Chapter Text
"Are you sure about this?" Childe asks, once Pierro has escorted Diluc back to his 'cell'. "I don't think he's quite at the point of not trying to escape again, and you haven't even locked him in."
Pierro seems surprised that Childe stuck around to talk to him, yet replies nonetheless, "I am not concerned in the slightest."
"But he just tried breaking out?"
When Childe had suggested they make Diluc a Harbinger, his loyalty to Snezhnaya had not been a main concern. He figured someone with a little more experience than him would deal with that complication, which is exactly what Pierro had said he would do. ' Ensure that Diluc can be controlled '; it does not seem like he's at the point of being controlled.
"Sit down, Tartaglia," Pierro instructs, motioning to the seat Diluc had taken just twenty minutes ago. "It was your idea, in the first place. Why are you so surprised?"
"It's only been three days since you started your meetings with him. Aren't you rushing things?" It's a dangerous accusation to launch at the man with superiority only second to the Tsaritsa. "I, uh, I mean you obviously know what you're doing, but Diluc looked about thirty seconds away from trying to snap your neck. Not that he could, of course."
Pierro hums, "Yes, I suppose that's how it looks from the outside. However, I have already confirmed that Master Diluc is well within my control. There is no need for you to trouble yourself with this matter."
But Childe still cannot help but ask - " How do you know that? Just because he promised to obey your decision? He can just break that."
"This is why you are the eleventh; you haven't matured, you do not consider matters thoroughly." Pierro looks over to his chessboard, "For the last three days, I have been playing against Master Diluc. Not once has he disobeyed the rules of the game or attempted to win through underhanded methods, like distracting me with conversation."
Childe doubts anyone could distract Pierro from chess.
Pierro continues to explain, "And when I first met with him, I gave him three choices. I knew I would be able to manipulate him as soon as Master Diluc picked one of the options, rather than attacking me, insulting me, or even simply asking what would happen if he refused to make a choice. I knew he would attempt to escape today, as soon as he had any bearings, and I predicted that he would leave his server alive while killing anyone he encountered who was obviously a soldier."
"Oh." Is all Childe manages to reply, Pierro staring him down with his single eye. "When you put it that way, I suppose…"
He gets up to leave, bowing his head in deferrence. But as he reaches the door, Pierro calls for him to wait a moment.
"I would like for you to bring Master Diluc to his induction ceremony tomorrow morning." Usually he would send a guard for that, or even if he wanted Childe to do it personally he would have a messenger tell Childe, rather than instruct him himself.
"I will, Lord Pierro."
Pierro rubs his thumb over one of the chess pieces, down the horse's mane, "You may find him dead in his cell, I must warn you. I predict he will either choose to obey the oath he made or kill himself as penance for defying his Archon."
Ah, Childe understands. He's being sent so that, if it is that latter outcome, he gets confronted with the consequences of his own decision to suggest Diluc become a Harbinger.
He has seen a lot of corpses. He would prefer not to look at Diluc's, in all honesty, not from a death that came from suicide. A man like him, with all that potential, should get the chance to die in battle.
~~~
Diluc kneels on the floor at the foot of his bed, head bowed. His hands are clasped in his lap and he prays to Barbatos under his breath, in case any Fatui are listening in.
(He still doesn't know what surveillance they have in this room, but he doesn't want to risk anyone overhearing what he's saying.)
(Is it more shameful for him to be thinking twice about becoming a Harbinger or that he's even considering breaking an oath to Barbatos?
Whichever it is, Diluc won't allow anybody to hear him.)
“Lord Barbatos, I -” he clenches his fists, “- I have made a mistake and swore to follow through upon your name. Please, offer me guidance for how to proceed, show me the way, let the wind lead me -”
It’s a sad attempt. No one has seen Barbatos in hundreds of years and, even if he is still alive out there, to presume he would come when Diluc calls him is extremely impudent. This is more for Diluc to get his own thoughts in order, to ruminate freely over how in Celestia he might be able to go forward in this situation he has landed himself in.
So he sighs, “I’m sorry for abandoning my duty in Mondstadt and letting my weakness drive me here. My Father died in my arms, I was just… Conflicted. Vengeful. I still think that I should burn this whole place to the ground.” This apology is not going well. Does it matter? Is Barbatos even listening? “Would you care if I went against an oath I made in your name? Do you care about me , at all?”
Presumptuous of him, again. To ask an Archon to care about him.
“Barbatos,” Diluc tries again, voice shaking, “I’m scared of what you would think of me if I abandoned my conviction.”
The air in the room is still; no windows do that to an inside space. Diluc’s hair has been lying flat against his forehead, still messy from Childe trying to tug it from his scalp.
Suddenly, it is blown back. A gust of air comes from directly in front of him, the space that the bed should be blocking, and Diluc opens his eyes in surprise. Sitting above him on the end of the mattress is a glowing, humanoid figure with feathering flecks of teal energy drifting down from its… Shoulders?
“What -” Diluc scrambles backwards away from the figure, finding his breathing is becoming shallow. He reaches to his waist, from the muscle memory of having a weapon there. “What are you?!”
The glowing subsides, until the thing has human skin and a human face, with a white hood shadowing his expression. Nothing is particularly distinguishing about them, but Diluc recognises who it is.
“Master Diluc,” Barbatos greets, reaching his hand out, “you were praying to me?”
“Lord Barbatos, I -”
The Archon leans forward so that he can cup Diluc’s cheek, “Don’t be scared, I’m not angry with you. I’m worried, actually.”
“About me?” his bottom lips trembles and he bites it.
“Of course, you are a citizen of Mondstadt. Though, I would have had a much easier time finding you if you hadn’t left your vision back home. Next time, keep it on you, okay?”
“Okay.” He mumbles.
There isn’t much else he can think to say. Diluc is in the same room as a God. An Archon. An Archon who has been missing for centuries, but has come as soon as Diluc sends out a prayer? He had so much to think about and to tell Barbatos, to ask him, but now he is in his presence all of that feels irrelevant.
Barbatos tugs on his cheek, pinching it like he’s a child (in his perspective, Diluc probably is), “Hey now, don’t sell yourself short. I came to make sure that you are alright, I’m not above listening to your problems.”
“But you’re -” Diluc gestures up to him.
“So far above you? Ha, no, I am just a free spirit now, a breeze passing idly through. Speak as casually as if you were alone, Master Diluc, feel free to treat me as a familiar.”
It’s characteristic of the God of Freedom to say such a thing, but he cannot help but wish Barbatos would just tell him what to do outright, freeing him from the decision. With that in mind, he explains and then asks:
“What should I do? Should I abide by the oath I swore in your name or should I stick by my principles and continue to resist the Fatui?”
“It’s up to you,” Barbatos insists, “I would not hold any decision you make with your own free will against you.”
Ungratefulness stews in his gut and he has to hold himself back from raising his voice, “But I need your help. If you don’t force something upon me then the Fatui will.”
“I would suggest whisking you away from here and delivering you back home,” the Archon says, “but would you accept that offer?”
Go home? Diluc can’t go back, not until he’s made peace with his father’s death. It would be an embarrassment to return before then, facing the Knights of Favonius after being just as inefficient as they were.
Besides, “I would still be betraying the promise I made with your name in mind.” Barbatos may be a forgiving god, but Diluc doesn’t know if he could live with himself after this sort of faithlessness to his deity.
“Yes, you would. I promise that I would never hold that against you, but I know that you are concerned about your own devotion, more so than my acceptance troubles you.”
“I hate to disregard your views, Lord Barbatos.” Diluc apologises, pulling away from the Archon’s comforting hand. “But I think I have to stand by my word.”
Barbatos nods, “You think it would be best to become a Harbinger?”
He doesn’t know. Diluc has just been throwing himself at whatever the nearest threat is and he isn’t ready to go home (he might never be). He’s no use to Mondstadt like this, and he certainly can’t allow himself the pleasure of going back knowing he couldn’t even hold himself to an oath he made in Barbatos’ name.
He would prefer not to join his enemy’s faction (of course he would), but - “The Fatui are evil and they kill people and I want to kill them.”
“Do you think you are as bad as they are?”
“No,” Diluc has reason behind his actions, he doesn’t tacitly agree with using human experimentation to forward his goals. “They are morally bankrupt, manipulative, and cruel. I hate them and I would never become one.”
Barbatos gives the only reasonable response one could to that, “And yet you are considering it?”
“I don’t know what else to do.” Diluc replies honestly. “I could take the title and work against them from the inside - that would still obey my word, technically.”
Technicality is a weak excuse. It was weak when Diluc attempted to escape before Pierro could decide his fate, but at least then had the thin rationale that Pierro was just wasting his time and never going to decide anything.
“Or I could…” Kill himself . Or go after Dottore and put himself in a position of imminent death, to ensure it would be somewhat worthwhile.
Barbatos shifts his hood up, just enough so that shadow no longer falls over his eyes, “I won’t ever tell you what to do, aside from whatever you would like to do. But my preference is not that , okay?”
“I feel helpless,” Diluc admits, “I can’t imagine any way of going forward that doesn’t either kill me or eradicate whatever principles I have left.”
He is totally trapped, no matter what he does. He was weak, to allow Pierro to choose his fate just because he was scared of not seeing his nineteenth birthday. He’s weak now, for not being brave enough to go back to Mondstadt and face all of his failures head on.
Worse, perhaps than any of that, Diluc finds the idea of letting someone else just tell him what to do, even if that person is the first of the Fatui Harbingers, to be so unimaginably relieving that he’s tempted to disregard his previous convictions against the Fatui.
“You would have benefited more from advice given by almost any other God than me,” Barbatos says, frowning. “I’m sorry. It seems I truly cannot help you whilst abiding by my own beliefs.”
“It’s fine.” Diluc is not so unfaithful as to hold Barbatos’ strength of will against him.
The Archon vanishes, leaving the room windless once again. It’s hard to know the time, impossible really when Diluc hasn’t seen sunlight in over a week, but he assumes he won’t get much more peace before someone comes to check on him. The door isn’t locked, or if it is then Pierro came back to do so whilst Diluc has been in the bedroom, so he could just try leaving again.
He doesn’t. He bathes, instead. Diluc still has the stench of those burning soldiers stuck to his skin, and washing it away is soothing.
Barbatos came to help him and Diluc couldn’t even accept his advice; he must be his most impudent disciple ever. If he prayed again now, begging to be taken back to Mondstadt, would he be generous enough to grace Diluc with his presence once again?
Perhaps. But he would never ask such a thing of Barbatos.
~~~
“You’re here.” Childe points out upon arriving to see Diluc in the morning. He’s breathing, leaning against the wall fully dressed with his hair combed.
It’s the most put-together he has looked throughout his whole imprisonment here. Childe wants to compliment him, would without hesitation usually, but Diluc’s expression makes him think it won’t be appreciated.
“I swore an oath and I stand by my word.”
“Right,” Pierro really can predict everything that Diluc will do, “I honestly thought you would not be here.” Or he would be dead. Neither seemed like great outcomes.
He pushes off the wall and approaches, “Let’s get this initiation over with.”
That’s it? “Planning to kill the other Harbingers at your induction?”
“Will they be wearing their delusions?”
Childe has elected not to, not while Diluc remains so openly murderous. He doesn’t know about the others, though he guesses Pierro is so confident in his plans and understanding of Diluc’s character that he will be wearing his. That’s fair, considering the Tsaritsa’s divine presence should dissuade violence (assuming that Diluc recognises her authority).
Everyone survives his induction. Even when Diluc is presented with the delusion they confiscated upon his arrest, no bodies drop and civility persists. It’s boring, and leaves Childe apprehensive throughout, waiting for disaster to strike even as it never does.
If it did, the Tsaritsa would surely descend from her throne and chastise Childe for ever thinking that Diluc would make a good addition to their order.
Pierro is the one to appoint him, “From henceforth, you shall be known as Lord Harbinger Scapino , Twelfth of the Fatui Harbingers.”
Diluc nods from his position kneeling before him, the two raised on a platform above the audience of soldiers watching. The Tsaritsa is above them also, looking down icily. Neither seem the slightest bit concerned by her gaze, whilst Childe finds himself shivering even without her direct attention.
Their new Harbinger stands and bows to her, red hair falling in front of his face. “I swear to abide by your will, Your Majesty.” The Tsaritsa silently motions for him to stand properly and he does, before she vanishes into a swirl of snowflakes.
He just made another vow to another Archon? Childe supposes he has no choice in this matter, yet he can’t decipher Diluc’s thought process. Unless he has truly decided to become their loyal agent.
Childe figures it is not worth troubling himself over; Diluc is Pierro’s burden now. Childe can just try his best to enjoy the show now that it’s out of his hands.