#if hoyo isn't going to give him one then it's free rein to play and i'm taking it

[dandelion-wings]

Trying to shake a little rust off after a writing hiatus, which means some random scenes as warmups! This is, in theory, from the latter half of the "Jean marries the prince of Khaenri'ah" AU, if I go with a particular thread I'm still debating--whether or not to go with multiple false identities and have Diluc be, at first, in disguise himself. I like identity porn, okay. >> I'm just not sure if it has a plot function. But since I haven't written the main story yet, I can play about freely!

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When Maram steps out of her private chambers, her son is in her receiving-room, pacing back and forth across the floor. His head jerks up at her entry; there's a brief flash of light in his eyes, the cold pale-blue gleam of Cryo, clear in the left, fractured and flickering in the right. Her heart seizes, as it always does, at that sight.

But he masters himself, reins in the shadow of the Abyss creeping up through him, drawing himself straight in a gesture so reminiscent of his father that Maram almost smiles. Almost, because the stiffness that has become natural in her husband is a warning-sign in her son. His shoulders are held with a rigidity that comes from more than the armor, a tension that's all defensiveness, little as he'd like to know she sees it there.

"What troubles you?" she asks him, beckoning him to join her as she steps up onto the low dais at the center of the room. The benches at the sides are more intimate, but when he's this tense, she doubts that she could make him sit down.

"Diluc," he says, following her up. He takes a formal pose, standing at attention before her like any other knight, but she can still see the tension humming through him in his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, the samll shifts of his weight. "Jean's bodyguard, her Dark Knight- he was there when I went to visit the horses this morning. He didn't tell me, but I remember how he was with horses. Mother, I would swear that it's him."

Maram's hands tighten on the arms of her chair, and she leans forward, nearly as tense as he is. "Is that so?"

"I'm almost certain. It would explain quite a bit. But if he is Diluc…." Below the hollow crackling that the armor gives his voice, Maram can hear the raw edge of distress. "How could I have missed it for so long?"

She can hear the other questions beneath that. Has Diluc changed so much, or has he? Is his memory failing him, or worse yet, his love for the boy he knew? The last shivers through his tone in unspoken terror.

"I have long suspected that mask he wears of holding some enchantment," Maram says firmly, to banish those fears. Her son's mind may go, someday, but never his heart. She trusts in that. "It must be one of concealment. He said he took it from the Fatui, and their spying would benefit from that sort of tool."

He breathes out a sigh that isn't quite relief, but his voice shakes less when he answers, and his chuckle is almost real. "That would explain why he insists on wearing something so hideous. Even Diluc wouldn't sport such an unfashionable trophy without a good reason."

Maram relaxes a bit herself. But not entirely. "Now that you know, love, would you like me to kill him for you? If I do it myself, you don't have to lie to your wife. Formidable as he seems to be, my Wind Glede and I are his equal, and I know how to take a man by surprise."

"No!" He rocks back on his heels in shock and horror, armor grating on itself. "Why would you do that? That's the last thing- that's hardly necessary."

Because she wants to kill him, Maram doesn't say, and had hoped he might allow it, though she'd already known that would be his answer. Her son's heart is his greatest strength, but also his greatest weakness.

"Your father would have ordered it. He's hurt you once, and we'll take no more chances with you if we can avoid it."

"No," he says again, more firmly, regaining his composure. "He's here to guard Jean. Our court is enough of a threat to her without taking away one of her protectors. He has no idea who I am, and I intend to keep it that way."

"And how will you do that when your curse comes to an end?"

"I'll handle that when it happens." He chuckles, and Maram feels her heart ache anew at the false blitheness of it.

As his Queen, she could overrule him; as his mother, she dares not to. Her heart has always been her greatest weakness, as well. If she does lose him to his people's curse, as he's so certain that she will, she doesn't want him to go still angry at her for her actions.

If she does lose him to that curse, to the darkness that first gathered in that wounded eye, she can always wait until he's gone to kill Diluc Ragnvindr for his betrayal.