Chapter Text
Kaeya doesn’t trust her.
She speaks the common language with an accent he can’t place and a clumsiness with the words that’s expected of a young child. Her sword is dull, yet when she wields it, the blade easily cuts through skin with the strength of a thousand knights. Her dress is unlike any fashion he’s ever seen, but the flowers in her hair are eerily familiar.
He isn’t sure how to feel about the Inteyvats she so carefully wears—knowing himself, something close to suspicion is appropriate.
So he watches her.
The outlander—Lumine, as he is hesitant to think of her as—is well-loved in Mondstadt. Her great battle against Stormterror has been quick to become something of legends.
The townspeople talk. Most of it is praise, or perhaps something closer to reverence. Not once does Kaeya hear a hint of suspicion against her. It makes him nervous—treating someone as a god.
She might as well be. Kaeya knows next to nothing about her.
All he knows for sure is how otherworldly she is.
She fulfills commissions every day, he soon finds. Every morning like clockwork, she visits the Adventurer’s Guild, and every evening, she returns dirtied and bruised to collect her compensation. The knights at the city gate must have become quickly accustomed to watching her rush in and out. Kaeya admires her for staying busy, he’ll give her that.
Somewhere along the line, suspicion turns to curiosity. Kaeya finds that soon after, curiosity quite easily gives way to obsession.
He runs into her at Good Hunter one afternoon, and against his better judgement, he decides to greet her.
“Why hello there, Honorary Knight,” he says, making his way to the table where she and Paimon have settled.
She looks up from her meal. “Oh! Sir Kaeya! I’m happy to see you.”
The pixie thinks differently. “Paimon isn’t. Not after your scam of a treasure hunt.”
“Still stuck on that, are you?” he teases. Paimon rolls her eyes.
“Don’t mind her,” Lumine says. “Would you like to sit?”
She gestures to an empty chair at her side.
It’s a tempting offer. Luckily, Kaeya has too much self-control for his own good.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly think of disturbing you two. I just thought I’d see for myself how our Honorary Knight is settling into Mondstadt life, but I have my answer now.”
Lumine smiles tentatively. “Well, it’s nice to run into you again. Don’t be a stranger!”
The flowers in her hair are still fresh, as if they had been picked just that morning. Kaeya knows better than to believe that. He’s never seen the flowers with his own eyes before she came along, but Kaeya remembers the illustrations his father would show him, even years ago.
No matter how sweet she is or how much she entrances him, he knows that he must stay vigilant.
⭑⭑⭑
Kaeya grows to like her over the next few weeks.
Lumine is surprisingly persistent when it comes to seeing him. He is now starting to realize that she is a woman of her word more than anything else.
She waves at him when they pass each other in the city streets. If she happens to visit Jean or Amber for updates on her brother, she’s always sure to stop by his office.
Kaeya convinces himself that it’s simply the continued proximity that has warded off his major suspicions of her.
After a particularly slow day of attending to administrative work, Kaeya decides to take the scenic route back to his apartment. His office is quite stuffy, and he finds that the longest days glued to his chair make him crave the fresh air even more.
From the Knights headquarters, he walks around the edge of Mondstadt’s city walls. When he reaches the gates, he sees her.
She’s huddled over a flower stand with Paimon at her shoulder. He can’t quite make out what they’re saying. Lumine points out a flower to Paimon.
Kaeya swallows his nerves—no, his suspicion, his vigilance—and walks over to them.
He doesn’t completely believe in fate or coincidences. He does, however, believe in plain luck—it’s quite different. Perhaps he keeps getting lucky, meeting Lumine in these small moments.
“How strange that we keep running into each other,” Lumine says in a way of greeting him as he approaches the stand. “I’d almost think that you keep planning this.”
“Oh, Honorary Knight—I have neither the powers of premonition nor the means to affect destiny in such a way.”
“Kaeya’s always such a smooth-talker,” Paimon says. “You can’t believe a word he says!”
“Dear Paimon, how could you say such a thing? Still caught up on that treasure hunt, are you?”
The pixie is easily provoked. “Oh, Paimon won’t forgive your lies that easily!”
Lumine leans over to him to whisper in his ear. The very proximity between them makes his heart skip a beat. “You’ll find that she’s very quick to forgive with some Sticky Honey Roast. But you didn’t hear it from me, okay?”
Kaeya nods.
He’s hesitant to admit it, but it’s stupid how nervous she makes him. Kaeya, one of the most desired bachelors in Mondstadt. The Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Shopping for flowers, are you?”
Lumine hums in response, browsing the stands as Flora waits attentively. “There’s never a bad time to buy some flowers. Especially when they’re all so beautiful.”
Flora beams at the compliment.
“What do you think?” she asks him. Paimon is trying to haggle Flora about some Snapdragons beside them.
Kaeya takes in the bouquets displayed on the tables.
“They truly are stunning. Although . . . I’ve never been compelled to buy some for myself.”
“You’ve never bought flowers?”
“No,” he admits. “I’ve never quite seen their utility. Beauty, as it is, tends to have . . . trivial function.”
“I knew you’d say something like that.”
“Really? We’re only acquaintances, Traveler. Even coworkers is a stretch. My methods must be getting sloppy if you can see through them so easily.”
“I can tell you’re quite cheeky.”
Kaeya holds his hand over his heart. “Oh my. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to make an enemy of me.”
Lumine slips past him to admire a different bouquet.
“I think we are quite far from enemies, don’t you?”
Kaeya considers this.
With every interaction he has with Lumine, the Inteyvats in her hair seem less like a warning sign and more like a beacon. He almost dares to hope that she knows something about Khaenri’ah, about the Abyss.
That might not be the worst thing, would it?
For a second, he considers the possibility of Lumine being an ally, rather than someone to be wary of.
More than anything, Kaeya wants to be seen. He can never admit it out loud.
“Are you buying anything, ma’am?” Flora asks.
Lumine looks up from the calla lilies in front of her. “I think I’ll take these ones.”
Kaeya watches her hand the Mora over and cradle the bouquet in her arm. After she convinces Paimon to give up on her negotiations, she presents them to him once they start to walk away.
“For you, Sir Kaeya.”
He eyes them for a second.
“Honorary Knight, you are truly full of surprises.”
He tentatively accepts them. He feels like his head is in a daze.
“Anything for one of my friends.”
At that moment, Kaeya realizes how close he’s gotten to her. That fear settles in his chest somewhere near his heart, and he lets it pool in the bouquet he holds so tightly in his hands the entire walk home.
⭑⭑⭑
Isolation was the next most natural option.
Kaeya doesn’t do friends. He does acquaintances and coworkers and flings and estranged siblings and even childhood friends, but not this. And certainly not with Lumine.
On the rare occasions they pass each other in the streets, he averts his eyes when she waves.
Kaeya thought he had his life figured out—even he knows that his very existence hinges on a choice. He’s no poet, but he knows how to identify these themes in the story of his life: those of loyalty and duty and fate. Kaeya has lived this far by avoiding this choice, yet he’s afraid the time for it is quickly approaching. The only destiny he lets himself believe in is this.
He isn’t sure why, but he thinks Lumine will have a hand in it. There don't exist any stories where the mysterious outlander isn’t special—he’s sure of this.
Kaeya never anticipated her.
That’s the problem.
He distracts himself with extra paperwork on his workdays. Jean appreciates the help, even though she’ll never admit it. Kaeya’s office has seen much more action lately with Lumine’s arrival.
Nine days after he meets Lumine at the flower stand, he hears a knock at his office door.
“Come in,” he calls, not bothering to look up.
A pair of gentle footsteps tread the floor, and now Lumine stands in front of his desk: a safe, casual distance. Her very presence seems to light up his musty office—although that might be more accurately accredited to her bright clothing.
“You’ve been busy.”
“Surprisingly, a cavalry captain still has work to do, even without any cavalry to manage.”
“I see. Kaeya, I don’t mean to be upfront . . .”
“What is it?”
Kaeya puts his pen down. The cool and unbothered act is difficult to keep up around her.
Lumine shuffles her feet.
It hits him—he’s never seen her nervous before. It humbles her, he thinks, in the way only a humble person can be humbled. She doesn’t look quite as much an outsider now, as unattainable.
“Are you alright?” she blurts out.
“I’ve been well. Just as I said, paperwork keeps me occupied these days.”
“I just haven’t seen you in awhile.”
Kaeya shrugs. “That’s entirely my fault, Honorary Knight.”
“No, no, I’m not mad. There’s nothing that needs ‘faulting’.”
“Faulting?”
“I mean . . . ” She struggles to find the words. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
He avoids her gaze.
“I’m sorry I’ve been absent,” he manages. “I didn’t think you thought so much of our acquaintance.”
If Lumine is disappointed at his classification, she doesn’t show it.
“Honestly, I thought you were angry with me. I haven’t seen you in a while. . . . it’s like you’re ignoring me.”
Behind Kaeya, there is a bookshelf that covers the entire wall, save for the window. He tries to keep his workspace tidy and free of any identifying trinkets, but he allows himself to accumulate things on the windowsill.
If he remembers the space correctly—and he usually does—his chair should block the vase of calla lilies from Lumine’s view.
He’s not even sure why he wants to hide the flowers. She gave them to him. What’s there to be embarrassed about?
And yet for some reason, Kaeya knows that if she caught sight of the vase, it’d be the equivalent of ripping his heart out of his chest and handing it to her, beating and bloody.
The idea of it makes him feel so exposed.
“I missed you,” she adds, like it’s the smallest thing in the world.
“Missed me? Haven’t you found anyone more interesting to talk to?”
She smiles.
“Don’t give yourself too much credit.”
“I am nothing but humble, Honorary Knight.”
Lumine laughs, and Kaeya does, too.
“You should come have lunch at Good Hunter with me and Paimon tomorrow,” she offers. “Unless you have too much paperwork . . .”
“No, I’d be delighted.”
“I look forward to seeing you, then!”
Lumine walks towards the door and looks back. In a split second, Kaeya sees her gaze flit toward something behind him.
“Are those the flowers I gave you?”
Without skipping a beat, Kaeya answers. “Unfortunately, they’ve already wilted. I thought to buy myself a new bouquet to replace it.”
They both know he’s lying. Lumine, the angel she is, also knows not to say anything about it.
⭑⭑⭑
One night, Lumine invites him to stargaze.
She drags him out of his room to the east edge of the city, where they climb flight after flight of ladders to reach the top of the windmill.
Its clothed blades swoop gently in the background. Kaeya can hardly hear them—the noise is so soft that it makes him feel calmer.
“It’s quite lonely here,” Lumine says, leaning against the railing after she helps him up the final rung of the ladder.
“Perhaps to mortals like us. I’m sure the wind spirits are quite content with the company, seeing as how they’re always moving through here.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. But it's a cute thought.”
“Oh, of the little wind spirits? I’m sure your opinion of them will change once you actually meet one. Nasty things.”
“What exactly happened?”
Kaeya appreciates Lumine for their conversations—no one quite plays into his words like she does. It isn’t for a lack of understanding of his speaking, either. She always indulges him too much.
“Ever wonder why I wear an eye patch?”
Lumine laughs. “You liar.”
“It was an awful encounter, it’s true!” He gives in and lets out a chuckle.
Of course it’s not true. It doesn’t hurt to add more timber to the gossip mill, however.
Lumine tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
It’s becoming more apparent to Kaeya that he’d really like to kiss her. These thoughts have plagued him greatly as of late.
It doesn’t help that they’re alone under darkness. The townspeople have taken note of the time they’ve been spending together lately, and the city likes to talk. The least Kaeya can do is suppress these desires—no, thoughts, just harmless thoughts—and keep Lumine’s reputation intact.
“I was thinking,” she says, drawing the word out, “about this city. This world. It can feel lonely at times.”
“If you want to talk about loneliness, you’ve brought the right person along.”
“Is that so?”
“I’m too unattainable, so no one dares to love me,” Kaeya deadpans.
“Oh, shh. You don’t even know how many people want you.”
“As is the dilemma of being so desired.”
Lumine scoffs. “And as is the heart of a self-loathing poet?”
“I’m no poet, Traveler.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
The landscape in front of them sprawls out for forever, it looks like. Kaeya is a little too aware of how small he is, yet it’s one of those nights he feels like this world was made for him.
It wasn’t, of course. It’s lovely to pretend.
“I think we’re quite similar, Kaeya,” Lumine says.
“Why’s that?”
She steals a look at him before refocusing her gaze on the mountains of Liyue in the distance. “We’re both lonely. What are you looking for?”
“Looking for?”
Lumine’s questions always unnerve him—he knows that she could get any secret out of him if she tried.
“I’m looking for my brother. What about you?”
“My late grandfather’s lost treasure isn’t a suitable answer for you anymore?”
She stares him down. “ Kaeya.”
He thinks for a moment. There’s no easy way to reveal himself to her. Kaeya gets the feeling that any little thing he shares with Lumine, she’ll find a way to get more from it, peeling him from head to toe until all that remains are his rotting insides.
The Inteyvats shine so bright in her hair. Still, Kaeya isn’t sure what to make of them, but he knows now that Lumine can’t be his enemy. Someone so strong and kind could never hurt him.
Yet he hesitates.
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe I’m looking for a sense of purpose.”
Lumine studies him for a moment and nods. She doesn’t push him further.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your brother like?” he asks. The question appears in his head without any effort.
“Aether?”
“Is that his name?”
Lumine smiles. She seems so far away from him right now.
“You’ve never said it before,” Kaeya observes.
“It’s strange, isn’t it? My purpose here is to find my brother, yet nobody knows anything about him.”
“Well . . . I’d like to know him if he’s as kind as you.”
Lumine fiddles with her gloves, but Kaeya can see her face turning flush even with her head down. “I’ve lived for what feels like thousands of lifetimes—not one I’ve spent without my brother. If I’m anything close to being kind, it’s because of him.”
Kaeya knows that family can be a sensitive subject.
“Aether is much kinder than I am. He’s also quite gullible, believe it or not. I wonder what kind of trouble he’s gotten himself into while we’ve been separated,” Lumine continues, watching him as she finishes her words. It’s the type of sarcasm that she would expect him to respond to.
He’s sure there are many ways he could tease her back—the words float around in his head even now.
“Hey.” She nudges him. “Run out of teasing remarks?”
He chuckles.
“I don’t quite know what to make of you, Lumine,” Kaeya admits in a moment of weakness, shaking his head.
Who’s he kidding—this entire night has been a moment of weakness for him.
“What’s there to be curious about? I’m just a traveler.”
“But who are you really?” he asks. It unnerves him just how desperately he wants to know.
This mystery, this pestering question, just won’t leave his mind. He hates how it has eaten at his guard, peeling away all sense of the identity he’s carved out for himself. What kind of confident knight would beg for answers from the woman he just can’t stop thinking about?
Lumine looks away from him, tapping her fingers along the wooden railing. When she turns to meet his eyes, he thinks she looks more unsure of herself than he’s ever seen her.
Still, she offers a hand forward and opens her palm so it faces the sky. Before his eyes, Kaeya watches the air in front of him dissolve into a modest scene of stars. They float gently in an iridescent sea.
She can form constellations with a flick of the wrist. He isn’t as terrified of that as he thought he’d be.
“Before I was stranded here, I held this kind of power,” Lumine whispers.
Kaeya knows she isn’t referring to the projection. Her words convey a meaning that isn’t lost on him.
“You were a star.”
Through the mirage, Kaeya can see Lumine’s face. The moon illuminates her figure from behind her.
“Yes. That’s one word for it.”
“How old are you?”
These questions seem so trivial, but Kaeya can’t keep himself from asking them anyway.
Lumine merely shrugs. “As old as stars can be, I suppose. I’ve never bothered to count.”
“Are you a god?”
Kaeya is afraid of the answer.
A Khaenri’ahn has no business with the divine.
“I told you: I’m a star.”
Now he knows they aren’t the same.
Lumine continues. “Gods don’t live as long as stars. It’s easier for them—to keep track of everything.”
Kaeya thinks she sounds regretful about that.
With a quick hand gesture, the glittering sky between them disappears. It’s much darker now, and Kaeya struggles to make out Lumine’s silhouette.
She could easily be divine—he sees this now. Yet . . . part of her feels so close to him, down on the ground. This isn’t how his father taught him the gods would be.
Kaeya thinks he loves her.
The feeling is so unbecoming of him.
“Lumine . . .” he says. He doesn’t have anything in particular to say—he just thinks her name is beautiful.
“Kaeya?”
“Where will you travel to next?”
She has her answer, and it’s been like this for a while. “Liyue. Their Rite of Descension is soon, so I hope to meet the Geo Archon.”
“Will he know that you’re . . .”
“A star?” she finishes. “That’s not quite relevant now. Most gods can’t recognize celestial things right away, anyway.”
Lumine is a star.
Kaeya can’t quite wrap his head around it, yet it’s the only thing that makes sense. Only a celestial being, older than Teyvat itself, could be as gentle yet intimidating as her. Is this what Khaenri’ah needed? A different, kinder deity to protect them? The idea is a disgrace to his ancestry.
He pushes the thought out of his head. He knows these questions will never change anything about his feelings for Lumine by now.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Kaeya.”
“I could never worry about you, Honorary Knight. You’re something of legends, you know that?”
She scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
The winds are calm in Mondstadt, yet Kaeya feels a slow breeze move past him. It carries a warmth that's characteristic of summer.
He points out the sparkling night sky. Away from the stark lights of the city, it’s easier to see the constellations.
“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?”
Lumine takes it in. “Truly. You know, I don’t recognize most of the stars here. It’s strange: I’ve never had a physical home, but Teyvat is further away from it than I’ve ever been. Does that make any sense?”
Kaeya thinks of the descriptions of Khaenri’ah that his father had so consistently ingrained in him.
“Yeah. It does.”
Mondstadt is pitch black when they finally climb down from the windmill. The residents are sleeping now and have little need for light.
Lumine reaches the ground first, leaving Kaeya a few rungs above her.
“Want some help?” She holds out her hand.
“I’m only a few feet from the ground. Is my knightly chivalry rubbing off on you?”
Lumine laughs. “Just take my hand, you idiot.”
So he does.
Kaeya doesn’t like to think about fate, but he could be easily convinced that his hand was made to hold hers.