Archive of Our Own ^beta

The last time that Diluc had woken up in the Cathedral’s infirmary had been years ago. 

These days, he was careful enough to avoid any serious injuries when he decided to play an undercover hero, and was practiced enough to handle the minor ones himself. 

But clearly he wasn't careful enough. Tracking a rogue Fatui soldier through the snow-ladden trails of Dragonspine wasn’t as challenging for him as it might’ve been for the incompetent Knights, but a nasty avalanche had rendered him clumsy and slow, his half-frozen limbs refusing to obey his will. 

And, in his luck, he’d found that the Fatui soldier he’d been tracking made use of a Pyro shield (who, quite frankly, was incredibly easy to find the tracks of. Perhaps Diluc’s hunting of them had finally caused their numbers to dwindle to the point of a decrease in overall recruit quality).

The Pyro shield was a poor matchup, he’ll admit. He’ll also admit that the countless sleepless nights of picking up the Knights’ slack around the city borders may have clouded his judgement. What he won’t admit is that part of his insomnia was due to his ever-increasing worry of Kaeya, now that the Abyss Order was making more frequent and disastrous moves. 

Or, well, he wouldn’t have admitted it two nights ago, or… however long he’s been asleep. Now, however, he’ll gladly admit to all his worries and faults. After all, he’d been on the verge of death. 

After dealing with the lone Fatui soldier (lone, mind you), he’d stumbled down the rocky paths of Dragonspine clutching his left side. It was ironic how he’d been criticizing the soldier’s inability to cover their tracks when he himself was leaving a fresh, and incredibly obvious, trail of blood and shaky footsteps behind in the crisp white snow. 

It was fine, though. Just a scratch. 

Or not. Because the cold had dulled and numbed the pain and fooled Diluc into thinking this was an injury that could be dealt with once he was back at the Winery and had feeling in his fingers. If he had known better, if his judgement wasn’t clouded by Kaeya and the Abyss Order and lack of sleep and Barbatos knows what else, he would’ve cauterized the wound (would he, though?) before even leaving the mountainside. 

Except he hadn’t known better (he had known better), so he left the wound open (maybe he wanted to) and found himself collapsed in a heap at the entrance of the Dawn Winery. He didn’t even try to get up, call for help. What use was it? All of his staff had already been dismissed for the night (thank Barbatos that Adelinde wouldn’t see him like this). 

His vision had darkened, growing fuzzier and fuzzier until the world was covered by a dark lens, and Diluc let it. His mind wandered, thoughts lazy and slow, until it inevitably conjured memories of his happy childhood. 

Of his family. Of his brother. Of Kaeya. 

Diluc choked on a breath. The thought of Kaeya, of dying and leaving Kaeya to believe that Diluc still hated him–

The mere thought brought new life into Diluc’s heart, had adrenaline surging through his veins like the fire he thought was quelled by the frigid air that had seemed to follow him from Dragonspine. But he had waited too long, too late (as usual) and now not even that newborn molten emotion in him could get him to move. And so, just like that, the great Diluc Ragnivindr bled out on the porch of his very own Dawn Winery.

Except Diluc was wrong, again, and blinked his eyes to find himself looking at the painfully nostalgic ceiling of the Cathedral infirmary. He hadn’t been here since he was training for the Knights as a teen. 

He squinted his eyes in the morning (afternoon? evening?) rays that filtered through the gaps in the curtain beside the bed. Archons, it felt as if the sun was a mere foot away from the window, the sunlight was so bright. 

“Oh, Master Diluc!”

A bright young voice comes from his bedside. Diluc cranes his neck to find one of the sisters of the church, who looks about half his age, preparing some concoction on a small wooden table beside the window. 

It takes Diluc a long moment to process the exclamation, register its words and meanings, and organize a coherent response. 

A dignified “huh?” is on the tip of his tongue when he hears footsteps approach the ajar door. Visitors? Is it Adelinde? 

“I’m sorry,” he hears the nun say softly, her voice laced with genuine sympathy. “I’m afraid only family members are allowed to visit at this moment.” 

Diluc wanted to scoff. With that rule, he’d never have any visitors. 

Still sluggish, Diluc lifts his half-lidded gaze to meet a lone, star-pupiled one. 

Kaeya stands there with a small woven basket in his hands, filled with (hand-plucked? Kaeya always loved picking fruit) a few Sunsettias and other easy-to-digest snacks. He looked caught off guard, as if he hadn’t expected to see Diluc there. Or, more likely, he hadn’t expected to see Diluc awake. 

Something in Diluc’s chest tugged at the uncertain expression on Kaeya’s face. He didn’t like being on the receiving end of such a look, not from his little brother. But of course, beggars can’t be choosers, and Diluc should be grateful that Kaeya is willing to even look at him after Diluc tried to kill him. 

The nun probably couldn’t tell that Kaeya was nervous; the man had an impeccable web of lies and facades shrouding his real self at all times. But Diluc had grown up at his side and knew all of his tells, knew what the smallest of micro-expressions on his brother’s face meant.

Or he thought he did. Because in that moment, as Kaeya turns to leave, something flashes across Kaeya’s face. And as much as Diluc tries to convince himself that he knew what it was, understood what was crossing Kaeya’s mind, he didn’t. Not anymore. 

In the wake of such discomfort, of a slow mind, of a near-death experience, Diluc finds himself speaking, for once, without thinking, without inhibition.

“Can’t you see?”

It was, in fact, highly unlikely that the nun could see. After all, she wasn’t old enough to remember or even know that Diluc and Kaeya were once called brothers. In fact, hardly anyone in Mondstadt remembered, save for Jean and a few Knights, considering how the two of them grew up away from the main city, tucked into the warm Winery on the outskirts. After the death of his father, nearly everyone had forgotten. 

It was easy to forget. The two were polar opposites in every possible way. Diluc was broad shouldered and muscular while Kaeya was slimmer and more lithe. A mane of wavy red hair compared to sleek dark blue locks. A stoic, introverted personality shining with honesty and a flirty, mischievous one shrouded with deception. And of course, the most glaringly obvious of all: Diluc’s pale complexion compared to Kaeya’s naturally tanned one. Who in their right mind would look at the pair and think ‘brothers’?

So, the nun clearly could not see, and for good reason.

Regardless, Diluc found himself speaking again. 

“Can’t you see the family resemblance?” 

Diluc’s unfaltering gaze remained on Kaeya as the man froze, then opened his mouth in surprise. Diluc’s heart broke slightly, a small shard splintering off and baring itself to Kaeya, to his last remaining family member, the same way Kaeya had bared himself to Diluc all those years ago in the rain. Only for Diluc to reject him in the most brutal manner possible. 

Silently, selfishly (always so selfish), Diluc hoped that Kaeya wouldn’t do the same. 

And he knew Kaeya wouldn’t. Kaeya had always been the kinder one, the one quick to forgive and first to apologize, even when they were children and Diluc was completely in the wrong. Because Kaeya was born and raised a people pleaser, groomed by his biological father, then tossed aside by his adoptive brother. And yet Diluc knew, deep down, that Kaeya would forgive him. 

And perhaps that was why Diluc had taken so long to try and mend what he’d broken in the first place. He knew he didn’t deserve Kaeya’s forgiveness, so he did his absolute best to never give Kaeya the opportunity to forgive him in the first place. 

But a selfish man can only hold his desires back for so long. And at the end of the day, between the two of them, Diluc was as selfish as one could be. 

So Diluc extends his olive branch, with the confidence of a young boy who always gets what he wants, under the guise of a man who knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

“That’s my brother.” 

It was heartbreaking how those simple words seemed to affect Kaeya so much.

All of it was heartbreaking, really; it had taken nearly dying for Diluc to bring himself to face the past, to try and mend what was broken by facing his own desires. The most heartbreaking part of it all was how willing Kaeya was to forgive Diluc. Because although Diluc might not be as familiar with Kaeya’s tells as he once was, it was clear as day to him by the relief on Kaeya’s face that he was forgiven. 

Diluc knew that he was being selfish by not doing things more properly (he wasn’t sure if he could handle that).

 Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to be selfish.