#genshin impact childe x reader

reader impact || divine punishment

series masterlist

characters:childe, scaramouche

genre: angst? probably

contains:archon quest “chapter ii: act iii - omnipresence over mortals” spoilers, baal’s divine punishment, ooc scara :(

summary:with the reveal of the newest archon quests, our streamers are not prepared for the very first canonical onscreen death.

notes:hey uhh… archon quests are slowly tearing me apart, how are y'all? also, i did this with scara and childe since it made more sense, if that’s okay!

Anon asked: Inazuma Archon Quest Spoilers!!

hello!! I hope you’re having a wonderful day! I wanted to give an idea on the Reader Impact series; perhaps, the reader taking Signora’s place and getting executed, and the characters’ reactions to that?

childe -

• okay, first off, you’re supposed to be in liyue >:(
• why did no one tell him that you were gonna be in inazuma?????
• he’s so genuinely excited to see you again.
• so… why?
• why does he feel his chest tighten as you fall to the floor?

“my… you’ve gotten… stronger since we last met… sweetheart,” you heaved, slowly turning around on the floor. childe’s character turns to look at you, only for the camera to cut to the heels of the electro archon.

she passed the traveler, staring straight ahead as if they did not exist. you looked back up at the archon, struggling to push your body up from the floor.

“you know… i’m not going down… without a fight…” you hissed, managing to push your body up. you glance over at the traveler, a determined shine in your eyes. you smile the very same smile childe had seen dozens of times before.

“your journey… is yet to be finished…” you mutter, mainly to yourself. “take care… of them, okay? just like we promised…”

and before childe could even process your words, your character charges at the electro archon.

as the legends and tales said, she delivered her divine punishment, cutting your character into pieces. you fell to the ground in a cloud of particles similar to your vision.

“…chat,” childe whispers, staring at the camera. “how… dare you… not warn me about this.”

he’ll spend the rest of the stream hugging his plush of you.

scaramouche -

• scara was already excited after seeing you in the 2.1 trailer.
• (of course, he didn’t let anyone know how excited he was.)
• seeing you again after the unreconciled stars event was, honestly, the happiest his chat has ever seen him.
• and fighting you was the most they’ve seen him hold back.
• totally not because he wanted to see you and hear you longer, no sir.
• but when that final hp disappears from the top of his screen, his heart drops.

“huh… so the rumors… were right,” you huffed as you gathered your weapon from the floor. and as the electro archon’s looming presence griws closer, scaramouche begins physicallyshaking.

“wait…” this is the most vulnerable he will be on stream. he genuinely does not like where mihoyo is taking this.

“i can’t believe… this is how… we meet,” you proclaim as the archon’s sword glows brighter. her piercing gaze doesn’t leave you, the very eyes that you share cutting through your soul.

“and to think… my journey would here… of all places…” contrary to how scaramouche would expect and hope you to react, you simply fix your posture to sit in front of the archon, your legs tucked to support your body. “with all the training… i cannot… i will not raise my hand to you.”

“hold on…”

“i hope to be welcomed to eternity once more.”

those were your final words as your body disintegrated into nothing but ash.

“…” scaramouche doesn’t say anything for the longest time. a few of his viewers complain, but the long time fans know that this scaramouche, the one they are seeing, is the most emotion they will ever see from him.

and what they don’t see is him breaking down at the mere idea of your character disappearing from memory forever.

In Life and Death /

♡ When everything you know is shrouded in light, it’s often hard to remember to peek into the darkness. Your family has long since been a part of those who avoid it, choosing to hide comfortably amongst the high ranks of Mondstadt’s nobility. Your father, the King, has fought hard to keep it that way, especially following the Queen’s unfortunate death. However, with a sudden push from the Fatui, certain old wounds are quickly reopened.

It’s why upon tragedy striking, you aren’t alone in the assumption that the foreign nation is to blame. But when unseen circumstances quickly push the question of the culprit’s identity over to you, you find that the situation is much deeper than meets the eye. Between the mysterious nature of an unknown killer, familial doubts, and the 11th Harbinger launching himself into the scene by making an attempt on your life, you think you’re completely in over your head.

Even if Childe claims you have the picture all wrong.

And so, in a gruesome twist of events, you’re faced with a choice – trust Childe’s convenient involvement and get to the bottom of everything together, or risk becoming victims yourselves.

♡ warnings: diluc

♡ word count:5.8k

A sharp noise forces your eyes open to the dull light of the moon, focus fading in and out as your mind struggles to find its bearings. Every small sound comes too easily to you, drawing your focus in multiple different directions. You attempt to turn your head to the source of an odd one. But, you’re stopped short by the agonising constriction of your wound. Pain paints your vision red as you let out a cry.

Someone appears over your head, gently guiding your head back into place. It’s then that you feel the bandages over your neck, covering the treated wound – your movement must have interrupted one of the sisters’ healing work.

Yet, as your gaze struggles to focus, you realise the person is most certainly not a nun.

Vermillion eyes stare down at you, a carefully intimate hand coming up to wipe the hair slick with sweat from your eyes. Diluc.

He smiles bittersweetly as he talks, though no real words reach you. All you can do is lay there and listen to the tone of his voice whilst he holds a gentle hand beneath your head. An unfamiliar emotion spreads through your chest as you watch his lips move. In this vegetative state, all you can do is watch – you provide him with nothing, and yet the affluent man still soothes you despite it.

You try your hand at responding once again, but the words catch uncomfortably in your tight throat. Groaning, you close your eyes, another wave of nausea coming over you before it compels your eyes shut.

When you wake again, the day has broken above the horizon. As your eyes adjust, you faintly recognise the signs of the sun filtering through a thin red curtain, the simple design significant to only one wing in the entire castle – the infirmary. You let out a sigh of relief.

While there’s no telling how long you’ve been here, the fact that you remain alive leaves you immensely grateful. You’d thought for sure that the moment you’d fallen to the ground would be your last. But the shift from night to day leaves you frightened. Such a miniscule change should represent so much time spent since–

Abruptly, your eyes widen in shock, a quick hand reaching up to your throat.

Numb fingers linger over the cotton that wraps your skin. The sisters must have healed most of the damage done, though there is a distinct shot of pain that runs through your head whenever you attempt to move too fast. Unwillingly, your mind goes back to the man that had held a knife to your throat.

You want to believe that the familiar man’s intent was to kill you in some fashion. The force he had used, though limited due to the circumstances, was too harsh not to be real. And yet, you still can’t shake the feeling that your other theory holds importance – he was undeniably stronger, taller, and much faster. Yet, he had given up those advantages because, what? He had wanted to prove some kind of twisted point? Had some unknown force wanted to remind you that history is doomed to repeat?

You know the latter is a stretch. But if the man had really intended to kill you, he likely could have done so easily. Despite his overconfidence, he had seemed mindful of not leaving lasting damage. So, why did he stall in such a way, if not to do something like only guarantee his capture?

The life you lead has brought many odd enemies into your circle, and whether recognisable or not, the option of this opening into a scheme of bigger scale is still on the table.

It’s the price you have to pay for being born in such a position. In the eyes of the public, you are your father’s weakness, his loose end that he’d neglected to properly tie up. Perhaps the man that had broken in ultimately shared a similar view.

Yet, the theory of him threatening you only to get to your father makes less sense than you’d like. Those who come to you with malice stemming from your father are typically more resilient, and noting what you know about the man, his performance was half-hearted at best.

The faint click of a lock brings you out of your thoughts. You remain still, assuming it’s one of the sisters, perhaps checking on you or one of the other patients in the infirmary. Nonetheless, the interruption is welcome; trying to make sense of that night’s events is likely not something that should be left to your drowsy mind.

Then, someone calls your name, and finally, you turn your head.

ah.

Diluc stands in the doorframe, his grip light over the handle. You hesitate to say anything. Memories of asking for him before your collapse resurface gradually, and you have a hard time fighting the embarrassment that flares in your chest.

An unknown emotion flashes briefly through his eyes before he exhales.

“You’re finally awake.”

The unabashed relief is evident in his voice, and pleasure flares in your chest at the tone. You had done well to make your preferences to stay disconnected from most well known, but Diluc is your exception – in every possible way, he is perhaps the only person whose unease with you will make you feel as intended. The trust you fail to place in others finds a snug home in the words of your dear friend.

Expression dissolving into a slight smile, you shrug. It’s not much of a greeting, but he’ll have to cut you some slack. Diluc’s narrowed eyes wander to your neck and the bandages that wrap it. The cloth may be startlingly clear, but evidence of the happenstance still lies elsewhere.

You clear your throat, voice rash from disuse. “Barely.”

He gives you a good-natured smile as he turns to shut the door quietly behind him. However, even with your tired eyes, you notice that something about him is different. The circles beneath his eyes are deeper than before, and his actions are too sluggish to belong to the steadfast man you know him as.

Anxiety bubbles in your chest, indiscriminate to your underlying conditions. It holds your voice captive as you can do nothing but watch him silently take the seat next to you, leaning back into it as if letting a weight go.

“How- how long have I been here?”

A sigh comes from low in his throat, the unmistakable weight of his eyes finding your neck once again.

“Long enough.” You understand what the words mean, but not when they come from Diluc’s mouth. “The sisters made quick work of you, it was just a matter of when you recovered.”

You nod, not sure what to make of the information.

For some reason, you don’t quite believe that Diluc is being fully truthful. The secrets that he keeps are certainly bountiful, but he has never been able to carry them alone – being such a keeper of information cracks his edges, wearing him down until even he is unsure of which piece plagues him.

Yet at this moment, he is refined. He attempts to act as if he is without burden, though under your knowing eye, you know it’s a mere pleasantry. Maybe it’s due to your position in the infirmary, perhaps it’s something greater. But you know it’ll be a trial to get something out of him if he goes to such lengths to hide it.

“There’s something you have to say to me, isn’t there?”

His eyes narrow slightly.

“You said it yourself,” You exhale a bated breath, leaning your head back into the pillow behind you. “The sisters made quick work of me. I’m in a good enough condition to hear whatever it is.”

You stare at the panels of the ceiling as you say, “Though, if we’re going by your standards, I suppose I may never be in the right condition.”

Diluc studies your face for a few moments, as if turning you over in his hands; examining you for all you’re worth. There’s a fine line between coherency after a traumatic injury and pure adrenaline, and you know it’s what he searches for. So, unable to prove your curiosity in any other way, you let him.

“You’ve had a hard time recently.” He relents, leaning forward to put his hands together. “Are you sure you want to know?”

You turn your head to him, shrugging.

“You won’t get away with keeping it from me now.”

Diluc hides his own smile with a struggle you delight in witnessing.

“I’ve been divulging pieces from the man that attacked you in the week you’ve been unconscious.” He starts off, air shifting into a more serious tone as he watches for any adverse reactions on your part. “He’s tough to crack, but that much, we should expect.”

You raise your brows, prodding him on.

“…He’s a harbinger, ___.”

chilling blue eyes stare back at you, clean and free of emotion. for a moment, these eyes seem hauntingly familiar

Suddenly, you feel oddly short of breath.

You know the harbingers by title only, by their actions that are recorded in militial reports and how they affect the city you reside in. Though you’ve only spoken to a few of them in passing, you know that they are known particularly for their precision. So, for someone so high within their ranks to seek you out in such a confusing way—

Abruptly, you sit up. Diluc leans forward, too, a cautious hand reaching towards you should the movement shake you. He backs down when he notices the look in your eye.

“That bastard,” You grumble, wincing as the healing wounds on your neck strain. His hand jumpstarts to move you back into a more relaxed position. “He’s playing games with me.”

Whilst you lay back, he sighs. “What are you talking about? This is why I didn’t want to tell you yet.”

Your lips twist into a frown.

“…Sorry. I just can’t believe Childe is brazen enough to try something like this— it is Childe, isn’t it?”

He nods unsurely, as if hesitating to give you the information.

You scoff.

“What the hell could they want with me? I’m not the source of their problems.” You mumble quietly. “My absence would mean nothing.”

Diluc studies your expression as you mutter to yourself, brow twitching. You know him well enough to know that he’s certainly holding something back, but this time, you don’t engage him. Instead, your mind is elsewhere — on the many things the Snezhnayan government could be trying to take revenge for, of the reasons the fatui in particular would want something to do with you.

You’d spoken with Childe before; face to face, even. Though, he personally should have had no reason to bring a knife to your throat like he had that night. It speaks little of his humanity, but it would be more outlandish to expect the foreign diplomats to have any in the first place.

They truly govern under a different set of morals.

“You know, I’m glad you made it out okay.”

Your attention turns back to Diluc, eyes questioning.

He exhales, leaning an elbow on his knee. “The Fatui are known for their ruthlessness, you were quite lucky to make it out unscathed.”

“…I’m not so sure.” You mumble, swallowing a lump in your throat. You wince at the sensation as Diluc quirks a brow.

“Childe, the night he attacked me, it didn’t seem like he was trying too hard.”

Sitting up, you shoot Diluc a look of warning as he moves to force you back down. His eyes narrow while you attempt to situate yourself.

“I was able to get on top of him, a grown man. All because I knocked a knife out of his hand. Plus, he didn’t even use his vision as a last resort.”

“That is odd.” Diluc agrees. “His skills are unfortunately well-developed, it shouldn’t have been hard to overpower someone like you.”

You quirk a brow, lips curling into a tentative smile.

“What do you mean by that? Are you saying I’m not strong enough?”

He shrugs, eyes betraying his malignant frown. “You could use a little work.”

“Then… Do you think this is what he wanted? For me to win and send him to the dungeons?” You pause, pondering the possibility.

“But, it doesn’t add up. He can’t spy from those cells. Hell, I doubt he’ll be able to do much of anything down there.” Diluc says, expression relaxing into one of deeper thought.

A hand involuntarily reaches for your neck. “Maybe it was for ransom, or even intimidation or something.”

His gaze follows your movement, uncertainty settling beneath his eyes. You want to reassure him, to tell him that he can continue that thought – but Diluc is not someone you can get away with lying to.

“Maybe. But let’s not jump to any conclusions while we’re ahead.” He resolves, expertly dismantling the situation in a way only he can. He stands casually, letting out a small breath as he gestures to where you lie. “Are you planning on staying in that bed forever? Or, would you like to get some fresh air instead?”

It takes a moment for his words to register, before you have the coherency to be confused.

“You’ll let me up?”

He gives you an incredulous look. “Don’t act so surprised. You’re up and moving, it’s only the next step in the recovery process.”

You take the hand he offers with bated excitement.

Your legs are brittle after a week of being bedridden, unused to the weight and kinks that roll out as you take a step forward. But there’s a hand in yours that follows you in every small movement, acting as a silent pillar of support.

When his hand hesitates to leave yours, you finally look up at him. He stares at you openly, eyes slightly narrowed in a way that tells you silently that he might regret his choice. You bite the inside of your cheek as you reassure him softly,

“I’ll be fine.”

The open air is crisp in your lungs, startlingly fresh against your oil-laden skin. Whether a product of your evidently showerless time in the infirmary or just a side effect of the previously gaping wound on your neck, it’s almost painful to take a deep breath in. Still, you take in as much as you can regardless.

Diluc keeps a small distance, arms crossed as he trails soundlessly behind you. Despite your positive efforts, he has been reluctant to speak since leaving the infirmary. With the way his eyes are following your every move, it’s obvious he doesn’t believe you’re completely ready for the ‘next step’.

“I’m not made of dust, I assure you.”

A faint blush envelops the tips of his ears as he looks away with a grumble.

Absentmindedly, you stop mid-step when you finally catch a glance of the courtyard. Connected to the infirmary is a small outdoor path, protected under a beautiful walkway that is intended to border the more presentable edges of the castle, as well as those that face the general public. After all, not even the smallest details offer an escape from the deception your father paints the castle with.

Beneath your feet and the dainty wall that blocks you from the waist down, the stones in your view are cracked and edged with moss. It’s likely this particular area hasn’t been tended to in a long time. Frowning, you reach up to scratch at the bandages that wrap your neck.

Another hand reaches it before you, though, gently guiding your own away. Your gaze flickers to Diluc who now appears beside you.

“Those were only replaced recently, it would be more of a fuss for your wound to rip them off now.”

“It’s mostly healed, I just… I don’t like the feeling of it on my neck, that’s all.” You mumble, begrudgingly adjusting the tightness around your throat before adhering to his advice. The bandages had graciously been replaced before you left, after you’d brought up the headache inducing smell.

“I get it,” Diluc nods, the ghost of a smile on his face as his hand drops. “I think we were fifteen, the day we were practising your sword-fighting and you accidentally stabbed me in the arm. Do you remember that, or is it conveniently blocked from your memory still?”

Delighted to see him attempting to interact with you, you scoff and hide behind your hands.

“How could I forget? It builds character, Diluc. I was only helping.” You say it with a laugh, still so focused on his body language that you miss the adoration that courses through his eyes.

“You wound me so.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you gesture for him to continue walking with you. A comfortable silence settles over you as you outline the day in your head – the schedule is odd, moving around the hours you were unconscious and predicting things that may not ever occur. But, at least once, you intend to visit your father to provide more details on the night you were attacked.

Hopefully, he already knows a fair bit, though you should be suitable in filling in the blanks.

“Once you deem me ready,” You pause to emphasise the joke. “I need to visit my father. He must’ve been informed that I’ve awoken, but I feel like I should see him myself.”

Diluc nods, though there’s something unsaid that lies beneath his expression.

“___, I feel you should know the current situation.”

You frown. “…Has something happened?”

His eyes flicker away, a sign he’s nervous.

“The king has been wrapped up in political duties all week. I… strongly advise you to start from the top of the event.”

His adam’s apple bobs suddenly, and you fight the urge to laugh.

“…So– wait. So, you mean to tell me that he hasn’t even bothered filling himself in? Is this a political opportunity before an attempt on my life?”

Diluc attempts to soothe the fire in your eyes. “The king has been very busy recently. A harbinger attempting assassination is a big deal, one he’s being sure to milk for all it’s worth.”

Snezhnaya has been an independent country for thousands of years, however, its rule under the newest Tsaritsa has only proved that it is more than capable of forgetting its previous battles. It looms not over Mondstadt, but in it – as advisors, store owners, and worst of all, as friends. There has been no shortage of pressure from the Tsaritsa to secede to her, effectively instigating the surrender of Mondstadt to foreign rule. It would destroy your family’s legacy in only a few words.

She has weaved the streets with patient threads of insurrection for years, and perhaps this was intended to be the final straw. You shudder to think of what the future could’ve held had Childe chosen to succeed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve killed no one yet. You should worry about yourself.”

The man’s words bounce around in your head once again. The situation is rocky at best, with different pieces of information that don’t seem to fit together in any capacity.

Among the rest of his strange jabs was the moment he had called your father a fake – it likely wasn’t to serve any purpose other than catching you off guard, but the nature of the interaction has its own loose ends. Suddenly, you find yourself inexplicably tied up in another mystery, all thanks to the king yet again.

“He hasn’t visited only because he hasn’t had the time, I’m sure. Capturing a harbinger is fortunate, and he’s using your experience to try and turn things in Mondstadt’s favour.”

Your brows crumple, thoughts running blank. “What? You mean to tell me he can’t spare his own child a minute of his time? That he can really get the full story of what happened when he’s neglected to even check on the source?”

Diluc’s mouth opens, but quickly shuts again at the look of hurt that must paint your features. You almost feel sorry for him, for letting him get caught in the mess between you and your father, but to try and convince you that your father’s intentional ignorance towards you is justified – you don’t shy away from showing your distaste for it.

“I was unconscious for at least a week, Diluc.” You hiss, hurt bleeding into your words as you shake your head. “He had the time, and you know it.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment he says nothing. An insufferable silence passes between the two of you, each of you tentative as to who will speak first.

“Maybe so. but your relationship with your father has never been my business.” Diluc ends the conversation faster than it can flare up, but this time, it’s no more than an annoyance. The serious words sound dismissive rather than an attempt at comfort. “We can talk about it once you have a chat with him, ___.”

When you don’t answer, his expression deflates almost unnoticeably.

“…I shouldn’t have dropped that on you so quickly.” He sighs, voice careful as his eyes close after a few crushing moments. “My apologies.”

“I can— I willtake you to him when you think you’re ready.”

You nod silently. However bitter you may feel, Diluc is not the person to direct it towards. You don’t blame him for your father’s absence, and though your outburst may have suggested otherwise, your father’s actions are not Diluc’s responsibility. Even if he had been aware of it, the less stubborn part of you recognises that it’s more likely he had no say in the matter.

“It’s fine.” You say it faintly, nodding again. “Thanks.”

He’s quiet for a moment, a contemplative look on his face – it’s almost stabbing, the pause, but a small chuckle escapes him before your worries can reach much further.

“You were right to be angry.” Diluc nods, staring forward as his steps begin to slightly dawdle. You take a hesitant peek at him. “I shouldn’t try to explain anything for him.”

“It’s not your fault, you were just trying to reassure me.” Shaking your head, you pivot to a stop as the shell of a plan forms in your head. The courtyards may face the general public, but there is a humble door that connects it to the back main hall — perhaps it was built as a precautionary measure, but it has served as your route of escape on many occasions.

“Then, how would you feel about me taking you up on that now?”

Diluc stops beside you, uncertain of what you refer to until you step forwards the door. A grunt of surprise escapes him as he catches up to you quickly, a heavy hand landing over your head and blocking it before you can pull it open. You shoot him a questioning look.

His lips thin, head turning to look back the way you came before drawing so close only you can hear him hiss, “Of all times, now?”

“You said when I was ready.” You protest, trying to swat his hand out of the way. He doesn’t budge. “He doesn’t deserve the calm version of me.”

He pushes and solidifies his body weight on the door, bringing his face closer to yours without intending to. “No, he doesn’t, but youdo. How would he ever take you seriously when you’ve just rolled out of a sickbed?”

Incredulously, you scoff. A rogue hand comes up to tear the medical tape from the gauze on your neck – a split second choice on your part, and perhaps not the safest, judging by the horrified look that passes over your companion’s face. But, as the bandages unwind and expose your skin to the air, his warm gloved hand stops inches from you.

“I told you, I’m fine.” You insist, the abandoned clean gauze falling into your hand. You know what he sees: the thin laceration scar, the ghost of fingerprints around your larynx – evidence of your troubled night lies on every inch of your skin, and it is still evident. But nothing limits your movement, nothing drags you down in the way he is undoubtedly expecting.

You watch him cautiously to gauge his reaction. No emotion passes over his face for quite some time, until he releases a heavy sigh.

“I don’t mean your injury only,” Diluc explains gently, taking the bandages from your open palm. You grasp at words to retaliate with, but only come up empty as he continues, “Your mind needs adequate time to heal, just as much as your wound does. You’ll be no use with anger blinding you.”

Your lips thin. “Then, please, do tell how to forget that my father neglected to visit me on what could’ve easily been my deathbed.”

He gives you a once over, his gaze burning over your neck. You fight the urge to reassure him it looks worse than it feels.

“I think you underestimate me.” Diluc finally looks up from the discarded bandage in his hand, fixing you a smile as your eyes dart away. “Did you say that you think your neck is healed?”

Uncertainly, you nod, eyes anywhere but him. Has he since gotten closer? It seems the gardeners had forgotten to trim a nearby bush, though, those kinds of problems are not usually your domain, so why worry now?

Warm hands pull you away from the door, and suddenly captivated, you have no choice but to let yourself be strung along as your heart beats unevenly in your chest. “I believe you, but tell me if it hurts. You don’t need to force yourself for my sake.”

You mumble incoherently as you make your way through the courtyard, cursing Diluc for caring so much, cursing yourself for letting him talk you down in such a way; but mostly, you curse the foreign feeling pushing your heart forward.

The late morning hour provides a short carriage ride to the Dawn Winery, but the emptiness of the trails is almost peculiar. As you look out the tinted window of the small vehicle, your nails dig into the wood of the frame.

“Did he make the event of the murder public?” You mumble it to no one in particular, eyes noting the absence of the usual trading merchants hovering around the road. You sigh and lean back into the seat as Diluc watches you.

He shakes his head, answering your question gently. “…No, not yet. It’s just not a busy morning.”

You nod silently, releasing a deep breath as your ears begin to tinge with heat. You’ve been outside for a few mere minutes, and yet you’ve already managed to jump to conclusions –perhaps Diluc was right, maybe you did need more time to gather yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “I shouldn’t assume things like that.”

“….You only need to tell me if things get to be too much.” He reminds you, attempting to catch your gaze even as you vehemently focus on the passing landscape. “I’m not expecting you to adapt right away.”

You don’t know what he refers to. You aren’t sure you want to find out.

When you arrive at the winery, the crisp spring air tells of a coming storm – perhaps only another dreary addition to the day. The flames of unrest may still continue to nurse your brittle heart, but the mystery of Diluc’s plans are not lost on you.

You continue to fail to understand why he leads you through the grapevines until you break into a small clearing in the vineyard, the familiar dirt path beaten and worn. Thick emotion rises in your throat, though you attempt to play it off with a short laugh. When it cuts through the air, Diluc turns a knowing eye on you.

“You must have a lot of faith in my word.” You mumble quietly, feigning a quick glance around as you fight back tears. “If this is your plan.”

The midday sun is bright in your eyes as you attempt to calm yourself. You look down. The clearing you stand in is muddled with old foodprints squeezed into the sand, cemented between the occasional root. You had spent many long hours in this spot once upon a time, with a dagger pressed into your palm, and your dear friend opposite you. Diluc had been the one to teach you to fend for yourself, to show you that he believed in you in a way that wasn’t purely hierarchical – he was your best friend, and with every prideful comment or patient direction, he meant it.

This part of the winery had been long forgotten, its features buried in your memory alongside the children you had been the last time you’d set foot here. Diluc’s father and your mother had passed at unfortunately similar times, leaving a gap of time wherein everything shifted – being such a cataclysm, it became increasingly difficult to return to your typical lives.

Thus, for years, you ceased to try.

Yet, you could never manage to leave him behind. Diluc was a part of you, and despite the calamities that had forced you apart, you always made sure to find your way back. Long after things had settled down around you, it had been almost four years: Diluc was out of the country for some time, but was grateful to see you waiting for his return even if you hadn’t given him any prior notice.

So, knowing this, you can assume his purpose of bringing you back here – not only had he snuck a princess out of the castle after she’d been severely injured, but he had done it to swordfight. Unbelievable.

Suddenly, Diluc grabs your hand. Only a few instances pass between the moment he guides your fingers around a familiar handle, and he gently tips your head back with his opposite hand. You almost think you’re hallucinating as Diluc brushes your hair to the side. His crimson eyes trail over the very detailing of your wound, scanning for any irregularities.

You preferred to avoid wrapping it again before your arrival, vehemently insisting you were alright on the occasions Diluc offered to stop and pick up any applicable supplies. Though, he’s obviously still not entirely convinced. Suddenly, he leans forward, a gloved finger trailing across the remnants of your wound for just a second.

He’s too close.

But before you can react, Diluc takes a step back in acceptance, blissfully unaware of the way your heart batters in your chest.

“Go ahead, then.” He nods to the sword in your hand with a slight smile. You know he’s proud of himself, and for archon’s sake, you wish it weren’t so obvious. Seeing your hesitance, he remarks,

“Are you rusty?”

“…What?”

Diluc repeats himself, and you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the suggestion as you catch your bearings. “I think you may have a gross habit of underestimating me.”

Diluc’s weapon of choice is a greatsword more often than not, but today, he holds a normal sword when facing you. For a minute, as your weapons clash, it’s as if you’re kids again – the gentle swordmaster and his disciple, though your roles have greatly evolved since then.

His thrusts are calculated but not aimed to harm, and you almost have fun deflecting them, turning them back on him until you win again and again. You aren’t so dim, though – you know the way he lets you push his sword out of the way over and over is purely to comfort you, to remind you that if you can beat him, you can beat anyone.

It’s truly a thoughtful sentiment. Though while you’re not exactly convinced of your newfound strength, you fail to notice just how successful the man had been at his goal until a smile splits across his face. It’s one that makes you stop in your tracks, stunned by the absurdity of the expression.

Diluc’s actions halt in an instant, sword clashing against yours one last time. He looks as if he wants to say something, but as the words begin to form on his tongue, the coming storm finally reaches you. You can’t help but laugh at his expression that quickly moulds into one of surprise.

“Come on!”

You shift past him as the rain begins to pelt down, eyes catching on his gaze that refuses to leave yours – the spring storm soaks your friend’s hair almost completely through before he has the sense to move. Even then, you take it upon yourself to grab his wrist before bolting further up into the winery, not willing to risk your clothes for his hesitance.

Diluc comes back to himself fairly quickly after you start running, matching his pace to yours as a deep laugh tumbles from his mouth. Curiously, you cast a look back at him, unprepared for the way your breath will catch in your throat.

Even though his long red hair sticks to his face, and there’s undoubtedly mud coating his expensive shoes, his grin is dazzling. Diluc looks oddly excited to be caught in the rain with you, and the thought brings an easy smile to your face.

By the time you finally reach the area beneath one of the main building’s many verandas, your breaths have grown laboured. A light silence falls over the two of you. Yet, it dissipates the moment you look up, both of you breaking into another fit of laughter at the other’s dishevelled appearance.

But, something catches in you the moment he calms himself down, chuckle fading out to be replaced with the words, “That’s the smile I was looking for.”

Your heart beats uncertainly from within your chest, obviously unused to the prospect of Diluc being so forward. Even your mouth has a difficult time articulating words.

Moving on expertly, he goes on to wring out his hair before he continues more modestly, “I’m sorry for dragging you out here, but if it helped, I’m glad.”

“It’s fine,” You nod, hoping he doesn’t catch the way your voice shakes unsteadily. “You’re crazy for attempting this, though. I hope you know that.”

You say it with a laugh, and yet, the incessant clamber of your heart does nothing but remind you of just how much of a fraud you really are. Who are you all of the sudden, to be shaken by a friend’s words so easily?

Diluc turns to his side, gloved hand reaching for the main door of the Ragnvindr residence. “I know. But, I’d do it over and over again if it means you’d be okay.”

“…Stop being such a sap.” You shake your head, shoulder pushing past his hand to break into the dry air of the winery’s lobby. “I told you I won’t die so easily, or do you not believe me?”

He smiles as he catches up to you yet again. You enjoy seeing it, his happiness, but there is something unfamiliar hidden beneath the slight curl of his lip — something unknown that ignites a completely different type of dread in you.