Chapter Text
The tavern’s crowded with the usual suspects by the time Kaeya saunters in. He rests an elbow against the bar and surveys the sea of people, nodding his head at the familiar faces. There’s the faint pluck of strings behind the raucous laughter, and Kaeya waves at Venti, who’s half toppled onto the floor as he fiddles with the lyre. Dahlia sits across from him, laughing, his cup tipping precariously in his hand but never, never spilling a single drop of alcohol. Donna gazes forlornly across the bar, nursing half a drink as she rests her head against her arm.
That’s new. Donna usually stays away when Diluc’s tending the bar, lest she come across as too forward.
“The usual, Sir Kaeya?”
Kaeya turns with a gracious smile aimed at Charles, resting his chin in his palm. “As always, Sir Charles.”
“Not a Sir,” Charles huffs, wiping down a glass, smile faint under his bushy mustache.
Kaeya hums. “Well, you know the deal.”
Charles back is turned as he prepares Kaeya’s drink. “And you know that’s not a fair deal, Sir Kaeya.” He pushes Kaeya’s drink toward him, eyebrows raised. “I’m respecting the office you hold.”
“It’s okay to respect it a little less,” Kaeya says, sipping at the drink and savoring the fizz against his tongue, the burn down his throat. “If you don’t stop, I won’t either. That’s the deal.”
“An unfair deal.”
“I never said I played fair,” Kaeya says, the rim of the glass pressed against his smile. “You should know that by now.”
Charles crosses his arms, sighing. “I don’t know why I try.” Before Kaeya can offer an answer, he jerks his head toward the door. “He’s in the back, doing inventory. All night affair.”
Kaeya raises his eyebrows. “What’s he hiding from?” His gaze slides toward Donna, and he doesn’t bother suppressing the smirk. “Surely he won’t deprive Monstadt’s citizens of what they desire when they so humbly come to his doorstep?”
Charles snorts. “She keeps trying to tell him she didn’t mean what she said at the trial, and he keeps politely telling her he doesn’t care. Don’t think it’s registering, though.”
“How often?”
“This is the fourth day in a row.”
Kaeya laughs. “I’d offer to take her off his hands, but her infatuation with me seems to be a short-lived fluke.” He takes a sip, taking note of the door to the tavern opening, and relaxes when Albert walks through. “Shall I go cheer her up? Or maybe try to convince the source of her problems to take a different approach?”
“Do whatever you want,” Charles says, wry, “just make sure you settle your tab.”
The tab Kaeya always keeps open. “Don’t I always?” he asks, slamming his drink back and settling the glass back so gently, it doesn’t make a noise. Sliding to the side to get behind the bar, he pats Charles on the back. “I’ll be back to do just that.”
Charles grumbles, but lets him go.
The door to the store room opens without a creak, light and laughter flooding the dimly lit shelves. Knowing Diluc, he’ll be sequestering himself way in the corner, as far away from potential prying eyes as possible; Kaeya chooses to lean against the shelf closest to the door, adopting the most nonchalant stance he can, tracking the movement of red hair behind two rows of shelves.
The door shuts behind him, dulling everything from outside into a buzz. Kaeya waits. With each passing second, his heart beats faster as he takes Diluc in—at the tense line of his shoulders, the loose drape of his shirt around his back. The pants are still sinfully tight; Kaeya sees why Donna’s always in such a tizz over him.
Diluc’s voice rings clear. “Charles, I really do have—” He freezes as he turns, the slight exasperation on his face turning into a frown. “Why are you here?”
Kaeya leans further back, resting his wrist on the pommel of his sword, and tilts his head. “Why, Master Diluc, is that the way to treat a paying customer?”
“You’re not a paying customer,” Diluc says, arms crossed, “since your tab’s always open. You’re in debt.”
“Now, don’t make it sound like something it isn’t. You know I’m good for it.”
Diluc raises his eyebrows. “Do I, now?”
Kaeya has to tamp down on his grin. He fiddles with the ends of his scarf to abate the urge, casting his gaze around as if he doesn’t often find himself in the storage room. Maybe Diluc’s created a new, hidden compartment in here, somewhere—another place to hide his secrets.
“Come, now,” he says, placating and airy in the way Diluc hates. “You wouldn’t let me into your fine establishment if you didn’t think I would pay.”
“I don’t let you in here, you keep barging in. It’s borderline harassment.”
Kaeya blinks innocently at him. “Have you tried filing a report? The Knights take accusations of harassment very seriously.”
Diluc snorts, and Kaeya crows internally at the genuine amusement in it. “Why would I bother going to the Knights about anything?” He gives Kaeya a once over. “There are other ways to deal with nuisances.”
A thrill shoots through Kaeya. Here they are, cocooned in silence, away from everyone—no chance of anyone but Charles stumbling in, and he wouldn’t when he knows that Kaeya and Diluc are discussing business. There are other ways, indeed.
Unfortunately, Kaeya knows Diluc’s ways are far from the fantasy Kaeya’s imagination concocts. Fortunately, Diluc has no idea that’s where Kaeya’s mind wanders—has wandered for a while. If Diluc found out, Kaeya knows there would be very little conversation to be had. It would be an abrupt end, and Kaeya can’t risk anything; not after they’ve worked so hard to build a semblance of trust back up, not after they’re finally, finally talking.
So Kaeya lets his mind wander, but keeps his mouth shut. He’s learned his lesson about honesty in certain matters when it comes to Diluc.
“Yes, I’m well aware of your preferred methods of dealing with nuisances,” Kaeya says, smirking. “Masks seem to be a favored accessory.”
Diluc gives him a flat stare. “Is there anything specific you’re here for, or are you just here to bother me?”
Kaeya buffs his nails against his chest, inspecting them. “I heard some interesting chatter regarding new movement, and thought I’d drop by and give a friendly warning to the Master of Dawn Winery since it’s in that area, but since I’ve been designated a nuisance…” He heaves an exaggerated sigh and frowns, letting his arm fall to his side. “I should really get out of your hair.” He doesn’t turn to leave just then, though, because he knows Diluc won’t tell him to wait.
Diluc’s eyes are sharp as he takes a step closer. “What movement? Abyss Order? Monsters?”
Kaeya shakes his head. “Smugglers.”
Diluc deflates. “Oh.”
“Smugglers that are suspected of peddling Delusions.”
Diluc straightens back up. “Oh?” He narrows his eyes. “And the Knights aren’t handling this on their own?”
Kaeya shrugs. “It’s your property. I figured you should be notified first.” He tilts his head. “I’m certain that after I miraculously find the waylaid smugglers on the outskirts of the Winery and reinforcements arrive, the Knights will be walking away with all the unfortunately damaged Delusions.”
Diluc nods after a beat. “Make sure to arrive after—”
Kaeya raises a hand to stop him.
Diluc’s brow furrows in confusion before he scowls. “Your help isn’t needed.”
“Alright.” A beat. “I’m coming, anyway. I can sit to the side and watch, if that’s better.”
“It’s private property.” His scowl deepens. “My private property.”
“It’s the Knights’ investigation.” Kaeya rolls his shoulders and gives Diluc a winning smile. “My investigation.”
“Not officially.”
“I tend to get a lot of leeway. Unofficial, official…well, who knows when the paperwork will turn up?” Kaeya shrugs. “Perhaps sooner than you’d like.”
Diluc crosses his arms and frowns harder. “Don’t interfere.”
“Ah, will I be designated a nuisance once more if I do?” His voice drops lower. “Perhaps you should show me how you deal with nuisances.”
The moment it’s out of his mouth, he wants to take it back. What is he doing? He’s tiptoeing a line that he absolutely does not—cannot—want to cross, and making a fool of himself in the process. Kaeya’s never been more grateful that Diluc can’t, or won’t, pick up on flirtation; it saves him the trouble of trying to explain himself.
Kaeya has a strict line in terms of flirtation: enough to endear, but never to entice. With Diluc, it can be neither. He needs to get a hold of himself.
Diluc heaves out a sigh, frustrated growl curling the ends; Kaeya very gainfully pretends it doesn’t make heat pool in his gut.
“Fine.” Clipped, flat. “Stay out of my way. Just you, though.”
“It’ll be just me and the cavalry,” Kaeya says, mouth tipping up. For a moment, Kaeya lets himself indulge—lets himself imagine a day Diluc asks him for help, a day when just you is a request rather than a warning, but just for a moment. He knows better. He always knows better.
He looks away from Diluc, hooking a thumb into his belt, and waits for a dismissal.
It arrives swiftly. “Well? Is there anything else?”
Diluc’s eyes pierce through Kaeya, and Kaeya hums, thoughtful, looking past Diluc. “No, no. Nothing else. But is there a reason you’re avoiding bar-tending? Leaving Charles out there all alone?”
“I’m not avoiding anything. I’m doing inventory.”
Kaeya surveys the rows and rows of drink stored on the shelves. “And there is a lot of inventory...” He catches Diluc’s eye. “Might keep you busy for the entire night. Maybe even tomorrow, the day after.” When he’s sure Diluc’s paying attention, he drops, “Poor Donna’s going to get lonely.”
Diluc’s cheeks flush a faint pink. “Get out.”
“Oh, but she’s so remorseful and you won’t even keep her company!” Kaeya exaggerates his frown. “That is not how a gentleman treats a lady, Master Diluc.” He sighs, wistful. “If only she’d retained her interest in me…but alas, I don’t have a Winery in my name. Maybe it would’ve helped if I did.”
“Donna isn’t attracted to my money,” Diluc says, and then seems to bite his tongue, as if regretting speaking.
For good reason. Kaeya shifts against the shelf, getting comfortable. “Oh ho? She isn’t? Have you given this a lot of thought, Master Diluc? About what Donna is attracted to?” He gives Diluc a slow once over, more for show than anything, but he lets himself linger—on Diluc’s gloves, the deepening stain in his cheeks, the fiery indignation in his eyes. Red, everywhere.
Kaeya aches.
“It’s got to be the hair,” he says, nodding. “I believe she described it as a fiery mane once, longing to be tamed. Is it, Diluc? Longing to be ta—” His yelp turns into laughter when Diluc drags him to the door by the front of his shirt, slamming it open and shoving him through.
Noise presses in on him from every side, but Diluc’s voice rings clear as he grits out, “Get out.”
“But my tab,” Kaeya bemoans, laugh bubbling under each word. Diluc’s knuckles press against his sternum as he continues dragging him out, and the heat seeps into his skin, wraps around his heart.
He mourns the loss when Diluc lets go, and then celebrates when Diluc latches onto his wrist, instead. His pulse thunders, the tight grip searing his veins.
“Settle it with Charles tomorrow,” Diluc says, not bothering to look back as he steers them toward the door. The patrons have long stopped caring about whatever kind of rows Diluc and Kaeya get into. “Stop harassing me.”
“It’s not harassment, it’s business,” Kaeya insists. He’s used to Diluc tugging him along wherever he pleases—as kids, it was always him dragging Kaeya to show him something or the other, to get them into trouble.
Now, Diluc drags him to the front door and opens it, shoving him through and letting go. As easy as tossing trash outside. “Our business has concluded,” he says, flat, and then shuts the door.
“A pleasure, as always,” Kaeya says, voice pitched to get through the door. He laughs as he turns, heading toward the headquarters. He might as well get some work done, since he doubts he’ll be getting sleep soon.
Whistling a cheery tune to make it easier for the two men who’ve been following him since yesterday to track him, he heads back to headquarters, plan unfurling in his mind.
***
In the couple days leading up to the mission, Kaeya plays it cool.
His tail stays on him, and it’s a little ridiculous, really, that they haven’t cottoned onto the fact that he’s onto them. It’s the same men everywhere he goes—he’s a little offended that he’s being targeted by such amateurs.
Motive still unknown, but he ascertains more details about the supposed smugglers—poorly planted, it’s so obvious they’re trying to lure him in—and decides that another person as backup might be better; Rosaria is more than happy to lend a hand, especially if it means getting out of morning church services.
He pens Diluc a letter, reminiscing in flowery language about how they used to get in trouble for getting too close to Dragonspine while playing, and the ill-advised (and fictional) time they’d gotten caught trying to sneak out just before dawn. He writes asking whether Diluc will be out of town in the next couple of days. He gets no reply, and Diluc isn’t seen in the tavern; Charles passes along that Diluc is going to be busy for the next few days, and won’t be able to make it into town.
Message received, then. Diluc won’t like that Kaeya’s bringing Rosaria, but, well—better safe than sorry.
It’s easy to tie everything else up—make a big show of asking for a day off, leading his tail to a campsite he preps. He makes a big show of rolling out maps, marking nonsense circles near Dawn Winery, scribbling notes. He leaves them out before he enters his tent, turns the lamp off, and waits. Once he’s certain they’ve gone back to report his movements, he doubles back to meet up with Rosaria on the outskirts of Springvale.
He settles himself against a tree by a side road, hard to spot unless someone’s looking. It’s less than two minutes before Rosaria’s slipping in next to him, and he suppresses the surprise at her sudden presence.
He knows she likes unsettling people, and he tries not to grin at the mild consternation he receives when he just nods at her, her cool eyes piercing, her headpiece perfectly poised and pole-arm by her side.
“Let’s go,” she says, gesturing at Kaeya to get a move on.
“Ladies first,” Kaeya says with a little flourish, and when she stays put, he makes the first move. She slides in behind him, footsteps quiet.
“So. Need one alive, right?”
Her practicality and bluntness is a gift, in Kaeya’s opinion. One that often has him feeling a little off-kilter when she gets a little too close to his truth, but a gift nonetheless.
Kaeya nods. “Yes. Two would be better, and we can interrogate them separately, but one will suffice.”
It’s chilly out, the pre-dawn air cutting against his face, his breath leaving in visible puffs, his cooling sweat leaving him on the verge of shivering. They’re about half an hour out from the road the treasure hunters should be coming in through, which leaves them plenty of time to warm up.
A lighter clicks as Rosaria sticks a cigarette in her mouth. “You’re expecting 10-15?”
Kaeya tips his head from side to side. “Give or take.”
“Okay.” She takes a drag, blowing the smoke out to the side, away from Kaeya’s face. “And it’s just us and ‘one other’? Who’s the other?”
“You’ve probably run into him before,” Kaeya says with a small quirk of his lips. “Though I’m not sure how that played out.”
Diluc and Rosaria would probably have tried their best to ignore each other, mind their own business; Kaeya would pay money to see the first time Rosaria stumbled upon the Darknight Hero.
“Yeah? He a friend?”
Kaeya hums. “An ally, certainly, when it comes to protecting Mondstadt.” He can’t resist adding: “A fiery one, at least. Very protective, that one.”
Rosaria’s gait slows, and Kaeya matches her. “Is this that Dark Hero guy?”
Kaeya tuts, turning to walk backwards and converse. “Come, now, Sister, it’s been almost two years since he’s been on the scene—surely you can remember his name? It’s the Darknight Hero.”
Rosaria gives him a shrewd look. “And you just happen to have him at your beck and call?”
“I know how to make a tempting offer,” Kaeya says with a smirk.
“Right.” The looks turns even more shrewd as she gives him a once over. “Interesting.”
When what she’s implying hits, he almost trips over his own feet; his mouth falls open, a denial on his lips, but he decides against saying anything, turning around to march forward. It would be damning. Better to let her come to her conclusions.
The idea that he could offer himself in hopes of tempting Diluc to do anything is laughable, though—the only thing that might tempt Diluc is if he offered to leave him alone.
Leaves crunch under their boots as they make way. Dawn is still a couple hours away, and the wind bites at his nose, his fingertips. He refuses to give in and wear proper gloves, but still sends Rosaria’s gloves a mournful look. Maybe he should start wearing elbow length gloves. Surely, he could pull them off. He’d eventually get used to the texture, the restricting feeling.
“So it is Diluc Ragivindr, then?”
Kaeya makes his face blank so fast, he knows it’s going to be a dead giveaway. He winces internally, but doesn’t turn to meet Rosaria’s curious gaze. “Diluc? What about him?”
Why in the world is she asking him now?
Rosaria laughs, short and knowing. “I figured he was the Darknight Hero, but now it makes perfect sense why you can make a tempting offer.”
Kaeya’s face heats up, and he’s thankful it’s still dark out. “The Darknight Hero and I simply have an understanding,” he settles on saying, and then winces at Rosaria’s sharp bark of laughter.
If he tries to defend himself, he knows he’ll only make it worse. Rosaria isn’t one to change her mind, and she will use what he says against him—he’s a doomed man. If this is the line of thinking she’s settled on, she’s going to stay on it; the only way to dissuade her would be to explain exactly what Diluc and him are, which he is in no hurry to do.
He barely knows what they are, anymore. Half the time, he’s convinced he’s the only one clinging onto something that isn’t there; the other half, he’s convinced Diluc hasn’t let go, either. There’s no way to come out and ask, and even though Kaeya knows Diluc better than the back of his own hand, he cannot trust his own judgment in this. It’s easier to move selfishly, to seek Diluc out, to drink his fill and go back for more; it’s easier to indulge in his own need to be close, to needle, to crave.
“Oh, I bet.” She ashes the cigarette, takes a long drag. Blows it out slowly, but smoke still curls out of her mouth as she says, “Alright, so we’re ambushing the ones trying to ambush you. Are the Delusions they claim to be peddling real?”
Kaeya shrugs. “No idea. Perhaps, perhaps not.” He mulls it over. “I’m leaning toward them being real—maybe not to be sold, but to be used during the ambush.”
Rosaria doesn’t ask why he hadn’t notified the Knights, or why he doesn’t have any backup, and he’s grateful. His preferred method of getting information isn’t always Knights’ approved, and he would rather find out why he’s being targeted tonight. Between the three of them, a small group of amateurs such as this should be easy work.
“What if it’s a trap?”
Kaeya grins at her, knowing she’s asking whether the information regarding an ambush is a setup in and of itself. “Then I’ll be very embarrassed, and you can lord it over me.”
“If I have to save you, drinks are on you for a month.”
Kaeya crosses his heart. “On my honor as a Knight.”
Rosaria raises her eyebrow, cigarette dangling from her lips. “Use something that’s actually real.”
“Ouch.” He shakes his head. “It almost sounds like you don’t like me, Rosaria.”
Her other eyebrow rises up to join the first.
“Double ouch,” he says, grinning. He surveys the trees ahead, the chill from Dragonspine starting to permeate the area. They’re close.
“Is your hero going to meet us there, or should we start searching?”
Considering he hadn’t let Diluc know that the entire thing’s a setup, he doubts Diluc will be waiting for him. They’ll try to lure Kaeya out with the supposed “smugglers,” and when Diluc responds, Kaeya will take advantage of the confusion, press home that he’s had the advantage the entire time.
“He isn’t my hero, he’s just a concerned citizen,” Kaeya says, and then pulls out a map, showing Rosaria the road he’s marked out. “They should be coming down here—let’s ensure there aren’t any archers or snipers in the area, and subdue them if there are. We have about an hour before they’re supposed to travel down there. Try not to kill them, but if it comes down to that…” Kaeya shrugs.
Rosaria nods, and then she’s off, slipping into the shadows as if that’s where she belongs.
Kaeya watches her for a minute or two, and then goes in the opposite direction. The cliffs are tall and looming here, enough dense forest to make it easy to hide in the foliage, but Kaeya knows these lands better than he will ever know his own. Crepus never let them get out this far, citing danger and monsters, but that was what spurred them here in the first place—especially when they started training to be knights.
Side by side, they’d run through the road, before splitting off and making a game of who could take out more hilichurls that day. If there was a particularly powerful enemy, it wouldn’t take more than a shout of a name to have the other come running, and they’d face whatever needed to be faced—together, shoulder to shoulder, or back to back.
It’s a rush like nothing else, fighting next to Diluc, and Kaeya covets whatever chance he can get. The bigger the monster, the larger the enemy, the more fun Kaeya has.
That doesn’t mean he can let anyone slip through the cracks here, though. Kaeya will have to settle for watching Diluc from the shadows as he dispatches the threat, and he can’t deny that he’s looking forward to that, either.
It’s easy work to find the couple snipers hiding in the trees—there seems to be no communication between them. Kaeya knocks out the first one, ties him up, and bids him farewell with a tap on the nose and an, “I’ll be back for you later.” He does the same for the second, hiding further up in the cliff, and Kaeya is disappointed. He really was hoping it would be harder than this.
It’s easy to check and double check once more, nodding at Rosaria as they cross paths.
“How many?”
“Two,” she says. “They’re still alive. I left them tied up.” She turns toward the sky, nodding at the hints of light starting to peer through. “They should be here soon.”
Kaeya hums. “They should.” He glances at a cliff ledge and points at it. “Want to watch from there?”
Rosaria raises her eyebrows. “You’re not going to go and help your hero when he shows up?”
“He’s not my hero,” Kaeya says, leading the way, “he’s a vigilante. And I’ll be able to help him if I need to.”
The ledge isn’t too far from where Kaeya thinks Diluc will strike—close enough to offer immediate support and survey the entire scene, keep an eye out. He climbs onto it, offering Rosaria a hand, which she pointedly ignores. He shrugs and sits down, legs swinging in the air as he gets comfortable, leaning back on his hands.
The click of a lighter, and then the familiar smell of smoke. “Why are they after you?”
Kaeya keeps a lazy eye out on the road, searching for a flash of red. “No idea.”
Rosaria scoffs.
“Multiple ideas,” Kaeya amends, “but none that stand out. I can’t tell if it’s a personal vendetta, related to the trial with Albedo, a crime of opportunity, or something else.” Knowing his luck, this will turn out to be some long forgotten Khaenri’ahn faction aiming to repossess their “agent” from within Monstadt.
Kaeya will get to the bottom of it, but that doesn’t mean he has to be enthusiastic about it. Especially when they’re all such amateurs. It’s just embarrassing, really—he’s so glad he didn’t bother going through an official route to take care of this little problem.
“The trial, huh?” Rosaria’s lips curl up, eyes bright. “Maybe it’s a group of attorneys punishing you for sullying the name of the law by representing a client with no formal training or certification.”
Kaeya gasps in offense. “I have plenty of formal training. I spent an entire day reading up on the laws I claim to uphold, I’ll have you know. I even did a mock trial with Jean.”
“An entire day?” Rosaria nods, as if impressed. “You really are putting the work in.”
“It’s hard work, but it’s honest,” Kaeya says, straight-faced, and when Rosaria breaks into laughter, curling into herself, he cracks a grin.
“When’s your boy going to show up?” she says after she’s calmed down.
Kaeya suppresses a sigh. He shouldn’t have corrected her about the your hero business; this is so much worse. “The Darknight Hero is already here.”
Rosaria straightens up. “What? Where?” She squints into the trees underneath them. “I don’t see any red.”
Kaeya knows Diluc’s here, not because he can see him, but because he can feel him. There is a faint, niggling sensation that appears whenever Diluc’s nearby—a slow burn that spreads through him. It’s like the warmth from an ember, and it’s instinctive. Kaeya can never tell where Diluc is, just that he’s close.
It had started happening about a year after Diluc had returned to Mondstadt from his little sabbatical, and at first, Kaeya was convinced he’d come down with something. Then, he’d been convinced that it was a hallucination. Then, he’d tried to figure out what it was, and when it happened, and who it happened near, and the answer had been so damning, he’d decided to ignore it.
There was no way he was going to Lisa and asking her, “Hey, Lisa, any books on distinctly feeling as if you’re being bathed by the faint warmth of an ember whenever someone you have a very complicated past with comes near you? A physical sensation, but also one that feels like it’s permeating your soul?” She’d laugh him out of the library, or, worse, try to explain the birds and the bees to him.
He chalks it up to either how up close and personal he’d gotten with Diluc’s Vision in the years he’d been gone, or some weird Khaenri’ahn magic. Regardless of where it stems from, it’s something he will never, never say aloud, because absolutely no one needs to know the lengths the universe will go to embarrass him.
“Now, why would you see red, dear Rosaria?” Kaeya mutters, scanning the trees for a hint of Diluc, lips instinctively curling up when he sees the top of a hood hiding not too far from where Kaeya and Rosaria are situated.
Diluc is turned toward the road, perched in a tree. His cloak lifts every so often with the whipping of the wind, billowing behind him, but he’s hidden well enough no one will be able to spot him.
No one but Kaeya, of course.
Pointing him out, Kaeya says, “Show should start soon.”
Rosaria hums in acknowledgment, taking another drag. “You sure spotted him fast.”
“I’m good at what I do.” Kaeya flashes her a grin. “I’m very good at spotting things out of place. I’m the one who approached you, aren’t I?”
Rosaria blows smoke in his face, and Kaeya stays as straight faced as he can. “And now I’m hog-tying men in the early morning.” She pauses, the ghost of a smirk on her face. “Usually, that’s reserved for night time.”
Kaeya’s eyebrows rise up, an amused smile on his face. “Why, Sister. You haven’t told me about this new hobby of yours.” Before he can press for answers, though, he hears the scrape of wood against metal, the low murmur of people walking closer.
He perks up at the same time Rosaria whips her head around, looking for the smugglers. A rickety cart is coming into the view up the road, a group of six men surrounding it, two on horseback. Kaeya can’t tell from this far whether anyone’s lying in the cart, and he can’t make out any Visions—he casts a glance at Diluc, who’s tensed, head cocked in the direction of the cart.
He really does look like a bird. A phoenix if there ever was one, Kaeya thinks with wry amusement
“So is your plan letting him deal with them and then, just when it’s starting to look perilous, you’ll step in and save the day?” Rosaria mutters, the flaps of her veil hitting Kaeya in the face as the wind picks up once more.
Kaeya swats them away. “I won’t need to step in.” The smirk on his face might be smug, might be proud, but he can’t help it—he loves watching Diluc work. Anticipation thrums through his veins, hands curling into fists in the grass.
Time doesn’t slow. The moment the group is within earshot, the wind carrying their voices up during what seems to be a lively debate about a new light novel, Kaeya watches the two men on horseback drop. The horses immediately rear up, the lifeless bodies of their riders dangling from them, and the other men start yelling.
Throwing knives are new. Diluc had visited Fontaine recently; a good a place as any to pick up some new skills.
The shouts of panic grow louder as a horse tramples over one of them.
“The fire! Use the fire, he’s got ice—” one of them shouts.
Kaeya laughs as Diluc leaps into action, flames licking up his broadsword, burning bright in the night. He slams into the first with his knee, jumping from the tree and into the cart. Within seconds, he’s cut the horse at the front free, and he turns to the four remaining men, standing tall and looking down at them. He brings his sword up and says, calm, “No ice here,” before swinging.
Flames burst forth in an arc as the men try to dodge out of the way, but one of them gets caught, yelling as they sear his skin, shirt catching on fire.
Kaeya tsks as the smuggler starts rolling on the ground. “Terrible form. The others were able to dodge, no problem.”
“Not a mistake he’ll make twice,” Rosaria says.
Beneath them, Diluc slashes at one, and then another, getting them both. They drop, moaning in pain, and it’s light work for Diluc to catch up to the last straggler, kicking at his knees and dropping him to the ground.
“That’s our cue,” Kaeya says, standing up. He offers Rosaria a hand, but she gets up herself and then motions for him to move first. Kaeya rolls his eye but starts clambering down, hitting the ground and dusting off his shirt, ensuring nothing is out of place.
Diluc has his foot pressed down against the smuggler’s chest, sword embedded into the ground right next to his face. He leans down and growls out, “Who do you work for?”
Kaeya’s mouth goes dry, watching Diluc’s form loom over the defenseless man. His hood’s slipped off to reveal the high ponytail he’s wearing, the nape of his neck exposed as his hair dangles down one side of his shoulder, wisps of it falling into his face and around his mask. The rising sun illuminates his flushed cheeks, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword, and there’s a satisfied set to his shoulders, his mouth—Diluc enjoys this.
It really is unfair, how beautiful he looks.
Kaeya emerges from the shadows, clapping slowly. “Well, well, Darknight Hero. That was quite the show. Did you enjoy yourself?”
Diluc doesn’t bother looking away from the smuggler he’s interrogating, but Kaeya has to tamp down on the wild grin that wants to spread across his face when he sees the tick of Diluc’s jaw. He hates the stupid name so much. “I told you not to come.”
“And I don’t remember agreeing to that.” Kaeya makes his way closer, until he can peer down directly at the man staring at them in wide-eyed terror, and waves with the tips of his fingertips. “Looking for me?”
“You’re a knight, right? You can’t kill me, right? You’re not gonna kill me—gods, where are the others—we had—”
“Dead,” Kaeya lies. “Your little archers were cute.” He crouches down and grins, all teeth. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you and your group want with me, hm? If you’re quick, I’ll even advocate on your behalf against my friend here, ask him to let you live.”
Diluc’s boot digs deeper into the man’s chest, and Kaeya’s gaze sticks to it for a second before he returns it to the pair of terrified eyes, widening his grin. “I make a very good attorney. I have a 100% success rate, so why don’t we make a deal?”
This is his favorite part: locking eyes with the person making an impossible decision, watch their resolve fade or harden as they realize that there is no way to squirm their way out of making a hard choice. It is the most distilled form of freedom—understanding that there is no winning, but being able to decide how to lose, anyway. It is when people are most honest about who they are—perhaps the only moment they ever will be in their lives.
And Kaeya gets to unveil them.
The man isn’t looking at him, though. Instead, he glances up up and to the right, begging loudly, “Please, please, shoot him, shoot him, shoot him, shoot him—”
Kaeya follows his gaze, and his eyes widen when he sees a man standing on the topmost ledge, aiming a crossbow directly at him, and firing.
There isn’t time to think before the arrow is flying toward him, toward his head, and he watches it approach, trying to force his limbs to move, to dodge, to do anything. His arms respond first, coming up in front of him, bracing for impact. His legs still haven’t got the message.
His heart beats once, twice, echoing in his ears, and then Diluc’s in front of him. There’s a warm splatter across Kaeya’s face, spraying onto his eye-patch, and he stares up at Diluc, wide-eyed.
Diluc isn’t looking at him. Diluc is looking at the arrow protruding from his gut, wide-eyed, mouth parted around a soft, pained sound.