"Your Highness, if you- umm," Noelle hesitates as she fiddles at the back of your corset.

"Just tell her to stop fidgeting," Tonia scolds gently, giving your shoulder a playful smack before moving to take over. She lifts your arms and then nudges your upper back to remind you to keep your posture straight. "You must be firm with her Noelle, or you'll never get her dressed."

You stand in your undergarments before a gilded floor mirror, taller than you by at least 2 ft and just as wide across, watching the way that your new Mondstadter maid's eyes widen as she awkwardly retreats further into the room.

"And who are you to command me?" you tease as Tonia's fingers unravel the loops and re-thread them through the eyelets with quick, practised pulls.

"The one fastening you into your dress," Tonia grins and pulls the laces taught. The bodice closes neatly against your chemise, extenuating your figure perfectly.

You are preparing for Lord Lawrence's ball - a gathering held in honour of his granddaughter for her name day.

True to his word, Ambassador Krupp indeed managed to secure an invitation and had been exceedingly smug about his accomplishment, much to your brother's chagrin.

"Perhaps I should start wearing front lacing stays instead. You have dressed yourself just fine," you nod to Tonia's own pale grey gown, less glamorous than anything you will be wearing but still beautiful enough to accompany you tonight.

"Your Highness," Noelle protests, clutching a folded petticoat to her chest as she returns. "It- well, it would not be proper for a woman of your station to be dressing herself, especially for an event as auspicious as this."

"That's more like it," Tonia laughs, nodding approvingly. "You tell her!"

"I meant no offense I-" Noelle stammers, suddenly paling.

"Oh, sweet Noelle," you reach out a hand to reassure her. "Tonia and I are only teasing. Please - speak freely with me. In fact, I insist upon it. If I am standing in an awkward position, then you must ask me to move. It is your job to dress me, not to flatter me. I will not take offense."

Noelle dips her head, averting her eyes. "Yes, Your Highness."

You internally wince at the thought that your attempt at fostering closeness might have been intrusive, perhaps even strange in her eyes. It had never been that way with Tonia - she had always possessed a steady confidence, just like Tartaglia, despite the difference in status between you, and you were always certain of where you stood with her.

Noelle is much harder to predict. Her meekness leaves you feeling as though you must tread carefully, in case a careless word or gesture unsettles her. It is sweet in its own way, almost endearing… but it worries you.

She is so eager to please, so determined never to seem improper, that you can't help but think that others might try to take advantage of it.

"I think I will wear the dress that my brother has gifted me," you say at last.

"The green one?" Tonia asks, eyes bright with excitement.

"Yes," you confirm. "He will wear his uniform, no doubt, so I would match with him."

Noelle looks up sheepishly, opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it again just as promptly, folding the petticoat across her arms.

"What is it?" you ask.

"You do not wish to match with prince Diluc?"

Her question catches you off guard.

For a moment, you wonder if you should. Would Mondstadt's people look upon you more positively if you distance yourself from your family and align yourself with Diluc's? Or would they see it for what it is - an attempt to pander for their approval - and hate you even more?

"Even though we shall all be masked," you answer slowly, steadying your voice. "I should meet Mondstadt's finest as myself, first. I am not a Ragnvindr just yet."

"Of course." Noelle nods her head, and Tonia smiles reassuringly.

It does not take long for the girls to finish readying you after that. Noelle listens and watches intently, learning from Tonia's example, as she skillfully puts together your attire, piece by piece.

You stay perfectly still as they bring the fabric over your head, draping you in deep forest green silk that is just as lightweight as your brother had promised. The gown settles over your bodice, its skirts falling elegantly against the carpet as Tonia ties the silk brocade sash neatly right beneath its empire waist, tugging the bow once to make sure it's secure, before smoothing her palms along the fabric. Finally, with a practised hand, she adjusts the neckline to ensure that your bosom is not spilling over when you finally breathe in again.

Pale diamonds gleam at your neck and ears, subtle and demure, but still expensive enough to impress every time they catch the light - less is more, you think to yourself. It is better not to be gaudy or show off to these strangers just yet.

In the mirror you no longer see a scared princess, someone that has been on the back foot since she arrived, but the Grand Duchess of Snezhnaya again - bold, beautiful, and born for this.

For a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to relish it. This small moment of joy is just for yourself before the rest of the world has a chance to chip away at it again. You will not let yourself be overshadowed tonight - not by Decarabian's ghost, not by your Mother, nor by Diluc's previous hesitation towards you.

This time, you will be the sun.

The finishing touches are quickly added - a little rouge to kiss your cheeks with a healthy flush of colour here, and a few strands of hair pinned in place there, and you are ready to face the world. Tonia retrieves your masks and offers one to you with a knowing smile.

When you leave your chambers, you force a cordial smile to the guards outside despite your growing frustration with their presence, and this time, they nod their heads in acknowledgement - even if their stares seem vacant still.

You make your way down the grand staircase again, passing the old Kings as you descend to find Diluc stood with Tartaglia at Decarabian's empty alcove. He blinks slowly when he sees you, and a subtle smile parts his lips for half a heartbeat before he clears his throat to greet you.

"Your Highness," he holds out his hand as you meet him.

Tonight, he is out of uniform again. A fine black overcoat drapes over his broad frame with silver thread detailing on the notched lapel. He has left it unfastened, allowing the smoky red damask waistcoat beneath to peak through.

The contrast between your outfits is striking, yet somehow complimentary, as though the two of you had planned it all along.

For a moment, you wonder if he had chosen his attire with your colours in mind, but then think better of it. You remember that the black and red banners of the Ragnvindr clan fly proudly all around the city, and remind yourself that it must be a coincidence, and yet if anyone else observed and read further into it, well… that wouldn't hurt, surely?

"Not bad, Princess."

Beside them, Kaeya leans lazily against the bannister as he interrupts your thought, a pair of masks dangling from his fingers, with a familiar smirk across his face.

You tilt your head toward him as you slip your hand into Diluc's. "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"

"Well, how else would I have meant it?" He shrugs, feigning innocence.

"Ignore him," Diluc sighs.

"I haven't even done anything," Kaeya protests.

"Yet," Diluc replies without missing a beat.

Their exchange brings you a small amount of amusement as you glance toward your brother, as if to show him that you aren't offended before he can jump at the chance to be overprotective and intervene. You haven't told him about what happened in the library, especially now that the issue is settled, but you can see he's still watching you two closely.

"Well, I can't help it if these things are so dull," Kaeya laments, his gaze flicking past you to spot Tonia and Noelle, masked and ready behind you. "I will find some other way to amuse myself then. Perhaps I could dance with you this evening, Miss Tonia?"

"You may not," Tartaglia says flatly from beside Diluc.

"I believe that she is quite capable of answering for herself, Your Highness," Kaeya's smirk deepens, like a fisherman who knows that he's just hooked a prize catch with his bait. "I don't see a reason why not - it's not as if she is your sister, after all?"

"Maybe so," Tartaglia's jaw clenches, knowing that he's just walked straight into that one, "but it is my duty to protect members of the Grand Duchess' household from… unbefitting would-be suitors."

"Ajax-" you warn, right as Diluc does the same to his own brother.

"It's fine, Princess," Kaeya sighs and hands a mask to Diluc before standing upright again. "I take no offence. It was never my intention to court your attendant - I was simply being friendly." He turns to Tonia with a knowing look. "You are very lucky to have someone as notable as the Grand Duke looking out for you."

"Thank you, Sir Kaeya," Tonia replies smoothly, masking her dismay. "I hope that you enjoy the ball."

He hums and nods once, then turns his back to you all and strolls down the steps, throwing a casual, "I'll see you in the carriage then," over his shoulder to Diluc. As he walks away, he lowers his half-mask into place, a smug expression hidden beneath a fan of vibrant peacock feathers before he disappears down the hallway.

An awkward quiet lingers in his wake, the atmosphere suddenly heavier than it had been when you arrived. You look to Tartaglia, still scowling, then back to your betrothed. "I think that I will ride with my brother tonight. If that is acceptable, Prince Diluc?"

His eyes meet yours briefly, a flicker of disappointment passing through them. "Of course," he replies, his voice measured as he brings your hand to his lips and presses the lightest of kisses against it. "I shall meet you there."

"You will," you squeeze his hand slightly and offer a reassuring smile. You watch as his eyes ease again, the tension slipping from his shoulders. With a step back, he bows his head toward you and then shakes Tartaglia's hand before turning to follow his own brother.

"What a pain in the-" your brother begins, but you cut him off.

"Not here," you remind him. "Shall we get going? I don't want to be late."

Tartaglia opens his mouth, then reconsiders whatever it is he truly wants to say before finally replying, "You look beautiful in the dress. I knew you would."

"Thank you," you sigh, not half as grateful for the complement as you were for him letting it go, and take his arm to make your way down the rest of the stairs.

Diluc finds you again easily enough as you exit the carriage, stepping out into the courtyard of the Lawrence Estate.

It's a beautiful place. A grand country mansion that sits atop Galesong Hill, a region named for the way the winds whistled over the empty upland moors - a haunting, almost melodic sound that the locals once believed was the sound of the Seelies themselves, supposedly calling out to unsuspecting travellers to lure them away from the safety of the road.

It seems to you now, though, that the countryside is less wild than it once had been - this corner of it, at the very least. The grounds are meticulously kept, lit up by a trail of ankle-high lanterns that guide you toward the grand front entrance. You notice that the building's facade is blanketed in silky white wisteria, so thick and far-spreading that it must cost a small fortune to maintain.

You slip your right arm into Diluc's and make your way toward the entrance, Tartaglia at your left with Tonia and Noelle following slightly behind - just ahead of the honour guard that accompanied you and the Prince. It takes you a moment to realise that Kaeya is nowhere to be seen, but Diluc still smiles warmly at everyone you pass along the pathway, and his easy composure encourages you to do the same despite the fact that the guests make no attempt to hide their stares.

The breeze is cool against your skin as you approach the doors. Up close, the house is even more welcoming and warm - the tall glass window panes glow with an amber light that casts silhouettes of the guests moving within, and the faint sound of music and laughter beckons you inside.

A steward dressed in a royal blue coat bows as you meet him at the door, his neutral expression perfectly trained as he greets you all. "Welcome to Lawrence House, my prince - you and your guests honour us with your presence this evening."

"Thank you sir," Diluc replies.

"If you would follow me?" The steward offers, elegantly waving his hand toward the door and moving to escort you inside. You follow, taking a deep breath before you straighten your spine and finally pass over the threshold.

You hold your mask up over your face as you enter the vestibule, and notice the way that the chandelier overhead scatters light in dreamy patterns around the room, its glimmered reflections against the polished marble floor that clicks beneath your heels. Guests mill about the room, making their way toward the enormous oak doors that lead into a grand ballroom, but the steward does not lead you through the crowd. Instead, he guides your party toward the staircase at the far side of the hall until you reach the viewing gallery from above.

From up high, you can see everyone in the ballroom - the elaborate dresses, the guests gathered in polite conversation, and the string quartet that is finishing off their next waltz on the platform in the corner of the room.

The steward steps forward, rigid and precise, and clears his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen," his voice rings clear across the hall, and a hundred faces finally turn to meet you. "I present Prince Diluc of the Windwail Highlands, Cavalry Captain of the Order of Knights of Favonius and heir to the Ragnvindr clan, accompanied by his illustrious guests - the Grand Duke Tartaglia and Grand Duchess __ of Snezhnaya."

A sudden hush ripples through the ballroom, and for half a heartbeat you feel your heart clench in your chest, until slowly, a scattered applause breaks out and builds to a subdued but respectable crescendo - as if this is all part of some elaborate performance that you had adequately pleased them with.

From the corner of your eye, you see Diluc remove his mask, and with a shaky hand, you lower yours as well. You both exchange a nervous smile, as if to ground yourselves amidst the spectacle, then turn to smile at the crowds below.

It is hard to read their expressions, their curiosity or concern hidden beneath their own masks, and you only have the enthusiasm - or lack thereof - of their applause to gauge their interest. Part of you knows that their claps are reserved for their Prince, only extended to you out of courtesy, but you will not allow that to spoil your chance to win them over.

"Good people of Mondstadt," you speak suddenly, your heart racing as you fight to keep your voice steady. "It is a joy to be amongst you all tonight in the country of my forefathers… and despite the animosity of the past, I speak wholeheartedly on behalf of my brother and I, to express our gratitude for your immense hospitality - particularly that of Lord Lawrence, who has so graciously invited us into his home."

You pause for a moment to let your words resonate, feeling the weight of their attention, their eyes wide with interest, but before you can continue, Diluc takes the opportunity to cut in.

"On behalf of the Crown and our guests from the North," he says, his voice as clear as a ringing bell, "We would also like to extend our congratulations to Lady Lawrence on this day, celebrating the auspicious occasion of her birth."

The applause gets considerably louder at the mention of her name, although you cannot figure out who she is amongst the crowd.

"My father, the King, and I both wish you a most wonderful day, wherever you are amongst these good people," he coaxes an easy laugh from the crowd as he cranes his neck, pretending to look before he continues, composed and regal, "We shall keep you no longer - please, enjoy the rest of the festivities that Lord Lawrence has prepared. Thank you."

You, Diluc, and Tartaglia all join in with the raucous applause now - turning the guests attention back toward the birthday girl and using the opportunity to step back from the balcony and hide behind your masks once more.

"Did I do something wrong?" you ask, lowering your voice.

"No - not at all," Diluc answers, leaning close to your ear. "It's just that Lord Lawrence's is… prickly, at the best of times. It's good that you flattered him, but he wouldn't have appreciated it if we had upstaged Eula."

"I was getting to the part," you gently chide him for interrupting you.

He smiles, sympathetic beneath his falcon mask, "Sorry - I'm just being overly cautious."

"It's better that you spoke together," Tartaglia attempts to reassure you, "it makes us look unified."

You nod and give him a small smile. "You're right."

"You should greet our host, your Highness," Tonia reminds you.

"How much do you know of the Lawrence clan?" Diluc asks suddenly.

"They are an ancient and well-regarded house, with considerable wealth and influence," you answer, voice lowered. "The head of the clan - Lord Lawrence - has held his seat on the council since before I was born -"

"I meant as people," he lets out a short breathy laugh, then softens his expression behind the mask. "You've been reading the book, but books can only tell you so much."

"You mentioned he's… 'prickly'?" Tartaglia asks.

"Amongst other things," Diluc frowns and checks to make sure that nobody else on the balcony is close enough to eavesdrop. "He's haughty, arrogant, overproud… and so is the rest of the family."

"Oh," you quietly scoff to yourself, wondering what the hell you had gotten yourself into.

Was Diluc being dramatic? Or had Ambassador Krupp set you up to fail by picking the most difficult target to approach first?

Diluc holds out his arm for you to take, "Let me do the talking for now."

You nod, following Diluc's gaze to the other distant end of the viewing gallery as you slide your arm into his.

Even from afar, Lord Lawrence was impossible to miss. Surrounded by admirers and followers, he stands tall - imposing - his cropped black hair peppered with white throughout his fringe and beard. As you approach, you notice his dignified posture and fine clothes decorated with teardrop sapphires - his wealth is so apparent that it borders on ostentatious even by royal standards.

"Prince Diluc, Your Highnesses," Lord Lawrence removes his silver and gold mask to greet you all with a vacant smile that doesn't reach his eyes and a bow that dips no lower than decorum requires of him. The courtiers around him follow his example, and you feel the air grow colder.

"Lord Lawrence, it is a pleasure." Diluc manages to smile convincingly, as though he is genuinely glad to be having this unwanted exchange.

"Your father has not come," the Lord offers a blunt response as he returns the mask to his face.

"The King is quite busy, my Lord," Diluc does not flinch. "I am sure that as an esteemed member of the council, you can understand and forgive his absence? My father sends his deepest apologies and sends me in his stead."

Lawrence looks the pair of you up and down with a discerning eye and thinly veiled disappointment, swallowing a mouthful of wine before answering, "How thoughtful."

You suddenly understand that describing Lord Lawrence as 'prickly' had been an understatement on Diluc's part.

Even knowing little about the interpersonal dynamics between Mondstadt's upper class, it seems quite clear to you that King Crepus was aware that the Lawrence clan would take his absence as an insult. Diluc's presence was likely an attempt to soften the blow and make them appear unreasonable if they made their complaints known.

Clever, you think, but risky. Lord Lawrence seems to be the type of man who has no natural inclination to appear servile or tolerant towards perceived disrespect, even when he is not in a position to call it out.

Diluc smiles widely, as if there is nothing wrong. "Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lord Lawrence. It is a beautiful party."

"Well, of course it is," he huffs and straightens his spine, "It is my granddaughter's name day. It would not do to embarrass Eula in front of potential suitors - she has waited long enough to be recognised, and she shan't be passed over again."

This time, Diluc goes still beside you. You feel the sudden tension in his arm, a fleeting flex of the muscle, as if he were preparing to fight or flee for half a heartbeat. When you cast your gaze to his face, there is nothing out of the ordinary - his expression is still composed behind his mask, but you know what you felt.

"I am sure that you will find her a suitable match," your prince replies. The warmth leeches from his forced smile, leaving something uncharacteristically cold in its place.

Without missing a beat, Lawrence asks, "as suitable as your own?"

"One would certainly hope." Diluc says as he places his free hand atop yours, where it rests in the crook of his arm.

"And what do our royal guests from the North think?" one of the youngest men standing to the side joins the conversation all of a sudden, adjusting his gold and red mask as he addresses you and your brother.

"I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting Lady Eula," you offer a conciliatory smile, "I would not presume to comment on the matter. However, should she desire my assistance in making a connection, then I would be happy to help."

"Truly?" Lord Lawrence's voice remains bitingly dry. "That is most gracious of you, your Highness."

"In fact, my brother - the Grand Duke - remains unmarried," you say pointedly and nudge him forward, "Perhaps the Lady Eula should like to meet him?"

Tartaglia hides his annoyance well and answers politely, taking a step away from Tonia and Noelle. "It would be an honour."

"Would it now?" Lawrence scoffs ever so slightly. "I suppose it would be for you, Your Highness, considering that you are a second son who stands to inherit nothing."

A shorter, younger, more portly man snorts beside him, but nobody else joins his laughter.  His wine-flushed cheeks peek out from behind his ornate blue mask, and you take note of its colouring, deciding that he must be a member of the Lawrence clan - someone senior enough to speak or act out of turn. A son perhaps?

"What are you implying, my Lord?" Tartaglia throws a warning smirk as the atmosphere suddenly thickens.

"So this is the Tsaritsa's plan then?" Lawrence continues, "send her questionable spares to marry into Mondstadt's nobility in the hope that one of them finds their way back onto the throne? I daresay that you're -"

Your brother laughs mockingly, and you see a flash of anger in his eye as he instinctively brings his hand to the hip where his sword would usually sit, as if grasping for its phantom would give him an edge. "Questionable?-"

"And so what if it was?" you suddenly say before Lawrence has the chance to escalate it further. "Would you have preferred she send my brother at the head of an army to reclaim his birthright? Or me, with a sizable dowry and no guarantee of a crown?" You lean into that angle, hoping that steering the conversation in that direction might make the others forget the challenge to your own legitimacy.

It had never truly mattered back home. The Tsar was long dead - there was no one left with the authority to dispute your mother’s insistence that all her children were true-born. Not even Tartaglia’s ginger hair, which made him look more like Tonia’s brother than your own, nor the Tsesarevich’s sharp grey eyes, so unlike her late husband’s warm brown ones, had ever raised anything more than a whisper at court.

You, at least, had always taken after her the most - her mirror image, in a younger form. In the end, that was all that counted: She was the Empress of Snezhnaya, and you had all come from her.

"Or better yet," you continue, a little more tongue-in-cheek than etiquette typically allows, "perhaps Khaenri'ah will finally invade again, and the council will be spared the burden of deciding the succession at all."

Lord Lawrence lets out a sudden laugh - clipped, but almost joyful.

It ought to reassure you that your remark had amused him, but in your periphery, you catch the way Diluc tenses again, feel the renewed tension in his grip as Lord Lawrence turns his attention back toward him.

“This one is sharp, my prince,” he says with delight, “do take care not to get cut. I hope that your Father knows what he is doing.”

"The King knows best." Diluc feigns a laugh, tugging gently at your arm. "My Lord, we have kept you long enough. You should enjoy the festivities that you have worked so hard on."

Lord Lawrence's smile falters at the correction, fading almost as quickly as it had appeared. “Of course,” he says smoothly. “As you were, Your Highnesses… and you have my thanks, for indulging my curiosity. Until we meet again.”

He bows his head once more, and without further challenge or comment, allows you to take your leave. The moment that you pass beyond the pillar and out of their sight, Diluc's hand drops from your arm, the space between you suddenly feeling wide again as he lets out a breath.

You feel Tonia at your side almost immediately, seamlessly filling the space he left behind, while Noelle lingers a step back, careful not to overtake. In public, this is all she can offer - an unwavering presence, something solid to anchor yourself to so you don’t feel cast adrift, and you are endlessly grateful for it.

You stop in your tracks. "What?"

"It's nothing,"

"That was not nothing, Diluc," you whisper before your brother can catch up.

"So much for the Lawrence clan being a potential ally," Tartaglia says, stopping beside you. His hand hovers at the small of your back, as if ready to carry you away the moment he receives an answer he doesn't like. "Care to explain what the hell that was about?"

"I shouldn't have said-" you start.

"It's not you," Diluc says quietly, offering reassurance.

"Then why did he…?"

"It's me," a dry laugh escapes his throat, "well - my father, in truth. They had a… disagreement."

"Some warning would have been nice," Tartaglia frowns. "What happened between them?"

Diluc casts a wary glance toward a group of courtiers that have begun to edge their way toward you, "A story for another day, I think."

He turns casually and begins to stroll away, as though there was nothing amiss, and you fall into step beside him, heading back toward the entrance of the gallery. Across the hall, Lord Lawrence is already engaged in conversation again, his smile restored, as though he had not met you at all. Yet when his eyes briefly meet yours, there is something colder there now - measuring.

"Ignore them," Tonia finally speaks, keeping her voice low so that only you and Noelle can hear. "They had no right to speak to you like that."

This is their home, not mine. They have every right, you think. "There goes my chance of getting the nobility on our side."

Tartaglia slips his hand into yours and squeezes, muttering under his breath. "I'll make sure that stupid fucking Ambassador gets stripped of his office and shipped back to Nod Krai, I swear it."

That teases a smile from you, although it was hardly Krupp's fault.

"There's more than one noble family in Mondstadt," Diluc suddenly reminds you, nodding in the direction of a tall blonde woman that stands at the foot of the grand staircase below.

< Previous - Next > (Coming Soon!)

Happy New Year! 🎉🎈

Sorry for the slightly longer gap between updates - end of year always gets a bit hectic, and this chapter was getting very long so I ended up editing it down considerably and split it into multiple parts 😅

"What are our options?" Tonia asks, breaking off a piece of the bread roll that she had Noelle bring up from the kitchens before dismissing her quickly again.

You shrug as she hands half to you. "Tell my Mother that I'm an abject failure and hope she doesn't disinherit me?"

Your stomach growls in hunger as you bring it to your mouth. It's slightly stale, leftover from the dinner that you politely declined to attend despite the King's late invitation.

After what happened in the library, you aren't particularly keen to face him or his son yet, let alone share an awkward meal with them when you could stay in your rooms and enjoy Tonia's company instead. Her presence fills you more than the finest of feasts ever could.

"Enough of the self pity. She won't do that," she scolds you with a weak smile and leans back against the chair beside you. "I think that it's more likely that she would arrange for you to marry someone back home instead."

"Gods, I hope not."

"If she doesn't find a husband for you, the Tsesarevich will when he succeeds her," her lips purse together. "As angry as you are at her for sending you away, at least she has spared you a future of being passed around between his allies at court."

You had never been close with your eldest brother, and even Tartaglia did not get along with him all that well. He had often been cruel and selfish in your youth, and the passage of time and your Mother's refusal to step down as regent once he came of age had not improved his temperament.

He was the heir, and you were spare - nothing of note unless you could be of use to the crown, and once your Mother was gone, he would find a use for you.  

"Spare me the lecture Tonia, please," your stomach churns at the thought.

"I won't," she frowns and takes your hand. "I will do everything to support you no matter what. You know this. But you must have a plan, otherwise you may find yourself in a worse position."

You consider her words and your options.

Truthfully, you had always known that it would not be easy to return to Snezhnaya even if your marriage to Diluc was a success - the point of it, after all, was to send you away for the Tsaritsa's political gain.

All the things that you missed about home were no longer there for you, if they had ever been yours to begin with. You wonder if this is how your Mother felt when she left Mondstadt to marry the Tsar, if this had also been part of the reason that she hadn't tried to claw her birthright back the moment she had the power to.

That was your duty now, an unfulfilled destiny left to you, but you had no idea how you were to realise it.

You pout and squeeze her fingers. "Stop being correct. It annoys me."

"You may have the beauty," she teases. "But I've always been the one with the brains."

You let out a small laugh and sigh. "What about Ajax?"

"Oh, he's got neither."

"Stop it!" you smile and swat the back of her hand. "I meant how am I supposed to tell him what happened without him kicking up a fuss."

"You're going to tell him?" she laughs and rubs the skin where you had hit her hard, giving you a look to convey that she thinks you're half mad.

"I can hardly hide this from him. He already knows that something is going on. I will need his help."

"Not necessarily."

You raise a cautious brow, "Care to elaborate?"

"It seems to me that the problem is not the Prince, but Sir Kaeya," she surmises, sitting upright in her chair again.

"So... what? You're suggesting that he goaded him into saying those unkind things about me?" you frown.

"Well, yes," she says, "it does not excuse it, but from what you told me of their argument - Diluc is being pushed from both sides by the King and his brother. Not so unlike you."

"So I should just let it go?"

"Put your feelings aside and speak to Diluc in private," she insisted. "Figure out where you both stand and then-"

"He has made it abundantly clear where he stood," you try to interrupt, but Tonia persists.

"- and then you can come up with a plan."

"Tonia-"

"Must you continue to suffer passively?" she snaps and chastises you now, in a way that no other servant would dare to. "Find a common cause and use it to your advantage. If you can prove Kaeya wrong, he will have no choice but to change his mind or risk looking bitter."

As grateful as you are for her support and level headed advice, your ego made it that much harder to swallow. "You're much too optimistic," you grumble, unable to find a fault in her logic other than how much it got on your nerves.

"Would you rather I encourage you to wallow in your wounded pride?" she replies, knowing exactly how to read you. "What would your Mother say?"

Truthfully, you did not know how she would respond to your worries - for she had never paid them much attention. You had Tonia for that, and all the others that attended you while she focused on more pressing matters of state. You give her your best mocking guess instead. "She'd probably tell me to grow up and have Kaeya quietly pushed from a window."

"We needn't go that far," Tonia was unable to mask the smile it brought to her face. "It would be a waste to murder someone so good looking."

You release a dry laugh. "You have a very singular mind when it comes to him."

"How could I not? I mean, have you seen him?"

As insufferable as you find him - Kaeya was strikingly handsome. You are not blind to his charm or the appeal that he has, and it is not hard to imagine the ladies of the court blushing as he walks past or gathering to admire him during training, as they had done with Diluc. It was his conduct toward you that you found to be grating, and it put you off from interacting with him more than necessary.

"Well, I shall leave the scheming to you in that case," you playfully tap her knee. "It is clear you have thought long and hard on what to do with him."

Tonia rolls her eyes. "Such crude jokes are unbecoming of a princess."

"I don't know what you mean," you smirk and finish off the last bite of the bread.

You feel much better now. Being able to joke about your situation with your friend made the problem seem smaller for a moment - more manageable and simple in the grand scheme of things. Tonia was right. You had spent too much time dithering and waiting as if it might fix itself, as if Diluc might put aside his pride when you would not, and you could not afford to continue down that path any longer.

Tonia followed as you stood to head toward your bedchamber, to undress and settle into something more comfortable to wear for the rest of the evening, when you suddenly heard a hard knock against the main doors. You give her a confused look, glancing back at the room when you hear it sound again louder this time.

"Her Highness is preparing for bed. She is not receiving visitors." Tonia answers sharply as the door suddenly opens without approval. One of the guards posted outside marches in, his armoured boots clunking against the floor as he stomps his foot down and comes to a halt.

"Excuse me, what do you think you are doing?" you demand, "I did not grant you permission to enter my chambers - out!"

He stares at you as if your command is little more than the buzzing of a fly - irritating but unworthy of note - and carries on regardless to announce your visitor. He does not answer to you.

"The Prince Diluc."

Your fury is quick to give way to confusion. You had not expected him to seek you out so soon or to seek you out at all, truly, but you know that you cannot turn him away even if you wanted to. You straighten your back as the guard steps aside to make way for the prince, and try to hide the anger on your face.

"There was no need for you to enter, Friedrich. I am in no great rush,"  Diluc scolds him as he follows with Kaeya in tow, carrying a large brown paper parcel under him arm. "I would have come back tomorrow."

He's dressed in fine clothes this time, wearing a long wool overcoat dyed a dark maroon, the rest of his clothes fashioned in coal-black silk beneath. He stands taller than he seemed that morning, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail, as if he had made a particular effort to make himself more presentable.

"Apologies, my prince." The guard turns away from you to look to Diluc.

"It is not to him that you owe your apologies," Kaeya frowns and gives Friedrich a warning glance.

"Your Highness," Diluc sighs and bows toward you deeply, his tied crimson hair slipping over his shoulder in a soft, loose wave. "Please forgive the intrusion - my man has clearly forgotten his manners."

"It seems that he is not the only one," you reply, unable to help yourself. Tonia coughs to clear her throat, giving you a subtle signal to quit while you are ahead.

"I beg pardon for my error, your Highness." Friedrich says, too monotone to be entirely sincere, and matches the depth of his prince's bow.

"Do not let it happen again," you warn him, crossing your arms against your body. "You are dismissed."

You watch anxiously as he straightens, tapping his foot against the floor one more time before he turns and abruptly exits the room to return to his position standing slightly to the side of the great door frame to face the empty hallway.

"I did not wish to bother you, just to ensure that you were alright after this morning..." Diluc lingers, his fingers tracing the outline of the handle as if he isn't sure he is welcome to remain. He takes a second to clear his throat, then meets your gaze. "You didn't come down for dinner."

"I wasn't hungry," you lie.

"Oh. I see," he gives you a despondent look that makes your stomach knot.

You notice Kaeya edge closer to Diluc out of the corner of his eye, regarding you with a small degree of caution - as if he was approaching a viper that was preparing to strike rather than a girl that was about to ready herself for bed.

You sigh, softening your glare and relaxing your arms a little, not wanting to make matters worse. They had made the effort to come to you at least, willing or not, and that makes it easier. This way, you might be able to save face rather than crawl to him and beg for scraps of approval.

"I am grateful for your concern, Prince Diluc," you tell him. "I am quite fine, thank you."

"We will leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening then, Princess." Kaeya forces a smile and bows as if to depart quickly, but Diluc catches his arm. "... Or not."

"The rain has stopped," Diluc says out of the blue. "I thought that you and I could take a walk around the gardens and discuss... Well, the evening air might help - might do both of us some good?"

You hold his gaze, finding a half-pleading look in his eye beneath the outward calm he projects. Had he truly come to apologise? You wonder to yourself if he is being genuine or trying to get ahead of any potential complaints to his father.

You consider it a moment, knowing that you aren't in a position to refuse his invitation if you are to salvage the situation, but it feels right to see him suffer a little before you give your answer. After the things that he said, you don't want to make it too easy for him.

"Very well," you tell him with a cool smile. "I have felt restless of late. Perhaps a walk will clear my head."

Tonia makes a show of curtseying and announces to the room, "I shall return later if you have no further need of me, your Highness."

"Thank you, Tonia. You are dismissed," you say and give her a knowing look, as if to tell her that you wish she would stay even though you know that it's for the best. As much as her moral support comforts you, you must learn to navigate being uncomfortable on your own.

"Well then, shall we get going?" Kaeya makes a sweeping movement with his arm to beckon you toward the door, his face the picture of disinterest. "Don't want to lose the light."

"Yes, sorry- you're right," Diluc lets out a nervous laugh, throwing an apologetic look your way before he turns to leave, and you realise that you won't be alone after all.

Kaeya doesn't seem bothered by the wary glance you give him when you walk past, offering you a thin smile as you fall into step beside Diluc. He allows you both a few feet of distance before he closes the door to follow, but it's not enough room to escape the watchful eye you feel against your back with every step you take down the grand staircase.

You don't speak again until you pass the empty alcove where Decarabian's statue one stood, so conscious of the silence that it feels unnatural to break it. "Will Sir Kaeya be tailing us the whole way?" you ask, quiet enough that your voice will not echo, but you know that he is still close enough to hear.

"It is not ideal, I know," Diluc explains as you walk toward the towering glass doors. "I am aware that your brother is currently indisposed and did not want to meet you unchaperoned, in case-"

"You do not need to protect my reputation," you interrupt. "I am not sure how it could get worse. After all, half the country already hates me."

Diluc sighs and opens the door for you. "I shouldn't have said that," he admits, stopping as he steps out onto the patio. "It was unkind and untrue."

A gentle wave of sadness washes away enough of your anger then, at the thought that he would pity you enough to lie right to your face.

"You must think me a fool to believe that."

You wander a few steps away, turning your back to him as you look over the ocean of white flowers. Droplets of rain still cling to the petals, glistening in the setting sun's soft glow as the sky melts into hues of pink and gold. For a moment, a faint ache stirs in your chest - the way the light catches reminds you of the sunlight shimmering against the snow back home.

"I don't," he slowly follows you. "I think that you are trying to make the best of a situation that you did not ask to be in." His hand grazes your own ever so slightly, as if to pull your attention back, an invitation rather than a demand. You turn your head to look at him again and purse your lips as he continues to speak. "After you left, Lisa had Kaeya and I put all of your books back as a punishment for being loud," he lets out a self-deprecating laugh. "I saw that you were reading about our history - about Prince Rotsam."

"He was my Grandfather. It's my history too," you tell him.

"You're right, I suppose," he smiles sadly. "I grew up hearing stories about how brave and heroic he was. I wanted to be just like him when I was older."

"If he had lived, then perhaps things would have turned out quite differently," you say.

"Perhaps... Perhaps not," he answers, watching as your brow scrunches in confusion. "Forgive the tangent, my point is that the people of this country still remember and love Prince Rotsam in spite of his father. The same could be true for you one day. They have not had the chance to know you yet, and even less time to hate you."

You sigh. "Or welcome me."

"That too," Diluc nods and slides the parcel out from under his arm to hold it out to you. "I thought that perhaps I would lend you my own copy of that book."

"You don't have to."

"I do," he holds it out again, insistent. "I am sorry for what I said."

"Then why did you say it, if you do not believe it to be true?" you ask him.

"I- I don't really know," he struggles for an answer, for one that doesn't risk making everything worse. "I regretted it the moment I said it."

You swallow your pride and take a moment to let it dissipate before you accept the gift.

Diluc smiles as you take the parcel from his hands, relief pulsing through his bright eyes until he sees the considered look on your face. The book now seems heavier somehow, as though its words had been fortified by the weight of expectation - his, your own, or that of the Tsaritsa and the King.

"Perhaps you will think of an answer by the time we are done," you hug the book closely to your chest and stroll toward the steps, not bothering to look back to see if he follows.

You hear Kaeya stifle a laugh, and you allow yourself to enjoy his smug satisfaction for a second before you dare to humble him too. "Sir Kaeya. Instead of standing there snickering like a child, I wonder if you could carry this for me? It is quite heavy, and I would hate to drop such a generous and thoughtful gift."

Now it was Diluc's turn to laugh, and to his credit, he did a much better job of hiding it than his brother - although the grin on his face was still as plain as day. The smile on Kaeya's face, however, had dropped. "Do you take me for a servant, Princess?"

"I thought that the Knights were supposed to be gallant," you shrug and hold the book out.

"Some of us still are," Diluc sighs and takes the book back from you, as if he knows that Kaeya's need to always have the final word will get him into more trouble. "Or try to be."

"Trying is overrated," Kaeya saunters forward and begrudgingly snatches it from Diluc's hands. "But I suppose not everyone can be as naturally charming and noble as me."

"What a burden you carry." Diluc says, sarcasm oozing from every syllable.

Kaeya gives him a glib smile that almost looks sincere. "I know. Thank you, brother."

You continue down the steps before the conversation can escalate further, the atmosphere between them so familiar that it reminds you of Tartaglia and Tonia when they start to bicker in front of you. Strangely, it makes you feel more at home than any of the other empty gestures or platitudes you've received since you arrived.

Kaeya hangs back a little further this time as you and Diluc walk along the gravel pathway and enter the sea of flowers, perhaps to give you some privacy or to avoid being dragged into the conversation again. You can't tell, but the quiet is more comfortable now, as if the previous banter had allowed you all to brush aside the awkward pretence.

Diluc watches as you stop to admire the Cecilias, "Kaeya told me that you liked the flowers."

"They're very beautiful," you say. "I'm surprised that my mother never mentioned them."

"They were not here during Decarabian's rule, nor when Barbatos was King," he explains. "My father had them planted in memory of my mother after his coronation. She died when I was very young, before he had even taken his seat on the council."

You had already known that there was no Queen in Mondstadt, and you felt so foolish for not considering why that may be. Barbatos had died ten years ago, and Diluc would've been a child when Crepus was chosen to ascend the throne. You found it quite remarkable really, that he had risen so high in that time and managed to raise his son so well too.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," you tell him the same as you had told Kaeya so many days ago. Although, it seemed that the grief was less raw for Diluc than it had been for his adopted brother.

You know it still lingered, though. How could it not? For even if he barely had the chance to know her, he must surely mourn the lost potential, the life events and milestones that she would never get to see. It was in the quiet corners of life's most joyful moments that ghosts were always at their strongest.

You gesture to the rest of the garden. "She must have been a special woman to have been loved enough to create all of this."

"Thank you," he nodded, his chest aching suddenly. "She was."

"It is a rare thing, I think." you speak softly, to yourself more than anyone else.

"For people like us?" he asks. "Or in general?" 

When the Tsar had died, your mother had done very little to honour his memory beyond what was expected of her publicly. Her attention lay elsewhere - seizing power to become Empress in her own right while your older brother was still too young to rule.

You wonder what would've happened if your mother had turned her eye toward reclaiming Mondstadt back then, rather than waiting to secure it through your marriage. Would this beautiful garden have ever been allowed to bloom? Would you have ever been free to marry for love?

So much of Snezhnaya's energy had been spent on securing her regime and obliterating what was left of the Khaenri'ahn military, that imperial expansion had been out of the question at the time - and for the first time since coming here you truly find yourself glad of that now.

"I'm not sure," you admit. "I know that you do not want to-"

"It's not that I don't want to, it's just..." Diluc stops you, but trails off when he sees the way that you look at him, with that same sadness that has haunted him since the night that you met. "I do not wish to marry someone who was not given a choice."

That was his reservation? You think, but dare not question aloud. Not that I was the great granddaughter of a tyrant? Or that our marriage might be an attempt to bring Mondstadt under Snezhnaya's ever increasing imperial influence?

"Were you given a choice?" you ask.

Diluc pauses, and you know that you've found a sore point. Perhaps the two of you have more in common than you had believed. "My father asked it of me, but I was not commanded to," he rationalises, as if the distinction makes a difference, "I had hoped that once we had met, my concern might be proven wrong, but when you told me that you did not wish to be here..."

"I'm sorry that I was not what you had hoped for," you swallow.

"Why? You have nothing to apologise for," he smiles sympathetically and tilts his head, as if to puzzle you out. "You cannot change your feelings, and neither can I. They are what they are, no matter what everyone else impresses upon us to want."

"I do owe you an apology," you insist. "For my part, I should have spoken to you sooner to avoid this misunderstanding." 'Find a common cause and use it to your advantage' - Tonia's words echo in your mind. "You might be the only person in the world that would understand. I feel such a fool."

He laughs, dry and self-deprecating again. "As do I."

You let out a great sigh of relief, but Diluc does not seem to care about the slip of your masked composure. "I'm not opposed to marrying you," you reassure him. "You are perfectly fine, but somebody else chose you for me, and I don't know how to navigate that."

"You think I'm fine?" his brow furrows in amusement.

"Perfectly fine," you repeat and roll your eyes a little, "Don't let it go to your head."

"I wouldn't dream of it, I'm not Kaeya," Diluc jokes, and you laugh a little too loudly.

You quickly turn to check that he hasn't caught up to you, half expecting to hear his witty rebuttal any second, but Kaeya still stands a fair distance behind carrying your book. He holds his spare hand up and waves his gloved fingers when he sees the way that the two of you look to him, as if to say 'yes, I'm still here.' Out of the corner of your eye, you see Diluc wave back - to which Kaeya scoffs and pretends to look at a nearby bird instead.

"He really doesn't like me, does he?" you say.

"Don't take it personally," Diluc replies. "He'll get over it once he realises that you're not so bad."

"Just a spoilt little girl?" you ask him, more teasing than serious - but it feels good to remind him that while you are reasonable enough to forgive the slight, you would not easily forget if it ever happens again.

"No," he pushes his teeth together in slight frustration, refusing to bite the bait that you dangle despite how tempting you make it. "I was wrong. You're a reasonable, beautiful young woman, and much easier to talk to than I expected," he sighs. "I am so sorry for insulting you."

"Thank you," you acknowledge, and decide to draw a line under it. "Shall we start over? Pretend that the past week never happened?"

Diluc's face softens as he smiles, the hair that frames his face catching the breeze to stroke along his cheekbone. "I would like that," he bends down and reaches for the largest cecilia and picks the flower at the stem then holds it out to you. "It's not a bouquet, but... Diluc, a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." He reintroduces himself - no titles, no roles, no expectations to fill - just as a person, just as it ought to be.

"____," you give him your name and take the flower, lifting it to your face to breathe in the sweet floral scent. For all the treasures and gifts you had received throughout your life, nobody had ever brought you a single flower before, nor one as beloved as these. "It is a pleasure to make yours as well."

For half a moment, your nerves fall as silent as the night, and you allow yourself to imagine what it would be like if the two of you weren't of royal blood - a life where love might prevail over duty and where your every word did not have to be part of an elaborate game.

“Are you two done kissing and making up?” Kaeya shouts from afar, and then the thought slips away again, as you're reminded that the pervasive eye of the rest of the world will always find its way back to you. "Not to rush you or anything, but Varka is expecting me."

“Sorry-" Diluc explains to you, "I did not originally plan to invite you here. I forgot that my brother still has his duties... I shall escort you back to the palace now, if it pleases you, your highness?"

"It would," you agree. "My prince."

He holds out his arm, and this time, you finally take it.

< Previous - Next > (Coming Soon!)

quick - catch! *throws a new chapter at you*

I just got home from work, I'm tired, I still haven't played the new update but I'm soooo excited to share this with u guys 💖 xx

Rain patters against the windows of the Royal Library as you patiently wait for the books that you requested. Sitting at one of the mahogany desks beside your brother, you glance out to see the gardens drenched by a sudden April shower. You're glad that you chose to stay inside today.

Tartaglia sighs as he sorts through missives from Liyue, notifying documents that cannot wait for his return to his post, scribbling notes in the margins while you both wait for the Librarian to return. You take a cursory glance, trying not to be too obvious as you read one of the pages from the corner of your eye.

"The Rite of Descension draws near. I implore you to return when you are able, My Prince... While your royal duty is of the utmost importance, your absence has been noted by the Imperial Sovereign Yánwáng and his Tianquan-"

It's all you manage before he folds the paper in half and tucks it into his jacket, his jaw tensing as he looks over his shoulder for the Librarian and then back toward you.

"Where the hell did she go? It's been at least twenty minutes since she left to look for those books." he complains.

"What's the Rite of Descension?" you ask.

"We're here to learn about Mondstadt, not Liyue," Tartaglia rolls his eyes with a tired smile. "Don't read my letters over my shoulder, nosy."

You shrug, "I'm simply passing the time."

"The Rite of Descension is an annual event where the Emperor announces the fiscal policies that Liyue will undertake in the coming year," he answers. "We've had favourable trade terms in place for a number of years now, but the Tianquan has been applying pressure to have tariffs on any Snezhnayan goods that pass through their ports."

"Should you not be there?"

"It would make it easier, but no. You need me more, and I have full confidence in my staff to negotiate a fair agreement on my behalf."

"Then why do they want you to come back so quickly?"

"The Emperor and I get along well," a sad smile paints his face, almost as if he longed to return. "They want me to act as a buffer."

"Do you miss Liyue?"

He pauses for some reason unknown to you, as if he's unsure how to answer the question. He had spent so many years there, his entire adult life, and as much as he had missed his family - he had never felt settled in Snezhnaya.

He was the nation's spare, made for Mondstadt's throne, for designs beyond the Frost Court, and now that duty had been passed along to you.

He finally replies, "... It's become my home away from home." Liyue and it's Emperor was all he had for himself now.

"I wonder if I'll ever feel that way about this place," you say.

Four days have passed since your arrival in Mondstadt, but you still have a gnawing feeling that you may never settle in. You had not met with Diluc since you briefly spoke in the gardens, had not encountered Kaeya or any other Knights that you were familiar with, and the King had been preoccupied with matters of state. You were starting to feel like a ghost wandering from room to room, unnoticed.

"Give it time," he squeezes your hand under the table. "You'll make new friends and find your purpose."

"Here you go, Your Highness..." The librarian reappears from behind a bookcase, her dark violet dress billowing as she quickly steps toward you carrying a stack of leather-bound books. "One copy of 'The Great Landowners of Mondstadt', Dr. Musk's 'Tempests & Tumult'..." she pauses, her heels clicking against the marble as she flips one of the books over to check the cover, "Oh - and a copy of 'Wind & Freedom', outlining the reconstruction period after the rebellion."

You smile as you reach out and take the books, "Thank you, ... Miss?"

"Lisa. I am not of noble birth, just a humble librarian," she grins. "Let me know if there's anything else that you require for your research."

Ever since your meeting with Ambassador Krupp, you have been learning as much as you can before your formal debut, spending hours with your brother going over everything that he already knows, but there are limits to his perspective as a foreign born prince.

"May I take these back to my apartments?" you ask.

"The history books - yes, but not the survey," Lisa answers. "It's an original copy, so please return it to my desk in the condition that you found it in when you are finished."

"In that case, I'll remain here for the time being."

A warm smile breaks across her face, "If it pleases you, Your Highness. I will leave you to enjoy, although that might not be the right word for it."

Tartaglia laughs, "Not a thrilling read, I take it?"

"Only if you're really interested in property valuations, taxes, and who owns what land," she shrugs. "Even though it's my job, you couldn't pay me enough to read it from start to finish. Dr. Musk's work is much more engaging."

You grimace, "Perhaps I'll start with the histories then."

"Wise choice, darling," Lisa laughs. "I should warn you, they don't portray your family in a particularly flattering light at times."

"I figured," you blow out a nervous breath, "but thank you."

You reach for the top of the pile, moving that monster of a book to the side and settling on the even heftier first instalment of the series instead. As good a place to start as any.

The brown leather cover feels firm in your hands as your fingers trace along the title engraved in gold, 'Tempests & Tumult: A History of the Storm Kings from rise to fall, published by Dr. Edith Musk'.

The first page contains an outline of the book's contents, the history of your bloodline summarised within less than twenty chapters before moving on to the rebellion. You aren't sure where to start, if it is best to read the whole text first or skip ahead?

"Why don't you call upon Prince Diluc this afternoon?" Tartaglia asks suddenly.

"I'm busy," you nod toward the tome in your hands, "and besides, it's raining."

"You don't need to go outside to spend time getting to know one another," he laughs.

"How have we managed to find ourselves on this topic again?"

"Because you have not seen him since we arrived," he leans closer, his voice lowered. "You have asked me to help you, and I will where I can... The rest is up to you, sweet sister."

It wasn't intentional. You had not made a particular effort to avoid Diluc, but it was difficult to muster the courage to face him without an official reason, and the longer you left it, the harder it seemed.

"He has been occupied with training the Knights," you shrug.

Your brother scoffs, "Go to him then, give him cause to break away from his duties for one evening."

"Must I do the chasing?"

Why should you shoulder the blame? He had not sought after you either, after all. Initially, you had felt guilt for your part in this, but after a few days, you began to wonder if most men would not have relented so easily at the first hurdle?

"No. It's fine if you are content for your groom to be a stranger to you, it is a political match after all - but I want you to be happy, to find a home here," Tartaglia replies softly. "No matter what has happened between you and the prince, I know that he is a good man who will take care of you."

You purse your lips, "Has Tonia said something?

"Rather frustratingly, No. She is loyal to a fault, that girl," his eyes narrow. "But I can tell that you're both keeping something from me."

"Ajax... I -"

You stop at the sound of approaching footsteps, turning your head to the sound of a messenger's hurried pace.

"Your Highness," a short mousy brown haired boy holds out a sealed envelope to your brother. "I come bearing a message from the Liyue Embassy requesting an urgent meeting!"

"The Liyue Embassy?" he raises a brow. "The Mondstadt branch?"

"Y-yes, my Lord."

"Why bother me when Krupp is right there?" he snatches the envelope from the boy's hand, scowling as he tears it open and reads the first line. "For the love of -"

"Go -" you wave your hand, dismissing him, "I will be fine."

"Are you certain?"

It was clear from his expression that the matter was urgent, something that could not wait or be handled by someone else despite the guilt he may feel for leaving you alone.

"It will be nice to read without you distracting me for a change. I will see you again at dinner."

"You won't." He laughs, giving you an exasperated look as he stands. "They've managed to get a hold of a draft proposal - the Tianquan's office is planning to impose a 40% increase on iron and steel tariffs."

Your jaw drops, "That's - that's outrageously high. Nobody will buy Snezhnayan goods at that price!"

"That's precisely the point. It's blatant protectionism."

You offer him a sympathetic smile, "Good luck!"

"I shall see you and Tonia tomorrow, hopefully. Give her my apologies."

You nod as he leaves, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he outpaces the messenger boy and hurries out of the library. The atmosphere suddenly becomes more muted without him to liven up the room, with no sound but the gentle patter of the rain on the window to fill the void.

You sigh and return your attention to the book, flipping through the pages in the hope that something may jump out at you as important.

You see mention of the founding of Mondstadt - too early, and skip forward a few chapters more. Three generations of history are covered in the first half of the text, from Istaroth The Great to the birth of Decarabian, every triumph and defeat covered in comprehensive detail.

A king dies here, another is born there, so you skim the paragraphs until you start to see names that you recognise.

... Neither Decarabian nor his council initially believed it would take much to keep the Khaenri'ahn forces at bay. Therefore, he decided to send his own son to lead the assault, under the assumption that another great victory would continue to lend legitimacy to his future ascension to the throne.

Prince Rostam had the makings of what many believed would be a great King where his own father sorely lacked, leading many to tolerate Decarabian's inept rule in the hope that his heir would take the throne sooner rather than late.

Famed as the "Wolf Pup", he was an accomplished swordsman by the age of sixteen after he joined the Knights of Favonius as a squire, working his way through the ranks entirely on his own merit to become Captain by twenty. He served the Order faithfully under the leadership of Grand Master Arundolyn, and did not flinch at the prospect of battle.

Eager to defend the Kingdom that would one day be his, he met the Khaenri'ahn forces at the foot of Sal Vindagnyr and made quick work of the soldiers that held it. If he found his victory suspiciously easy, we cannot know, but the joyous cries of Mondstadt's brave cavalry soon devolved into those of despair.

Accounts of the battle vary. However, we know for certain that as the Knights began to search for survivors to claim as prisoners of war, the remainder of the Khaenri'ahn forces emerged from the forest and loosed a flurry of arrows upon the unprepared men-at-arms that had been lured into the open field.

Horses panicked, and men fell by the thousands, as volley after volley rained down upon them, and when the Khaenri'ahn footsoldiers finally rushed from the side - all hell broke loose.

If not for Rostam, then perhaps all hope of victory would have died that day. Instead of calling a hasty retreat, the Prince charged across the field and managed to reorganise his scattered men - pushing back against the vanguard on horseback as the rain began to pour.

The coming storm and heavy armour of the Khaenri'ahn soldiers quickly proved to be their own undoing. Where they sank into the fresh mud and became fatigued, Mondstadt's regrouped cavalry was lighter and more agile, able to knock their way through the enemy lines to break them.

According to the testimony of a young Knight named Roland, upon hearing that Arundolyn had suffered an injury, Rostam pushed his way to the front lines of the fighting until the Grand Master could be dragged to safety, but was struck by a stray crossbow bolt that punched through his thigh.

The battle raged on, but the Prince could not. It did not take long afterwards for what little remained of the Knights of Favonius to finally drive off the enemy, but it was a hollow victory in the end.

The war continued without him. Prince Rostam died nine days later in agony as his wound festered.

He left behind his devoted wife and their daughter. He was only twenty-six years old.

You stop reading. Your stomach twists. You cast your eyes over the illustration of the battle on the adjoining page and see a fierce young man on a reared war horse holding his sword in triumph.

There's so much of your brother in his likeness, the same determined eyes, the sharp curve of his jaw. This man was your Grandfather. The King that never came into his crown.

He never had the chance to see your Mother become Empress of Snezhnaya, to be there when her children were born, to see you return to Mondstadt to marry and begin a new life here.

He had been so young.

You had always heard the stories of how brave and good he was, and you were glad that - for all the animosity toward your family - Mondstadt still remembered him that way too.

... His noble sacrifice saved countless lives that day, but the losses were so deeply felt across the nation - his own especially.

All hope for a future free from Decarabian's more extreme tendencies faded with the beloved Prince, for the King of Gales was now left without an obvious male heir and was consumed by the grief and paranoia that would come to define the later years of his reign.

The people would soon no longer bow to him out of respect or adoration, but because his harsh rule would soon lay them so low.

Your Mother was adamant that your Great-Grandfather had been well within his right to rule as he did, and reminded you all often of that fact: "The country was at war, my father slain, its people unruly and ungrateful. He thought it better to be feared than to be loved, if one cannot have both... It was strength alone that kept Khaenri'ah at bay, for all love ever brought us was loss."

It was hard to say what was right - your Mother's memory or Mondstadt's - but it gives you something to cling to, the hope that perhaps you could convince everyone that Decarabian was the exception, not the rule.

That you could be different too.

“You can’t seriously be looking for a reason to get rid of her?”

Kaeya bristles at Diluc's accusatory tone as they enter the library, his hair still damp from the rain as he tries to avoid traipsing mud across the crimson runner carpet. He had come straight from training the new recruits, who were fewer and scrawnier every year, and even less eager to be performing drills in this weather without their usual Captain Diluc to take the charge.

"I'm not," his wet boots squeak against the floor as he attempts to keep pace with his brother. "I'm just trying to make sure that she isn't a threat to Mondstadt."

Kaeya shivers suddenly, jealous that Diluc has gotten to spend the day inside in the warm and the dry - even if it was not of his own choice. Diluc hasn't even bothered to dress himself up that morning, just wearing a loose black linen blouse over a pair of grey riding trousers, even though he clearly had no intention of heading to the stables.

It had been so long since they looked so mismatched, and while Kaeya usually took every opportunity to toss his coat aside and dress comfortably, it was strange to see Diluc out of his uniform. It makes him look smaller somehow, he thinks to himself, as though stripping back all the layers of ceremony had also taken a part of his pride and strength with it.

"You're overreacting. She's just a girl doing as she is told." Diluc tells him.

"So was her Mother," Kaeya says, "and look how that turned out."

Diluc scoffs as he sharply turns right, making a beeline down the nearest stack of books. "You think she's been sent here to what - marry and murder me?"

"It's one possibility," he shrugs.

"I have no throne to usurp, Kaeya. The council will decide who succeeds my Father."

He raises a brow. "And you don't think she'll try to influence that outcome at all?"

"No more or less than the rest of the council," Diluc grits his teeth and turns again, continuing down the row and quickening his pace. "I'm not naive. I know the way of these things."

"Then why go along with it?"

"Father has asked it of me," Diluc stops. All his life, he had worked so hard that he might become the thing that his Father wanted him to be. He would not know who he was if he didn't. "This alliance is important to him."

Kaeya dismisses, "If that's true, then why do you avoid her?"

Diluc turns to walk away, knowing better than to answer.

He had wanted it so badly - to see the pride on the face of the man who made him, to hear it in his voice finally, and know he truly meant it. Then he saw you, the sorrow that sat behind your gaze every time you looked at him, and for the first time in his life, he realised how easy it could be to fail.

“Look, forget what Father wants just for a second.” Kaeya places his hand on his brother's shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. “Do you want this?”

“Kaeya-”

“Do you want to marry her?”

Did that even matter when you had already made your feelings clear? He daren't allow himself to want anything.

Diluc gently shrugs him off, his head bowed, "It's my duty. What I want is irrelevant."

"Not to me!" Kaeya crosses his arms. "I know you want to make him proud, but that doesn't mean you have to bend to him at every-"

"Don't," he warns.

"What?"

"You know exactly what," he storms off, snatching a random book from the shelf to make himself look busy.

"You joined the Knights to please him, spent your whole life training for it!" Kaeya pursues him. "You're the youngest Captain they've ever appointed, and you're just supposed to walk away?"

"Enough." He exits the shelves and slams the book against the desk without looking up.

Kaeya ignores him. "Don't you think he might respect you more if you stood your ground for once?"

"Fine. I don't want her! Is that what you want to hear? Are you happy now?" Diluc snaps, his pulse thundering in his ears as he whirls on him. "That I wish I didn't have to play the perfect prince to a spoilt little girl that half the country hates?"

Kaeya staggers slightly as he looks past his brother's shoulder, "Shit, Diluc-"

"No Kaeya, you don't get to do that," Diluc scowls. "You can't poke at people and complain when they bite your finger."

"Diluc!" He hisses desperately.

"What?!"

Kaeya says nothing as his eye darts from his brother to the back row of desks beside the window.

Diluc huffs in annoyance as he turns around, half expecting it to be an angry Lisa that interrupts their argument in the sacred quiet of her library, but his stomach lurches when he spots you sat there alone.

You lower your face as if to hide, your trembling hands fiddling with the corner of a page in the book you are reading. Angry tears sting behind your eyes, and you swallow around the lump in your throat as an unwavering wash of shame envelops every fibre of your being.

You had always known that you were less than welcome here, but it ached to hear it so plainly - to be so unknown and reviled by the very man you were bound to. It made you feel small, as though everything you were and ought to be would never matter at all.

For a moment, just one, you almost fool yourself into believing that if you stay perfectly still like this, they would leave and pretend you were not there, but you had no such luck.

"I didn't-" Diluc stumbles over himself, and you can't bear to hear it.

"I'm sorry, I-" your voice cracks, not sure why or what it is that you're apologising for - for overhearing something you shouldn't have, for being in the same space as them, or for even existing at all. "If- if you'll excuse me."

You catch the skirts of your dress on the arm of the chair when you stand, a little too quickly to maintain your composure, and suddenly, you can no longer maintain the flimsy facade that you had kept since your first slip up on day one.

You refuse to look at them, refuse the pity on their faces that will make you feel smaller than a child. You bite down on your lower lip just as you feel a thick tear begin to run down your flushed cheek, as though it could stop any more from falling as you angrily snatch the caught fabric and push the chair aside.

"Your Highness, wait!" Diluc calls out, his footsteps following as he takes a step toward you.

"... Let her go," you hear Kaeya say as you turn and hurry away.

You make it halfway down the corridor before you realise that you have left your books behind. You kick yourself for it, not even willing to consider the prospect of turning around, although you wonder what point there would be in retrieving them now. The damage was done.

It would all be so much simpler if you were able to hate him for it, but who else was there to blame but yourself? If only you had pretended that first night, if you had done what you were supposed to do from the start... How could you blame Diluc for his dislike of you when you hadn't even tried to be likeable?

The Knights posted outside your room glare as you approach, their faces like stone even as you wipe the tears from your face and throw the doors open to find Tonia inside preparing your outfit for dinner.

Her head snaps up with an expectant smile until she sees the look on your own face. "What's happened?"

She strides past you, quickly shutting the doors to prying eyes before she turns to you again. She doesn't flinch when you wrap your arms around her shoulders, desperate to be embraced, to be seen, held, and safe.

In a moment of weakness, you long for the biting cold of the North winds, for the warmth of Zapolarny's hearths, and for the naive peace you had there. But most foolishly of all, you wish for your Mother - for the comfort that she was never quite capable of giving, yet you yearned for all the same.

It feels wrong to want anything from her in light of the way you both parted, especially when Tonia is right here, but even when we find love in other places, it is hard not to hold out for the one that we cannot have.

"I want to go home," you finally admit, a stifled sob settling in the middle of your throat.

"Shh... I know, I know-" she hushes you, her hand coming to cradle the back of your head as you rest in the crook of her neck, as though, in spite of everything, it were a space where you would always belong.  

< Previous - Next > (Coming Soon!)

Sorry for the delay in updating, if you missed my post on tumblr - I got hit by a car at the start of July lol

I'm fine. No major injuries - the guy that hit me cried more than I did at the time. Unfortunately, I’ve been dealing with some chronic muscular pain in my back ever since, and between the painkillers and physiotherapy, writing & editing has just not been my priority tbh 🙃

The ao3 curse got me good this time, but she ain't beating me 👏👏👏

ANYWAYS - more Diluc angst and world building for you, but Kaeya's also back yay!!! and rest assured he will be back to his bratty self in due course ehehe 😈 and fear not! I don't plan to drag the avoiding each other out for much longer, just need to let it marinate a little bit 😏

"This is utterly unacceptable!" The Ambassador hits his palm against the large oak desk. "Your Highness, you are supposed to be an honoured guest of the Ragnvindr Clan. It goes without saying that the reception you received from the Knights was not one befitting your station. It is an insult to your noble family and our proud nation! We must-"

"I find this conversation to be awfully tedious Krupp," Tartaglia cuts in, sighing as he slumps against the chaise lounge that rests in the middle of the office. "I have spoken with the King, and the matter is settled. We do not require your diplomatic expertise."

Ambassador Krupp stands incredulous, swiping his receding brown hair out of his face as if to restore the appearance of restrained fury.

You and your brother travelled a safe distance beyond the boundaries of the palace to visit the grand Snezhnayan embassy, situated within a disused gatehouse leftover from Decarabian's day, with the intention to iron out the details of your upcoming nuptials and dowry.

While you had expected the Ambassador to be annoyed at the manner of your arrival to these shores, you had not anticipated that he would be as incensed as this.

"You are the Ambassador to Liyue, not Mondstadt," he clears his throat. "I do not know how you handle things in your post, but that is not how we conduct matters here. Snezhnaya must not be seen to be so tolerant of insolence. Our rivals will sense weakness."

"We must not be seen to be intolerant either," you interrupt. "No true harm was done. My brother made his dissatisfaction known at the time, and apologies were made. I believe that we should save our outrage for genuine attempts at disrespect."

Ambassador Krupp casts a wary glance in your direction, surprised perhaps that you dared to speak at all. You were a woman after all, as far as he was concerned this was a matter for your brother alone - what insight would you have to offer?

His expression does not change as he replies, "I am sorry to say that you know nothing of the mood in this country, Grand Duchess."

"Mind your tongue before your betters, Ambassador." Tartaglia suddenly stands, his voice thick with threat, "That is my sister you speak to - the future Queen."

"I- I humbly beg your forgiveness," Krupp stumbles over himself. Tartaglia might be a fellow Ambassador, but he is still a Prince too. "I seek only to ensure that you are treated with the dignity that your bloodline rightly deserves. But I must warn you that the people of Mondstadt will not hide the lingering resentment that they have toward your family."

You recall the dirty looks that your own guards gave you, Kaeya's antagonism, the laughter of the women at court, and Diluc's sudden coldness toward you... You had already had your fair share of disdain from your hosts.

"I am aware, Ambassador," you reply.

"Not to the true extent of it, I fear," he sighs, and returns to his seat at his desk. "The riot at the port is just the beginning. If we do not show strength throughout the negotiations, this will escalate further."

"Do you disagree with Her Excellency's decision to send my sister here?"

"Of course not!" Krupp's eyes widen at the accusation that he is anything less than loyal. "It is a bold move that demonstrates the wisdom and clemency of our beloved Tsaritsa. She has risen above the grudges of the past, but perhaps Mondstadt is not ready to."

"How do I convince them then?" you reply, as if to act as a buffer between the two men, "in your humble opinion?"

The Ambassador straightens his collar and sits upright, "Ingratiate yourself with the nobility, make allies of the old houses that supported King Decarabian before the end. Not everyone who fought in the rebellion did so out of belief in their cause alone. Many chose sides based upon who they believed would best further their own agenda."

"What about the common folk?"

Krupp releases an amused laugh before he can catch himself, "They are inconsequential, Your Highness."

"Are they not the ones that started a riot?" you challenge.

"They will support whoever sees them housed and fed best - their loyalty is far more easily bought than that of Lords and Ladies on the council who grasp for more power and prestige."

"I disagree," Tartaglia says, "the common folk are a pillar that hold up the society of any nation - without them the nobility have no standing, no-one to rule over. If they are discontent, then the whole thing falls apart."

"Peasant revolts are easily put down. I believe that your Mother would agree, having faced that herself when her regency began," Krupp pointedly explains. "Privately funded militias or the Knights of Favonius are a different matter."

"You think it would come to that?" You ask.

"I do not," he sighs, "but Decarabian did not either."

"It will not," Tartaglia reassures you. "Do not listen to his fear mongering."

"We should prepare for all eventualities, My Prince."

"Oh but I will," your brother sits upright with the glimmer of a threat in his eye. "My agents will ensure that any plots against us will be nipped in the bud before they can bear fruit. Do not burden my sister with this again."

"Brother -" you warn.

You know that he means well, but does he not see that his attempts to shelter you are leaving you unprepared for the perils that may lie ahead? You cannot depend upon his protection forever - agents or not - he cannot be everywhere at once.  

One day he will return to his post in Liyue; one day you will be left in the care of your disinterested husband-to-be; one day you may be all alone in that palace with no allies to speak of... except for Tonia.

The Ambassador speaks before your brother can reply, "How well did Prince Diluc like her Highness?" before continuing with gritted teeth, "I would have liked to have been there when she was formally presented before him."

Tartaglia answers for you, "It was an informal first impression. He looked pleased. They have not yet had the opportunity to spend much time together, but The King is satisfied and has told me that he believes them to be compatible."

You say nothing. You have not yet told Tartaglia of Diluc's distance towards you in the gardens that morning, nor the words you had exchanged the night before, but you will not be able to hide it for long.

"Good, that makes matters easier," Krupp sighs in relief. "Although, now we must find another opportunity to make her formal debut at court. Your betrothal must be announced publicly, with an appropriate level of decorum this time."

"Let me guess Krupp, you have an event in mind?"

He grins, "Lord Lawrence is hosting a ball at his estate, and everyone who is anybody in this country will be in attendance. He is an esteemed member of the council and an ambitious man from a powerful clan."

"I am unfamiliar with the name," you say.

"I would suggest you open a history book, Your Highness," Krupp replies. "They remained neutral during the rebellion. But, after Barbatos took control, they funded reconstruction efforts and were duly appointed to the council for their efforts."

"You believe we will find an ally in him?"

"More likely to find an opportunist," Tartaglia's face remains deadpan, but he doesn't push back against the idea as strongly as you expect him to, "he stands for nothing but what he can gain. It's risky, but..."

"Then we are in agreement?" Krupp seems surprised.

"Don't get used to it," Tartaglia rolls his eyes and goes to stand, "are we done here?"

"Not quite," He laughs dryly. "I will make the necessary arrangements. In the meantime, I would advise that you both learn more about the current state of the nobility of Mondstadt so that your sister will not be sailing blindly into uncharted waters."

"I know the ancient clans that joined the usurper - " you begin.

"And what of their vassals and holdings?" The Ambassador cuts you short, "their allies and interests? Their rivals and weaknesses?"

Tartaglia replies for you, "The Ragnvindr's of Windwail currently sit the Storm Throne, their most significant vassals are from the Kätzlein clan, respectively, from which they draw most of their political support. Their wealth is derived from Dawn Winery. The Gunnhildr's of Starfell Valley-"

"You've made your point, My Prince."

But your brother continues, as if he were reading direct from a history book and not his own memory, "-have fewer vassals and holdings, yet compensate for this with their close ties to the Knights of Favonius and the church, which is headquartered in the city at Cider Lake. They are staunch supporters of the King and are beloved amongst the people."

"It is all well and good that you know this. Perhaps you would feel inclined to pass this wisdom along to your sweet sister? Before she has the chance to make a fool of herself."

His words sting, but only because you hear the truth in them.

Your brother had been groomed his whole life to become the King of Mondstadt, regardless of how hopeless that cause might've been. He knew every road and river, all the towns and important families that dwelled within, whilst you busied yourself with dresses and balls - all that had been expected from you was frivolous in comparison.

You were born to sit quietly, to become a pretty prize for your royal parents to use as leverage, to be bestowed upon an ally as reward for their leal service to finally pop out his little heirs too.

Your engagement to Diluc had clearly not been planned from the start, it seems, and now a combination of your brother's overprotectiveness and your own underpreparedness left you completely exposed.

"Mind your tongue if you would like to keep it, Ambassador." Tartaglia warns.

"Ajax," you plead, defeated. "That's enough."

"He has no right to speak to us this way," your brother looks at you exasperated, "This joke of an Ambassador feigns offence at our host, but has the audacity to address you in that manner?"

"He's right, though!" you snap. "What Krupp lacks in decorum, he makes up for in common sense. I am not ready to become this country's Queen... Your own knowledge far exceeds my own."

"I beg your forgiveness for any impoliteness on my part," the Ambassador makes a show of his apology, bowing with an ingenuine smile. "It is my desire to see our Grand Duchess become Queen one day, and she will need more than her blood to put her there."

"What will I do when you return to your post?" you reason. "Am I to stand alone in the eye of the storm, as Decarabian did once all his allies had abandoned him?"

"My agents will-" Tartaglia begins.

"Our Mother - his own blood - did not aid him!"

"That was the Tsar's decision. Her hands were tied," he releases a frustrated sigh. "I will not abandon you, and neither will she - you have my word."

There had always been whispers that this had been what sealed the Tsar's fate in the end, that this is what led your Mother to plot against him and seize his throne for herself. Treasonous slanders, that you dare not repeat in public - but you and your brother knew the cold truth of it.

The Tsaritsa would not sit back and suffer betrayal from Mondstadt again.

"I know," you admit, "but I'm not a child anymore. If I am to marry Diluc Ragnvindr, I must understand what I am walking into. I was sent here to bring peace between our nations, not to be the cause of a war."

Tartaglia's face softens with an odd combination of pride and grief, as if he himself isn't quite sure what to think of it.

"I'll make sure that you aren't at a disadvantage," he gives you a solemn nod, by way of an apology.

"Thank you."

Your attention is pulled away as Krupp clears his throat, "In this case, I believe that we are done here for today. Shall I proceed with the necessary arrangements, Your Highness?"

You stand and straighten your neck, holding your head high as if you hadn't just been humiliated

"If you would be so kind, Ambassador," you curtly reply.

"Once that is done, there is no need to bother us with your insolence again Krupp," Tartaglia adds, picking up his coat and holding out his arm for you to take. "We will summon you if we require anything further."

"Of course, My Prince," The Ambassador sneers, unable to hide his disdain as he answers with a bow. "For the glory of Snezhnaya! Long live the Tsaritsa!"

You place a hand against your brother's shoulder and nudge before he can say anything more, a silent plea for him to drop it for now. He releases an infuriated breath, shaky but restrained, and leads you out of the room without another word.

There are certain hills that you should not be so keen to die on after all, when there are still battles to face ahead.

Crepus coughs again as he removes his cloak, pouring himself another goblet of wine from the pitcher left on the table in his chambers. He drinks long and deep in the hope that it might ease the hoarseness in his throat, his skull aching as he steps out onto the balcony to feel the fresh air against his skin.

The sun hangs low in the late afternoon sky, languidly watching over the city as the people continue about their day in peace. A gentle breeze eases the heat as the King gazes down at the gate, catching a glimpse of you and your brother returning.

Crepus almost doesn't hear the faint knock at his door, turning to see the footman allow Prince Diluc inside.

"Father," he bows his head with a smile as Crepus beckons for him to join him outside. "You wished to see me?" The King had been arguing with the council again, the strain of it plain in his face, but he still looked at his Father expectantly, eager to serve, even more eager to please.

Diluc had always been the diligent son, never one for tantrums or following his empty whims - good qualities that built the foundation for the man that he might one day become, the man that Mondstadt needed him to be, so much more than he currently was.

"Have you been training today?" he asked Diluc as casually as he could manage.

"Of course."

"Good." Crepus nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Have you called upon the Grand Duchess, at all?"

"I haven't had the opportunity,"

He tells a half-truth. He had been too busy to see you, although that was entirely on purpose. The air grows thick between them then, Diluc stiffening slightly as he anticipates the lecture that is sure to come.

The King sighs, "Does the bride that I have found for you displease you?"

"No," Diluc releases a nervous breath. "She's beautiful. You have chosen well."

"Then why do not you find the time to go to her?"

She doesn't want me, Diluc's chest tightens at the thought of saying it aloud - of breathing life into something he desperately wished was untrue, of admitting that he had failed at the first hurdle, that he still wasn't enough.

"I don't wish to pester her," another half-truth. "She must surely be tired from the long journey."

"She looks well enough to me." Crepus looks toward the gate below again, just in time you see you and your brother strolling up the immense driveway leading back toward the palace proper. He lets out a low disapproving hum that makes Diluc's spine itch.

"Father -"

"We need this alliance, Diluc," Crepus leans against the railing, head lowered as he speaks. "... I think it might be best for you to take a step back from your duties for a while. It commands too much of your focus these days, I think."

Diluc swallows, "You want me to leave my post?"

"Temporarily, at least until after the wedding -"

"I thought you wanted me to be a Knight?" he interrupts, almost pleading, "Father... Is that not the path that you set out for me?"

"One path may yet lead to another..." Crepus sighs and scratches his beard, finally finding the courage to look his son in the eye. "I encouraged you to become a warrior, yes, but not just for honour's sake-" he told him. "A good ruler ought to know the men who swear their hearts and swords to follow him, to fight for him, and perhaps one day die for him."

Diluc's eyes widen as he meets his King's determined gaze, the air between them suddenly weighted with unspoken expectation. His voice goes quiet, "But the council decides -"

"That they do," Crepus speaks over him, "but many of them are not soldiers, and they'll not remain loyal to a stranger either. It is not enough for you to be a warrior now. A king cannot rely on might alone. You must learn to foster alliances and navigate politics, too."

Diluc's jaw clenches, as if it took every ounce of his strength not to scream, "... What would you have me do?"

His two boys were so different, walking side by side without noticing that they were already set upon different paths. If Crepus bid them both to jump they would do it - but only Kaeya would stop to ask why, Diluc would consider nothing beyond how high he had to leap to meet his Father's expectations. It is a good thing, he once thought, that they have each other for balance - but in this moment, he suddenly knows the fear that all fathers have for their children, the uncertainty of what would become of them both once he was gone."You must prove yourself, that you are worthy, capable, and strong," Crepus' tone finally softens, as if it would make the words any easier to hear. "I will not always be here to guide you, my son... I cannot hand your destiny to you. That answer is something that you must find for yourself."

The distant lights of the streets below begin to dim as Mondstadt finally succumbs to the lull of night, the last bells in the clock tower ringing hollow as the city gates close one last time.

Kaeya stands on the balcony at the edge of the observatory, looking down at the storm city from above with a growing sense of unease, the roaring winds unusually settled as the air hangs stagnant and thick around him.

He's awake later than usual in spite of his exhaustion, absent-mindedly watching the way the stone columns leave long shadows across the bridge and water below, all the contrast and colour of the world dimmed in the cold moonlight.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Crepus speaks softly from behind, almost as if he's reluctant to disturb him as he leans forward and rests against the stone railing.

Kaeya wonders how it's even possible that this is the same moon he used to watch back home all those years ago. Everything is so different now - so much has changed, so much is about to change again - but as if nothing phases him, he turns to the King and replies with an empty smile.

"What? Is that all that they're worth to you? You wound me."

Crepus chuckles, "Well you have so many that if I paid what they're worth, I'd be a poor man."

They had always gotten along well like this, but Crepus still remembers the scared young boy that he found alone on the side of the road all those years ago. Soaked to the bone from the rain, shoes worn through and covered head to toe in scratches and dirt, the child that had been sobbing as he clung to a sword too big to carry, his face half covered with a tattered eyepatch that he refused to take off.

Back then, he had been small and skinny enough to scoop up, and Crepus had done exactly that by wrapping him in his black cloak for warmth. He carried that boy all the way back to his estate without a second thought - and now he stands before him, grown into a strong and fine young man, into something to be proud of.

Has it truly been twelve years already?

"Watch that your smart mouth doesn't get you into too much trouble," he continues with a smile, raising his hand to squeeze Kaeya's shoulder. "Why didn't you join us earlier?"

He shrugs, "Didn't want to intrude."

"You are just as much of a son to me as my own flesh and blood, Kaeya. Your presence is never an intrusion," he sighs. "But you already know that."

He does know, and that is the part that hurts the most.

"How did it go?" Kaeya changes the subject before the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach can make him falter.

"She seems lovely, well-mannered... I think that she could suit him well," Crepus nods. "I'm optimistic."

Kaeya raises a brow. He doesn't entirely agree.

You had been incredibly lovely, were certainly nice enough to look at when he first saw you on that beach. But your manners? He knows that it's probably just another mask for you to hide behind, if he just poked and prodded a little more, it would slip easily enough.

Diluc hadn't even had to push that hard to get you to admit the truth. You didn't want anything to do with this place.

"And her brother?" Kaeya pushes.

"Cares a great deal for her. He made that quite clear in our discussions after you left."

Overprotective, perhaps even willing to risk this tentative alliance if he could get away with it, that was the vibe that Kaeya felt every single time that they had met before today. He had seen it in strides throughout the journey here too.

"And how badly do we need them to stay?"

"Kaeya-" Crepus warns. "You know that we may need their army."

"We have the Knights to defend Mondstadt," he says.

"It's not enough," his head lowers. "If the reports are true, if Khaenri'ah is preparing for war again... We won't be enough. It took an alliance of nations to hold them back last time. They may be weaker now but we cannot risk underestimating them again, especially with that damned cult in charge."

Kaeya stiffens, jaw tightening at memories he'd rather not recall, "So instead you'll risk everything by getting into bed with Snezhnaya? Just like Decarabian?"

Crepus stands up straight again, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as if to calm himself, "I didn't come to argue about politics with you, I get enough of that in every council meeting."

"You're the one that asked for my thoughts," Kaeya holds his hands up.

The King lets out a dry laugh, "More fool me."

The last war with Khaenri'ah had been catastrophic, leaving entire kingdoms torn apart by the time that the Eclipse dynasty finally collapsed, leaving behind a fractured and embittered people driven by a fervent desire to avenge their homeland at any cost.

So many bargains had been made and broken during that time, and even though close relations between the seven nations had faltered since, Snezhnaya had been more than happy to fill the void of power that Khaenri'ah left behind.

The Storm King had depended on them to deter his rivals, to the point that he had brokered a marriage pact between his granddaughter and their future Tsar, but what good had that done him at the end? That Tsar was eventually deposed by his darling Tsaritsa, and Decarabian too lost his throne.  

"I don't trust them," Kaeya says.

"Neither do I entirely," Crepus quietly admits. "But I do know that I can count on you to watch your brother's back."

For once, Kaeya doesn't say anything. He allows his finger to trace a small crack in the stone railing that he hadn't noticed before, and takes a deep breath before he turns to his adoptive father with a forced smile.

You wake up the next morning in an unfamiliar room.

After you and Diluc parted ways so suddenly, you hadn't paid much attention to your surroundings before undressing and burying yourself in the bed to wallow for the rest of the evening. Tonia had not come to attend you and Tartaglia did not return to his chamber until late, so you quietly wept alone until sleep finally claimed you.

You keep your eyes shut as the early morning light peaks its way through a gap in the thick blackout curtains. Nestling your face against the silk pillowcase with a groan as you pull the duvet over your head, the sound of distant bells ringing reminds you that you are not in the Winter Palace anymore.

There's a gentle knock at the door, the sound of a lock clicking open, and then the rattle of a serving trolley to signal that it's time to start the day.

"Your Highness?..." A sweet feminine voice calls out, "Your Highness?"

You decide not to move, pretending that you are still asleep in the hope that whoever this is will just go away and leave you to rot in bed for the rest of the day. You are too tired, too worn, to do anything else.

The voice calls out again, a little louder now as you hear footsteps approaching the bed.

"What?" your voice is raspy and heavy with sleep.

"I have brought your breakfast and fresh tea," the voice replies.

"What time is it?"

"Just past six, would you-"

You groan, "Nooo...", and pull the covers even further over your head, deciding that this person is far too perky for this time of the day.

"I- I'm afraid I cannot leave, Your Highness," she stumbles over her words a little before clearing her throat and starting again. "I am under strict orders to tend to your every need."

You lift your head from under the sheets and squint at the misguided petite woman that stands at the side of the bed, dressed as a maid with her soft young face framed by short pale hair, watching you with bright olive eyes and an eager smile.

"What happened to the attendant that I brought with me?" you ask.

"I am not sure."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Noelle, maid of the Knights of Favonius," she introduces herself with a curtsey. "It's my pleasure to serve you during your stay. Should you encounter any problems at any point, please do not hesitate to call me and I will be delighted to provide you with my full assistance."

You pick up on the first part of her introduction and furrow your brow, "The Knights? Have they sent you to report on me?"

"N-no, Your Highness - I would never!" A sudden flash of panic stretches across her face, almost as if she’s half horrified that you would even suggest it and half afraid that she has displeased you in any way, waving her hands out in front of her as if it were possible to sweep your words away. “I assure you that I have no ill intent. Prince Diluc is the one that instructed me to come!”

"Alright... In that case, my first request is that you go and find my attendant Tonia - you will help her. Please bring her to me so that we can have breakfast together."

Noelle blinks, "... You wish to eat with your attendant?"

"And my brother - but take care when you wake him," you warn, "he was up late with the King."

Noelle bows, and you breathe a sigh of relief once she closes the door behind her. Falling back against the pillows, you stare up at the high ceiling as your tired eyes trace the outlines of the ornate white and silver Cecilias painted along the edge of the fresco.

Unlike the rest of the palace so far, your bedroom isn’t decorated with the colours of the Ragnvindr clan - the curtains, carpets, and sheets on the bed all remain neutral and inoffensive - and the furnishings are relatively few and far between.

It seems as if they made sure to leave room for your own belongings, so that you may decorate the space as you please, although you don’t imagine that you will be occupying it for long. You can’t help but grimace as you wonder if you will still have your own space once you’re married, or if you will have to share with your new husband.

Wearing nothing more than a chemise, you trudge to the adjoining bathroom and notice a porcelain bathtub surprisingly large enough to fit multiple people at the centre of the room; a privacy screen tucked away at the side of the toilet; and an ornate full body mirror fixed to the wall at the far end of the room.

Out of curiosity, you turn one of the faucets to test the plumbing and are glad when the water runs warm, making a note to bathe after breakfast as you dry your hands on a soft cotton towel.

It doesn’t take long for Noelle to return with Tonia and your brother in tow. Both look as if they have barely slept when you greet them in the Drawing room.

“It’s nicer than mine,” Tonia smiles. “Shall I open the curtains, let the light in?”

“No. For the love of - it’s too early,” Tartaglia winces, allowing himself to slump against the cushions of the cream settee.

“Hungover?” You ask.

“I forgot how much harder wine hits you the next day.”

“There is fresh tea and food if it pleases you,” Noelle reminds you all, bowing her head, “or perhaps a glass of water?”

“Thank you, Noelle,” you reply, and watch as she hurries to collect the trolley and wheel it over to the low oak table that you are all gathered around.

“Will you be joining us?” Tonia asks her.

“I-” Noelle laughs nervously, caught off guard. “I’m simply here to serve.”

"The Knights sent her," you explain, giving your brother a knowing look.

"Well, in that case," his face alights with a false smile as he beckons for Noelle to sit beside him. "Please, Miss Noelle, grant us the pleasure of your company and tell us more about our ancestral homeland."

He's laying it on a bit too thick, subtlety never being one of his stronger traits, but it's clear that he's found an opportunity in your new attendant.

If the Knights had sent her to gather information on you, gaining her trust could be advantageous - although you don't intend to involve yourself in any political scheming for the time being.

"I have already eaten, Your Highness," she politely declines, remaining stood beside the trolley. "But if you have any questions about Mondstadt, I will be honoured to answer them to the best of my ability and knowledge."

You have to stifle a laugh, glad that she is not easily beguiled by blatant flattery, and take a seat in the armchair at the head of the small coffee table as Noelle begins to pour the tea.

"We didn't get to enjoy much of the country as we were travelling, apart from the palace and the vineyards, what else is there to see?" he asks.

"Well I suppose that there are the Windwail Highlands and Dragonspine Mountain - but for someone as well travelled as yourself, Your Highness, I am sure that man-made endeavours are of more interest?" Noelle begins, "construction of the Grand Cathedral at Cider Lake has recently been completed. They are due to open in time to host Ludi Harpastum."

"Ludi Harpastum?" you join in.

"Yes, King Barbatos introduced it after the rebellion -" she pauses to see your reactions, but Tartaglia maintains a straight face as she begins to pour the tea. "It is a festival that lasts fifteen days, to commemorate our songs, wine, and new-found freedom."

You take a sip, deciding to give Noelle a grateful smile before placing the cup back down on the table, "And how do the people celebrate?"

"There are games and performances throughout the carnival, at the end the champion gets to choose a maiden who will then throw the Harpastum into the crowd. Whoever catches the ball will be blessed for the coming year."

Tonia sighs, "Sounds romantic."

"I suppose that it is," Noelle smiles. "Many do choose their sweethearts - although last year, Prince Diluc chose a small girl in a red dress. He picked her up and she threw the ball from his shoulders. It was very sweet."

"He was the champion?" you ask.

"Yes, and the year before too. He is the favourite to win again this year as well so perhaps he will choose you as his maiden, Your Highness."

You doubt that very much, especially after what you said to him last night.

You will have to find a way to repair the damage your words may have caused before your brother or the King find out. Your personal feelings aside - the relationship between your two nations depended upon your union now.

"That's if he wins," Tartaglia's competitive streak thankfully tears you away from your thought. "I think that I would have a good chance."

"Ignore his boasting," you tell Noelle, rolling your eyes. "Thank you for the tea."

Noelle bows low and continues to serve you as the conversation moves along. She keeps to herself, and the rest of you plan to walk the grounds of the palace before you meet with the Snezhnayan Ambassador later today.

Your arrival had been anything but conventional - no pomp and circumstance as had been expected - and while you certainly didn't mind, your country's embassy would likely take offence on your Mother's behalf unless you and your brother smoothed things over.

Tartaglia departs ahead of you, leaving Tonia to help you dress and ready yourself for the day while Noelle returns whatever's left of breakfast to the kitchens.

Soon enough, you both leave your chambers and cautiously glance at the guards that must've been posted outside your room while you slept. You feel unsettled when they narrow their eyes and cast a disapproving look as you walk past.

"Good morning," Tonia smiles at them anyway, probably determined to wear them down with kindness.

You make your way down the grand staircase once again, this time noticing the carved marble statues of former Kings that line the walls of the vestibule, until you come across an empty alcove at the end of the row.

You stop to look at the remnants of whoever once filled this space, half of an intricately chiselled boot that looks as if it had been smashed at the ankle. It doesn't take much for you to guess that it had been Decarabian who was removed from the line up.

It surprises you that Mondstadt seems so eager to erase any trace of him. Back home, every Tsar and Tsaritsa - the great and the terrible - are all as revered in death as they had been in life.

"Going somewhere, Princess?"

You hear a voice ring out from across the hall, quickly turning to see Kaeya leaning against the doorway where he watches the two of you from afar.

He's dressed in his uniform again, his face a little tired but still as sharp as ever. He tips his head forward ever so slightly to greet you, as if he couldn't be bothered to bow any further.

You let him have an inch yesterday because you were exhausted, but now it seems he's content to take a mile.

"Do they not teach manners in this country, Sir Kaeya?" you ask. You might need him to like you to stay on Diluc's good side, but that doesn't mean that you will let him walk all over you. "I thought that it was customary to say 'good morning' and use the correct titles when you greet someone?"

"Is it a good morning, Your Highness?" he replies, his tone shifting to something more coy. "Are you sure that there isn't somewhere else that you would rather be?"

Diluc had definitely heard what you said then, and certainly told Kaeya all about it afterwards. So much for the 'just between us' he had promised you last night.

You straighten and take a deep breath, holding yourself back from biting at the obvious bait. Clearly your fiancé's right hand man had a low opinion of you right now - no need to make it lower.

"The gardens," you say.

"Hmm?"

"I'd rather be in the gardens," away from you, you think. "I hear that they are lovely in the spring. Tonia and I were just leaving, if you will excuse us."

"Well then, allow me to show you the way," Kaeya pushes off the doorway and begins to walk toward you, his steps graceful and even against the parquet floor. "Giving you a tour sounds far more entertaining than any of the usual Favonius stuff."

"If you have matters to attend to, I'm quite sure that we can find our own way."

"It can wait."

You steal a glance at Tonia, who gives you a shrug as you both begin to follow, walking a few steps behind the Knight into a long corridor that leads to a set of giant glass doors.

Stepping out onto an enormous patio overlooking the grounds at the back of the palace, you notice fields full of crisp white cecilias as far as the eye can see, and see a winding gravel pathway that cuts  through the ocean of flowers that Kaeya seems to be leading you toward.

"Like what you see?" he turns to look back at you.

You gasp, "It's beautiful..."

A smug grin creeps across his face, "I was talking about the flowers."

"I know," you smile slightly as you answer, cautiously looking him up and down as you consider what game he’s trying to play, whether his comment is nothing more than a playful jab or an attempt to trip you up. "There’s nothing else worth looking at here."

If he were a lesser man, he might bite back against your insult, but to his credit, his face doesn’t falter as he chuckles to himself and begins to walk forward again without another word.

It seems that he can take it just as well as he dishes it out.

You pay it no mind as you continue to wander through the garden of cecilias, taking in the light sweet scent that drifts along the breeze as you approach the end of the path.

“Did you rest well after yesterday’s journey, Sir Kaeya?” Tonia asks him, perhaps to prevent an awkward silence.

“Hmm?” he turns his head and slows his pace slightly. “Not really. I found it difficult to fall asleep, and even harder to wake, but I hope that you fared better?”

She beams at him, but makes sure to keep pace slightly behind you. “Yes, I am somewhat recovered. Thank you for keeping me company during the last stretch.”  

“It was my pleasure, Miss Tonia. How did you find your sleeping arrangements?”

“Very… snug.”

"Ah yes, the servants' quarters probably aren't as grand or comfortable as your Grand Duchess' room, I suppose."

You purse your lips at the comment, unsure if it's supposed to be a test for you or for Tonia, or if he's just trying to get a rise out of you for fun.

“You aren’t very friendly towards me,” you say, deciding that now is not the time to shrink yourself to appease others.

“I’m a Knight," he smirks. "I’m not your friend, Princess."

“But you are Diluc's…” If he wants a game, you are more than happy to play. “How did the two of you meet?”

Kaeya remains nonchalant, “You could ask him”

“I could, but he isn’t here,” you shrug. "how long have you known each other?"

"Since we were children. We were raised together. Joined the Knights together."

"Raised together? You're high-born then?"

His nostrils flare, "High enough."

"Which clan are you from?"

"Does she always ask this many questions?" he turns to Tonia.

"Of course," Tonia smiles, and defers back to you.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

His voice drips with sarcasm, "Oh, not at all."

"I am glad. I wouldn't want to offend you."

"Now, now Princess... I am not so easily riled," Kaeya gives you a look, as if in challenge. "It takes more than that to get under my skin."

"That is good to know, Sir Kaeya," you offer him a playful smile as Tonia struggles to hide her amusement. "Are you married?"

"No. Why? Are you interested in my hand, Princess?" he plays along.

"I am already betrothed," you remind him.

Kaeya stops and smirks, blocking the path and shifting his weight from one leg to the other, still unsure what to make of you and your line of questioning.

"Yet you're asking questions about me and not your husband-to-be?"

"It would be rude to speak of him when he isn't present, don't you think?" you say. "I was just curious about the company that he keeps, and so far, you have told me everything I need to know."

He scoffs, "I've answered hardly any of your questions."

"Exactly," you straighten your back and take a single step forward. "That tells me that you do not like or trust me, and that you do not approve of the match."

"You catch on quick," he bites.

"Rest assured, Sir Kaeya," Tonia interrupts, "The Grand Duchess and her family bear no ill will towards you or this country. She is simply doing her duty."

"Tonia -" you warn.

It is not her place to defend you like that, although you are quietly grateful for it all the same.

As a servant, most would admonish her for speaking out of turn, but thankfully, Kaeya doesn't seem offended. His expression softens ever so slightly, as if he's suddenly shamed at the reminder that this goes beyond far personal friction.

It is politics. Peace or war. The prosperity of nations.

His voice is subdued now, resigned, as he looks at her and replies, "Aren't we all?"

Your growing frustration peters out at that admission, and you remember that to him and everyone else in this country - you are the outsider here, the problem to be solved.   

"... Prince Diluc is lucky to have a friend who cares for him so loyally," you offer him an olive branch and watch hoping that he takes it, but Kaeya says nothing. You sigh, and decide to press ahead. "I hope that in time, you will come to change your mind about me."

Tonia follows as you step off the path to walk around him, putting your back to him as quickly as possible before he can see the disappointment on your face. Her fingers brush against yours so subtly that any onlooker wouldn't notice, but you know that it's her way of reassuring you, to tell you that no matter what, she is there.

"A brother -" Kaeya calls out after you.

You stop and turn, the confusion clear in your expression.

"You asked which clan I belong to," he lifts his chin. "Diluc is a brother to me. I was adopted by the King, after my own Father..."

His throat bobs as his words trail off, the silence speaking for itself. You suddenly feel awful for the prying questions you asked just to get a rise out of him.

Your voice feels thick, "I'm sorry for your loss."

You also understand what it is like to be without a Father - after the Tsar died and your mother took his throne - although you doubt that Kaeya cares to receive your condolences after everything you've carelessly said.

"What's done is done," his lips press together. "I joined the Ragnvindr clan by choice, not blood, but they are still kin to me."

"I suppose that you and I will have that in common then."

"One big happy family?" he laughs, the light in his eye a distant glimmer now, fleeting yet still there.

You latch onto that hope despite how well he hides it. Like him or not, if you can win him over it would make everything else here so much easier to face.

"... I should get back. I've strayed from my duties long enough," Kaeya raises his thumb to point back toward the palace. "I'll leave you two to the gardens."

You nod, "Thank you for your company, Sir Kaeya."

"Turn left at the end of the path, otherwise you'll end up in the hedge maze - wouldn't want to have to send out a search party for you lovely ladies if you get lost."

He bows his head, slightly lower than when he first greeted you this morning, and does not wait to be dismissed before he turns and heads back the way that you came. There's nothing hurried about it; strolling as if he had nowhere better to be in spite of what he had told you, and you find your attention lingering on him long after he is gone.

But the sound of Tonia's voice pulls you out of it, "I'm sorry for speaking out of turn... I just-"

"Don't be silly. You know that I don't care about things like that," you laugh it off, and continue down the path together, "I'm glad that Kaeya didn't seem to care either, but we must be more careful going forward - others could be less forgiving and try to put you in your place, and I might not always be in a position to defend you."

"I know," she sighs, "people will think it odd if you choose a servant's side over a Lord or Lady."

"I hate it as much as you," you remind her.

Tonia gives you a small smile that tells you that she's thankful, but that you could never truly understand what it's like to be in her position.

"He's a good man, I think," she says.

"Kaeya?" you ask, and she nods. You raise a brow. "... Handsome too?"

"____!" Her cheeks flush.

"I saw the way you looked at him in the courtyard last night! All smiley and moon-eyed," you tease her, enjoying the levity the privacy of the gardens affords you. "You rode with him in the procession?"

"It was nothing," she downplays, but the shy smile remains on her face. "It was just a friendly conversation."

"I think he likes you better than I anyway. What did you discuss?"

"Nothing special. He just asked me about home, how I came into your service... If you and Ajax were kind to me," Tonia playfully bumps your shoulder. "I think he was trying to suss you out more than anything... I also asked him about his eye."

"Was he in some kind of accident?" you ask.

"He told me that he inherited it from his grandfather, who was a pirate."

"Oh, of course he did," you scoff, his unseriousness knew no bounds.

She snickers, "So... if he did want to dock in my port, he'd have to be nicer to you first."

"Tonia!" you gasp, pretending to be scandalised.

"Oh, come on! If our places were swapped, don't tell me that you would turn him down if he offered to warm your bed."

"If he had any shame, he wouldn't ask," you throw her a playful grin.

Tonia throws one right back, teasing you as she sings, "That wasn't a no~"

You roll your eyes at her when you arrive at the end of the path, turning left just as Kaeya instructed, and find yourselves stepping though an ornate marble archway into an open training yard. A group of twenty young Knights spar with one another, practice swords in hand, dressed in rough black leathers as they repeat the same basic manoeuvres.

You see a small gathering of onlookers, mostly women, adorned in all their courtly finery as they titter and watch the scene unfold. At the front of the group stands an astonishingly beautiful Lady wearing an exquisite silver dress; her pale blue hair is tied in place with a silk ribbon, and the other ladies appear almost deferential to her.

Whoever she is, she must come from an influential family.  

You wonder what it is that has her attention, and follow her gaze toward the small platform where a familiar figure stands watching over the proceedings. In the sunlight, Diluc's red hair practically blazes as it hangs loose past his shoulders, even more striking than it had been the night before.

"Shit... It's him."

You feel your mouth dry out. Had Kaeya known that Diluc was out here when he told you which way to go? That bastard.

"One two, one two - Parry!" his voice carries across the courtyard, confident and commanding. "Again! Keep your swords up this time!"

"That's the Prince?" Tonia blinks, not even attempting to hide her awe. "He's... he's gorgeous."

You swallow and answer, "Yes."

Within seconds, all of the nerves from before return with a vengeance, your stomach dropping at the memory of last night. Maybe if you left now before he notices, you'll have some more time to prepare before facing him again.

"Did something happen last night? Ajax said everything was fine when you left."

"Nothing happened," you reply too quickly, and know that Tonia sees right through it. "I just... He asked me if I chose to come here to marry him, and I panicked and said no. Then I shut the door behind me before he could say anything else and-"

"You did what?"

Diluc turns his head at the sound of her raised voice, and so do the rest of the onlookers. So much for sneaking away unnoticed.

"Tonia, keep your voice down!" You hiss.

"Sorry, sorry- " she makes a show of bowing her head to you for the benefit of the witnesses before furiously whispering instead, "You did what?"

You lock eyes with Diluc from across the courtyard, his handsome face betraying no emotion at all, but he lingers on you a moment too long for it to be a cursory glance. You watch as he draws in a deep breath and lets it out, then turns his attention back to his men and begins issuing commands again.

"No wonder Kaeya was acting like that then," she says.

You groan, "I was tired, and he just sprang the question on me."

"But you didn't have to tell him the truth!"

The beautiful noble woman also stares at you, offering a sneering smile as she bows her head in acknowledgment as expected, before she looks back toward Diluc and whispers in the ear of one of her companions.

The group of women giggle, and you feel the prickle of embarrassment heat your face when you see the way that they all gawk at you - it doesn't take much to deduce that you were the butt of whatever joke or disparaging comment was made.

Perhaps Kaeya's approval is the least of your problems.  

"So I'm to lie then?" you frown, "to pretend for the rest of my life?"

"Has he given you reason to dislike him?"

"No."

"Then why would you need to pretend?" she asks, her voice softening. "Would loving him be so impossible?"

You don't answer. You don't know how to truly.

You watch him as he brings the training to a close, thanking his men for their hard work and giving them feedback on how they could stand to improve. He carries himself with a dignity that is so rare amongst men so young, and has been nothing but courteous since the moment you met... So why are you still so hesitant?

"It's early days," Tonia continues. "All will be well."

You turn to her and laugh, unsure, "I'll trust you."

"I'm never wrong, in fact I- oh fuck, he's coming over."

The instinct to look overrides your sense of subtlety, your neck snapping up to see Diluc walking toward you after dismissing his trainees. His face is the picture of disinterest as he makes his approach, so much so that it's a surprise when he comes to a stop and greets you.

"Grand Duchess."

None of the warmth from last night is present in his voice, and your stomach drops. Had his behaviour during your first meeting been all for show? Or had your admission disappointed him?

"Good morning, My Prince," you curtsey.

You may not have made your mind up about being glad to marry him, but you didn't want him to think that you were rude.

"Good morning," he bows at the neck, smiling and polite, but you still catch the mournful look in his eyes before he turns to Tonia and greets her too, "and a good day to you as well, Miss."

"G-good day, Your Highness!" she stumbles over her words and curtseys, caught off guard, as if she expected to be overlooked as usual.

Diluc gives an approving nod, before looking back at you as if he has something to say. You both pause, but the moment passes, and he seems to lose whatever willingness remains.

"I am sure that I shall see you later... If you'll excuse me."

"What the hell was that?" Tonia hisses after he steps around you to continue down the path, returning to the palace as if nothing had happened.

"I - I don't know," you force a smile so that none of the onlookers suspect that anything is wrong, your chest tightening at the thought that it might be all your fault. "Do you think he's upset about last night?"

Tonia returns the look, maintaining the facade as she waves a dismissive hand, "No... I'm certain he's just busy," she laughs nervously, "yes, lots of knightly duties and... things."

"Thank you Tonia."

"For what?"

You laugh bitterly, "For always finding a way to put a positive spin on my downward spiral."

"It is my duty to keep you as delusional as possible," she curtsies for you again and tilts her head to the other end of the courtyard. "Come now, let us finish our tour of the gardens before Ajax spoils our fun and comes looking for us."

"Are we nearly there yet?" Tonia whines weakly, closing her eyes and leaning back into the leather seat.

You notice the way that her face pales as the wheels of the carriage catch against loose stones and overgrown roots, every bump in the neglected road making her feel more nauseous than the unsettled waves of the open sea ever had.

Tartaglia peels the curtain back ever so slightly to reveal the amber hues of dusk that now paint the horizon, "Another hour at least," he tells her with a sympathetic smile and lets the fabric fall again.

"Where are we?" you ask, reaching for the curtain and pulling it back completely to get a better look outside.

"Close it. We don't want anyone to see -" your brother objects but you ignore him.

The wind is more settled here compared to the rough gales that carve their way along the coast. A gentle spring breeze bristles through sprawling vineyards that stretch as far as the eye can see, leading up to a grand manor that sits atop the hill a short distance from the road, bathed in the last golden light of the day

"... It's beautiful," you whisper to yourself, a strange lump forming in your throat. This is the ancestral homeland of your family - your mother - and yet it feels so foreign to you.

"Dawn Winery," he replies, drawing the curtain himself when he sees one of the workers in the field look up towards the procession. "It's monopoly is at the heart of Mondstadt's economy. As long as the wine flows from here, coin shall continue to trickle into the treasury - enriching the kingdom and the Ragnvindr clan alike."

"The King owns it then?" you ask.

"It's been in his clan for generations, even before the rebellion," he explains. "In the event that your fiancé isn't chosen to succeed his father, you are sill marrying into an exceptionally wealthy and influential family. Your future is assured."

Perhaps Tonia had been right back on the boat. Though you hadn't met him yet, becoming the wife of Prince Diluc Ragnvindr certainly seemed to be a favourable arrangement, but that fact alone wasn't enough to put you entirely at ease.

You hope that he's a decent man, hope that he is as people say he is. But you won't know for sure until it's too late to go back.

"You know a lot about this land, brother."

"It is my birthright after all... or was, once," he sighs. "Though, I never imagined I would actually ever set foot in this county unless it was with an army to reclaim it."

When Decarabian's only heir died, the line of succession naturally passed through your Mother to your brothers. The Tsesarevich already stood to inherit Snezhnaya, so Mondstadt had been promised to her second son, but that all fell apart when Decarabian's reign came to an abrupt end.

Grand Duke Tartaglia was left with nothing more than a stolen kingdom - and now, even this new alliance took that from him.

He releases a self-deprecatory laugh, "Now I'm here as an ambassador - a glorified delivery man."

Tonia feebly chuckles, limply lifting her head. Her face looks peaky, almost sickly in complexion now.

"If you need to stop, we can," you tell her, resting your hand against her knee.

She doesn't reply, squeezing her eyes shut and offering nothing more than a drawn-out hum as you cast a wary look toward your brother. He hesitates for a moment, weighing the risks, until he sees the way her head rolls forward. Before you even have time to react, his fist is already connecting with the wooden panel behind him to bring the driver to a halt.

He steps out of the carriage first to check your surroundings, hand gripping the hilt of his sword as you carefully guide Tonia out and head for the grassy slope at the side of the road. You quickly reach out to hold her hair in place as she doubles over and finally allows her nausea to win out.

"Are you all right, Tonia?" he calls after her, looking up and down the stretch of road before following.

The rest of the procession stops gradually, some of the knights on horseback sharing looks of annoyance and then confusion at the sight of royalty fussing over what they believe to be nothing more than a mere attendant.

A few of your own men begin to make their way over until Tartaglia shoos them away with an order: "Get her some water."

Tonia inhales deeply, her hands gripping the fabric of her skirts tightly as he rubs her back. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," he replies, glancing at the vomit and wincing. "You should've said something earlier. I know that I'm being cautious but we could've taken a break. We have been on the road most of the day."

"Yeah, well -" she begins, but quickly loses the will to retort, "... I need to sit down."

You steady her as she slowly staggers a few metres away and sinks to the ground, crouched over as she takes another deep breath and settles in the grass, moving as if she was made of glass and might shatter at the slightest disturbance.

"Is everything alright, Your Highness?"

You hear a woman's voice from up ahead and turn to see Jean approaching from the front of the procession on horseback.

"My sister -" Tartaglia catches himself. "Her attendant has taken ill."

"I'll be fine, so long as I never have to go back in that carriage again," Tonia lets out a short laugh as Jean dismounts and kneels down to check her condition. "I only need a minute or two, my Lady. I won't cause any more disruption."

"Nonsense," Jean removes her glove and places the back of her hand against Tonia's forehead. "I apologise for the condition of the roads. The journey will be smoother as we approach the manor and head toward the city. We can stop for five minutes, if you are still not feeling well you may ride up front with me."

Tonia gives her a slight smile when she sees Jean pull out a flask of water from the inner pocket of her jacket.

"Thank you Lady Jean..." she pauses. "I'm sorry, I don't believe that I caught your family name to address you properly."

She hesitates. There's a small flash of doubt across her face when she glances toward you, as if she's trying to gauge what the response will be.

"I am heir to the Gunnhildr clan."

A descendant of one of your Great-Grandfather's usurpers then.

"Thank you for your assistance, Lady Gunnhildr," you keep your voice perfectly calm as you address her.

Healing and settling the wounds of the past - that is what your marriage to Diluc is supposed to do.

No matter how uncomfortable you might be in the presence of those families that betrayed yours once before, no matter how deserved that betrayal may or may not have been, you take care to remind yourself that they are not their ancestors and neither are you. Your survival here at court depends on it.

“Are the Knights so stretched that you can’t even maintain the roads that my ancestors built?” Tartaglia, it seems, is far less willing to let it go. “Perhaps I should write to the Empress and ask her to increase my dear sister’s already generous dowry.”  

“There will be no need, Your Highness,” Jean replies with a straight face, giving none of her disdain away, “the council is working on the matter. As I already said, the journey will be smoother as we approach the city, if you still find it to be unpleasant I suggest you and your ambassador file a complaint with them rather than discuss it with a lowly knight such as myself.”

Before he can say another word in response, Jean bows her head and walks away with her horse in tow, calling out to inform her men of the short disruption as if nothing had happened.

“Lowly Knight …” he scoffs, “she’s anything but.”

“She’s a bigger person than you at least,” Tonia hisses, taking a sip of the water that Jean left her. “Don’t antagonise them just because you’re tired and grumpy. ____ is the one that has to live here with the consequences after you go.”

The reminder stings a bit - that you won’t have your older brother there to take care of you once you’re married - but you still try not to show the apprehension on your face when he looks toward you apologetically.

He doesn’t say anything else.

Once the five minutes are up, you and Tartaglia reluctantly return to the carriage after watching one of the Knights give up his horse so that Tonia may ride up front whilst she recovers, already missing the way the light breeze feels soothing against your skin as you take your seat and close the door behind yourself.

The sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach deepens the moment you enter the old city, the sound of its people milling about outside unable to distract you from the sense of dread and expectation that have finally caught their way up to you.

You dare not peak out of the window this time, so see nothing of the famed grey watchtowers that once observed the lives of every citizen and guest amidst the walls of the capital during Decarabian's reign, the buildings and winding streets that were sectioned off into quarters to control the flow of people, nor the way that the extant sun begins to dip below the horizon to paint your arrival in shadow.

The wind roars across the bridge that guides you up to the palace, wrapping itself around the carriage to usher your precession along, until you hear the sound of great wrought iron gates opening onto an enormous courtyard as you finally arrive.

Your heart skips a beat when the carriage door is suddenly opened from the outside. You are greeted by a footman dressed in a black and red uniform, he looks you up and down with feigned disinterest and holds his hand out for you to take.

"No need, good sir!" Tartaglia brushes him away with a forced smile to mask his distaste for the whole affair. "I shall assist my dear sister myself."

So he does. The footman backs away without a word, his head bowed as he leaves the mounting block and allows Tartaglia to exit with you in tow.

Stormterror Palace towers over the centre of the city, although it's not as imposing or severe as you had anticipated it to be with a name like that.

Decarabian had built and designed it in the early days of his reign before your mother had even been born, built from cool grey stone with high domed observation towers that stretched to the heavens in the middle, yet compared to the grandeur of The Winter Palace back home it was fairly plain.

There are no outward signs of excessive opulence adorning the building or courtyard beyond the neatly kept gardens and trimmed fir trees that line the paved driveway. Only a few heraldic banners, marked with the red flamed bird of the Ragncindr clan against a black backdrop, are left to hang in the wind.

There was a simple elegance about the place that almost contradicted his reputation as a controlling autocrat - although this was all built before his decline.

You squeeze your brother's hand slightly, trying to swallow the lump in your throat as you slowly step forward together. You look around for Tonia to see her a short distance away, speaking with the man that you had mistaken for Diluc earlier in the day.

"Tonia!" Tartaglia calls out when he catches the way she smiles a little too sweetly at Kaeya, pulling her attention back to you. Maybe they had ridden together for the last part of the journey.

"She looks to be in better spirits," you snicker.

He rolls his eyes at you, "Shut up."

You watch as she hands the reins of her horse back and bows her head before briskly walking in your direction, Kaeya's following gaze finding you again as he lingers for a moment - curious perhaps, until he finally turns and walks away.

You make your way into the palace, escorted by the King's own personal guard into a great hall with high painted ceilings that depict the final battles of the rebellion - heroic figures on white horses with the wind of victory behind them, riding through shattered armies to restore peace and freedom to the land.

Your brother scoffs at how self-congratulatory the repainting of their history is, and you can't help but wonder which part of your own family's glorious legacy had been covered up to achieve it.

Making your way further into the hall, you notice an empty throne carved from grey marble atop the dais, resting before a giant open-winged statue of a spectacular dragon. This was the seat that the King of Gales, Decarabian, had sat in for so long, ruled over his subjects, and conquered the wind.

Now his descendants finally stood before it once more - replaced by those with blood unfamiliar to it.

You are guided through one of the doors at the back of the hall, grateful to leave the room that seems to be a monument to your family's demise in this kingdom, and find yourselves in a chamber set up for dining.

A long oak table occupies most of the space, although only four places are laid out at the far end toward the hearth. You glance apologetically toward Tonia, who doesn't seem to take it to heart, and watch as she is escorted by guards to dine separately.

Another door opens on the other side of the room, and two men enter.

The oldest, finely dressed in a black doublet with his long scarlet curls pulled back into a low ponytail and neatly trimmed beard, gives you a brief look over before a smile warms his handsome face.

Quickly stepping toward you and your brother with his arms wide and welcoming, he reaches forward to grasp Tartaglia's hand and introduce himself in a gesture that seems entirely inappropriate given your status - until you realise who this man must be.

"You must be the Grand Duke," he addresses your brother first and then turns to you, taking your hand in a firm yet reassuring grip as you see Tartaglia bow beside you, "... and this must be my future daughter-in-law, the Grand Duchess... even more beautiful than her portrait."

"Your Grace," The words feel heavy in your mouth as you curtsey.

King Crepus Ragnvindr is nothing like you had anticipated, although truth be told you hadn't really known what to expect before you arrived. He seemed genuinely glad to meet you despite the history between your families.

"It is a pleasure to have you here," he grins again before turning back toward the other younger man that lingers by the door. "Isn't it, Diluc?"

The sound of his name is enough to stop your breath - finally faced with the entire purpose of your journey, you look up and meet his gaze from across the room.

To your relief he doesn't look much older than yourself - perhaps twenty at most - his crimson eyes bright and full of youthful optimism as he slowly approaches his father's side.

The resemblance between them is striking, almost as if they were the same person only decades apart, although he wears his hair much longer and loose past his broad shoulders. Dressed in the same uniform as the rest of the Knights, his skin is pale and unblemished against the warm candlelight of the room, with shadows outlining his perfectly carved jawline as his lips curl into a nervous smile.

“Nothing brings me greater joy,” he replies, his voice eloquent and deep as he takes your hand and brings it up to his mouth, pressing his lips feather-light against your fingertips. “I trust that your journey was not too taxing?”

This was Mondstatd's prince. Your Prince, just as refined and polished on the outside as the rumours made him out to be and yet...

The tension in your chest doesn't dissipate as you hoped it would. The nerves that tremble in the pit of your stomach do not alight with excitement, the way that all those romantic novels led you to believe. You do not feel a sense of ease or reassurance as he pulls away from you.

There's no comfort in your encounter. Every eye in the room fixed upon the two of you, as if they expected you both to fall head over heels the moment that you met, the pressure weighing so heavily upon you that you cannot think of anything else.

"I-" you take your hand back slowly. "I must confess that we are weary from travelling, but it is an honour to finally meet you both as well."

You catch a defeated glimmer in his eye but he remains cordial, the easy smile on his face not breaking in front of his father and the rest of the guards.

Perhaps he had just been too forward too soon. Perhaps you really were tired. Perhaps you just need a little more time.

"Then please," Crepus gestures toward the table, "join us for a meal while your belongings are brought to your chambers. I apologise that we did not prepare a feast more befitting your status to greet you with, but I thought you may prefer a more private meeting before parading you in front of the rest of the court."

"We appreciate the consideration, Your Grace," Tartaglia smiles and follows, pulling a chair out for you to sit beside him. "Ambassador Krupp spoke well of your enthusiasm to secure this match."

The King sits at the head of the table to your brother's right side, and waves a hand toward the servants.

"Let us dispense with the formalities - we shall be family soon enough. Crepus is just fine."

"You are too kind," your brother replies.

You see a slender young woman approach with a decanter in hand, pouring wine into his goblet and going to do the same for everyone else at the table, until your brother darts his hand over the rim of your cup with a laugh, "My sister is not old enough to drink in this country."

Old enough to be offered up for marriage but not old enough to drink. You would roll your eyes if not for the others in the room.

"I heard that the drinking age is much lower in the North?" Diluc looks to you in an attempt to make conversation, politely shaking his head to refuse when the woman goes to fill his cup.

"Ah..." 'Gods, this is awkward,' you think, "I suppose alcohol helps people feel warmer when faced with the cold. Snezhnayan winters are notoriously hard, and its people even harder."

You may joke, but cannot blame them for seeking small comforts wherever possible, even if outsiders might find it strange.

"Do you drink much back home?"

"No, although I have tried vodka once before," you admit.

"Who gave you that?" Tartaglia raises a brow.

You turn to him and smile sweetly. "A dear friend."

"Tonia?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

Crepus lets out a hearty laugh at the way that you and your brother both look at each other in unspoken yet obvious disapproval. He leans back in his chair and asks, "So when will you come into your majority, my dear?"

"The end of spring," you address him directly.

"Wonderful. That gives us plenty of time to plan for the wedding."

You stifle a cough and glance over at Diluc, seeing the same flustered expression on his face that you surely wear on your own.

"Father, please-" he stiffens and nervously laughs, "they've only just arrived."

You're grateful for his intervention, even though you imagine he did it just as much for the sake of his own embarrassment rather than to offer you any comfort. He is clearly conscious of the others in the room as the servants begin to bring in platters of food.

Crepus sighs and looks toward his son with an apologetic grin. "Of course, I'm allowing myself to get carried away. We have many opportunities to discuss this further, but for now let us eat."

The rest of the meal is pleasant, if not slightly awkward, with polite conversation and a lot of good food. Crepus tries his best to include you rather than directing all his inquiries about yourself towards your brother like you had expected but, although you are glad of it, you soon find yourself less enthusiastic as the evening drags on.

Once the food is finished, the King and your brother pour themselves another drink, and it seems as if they’ve almost forgotten that the two of you are here. You sit and watch them laugh and bond as you struggle against the exhaustion that creeps up on you, and you wonder if the rest of your life will be spent like this - sitting on the sidelines with a forced smile in a home that is not your own.

"Having fun without me, Your Grace?" you hear that familiar male voice call out from the far doorway. "I'd hate to interrupt."

Kaeya grins as he walks into the room, his steps strolling and casual without a care for protocol, approaching the table without permission and stopping a few steps away from the King. His eye lingers on you for a moment before he raises his brow toward Diluc, who ever so slightly shakes his head in response.

These two are sworn brothers, and without having uttered a word to one another, you can already tell that they are perfectly in tune. Just one look from Diluc is all it took to tell him everything that he needs to know about how the evening is going.

"Kaeya!" Crepus claps his hands together a little too loudly. "My boy, have you eaten? Come, sit with us."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine," he declines, placing his hand against his chest. "I only came to relay a message from Varka."

Crepus stiffens slightly, giving his son a knowing look, "Our guests must be tired after such a long journey, we have kept them long enough - my Son, would you please show them to their chambers?"

"I'm quite content to stay and enjoy the rest of this wine with you, if you'll allow me the honour." Tartaglia refuses to be hurried off.

"If you like I can arrange for another bottle to be brought to your room," Diluc stands from his seat and makes his way over to your side. "You'll be in the apartments in the central tower. The view of the city at night is breathtaking."

"There's no need for the charade. He already knows," Kaeya says, almost annoyed, "I'm not sure how His Highness is so well-connected in a country that he has never been to before, but I suppose it saves us having to come up with excuses."

He looks at the King again, this time waiting for the go-ahead. "The crowd has dispersed, and a few arrests have been made. There's some minor property damage, windows smashed and some looting, but the boats remain unharmed - the port will reopen as usual tomorrow morning."

"Any indication that it was planned?" Diluc asks. You feel your own throat tighten.

"Eroch is looking into it but I doubt it," he answers nonchalantly. "Just a few drunkards looking for a way to vent their impotent boredom," he turns to look directly at you now, still speaking to his brother even though you get the sense that he's addressing you personally, "... unrelated to our illustrious guests. Pathetic really."

You can't tell if he really means it, or if he added that last part to gauge what your reaction would be. As nervous as you are, you decide not to bite in front of everyone - willing a neutral expression as you give your best attempt at diplomacy.

"I am glad that the issue is resolved and hope that none were seriously injured."

"Thank you for your concern, my dear." Crepus gives you an approving smile and leans back against his chair in relief. "I assure you that this is not a regular occurrence in Mond, just poor timing. I apologise if this embarrassing affair has caused any distress."

You're not naive enough to believe him, even though it would bring you more comfort to continue on in ignorance.

It wasn't impossible that the people of Mondstadt were unhappy with the return of your family to their shores. This time it had been a disorganised public disturbance, but if you were unable to win them over, the next incident could have much more serious consequences.

Your stomach drops. Did your mother see you as nothing more than a sacrificial lamb when she sent you here? An asset worth risking, if it brought her native country into the sprawling empire that she had taken for herself?

"I have no intention of leaving my sister where she will not be safe from harm," Tartaglia warns as he finishes the rest of his drink and stands. "I trust that we will be able to work well together to ensure that this match brings stability and joy to the nation."

"The Knights are perfectly capable of handling things on their own." Diluc replies with a surprisingly ingenuine smile. You suppose it's because, as a Knight himself, he doesn't appreciate the implication that they're lacking in any way.

Crepus interrupts before your brother can offer a retort, his voice almost adopting the tone of a scolding parent reminding his children to play nicely. "Diluc, a little cooperation cannot hurt."

The young prince's brow furrows slightly but he relents. Some hills are not worth dying on, and you’re relieved that your fiancé seems mature enough to know that.

“Yes, Father.”

“... I’ll take my leave, Your Grace - apologies for killing the mood,” Kaeya bows low and deep, affording Crepus more respect than you expected considering the way that he had entered the room, giving you one last glance before he goes to depart. “Goodnight, Your Highness.”  

There’s little warmth in his farewell, nothing more than a hollow gesture for the rest of the people in the room, but you latch onto it anyway. You must win them over.

“Likewise, Sir…?”

“I have already told you my name,” he gives you a wry smile.

“Not your family name, though,” you explain.

Part of you wants to get it over with - meeting every single one of the usurpers' descendants. Considering that a mere low-ranking knight was able to speak to royalty in such a way with no consequence, you assume that he must come from an important family.

His jaw clenches slightly. “It's just Kaeya.”

Lowborn then, or perhaps some lord of the court’s bastard? Although it’s highly unlikely he would be so close to the royal family in that case, unless…

Just like how he had observed your own group on the beach, you cast a curious glance towards Diluc, then the King, and back towards Kaeya again to figure out how he fits - but see none of their prominent bloodline in his handsome face.

“Sir Kaeya,” you repeat, inclining your head slightly and then turn to address your fiancé instead. “The events of the day seem to have caught up with me, Prince Diluc. If we are all done for the evening, I would like to be shown to my chambers - if you’d be so kind?”

"Of course," Diluc's face softens as he looks to his father for approval, and then holds his arm for you to take as one of the servants pulls out your chair.

"Will you be going also?" Crepus asks your brother.

"If she needs me, otherwise, there are some matters that I wish to discuss with you privately."

"I will be fine," you tell him. He gives a quiet nod in response. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

You and Diluc both bow together and leave the room with Kaeya, although he turns and heads down the corridor while you both make your way toward a vast marble staircase.

You do not speak to each other as you walk, the silence almost deafening as you allow your arms to drop to your side and step away from Diluc slightly, until you finally see a paid of grand oak doors at the end of the hall.

"Is everything alright?" he quietly asks.

"It's been a long day. Thank you, I'm simply tired."

You tell a white lie. Hardly untrue, just not the true reason for your unease, and Diluc picks right up on it.

"You're still worried about what happened at the port?"

You keep your voice calm, "Your people don't want me here, do they?" he stops in his tracks and hesitates to reply. You take it as an unspoken yes. "... I see."

"Is the feeling mutual?" his question catches you off guard as your hand rests against the cool metal handle of the door. His voice lowers as he leans in closer, so that the nearby guards cannot hear. "Just between us... Do you want to be here? Did you choose to marry me?"

Just like that - the thin veneer of protocol that had shielded you from the unbearable truth finally cracks, and in the second it takes you to weigh the pros and cons of continuing to lie, you realise that you've already given him the answer he seeks.

"... No."

You admit is so quietly that you barely hear yourself utter the word.

But he does.

Daughter, I am sure that it is quite easy to hate me for all the choices that I have made, especially when you have the sweet naivety of youth and time to dwell on such things. Please find it in your heart to remember that I, too, was once a young girl in your position. I will not explain myself, other than to say that sending you away is necessary. For the Empire, for this family, for you. As you are of my blood, I trust that you have enough sense to understand your duty. I know that you will not grant me your forgiveness, so I shall not ask for it. I ask instead that you make the best of your new life. I hope that you find love and comfort in the match that I have made well for you, and pray that you will never have to do the things that I have done to ensure this family's survival.

You stare blankly out of the porthole of your cabin, eyes stretched out to beyond the edge of the horizon, trying to ignore the ship’s endless unsettled rocking against the open ocean that carries you to your new home. Even after a week of sailing, you still haven't grown accustomed to it. Perhaps you never will.

It's difficult to focus beyond your nerves as your attendant Tonia makes a fuss over your appearance. You had both been preparing since dawn, combing and pinning your hair half up, applying just enough makeup to enhance your natural features, and laying out an assortment of dresses on the bed for you to choose from.

"First impressions are everything," she says, and you feel your head spin. "What about pale pink? I'm sure he will like that. Or the - "

"Your Highness?" Another servant appears in the doorway, peeking her head around the frame as she knocks to see if you are in a fit state to receive guests. "Grand Duke Tartaglia is here to see you before we arrive. The Captain says we shall be at the port before noon.”

“I’m not yet dressed. Give me a moment!” you reply, blinking away the tears behind your eyes that threaten to spill over. You look down at your white linen chemise, and Tonia makes a show of bowing her head when she hands you a thick blue velvet robe to cover yourself with. "You may enter."

Your older brother Ajax enters the room, closing the door behind himself. His mess of ginger hair falls softly into his eyes, as he carries a large flat box that he sets down on the bed with a warm grin.

He’s dressed in his finest ceremonial attire - a white brocade sash draped over a long forest green coat, adorned with silver aiguillettes and medals of distinction, with a pair of grey riding breeches and black leather boots to match. In every regard, he looks to be the perfect prince.

It’s a stark contrast to the plainer grey dress that Tonia wears, a girl two years your senior yet much lower in station. Bastard-born to a well-regarded Courtier and one of his own servants, your attendant would never have the luxury of wealth or titles that you possess, even though her features resemble your brother more than yours ever had.

“I brought you a gift,” he unfastens the buckle and carefully lifts the lid to reveal a beautiful mantua gown. It is the same deep green as his uniform with an ornate silver thread damask embroidered into the fine silk skirt.

He reaches in and removes the dress, holding it out at arms length for you to inspect.  “I wanted to give it to you for your birthday but… perhaps you’ll have use of it before then.”   

You feel a lump form in your throat when you bring your hand up to touch it, catching the expectant look in his bright blue eyes as he waits for you to respond.

Smooth to the touch - the fabric is so light and intricately stitched that it’s hard to believe that anyone could make something this perfect with human hands alone. “Ajax… You didn’t need to -”

“Of course I did. I promised I would,” he laughs, as if he’s proud of himself for remembering. “I had it handmade back in Liyue before I came home, the finest silk that money can buy, painstakingly crafted by the Tianquan’s personal modiste. I had to call in a lot of favours to make that connection - but based on the results I believe it was entirely worth the wait.”

You’re speechless.

You still remember the way that you had sobbed as he said his goodbyes, all those years ago when he was sent half-a-world away, after first being appointed as the Snezhnayan ambassador to the Empire of Liyue in the South. You had begged him not to leave you behind at the Winter Palace.

Back then, he had held you tight and reassured you that he’d be home soon with more gifts than he could carry.

When you met him again three years later, his brief return was accompanied by another two coaches filled with souvenirs from his travels. The only allied country that he hadn’t gotten you anything from was Liyue simply because he could fit nothing else in the carriages. Tonia had joked that there would’ve been more room if he had stayed behind, but he promised you that the next time you saw each other, he would make up for it by giving you the most exquisite and expensive gift that the Southern Empire had to offer.  

“I can’t believe you remembered… This must have cost a small fortune,” you laugh in disbelief.

“A large fortune,” he shrugs with an easy smile. “I thought that you could wear it when you are presented at court. It matches my uniform so it’ll make a strong first impression - really show off just how united we are so they know not to mess with you. Mondstadt’s little Prince and his courtiers won’t know what hit him.”

Mondstadt’s Prince, you nervously swallow. Other than his name and the fact that he is the descendent of one of the Knights that overthrew your Great Grandfather King Decarabian, you know next to nothing about Diluc Ragnvindr - the man you are to marry.

Shock rippled through the Winter Palace when the announcement was made. The Tsaritsa, Empress and Autocrat of all Snezhnaya, was planning to offer her only daughter as a bride to the usurpers in the South, to solidify a prospective military alliance between the two countries after decades of mistrust and animosity.

Back then you had spent a whole month begging your Mother’s advisors and attendants for a meeting, just five minutes to plead your case and implore her to call it off, for a chance to change her mind and see what a terrible mistake this was.

But she refused to see you.

The Tsaritsa already had an heir in her first legitimate son the Tsesarevich - your other distant brother that you barely spoke a word to - and a spare in Tartaglia as the Grand Duke. Two sons to serve Snezhnaya as Harbingers in her court whilst you had enjoyed your sheltered life as a Duchess away from the politics and games.

But as a woman, there was only one way that you could serve your country. Your Empress expected this of you, and there was no escaping it.

So you were met with nothing more than a letter of well wishes, not even granted the satisfaction of a face-to-face argument or explanation. She had left you to wait, confined to your apartments in the palace until the day that Grand Duke Tartaglia arrived to escort you from your home one last time.

Some empty words on a page and the knowledge that you would be dragged kicking and screaming if you continued to refuse led you to finally relent. The rift between you and your Mother stretching so wide now that, when the gates of Zapolyarny closed behind you for the last time, it was almost a relief to leave that Court of Frost behind.

There was no going back now.

“Your Highness?” you hear Tonia speak, although at this moment she feels so far away. It’s too difficult to hide your emotions, the burn in your eyes breaking through as tears begin to fall, and you cast your gaze down in a futile attempt to hide your face from everyone in the room. “____?” she lowers her voice now as she addresses you again, but by your own name and not a title this time.

If anyone else dared to speak so freely, it would be considered improper. But for someone you have spent your entire childhood with and consider as close as a sister, you find comfort in the reminder that you’re actually a person outside of the role you were born to play.  

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” you give a faint smile as you lie. “I was just… it’s such a beautiful dress.”

Tonia looks at you with concern as your words trail off, stepping forward to place her hand on your arms and guide you back towards one of the chairs, before going to take the gown from your brother.

He steps forward and drops to his knees in front of you, his hands reaching up to pat your cheeks dry without smearing the thin layer of makeup on your face. You can see there’s a panicked look in his eyes now, as if he is as terrified as you are, as if he blames himself for not being able to stop this.

“Are you scared?” Tonia asks from across the room as she lays your new dress out.

“I don’t know,” you half laugh.

“You’ll be safe in Mondstadt, I swear to you,” you see Tartaglia’s eyes darken as his jaw clenches. “None would dare to lay a hand on you. Our armies are the strongest in the world and the Fatui’s influence is far-reaching, any threats will be severely dealt with before you even know they exist. That’s only if anyone is foolish enough to try and cross us in the first place.”

“That’s certainly one way to reassure her.” Tonia’s brows raise and she gives you a knowing look, as if to make light of his intensity.

“No matter what the danger is, I will parry it. Isn’t that what any older brother would do? If you have anything better to offer, feel free to speak up.”

She sighs and holds her head high as she replies, tongue in cheek, “I ought to know my place. A lowly servant such as I has no business in your family affairs.”

“And yet you're still talking,” he laughs and cocks his head. “Besides, when have I ever given you the impression that your insight is unwelcome?”

“Enough,” you give a half-hearted smile and decide to interrupt before the playful squabbling can escalate into an actual argument. “I’m just nervous, I think. I don’t really know what to expect.”

“Well… They say the Prince is quite handsome and brave. Apparently he became a Knight when he was just fourteen, although how much of that is down to his natural talent or his father just being King is anyone’s guess.” Tonia tries to reassure you.

“Right.”

It doesn’t really work.

“Okay,” she rocks back on her feet as she racks her brain for anything else. “They also say he’s a King in the making, many expect that he will be elected by the council once Crepus dies.”

“Who’s 'they'?” It's Tartaglia’s turn to raise a brown now.

“You know… people… generally,” she shrugs. “Surely you’ve heard the rumours? You’re much closer to the world of royal gossip than I am.”

“So much for abolishing hereditary monarchy,” he scoffs.

After King Decarabian lost the war, Barbatos the Usurper shocked the world by allowing his council to elect Mondstadt's next King from among themselves. Although, now the various factions have begun to struggle against one another in the absence of a strong, unbroken line of succession.

Your marriage to Diluc, and the military backing of your Mother’s empire, is likely to cement the Ragnvindr clan as a political juggernaut that dominates the council for years to come. But it also has the potential to shatter it entirely if you’re unable to step out of your Great-Grandfather’s shadow.

“Look, I’m just saying that there are worse complete strangers that you could’ve ended up betrothed to - better a foreign prince than some aging provincial lord allied to your Mother or the Tsesarevich. Think of it as an opportunity to heal and settle the wounds of the past between your family and their nation.”

“Our nation,” Tartaglia corrects, albeit as if he’s mocking those that say such things and still believe them to be true. “Technically, I am still Decarabian’s lawful heir. Some may argue that this marriage is a compromise far better than those usurpers deserve.”

“Funnily enough, it is only Snezhnaya that still recognises your claim,” Tonia points out. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Be careful who you say that in front of.”

“I’m not stupid Ajax,” she rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t repeat it outside of this room.”  

Your brother visibly relaxes when he hears you chuckle at the pair of them bickering, his thumb ghosting across your cheek one more time to catch the last tear as it rolls down your face when you weakly smile.

He goes to stand and turns to Tonia a little lighter than before, grateful that she came to be with you through all of this, knowing that when he returns to Liyue he will at least be leaving you in her safe hands.

“What if the people don’t like me?” you quietly ask. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

"Don’t be ridiculous. What’s there to dislike about you?” he replies.

“You’re beautiful… exceptionally wealthy and have royal blood… sometimes you’re very amusing too, I suppose - ” Tonia pauses to watch for your reaction, slightly irked when she sees the way you cringe at what she’s saying. “Shit, I don’t know, I’m not good at this, what do you want me to say?”

“It’s the thought that counts, Tonia,” Tartaglia offers a smug reply.

She lets out a sarcastic laugh, “Well, I did try my best.”

“If that’s your best, I’d hate to see your worst,” you say.  

Tonia takes mock offence, grabbing one of the cushions off the bed and tossing it in your direction only to miss and hit Tartaglia square in the shoulder with a light hearted laugh, “You’ll be fine ____. There’s no point worrying about the ‘what ifs’ until we get to them, and when we do, I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”

You had no reason to doubt what she said. Tonia had always been there for as long as you could remember, had grown up with you and served not only as an attendant but as a friend and confidant too. She was loyal to a fault almost, having been the first of your staff to volunteer to make the journey with you, even if it meant leaving the rest of her family behind.

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, to tell her how grateful you are to have her, when there comes a soft knock on the door.

“The Grand Duchess shall not be disturbed,” she says, turning her head towards the sound and dismissing whoever had interrupted.

“I must report to the Grand Duke,” The muffled voice of a soldier responds from the other side.

Tartaglia rolls his eyes just ever so slightly, almost imperceptible had it not been for the frustrated huff he releases before calling out “Enter,” and straightens his back.

Within a matter of seconds you all slip back into the roles you play in public - two noble and respected members of the royal household and their poor little servant that blends in the background.

“Your Highness,” the soldier stands to attention after opening the door, and silently waits for your brother’s nod of approval before daring to set foot over the threshold.

“At ease Grigory.”

“The fools at the port have advised that the north wind may make it difficult to dock in a timely manner,” his eyes nervously dart towards you and then away again when he realises that you are also paying close attention to his every word. “The Captain would like to know your thoughts.”

Tartaglia stiffens slightly, “The weather seems fair enough to carry on. Half our escort should continue as expected, but we shall change course to enjoy the Falcon Coast instead.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

To the unsuspecting passer-by, this exchange would seem entirely innocent, pointless even, but from their tone it was clear that these two were discussing something far more sinister.

You were not privy to the exact meaning of their coded language. Perhaps that is exactly why they had spoken in such a way, but from the atmosphere in the room, you pick up on the fact that whatever it was - it wasn’t anything good.

“What’s happened?” you ask the moment the door clicks shut once more.

“Nothing you need to worry yourself with. Everything is under control,” he puts on a fake reassuring smile, another mask for his face to hide behind. “We’re taking a detour - just means that you two have more time to make yourselves pretty.”

“Are you saying we aren’t already?” Tonia teases.

“Prettier then,” he scoffs and heads for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

There’s a moment's silence after he’s gone, the little joy left in the room dissipating into nothing but a lingering numbness that washes over you with the ebb and flow of the sea.

“He has agents keeping an eye on the port. It’s not safe for us to dock there,” Tonia turns to you and speaks. “Ajax wants to keep a low profile and split the fleet so that we’re a less obvious target.”

Your stomach drops, his earlier words ringing in the back of your head:

“...any threats will be severely dealt with before you even know they exist.”

How typical of your brother to try and shelter you, even if it left you feeling utterly unprepared and blind to what you may be about to face.

“You understood what they were saying?”

Tonia nods and purses her lips,“You pick up on lots of things when people forget that you’re there.”

“What’s the danger?” you dare to ask, part of you not wanting to know the answer.

“They didn’t say,” she releases an uneasy sigh and steps toward you again. “But considering that they don’t intend to turn the ship around and take us home, I’d say they’re either being overly cautious or it’s already been dealt with.”

A thousand different threats fly through your mind - an angry mob, pirates, assassins, or spies from Khaenri'ah set on causing you harm - all absurd yet possible the more you allow your thoughts to spiral, and if not for Tonia, you likely would’ve spent the rest of the journey pondering the horror that awaited upon your arrival.

“Trust your brother,” she says, her blue eyes flicking towards the gorgeous gown that lies draped across your bed waiting for you. “When has he ever not kept his word?”    

You say nothing in response at first, slowly getting out of your chair and walking towards the edge of the bed to stroke your hand across the smooth green fabric, tracing the silver thread pattern with your forefinger and as you close your eyes and gather yourself.

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to go back to Snezhnaya one day?”

“Perhaps,” she replies. “Maybe your prince won't be chosen as the next king. Perhaps you could bring him back with you and we can all go home.”

It was a silly question, really. You doubt that you would ever be allowed to return to court if you fail to become Queen. But Tonia's answer had lifted a weight from your spirit, like a window cracked open after the closing of a door, and for a moment, you could fool yourself into believing you have any choice at all.

“You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life,” you whisper to yourself.  

“I break a pinkie promise, I get thrown on the ice,” she continues the next line of that morbid nursery rhyme that all the children back home love to sing, and holds her little finger out for you to take as you finish it together.

“... The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again!”   

You let out a deflated laugh and let your hand drop to your side again, your eyes looking back towards the endless waves on the other side of the porthole.

The wooden oars moan against the water as a doleful wind beats the smaller boats back against the tide that carries you and your retinue ashore. You had known the air would be different here, so unlike the bracing cold of home, but nothing could prepare you for just how blustery this land is.

An open coastline rests a short distance away, a bay which sits at the edge of a verdant plain that stretches as far as your eyes can see, sheltered by cliffs carved from jagged grey stone that has been weathered by centuries of wind and wave.

Everyone is quiet as you approach, although if anyone spoke, you doubt that you’d be able to hear them well enough to reply. Your hands wind into tight fists against your lap as you try to steady your breathing and try not to look too unsettled in front of the strangers set to greet you.

A small group of soldiers stands to attention nearby on the beach, observing you, unmoving as your little boat finally touches the pale sand beneath the shallows and can travel no further alone.

You look away in an attempt to feign disinterest, remaining seated beside your brother and Tonia as the sailors strap their guns to their backs and haul themselves into the sea to drag the vessel onto dry land.

The second you step out of the boat you feel your leather boots sink into the sand, relieved that you decided to wear something more practical upon arrival and save the exquisite dress for a more appropriate time and affair, the fabric of your green cloak flapping behind you as Tartaglia takes your gloved hand with a cautious smile.

“It’s time,” he says, his voice less sure than he expected it to be.

You take one last chance to look back towards the ship that lingers in the bay, frowning as you watch your family coat of arms - a golden mask set against an imperial blue flag - whip so violently against the wind that at any moment you think it might tear away and be lost forever.

“____,” he calls your name.

You feel your throat tighten as you turn back to your brother, allowing yourself one last moment to waver before you step forward.

The soldiers regard you with caution, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords as they throw disapproving glares in your direction when you, Tonia, and Tartaglia, come to stop halfway between them and your own men, parting their formation to allow two figures to approach.

A man and a woman.

They’re both wearing the same black and silver uniform as the rest of their men, although they both wear long overcoats to signify their more senior rank.

The woman is fair of face, walking slightly ahead with her long golden hair pulled back into a high ponytail that passes the length of her coat’s collar. Clearly the one in charge of this unit, yet deceptively soft in appearance compared to the tall man trailing slightly behind.

You recall Tonia’s words back on the boat, how she mentioned that Mondstadt's Prince was said to be handsome and an exceptionally talented member of the Knights of Favonius. You wonder if this could possibly be your fiancé.

Everything about this stranger draws your attention, the warmth of his tanned skin compared to everyone else from his group, his deep indigo hair resting in a lovelock across his left shoulder, the clean black patch obscuring his right eye from view.

He radiates confidence to such a degree that you can’t help but recognise him as nobility, standing out against the rest of the crowd gathered at the beach. You feel an uneasy flutter in your stomach when you notice the curious expression on his face as he stops a short distance away and crosses his arms with a slight grin.

“Well, well… what do we have here?” his voice is teasing and smooth, almost too relaxed for what ought to be a formal affair.

His uncovered eye seems to dance between the three of you - glancing at you, your brother, then Tonia, and back to you again - and it's clear what he’s thinking even without him needing to say it out loud.

The difference in appearance between you and Tartaglia all but confirms the rumours that the Tsaritsa is a woman that enjoys the company of many lovers, although there doesn’t seem to be any judgement or scorn behind the curious look on his face as looks between you both.

“Long time no see… Your Highness,” the man you assume to be Diluc addresses your brother, the use of his title tacked onto the end almost antagonistically, as if it were a playful taunt. “I trust your journey was pleasant enough, although you seem to have missed your destination by a fair few miles.”

You feel Tartaglia squeeze your hand slightly as he laughs, perhaps to reassure you, perhaps to reassure himself.

“And yet you still managed to arrive before us! Although, there’s fewer than I expected. Are the Knights still having a recruitment problem or are they too busy tidying things up at the port to give us a proper reception?”

“We had hardly any notice of your sudden change of plans. There was really no need for the detour. I assure you that everything is under control now,” the man’s eye narrows as he replies, taking another step closer to stand beside his female companion. “But where are my manners? Allow me to introduce Jean, Lieutenant of this unit and one of the Grand Master’s most trusted advisors.”

“Mondstadt welcomes you, Your Highnesses,” Jean gives you a polite smile and bows slightly, although there's no warmth behind it. “The Grand Master knows that you’ve had a long journey. He has asked us to bring you directly to the capital so that you may rest before being presented to the King.”

Given the fact that you didn’t arrive when and where you were expected, that your brother mentioned the port again, and that the handsome man before you seems to want to downplay whatever the disruption was - you don’t believe for a second that your comfort is the reason why your host doesn’t want to delay things any longer.

“We are grateful for his hospitality,” Tartaglia nods and goes to introduce you. “This is my sister, the illustrious Grand Duchess  ____ of Snezhnaya, and her attendant Miss Tonia.”

“I’m honoured to meet you, Lady Jean,” you muster the energy to offer a convincing sweet smile, and then turn to the man beside her. “And you too, Your Highness. I look forward to -”

He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, the sound of a short involuntary laugh escaping his throat as he stares at you in bemusement.

“I’m flattered that you think so highly of me! I hate to disappoint - but I’m not your Prince.”

Your heart drops. Barely ten minutes in and you’ve already made your first mistake.

“Kaeya,” he continues, introducing himself with a self-satisfied smile as if he relishes the fact that you were naive enough to make the assumption, before he bows his head. “Knight of Favonius. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Tartaglia laughs awkwardly and then turns his head to you, lowering his voice slightly to explain, “Prince Diluc’s right hand man,” before he looks back up at Kaeya and Jean to continue on with the pleasantries.

The clarification leaves you with more questions than answers, and an unsettling mix of relief and disappointment.

Part of you wishes that he had been your betrothed - if only for the sake of getting your first meeting out of the way as soon as possible - but you also can’t help but feel more nervous now that you know the type of company that Diluc seems to keep.

The insincere smile drops from his face when he catches you looking a little longer than you ought to, the both of you forgetting yourselves for a moment before you divert your attention to the ground.

Kaeya hadn’t been outright rude to you per se, but it was clear from his demeanour that he had little respect for you. Perhaps this was a small taste of what you should expect from the rest of the people of Mondstadt too.

“It’s been a long morning and I’m eager to see more of our ancestral home. Will we be travelling the main road?” Tartaglia asks.

“It’s the fastest and most secure route,” Jean says and warily looks to the Sailors that escorted you to shore that stand almost level with you - twenty altogether - split equally either side with their guns held diagonally across their bodies with the muzzles rested towards the sky. “If you wouldn’t mind handing over your weapons?”

Your brother releases you and tenses, shifting his weight and bringing his hand up to rest at the ornate silver hilt of the sword attached to his belt

“I certainly would mind.”

Out of the corner of your eye you watch as Kaeya does the same.

“We cannot permit entry to those bearing arms. I ask that you hand them over to our custody for the duration of your visit to be returned upon your departure.” Jean stands firm.

“It would be a violation of our military protocol to surrender such advanced weaponry to those with inadequate training in handling firearms. Wouldn’t want anyone to hurt themselves.”

There’s venom laced between his words and Jean picks right up on it, clenching her jaw slightly at the suggestion that her men are improperly trained, although, she’s smart enough to recognise Tartaglia’s attempt at deflection.

You look back to the formation behind Jean and Kaeya, every single man equipped with nothing more than armour and swords, and it's clear that he doesn’t trust that they won’t just take the guns to try and reproduce them.

“I’m afraid I must insist.”

“I don’t think you understand. We -”

“I apologise for my brother,” you step out and interrupt him before the situation can escalate, addressing Jean directly. “You must forgive his caution; we are aware that there was trouble before our arrival. He just wants to ensure my safety.”

“I assure you that the Knights will do our utmost to protect you, Your Highness,” she replies.

“Perhaps a compromise then?” you force yourself to smile and try not to feel guilty for stepping on your brother's toes. “One of our men takes the guns back to the ship, and the rest remain with us to bolster your escort.”

“What about him?” Kaeya nods his head towards Tartaglia.

“He keeps the sword,” you answer bluntly.

“Oh?”

Kaeya stares you down, waiting to see if you blink first. You don’t. Your heart races as you offer an ultimatum:

“Or we can all return to our ship and make our way back to Snezhnaya. I’m sure that my Mother will be greatly disappointed with the reception we received.”

For a moment, they say nothing - exchanging knowing looks between one another until Kaeya gives a silent nod, as if to make his feelings on the matter known before he looks toward you with thinly veiled contempt.

“Very well,” Jean replies. “I suggest you make your arrangements, a carriage awaits at the edge of Windrise.”

The two bow, leaving without another word, and you feel the tension in your body release.

“You handled that well,” Tartaglia says, a little proud of you, as if he’s forgotten that he was part of the problem.

“I would’ve handled it better if you told me what was going on,” you hiss.

“It’s nothing.”

Tonia, who has remained silent until this point, chimes in, “Clearly not,”

“Some of the locals at the port had been drinking. Getting restless, throwing bottles and jeering,” he snaps defensively. “You didn’t need to know something so trivial.”

You doubt that what he says was the true extent of it - given the fact that the knights had only sent a small portion of their men to meet you, when you had been expecting a ceremonial affair. But you see no need to argue with so many watching. There was likely a riot then. You make a note to find out more about it later.

You follow your hosts to the edge of the beach, your feet occasionally falling atop the footprints they leave in the sand that trail towards the lush grass of Windrise.

At the start of a winding dirt road you see a large yet plain wooden carriage attached to two enormous black Friesian horses, hardly suitable for someone of your status - although you imagine that is exactly the reason why it was chosen in the first place. Seeing as you aren’t sure of the risks that lie ahead, perhaps it’s better not to draw too much attention.

Tartaglia steps into the carriage first, inspecting the interior before turning and holding out a hand to help you inside, his grip tightening around your fingers when you feel your boot slip against the mounting block.  

“Watch your step, Princess,” Kaeya pulls up beside you atop a grey Andalusian stallion, tugging on the reigns with one hand to bring it to a shuddering halt. “I’m supposed to get that pretty little face of yours back to the city in one piece, remember?”

“Thank you so much for your concern,” you reply, teeth gritting together. “I wish you a safe journey as well. It would be a shame if you fell off that high horse.”

You don’t stop to look back at him as you hear him chuckle to himself, the sound of hooves kicking up dirt as he directs the horse away, taking a deep breath as you successfully climb into the carriage and try to remain calm after embarrassing yourself for a second time.

"Come back to bed..." you hummed, your throat hoarse and heavy from your slumber.

He looked up at the sound of your voice, the sapphire in his eye refracting ever so slightly in the light, "I couldn't sleep."

"We do not have to sleep," you said.

A small smile broke the focus on his face as you carelessly sat up, allowing the silk sheets to slip and expose your bare breast in an open invitation.

"You're incorrigible," he sighed and raised a brow, yet put his book down all the same.

You gave him a wicked smile, "Am I?"

Aemond stood and walked slowly toward the bed, his hand ghosting the knot at his waist that barely held his robe together, those long fingers sliding carefully in but pausing just short of unfastening the loop.

"Here I am, enjoying a perfectly good book, and yet you are determined to drive me to distraction..." he stopped at the foot of the bed and looked down at you with a warm smile that betrayed his scolding tone.

You playfully kicked out your leg, stroking along the length of his thigh with your foot as you pouted, "I am terribly sorry, my prince."

"My wife ought to know her place," he teased, a considering look in his eye as he trailed his fingers along the curve of your calf. "Hmm, I dread to know what others at court might say about your behaviour."

"Well, 'tis hard to know my place when my husband so cruelly abandons me come dawn..."

"Abandons?" he scoffed. "You would accuse me of being so heartless? When I simply wished not to disturb your slumber?"

You squealed in delight when he grasped your ankle to drag you slowly across the mattress, your back slipping against the silk sheets with ease as you offered no resistance. Your body ached for him, something dark and consuming pooled in the pit of your stomach as he set you down against the edge of the bed beneath his towering figure.

"Ah - I humbly beg my Lord husband's forgiveness for any offence caused," you giggled unapologetically, sitting up and shaking your tousled hair out of your face to better see his mock disapproval.

Aemond's hand caressed your jaw, carefully lifting your gaze to meet him as he stroked his thumb along your bottom lip, "How shall you make it up to me?"

"I have a few ideas," your voice was low, desperate with wanting.

Aemond took a sharp breath as you pulled apart the knot that keeps his robe together, his hardening cock suddenly freed from the fabric as you took him in your hand and stroked slowly from the head to the base. You wet your lips and leant forward to press a delicate kiss against the shaft, your grip tightening just ever so slightly as his fingers entangled themselves amidst your hair.

He smirked, "Enlighten me?"

Aemond twitched when you gazed up at him, desire blazing through your eyes as you carefully flit your tongue along the pre-cum that gathered at the tip, watching eagerly when his lips parted and a small gasp caught in his throat.

You took your time, slowly but surely wrapping your lips around him as you lowered your mouth onto his considerable length, relaxing your jaw to take him as far as you could before the urge to breathe again had a chance to spoil your fun.

"Fuck -" Aemond plead, his hand stroking the crown of your head as he guided you.

You let out a hum of satisfaction while you swirled your tongue around his cock, bobbing your head, and watching the way that your husband's head rolled forward with a low groan. Aemond grunted and held you in place when you swallowed, a feverish heat prickling up his spine when you groaned around his cock and pushed yourself as far as you can go before your breath escapes you.  

He drank in the sight of you, your body flush with desire, with the insatiable hunger that had alighted between you. It took everything he had not to buck his hips, to chase the pleasure that you coaxed from him, to allow you the power to unravel him so perfectly.

You withdrew with a gasp for air, your lungs desperate for relief, the laughter shaky in your throat as Aemond quickly leant down to steal a kiss.

"Am I forgiven?" you moaned softly into his mouth, his tongue hot as it caressed your own.

"Not yet," he whispered, his teeth grazing your lower lip. "But if this is the kind of apology I can expect to receive, perhaps we should bicker more often?"

"Only if you extend the same courtesy to me," you replied.

"Hmm... " he grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

You felt his hand cup the swell of your breast, his touch was warm against the cool morning air as his thumb traced circles around your nipple, his kiss softening as he lowered himself to kneel on the edge of the mattress.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes half-lidded, your forehead resting against his own. Aemond allowed you a moment to catch your breath, for you to weave your fingers through his silver hair and graze the nape of his neck, before he slowly shifted and pulled you into his lap. His hands stroked along the outline of your body, charting every bend and curve in his endless endeavour to know you as no other man could.

He brought his lips to yours again, his voice low as his hand wandered to the apex of your thighs, "Here?"

"Aemond -" you let out a ragged breath, a wordless plea for more as his forefinger began to run slow clumsy strokes against your clit.

"You're already so wet for me," he hissed as you deepened the kiss, his finger slipping inside with ease. "I could take you right now," he withdrew to the knuckle and slowly pushed back in with a second digit. "Is that what you want?"

You whimpered as his thumb stopped at the bud, pressing firm as his fingers thrust in and out with agonising precision, pleasure pooling in your belly as you rocked your hips forward. His lips found the crook of your neck as your head rolled back, playfully nipping the sensitive skin as you reached for his cock and found it harder than ever before.

Aemond groaned, the pace of his fingers quickening as you stroked him, overcome by an aching need to bury himself inside you. Acting entirely on impulse, before he even realised what he was doing, he removed his fingers and brushed your hand aside to move you so that your body was finally flush against his.

"I need you in me," you begged him as he angled his cock beneath you, the tip brushing perfectly against your swollen clit on its way to your entrance. "Seven hells, Aemond... Fuck -"

You locked eyes as he raised his hips, and the length of him finally pushed in, his gaze intent and unwavering as he sheathed himself as deep as he could go. He stared and stared at you, holding your head in place so that you couldn't look away, and a deep and unspeakable sense of belonging closed the space around you until you were all that was left in his world.

You let out a restrained groan at the way that your body tightened around him, at how full he had made you. Your hands gripped the strong muscles around his shoulders, pulling him into an eager embrace, as if clinging to him could ground you somewhat - to remind you of who you were when the rest of your senses escaped you.

Aemond closed his eye and buried his face into your neck as his hands rested at your lower back, his cock twitching inside of you as he breathed in your scent, for a moment unsure how to tell where he ended and you began. All that he knew, all that he could be... You were his, and he was yours, joined body and soul to become two parts of a greater whole.

You rolled your hips forward as naturally as breathing, a pulse of relief flooding your veins as your body relaxed into him with a gratified shudder. You felt Aemond's mouth on your neck, trailing kisses up and alongside your jaw, his breath hot and heady as you leant back far enough for his lips to find your own again, muffling the sounds that you made.

He matched your movement, rocking his hips in time with your own as the pace gathered a sense of urgency, a longing call for release that heightened with every thrust. Aemond could feel how close you already were, the way your muscles tensed, how frantic your moans had become, as you locked your legs around his waist to try to gain some leverage and drive him deeper.

"-Not yet," he gasped, his voice commanding and raw, as he suddenly lifted you again and shuffled up the bed, tossing you onto your back against the pillows.

You whined at the unforeseen pause, watching the way his cock glistened with your arousal as he adjusted his position, yearning for him to be inside you again before you could realise how empty it feels when he is not.

"Put it back in," you pleaded. "Please... Oh gods, I love how you feel when you're inside me."  

Aemond knelt upright, pulling your legs up over his shoulders as he brought the head of his cock back home again.

"You love it, hmm?" he asked as he leant forward and bore his weight with both arms.

"Yes-" you tilted your hips up, chasing that connection, brow furrowed in frustration as you only got as far as the tip.

Aemond let out a huff of laughter, his head dipping even closer as he brought his forehead to rest against yours, "... Do you love me?"

You swallowed, stopping as you finally met his gaze again and felt the weight of the air between you, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. You already knew the answer, and he did too, but neither of you had breathed truth into those words yet.

It was strange how something so simple could mean so much, how the dull flame of desire could burn into the brightest love you had ever known.

You reached up to tuck a silver strand behind his ear, your fingers tenderly stroking his cheek as a sweet smile breaks across your face and said, "always, Aemond."

"Ñuha jorrāeliarzy..." his eye closed as relief washed over him.

"Is that Valyrian?"

"Mmm," he hummed in confirmation. "It means 'my beloved'."

He didn't give you the chance to reply, his lips were already on yours again, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he finally pushed his cock back into your heat. You cried out in ecstasy when he hit you at exactly the right angle, your walls tightening around him as he relentlessly drove into you.

Your back arched off the bed as he pulled himself upright again, his arm pinning your legs in place as he fucked you hard and deep, the sound of nothing but your grateful moans and skin against skin to keep his tempo.

A few thrusts more, and you were approaching the precipice, pleasure sparking through your core as you writhed beneath him. He let out a strangled groan when he felt you tense around his cock, the sight of you so thoroughly undone bringing him closer to the edge, too. He looked down at himself, at the way you took him so perfectly in, at how you trembled as your orgasm peaked, and he couldn't stop himself from falling with you.

You shuddered as you felt him empty himself inside, relishing the immense heat of him when he buried himself to the hilt, a feverish look in his eye as his hips gradually stilled. Your legs slipped from his shoulders as he slumped forward to kiss you, a languid and sweet relief as you brought your bodies flush again.

"When does it end? This want that I have for you," he murmured against your lips, his thumb slowly stroking the outline of your cheek. "I can scarcely remember what I was doing before you distracted me."

"I don't recall either, my love," you whispered.

Aemond releases a content sigh as he unsheathed himself and rolled onto his side, reaching for a nearby towel so that he had something to clean the mess that he had made. He let out a soft laugh and pressed a kiss against your breast as he wiped between your thighs.