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There's a network of cracks spidering down the facade of the cathedral, visible from a distance. The sight of it had been what sent Diluc running here with his heart in his throat, pushing past the Knights who'd been trying to secure the perimeter. He hadn't had any idea what he might find on the other side.
There's a number of people gathered in front of the cathedral, but Diluc's eyes are pulled first—and inexorably—to Ajax and Thetis. They're standing together just to the side of the main entrance, and Ajax is fussing over Thetis the way Diluc has only seen him act when the man is sick or injured. But nothing seems to be wrong with Thetis, that Diluc can see. As though to confirm Diluc's assessment, the shorter man is right in the middle of crossly batting away Ajax's hand, his face screwed up in irritation. A little of the fear in Diluc's chest eases at the sight of this bit of normalcy.
But as Diluc crests the top of the stairs, the two of them freeze mid-motion, and both sets of blue eyes dart to him. There's something wary about the pair in this moment that reminds him of the way they'd looked at him when he'd first met them, years ago. Back when Diluc had been freshly returned to Mondstadt after his long absence, and found the two among the many unfamiliar faces he'd needed to acquaint himself with. Back when they'd been only recent arrivals with an all-too-evident pain in their past, trying to find a place for themselves in the city he'd left behind for four years but always called home.
That wariness had left Ajax and Thetis over time, and Diluc had long since come to count them both among his few close friends. Seeing them look at him like this again, as though the past few years hadn't happened… it's unsettling.
They're standing apart from everyone else, too, like they've reverted to that defensive state of mind they'd always been in back then, and have closed ranks to protect each other in a way they should know they needn't—had known they needn't, yesterday. Not in Mondstadt. Not among friends.
Diluc turns to take in the rest of the scene, hoping to find some clue that would help him piece together what might have happened here—to the cathedral, and to Ajax and Thetis.
The four others present are all standing together and conversing amongst themselves, seeming no worse for the wear. Well, Lisa and that bard newcomer, Venti, are conversing, at least. The Traveler is as quiet as ever, looking worriedly at Venti while listening to them talk.
Jean, meanwhile, has noticed Diluc's arrival and is directing her own worried look at him. Her gaze darts, too, over to Ajax and Thetis and back, with a characteristic lack of guile. Like she knows what has them in this state, and knows it has something to do with Diluc.
He opens his mouth to demand the answers he's sure Jean will be able and willing to give to him, but the ongoing conversation catches his attention first.
"But they managed to fend her off, didn't they?" Lisa is saying. "So you still have this… 'gnosis,' yes?"
"I do indeed!" Venti says, brightly. He makes a gesture at Ajax and Thetis, who stiffen like it's some kind of threat. But Venti pays that no heed, exclaiming, "All thanks to these fine knights, who aided the Traveler and I in our time of need!" He calls them 'knights' with a peculiarly strong emphasis, as though anyone would dispute that descriptor. He's looking at Diluc as he does. As though Diluc needs the reminder that the two are among the best that the Knights of Favonius have to offer. As though Diluc hasn't known that for years.
Ajax settles back into his usual carefree posture. "Well, we did know they'd be coming. And we're pretty lucky it was Signora. She likes us," he says, in a tone approximating his typical good humor. Something's… off about it, though. He too is looking sidelong at Diluc, even though he's addressing the others. And the name 'Signora' rings a familiar bell that Diluc can't quite place.
"Yes," Thetis agrees. He's still wound tight, but that's not so uncommon for him—a poorly mixed drink could get him just as riled. "Which means they weren't expecting us to get in the way, if they even knew we were here. Their next try won't be so easily averted." Unlike almost everyone else here, he's not looking Diluc's way. But, then, Thetis has always been much better at subterfuge than Ajax or Jean.
"Who?" Diluc rasps, his throat dry. "Who did this?" He's not even sure what they'd done—a 'gnosis'?—but it's clear there'd been a fight, here, in the heart of Mondstadt, where they all should have been safe. Where Diluc should have kept them all safe.
Lisa turns and blinks at him, having only just noticed he'd arrived. She always did get caught up in whatever happened to seize her attention, to the detriment of all else.
Her gaze, too, flicks immediately to Ajax and Thetis after landing on him. She, like everyone else here, seems to hold some secret knowledge that he can't even hazard a guess at.
Like everyone else here, except possibly the Traveler.
In the silence that falls in the wake of Diluc's simple question, the Traveler appears just as adrift as Diluc feels, golden eyes darting around, waiting for someone else to answer. But when seconds pass and no one does—when no one seems to dare to—the Traveler is the one who meets Diluc's urgent glare and says, solemnly, "It was the Fatui."
Those are words that feature in his nightmares, on occasion, shocking him awake in a cold sweat, convinced to his core that he'd just been standing among the scattered corpses of those he holds dear, and that the culprits had been the evil he'd tried and failed to destroy. Those dreams always send him out onto darkened city streets, peeking through windows to look for blankets softly rising and falling with blessedly-living breath.
The last time he'd had a night like that, Ajax had caught him at it, and dragged him in through his and Thetis's bedroom window, then off to their kitchen to sit him down and serve him tea in the Inazuman fashion, the way Thetis favored. Thetis, meanwhile, had slept through Diluc getting hauled inside by his collar, or had done a game impression of it, burrowed snug and warm under the sheets. But he'd wandered down to join them after a while, once Ajax had gotten Diluc settled and steady, death masks no longer flashing in front of his eyes.
Thetis hadn't asked if Diluc was alright, or what had brought him to their home at such an uncivil hour. He'd just shuffled over to stand at Diluc's shoulder and reached out an absent hand to card it through Diluc's tangled, slept-on hair. And then with his other hand, he'd reached down to pluck Diluc's cup out of his grasp and—very obviously—sip from where Diluc's lips had just been.
Diluc's cheeks had immediately flamed hot and red at the indirect kiss. Thetis's hum of pleasure hadn't helped matters, nor had the delighted cackle Ajax had let out at his expense. But the embarrassment that had filled him in that moment had been a gentle one, one he'd happily have experienced every day for the rest of his life.
The heat coursing through Diluc now bears little resemblance to the warmth he'd felt then.
The Fatui had thrown off their diplomatic sheepskin and attacked Mondstadt's people—Diluc's people—in broad daylight.
Now, Diluc remembers where he's heard the name Signora.
"A Harbinger? There was a Harbinger, here?" he demands, aghast. His gaze darts up to the damage that had been done to the cathedral. If a Harbinger had been here, it was a wonder the building was still standing. "And, all of this, she—?"
"No," Thetis interrupts. He glances up at the cracked marble, a dissatisfied frown tugging at his lips. "That was me. I'm… out of practice."
Diluc stares. "At… using your Vision?" Thetis uses his Vision constantly. Diluc has seen him work intricate wonders with sparks of purple light, like he'd been born to it. He doesn't struggle with electro the way Diluc always has with pyro. His element is ever at his fingertips, ready to leap to his bidding.
Thetis's frown twists with a dark sort of humor. "No," he says, quietly. "My Delusion."
Diluc stiffens, a chill running down his spine. "You used—you shouldn't—are you alright?!" The words tumble out of his mouth in a confused jumble. His feet move without his conscious input, his hand reaching out, as if getting closer would assure him of Thetis's health any more thoroughly than he could already glean from seeing him standing upright and undamaged before him.
He only takes a few quick steps before Thetis takes a step of his own. Backwards. Away from Diluc. While Ajax moves without hesitation into the space he'd vacated, like he's putting himself between Thetis and a threat. Diluc, a threat.
Diluc halts. His hand clenches, and then drops to his side. "What's going on?" he says. "What… what have I done to offend you?" And what did it have to do with the Fatui? How exactly had Thetis acquired one of their Delusions?
Why had Ajax said that La Signora, Eighth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, likes them? When had they even had occasion to meet her?
Ajax and Thetis exchange a wordless glance.
"We should talk. In private," Thetis says.
"Is that really such a good idea?" Jean cuts in, her voice strained.
"It's not any of your concern, Acting Grand Master," Thetis replies.
"I'm concerned that someone will do something they might regret." Diluc can't tell if she's referring to him or Thetis or Ajax. It's grating at his nerves, not knowing what the hell is going on.
Lisa lays a hand on Jean's shoulder. "Jean… He was going to find out sooner or later."
"Find out what?" Diluc demands, his jaw tight, teeth grinding together. The flames of his yet-undirected anger are only climbing higher the longer he's kept in the dark.
"Not here," Thetis says. He turns and begins to walk.
Diluc hastens to follow. Ajax lets Diluc pass before beginning to move himself, bringing up the rear. And Diluc is keenly aware of why. He's keeping the threat in his sights—the same way Diluc might, were he accompanying someone who needed his protection along with someone who might harm them. It hurts, to know that. To know, but not understand.
Thetis leads them around the side of the cathedral a ways, stopping far enough distant from the others and the nearest doors and windows that they stand a chance of not being overheard. He turns. And then, he speaks.
"We've been concealing our true identities from you," he says, with absolute composure. "From everyone, really. Though it seems a few of the Knights had already guessed at least part of it."
"Your… true…?" Diluc starts to say, uncertainly. "What do you…?"
He trails off. There's an icy feeling starting to crawl through his veins, crystallizing his blood. He's reminded, suddenly, of another night.
"You're Fatui," he says. His voice sounds distant and strange to his ears. "All this time, you…"
"We're not Fatui." Ajax's voice is cold and hard.
Diluc whirls on him. "Once a Fatui, always a Fatui," he hisses. He's keenly aware that Thetis is now at his back. But Ajax is the more fearsome fighter between them, so Diluc can't let him out of his sights—except, Thetis apparently has a Delusion, bequeathed to him by his masters, so… Diluc can't remain in between them like this, it's untenable. Warily, he shifts aside, until he can see both of them at once.
They let him, watching with shuttered eyes as he takes up position.
Ajax's face twists, and Diluc wishes his heart didn't twist with it. "We haven't even…" he says. "And you're already… Diluc, we're still…"
"We're nothing," Diluc snaps. "There's nothing you could say to me that would—" Make this better, he's about to say. Make this okay, or make me forgive you.
"We were Harbingers," Thetis says.
It takes a moment for the words to register. Seconds pass as Diluc stares at Thetis, his mouth open, his mind absolutely blank.
Thetis's gaze doesn't waver, but his shoulders seem to curl defensively in on themselves, the motion barely perceptible.
"Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag, then!" Ajax says, too-brightly. He shifts his weight wider, and Diluc's head snaps back in his direction, ringing out alarum bells—but Ajax makes no further threatening action. "Allow me to introduce myself," he continues instead, with a jagged grin on his face and a hand cupped over his heart. "You might have heard the name. Tartaglia, formerly Eleventh among the Fatui Harbingers! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last." And then he dips into a sweeping bow.
Tartaglia… not the worst of them, at least, Diluc's traitor brain supplies. A weapon of war, certainly, but one employed against those able and willing to fight, not the weak and the helpless.
But Diluc has known this man for too long to fall for this ploy—even if he hadn't truly known this man at all. Whenever Ajax is demanding your attention… it's to shield Thetis from it.
Diluc turns his head back.
Thetis's face has gone utterly blank. Yesterday, Diluc would've thought it's because Thetis is feeling some strong emotion that he's too reserved to let show. Today, he wonders if this is simply Thetis's true face—empty of human feelings.
"And which one are you?" Diluc grits out.
The reply is immediate, and toneless. "Scaramouche," he says.
He might have guessed. "The Balladeer," Diluc whispers. The merciless Balladeer, Sixth of the Harbingers, who'd call down destructive storms one day and raze cities to the ground the next. Of course he'd be a naturally-talented electro user, with a complementary Delusion. Of course.
"I'm going to be sick," Diluc says aloud, nonsensically. As though he can afford to show a moment's weakness in front of two of the most accomplished murderers Teyvat has ever seen.
Two of the people he's come to trust and care for over the years, two more of them, revealed as liars and traitors. Which archon had cursed him thus?
Kaeya had once cautioned him—in that infuriatingly indirect way of his—not to entrust these two so quickly with his heart. But Diluc had disregarded that, as he'd disregarded most things Kaeya told him. He wonders if Kaeya had known about all of this, and known that Diluc wouldn't listen. Had he only been offering up those words of warning so that when they reached this moment, Kaeya would be able to say 'I told you so'?
It had never come to anything concrete, of course. Just teasing, flirtatious comments from Ajax and unbothered, sly glances from Thetis. A door being cracked open just a sliver, to the possibility of more. Someday, he'd thought, someday he'd reach out in earnest and see where he could fit in between them, someday when his work here was a little more done, when Mondstadt's safety was a little less in need of his constant stewardship. He'd carried that wish with him, a soft and secret promise he'd made to himself, binding him to the two of them in spirit if not in deed.
But, really, that first time that Thetis had turned away from him and he'd seen that streak of lilac in his hair—when he'd seen that, and thought absently about how much it reminded him of Kaeya—he should have run as fast and as far as he could.
Harbingers. They were Harbingers. It feels like he's drowning, like there isn't enough air getting into his lungs.
"—luc, Diluc, breathe!"
Ajax—no, Tartaglia—has gotten far too close, while Diluc had been lost in his own head. The Harbinger's palms are open and upturned, but Diluc knows better than to let that placate him.
"Stay back!" His first words come out as a barely coherent wheeze, but they serve to halt Tartaglia in place, miraculously enough. His next breath comes easier, and his next words more cogently. "Don't come near me, you Fatui scum." He's shaking with anger now, looking upon Tartaglia's faux-stricken expression—only anger, and nothing else. "How dare you try to ingratiate yourselves with me. You and your ilk… you ruined my… you ruined the lives of so many innocent people…" His father's face flashes before his eyes. "Good people, people who didn't deserve…"
He swallows. His hand reaches for his blade. "I should strike you down where you stand," he says. He should. He will.
But a tight grip on his wrist stops him before he can pull his weapon free. Thetis—no, Scaramouche—has appeared at his elbow to hold him back, stealthy and silent as ever. Diluc had admired that about him, yesterday. Now, he fears it.
"Don't touch him," Scaramouche says, with a perfectly flat affect. "He wasn't even one of us yet when your father was killed. If you're looking for a Harbinger to place blame on, you should be looking at me. Every evil thing you've seen the Fatui doing, I've been a part of."
Tartaglia makes a protesting noise at that, which Diluc only barely registers. He doesn't know if it had been in response to Scaramouche's words or to how Scaramouche, having said his piece, releases Diluc's wrist—as if inviting him to draw steel and take his revenge so long as Scaramouche is the intended target.
But Diluc can't seem to move. All he can think about as he looks down at this stranger's expressionless face is… that he wants Thetis back, from wherever he'd gone.
Thetis, with his sharp tongue and sharper gaze, masking a kindness he didn't like to let show.
Thetis, who was as disinclined to sociability as Diluc was, and would stay with him, quiet on the sidelines, keeping him company while more boisterous personalities took center stage.
Thetis, who'd never existed at all.
Diluc's eyes sting.
He's changed, a little, since his teenage years. He's learned some things about the way of the world. He understands himself a little better, too.
He knows, now that he's been faced with the opportunity, that he can't bring himself to harm this man—Harbinger or no, counterfeit or no. He could have tried, with Tartaglia, and he would truly and honestly have given his all to the battle that ensued and done his level best to carry out his threat. But… in a dark and secret part of his mind, he knows that's because it would have been safe to do that. He'd never been able to best Ajax one-on-one. Every bout they'd ever had had ended with Diluc's defeat—and more recently, with him on his back on the ground, trying and failing to hide how affected he was by Ajax's proximity, and his strength, and his half-lidded gaze.
This fight would have ended much like those ones—sans, he hopes, any wild urge to close the distance between their lips—or, now that Tartaglia has no reason to carry on with this charade any longer, it might have ended instead with Diluc lying gutted on the floor in a pool of his own blood. But in no world would it have actually resulted in Diluc having to make that choice again—to, with his own hands, cause the death of someone he cares… cared for.
To draw his blade on Thetis, though… that would be… different.
Because Thetis, in Diluc's mind, had always been someone to protect—at first simply as a resident of Mondstadt, and then, over time, as someone who'd become precious to him personally. From the beginning, Thetis had had an air of fragility about him, whether it had been feigned or imagined, that Diluc couldn't help but respond to. Even after having seen him demonstrate on the battlefield that he was perfectly capable of protecting himself, Diluc's feelings hadn't changed.
Perhaps it's only because Thetis had never been one for challenging others to sparring matches, the way Ajax did with whoever was unfortunate enough to display even a little bit of proficiency in front of him. Thetis had only ever turned his weapon on the enemy. So Diluc couldn't have imagined raising a hand against him, yesterday. Right now, he's imagining it vividly, and it's making his stomach turn.
What if Diluc were to swing his blade down upon Scaramouche, and Scaramouche didn't try to resist? Or if he did try, but it wasn't enough? What if Tartaglia didn't step in to stop him, or didn't do so with sufficient haste? Diluc can't remember a time when Ajax hadn't loyally followed Thetis's cue, whatever it may have been. If Scaramouche signaled him to stand down here and now, would he?
Diluc looks to Tartaglia. To Ajax. To whoever the lanky, ginger-haired man standing a few scant steps away is, whose hands are balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides. The man who was always twitching to take decisive action, holding himself back.
His eyes meet Diluc's. His grim expression shifts. He must see something of the conflict in Diluc's head, reflected back. His hands open, but they don't reach out, not yet. "Please, Diluc," he says, low and urgent, like he's coaxing someone off of a ledge. "Talk to us."
They'd never exchanged any promises, not really. But he still feels betrayed.
"Why?" His voice breaks on the query. "All this time… Why did you act like you… like we…" Why had they led him around like this? Why had they allowed him to believe that there was a future for them, together, when they should have known it was always going to end here, like this? When they'd had other priorities, other allegiances, all along?
"We weren't acting," Ajax replies, still in that same serious, entreating tone. "We meant it—all of it. We hid our history, but… Diluc, we never pretended to feel anything we didn't, I swear." He exhales, in something too shaky to be called a laugh. "Gods, 'Luc, I would have jumped your bones last Windblume, but… we knew we couldn't actually get involved. Not until you found out the truth about us. So I kept my hands to myself. But we knew the day when we'd have to reveal ourselves was coming. And I hoped that, once you found out…" He trails off. But the expression on his face says that he still has hope inside him, even now.
"He's telling the truth," Thetis says, abruptly. His face, when Diluc looks, is still stiff and guarded, but it's softened a little around the edges. Like a mannequin slowly turning human once more. "I warned him early on not to get too close to you. That it wouldn't end well. But…" His lips twist, then, into a wry smile, and Diluc feels his heart thump against his ribs. "…you're a difficult man to avoid falling into the orbit of. Before I knew it, I'd fallen head over heels for you myself."
Diluc's breath catches. But Thetis doesn't seem to notice, too lost is he in his own musings.
"Like a moth to flame," he murmurs, his gaze drifting off into the middle distance. "You've always been so… bright. I think maybe you draw the darkness in."
It's a chilling thought. "That's not… I don't want that," Diluc says. "I—I never wanted any of this. I just wanted…" He'd wanted what he'd thought had been on offer. An uncomplicated relationship with two beautiful men. A place reserved for him in their life and in their bed. Nothing else. Nothing like this.
"Ah," Ajax says, his voice small. "Right."
That little spark of hope that had been lingering in his eyes has disappeared, leaving them flat and hollow. Diluc feels a wild urge to try to nurse it back to life, but he restrains himself. To give false hope that he could ever move past this, that would just be cruel. He can't couple himself to a pair of Fatui Harbingers. He can't.
Thetis moves away from Diluc now, to Ajax's side. His hand slips into Ajax's, like it belongs there. And then he looks to Diluc once more.
"We need to figure out a plan to protect the gnosis," Thetis says. "But once it's secure, we'll go. We won't subject you to our presence here any longer than is necessary."
Diluc still doesn't know what a gnosis is, but the question that jumps to his lips instead is, "Where will you go?"
Thetis gives a delicate little shrug. "Find somewhere else, if we can," he says. "But the Fatui will be looking for us now that we're standing in the way of their plans. So perhaps it's better we bring the fight to them—stop hiding. If we play our cards right, we could set them back a few years more."
At the cost of their lives, is the unspoken proviso.
Diluc wants them to leave. He wants to never see them again. He wants to forget that they ever existed, and that he'd ever believed he'd loved them. He wants to go back to yesterday, when he knew none of this, wants to shelter himself once more in ignorance and deceit.
But in his heart of hearts, he doesn't want them to die.
"Why did you have to be Harbingers?" he says, under his breath.
It's rhetorical, or maybe it's a simple lamentation. But Thetis looks to be considering the question seriously.
"A long time ago," he says, slowly, "they picked me up off the side of the road, and asked me to pledge myself to the Tsaritsa. And then, once I had, they gave me the power I'd thought was my birthright, and the purpose I'd thought I'd never find again. It was like… feeling the sun on my skin for the first time. I couldn't have walked back into the dark if I'd wanted to. Not… then."
"It wasn't anything that profound for me," Ajax says. "It was just… the only thing I'd found that made me feel alive." He grimaces. "That's what she does. Gives us what we desperately want, knowing full well what she can get us to do with it."
And then his expression closes off, and his hand grips Thetis's tighter. "But then they crossed the line," he says. "They… We had to leave. I had to protect him. So I brought him here. We didn't have anywhere else to go."
His voice takes on a beseeching tone. "And—and we've been trying to make amends! For years. Haven't we been doing everything we can to help everyone here? We could have just kept our heads down, and kept our secrets, and not interfered or put ourselves at risk. Didn't we just stop Signora? What do we have to do to—?"
"Ajax. That's enough," Thetis says, quietly, and Ajax's mouth clamps shut. But his eyes are still pleading for Diluc to understand.
The urge to protect had always been something Diluc and Ajax had in common.
Maybe they'd all had something else in common, too. Like the need to atone.
Or like… having nowhere else to go, save Mondstadt.
Diluc closes his eyes.
"I can't just move past this," he says.
Neither Ajax nor Thetis make a sound.
The wind blows, cool and soothing on Diluc's face.
"You don't have to leave Mondstadt," he says, abruptly. "Not on my account." And then he turns on his heel and begins to stalk away.
He thinks about adding stipulations to his forbearance, like insisting that he doesn't want to see their faces again if they do stay. But he doesn't voice that thought out loud. He's sure they'll stay well clear of him regardless. It makes him a little melancholy to consider the coming days, weeks, months, living like that. So he keeps the words inside. He won't shut that door himself.
And maybe someday, when Diluc has had a chance to change a little more, maybe then there would be something left here to salvage, for the three of them.
And if not…
…Well, then, maybe there had never been anything truly there at all.