Harbinger Diluc - Match 4 - Knowledge
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
Warnings (will be specific to each chapter) - > being held by the wrist, touching (cheek, wrist)(reader collides with someone's back, reader slaps Tartaglia), flashbacks, feelings of longing) - special appearance: Tartaglia* | wc: 5,014
a-n: this is not canon Diluc* - his behaviors have been changed based on his character as a Harbinger - creative liberties have been taken - enjoy!
The sound of birds singing in the safety of the distant trees, from posts high enough to watch what unraveled below them pulled you from sleep. There was a warmth enveloping you, a strange sensation pulsating down your spine that invited you to turn onto your back and investigate.
“Did I say you could …” The words died in your throat when you realized the bed was empty - was it just your imagination that concocted a vision of what you wanted? Embarrassing. The sheets were cool against your burning cheeks and muffled the groan that rumbled in your chest. “What in the world is wrong with you.” You fussed, pressing the fabric further against your face, shaking your head back and forth in an attempt to purge your mind of its imagination.
Once properly adjusted, you flung the sheets away and began your morning routine without any interruption. Those charged with your care meant you never had to hold a conversation even in the best of moods but today, today you had questions you wanted an answer to.
“Pardon me, do you know if Di- the Harbinger is around.” You asked the attendant as they set out your meager breakfast. A few slices of bread and an egg. The standard.
“I’m unaware.”
“Oh, well could you …" They turned their back and were beyond the tent entrance before you could utter another word. "Ah … never mind then.” With a heavy sigh, you watched a strand of your hair dance in the puff of air you created, eyes scanning the room as you decided on your next move.
Memories began to slip in unwarranted until you become lost in them.
He appeared from the back of the tent, hair still wet, unclasped with fresh clothes clinging to his arms and chest. You turned your head but found yourself glancing at him anyway - what else was there to look at in this dreary, empty, lifeless tent to begin with. The red strands of hair dribbled water in his wake. His bare, scared hands helped pile it all up into a low ponytail and you uncomfortably shifted in the chair.
“Do you have to do that when I’m here?” You mumbled knowing there wasn’t any way of circumventing this type of thing in a place meant for one person.
“This is my space. I didn’t think I needed your permission.” The tone of his voice, the arrogance of it was laced with indifference as he tightened the ribbon in his hair.
“And I didn’t ask –” You nearly choked when he turned to face you. It was like he intentionally meant to throw you off guard or, maybe, he really was so utterly indifferent to you being here that showing his chest meant nothing to him. Drifting eyes fell onto his abs until they became hidden by the very slow progress he made with buttoning his shirt.
“Are you having trouble breathing?”
“What … no.”
“Ah, well, your mouth is open.” Crossing his arms, he flashed what looked to be a smirk with raised eyebrows your way and the feeling of embarrassment, anger, denial spilled through the actions you gave in reply.
“S-screw you …” It took you only a second to grab your items and dash into the only private space in the whole tent. You swore you could hear him laugh even through the muffled screams you made into your clothes.
There were so many quick moments the two of you shared here that, looking back on them, you began to realize he never once acted like the ruthless, heartless, bloodthirsty monster you thought all Harbingers were … the Fatui were your enemy, they were the direct cause of everything bad in your life but every moment with this man was … different.
The thoughts of the night before flooded your mind. The awkward way he approached you, how flustered he acted at the closeness the two of you shared. The feeling of his thumb against your lips, hot breath spreading over your face, hand against your cheek with a gentleness you’d never expect from someone like him. It made your chest flare up until the only way to put out the fire was to move. By the time you were done getting ready, the food on your plate had been left untouched.
The morning air filled your lungs, and the dew on the grass collected on the hem of your pant leg but you had one thing on your mind today. Now, where was that tent again?
Quickly, you made your way through the campsite and toward the place he might be. It was always filled with people so, normally, you didn’t dare get close to but today you were far braver. A flash of red caught your attention. With pep in your step, you made your way toward it.
“What other intel have we gathered?”
“None, other than what was given to us last night.”
The voices just beyond the canvas were harsh, almost as if they were in a hurry. You weren’t sure what it was but something made you uneasy. Slowing your pace, you moved to perch yourself just beyond their line of sight but close enough to hear what was being said.
“… He should be able to handle it.”
“The arrogance, he should have waited until we got more information from the scouts.”
“There wasn’t time for that!” One of the voices grew more agitated as the conversation continued. You were certain you’d heard that voice before, perhaps during another happenstance eavesdropping you did from inside the tent when you first arrived?
“Listen, Charles, you may be loyal to Diluc -”
“Master Diluc.” He corrected, followed by the sound of something colliding with a table.
“Master Diluc, but our mission is to serve the Tsaritsa. If he fails to uphold his loyalty …”
“That would never happen, he’s out there right now …!”
“I’m aware, but do not question me when it comes to seeing this through to the end.”
“Then it would serve you well to not question him either.” There was an uncomfortable, tense silence. It was apparent that Charles and whoever was in discussion with him was not on good terms. You tried to move just enough to catch a peek at their faces when another voice joined the mix, one you’d never heard before.
“Now, now gentleman. Things will be resolved one way or another, let’s take a moment.” Their tone was calm, reassuring, and seemed quick to ease the energy in the tent. “We all have work to attend to, let’s not let it waiver due to unexpected circumstances.”
“Yes sir.” A unanimous agreement spilled from the tent and you heard several boots shuffle through the grass. When they dissipated, you turned to leave when something caught you.
“Now what do we have here?” Shooting up from your crouched position, you stumbled backward over one of the ropes but were saved by a strong, commanding grip. “How bold of you to spy on us.”
“I wasn’t spying …” Your gaze traveled up the arm of the man who held you, grey clothes and a red scarf resting over the chest of a man you’d never seen before. His face gave the impression he was young, it seemed that was a common trend of the Fatui. So where did they steal this one from, you wondered.
“Really now, then do tell me what it was you were doing?” His blue eyes were striking in the sun, and the small freckles that spread over the bridge of his nose looked almost painted on, but there was no faking the intimidation hidden in the sea of his irises.
“I was looking for Diluc.”
“Were you now? … Curious.”
“If he isn’t here, I’ll be on my way. Please let me go.” Your hand moved to push his from your arm, the grip he maintained was beginning to cause you discomfort but not near as much as the way he looked at you; why did all these Fatui have such ravenous eyes?
“Are you an initiate?”
“No …”
“An attendant?”
“No!” You tugged again but he held strong.
“What’s your name, Comrade?”
“What?”
“If you tell me your name, I’ll let you go.”
You hesitated, unsure if giving him your name was the best option but the way he held you, the way he watched your every move, his eyes never once leaving your face, you knew it was hopeless to deny him. “Y/N.” You whispered it but he heard it all the same.
“Y/N …” The sound of it on his tongue made you shiver as if you were suddenly surrounded by cold water. “I’ll be sure to let him know you’re looking for him.”
“Th-thanks.” He let you go and you took several steps to create distance. You wanted to run away, to turn on your heels and find the nearest place to hide but your curiosity and drilled-in politeness made you stay a moment longer. “What do I call –”
“Tartaglia, or, if you’d like, you can call me Childe.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you … Childe.” He nodded and gave you a smile you knew not to trust. Either way, he seemed willing to let you go. So, as quickly as you could, you turned to walk away but swore you could feel his eyes on you even when you were certain he couldn’t see you anymore.
–
Days went by and there wasn’t any word from Diluc. On the fifth day, you decided to bravely approach Charles - now that you’d seen his face - and asked him if there was anything new to share. The expression he gave you was one of the most honest ones you’d received in a long time but it certainly didn’t bring any comfort.
“There hasn’t been any news.” He let his head lean in his hands as he gazed at the countless correspondence letters before him. You knew even if you pressed he’d be unable to share more than that. Somehow you knew he wasn’t lying to you. Not when the sigh that rumbled through his chest was the same one you’d had for days. Thanking him, you went on your way toward something, anything that would occupy your time.
It was a first, you missing him like this. You weren’t sure what the root cause was but you knew the feeling in the pit of your stomach was telling you something wasn’t right. It was the same feeling you got when you were little and gathered up those strangely colored apples from the village orchard, it was the same feeling when watching your friend jump from stone to stone in the river, it was the same when fighting all those months ago in the scorched field - if you hadn’t listened then, the events to follow would have been catastrophic. So you had learned to trust this feeling as if your life depended on it.
“Honing your skill on the apple I see.” A familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts. Squinting against the sun, you saw the color orange and blue in your vision. Swallowing, you did your best to hold steady as your gut began to whisper words of caution.
“Huh?”
“You’re doing a real number on that.” He pointed at the fruit in your hand and that’s when you noticed how close the blade had gotten to your palm. Beneath your feet was a pile of demolished apple bits you must have let fall as soon as they were cut from the fruit.
“Oh …”
“Something on your mind, Comrade?”
Lobbing the apple as hard as you could over the wooden fence surrounding the camp, you wiped the knife off on your leg before sliding it back into the hidden holster of your boot. It took you weeks to sneak this small utility knife into your wardrobe but it was worth it, even if you got caught.
“No-nothing.” It was still strange for anyone in the camp to talk to you, let alone notice you. Most of the time they kept to themselves and you preferred it that way, but that commonality wasn't apparent in him. This wasn’t the first time Childe came to check on you, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.
“You ready for that spar then?” Ah, there it was.
“You ask me that every day -”
“And I’ll keep asking until you say yes.” He crossed his arms and even with the sun shining brightly against his back, you could make out the devious grin he wore.
“Fine, but I’m not - hey!” Childe didn’t wait for you to finish, his hand was already grabbing your wrist, a very common behavior of his: touchy. “Slow down!” You shouted but he was far too hyped up to hear anything at the moment.
The Fatui foot soldiers caught sight of you being dragged toward the fighting ground. Some were already headed that way which made you wonder if they knew more about this person than you did. Scanning the campsite and doing your best to keep up pace with the ginger’s long strides, you noticed an operative dashing in through the front gates and heading straight toward the commander’s tent.
“Hey, ho-hold on!” The heels of your boot dug into the ground, your hand moved to pry his away but instead of stumbling from his grip, you collided with his back instead.
“So forward.” Childe’s voice was muffled but you sensed him looking at you. Even if he was shouting, you wouldn’t have heard him because every bit of your attention was on the operative waving their hands and pointing toward the front gate … was that … blood on their …
A hand gripped your chin forcing you to look away and when you saw the face of its owner the frustration in your chest exploded through your hands. “Leave me alone!”
There was a heavy silence that fell over this area of the camp. Interested onlookers shifted to hushed whispers, the wind blew across the field and rattled the dangling artifacts hanging from the tents, causing the canvas to flutter. You scowled at the man who held your chin and breathed out the irritation in your lungs.
The force of your attack wasn't enough to loosen the grip he had on your chin. “Well, that’s a very appealing expression.”
“I don’t have time for this today, I have to … I have other things.” Slapping his hand away you glanced back at the commander’s tent but the operative was gone. Where did they go? In an effort to see better, you gathered your hair over your shoulder, fingers clenching the strands to hold them in place, and started to scan the area again.
“What other things would a Harbingers plaything have to do than entertain them?” His comment settled in your stomach, the sudden sensation of him to you set off your screaming gut but it was the feeling of his thumb and fingers against your neck that made you shiver uncomfortably the most.
“What did you …”
“Every Harbinger has their own vice; war, revenge, power, lust …” When you didn't respond he offered more, "Mine, for instance, is power. I don't mind acting on it, in fact, it's quite a thrill. But I never thought he would act on his."
“He’s not like that.”
Tartaglia laughed, his hand wrapping further around your neck as he stepped toward you, “He’s exactly like that.” Tartaglia seemed to tower over you even as he leaned toward your ear. In bravery or stupidity, you stood your ground. “Where did you come from, little fox? Did you follow him here or did he take you?” The question shot through your chest like an arrow. The lack of response and the quiver of your eyes told him the answer even if your heart couldn’t bear to speak it. “Ah, so typical of him.”
“Stop.”
“I’m curious. How far has he gone? I bet you've shared a bed with him but is that it? A pretty thing like you, I’m sure it’s addicting -“ Every inch of your body was electrified. Your hands tingled, lungs burned as you heaved through partially parted lips and gazed furiously at the face of the man you just slapped. When he looked down at you, thumb pressing against the corner of his lip and hand palming his raw cheek, there was an energy in his eyes as if he got off on this.
“I see. So you’re in love with him.” His words hung in the air for so long that you were sure they would turn to stone and fall before your feet if you didn’t refute them outright.
“I don’t lo-”
“Master Tartaglia!” His attention turned at the sound of his name but yours lingered on his face, still feeling the shock of his statement through every bone in your body. “There’s been news about Master Diluc, you’re needed.”
The sound of the Harbinger's name captured all your attention. The action didn’t go unnoticed by the ginger. “Let us be on our way then.” He glanced at you but you barely registered anything until a hand found your shoulder and pushed you in the opposite direction of the information you desperately wanted to hear. “You, take her back to her tent. Don’t let her out until I say so.”
“What! Hey, let me … T-Tartaglia!” You were already being dragged in the opposite direction when the last thing you saw was a smirk on his face before he turned his back on you.
When you finally were ‘escorted’ back to your tent, it felt like the first day all over again. The confusion, the anxiety, it all compiled in your chest until it felt like you were suffocating.
“I’ll bring you something to eat, there are guards just outside so don’t get any funny ideas.” The attendant turned but you kept them still with your shaking hands.
“Wait, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything. Now, let me go this instant.” Multiple smacks on your arms didn’t deter you from holding steady. If they wouldn’t give you what you wanted, maybe you would be satisfied with another.
“Fine, then who is Tartaglia? Why did they call him here?”
The pressure of their nails eased up, and the shock on their face seeped into their eyes as they told you the one thing you didn’t want to hear. “He’s a Harbinger.” Your hands loosened just enough for them to slip free and while they shoved the tent entrance out of their way, you collapsed onto the floor and wished you’d never asked the question in the first place.
Replaying the events in your head, you scolded yourself for the stupidity of your actions. It all made sense now, everything that you’d seen him do. It was so obvious. It wasn’t like they pinned a piece of parchment to their clothes saying who or what they were, but it should have clicked with you sooner.
Every Harbinger has a vice … you recalled him telling you. Did Diluc have one too? You learned in one sentence just how little you knew about the man who took you from your home.
So you’re in love with him … Hiding in your hands, you shook until the word didn’t hold any more meaning. Love? Love! There was no way. You hated him … couldn’t stand how overbearing he was, how controlling he was.
The irritating way he asked you if you had enough to eat, if you liked what was prepared, to let him know if there was something you’d prefer. You hated how observant he was. If there was something you gave even a hint of displeasure at, he’d send someone in to adjust it. Of course, he never did let you alleviate the biggest discomfort of them all - being trapped in this camp - but as you thought back on your days here, you couldn’t help but recognize all he did to make you feel comfortable.
How he gave you space, never asking for much.
How he tended to you in the smallest of ways.
When he was here and you’d wake up from a nightmare …
“Bad dream?” Diluc’s voice cut through the darkness. As your eyes adjusted to the shadows, you saw him sitting at the table covered in scribbled parchment. He glanced at you but mostly kept to his work. You found it hard to ignore the fact that his long, black robe was undone, giving view of his skin each time he shifted or grabbed a new document from the pile.
“I’m fine.” You replied, now wishing you had complained a little bit more about the nightgown he provided for you. Even though this one had real sleeves, you still felt exposed to him even when he wasn’t looking at you.
“Alright, try to sleep. I’ll be here if you need anything.” He pushed his long red hair out of his face and you leaned back on the bed but kept your eyes fixated on him. If he wasn’t a Harbinger, if he wasn’t your enemy perhaps things could be different but as the distrust rested in your heart, you found the only way you could sleep was to watch him and listen to the sound of his pen moving across the page.
Or those mornings when you woke up and found him at your side ...
There was an intense heat at your back, even when you moved away from it it was like your entire spine was on fire. Reluctantly, you turned to see what it was only to find a pile of unkempt red hair directly in your face. It made your heart stop, caused you to freeze as the sudden realization and overwhelming scent of him filled you completely.
Carefully, you moved away but as you did, you were able to see more of his sleeping form. The relaxed expression on his face, slightly parted lips, and long lashes were hidden under the fiery shade of his hair. Hands resting peacefully on the sheets he’s pushed down his body, unintentionally exposing his chest. It was starting to get annoying the number of times you’d seen him without his shirt on but even more annoying that your eyes wouldn’t stop looking at him.
In this position, he seemed far more innocent than you’d ever consider him to be.
The quiet of the morning allowed you to hear his breath, gave you time to take in the beating of your heart as you scanned the muscles of his arm and wondered about the scars that covered it. Instinctually you lifted your hand to trail across one in particular. It stretched over his bicep, your finger followed the path of it making him stir at the contact. Embarrassed, anxious, you yanked your hand back and turned your head into the pillow.
The sound of his deep, just-waking-up sigh made your heart flutter. The creaking of the bed gave you a smidgen of relief knowing he’d be gone soon but when you felt his fingers against your cheek, the way they traveled to your ear and gently pushed your hair from your face, you swore your heart was going to explode. It wasn’t until the sound of splashing water from the back room filled your ears that you’re ‘still sleeping form’ stifled a scream.
The memories started to flood in. Each moment, each gesture, every reserved closeness the two of you shared was like a display of his intentions. He wasn’t anything like Tartaglia, he wasn’t anything like anyone … he was Diluc. Behind the title he wore there was a man hidden with values contradictory to everything you knew about the Fatui.
So, as your mind began to settle on the understanding your heart knew long ago, you lifted your head at the sound of voices coming from beyond the tent and focused.
“Ah, sir, I’m sorry but I’ve been instructed to not let anyone inside.”
“What do you mean?”
“Master Tartaglia …”
“I don’t work for Master Tartaglia now let me through.”
“I can’t do that sir.” There was irritation in both of their voices but you were sure the other was someone you could trust, and you were certain they held information you desperately wanted to hear.
“Fine, I’m sure you’d be the last to know so if you haven’t heard, reports from the domain Master Diluc was sent to investigate, somewhere beyond Brightcrow Mountains, have been cut off. We can’t get in contact with them. Master Tartaglia will be heading up an investigation and I fear he will take drastic measures to get the answers the Tsaritsa wants.”
“… okay? I’m just supposed to gua-”
“Yes, you’re right … please see to it that she is comfortable. Most of the units will be busy preparing so this is a delicate time until they head out.”
Thank you, Charles.
The two of them wrapped up their conversation but you were already preparing. Quickly, you changed your clothes to something darker, and harder to see, and found a bag that held items you never once cared about. Dumping them on the ground, you set off to refill it. A change of clothes, several items that might be useful as make-shift tools. There was a ribbon he left on the table which you used to tie back your hair. Now it would keep it free from your face so you could see everything you needed to.
The sound of soldiers moving outside told you things were going to be hectic but you didn’t care; there was only one thing on your mind, there was only one thing ever on your mind anymore.
Patiently you waited, hand hovering over the canvas, knife prepped and ready to slice your way free. You knew it would be hours until they checked on you again, habits built up from your time locked in here meant you knew everything and had all the necessary knowledge to make your escape. From the routes of the guards to the sections of the camp that would be less occupied at this time of day, you’d been practicing, waiting, preparing for this moment since the very beginning and now you were going to enact your plan.
Now.
The knife cut smoothly along the canvas tent. When it was just long enough for you to squeeze through, you made sure the coast was clear before slipping into the dwindling sunlight. Like a sparrow swooping through the air, you dashed from shadow to shadow until you eventually made it to the edge of the camp. This was your second hurdle.
The last time you had to climb something like this was when you were young and one of the village kids tossed a stolen doll onto a roof. Just like then, you analyzed the obstacle with careful eyes before detecting the best path. It was only slightly more challenging considering there was barely enough room for your fingers to slip in between this post and the next, but even if they screamed at the pressure and roughness of the wood, what lay just beyond was enough to keep your center.
The ground came much quicker than you anticipated, the heavy drop into the grass made you tumble forward. There was no time to catch yourself. Instead, you bolted as fast as you could toward the tree line and didn’t stop until you were deep in the thick of it.
The smell of fresh air, thick, lush evergreens, and spruce trees sent out wave after wave of clarifying scent and soon the warmth of your legs began to fill your body even after you slowed to a steady trot. The bag on your back was comforting, the energized oxygen in your lungs made you feel alive but it was the freedom of being beyond those walls that made you lift your hands to the chattering birds and sun-speckled treetops.
“I missed you.” You whispered, smiling at the feeling of being untethered. The sound of a hawk echoed in the thicket and, with a knowing nod, you looked for the best candidate to gather your bearings.
Climbing the tree made you feel at home. The skill of jumping, launching, and slinking around each branch felt so familiar to you that there was no way you’d ever forget this connection. When you finally reached the top, or at least high enough to see the surrounding area, you took a moment before gathering your Intel. Off in the distance, you saw the peak of Dragonspine, the City of Freedom perched on its rock in the middle of the lake, Stormterrors lair, and in between, the mountains of Brightcrow. You were about to climb back down when your heart called to you.
Past the snowy mountains, beyond the grand lake were some of the landmarks of the wonderful land of Liyue. How many times had you climbed its mountains and landscapes, how often had you run through the fields and streams? It was your home, your real home and it called your name so powerfully it nearly drowned everything out.
The sound of laughing children, the rejuvenating beat of countless feet dashing through the woods bounding from tree to tree, stone to stone, one adventure to the next. Helping hands and smiling faces, a trade for hard work. It all was so tempting and heart-shattering at the same time. It was right there, home was closer than you thought possible. The battle taking place in your heart begged you to submit. You were conflicted. Rubbing the water from your eyes, you pulled your hand away only to see through the starlight in the darkness, the campsite nestled in the open field.
–
The tree supported you until your feet hit the ground. The leaves you disturbed in your climb fell around you like decisions you had to make before they would point you in the right direction. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh before feeling the ground give way to your feet. While the leaves seemed to speak in one voice as they drifted toward your home, your legs carried you toward the unshakable red that spoke in another.
Match 5
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