# Running Away
When she tells Diluc, he shatters a glass. It was bad timing, they suppose, sitting at the empty bar pouring over a notebook while he cleaned for the next day.

"One is going to leave Mondstadt." They spoke suddenly. "Tomorrow, or the day after." If she stayed any longer she would change her mind and that wouldn't work. She doesn't meet his eye, even as glass hits the floor behind the bar.

"What?" He asks, eyes wide, "Is this because of-"

She cuts him off, closing the notebook, "Yes. Of course it is."

Diluc rests his hands on the bar but they see them shake first. "You don't have to leave, no one blames you for what happened."

"One does." They tell him, and shake their head. That won't do, wherever they go first, they'll have to be more careful again. Though she's grown more comfortable with the lean they feel in her speech it won't help them, "_I_ blame myself." She says.

He frowns, "You knew when you started looking into what happened while you were with _them_ that you would find things you didn't like." What he means to say is _don't leave_. It's what they hear anyway.

Her eyes flash up to meet his, "I killed a _child_, Diluc."

"You didn't know-"

"I should have, I-"

"What's there to gain in leaving now, this is your-"

"It can't be." They tell him, definitively. "Not... not right now." What they mean to say is _I'll come home again_. It's what he hears anyway.

"I can't go with you." Diluc tells them quietly, sad and resigned.

They nod, "I know. I wouldn't ask you to."

He steps over the glass and comes around the bar and pulls her into a crushing hug. "I almost wish you would." He admits and they hug him back. They both shake, trying and failing to avoid crying. "What are you looking for?"

She hides her face in his chest, "I don't know." They admit, forcing back a cry. "I don't know anything except it can't be here. I want- I want to come home better." They fail to hold it back this time, letting out a harsh sob and gripping his jacket tightly in both hands. She hates this, feeling so _childish_ now of all times. Diluc holds her tighter, whispering quietly to her as they both cry.

He keeps them both there for a long time.

---
*"Diluc, tonight I-"*

*"I understand, my lady. Tell her to come see me tomorrow. I'll assure her you'll be home soon."*

*"...Thank you, Diluc. It's been an honor."*

*"Don't exaggerate. Just come home as soon as you can."*

This time, they're crying before they can even explain anything. She'd known about their new quest for information and had insisted profusely that they didn't need more fuel for the nightmares they'd woken her up with.

Jean never pressed for more than she'd offer on her own and especially not on her worse nights- the ones like the night at the mountain. Angry, resentful tears streaming and begging her to ask them why they were so *sick* and *broken* and *guilty*. She held her through the night, whispering forgiveness and understanding for things she couldn't and didn't.

It would help, she'd rationalized to the knight, to be able to put words to her demons and perhaps to make amends one day.

Perhaps they both knew, Septima thinks, that the result would always look like this.

She flinched away when Jean moved to hold her and they'd stood with more than an arm's length between them as they told her everything they'd learned. The inn census hadn't listed any children, just one deep market dealer that had double crossed the Regrator and they were tasked with handling it.

The dealer's husband and child lived in the village with the inn. No one knew of their affair, not even the Fatui. She didn't know until records from the Old Cold arrvied, that all three had been in the room when she'd frozen it over.

"You were told there weren't any innocents-" Jean starts as soon as they've stopped but they glare at her through hot tears.

"Do _not_ make excuses for me." Septima demands, ugly and hurt. "I should never have done it in the first place- _any of it._"

Jean crosses her arms in search of some comfort that neither of them can extend to the other, "You said Mondstadt is your home." She says and hates how accusatory it sounds, "You said you wouldn't leave."

She wheezes, crying again, "It _is._"

"Then stay! You don't have to run away, my love." Jean insists.

"It's not that s-"

She holds up a hand, cutting her off, "You always say that. Let it be simple, for once."

Septima shakes her head, all of the anger and disgust pulled out of her all at once, "I can't."

"You..." Jean uncrosses her arms, hands curling in and out of fists as she counts her own breaths. There must be an answer, a fix, something. "You've insisted over and over that I need to be more selfish. Stay, for me."

She shakes her head against, falling against the wall behind her when she can't hold herself up fully without it. "It's never selfish to want someone to stay."

"Septima, _please._" Jean pleads, falling to her knees across from them. "I can't lose you. What if I never see you again? At least let me go with you!"

They take deep steadying breaths, holding a hand out towards her, Jean stares them dead in the eyes. "One- I-"

"You are to speak freely to me. You promised." Jean cuts her off, insistent.

Septima swallows, nodding. "One will return. " She tells her and holds her hand out further.

Jean takes it in hers, "When?" She asks, instead of continuing to beg. They're both too stubborn, too headstrong. Diluc told her it's why he approved, they'd keep each other in line. But now Septima was leaving and they both knew she couldn't follow even if they'd allow it.

"As soon as one can."

"What if you get hurt?"

"One will, inevitably."

"Where are you going to go?"

"The inn, first."

"And then?"

"One won't know until the decision comes to pass."

Jean shakes her head, launching forward and into their arms. "You haven't thought this out even a little bit. Can't you stay long enough to plan this out?"

They hug her tightly, "If one stays any longer, one will never leave."

"Ask me to wait for you to return." Jean says suddenly.

"Lion..."

She pulls back enough to look Septima in the eye, "Ask me. My one selfish request."

She doesn't argue that it wouldn't be selfish for her to ask her to wait for a day that neither of them could say when it would pass. "Wait for me, Jean, please. Wait for me to come home."

Jean nods and kisses her, rough and bruising, crying with them. "Stay with me tonight." She demands of them.

They don't say anything of the additional request, simply nodding and sitting there with her late into the night.

---
*"You're really not going to tell him before you go?"*

*"And risk him following? I couldn't allow it."*

*"I wouldn't have forgiven you if you left without seeing me."*

*"You **both** would."*

"Going somewhere, Lady Septima?" Kaeya asks as soon as she's more than a couple steps outside of Jean's door.

They don't jump, hoisting their bag further onto their shoulder. She turns to face him, knowing how terrible she looks having barely slept. How could they, after hours of talking and crying, when they had one more opportunity to memorize the way Jean looked while sleeping. Even after such an emotional night, she still looked peaceful once she was asleep.

"I was hoping I would run into you, actually." Septima says instead of answering, "I have a favor to ask of you."

He crosses his arm and raises a brow, "And that would be...?"

She smiles, "One left a note for Aleks. He ought to be waking up soon. Will you be by his side while he reads it?"

A frown briefly passes over his face, "You're really not going to tell him to his face?" Kaeya asks in disbelief, "That's cruel, my lady, more so than I expected from you."

Septima nods, "One understands. We both know there are few options."

He raises his chin in contempt, "We both know there's at least one other." He rests a hand on his hip, close to his sword, "Lady Septima, surely you understand I can't allow this. You'll be breaking his heart."

"The way one sees it, the best option for you is to be there with him." They smile again, tired but accepting, "Either that or you will have to tell him you failed to stop me."

"I'll have to tell him that either way." He tells her quietly. He stares them down, but it's devoid of any true heat.

They nod, "For what it is worth, Captain, one will be in your debt upon returning."

He sniffs but strides forward, holding his hand out to her, "If I have to travel the length of Teyvat to ensure you keep your word, I will."

She takes his hand in a firm shake, "Good day, Sir Kaeya."

"Good luck, Lady Septima."

---

The letter is crumpled, hastily written and at times difficult to discern. They must have written it on the walk from the winery to the city. There are coarse spots where tears had dried and the ink had bled. It's addressed to him:

*My Knight,*

*The children in the city once asked one to tell them a story about Mondstadt. They'd grown tired of stories of a world they'd have to grow up to see. What story would you have told?*

*One told them the story of a young knight, so certain that he could never uphold the virtues of the order of true knights. So valiant and genuine, he believed them to be, and perhaps he would prove to be right. This young knight admired the other knights so much that he detested knowing that he wasn't a true knight like them.*

*The young knight prayed each day and each night that one day, he too could be a true knight. That he could abandon the restraints that kept him from assuming the role already, that he could accept the rank he so admired, that he could **earn** it.*

*The gods heard his prayers and answered them.*

*The young knight met an injured traveler, with burns and bruises covering her skin. "Do not look at me!" The traveler cried, "I am undeserving of your consideration. Please, there are people hurt far beyond here."*

*"Come with me," The young knight insisted, "There are more people who can help, but only you can lead us there."*

*"You are a true knight." The traveler praised him, allowing the young knight to carry her to the city's healers.*

*"Not yet." The young knight told her before telling her stories he'd learned from the bards to keep her spirits high the rest of the way to find help.*

*Saddened that the young knight had overlooked their sign, the gods tried again.*

*Days later after visiting the healing traveler and the friends he and the true knights had rescued, the young knight was keeping watch throughout the city. He happened upon a young man trying to sneak inside of a closed shop.*

*He crouched down a bit away from the thief and called out softly, "Are you looking for something?"*

*The thief attempted to run, but the young knight stopped him with a wisp of a strong wind. "Don't worry, I'm not here to stop you." The young knight told him, "I can help you look. What are you trying to find?"*

*"My mama is sick. This shop sells medicine." The thief explained, revealing a youth in his voice. "It's too much money. Mama doesn't believe in the gods so we can't go to the healers."*

*The young knight thought for a moment before offering the thief a hand, "Can you show me where she is? I think I can help."*

*The thief was uncertain, but desperate, and accepted the hand and led him to a small room amongst an inn's logdings. The thief's mother lay sick in her bed, an older son by her side. They started to offer the young knight anything and everything they had to spare the thief and their family the pain of what consequences the true knights would deem appropriate.*

*"Please don't worry," The young knight told them, "Your secret is safe with me, but I must bring you help. It matters not if you worship the gods, it is the duty of knights to offer aid to all of those in need."*

*"You are a true knight." The mother praised him while he waited with the her and the thief for the older son to bring one of the true knights and a healer back to their small home.*

*"Not yet." The young knight told her, setting up an old set of tiles for a game to pass the time.*

*The gods were saddened once again, watching as the young knight brought aid and peace to their people all while refusing to see their approval. Perhaps, they thought, we need to try something more obvious.*

*Days later after visiting the healing mother, the young knight traveled around the city walls late at night. He could not sleep, worries for the people of the city keeping him up late, and the gods took their opportunity.*

*They appeared before him in glorious forms, beckoning him closer to tell him-*

*That was as far as one was able to get before the children were distracted by the visiting toy maker. One hopes that when one returns home, you will have finished the story. The young knight deserves a happy ending, wouldn't you agree?*

*Yours dearly and truly,*
*Septima*