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There isn’t a single soul in all of Mondstadt who doesn’t know Kaeya Alberich. Those that don’t know him personally have almost certainly spoken with him on at least one occasion or, at the very least, know him by reputation. After all, who hasn’t heard of Mond’s charming young Cavalry Captain and his dazzling smile?
Unfortunately, just because a person is well-known, doesn’t mean that the person in question knows themselves.
Because Kaeya certainly doesn’t.
He knows the man that Mondstadt knows, of course, because he’s spent years meticulously crafting that image.
When were you born, they ask. Early winter, he says, but doesn’t reveal a date.
Where are you from, they ask. Beyond these borders, he says, but doesn’t reveal a name because he much prefers when people are on his side.
Why do you drink so much, they ask. I like the taste, he says, trying to convince himself just as much as he’s trying to convince them because he most certainly does not have a problem.
What’s under your eyepatch, they ask. There’s nothing wrong with my eye, he says, carefully avoiding the question that was asked because if he did, that would raise even more questions, and more questions means him giving more answers, which would inevitably lead him to say something incriminating, and just no.
What happened between you and Master Diluc, they ask. There was a conflict of interests, he says, which he knows isn’t entirely wrong, but he also knows is so vastly far from the truth because the truth is far more complicated than he’d care to admit to himself, and he’s not admitting anything about that night because he is not thinking about it.
Mondstadt knows a man shrouded in mystery—a man whose pretty words and pretty face mask a person who is more akin to a shattered wine glass that’s been abandoned on a tavern floor than a stunning stained glass window placed in a cathedral for all to admire.
But still yet, although beautiful from afar, even a stained glass window looks broken and fragmented when one bothers to look more closely.
Perhaps that’s why Kaeya has always taken a liking to stained glass. There always has been a sort of familiarity to it, after all.
People like to look at pretty things; that’s just a fact. No one likes imperfections; also a known fact. If someone sees something that’s to their liking, they aren’t exactly going to waste their time scanning for imperfections—they’re going to love what they see without bothering to know the whole story behind it.
It’s a beautiful piece, but look, the glass doesn’t line up evenly here and it’s a bit discolored there, but that’s quite alright because it’s a beautiful piece and it’s just so, so wonderful to look at.
He’s a lovely man, but look, he’s scarred and fragile and insecure and terrified and broken and he doesn’t even belong here anyway, but that’s quite alright because he’s a lovely man and oh, he’s just got such a pretty smile.
How ironic, that everyone in Mond loves Kaeya when Kaeya doesn’t even love himself.
(With the exception of Diluc, of course. Diluc hates him.)
(As he should.)
(Because Kaeya doesn’t deserve their love.)
(He never did.)
What’s there to love, anyway? Kaeya looks in the mirror and he sees a faker, a liar, a killer, a traitor, and damn, why didn’t Diluc kill him when he had the chance? Why didn’t he take out Mondstadt’s biggest liability the minute he could?
Because that’s what Kaeya is—he’s a fucking liability and never, never deserved the love given to him by neither the Ragnvindr family nor the people of Mond, because if they knew what he was they’d be sure to turn on him in an instant and Kaeya wouldn’t even blame them, because he’s like a poison seeping into the veins of Mond, and the best way to deal with poison is to cut it off at its source and just what Diluc thinking when he let him go?
Kaeya wouldn’t have let himself go.
He would’ve done everything in his power to make sure he fell down and never got back up, because clearly Kaeya was never even meant to be here in the first place. He’s nothing more than a lowly Khaenri’ahn spy, after all, placed there purely for interests he can’t even really begin to understand. It’s quite a shame that he’s gone and fallen in love with the city he’s been placed in, sometimes even having the luxury of momentarily forgetting the reason he’s there in the first place (thanks to a small amount of alcohol intoxication, of course, because Kaeya does not have a problem).
Truly a shame.
Can’t they see what he is?
Can’t they see that if he stays around any longer—if they keep him around any longer—he’s going to hurt someone—everyone, maybe—and then they’ll never be able to forgive him, no matter how charismatic and good-looking he may be?
He’s already hurt so many people, after all.
Diluc is the most notable one, of course, and the situation with that doesn’t need explaining nor will Kaeya explain because he is not thinking about it. However, Kaeya is still firmly rooted in his beliefs that Crepus’s death was his fault as well. It was he who was too late to save him, after all. After all that Crepus had done for Kaeya, Kaeya had been too late to save him. He hadn’t been there for him even when he’d always been there for Kaeya, and Kaeya can never never never never forgive himself for that and, quite frankly, he doesn’t think he wants to—
And Jean is so done with him and all his unorthodox methods, and he’s certainly made her life unnecessarily difficult what with all the official statements she’s been forced to make to keep him out of legal trouble, because serial killers don’t just suddenly drop dead of cardiac arrest an hour after they’ve killed seven people—
But the ends justify the means, and if that means breaking into a man’s home and forcing half a dozen poison pills down his throat then so be it, and Jean doesn’t pull rank on him and turns the other way because like it or not, Kaeya is good at what he does and Jean is just going to have to deal with his methods because she needs him and that’s all there is to it—
Can’t the people of Mond see what he is?
Faker.
Liar.
Killer.
Traitor.
Kaeya gave up on trying to fight the accusing words that perpetually echo around his head ages ago. Sometimes he’ll even repeat them to his reflection in the mirror. For although Kaeya may tell countless lies, this is one of his rare truths.
Just because a person is well-known, doesn’t mean that the person in question knows themselves.
But Kaeya certainly does.
He knows the man that Mondstadt knows, of course, because he’s spent years meticulously crafting that image.
But he also knows the man carefully hidden behind the sparkling eye and seductive smile.
Scarred.
Fragile.
Insecure.
Terrified.
Broken.
There isn’t a single soul in all of Mondstadt who doesn’t know Kaeya Alberich.
But, as far as Kaeya is concerned, he isn’t really worth knowing.