Chapter Text
“Get up.”
Childe’s ears rang. It felt like he’d just been hit in the head with a metal bat, his hand coming away covered in blood when he had gone to touch the sore spot.
What was happening?
Heavy footsteps were approaching. He should be careful..
“I said get up , Ajax. Her majesty’s.. Eleventh Harbinger …”
The voice was unfamiliar. His vision flashed. Childe was on his feet.. In his Foul Legacy.
It’s too soon to use this.. So why am I…?
Something approached out of the dark. A tall being in armor far too familiar, far too close to his own. If he were to assume, it would be yet another power such as his own. A blessing- no, curse- of the abyss. A Legacy …
“I want you to fight me. Fight me like you mean it, this time, brother. I don’t have time for this.”
Brother-?
He didn’t have time to think before a fist was thrown at his face, burning with pyro energy. Childe twisted to get out of the way, grabbing the other’s arm in an attempt to prevent a second follow up punch, bending it in the way it just
wasn’t supposed to bend
-
Something cracked.
Violet blood dripped from the black armor onto the ground.
His opponent still threw the punch.
.. He couldn’t see.
Scarred hands grabbed his hair and lifted his head up. When had he been thrown to the ground? When did the Foul Legacy fade-?
Childe was met with an aged version of a very familiar face, and it was angry . ‘Teucer’, his mind provided, but- why? Teucer was still little, still learning, still-
This couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be real, it had to be-
There was a blade in the Teucer’s hand. It was raised up, up, up-
He screamed. Blood soaked his shirt. The knife kept coming-
Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up, wake up, wake up wake up, wake-
Childe gasped for air, his eyes snapping open, his gaze searching wildly for something familiar. The bookshelf. The lamp he’d put out before bed. Teucer’s Mr. Cyclops plushie…
Teucer.
Young. Asleep. Alive. Good.
A nightmare…