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all a-flashin' in the pan, all to fashion for your hand
[ the weight of the engagement ring sits strangely on kaeya's finger, the glint and glimmer drawing his eye no matter how much he tries to put it out of mind.
it's a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, pure gold curled into intricate filagree and engraving, all offsetting a crimson gem likely worth the net wealth of several small countries. no doubt it's a family heirloom, passed down through generations of redheaded royalty as a reminder of their lineage and the legacy they bear. it's almost enough to make him feel a twinge of guilt that all he'd managed to proffer in exchange was a simple ring of scrap metal, scavenged from the remains of a ruin hunter and smelted by hands far more used to forging weaponry than jewelry.
almost, but not quite. after all, khaenriah's drained coffers and ravaged lands might not be common knowledge, but to call it a massive secret would be a stretch. despite all their efforts to keep their nation shrouded in mystery, there's no hiding the hollow stares of the refugees flocking towards the overworld, nor the rumors of crumbling decay that now remains of what been a once almighty dynasty - hells, the fact that a regent barely out of his teens with no royal bloodline whatsoever now sits on the throne is confirmation enough that their glory days lie far behind them, trampled into the dirt with all their ambitions.
which begs the question that he's been circling around for weeks on end now with no clear sign of an answer: why on earth had the uncrowned king of mondstadt, perhaps the most eligible bachelor in teyvat, said yes to his ludicrous proposal?
it's not as if the two of them are particularly close. not for lack of compatibility, they'd simply never had many opportunities to converse beyond formalities once they'd grown old enough for it to no longer be acceptable to chase each other through the halls of various foreign locales; nobility though they both may be, the sole heir to a powerful nation placed far higher up the ladder amongst the peerage than a barely titled back-up plan on the bottom rung. and by the time all the other contingencies failed and kaeya found himself unceremoniously thrust into power, diluc ragnvindr had vanished entirely on some mysterious sojourn he wouldn't return from for another four years.
here's what he knows of his intended from their brief mingles during galas, his own observations on the outskirts of diplomatic meetings, and whatever information his network could gather: a kind and honorable man, the epitome of the chivalrous knights mondstadt so loves to espouse. charismatic - not in the same way as kaeya himself, who wields his charm like a knife through the ribs, but rather an earnestness that turns even awkwardness into warm sincerity. a sharp intellect able to stand toe to toe with the slimiest of politicians, tempered by the idealism of someone who grew up in the idyllic vineyards of a peaceful nation. a gentleman gracious enough to sign the dance card of a minor noble from a wartorn land steeped in hostility and treachery, strong enough to lift him effortlessly as they whirled around the ballroom floor, clumsy enough to still step all over his feet and humble enough to apologize afterwards for kaeya's sore toes. oh, and mustn't forget the fact he's remarkably easy on the eyes too, even when dressed in fashion that went out of style centuries ago.
in other words, he doesn't need his spies to know that the number of people eagerly offering their hands in marriage to one diluc ragnvindr would be enough to fill up every room of his gargantuan estate and then some - and that's even before taking into account the advantages his title holds. mondstadt may not be the strongest or wealthiest or most technologically advanced nation, but it more than makes up for that in its abundance of fertile fields and natural resources, enough so that diluc could have his pick of any of the most powerful individuals in teyvat slavering at the bit for such a valuable alliance. meanwhile, what does kaeya bring to the table compared to the gold of liyue, the academia of sumeru, the marvels of fontaine? a pretty face, a charming smile, a heart colder than ice, and the corpse of a lost empire chained around his neck, dragging behind him with every step he takes as the futile hopes of a hundred thousand souls refuse to release him from his useless burden.
he'd sent the proposal out of desperation more than optimism, a last resort he'd fully expected to be immediately rejected and provide little more than a temporary amusement at imagining the annoyed furrow in diluc's brow as he jotted a curt refusal - and yet instead, it was he falling out of his chair in shock at the words penned in elegant script in return. were it anyone else, he would assume that they must have been tempted by his admittedly remarkable looks, yet by all accounts diluc was not a man in habit of giving in to lustful urges, preferring to spend his time tending to his horses and hawks rather than the many willing beauties attempting to throw themselves into his arms. was it pity for the impoverished regent then that swayed his heart, the instincts of a noble knight to rescue a damsel in distress? or perhaps that angelic face hides more sinister intentions, looking to pry the secrets of khemia and war machinery from his future husband's bedside?
it's a game. it must be, and though kaeya may not know the rules or stakes yet, he has no intention of losing. he checks his reflection in a handheld mirror as the carriage rolls to a stop outside the ragnvindr estate, touching up his kohl and adjusting his clothes to reveal a little more sliver of skin. another strange custom - apparently rather than the traditional khaenri'an method of never meeting one's arranged partner until the wedding and then spending the rest of nuptial bliss in stilted formalities tapering off to stiff silence in a foreshadowing of the remaining years to come, mondstadtians actually want to get to know their betrothed before marriage? what a quaint notion. still, kaeya is nothing if not adaptable, and if this is truly a game then he intends on playing his part out to the fullest. the picture perfect fiance, the ever-so-grateful émigré, whatever his highness diluc ragnvindr wants he'll receive - all the while waiting for the inevitable knife in the back, be it by his beloved's hand or his own.
deep breath. posture straight. he closes his eye for a moment, his expression unnervingly blank behind the drawn curtains of the windows - and then the glittering mask falls into place as the footman opens the door, a delighted smile curling his lips as he steps into the sun, every inch the enamored lover eagerly awaiting reunion with his erstwhile affianced. ]
Master Diluc! [ a formal bow, graceful and refined and if he bends down just slightly too low so that his already loose robes slip the tiniest big to offer a glimpse of his chest towards any eyes that may be already wandering in that vicinity, then that's surely an accident. ] It's been far too long.
it's a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, pure gold curled into intricate filagree and engraving, all offsetting a crimson gem likely worth the net wealth of several small countries. no doubt it's a family heirloom, passed down through generations of redheaded royalty as a reminder of their lineage and the legacy they bear. it's almost enough to make him feel a twinge of guilt that all he'd managed to proffer in exchange was a simple ring of scrap metal, scavenged from the remains of a ruin hunter and smelted by hands far more used to forging weaponry than jewelry.
almost, but not quite. after all, khaenriah's drained coffers and ravaged lands might not be common knowledge, but to call it a massive secret would be a stretch. despite all their efforts to keep their nation shrouded in mystery, there's no hiding the hollow stares of the refugees flocking towards the overworld, nor the rumors of crumbling decay that now remains of what been a once almighty dynasty - hells, the fact that a regent barely out of his teens with no royal bloodline whatsoever now sits on the throne is confirmation enough that their glory days lie far behind them, trampled into the dirt with all their ambitions.
which begs the question that he's been circling around for weeks on end now with no clear sign of an answer: why on earth had the uncrowned king of mondstadt, perhaps the most eligible bachelor in teyvat, said yes to his ludicrous proposal?
it's not as if the two of them are particularly close. not for lack of compatibility, they'd simply never had many opportunities to converse beyond formalities once they'd grown old enough for it to no longer be acceptable to chase each other through the halls of various foreign locales; nobility though they both may be, the sole heir to a powerful nation placed far higher up the ladder amongst the peerage than a barely titled back-up plan on the bottom rung. and by the time all the other contingencies failed and kaeya found himself unceremoniously thrust into power, diluc ragnvindr had vanished entirely on some mysterious sojourn he wouldn't return from for another four years.
here's what he knows of his intended from their brief mingles during galas, his own observations on the outskirts of diplomatic meetings, and whatever information his network could gather: a kind and honorable man, the epitome of the chivalrous knights mondstadt so loves to espouse. charismatic - not in the same way as kaeya himself, who wields his charm like a knife through the ribs, but rather an earnestness that turns even awkwardness into warm sincerity. a sharp intellect able to stand toe to toe with the slimiest of politicians, tempered by the idealism of someone who grew up in the idyllic vineyards of a peaceful nation. a gentleman gracious enough to sign the dance card of a minor noble from a wartorn land steeped in hostility and treachery, strong enough to lift him effortlessly as they whirled around the ballroom floor, clumsy enough to still step all over his feet and humble enough to apologize afterwards for kaeya's sore toes. oh, and mustn't forget the fact he's remarkably easy on the eyes too, even when dressed in fashion that went out of style centuries ago.
in other words, he doesn't need his spies to know that the number of people eagerly offering their hands in marriage to one diluc ragnvindr would be enough to fill up every room of his gargantuan estate and then some - and that's even before taking into account the advantages his title holds. mondstadt may not be the strongest or wealthiest or most technologically advanced nation, but it more than makes up for that in its abundance of fertile fields and natural resources, enough so that diluc could have his pick of any of the most powerful individuals in teyvat slavering at the bit for such a valuable alliance. meanwhile, what does kaeya bring to the table compared to the gold of liyue, the academia of sumeru, the marvels of fontaine? a pretty face, a charming smile, a heart colder than ice, and the corpse of a lost empire chained around his neck, dragging behind him with every step he takes as the futile hopes of a hundred thousand souls refuse to release him from his useless burden.
he'd sent the proposal out of desperation more than optimism, a last resort he'd fully expected to be immediately rejected and provide little more than a temporary amusement at imagining the annoyed furrow in diluc's brow as he jotted a curt refusal - and yet instead, it was he falling out of his chair in shock at the words penned in elegant script in return. were it anyone else, he would assume that they must have been tempted by his admittedly remarkable looks, yet by all accounts diluc was not a man in habit of giving in to lustful urges, preferring to spend his time tending to his horses and hawks rather than the many willing beauties attempting to throw themselves into his arms. was it pity for the impoverished regent then that swayed his heart, the instincts of a noble knight to rescue a damsel in distress? or perhaps that angelic face hides more sinister intentions, looking to pry the secrets of khemia and war machinery from his future husband's bedside?
it's a game. it must be, and though kaeya may not know the rules or stakes yet, he has no intention of losing. he checks his reflection in a handheld mirror as the carriage rolls to a stop outside the ragnvindr estate, touching up his kohl and adjusting his clothes to reveal a little more sliver of skin. another strange custom - apparently rather than the traditional khaenri'an method of never meeting one's arranged partner until the wedding and then spending the rest of nuptial bliss in stilted formalities tapering off to stiff silence in a foreshadowing of the remaining years to come, mondstadtians actually want to get to know their betrothed before marriage? what a quaint notion. still, kaeya is nothing if not adaptable, and if this is truly a game then he intends on playing his part out to the fullest. the picture perfect fiance, the ever-so-grateful émigré, whatever his highness diluc ragnvindr wants he'll receive - all the while waiting for the inevitable knife in the back, be it by his beloved's hand or his own.
deep breath. posture straight. he closes his eye for a moment, his expression unnervingly blank behind the drawn curtains of the windows - and then the glittering mask falls into place as the footman opens the door, a delighted smile curling his lips as he steps into the sun, every inch the enamored lover eagerly awaiting reunion with his erstwhile affianced. ]
Master Diluc! [ a formal bow, graceful and refined and if he bends down just slightly too low so that his already loose robes slip the tiniest big to offer a glimpse of his chest towards any eyes that may be already wandering in that vicinity, then that's surely an accident. ] It's been far too long.
no subject
it had been what diluc had thought before and after and then. who better to share his time and his life with? though they had been children when they first met, diluc had been taken with him ever since. for all that he endured the noose of pleasantries, the expectations heaped upon his shoulders, he had never once been placed in the saddle of kingship. he'd never known the shift of that burden. but, he had known this: what it meant to hold a legacy of ash in the fist, the unconquerable sting of the vaulted stars — a child's wish.
mondstadt has no kings, a boy had once told the sun that lit the confines of its darkness. it's only a honorary title. it doesn't mean anything. not anymore.
and now, even still — how innocent it is to hold such a memory in his grip. and how silly it is, diluc thinks, to believe that he should remember it. what he had been once he no longer is now, so who is diluc to ponder it? from what he can tell (and rather, what his own informants tell him), there is no trust extended from the regent. and diluc, for all that he knows of the history of his kingdom, cannot place much blame for it.
and that is all to say: diluc is only just presentable when kaeya arrives at the promised date to his estate. it had not be strictly intentional to appear in such a way, but diluc is no better than those who he pays to assist him. and this day? well, the harvest had been hefty. and who was diluc, to deny such requests for aid?
he only just makes it to greet kaeya, the red lick of his hair falling from the tight tie he'd placed it in. his slacks are clear of dirt and grime, but the sleeves of his shirt are pushed up. he doesn't have time to say anything, before kaeya bursts out of the carriage with... a frankly expected bit of fanfare. he supposes.
either way. ]
Diluc, [ he says once he's given a moment, as automatic as the way he takes the rag from the pocket of his trousers. he wipes clean his hands, politely hands it off to a maid who appears at his elbow to take it for him. he grants her an awkward uptick of his mouth as a form of thanks. whether it be for her prompt service or her lack of mention that he smells of blackened earth and the cast of the sun? he doesn't clarify. and he hasn't time to say. either way, as he turns his attention back and firmly back to kaeya, the wide brim of the hat he wears only casts paltry shade across the pale of his face. there is no hope for the rest of him, he knows. his forearms are a riot of freckles, blooming dark against the burn of the day. ] There's no need for formalities.
[ he pauses, eyes straying to the lavish display of — diluc yanks his gaze upward, offering a roughened palm. it isn't a beautiful thing, diluc knows. he lacks the polish and refinement that kaeya dons as though a winter cloak. despite his attempts at discerning where such accoutrements began and ended, there is only the flawless seam of kaeya's upturned mouth in answer. since the beginning, he thinks, it's haunted him. he'd only chanced something delicate and sincere and fragile once, in the first gift he'd given him as children. a calla lily, from the lakeside.
the star of kaeya's lone eye had shone brighter and sweeter than any wash of sun. ]
You must be tired, [ he begins again, forging ahead before he might be chastised by their accompaniments. he clears his throat, tips his chin toward the heavy, wooden doors of the manor that sits neat not far behind them. ] Adelinde has taken the liberty to prepare dinner for us.
[ and liberty it was, as she'd taken all of his suggestions and discarded them except the one — well, he supposes kaeya will discover it. ]