Harbinger Diluc - Match 10 - Convocation
Synopsis: One day, the Harbinger meets someone who ignites something different in him - and all he knows is to keep what he wants close, that’s all that matters
Harbinger!Diluc X FM Reader | Anthology
Match 1 - Introductions | Match 2 - New Normal | Match 3 - Trust | Match 4 - Knowledge | Match 5 - Realizations | Match 6 - Commitment | Match 7 - Awakening | Match 8 - History | Match 9 - Snezhnaya
Warnings (specific to each chapter) -> Fatui Harbingers are def OOC because I don't know them all, I did not do research, and I'm tired -> slight spice described (flashback)
(also not my best chapter. I know that. And I'm sorry.)
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Diluc drove his knuckle into his temple. The headache once a tickle was now an unrelenting pressure that spread across his eyes. He hadn't slept or eaten, and the untouched water before him had long evaporated due to the steady stream of irritating heat he couldn't abate.
He hated these.
Gatherings of the high and mighty on the high and mighty. Hated the 'duty' they all hid behind. It was all a game; each and every one. And he didn't want to play anymore.
"The impact of a lost foothold in Sumeru will have its effects on our supplies," the Captain said. "It may strain our benefactors until we can acquire suitable arrangements."
The Regrator flipped through his stack of neatly arranged papers, sliding one out with ease to evaluate it. "The Mondstadt contracts will cover the losses and we've heard word from Liyue of a fresh backer. I will inquire on their progress."
"That does not solve the ongoing nuisance," the Doctor said under his breath. "We lost valuable research in Sumeru and without the Akademiya vital advancements will be slow to gather."
"That may be true, but your gathering the Gnosis won't threaten our Lady's ultimate plan," the Captain interjected, his tone even as it always was. "Though, Il Dottore, note it is not lost on this body that the extracurricular you engaged in would."
A chill filled the room and the Doctor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The Captain continued, unaffected, "The west will be our next mark. I have prepared plans to venture there and my men are standing by."
The Jester, quiet and stoic beside his chair, acknowledged the First before moving on. "Arlecchino, reports on Fontaine?" The Fourth twisted, disinterest clinging to her expression as she spoke.
Diluc pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed. The ache made his eyes twitch so he closed them to rid himself of another annoyance but the darkness did little to satiate the itch he'd been trying for the last two hours to avoid scratching.
Your face. Beautifully parted lips panting, breathing out his name. Desperate hands clenching the sheets, pulling at your hair, his, pawing his chest and shoulders. Delicious drags of your nails across his back. The feeling of you in his palms. Over and over. Your gasp. Your laugh. Your scent and essence. The arch of your back he commands with nothing more than a simple caress. A touch, a drag of his fingers across your skin. Insatiable presence --
"Noctua."
Diluc blinked, inhaled, and adjusted, grateful for the massive table as he tugged on his pants and sat up straighter. His body was stiff, in more ways than one. "Sir."
"Report." the Jester commanded, irritation lingering in the corner of his eye. The room weighed heavy, all eyes looking his way; Diluc clenched his jaw.
"Perhaps we should have waited another day. Noctua has only recently returned from active deployment. He has had little rest," Pulcinella said and gestured to Diluc before returning his hand to his cane. The interjection wasn't unwelcome, nor surprising. Pulcinella was like a father to him. more than his own ever was. And they both knew it.
"We ensured there was time for ample rest. It is not on us if he chooses to use that time elsewhere," Regrator hummed, his lips curling into a knowing, dark smile.
"Noctua, are you unfit to report?" the Captain asked before another word could be shared around the oblong table. Diluc was glad for it, otherwise the chains of his straining resolve would have snapped and coiled around the neck of the Ninth.
Diluc rolled his shoulders and sat straighter. "My brigade was able to locate the artifact without much issue -"
"Yet you were unsuccessful in returning it untouched," the Doctor spat, cutting him off. Though Diluc could only see his mouth, the deep frown relayed his irritation.
"That is accurate," Diluc continued. "I encountered far more difficulties retrieving the artifact than we organized for. The domain was set to impede all progress and though I managed to push into the chamber, several of my patrols were lost in the process."
"We've read the report. What I fail to grasp is how you could let it be soiled!" the Doctor seethed, his hand slamming against the table and rousing the Damselette. The Knave placed her hand on the woman's head and glowered at the Second, specks of crackling red flickering to life before fading into the shadows.
"Multiple Heralds were guarding the -"
"It is not on us if you were outmatched. I specifically instructed the artifact remain untouched," the Doctor continued. "Was that not made clear?"
"It was." Regrator asserted with a soft nod. "Rest assured, compensation for this error has been made. Noctua and Tartaglia acquired the body in which the artifact now rests. You will have your time, Dottore."
Diluc tensed, his gaze meeting Tartaglia's in a flash. He knew they'd find out; spies were everywhere. He just hoped to keep it, you, under the radar for as long as possible. Diluc gripped the arm of his chair and the wood strained at the pressure.
"Then it will be provided to me immediately," the Doctor demanded.
Diluc's expression darkened. "No."
"Experimentation must begin --"
"Over my dead body."
"That can be arranged."
Diluc rose from his seat and the Doctor straightened, a horrific smile stretching his thin lips to the point of pain. A ball of contained fire ignited in Diluc's palm, rage, and fury coiling, threatening to explode. Of all the Harbingers, it was the Doctor Diluc loathed the most. If it weren't for their vow, he would have incinerated him until only the wind could make him move.
Tartaglia leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. A goading grin unimpeded as he stretched his legs to watch the fight unfold. Pulcinella shook his head but when the Captain stood, slow and calm, the fire in Diluc's palm snuffed out. "Sit, Noctua."
Violence tore through Diluc's chest but he did as instructed even if the thoughts of tearing the Doctor limb from limb didn't settle when he did.
"Il Dottore, how familiar is your knowledge on releasing a bound artifact?" the Captain asked, still standing.
The Doctor eased and waved his hand dismissively before answering. "Minimal. To conduct a thorough analysis, I must have the specimen. And the longer it is kept from me, the more damage could be done to the power transposed to them."
The Captain sighed and looked to Diluc who answered the question he knew was coming with a quick, "No."
"Noctua, it was your mission to gather the -"
"And I did as commanded."
"Then you will carry out the remainder of your task and provide -"
"He cannot have her!"
The chamber fell into a heavy silence, the rhythmic ticking of the Marionette's puppet the only life left in the room. Diluc clenched his jaw and cursed at himself. His fingers curled against the cold table, and his shoulders strained, trembled. Diluc did his best to avoid the pained eyes of Pulcinella; empathy did little for him now.
He should have never let you come. His weakness would be your downfall.
"That magic was not meant for her," the Doctor said.
"You will find another way," Diluc told him. "She has already wielded its power. She may very well tame it."
The Doctor sighed. "I do not have the capacity nor energy to explain to this room the reason why we sought after the artifact but Its owner has already been identified. And they are not known for their patience."
"If I must, I will speak to the Tsaritsa myself."
The Doctor let out an amused puff of air. The Regrator shook his head while the other Harbingers sat silently. "If you are that concerned about your plaything, I will design another. Multiple if you wish. I'll be extra certain they meet all your desired expectations."
"I will warn you once, Dottore, touch her and there will be no end to the suffering I will inflict." Without warning Diluc's body shifted into his Delusion. Parts of him now dawned in hardened black metal, his face shielded by a mask with an obsidian shimmer. His sword crackled at his side. Arcs of flame licking out and skittering across the table. The Regrator gasped and patted a sheet of paper ignited by a bouncing spark.
A gust of heavy wind knocked Diluc back, destabilizing him and shutting off his delusion like pinched candlight. He winced at the sudden shift but didn't break eye contact with the Doctor whose feathering jaw became washed in waves of pink from the twirling vial in his fingers.
"Noctua, you will provide the woman to the Doctor -"
"I will not."
Tension filled the meeting hall. Tartaglia's leg bounced, The Knave's gaze fixed on the Harbinger sitting menacingly beside her while Pulcinella sent wave after wave of 'stand-downs' Diluc's way but he didn't. Wouldn't.
Take his life. End it here. But they would never have yours.
"Find another way," Diluc said, demanded.
"One cannot magically appear you bumbling bafoon. She will die without extraction!"
"One warning," Diluc reminded him, his gaze fixed, unwavering.
The Captain, still standing, moved to the Director's side. Their heavy whispers were hard to hear over the pounding blood in Diluc's ears. When they were done, the Captain turned to the group chin raised. "We are at an impasse" -- he held his hand toward the Doctor, silencing him -- "the artifact's power is contained for now. Il Dottore, you will investigate methods of removing the power on your own while we identify our next move."
The Doctor's knuckles turned white and the vial in his grip trembled. "That is unsatisfactory --"
"Il Dottore." The Jester glanced his way and he twitched, leaned back in his chair, defeated. Furious. "You are all dismissed."
The Harbingers stalled, unsure until the Knave slid from the table and roused the the Damselette from her sleep. Diluc turned on his heels and made for the door only to stop midstride.
"Noctua, you will stay."
Clenching his jaw, Diluc stepped to the side while the other Harbingers made for the door. It took everything he had not to snag the Doctor's neck as he sauntered past, but his restraint failed at the side of the ginger.
Tartaglia paused and peered at his wrist before glancing over his shoulder. When he met Diluc's eyes, his head tilted in pity. Tartaglia slipped free of Diluc's fingers and faced the open door. "I'll check on her," he whispered before disappearing down the hall and leaving Diluc alone in the conference room with The Captain and the Jester.
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You turned to your side, hand sliding across the silken sheets only to startle awake when warmth met cold. You blinked and adjusted to the darkness the curtains created. A gentle band of light cut through the opening on the left and you crawled toward it to see the sunlit room empty and void of Diluc.
Carefully, you slipped from the sheets, drawing the softest one around your body as you searched for your discarded clothes. It didn't take you long to find them, but you ran into a problem when the shirt you slid back into refused to clasp. It seemed in the heat of shared desire, neither of you were careful about fabric and threads.
Slipping around the bed, you opened the armoirs and found a plethora of gowns, shirts, clothes, and adornments you'd never afford on your own. Some you recognized from the ship; the blouses and fittings Diluc had prepared for you at the docks but the others were unfamiliar.
You ran your hand across the assortment and wondered when Diluc managed to find the time.
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You were alone when you exited the washroom, dressed and clean. It had been far too long since you had a proper bath. The small tub on the ship was cramped and the constant jostling made it impossible to keep the water contained. So you took your time, relishing the warm, unsloshed water and clean skin.
The clock above the fireplace told you it was well into midday but you would have figured that considering the painful grumble your stomach wouldn't cease. Throwing your wet hair into a bun, you scanned the room hoping to find something to eat when an energetic knock at the door made you jump.
You froze, hesitated. It came again but this time with a voice. "Hey, Comrade, you gonna let me in?" Easing your shoulders, you made for the door, peeked through the small opening, and sighed at the familiar face looking down at you. "Hungry?"
Tartaglia slipped into the room while you snagged the plate he was holding. The aroma filled your nose and made your mouth water but the flavors were what weakened your knees. Sliding into the seat next to the desk, you satiated your appetite while Tartaglia wandered around the room before leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed and legs stretched.
"Your room is nicer than mine," he huffed.
"I promise I didn't ask for it," you said through bites of food. "Wanna trade?"
"I'll survive. I guess." He ran his hands through his hair and glanced at the door.
"Where's Diluc?" you asked.
"Held up."
You stopped eating. "What's wrong?"
Tartaglia scratched behind his ear and shifted on the back of the couch. He wouldn't meet your eyes. His tone held hints of playfulness peppered with unease. "How'd you sleep? Or did."
"I slept fine. What's going on. Is Diluc in trouble?" You twisted in the chair to face him, food long forgotten.
"It's fine. I'm sure they're trying to figure out what to do with you."
"What's that mean?"
"Well if you haven't forgotten, that power, it wasn't meant for you," he said and pointed to your arm. "And there's people here who really, really want it back."
"They can have it."
"Not that simple I'm afraid," he mumbled. "How much do you know of the other Harbingers?"
"Enough. Why?"
"I'm only looking out for -- ah, listen, we Harbingers aren't really known for our ... agreeableness. So just keep your guard up, alright?"
You sat up straight, eyes narrowing on the 11th. "I'm more capable than you might think. It never crossed my mind to trust any of you; not when it's readily known the things you've done to Teyvatt."
"And yet you are in bed with one of us."
Tartaglia's words cut deep and made the food in your stomach spoil. He was right. You loved a Harbinger, a man who had rendered villages to their knees, a man who captured you like a mouse in a snare. Second-guessing guilt tore at the threads of your heart but a plume snuffed it out.
Trust was earned.
And Diluc had attained it in spades.
"I guess that makes me a liar then," you said, unapologetically.
Tartaglia huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I guess it does." He pushed off the couch and fixed his long sleeves, turning toward the door with a swift pivot. "Just be on alert, comrade, there are those of us who will stop at nothing to get what we want. We might be on the same team, but it doesn't make us collaborative."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good." Tartaglia reached the door but looked over his shoulder, his eyes flickering to you quickly before falling to the polished marble. "Keep clear of the Doctor, alright?"
"Dottore?"
"Yes."
"Fine."
"Good. Good." He opened the door but your voice stopped him before he could leave.
"Why'd you come? What do you get out of this?"
He didn't answer at first. Instead, he rested his forehead against the door. When he met your eyes, you registered the emotion trapped in the blue.
Homesickness. Ache.
"Just be careful," he said his words settling at the sound of the closing door.
Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to abandoned plates, and when Diluc finally returned, he refused to let you leave his sight.