Work Text:
The last time he remembers coming here, he had been haunted by the melancholy of this place.
Old Mondstadt, already forgotten by the new, stood as a testament to mankind's resilience and desire for the better, for both themselves and those around them.
Having been alive for the era, he remembers the aftermath–the blood, the tears, the death.
Still could he hear the distant ringing of sword against sword, of the screams of the wounded and dying, and remember how he had to march on elsewhere, for this was not his battle.
It did not stop a weight from burdening his heart. The knowledge that another nation suffered because of gods, and yet, would continue in the name of them.
"Tell me again."
Half lost in a daydream, half pulled back to reality, Dainsleif remembers himself.
Sitting upon a crumbling wall that somehow has endured the test of time long enough to bear the weight of two full grown men upon it, his eyes still linger upon the memory of Old Mondstadt.
A gentle breeze brushes by them, ill-fit for the new name of this place,
Stormterror's Lair.
The only terror to be seen is the lingering remains of a battle with a terrible cost, and the sorrow that still hung in the air here from it.
"The Inteyvat–you brought it up earlier, but you never finished what you were saying."
Gently, a hand bumped against his own, and Dainsleif realized how tightly he gripped the old stone.
He glanced over to his companion for a fleeting moment and was met by a smile as soft as the air currents around them at this high point, a single, glinting eye far more tender than he deserved lit by cautious curiosity.
Calvary Captain Kaeya was a daring and quick-witted individual, but Kaeya, merely the man…
"My apologies, I grew lost in thought."
Dainsleif couldn't manage to look much longer to Kaeya, a long-held guilt woven through the fibers of his being refusing to allow himself to bask in how it felt.
How Kaeya's gaze, warm and tender, thawed a deliberately frozen piece of him.
"The Inteyvat… It was once the flower of Khaenri'ah. A symbol of our nation, in spite of how short-lived it was."
Eyelids flutter low, drawing back deep upon memories shut away.
… Shut away, or forgotten?
No longer could he tell. So long had he walked this mortal plane, an unwilling ghost, time had begun to blur, the years turning into days, hours, seconds.
The fall of his nation simultaneously felt like a fresh wound and an old scar, ever-changing depending on the moment at hand.
Retelling these old stories, he could not exactly pinpoint how he felt.
"For two weeks, fields of them would bloom. No one planted them, they simply were wild and free, and covered much of Khaenri'ah. It had been a sign that we had survived another winter, and it was much as if they were welcoming us to the warmth of spring, as they would only bloom with ample sunshine."
"Soft, pale-blue petals reaching up to the sky… I cannot exactly describe their aroma, but their floral scent would fill the air. The air would smell like the mid-point between spring and summer, like warm sunshine and new life. Perhaps they could be comparable to the rose, or Inazuma's sakura…"
Hesitating, Dainsleif felt the urge to look at Kaeya to gauge his reaction, but couldn't do it. Instead, he looked elsewhere, embarrassed.
"I am sorry, I am not a wordsmith, nor could I ever claim to be anywhere near such. I could never honor the Inteyvat with any kind of verbal retelling…"
"No, no, I think you painted an excellent picture."
With a single scrap of courage, Dainsleif managed to peer back to see if Kaeya's expression would be one teasing and in jest, to confirm his nagging suspicions about his otherwise gentle, considerate words.
There was no such look upon his face.
Just as before, he looked at him a fondness undeserved, though now with an underlying melancholic edge. Dainsleif felt a pang in his chest, displeased to have been the cause of such a shift in Kaeya's face.
But, at the same time, he could not help but think of how Kaeya's eye was the very color of the Inteyvat's petals.
"One day, I would like to be able to see them." Kaeya's hand, always close to Dainsleif's own hand upon the wall's edge, slid closer, and gently overlapped his own. Dainsleif could tell by how loosely he did so that Kaeya was allowing him room to escape his touch if he could not endure it. All he could think of was in spite of Kaeya's Cryo Vision and cool-toned appearance, his touch was incredibly warm. "I know that they cannot leave Khaenri'ah nor be planted elsewhere, but I would still like to hope for this. To see them for the first time with you."
Dainsleif, hesitating, thought for a beat, and looked out over Old Mondstadt.
Much as he always remembered this place as an area of sorrow, forgotten forcefully to be spared the weight of its haunting grief, now… Now he thought of new Mondstadt.
Of the people and their hope for a better tomorrow, their love for the arts and self-expression, their pursuit of kindness and excitement for the exploration of the world around them.
Tentatively, he turned his hand palm-up where it rested beneath Kaeya's so that their fingers could be carefully intertwined.
A flicker of surprise flashed across Kaeya's face before being replaced by a touched smile, and he squeezed Dainsleif's hand.
"Together," Dainsleif agreed.
Perhaps Stormterror's Lair should not be a monument of what had been lost, but what was gained.
"One day."