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“Tartaglia.” Pulcinella moves his marker- a pawn, the smallest of the chess pieces- on their Teyvat map from Snezhnaya to a city very, very far away. “You’ll be going to Liyue.”
“Liyue? Seriously?” Was this some cruel hazing joke among the rest of the Harbingers? To send the newest member of their group to steal from the oldest Archon in all of Teyvat was laughably evil. “You’re sending me to Rex Lapis. Can’t you give me someone easier— oh, like Barbatos? That Archon’s so weak I could go and come back in a week max.”
Signora’s chess piece- a bishop- twirls between Pulcinella’s fingers before landing on top of Mondstadt’s Ordo Favonius headquarters. “We’ve discussed beforehand that Signora will be taking care of the Anemo Archon. The Knights are already itching in their seats whenever they see us; entrusting a demanding task like that to someone like you would send Barbatos running as he always does and leave you without his Gnosis.”
He huffs. If he would’ve had to walk on his tip-toes stealing Barbatos’ Gnosis while juggling the affairs with the Ordo Favonius, how is that any different than sending him to Liyue during the Rite of Descension? In the midst of the biggest crowd Liyue has each year (a shocking number, really, coming from a harbor overflowing with commerce) and under the watchful eyes of the Qixing? No matter where Pulcinella sent him he’d have to bite his tongue, but at least in Mondstadt their god was as brittle as a stack of sticks.
From across the large roundtable, Pulcinella leans over the map closer to Childe. Since the moment of his induction, none of the other ten bothered to shoot him more than a glance. Her stare along with the aforementioned ignorance only makes him gaze over her features, pupils shaking as he does so.
“Tartaglia… sorry— Childe,” she begins by correcting herself to use that hideous new name for him, “If you aren’t fit for this job, you can just say so. I’m sure the Tsaritsa can take care of you accordingly. However, grabbing Rex Lapis’ Gnosis despite your lack of experience… could greatly improve your credibility among this circle.”
There would always be something one must give, in order to gain power. The Delusion hanging from his belt is heavier and feels unnatural when he holds it in his hands, a warped illusion of the Vision he turned in to the Tsaritsa weeks ago.
Pulcinella puts the Tsaritsa’s thought process in simple terms.
Childe has two choices:
- Steal Rex Lapis’ Gnosis.
- Die trying, or die refusing.
And when the Fatui are executed by their lovely god, the other members have but a moment to gossip about it. Childe heard from a subordinate once how the Tsaritsa carries out her executions, then never heard another word from her ever again.
When Pulcinella waves her hand in front of his face to bring him out of his thoughts, she’s still mere inches away from him. “So?”
“I’ll start preparing for Liyue.”
He’s running out of time.
This boy’s arrival- Aether, he remembers from the Fatui’s reports- is a sign he is running out of time.
Three days ago he received a letter from Snezhnaya, personally signed by Signora.
“I nabbed that boy’s Gnosis,” He barely deciphers from her god-awful fancy handwriting, “I see you haven’t returned yet, Tartaglia. What happened to your promise of two weeks?” Within the envelope is a photograph, depicting Signora holding up Barbatos’ Gnosis in all its glory. It looked more like a chess piece than anything else, filled with a glowing light blue aura.
“Pray tell, Childe, what are you frowning about? You’re going to get lines.”
Zhongli is smart; Childe knows and acknowledges this as easily as he can say two plus two equals four. There are times when Childe suspects that Zhongli knows what’s coming, that every smile and laugh the consultant throws his way is omniscient and Zhongli decides to play along with him nonetheless.
Childe tears the letter to pieces, photograph included. Archons forbid he see Signora waving the Anemo god-heart like a prize she won at a fair. The shreds crumple together to form a ball in his hands, his Delusion dampening it as to get rid of the ink on the paper. With a bit of flair, Childe hops as he tosses it into the waste bin.
When he turns back to face Zhongli with the best grin he can muster, the consultant tilts his head.
“Rude letter from my mom,” Childe shrugs.
Zhongli seems to believe him, because he always does.
Zhongli’s disguise is sometimes so convincing that even Childe begins to wonder if when he plunges his hand into the other man’s chest, he’ll find a beating heart instead.
Then again, would that be so bad?
“It says here that no matter which mortal form he takes, Rex Lapis’ eyes will eternally be colored amber.” Childe holds up the book in his hands to reveal Rex Incognito, lent to him by Aether.
“How interesting.”
Across the table, Zhongli nods along. He doesn’t miss Zhongli closing his eyes as he does so. “Back in the square, his dragon form had amber-colored eyes, did he not?” Still, Zhongli avoids his gaze. He slumps in his seat too close to his tea while he pours more into his teacup, then drinks it all in one take so the cup is angled where Childe can’t see his eyes.
“Yeah, but…” Childe leans over in his seat, closer to Zhongli, closer to his eyes. “Your eyes are amber-colored, aren’t they?”
The god laughs at him. “You think I’m Rex Lapis?”
When Tartaglia was many years younger, his mother taught him that love and hate did not exist on a one-dimension spectrum. It was possible to love and hate another at the same time, and on some occasions the line between the two is so very blurry. Closing in on a person’s flaws and learning everything about them that could be open to criticism could lead to love— there will be flaws, as all humans are.
Though Zhongli has no flaws. Childe has spent the past month studying him like a shadow would with its human; he would know if the consultant has imperfections.
But Childe does not hate him. The Tsaritsa and the other ten hate him, his job description says he should hate him, but he can’t bring himself to do so.
Why should he hate him, when he walks the world under the disguise of a mortal eager to learn the earth? Why should he hate a god who is a mortal in every which way other than his power and lifespan? Should he hate a man who simply wants to love?
“All I’m saying is that you’ve got the same colored eyes as Rex Lapis,” his finger moves in incohesive loops as it wags inches away from Zhongli’s eyes. “But if you’re the one saying you’re Rex Lapis, then it’s out of my hands.”
“I’m not Rex Lapis,” Zhongli replies.
Childe believes him, because he hopes for both their sakes that he’s telling the truth. When he closes the gap and continues to love him, he kisses Zhongli as if he is a mortal who wants to know love and Childe is his lovely god who grants his wish so generously.
There is one catch.
Zhongli cannot die. An Archon who previously experienced the mortal world cannot die a second time after reaching Celestia, especially an Archon as old and powerful as he is.
Childe’s life, on the other hand, is a toy in the hands of the Fatui. Despite his rank and status and power, he is still the lowest-ranking member of the eleven Harbingers. When the seventh letter this week comes in from Pulcinella, commanding him to update her on his progress and to complete his mission soon before someone else takes care of it (meaning Zhongli and Childe, as his laziness is unacceptable to a spontaneous Snezhnaya).
Perhaps Zhongli’s one flaw- if he could even call it a flaw- was that even though he works for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, immortal gods often fail to understand the fear of death, a fear all mortals had.
Childe had two choices:
- Steal Zhongli’s Gnosis.
- Die a traitor to his country, yet die in love.
In the night, he reaches into him.
Within his chest, there is no beating heart. Instead his fingers wrap around an amber-colored Gnosis and Childe pulls it out with a slight tug as it leaves Zhongli’s sleeping form. It’s painless— though in the morning when he finds Childe nowhere in Liyue, he supposes that pain would stem from there as well.
In the morning, he holds up Zhongli’s Gnosis into the sunlight. The chess piece glistens and sparkles in the light, and the pawn of Snezhnaya begins the long trek home.