Work Text:
It all started innocently when Diluc was ten.
Everyone was thrilled when the young Ragnvindr boy received a gift bestowed by the God's themselves – a pyro vision, glowing proudly by his hip, Diluc glowing even brighter with happiness. Mondstadt citizens said it was no surprise he received one – after all, he was the golden boy, and the vision was just a nice addition.
Of course, he started the training right away. First to control it, to not accidentally set his pillows on fire when excited, and then, as he grew, in his sword training. He was taught how to use it in battle, how to infuse his sword with it, and once he was fifteen, he finally created his bestest creation – his phoenix.
The power of controlling the flames was almost addictive – and helpful, on top of that. Setting up fires at the camps when his fellow Knights gave up because of the harsh Dragonspine conditions, warming up his food when it went cold. As there were bright situations to his vision usage, there were the dark ones, too.
He was freshly sixteen when he had to press a heated redness blade to his leg wound when it was cut so deep that he had to do it or he'll just bleed out. He almost passed out from pain – and he was sure he did after a while – but at least he stopped the bleeding and he was still alive, after all. He would forever remember the smell of burnt flesh mixing with the iron smell of blood, though.
But, as teenagers grow, they are often caught up in their own head – sometimes just daydreaming, and sometimes, unfortunately, in their own negative thoughts.
It all started when Diluc heard a mean remark from a much older captain – a man after his thirties, promoted at twenty. Was he just jealous of Diluc or wanted to just raise his own ego – Diluc never got to know. All he heard was this one comment that made him start to doubt his own abilities.
“I'm pretty sure his father pulled the strings. I mean, can you believe it? He's just sixteen and he's a captain! He seems all that but honestly, no good knight gets injured on his missions. If Varka didn't like him that much I would just come up to him and tell him that what the boy is doing is definitely not enough”
Diluc just pressed his lips into a thin line when he heard that. He felt his chest going tight. He tried not to care, but the comment stung. He didn't even know why he cared so much about words from someone he barely worked with – but hell, it had hit his soft spot.
Not enough.
So Diluc tried to prove he's enough. Throughout the months he trained hard. Filling all his paperwork in time, even if it meant staying up till four in the morning with his next shift starting at seven.
But this lifestyle would exhaust even an experienced adult, yet alone a sixteen years old boy.
He still felt like he wasn't enough. So to be “enough” in his eyes, he started to punish himself every time he caught himself even thinking of slacking off. (Aka, resting like a normal person would after twelve hours at work).
Every misstep at training. Every paper that waited too long to be filled. Every mistake at the expedition.
Soon, the smell of burnt skin was filling his room every time he felt like he deserved that.
•••
“I can't believe this happened.” Varka shook his head, looking at Diluc. There wasn't any disappointment in his eyes, absolutely not, the blonde man being more concerned about Diluc. The Grandmaster couldn't believe Diluc would make such a mistake in combat, leading others to be injured and needing a couple days in the Cathedral to regain health. “Diluc. Can you tell me what happened?”
The drop of the title made Diluc's stomach turn. He knew it was out of concern – Varka knew him better. He knew whatever mistakes Diluc was making were not out of negligence. But as his self esteem was terribly low for the past months, his mind twisted the concern into disappointment.
Varka sighed at the silence.
“We will talk when you're ready.” he rose from his chair, going beside Diluc, patting his shoulder lightly. The redhead just stood there, tears stinging his eyes. He failed. He got other people injured. He felt fire rising beneath his fingertips, but he extinguished it fast enough. He felt the familiar sting on his hand, though.
He quietly left Varka's office, and he felt the stares of other Knights present in the hall. They were whispering. Of course they were whispering. Everyone was now talking about his failure. Everyone knew he wasn't even good enough to protect his own squad. With those thoughts flooding his mind, he left the headquarters.
Varka just looked at him, worried. He turned back to the knights he was talking to.
“Next time you speak to him, seek for the injuries. Some of you have the tendency to hide it, and I know he does that too many times for my liking.” he said, and the other Knights nodded.
But Diluc didn't know they were just trying to help.
He just knew they were whispering. They were talking behind his back.
And the demons in his head were not letting go of that.
•••
Back in the Ragnvindr manor, Diluc couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning he groaned helplessly. He was exhausted after the mission, both physically and mentally, yet closing his eyes didn't bring him sleep like it usually did. On top of that the burns on his arms were all itchy under the material of his shirt and bandages, but wearing short sleeves was too risky. Kaeya had the habit of storming inside Diluc's room too often, and Father… father just couldn't know.
He wanted to cry. To scream. To tear his body apart and free himself from it, instead all he could do was just helplessly sob into his pillow so no one could hear him. He dug his fingers into his arms, wanting the pain to distract him from the terror inside his head. When this couldn't help him to an extent he wanted, his vision started to glow dangerously.
He hissed, but he was used to it at this point. His tears made his pillow all wet, his hair sticking to it uncomfortably. It stung, and Diluc had to bite his lip to not let out a cry, but in his mind, it helped.
He knew he had to wake up to bandage it, to tend the burns, but he was so, so tired. He locked the room, so he should be safe, right? Adelinde's knocking in the morning would wake him up. He stared at the ceiling blankly, tears drying on his face when he drifted off to sleep (passed out? He didn't even know himself), arms laying limply by his sides, scattered with burn marks.
•••
He didn't lock the room.
Crepus woke up in the middle of the night, alarmed by the smell of something burning. His first thought was the fireplace down the stairs, but when all he saw was darkness on the first floor, his thoughts raced to Diluc and Kaeya. Had any of them left the candles lit and it fell? Maybe something else happened? Kaeya's bedroom was closer, so he opened the door quietly, peeking inside. Kaeya was sprawled across the bed, snoring comfortably. Crepus chuckled softly at the sight. He closed the door after himself, going into Diluc's bedroom direction. His mind raced when the smell of something burnt became stronger when he opened the door of his eldest son's bedroom. The candles were still lit, yes, but they seemed intact.
That was when his eyes laid on Diluc – on his arms, to be precise – and Crepus had to swallow the tears that started welling up in his eyes.
He knew it wasn't an accident. He knew Diluc and that he was trained enough to not burn something in an accident.
He also knew that vision's power could only harm its user if they wanted it to hurt them.
•••
Diluc woke up late in the morning. He opened his eyes slowly. The first thing he noticed was that his pillow was no longer wet from the tears, so that meant he slept long. He wasn't surprised though, he was exhausted.
The second thing he noticed terrified him. He had bandages on. He didn't remember putting on any bandages before he drifted off to sleep.
Third thing, he was in his father's bedroom.
Then it all clocked.
He turned around slowly, only to see his father looking at him from the book he was reading, sitting next to him on the bed. Dark circles were indicating that he wasn't sleeping that night at all. Diluc opened his mouth to say something, but only a sob found its way out. Crepus put away the book, pulling Diluc into a hug, aware of the bandaged arms.
“Shh, my son. I'm here. I'm here, my boy.” he whispered softly, caressing Diluc's hair.
And all Diluc could do was sob.