Work Text:
From the beginning, Kaeya had planned for this. Had spent days, weeks, months, years, even, preparing himself- laying the groundwork, accepting the inevitability of where his journey would take him, putting everything in its rightful place. Accepting the blood that would be on his hands, the people that would die because of him. He had every wrinkle worked out, had every route accounted and planned for- and then.
And then.
A wrench in all of his plans, his careful plotting and scheming- a wrench in the form of one annoying, endearing blonde, whose smile was practically infectious and who chose him as an adventuring partner more often than not- for what reason, Kaeya didn’t know. Who was he to decline, though? Some traitor, a person whose name only meant something to legions of people who were dead and worse, a man who had no ties to anywhere in the world that mattered, anymore- no one with enough dignity to spare, no one who really deserved to decline- and so in the end, he hadn’t been able to, not once.
And despite that- despite that wrench, despite the sudden hitch in his plans, despite it all- most of his plans seemed to have gone off without a hitch, on the morning of what should have been his final day. He had felt a spike of panic at first, days earlier, realizing that the blonde woman whose legions he’d been borrowing for parts of plans for as long as he’d been planning was the very same sibling that Aether- that the Traveler (he was the Traveler, they were no longer close enough for such casual address- Kaeya had well and truly burned that bridge, even if the Traveler hadn’t quite realized it yet) had been searching for- followed by guilt, sharp and acidic, biting, at how long it had taken to say anything- but it had been.. livable. Bearable, to some extent. Enough that he could carry it until his plans were executed, and things stopped mattering, and he eventually died.
And then.. they hadn’t. He hadn’t. Things had continued, maybe not normal, but they had still continued, which was more than Kaeya had expected. Far more, actually- in all honesty, Kaeya hadn’t expected to live through the first day of his plan, much less to see it fully through to completion- and then, see its subsequent dismantling by (Aether, his mind crooned, a prayer. Aether, Aether, the person he had once been so close to, had trusted enough to give hints of his past to, the person who had broken down and destroyed his plans with how well they knew each other) the Traveler, that damn blonde who he couldn’t get out of his thoughts.
Shaking himself, Kaeya frowns. His thoughts are annoying, but they’re all he really has, locked in his room in the Knights of Favonius headquarters. Calling it a room is derivative, really- they had let him keep his regular quarters, for whatever reason, while they waited for Varka to return from whichever corner of the world he had made his way to now. He’s got an attached bathroom, a sitting room, and his bedroom- which, currently, has been the only room he’s touched for the past some-odd days, unless the need arose.
They hadn’t even taken his sword, for some reason- which was rather surprising, after he’d made it known that his plan was supposed to end with said sword stabbed through his chest if no one else got to him first, and that the only reason it hadn’t ended up there had been that he’d lost the sword at some point during the fight, had seen some plain, armor-clad knight retrieve it after the fact, only to return it to him.
Said sword now sat, leaning against his wall casually, buckled into its scabbard- as if Kaeya were merely living in his rooms like normal, as if Kaeya weren’t a traitor to the nation, as if it were a regular day and he just hadn’t left yet for his commissions, as if he didn’t pose every risk of hurting someone.
Though perhaps, Kaeya thinks with a small, humorless chuckle, that’s precisely why they’ve left him his sword. Perhaps it’s some small mercy from them to him, a way out, if he chooses to take it.
And lord, if that temptation doesn’t get stronger with each day that passes, each minute, each second that ticks by on his stupid, ornate clock, taller than he is when standing, even at his full height.
Currently, though, he’s not standing- currently, he’s sitting on his bed, debating if he really wants to eat the food which was delivered nearly an hour ago, or if he would rather let his stomach continue to growl. If he wanted to die, he could certainly go about it more quickly- but he didn’t think he wanted to all that much, not right now, at least. No more than usual, at any rate. Mostly, it was just- quite a lot of effort to get up, to grab the food off the table, sit down, actually lift the fork to his mouth and chew and swallow- and he was so tired, that really, it wasn’t worth it, in the end.
But, on the other hand- Kaeya is very hungry, and he didn’t eat the dinner they brought him last night and cleared out this morning, weighed down on his bed by guilt hanging heavy in his chest, pinning him down. It’s easier, in the mid-morning sunlight, to pull himself up- to stretch, tips of his long fingers just barely brushing the edges of the canopy hanging over his bed, until his back cracks with a satisfying ‘pop!’
And, now that he’s up- or, more up than he was before, given that he’s only just sat up- it’s easier, to sort of want to eat. To sort of want to make his way over to the plate of rapidly-cooling food, to want to take it to his bed where he can recline as he eats.
He doesn’t do that, of course, getting up is still far too much effort for him at the moment but- well, he almost wants, and that’s enough for him, for the moment. Though, Kaeya realizes, letting out a sigh- he does happen to have at least a rough idea of what the day will entail for him, and eating breakfast- or, brunch, given how late it’s gotten- will help steel him for the day ahead.
Brunch is eventually eaten- it takes another ten minutes for Kaeya to actually stand up, make his way over to the plate, and even start eating the now-cold food- but it happens, and he finishes just in time for a knock to sound against his door.
Idly, Kaeya frowns. Even now, they still..
He doesn’t finish the thought, crossing his legs like a child, placing the plate to the side, and barely raising his voice as he calls out, “It’s open!”
Judging by how light the knock had been, Kaeya is relatively sure his visitor is going to be Jean- Lisa wouldn’t have knocked, Diluc would have said something (more like yelled something, he thinks with a snort), Amber would have been louder- and the Traveler, (he got it right this time, he’s learning- too late, but he is) was.. unique. His knock was an all-too familiar sound, but- that isn’t what Kaeya hears, if his ears are to be believed.
True to his thoughts, however- Jean is the one who enters, relief plain on her face at the sight of the nearly-empty plate resting on the bedside table, despite the fact that she’s clearly trying not to show it. Years of working together had given Kaeya a knack for figuring her out, after all- years of what Jean had no doubt believed to be friendship, which Kaeya himself had believed was friendship, at times, before he remembered who he was, what he was doing.
Despite the relief on her face, her voice is all business, when she speaks.
“So.” she begins- and then hesitates, as if unsure where to go, her confident, all-business demeanor falling away for a moment.
“So!” Kaeya parrots, faux-cheerful and laid-back as ever. “I’m assuming that you’re here to ask me why? To try and pry from me my tragic backstory, the reasoning that must surely accompany the horrors I’ve enacted?”
“What?” Jean asks, tilting her head and frowning- she’s confused, Kaeya realizes, feeling a slight breath of relief. It seemed that the Traveler hadn’t revealed everything, after all. “No, Aether has assured us that you’ve got your reasons for what happened, and has managed to fix a good deal of what little immediate damage was done. What he didn’t know, or didn’t tell us, Diluc managed to vouch for or fill in, I believe- no, I’m here for something else. I’m just- not quite sure how to word it, is all.”
“Oh?” Kaeya pulls an easy, teasing grin to his face, his tone lilting flirtatiously. “If you’re here for me, I hate to break it to you, Acting Grand-Master, but you’re my superior, and I’ve already set my sights set on another-”
“Kaeya.”
He can hear the warning in her voice, and lets out a laugh, ignoring it purposefully. She’s always hated it when he’s called her by her title- always seemed to take it as a slight, of sorts, in the face of their friendship- though she’s been too kind to say it before. But- well, Kaeya is nothing more than a traitor; he doesn’t have the right to call her by name, not anymore. And, who knows- maybe getting her mad enough will make her leave sooner, so Kaeya can go back to his lying about. His flirting has been called ‘insufferable’ before, after all.
By the grace of Celestia, he keeps the guilt within him from spilling out of his lips, from tainting his words with a bitter edge- but it’s a near thing, as he continues speaking. “However, if you would like me to find someone who is interested, I am more than happy to help-”
“Kaeya.”
It’s almost a threat now, though he bulls on- some part of him delights in this, in pushing her buttons. There’s a strange, sweet irony to it all- his betrayal isn’t enough to upset her, but their years of contact, close conversations shared, nights spent working too-late, drowning in paperwork as the Grand-Master adventures across the world- those have given him the skills he needs to push every last one of Jean’s buttons with ease.
“Or, if you’d like, I can-”
Jean hits him. Not hard, a light smack, at most- but it’s enough, enough that his words stop and Kaeya chokes on what he was about to say, his hand coming up to cradle his cheek instinctively. Cryo energy glows and collects in his palm, numbing the sharp sting until it’s nothing more than a dull throbbing- and Kaeya regrets sequestering himself inside, now, not taking advantage of the balcony attached to his room, because he’s certain that this is going to bruise, and that it will gleam, bright as a brand, on his pallid skin.
Despite the pain dulling- Kaeya glares at her, petulant as a child. Even if it doesn’t really hurt, he wants her to feel bad- wants, in equal parts, to know why she’s here, why she hit him, what she wants to ask. Wants her to leave. Even if it was his fault that she hit him, Kaeya glares. Normally, jabs of that sort would do nothing more than make her leave to cool down, take a breath- the fact that she hasn’t left yet means that whatever it is, it must be urgent, and Kaeya wants her to spit it out already.
Jean, for her part, does look guilty- her hand is gentle, as she guides his hand away from his face- replaces it with hers, her own palm glowing with Anemo energy, and Kaeya can feel the bruise fading under her healing touch. That lessens his glare, somewhat- brows un-furrowing until he’s only looking at her expectantly, eyes slightly wider than normal.
“I wanted to talk to you, about..” she trails off, glancing away- Kaeya tracks her gaze, sees the way it catches on the sword in the corner, and forces innocence into his expression, subtly. “About what you said, the other day. Something about how the only reason you were here was to carry out this plan- that once you were done, once the plan was executed, you would-”
She seems unable to finish the thought, glancing back to Kaeya with genuine worry in her gaze.
“How.. how much of that still applies?”
“How much of what?” Kaeya asks, and he knows the question is shitty- knows the faked innocence is too much, but he’s committed now, and he has always been good at thinking on his feet, he thinks, sticking to the lie. “Apologies, I.. can’t say as I remember all that much, about the scene. That Delusion really did quite a number on my memories- they never said anything about that when they gave me it, I would’ve tried to prepare better, if I’d known!”
He lets out an awkward chuckle, trying to breathe apology into his words- hoping it’s believable enough, despite the fact that it’s complete and utter horse shit. Hopes that Jean doesn’t know enough about Delusions to know how much of a bold-faced lie what he just said is.
For the most part, it seems to work, at first- internally, Kaeya breathes a sigh of relief that Jean has been too busy to travel very much with the Traveler, seeing as how Childe was a frequent companion of his. Jean gives a hesitant nod, and glances to the side awkwardly- and Kaeya has half a mind to push her further, make her uncomfortable, see if she leaves now that her prize is out of reach- or if she hits him again.
He decides to chance it- leaning closer, just a little bit, just enough that he knows Jean notices, just enough that he has plausible deniability if she brings it up.
“I can try and answer, still, if you want!” he chirps, too-innocent, too-willing. “I mean, I can’t say as I’ll be particularly helpful, but even scraps are better than nothing, right?”
Something seems to click, in Jean’s brain- Kaeya can see the shift behind her eyes, can see the moment the realization hits- if he were planning all of this all along, why would a Delusion erase that specific memory? - and, internally, Kaeya grins, wolfish and joyless. He tries not to let it show on his face- succeeds, even, but still, he knows that the jig is up, knows that she won’t be able to bring it up without some measure of awkwardness or guilt on her part.
“You..” Jean begins, and even in all their years of working together, Kaeya has never quite heard this emotion in her voice before. Even in all their shared sleepless nights, buried in paperwork, he’s never quite heard her this tired before, this worried, this upset. She takes a deep breath- her eyes closing, hands clenching into fists at her sides- before her shoulders fall, and her eyes open, her tone far more composed now- colder than Kaeya has ever been, even with his Vision and all his masks.
“If you don’t want help, I can’t force you to accept it,” she says, more to herself than to him, as if she’s trying to talk herself out of trying anyways. “But if you ever do- want help, that is- you know where to find me. I don’t know why you’re avoiding this, but.. I can’t pry it out of you.”
Kaeya blinks, nods, his gaze flickering to the sword in the corner. Jean follows- and looks for a moment like she wants to say something, before she simply shakes her head and continues.
“Don’t make a mistake?” she says, standing to leave- and it was, more than likely, supposed to be a command, but instead comes out as a request. Despite what Kaeya knows are her best efforts, concern colors Jean’s tone- and he nods, allows himself a moment of honesty that he doesn’t deserve.
“I’ll try.”
That seems to placate her, for the time being, at least- she leaves, her shoulders tense, but less so than before, and Kaeya returns to his previous activity- staring at the canopy, passively wishing that a bolt of lightning would make its way through the building, arcing around everyone that might be in its path, until it hits him. An act of Celestia, completely out of his control- no one could blame him, then. He wouldn’t be ‘making a mistake’ then, as Jean so eloquently put it.
He doesn’t know how much time passes, as he stares up at the ceiling- idly, he thinks, he might be able to get away with jumping off the balcony. Could always blame it on a particularly strong breeze, could always pretend that he’d passed out and merely fallen by accident, if he survived. No one would be able to prove otherwise- unless, of course, he was still conscious when they found him.
There was too high a chance for survival anyways, he decided eventually- his rooms were only on the second floor, after all, he’d survived further falls while adventuring with the Traveler with minimal injuries. Unless he landed perfectly, he wasn’t likely to die- a tragedy, he thought with a snort. There was always the sword in the corner of the room- but that was far too obvious, there was no way for it to be explained away as an accident, if he didn’t succeed.
It didn’t stop him from considering it, of course- Kaeya’s gaze lingers on the sword in question for far too long, debating. Considering. He deserves to bleed, he thinks- even if casualties were avoided, even if fewer people were hurt than could have been- people were still hurt, because of him. Several lost their lives- shouldn’t it only be fair that he lose something in return? Shouldn’t he pay, in some way? It’s clear that Jean isn’t going to make him, not without orders from Varka- everyone else either doesn’t have the authority to do anything without her permission, or doesn’t seem any keener to make him pay than Jean. Or hasn’t visited him for long enough that he can get a clear idea of what they think- though, Kaeya thinks with a small, humorless snort, Diluc probably thinks the same thing he did back when he tried to kill Kaeya, all those years ago. Maybe he should finish the job. Maybe he will finish it, some part of Kaeya hopes- Diluc’s never given two shits about the opinion or ruling of the Knights, after all. Two stories isn’t too high up, he could climb in, if he wanted- but Kaeya knows, deep down, that it would be obvious who had done it. Knows that Diluc knows the same, that Diluc has likely already weighed the pros and cons of sneaking in anyways, knows that if Diluc had decided to take him out, that Kaeya would no longer be sitting here right now.
All that leaves only one person with a nebulous opinion, though- one person that matters, at any rate. The Traveler had stopped him from hurting himself during the battle, certainly, had personally fought him, even- but his face had been strangely blank, a stark contrast to his usually expressive nature. Any bond they had previously had is, almost certainly, severed- but Kaeya can’t tell any specifics beyond that without actually talking to him, which is the last thing in the world that he wants.
Speaking of the devil, it seemed, brought him knocking- as, barely a moment after the thought had passed, and Kaeya had returned to his previous musings, that unique, unmistakable knock sounded at his door. It seems Jean hadn’t been able to leave well enough alone, after all, Kaeya thinks with a small sigh, sitting up.
“It’s open!” he calls for the second time that day, mentally preparing himself for the conversation he knows will happen, trying desperately to figure out what lie he’ll use this time, when asked. Just because he’s quick-thinking on his feet doesn’t mean he wants to do it all the time, after all- having some ideas in advance has never hurt, before.
When the Traveler enters his room, Kaeya is sitting up once more- his gaze firmly on the window, back arching in a stretch so casual that he worries it shows, how practiced it is. His shoulders roll easily, so calm and fluid that it would make a cat jealous, and he hopes that the motion is natural enough to be normal for him, but not overly so. Not obvious, how much of an act he’s putting on. Kaeya doesn’t bother acting surprised, though- he knows that, if nothing else, that would give him away- he’s spent a truly stupid amount of time with the Traveler, acting as if none of that had happened would be ridiculous. Though, he supposes- that could feed more into the narrative of the Delusion eating away at his memories, even those past when he had used it- it might lend some credibility to his lie, even if he’s well aware that there’s not a chance in the Abyss that the Traveler would buy it.
“So, what did Jean tell you?” he asks, instead, tilting his head and smiling too-easily. Straight to business- he had quite a lot of nothing to get back to doing, and really- that conversation with Jean had left him more drained than he would ever admit. His thoughts still churned in the back of his mind- he hurt people, he deserves to hurt, he deserves to bleed, he deserves to pay- and he doesn’t let them show, covering them up with an idle flick of his hair, as he runs a hand through it. Tugs on it, just a little bit- just enough to hurt, just a bit. Not enough for the Traveler to notice, he hopes.
“Nothing much,” the Traveler hums in response- tone carefully measured, which, Kaeya thinks, is fair, but still hurts. “Just that she didn’t think you should be alone right now. I had some time free, there weren’t very many commissions today that weren’t already handled, so-”
He gestures vaguely, and Kaeya lets out a snort that’s maybe a little bit more derisive than he wants, looking away as he rolls his eyes, rolls his shoulders.
“So you got stuck with babysitting duty?” he finishes, with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“No, not babysitting duty-”
“Right-” Kaeya butts in, patience wearing thin, as he tugs at his hair again- harder, this time. He wants to hurt, hurt anyone, hurt his companion, hurt himself. “Right, sorry, not babysitting duty. Suicide watch. Sorry about the mistake.”
Aether- the Traveler- shakes his head, expression not shifting. He tilts his head after a moment, face impassive.
“Not that, either. Why, should it be?”
Kaeya glares, and gives a disbelieving scoff. “Of course not. Jean is just overreacting, as always. You know her, ever the worrywart, our Acting Grand-Master.”
This, finally, seems to get through to the Traveler- he tilts his head to the other side, raising an eyebrow at Kaeya. It’s not an accusation, nothing so direct as that- but it doesn’t speak volumes of belief, either, and Kaeya can’t help but seethe, internally. What does he have to say to drive the Traveler away, instead of being treated with this- stupid, familiar concern?
“So it wasn’t your plan, to-” he pauses, as if searching for a delicate way to phrase things, and Kaeya takes it as a small victory. He’s making people uncomfortable, one part of him thinks in despair. Good, replies the other part of him- the mean part, the part that’s angry, that his sword had fallen. The part that drives him to, yet again, run a hand through his hair and tug, until he feels as if the strands might tear out, until the pain grounds him.
“To off myself?” he butts in, the mean part of him practically shivering in anticipation of the other’s reaction. “No, it wasn’t. Or, well- I don’t think it was, at least. As I said- I don’t remember.” Kaeya lets his lips curl into some facsimile of a smile, though it’s far too cold to really be called that. Just this side of a sneer.
The Traveler sighs- and Kaeya catches a crack in the mask, a hint of annoyance, and absolutely preens internally. Half of him shrivels in on itself, the other half rising up to take control- and he’s speaking again, before he can really register the words.
“Did Jean not tell you?” he asks, tilting his head, eyes wide with clearly-feigned innocence that he doesn’t care enough to make seem more genuine. “I truly thought she would have- I honestly can’t remember all that much from that day in particular, the Delusion screwed with my memories. Bits and pieces are missing, all the way back throughout my life- I never knew it’d do that!”
He finishes off with a laugh too light for the situation- too fake, too cheery, brittle as the first sheets of ice which coat Cider Lake in winter, brittle as he currently feels.
Finally, finally, he gets a reaction from the Traveler that’s more than impassive- he looks at Kaeya, lets out a snort, and shakes his head.
“So that’s the lie you went with?” he asks, raising an eyebrow- and this time it is an accusation, clear as day.
Kaeya grins, wolfish.
“Lie?” he asks, clinging to the innocence he continues to act, continues to fake poorly. He can see the Traveler trying not to snap, can see the exact moment he wins control over his expression, over his voice. Makes a pledge, internally, to be meaner, next time- he wants the Traveler gone already, archons damn it.
“Kaeya,” this one is a warning, too. Lighter than Jean’s, maybe, but a warning nonetheless. “We both know that’s not true. With how much Childe talks about his-”
“His is different, I suppose!” Kaeya chirps with forced levity, waving a hand. Dismissive, he has to be dismissive, has to commit, even if it’s pointless, at this point. It doesn’t really matter if people believe him, in the end- he just wants them gone, wants to go back to the safety of his thoughts all of a sudden, wants to be left alone to suffer as he deserves. “Newer model, maybe! Or older- or maybe he’s just a better person than I am, you know how love affects these things! And anyways, he always wears a mask with his, I’ve seen firsthand what happens when you use one without any sort of protection like that. Or do I need to recount to you again how I saw my adoptive father die, watched my brother be forced to kill him with his own hands-”
The Traveler cuts him off with a wave of his hand, shaking his head- more annoyed now than he was before, which Kaeya takes as a victory, however small. The tight knot in his chest tightens and loosens all at once- he’s hurting the Traveler, driving them away, which is what he wants, but he wishes it was easier, regardless. Wishes that he could just off himself in peace, without the Traveler here to be hurt by it.
“No, you don’t,” he starts- and it almost sounds acidic, unless Kaeya is hearing things, because it stops after a moment. Not until after the Traveler takes a breath, though, so- maybe he wasn’t hearing things, after all. “I know, Kaeya. I know.”
The Traveler sounds tired, more tired than Kaeya has ever heard him. And he’s still here, for whatever reason, still fucking bugging him, and Kaeya resists the urge to glare at him. To shout, to scream the way he wants to- ‘get the fuck out, leave me alone, let me rot’- because he knows that will do nothing but make the Traveler cling tighter, closer, if only because it’s impossible to put a dead man on trial.
“How is he, by the by?” asks Kaeya, the smile he shoots the Traveler full of teeth. “Diluc, I mean- he must feel quite vindicated, knowing that his brother-dearest who he tried to kill years ago was doing exactly what he thought. Betraying the city that he was raised to protect, for the one that ended up killing his father- he must feel some sense of ‘I told you so’, no?”
He doesn’t get a reply. When Kaeya looks back, glancing towards the Traveler for a moment, he sees golden eyes staring at him without a hint of emotion. So this is the way that he’s chosen to cope? , he thinks, grin stretching just a bit wider. He’s so close to yelling, just a bit more-
He still doesn’t reply, though- instead, the Traveler just stares at Kaeya, eyes hard as shards of flint, boring into his soul.
“Why are you trying to get us to leave?” the Traveler asks after a moment, not taking those damn piercing eyes off him. Kaeya looks away, eventually- lets out a snort at the question, raising an eyebrow.
“Who says I’m doing anything of the sort?” he replies- trying to make it sound casual, as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, though it comes out more like a taunt. That’s fine, though- he is taunting the Traveler, after all, to some degree. He can admit that much, to himself. And he still hasn’t left, he thinks, holding back a glare. He’s still here, bugging him, trying to act like he cares- Kaeya snorts.
“Why are you still here, anyways?” he counters, lip curling. “There aren’t any commissions today, I know you said, but surely there are people whose errands need running, good, law-abiding, kind citizens who need help?”
“Maybe, but keeping you-” the Traveler pauses. “..keeping you here is more important.”
“Ah, so you are on suicide watch,” Kaeya snorts, waving a hand dismissively. “Just wait outside, it’s not like I’ve got anything in here to do anything with, anyways. There’s no need to bother me.” He makes his voice hard as flint, as ice, every bit as sharp and biting as he aims for the heart. “At least your sister could take a hint.”
That’s what does it, in the end. The Traveler doesn’t even spare him a glance, as he stands, storming out without a word, armored plates on his legs clanking before he slams the door.
Finally, Kaeya has what he wants- he’s alone, finally, free from nuisances and bothers- he should be for the next few hours, he hopes, at least. Unless the Traveler really did take his suggestion and is, in fact, waiting outside- but really, the chances of that being the case are miniscule at best, with what Kaeya said. Aiming for where he knew would hurt, like he always does, like he did with Jean and with Mondstadt and with Diluc- the one thing he could never fuck up, he thinks, with a sardonic snort.
At least he’s alone.
Adrenaline courses through his veins at the thought- and, deep in the back of his skull, Kaeya knows what’s going to happen. As surely as he knows that the sky is blue and ice is cold and Aether has been too kind to him, even today- Kaeya knows, tonight is the night that he’ll die.
It’s not immediate, of course- not pressing, he’s not going to do anything in the moment- he’s always been a planner at heart, and so he stands with renewed vigor, unsure where or when the decision was made as he grabs a quill and ink, tapping the end of the plume to his lips as he thinks. What items does he have which will need taking care of? Who would even accept them, traitor to the city that he is? Who made this decision in the first place- does it matter? Klee certainly deserves something- he makes a mental note to tally up how much mora he has, and set aside a sizable chunk for her. Enough that Albedo won’t have to worry about her care while he’s working, enough that she’ll be able to afford anything that she could possibly want for a good few years, when she’s old enough.
Childe certainly deserves something, too, he supposes- though, he’s not short on mora, merely on common sense, or fear of danger. Perhaps his sword, then? Kaeya knows the other prefers to wield a bow, something about training his skill in the weapon he’s least proficient in- but that means that he’s likely of decent skill with a blade, and the weapon certainly won’t go unappreciated.
His literature- Kaeya already knows who he’s leaving that to, that’s the easiest of his important possessions. Half to Albedo, all his more academic books, assorted mysteries he thinks the other will enjoy, some poetry, information about Khaenri’ah, about the nation Rhinedottir has slipped off to study. The other half to Lisa, all of his guilty pleasure novels, ones that he knows she’s read already but will appreciate nonetheless. Books which only she and Rosaria know of his fondness for.
Now, Rosaria- Kaeya has to stop and think for a minute, giggling softly under his breath, genuinely considering if leaving her his bar tab would be as funny as he believes it is.
It continues like that, for a little while- he makes his arrangements, written in fluid, surprisingly-clear letters, the entirety of his life’s possessions which he cares enough to leave to people taking up less than a full page- without going onto the back, even. That’s fine, though- less for people to arrange, seeing as how he’s asked for the rest of his possessions to be sold, if they’re not claimed by anyone. He polishes his Vision, folds his eyepatch neatly on the table by his bedside (who cares if ‘they’ see this, after all? What would they do, alert the Knights?), seals his various notes with wax- using the official seal of the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius for the final time. Quick and easy, that’s what his first instinct is- seeing the setting sun, though, Kaeya knows that he’ll have to wait until after dinner has been brought to draw out his suffering the way he deserves. For the time being- he clears away a section of floor, polishing his sword and setting it on the plush blankets of his bed.
And then, Kaeya waits.
Dinner is brought by a knight with a serious-looking face- Kaeya accepts it with a cheerful grin, doesn’t look out into the hall for long enough to tell if anyone is out there, adrenaline buzzing in his veins as he retreats into his rooms.
He sets the plate of food on his desk- he’s not hungry, not now, and everything’s been set up, already. He can draw out his suffering as long as he likes, now- free from obligation for the night, no one will find his body until morning, leaving a slim chance of failure.
It’s a perfect plan, the best one Kaeya has ever concocted.
Gently enough that it’s almost reverent, Kaeya takes his sword off the bed- his thoughts calming, finally, settling from the maelstrom that they’d worked themselves into. He rolls up his sleeves- considers for a moment, before removing them entirely, along with his pants. He’ll put them back on later- for now, he simply needs as much of his skin to be available as possible. He’s got several ideas, after all, always a creative, resourceful man. For once, all of that is being put to good use.
Blood deserves to pay for blood, after all.
First, the places which will be annoying- but not deadly, not yet. Kaeya stares at the sword for a moment, frowning- it’s too long, for now, but that’s fine, he thinks, standing to grab his Vision. He’ll simply leave both near his body, it will be alright how it is. Making his way to the clear hardwood at the foot of his bed, Kaeya summons a blade of frost- sharper than his sword, better for things like this. He places it on his sternum, towards the middle of his ribcage- directly under his chest, where he knows it will hurt the most, every time he breathes. The cuts here are quick, thin- they’re meant to irritate, after all, draw a bit of blood and cause pain and annoyance, not kill him. They’re numerous, too- he doesn’t keep track of where he places them, not wanting to look down, closing his eyes and relying on touch alone for his guide. He doesn’t stop, not for a while- not until he can’t find anywhere that hasn’t already been touched by the icy blade in his hand within the small section of skin he’s been targeting, not until the blade is melting from the heat of his blood.
Ribs and chest taken care of, Kaeya heaves in an experimental breath- not caring about the volume, not now- grinning, when he feels the sharp, almost fiery pain. His door has been locked, anyways, he remembers turning the lock after claiming what would’ve been his final meal. Not that it will do much, in the end- Jean has the key to his rooms, and any number of people in the building could break down his door, if they really wanted. But, well- it makes him feel better, at least. Gives him some semblance of privacy- because, as much as he knows what’s coming, as much as he knows he deserves it- he’s going to treat the act with some semblance of respect. Going to be thorough, enough that, save an intervention or a miracle, he won’t see the light of day again.
That’s his plan, at least.
For the first time in a while, Kaeya has some degree of confidence that his plan will go right.
He moves on, allowing the frosty blade he had conjured to dissipate, for a bit- shakes out his hands, to get the blood flowing again, he tells himself, not because they’ve gone numb with cold- because that pain, that pain is something that he deserves. Something that he wouldn’t willingly rid himself of.
The blades are re-summoned, and he gets to work on his legs, then his arms- slowing slightly. He has his final blow in mind, after all. He’s hurt Mondstadt enough, it’s only fair that he does the same with the nation of his birth- and so.
And so.
Kaeya feels his hands trembling, chooses to ignore it. Chooses to ignore the way he has to force his ice to summon, the way that it stubbornly melts without his permission.
He wants this.
Kaeya knows this.
He wraps his hands around the hilt of his sword, leather grip familiar even under his ungloved hands. He has no Geo vision, the blade in his hands is solid iron and starsilver alloy- he can’t make it dissipate like his ice. No matter what his subconscious screams, Kaeya can’t chicken out of this.
Kaeya lines up the blade, arms fully extended to account for its length, and speaks, knowing that whoever- whatever- keeps watch over him will hear.
“I, Kaeya Alberich, Abyssal spy, adopted son of the Ragnvindr family and last prince of the Eclipse Dynasty, hereby relinquish my title and all the responsibities and rewards that it carries, to the next in line. In sound mind and body, I acknowledge the consequences of this action. Ad abyssosque.”
The words are overly formal, half-remembered, cobbled together from the half-dozen stories Kaeya remembers from his childhood- but they’re enough, enough that whoever watches him should recognize what he’s done.
And with that ‘enough’ accomplished, Kaeya relaxes. His hands are still held in front of him, still trembling, harder now, even- but his shoulders fall, and he actually smiles as he breathes in.
Out.
In.
Out.
And plunges his sword directly into the eye which marked him as a traitor, a spy.
It’s not so bad, Kaeya thinks, as he feels the blood run down his face- feels his hands slip from the hilt, small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Disconnected from his body, he feels himself fall- and, distantly, hears the sound of a door being broken down, before everything goes black.