Chapter Text
Kaeya never thought he’d see the vineyard like this again—beautifully decorated and lively with the laughter of the many party guests who milled about, clinking glasses of the Dawn Winery’s finest as they went.
Crepus used to throw extravagant events like this, once in a while, and Diluc and Kaeya would attend in their finest attire, trying not to spill grape juice on their clothes or cause a ruckus among the partygoers. They would make up games together to pass the time, when they were young, but as they got older the difference in their stations became more pronounced. Diluc learned the winemaking trade and was trained in the aristocratic manners and bearing he still possesses. Kaeya had no such obligations, as he was heir to nothing but dust, and his name carried no weight at all.
Now here he is again, after everything, standing with a few of the other Knights of Favonius in the place he used to call home, a cup of Death After Noon in his hand and a disinterested smirk on his face. None of this matters to him, none of it.
“It’s just for show,” Lisa says, sounding more disgruntled even than usual. “It has to be.”
Kaeya glances warily at her. She’s dressed to the nines for this event—they all are. It’s the party of the year, Knights of Favionius mingling with venerable aristocrats and new money alike, scattered among the fairy lights strung around the vineyard like imprisoned fireflies. And in the center of it all, Diluc with a gracious smile and Jean with her effervescent laugh, looking very much like royalty even in this crownless city.
“Well?” Lisa’s expression is sharp enough to cut. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”
“What would you have me do?” Kaeya asks, exasperation seeping into his voice.
This engagement—Ragnvindr to Gunnhildr—is the bridge the city needs, a strategic alliance between Mondstat’s nobles and its knights, and it was put in place by Jean and Diluc’s parents before the betrothed were old enough to walk.
Even if they weren’t estranged, who would Kaeya be to stand in Diluc’s way? This is his choice, after all.
Lisa just sighs, pulling the brim of her hat a little lower to hide the crackling anger in her eyes. She’s made no secret of her unhappiness with the coming alliance, largely because she thinks Jean deserves better, and maybe also slightly because she has somehow intuited Kaeya’s feelings for Diluc. Feelings that never had any chance of reciprocation even when Diluc was single.
It’s better for everyone this way.
After another cup of Death After Noon, Kaeya feels strong enough to offer his best wishes to the happy couple. It’s worth the heartache to see the interesting expressions Diluc fails to hide as Kaeya approaches. At least Diluc still feels something for him, even if that something is anger and hate. Better that than indifference.
“Congratulations,” Kaeya says, with a courtly bow. “You two will be the talk of Mondstat.”
“Yes, well…” Diluc can’t seem to look at him. “This is what Father wanted, after all.”
“My family is very pleased with the arrangement too,” Jean says, filling the awkward silence that follows. “Thank you for coming, Sir Kaeya.”
“It was my pleasure.” Kaeya smiles at them, wishing for the ten thousandth time in his life that he could wink, and takes his leave.
He slips away from the party, and wanders through the vineyards, which are as familiar to him as the shape of his own face. The rich, earthy smell of tilled soil fills the air, and he eats grapes off the vine as he goes, until he finds the small corner shed where he used to hide as a child. It’s a tight fit, but he can still squeeze through the window. Inside are tools that haven’t been used for years, a laborer’s cot covered with dust, and the many bottles of wine he stashed as a teenager.
He lies back on the cot and stares up at the cobwebby ceiling, feeling as though a great pressure is weighing down on his chest, a sadness so deep he might drown in it.
It’s ridiculous, foolish, pathetic. And yet…
“I wish I could go back.” he whispers to the dust motes drifting through the empty room. “Back to the time before I knew you…”
A single tear runs down the side of his cheek, and he closes his eye.
From the window in his study, which overlooks the rolling hills of the vineyard, Diluc catches a glimpse of Jean in the distance. Her silhouette is distinctive, straight backed and slender, a purity of character echoed in the austerity of her appearance and mannerisms.
Diluc likes that about her. Actually, he likes a lot of things about her. She’s the finest person Mondstat has to offer, in many ways, the noblest and strongest of heart. Diluc knows that he’s lucky to be the one to put that ring on her finger, the extravagant diamond band that belonged to the mother he can barely remember.
Lucky. That’s what he tells himself, even though attending their engagement celebration felt more like duty than love, even though he’s never so much as kissed her.
He’ll have to. And there’s a thought best left for some unfortunate future version of himself to deal with. His father put this marriage contract into place many years before his death, and Jean’s relatives have been pushing her to see it fulfilled. Diluc will abide by it, so long as she wishes. He owes her that much.
He watches her approach for a few moments, then bows his head to his work again until he hears her knock at the door.
She smiles at him as he opens it, bright eyed and lovely. He smiles back, wishing he could love her the way she deserves to be loved.
“Diluc,” she says. “It’s good to see you.”
He opens his mouth to greet her, and that’s when he sees the child standing several feet behind her, eyes wide and frightened. The kid looks so much like Kaeya that Diluc’s heart gives an aching lurch and he nearly reaches out. He’s younger than Kaeya was when he came to the winery, maybe six or seven years old, hugging himself tightly as though he’s cold, or in need of comfort. He’s wearing what looks like an adult’s white shirt, hanging past his knees, and his feet are bare.
“What is it?” Jean asks, turning to follow his gaze.
Behind her, the kid starts inching backward, eyeing the nearby grapevines like he wants to make a break for it.
“Where did you come from?” Jean says softly, reaching out for the child. “It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you here. Do you know where your parents are?”
The kid stumbles backwards, saying something Diluc doesn’t understand. It takes him a moment to realize the strange, melodic noises are a different language. A language he’s only heard a few times before. Kaeya told him it was something he made up, but later Diluc heard the same kinds of sounds on the lips of Abyss mages who threatened Mondstat’s safety.
Jean glances back at him, uncertain. “Do you know what he’s saying?”
The child’s eyes fix on him too, tears shimmering but not falling. They are so like Kaeya’s, but larger and a luminous blue. Something in him aches to see it.
“Where is Kaeya?” Diluc asks her. This child has to belong to him—there’s simply no other possibility.
“I don’t know,” she says, running a hand through her hair in a very uncharacteristic expression of anxiety. “He’s supposed to be out patrolling, but you know how he is. All I know is that he’s planning to be gone for the next few weeks.”
“You don’t know?” Diluc narrows his eyes, feeling bitter anger rise in him. “You send him out to do dangerous work for the Ordo and you don’t keep track of where he goes?”
Jean gives him a reproachful look. “Calm down, Diluc. You’re scaring him.”
It’s true—the kid has almost entirely slipped into the nearby brush. He wipes his nose on a sleeve that’s too long for his arm, then looks up at Diluc, sniffling.
It’s enough to make anyone melt, even a bastard like Diluc. He sighs heavily, getting to one knee so he’s level with the little boy.
“ Ayah keh big-une, ” he says, and the kid’s face turns incredulous, his hands pressed to his mouth to not-quite hide the hint of a giggle escaping. Jean is likely staring at him too, but he ignores her for the moment.
The phrase means “I eat boogers” in Kaeya’s native language. He thought it was the height of comedy when they were eight years old.
The child lets out a string of gibberish, and Diluc, having exhausted the only Khaenri’ahn phrase he knows, just shrugs.
“Go find Kaeya,” he tells Jean, without turning away from the kid. “Quickly.”
“Yes, of course,” Jean says, sounding worried. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The child watches her stride quickly back to her horse and mount up, then turns his wide, adorable eyes back on Diluc, who thinks maybe it’s a good thing he never knew Kaeya at this age. He would have been even more of a sucker for Kaeya’s charms than he already was.
He turns back to the kid and taps his chest twice. “Diluc.”
The child mimics the gesture. “Kaellah al Linshiadah de Vantisa.” And then he bows, as courtly as any prince.
“Kaellah.” Diluc gives him what is hopefully a convincing smile. “It’s good to meet you. Are you hungry?” He pats his stomach for emphasis.
“Hun-gy,” Kaellah repeats, his voice lilting with a curious accent. He brings his hand to his mouth and mimes eating. “Y—yes?”
Diluc’s smile gets wider. Already picking up some of the language—he’s so like Kaeya, who is cleverer than anyone else Diluc has ever known.
“Come with me,” he says, straightening. He holds the door open and Kaellah, though still a little wary, follows him into the house.