Cherie

he steps past the entryway and a weary sigh escapes his lips. he leans on the wall, tipping his head back in an effort to ease the crick in his neck. archons above, he’d feel this magnified tomorrow, wouldn’t he? 

his head was killing him. 

regardless of how seasoned an adventurer and how much of a captain one may be, a week scouting in dragonspine mountain was bound to be draining, not to mention the pages of reports that he’d had to finish immediately after returning.

he pulls his hair free from his ponytail, and it cascades down his shoulders in a waterfall of azure and navy. he rakes his fingers through, shaking it out at the roots before moving to massage his throbbing forehead, thumbs resting on his temples. the hair tie that rests in his hands, the one that he pockets delicately, is a sparkly gold one that you’ve given him.

he slides to the floor to undo his boots, fumbling ungracefully with the gilded clasps and buckles adorning brown leather, taking far too long for what would ordinarily be a simple task.

despite his exhaustion, he smiles when he sees your shoes lined up neatly, and he arranges his boots next to yours, the sides of his left shoe touching the sides of your right.

 it almost makes him forget his headache. 

almost. he winces as another throb radiates the pain behind his brows.

a shower can wait, kaeya thinks, as he walks towards the bedroom. he’d much rather be cuddled up with you and rest till the morning comes. 

his footsteps are quiet, and he walks as slowly and as softly as possible despite wanting to run to bed immediately. the last thing he wants is to wake you up.  

he cracks open the door in the same measured manner, the soft light of the living room’s lamps permeating through as he does, and he sees his shadow magnified on the plush carpet you insisted on for the floor. as his eye adjusts, the first thing he sees is you sleeping, as peaceful as can be.

warmth blooms in his chest. it feels right, he thinks, to be able to come home to you after a long, hard week. 

he moves through the space to kneel by your side, to press the softest of kisses on your forehead, carefully stroking your hair, unwilling to disturb your rest. as much as he’d adore hearing your voice after going a week without, he could wait till the morning.

he peels off all his clothes, layer by layer, dropping his eyepatch in the drawer before grabbing the first pair of clothes he touches in his closet. 

he laughs quietly to himself in the dark, realizing he accidentally got ahold of one of your shirts.

pulling out the right article of clothing this time, he trudges onward to the bathroom, finding himself with just enough energy to brush his teeth. your toothbrush, identical to his, and your toothpaste sit in a glass next to his, and he fondly looks at the strip of satin ribbon you tied to the handle of your brush to mark it as yours. 

it feels right, he thinks. to see your possessions next to his, to see traces of you everywhere he looks in his home. to be reminded of your presence by his side everyday. 

he slides into bed, a grin finding its way onto his face as he spots a little bit of dried drool at the corner of your mouth.  “hey,” he coos when you stir at the feeling of the mattress dipping with his weight. “it’s just me, no need to be alarmed.”

“kaeya?” you call sleepily. “you just got home?” 

“mhm.” he settles himself next to you, the length of his body pressing comfortably against yours. your blanket-warmed skin on his draws a content sigh from his lips. 

“what time is it?”

“something ungodly, i’m sure,” he stifles a yawn, his brows knitting together when his headache makes itself known again. “go back to sleep, darling.” 

“headache?” you ask, blinking the sleep away. he hums.

“it’s nothing, don’t worry.”

“don’t give me that, kaeya.” you wriggle closer to him, your fingers cradling his temples. your thumbs press gently, rubbing to ease the pressure. somehow, your touch helps.

he smiles, a soft puff of his breath hitting your wrists.

it feels right, he thinks, to feel you nestled against him, to hear your breathing even and content, to see your face calm and half buried in the embrace of sleep even as you clumsily attempt to soothe his aching head. 

it feels right, he thinks, to have your things scattered next to his, your keys with his and his shoes next to yours in a household chaos so wonderfully familiar.

it feels right, he thinks, to see your life so intertwined with his that they’re almost one; where he cannot imagine his days without you.

he feels you stir, hands dropping back down to rest on his chest. “what are you thinking about?” you ask. 

“you,” he says, brushing an eyelash off your cheek, completely sincere.

you huff, rolling your eyes. “sweet-talker. did you miss me that much?” you nudge him playfully.

“i did,” he admits, and your eyes soften in the face of his earnest response. 

“i missed you too.” you sleepily press a kiss to the base of his neck, where his pulse lives. “it really isn’t the same without you.”

“now who’s the sweet-talker, hmm?”

“you’re ruining the moment we’re having, kaeya.” you poke him in the chest in faux annoyance, huffing lightly. “besides, pillows shouldn’t talk.”

he chuckles. “alright, alright.” he acquiesces, his voice mellow and fond. he kisses your forehead and pulls you closer, yawning. “i’ll quiet down and be your pillow. we’ll talk in the morning.”

“mhm,” you hum in response before a yawn leaves your mouth. “goodnight, my love.”

he nudges your head with his nose. “sweet dreams, my love.”

✦ ending notes: this doesn't flow as smoothly as i'd like it to, but i still adore this with all my heart. thanks for reading. :)

✦ taglist: @maopll @number-one-love-lover (send an ask to be removed!)

The morning sun over Mondstadt always seemed to catch the crest of Starfell Valley first, pouring like liquid amber over the cider-scented orchards of the Dawn Winery.

It was a quiet sort of beauty, the kind that didn’t demand an audience but simply existed, grounding and immense.

Inside the manor, the atmosphere was much the same.

You sat at the long, polished oak table in the dining room, the crest of the Ragnvindr clan catching the early light from the high arched windows.

A cup of black tea steamed faintly beside your plate, the scent of bergamot mingling with the rich, earthy aroma of the breakfast Elzer had just laid out.

From the doorway, the soft, rhythmic click of leather boots signaled his approach.

You didn’t need to look up to know the precise cadence of Diluc’s step.

It was a march born of years of discipline, yet whenever he entered a room where you sat, that rigid pace invariably softened, rounding at the edges until it was nothing more than a gentle glide.

Diluc paused behind your chair, his gloved hand coming to rest lightly on the carved wooden back. With his other hand, he reached down, his long, pale fingers gently tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear.

His touch was warm, always so incredibly warm, a silent testament to the Pyro Vision that rested against his coat but it was also remarkably tender.

To the rest of Teyvat, Diluc Ragnvindr was a man of iron and ash, a silent protector who wore a permanent scowl and carried the weight of Mondstadt’s sins on his broad shoulders.

But here, within the private sanctuary of the winery, surrounded by the staff who had known him since childhood, he was simply yours.

"Did you sleep well?" his voice was a low, gravelly rumble, rich and soothing in the quiet of the morning.

"I did," you replied, tilting your head back to look up at him.

A small, soft smile graced your lips as you reached up to cup his cheek.

His skin was rough from years of handling claymores and reins, but he melted into your palm, his eyelids fluttering shut for a brief, sacred second.

"Though the bed felt a bit empty after dawn."

Diluc leaned down, pressing a lingering, warm kiss to your forehead. "I had paperwork to review with Elzer regarding the summer vintage. I didn’t wish to wake you."

Across the room, Adeline stood by the sideboard, a silver teapot in hand.

A knowing, deeply affectionate smile softened her features as she watched the two of you.

She had seen Diluc through his darkest, most turbulent years, the years of grief, of self-imposed exile, of bitter isolation.

To see him now, anchored so completely by your presence, his sharp edges thoroughly blunted by the sheer depth of his love for you, brought a quiet joy to her heart.

"Master Diluc, the carriage is being prepared for your trip into the city," Adeline murmured, her tone respectful yet warm. "And forgive me, Lady Ragnvindr, your dynamic with the Knights’ logistics team is scheduled for early afternoon, is it not?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Adeline, please. Just my name is fine. And yes, Jean asked if I could assist with the inventory of the elemental reserves. With the Stormterror aftermath still causing minor anomalies, she wants an extra Vision holder on site."

Diluc’s eyes flicked down to your hip, where your own Vision rested, glinting softly in the morning light.

A subtle, protective tighten crossed his jaw, though it vanished as quickly as it came.

He trusted your strength implicitly. You were a formidable fighter in your own right, an equal partner who could stand back-to-back with him in the dead of night against an abyss pack without flinching.

His protectiveness wasn't a doubt of your capabilities; it was simply the natural law of his universe.

He loved you, and therefore, the world was a threat to be managed.

"I will be at the tavern by nightfall," Diluc said, his hand sliding down to your shoulder, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. "If your duties wrap up early, come find me at the Angel’s Share. We can ride back together."

"It's a date," you teased softly.

He didn't smirk, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a rare expression that only you ever truly witnessed.

To the world outside these stone walls, you were a dedicated ally of the winery, a capable Vision user, and a dear, trusted friend of Diluc Ragnvindr.

When the two of you had married a year ago, it had been a quiet affair, held in the estate’s private chapel with only Adeline, Elzer, and a profoundly smug Kaeya in attendance.

It wasn't that you were hiding your love; it was simply that neither you nor Diluc felt the need to perform your marriage for the court of public opinion.

You didn't hold hands in the streets of Mondstadt; you didn't exchange sweet nothings over the counter at the Good Hunter.

You walked side by side, equals, autonomous and private.

If anyone asked, neither of you lied. But Mondstadt was a city of gossip, and when people didn't see grand gestures, dramatic declarations, or a woman dangling off the winery master's arm, they assumed what they pleased.

To the average citizen, you were just an exceptionally close confidante. A brilliant friend.

And that suited you both perfectly. But privacy, you would soon remember, often left room for the imaginative malice of those who envied what they could not understand.

The afternoon air in Mondstadt was crisp, carrying the scent of dandelions and fresh bread from Sarah’s ovens.

You walked down the stone steps from the Knights of Favonius headquarters, stretching your shoulders after hours of cataloging elemental crystals with Lisa.

Your Vision hummed with a faint, resonant energy, responding to the ambient elemental flow of the city.

As you made your way past the flower shop, intending to head toward the plaza, a sharp, carrying voice cut through the midday bustle.

"Oh, look who it is. I swear, some people simply don't know when they are overstaying their welcome."

You paused, turning your head slightly. Standing near the city gates, leaning against a crate of goods, was Donna.

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her lips curled into a sneer that looked entirely out of place on her usually bright face.

A couple of other townspeople stood nearby, shifting uncomfortably under her intense, venomous gaze.

You blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "Good afternoon, Donna. Is something the matter?"

"Is something the matter?" Donna scoffed, taking a step toward you, her heels clicking sharply against the cobblestones. "You have a lot of nerve acting so innocent. Everyone in the city sees it, you know. The way you constantly hover around the Dawn Winery. The way you practically force yourself into Master Diluc’s schedule."

You stared at her, utterly bewildered. "I work closely with the winery on elemental defense and trade routes, Donna. It’s matters of business."

"Business! Is that what you call it when you follow him around like a stray dog?" Donna’s voice rose, deliberately drawing the attention of passing citizens.

A few merchants turned to look; a pair of Knights on patrol slowed their pace. "You think just because you have a Vision, you're somehow special? You’re just a commoner clinging to his coattails, desperately trying to climb the social ladder. It’s pathetic, really. Master Diluc is a nobleman of highest caliber. He’s far too polite and well-bred to tell you to your face that you're an annoying nuisance, but it’s obvious to everyone else."

A low, collective murmur passed through the small crowd that had gathered.

Some looked sympathetic toward you, while others, fueled by the natural human appetite for scandal, began to whisper among themselves.

Is she really clinging to him? Well, they do spend an awful lot of time together... and Master Diluc never did seem the type to tolerate idle company.

You felt a prickle of annoyance, but you kept your composure.

You didn't need to defend your honor to Donna; the ring tucked safely on a silver chain beneath your shirt pressed warmly against your collarbone, a solid, unshakeable truth.

"Donna," you said, your voice calm, steady, and entirely devoid of the anger she was trying to provoke. "I assure you, Master Diluc is entirely capable of expressing his discomfort if he had any. My presence at the winery is welcomed."

"Welcomed? Keep telling yourself that!" Donna spat, her eyes flashing with a desperate, bitter jealousy.

For months, she had watched you slip in and out of the winery gates, had seen you walking beside the man of her dreams.

She had convinced herself that you were an opportunist, a parasite exploiting Diluc's solitary nature. "You're just a parasite. A desperate, clinging little girl who thinks a shiny glass orb on her hip makes her worthy of a Ragnvindr. You don't belong near him. You're nothing to him."

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, a long, dark shadow fell over the cobblestones between you and Donna.

"My, my. What an incredibly loud performance for such a quiet afternoon."

The smooth, theatrical drawl was instantly recognizable.

From around the corner of the alchemy station stepped Kaeya, his single eye gleaming with a dangerous, icy amusement.

His hand rested casually on the pommel of his sword, his posture relaxed, yet there was a distinct, predatory sharpness to the air the moment he arrived.

Donna paled slightly, stepping back. "Captain Kaeya! I-I was just... I was just pointing out the truth. She’s always bothering Master Diluc, and-"

"And since when did the logistics of the Ragnvindr estate become the civic duty of a floral assistant?" Kaeya interrupted, his smile never reaching his eye. He walked over, deliberately stepping into your space, his arm coming around your shoulders in a loose, protective, brotherly drape.

He looked down at you, his expression softening into genuine fondness. "Are you alright, little lady? Did the bad weather wash up some refuse?"

"I'm fine, Kaeya," you sighed, though you appreciated the warmth of his presence.

Over the past year, Kaeya had firmly established himself as a fiercely protective, albeit incredibly teasing, older brother figure to you.

He might have a fractured relationship with Diluc, but when it came to you, Kaeya was fiercely, uncompromisingly loyal.

Kaeya turned his gaze back to Donna, the temperature in the immediate vicinity seeming to drop by several degrees.

"Let’s clear something up, shall we? The lady you are so carelessly slandering happens to hold a position of utmost respect within the Knights' strategic network. Furthermore..." His grin widened, flashing a row of white teeth.

"If Master Diluc found her presence 'bothering,' he wouldn't be the one constantly ensuring her favorite tea is imported directly from Liyue just to keep her comfortable at his table. So, unless you want me to write up a formal report for public disturbance and harassment of a Knights' liaison... I suggest you take your flowers and your fascinating theories somewhere else."

Donna choked on her breath, her face flushing a deep, humiliated red.

She cast one last, hateful look at you before turning on her heel and storming off toward the flower shop, her hands trembling with rage.

The crowd dispersed quickly under Kaeya’s sharp, lingering gaze. Once the street was relatively clear, Kaeya dropped his arm from your shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as he looked down at you.

"You let people trample over you too much," he chided gently, though his voice held no real bite. "You could have flattened her with your Vision in three seconds flat."

"And cause a scene? Diluc hates scenes," you reasoned, smoothing down your coat. "Besides, her words don't change the truth. Let her think what she wants."

Kaeya shook his head, a complex emotion flitting across his face. "You and Diluc... I swear, the two of you are stubborn to a fault. This whole 'private romance' bit is all well and good, but it leaves the door wide open for fools like Donna to think they have a chance, or worse, to drag your name through the mud. Diluc would burn Mondstadt to the ground if he knew she spoke to you like that."

"Then let's not tell him," you said softly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "He has enough on his plate with the Abyss Order activity near the Wolvendom borders. He doesn't need to waste his energy on town gossip."

Kaeya stared at you for a long moment, before letting out a defeated, amused chuckle. He reached out, rustling your hair affectionately. "You're too good for him, you know that? But fine. I won't say a word.

Just... be careful. Jealousy makes people do incredibly stupid things."

As it turned out, Kaeya’s warning was entirely prophetic.

A few days later, a grand celebration was held in Mondstadt.

The Knights of Favonius had successfully cleared out a massive hilichurl camp that had been blocking the main trade routes from Liyue, and the acting Grand Master had declared a night of festivity to boost morale.

The entire city was alive with light, laughter, and the heavy scent of Barbatos’s favored brew.

The Angel’s Share was packed to the brim.

Every table was occupied, the wooden rafter echoing with the loud choruses of bards and the clinking of heavy beer mugs.

Diluc stood behind the bar, his expression as impassive as ever as he poured drinks with practiced, flawless efficiency.

He wore his usual high-collared vest, his fiery red hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

Despite the chaos of the crowded tavern, his eyes continuously tracked a single point in the room: you.

You were sitting at a table near the corner, laughing softly as Venti spun a ridiculous, entirely fabricated yarn about a dragon and a giant dandelion.

Beside you, Kaeya was nursing a glass of Death After Noon, his eyes occasionally scanning the room with quiet vigilance.

"Master Diluc!"

Diluc’s gaze snapped back to the bar counter.

Standing there, leaning heavily against the polished wood, was Donna. She had clearly had a bit to drink, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy, though fixed on him with an intense, desperate focus.

"A glass of your finest white wine, please," she purred, trying to pitch her voice lower, trying to emulate the sophisticated ladies she read about in novels.

Diluc didn't utter a word.

He simply reached for a clean glass, poured the requested wine, and slid it across the counter to her, already turning away to wipe down a tap.

"Master Diluc, wait," Donna called out, her hand reaching out across the wood, nearly catching the sleeve of his coat.

Diluc subtly stepped back, entirely out of her reach, his eyes narrowing into a cold, flat stare.

Undeterred by his icy demeanor, Donna leaned in closer, her voice carrying over the din of the tavern to the surrounding patrons. "I... I just wanted to say how much everyone appreciates you hosting these events. You are always so hardworking, so noble.

It must be so exhausting... especially with certain people constantly draining your time and resources."

Diluc’s hand paused on the towel. "What are you referring to?"

Donna took his response as an invitation, her eyes lighting up with a cruel, triumphant gleam.

She glanced pointedly over her shoulder toward your table. "Oh, you know. There are rumors all over the city about how some people take advantage of your generosity. Always hanging around the winery, acting like they belong there, using their Vision as an excuse to get close to your wealth and status. It’s disgusting, really. Someone like you deserves a woman who truly understands high society, someone who values you for you, not just your name."

The immediate area around the bar went dead silent.

Six-Fingered José stopped strumming his lyre a few paces away.

Several patrons lowered their mugs, sensing the sudden, suffocating drop in atmospheric pressure.

Diluc did not blink.

His crimson eyes fixed onto Donna with a terrifying, absolute stillness.

The heat radiating off him became palpable, a heavy, oppressive warmth that made Donna’s breath hitch in her throat.

"Is that so?" Diluc’s voice was dangerously quiet, a low hiss of embers before a wildfire.

"Y-yes!" Donna stammered, emboldened by her own delusion. "Everyone thinks so! She’s just a clinging, desperate nobody who’s dragging down your reputation. You should just ban her from the estate, Master Diluc. You don't need that kind of dead weight—"

"Donna."

The name slipped from his lips like a sentence from a judge.

Diluc slowly placed the towel down on the counter.

He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer command in his tone cut through the entire tavern, silencing even the rowdy tables in the back.

"You are speaking of my wife."

The words dropped like a claymore splitting a boulder.

Donna froze, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. "W... W-wife...?"

Across the room, you raised your eyebrows, a quiet sigh escaping your lips.

You had hoped to avoid a scene, but looking at the absolute fury vibrating beneath Diluc’s calm exterior, you knew there was no stopping him now.

Kaeya, on the other hand, let out a loud, delighted bark of laughter, leaning back in his chair with a thoroughly entertained grin.

Diluc walked out from behind the bar counter.

He didn't spare Donna another glance as he crossed the floor of the tavern.

Every single eye in the establishment followed him as he made his way directly to your corner table.

As he approached, you stood up, a soft, apologetic smile on your face. "Diluc, you didn't have to-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Diluc reached out. His large, warm hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair with an intense, possessive gentleness.

He pulled you to him, and without a single shred of hesitation, he leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

It wasn't a chaste, polite kiss.

It was deep, breath-stealing, and heavy with a profound, unyielding adoration. It was the kiss of a man who was utterly consumed by the woman in his arms, a declaration made in the language of fire and absolute devotion.

Your Vision pulsed in tandem with his, a warm, harmonious light flaring briefly between you.

The tavern erupted.

Cheered, gasps, and the slamming of mugs against wood shook the rafters. Venti clapped his hands with glee, while Patton near the door looked like he might faint from sheer shock.

When Diluc finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.

His breathing was slightly shallow, his eyes dark with an emotion so raw it made your heart skip a beat.

He looked down at you, his thumb gently wiping a trace of moisture from your lower lip.

"I am tired of listening to fools speak your name with anything less than the reverence you deserve," he whispered, his voice for your ears alone.

He then turned his head, his sharp, lethal gaze locking onto Donna, who looked as though she wished the floorboards would open up and swallow her whole.

"Let me make this entirely clear to everyone present," Diluc announced, his voice ringing with absolute authority through the Angel’s Share.

"The lady standing beside me is the mistress of the Dawn Winery. She holds my heart, my trust, and my name. Any insult directed toward her is a direct declaration of hostility against the Ragnvindr house. If I hear a single whisper of slander against my wife again... you will find yourselves permanently barred not only from this establishment, but from every trade route, estate, and asset I control in Mondstadt. Am I understood?"

Donna looked as if she might burst into tears.

She gave a frantic, terrified nod before grabbing her bag and sprinting out of the tavern doors, the laughter of the patrons following her into the night.

Diluc let out a soft breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as he looked back down at you.

His expression immediately melted back into that soft, gentle gaze that was reserved entirely for you. "Are you alright?"

"I'm more than alright," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. "Though I thought we agreed no public displays of affection?"

"Exceptions can be made," he murmured, wrapping his arms securely around you, holding you close against his chest, entirely ignoring the catcalls and cheers of the tavern around him.

From the table, Kaeya cleared his throat loudly, a massive, mischievous grin stretching across his face. He stood up, swirling his drink before tossing it back.

"Well, well. Quite a performance, Master Diluc," Kaeya teased, walking over to the two of you. He clapped a hand heavily onto Diluc’s shoulder, a gesture that made Diluc’s eyes narrow, though he didn't pull away. Kaeya looked at you, his single eye glittering with a brilliant, sudden idea.

"You know... since the town is clearly so confused about your martial status, I think there’s only one logical solution to put this entire matter to rest permanently."

Diluc glared at him. "And what would that be, Kaeya?"

Kaeya smirked, leaning in. "A proper, grand wedding. Right in the middle of the city, at the Cathedral of Favonius. A full mass, the entire town invited, the grandest decorations the winery can buy."

He winked at you.

"And most importantly... we ensure Donna is given a front-row seat to watch you slide the ring onto her finger all over again. What do you say, sister-in-law? Want to give Mondstadt something real to gossip about?"

You looked up at Diluc, who was already looking down at you, awaiting your verdict.

The thought of a grand wedding was usually against his private nature, but seeing the soft, unspoken warmth in his eyes, you knew that if it made you happy, he would rent out the entire city for a week.

"I think," you said, a beautiful, radiant smile breaking across your face, "that sounds like a wonderful idea."

The morning following the announcement at the Angel’s Share did not arrive with the usual quiet dignity of the Dawn Winery.

Instead, it arrived with the sound of Kaeya Alberich’s boots clicking across the polished flagstones of the manor’s entrance hall at an hour that Diluc considered borderline criminal.

Inside the study, the air was thick with the scent of old paper, sealing wax, and the rich aroma of dark-roasted coffee.

Diluc sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his crimson hair tied back loosely with a black ribbon, a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

You sat on the chaise lounge across from him, a ledger of elemental inventory resting on your lap, though your attention had long since drifted to the way the morning light caught the sharp lines of your husband’s jaw.

The door flew open without a knock.

"Good morning, newlyweds or should I say, the soon-to-be publicly newlyweds?" Kaeya breezed into the room, his fur-lined cape swirling behind him like a dark blue cloud.

He held a thick stack of parchment in one hand and a half-eaten red apple in the other.

Diluc did not look up from his ledger, though his brow twitched with an immediate, practiced irritation.

"Kaeya. It is barely eight in the morning. Do the Knights no longer require their Cavalry Captain to pretend he has duties?"

"Oh, Jean has given me a temporary leave of absence for a matter of grave diplomatic and cultural importance," Kaeya said smoothly, dropping the stack of parchment directly onto Diluc’s immaculate desk, right over the trade reports from Liyue.

Diluc finally raised his eyes, his gaze flat and lethal. "And what matter might that be?"

"Your wedding, of course," Kaeya smiled, his single eye glinting with pure, unadulterated mischief.

He turned to you, his expression softening into that warm, brotherly fondness that had become so familiar over the past year. "Good morning, little lady. I trust my dear brother didn't keep you up all night discussing wine fermentation statistics?"

You laughed softly, closing your ledger and setting it aside. "Good morning, Kaeya. And no, we actually managed to sleep. Though I see you’ve been busy."

"Busy? I haven't slept a wink!" Kaeya declared dramatically, pulling up a high-backed chair and spinning it around so he could rest his arms across the backrest.

"Do you have any idea how much coordination it takes to plan a grand ceremony at the Cathedral of Favonius on less than a month's notice? Jean is already organizing the honorary guard. Lisa is curating the evening's musical repertoire though she threatened to electrocute me if I suggested any sea shanties and Amber has volunteered to handle the decorations for the plaza."

Diluc slowly took off his reading glasses, placing them precisely on the desk. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We agreed to a ceremony, Kaeya. We did not agree to turn the city into a carnival. A quiet, dignified service at the Cathedral is more than enough to satisfy whatever... point you are trying to make."

"Oh, this isn't just about making a point, Master Diluc," Kaeya purred, his smile widening into something genuinely wicked.

"This is about community morale. And, more importantly, it is about civic education. The good people of Mondstadt need to learn the consequences of gossiping about the winery’s Lady."

Kaeya reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a separate piece of parchment, tapping it against his chin.

"In fact, I’ve already taken the liberty of handling the floral arrangements. I thought to myself, 'Kaeya, who in Mondstadt is most qualified to provide the highest volume of Cecilias and Windwheel Asters for the Ragnvindr estate?' And then it hit me."

A sudden, terrible suspicion flashed across Diluc’s face.

"Kaeya. What did you do?"

Kaeya’s grin was blinding.

"I placed a massive, non-refundable, incredibly lucrative order with Flora’s shop. Specifically, I requested that the order be processed, curated, and hand-delivered directly to the Cathedral by her senior assistant."

The room went dead silent for three seconds.

You blinked, a slow, disbelieving smile breaking across your face as the pieces clicked together.

"Donna."

"Precisely!" Kaeya snapped his fingers, looking thoroughly pleased with his own genius.

"I ordered five thousand Cecilias, three thousand Windwheel Asters, and a dozen arrangements of silk flowers imported from Liyue. And I made sure to specify in the contract that the delivery must be supervised at all hours by Mondstadt's most dedicated floral enthusiast. She will be spending the next three weeks surrounded by the very flowers that will adorn your bridal aisle. She will practically smell your happiness every time she breathes."

Diluc let out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose where his glasses had just been.

"You are a child. A petty, vindictive child."

"I am a protective older brother," Kaeya corrected, his tone shifting for a brief second into something entirely sincere as he looked at you.

"And I don't tolerate people throwing dirt on my family. Besides, think of the economic boost for the flower shop! It’s an act of pure charity."

"It's psychological warfare," you corrected gently, though you couldn't deny the small, wicked spark of satisfaction it gave you.

Donna had spent weeks trying to poison your reputation; letting her carry the flowers for your wedding felt like a poetic, if slightly chaotic, form of justice.

"Exactly. The best kind of warfare," Kaeya chuckled, standing up and dusting off his trousers.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go check on the wine selection with Elzer. I told him we need at least fifty barrels of the 1984 vintage, and he looked like he was going to have a stroke."

"Kaeya, do not touch my cellar," Diluc growled, his voice dropping an octave.

"Too late! See you at lunch!" Kaeya waved a hand over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the study, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

Once the door closed, the heavy silence returned to the study, but the tension had evaporated, replaced by a warm, lingering amusement.

Diluc turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes softening as the rigid persona of the Darknight Hero melted away entirely.

He stood up from his desk, walking across the room with that silent, graceful stride of his.

He stopped before the chaise lounge, reaching down to take your hands in his.

His palms were large, covering yours completely, the ambient Pyro energy within him making his skin feel like a hearth on a winter night.

He pulled you up to stand, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you flush against his chest.

"If this is too much," Diluc murmured, his face burying into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, "we can stop it. I don't care about the city's rumors. I only care about your peace."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling into the soft, thick waves of his red hair.

"Diluc, it's fine. Honestly. It’s a little chaotic, but... seeing everyone want to help, seeing Kaeya get so worked up to protect us... it makes me realize how much love we actually have around us. And besides..."

You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a playful glint in your own. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in a proper tailored suit at the altar."

Diluc’s chest rumbled with a rare, low chuckle.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, deep kiss that tasted faintly of coffee and sweet morning air. "If it pleases my wife, I will wear whatever she desires."

Over the next two weeks, Mondstadt was transformed into a whirlwind of wedding preparation.

Because you and Diluc were already technically married, the typical stress of a wedding was absent; there was no anxiety about vows or legalities.

Instead, it became a massive, community-driven festival, with every major figure in the city finding a way to involve themselves.

At the Knights of Favonius headquarters, Jean had practically turned her office into a war room specifically for the logistics of the ceremony.

"The honorary guard will line the steps of the Cathedral," Jean explained, tapping a quill against a map of the city plaza.

You were sitting across from her, while Lisa lounged on the sofa nearby, sipping tea.

"We will have four squads of Knights in full ceremonial armor. No weapons drawn, of course, but it will ensure the crowd remains orderly. Master Diluc’s standing in Mondstadt demands a certain level of security, and given your status as a vital liaison, the Knights are proud to sponsor the guard."

"Jean, you really don't have to go to such trouble," you said, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the scale of it all. "A simple walk up the steps is fine."

"Nonsense, darling," Lisa chimed in, setting her teacup down with a elegant clink. "Mondstadt hasn't had a proper noble wedding since Diluc's father was a young man. The people need something beautiful to look at. And besides, Jean needs an excuse to think about something other than paperwork. Look at her, she’s practically glowing with tactical wedding enthusiasm."

Jean flushed slightly, coughing into her hand. "I am merely ensuring that the event goes smoothly. Furthermore, Klee has requested to be the flower girl. I have... strictly forbidden her from using any 'special' flowers, and Albedo has promised to supervise her to ensure no explosives are disguised as bouquets."

You laughed, the vision of Klee accidentally blowing up the Cathedral altar with a companion sphere of dandelions both terrifying and hilarious. "Thank Barbatos for Albedo."

Meanwhile, down in the city plaza, the real drama was unfolding at the floral shop.

Kaeya had made it a personal habit to check on the progress of the floral orders at least twice a day.

He didn't just check the inventory; he brought a chair, sat near the fountain, and watched with a look of supreme satisfaction as Donna worked.

Donna was utterly miserable.

Her fingers were raw from trimming the thorny stems of the silk flowers, and her eyes were permanently red from a combination of pollen and bitter, furious tears.

Every single flower she touched was a reminder of the woman she hated, the woman who had turned out to be the legal, fiercely adored wife of the most eligible man in Mondstadt.

"Careful with those Windwheel Asters, Donna," Kaeya called out from his chair, swirling a glass of sparkling cider he had brought from the tavern.

"We need them to be perfectly symmetrical. My sister-in-law has a very keen eye for detail, you know. If a single petal is wilted, I’ll have to report it to Master Diluc, and we both know how particular he is about quality."

Donna bit her lower lip so hard it nearly bled.

She kept her head down, her hands trembling as she tied a silk ribbon around a massive bouquet of Cecilias. "Yes, Captain Kaeya. I am being very careful."

"Excellent!" Kaeya beamed, taking a slow sip of his drink.

"Oh, and make sure the delivery to the Cathedral on Friday morning is prompt. Master Diluc requested that the altar be completely covered in white lilies. He told me just yesterday while looking at his wife with the most sickeningly sweet expression I've ever seen on his face, mind you that she reminds him of a fresh lily after a spring rain. Truly, the man is a closet romantic. Who knew?"

A sharp snip echoed through the plaza as Donna accidentally cut the head completely off a pristine white rose.

"Oops," Kaeya murmured, his eye flashing with cruel amusement.

"That’s coming out of your commission, dear."

Donna looked up, her eyes wide with a mix of terror, humiliation, and deep-seated jealousy. "Captain Kaeya... why are you doing this to me? I... I only said what everyone else was thinking! How was I supposed to know they were... they were..."

"Married?" Kaeya’s voice lost its playful edge, dropping into a cold, sharp tone that made Donna flinch.

He leaned forward, his single visible eye locking onto her like a dagger.

"Because, Donna, a sensible person minds their own business. You let your jealousy cloud your judgment, and you tried to publicly humiliate a woman who is worth ten of you. Consider this a lesson in humility. You’re lucky it’s me sitting here teasing you, and not my brother. If Diluc had his way entirely, you wouldn't even be allowed within the city walls right now."

Donna swallowed hard, her throat tight with unshed tears. She looked down at the ruined rose in her hand, the reality of her situation sinking in. She had lost any chance she ever thought she had, and now she was forced to build the stage for her rival's ultimate triumph.

The night before the ceremony, the Dawn Winery was filled with a warm, bustling energy.

The entire staff: Adeline, Elzer, the maids, and the stable hands had gathered in the main hall to finalize the preparations for the reception, which was to be held on the estate grounds.

You stood in the center of the hall, wearing the beautiful, flowing white gown that Margaret and the city’s finest tailors had spent the last two weeks perfecting.

It was elegant, with delicate lace along the sleeves and a high neckline that managed to look both classic and modern.

Your Vision was subtly integrated into the sash at your waist, glowing with a soft, comforting light.

"Oh, look at you," Adeline whispered, her eyes misty with tears as she adjusted the long, sheer veil that trailed behind you. "You look absolutely breathtaking, my lady. Master Diluc won't know what to do with himself."

"He'll probably just scowl to hide how nervous he is," you joked softly, though your own heart was fluttering with a sweet, nervous anticipation.

"He doesn't scowl when he looks at you," Elzer remarked, entering the hall with a tray of polished silver chalices.

"In all my years serving the Ragnvindr family, I have never seen Master Diluc as at peace as he is when you are in the room. This ceremony... it is a good thing. The people of Mondstadt need to see that the Dawn Winery has a mistress who is strong, graceful, and deeply loved."

Just then, the heavy front doors of the manor opened, and Diluc stepped inside.

He had just returned from a final sweep of the perimeter with the Dawn Winery guards, ensuring no Abyss Order elements would disrupt the following day.

He stopped dead in his tracks the moment his eyes fell upon you.

The entire room went quiet.

The maids stepped back, smiling secretly among themselves.

Diluc stood perfectly still, his breath catching audibly in his throat. His crimson eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in the elegant curve of the dress, the soft glow of your Vision, and the radiant, loving smile on your face.

For a man who never lost his composure, Diluc looked completely undone.

He slowly walked forward, his boots making no sound against the thick rugs. He stopped just inches away from you, his hands rising as if to touch you, but pausing, afraid to disturb the pristine perfection of the lace.

"You..." Diluc’s voice was barely a whisper, thick with an emotion so deep it felt heavy in the air. "You are beautiful."

"Do you like it?" you asked softly, reaching out to take his hands, pulling them to your waist.

Diluc didn't answer with words.

Instead, he leaned down, his lips finding yours with an intense, quiet reverence.

The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were trying to commit the exact feeling of this moment to memory forever.

His hands slid around your back, pulling you close against him, completely unbothered by the fact that his entire staff was watching.

Adeline let out a soft, emotional sniffle, while the younger maids giggled into their aprons.

"I love you," Diluc murmured against your lips, his forehead resting against yours. "More than my own life. Tomorrow, the whole world will know it."

"They already know it, Diluc," you whispered back, squeezing his hands. "But tomorrow, we make it official."

The morning of the wedding arrived with a sky so clear and blue it looked as though the Anemo Archon himself had personally swept the clouds away.

The bells of the Cathedral of Favonius began to ring at noon, their deep, resonant chimes echoing across the rooftops of Mondstadt, signaling the start of the grandest celebration the city had seen in a generation.

The plaza outside the Cathedral was packed to absolute capacity. Citizens from every walk of life: merchants, Knights, adventurers, and farmers from Springvale had gathered along the grand stone steps.

The atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, the chatter of excited children, and the beautiful music of bards playing traditional Mondstadt love ballads.

Standing near the base of the steps, holding a massive basket of flower petals, was Donna.

She wore her finest dress, but her face was a mask of pale, frozen misery.

True to Kaeya’s word, she had been given a designated position right at the front of the spectator line, forced to watch every single guest arrive.

Her hands were trembling so violently that a few dandelion seeds slipped from her basket, scattering into the wind.

"Oh, look! The Knights’ leadership is arriving!" a merchant nearby shouted.

Jean walked up the steps in her full ceremonial uniform, her blond hair styled elegantly.

Beside her was Lisa, wearing a stunning purple gown that turned heads with every step.

Then came Barbara, leading the Cathedral choir, her face bright with a pure, angelic joy.

And then, the carriage from the Dawn Winery arrived.

The crowd went completely silent as the door opened. Diluc stepped out first.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Diluc Ragnvindr, who spent his entire life in dark coats and practical combat gear, was dressed in a pristine, tailored black tailcoat with gold embroidery along the lapels.

His fiery red hair was tied back in a flawless braid, and a single, perfect white Cecilia was pinned to his breast. He looked every bit the high-born nobleman he was born to be; regal, imposing, and breathtakingly handsome.

But what caught everyone’s attention was his expression.

There was no scowl.

There was no cold detachment.

His eyes were fixed entirely on the carriage door, a soft, incredibly tender look softening his sharp features.

Diluc reached his gloved hand back into the carriage, and then, you stepped out.

The silence of the plaza broke into a roar of cheers and applause that could be heard all the way to Whispering Woods.

You looked like an absolute goddess, the white silk of your gown shimmering in the Mondstadt sun, your Vision gleaming at your hip like a star.

Diluc took your hand, drawing it through his arm. He looked down at you, a proud, deeply affectionate smile touching his lips. "Ready?" he whispered.

"With you? Always," you replied.

As the two of you began your walk up the grand stone steps, Kaeya stepped into view near the Cathedral doors.

He was dressed in his formal captain’s uniform, his cape flowing dramatically.

As you and Diluc neared the front row where Donna stood, Kaeya deliberately caught your eye, casting a subtle, mischievous glance down at the floral assistant.

Diluc, noticing the movement, paused right in front of Donna.

Donna froze, her breath catching in her throat as the terrifying, magnificent master of the winery stood just two feet away from her.

She looked down at your joined hands, the gold wedding bands catching the light, an undeniable, permanent reality.

Diluc looked at Donna, his crimson eyes cold, but entirely indifferent.

He didn't need to speak an insult; his happiness, his devotion to you, and the sheer grandeur of the moment were a far greater defeat than any words could inflict.

"Thank you for the beautiful flowers, Donna," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine kindness and grace, entirely devoid of malice. "They make the day perfect."

Donna’s face flushed a deep, burning red. She lowered her head, her voice a tiny, broken whisper. "Y-you're welcome, Lady Ragnvindr. I wish you... a lifetime of happiness."

Kaeya, standing just a few paces away, let out a soft, satisfied hum, crossing his arms as he watched the final piece of his plan fall into place.

Diluc looked down at you, his eyes immediately melting back into that soft, private warmth that belonged to you alone.

He squeezed your hand, and together, you walked through the grand wooden doors of the Cathedral, leaving the gossip, the jealousy, and the whispers of Mondstadt far behind.

Inside, the altar was a sea of white lilies and glowing candles.

Barbara began to sing, her voice filling the high stone arches with a melody of pure peace.

The high stone doors of the Cathedral closed behind you, shutting out the roar of the Mondstadt crowd and leaving only the ethereal, echoing resonance of Barbara’s choir.

The ambient temperature inside the sanctuary felt instantly warmer, charged by the quiet intensity of Diluc’s presence and the harmonious hum of your twin Visions.

As you walked down the grand aisle, flanked by rows of white lilies that Donna had spent the last two weeks painstakingly preparing, Diluc’s arm beneath your hand felt as solid as stone.

Yet, the way his fingers loosely entwined with yours showed a profound, almost hesitant gentleness.

He was a man who handled a heavy claymore with lethal precision, but with you, he always moved as if a fraction too much pressure might break the most precious thing he owned.

At the altar stood Acting Grand Master Jean, her expression a mix of professional dignity and deep personal relief.

Beside her, Albedo stood with a watchful eye on Klee, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet, clutching a velvet basket filled with shimmering Anemo-infused dandelion seeds.

"We are gathered here today," Jean began, her voice rich and carrying through the vaulted ceiling, "not to initiate a bond, but to honor one that has already stood the test of time, trial, and secrecy. Diluc Ragnvindr and his lady have long been the silent pillars of Mondstadt. Today, we bring their devotion into the light of the Archon."

Diluc turned to face you, taking both of your hands in his.

The gold embroidery on his tailored coat caught the flickering candlelight, casting a warm glow up into his crimson eyes.

In this sacred space, the stern, unyielding master of the Dawn Winery vanished completely.

The gaze he leveled at you was so raw, so entirely soft, that it made your breath catch.

"I, Diluc Ragnvindr, take you once more, before the gods and the people of Mondstadt," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that vibrated straight to your heart.

"I swore my life to you in secret, but today I gladly bind my name, my house, and my honor to yours for all to see. No rumor can shake what we have built, and no shadow will ever come between us."

You smiled, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you squeezed his warm, leather-gloved hands.

"And I take you, Diluc. With my life, my sword, and my Vision, I am yours. Yesterday, today, and for every tomorrow Mondstadt has left to give."

Kaeya, standing just a few paces back as Diluc's best man, let out a soft, theatrical sigh, wiping a completely imaginary tear from his eye.

"Beautiful. Truly, I might cry," he whispered loudly enough for Lisa to chuckle behind her hand.

"You may now seal the vow," Jean said, a genuine, warm smile breaking across her face.

Diluc didn't wait.

He stepped forward, his hands sliding up from your waist to cup your face with an immense, protective tenderness.

When his lips met yours, the Cathedral choir hit a breathtaking crescendo. It was a kiss of absolute victory; a silent, powerful declaration that the rumors, the jealousy, and the petty malice of the world outside had officially been incinerated by the hearth of his love.

Klee threw her hands in the air, sending a flurry of glowing dandelion seeds exploding into the air like miniature, harmless fireworks.

The crowd inside erupted into applause, led by a fiercely beaming Grand Master and a thoroughly satisfied Cavalry Captain.

The reception at the Dawn Winery later that evening was an affair that Mondstadt would talk about for decades.

The rolling hills of the estate were lit by hundreds of floating paper lanterns, casting a soft, golden glow over the grapevine trellises.

Tables groaned under the weight of Mondstadt's finest delicacies, and Elzer had indeed been forced to crack open the legendary 1984 vintage, much to the delight of the gathered Knights and citizens.

You stood on the stone veranda overlooking the festivities, a glass of sparkling apple cider in your hand.

The heavy lace of your bridal veil had been removed, leaving your hair to fall softly around your shoulders.

Your Vision pulsed with a gentle, contented rhythm against your hip.

"A penny for your thoughts, Lady Ragnvindr?"

You turned to see Kaeya leaning against the stone balustrade, a glass of Death After Noon tilted lazily between his fingers.

The chaotic smirk he had worn all day was gone, replaced by a quiet, genuinely protective expression.

"I'm just thinking about how perfect everything turned out," you smiled, leaning back against the railing.

"Even with all your chaotic planning, Kaeya. Thank you. For everything."

"Oh, don't thank me," Kaeya chuckled, looking out over the crowd where Diluc was currently trapped in a conversation with Jean and Venti, though his eyes were still firmly locked onto you across the courtyard.

"I simply expedited the inevitable. You two deserved a day where you didn't have to hide in the shadows of that big old manor. Mondstadt needs to know who holds the reins around here."

He paused, his expression turning serious for a brief moment. "Donna was at the gate earlier, helping the catering staff. She looked like she wanted to melt into the dirt. I think she finally understands that some fires burn too hot to play with."

"I don't harbor any ill will toward her," you said softly, watching the lanterns drift into the night sky.

"Jealousy makes people blind. I just hope she finds her own peace."

"You're far too kind," Kaeya sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. "But that's exactly why my stubborn brother needs you. Speak of the devil..."

Kaeya gave a polite nod as Diluc excused himself from the Grand Master and walked up the stone steps toward the veranda.

His posture relaxed the moment he stepped away from the crowd, his eyes entirely consumed by your image.

"I believe it's time for me to mingle elsewhere," Kaeya said smoothly, tapping his glass against yours.

"Don't keep her up too late, Master Diluc. She's had a long day of being adored by the public." With a sharp wink, the Cavalry Captain sauntered back down into the gardens, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet dark of the terrace.

Diluc closed the distance between you instantly.

He didn't say a word at first; he simply slid his arms around your waist from behind, pulling your back firmly against his chest.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume and the faint, familiar trace of elemental energy that always lingered around you.

"Are you tired?" he whispered, his chest rumbling against your back.

"A little," you admitted, tilting your head back to rest against his shoulder.

Diluc looked out over the crowded courtyard, watching his staff laughing with the Knights, watching the city he protected in the dead of night celebrating the light of his life.

For the first time in years, the heavy burden on his shoulders felt completely weightless.

He leaned over, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your jawline, his Pyro warmth enveloping you completely in the cool night air.

<<What do you think?>> 

“You could have at least had him holding a stein instead of a sword,” you reply as you cross your arms over your chest. “He would have much rather preferred being immortalized with a drink in his hand.” 

The angel mage appears at your side, emitting a comfortable warmth. 

<<I only did as Grand Master Noelle instructed. She has many fond memories of sword training with him.>>

“And what about input from his wife?” you grumble. 

<<She was, if I remember correctly, too drunk to consult.>>

Nicole smiles and leans her ethereal face close to yours. You scoff at her teasing and look back at Varka's stone visage. He's not quite what you remember. 

“He looks too young and too slim. Must all heroes be remembered for their rippling youth? I always thought he looked more distinguished with the beard and moustache,” you ponder and then add with a sheepish smile, “and the weight he put on after retirement.”

<<Shall I make a custom statue just to your liking and have it delivered straight to your bedroom? I could do it in the ancient Remurian nude style.>>

“I didn't know angels could make such jokes,” you chuckle. 

You look over the statue again. It looks like the Varka you first met—well, the third Varka you met, considering you were too drunk to remember meeting him the first two times—but the Varka you picture whenever you think of him is weathered and grizzled. Hard lines around his strikingly blue eyes. Gray and wiry hair. Hands rough and wrinkled. So utterly handsome and charming that not even old age could mask it. 

How you wish you could have aged alongside him. Not like he ever complained about having a wife who barely changed from the day he met her. Still, it doesn't change the fact that you're nowhere near dying. You're further away from him than you've ever been, and every day of life you live has you drifting further. 

You approach the statue to get an up-close look. He's wearing his old armor that you still hear klanking and jingling in your memory. However, he's not wearing his gauntlets or gloves. His hands rest on the pommel of his sword, bare, left over right, and a band carved on his ring finger. 

You whip your head back to Nicole, but she's gone. 

It's stupid. You know it's not him. It's just a rock made to look like him, yet you still reach out and place your left hand over his. Your own band glimmers in the sun. 

It burns. It aches. It downpours. 

—

The next time you visit the statue, for a moment, you see him standing there facing himself. 

“You're looking more and more like him,” you say as you approach from the side. 

“Mom!” 

You're immediately swept up into a tight hug from your very large son. In truth, his size is the only thing he inherited from his father, but all of his other features are yours. Still, sometimes he smiles and stands just like him—especially now since he has fifty-some years on him, even if the years pass differently for a half-human. 

“It’s good to see you, kiddo. Are you just visiting?” you ask as you ruffle his hair. 

The kid has been traveling around Teyvat, following the same route Varka did in his younger years before you met him—though not for any valiant reasons. As far as you know, he has no ambitions of knighthood. 

“Yup! Don't worry, I already visited the nieces and nephews in Wolvendom and big sis at the church, but I'm headed back to Natlan after I get a picture with Dad here. Can you believe it? None of the ladies believe I'm the son of a great hero! Once I show them a picture of Dad’s statue, they're gonna be so impressed!” he says with a big goofy grin and a thumbs up. 

“Still chasing women?” you sigh.

“Only until I find that special one! Hahaha!” he laughs all too carefreely. “I won't give up until I find what you and Dad had!” 

You can't help but smile lopsidedly. He's always been a romantic—even as a baby, he'd gurgle and clap his chubby little hands whenever Varka would give you a kiss. You’re pretty sure he keeps at least a few photos of the two of you with him at all times. 

“What about Miss Klee? You were always chasing her around with flowers as a kid,” you say.

He visibly stiffens and shivers at the suggestion. 

“No way! That woman terrifies me!” 

You shrug it off. It's the least you can do as a parent to try to nudge him in the direction of happiness. Klee is half-human as well, meaning her lifespan will be similar to his. You don't want your son to spend decades, maybe even hundreds of years, alone after the loss of a partner. It's only been a few years for you, and every day since Varka's last has been another one too many. 

The two of you spend some more time sitting and talking in front of the statue. You listen to the stories about fights he’s gotten into for flirting with taken women, and the waves of their angry boyfriends in his wake. You would say that he’s hopeless, but so were you at one point, just in the other direction. 

The sun begins to set, and your son lies with his head in your lap as you stroke his hair away from his forehead. 

“Mom, tell me the story of how you hated the moon so Dad put a new one in the sky for you.”

—

You visit him a year later. No signs of wear yet. The church is diligent with the upkeep. 

“Lupical!” 

You turn around at the rough voice and see a grizzled man standing with a small child in his arms. With wild grey hair and scars on his face and arms, Razor looks remarkably like the Varka you remember, despite there being no blood relation. 

“Hey there, kid. Another child?” you question as you stare at the little one. 

The human reproduction timeline is still unfamiliar to you, regardless of having your own half-human child. Even in his final years, Varka was convinced there was a possibility he could give you another. Still, Razor and his wife are both considered elderly in human years, and you believed the sixth child to be their last. 

“This is my grandchild. June's firstborn. Her name is Liana,” Razor says. His language is still simple, but far more expansive than when you first met him in his teenage years. 

“I brought her to meet her great-grandfather,” he says as he nods towards the statue. “She can meet her great-grandmother now, too.” 

The little girl looks at you and then buries her face into Razor’s shoulder. You step closer so that Razor can put his other arm around you. He presses his nose to your hair and inhales, relaxing at your scent. The little one turns her face toward you and gives a quick sniff. 

“Old auntie. Big uncle. Wine,” she says quietly. 

You had drinks with Rosaria at Angel's Share earlier and indulged in one of her cigarettes. If only they could have the same effects on you as they do on humans. 

“He smelled like wine, too,” Razor laughs and lets go of you to point her toward Varka's statue. 

Grandchildren. Great-grandchildren. Varka would have been the one to keep up with them all. He should be the one here meeting little Liana. He should be the one to see and guide the generations of great-great-grandchildren and beyond. He was the one who told all the stories your son loved. He was the one who kept people together. 

How awful and strange that you prefer a life of transience and yet here you are, stuck in this world. Varka was like an anchor, a man so heavily rooted in his home and the hearts of many, and now he's gone like the breeze. 

“Why’s him not moving?” Liana asks as she points her tiny hand at the statue. 

“This is to remember him. He will never die if he is remembered,” Razor says.

—

Moss has to be cleared off the statue every few months now. Annoying, but it brings you back more frequently to do the job. 

Lately, you've been finding unopened bottles of dandelion wine at his feet. You always help yourself to it, figuring it's a reward from the folks in the city for keeping the old Grand Master clean. 

One day, as you're crouched down cleaning, footsteps rustle the grass behind you. You turn and see a young woman standing there, clutching a glass bottle to her chest. 

“Ah! Sorry! I'm just here to make an offering!” she squeaks. 

“An offering?”

“To the legendary Grand Master! Apparently, if you leave a bottle of wine at the statue, his spirit drinks it and gives you a blessing to pass the Knights of Favonius exams in return,” she says and presents the bottle. 

Oh.

You look to the side sheepishly. 

“Come,” you beckon and hold out your hand. “He would have preferred you to drink and enjoy it.”

You take a seat in the grass and lean back against the pedestal. The girl joins you and gives you the bottle that you uncork with your teeth. You offer her the first sip. 

“You speak as if you knew him. It's been 150 years since his time,” she says as she passes you the bottle. 

“I spend a lot of time in the library,” you say and take a much longer swig. 

“So do I. I've never seen you there.” She narrows her eyes and looks you up and down. 

You huff out your nose and pass her the bottle again. It's not like being non-human is any sort of secretive thing in this world. You've learned it's a lot easier to try to pretend to be more human so as not to provoke too many questions about yourself. 

“Then clearly you're not studying enough. Otherwise, you wouldn't feel so uncertain about passing your exams that you would rely on a statue to help you.”

The girl grumbles and takes several long sips of the wine. She releases herself with a gasp and leans her head back against the stone. 

“Or maybe I'm just stupid! And weak! And timid!” she laments. 

You snatch the bottle from her and down the remaining half. She goes to protest, but you stand up and set the empty bottle on the pedestal. You look up at Varka and sigh before going to rummage through the grass until you find two long and sturdy sticks. 

“Get up. Show me your footwork,” you command. 

“But I'm tipsy now!” she whines. 

“And that man could swing two claymores around gracefully while ten bottles deep! Now, up!” you demand as you toss her one of the sticks. 

She obliges and takes a stance against you. 

The two of you train until dark—mostly you whacking her ankles into place with your stick. Only when she successfully blocks and counters your correction do you give her permission to rest. 

When you return months later to clear the moss, the empty bottle still sits on the pedestal. It's half-full with rainwater, but the words, “I passed!” are written on the label.

—

It's one of those days. Despite the years being empty, they feel too heavy when stacked upon each other in the hundreds. The world is too different now. You could even go to another one now if you wanted to, by some kind of sky ship. But then, who would tend to him and the weathered edges of his stone? 

Raindrops trickling down your cheek awaken you from your respite. Thunder rumbles dully, unthreatening like a gentle reminder of a greater presence. The actual storm is past the cliffs and over the ocean, merely brushing you with its fingertips. 

“Beautiful lady, why are you alone in the rain?”

You blink and see a youthful figure sitting on the plinth. 

“I'm not alone,” you say and straighten up. “It's been a while, bard.”

“Have we met before?” he asks. 

Every fifty or so years. He's like you in that it's easier to pretend to be human as to not raise questions. You humor him, and he humors you in return. 

“Play me a song and perhaps I'll recall,” you say. 

“I'm actually collecting songs about the legendary hero here,” the bard says as he floats away from the statue and spins to look at it. “Not many about him are sung these days. Most of his songs are for the lyre, though it seems the people prefer electro music in these times.” 

“That's sad,” you mumble as raindrops collect on your clothes. 

“I think I shall try to compose a new one,” he muses. A lyre materializes in his hands. 

“Even though songs on the lyre are not popular?” 

“I believe there is no better medium to carry a song than the wind, and there is no better instrument than the lyre for the wind to pick up,” he says astutely. “The strings have the ability to stir the soul, no matter what age we live in.” 

“I see. So what will the song be about? His bond with Boreas? His battle with the Bloodstained Knight? His astounding alcohol capacity?” you question. 

“Nah, all of those topics have been covered over and over by many.”

“So what's left?”

“Why, the only thing that matters! The one thing everybody loves a song about: Love!” the bard declares with a grin that brightens the gloomy weather. “Will you help me?” 

“I don't know anything about music…”

“That's alright,” he says and begins to strum on the lyre. “Just tell me what it's like to love and be loved. I will turn it into a song.”

You look at the statue. A halting smile torments your lips. You glance at the hands on the pommel. The carved ring has worn down with all the times you've run your hand over it. 

It rains a little harder, but only beneath your eyes. You turn to look at the bard and steel yourself. He continues to strum, and you speak of a man who was never afraid to love before it was shown to him. A man who knew your heart before you met him. A man who never made a fool of the hopeful. 

The storm moves further away from the cliffs. The sun reveals himself from behind the clouds. The raindrops evaporate into the air, lifting away the heaviness of the empty years. And the notes of the lyre really do carry like the wind.

a/n: i wrote this on a whim after seeing the prompt in the collab list. i consider this to be the unplanned epilogue of my varka series, but not the last that i'll write, of course. absolutely sick of me to write the end before i publish the prologue and of course the post story-quest climax and conclusions. don't worry, that's all coming too.

thank you if you have read this far!