14 : cecilia.

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- Gentle reminder that the manner in which Kaeya received his Vision in this fic isn't the same with what's in canon (bc the author got ahold of the information too late and already fabricated a whole chunk of lore for it sob). 

- Another gentle reminder that Dainsleif's role in this fic is far FAR!!! from his role in canon, since the Traveller twins don't exist in here. I do hope you guys don't mind how much I butchered up the lore for my own self-satisfaction :')

...

The city of wine and song lived up to its name from where a lone man stood above it. Life and laughter, music and mischief—they all blended harmoniously in Barbatos' cocktail of freedom. This was a country that hadn't known shackles for centuries. This was a home that he could only dream of having.

Dainsleif loathed it with his entire being.

"How has the regulus been fairing with his mission?"

One of the many reasons he abhorred this city hovered around him in a wisp of black smoke. The disembodied emissary often knew better than to reveal herself within Mondstadt's perimeters like he always dared to do, but Dainsleif could not deny her anticipation. Everyone back in the country of the damned—the ones yet to be robbed of their sanity, at least—have been lying in wait for nearly a decade.

The mission to acquire an Archon's gnosis; it's already been ten years in the making. To save their country. To save their people. But the more time Dainsleif spent in this so-called city of freedom, the more hatred festered in his heart. How could they live such carefree lives while his own kin died out, forgotten in the darkness? What made the citizens of Mondstadt worthy of a god's graces more than they were? Anyone deprived of the right to dream would envy a pious display like the one before him, and when Dainsleif trained his gaze on the person that held this whole operation together, the sight ignited his rage like sparks of fire flitting from stone.

Kaeya had a talent of blending in yet standing out at the same time—of appearing so fascinatingly different, that those around him had no choice but to admire the man instead of shunning his eccentricity. What's more was that he became the very antithesis to the fate that had befallen Khaenri'ah centuries before they'd even been conceived.

A Vision. A lone boy who hailed from the edge of the world was given a Vision. He'd been acknowledged by the gods when they had long built their nations atop the ruins of war and the countless innocents they've slaughtered on their path to divinity. That made Kaeya the crux to their vengeance—the final piece needed to take back the life that should have been theirs.

Yet even the prince, the regulus himself, was capable of forgetting his purpose.

"Savior or not, you know what to do with deserters, don't you?" In the midst of his silence, the emissary spoke again, and Dainsleif all but closed his eye. "You are the sword of the king. His most loyal knight. Even if his own blood turns against Khaenri'ah, you are bound by the oaths you'd sworn.

"Surely you hadn't forgotten?"

He found it a bit amusing, how she spoke as if Dainsleif was the traitor here rather than the two-faced prince standing down there, mingling with an adoring crowd he didn't even deserve. Mondstadt was not Kaeya's home, and Dainsleif was mandated to eliminate him once the regulus started to overlook that. He'd been so close to doing it the night Kaeya had brought him to the docks. So close to taking the fate of their people into his own hands.

Yet...he didn't.

"Cheap reassurances mean nothing to his Majesty, nor will it certify Khaenri'ah's survival," Dainsleif told the emissary, more to stall time he knew he didn't have than anything else. "All the king desires and all I will bring him are results."

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