Chapter Text
Beneath the rubble, the blazing inferno and the crumbled kingdom, there was a ghastly hymn. It rang deep in his bones, deafening. It was as though a primordial deity was stringing music of personified excruciation. His hands darted to guard his ears but the sound penetrated through his meek defenses. Kaeya would have assumed the source of the sound was thousands of rotting ruin guards spinning their screechy waists, arms flying through the air, creating a horrific orchestra of pain and anguish had their bodies not lay like discarded tools around him.
From beneath him, his legs buckled and he fell to the ground. Kaeya's head pounded violently as he swayed with nausea. The earth felt hot below him, a perpetual reminder of destruction. His skull pounded with waves of pain. He heaved and wretched until silence fell upon him.
Eyes tired and heavy, he glanced up to the sky. Up above, in the nightly expanse, there lay scattered stars and a moon glazed in crimson. Then, as he drew his final breath, Kaeya finally woke up.
Kaeya woke up sweaty as he drew in long, trembling strings of breaths. His heart drummed against his chest as he slowly regained his vision of reality. The room that surrounded him was dark but a settling blue dawn had begun to seep through the curtains. Birds had begun to chirp as they fluttered by his window, boosted by the nearby windmill in the city. Such were the signifiers of a normal start to a summer’s day. The only exception to this, however, was the frost slowly dissipating from the edges of the glass panes. Instinctively, Kaeya glanced to his bedside where a gentle glow radiated from. It was his vision.
This was, Kaeya recalled, the third time in the week that he had been so abruptly awoken by his dreams. All events involved some use of his vision, and, with rising concern, Kaeya took a silent note of the events.
The first was on a Monday, where he had fallen asleep in the downstairs library. There were stacks of paperwork piled in front of him. He sighed, but sucked in a deep breath as he stiffened his back. It was going to be a long night of work, all to help lessen the load on Jean’s back. Lifting the first paper from a long stack of files, he read the title: initiation of the Favonius Knights Tenth Edition [revised].
He was right. It was going to be long.
Very long.
Insufferably long, even.
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And it was.
It was so long that after several hours of reading and writing with a quill, Kaeya let his head lazily fall to the side where it was cushioned by his arms on the table. The library’s lights had all flickered out by now, replaced by a purple glow of buzzing electricity that was no doubt Lisa’s doing. Entranced, Kaeya watched the lights flicker in the class and buzz against their glass restraints. As his eyes slowly shut, he couldn’t help but feel pity for the little sparks as he fell far away from consciousness.
From the moment his eyes closed, Kaeya couldn’t remember his dream. Once he awoke, groggy and perturbed, he knew it had been awful, as he noticed the pools of sweat that soaked his uniform and how clammy his palms were. The more blatant thing that he noticed, however, was the fact that Lisa was berating him. Her dark gloved finger wiggled dangerously in front of his face as purple sparks hissed from its presence. She was mad, but in Kaeya’s post slumber mind he couldn’t tell why. The most he’d done was (probably) drool on some paper.
Sure, he may have slept in the library but that hardly constituted as something Lisa would haggle him for. It was only after he rubbed the sleep from his eye that he began to intake his surroundings. From where he sat, an extension of light ice had crawled through the carpet from his feet, nearly grasping onto the books on the lower shelves that stood parallel to him but worst of all was the status of the table he slept on. The work from the night prior, the hours spent shifting uncomfortably as the wooden slab he sat on stabbed his tailbone relentlessly, hours spent with a cramping wrist wasted as his work lay frozen in front of him.
Lisa had stopped scolding at this point, likely noticing the contorted face of frustration Kaeya held.
She could only sigh with great disappointment and strut away saying, ‘I’ll get us some tea…’ as Kaeya regained his composure, and when she returned, he held a sly smile once again.
The second time was with Rosaria. It was Wednesday. At this point in his life, tavern cruising with Rosaria was a tradition. Without any sort of communication, Rosaria was always there in time for Kaeya to finish his shift and participate in afterwork festivities. Adorned in black and red, stockings raised high enough to conceal the many daggers clinging to her thigh, Rosaria was always enough to raise the tension of the room. When the esteemed Cavalry Captain and the Thorn Crowned Nun were in the same tavern, folks knew that a new wave of gossip had begun to spread. That, or the dark underbelly of Mondstadt had begun to grow but the citizens preferred the former.
Kaeya didn’t know how but Rosaria always knew where he’d go for a tavern. Perhaps she was stalking him, her presence hidden in the city’s shadows as he wandered through the stone streets. That didn’t explain how she always sat at their (self-proclaimed) bar spot before him though. Nonetheless, it was the same thing that night. They had met each other and sat at a round table in the corner, their eyes flicking over each attendee as though they were suspects. It was a favorite pastime. People watching, at least. He didn’t know why Rosaria did it, but the silence shared between them was a stark contrast to the bustling Favonius Headquarters. It was oddly comforting. When they did talk (which was usually outside of the taverns, not in earshot of the Mondstadt Gossipers) Kaeya often remembered very little, but that was the consequence of having a few too many glasses of wine.
It was a similar evening, where Kaeya had stumbled out of the bar with a steady Rosaria guiding his step. Exhaustion weighed each foot forward as his head felt lighter and lighter. They had taken an alleyway to the headquarters, where Kaeya resided. At this point, the guards stationed at the doors were accustomed to seeing Rosaria escort Kaeya home as they gave a quick nod to the nun and stepped aside. Kaeya’s vision blurred as he saw his room, dark with only moonlight lighting his bed. His eyes closed as he gave into sleep before being able to even hobble to his bed, only slightly noticing the grip of metal laced fingertips tighten around his arm.
It had only been a few minutes when he abruptly awoke, and frost shot up Rosaria’s leg. They were closer to the bed than before, no doubt due to Rosaria dragging him across the floor like a corpse. He didn’t remember what had happened, but he was quickly sober. The alcoholic blush from his face receded, replaced with a ghastly pale skin and an expression of horror. From what, he couldn’t remember. When Kaeya glanced up to Rosaria, she only held an expression of distaste, no doubt from the icy assault he just hit her with. With a sigh, she pulled Kaeya from the floor and slumped him onto the bed. Then she left, her back facing him as the light of the hallway illuminated her figure. Her dark silhouette paused in the doorway for a moment as she glanced back at Kaeya, who at this point sat on the edge of his bed slumped but observing. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, it was the same as it always was. Cold, like the vision by her side or the touch of her fingers as she dragged him across Mondstadt to his home. Soon, once she left, he fell asleep on his bed, shoes still on.
This final third dream was different. Kaeya could actually remember what he dreamt about. He dreamt about his old home.
Khaenri’ah.
Diluc couldn’t help but stare out the window once morning came. The morning was delicate, with baby blue hues mixed with soft streaks of white clouds. Dawn sun gently kissed the sky in its glow. His hands grasped at his cup, still ¾ full. His nose scrunched, but it wasn’t due to the bitter taste of green tea that still assaulted his tongue..
He had been putting off a very particular meeting for several months now, but he knew that he couldn’t wait any longer. Time means money, money means business and business is serious. At the beginning of the month, Diluc sent the letter of formal invitation from his manor. He was going to be a two-day host, supplying Mondstadt’s top cuisine and experimental wines, following with a night at his own local tavern with a certain bard playing. The next day, however, would be full of dreary conversations about the realistic situations of finance if the deal were to go through, topped with several Liyue Traders suffering a Death-by-Noon hangover that Diluc wasn’t exactly ready to deal with.
It just so happened that today was the supposed day of their arrival. It was as though he could see their caravan pulling across the pathway from Stone Gate, their bodies illuminated in dawn’s waking light from his window. With his servants hustling around him, preparing the manor for guests, Diluc rose from his seat and gave an order.
“Adelinde, would you mind arranging the table for our guests?”
Adelinde perked up, assertively nodded, and began to organize her maids. Diluc could only sigh as he left the building.
He stood just outside the manor, hands held behind his back as he stood tall and glanced around. He waited steadily. Every so often he threw glances at the manor, seeing through its many windows the servants still bustling inside. In those moments, Diluc couldn’t help but appreciate the subsequent peace outside. It was always nice to leave for a bit, get some fresh air from the rich aroma of foods and fermenting wine. Although it had been many years since he took up residence strictly in the winery, he still couldn’t help but feel deluged with work and servants. Regardless, he handled his work and coordinated his employees himself, alone, and he was just fine with that. When some complained about the overnight shifts, Diluc created spare rooms for rest and relaxation. When they complained about the workload, he hired more people to help alleviate the pressure. So Diluc was certain that, from the years following his father’s death, he had proven himself, alone, more than capable of attaining the proper status of Ragnvindr.
There was, however, one thing he couldn’t handle alone. It was ghosts of his making that lurked in the corners of the manor. Sometimes, late at night, the walls would warp into terrifying abysmal faces, whispering in foreign languages to Diluc as he sat, lodged between the wall and his nightstand. He was sure that, among all of his employees, Adelinde was the only one who knew most about his ‘hauntings.’ She was always there with a cup of apple cider and a cold washcloth to press against his forehead when he had his night terrors.
The first night that Diluc remembered that the hauntings began was the night after his father’s death and his… loss of his brother. That night, the rain that had been pouring for several days continued to hammer against the glass of the winery. (The private estate held far too many memories for a young grieving Diluc to bear.) However, the manor’s electricity was acting unpredictably, flickering on and off for several hours. But then, it all shut off.
It was in the dark spare bedroom where Diluc was resting when he caught glimpses of his father’s bloodied figure. His face melted from corruption and fire as his bones began to darken into black charcoal. There was not a humane sound that left his father’s lips, only a small gurgle that bubbled through viscous blood.
Diluc grimaced as he recalled the event. He had only narrowly escaped further torment when Adelinde came across him when the electricity turned off, when her tall candle illuminated the darkness and vanquished the shadow. That was the most vivid terror he had, and had since surrounded himself with work and employees to concentrate his focus elsewhere.
“Quite the gorgeous winery you have,” A startling voice penetrated Diluc’s composure and when Diluc turned around, there came several more voices of a general conversation.
The caravan had arrived.
He cleared his throat of any surprise and embraced them with a soft smile.
“Welcome to the Dawn Winery,” he began with a tone of utmost (attempted) sincerity, “allow me to give you a tour of the mansion and fields. Do let me know if anything troubles you from your travels.”