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Chapter Text

The first letter arrived when Diluc was in the Ardravi Valley.

He walked distractedly, his gaze lost on the horizon, while his feet sank into the greenish grass of what was an open field, a large and uninhabited area belonging to one of the several forests in the interior of Sumeru.

After several minutes of this shuffling of steps, walking under the sun in search of some way of obtaining discreet transport that would suit Diluc's demands, sweat was already accumulating on the boy's forehead, forming a light layer that gradually dampened his skin, strands of his red bangs.

The sword had begun to weigh a little heavier on his back, and his clothes—especially the coat—felt too warm for the spring weather, but Diluc took a deep breath, remembering that it would only remain as far as the flowers and crystal-clear lakes of Fontaine would emerge, dominating the landscape. After the Hydro nation, at some point on his journey, Diluc would also reach the freezing Snezhnaya.

Snezhnaya's cold, according to the stories he had heard, was severe and impetuous. Such a mild temperature scared even the typical traders who used to advance through the territory in search of making money, selling old things or luxurious fabrics stored in their carts. And despite the rumors that circulated around the Mondstadt tavern, about people who often lost their lives in the midst of all that exaggerated snowfall, Diluc wasn't really worried.

It wasn't as if anything made him give up his goals, his honest will, the genuine desire to take revenge for his father's death that burned in his veins, intense and bitter, accompanied by the wish to know more about the so-called "Illusion" coming from the Fatui.

During his entire trip there, Diluc had drawn up a perimeter. He had made some notes, adopting lines of thought, fragments of maps, secret notes captured in the dead of night, any evidence that would guide him in search of a better plan. At that moment then, Diluc was so focused on organizing his ideals, thinking about how he would get through each of the dirty machinations behind that country, that he almost didn't notice the subtle approach of a falcon behind his back.

The bird with brown and white feathers descended through the sky and yelped sharply, catching its owner's attention just moments before landing on his arm — sharp claws almost pierced a hole in the reddish fabric.

Diluc watched the process, eyes catching a glimpse of something tied to one of the bird's legs: a thin, cylindrical, metallic tube that was quite familiar.

He reached out with one hand and untied the object from his falcon. It was a capsule for storing small letters, which the Knights of Favonius used to send messages to other nations. The pigeons that Master Varka used at the Knights' headquarters were indeed useful, but very inaccurate and messages usually took weeks to reach their respective senders, even if they didn't end up in the wrong hands.

The person who sent the letter, however, had used Diluc's own pet, which was used to him and would easily recognize him.

Taking into account that Diluc's orders were for the bird to stay well cared and protected under the roof of the Dawn Winery, the idea of using it as a carrier pigeon was an outrageous, capricious yet effective alternative that could only belong to one person in the world: Kaeya.

Exactly. Kaeya. Diluc tried to ignore the incident, knowing that it was another of Alberich's peculiarities. Horrible fluctuations in his personality — which deep down, Diluc secretly liked — that neither time nor anyone could correct.

It was obvious that Kaeya often took liberties that weren't his own; a fact hidden in the charming sweetness of his behavior towards his sworn brother. However, Diluc was no longer in Mondstadt to censor him and he didn't even have the position to do so. At least, not since the violent fight the two had, which was still too recent for Diluc's memory to erase the simplest detail.

With his search for the truth in progress and so many other problems related to his father's death to deal with, Diluc no longer had so much time to worry about the coldness that had established in their relationship since then; a broken oath, marked by broken links that would probably not be repaired, let alone clarify the misunderstandings still pending between the two.

Diluc hoped that, at the very least, for Kaeya to have ordered his own falcon to find him, the content of the message would be very, very important. The kind of short, enlightening message that one reads as quickly as one is surprised. But when his fingers finally unwrapped the envelope and the beautiful handwriting — with tall, slightly inclined letters — took place in his eyes, Diluc noticed that it wasn't exactly what he thought.

“Dear respectable and esteemed sir Diluc Ragnvindr.

As I write this message, it has been just over three weeks since you left Mondstadt.

Today, I have settled back into our late father's residence at Dawn Winery. Certain that you will forgive me for this, I find myself convinced that your permission, even though it did not exist until now, would still be positive, like releasing this beautiful falcon that bows its head every time your name is mentioned in our conversations.

Adelinde was who welcomed me with open arms. She seems very happy with my presence around the house. It also calms her complaints of loneliness a little, because countless whispers of lament have filled the rooms since you left her without having to prepare dinners anymore.

With that, I'm even thinking about asking her to make my favorite dishes again. After all, they say that childhood foods are best enjoyed by the hands of those who created them, don't you agree?

These days in which I slept in absolutely sleepless places at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, in addition with some horrible back pain, I feel that my taste buds have become numb after eating so many chicken and mushroom skewers. I'm not complaining about Sara's cooking, but we need to give our maids' hands some credit.

In fact, justice for the things Eroch did is taking a while to come. He often complicates things, making it clear that he will not leave his post that easily, and yesterday, when the sun was high in the sky, we had a meeting in which Eroch tried to deny the accusations against him again, saying that he had never tried to steal the credit of Crepus's acts of bravery. After I addressed him a few words, he started saying twisted things, using the excuse that any action he might have taken was to protect the Knights and the reputation of us, youngers.

Jean, who was also present the entire time during these baseless accusations, was furious. Amber agreed with me to calm her down after the meeting was over, and I decided that there were a lot of important things, which are now yours, that I really should take care of when you get back.

Earlier, Charles reassured me that he would help me deal with the business of Angel’s Share. His words were firm, and as he has been one of our father's right-hand men all these years, I will obviously place my trust in him.

That's good, isn't it? Maybe, you know... When you come back home, I can take your place as the best and newest bartender in Mondstadt's taverns.

Honestly, I'd like to write more about my experiences this week,  just like the fact that I started to get along with your beloved horses after one of them kicked me; but the paper is short and I have already taken up many lines. So, assuming your falcon has managed to find a mane of red hair from a certain stubborn and uncontrollable individual out there, I will send you more letters about the situation soon.

Oh, of course! One last thing:

Diluc, not only do I imagine that you, with your kindness and pure heart, would let me occupy these nostalgic corridors again, but that you would also allow this poor gentleman to abuse Crepus Ragnvindr's famous wine cellar a little, right?

Take care and send me news as soon as possible.

K.”

When he finished reading, Diluc snorted and controlled the urge to crumple that letter tightly.

He skimmed specific phrases in the written content again, seriously wondering if he shouldn't even send it back to Kaeya in a clear sign of refusal.

Then, a long moment later, Diluc carefully folded the paper and placed it in one of his pockets.

Chapter Text

The second letter arrived when Diluc was housed in one of Fontaine's provinces. 

The city was grand, with refined architecture that consisted mainly of two-story houses with triangular roofs made from the dark wood of pine trees. There were canals that crossed the commercial center, forming several narrow aqueducts with crystal clear waters that flowed in abundance. 

In the main square, traders filled the streets with voices calling out offers of fruit, cheese, liqueur wine, wheat bread, and linen fabrics. Even technological gadgets made by local inventors were displayed in small open-air stalls. Some dogs roamed about, and kids played, happily chasing one another.

In comparison to that good atmosphere of innovation flooding the upscale neighborhoods, filling the mouths of the rich with gossip and promising a prosperous future for the nation of the Hydro Archon, there were the peripheral neighborhoods, the simple, ugly and poor housing complexes. 

They were full of small, crumbling houses. Ragged maidens — usually pulling the hand of some sick child who was already losing their shabby clothes — wandered the streets in search of alms, sometimes offering night services to anyone who was interested. 

Two of them had hit on Diluc, with sweet words and smiles full of ulterior motives on those lips stained with red lipstick. One of them, the blonde who showed an exaggerated amount of cleavage, was holding a cigar that, due to the unpleasant smell, Diluc recognized as opium. It was easy to guess when a huge number of people, scattered through the alleys of that place, were smoking the same thing. 

The other woman in the pair did spent a lot of time disturbing him, rubbing against him and trying to grab one of Diluc's hands to put between her breasts or under her heavy skirt. Every time that uncomfortable situation happened, Diluc pushed her away and refused her with impeccable politeness. Soon, as the minutes passed, the two women finally got tired and left him alone. 

Diluc then continued his way to the middle of the city, walking back to the bridge that separated the suburbs from the upscale neighborhoods. Luckily, he found an inn nearby. Small rooms whose floors creaked with every step, but the matriarch of the house offered him one of her “best rooms”, in addition to the guarantee of hot water to wash and a dinner capable of stopping Diluc's stomach growls. 

At night, after taking a shower, he left the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist and went to his room to get dressed. With several days on the road, destroying hilichurl camps, fighting and surreptitiously spying on fatuis everywhere, Diluc felt the dust and sweat clinging to his skin. He had the unpleasant feeling of being tired and filthy, so washing not only washed away the dirt that had accumulated on the young man, but also offered superficial relief to his fatigue-aching muscles. 

Quick and almost absently, Diluc began to put on the lower part of his clothes. He still had his red curls splashing drops of water down his back and bare abdomen, when, suddenly, a crashing noise sounded throughout the room.  

The sound cut the silence, sharp and continuous, coming from the direction of the window. Diluc immediately went on guard, his right hand reaching for his sword on the side of the bed in one slight movement.

As he approached the window with cautious steps, the young man's shoulders relaxed as he realized that it was just a falcon — his falcon, actually — flapping its wings frantically as it pecked at the glass, trying to get its owner's attention. 

The falcon had the same tube from a few days ago tied to one of its legs, and again, the idea of having his pet being used as a carrier pigeon by Kaeya made Diluc roll his eyes. Although, of course, he couldn't really doubt the bird's apparent ability to find him. 

Sighing, Diluc climbed the window structure with both hands, opening it and allowing the falcon to enter. The bird soon flew inside and sat on an old wooden counter, shaking its head and feathers as a form of silent thanks. 

Diluc couldn't help but find the action slightly cute and funny, so he put his fingers up to one of the animal's wings, stroking the feathers for a few seconds before untying the tube. 

He walked back to the bed, sitting down while removing the lid from the object. A rolled-up two-page letter fell into his lap, which Diluc opened, smoothing the paper patiently before bringing to his eyes and reading it. 

The handwriting at the beginning of the letter was beautiful and elegant, but even if the lines were all blank, Diluc would know who the sender was. 

“Dear respectable sir Diluc Ragnvindr. 

When this letter is dispatched, it will be 2 months since you left the city. But after all, how are you? 

Since you didn't answer my last letter, I imagine your feelings aren't very warm towards me, correct? I'm not mad at you, though. I understand I ignored the bigger problem that hangs between us to write in carefree lines. 

Disagreements are not easy to swallow, there are hurts that time cannot erase, and I also feel, perhaps, using your falcon really irritated you. (Well, it's not like this changes something. I'll continue to make her stretch those long feathers around again) 

Not much has happened since my last news. The Order of the Abyss remains quiet, Hilichulrs continue to stop under the heels of the newcomer, Eula, or the sight of our smiling Amber. And unfortunately, Eroch remains a difficult obstacle to remove. I must say that the man is more work than the skittish horses in the stables, however, just as Varka is also good at riding, I believe he will be able to lower that mane that Eroch displays so proudly soon. 

Recently, a thunderstorm shook the lands of Mondstadt. The rain is so heavy that my work as the new Cavalry Captain has been considerably reduced, and now I find time to do things I don't remember enjoying so much before. 

The memories, in this house, seem stronger than in any other corner of my mind. I used to be afraid of climates like this, remember? As a child, lightning and thunder scared me a lot and it was on these days of heavy rain that I sought refuge in your room, in the comfort of your bed and in the warmth of the little Diluc's arms. 

You used to accept me, always. 

Clearly, I remember that you let my cold feet touch yours. No complaints from you, just sweet whispers trying to calm me down, saying that I didn't need to fear anymore: it was just rain. 

Even though I knew it was simply rain, the sound of falling water reminded me of the fear, the feeling sown from an early age inside me I felt when my biological father abandoned me among the thick vines, in front of the Dawn Winery. 

Even when I convinced myself that this fateful day actually meant something good, that it began the period in which I could enjoy a good home, a wonderful father and the presence of you, Diluc, I confess that I lied a few times. In these cases, it was no longer due to the loud noise of the lightning. It was the warm sensation of your body against mine. It was the feeling of dragging my fingers through the soft curls of your hair. It was because I wanted you and only you, with me. 

Maybe it shames you, now that I'm grown up, admit that. But I just can't deny that sometimes I really miss how pleasant those nights were, lulled by the sound of your heart overcoming the rain outside. 

You must be thinking I said all this to admit that I am still afraid of thunders, right? Or this is an open invitation for me to sleep with you again? 

Hahahahaha, I could even say that you are kind of right, my dear and esteemed Master Diluc. However, I have a feeling that as soon as I try to sneak into a shared bed with you, you would quickly kick me off the mattress. 

It would obviously be funny, although, as I said before, the strongest motive behind the sincere confession of this man, who writes to you, is not simply to complain about a missing childhood. It is to sayi that I'm sorry. To say that, in all this time, my feelings towards you have never wavered or diminished.” 

Diluc released the oxygen he didn't realize he was holding inside his tight lungs. His heart had started to beat faster in the last few minutes of reading; a warm, fuzzy sensation, difficult to define, traveled through his body with each line passed, settling mainly at the base of his belly. 

Archons, he still didn't really know what to think. 

Below Kaeya's black handwriting, there was a different piece of paper pasted only along one edge, taking up almost half of the first page. The appearance was yellowish, older than the letter itself. It looked as if a piece of it had been burned, and the remaining parts salvaged from the same fire. 

In it, each line of paper had an identical one below it. From the handwriting, it was as if a child had written first, before an adult helped, holding his hand and then teaching him to write a second time. 

Diluc rested his elbows on his thighs, leaning in to read it more closely. 

“Always remember that it was the Alberich Clan, who were of no royal blood, who stepped in as regents when the strength of the one-eyed King Irmin failed. 

Although it was not possible to restore Khenri'ah back to life, we of the Alberich Clan should live lives that burn like blazing fire, rather than dead ashes.” 

Diluc pulled the paper, which separated from the rest of the sheet with a slight effort. There was more current writing on the other side of him, which sounded like some kind of current note. 

“I saved this record of the fire that my ‘father’ made for me while he wasn’t paying attention. This was a violation of our principles. Our clan's affairs should never be recorded.  

For me, this piece of paper serves as no proof of identification, and will not allow me entry anywhere. 

Now that I noticed, his handwriting was as vivid as a smoky pile of ash. There’s no way I can write something like this while living in Mondstadt.”  

The letter continued, this time returning to the second sheet of original paper: 

“I never blamed you for anything, Diluc. Not even for our fight. And I don't care about the injuries that left sores or bruises all over my body. At this point, I actually have a real reason to wear an eye patch. Who would have thought that even a scar on the face would accentuate the great beauty of the impeccable Kaeya Alberich, right? 

It was fun to trick you into thinking I was blind, but I suppose the truth will always haunt the ways of a liar. 

In the end, it wasn't wrong to tell you about my destiny, it really wasn't. I think the outcome of our discussion would have been different if I had chosen a more appropriate time to tell you, instead of the worst time. 

You needed comfort, not another two-legged problem in your life. 

But when Crepus died, and I'm sorry to say that, despite the sadness, a certain weight was lifted from my chest. It was scary and it was... a huge relief. I simply didn't know about the existence of that thing inside me, however, I understand that it was born there many years ago, because I would hate to hurt father with my complicated past. And I'd hate to hurt you with it too. 

In that moment, when I saw you shattered by grief, doubt stabbed my mind like a blade, and I felt an unbearable need to be honest about myself. I needed to tell you the things you didn't know, otherwise the pain in my heart would expand like a monster, control my actions and become stronger than me. 

Today, when the cuts you made have closed and I am left with nothing but the emptiness of your presence, I miss you, Diluc. 

I miss you so much.

It hasn't even been two months since your departure and I miss you, even more than I witness the weight the legacy of my name places on my shoulders. 

After everything that happened, unconsciously, I know one day my destiny will catch up with me and force me to make one important choice. Perhaps if is the choice you long for me to make, or perhaps my autonomy will ultimately result in my blood bathing your sword. It's all uncertain. The threads that weave the future are hidden from human eyes, so we never know what tomorrow will bring. 

Even it's costing me my entire soul to be transparent and speak about what I think this way, I guarantee that my feelings about you will remain the same, Diluc, frozen in this moment, just as I promise you that, here, my apologies are genuine and are part of what I most desire deep in my heart. 

You used to accept me once, when we were little, remember? 

Could you accept again?” 

That time, the letter didn't even have his signature. The lines described had taken up every last space, barely exceeding the limits of the paper. But when it came to the type of content, there was no need to say who Kaeya was. No one would send their own falcon across the nations after him and no one would write letters like those to Diluc, with sentences so full of emotion and affection. 

He felt the pang of an enormous need inside him to answer him, for offer some immediate comfort to Kaeya, because the letter had made obvious the existence of insecurities he had never told Diluc — words never verbalized in confrontations, which would convey more damage suffered than physical wounds. 

In any case, Diluc was aware that he needed to stop, take several breaths and reflect on it. Many things were bubbling in his heart at that moment, melting that typical coldness installed in his veins. 

He needed to calm down and give a definitive, simple and clear answer to Kaeya. Soon. 

When he didn't respond the letter at first, Diluc didn't imagine the next one to be received would shake him so much, even making him feel bad about the lack of reciprocity on his part. 

The truth, now the days after their fight had passed, is that things were easier to be perceived and understood by Diluc's mind. The man was seriously rethinking his decisions, the smallest and most important details. What they say in that night—when his sword came just short of ending Alberich's life—could not be taken back, no matter how ardently he longed for it. They would remain there, untouchable, sealed by time and space in that dark memory which dismatched the others. 

His feelings were more understanding and open after the letter, but it didn't mean the path Diluc was following would change, or that his personality hadn't hardened after everything that happened, being polished towards solitude and shaped mainly by the death of his beloved father. 

It was definitive, some decisions made never changed. Some memories last forever, just like the irreparable damage of a broken heart. 

Indeed, there were things that would remain the same; such aversion and disappointment to the Knights of Favonius one of them, for example. But from now on, as long as Kaeya continued sending letters to Diluc, he would make a point of answering them, he would sit dedicatedly in a chair,  stain a piece of paper with his handwriting, even if only with a few words, to make Kaeya feel Diluc's attention in himself. 

Yeah, Kaeya could be his informant, filling him about how Mondstadt were. And then Diluc could be a correspondent, thousands of kilometers away. They could work together, even on something as simple as writing news for each other, and, being like that for a small moment, they would once again become the brave and brilliant duo who saved the city of Mondstadt in their teens. 

Kaeya's vision was Cryo, but slowly and surprisingly, he was the one who was melting the ice in Diluc's heart. 

Chapter Text

The third letter came when Diluc was leaving Fontaine, heading for the volcanic lands of Natlan. 

The young man's goal was originally to proceed to the icy mountains of the Snezhnaya coast without any stops or obstacles on his journey. All the sources that gave Diluc precious information pointed to the Fatui Harbingers — in particular, two men among them: Dottore and Pantalone. But before he could obtain more concrete evidences of their participation in the Illusion that had come into his father's hands, a secret informant had written a note to Diluc, saying that he would find an “interesting construction” hidden to the west of one of the main active volcanoes in the country of the Pyro Archon. 

Although it was suspicious, the note contained some accurate instructions and facts that Diluc had already witnessed; almost as if the mysterious man behind the message was following Diluc, sneakly watching him and following his steps from afar. 

The idea awakened a series of paranoias in Diluc's mind, even though he tried hard to deny any of them. After all, there was no way anyone could really be keeping an eye on him. Despite having killed countless fatui in Liyue, Sumeru and Fontaine, reducing their camps to ashes, Diluc had also destroyed a series of areas with hilichulrs to disguise focus. Then, anyone who analyzed the occurrences of the swordsman masked would find that he was simply an adventurer seeking to combat common evil. 

Even if someone tried to follow Diluc, his path was so confusing and scattered that it was not possible to establish a pattern, a straight line by guessing where he was going. Diluc made sure he never stayed in the same inn for too many days and, when he looked for new places to sleep, he varied between corner guesthouses and chic hotels, outdoor camps or houses that had been abandoned for years — some parts missing from the wall or roof. 

He was not extravagant, he worked quietly and had even left his Vision stored in a box there in Mondstadt. Everything was very calculated to prevent certain viewers, however, someone had still found enough space to leave a note on the table where Diluc had been sitting, in broad daylight. This irritated him. 

At the current moment, Diluc found himself restlessly smoothing that note, running his fingers over the edges of it while waiting for a sparkling cocktail that he had ordered from the waiter. 

In the last few days, Diluc had noticed that the taverns in Fontaine, especially those on the border, were all rustic and didn't offer many drink options. There were no juices or coffees, like the Angel's Share, just different wines, barley beers and a few softer cocktails. All of these menu items required alcohol, in greater or lesser quantities, and came in the same style of glass. 

He really hated alcohol, however, Diluc felt pressured to order a drink to disguise his presence there. A positive point, in fact, was that many taverns in that nation served small portions — mostly fried — of food, such as toasted strips of boar skin, breaded crab and some types of fish cut into cubes. The meat made an aroma of hot food and spices travel through the enclosed space. 

That was an interesting idea, which Diluc would later reflect on the possibility of adding to the menu at Angel's Share, when he finally returned to Mondstadt. 

In the early evening, marked by loud conversations and the noise of laughing drunks, Diluc was distracted, his thoughts floating out of orbit in his head. 

He was sitting alone at a round wooden table in the back, his gaze lost in the shadow of the lamps and the barrels that adorned the corner of the establishment's wall, when, suddenly, he heard a commotion outside the tavern. 

— Chase this away! — someone exclaimed. 

— Out, out! Get out, you annoying hawk! — the voice accompanied the noise of something being raised repeatedly into the air. 

— What does this animal want? There's something tied to his leg. — said another, calmer. — He's not a carrier pigeon, but he wants to deliver a letter so badly? 

Immediately, Diluc got up from the table. He asked permission to the people in front of him, passing slightly between the other chairs to reach the entrance of the place. 

As expected, the scene was somewhat funny. His eagle was flying at a low height, some men trying to scare the creature away with a dish towel in their hands. When the fabric hit the bird's long feathers, there were scolding squawks and a lot of attempts to peck those people's fingers and heads. 

When the eagle spotted Diluc stepping out into the open night, his long hair tied into his customary red ponytail, the animal quickly dove to reach his master's shoulder. 

The eagle was almost too big for the space between Diluc's neck and arm, but somehow she perched there proudly, puffing out her soft chest and raising her white head as if declaring victory before the humans. 

" Maybe she's keeping Kaeya too much company ," Diluc couldn't help but think, " and copied some of his sassy personality ." 

— I apologize if my eagle caused you any trouble, gentlemen. — Diluc said after a moment, his deep voice breaking the apparent silence. He closed his eyes and bowed his body to show extreme respect. — She's very insistent when it comes to delivering my mail. 

The chubby man holding the white dish towel snorted, another slender guy next to him — who seemed to be the owner — shrugged. A younger one, who was probably a bartender, smiled kindly at Diluc as the crowd dispersed, saying: 

— Don't worry, she hasn't pecked anyone. You can take your eagle inside as long as she doesn't make noise or jump on other customers. Her claws are very sharp. 

Diluc nodded, muttered a "thank you" and then turned back into the tavern, reaching the table he was previously sitting at. 

His eagle rubbed the head a few times against the side of Diluc's ponytail, ruffling his hair and shook feathers slightly when his owner turned his body to attend to her.  

Maybe it was his imagination, but the bird seemed to miss Diluc, closing little black eyes in joy as it was caressed in the area of the wings. Perfectly understandable, of course. It has been many weeks since Kaeya's letter that promoted the last meeting between animal and owner. 

When one of the waiters placed a full glass mug in front of Diluc, announcing the arrival of the cocktail he had chosen, the letter had already been removed from the tube and was lying open on the table. 

Diluc was more than eager to read it. 

“ Dear Sir Ragnvindr 

Today marks four months since I last wrote to you, about six since the sound of your voice echoed through the halls of this mansion. 

 
Feels like I must apologize for this long gap between letters and justify future ones. The delay is because I've been working hard to adapt to the rank of Cavalry Captain and act the way I prefer to look in this chair, as if I've been used to sitting in it for years. 

You know how important image is to the charming Kaeya Alberich, don't you? And I can say with certainty that, now, more eyes fall on me than before. Not only do people whisper because you left, they also have a talent for spreading rumors that I stole your precious position. 

The stories are so fabulous that they talk about how I coldly engineered the death of Crepus Ragnvindr himself and intend to live permanently in the winery, promoted to the new tycoon of Mondstadt's wine industry. Arrogant and exacerbated. 

Little do they know that, before the wine even hits a customer's cup, I would have already emptied the bottle myself. 

Despite finding most of the rumors funny, apart from being so exaggerated that they really leave me amazed, I began to understand why Eula hates these issues of image linked to the family coat of arms. 

I have some bad news. Eroch won't be that easy to take down. Grandmaster's order to investigate him certainly dealt him a huge blow, but I still wouldn't say that the problem was nipped in the bud. 

The matter was referred to Jean's jurisdiction. I believe she will take care of it. Either way, Eroch is an obstacle for her, and you know how Jean is. If I were Eroch, I would pray for my skin and repent of all the sins I committed as soon as possible. 

At this moment, Varka is very serious. He prepares to go on a big expedition. He didn't give us many details other than a short warning, apparently everything is very important and confidential, it seems like he will take all my four-legged friends away. 

A shame. Just now when I was getting used to the kick marks on my legs. Your horse in particular, Diluc, which won't let me ride at all. The others were slowly being convinced by my bribe in the form of fresh, juicy apples every morning. 

In the meantime that he will be away, the Grand Master has decided that the person in charge will be our dear and competent Jean. In addition to me and Amber offering direct support, increasing the amount of tasks I am already responsible for, a former student from Sumeru Academy began helping, working as a bibliothecary here at the Knights of Favonius. 

She is very beautiful, intelligent, good with words. Really talented in her duties. And no, Lisa is not my type, before Master Diluc gets jealous. 

It seems that every day she charms Jean more and more, warming the places they both pass by with laughter and a pleasant aroma of boiling tea. They get along well, and as for me, I'm a poor guy haunted by Lisa's strangely sweet threats about what will happen if I don't return any of the library books on time. 

Seriously, this is advice for life: never, ever be late on your returns with her. 

Speaking of books... The recent romance novels I read, in addition to awakening my attention to the topic, made me notice that maybe, just maybe, I am much more sentimental in my writings for you. This is really embarrassing... 

But after all, what fault do I have, if it's easier to let emotions slide out of me when we're not face to face? 

Clearly, hearing my jokes so free and loose like that, Master Diluc would quickly lose his patience. 

Don't get me wrong, I understand that you already know my temperament very well, the uncourteous customs between the cracks in my incredible personality. I just think the way you see our relationship now must be new. 

You used to laugh a lot in our adolescence, taking my jokes with good humor, so I fear that, given the way things have changed so much, I will displease you rather than charm you back to me. 

Anyway, Diluc, I was really happy when I received your letter. 

It truly pleases me that we can be correspondents, even if three pages of mine are answered with three sentences of yours. In the end, guess I just like the idea of talking again. Just the two of us, like in the past of my memory. 

Take care and don't forget to send me the news. 

K. ”

When he finished reading the last words, Diluc's heart was already beating fast. He was more than aware of the pink in his cheeks and how hot the blood in his veins was, although he couldn't say exactly why he had such a reaction. 

Chapter Text

The fourth letter arrived when Diluc was isolated in one of Natlan's remaining forested areas. 

He had hidden in a large, empty cave formed by the giant trunk of a tree when the heavy rain began. Although it was late afternoon, the sky was such a gray mass of clouds and smoke that it seemed like night. The wind caused by the storm smelled of ash, although only transparent drops of water covered the grass around Diluc, forming puddles. 

Toward the horizon, the landscape was occupied by a dark band of magma and igneous rocks surrounding one of the largest volcanoes in the region. This volcano rose imposingly and tall, breaking the ground for many meters to display—quite strikingly—the curvature of the glowing lava flowing from its edges. 

Because the area was very hot, Diluc had discarded his coat, abandoning his heavy clothing in a nearby native village, full of children and warrior women, where he had been sheltering for a few days. The people there lived in simple, cozy houses, mostly made of mud and other natural materials. They survived by hunting and growing their own crops. Killing animals with pointed spears, they wore short clothes, sold handcrafted items, and were very friendly to foreigners. 

The difference, which Diluc took with good humor, was that the women were responsible for protecting the home and gathering food. There were some men, of course, but they performed the more delicate and refined tasks, specializing in things like braiding straw or creating archaic mechanisms that aided in the planting process. 

Earlier, before leaving, Diluc had had a conversation with the village leader, a strong young woman with dark skin and almond-shaped eyes. As they shared information about common enemies and challenges along the way, the children had crowded around the man, uneasily, eyeing each other curiously. One of them, carrying a basket full of flowers in one arm, had asked Diluc if they could comb and braid his long hair. 

On any other occasion, Diluc would certainly have declined. However, he didn't want to disappoint the people who had so kindly offered their hospitality. He didn't want to appear rude, and besides, the girls were genuinely excited about the idea; they assured him, smiling, that Diluc would look "beautiful like a great warrior." 

Although he made a funny face at the statement, Diluc looked at them and considered the possibility. All the girls had short or medium-length brown hair that reached no more than shoulder length, so they were fascinated by the immense red strands in Diluc's ponytail. 

Finally, with much internal reluctance, he had agreed to the request. That was why, right now, his hair was completely decorated, full of pretty buds and small flowers, pastel-colored petals tucked between the braided strands that Diluc hadn't stopped to undo or even take out. 

He thought it would be comical if anyone saw him like that. Imagine a fatui widening its eyes at the sight of a grown man, menacingly brandishing a black iron sword and shouting, but with a pair of small flowers tucked into his neat hairdo? 

Diluc realized he didn't care at all, because in the next second, the fatui would be just dying by his hands. 

The young man had reached the trunk of the abandoned tree—accompanied by his newly arrived falcon —just before the rain began to fall. Wonderfully, the drops weren't cold, but warm, a natural phenomenon unique to Natlan, influenced by the atmospheric heat produced by the numerous volcanoes scattered throughout the area. 

After entering that lightless space, which strongly resembled a cave, Diluc let his bird rest on the ground and began searching for some branches. Within minutes, a small fire began to grow, illuminating the tree trunk walls with the yellowish hue of the flames. 

He sat down on the dry grass and leaned his back against the wood, breathing deeply. His falcon moved closer, nestling its wings next to Diluc's leg. The falcon waited patiently until its owner untied the tube, finally closing its dark eyes to sleep. 

Diluc had a fond smile on his face when the letter fell into his lap. He opened and held it in one hand, while the other reached up to his hair, beginning to pull the flowers from the strands one after the other, sequentially. 

  
"Dear Master Diluc Ragnvindr,  

As of today, it's been over ten months since I last saw you.  

First, to reassure you, here's some good news: I can assure you that I've grown accustomed to the duties of Captain of the Cavalry, your esteemed former position, although the title takes on a somewhat vague and melancholy meaning when there are no more horses to command.  

As for Eroch, he has once again given us the displeasure of his presence. I must say he's quite tame after the time he was punished by Jean and disappeared, but he remains just as unpleasant and insistent. He clings to his position like a mouse to a small piece of cheese.  

No one respects him as they once did; the young ones avoid addressing Eroch, and even Amber shows hesitation when she needs to exchange a few words with him. Noticing this tense atmosphere, I'm certain that Jean will soon take final action, which will last for the rest of his mediocre life.  

Recently, a group of men returned to Mondstadt. They say the reason they've returned is a business crisis.  

From my observations, their employees visit the Angels' Gift quite a bit. These people can also be found in the more dangerous parts of the open countryside surrounding the city. Some of them were even careless and dropped some pages of their notes. I took the liberty of returning these papers to the Angels' Gift. Because I'm such a kind person, right?  

I imagine they must have something to do with you, since they were there. I also noticed that their notes were written in code. Maybe they're information brokers? Or some kind of secret organization?  

Anyway, it took a lot of effort to see those blurred letters with just one eye, you know? Don't worry, I'll keep it a secret. I like the feeling of being your spy, the whole grandeur of feeling like Master Diluc's greatest source of trust. It's a silly make-believe that I enjoy,  because it soothes my boredom on the sunny afternoons here in Dawn Winery.  

Adelinde is energetic for the first time in weeks. She proposed cleaning every inch of the house and practically kicked me out of bed on a saturday morning. Can you believe it?  

She's so mean! She sent me to the basement to look through some old trunks and boxes that Crepus kept. There was a bunch of old junk and papers that had already faded, but I suppose it wasn't all bad, since I found some interesting things. Among them, two wooden swords.  

Do you remember these objects too, Diluc? Cause I do.  

It was on afternoons of endless sunshine like these that we played among the grapes, running and brandishing our swords. While we pretended to be hero and villain, the little details, like when you stopped and stole a fruit from one of the abundant bunches, or smiled at me with a few little windows between your teeth, are still absurdly sweet.  

We ended up covered in leaves, stinking, and with our clothes caked with dirt. It was incredibly fun, even when it left us with a couple of scraped knees and scratches. There was one particular instance where I remember you asking me to catch a crystal butterfly that was perched atop one of the larger trees.  

I was terrified of heights, but your eyes sparkled as brightly as its wings when you told me how beautiful that blue butterfly was. I couldn't deny it. How could I deny my little Diluc, after all? 

We weren't that close to our house, and it took a while for me to climb onto one of the branches. Just before I reached the butterfly, the clever little thing suddenly flew away, and I fell right to the ground.  

For many years, that broken leg was the greatest pain I've ever felt in my life, seriously. You were so pale you looked like a ghost, unsure of what to do with the cascade of tears streaming down my face. It hurt so much it scared me, and I couldn't stop sobbing. Sobs so strong and loud they choked my breath.  

But, Diluc, when you carefully lifted me onto your back and assured me that everything would be okay despite the injury, it was as if the pain subsided. It became insignificant, filling my heart with warmth, because I knew, in that moment, that I had my safe haven before me, my sweet, dear Diluc, all doting and gentle, trying his best to carry my weight.  

By the way... Was I too much of a burden?  

You were by my side every second, from my first appointment with the doctor to the three months when I couldn't run to play together with you. Especially in the early days, it should have been very boring; I was an impatient and enthusiastic child like any other. It should have been, but it wasn't at the end. Not when you read me your colorful fairy tale books, talked to me for hours, and brought me dinner in bed.  

You made the pain worth it, Diluc.  

If you were here, perhaps the urge to break a bone again would overtake me, just to be pampered with your ear-pulling and nagging about how careless I am.  

Hahahaha, I'm just joking, of course. I don't even need to try to create dangerous problems, the kind that would cause me injuries. They come naturally to me, and now I'm more than accustomed to the weight of a sword and a slew of scars on my body.  

I hope you'll forgive this poor Alberich for always rambling about our past during these letters. Besides tactical information or the usual gossip, all I can offer you are mournful tales of our childhood and adolescence together. Old and precious memories, as vivid as the imagination of my letters burning in the flames of a fireplace.  

Because, personally, I greatly enjoy the stories I witnessed with you, and as I've mentioned in my previous writings, the residence at the Dawn Winery has the taste and smell of memories from a young age.  

Next time you grace my eye with the majestic glimpse of your handwriting, tell me a little about your journey, okay?  

Have you had dinner yet? How are you managing without your Vision? Are the landscapes you pass by beautiful? How beautiful? As incredible and captivating as I am? 

Take care. 

K.” 

Chapter Text

“Dear Master Diluc Ragnvindr 

I would like to thank you for your last letter. 

I confess I didn't expect, even though I asked you to, that you would actually write to me about how things are going. The new things, which I'm not a part of. Things involving you and the different lands you pass through. 

Reading your rustic handwriting brought a lump to my throat. 

I'm not criticizing your handwriting; far be it from me. The black ink, when you use it, has sinuous curves that break up the straight lines, exaggerated in some strokes, but which certainly have their own special charm. The reading wasn't bad, definitely not. If it were bad, I wouldn't have kept the letter under my pillow. 

More than a year since your departure, and my routine is more tedious than ever. 

I was practically forced to entertain a bunch of uptight nobles, powerful names in the alcohol industry, and other important guests recently. 

There was a party here at the Dawn Winery, I don't know if your present self would have liked it. You didn't usually love these parties, even when Crepus hosted them, though you seemed excited by the looks on you and the responsibility your father placed on you. I know, because I remember seeing that hopeful glimmer in your face. The expression when you checked the arrangement of the glasses or when Crepus touched your shoulder, proudly introducing you to someone. 

Adelinde and Charles helped me plan the troublesome details of this occasion, though they couldn't dispel all the questions about your whereabouts. Nothing prevented the party from being exceptionally dull without you. I took the opportunity to eat and drink a lot, without Adelinde’s eyes judging me, as if I were about to wipe out even the last drop of wine in the world. Deep down, I know she’s only worried about me. She frowns every time she finds an empty bottle in my room.    

At the party, it seemed like everyone was waiting for a mirage, a ghost of you descending the stairs in your typical dark clothes. I don't even dare call it a celebration. People seemed happy and entertained, yet the atmosphere felt almost like a funeral to me. 

Do you know how boring fake smiles are, Diluc? 

I don’t think you do. I don’t remember ever seeing you smile without at least some genuine desire behind it. 

That must be why I've always cherished those times when your lips curved carelessly. Smiles so genuine and precious, true shooting stars, like mine had never been. Like mine never will be. 

Fake smiling became so natural that, when I realized it, it started to bother me. It's like I don't know what to do anymore. I notice every time it happens, and then I wish, for a moment, I could be someone else. 

You're probably wondering why I'm saying this, right? 

I've never been much open with anyone, not even you. There was a time when we were flesh and blood, we went through the same things together, we lived together, but I always felt bad thinking the things I used to think. I could never really deal with the dull gratitude, stuck in my lungs. I never understood whether or not I liked that my name was "Alberich" and not "Ragnvindr." 

I never even knew the right way to deal with my feelings, because they always felt like the dirtiest, most sinful secrets in this world. 

Now, holding your warm Vision in my hands and remembering its owner, I wonder if I should have screamed when I felt like screaming. It sounds so simple; maybe it is. Maybe things would be different these days. Maybe you truly understood me, as no one ever will, even though I feel like we haven't been on the same page for a long time. 

What doesn't change is that, the day I gained my own Vision, the pain was strangely soothing. I deserved it. A redemption. Just like the mark on my face. 

After all, not everyone who wears an eyepatch is blind. Don't people wear an eyepatch if they have a scar? I didn't try to hide it from you on purpose. But I think you figured it out anyway, didn't you?  

Enough about me. I won't drown if I keep this to myself a little longer. With a purpose and surrounded by new people, you really don't need to listen to me. I just got distracted by this letter.  

Overall, Master Varka remains away and hasn't sent any news. Jean is fine. Amber is fine. Lisa is fine. Eula is fine. Albedo is fine, and Klee is fine. By the way, I don't know if I told you about her, but Klee is a sweet little girl, the daughter of a powerful woman, Alice, and practically part of our esteemed alchemist's family. I met her when he was taking care of her, by the way.  

As for Eroch, he finally has his case closed.  

An official notice is circulating throughout the city, announcing his final expulsion from the Knights of Favonius. It was posted this morning and bears Jean's signature. I accidentally overheard her yelling at Eroch, ordering him to remove his belongings from the Headquarters after a series of humiliating pleas from him. It's rare to witness these occasions when Jean loses her temper.    

I'll pour myself a glass of wine when I watch Eroch pack his bags and finally leave. This will be fun.  

There's one last detail that doesn't deserve your attention: a new girl in Mondstadt. She's part of the recently arrived Fatui entourage, has light eyes, platinum hair, and a sweet voice. I didn't want to know her name either. She followed me around, asking me several times if I wanted to go out with her. After denying a few advances, I decided to be kind and accept her invitation. Not because I'm interested—blonde women aren't my thing—but because I want to know her true intentions.  

We're having dinner tomorrow. 

Stay safe. 

K." 

With force, Diluc slapped the letter on the table. 

The paper, crumpling under the pressure of his fingers, and the friction against the wood produced a noise that traveled throughout the cold room, shattering the silence. A muffled voice chuckled behind him, absorbing what was behind the gesture. 

If Diluc's mood was already not at its best, then the news that Kaeya was going on a date—which, by the time the letter was sent, he had already been on—infuriated him deeply, even though he didn't know exactly why. Probably, Diluc thought, it was because Kaeya was dating a fatui, someone who was part of the deplorable group that had been indirectly responsible for his father's death. 

In the letter, Kaeya's usual cheerful personality seemed overshadowed by a wave of melancholy. Diluc knew that this hidden feeling had always been kept under lock and key in Kaeya's heart, sometimes escaping onto paper, like a mass of emotions so complicated that Diluc could never clearly absorve it. It was Kaeya at his core. Kaeya and only Kaeya. It was as much a part of him as the many other things Diluc loved or hated. 

Still, Diluc wasn't sure how to feel about it. His own inner self was shaped in reflection of Alberich's emotions, oscillating in a confused and bitter cacophony that Diluc tried to soothe. 

He wished he could be in Mondstadt, with Kaeya. He wished he could see the expression Kaeya wore as he wrote that letter, see what was reflected in his eyes, so that perhaps he might have some clue, something that would help him unravel the labyrinth that was Kaeya Alberich. 

Suddenly, his heart pounded, as if it imagined his Vision in Kaeya's hands; establishing some kind of connection. His own heart in other hands. 

Breaking through the deathly cold of Snezhnaya, something warm poured from Diluc whenever he imagined the mental image of Kaeya's knuckles holding the object. His long, slender fingers gliding over the reddish surface that represented the god-given symbol of human ambition. 

It was so strange. Diluc had never made a point of becoming attached to his Vision. 

Even if he considered it truly important, there was no reason to worry. If he offered the simplest, most expendable thing in the world, a pebble or a candy wrapper, Diluc was certain Kaeya would cherish it with all the care in the world. That was how he was; how he had always been, ever since they were both little children. 

Kaeya could pretend not to, but every single thing mattered to him. Even the smallest detail, Kaeya would store it in his subconscious. It was the same with his own emotions. Kaeya would stifle them inside himself, hide them with a mischievous smile on his face and the most confident expression in the world, until they began to suffocate him, one by one. 

The hostage behind him jingled his chains sinuously, catching Diluc's attention. 

He turned, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. Though blood dripped from the fatui's swollen lips and bruises filled his features, purple and bluish hues spreading from his chin to his left eye, he didn't seem inclined to speak. He always laughed or dodged questions, a crazed glint in his black pupils. 

Even though his situation was humiliating, his fate practically sealed by certain death, this prisoner—whom Diluc had taken hostage earlier that day—refused to reveal confidential information. He preferred to maintain a nonexistent dignity, no matter how many punches or kicks he took. It was like finding a cockroach willingly drowning in a pool of poison. Why? Another troublesome riddle for Diluc to solve. 

"Do you have some problem?" Diluc questioned, anger seeping into his voice. 

"What's the interesting content of this paper?" the prisoner scoffed. "You seemed a little tense while reading, Sir Knight. Or did I misunderstand?" 

"Don't you dare call me that" Diluc retorted, immediately detesting the title. 

"Why not? You wield a sword, fight for what you consider justice. Doesn't it make you a noble, honored Knight?" 

A bloody smile cut across the paleness of that gaunt, dust-stained face. 

"You seem quite interested in what concerns me." Ragnvindr took a few slow steps toward him. "Why don't you use that filthy mouth of yours to say something worthwhile? We could start with what you know about the Illusion, for example." 

The man burst into laughter, laughing so hard that the metal chains binding his hands and feet to the chair rattled. Diluc felt no pity for the deplorable state of his body and fragile mind, partly caused by the redhead himself. He only felt disgust. 

"I'm sorry, but you've got the wrong person. I don't know anything. You could have a more interesting conversation with my boss, except he'd probably be the one tying you up and asking the questions." 

Diluc gave him a cold look before asking dismissively: 

"And who's your boss?" 

"Well, he's the man everyone fears. A ruthless and powerful shadow warrior, like the Knight here. You don't want to know what's behind the helmet—"  

A punch to the man's cheek interrupted his sentence. The fatui's shoulders jerked in a spasm, and he coughed, spitting something onto the ground: a tooth. A crooked tooth, lumped together in a mound of blood and drool. 

Diluc had already said he didn't want to be called "Knight." He withdrew his fist, wiping it on the front of his overcoat as if he'd just touched trash. 

"Il Capitano," Diluc guessed, and the prisoner's shrill laugh assured him of the truth. 

"You're smart, you know? And stupid at the same time, for meddling with us and thinking you can get accurate information by interrogating me. I'm just a pawn on this board, but you, Sir Knight, aren't even that. You won't be able to play so easily. And I won't say a single word." 

Enraged, Diluc stared at him for a moment. With missing teeth and blood on his clothes, that stupid man wasn't going to cooperate. This meant Diluc would have to work hard to get an answer out of him, a minimally decent answer, one worth the risk of infiltrating one of the Fatui's protected lairs to capture that man. 

"Don't worry" Diluc reassured him, pulling a pocketknife "The night is very, very long." 

Chapter Text

The sixth letter was on a nightstand next to Diluc's bed when he woke. 

At first, it seemed a challenge to open his eyes. Lying so comfortably on an unfamiliar mattress, Diluc's body ached in every inch — as if a herd of buffalo had trampled over him — and his eyelids were heavy, drowsy with fatigue. 

When realization sank into his numb consciousness, the strange and too-good-to-be-true silence, Diluc jerked upright, sitting up in bed. 

He regretted the action the instant pain flashed sharply in his shoulder. He stared there with hostile surprise, seeing a few bandages wrapped around that spot. One or two still showed traces of blood. 

His exposed abdomen meant someone had stripped him of his outer clothing, cleaned the dirt from his skin, and treated his wounds with some kind of medicine that smelled strongly of wild medicinal herbs. Then, they'd covered Diluc with a thick blanket and lit a dilapidated, old fireplace at the other end of the room. 

The wooden hut — it resembled one, at least — was so simple that it had only three rooms: the bedroom, a kitchen, apparently abandoned by time, and a bathroom whose door was ajar. All quite small, so Diluc could see the entire area with only a half-turn of his neck. 

Suspicious, Diluc moistened his lips, dry from the cold, and called out loud. His voice was only a hoarse noise, plagued by the perpetual silence. Still, there was no response. In a way, this fact more than calmed Ragnvindr's agitated heart. 

He remembered almost nothing; he didn't know where he was, except what had happened before he woke up there. 

His raid on one of the Fatui's most important bases had gone wrong. Contrary to the definitive answers he sought, Diluc had encountered an opponent strong enough to throw him against a wall, burying his body in the bricks and disorienting him in the process. All it took was a second of inattention, a sharp rightward swing of his greatsword, for it to be ripped from his own hands. 

It was much more difficult to handle the complicated combats without his Vision. For a moment, Diluc Ragnvindr mourned its absence as he was subdued and beaten, forced to his knees, and then locked in a dark cell, where he was the only prisoner. 

He didn't count how many hours he spent there. Perhaps it was a whole day. It seemed like a long time, but Diluc watched carefully for any opportunity to escape before the leader of those fatui reached the base. He understood that when "she" returned, Diluc's chances of leaving Snezhnaya alive would be close to zero. 

So, as soon as his hands got close enough to the neck of one of the guards — who thought the young man was too injured to do something — Diluc knocked him out and stole his keys, managing to open the cell and escape with one of the horses from their stables. 

Riding as if his life depended on it (and it did, actually), Diluc felt relieved when he gained enough distance for the fatuis chasing him to become nothing more than black blurs on the horizon behind him. 

However, before he could reach safety, an arrow suddenly struck Diluc's shoulder, piercing through it from a blind spot far away. He screamed in pain, and although he tried his best for the next few minutes to remain steady and galloping, his vision began to darken — his wounded body sliding off the back of the horse. 

After that, as if by magic and without any memory, Diluc woke up in that empty, unfamiliar hut. 

His crimson eyes scanned the area around him again, taking in the details he'd missed: a thin, slightly rusted sword propped beside the fireplace; a covered bowl positioned on the kitchen counter with a pair of cutlery; folded clothes on the table; and a very familiar metal tube resting on the three-legged stool beside the bed. 

It seemed whoever had rescued his unconscious body was someone good, on Diluc's side. 

Diluc peered through the window. Aside from the horse he'd used to escape, tethered beneath a piece of roof that would cover it, there was only snow and more snow. It was what epitomized the nation of the Archon of Love: the soft white that enveloped every corner of the landscape, spreading a bone-chilling temperature. 

Indeed, the cold of Snezhnaya was nothing compared to the rocky terrain of Natlan's volcanic areas or the sun-drenched desert of Sumeru. The territory also bore no resemblance to Fontaine's streets lined with flowers and tapestries for sale, aqueducts, and lavish fountains, and none of the stone fortresses of the country could come close to Liyue's elaborate complexity and detail. 

That didn't mean, however, that Snezhnaya didn't have its strengths in terms of beauty and attractive tourist attractions. But Diluc wasn't traveling to observe the landscapes or take photographs. His purpose had unfolded in far more unpredictable and complex ways, dark plans that would eventually take Ragnvindr to all seven corners of Teyvat. 

Once Diluc would have leaped away, his legs feels too heavy to lift. Moving his arms hurt every joint, especially where the arrow had pierced his skin. 

He knew it was risky to relax and stay in the hut. However, if whoever had brought him there truly wanted to kill Diluc, they wouldn't have tended to his wounds and left him alone, with a sword nearby and blankets to keep him warm. They also wouldn't have taken in his falcon and received Kaeya's letter from it. 

He stared at the tube with the mark of Knights of Favonius for a full minute. 

Alone and injured, after nearly being killed by the enemies he had sworn to fight, Diluc realized how much he missed Kaeya's presence, his genuine jokes and carefree laughter. It was a heavy, overwhelming feeling, as recurrent as the grief for his father. 

It was true that he had left Mondstadt shortly after the violent altercation in which Diluc had nearly taken Alberich's life. But the letters, one after another, slowly and silently, were rebuilding an invisible bond between them, one so recognizable it stirred a twisting ache in Diluc's chest. 

Their relationship would never be the same again, but that didn't seem to stop Diluc from yearning to see him again. Every part of him began, more and more as the days passed, to wish he could see the glimmer of a smile on Kaeya's handsome face. 

He missed combing Kaeya's hair with his fingertips — the way he'd done in childhood — sitting with him on the roof of Favonius Headquarters to watch the stars, and his clumsy riding lessons, when all the horses seemed to have a particular prejudice against Kaeya, allowing him to ride only when Diluc joined them. It was fun, and Diluc would always be there to catch him if one of the skittish horses threw Kaeya. 

When Diluc used to be injured, until they were about fourteen, Kaeya would become very agitated. He wasn't as good at being patient as Diluc, making small talk and killing time comfortably while waiting for a long recovery. Kaeya was the one who worried terribly, always asking what Diluc wanted, what would make him feel better, and giving his all to find something that would ultimately help him, directly or indirectly. 

So many years of living together had made Diluc develop an exorbitant affection for him, an excitement at seeing Kaeya that left him feeling silly. Kaeya's presence was like his shadow; the two complemented each other both in life and on the battlefield. Now, more than a year after his departure from Mondstadt, it was inevitable that his thoughts would repeatedly return to Kaeya. Kaeya, Kaeya and only Kaeya. 

Taking a deep breath, Diluc reached for the tube, opened it, and finally took out the letter. He also couldn't deny that he missed Kaeya's neat handwriting. So, he quickly settled down on the bed to read. 

“ Dear Master Ragnvindr,   

Today marks a year and six months since I laid eyes on that pair of flaming strands of yours. I never thought I'd miss a typical companion for my lonely nights so much.  

Knights of Favonius sometimes ask me out, though nothing seems more interesting to me than sitting in the Dawn Winery's private library, reflecting on the two of us while looking at our photos, or simply occupying my mind by wandering around in search of some slimes to defeat. Combat, in particular, helps a lot.  

It's an addictive sensation to hear my own heartbeat echoing in my ears, the blood rushing so fast it spreads warmth throughout my whole body, even between my hands, which have always remained so icy when I use my Vision.  

It’s unimaginable how many silent reprimands Master Crepus would surely give me if he saw how many drinks I’ve ruined over the past few days.  

Charles makes it seem so easy, but I admit that perhaps not everyone is born with the innate talent for mixing spirits and pairing them with fruits. Others, like me, may have been born more for tasting them. Wouldn’t you agree?   

Don't worry about it tho. Every glass I broke will be reimbursed, and even the worst alcoholic concoction still isn't enough to bring this man down. I've sipped every sip, and I can assure you that you'll never see me behind the counter at Angels Share again.   

As I predicted in my last letter, things here in city have become more agitated. The Abyss Order has been acting terribly. After a long period of tranquility, they've returned to attack several places in Mondstadt. A house in Springvale was burned to the ground, and while Albedo was rescuing a group of people trapped in Dragonspine, Eula had to deal with peasants being cornered and threatened by Abyss Mages all week.   

My duties went from dealing with a bunch of boring paperwork to temporarily assisting in the training of new knights, which doesn't get much more innovative than that.  

On a recent expedition where I encountered a furious lawachurl, I injured my right leg. This is causing me a dreadful and interminable period of inactivity, so all I do now is dispense advice to the younger ones, watch Adelinde dust the bookshelves, and figure out how to make improvised crutches move faster.   

As for the Knights, each year the classes are smaller. I wouldn't exactly say disappointing, but nothing quite sounds like the resplendent and talented Diluc Ragnvindr in his golden adolescence, giving kindly half-smiles to the ladies as he elegantly brandished his sword.   

You were always the center of attention. I was always the genius behind the muscles. I didn't mind not being in the spotlight; I only cared about being reliable and useful to you.  

There was no better reward than seeing your look of disbelief when I handed you a note mysteriously containing all the information about the region's most wanted treasure thieves — or some passionate confession written by a random girl in our class. I should’ve secretly taken a picture and kept it under lock and key, because that face was simply too good to forget.  

Speaking of adolescence... I remember you have larger hands than mine, even though my fingers are considerably longer. But our hands are alike in one respect: damage. And I like your hands, Diluc; they are the hands of a knight.      

I know you’re scowling at this paper now because you don’t consider yourself one. Stop it, seriously. You’re going to get wrinkles on your forehead, and I’m not being sarcastic this time. You told me that yourself, during our sweet time of joint studies. Don’t you remember?   

When we were training as Knights of Favonius, there was a group of students who were sons of some important nobles from Mondstadt. They said I wasn’t good with a sword and, therefore, wasn’t good enough to be part of the Ragnvindr family.  

'Kaeya Alberich is useless.'   

'Why doesn't Master Crepus just kick him out of the Dawn Winery?'   

'What is Diluc thinking? He shouldn't be hanging around with that kind of people'   

I was hiding my true abilities back then, of course. I always trained hard, alone and hidden, near the stables at dusk.   

When we ran into them in that situation, you took my hand and pulled me forward. And then you, Diluc — with your impossibly warm yet firm fingers — extended my arm and turned my palm toward them. You said, with all the seriousness in the world, that my hands were the hands of a knight.  

Knight's hands.  

From training, my hands were also covered in calluses and ugly scars. My face must have turned a pathetic shade of red at that moment from all the exposure. You obviously didn't see it. You were too busy staring at those stupid boys and scolding them with a determined look, a fierce threat on your face.   

I didn't care about the rumors, about knowing there were people talking and lying about me behind my back. They were always there and always would be, like a shadow following me that would never go away. But you instantly became furious for me, because of me. I confess I was embarrassed, but I was also happy.  

I was so, so, so happy, Diluc...   

No one had ever defended me like that. And I think I had some kind of brain freeze for the rest of the classes, because I simply couldn't hold a sword without thinking of you and only you.   

You, taking my hand to show it off, as if it were the most proud thing in the world.   

You, saying my hands were the hands of a truly knight.   

You. 

Write to me again when it's possible.  

K. ”  

Chapter Text

Liyue was peaceful and impressive.  

The city of the Geo Archon was filled with chic buildings, bustling with vendors and street vendors. It exuded planned wealth and abundant prosperity; every little thing seemed refined and harmonious, creating a landscape of reddish staircases, round tables, and countless crates of merchandise surrounding a populous port. 

The locals walked and chatted among themselves, happy and carefree. A few meters to the left, a group of children sat huddled together, listening to a storyteller who spoke with great interest about the Guhua Art. 

When Diluc sat down at one of the tables at Wanmin Restaurant for lunch, a single waitress came to serve him. She was a child of about 12 or 13, short and with short hair, but very skilled at balancing customers' plates in her arms. 

While Diluc waited for his portion of Jade Rolls, the girl tried to lift a wooden tray onto her head. As she took the first step toward a group of customers, laughing at her achievement, the tray slipped, and the bowl of soup narrowly avoided hitting the floor. A small yellow bear—very close to her—held the white ceramic piece, preventing the worst from happening. 

"Xiangling!" a female voice exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you not to do that kind of thing?" 

"But, Mom...! How am I supposed to help Dad if I can only carry three trays at a time?" 

A tall woman emerged from the door, wearing an apron and a tightly tied bun. Her hair was dark blue, the same shade as the girl's, signaling an obvious kinship between the two. She took the tray from the bear's hands and handed it to the table on her right. 

"You're already a big help to us. And your father will lose customers if you break any more dishes this week." The mother touched her daughter's shoulder briefly, then took the other trays from her arms. "Go inside. I'll let you slice the vegetables, but only if you promise to be careful." 

The girl's yellow eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement. She nodded frantically, thanked, and then turned her back on her mother, jumping into the kitchen with little jumps of joy. The bear followed her. 

A few minutes later, the same woman returned to the tables, this time carrying Diluc's Jade Rolls and the bottle of grape juice he had paid for. She placed them politely on the table, wishing him bon appetit. 

Diluc filled his glass with one hand, and as he picked one of the rolls between his chopsticks to eat, a shadow passed behind his head. 

The movement had been swift and subtle, so silent that the Diluc was startled, fearing it was an imminent attack or a strike from a sneaky enemy. Fortunately, his shoulders relaxed when he realized it was only his falcon, now perched on the wooden back of the chair next to his own table. 

The animal blinked its dark eyes at him, lowering its multicolored feathers in excitement. Instantly, Diluc's eyes focused lower, searching for the familiar metal tube tied to one of the falcon's legs. But instead, he found a thick scroll lying on the table, which had probably been in the falcon's claws the entire journey. 

"What is this, girl?" Diluc asked the bird vaguely, dropping his chopsticks on the edge of his plate. 

He picked up the scroll, running the digits along the ornate black base. It was heavier than the Knights of Favonius's common container, but far more refined and mysterious. Slowly, Diluc found a uniform crack in the side of the object, pulling it until it opened and something fell straight into his lap. 

He narrowed his eyes. It was a shell. A delicate blue shell. 

Holding it between his fingers, he could see how fragile and weathered it was. It had remained well cared for, however, so the notches on the small edges were smooth and narrow. There were not a single crack. Diluc was tempted to bring it to his nose and smell the sea, or to press it to his ear so he could hear the sound of the waves. 

It had been years since he had seen a shell like that; more specifically, not since a trip his father had taken with him and Kaeya, in a distant, happy time in their childhood. 

Sometimes, Crepus traveled across the nations to conduct business. Most of these twice-yearly trips were made on freight wagons pulled by farm horses. Some—the rarest, but the ones that kept him away from home for longer—had Inazuma as their final destination. 

These were the most boring; Diluc used to hate them, complaining about missing his father for days on end. When he became inconsolable and unbearable, Kaeya and the Dawn Winery's maids were the ones to put up with him. 

Having lost his mother so young,  Diluc harbored an inordinate adoration for his father figure. He didn't understand wine-related matters and didn't make an effort to learn, unlike Kaeya, who always showed a sudden interest in things like alcohol production and mercantile details. 

Diluc never imagined himself behind the counter at the Angels' Share, but Kaeya did. 

Kaeya seemed to blend in, in his own way, with the tavern's yellow lights, the nighttime atmosphere brought by the barrels and lively conversations fueled by drunkenness, by the harmonious melody of a bard playing in the background. 

While Diluc had to work hard to appear cheerful and captivate the audience, Kaeya could do it easily—if he wanted to. Alberich's pure charm affected men and women of all ages. Even with children, whom Diluc avoided interacting with to this day, he could get along with a few words. 

Nearing his ninth birthday, Diluc had asked his father to take them on one of his long travels. He wasn't sure if his father would agree, but the following week, Crepus had woken Kaeya and Diluc with a smile, ordering them to pack their bags for a surprise trip that would last a few days. 

Diluc's dreams were coming true. He felt like the happiest and luckiest person in the world, especially having Kaeya by his side. 

Most of the trip had been aboard an old, medium-sized ship; the mast was tall, and the sails alternated between light green and a white hue, already yellowed by the passing of time. It was summer, which guaranteed the children sunny weather and a whole blue horizon to explore. 

Even then, Kaeya insisted on wearing some kind of headdress that covered his right eye—if not his own bangs. He had joked, telling Diluc that it was because his grandfather had been a great pirate in the past. The fact that the ship's motion made Kaeya seasick seemed comical at first, but it sparked intense concern within Diluc. He apologized profusely to the Alberich, even though Kaeya reassured him that he would soon get better and that it wasn't Diluc's fault. 

After a few days of travel, the ship docked at some unknown tropical island. The landscape was delightful. Seagulls rested on the long stretch of sand, and the sea lapped at the shore, bringing the fragrance of the sea breeze to a small hut nearly a kilometer from the beach. 

In the nearly crystal-clear water, a series of underwater reefs stood out, surrounded by tiny fish. They were colorful and dazzling, of all sizes and exotic shapes. Kaeya and Diluc were enchanted not only by the coral and animals, but also by the variety of shells scattered across the sand, collecting every last one they found. 

Just as Diluc felt familiar with the bluish shell now resting in the palm of his hand, he had the feeling it was one of the ones Kaeya had kept with him when they left the island. Many years had passed, but that small shell remained intact. It was like a trace of fond memories from their childhood, a vestige that confirmed the existence of sweet days forgotten in the middle of the ocean. 

The same ocean Diluc was departing for. 

The Ragnvindr had recovered in the company of a woman from Snezhnaya's secret network, who had been responsible for his rescue. Sonya was her name, with long black braids and greenish eyes capable of searching the depths of one's soul. Her skin was brown, cheeks were dusted with freckles, and she wore a long cloak, the hood covering her youthful face most of the time. 

She spoke with a harsh accent that gave his words a frigid quality, but she was an extremely kind and trustworthy person. She had told Diluc only the essentials, admitting that more important information was confidential and that Diluc would only learn it if he cooperated, demonstrating himself to be a person of value, someone willing to work for the good and do everything to thwart the Tsaritsa's machiavellian plans. 

When Diluc told Sonya he needed to think about it, she had smiled warmly, picking up her bowl of broth. She had ridden off, saying she needed to check the perimeter, that Diluc could use this time to think about his final answer. 

Ragnvindr had worked alone thus far, and proudly; anyone who saw him would say he had come a long way, a true warrior for choosing to abandon his Vision so humbly. Whether that had made his journey considerably more difficult, Diluc had sensed for months that he was reaching the limit of what a human could accomplish alone. 

He had been swimming against the current the entire time, hoping that one small fish could sabotage an entire school of sharks. And he had failed, tragically. Only in that moment, wounded and near death, had Diluc realized how much—despite his burning desire for revenge—many things still mattered, and very much so, to him. 

Mondstadt was one of them, his friends there were another, and ultimately, Kaeya came first. Kaeya would always come first. It was the feel of Kaeya's cool skin that Diluc dreamed of, and the desire to see him smile again that made him wake up every morning, day after day secretly yearning for news from the Cavalry Captain. 

If anyone asked, Diluc would obviously deny it. He could lie about enjoying receiving such letters; he would refuse to show feelings for anyone alive, and he would mask himself with a veneer of seriousness, a face that remained fixed for his entire life, if need be. 

But despite trying at all costs, his heart could never deny the truth: 

That Diluc was in love with Kaeya's letters; 

That his beautiful handwriting warmed his chest; 

That Kaeya's emotions stirred his own, mirroring them raw and intense; 

That he noticed every bird flying in the sky as he walked, hoping it was his falcon. 

It was an irrational and powerful feeling. Diluc didn't understand and feared it, as he had never feared an opponent on the battlefield. 

He couldn't help but feel that, after the violent fight, the painfully revealed secrets and the loudly uttered insults, he still missed Kaeya as much as he did. 

It was so painful. It made Diluc want to apologize to him, even though the young man still felt that, theoretically, he wasn't wrong. Maybe neither of them was. Maybe they had acted more immaturely than when they were children, brats rolling in the grass and getting sunburned in the afternoon sun. 

Apprehensive, Diluc had written a little more than usual in his reply letter to Kaeya that night. He knew it would take days, weeks, for the mail to reach Mondstadt, and he also knew that—no matter how quickly Kaeya wrote—it would be much longer before he received Alberich's private opinion. 

That hadn't stopped him from venting a bit, letting some musings slip through the crooked lines on the paper. He longed for Kaeya's approval, an invisible nod that would tell him it was okay to cooperate with a secret network to achieve his goal, to receive help from an outsider. It would be a mutual thing, after all. 

Now that Diluc thought about how sensitive he had been (by his own standards, obviously), he blushed with embarrassment, wondering what Kaeya would have imagined of this kind of question coming from someone like him: who had never needed or asked anyone's permission for anything related to his life, except his father. 

In the end, he had to give his answer to Sonya the next morning. He had barely slept—his head was too full of conflicting thoughts—but he had made an effort to look presentable and agreed to cooperate with the girl's mysterious allies. 

For a while, Sonya had kept him company. The missions they both received were simple and relatively easy, carried out in the dead of Snezhnaya's freezing nights. Sonya wielded an axe and was exceptionally skilled at handling it, her movements clean and agile. She had instructed Diluc on discretion and the patterns they needed to follow to avoid discovery. 

Every detail they received was accurate, as if a reliable source were providing every piece of information, despite the rest being a complete mystery to the young man. Naturally, as progress was made and he rose through the network’s hierarchy, Diluc became more informed 

By now, he even knew some of Sonya's other colleagues: a mute boy with two-toned eyes; a red-haired woman with pointy ears—who had even flirted with him—and a slight man with strangely suicidal tendencies. They were a small part of the secret network, but they made for a unique group. 

Now, Diluc was in the middle of his first solo mission. He would board a ship, Captain Beidou's Alcor, and travel to the distant Inazuma to meet someone codenamed Skylar. 

He placed the shell on the table as if it were precious. His Jade Rolls would grow cold, but Diluc was eager to read Kaeya's letter. 

He unrolled the scroll. The paper was also black, with clear edges, long, and of a different texture than the other letters. When he looked at the signature, he noticed that Kaeya's handwriting was written in white ink. 

“Dear Diluc Ragnvindr 

First of all, I must apologize for the inordinate delay in responding to your letter. Snezhnaya is the furthest place from Mondstadt here in Teyvat. It's very cold and relentless, with a stormy sky. I felt bad sending your falcon so far, so I decided to give her some snacks and a well-deserved rest. 

I hope that, after these two years, you're finally planning to return home. Although I know you very well and know that you won't return without being fully satisfied with your progress, I think a visit or two wouldn't go amiss. 

This poor, hard-working, soft-hearted Alberich misses you. Not only do I, but your fellow Knights and the entire staff at the Dawn Winery and the Angel's Share are also missing you. 

I don't mean to brag or anything, but I've received some compliments about the way I'm settling into Master Crepus's business, running this place without you around. I know it's temporary, but it makes me a little, just a little, proud of myself. 

I'll love to pass the baton to you when you get back here. 

Industry is complex; it sounds lovely from a certain perspective. However, being your own boss is exhausting. I can't accommodate myself as I'd like, and my whims would be treated as ignorance or selfishness. Besides, I think I enjoy my position at the Knights of Favonius more than expected, so overseeing such a prestigious wine cellar means I'm working a double shift. 

It's official: I need a vacation.” 

Diluc pushed the letter away slightly and covered his mouth with one hand. He was smiling. 

"Ever since I was a kid, there have been times when I've been awake in the wee hours. Specific moments, the result of insomnia or some dark nightmare. And both the bed in your room and mine had windows designed to give the perfect view of the vast sky outside. 

At night, even when I was immersed in the safety of your arms, I would wake from one of those flashes of bad feelings and gaze at the stars. Hour after hour. I spent so much time staring at those bright points in the darkness that I could easily count them one by one if I wanted to. 

I stared at Celestia, that imposing structure far from human grasp, and wondered if one day Khaenri'ah would also descend from above like that, falling on our heads. Falling on my head. 

Then I was afraid, not just the dread of something coming to tear me from the embrace of my new family. But a much greater and genuine fear of my destiny confronting me, of my lineage exacting a price too high to pay. Of my past, the secret that I hid so arduously, would turn me against you some day. 

Silently, that naive seven- or eight-year-old Kaeya prayed that things would remain as good as they were. He asked Barbatos or any of the Seven Archons to ensure that our father would continue to dine with us and consider me as much his son as you, gently stroking my head, even though I knew I would never be his greatest source of pride. 

How could I ever measure up to the extraordinary Diluc, after all? The golden offspring that Crepus watched from afar with such affection? 

Don't mistake my story for bitterness, Diluc. It's not envy that marks my memories when I think of you two. I am and will be eternally grateful to Master Crepus for taking me in that stormy night, for giving me a home I never would have had. I confess, above all, that my feelings for you—then and still today—overflow with the purest admiration. 

You never had any doubts about what you should do. You never showed regret. You never disappointed anyone. You are what I could never have been, and at the same time, you are the one who brings out the best in me.I think that, for example, if I were to give you my heart, you would cherish it with tenderness. 

And, heavens... I know I'm not the most convincing person in the world to tell you this. I'm pretty sure that if you smashed this fragile kaleidoscope of my feelings to the ground with your own hands, I would be the first to say, "Master Diluc is right," clapping my hands with a smile on my face. 

But, even though I understand that by the time this letter arrives, you will have already made your decision, this person writing to you wants to comfort you as much as possible. Almost selfishly, it filled me greatly that you came to me with a sigh of doubt escaping your chest. 

I can confirm that, just as you expressed doubts about accepting a partnership with these people, cooperating with the Knights has its advantages and disadvantages. Like two sides of a coin. I imagine you understand this better than I do. 

You don't need to worry about my safety. Taking care of myself is easy. Moving forward with my goals is hard. Instead, it's better to worry about yourself and never let your guard down. 

Anyway, I'm glad you opened up to me this time. I felt like a confidant, back in the days when we'd bury our feet in the sand and wet our clothes with the ocean water. 

As I write this letter, I'm looking at a pair of seashells we picked up during our childhood, smelling of salt and sea air. Some are small, some larger. The left one has a loose splinter, the bottom one looks like a brush. This  blue one, which is actually the one I'm sending you, was the one you placed between my fingers, smiling as brightly as the sun that season. 

I feel a little insensitive about this particular vacation of ours, because it was very funny when I tangled a starfish in your hair and you almost cried. 

Anyway, about the question in the last letter: 

I believe it's enough for you to trust your own choices, Diluc. Make the decision you think is best, don't be afraid of the risks of an uncertain future; life's paths can remain indecipherable for a long time. I know this better than anyone, just as I know that good old Diluc exudes his honorable self-confidence wherever he goes. 

Trust yourself, Diluc. You can do anything and you know you have what it takes to make the impossible a reality. 

I believe in you too. 

With affection and much accumulated fatigue. 

K. "