Chapter Text
Jean never believed a love like once from her romance novels could ever exist in real life. With her own parent’s split, such a concept seemed even more distant; an ideal meant to be admired and yearned for at a distance, never quite exiting the realm of fantasy.
But it was all those years ago when she first met that blaze of scarlet and boyish passion, her own heart mirroring the pulsing fire of his gaze, that she sensed the line between fantasy and reality blur for the first time.
All because of him.
“Well, aren’t you looking forward to your first drink?” Jean nudges teasingly.
“I’ve already had my first drink, and it was disgusting, thank you very much,” Diluc responds dryly.
They’re lying on divan in Master Crepus’s manor, snuggled against each other for warmth from the frigid winter night, gloved fingers wrapped around the mugs of hot tea that Adelinde’s so graciously prepared.
Jean playfully smacks Diluc’s arm, causing his cup to slosh a few drops of tea onto his white gloves.
“I didn’t figure you were one to drink while underaged, oh-so distinguished Cavalry Captain Diluc.”
His face splits into an easy smile, setting his cup down on the table beside them to remove his gloves.
“Hard not to have a sip when your father runs a winery,” he replies good-naturedly. “And - ah, look what you’ve done,” he bemoans, holding up his stained gloves, though Jean can spot a playful twinkle in his crimson eyes. “How am I ever going to get them to replace these?”
She giggles, setting down her own cup to grab his hands in hers.
“You could always borrow Kaeya’s,” she suggests, feeling the calluses under his palms.
“No way,” he responds immediately, nose wrinkling in fake disgust. “Barbatos knows where his grubby little hands have been.”
She laughs again, drawing herself closer to him, enjoying the warmth that seems to radiate off of him.
“Maybe that could be your new gift.”
“Shh, let me enjoy being seventeen a little longer. I’ve still a month to go, anyways,” he says, wrapping an arm around her. She grins and relents to his warmth around her.
They sit in comfortable silence for a while, and he presses his lips to her hair as she leans her head on his shoulder.
“I think I have a better early birthday gift than drinks or gloves,” she says, finally breaking the silence. She draws herself forward and tilts her head up to press her lips against his.
The kiss is soft and chaste at first, and soon she feels his arms snake around her waist, drawing her body flush against his.
They break apart, breathless. Their eyes lock - fiery crimson meeting clear azure - and their lips crash upon each others’ once more, this time burning with the newly lit fires of passion.
Their kiss deepens, and Jean is suddenly aware of just how close her body is pressed against his. Her hands run down his abdomen and she finds her fingers reaching to undo the buttons of his shirt, almost as if driven by some sort of external force.
“I love you,” she whispers through her heated haziness, removing her gloves to run her fingers over his skin.
“We don’t have to do this unless you’re certain, Jean,” he murmurs, eyes clouded by worry or desire, she can’t tell.
“I'm certain,” she responds, settling her ungloved hands over his chest. His gaze darkens, hands roaming upward to tug on her shirt, and she can feel the sleeves of her uniform begin to slip off her shoulders.
“I love you too,” he whispers, undoing the straps of her undergarments and leaning in to trail kisses down her neck.
She keens, thoughts of Kaeya or Master Crepus walking in on them barely registering amongst the increasing haze of pleasure fogging her mind.
As if reading her mind, Diluc scoops her up in his strong arms, one hand on her back and another under her legs, carrying her to the bedroom. She wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her face against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat, which seems to be beating faster than usual.
“Nervous?” she whispers, very much aware of her own heartbeat pounding in her flushed ears as well.
“Just for you,” he whispers back, setting her on the bed and locking the door behind them.
Her heart fills with love at his little confession. She feels her cheeks flush with heat, and as he draws himself over her, red hair falling to shield both their faces, she reaches up to trace his face with her hand, caressing his cheek.
“I love you,” she says again.
A month passes awfully quickly, and before she knows it, Diluc’s birthday has arrived, and, along with it, news of his father’s departure later that day. On her way back from the Favonious headquarters, she finds him with Kaeya, hanging back to talk with his brother.
Kaeya greets her with a hand and a smooth smile, as he always does, nudging his brother in the ribs with his elbow.
“Ah ah, here comes the latecomer,” he chides, his one blue eye twinkling with amusement. “How come I haven’t seen you all day?”
Diluc turns around, face brightening upon seeing her. “Jean! I’ve been looking for you all morning,” he exclaims. Kaeya rolls his single eye, but he grins nonetheless.
“Answer the question, now. Hopefully you weren’t slacking off in anticipation for my dear brother’s birthday, right?”
Jean smiles. “Sorry, I was helping Lisa sort out some papers in the library…”
Diluc scowls at him, though there’s no real venom in his expression. “Maybe you should look at yourself. Using my birthday as an excuse to skive off paperwork - ‘Can’t fill these out, sorry, I’m preparing myself for the drinks tonight’ - you can’t even drink until November, blockhead,” he mocks as Kaeya throws his head back and laughs.
“Just because I have better tolerance than you doesn’t mean you have to get so bitter about it,” he teases. Diluc rolls his eyes.
“Kaeya!” Jean chides. “You, too?”
Kaeya’s laughter only grows louder.
As they reach the tavern, Kaeya leaves them for his own duties, waving a hand goodbye to the two and smirking a “don’t get too wasted” to his older brother.
Standing in a shaded alley besides the front entrance, Jean takes his hands in hers, locking her eyes with his.
“I’m sorry, Diluc. I couldn’t find the right gift for you, so I’m afraid I’ll have to give it to you next week.”
Diluc smiles at her, a teasing glint in his eyes reminiscent of his younger brother, and brings up one of her hands to press his lips to its back.
“Aren’t you forgetting, Jean? You’ve already given your gift.”
Her mind flashes; hands gripping her waist, lips skating along her collarbone, heat radiating from skin.
Jean flushes. “I…well…”
His grin widens, and he pulls an arm around her to bring her closer.
“Don’t worry so much about it, Jean. You don’t have to shower me in gifts every year. Just your being here is enough.”
Jean feels herself relaxing, resting her head on his shoulder.
“It’s just…eighteen is so special,” she says to him, his thumb brushing absentmindedly on her waist.
“We could always go for another round of that first gift if you’re so concerned.”
Jean rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the warmth blossoming in her gut.
“Keep talking, Ragnvindr. Don’t you have to leave for the winery with your father later today anyways?”
His laughter rings in her ears, clearer and brighter than any star. Despite her teasing, she presses herself closest to him, enjoying the perpetual warmth that his pyro vision creates.
They stay like that for a moment, enjoying each other’s company, Diluc stroking her soft blonde hair as her eyes begin to flutter.
He sighs. “I’ll have to go in now, Jean. See you tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she says.
He presses his lips to her hair in goodbye and steps inside the tavern, flaming hair trailing down his back.
Jean can’t help but smile in spite of herself, still feeling the lingering warmth of his arms around her.
She returns home, unable to stop smiling, completely unaware of what’s to come later that day.
The skies are overcast as the carriage packers back along the trail. Diluc’s never been one to fear the cold, being a pyro user, but the prospect of having his uniform soaked through isn’t particularly pleasant, either. He grabs the reins of his horse, willing them to pick up the pace.
Behind him, his father’s voice sounds from the carriage.
“I hope you’ve had a wonderful celebration today, Diluc.”
“It has been wonderful, Father.” Diluc smiles at his father’s words, thinking back on the festivities at the winery.
“I suppose it would’ve been made better if Miss Jean could be there as well, wouldn’t it?” He can quite literally hear the teasing smile in his father’s voice, and he grips the reins tighter, feeling his ears burn red as his hair.
“I…”
“Oh, don’t worry, son. I’ve known about you two for a while now.”
“Don’t tell me Kaeya spilled the beans,” Diluc grumbles, promising to give his brother a yank to the ear at home if true.
A soft chuckle. “No, it was clear enough. Sometimes a father can see right through his children, you know.”
Diluc feels embarrassment rise in his gut. His father’s next words, however, are more serious.
“However, I’d advise you two to be careful. I know it’s not strictly against Favonius rules, but if word were to get out…”
“I know, Father. We’ve been keeping it under wraps in public.”
Father lets out a sigh. “I’m so proud of you, my son. The Knights are lucky to have you and your brother, and Miss Jean, of course, amongst their ranks. I don’t want to risk them using that to turn against you,” he says faintly.
Diluc sighs as well. “I understand,” he replies.
For a while there’s only silence, until at last he hears faint clicks behind him, muffled by the fabric of the carriage, and his father’s voice, much quieter this time.
“I suppose you won’t be needing this anymore…”
The question that arises upon this, however, dies on his lips as soon as he spots the obsidian-black wings amongst the sky.
“Father…?”
His white gloves, always so spotless before, are stained bright red, the metallic scent of blood heavy in the air. Something within his consciousness feels disconnected, out of place, as if he’s watching the scene from a different person’s perspective. Everything about it feels wrong - the bodies strewn around them, the rapid breaths coming from his father, the never-ending ringing in his own ears. He’s supposed to be celebrating his birthday today. His father was right there with him, smiling at him, his lined face full of life, but now he lays here, breathing getting shallower and shallower as the blood continuously flows from the wound on his side. He’s supposed to be the pride of the Knights, a once-in-a-generation warrior, yet all he can do is sit by and watch the life bleed out of the body in his arms.
“We came to help! Are you-“
Diluc hears a familiar voice behind him, one that cuts off with a shocked gasp as soon as he notices what’s going on, but he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away.
“Father,” he says again, hands shaking as they ghost over the grisly wound. His father’s eyes look up, clearly etched in pain. Even his limbs, Diluc registers faintly, have begun to disintegrate, coating the splatters of blood on his gloves with ash.
He feels his own eyes burn, but somehow, he’s able to regain enough mobility to grab a blade lying on the ground near him. It's then when his mind clears just enough for him to choose what to do.
And as he raises his blade to his father’s throat, he can feel the burning tears finally fall.
Just as predicted, the skies, too, begin to weep.
Kaeya Alberich is a liar.
It’s a fact he’s gotten to know all too well over the years, a fact that began the moment his father, with burning hatred in his gaze as he glared into the distance, left his scrawny nine year old son alone in the rain with nothing other than scrappy clothes and a vow of vengeance and retribution for their people.
It’s a lifestyle that he’s forced himself to adapt to the moment he first felt the gentle embrace of a red-haired stranger, gloves smelling of wine, voice sounding like money, lifting him out of the bone-chilling rain into the warm arms of a family.
And it’s what comes to haunt him as he stands there in that surreal moment, watching the fiery head of the son fall over the bloodied body of the father, locks of red hair indistinguishable from the other, forever marking that familiarly inextricable connection Kaeya can only ever observe from a distance.
In his brother’s arms, the body goes limp. Kaeya can feel himself walking towards them, so stiff that each step is an ordeal. Nearly a decade living in the country of his enemy, yet it was the enemy that brought him into the warmth. It’s the enemy, now, laying dead at his feet, once warm eyes now glassy and sightless, that causes his throat to constrict and his eyes to sting.
“Diluc,” he says, not recognizing his own voice.
The redhead stays still.
“He’s gone,” Diluc says quietly.
His shoulders shake so imperceptibly that he could easily look completely still from afar. Yet, Kaeya knows his brother. He knows just how much anguish is trapped in that tremble. He makes to reach forward, to squeeze his shoulder and kneel down besides their father, but something horribly icy that runs through his veins stops him in his tracks.
Before he knows it, he’s backing away, running, whether from the horrible scene of his adopted father’s death or his own torturous consciousness, he’s unsure. He doesn’t know where he is or where he’s trying to go, but he keeps running. Anything to get away.
It’s ironic, he thinks dully, as the hours pass and night begins to fall, that he ends up being led back home.
No. Not home. Not like this.
The door swings open, revealing his brother’s exhausted face.
“Kaeya,” he says, voice flat and hoarse. “You’ve been gone for hours.”
Diluc’s eyes are bland, deadened. He can hear a part of his conscience, the one still untainted by the suffocating swirl of thoughts going through his head, warning him to stop what he’s about to do. Once he does this, there’s no going back. Turn away now, it coaxes. Lie. You’ve always lied. How is this any different?
The difference, Kaeya thinks, is that now he’ll have deluded the man who raised him like a father all the way to his grave. He never, ever, deserved to be looked upon with so much love, not when all that love was built on fraud. Now, he resolves, it’s time to pay the price for his sins.
Kaeya forces himself to meet his brother’s eyes.
Run away, it croons. He grits his teeth, attempting to force it out of his mind.
Kaeya Alberich is a liar. So do what he does best…
No. The truth. Tell him the truth . That’s what you’re here for.
And, alas, the truth is what spills out.
Kaeya speaks slowly, dully, as he recounts his story: everything from his torn homeland to the father who left him, and, finally, dread replacing the numbness in his spine at last, his real mission, as a spy of the enemy.
The crimson eyes widen, filling with shock, fury, pain, everything at once, as Kaeya reveals his mission. Looking into them is almost like looking into the sun, since his own eyes prickle in his attempt to maintain eye contact.
And as Diluc’s face contorts in a strange mixture of disgust and grief, he feels something between them break irrevocably, a slow twist and snap of the threads that have held them so tightly together for the past years.
A sword of flames, swirling blazing fire all around them, glowing even through the pouring rainstorm, flashes in front him. Somehow, Kaeya finds himself enjoying the heat, accepting it with open arms like it’s a warm embrace from his brother. He can hear Diluc’s voice, laced with anguish and fury, ringing faintly in his ears, but he pretends it’s simply a part of the background rain.
This wouldn’t be a bad way to die, he thinks faintly, as his own blade clatters weakly against the flames. He’s vaguely aware of the stinging sensation in his arm and side, but can’t seem to bring himself to fade out from his dreamlike state.
It’s warm. If I just close my eyes, it almost feels like home…
Fate, however, appears to have a different plan for him.
A flurry of ice, cold and unforgiving, meets the flames with a crackling sizzle, creating plumes of pale smoke amongst the dark backdrop of the night. A flash of pale blue, materializing by his side with a swirl of ice crystals.
A cryo vision.
The barrage of fire stops all of a sudden as Kaeya is brought back into reality as he registers the device hanging by his belt.
His hands remain gripped upon the hilt, but his attacks have stopped as his eyes narrow.
For a second, they stare. Kaeya at his vision, fingers trembling, and Diluc at Kaeya, some strange emotion swimming in his eyes as Kaeya lifts his head back up.
Before Kaeya can place it, however, he turns away, his blade disappearing with a flick of the hand.
He stops, his head hanging down, almost as if meaning to say something to him, but then stiffens again and walks away, leaving Kaeya alone in the smoke to watch him as his back grows smaller and smaller.
Kaeya breathes in deeply, grazing his fingers over the burns permeating his skin as throbbing pain begins to take over the numbness of his dazed state.
The rain is cold.
Yet, it’s nowhere near the frigidness he feels within his heart.
Slowly, he looks up to the sky, unsure whether the drops he feels on his face are from the rain or his own tears.
News swirls around the headquarters the very next day: esteemed nobleman Crepus Ragnvindr of the Dawn Winery, along with eleven others, killed in some sort of struggle with Ursa the Drake.
Jean first hears the news as she walks through the halls of the headquarters, instantly feeling a chill in her back.
She finds Kaeya at the training yard, staring blank-eyed into a target. Jean notes the exhaustion under his eye, the splotches of angry red skin that peek from under the bandages.
“Kaeya,” she says cautiously. He turns toward her, face deadened.
“Jean.” His voice bears no attempt at friendliness. Jean studies his face, feeling her stomach flip in worry.
“I heard about your father. I..I’m so sorry,” she says worriedly. Kaeya stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“No need,” he mumbles.
Jean watches him in concern, wishing she could do more for her friend.
“I can heal those for you,” she offers, indicating the burns on his arm. He stiffens and shrugs it away with a tight smile. “No need,” he repeats.
There’s something off, she knows it for certain; Kaeya and his patrol only got to the scene after Ursa was killed, yet his skin still flares with wounds. Diluc is supposed to be here as well, if not doing his duties then being alongside his brother, supporting each other, yet he’s nowhere to be found. And, Kaeya has a vision , one she hadn’t noticed at first but now clearly gleams from inside his pocket.
“Kaeya,” she asks again, quietly. “Where's...What happened?”
His half smile drops. He turns away, facing the ground. “Leave it, Jean. I…”
He sighs, shaking his head. “I just need to be alone for a while.”
Jean nods in understanding, heart filling with concern.
Somehow, she knows exactly where Diluc has gone.
Jean opens the doors of the winery office cautiously to see the very person she’s been looking for.
Her breath catches. Just the day before, he’d been smiling, laughing alongside her and Kaeya, gaze bright, but now, his face is downcast, cold, as he shuffles through various papers on the desk, a small black box beside him.
“Diluc,” she calls with uncertainty. At her voice, he looks up, and something floods over his features; a strange mix of relief and dread all at once.
She makes her way to him, stopping a few feet away, just enough so she can speak to him.
“I’m so sorry,” she begins, arms wrapping around herself in an attempt to soothe her discomfort. “About your father…” Diluc doesn’t look surprised by the news, instead turning away to scoff.
“I suppose they said he died of some freak accident before the Knights saved the day, no?”
Jean bites the inside of her cheek. His voice is so uncharacteristically bitter that it stings.
“They’re covering it up,” she says instead, noting his expression harden. “I know that much.”
“What are you really here for, Jean?”
She stops in her tracks. His tone isn't unkind, but she feels a twisting dread rise up inside her regardless.
“I’ve heard you’re leaving,” she blurts out. “They said-they said you’ve left the Knights, and Kaeya’s in the inn, meaning you kicked him out, and you’re getting t-“
“Jean.” She looks up, finding that familiar burning crimson gaze on her. “You’re right, I am leaving. But it’s not what you think.”
“What do you mean?” She whispers. Against her will, tears threaten to burn into her eyes. Here he is, running off without so much as an explanation, leaving everything behind. “You’d leave behind your friends? Kaeya?”
You’d leave behind me?
Diluc’s hands grab hers, tracing circles in her palms with his gloved hands.
“I left the Knights,” he deadpans. “You know that. And Kaeya…” his expression sours as he trails off.
Jean feels the dread rise further still at his expression. She grips his hands back tightly, willing him to look her in the eyes.
“What happened?” She whispers. “You fought, didn’t you?”
Jean looks at him, drinking in every feature. His jaw clenches, but he remains silent. “I saw his wounds. Diluc, he’s your brother,” she whispers. “Why?”
Diluc looks at her, face pained. His eyes flash, his mouth opens, and for a second, it looks like he really does want to tell her. But his gaze turns steely and he shakes his head instead.
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
She looks down into their intertwined hands, feeling more hopeless than ever.
“Then at least tell me why you’re leaving, please.”
Diluc pulls away from her and procures a strange red device from his hand. Jean studies it carefully. It resembles a vision, but she can tell it’s not. It’s foreboding, the energy pulsating from it strange and unwelcoming.
“It’s some device,” he says. “Possibly even a product of the Fatui. It backfired on him and-“ he inhales sharply. Jean moves her hands up to clasp his face. His fingers circle around her wrist gently in return, and she feels a shiver at his touch. He exhales, gently rubbing her hand with his thumb.
“The damned Knights want nothing else other than to disrespect him and claim his deed as their own.”
Jean feels her heart sink. Of course there had to be shady activities going on behind the scenes, but the blatant disregard for such a sacrifice stirs a wave of disappointment in her. Was that always there, lurking in their supposedly honorable organization, or had she always simply been too blind to see it?
“Would you let me help you, at least?” she asks earnestly.
Diluc takes her hands from his face and looks down at them in silence. There’s an achingly long pause until he finally speaks.
“This is something I have to do myself. I’m sorry, Jean.”
A chill settles in her stomach as she realizes what it means.
“How long?” she half-whispers.
He drops her hands slowly, relieving them from his warmth. “I don’t know.”
He looks back at her, his eyes strangely reflective, almost like a cat’s.
“We can’t do this anymore, Jean. I…it’ll only make it harder for you. For both of us.”
She knows, deep down she’s known since the moment she walked into the room, but she feels the stab to her heart nonetheless. She steps back from him, drawing her arms tightly around herself, unable to look at him.
“I see,” she says, voice small.
Her eyes sting with unshed tears, but she blinks them away quickly, determined not to let him see her cry. She chews harshly on her lip, feeling the tang of blood in her mouth as she does.
Just the day before, they were together. Kaeya was there, cracking his sly jokes and laughing alongside them. Diluc had held her close to him and kissed her goodbye, but now, it feels like it was all part of some blissfully naive dream, and this is simply her waking up to cold reality.
“Good luck on your travels, then, sir. This is farewell.”
“Jean,” he says tightly, but she turns towards the door before he can say anything, any excuses or too-late apologies or final goodbyes. She walks out, slowly, dazed, unaware of where she is and where she’s trying to go. The chill of the night breeze stings her skin, but it’s nothing compared to the agony twisting in her heart. Before she knows it, she’s stumbled under a massive tree, hand pressed to its side as she tries to level her breathing.
Windrise, she recognizes vaguely.
She drops to the soft grass, laying herself on her back, and throws an arm over her forehead.
It’s only then when hot tears finally begin to squeeze from her eyes as she lays in the grass, wondering how, in just a flash, it all could’ve gone so wrong.