Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The grand library of the Knights of Favonius was quiet in the late afternoon, bathed in a golden glow from the setting sun filtering through the tall, arched windows. 

The light reflected off the polished wooden shelves and the neat stacks of books, lending a warmth to the otherwise stoic grandeur of the room. The faint scent of old parchment and ink lingered in the air, a familiar comfort amidst the hum of distant footsteps and muffled voices from knights passing through the hall.

Despite the quiet, the grand library often felt like a second home to you. The vast shelves, stacked with centuries of knowledge and secrets, were more than just a workplace—they were a reflection of the city you loved. Each day spent in the archives was a small act of preservation, ensuring that Mondstadt’s history and culture remained intact, hidden in the deepest corners of the Knights of Favonius headquarters.

Your role wasn’t one of glory or recognition, but it was one you took pride in. 

Long hours hunched over manuscripts and dusty ledgers weren’t exciting by any means, yet they were vital. 

Every report you verified, every ancient document you cataloged, was a piece of Mondstadt’s story being safeguarded for the future. Jean often entrusted you with the most delicate of tasks—unofficial records that required meticulous attention or archives that hadn’t seen the light of day in decades.

The acting grandmaster had a way of making her words carry weight, even when they were simple. During one of her rare breaks, she had looked up from her tea and told you, “Your work keeps Mondstadt standing in ways most people never see.”

It wasn’t elaborate or overly sentimental, just a matter-of-fact statement from someone who understood what it meant to shoulder unseen burdens. 

Still, the comment stayed with you, not because you sought praise, but because it felt genuine coming from her. Jean didn’t waste words, and she rarely said things she didn’t mean. On the days when the work felt endless—when the ink smudged your fingers and your back ached from hours spent hunched over dusty ledgers—Jean’s words lingered. They weren’t encouragement in the traditional sense, but a quiet affirmation that what you did held meaning, even if it often went unnoticed by others. She was still your superior, and her measured acknowledgment carried a formality that never quite felt personal. Noelle, on the other hand, brought a different kind of support. Her bright energy often cut through the somber quiet of the archives, a welcome contrast to the stillness that sometimes weighed too heavily.

Although technically assigned to other duties, Noelle always managed to find time to check in on you. She’d breeze in with her usual enthusiasm, offering to help with a cheerfulness that somehow made even the dullest tasks seem lighter. Her warmth turned the long hours into something closer to companionship, and though you never said it aloud, you were grateful for the friendship the two of you had formed.

“You’re working too hard again,” Noelle had said earlier in the day, placing a small basket of freshly baked bread on the edge of your desk. Her smile was as bright as ever, a small ray of sunshine cutting through the monotony of your tasks.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” she added, her tone gentle but firm.

You’d laughed softly, shaking your head as you accepted the thoughtful gift. “You’re too kind, Noelle. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably forget to eat entirely. I just get so focused..”

Her cheeks flushed at the praise, though she quickly waved it off with a shy smile. “It’s nothing! Everyone needs to take care of themselves, but you keep forgetting that.”

Her words carried a note of fond exasperation, and you couldn’t help but smile at your busybody friend as she left. 

You had barely taken a few bites of the bread before the sound of brisk, purposeful footsteps echoed through the library. Looking up, you saw Eula approaching, her figure cutting a striking silhouette against the soft glow of the arched windows. She moved with her usual grace, but there was a tension in her posture that you recognized immediately—something was going on.

“Eula,” you greeted, setting aside your work. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here. What brings you to the archives?”

Her eyes met yours, and though her expression was composed, there was a sharpness to her gaze that hinted at the seriousness of her visit. “I need your help,” she said without preamble, placing a folded parchment on the desk in front of you.

You unfolded the parchment carefully, your fingers brushing the edges of the worn paper. The rough sketch of Mondstadt’s outskirts revealed several hastily marked locations—small red crosses scattered near familiar trade routes and paths. 

“What is this?”

“A record of recent sightings,” Eula replied, crossing her arms. Her tone was clipped, her posture rigid as if bracing for a fight. “Abyss mages. They’ve been more active near the city’s borders, and lately, they’ve been spotted closer to the gates than ever before.”

You frowned, tracing the marks on the map with your finger. “Closer to the gates? That’s… they've never gotten that close.”

“Exactly,” Eula said, her voice sharp. “Which is why I need to know if there’s anything in the archives—records, accounts, anything that might explain these patterns or why their tactics could be shifting.”

As you studied the map, your thoughts flickered to the last time you visited Master Ragnvindr at Dawn Winery. He’d been watching similar patterns for weeks now, though his findings were far less public. Diluc had spoken of the Abyss with the same quiet intensity as Eula had at that moment. The two of you had poured over records together late into the night, his sharp gaze tracing over every detail you uncovered.

Somehow, Kaeya always seemed to appear whenever you found something significant. He had an uncanny knack for prying the latest discovery out of you, his teasing remarks often veiling questions that felt far too deliberate. 

Though he brushed it off as mere curiosity, his subtle digs about your visits to his brother had become more frequent. 

“Give me a moment,” you said, rising from your chair and smoothing the creases from your skirt. Your mind raced as you moved toward the far shelves, your fingers brushing over the spines of ancient tomes, searching for a starting point.

Eula followed silently, her gaze sweeping over the rows of books and binders. “I don’t like this,” she admitted after a moment, her voice lower now, as though she didn’t want the thought to take root. “Mondstadt has faced threats before, but this feels… deliberate. Coordinated. As if they’re testing the city, trying to gauge how far they can go before someone stops them.”

Her words settled uneasily in the quiet space between you. You glanced at her, noting the faint furrow in her brow, the way her gloved hands tightened imperceptibly against her arms. For all her composure, it was clear the situation had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

“It’s not just the Abyss mages themselves,” she continued, her tone steady but edged with tension. “It’s the intent behind their movements. It’s calculated. And that… that worries me.”

You nodded, understanding her unease all too well. “If anyone can handle this, it’s you,” you said, offering her a small, reassuring smile as you stepped back from the shelves with a promising tome in hand. “I’ll go through the records. If there’s anything useful, I’ll find it. You’ll have what you need.”

Her gaze lingered on yours, her icy demeanor softening just enough for you to catch the faint gratitude in her eyes. She inclined her head slightly, a formal gesture that somehow still carried warmth. “Thank you. I know I can count on you.”

There was something unspoken in her words, a rare trust she extended only to a select few. You returned her nod, understanding the weight of her reliance. “I’ll visit you soon—monday, probably,” you promised. “I’ll bring whatever I can find.”

Eula’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I’ll be at the training grounds,” she said, her voice measured once more. “If anything comes up, don’t hesitate to send word.”

As she turned and made her way toward the library doors, her steps steady and purposeful, you couldn’t shake the uneasy parallels forming in your mind. Eula, like Diluc, bore the weight of protecting Mondstadt from shadows that most of its citizens would never notice. And like him, she carried those burdens silently, as though they were hers alone to bear.

You watched her go, the faint echo of her footsteps fading into the stillness of the library. For a moment, you stood there, the map still open in your hands, before setting it aside. If the Abyss was moving closer, it wasn’t just a threat to Mondstadt’s borders—it was a threat to everything lurking beneath the surface of its history. As the heavy door to the library creaked shut behind her, the quiet returned, wrapping itself around you like a familiar cloak. 

The weight of the task at hand settled in your chest, but it was a feeling you were used to—the quiet expectation that came with working in the shadows of Mondstadt’s history.

The hours dragged on as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the rows of shelves. 

The faint golden light of the windows gave way to the cooler hues of evening, and soon the library was cloaked in soft lamplight. The solitude, while comforting in its way, carried with it a heavy reminder: the responsibility you bore wasn’t just to organize and preserve Mondstadt’s history but to ensure its future wasn’t left vulnerable to shadows creeping at its edges.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head as the familiar ache of a long day’s work settled into your shoulders. Glancing toward the clock mounted high on the far wall, you realized it was later than you thought. The idea of stepping outside into Mondstadt’s crisp evening air was becoming increasingly tempting.

But even as you gathered your papers and stacked them neatly, your thoughts lingered on the task Eula had left you. Somewhere in the locked vaults of the archives were secrets older than the city itself, fragments of stories that whispered of a time when Mondstadt was not the land of freedom it claimed to be. You’d seen glimpses of those secrets in passing—a name scratched into a forgotten ledger, a torn map hinting at something buried deeper than any record dared to reveal.

You shook off the thought. There was work to be done now, and the night would only grow colder if you dwelled too long.

Just as you began to set the last of the reports aside, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. They were unhurried yet deliberate, echoing softly against the polished stone floor, a stark contrast to the stillness of the room.

“You’re not going to leave me waiting tonight, are you?”

The voice was low and honeyed, carrying a playful edge that was as unmistakable as the figure now leaning casually against a desk.

Kaeya leaned against the desk a few paces away, his posture the perfect picture of nonchalance. One arm rested on the polished wood, while the other dangled loosely at his side. His gaze, sharp and teasing, locked onto yours with an ease that always felt a little too practiced.

The flickering lamplight played across his features, catching the glint of his midnight blue hair and the brighter blue of his single visible eye. The corner of his mouth quirked upward into a smirk that was as familiar as it was infuriating.

“Only if you plan on being late again,” you shot back, unable to resist the small smile tugging at your lips.

Kaeya chuckled softly, straightening just enough to cross his arms over his chest. “You wound me. You know I’d never keep you waiting on purpose.”

“Oh, of course not. You’re far too considerate for that,” you replied, your tone dripping with mock sincerity.

He leaned closer, his smirk widening as his voice dropped just slightly. “I’m glad you’ve noticed.”

You rolled your eyes, but the amused glint in his gaze made it impossible not to smile in return. Kaeya had a way of slipping into any of your conversations uninvited, his presence both disarming and impossible to ignore. It was a skill you sometimes envied—how easily he seemed to navigate the delicate dance of words, always one step ahead.

As the exchange continued, the golden light from the windows faded further, replaced by the cool hues of twilight. Outside, the bustling streets of Mondstadt were alive with the sounds of merchants closing their stalls, children laughing, and the faint melody of a bard’s song drifting from the plaza.

The moment felt suspended, caught somewhere between the lingering warmth of the day and the crisp promise of evening.

“So,” Kaeya said, breaking the silence as he reached out to idly tap the edge of one of your papers. “Shall I take this as confirmation that I’ll be seeing you at the tavern later? Or do I need to sweeten the deal?”

You raised a brow, leaning back in your chair with a feigned air of consideration. “That depends. What sweetener do you have in mind?”

Kaeya’s smirk deepened, his expression turning almost conspiratorial. “Let’s just say the first round’s on me. And who knows whatever the night will bring?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You know, for someone who’s so good at reading people, you’re surprisingly bad at being subtle.”

“I like to think of it as charmingly direct,” he replied, his tone carrying that all-too-familiar smug lilt. His words were effortless, each syllable measured and deliberate, like a melody designed to linger in your mind. Kaeya had a way of slipping into your thoughts, his presence magnetic and inescapable, leaving you intrigued, exasperated, and more than a little unsteady all at once.

His head tilted slightly as he continued, the teasing glint in his visible eye betraying just how much he enjoyed playing this game. “But I assure you, tonight I’ll be as punctual as the cathedral bell.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a small, infuriatingly confident smile, and you felt your composure waver under his gaze. 

He’s just too damn charismatic, his words slipping past your defenses with an ease that always left you wondering how much of it was deliberate. You’re quite certain you're not a totally naive fool; you knew he enjoyed the effect he had on people. 

Yet, somehow, when it came to you, it always felt more personal.

Kaeya wasn’t just your superior; he was an enigma wrapped in sharp wit and deceptive beauty. His words never failed to leave you second-guessing yourself—wondering whether you’d impressed him or made a complete idiot of yourself. 

Your mind, already muddled from the day’s work, felt warm and hazy in his presence, as though his voice alone could blur the edges of your thoughts.

And that was the most dangerous thing about him: he knew. 

He knew how to make your head spin, how to disarm you with a well-placed compliment or a teasing remark to leave you blushing and scrambling off. The lines between sincerity and showmanship blurred so seamlessly with him that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

His words still hung in the air, soft and honeyed, filling the space between you with a warmth that felt both inviting and stifling. It was always like this—a careful, deliberate dance that you suspected had been orchestrated long before you even realized you were a part of it.

Kaeya wasn’t the kind of person to leave things to chance. He was calculated, every look and every word a move in a game you were only beginning to grasp. 

You’d known him for years now, and yet the more you thought about it, the more you realized how easily he’d woven himself into your life. 

He’d been there at every turn—offering guidance, support, and just enough charm to make you trust him time and time again. Often ending up with much more work on your desk immediately after you had agreed to whatever he had said that time.

You offered him a quick wave, your smile lingering longer than you intended. “It’s a promise then,” you said lightly, your voice steady despite the way his gaze seemed to pin you in place.

Kaeya’s smirk deepened, his visible eye gleaming with something that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. 

“Lovely,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as silk.

As he turned and disappeared into the dim light of the corridor, you couldn’t shake the feeling that every step of this moment had unfolded exactly the way he wanted it to.

By the time the clock struck seven, the library was bathed in the warm hues of twilight, casting long, golden shadows across the shelves. You stretched, the stiffness in your shoulders a testament to the hours spent hunched over parchment. Gathering your things, you made quick work of tearing up a few faulty documents before slipping into your coat.

The archives door clicked shut behind you, and you turned toward the library’s main stairs. Your eyes instinctively scanned the space for a familiar figure.

“Noelle?” you called out, your voice echoing softly as you ascended. 

“She left a little while ago, darling. You know how she is—always a stickler for her schedule,” Lisa’s voice purred from above, carrying that unmistakable teasing lilt.

You glanced up, finding her perched at her usual spot, leaning against the counter with effortless elegance. Her smile was sly, as if she knew far more than she was letting on, and her half-lidded gaze made you feel like you’d walked into some elaborate joke only she fully understood.

“Of course she did,” you replied, a small, unintentional snort escaping before you could stop it. “Noelle could probably teach the clockmaker a thing or two about precision.”

Lisa chuckled softly, resting her chin on her hand as if utterly captivated by your words. “Hmmm, but, if we all had her discipline, I’d have far less fun watching the rest of you scramble to keep up.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “Well, I’m officially done for the day,” you said, brushing the dust from your hands with a dramatic flourish. “I’ll see you on monday, Lisa. Oh, and my books—they’re not overdue yet, are they? I haven’t quite managed to finish them all.”

Lisa’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Tsk, tsk, my dear. Did you really think I’d let you off the hook if they were? You should know by now I take deadlines very seriously—when I have time in my schedule of course.”

Your laugh echoed softly in the quiet library. “I’ll take that as a no, then?”

She waved a delicate hand, the gesture both dismissive and elegant. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. You’ve got a whole week to finish them. But I do expect a glowing review when you bring them back. You know how much I love hearing your thoughts—especially when you have your fiery opinion ready.”

“Deal,” you said, pulling on your coat as Lisa watched you with that ever-present knowing smile.

Her tone softened, though the playfulness never fully disappeared. “Now, off you go. The books will wait, but rest won’t. And we can’t have you looking tired—Kaeya will only tease you mercilessly if you do.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Lisa.”

“Always a pleasure,” she purred, tilting her head in a mockingly regal farewell.

With a final wave, you stepped out into the cool evening air, her lilting voice and soft laughter still echoing faintly in your ears.

The streets of Mondstadt were peaceful, the distant hum of music from the tavern spilling through the city walls. You adjusted your coat, pulling it tighter against the cool breeze as you made your way home. It didn’t take long—your apartment was tucked safely within the city’s heart, close enough to feel the pulse of Mondstadt’s charm, yet far enough to avoid the bustle.

Unlocking the door, you stepped inside, exhaling a sigh of relief as the familiar coziness of your little space greeted you. The faint scent of lavender from a half-burned candle lingered in the air, and the stack of books on your table reminded you of the quiet evening you had planned—though your thoughts were already wandering to the promise of Kaeya’s company later that night.

As always, Luxio greeted you the moment you stepped through the door, his melodic meows filling the small apartment like a welcoming symphony. The sleek tuxedo cat circled your ankles, tail high and flicking, before leaping effortlessly onto the couch.

“Miss me, did you?” you asked with a grin, scooping him up into your arms. He nuzzled against your neck, his purring a comforting hum. You plopped down on the couch with a sigh, cradling him as you sank into the cushions. “Alright, alright, you win.”

You reached for one of the books you’d borrowed, its worn leather cover cool beneath your fingertips. It was a history of Mondstadt’s old noble families—a topic most would dismiss as tedious, but to you, it was a treasure trove of secrets hidden in plain sight. The intricate web of power plays, fractured alliances, and long-forgotten betrayals felt far more alive than the routine reports and ledgers you’d spent all day sorting.

Settling into your chair, you opened the book with one hand while your other absently scratched behind Luxio’s ears. The cat purred softly, a warm, grounding presence against the quiet unease that had begun to prick at the edges of your thoughts.

As your eyes skimmed the pages, you paused on a passage detailing the fall of the Lawrence Clan—the scandals, the betrayals, the slow erosion of their influence. It was all recorded with clinical precision, but there was something unnerving about how cleanly it all unfolded. The disappearance of their rivals, families wiped from history as if they had never existed, felt too calculated. It wasn’t simply politics; it was erasure, deliberate and absolute.

A chill crept along your spine, and for a moment, you thought of Eula. She rarely spoke of her family’s history, and when she did, it was in short, clipped phrases that betrayed nothing but disdain.

Her Vision—the icy blue light she wielded so fiercely—had always seemed like the ultimate irony. A descendant of a disgraced house, burdened by history, wielding an elemental gift meant to protect the very city that had cast her family aside. 

It was a kind of strength you couldn’t fathom, and you’d always admired her for it, even if you knew she’d bristle at the thought.

Your gaze drifted back to the book. The Lawrence Clan’s downfall was written in stark detail, but what caught your attention was what wasn’t said. The rivals who disappeared, the alliances that fractured without explanation—these weren’t the natural consequences of political failure. They were calculated moves, pieces removed from a game that played out long before the Archons’ war ended.

Your thoughts strayed, unbidden, to Kaeya. His words, his actions, always seemed so deliberate, so layered. You had often wondered how much he truly knew about Mondstadt’s history, how much of the city’s shadowed past still lingered in the corners of his mind. He wore his charm like armor, but there were moments—rare and fleeting—when something colder slipped through.

But you shook the thought away, closing the book with a soft thud. The mysteries of the Lawrence Clan and the histories buried at work could wait. Dinner and a hot shower sounded far more appealing than unraveling centuries-old intrigues in the weekend.

After a quick meal, you stepped into the bathroom, letting the steam of the shower melt away the day’s tension. The warmth helped dull the nagging sense of unease, and for a while, you let your thoughts drift to simpler things—small moments of laughter with Noelle, Eula’s rare but genuine smiles, and the quiet evenings at Dawn Winery. Master Ragnvindr, as composed as ever, often entrusted you with matters requiring a discreet touch: records of shipments, unusual movements near Mondstadt’s borders, and coded correspondence that spoke of threats most citizens would never know existed.

You weren’t oblivious to the dual life he led, though neither of you had ever explicitly spoken of it. 

There was an unspoken understanding, a silent trust built over time, that allowed you to assist without crossing the boundaries he carefully maintained. The knowledge weighed heavier some days than others, especially when you pieced together the patterns in the reports he shared—the whispers of Abyss activity, the sudden disappearances along trade routes, the scars hidden beneath his gloves.

By the time you emerged from the shower, the twilight outside your window had deepened into a soft, velvety blue. The streets below were alive with flickering lanterns, their golden glow reflected in the cobblestones like scattered stars. The faint hum of music and laughter drifted upward, a reminder of Mondstadt’s vibrancy even as the night settled in.

You lingered by the window, your gaze drifting over the city you worked so hard to preserve. Mondstadt sprawled beneath you, bathed in the warm glow that evening brought to the city. The faint hum of laughter and distant music rose from the streets, a symphony of life that made the city feel alive, even in its quietest moments. Yet, beneath the tranquil facade, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of this peace was owed to secrets kept and battles fought in the shadows—struggles most would never know existed.

The thought weighed heavier than usual tonight, but you pushed it aside with a small sigh, retreating to the solace of your room.

Standing before the mirror, you reached for a delicate glass bottle on the dresser, dabbing rosewater onto your wrists and neck. Its soft floral scent mingled with the crisp air filtering in through the open window, grounding you as your fingers traced the fabric of your favorite dress. It wasn’t overly extravagant, but it fit your body just right, with enough understated elegance and a bit of tightness to draw attention without trying.

As you styled your hair and touched up your makeup, your reflection stared back at you, its gaze sharper than you expected. For a fleeting moment, you caught something else in the glass—an uncertainty that you couldn’t quite place.

“Get it together,” you muttered, shaking your head with a wry smile.

Luxio blinked lazily from the bed, his tail swishing back and forth in a rhythm that felt almost mocking. His golden eyes tracked your movements as if silently questioning whether all this effort was worth it.

“You don’t get it,” you said, glancing at him with an arched brow. 

The Angel’s Share had seen its share of stories unfold—secrets exchanged over wine, alliances forged in whispers. Tonight wouldn’t be any different, especially with Kaeya involved. His words from earlier echoed faintly in your mind, honeyed and teasing, yet always carrying an edge you could never quite understand.

You tried to tell yourself you definitely didn't dress up solely for him.

You gave your reflection one last look, smoothing out the faintest error in your looks before grabbing your coat. Luxio’s tail stilled, his gaze following you to the door, as if sensing the shift in your mood.

“Don’t wait up,” you said lightly, more to yourself than to him.

Chapter Text

The streets of Mondstadt were bustling as you made your way to the tavern. Laughter and music spilled from the Angel’s Share, mingling with the clatter of footsteps on cobblestone. The tavern’s golden glow was a beacon, drawing in locals and travelers alike.

Inside, the atmosphere was as lively as ever. Patrons crowded the tables, mugs of dandelion wine and cider raised high as cheers erupted. Behind the bar, Diluc moved with his usual efficient grace, pouring drinks without so much as a flicker of emotion.

At the center of it all stood Venti, perched on a stool with his lyre in hand. His voice rang out like the breeze itself, light and unrestrained, weaving through the cacophony like a thread of melody. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him, his infectious energy lifting the room.

But despite the warmth of the tavern and the company of familiar faces, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about tonight felt... different. The thought lingered like a half-forgotten tune, teasing the edges of your mind.

You brushed it off, stepping further into the crowd. After all, tonight was meant for unwinding, not overthinking. And Kaeya—wherever he was—was sure to have some clever remark ready to pull you back into the moment.

You spotted an open stool at the bar—a rare find on a night like this—and quickly slid into it before anyone else could claim it. The polished wood felt cool beneath your fingertips as you leaned against the bar, taking in the lively scene.

“If it isn’t Miss (L/n),” came a deep, smooth voice from behind the counter. “Didn’t notice you coming in.”

You blinked, slightly startled, before meeting the crimson gaze of none other than Diluc Ragnvindr. He stood behind the bar, sleeves rolled up and hands deftly working a cloth over a freshly washed glass. His presence was as commanding as ever, though his expression betrayed a faint weariness.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Ragnvindr himself,” you quipped, offering him a friendly smile. “What are you doing here bartending on a night like this? Surely you’ve got better things to do than sling drinks for half of Mondstadt.”

Diluc exhaled softly, his mouth quirking in the faintest hint of a smile. “Charles took the day off, and closing the tavern on a Friday night would likely result in a citywide uproar. So, here I am.”

You tilted your head, a bit surprised to find him manning the bar alone. The Angel’s Share was packed to the brim, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him. “If you need a hand, I don’t mind helping out for a bit. Serving drinks or wiping tables—it’s no trouble.”

For a brief moment, his stoic demeanor softened, and you caught a glimpse of genuine gratitude in his eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I can handle it. Most of the patrons here are regulars—they’re predictable enough.”

“Alright,” you relented with a smile. “But if you change your mind, let me know.”

Diluc nodded curtly before turning his attention to a patron calling for him at the other end of the bar. You watched as he moved with practiced efficiency, his presence commanding respect even in the rowdiest corners of the tavern. You couldn’t imagine the weight he carried—between his responsibilities as the owner of Dawn Winery and the whispered rumors that seemed to follow his every move. 

You don’t know how he does it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hand settling lightly on your shoulder. “If it isn’t our lovely little librarian,” a familiar, teasing voice drawled behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. That unmistakable tone—silky and laced with playful mischief—belonged to none other than your colleague. Suppressing a sigh, you rolled your eyes, already bracing yourself for whatever banter he had prepared.

“I’ve told you this before,” you said, spinning on your stool to face him. “I’m not a librarian.”

Kaeya stood before you, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. His posture was as casual as ever, one arm draped over the back of an empty chair, but there was a glint in his eye that hinted at something more—something you couldn’t quite place.

“Ah, but you spend so much time surrounded by books,” he countered, his tone light yet calculating. “It’s hard not to think of you as Mondstadt’s resident keeper of secrets.”

“Keeper of secrets?” you repeated with a raised brow. “That’s a bit dramatic, even for you.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was almost disarming in its sincerity. “Perhaps. But tell me, if I needed to find an ancient tome or unearth some hidden truth, wouldn’t you be the first person I’d ask?”

You huffed, though the corners of your lips betrayed a small smile. “If you’re trying to flatter me into doing your work for you, it’s not going to work.”

“Noted,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But I’d never underestimate your talents.”

The conversation hung in the air for a moment, the lively backdrop of the tavern fading slightly as Kaeya’s gaze lingered on you. It wasn’t unusual for him to tease, but there was something about his tone tonight—a quiet intensity beneath the charm that left you wondering if there was more to his words than met the eye.

Kaeya’s smile was quick and sharp, more a flash of amusement than warmth, as he grabbed the empty stool and placed it beside you. With the ease of someone who owned every room he walked into, he settled in, his posture casual yet commanding.

“I must thank you for the delightful stack of paperwork you blessed me with today,” he drawled, resting his elbow on the bar and his head on his palm. His words dripped with mockery, his single visible eye glinting with feigned despair. “Truly the highlight of my day—signing off on merchant permits and legal housing disputes. A dream come true for the Cavalry Captain.”

You crossed your arms and leaned back against the wall, raising a brow at him. “Jean has enough on her plate already, and you, Captain Kaeya, have the status to sign them. Besides,” you added with a sly smile, “you’ve got more free time than you know what to do with.”

He tilted his head, his expression amused but calculating. “Free time? Sweetheart, I’d rather spend that free time actually leading a cavalry. But alas,” he sighed dramatically, “with Cyrus away, I’ve had no choice but to take on the role of acting Grandmaster to the acting Grandmaster.” His smirk deepened, his tone a mixture of self-pity and sarcasm.

Ignoring the way he casually dropped the pet name, you gave his arm a light nudge. “Enough talk about work. It’s the weekend, and I refuse to let my brain endure another second of office nonsense. Now,” you said, straightening up, “about that oh-so-lovely promise you made this morning…”

Kaeya’s lips quirked into a mischievous smile as he brought a gloved finger to his lips, feigning deep thought. “A promise? Hmm. I don’t seem to recall any promises. Are you quite sure—”

Before he could finish, you cut him off, raising a hand to signal Diluc. “Two glasses of dandelion wine, please. Kaeya’s treat.”

The redhead barely glanced your way as he poured the drinks with practiced efficiency, already moving to another patron before the words had fully left your mouth.

“It’s terribly rude to interrupt someone while they’re speaking, you know,” Kaeya said, his tone one of mock offense as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

You waved him off, smirking. “And it’s also rude to break promises. So really, I’m just keeping you honest.”

He chuckled, a soft, melodious sound that always seemed to carry more weight than it should. “Then I’m fortunate I didn’t break said promise.”

“You didn’t have a choice—I forced you to keep it,” you countered, lifting your glass with a triumphant smile.

Kaeya just smiled, his gaze lingering on your glass for a moment longer than expected before he took a sip of his wine. The way he watched you made your stomach twist, though you weren’t sure if it was from amusement or something else entirely.

You took a sip of your own drink, closing your eyes briefly as the sweet, refreshing taste of dandelion wine filled your senses. The first sip was always the best—a delicate balance of sweetness and tang that felt like Mondstadt itself captured in a glass.

As you savored the moment, Kaeya leaned back in his stool, his gaze sweeping the room before returning to you. “Well then, to promises kept,” he said, raising his glass in a small toast.

“To promises kept,” you echoed, though his tone left you wondering if he was speaking about more than just the wine.

You felt his gaze on you—sharp, calculating, and unwavering. Kaeya had a way of watching people, a habit you had long grown accustomed to. It wasn’t uncommon for him to make anyone feel like they were the most important person in the room, his attention like a warm, intoxicating spotlight. Still, it always left you wondering: Was it genuine, or was it just Kaeya being Kaeya?

You knew there was more to him than the flirtatious Cavalry Captain façade, but whatever lay beneath his polished exterior was shrouded in mystery. Not that you expected to uncover it—some secrets were meant to remain buried, after all.

The conversation flowed easily between you for the next half hour, his baritone voice laced with wit and his sharp comebacks keeping you entertained. You were mid-laugh when a familiar voice broke through the lively hum of the tavern.

“Oh, me oh my, do my eyes deceive me?

Could this be a dream, or did the winds weave thee?”

Before you could react, Venti’s bright smile and boundless energy descended upon you like a gust of fresh air cutting through the tavern’s warmth. In one grand, theatrical flourish, he spun your stool to face him, his laughter ringing out like music woven into the lively hum of the Angel’s Share.

“My dearest flower, so radiant, so divine,

Surely Mondstadt’s winds conspired to make you mine!

With a smile that could humble the sun at dawn,

And a laugh that lingers long after it’s gone!”

He placed a hand dramatically over his heart, his wide grin only eclipsed by the exaggerated sincerity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh, how you make even the sweetest dandelion wine taste bitter in comparison!”

You giggled, the warmth of the wine and his over-the-top compliments sending your cheeks into a blush. “Venti, you’re ridiculous!” you said, barely containing your laughter. “Do you always sweep people off their feet like this, or am I just special?”

He gasped, his expression the picture of mock scandal. “Special? My dear muse, the word hardly suffices! You are not merely special; you are unique, unparalleled! Why, if I were not bound by mortal limitations, I’d bottle the very air you breathe and compose symphonies to your every sigh!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing harder, leaning forward slightly as your tipsy giggles bubbled over. “I think you’ve had too much dandelion wine, bard. You’re absolutely out of your mind.”

“And yet,” he countered, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you haven’t denied a single word. Dare I say, my verses strike true?”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “Your verses strike something, alright. But if you keep this up, you’re going to have every girl in Mondstadt lining up for a private concert.”

“Ah, but it is only your melody I long to play,” Venti said smoothly, straightening up and giving you a bow so low it made your head spin just watching. He looked up at you with a playful twinkle in his eye. “Say the word, and tonight the stars themselves will be our stage!”

You swatted lightly at his shoulder, your laughter mingling with his. “Always the charmer, aren’t you, Venti? You were incredible out there. I’ve never heard you play like that before.”

The bard puffed out his chest with pride, leaning in close enough that you could feel the faintest scent of sweet wine lingering on him. “Ah, how kind of you to notice! I’ve been hard at work, learning new tunes to enchant and captivate,” he said, his voice lilting with unmistakable excitement. His grin widened as he leaned just a bit closer, his eyes sparkling. “And if you’d like, I’d be more than happy to give you a private concert tonight—just for you. I meant every word.”

“Really?!” Your eyes lit up with genuine excitement, your naivety shining through. “You’d do that for me? You know I love your music—”

A deliberate clearing of a throat sliced through the conversation like a blade, sharp and cold. 

The sound lanced through you, sharp and glacial, like a crack splitting the surface of once-still ice—shattering the fragile conversation of warmth and leaving only a cold, creeping frost in it's wake, making you shudder.

Kaeya leaned back in his stool, one arm draped lazily over the backrest as he swirled the wine in his glass. The crimson liquid caught the flickering tavern light, glinting like a warning. His posture was deceptively casual, but his gaze told a different story. His single visible eye locked onto Venti with an intensity that felt predatory. His lips folding upwards ever so slightly into a deceivingly simple smile.

“My apologies for interrupting,” Kaeya began, his voice smooth yet laced with an edge that hinted at something cold. “But it seems I must remind you… our dear flower already has plans tonight. Isn’t that right?” His gaze softened as it flicked to you, but the weight behind his words made your stomach twist in confusion.

“Plans?” you echoed, your brows knitting slightly. “We don’t—”

Kaeya’s gloved hand landed lightly on your shoulder, the faintest pressure silencing you as his disarming smile spread across his face. “Ah, how forgetful of me not to remind you earlier,” he said, his tone laced with a false sweetness. “We’ve had this planned for quite some time, haven’t we? I’d hate to disappoint.”

Venti’s grin faltered, just for a heartbeat, but his composure quickly returned, his hand resting lightly on the back of your stool. He leaned closer, the familiar lilt in his voice carrying a subtle challenge. “Oh, but Kaeya, surely you wouldn’t deny such a lovely muse the chance to hear my newest compositions? After all, music has a way of weaving magic into even the dullest nights, don’t you think?”

Kaeya’s smile remained intact, though you noticed his fingers tighten imperceptibly around the rim of his glass. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said, his voice as honeyed as ever, yet each word was measured, deliberate, as if testing Venti’s resolve. “And that’s why tonight’s plans are anything but dull.” He paused, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Perhaps another night, bard. We wouldn’t want to… exhaust her, now would we?”

For a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

Venti chuckled softly, but the usual brightness in his laugh was muted, his gaze sharpening ever so slightly. “Exhaust her? My dear Kaeya, I would never dream of such a thing. I aim only to bring her joy, nothing more.” He turned his attention back to you, his expression softening as he extended a hand. “What do you say, dearest flower? Shall we let the stars and melodies be our only companions tonight?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in atmosphere. And how Kaeya clearly did not want Venti’s company at this moment..

“Um—”

Kaeya’s hand shifted ever so slightly on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your collarbone with calculated ease.

“The stars,” he interrupted, his voice soft but firm, “will still be there tomorrow, won’t they? And I’m sure your melodies will only improve with time. But tonight…” His lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eye. “Tonight, she’s with me.” He said smoothly, though his gaze remained locked on Venti. “Our plans are already set in stone, after all. But do enjoy the wine, Venti. I hear it’s excellent for washing down disappointment.”

For a moment, the air between them felt electric, the weight of unspoken words passing between their sharp gazes. Finally, Venti relented, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Very well, Captain. You win this round.” His voice regained its cheerful lilt as he stepped back, though the look he gave you was filled with an almost wistful longing. “But the offer still stands, my dear muse. Should you ever wish for an escapade into song, you know where to find me.”

With that, he twirled on his heel and sauntered off, calling out for another drink as he disappeared into the lively crowd.

Kaeya let out a soft hum, his smile widening ever so slightly as his hand lingered on your back. “It seems the bard has finally remembered his place,” he said, his voice a quiet murmur meant only for you.

“Kaeya…” you began, still unsure what had just transpired. “What was that about? We didn’t have plans—”

“Ah, but we do,” he interrupted, his eye gleaming with that infuriating mixture of charm and something more sardonic. He slid another glass of wine toward you, his tone light but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “And trust me, you’ll enjoy them far more than any song he could play for you.”

You huffed, annoyed but willing to let it slide—after all, he had been footing the bill for all the drinks tonight, far beyond the one round he’d initially promised. Picking up the glass, you regarded him with suspicion. “And what exactly are these ‘plans’ you’ve so generously decided on?”

“Uh, ah, ah~” Kaeya chided, wagging a gloved finger at you. “Where’s the fun in revealing that now? Patience, my dear—it’s a virtue, after all.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn’t fully hide the curiosity tugging at you. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here we are,” he replied smoothly, raising his glass in a silent toast.

You clinked glasses with Kaeya, lifting the wine to your lips and taking a sip. The familiar sweetness washed over your tongue, though it felt slightly... off. A faint metallic tang lingered at the back of your throat, almost imperceptible, and you paused, trying to place it.

“Something wrong?” Kaeya asked, his tone casual but his eye sharp, watching you intently over the rim of his glass.

“No, it’s nothing,” you said quickly, shaking off the thought. You blamed the odd taste on your dulled senses—after three (or was it four?) glasses of wine, it wasn’t surprising that your palate might be less discerning. 

As the minutes ticked by, a heavy warmth began to settle over you. It started in your limbs, a pleasant weight that felt almost like the aftereffects of a hot bath. At first, you welcomed it, thinking it was just the wine finally relaxing you. But then the warmth deepened, spreading into your chest and head, making your thoughts feel sluggish, like they were wading through honey.

You blinked, your vision swimming slightly as the flickering lights of the tavern seemed to blur at the edges. The laughter and clinking glasses around you faded into the background, muffled as though someone had placed cotton in your ears.

“Are you alright?” Kaeya’s voice broke through the haze, smooth and calm, but the concern in his tone felt distant, almost surreal.

“I… I think I might’ve had too much to drink,” you mumbled, your words slightly slurred. You tried to straighten up on your stool, but your movements felt uncoordinated, as if your body wasn’t responding the way it should.

The metallic aftertaste from earlier suddenly gnawed at the back of your mind, and unease bloomed into something stronger—something closer to fear. This didn’t feel like your usual tipsy haze. Your thoughts, once sharp and clear, were now disjointed, skipping like a broken record.

“Easy now,” Kaeya said, placing a steadying hand on your arm. His touch was light, reassuring even, but there was a weight to it that kept you anchored when the world around you started to tilt. “Perhaps you've had more than you thought. Let me assist you.”

You wanted to protest, to insist that you were fine, but even forming the words felt like an impossible task. Your eyelids were growing heavier with every passing moment, and the room seemed to sway, the flickering tavern lights melting into indistinct shapes.

“I just… need a minute,” you managed to whisper, though even the effort of speaking felt monumental.

Kaeya leaned closer, his voice soft and steady in your ear. “Of course. Take your time~ I’ll make sure you’re alright.”

The words should have been comforting, but they only added to the growing knot of unease in your chest. Something wasn’t right—this wasn’t right—but the thought slipped away like water through your fingers, leaving you grasping at nothing.

Your head lolled forward slightly, and Kaeya’s hand shifted to your back, keeping you upright. His presence felt overwhelming now, his calm demeanor too perfect, too controlled.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice dripping with honeyed reassurance. “You are such a lightweight, a rarity in this city it seems. Luckily you've got me, no?”

Kaeya shifted his arm, sliding it around your shoulders with a practiced ease that felt both protective and suffocating. You blinked slowly, your eyelids growing heavier, the tavern's lively glow warping into smudged streaks of amber and gold.

“Come now, you can’t stay like this,” Kaeya said softly, his words like silk wrapping around your dulled senses.

His hand settled firmly on your back as he guided you to your feet. The shift from sitting to standing was jarring, and your knees nearly buckled beneath you. Kaeya was quick to steady you, his grip tightening as he pulled you close.

“There we are. Easy does it,” he murmured, his voice calm and measured. “You’ve had quite the night, haven’t you?”

You nodded weakly, your head lolling against his shoulder. The cool air of the tavern's entrance hit you as he led you outside, the crisp breeze momentarily clearing the fog in your mind. For a fleeting moment, you thought you might feel better—until your legs faltered again, and Kaeya caught you effortlessly.

“My, my, you really are a lightweight,” he said, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. “I should have known better than to let you have so much.”

You tried to respond, but your words came out as an incoherent mumble. Your limbs felt leaden, your head a swirling mess of fragmented thoughts. 

“I… don’t usually… this tired,” you slurred, your voice barely audible.

Kaeya chuckled softly, though the sound carried an edge that prickled at the back of your neck. “Let’s not waste time then. You need rest.”

Without waiting for your consent, he scooped you up into his arms, cradling you as though you weighed nothing. The motion made your head spin, and you instinctively nestled closer to his chest, seeking stability in the chaos.

“Th-thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, his tone buttery with something that you couldn’t name, something you didn’t have the clarity to recognize.

The streets of Mondstadt were quiet, the faint hum of distant laughter from the tavern fading into the background as Kaeya carried you further from the warmth of the city lights. You tried to focus, to discern your surroundings, but everything blurred together in a muddled haze.

Your apartment wasn’t far—just a short walk from the tavern—but the route Kaeya was taking felt unfamiliar. The cobblestones beneath his boots seemed to echo louder than they should, each step pulling you further into a strange and unnerving silence.

“Kaeya… my apartment… isn’t it—?” you mumbled weakly, your voice fragile as you struggled to lift your head.

“Hush,” he murmured, his tone soft, almost tender, though something darker lingered beneath the surface. “You’re in no state to worry about directions. Trust me, I know Mondstadt like the back of my hand.”

The words, though soothing, carried an undercurrent that prickled at your mind, but the weight of exhaustion pressed down on you before you could linger on it. Your limbs felt like lead, and each blink became heavier than the last.

Kaeya’s arms tightened around you slightly as he walked, his steps measured and deliberate. He glanced down, his eye glinting in the moonlight as he took in your half-lidded gaze and the way your breathing slowed. A faint smile curled his lips, reaching his eye in total obsession—something your half awake state could never notice.

“Goodnight, darling,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with a dangerous sort of affection. 

He leaned closer, his breath cool against your ear. “You’ve done so well, haven’t you? Carrying on with your little tasks, blissfully unaware of the shadows creeping closer to your beloved city.”

His steps echoed on the cobblestones as he continued, his voice now a hushed murmur that seemed meant more for himself than for you. “It’s almost endearing, how you cling to this fragile sense of safety. But safety is such a fleeting thing, isn’t it? One moment, the winds are calm. The next, they’re howling with chaos.”

Kaeya chuckled softly, the sound low and chilling. “You've read the history of Monstadt, know the lies and devastation it was built upon. You’ll understand soon enough. When the Abyss comes knocking on the city gates, when the walls tremble and the people look to their gods for salvation… you’ll know.”

His gaze darkened, a flicker of something ancient and restless passing through his expression. “Mondstadt may believe in its Archons and ideals, all built upon the backs of civilizations before. Absolutely disgusting.” His grip on you shifted, his touch almost reverent as he cradled you closer. “I’ve been patient. I’ve waited for the right moment, and now…”

His words trailed off, replaced by a soft hum as the city streets grew quieter. The familiar paths to your apartment blurred in his wake, leading instead to somewhere more isolated, somewhere hidden.

“Don’t worry, my beautiful catalyst,” he said at last, his voice softening to a mockery of reassurance. “You’ll always be safe with me. I’ll make sure of it. No matter what happens, I’ll protect you—from the Abyss, from the corrupted Archons, even from yourself if I must.”

The faintest smile touched his lips again as he felt your body relax completely in his arms, the fight slipping from you entirely. “Rest now,” he whispered, the frost in his voice laced with something far colder. “By the time you wake, you’ll understand that your place has always been here—by my side.”

The last thing you noticed before the darkness claimed you was the faint scent of wine and frost mingling in the air, lingering like a memory of something you couldn’t quite place.