pawed at his wrist, tugging with zero energy. He pulled and pushed at the fabric of Diluc's sleeves between bouts of shivers, as if unable to decide between seeking warmth or violently shoving him away.

"How'd you do that?" He croaked, raw confusion in his eyes.

"I… I don't know," he whispered, "I just knew I had to do something."

Kaeya looked up at him in wonder. His golden eye shimmered like mora, glazed with his tears and wrought with exhaustion. It reminded Diluc of wishing wells and seashells buried in wet sand. The ridges of his scar were smooth as a testament to the years of healing, but the evidence remained. It dug into Kaeya's brow bone, cutting sharp into his eyebrow, and wrapped tight around the apple of his cheek, resembling a spreading flame.

It would have been grotesque, when it happened. Especially if Jean was right to assume he never went to the cathedral for proper medical attention. Diluc felt the sickness settle in his gut at the thought. He'd worry about that later. It wasn't the time.

He slipped his arms under Kaeya's squirming torso and lifted him just enough to secure him in his hold, slumped on the ground. For a moment, he expected anger, or panic, but Kaeya's laid his head gently on his shoulder, his hair sticking to the blood on Diluc's clothes in mangled clumps.

"Hot," he said, blankly.

Diluc huffed, "How'd it get this bad?"

" 's his fault."

"What? What's his fault?"

Kaeya shaped his hand into a loose fist, as if holding an invisible knife, and wafted it over his body. He immediately retreated from the motion with a pained whine, cradling his infected hand as his eyelids fluttered shut. Rot had begun to stretch from the edges of the wound, puss and thick blood slick down to his fingers, the remnants of the tired cloth around his palm drenched in gunk. It smelt like a massacre.

Diluc cradled it to his chest, away from open air, "You've been ill for a while now, haven't you?"

Kaeya groaned, burrowing closer. So close, he could feel the heat pouring off him, hot enough to steam, and see the strain in his throat as he breathed, "F'l bad, Luc…"

"I know, I know," he soothed, his heart heavy, "I'm so sorry, Kaeya, you'll be okay."

"S'weird."

"Shh, it's okay."

He shouldn't sound so disorientated, his brow shouldn't be furrowed in confusion. No infection should strip a man of his lucidity, not in such an unconditional way that seemed to completely erase Kaeya's hate for his presence, or the panic in his eyes. He slipped his hand down his brother's jaw and felt for his pulse, as a precaution, and Kaeya let his head flop like a bird in the mouth of a crocodile, exposing his arteries. His heart fluttered hummingbird speeds, thumping rapidly against his fingers.

Not good. If he didn't find some way to cool him down soon he could—

He might—

No, not after he'd come so far. Not after all Kaeya had suffered through.

"You have to stay awake for me, okay Kae?" He shook his arms until Kaeya hummed. "Just a little longer."

His breathing was fast and uneven, his face scrunched in a pained grimace where he smothered himself into Diluc's neck, but he nodded. His hand curled weakly into the neckline of Diluc's coat, fingers hot as Natlan lava, and the urge to cry into his greased hair overpowered him. If only he could pull the pain from his withered body with his touch, and take it as his own. If only it was that simple.

"I'll get us out of here, little brother. Don't worry."

He took a moment to press the back of his palm into Kaeya's cheek, feeling the pulsing heat underneath, then swayed around and slung the man onto his back. He wilted into his touch, fixed against his body in the same way his vision tied itself to Diluc's hand during the snowstorm. His breath was boiling the skin on the back of his neck.

Time to get out.

Notes:

1. The argument before Dmitry shows up in this chapter was actually the first thing I wrote for this whole story, and I liked it enough to write a fic around it.

2. Surprised btw? What did you all think of Diluc using two visions? Hope it was satisfying! I think I built it up pretty well with all the cold metaphors, but I don't wanna get too ahead of myself and say I did a good job if you're all like, wha…? You know?

3. I know the whole Kaeya and Dainsleif interaction in Sumeru disproves the idea that he's scared to talk about Khaenri'ah, but this is my fanfic and what I say goes, so fuck canon. (I just like the idea of Kaeya being traumatised by his homeland, hope ya'll don't mind too much).

4. Diluc is actually so difficult to write dialogue for, even now. At least with Kaeya it's all half truths and sarcasm, but with Diluc I'm like would he be sarcastic here or would he be blunt? Would he say he cares here or would he get angry? I looked up a bunch of his lines and I've just been… staring at them. I still don't get him, hopefully he sounds in character.

5. I hope it's not too noticeable, but there's a couple sections in this chapter that I just could not figure out, so they're sort of scrambled together. I plan on giving this story a good final edit before I post the last chapter, so if it's truly noticeable, i'll fix it soon dw xx