Chapter Text
part one : when she’s twelve
Jean grew up a subdued, lonely child, bound by the shackles of duty that encompass every fibre of her life. "For Mondstadt, as always" are the words that her upbringing centers around and for a long time there is little else to her life other than her classes, her training and the billions of rules that govern her every passing moment.
That is, until he comes barreling into her life in a flash of fire and brimstone, shattering the glass-like fantasy that she has shaped and deluded herself into calling life.
"Diluc Ragnvindr," she greets coldly. "I believe you owe my sister an apology."
Barbara sniffles on the grass by her feet, clutching what remains of her beloved rag doll pitifully to her chest.
Diluc pulls himself up to his full height. He’s tall, but Jean is taller still and probably it makes him self-conscious to face off against someone who towers over him. The afternoon sun in its reds and golds illuminates the reckless light in his haughty crimson eyes and amplifies the evident disdain he held towards the Gunnhildr sisters.
"And I believe I've already said sorry."
The older, navy-haired boy wearing an eyepatch next to him nudges him, stifling a laugh behind his hand. Jean thinks this must be Kaeya, his newly adopted brother.
"Actually, you said--and I quote--'I'm sorry your doll got in the way of our swordfight training'.” Kaeya flashes a somewhat friendly grin towards Jean. “Does that really count?"
"Hey, whose side are you even on?" Diluc complains. "And anyway, I don't want to apologize to a pair of crybabies like them."
Jean scowls. Evidently these two young masters of Ragnvindr are not going to conduct themselves in a dignified manner, which makes this whole conversation meaningless. A distraction from her duty, she tells herself. She pulls Barbara to her feet.
"Wait, you're going already?" Diluc asks a bit uncertainly.
Jean glowers at him. "Well, seeing as neither of you are going to behave, I don't much see the point in hanging around."
"Well, that's a shame." Diluc says quite casually. "I've seen you fight and you're pretty good. Definitely better than Kaeya." And here, he snickers and elbows his brother.
“Hey!” Kaeya protests, but he’s grinning too.
Jean blinks at him, flattered but not sure what to say.
"Listen, if I apologize," Diluc's eyes flash with inspiration. "Will you spar with us sometime?"
Jean considers him. It would certainly be nice to have a couple of friends her age for once, even dubious miscreants like these two. But while Jean the young girl could afford to have such desires, Jean the heir is not allowed such freedom.
She tugs at Barbara's hand. "Let's go home."
"See you later, Jean!" Kaeya calls out blithely.
Flushing, Jean turns to face the both of them. "I-I never said"—
Diluc grins at her. The sincerity behind his smile—so unlike his obstinate glower—makes her stumble on her words. There is a challenging fire alive behind his eyes.
"See you later, crybaby!"
Jean storms off in a strange mixture of embarrassment and happiness, her younger sister in tow. Somehow the novelty of being teased pleases her more than she expects.
Just before she leaves the meadow, she turns back to observe Diluc Ragnvindr.
Her initial thought is that she could probably beat this kid in a fight.
Her second thought is an overwhelming desire to be his friend.
Over dinner that night, her lady mother looks over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses sternly.
“The guards tell me you girls had a run-in with the Ragnvindr brothers today.” She quotes, taking a neatly-cut bite of her Sweet Madame.
Jean straightens at the mention of the brothers, of whom her mind had been wandering towards the entire day. She looks down at the chicken on her plate embarrassedly, feeling as if her little secret had been flung out into the open.
“I hear they made your little sister cry.” She drones on coolly. “I’m ashamed to learn that you let them walk away without due punishment, Jean.”
Jean gapes at her. “B-But the Ragnvindr brothers are of an esteemed family, I couldn’t possibly…”
Her mother scoffs. “That winery owner is nothing but a weakling. He couldn’t even gain enough strength to earn a Vision. He may be as affluent as the Liyue Qixing, but trust me, that man is little else other than an old fool.”
Jean frowns to herself. Diluc and Kaeya had been raucous and strong-willed, for sure, but she’s certain neither of them had appeared as cowardly or weak. If their father was anything like them then he couldn’t be all as bad as her mother is saying.
She has an inkling in her heart that this is probably a very, very bad idea, but she gives it a shot anyway.
“Actually, mother…” She begins hesitantly, placing her cutlery down. “I was hoping I could spend my day off each week getting to know them a bit better.”
Her mother rolls her eyes. “Did you not hear me, child? The Ragnvindr’s may have once been a prosperous family but they’re little else other than wine merchants today. And clearly those untamable children of his would be nothing but a terrible influence on a good, well-mannered child like you.”
The good, well-mannered child you forced me to be, Jean thinks unhappily. “Perhaps… perhaps I could change them for the better?” She tries half-heartedly, but deep down inside she knows it’s a lost cause.
“Good Barbatos.” Her mother sighs. “You are absolutely not going to waste your time frolicking around with those two troublemakers, Jean. I forbid it.”
A thousand and one complaints and retorts formulate in the crevices of Jean’s brain and die away to nothingness in the place of their creation. There simply is no point in arguing with mother. Her way is the law of the estate, just as it always has been as far back as Jean could remember. Even back in the days when her father and Barbara had still been around and her mother had a tad more gentleness and compassion, she governed the goings and happenings of the house with a just, firm hand and a strict countenance.
And after all, Jean does her duty with obedience, come rain or sunshine.
“Of course, mother.” She mumbles quietly. But the sweet saltiness of the chicken on her plate tastes bitter on her tongue when she resumes her meal.
Jean plays by the rules. When her mother tells her it’s time again for swordfight training, she ignores the ache in her limbs and heads over to the training grounds to pick up a wooden sword. When she tells Jean to learn the language and history of Mondstadt, she seats herself in the library and pores over the books. Likewise, when she tells her she’s forbidden from meeting the Ragnvindr brothers, she’s determined to put the two of them out of her mind forever. She tries wholeheartedly to, anyway.
But unfortunately (or fortunately) for her, Diluc Ragnvindr turns out to be the complete opposite. He never plays by the rules.
Jean falls back onto the grass, exhausted after her grueling routine. The midday sun beats down upon her in all its glory, cutting through the wind and warming her up to her bones. She closes her eyes and takes deep, whooshing breaths to cool herself down and slow down the thudding in her ears. Training is difficult, but she enjoys it more than studies of literature and sessions of manners and discipline. It’s by far the favorite time of her hectic day.
“Hey, crybaby!” A familiar voice cuts through her repose.
Jean’s eyes fly open and widen in shock upon seeing Diluc hovering over her, silhouetted against the sun. He’s wearing a cheeky grin and is covered in twigs and dirt.
She sits up in alarm.
“How on earth did you get in here?” She splutters out, mouth agape. “And where’s your brother?” Which doesn’t really matter considering the situation, but she’d grown so accustomed to envisioning the two of them together that it was strange seeing them apart.
“I climbed over the wall.” Diluc smiles amiably, like what he just said isn’t scary as hell. “Kaeya’s down with a cold today, so I got bored and thought I’d come find you. And then I saw you training, so I thought I’d join you.”
Jean looks about the training grounds nervously. It’s empty right now since the trainer had left her to her usual routine and Jean always completes them without complaint so there’s really no reason for him to hang around unless she calls for him. She prefers training alone, anyway.
She wipes some sweat from her forehead with the back of her sleeve and hastily ties up her long blonde hair into a high ponytail, trying to look somewhat presentable—as the heir of the Gunnhildr family would be expected to look.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” She cautions nervously. “Mother forbade me from talking to the two of you.”
Diluc rolls his eyes. “Whatever would she do that for? We’re not going to hurt you.”
Jean fritters nervously. Somehow it doesn’t feel decent repeating her mother’s cruel words to the unsuspecting boy.
“Well, it doesn’t matter.” Diluc grins conspiratorially. “I mean, you don’t have to do as she says all the time, do you?”
Jean gulps. Yes, she very much does.
Diluc frowns at her. “You’re not serious.”
He drops down onto the grass next to her. In the sunlight, his skin gleams like abalone and the spiky, uncontrollable tresses that fall down to his shoulders burn brighter than a flaming flower. He looks at her incredulously.
“If my father expected me to stick to some rigorous schedule all the time I’d probably run away or something.” He frowns. “Yikes. I can’t even imagine living like that.”
Jean looks down at the grass glumly. Unfortunately, she can. “It’s my duty.” She iterates somewhat bitterly. “I’m afraid I have no choice in the matter.”
“Huh.” He hums in understanding. “Guess that’s why you’re so serious all the time.”
Jean glances at him. “I’m serious all the time?” She asks quite earnestly.
Diluc blinks at her, and then bursts out laughing to Jean’s increasing bewilderment. “Y’know what? I think I like you.” He rises to his feet, patting away the remnants of grass and dirt from his pants. He walks over to grab one of the unused wooden claymores from the nearby cart. He brandishes it towards Jean.
“But since I’m already here and we’re breaking the rules anyway, what do you say we take these out for a spin?”
Jean ponders him uncertainly. On the one hand she’s been curious all week to test her skills out against this brazen boy, but on the other hand she most certainly will get into heaps of trouble if anyone is to find her in a friendly spar with the Ragnvindr heir. Raising her sword is a sacred prayer in the name of Mondstadt, her mother would probably say. Her weapon is not a plaything to flounder around with.
“Come on. Just one round.” Diluc encourages cheerfully, falling into a defensive stance with his sword aloft. “Let’s see how good you really are, crybaby.” Somewhere down the line, this has somehow become his official nickname for her.
Jean fights back a smile, unable to suppress the resulting challenge that fires within her. She scrambles to her feet quickly, gripping the training sword tightly in her hands.
“I’m probably too obedient for my own good.” Jean acquiesces as she flourishes her own sword. She presses the wooden edge of the weapon against her nose and closes her eyes, taking a deep inhale to prepare for the fight.
Then, she allows herself to give a small smile. “But don’t get me wrong. I’m no crybaby, and I’m definitely not weak.”
Diluc grins back. “We’ll see.”
It turns out that while Jean is talented, Diluc is in a league of his own.
His moves are so different from the textbook talents that Jean is acquainted to that she struggles at first even to keep up with him. But she’s trained hard and diligently all her life, and she accustoms herself to the strange fighting style with ease. The one spar she promises Diluc turns into two, then three, until eventually the two of them are still practicing even when the sun hangs low in the sky like a red lamp, lighting the landscape in its fiery afternoon hues.
Afterwards, the two of them lie side by side on the grass, exhausted but elated after a long day of enjoyable battle. It’s Diluc who voices the thought that flies through Jean’s mind.
“We should do this again.” He huffs out. “Often. You’re really strong, Jean.”
Jean. Her name sounds almost foreign in his voice, and it sends a strange flutter through her heart. She smiles up at the red sky. Diluc is concise and blunt, and she knows he would never say a compliment that he didn’t mean. It’s good to know that all her training has not been for naught.
“You’re strong too, Diluc.” She realizes it’s the first time she says his name. “But I’m afraid I’d be in scores of trouble if anyone were to find out about this.”
Diluc sits up. He looks down at her with a cheeky smile.
“Then we’ll make this our little secret.”
Jean stares at him. Their little secret. In novels, it’s always friends that keep secrets for one another, in hushed tones and whispered promises.
She wonders if this means they are friends now.
In the weeks that follow, Diluc keeps true to his word. It’s like he magically knows when someone is coming, and is quite adept at disappearing within the trees should he believe their exploits are about to be discovered. Sometimes Kaeya joins them, snickering about something or the other behind his hands. He’s weaker than his brother in terms of fighting, but shrewder, and there’s always some hidden thought running behind his carefully inquisitive azure eyes. But he’s amiable company, and Jean comes to consider him a good friend as well.
However, it is Diluc’s company that she prefers more. As they grow closer, their conversations deepen from the lighthearted quarrels about their spars to talks of their interests, dreams and troubles. It turns out that Diluc has decent taste in books, as well as an adorable pet tortoise named Spiky that he brings along to show off to Jean one day. He wants to be a Knight when he’s older, just like Jean.
“My father never received a Vision.” He says out of the blue one day, red eyes shining with ambition. “And he was never really a fighter. He wanted to be a Knight too, but it never worked out for him. That’s why I want to become a Knight. So that he can at least fulfill his dream through me.”
Jean can understand that. She remembers what her mother had to say about the man, and feels a flare of defiance. Life is not always fortunate, and one’s stumbles should not be what dictates his destiny.
“He sounds like a good man.” She says, truthfully.
This elicits a smile from Diluc. “He’s the best.” He flickers his eyes over to Jean warily. A la his usual bluntness, he cautiously asks. “I hear your parents are separated?”
“They are.” Jean confirms dully. On the day her father had left, taking her beloved sister with him as he went, she’d forgone her lessons and flung herself onto her mattress in a river of tears. She’d been very young then and Barbara younger still, so it’s been many, many years now. She still misses them, and even if Barbara comes to visit occasionally it’s never the same as it once was between them. But the pain is a numb ache in her heart after all this time.
“You must miss them.” He comments.
Jean looks down at her lap and lets the silence confirm this fact.
All of a sudden, Diluc’s hand falls atop Jean’s sweaty hair, ruffling it affectionately. Sitting on the grass as they are, he can reach it with ease. Jean glares at him, somewhat flustered by the action.
“W-What was that for?” She mumbles out.
Diluc scowls back. Is she imagining it or is there a flush on his cheeks? Maybe it’s a side effect from all the intense training they’d been doing…
“I dunno.” He grouses. “Just felt like it.”
They sit in contented silence for a few moments, Jean trying to regain her heart’s panicky palpitations and Diluc pointedly avoiding her eyes.
“You don’t have to feel alone ever again.” He promises resolutely, crimson eyes utterly serious. “Me, Kaeya… even my father. We’ll always be by your side.”
Jean looks at him in surprise. When she looks back down at her lap, there is a smile on her face.
“Thank you.” She says emotively. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Diluc smiles too, and when their eyes meet again, there’s something else, something sweeter and deeper, behind the haughtiness in his crimson eyes.
Jean plays by the rules, but lately she’s begun to bend them a little. On her day off from training and studies, she promises her mother she’s heading into the town to pay a visit to her father and Barbara, only to meet up with Diluc and Kaeya once she’s safely a few ways away from the estate. Guilt gnaws at her heart, though, and it must have shown on her face.
“Aw, lighten up, will you, Jean?” Kaeya elbows her good-naturedly. “It’s not like we’re committing a crime.”
Jean frowns as she stomps down the grassy path. “I might as well be. If this misdemeanor is discovered I will be drawn and quartered.”
Diluc rolls his eyes. “We’re not going to let that happen.”
Jean sighs. “I’m afraid you nor anyone else can control my mother when it comes to matters of discipline.”
“Jean.” Diluc places a hand atop her head, ruffling her hair. “Relax. You’re going to be fine.”
In the months since they’ve met he’s grown tall enough to be able to do so without hindrance. Taller than Jean, much to her dismay. But the fight goes out of Jean when she feels the comfortable familiarity in the gesture, and all at once she relaxes her shoulders and emanates a big, whooshing breath.
It’s an overcast fall day in Windwail Highland, and the gathering tempest whips and attacks their hair as they walk. The yellowing trees laden with sunsettias and apples sing and whisper as the gale flies through them, and the songs of the Mondstadtian autumn ring through the air. Far, far above Teyvat, the heavens are hidden behind a blanket of heavy clouds. Not a slime nor a hilichurl is in sight, and all is well down the grassy path leading from the Gunnhildr estate to the Dawn Winery.
Jean brushes her hand against the tall dandelions littering the path with a smile. She’s always been fond of them. Her father used to bring her dandelions on his trips back from the church, and to this day the flower reminds her of him and with it, the nostalgic happiness of her early childhood. Moreover, dandelions are a symbol of lord Barbatos, and subsequently a persistent relic in Mondstadtian history. More superficially, perhaps, she loves the soft, teal glow they emanate whether it be under cloud cover, sunshine or moonlight.
At long last, the houses surrounding the Winery peek out from behind the trees growing by the towering cliffs. Their red eaves are adorned with the philanemo mushrooms particular to this region, and extrudes from them a homely, welcoming feel. This is Jean’s first time visiting this area, and she basks in wonder at the idyllic prettiness of the countryside.
The Winery’s central estate is ringed by the vineyard, within which farmers hunker down to tend to the crops at periodic intervals. There are crystalflies fluttering through the air, giving the overcast sky a pretty blue sparkle. The mansion itself stands as tall as Jean’s own house in a magnificent picture of red and white, with weathered slate roofs and crystal-frosted windows. The old house with its centuries-settled foundations brings a sense of ancient power to the welcoming landscape.
Jean marvels at it in amazement.
“Honestly, I know how you feel.” Kaeya grins at her wondrous expression. “I was star-struck by it too.”
When she finally tears her eyes away, she finds Diluc staring with an unreadable expression on his face. But he looks away from her immediately, eyes turning towards the house instead.
“I hope the old man is awake.” He grins at Jean. “Let’s go meet my father.”
Crepus Ragnvindr is a tall man of thin stature, with long auburn hair and a scraggly remnants of a beard on his face. They find him seated behind the mahogany table of his office, looking melancholic in the dim light filtering through the frosted window behind him. The shape and shading of his eyes are quite like Diluc’s, and when he smiles welcomingly to Jean their great similarity increases tenfold.
“Ah, young mistress Jean.” He holds out a welcoming hand. “It’s a great pleasure to finally meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, sir.” Jean responds honestly, ever the paragon of discipline. When she grasps the man’s frail hand, she’s surprised to find some sturdiness behind the slim fingers. “Your estate is simply breathtaking.”
Crepus waves away the compliments modestly. “This old place is nothing compared to the majesty of the Gunnhildr mansion. I do hope my boys haven’t been causing you much trouble.”
The fond way in which he says my boys brings a smile to Jean’s face. “Please, sir. Your well-mannered sons are great company.” Kaeya snorts out an attempt to smother a laugh, and Diluc coughs conspicuously. Jean stifles her own laughter and presses on. “I am honored to make their acquaintance, as I am to make yours.”
“That’s wonderful to hear.” He sighs contentedly. There is a sadness present in his merry eyes, Jean realizes, hidden deep beneath the crinkles and crooks brought on by age and laughter. “I look forward to seeing you all as strong Knights someday. Oh, and miss Jean, I do hope you don’t mind staying for lunch.”
Jean has to make the trip all the way to Mondstadt and then make it back to the estate before sundown after she leaves the Winery, lest her mother find out about her exploits here. She widens her eyes in alarm and raises her hands in protest. “N-No sir, I couldn’t possibly trouble you with…”
He waves off the complaints amiably, probably thinking she was trying to be polite. “Nonsense! It’s no trouble at all. I insist.”
Meekly, she relents. Kaeya flashes her an apologetic smile. “A-Alright then, sir… I would love to stay for lunch.”
He claps his hands together. “Wonderful! Boys, do make sure to show her around the place beforehand. And please do make yourself at home.” This last part he adds to Jean with an earnest nod. “You’re welcome here any time you wish.”
Jean crumbles under his sincere smile. She could immediately see why Diluc and Kaeya are so relentlessly willful when it comes to doing the right thing. Their father was a kind man of honor, and her mother had been completely and utterly wrong about him.
“Of course, sir. And thank you again for inviting me here.” She says this genuinely. “It really is an honor to meet you.”
The winery’s interior is every bit as exquisite as the exterior. The basement cellar with its perpetual chill is stocked to the brim with ales of every kind, most notably the Dandelion wine infamous to the region. The offices are packed with brightly-smiling attendants and busy, hassled workers, and the family quarters upstairs is something straight out of a dream. The hallways are lined in mahogany and adorned with exquisite lanterns, and the carved wooden doors beckon from them a sense of historical magic. Jean looks at each of them in awe, wondering what secrets they hold within.
Lunch is a hearty affair, rather unlike the solemn meals she shares with her mother. All prospect of manner and discipline is thrown out the window, and Jean is abashed to find that Crepus Ragnvindr is every bit as loud and raucous as his sons. He guffaws robustly at every little joke, revealing mouthfuls of chewed-up steak. Kaeya and Diluc compete to see who can eat the most, and even the chamberlains partake in their revelry, hooting and cheering them on. Diluc ends up choking on his pizza, turning red-faced in embarrassment and lack of air as his father and Kaeya screams in mirth in the background. Jean offers him a glass of water in concern, but she too ends up laughing with the rest of them.
Jean is truly sorry that she has to leave the Winery so soon, and she offers several profuse apologies and promises to return as soon as she can to the old master Crepus as she bids him goodbye. The man gives her another one of his crinkling smiles, and tells her to take care of herself and his sons until they meet again.
Diluc offers to accompany her to Mondstadt.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She refutes immediately. “You’re only going to have to make the walk all the way back here, anyway.”
“I don’t mind.” Diluc scowls, as if irate at even the mere thought that Jean considers herself a bother. “And I don’t have anything to do today, anyway.”
Jean sighs and relents, knowing he would come regardless of what she says. As the two of them step out onto the grassy path once more, Diluc turns back to face Kaeya.
“You’re not coming?” He asks confusedly.
Kaeya gives them both a sly, knowing smirk. “Of course not. I have things to do, places to be…”
Diluc stares at him. “No you don’t. We’re both free today.”
“Oh, don’t fret about the details, sweet brother.” He laughs blithely. “You kids enjoy yourselves, now. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
The suggestive air in his voice makes Jean flush, but Diluc rolls his eyes. “Which is what, exactly? No offense, but you’re not really the poster-boy for good behavior.”
But Kaeya is already turning around, disappearing through the large imposing doors of the Winery into the darkness within. “Make sure you take care of our sweet little Jean, brother. Have fun!”
Diluc is still seething later when they’re stomping through the undergrowth.
“What on earth was that about?” Jean asks curiously.
“Beats me.” Diluc frowns. “He’s been acting awfully strange lately.”
They walk in silence for a moment, listening to the wind and enjoying the scenery. At length, Jean speaks again.
“Thank you, Diluc.” When he turns to face her questioningly, she smiles. “For bringing me here. I had a lot of fun today.”
Diluc turns back towards the path. “Like I said before.” He mumbles. “You’re one of us, now.”
It’s mid-afternoon when they finally make it to Mondstadt. Jean expects Diluc to turn back and make the hike back to Dawn Winery, but he separates from her with an unreadable smile at the gates, telling her that he’d meet her back here in a couple of hours. Jean watches him go curiously, wondering what he could be up to and why he doesn’t make to return home immediately.
Although she technically doesn’t live here, Mondstadt never fails to feel like home. The square is as bustling and busy with familiar faces as ever, and she has to stop plenty of times en route to her father’s house to make idle chatter with people who greet her. When at long last she finally makes it to the house, Barbara is out on the front steps, playing with the blossoms on the flowerpots atop it.
“Sister Jean!” She exclaims delightfully, and Jean swoops in to embrace her. Her father turns out to be away from the city on a mission from the church, but the two of them spend the day together anyway. Jean cooks her a meal and though she’d already eaten, she joins her to gobble up a couple of bites, listening earnestly to her cheerful chatter about the mundane fecund of her eight-year-old life. She departs the house an hour to sundown, smiling consolingly at Barbara’s tearful face and promising to return as soon as she can.
She finds Diluc leaning against the city walls outside the gate, as promised.
“Ready to go?” He asks with a grin. Jean frowns at him.
“Where’ve you even been all this time?” She asks as they walk over the bridge. Underneath it, the great lake reflects the sunset-painted sky in a calm mirage of orange and red. “Don’t tell me you had something to do, because you told me earlier that you didn’t.”
“Oh, I just loitered around the bar until you were done.” He kicks a stray pebble and watches it roll down the grassy path. “No harm done.”
Jean flushes inexplicably. “So you were just waiting for me?”
Diluc raises an eyebrow at her. “Is there some kind of problem?”
Jean scowls at her shoes. Waiting for her to be done with her activities so that he could walk her home was so annoyingly chivalrous… like something a hero of a romance novel would do for his heroine. She hates the way it makes her skin prickle and her heart swell against her chest.
“It bothers me to trouble you like this.” She ends up saying sulkily.
Diluc watches her for a moment. Then he ruffles her hair again, but this time the action makes Jean’s heart race.
“Stop making that face, crybaby.” He grins at her easily. “These roads are treacherous for a young girl to walk alone on this time of the year.”
“Because of what? Dendro slimes?” Jean retorts.
“Hey, some Dendro slimes can actually grow to be pretty ferocious.” Diluc shoots back. “Poor Allan down at Springvale got attacked by a horde the other day.”
That thaws Jean out. She returns Diluc’s grin in kind. “I think Allan’s just prone to disaster.”
“You might be right about that, actually. Isn’t this like his tenth time getting mobbed?”
Their lighthearted conversation disappears in the wind blowing underneath the setting sky, punctuated with laughter and stolen glances. Their hands brush together and come apart as they make their way towards the Gunnhildr estate. By the time they approach the grounds, the troubles from earlier have completely vanished from Jean’s mind.
Jean turns to bid him goodbye, a wide smile on her face. “Honestly, you didn’t need to walk me all the way home. But I did have a great time today.”
Diluc crosses his arms over his chest. “And like I said, I wanted to do it. And besides,” He adds, more to the grass than anything else. “I had a great time today, too.”
When he looks back up at Jean and their eyes meet, there’s a foreign, intense fire burning within them. It’s something different from his usual reckless disposition, something that speaks of shared secrets and smiles and promises to be made and kept. Jean blinks back at him, feeling an unfamiliar ache in her chest.
Diluc opens his mouth, probably to say something else, but his voice is cut off by a new arrival.
“Young mistress Jean?” The two kids whip their heads around in alarm to find one of her guards standing there, eyeing Diluc uncertainly. “I thought you went down to the city…”
“I did.” Jean blurts out hurriedly, frazzled by this unwelcome disruption of their heated eye contact. “I stumbled into Diluc—I mean, young master Ragnvindr, and he insisted on keeping me company on the walk back home. It-It was quite kind of him, I mean, he didn’t need to, but…”
She’s rambling, and she and the guard both knew it. He looks between them suspiciously, and then fixes Diluc with a cold look.
“You best run along now, young master.” He says coolly. “It will be dark soon.”
Diluc flashes a worried look at Jean, and disappears somewhere into the undergrowth. Jean follows after the guard, a sinking feeling settling into her stomach. She’s going to be in heaps of trouble now, for sure. Her mother had explicitly forbidden her from mingling with the Ragnvindrs and here she was, discovered red-handed with the rules broken.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to report this misconduct to your mother.” He says as they walk, and he almost sounds sorry for her. Jean thinks she might want to cry. “I didn’t expect such unsightly behavior from you, young mistress.”
Jean thinks back to all the lessons on responsibility and duty that has been ingrained into her very being since she could hardly walk and talk, and feels a heightening sensation of wanting to run away from it all. Was it really such a crime to yearn for the company of others her age? Diluc, Kaeya and even their jolly father were all good, honest people, and it hurts her heart that anyone could think of them as somehow lowly compared to her.
She’s summoned to her mother’s quarters straightaway.
Jean wonders if she should begin with an apology as she enters the master bedroom, but all her words die in her throat when she sees the haughty look of disapproval on her mother’s face. She looks down at her feet in shame.
“Never in my life did I expect such behavior from you, Jean.” She begins angrily. “I told you to stay away from them, but here you are anyway, found in a cordial discussion with Crepus’s unsightly brat.”
“I-I’m sorry.” Jean responds timidly. “It was my mistake, and it won’t happen again.”
“Oh no, it most certainly won’t.” Her mother remands frostily. “Because from now on every moment you leave this house you will be accompanied by a guard. I’ve given you leeway because I thought you an obedient child, but from this day on you will behave with the dignity that is expected from you as the heir of this family.”
Jean brings her eyes up to her mother in alarm. In her head resounds the promise she’d made Crepus earlier that day, to return to the Winery as soon as she can. He’d given her a warm smile back, and touched her arm with the same loving gentleness he treats his sons with. Something flutters wildly in her ears and chest—panic. Because if her actions are to be monitored twenty-four-seven for the rest of her days, then that would mean…
“You are never to meet that boy again, Jean Gunnhildr.” Her mother instructs. “Do you hear me?”
Jean blinks away the tears that rapidly fill her eyes. “Yes, mother.” She all but whispers, wondering if her mother could hear the heartbreak in her voice.
Jean flings herself onto her bed as soon as she enters her room, not bothering to change into her nightclothes. She feels as if there is an anvil pressing down against her chest, trapping her breath within and making her head rush with dizziness. All her life, she’s been unfailingly obedient. She’s done her duty without complaint. She’s been the perfect child. Is it so much of a horror that she should yearn for this one little piece of freedom?
She sobs freely against her pillow, finally allowing the tears that she’d withheld earlier to flow in uncontrollable hiccups and streams of sobs. It would probably get her into more trouble if she is seen distressing this badly over a stranger she has supposedly only met today after almost a year of having seen him for the first time, but she allows herself at least this much solace.
After all, she would always stop crying tomorrow. As is expected of her.
The anvil grows heavier, and Jean wants to curl away from it and run away from it all. But of course, she can never escape the shackles that bind her to the prison that is her duty.
Amidst her tears, a soft rap comes on the door leading to her moonlit balcony. She raises her head in alarm and finds a familiar silhouette against the curtain. She rushes out of bed, hurriedly wiping away her tears, and quietly cracks open the door.
Diluc surprises her by pulling her into his embrace. Jean scrunches her face up tightly against his chest, trying her hardest to stop the tears that don’t seem to have an end.
“I’m so sorry, Jean.” He whispers against her hair. “This is all my fault.”
But it isn’t. Diluc has committed no crime, no less than she has. The tears squeeze out of her eyes anyway, rapidly dampening the front of Diluc’s shirt in only moments.
“No, I’m sorry.” She croaks out hoarsely. “It really is a shame that it has to be like this.”
Diluc pulls away from her, and looks startled to see her watery expression. She must look like a red, splotchy, snot-filled mess to him, Jean thinks. Finally, her true colors have come out as the crybaby he’d initially penned her to be. Wonderful. The perfect ending to what has been a horrible, horrible night.
Diluc scowls. “I really hate seeing you cry, Jean.” And he sounds like it, too, because his voice is tight. “All my promises to you until now has been useless, haven’t they? You got into trouble because of me anyway.”
Jean hates that he’s blaming himself for something that is clearly out of his control. “I wouldn’t have changed any of it for the world.” She announces sullenly. “You’re my best friend, Diluc.”
Something softens in Diluc’s hard expression. “You’re mine, too.” He acknowledges embarrassedly, and then adds with a roll of his eyes. “Along with Kaeya, of course. But I’m glad you’re not regretting any of the fun times we had together.”
“Of course not.” Jean mumbles out.
“That’s good.” He sounds relieved. “You deserve better than this, you know? Why do you go along with all of it? I could never do it if it were me.” He complains, but not without a note of amazement.
Jean sniffles, and wipes her face with the back of her now thoroughly disgusting sleeve. “It’s my duty.” She says simply, like she’s been taught to. “My ancestors have served Mondstadt with honor, and it is my pleasure to continue their legacy.
“This is your duty?” Diluc echoes somewhat angrily. “I doubt your ancestors care in the slightest about whether you’re allowed to have a little fun in your life. If my father discovered that you’re being treated like this he would”—
“Do nothing.” Jean censures him sternly, panic rising in her chest even at the mere thought of it. “Because it would be irresponsible to cause a dispute between our two noble houses over something as little as this.”
“It’s not little to me.” Diluc refutes obstinately. “If it makes sure that you never have to cry about having your own personal freedom then I wouldn’t hesitate even to go to war for it.”
Jean looks up at him to scowl, entirely ready to reprimand him for making such a stupid joke. But her words never escape her lips, because Diluc looks down at her with utter sincerity, not a hint of laughter within his eyes. She realizes how close they’re actually standing and takes an uncertain step back from him, wondering why her heart is racing.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She manages to stammer out. She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. “We’ll all be Knights of Favonius in a couple of years, perhaps sooner. When that day comes we’ll never have to worry about things like this again.”
“A couple of years is a long time.” Diluc reminds her. “And from your expression it looks like it’ll be difficult for us to meet like we did until then.”
The thought saddens her, but it’s overshadowed by the strange heat and worry that flickers in her chest when she thinks of the words Diluc has spoken only moments earlier. That he would go to war. Over her.
Diluc is certainly stubborn enough to pull a stunt like that.
“We’ll make do. It’s not like it’s forever or something.” Attempting to lighten the mood with a joke, she says. “I really will miss your father, though.”
Diluc rolls her eyes at her poor attempt at comedy. “Oh, I’m sure.” He says dryly. “And what about Kaeya, right? He’s going to be so heartbroken that he can’t bully you in person.”
“I’m sure he’ll survive.” Jean says lightly. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Me?” Diluc echoes blankly.
“Yeah.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m sure you’re going to be in trouble all the time now that I’m not going to be around to keep you in line.”
Diluc finally breaks through and gives her a big, cheeky smile. “I’ll wait eagerly for your scolding, miss Jean.”
Jean flushes in embarrassment. She manages to give Diluc a stiff smile despite the fact that it really does pain her to think that she wouldn’t be able to see him for a long time. “I suppose we’ll be Knights the next time we meet.”
His eyes come alive with excitement. “Yeah, I guess so. I can hardly wait. You’re going to make an amazing Knight, Jean.”
Jean grins back too, sincerely this time. “As will you, Diluc. I’ll see you then?” She promises, determined not to make this sound like a goodbye.
He seems to be thinking along the same lines. He makes towards the balcony doors, and again Jean wonders how he’s so adept at shimmying up walls and sneaking into people’s homes. She shakes her head exasperatedly. Thank Barbatos he’d been born into a well-off family, otherwise he’d be a terrifying thief formidable enough to give the Knights a run for their money.
Diluc teeters at the threshold hesitantly, and then quite suddenly he wraps his arms around Jean’s middle and gives her a warm, fervent squeeze. She makes a sound that comes out like a squawk in surprise at first, but ends up relaxing into the embrace. It’s going to be a long couple of years, she thinks a bit sadly.
“Take care of yourself, will you, crybaby?” He flashes her a reckless smile as they pull apart. “Don’t work yourself too hard.”
“Stay out of trouble.” Jean reminds him sternly, but she smiles too.
And then he disappears through the gossamer curtains and the glass-paned door, taking with him the cheer in the room and what feels like a piece of Jean’s heart. She drops down onto the bed in steely resignation, prepared to face through the difficult years to come.