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“This silence closes my mouth and twists my heart. I love you; I love you in vain, alone, in a terrible cold.”
— Albert Camus, Correspondence to Maeia Casares
Kaeya has always been fascinated by fire. Growing up in Khaenri’ah where the only light they had was artificial because the sun’s rays couldn’t reach the depths of their nation, hidden underground and sheltered from its warmth, Kaeya had come to appreciate fire when he saw it.
The flickering light it emitted from the hallway torches, the amber glow painting his rosy cheeks from the bonfires he spent huddled around with friends and family, the soft way it bent and weaved through the bladesmith’s swords, bending even the strongest metals to its will.
When he came to Mondstadt the sun’s rays warmed his cold skin and pressed soothing kisses into his tear-stained cheeks, but his fascination with fire still remained. The crackle of the fireplace in Crepus’ bedroom where he and Diluc were pressed against their father’s side, listening intently to his stories. The crimson gleam that radiated from the oven when Adelinde was baking cookies for them, after playing outside all day in the summer heat. Even the gentle sway of flames from the torches that lit up every inch of the Manor, casting it in a rosy and comforting glow (home he had begun to call it by then).
But nothing held his attention like Diluc’s flames. The day Diluc brandished his claymore, fire licking at the blade, sizzling even the air around it, newly bestowed vision in one hand, Kaeya knew he would never love anything more. He used to ask Diluc thousands of times over to bring his flames to life and Diluc complied a thousand times more, amused by the twinkle in younger brother’s eyes.
The same fire is now wrapped around Diluc’s claymore, giving off a searing heat. Diluc is gritting his teeth and pouring every ounce of his energy into bringing the flames to life once again because Kaeya’s asked him to. But this time, they’re not here to entertain Kaeya’s endless fascination — no they’re here to hurt him.
Kaeya braces himself as rain slips down the side of his face and the wind pulls at his hair. And somewhere in the back of his mind that eight-year-old he used to be is fascinated by how pretty the swirling ambers and reds are. The flames are roaring now, devastation and beauty all in one, and they are so fierce even the falling rain cannot dampen their intensity.
“What did you say?” Diluc asks, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, flames casting a shadow over his face. He looks terrifying like this, with betrayal twisted in the corner of his pursed lips.
“Don’t make me repeat it,” Kaeya mutters, and he’s unable to look at Diluc any longer. He can’t bear to see the devastation in those red irises — the disbelief and rage. He can’t bear the fact that he’s the cause for it. His words mingle in the howling winds but Diluc hears them clear as day.
“No, say it again.” Diluc demands, his voice is taking on a scathing tone. It’s harsh and feels like a punch to the gut and Kaeya feels his fingers twitch at it.
A shaky exhale and then.
“I’m from Khaenri’ah.”
“A spy— From Khaenri’ah,” Kaeya clarifies slowly and miserably. He tries his best to keep his tone even, but he can see the anger simmer in Diluc’s eyes. “I was sent here to— to infiltrate Mondstadt and—“ Kaeya breaks off, because he doesn’t even know what he was supposed to do — wait here till the call for arms came from a broken and vengeful nation he can barely even remember?
“So what? You’ve been tricking me— tricking us, all this time?” Diluc asks hoarsely, staring at Kaeya like he’s never seen him before — like they haven't spent the last ten years glued to each other’s side, sharing a home — sharing a family. Like Kaeya’s name isn’t written by his on the coat rack, or that his boots don’t lie messily besides Diluc’s own by the front door of the Manor.
Kaeya can’t respond as much as he wants to. The words stay stuck in his throat, like Diluc’s favourite toffee is filling the gaps of his gums and gluing his mouth shut. The toffee is rotting, as are the words; it wasn’t a trick. I loved you— I love you.
“Answer me, Kaeya! Was it all fake? Did it mean nothing to you?” Diluc’s pleading with him now, heartbreak ravaging his voice. He's shaking and the flames are trembling from it. They sway and flicker with the gusts of wind, and Kaeya wants to reach out — wants to steady that hand and soothe it as he has countless times before. But Kaeya stays stuck where he is, unable to move with betrayal leaking out of his every pore.
“Everything— everything was just a ruse?” Diluc continues and he sounds like it pains him to even ask it, his voice cracking as tears fall treacherously down his cheek. It sounds like the words are causing the tremors in his hands and the sea salt gathering in those red, red eyes. Kaeya remains motionless and speechless, just watching as his own brother slowly loses all that affection and love he once held for him. He can see it escape Diluc with every breath, every desperate word spoken, every flicker of his flames.
“Kaeya, please—“ and he’s actually begging now. And yet Kaeya stands silently, while his brother is begging for him — pleading for him — not to take away the last thing he has on this Earth.
“Don’t do this. Not now. Don’t make me lose a brother right after I lost a father,” Diluc pleads, taking a step forward, those pretty flames following him.
Kaeya hates himself then. Viciously and completely. It bubbles up, after he had kept it under careful lock and key in those ten years. From time to time, it would leak out when he would get the intrusive wondering of ‘would I kill him, if Khaenri’ah asked me to?’ spotting a stranger in the street who offered him a polite smile.
Kaeya always shuts it down though, mopping up all the self-hatred and disgust and safely depositing back into the box. Now though, it’s freely flowing out, gushing and coating his entire being with blood. He’s drenched in blood; the blood of the lives he might take under his so-called duty to his homeland. You did this, it whispers traitorously. You caused this.
“It meant nothing to you? I meant nothing to you?” Kaeya looks away. It’s not true — of course it’s not true. Diluc and Crepus were his life. They were his every breath and heartbeat. He can’t defend himself; he doesn’t deserve that. How dare he admit to loving the same people he wasn’t even sure he wouldn’t raise his blade against if a nation that crumbled to dust and promised him to martyrdom asked him to? Diluc takes his silence as an answer.
“I loved you— We loved you. Were we just a means to an end for you? Are you going to throw away 10 years just like that?” He seethes, and the pain gives way to something much more dangerous and much more uncontrollable.
“Diluc—“ He promised himself he would take the spiteful words and barbed accusations, but something in him screams at the idea that Diluc and Crepus were just a means to an end. They weren’t, he thinks. They weren’t, he insists.
“You’re a fucking traitor, Kaeya.” Diluc spits out with anger. His name is said like a vile curse, and it almost makes Kaeya flinch back from the vitriol it’s said with. Diluc always said his name fondly, exasperated even, but never like this. Like the word is venom in his mouth, poisoning all the good that lives inside Diluc.
“A traitor to me, to my father, to this fucking city,” he continues, and Kaeya feels his knees buckle. He forces himself to stand and take the words, feeling them nestle into his skin, between his ribs where they’ll stay as thorns and reminders of what he’s done. Good, he thinks distantly. Isn’t that what I deserve after deceiving them for so long?
"Did you feel happy when you saw me there? Collapsed and soaked in my father’s blood? Did you feel relief?” Diluc hisses, stepping closer and closer, closing in on Kaeya.
“What?” Kaeya breathes out, the breath knocked out of his lungs. The questions force the single horrified word out of his throat, escaping past the blood and ash of a nation he's expected to avenge.
“One out of the two gone, is that what you were thinking? Less trouble for you, right?” Diluc presses on, stalking towards him. He’s deadly now and his flames are beginning to scream and wail in the roar of the rain and wind.
“What— No! Diluc—I didn’t—“ He tries to talk, to explain but he can’t. His head is reeling from the accusations — he would never.
“Didn’t you? Then where were you, Kaeya? Huh? When I was fighting Ursa, where were you? Were you watching me struggle with a laugh? Did you find it amusing when I had to stab my own fucking blade into my father? Did you enjoy watching me sob over his dead body?”
“No— no, I swear I didn’t,” He rushes to say, but the words are making his throat clam up and his mind go blank. “I didn’t, Diluc. Please— I tried. I tried so hard to get there in time but— but it was too late.” He’s stumbling over his words now, and it’s all he can do not to drop to his knees with the weight of the accusations heavy upon him.
“Draw your blade, Kaeya,” comes Diluc’s demand, when he’s a couple feet away from him, eyes narrowed and dangerous. Dangerous in a way that Kaeya knows. He’s seen that glare before, but only ever pointed at enemies — at monsters. Isn’t it fitting that he’s probably both now to Diluc?
“Diluc—“
“No, draw your fucking blade before I make you.”
Kaeya stares at him and Diluc doesn’t budge. His shaky hands reach for his blade, and he knows this is how it’s supposed to go but it’s so fucking hard. He doesn’t want to do this. He wants to apologise and apologise and apologise. He wants to grab Diluc’s hands and run back into yesterday when they had been sitting at Good Hunter, and Kaeya had been trying to steal one of his chicken skewers.
“I’m giving you one more chance. One more chance to tell me I’m wrong about it all and we won’t have to do this,” Diluc breathes out. One more chance not to ruin their brotherhood. One more chance to salvage what they were. One more chance to still be Diluc’s younger brother.
Kaeya stays silent, even as the words claw up and scratch at his throat to be let out.
“Fine,” Diluc spits.
He lifts his heavy claymore, but his arms don’t even strain under the weight. The blade is pointed at Kaeya and the heat makes sweat bead at his forehead.
“Who does your loyalty lie with, Kaeya? Mondstadt or Khaenri’ah?” Diluc asks, and there’s a desperation in his eyes that makes Kaeya’s heart hurt.
I don’t know he wants to sob. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. Some nights he goes to sleep promising himself he would answer the call to Khaenri’ah if it came. Some mornings he wakes up and he knows he’d break that promise when he seems Diluc clamber into the kitchen, half asleep and blearily looking for toast. If the two nations ever clashed, Kaeya doesn’t know who he would aim his blade at. He doesn’t know who he would protect. He doesn’t know who he would kill. He doesn’t know.
“I don’t know,” he rasps out and the desperation in Diluc’s eyes dies out just as quickly as it had been stirred to life. In its place lies heavy resignation, a duty to protect Mondstadt, and the pain of losing a brother.
The heaviness of Diluc’s blade makes Kaeya’s arms tremble as he blocks the blow with his own sword. He pushes the fiery blade away, and Diluc stumbles. Diluc strikes again and Kaeya nimbly dodges. Another clash and Kaeya ducks. His body is working on auto-pilot and he’s barely missing the heavy strikes by the width of a hair.
“Stop defending and attack!” Diluc shouts, anger buzzing under his skin, uncontained rage seeping into his every strike as his hits become harder and messier.
“I’m not—“ Kaeya tries to say but he’s dodging another one of those powerful attacks, and the whisper of flames brushes against his cheek. “I’m not going to attack you, Diluc,” he grits out, feeling the searing heat graze his shoulder now before he parries it away with a swift hit.
“Why not?” Diluc demands now, and his eyes are wild now, his hair falling out of his usually neat ponytail and his features are drawn tight with anguish and fury.
“I’m not— I don’t want to hurt you,” Kaeya forces out, blocking another frenzied attack, feeling the heat burn into his hands where the flames are heating up his blade. The gash on his shoulder is steadily leaking blood, but Kaeya ignores it to train his eyes on a furious Diluc who’s pressing more and more attacks, uncontrolled and wild. The flames whip around them, as ash and grief lay heavy on Kaeya’s tongue.
“You’re a traitor remember? Since when did you care if you hurt me?” Diluc spits out, and the words punctuate themselves with three more heavy slices at Kaeya’s abdomen.
He’s about to refuse, say that he cares — so much so that this entire fight is ripping Kaeya apart at the seams, when he stumbles on a jutting rock and for a split second, Diluc sees his opening.
Kaeya knows before the strike even hits him, that it’ll be the one that kills him. Diluc’s blade, alight in aureolin and crimson, comes crashing towards him, but the only thing Kaeya can keep his eyes on is Diluc. He watches those pretty flames cast a glow on his brother’s face, and he sees the unrestrained anger and hurt that is etched into his every feature. He sees the glimmer of tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes, and the agony laced in his furrowed eyebrows.
Oh.
Kaeya feels a sense of relief come wash over him unbidden as it is freeing. There can be no more betrayal or hurt caused if that blade connects with his heart. He thinks it’s okay if it ends here. If it’s by those pretty flames. If it’s Diluc.
At least this way he’ll never be able to spill any blood. He’ll never be forced to choose between the heavy duty on his shoulders to a fading nation that begs for its glory back, or the sweet fields of a nation that welcomed his delicate, eight-year-old frame with open arms, in his heart.
He closes his eyes and waits for the punishment to be doled out by the only person who deserves to give it. He's kneeling in all his worthless repentance, not to the archons, but to the one person he’ll ever owe his penance to. Religion had died on his tongue the second he’d been born in a godless land, but his faith in their brotherhood is what thrums in his blood and drips out of his shoulder blade.
He wonders for that split second what dying will feel like. If the pain will permeate his whole being or if it’ll be a single second of agonising pain and then nothing at all. If the heavens will continue to cry over his traitorous body. If his brother will cry over his traitorous body.
He’s kneeling there, breath abated for the sting of metal on his rain-soaked skin when there’s a crack in the air. The temperature drops by thirty degrees and Kaeya feels a chill permeate his every cell and settle into his weary bones, washing away the duty and regret staining them.
His eyes snap open and he spots Diluc a few feet away, on his own knees having been thrown back by the sudden force. There’s a swirl of ice and snow in front of Kaeya, and when it finally settles, Kaeya feels his heart leap into his throat and try escape.
A cryo vision hangs there, suspended in the middle of the flurry of ice, dazzling blue and gleaming. Kaeya knows it’s his the second he sets his eyes on the gift from the gods. The shimmering azure calls out to him, and he unconsciously reaches out towards it. And when his fingers wrap around its cold, blue frame, something in his chest sings like the first call of a robin at the crack of dawn.
He stares at the vision in his grasp, and the whirl of ice and snow seems to begin to slow down, slowly settling as rain washes away the flecks of white. He stares at the vision, and there’s a trail of blood from his wounded shoulder that trickles onto the gleaming blue orb. He hears a sharp inhale of breath and snaps his head upwards to where Diluc is standing. His flames have long since been extinguished and his claymore is limp in his hand, but he's staring in disbelief at Kaeya’s hands.
They stare at each other. They both know what this means. Barbatos has named him a child of Mondstadt. He has accepted him into his arms. Diluc can’t touch him. He can’t kill him now that he’s been given the protection of the Archon. It would be blasphemous otherwise — it would incur the Archon’s wrath.
No, Kaeya wants to whisper. No, he wants to scream. No, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. What was he supposed to do with an acceptance of an Archon whose nation he was supposed to bring to ruin? Diluc looks betrayed, yet again. He cannot kill him; he cannot lay a single scratch on Kaeya. He can’t give him the death he deserves.
Kaeya wants to crush the vision under his grip. He wants to scream at the heavens, asking Barbatos what he thought he was doing, interfering in something he had no business in. Does the Archon really believe Kaeya is a child of his nation? Does he really believe in his loyalty when Kaeya's heart wavers every second he's alive, never choosing a side, never swearing its allegiance to anybody?
“Never call yourself my brother again,” Diluc whispers lowly into the rain and the words wrap around Kaeya’s heart like a vice and slowly, ever so slowly, rip it apart. Those are the parting words Diluc leaves him with as he turns, claymore limp at his side and all flames gone. Kaeya is left there, kneeing in the middle of a clearing, clutching his new vision and watching his receding back.
It's cold and dark, with the smell of ash lingering in the air and clinging to Kaeya's clothes. Whisps of smoke die out with the onslaught of rain. There are no flames to keep him company anymore.
Tears mingle with the ceaseless rain.
Ah, he thinks.
This is what dying feels like.