Archive of Our Own

Kaeya is a fascinating annoyance.

It’s been his opinion ever since Alice first pushed him into the Knight of Favonius headquarters. He’s loud, not in voice but in manner, and speaks in circles with seemingly purposeless conversation. Of course, that is, until he manages to get someone to spout something horribly incriminating.

That’s all well and good. Albedo’s not in danger of revealing anything to his ways, not so easily tricked, but dislikes having to waste his time on useless discussion, so he just decides not to speak with Kaeya.

Which is a shame, sometimes, since Kaeya is sharp in a way he’s never seen before.

Albedo knows quite a bit. He knows what people expect him to; books, alchemy, the Art of Khemia. He also knows how people work, how to omit words and form false truth, how to redirect attention away from subjects he doesn’t want people to consider. Kaeya’s perfected it into an art.

He hears strategies and invaluable information alike from the man. He hasn’t heard of a single one of Kaeya’s expeditions or ventures that’s actually failed. Even ones where he seems to have come back empty handed, he returns with a smirk like a cat who’s caught a canary, and inevitably it turns out to be a crucial pin in a winding plan that later goes off without a hitch. He hears Varka call him an 'essential part of our planning process' and can't help but agree.

What’s also interesting is the way that many other citizens seem to dote and tiptoe around him in equal measures. The captain seems to try and dissuade this as well, but for whatever reason their concern remains. It’s strange; there seems to be nothing wrong with him, and nobody says anything, but it persists. Albedo finds it very curious. He would dig into it and ask around, but the captain seems to have informants everywhere, and may be able to innately detect prying, so he refrains. Other than that, Kaeya seems perfectly ordinary, so he doesn’t pay him too much mind.

So that’s how it goes in those first few weeks. Albedo watching from afar whenever he happens to see something to that matter, but ultimately continuing on. He’s too caught up in knight’s work, as well as his quick rise to the rank of captain in just a few short weeks, so he doesn’t have many opportunities anyways.

He’s in his newly minted lab, given to him by the Grand Master in due haste when he’d witnessed Albedo’s talents, when he first actually speaks to Kaeya.

The Cavalry Captain knocks, and enters when Albedo calls out an answering ‘come in’. He’s holding a leaflet of papers.

“Good evening, Sir Alchemist. I do hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all. I suppose that’s the paperwork Grand Master Varka mentioned?”

“Well reasoned,” Kaeya saunters up to his workstation and places the leaflet down. “The last of your captaincy papers.”

He hums his thanks, and nearly starts when he looks up to meet his fellow captain’s gaze.

He’s never seen him this close before. A lone star blazes in a pool of blue. It burns into him, the affable twinkle belying a cold intensity. Albedo’s mind supplies him with an image of Rhinedottir, who’s eyes, while a baleful bronze, were much the same.

Oh.

Well. He supposes there may be more to the quartermaster than he’d assumed.

(He felt ridiculous for not noticing, afterwards. The stars of Khaenri’ah subtly adorned his clothing, and even though he didn’t seem to have the sigil tattooed anywhere on his person, he wore an eyepatch over his right eye, just as many who venerated the Last Hope did.

Even his name was similar to princess Gaia’s. He wouldn’t put it past whoever his parents were to name him after her.)

Strangely, in that first little while, he encounters Kaeya in the library the most.

He doesn’t seem like a particularly bookish type, so it strikes him as odd. He considers asking the captain about it, but he’s so cagey that he would probably brush it off and laugh, talking in enough circles to drive the chalk man mad. He also considers asking Lisa, but he’s seen her and Kaeya seemingly debating over the books. Not only that, but when he checks them out she hands him extra papers that he writes on as he reads, and returns along with the books once done. So, she’s likely a co-conspirator, and thus as probable to reveal Kaeya’s studiousness as the man himself.

So Albedo makes use of what alchemy has taught, and observes.

He learns that Kaeya gets explicit time off from duties to do these readings. Two hours every day, starting an hour after noon, on the dot. Lisa gets grumpy when he misses it, one day, when his small expedition to clear out a Hilichurl camp goes on longer than expected. The next, a bandaged up Kaeya sits there long enough to make up lost time, doing paperwork he’s hidden beneath his books when Lisa isn’t looking. He usually takes out the exact same volumes, heavy ones that audibly thud against the table when he puts them down, and opens them to different places each time. The ones that are rotated out are thin ones, likely novels. When he places those back in Lisa’s hands, he sometimes makes wry remarks on the fact that they’re romances. Nobody talks about whatever this is, but some of the older knights sometimes drop by to leave him snacks as he works. Kaeya accepts them with ‘thank you, kind sir’s, ‘you truly shouldn’t have’s, and a smile that lingers long after they’ve left.

One day, just after Kaeya’s returned his books and Lisa’s left the library on a hunt for overdue ones, Albedo slides behind the librarian’s desk to observe the return cart. From what he’s seen, it shouldn’t be so surprising, but somehow his brows still raise in incredulity. They’re all textbooks. Maths, sciences, history, and what looks like both a romance novel and a collection of untranslated Liyue poems. He doesn’t know about the literature, but after quickly glancing at the contents, the math and science books are rather advanced for those not specializing in the fields.

The papers that Lisa gave Kaeya this week are in a neat pile on top, and Albedo quickly glances around before shuffling through them. Problems and questions have been written in ink in Lisa’s loopy cursive, while graphite answers and responses are written in Kaeya’s neat hand. And what’s more, the answers are overwhelmingly right. The most trouble seems to be with math, he thinks, since Albedo spots simple arithmetic mistakes within the factorization of a polynomial and confusion in the integration of Euler’s number. However, the statistical maths on the other side of the page are done nearly perfectly. 

To think, Kaeya has been an erudite all along. That said, Albedo’s never thought of him as an idiot. He’d just assumed that the captain’s strength had lain more in people rather than book smarts. Now he can see that perhaps its both. That’s all well and good, but…

“Why on earth are you studying all this?” Albedo murmurs to himself.

He pointedly does not jump when a manicured hand lands on his shoulder, and a smooth voice says “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that a cutie like you was snooping!”

“Lisa,” he says, calmly, and curses himself for getting so absorbed in his findings. There’s really no salvaging the situation, and Albedo makes it a point to lie sparingly but very well, so he goes right in with the truth. “I was curious as to what Kaeya does in the library all the time. Apologies, I didn’t intend to impose on your space.”

“Oh, I’ve known about this curiosity of yours for a while. Even if I don’t see you, your checkout times are rather consistently at the end of his two hours, you know. And I believe Kaeya deserves an apology for this more than I do. It’s his work, after all.” Lisa doesn’t seem too upset about it, so Albedo relaxes a touch. He places the papers back down onto the cart, and decides to take a leap. He’s already here, after all.

“Why is he doing all of this?”

“For his education, of course.” She weaves around him and begins slotting the books back into a little nook near her desk. “He was only seventeen when… he became captain, and circumstances made it impossible for him to finish at his school. I’m just helping organize the end of his curriculum here at the Ordo.”

For someone who was just espousing respect for Kaeya’s privacy, she’s quite forthcoming. Albedo may not be from here, but he learned enough when he was preparing Sucrose’s apprenticeship. Mondstadt did basic schooling, but advanced material such as this was opt in, often taken by the wealthy or the gifted. Kaeya must be the latter, which he doesn’t doubt after seeing his work. He hadn’t known that Kaeya had taken the position at seventeen, either. That would’ve been… at most two years ago. “That’s young to take such an important position. What were the circumstances?”

“Did I say circumstances? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. And yes, it is. He’s not quite the youngest to have taken it, though it’s very close. Ah, but if I may tell you a secret,” She leans in a bit, and says, with a lighthearted seriousness in her tone, “I didn’t know the previous captain. But from what I’ve heard, I think our little Kaeya has grown quite admirably into the role.”

Albedo nods, and honestly agrees. He’s seen Kaeya in action, and shining through beneath that mask of his is a very good knight. Everybody knows it, too. He’s not so sure what makes it a secret, then, but he’ll indulge in the covertness all the same. He thanks Lisa for her time, and apologizes again for the intrusion.

He never mentions the matter of this schooling again. But if one day Kaeya receives a copy of ‘The Beginner’s Guide to Alchemy’ on his desk, who later on proudly walks into his lab and identifies at which stage of alchemy each of his experiments are…

Well. His smile is entirely unrelated.

There’s a knock on the door of Albedo’s office, and Kaeya walks in without waiting for a response. He’s already simpering and summing up the reports that he’s bringing to the alchemist’s artfully cluttered desk. Albedo half listens, half studies the man.

He’s gotten rather… comfortable isn’t the word, really, around Albedo. Albedo has yet to see that mask crack, after all, and most of their discussions are work related, though Kaeya is always trying to slip in little pushes to his secrets. The man just seems to completely disregard his personal space. He barges into his lab and office with no consideration, and doesn’t seem to mind chatting him up when he’s trying to focus. Albedo doesn’t dislike Kaeya, per se, and does think some discussions are nice, especially finding pride in the little tidbits of alchemy knowledge that Kaeya uses to talk with him in his lab. But having an unpredictable intrusion in his work and his secrets pried into is incredibly irritating. Albedo’s had a retaliation in pocket for weeks now, and is just waiting for the right moment to make use of it.

He lets his chin rest on his hand as he considers Kaeya. Kaeya remains unperturbed.

“… And, of course, this one is the matter of Stormbearer Point. My congratulations, Mr. Albedo! Your expedition has been approved. You just need to sign off on the resources required.”

“I see. Leave it on my desk, I’ll see to it promptly.”

Kaeya smiles pleasantly at him, and easily slots each report in the proper piles on his desk. Albedo tries not to laugh, and wonders how much studying him it took Kaeya to understand his organizational system. He ponders on the fact that this is likely an attempt at unnerving him. How perfect, then, that Albedo has a counterattack at the ready.

“Thank you Kaeya,” He says in Khaenri’ahn. “I appreciate it.”

It’s almost comical. Kaeya blinks for a moment, uncomprehending, before realization dawns on him. His eye widens and his face goes slack, before tightening up into an almost-smile. There’s no way to explain how the captain’s posture changes except with the word sharpening, and suddenly the air in the room is thick with tension.

“Ah, beg pardon, I don’t think I heard you right. What was it you just said?”

Albedo just raises his eyebrow and resists the urge to smirk back. So, the man isn’t unflappable after all. A wonderful conclusion.

Kaeya sharpens further at his nonresponse, and his words are taut. “Ah, nothing to say now? It’s a shame you’ve used up all your words. Why don’t we drop the pretences, then. Whatever are you here for, my dear alchemist?”

Fascinating. This is quite a sore mark indeed. Understandable, really. Mondstadt may be the city of the free, but it’s not all soft by any means. He’ll have to remember this little tidbit for later. “I believe you’ve mistaken me. I simply realized that you were Khaenri’ahn, and wondered if you’d rather I spoke the language.”

Kaeya freezes. His eye jumps all over Albedo’s face, searching for a lie, and Albedo gives him no indication of one. Still, he seems unconvinced. Albedo catalogues the reaction, and decides to clarify.

“If you’re wondering where I learned it, I was trained by an Alchemist of the Court. If it consoles you, I won’t tell anyone, Sir Kaeya. They’d trust your word over mine regardless.”

He omits the fact that the alchemist who trained him also created him. He also omits the fact that this alchemist is the same Alchemist of the Court that plunged Khaenri’ah into darkness, even if she was working with the royal family now, for he feels that might just elicit a worse reaction.

Kaeya is now carefully blank. His eye shifts from his face to his neck, and it puzzles Albedo before he remembers that painted upon it is the sigil of Khaenri’ah. It was a bit of an old fashioned way to show allegiance, but it had apparently become more popular with the citizenry after the birth of the Last Hope.

(Albedo’s is a bit different. He remembers his first time seeing a paintbrush, and the last time that his will was irrevocably his own.)

They sit at a standstill for a moment, before Kaeya abruptly resumes his regular good cheer and range of motion. “Of course, Sir Alchemist! I appreciate the kind thought, though I’m quite fine with Mondstadtian. Good luck with the paperwork!”

And just like that, he’s gone, closing the office door firmly behind him. Albedo sighs and leans back in his chair, then jolts a bit as something cold and sharp pokes into the back of his neck.

He carefully turns in his chair, only to come nearly face to face with a massive icicle jutting from the wall. He hadn’t noticed it at all during the conversation; no cues had even remotely been given as to its creation. It would’ve been just centimetres from jamming itself between his fourth and fifth vertebrae, severing his spinal cord. In a frankly incredible display of control, it doesn’t emanate a chill.

Albedo watches as it slowly begins to melt and drip to the floor in an undignified puddle. A two in one gift, it seems; both a threat and a nuisance.

Albedo continues to stare as the corners of his lips quirk upwards, just as they do when an experiment yields a more interesting result than he initially expects. Fascinating indeed.

He somehow manages to barely see Kaeya for almost exactly a month. 

Outside of the mandatory captains’ meetings, where Kaeya’s smile is cool and his eye doesn’t meet teal once, Albedo’s sightings of him are fleeting glances at most. The edge of a cape as he turns a corner, a flash of blue out the doors of the Ordo. Even his office is mysteriously empty whenever Albedo drops by. He’s not about to stake out the man’s house, as that seems too far, but he wouldn’t doubt it if dropping by yielded similarly vacant results.

It’s… unexpectedly frustrating. Even more than Kaeya invading his lab at the worst times. Albedo didn’t realize how much he’d enjoyed his fellow captain’s company until he was deprived of it. It’s a strange feeling. It’s made even more frustrating when he realizes that he doesn’t know how to fix it. He can’t apologize to Kaeya, as he keeps running off. Leaving an apology in a letter is apparently ‘impersonal’, and likely to be discarded anyways. Besides, what would he even apologize for? All he’d done was speak to him in Khaenri’ahn. Granted, had it been anywhere else in Teyvat, it may well be a death sentence to, but in Mondstadt? Which loves Kaeya just as it does all of its other children? Perhaps he could apologize for his attempt at unnerving him working like a charm, but that seems like it wouldn’t be received well.

He agonizes over it. While he’s pretending to sleep in the captains’ dorms at the Ordo, he thinks. He strategizes ways to corner the bastard, playing over scenarios in his head like chess. He drafts apology after apology, until he’s refined it as he would a particularly finicky potion.

In the end, he doesn’t end up needing any of it.

He doesn’t hear Kaeya enter his dorm. It’s as if he's looking at the ceiling one moment, then blinks, only to meet a face framed by midnight blue. The quartermaster is blank in a funny little way, mouth trying to curl around the grin on his missing mask, eye empty in its shape of good humour. Albedo wonders if the hair at the back of his neck would be standing on end if he were human.

They stay in silence for a moment in a tense standoff, observing each other. Albedo laying on the bed like a corpse, Kaeya peering down at him with the affect of a statue made of glass. Then, Kaeya shifts, and it feels like a victory when halting syllables flow out of his mouth, words strange but still recognizable, even in Mondstadtian phonemes.

“I’ve been… thinking. Perhaps we should speak more.”

Strange, how with that, it feels like something monumental has shifted.

Albedo smiles, small but authentic, and responds in kind.

There’s a polite knock on his office door one morning, as he’s finalizing a report on a few of the findings from his experiments last night. He calls out a quiet ‘come in’, and a green head of hair pops into view.

“Mr. Albedo, I have the reports here about the lamp grass emission trials, versions 3.8 to 3.11!”

“Wonderful, Sucrose,” He idly surveys his desk, so overflowing with papers that he can’t see the mahogany underneath. “Perhaps put it on the chaise for now. I’ll get to it later once these are all organized.”

“Right!” Sucrose nods enthusiastically and turns to do just that, before freezing.

Albedo raises an eyebrow, and looks to see what caught her attention, nearly groaning when he catches sight of a certain captain draped elegantly over the chair in question.

Ah. He’d forgotten that Kaeya was here, completely passed out.

He decides to say nothing, and instead watches as Sucrose tiptoes up and hovers over Kaeya, hemming and hawing, before delicately placing her report on his chest. She freezes as the man stirs a bit, but he just turns his head against the pillow and seems to stay asleep. Sucrose’s ears sag as she sighs in relief. She walks back to Albedo, taking care to make sure her heels make no sound against the floor, and looks at him with a question in her eyes.

Well, he does make it a point to reward his students’ curiosity. “He returned from a mission late, and I let him stay here.”

It’s a half truth. In reality, Kaeya had crossed his threshold with paperwork generated from his little expedition, already deep in the night. Then, as they’d been doing occasionally for the better part of the year now, they began speaking Khaenri’ahn.

Kaeya’s been speaking primarily Mondstadtian for so long that, at the beginning, he more often than not stumbled over forgotten words. He has a bit of an accent too, evident in his vowel sounds, especially his ‘o’s. Though, both have gotten quite a bit better, what with all the practice that they’ve been having. The conversations are interesting, but not in a typical way; they mostly speak of mundane things as they do paperwork, like the weather, or petty gossip. Somehow, it’s enjoyable, even when Albedo usually abhors such drivel. No, what’s interesting aren’t the words themselves, but how they’re said.

When speaking Khaenri’ahn, Kaeya’s whole manner changes. Where he’s usually outgoing, smooth, and confident, his voice is quiet and soft. Albedo sometimes even needs to lean in to hear him. It’s as if he’s afraid of speaking aloud. Afraid that someone will hear. He’s also incredibly formal, which seems so ingrained that he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but that’s more so in his word choice than his tone. He’s been gaining more confidence lately, of course, and their conversations flow more like a glassy river than a babbling brook, but the softness is ever present.

Last night, him and Kaeya had spoken for so long that the Cavalry Captain had fallen asleep. Albedo had only realized it when he asked a question twice and wasn’t answered. He’d considered kicking him out, or picking him up and carrying him to the dormitories, but… the sound of even breathing while he did his reports and observed his few experiments was oddly pleasant. So. He’d left him there.

And completely forgot about him.

Albedo muses on the fact that he’s a terrible host. He should’ve brought him a blanket, at the very least. He honestly has no clue how he fell asleep on that chaise though, seeing as to how uncomfortable it is. Too late now, he supposes.

He focuses back on the present when Sucrose hums in consideration. She’s looking at Kaeya with an uncharacteristic set to her face. When she looks to Albedo again, there’s something very genuine in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re friends with him, Mr. Albedo.”

Well. That wasn’t expected. He supposes that she's right, and by now they must be friends, though it feels strange to admit it. He’s not sure their strange initial back and forths and pressing into each other’s secrets was a typical bonding experience, but he wasn’t complaining. While annoying, it was interesting. Though for Sucrose to point it out, and with that phrasing… how strange.

“I thought you didn’t like him.” Many were the times when Sucrose left a conversation with Kaeya, red faced and embarrassed enough to hole herself up in her lab. Kaeya didn’t mean it, he knew, as it was just the way he talked; teasing and twisted truths, mixed effortlessly with sincerity when needed. The poor girl didn’t know how to respond to it. So, she did the reasonable thing and avoided him when she could.

“Wha— Oh, um, no, not at all! I mean, I don’t not like him! Oh, I’m not saying this right… I’m sorry if I gave off that impression. Talking with him is just a bit awkward sometimes, but he’s a good person, and I’ve known him for a long time—”

“You have?” That’s a surprise. How curious.

“Oh! Yes, I was a few years ahead in schooling, so I was in the same class as him until he left.”

He knows that Sucrose was put into higher level classes early on in her education, but she’s only a year younger than Kaeya. Which would mean that Kaeya was advanced a few levels as well. Unsurprising, but interesting nonetheless.

He glances at the man in question out of the corner of his eye. Still out cold. Though he wouldn’t put it past him to feign slumber, so he leans in and asks his next question very quietly.

“Sucrose, do you know why he had to stop his schooling?”

He thanks his lucky stars that, though Sucrose is very sweet, she lacks a lot more morals than she lets on. While Lisa has concerns about respecting Kaeya’s matters, Sucrose doesn’t think anything of it, especially when sharing with her mentor. As if to prove that fact, her eyes light up and she eagerly leans in too.

“Well… I didn’t pay attention to a lot of my classmate’s affairs, so I don’t know much, but it was when Master Crepus— um, his dad— died. I guess that maybe he didn’t get anything in the will? Or he got too busy with knight things, but… um, I’m still not sure if that makes sense, since he didn’t become a captain for… hm… I think there was… a spy in the Ordo? It was about when he was ousted that Kaeya was promoted to Cavalry Captain. I remember that. I thought that, with a captain’s salary, he probably could’ve come back and kept attending. But maybe not? Or, um, like I said, maybe he got too busy. But maybe he was saving up for his house…” She stares somewhat wistfully back towards the chaise. “I miss him, a bit, sometimes. He used to be really different.”

Sucrose’s story has holes and jumps, but is still a wonderful wealth of information. Though what it looks like the picture is turning out to be puts a sour note in his mouth. “… Is that so?”

“Yes. He used to be… well, he’s still nice and helps people a lot, but he used to be more straightforward? And he doesn’t say anything about himself anymore. And… he smiles all the time now, but I’m not sure it’s a good thing. Um, I’m sorry, I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“Don’t apologize,” Albedo says, “I’m trying to learn more about him, and this helps me quite a bit. Although I must ask you to keep this between us, please. I’m trying not to let him onto the fact.”

Sucrose straightens up and says “Right!”. It’s much louder than their whispers, and she slaps her hand onto her mouth just as Kaeya shifts on the couch, blearily blinking his way awake.

He looks around the room, eye catching on the alchemists in the room. He raises an eyebrow as he spots Sucrose frozen like a rabbit in her pose, but quickly recovers.

“Ah, sorry Albedo, how rude of me to fall asleep! While we were talking, no less.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Albedo says as he picks up his pen to continue his report. Sucrose doesn’t move an inch. “My revenge is the fact that you’ll be sore all day from sleeping on that chair.”

Kaeya winces as he stretches, but chuckles all the same. “Fair deuce! I believe next time I’ll just take the floor.” He leans forward, leisurely catching Sucrose’s report and skimming the first page, before setting it neatly aside. “So, what are you two talking about anyways?”

Sucrose turns an impressive three shades of red in all of a single second, and she finally unfreezes, just to stammer out an excuse and flee the room. Albedo looks after her fondly, and laughs as Kaeya cries “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

Kaeya never gets an answer to his question, but smart as he is, Albedo thinks that the man can guess.

There’s a huge fanfare in the city one day. Albedo pays attention to it for all of three seconds, before turning back to his experiment as soon as he hears that it’s just some heir to the wine industry that’s returned to the city. How frivolous. He could never understand how the people of Mondstadt placed so much importance on the drink.

He thinks of Kaeya, and wonders if it’s contagious.

(This experiment is an intensive one, which requires all his focus for days on end.

So he doesn’t notice that Kaeya leaves headquarters that night. He doesn’t notice that Kaeya comes back tense and adrift. He doesn’t notice that Kaeya stays the next few days at the Gunnhildr clan’s house. He doesn’t notice the harrowed look on his face, hand poised to knock, as he lingers outside the door to Albedo’s lab for a few long minutes, before carrying on.)

Albedo nearly jumps out of his skin when the door to his laboratory is pushed open in the dead of the night. A rush of cold wind hits the stuffy warmth of the lab as Albedo straightens from where he’s been writing notes at his desk, and he isn’t particularly surprised that it’s bringer is Kaeya. What he is surprised at is how Kaeya seems… subdued. He looks at Albedo through the corner of his eye, head tilted away, as he silently closes and locks the door.

“Do you…” Kaeya starts, before he switches to Khaenri’ahn, in a voice softer than Albedo thinks he’s ever heard him use. “Do you know the story of the Fox and the Star?”

Albedo falters for a moment as he thinks. Yes, he does. It’s a fairytale that tries to explain how Khaenri’ah came to have its veins of shimmering starbright opal. In some iterations it’s written as a lullaby. That’s always struck him as odd, seeing as it’s quite a sad story to use in order to sing a child to sleep. Even despite the end being nice. He could think of many stories that would fit better, but Khaenri’ah was no longer a joyful nation, so perhaps it was by design. The plot was enough to set expectations low in the young, but not too much to snuff hope entirely. Appropriate.

(If one didn’t know about Klee, they may have thought his repertoire of stories quite out of character. Truthfully, a lot of it is knowledge from before he’d met even Alice.

Rhinedottir had thought of stories as wonderfully human. She’d told him many.)

Albedo brings himself back to earth, and nods. Kaeya’s face twists at that. Like he can’t decide which expression he should be wearing, or which mask he should don.

“Could you tell it to me?”

Albedo’s immediate instinct is to say ‘no’. He’s not much of a storyteller. He’s only ever told stories to Klee, really, and not the Khaenri’ahn ones. But…

Kaeya’s eye glimmers like thawing ice in the soft light cast from the lantern on his desk. Despite his attempt to retain his usual easy posture, the set of his shoulders is tight, his fingers are stiff by his sides, and occasional shivers wrack his form. He’s standing in the dark as though he belongs to it. As though it’ll burn him like frost that creeps along your cheeks on a day so cold it steals air from your lungs. He’s in his nightshirt. He hasn’t put a smile into his voice once since he arrived.

Albedo walks up to him, ignoring how Kaeya’s breath hitches and how he half steps backwards. Albedo takes him by the shoulders, softly pressing his fingers into cotton, and guides him onto the small couch in the corner that Albedo tells people he sleeps on. It’s smaller than the chaise in his office, which means that Kaeya is just tall enough to make it an awkward fit. Usually he drapes his legs over the arm to make laying down more comfortable, but this time he curls into himself, almost absently. Albedo sits on the floor, legs crossed and back against the couch, unable to face him while about to do something so strangely embarrassing. The only thing that tells him the Cavalry Captain is still there are the little puffs of breath that arrhythmically disturb the strands of hair that fall at the side of the alchemist’s head.

He steadies himself, and launches into the tale.

He tells Kaeya about a time before the false sky. A tale of a lonely fox who dug a den with diligent paws, so deep that she found Khaenri’ah. Who loved her new home, but missed the starlight. Albedo talks about how she hatched a plan; how she spoke with her new Khaenri’ahn friends about the sea of shimmering lights that raged above their heads, who then weaved her a net of fine thread and lace.

How she brought it to the surface and climbed to the top of the tallest mountain. How she sung a sweet song, and a young little silver star heard, and was enchanted. How the fox cast the net into the air and snagged the star, stealing them from the comfort of the dark’s arms. He tells him of how she dragged the crying star down her burrow, glowing tears falling in a trail. How she showed her new friends the star, and how their eyes sparkled. How she kept the star in her burrow, a piece of home, and how the star hadn’t stopped weeping since they left the sky. The fox tried everything to cheer them up; food, trinkets, gems. And how still the star cried, until they had nearly no light left.

How she finally truly spoke to the star, and them telling her “I miss the sky too” finally made her realize her folly. She got her friends together and they bundled the star in the net, brought them back up the den, and to the top of the mountain. How they grabbed all corners of the net and threw it up in unison, launching the sad little star into the air. How they wept the loss of the star’s light upon returning to Khaenri’ah, until they realized their tears had seeped into the earth, and now twinkled and glowed where it had solidified into ore. How the fox mined some of it with her own paws and made a beautiful necklace, which she brought to the peak she’d caught the star at, and offered it in apology. How the star wept with happiness and forgiveness this time, and wore it forevermore.

Kaeya is silent when he finishes, and Albedo isn’t sure whether he’s asleep or gathering up a comment on Albedo’s admittedly robotic delivery. Instead he just whispers, in a tone full of melancholy and bittersweet, “It’s sadder than I remember.”

Albedo nearly makes a smart remark about lullabies, but manages to quiet himself. The air is heavy with something, and behind him, he could swear he hears falling starlight.

They sit like that for the rest of the night. Albedo remains, even when Kaeya’s breathing evens out into sleep, just missing dawn swallowing the darkness.

Kaeya disappears for four days, after that. Albedo doesn’t see him leave. Nobody knows where he is. He asks the acting Grand Master about it on the third evening, in something of a controlled panic.

She smiles sadly at him. “Don’t worry Albedo. It’s just… a tough time of the year for him. He’ll be fine, and back in no time. Don’t worry.”

He tries to take her words to heart. It’s hard, though, since he very much does not remember this happening last year. There’s a twisting in his stomach, and he wonders what it is — worry? Concern? Guilt? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t like it.

(Sometimes he hates Rhinedottir for making him so human.)

It’s on the fifth morning, when he’s in his lab observing Sucrose’s version 4 batch of lamp grass, when he finally shows back up.

It’s just like that night, however long ago. The room is empty one minute, and there Kaeya is, in the next. Albedo nearly jumps out of his skin when he turns to see the captain comparing two strains of the flower, and curses.

“Filthy mouth you have there, Sir Alchemist!” His tone is light and lofty, and Albedo knows him well enough by now to know its very fake.

Albedo chooses to ignore it. The phrases ‘where were you?’, ‘are you okay?’, and ‘I’m sorry for telling you that story’ sit on his tongue, wanting so badly to be said, but… It feels like too much. The twisting knot in his stomach continues to tie itself, and he’s worried the response prompted by saying those will tie it tighter. So instead, he goes with something safe.

“How did you get in here? The door is locked.” And there are no windows. It’d be basically impossible to get in without teleporting. Which… he wouldn’t put past Kaeya to be able to do, now that he thinks about it. Though that would mean he’s talented in the Abyssal arts, along with being an incredible Cryo user, which would frankly be absurd.

Kaeya just chuckles, and continues to poke and prod at the experiments. Albedo huffs, and they settle into a familiar quietude as Albedo gathers materials for the lamp grass trials. He’s just getting into the rhythm — separate, measure, refine, repeat — when Kaeya breaks the silence.

“My brother used to pick these by the basketful.”

Albedo stops in the middle of measuring crushed elemental cores. Part of him mourns the death of his momentum, but the other half perks up at the new bit of light shed on Kaeya’s character.

“I didn’t know that you have a brother.”

The quartermaster’s chuckle is humourless. “Ah, had a brother. Not anymore.”

And now Albedo feels like an ass. “I see. I’m sorry for your loss,”

“Oh! Oh, no no, he’s not dead,” Kaeya laughs again, this time exaggerated and obviously fake. “He just hates me, deeply. You know Master Diluc, don’t you?”

Albedo knows Diluc by name and reputation at best. His thoughts about him are the same as they were at the man’s return, however many weeks ago that was; he feels that the man is rather uninteresting and warrants little thought. 

Truly, what he considers the best judge of his character is that Klee doesn’t particularly like him. And now this.

“Why is it that he hates you?” His mouth says before he thinks to stop it. He’s usually rather good at navigating conversations, but there are moments where tact escapes him. His natural curiosity truly is a bane, sometimes. He’s about to take back his words and apologize, but Kaeya’s smile takes him aback, as it transforms his expression into something dull, brittle, and unhidden.

“For telling the truth.”

Albedo doesn’t have an answer for that, and Kaeya leaves out the door with a wave and a mask.

(He thinks that the worst thing about it is he knows what Kaeya means. He’s been slotting the pieces together, and the full picture is both grim and familiar. He’s now where Kaeya was so many years ago. Drowning in secrets while those he loves remain ignorant to it.

If he told Sucrose, told Klee, told Kaeya, and they came out of it with him cut out of their hearts, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to live through it. If his borrowed soul could stand the strain.

Kaeya is slotting shards of his shattered heart into the cracks of his mask, and Albedo finally sees it as the marvel of survival it is.)

Kaeya nearly kills Albedo not even a month later.

It’s a sunny day. Warm and beautiful, with gentle winds that carried dandelion seeds and the scent of sweet flowers. Albedo, easel in hand and climbing to the top of Starsnatch Cliff, decides to take advantage of it. Kaeya, holding canvases and palettes and paints while climbing up after him, is surprisingly chirpy for being dragged along as recompense for the incident with Klee the other day. Maybe it’s because they’re ‘friends’.

(“I’m surprised you’re still here,” He says to Kaeya one day, after he realizes that he’s been sprawled on the couch reading for what must be five hours while Albedo’s been fiddling with measurements and numbers and bunsen burners. “I’d imagine there are many other places that would provide you with a better use of time.”

“Not really. And don’t sell yourself short! I enjoy your company, Albedo.”

Albedo doesn’t know what to do with the plain honesty in his voice, so he ends up saying nothing. It would be easier if it was a lie. There’s a little fluttering thing in his ribcage that’s glad it isn’t.)

“About here, then?” Kaeya says as he deposits all the supplies. Albedo scoffs, but puts down the easel right about where Kaeya’s already leaning back into the grass. He sets up swiftly, unfolding the easel, arranging his canvases, and arranging his pots of paint with an ease born of experience. 

He begins without any fanfare, beginning by dabbing blue and white onto his canvas for the sky. Kaeya watches him in silence as he continues on like that, applying hue after hue, and for a long while they sit like that in peace. After only about an hour and a half, he’s finished, and sets the painting aside, only to pick up a new sheet and arrange it on the easel, shifting it so that he has a new angle. Just as he’s about to begin the process again, Kaeya speaks up.

“So, you're familiar with Khemia?”

He almost laughs. Albedo was created through the Art of Khemia. He’d argue he was far more familiar with it than most.

“Yes,” He settles with, and, to demonstrate, draws a quick sweet flower onto the canvas. He sees plain fascination in his companion’s face as he watches Albedo pull a now verdant flower from lifeless cloth.

“I haven’t seen that in ages…” Kaeya muses. His eyes light up, suddenly. “Can you bring actual creatures into being?”

Albedo just smirks, and takes out white and blue paint to draw a cryo crystalfly onto the page. It settles in his hand as he pushes life into it, and flutters about Kaeya’s head when he lets it fly. There’s a bare delight in his face as it does, and something in Albedo wants to see it again and again.

“What about something more complex? Like an owl!” Kaeya’s sitting up straighter now, and looking at him with a sort of excitement he’d compare with Klee’s.

“Child’s play,” Albedo says, confident and bolstered by his companion’s reactions.

He draws one onto the white expanse, a grand owl with confident lines of brown, beige, and red paint. He puts a little more flourish than he usually does into bringing being into the canvas, and grins at the delighted sound his companion makes as the bird emerges from nothing but pigment —

— And then Albedo squawks, completely undignified, as it flies right into his face. He flails as it bombards him, wings hitting his head with a dull thud-thud-thud as it collides with chalk, before he manages to grab it and extricate himself. He pants and glares at the thing. It glares back at him, wide-eyed and remorseless.

His ears suddenly pick up the sound of laughter, bright and sweet and unadulterated.

He looks to the source of it, and oh—

Kaeya’s nearly collapsed on the ground with how hard he’s laughing. His eye is closed with how big he’s smiling, and oh, his smile. Albedo’s seen confident smirks and calculated grins, even that particular genuine quirk to his lips once in a while. But now, he’s beaming, and it looks like the full moon shimmering in the sky, the real one, far below their feet, that he’s only ever seen through glass floors in the old Khaenri’ahn palace. Kaeya keeps opening his eye and looking at Albedo, then bursting back into giggles, and Albedo can’t even bring himself to care. His joy is as radiant as freshly fallen snow in sunlight, and the alchemist can’t help but think it’s infectious. Even the owl, still within his grasp, has calmed and is regarding the Cavalry Captain with a quirk of its head.

Albedo can’t care less about the stupid bird, though. His attention is taken by a molten feeling in his chest, as if he’d plucked and swallowed sprouts off of an everflame seed. He feels frozen in time, and almost wishes he could remain so, plenty happy to watch Kaeya laugh on repeat for the rest of his days. His borrowed heart flutters, like the beating of a butterfly’s wings.

Albedo wonders if this is cardiac arrest.

How strange, that it would happen so suddenly, and now. A horrible coincidence. He lists out the symptoms, causes, and treatments of heart attacks in his head as Kaeya pushes himself off the ground, still snickering, and makes his way towards Albedo.

“Here, you’re squeezing the poor thing to death,” Kaeya says as he wraps his arm in his cape and coaxes the bird onto it, safely out of Albedo’s clutches. It preens as Kaeya coos at it, and his heart skips another beat.

“Oh, and,” Kaeya giggles again, and seeing it up close is almost blinding. “You have a few… no worries, let me get them.”

Kaeya leans in, and his free hand runs through Albedo’s hair. Albedo wonders if he should’ve made a will. He wants to gasp for air, even though he doesn’t have to breathe. The proximity lasts for too long, and yet not long enough, before Kaeya finally leans back with a handful of broken feathers in his grasp, eye sparkling like a galaxy from mirth.

“And there you are! Wouldn’t want you to have to walk around as anything but handsome, hm?”

As much as he laments the loss of his paintings, he thanks Barbatos for the sudden crash of lightning, and accompanying downpour, that drowns out whatever he was going to say.

(Kaeya brings the owl back to the Ordo, and gives it a little place in his office to dry off, letting it stay until the rain stops. Albedo looks at it from across the room, face blank. It glares back, all puffed up and ridiculous looking. Albedo thinks it must be the most sulky and contemptuous thing he’s ever drawn.

“How are you even handling it?” He asks as Kaeya runs a finger across its head. He shakes his head in incredulity as it croons.

“I actually have a bit of experience with birds like this,” There’s a soft look on his face, and Albedo hopes to every god that he doesn’t have another heart attack. “We had mostly hawks at the Winery, as messengers, but my brother and I raised a couple of abandoned owl chicks when we were kids. Archons, father made as if he was so mad when we brought them back, but I caught him feeding them treats way more than once. What a man!”

Albedo doesn’t say anything, simply letting Kaeya bathe in the sweet memory. The bird shuffles towards Kaeya for more pets, and he laughs and obliges.

It flies out the window in the morning. Albedo is strangely relieved to watch it disappear into the blue sky.

He feels distinctly less so when it comes back, not even three days later. 

By only the second time he walks into Kaeya’s office, just to spot the grumpy thing perching on Kaeya’s chair and trying to preen blue hair, he sighs and resigns himself to it. The Cavalry Captain simply chuckles, and takes to calling it ‘Luc’.)

Albedo nearly kills Kaeya a fortnight afterwards.

He’s off on a preliminary expedition to Dragonspine, hoping to set up a camp soon, after having discovered Festering Desire. Kaeya, who apparently loves going along with others to trials and domains, had wormed his way out of his duties and into Albedo’s party of one. It’s almost funny to see him bundled up, swathed in well insulated clothing and a fully buttoned shirt. He looks strangely at Albedo’s outfit, which consists of his usual shorts and mostly bare arms.

“You’re going to freeze, Albedo. This mountain isn’t something to take lightly, you know.”

Albedo does know. He also knows that he’s made from stone, and though he can feel temperature, it doesn’t affect his body. That’s not something he can just say, however, so instead he smirks and walks on ahead of his fellow knight.

The trek up is surprisingly pleasant, even as they wrestle back hilichurls and Fatui. Kaeya’s decided to be particularly prepared today, and has a firestarter kit that he uses to ignite torches that they huddle around when Kaeya’s shivering gets too bad. They’re marking out spots periodically on a crude map, denoting possible places to set up.

“Well,” He says, leaning against the rock wall casually, as if he isn’t soaking in the warmth from the sconce. He’s holding their map up and squinting at the marks of red and black ink. Finally, he points at one of the places they’d been to earlier that day. “What about over here? If we wipe out this hilichurl base, you could repurpose it and set up there. Plenty of space.”

“It’s too close to the base of the mountain,” Albedo says, as if they haven’t been over this already. “And too far from the main camp. I want to be somewhere reachable, but still within the midst of everything, preferably around the altitude we’re at now.”

“Right,” Kaeya’s tone is dry. “Up here. Where all the paths are too narrow to set up your alchemy equipment, and where the storms that come down will blow your tent away like leaves in the Mond’s wind.”

“We still have more to cover,” Albedo says, stepping closer and tracing the upcoming stretch beyond one of the old bridges built long ago. “We may find something yet.”

“How optimistic of you,”

“Hardly,” He scoffs. “That’s merely a fact. No one’s explored these paths for some time, so of course there’s discoveries to be made.”

“I don’t know, Albedo,” Kaeya chirps. “Sounds pretty optimistic to me.”

Albedo rolls his eyes as Kaeya grins, and they set off. It’s not long before they reach the bridge, and Kaeya clucks his tongue at the state of it. It’s holding itself together, just barely, the structure battered and worn after years of enduring harsh storms and snowfalls.

“Looks like we may have to take this one at a time,” Kaeya says as he tests it with his heel. Albedo nods and steps onto it.

“I’ll scout ahead. Watch my back, please,”

“You got it, captain,” Kaeya gives him a little salute, and Albedo rolls his eyes before continuing on, stepping as light and quick as he can. He steps onto snow on the other side with relief, and briefly scans the environment for threats. Nothing. Wonderful.

He gives Kaeya the symbol for all clear, and even from this distance he can see the little bob of his head. He begins picking his way across the bridge, and Albedo thinks, with satisfaction, that they’re making good time.

Then, as Kaeya reaches about the halfway point, Albedo spots a well disguised fluffy head of fur on top of a huge hulking body on the other side of the bridge, and his eyes widen in panic.

“Frostarm lawachurl!”

Just as he says it, it bellows, and gears up to charge across the bridge, and right into the Cavalry Captain. On an instinct born from fighting alongside Klee, he summons a Solar Isotoma directly under Kaeya, to boost him up and out of danger’s way.

Which means he places it directly on the bridge.

He watches with relief as Kaeya is raised into the air, before giving Albedo a thankful wave. He watches with absolute horror as the first emanation of geo energy from the flower is accompanied by a horrid splintering, as old and rotting wood absorbs the damage and practically explodes apart.

The audible gasp he hears as the Solar Isotoma beneath Kaeya dissipates with the loss of its foundation will haunt Albedo for a long while.

“Kaeya!” He yells as the man drops. Thank the Archons for his reflexes; he can’t get a grip on his glider from such a sudden fall, but he twists himself in such a way that he’s able to skid across the wall before gaining a grip. He climbs over quickly, and Albedo grabs onto his arm with a firm hand and pulls him onto safe ground.

“Are you alright?” He asks, dragging the man further from the edge.

“My ankle,” He hisses, and Albedo looks down to see him keeping his weight off of it. “I think I might’ve sprained it when I was trying to get that first foothold.”

“We’ll find safe shelter and check it out,” He says, and hurriedly scans the horizon for a possible place to set up camp.

Of course, it’s at that exact moment that the forgotten lawachurl roars, and launches itself the entire way across the chasm left by the broken bridge.

Kaeya yelps, and has the presence of mind to put up a shield of cryo around them as the lawachurl lands in an explosion of ice. The monster growls, deep in its throat, and winds up one arm, already gathering energy. The alchemist shoves Kaeya to the ground, wincing when he hears that small sound of pain, just in time for the lawachurl’s punch to fly harmlessly over him, and straight into Albedo.

The force of it causes Albedo to fly back and slam against the rock wall, his impact accompanied by the audible sound of splintering stone. His vision shorts out for a moment and he gasps, body short circuiting and sending him pain pain pain signals. Distantly, he hears a scream, and a gruff chuffing that sounds like laughter, and remembers that he has to move. His limbs creak when he twitches, and the first aborted attempt to push himself out of his personal crater is rewarded with collapsing downwards into the snow.

He becomes aware of the desperate sound of a fight, cryo being traded for cryo, and thinks ‘I don’t have time for this’.

His body forcefully rights itself; the scrambled humanlike response shut off as if controlled by a switch. His eyesight and hearing clears, leaving him staring up at the cloudy sky of Dragonspine, producing fat white snowflakes which fall like slow dancers. His Vision pulses, geo so ready and overflowing that little amber crystals fall around him as he sits up.

He sees a bloodied lawachurl advancing on a fallen Kaeya, and outstretches his hand, eyes sparking with with white and gold. A Solar Isotoma lifts the knight into the air again, this time properly out of danger, and the lawachurl stumbles as it misses its mark. Albedo wastes no time in pushing himself up and sprinting to meet the beast. It turns to him, and sees its death in the glow of his Vision.

“Moment of birth!”

It roars, in agony this time, as Fatal Blossoms burst from the ground and skewer it. It staggers and drops to its knees, barely holding on to life, and Albedo summons his rapier to stab right up through its jaw. Its so cold out that its blood freezes before it can drip in rivulets down Albedo’s sword, and he lets his sword fade into light, just as the beast falls and dies.

Albedo snaps his head towards the sound of ragged breathing, and there, on top of his Isotoma, lays a blue haired knight watching him with a wide, disbelieving eye.

“Oh my god, Albedo,” He rasps as Albedo darts forward to catch him, just as the flower fades out of existence. “Are you alright?”

“You’re asking me if I’m alright? While you literally can’t stand?” Albedo can’t help but sound incredulous. Kaeya just laughs, and slumps onto him with relief.

“My ankle might be shot to hell, but I’m alright. Where you… for a minute, I thought you might’ve been dead.” His voice is layered with false cheer. Albedo doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead just gathers him, carefully, into his arms, much to Kaeya’s surprise.

“My, how strong you are! Though in all seriousness, if I get too heavy, I can walk a bit.”

Albedo hums, and does not mention the fact that he could probably hold Kaeya with one hand and not tire for hours. The man in question just huffs, and in a move that reminds Albedo that they’re stranded on Dragonspine, shivers and presses close to him. “We need to get a fire started for you. Where’s the map?”

“No need,” Kaeya points just beyond them, and ah — right there is a wonderful little cave, carved perfectly into the face of the mountain. “I think it might’ve been the lawachurl’s den.”

“That would make sense, yes,” Albedo says as he hurries over. True to form, as soon as they enter the cavern, the scent of wet hilichurl fur hits them. Albedo pays it no mind, and carefully sets Kaeya down on the floor, taking care with his leg. Kaeya just shivers again, and Albedo first takes a warming bottle from his pocket and opens it, watching as his fellow knight sags in relief, before he grabs Kaeya’s fire starting kit. He quickly runs out to grab a few sticks for kindling and as many logs as he can find, and returns to the cave with a quite reasonable pile. It takes a few tries, but soon enough he has a little fire that burns nice and steady. 

“Thanks,” Kaeya says. He’d taken off his boot and rolled his pant leg up while Albedo was gone, revealing the injury, and Albedo can already tell from the swelling that it must be very painful. He shrugs off one of his packs, and sets it on the ground for Kaeya to elevate his leg. He hisses as he moves it up, but quickly settles. He absently summons a bit of cryo to create a little ice cube, which he wraps in one of their spare blankets and gingerly rests on his ankle.

“There. Alright Albedo, your turn. Let me check you over.”

“No, I’m fine. Though I appreciate your concern.”

“You’re fine! I saw you leave an Albedo-sized imprint in stone! All your bones should be shattered from that impact. Forgive me if I’m worried. Besides, it looks like you have… no, that’s not snow…”

Kaeya’s brow furrows as he leans in and traces over Albedo’s cheekbone. His gloves come away dusted with white, and Albedo’s heart leaps into his throat. Of course he would be coated in chalk dust after such an impact. Of course. They meet each other’s eyes, and Albedo sees a sudden, horrible understanding dawn in the single star, and fuck —

He knows.

Kaeya knows.

Albedo feels a terrible cold that has nothing to do with Dragonspine, and wishes he could disappear. There’s a laugh trying to bubble up in him, something hysteric and panicked and awful and Albedo hates it. His mind is uncooperative; one side is thinking of ways to cover this up (what threats may actually work, what leverage he may need, he could throw him off the ledge, but it may be even simpler than that, Kaeya’s ankle is twisted and nearly useless and if he leaves him here he’ll die and it’d be so, so easy for the Ordo to buy it as accidental—) and the other part is lamenting that it’s him. After all, how hard would it be for him to put it all together, the man from a godless land that was ravaged by Albedo’s kin. How easy would it be to think on how different (how similar) it is to create a man in regards to creating a dragon.

(Why did it have to be someone I care about, Albedo laments, deep within his self.)

Kaeya’s hand comes to his face again, breaking him out of his thoughts. He’s hesitant, but continues on despite that, and draws little lines over his jaw, and ah, he must be tracing the fracture lines caused by the impact against the rock. Albedo wants to tell him that they’re easy to fix with the right application, a type of paste that he can apply which moulds with his being and retains elasticity, but if he opens his mouth now, something ugly will undoubtedly crawl out. Though the fractures are likely hairline, he feels strangely broken.

“… Oh,” Is all Kaeya says, and a laugh escapes him like a froth, light and giggly and bunched up and uncontrollable and horribly unappealing.

“‘Oh?’ That’s it? You can completely ruin me, and that’s it? I wonder, is that what you’re going to tell Jean? What you’ll say at my execution? What you’ll tell Klee when you need to tell her that I’m a monster? ‘Oh’. I’m amazed at your eloquence.” Albedo lets out a shuddering chuckle, and wonders if this is what it feels like to cry, and can’t help but release his thoughts. Might as well, at this point. “I hate that I care about you. Letting you freeze and die would be so much easier.”

He harshly digs his fingers into his scalp, not even sure what he was doing but desperately needing to ground himself, before chilly hands come up to pry them away. He resolutely keeps his stare on them instead of Kaeya’s face. He can’t bear whatever look the man surely has on right now.

“Shh, Albedo, shh, you’re alright. Listen, follow my breathing, alright?”

“I don’t need to breathe,” He says, hysterically. “Or have you already forgotten that I’m a time bomb comprised of chalk, poorly pretending to be human?”

“Stop that. I think you’ve done a pretty good job of it, actually. You had me fooled, which is quite a feat! And breathe with me regardless. I promise it’ll help. Deep inhales and exhales.”

Begrudgingly, he follows his lead, and somehow, soon enough, that sharp edge of panic dulls. It was still buzzing beneath his skin, but he could think now. He doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. He watches as Kaeya leans back and winces when he jostles his leg. The man shifts a bit and purses his lips. If Albedo didn’t know any better, he’d say that he seems to be debating something over within himself. He stills, and the alchemist finally looks back up into his gaze, and within that starry eye he sees resolve.

“I don’t consider this a transactional relationship, but I think this calls for an exception; how about an exchange? I’ll give you a secret of equal value to yours. As a balancing act.”

Albedo scoffs, and then chuckles, and he sounds like he’s on the brink of lunacy again. “And what secret do you have that could possibly be an equalizer? You know all of me now, Kaeya,” He took a shuddering breath. “Surely you know what I can do.”

“Of course. It’s written in Gold all over the scars of Khaenri’ah,” Kaeya's grin is gentle and small, and Albedo can’t help being drawn in. “I’m not worried though.”

“Then you’re a fool,” He snarls.

“Ah, and that’s where our opinions differ,” His hands go to the back of his head, digging through blue hair, and despite everything, Albedo feels morbidly curious. “You see, I’ve got a few things up my sleeve. Or, below my patch, I guess you could say.”

Then his eyepatch falls away — ah, he’d been undoing the knot — and suddenly Albedo is caught in the gaze of two stars. One a lovely familiar blue, shining faintly in the firelight, and the other a deep gold, that glows with it’s own cold and gentle light.

The implications hit him, and he gasps.

(His secret forays into the last bastion of Khaenri’ah were always accompanied by glowing words about the princess of the star, last of the crown lineage. Nobody in the kingdom prays, but the way they venerate the image of that golden eye is a near thing. Even though the princess was long gone by then, they still spoke of hope and dreaming and an entire nation perched upon those thin shoulders.

He’d always thought it unfair, to ask that of a mortal child. He’d asked Rhinedottir why they did so, when the princess was doomed to fail.

“Why do you say that, Albedo?”

“She’s human. Flawed.”

Rhinedottir had laughed and laughed at that, as though he’d done anything but state a fact. He hadn’t reacted, having not yet learnt the art of emoting, but Rhinedottir always knew when he desperately wanted to understand.

“Well, you make a good point, but that’s the trick, isn’t it? It’s the Ship of Theseus paradox,” She’d grinned, and tapped her right eyelid. “How much of a god does one need to hold in their body before they cease to be mortal?” Then, she’d tapped him on the forehead. “And how much soul does chalk need to have before it turns human? How little does it need to stay perfect?”)

“Gaia.”

Kaeya — Gaia, the last of the Khaenri’ahn line — beams, as if he’s not the lynchpin holding everything together.

“Yep. Ah, but just call me Kaeya! I’m surprised you didn’t put it together yourself, honestly.”

Albedo is too, especially the little part of him that’d made the comparison upon first realizing Kaeya was Khaenri’ahn. Now that he sees the final picture, the pieces slot together perfectly, and he feels like an idiot.

Kaeya hums as Albedo’s head spins. “I suppose transitioning really did give me an edge.”

Yes, that. And also the fact that he lives in a small little house in Mondstadt, filled with knick-knacks, trinkets, and pictures drawn together with Klee in crayon and cheap pastels. That he makes breakfast for whoever stays by. That he associates with the scum of the city in order to protect it. That he comes back from missions splattered in mud and water and blood, with an easy smile on his face. That he speaks to everyone like they’re old friends, and tells bald-faced lies to them in the same breath. That he lets a godsforsaken owl into his office and keeps little bits of shredded meat for it to snack on. That he has a winged and bright blue Vision hanging off his hip, proof that he’s been seen by Barbatos and the Tsaritsa alike. That he’s still treating Albedo like a person.

Kaeya is about the furthest thing from royalty he could ever have imagined.

He understands now, why the people of Khaenri’ah love that little symbol of a golden star so.

(Of course the bastard has a secret to top his. Of course he does.)

“Kae — Your Highness. I can’t — this is hardly a fair trade. Your secret is worth so much more than mine. If I were to tell anyone — “

“First off, I’m just Kaeya. I’m not quite royalty at the moment, wouldn’t you say? Especially in a kingless land such as this. Besides, I’d lament the loss of my name in your voice,” He winks, clearly winks, now that both of his eyes are uncovered, before abruptly sobering. “And I know you won’t tell anyone.”

“I never took you as a naive optimist.” He says, before he remembers that, despite what Kaeya says, he’s speaking to royalty. He considers taking a page from Sucrose’s book and slapping his hand onto his mouth, to prevent any more of his sudden impulsive thoughts from escaping.

“I’m not.” Kaeya’s little grin is dangerous now, and it puts Albedo on edge, because it’s so honest. The prince reaches forward and lays a cold finger on his throat, and the chalk man twitches in surprise. In understanding.

(“Working with the royal family is strange,” Rhinedottir had said to him, once. “But it comes with so very many perks."

Earlier that day, a severe woman in a crown of white thorns had chanted words and painted molten gold onto his neck. It was a sigil that he’d seen on many Khaenri’ahns, in the same spot, and he’d wondered if it made him a citizen. It had hurt, but that was nothing compared to the strange feeling of her whispering commands after the sigil had set, and having his body move to obey without consulting his mind.

Rhinedottir had tried it out too, and smiled when he jerked along like a puppet on strings.

“All set for a repeat,” She’d patted him on the head. “And this time, to our specifications.”)

Albedo swallows, and the sigil burns. He tries not to dread what’s going to happen. He closes his eyes, and waits for the words.

Kaeya’s hand settles a little further down, laying just at his collarbone, and he says nothing. Albedo waits for a long moment. Then for another. Then another. But there is nothing but heady silence accompanied by crackling embers and breaths that fog up the air.

“You love Mondstadt, don’t you, Albedo?” He finally whispers, and it’s not even remotely what he expected.

He… he doesn’t, he thinks. Attacks on Mondstadt did concern him, but he ultimately considered them not his problem. Such as the situation with Stormterror, at the moment; he was sure the rest of the knights could take care of it, and this work in Dragonspine was ultimately more important to him.

But…

He cares. He knows he does. He would hate to see it destroyed. He would never forgive himself if he were to raze it, even if it is his ultimate purpose. The possibility of hurting people (hurting Jean, who was so kind to him, hurting Sucrose, who he regards with more fondness than he ever thought he could, hurting Klee, his little sister who’d snuck her way into his heart and became the closest thing he currently has to family, hurting Kaeya, who he cares for so, so deeply, despite their ridiculous little dances around each other) pains him to no end.

Rhinedottir could make him do it. She could even send a proxy and it would work. But… does she outrank a prince?

A prince who needs to remain available to stop him, if ever worst comes to worst. A prince who he knows would say the word, since he chose to love Mondstadt a long time ago.

(“Isn’t it interesting, Sir Albedo,” Kaeya had said to him once, lounging on his chaise and speaking in that strange and usual lilting softness. His hand had lingered over his choker, absently fiddling with the clasp at the front. “How much I have learned from Mondstadt. There are some tenets it has taught me that I do not think I could betray.”

It had been spoken with a purpose that Albedo didn’t understand. He thinks he does, now.)

“You have me trapped,” He realizes aloud, and opens his eyes to see Kaeya, brilliant, manipulative, and somehow managing to leave him with free will, give him a sad little smile.

(He’ll have to tell Rhinedottir that he was right, whenever he next sees her. That Gaia did fail. And in failing, he’s been hurt in more ways than just one. But Albedo honestly believes he’s gained something invaluable, of which Albedo thinks he’ll search for until the day his built body collapses at the seams.

He’s never been more relieved by human imperfection.)

(They spend the rest of the night there, awake, in silence. In the morning, Albedo abandons all pretences.

He swallows a warming bottle, and begins to radiate heat. Just to be safe, he wraps Kaeya in his long coat and every blanket they have, making sure his ankle is well secured. He then picks him up, one arm around his back and the other under his knees, and walks the entire way down the mountain. He personally commandeers one of the supply carts in the main camp back to the Mondstadt cathedral, all while Kaeya lays in the back, still swaddled up. Kaeya complains because he hates being taken care of, apparently, but it’s with no vehemence, and eventually falls into an exhausted sleep.

Kaeya’s recovery is short, what with Barbara healing him as soon as she hears word of his injury, but Albedo tries his best to remain by his side the whole time.)

“Albedo!” Klee says as she marches into his office, followed by a small gaggle of tittering knights, an amused Jean and Lisa at the forefront. “If anybody can figure it out, it’s my big brother! He’s the smartest in the world!”

“Oh?” He puts his paperwork to the side, and rises from the desk to meet her halfway. “And what is it this is about?”

“Who’s the prettiest in the Ordo!” Her entourage erupt into a flurry of smiles. “We’re tied between Grand Master Jean and Miss Lisa right now, but you’re super smart, so you have to know the answer!”

Albedo leans back and considers. The prettiest in the Ordo…

A lone star dances in his mind. He thinks of a million different micro-expressions, little minute differences that mean entirely different things. He thinks of the sad, bitter smile of a man who lost everything. He thinks of a halting tongue speaking dead words. He thinks of a whispered lullaby under a new moon and tears that were left unspoken. He thinks of the wonderful laugh that had made his fake heart stop, the sound of which had momentarily made him want to play the fool forever to see it again. He thinks of heterochromatic eyes, cool starlight and dull sunshine casting dazzling shadows through long lashes. He thinks of an unrestrained knight who grounded him. He thinks of a shackled prince who gave him freedom.

There’s that strange stirring in his chest again. He’s been slowly crafting out a hypothesis as to what it is, but he thinks he may know it already.

He hums, and covers his expression with a smirk. “Why, neither. It’s Kaeya, of course.”

The group of knights in his doorway burst into shock and sputters, just as Klee’s eyes brighten and she nods vigorously.

(Lisa doesn’t let him take any books out for a week, and he gets ‘accidentally’ zapped every time he enters the library. Jean takes him aside and asks if he meant it. He doesn’t expect her sweet smile when he tells the truth.

The flustered look he’d spotted on a certain captain’s face, who may have thought himself hidden within the crowd of his coworkers, makes it very worth it.)

Albedo is well within his expedition to Dragonspine, cataloguing the surroundings and making precious many notes, when the missive reaches him.

The threat of Stormterror — Dvalin — has been vanquished. By a strange traveller, no less. How fascinating.

The missive is accompanied by two things; the first is a letter from Sucrose, asking him for temporary leave, as she’s been invited by this same traveller to accompany them to the Rite of Descension. The second is a large blue iridescent claw. It’s attached to a little note that says ‘I’ll be off for a while to Liyue. Try not to get too lonely while I’m gone! - K’.

He smiles and goes to set all of the items aside, but just as he does, the light from his candle shines through the back of the note. Staring back at him, in meticulous Khaenri’ahn script written in invisible ink, are the words ‘Stay safe, please’.

He puts it down, gently, and after a moment of deliberation, hides it away in one of his books.

He basks in that warm feeling dancing in his chest. He then takes out a quill and paper, and writes a letter back to Sucrose.

(“Um…” Sucrose says to Kaeya, once they all walk out of Liuli Pavilion after their dinner with Childe and Zhongli. Kaeya catches on, and slows down with her to lag behind the rest of the group.

“Is there something wrong? Did Childe do anything?” Since they’ve been traipsing through Liyue together, the two have gotten to know each other much better. He truly doesn’t like it when someone is meanly messing with Sucrose, and wouldn’t put it past that Fatui to have pulled something.

“Oh! No, nothing like that, just… it’s your birthday today, isn’t it?”

He stops and thinks. Right, today is November 30th… “I suppose it is, huh. I completely forgot about it!”

She frowns a little, face scrunching up in worry, but before he can reassure her, she grabs two boxes from her satchel and holds them out to him.

“This one is from me,” She says, as she wiggles the green box tied together with a navy blue ribbon. He gingerly takes it and undoes the ribbon, then smiles as he sees an assortment of handmade candies. After eyeing the dark red ones, he’s almost certain she’s made some of them from wine.

“Thank you,” He says, warm and genuine, and she flushes but smiles. His eye wanders back to the white and gold box in her hand. “And this one?”

There’s a wry glint in her eye as she hands him this one as well, and she leans in as if it’s a secret. “That’s from Mr. Albedo!”

He blinks, shocked. Albedo had known his birthday? He tries to cover up his sudden fluster with a smirk, but from the way Sucrose looks knowingly at him, he’s not sure it works. “I think I’ll open this one later in my room, then. Thank you, Sucrose, truly.”

“Anything for a friend,” She says, then, embarrassed by her boldness, patters off. A friend, huh. He seems to have a lot of those these days.

He meanders back to the inn, waving goodnight to Aether and Xingqiu as they engage in a truly riveting battle of ‘go-fish’, and enters his room. He sits on the bed with a sigh and pulls out the gold and white gift. He has no idea what Albedo could have given him, and despite everything, he’s a bit nervous. He unwraps it with care, opening the lid, and blinks at what he sees.

It’s a pendant.

It is, quite frankly, beautiful. Set in white iron and sparkling with a cryo crystalfly core in the middle. Within it, he can spot a pure white center that looks like concentrated dust. He picks it up, and oh — it has a latch. A locket, then. He opens it to see that it’s empty, save the star of Khaenri’ah engraved on one side, and the windmill sigil of Mondstadt on the other. He closes it slowly, and looks back to the box.

There’s a letter at the bottom of it, neatly pressed parchment with Albedo’s nearly illegible writing sprawling across it, only decipherable to him after years of reading it. He picks up and unfolds it, smiling when he sees that it’s composed in the usual curt and academic language.

‘Kaeya,’ it says. ‘I apologize for not being able to deliver this to you personally, but I hope you’ll feel the sentiment in it all the same. I had this locket custom made, and it contains the results of my recent research into reactions with certain stimuli and energy. Don’t fret as to it’s volatility; I’ve made sure through various trials that this is a stable version. Press on the core of the locket to activate it. It recharges in about five minutes, sometimes less if it accumulates like energy. I trust that you’ll use it on the field and report back with it’s effectiveness. Happy birthday. Albedo.’

He sets the note down upon the sheets, and looks back to the necklace, endlessly curious. He presses against the core of it, as directed in the note, and suddenly a bubble of amber erupts around him. Kaeya startles, and glances down to see the white center of the pendant pulsing with the same golden light.

He presses it again to deactivate the geo shield, and can’t help the watery huff of laughter that escapes him. What a convoluted way of saying ‘I want you to stay safe too.’)

Albedo makes sure that he’s in Mondstadt when the traveller’s party returns.

He doesn’t see the traveller theirself, disappointingly, but perks up when he catches sight of Sucrose and Kaeya, whole and hale. They mill about in the crowd of knights, exchanging welcomes, before him and Kaeya catch each other’s gazes. There’s something unspoken in it, and Albedo discreetly leaves for his lab.

It’s not long before Kaeya follows him, having extricated himself from the crowd. He enters silently, and shuffles into his lab with an unguarded smile.

“How was Dragonspine?”

“Good,” Albedo smiles back, a bit hesitantly. “I need to leave for it again soon, but I wanted to be here for both of your returns. I’ve been feeding Luc for you, but it can’t stand me, and will be relieved you’re back.” Though not as relieved as I am, he doesn’t say.

“I appreciate that, actually,” The expression on Kaeya’s face is strange and warm, and Albedo can’t help but bask in it. “All of it,” 

“Of course,” Albedo looks back down to his reports, hoping it conceals his pleased look. “How was Liyue?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” It’s said wryly, and Albedo has to laugh.

“Oh?”

“Well,” Kaeya puts his hands on his hips, and shifts dramatically. “I got roped into a fake assassination plot, had to meet a bunch of adepti, beat the snot out of a Fatui harbinger who now insists that we’re friends, and an Archon has declared himself my surrogate grandfather after realizing that I was Khaenri’ahn.”

Albedo blinks. “You’re… fucking with me.”

He laughs, and it’s like a sweet song. “Gods, I wish. Ask Sucrose if you don’t believe me.” He plays with something at his neck, and Albedo starts as he recognizes it.

“… The locket.” He’d been nervous to give it to Kaeya, but hadn’t been able to think of anything better on short notice. He’s been working on something much more… tailored, in his free time, but still hopes that this one wasn’t too impersonal. “Was it to your liking?”

“It works great. Really saved me a few times.” Kaeya looks away and fiddles with the pendant again. If Albedo didn’t know any better, he’d say that he looked shy. “…Thank you.”

Before Albedo can say anything, Kaeya darts forwards, and plants a soft kiss at the corner of his lips. He leans back, obviously flustered, and gives the alchemist a quick wave before fleeing the room.

Albedo stands there in shock for a moment, raising his fingers to trace where he’d been kissed. If he closes his eyes, he can still imagine the feel of it, and it already leaves him craving for more.

He can’t stop a giddy smile from overtaking him, and revels in the now familiar warm feeling blossoming in his chest. He doesn’t know if it’s love quite yet, but… it’s certainly close.

(When Jean enters the Gunnhildr mansion, her mother hands her a platter of cheese and meat, a bottle of dandelion wine, and two wine glasses. Sure enough, when Jean opens the door to her room, there Kaeya is, laying facedown on the floor.

“You know,” She says, as she opens the bottle and pours a bit into each glass, “You could just come in through the front door. You know that mom loves you, and she’s extended your welcome indefinitely. She always knows when you’re here, anyways.”

He doesn’t answer, deigning to continue hiding his face from the world. He finally stirs when Jean places the cup next to him, propping himself up onto his elbows before grabbing and downing it all in one go.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice wavers with nebulous emotion. “I really, really like him, Jean.” Almost as an afterthought, born through years of dealing with his protective older brother, he adds “Don’t tell Diluc.”

She blinks, then tries to cover her face as she breaks out into a sunny beam.)