The Sauce

“Ah.” The sound Diluc lets out when he’s suddenly confronted face to face is not exactly a gasp, but it is a startled sound nonetheless, just soft and muted. He blinks rapidly as he looks down at their joined hands, then back up at his wife’s steadily darkening face.

(It’s almost alarmingly red, really. She looks like she’s fit to pass out from nerves.)

“I’m home,” he says after a moment, a little uncertainly, though his hands are steady when he adjusts his grip and squeezes back gently in reassurance. This is her home too now, after all. He wants her to be comfortable at the very least. That’s why he bothers to ask, “How was your day? It seems like you’ve been…”

His gaze rises to sweep across the transformed room, brow furrowing in confusion. “…busy. What’s the occasion?”

Well, he seemed rather unimpressed by the whole thing, and while it was a little bit of a downer, she was going to try not to let this bother her.

“My day was fine!” She all but chirps out, shaking her hands up and down lightly, forgetting his were in her own. “Everyone is very kind to me. Um, but you see, you’re very busy too, and I really wanted to welcome you home. I had to fight the chef and the maids, but, I think you’ll really like it. I worked really hard.”

She has plans. She carefully makes a time capsule for Diluc to read in a couple of years.

The way Xiao flits between standing and sitting is not unlike one of the many small thrushes that likes to hop along the ex-Archon’s shoulders when he goes for his walks. Amused and endeared, the corners of his mouth tweak upwards.

“Of course. I have always been pleased with your diligence and conduct,” Zhongli reassures him warmly. He places the second cup of tea in front of the seat Xiao selected, newly vacated, before picking up his own and giving it a delicate sniff. There is a moment of silence as he mulls over the offer, attention divided between the aroma of the tea and the prospect of a meal.

“I think your company will be enriching enough for this evening. No need to fetch anything we can’t both enjoy,” he says finally, then takes a slow, leisurely sip. A pleased hum fills the next pause. “Please, sit and tell me of how your days have been faring.”

Oh, what was that? The hair on Xiao’s head fluffs, as if proudly presenting himself for more words of praise. He would like more, and he stares at this man ‘Zhongli’, expectantly for a couple of moments before he finds himself; his eyes quickly lock onto the cup placed at his seat, then to the face of his Lord and to the side and back again.

With the rejection of his offer for food, he wasn’t quite sure if maybe he was in trouble or not. Still, he’d deal with that when it came, if it did. So he simply plops himself back onto the seat, staring at his cup before carefully taking it and holding it.

As his fiancée lists more and more items, Diluc begins to fear for the future of his poor estate. While the furnishings aren’t really colorless, he hasn’t exactly changed any of the decorations either since the house changed hands from his father to him. That means every hue is still to the late Ragnvindr’s preferences- dark and rich and tasteful. Diluc honestly can’t see how pink curtains will go with everything else.

But, well, he’s already asking for so much from her. He supposes he can deal with a little pink.

That’s why when Pauline grabs his hand, he follows after her obligingly (if a little awkwardly.) She seems like she needs the support anyways, she isn’t walking very steadily in those heels… Is it her first time? He wonders, just as she suddenly draws very close to tuck something behind his ear. With a startled blink, he reaches up to touch the thin stem resting in his hair, connected to soft petals.

“…Thank you?” The words come out helplessly bewildered by how many liberties are being taken right now. He may not know much about courtship, but he’s fairly certain he would have heard about something like this. That suspicion is only further cemented by the smiles and laughter accompanying the show. Feeling somewhat like he’s being made a fool of, Diluc pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales deeply before letting out a long sigh.

“Right,” he says in his very best Master Ragnvindr voice. “Let me show you inside. We’ve prepared a meal for your visit, so I hope the food is to your liking. This way please.” He turns on his heel and starts leading the way back to the manor, only to catch sight of Kaeya leaning out of an upper floor window, snooping as always. There’s an amused smile on his face that only widens after his eye flicks upward briefly, reminding Diluc of his impromptu ornament.

Embarrassed and annoyed, he reaches up to take the pink flower out of his hair. Something stops him from just tossing it out carelessly to the side though. Perhaps it’s because it’s the first gift, small as it is, that he’s received from the woman he’s supposed to be sharing the rest of his life with that makes it worth a little more consideration than any other randomly picked wildflower. After a moment’s hesitation, he carefully tucks it into the breast pocket of his coat.

Polly dangled rather helplessly in her father’s grip, though she did make some kind of effort to make it seem as graceful as possible. After all, she was a Lady, and a Lady was always poised... is what her mama said. Though she would have to admit it was a bit awkward, she didn’t find it embarrassing. “Your voice is very lovely.” She comments after he speaks; she lightly kicks her feet and frees herself so she was once again allowed back on the ground.  

The family follows politely, though the bickering between her sister and mother seems to have started up again. 

Polly stares at Diluc, following his gaze up toward the window to see a familiar face. The boy smiles and waves with his fingers, and she giggles and waves back. She gets closer to her fiancé, walking with him. “Oh, you know, that boy up there, he’s the one that brought me here. He told me a whole lot of things about you.” She nods sagely, though her wisdom would turn out to be quite limited in this matter. It would seem she hasn’t noticed the flower was relocated just yet.

Once she was inside, she stops walking, eyes flittering from one area to another, to an oddly out of place vase, and -- oop. Her sister bumps her, urging her to continue moving forward in a less than polite way. She would have her revenge, surely but not at the moment, no. This was Diluc’s special day and she didn’t want anything to ruin it, after all they were getting along so well!!

There’s flowers all over the floor. That’s the first thing Diluc notices when he enters the manor. For a moment, he thinks that maybe Hillie and Moco had something to do with it, since they always seem to be causing more messes than they clean, but then he notices the color. Pink. The favorite color of his new wife.

…That still feels strange to think about, even if the wedding was a week ago now. He’s not quite sure how to feel about it all, but it’s not exactly uncomfortable sharing a house with her. It’s only that unexpected situations like these keep cropping up and he really has no idea what to do about them.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he follows the trail of petals that seem to be laid out in a path towards the dining area. He can smell the food before he sees it and it smells different than the usual meals his staff prepares- not bad, just… different.

“Hello?” he calls out, looking around the room for the only culprit it could be.

There’s a squeak that leaves her as she hears the front door open and shut and she stills, listening intently just in case maybe, perhaps, it was just one of the maids, or or or --- footsteps. Creeping footsteps at that, slowly making their way toward the area, this area probably but she wasn’t ready!  Well.. most of this was ready, the food, the petals, the nice candles and juice, but not her!  

What was she supposed to say, she hadn’t thought of it! She was nervous a bit, but it was the good kind, she thinks. He was so handsome and sweet to her, so..

The moment he so much as peeks in, she decides to just hope for the best and grabs his hands gently. Gingerly. Like one would hold a delicate creature.

“W-welcome home hus...band...”

“Ah-” A small, surprised sound bitten short escapes him when she suddenly takes his hand again and kisses it, right on the palm of his glove. Is this a custom where she’s from? Lauckner sounds Mondstadtian though.

It becomes quickly apparent that Pauline just has no sense of formality from the reactions of her own family though. This is becoming a spectacle. Now his neck is beginning to flush underneath his hair. He clears his throat hurriedly.

“It’s… fine,” he reassures her mother, curling his fingers in and holding his hand to his chest. Somehow, it feels warm. He uses his other to shake her father’s hand instead and exchanges a few words with him to be polite. Only to immediately regret every decision in his life he’s made up until this point. How to please a… His eyes slide shut with a barely repressed sigh. He already knows he’s doing this to have children, he really doesn’t need a reminder.

Honestly, he’s willing to take his chances with this tiny, over-friendly woman to avoid any more of that particular topic.

“Pink?” he repeats with an edge of weary desperation he’s trying very hard to tamp down. “I suppose it’s… inoffensive, in certain shades.” That’s really as diplomatically as he can put it. There’s an awkward pause as he searches for a way to continue the conversation. “Do you? Like pink?”

Polly seems to brighten up, a small giggle coming from her as a hand comes to shield her lips politely. When she’d first seen him she thought that maybe he would have a super stiff personality, but in reality he was really cute and seemed rather shy. She could see herself getting along with him well.

“I like pink.” She replies, with a small nod of her head. “I think it’s a pretty color, and it looks charming on anything. Flowers, clothes, curtains.”  She takes the time to glance around, and once she spotted her new target, she reaches out, grabbing her fiancé by the hand and tugging him along  (with slight wobbling) as she trots off to the side to a little patch of flowers. White, yellow and... without releasing his hand, she crouches and picks a pretty, soft pink flower, then gets back up and tucks it into his hair near his ear.

“Like I thought, pink looks lovely on you too!” Though her thought and giggling is short lived as her father gently scoops her up and, with a smile that says he’s not at all sorry for how she is, apologizes for his daughter’s actions. Her sister’s laughter could be heard along with various shushing noises from their mother, but Polly was undeterred and her smile never falters.

      Their arms are open. They want hugs. Give them the hugs, this is a threat.

The first surprise of the day comes when the carriage door opens and a rather large man steps out, seemingly heavy enough to make the whole vehicle rock and shake as he does so. Diluc does not think himself a very diminutive man, but this man makes him feel childishly small. He half wonders about his bride-to-be in that moment….

Only to be immediately assured when a procession of small women are helped out of the carriage one by one. Really, the size contrast is quite stark, almost comical. He meets each of their gazes one by one with a polite nod, appraising them as they’re formally introduced. This one, who is clearly older than himself in an elegant sort of way, is the man’s wife. The next, who is much too young and irreverent to be anything other than a teenager, is his youngest daughter.

Diluc distinctly remembers being told that they should make up three guest rooms for their visitors, and the heads of the house will obviously be sharing one, which only leaves-

His bride. Pauline Lauckner. She’s just as lovely as her mother and sister. Well-dressed. Fine featured. Just about his age. Any man would be ecstatic to marry a woman like this. He reaches inside himself to find that enthusiasm, but only comes up with a handful jangling nerves and an apology on the tip of his tongue.

Diluc swallows both down with practiced ease and offers her a small, polite smile instead.

“The pleasure is all mine, Pauline.” He bends slightly at the waist and holds out one hand to receive hers, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of her hand for just long enough, before releasing her. He’s thought of how this must happen so many times by now that it’s like clockwork. “My name is Diluc Ragnvindr, owner of Dawn Winery. I welcome you to my estate and family. I hope that your trip was a comfortable one?”

The kiss to her hand makes her giggle; she always did find the gesture to be rather odd. After all, she was from an environment of handshakes and hugs, loud talking and laughter. And because she had no clue how things were supposed to work in higher society, his hand does not leave her own for long as she takes it in both of her own. But he was a man, so something had to be done differently, correct? So instead of placing a kiss on the back of his hand, she gently turns it over and kisses him on the palm; she offers him a bright smile. “Thanks to my sister, it was as comfortable a ride as a barrel down a hill.” At least she was honest.

The snort that comes from her father is abrupt, fisted hand coming to cover his mouth as he turns his head away sharply as if trying not to embarrass her. Her sister rolls her eyes and her mother fusses, getting her to release the poor young man’s hand. They were to be wed, yes, but he wasn’t her husband just yet!! 

@multicrowned

When Diluc was young, his father would sometimes go on business trips for the Wine Guild establishing new connections afar. Diluc remembers counting the days until he would return, then waiting outside the Winery on the main road on the last day, craning to see his carriage in the distance.

The eager anticipation he felt then is only vaguely parallel to the anxious twist in his stomach now as he waits on that same road, but he doesn't let his discomfort show. Instead his face is a mask of polite neutrality, shoulders squared and back straight, the perfect picture of composure as the carriage containing his future bride approaches closer and closer with every painstaking second. A woman who he has never met, who he knows nothing about due to some strange discretion of Kaeya's that Adelinde had humored.

("It's a surprise~" his brother said gleefully, as if he were hiding a birthday present and not the future of their clan in his hand.)

It doesn't matter. Establishing new connections is Diluc's duty now. He is his father's firstborn son, the one who carries the blood of the Ragnvindr's in his veins, and it will be his children who shall carry on a legacy as old as Mondstadt itself. For that reason alone he must be married, and so he will.

No matter who steps out of that carriage, she will be his wife, whether he likes her or not.

It was quite a day. 

Family fussing over this and that, getting crushed (gently) by her father who seemed so surprised that his baby girl was going off to be married, which came as a shock to the young woman seeing as.. well.. he was the one who was sending her out. Still, she allowed herself to be dolled up and waddled her way into the carriage which dipped and lowered slightly with the weight of her Father getting on with her... then her smaller sister and mother. Wow, this was going to be a family event, huh?