Chapter Text
A light dusting of steam rose gently into the air, an aroma emitting from the freshly made tea. It contained an herbal scent that was carried away by the mountain’s fresh air. Within the modest building, a young man remained seated at a small table. He took hold of the cup with care, his skin prickling a bit from the heat. It was just barely at a temperature he could hold. Regardless, he welcomed the nearly scalding warmth.
Tartaglia parted his lips to exhale lightly, the steam being forced to travel in a different direction. He took a sip as he silently took in the hot and herbal fluid. His skin seemed to glow, his seat right by a window he had opened earlier. Even if he did keep it shut, he was sure he would still detect the warmth of the sun’s rays.
His days were always like this. They were peaceful and serene, seemingly never changing. Sometimes, he wonders if he’s simply reliving the same day over and over again. He knows that’s not true, but living in such lonely conditions tends to ignite the human imagination. Actually… is he lonely? He isn’t quite sure anymore.
For Tartaglia, this is his way of life. It was as plain and simple as that.
He blinks, lifting his head as his ears pick up the day’s morning chorus of birdsong. Tartaglia searched until his eyes settled on a small tree nearby. Thin talons clutched around the branch, a pair of birds side by side as they sang. He continued to watch them, a faint smile forming.
There was a clink as he set his teacup down, his hands reaching for a book. Peeking from beyond the pages was the tail of a bookmark. The title read Rex Incognito III. Normally, Tartaglia would pass the time by reading books about the various locations within Teyvat, but he just couldn’t help himself. Out of his collection, the Rex Incognito series was one of his most reread books.
Celestia forbid if his Tsaritsa ever discovered such books. She would not hesitate to strike him down.
A couple of hours felt like nothing to Tartaglia, his book snapping shut as he finished reading it once again. His chair quietly scuffed against the floor as he stood up with a light stretch. He made his way over to a drawer where he could hide the book once more, his footsteps seeming louder than they were. By the time he made it back to reach for his empty cup, he paused.
His ears picked up the sound of large wings beating, nearly silent scratching by the windowsill. When Tartaglia approached, his eyes met that of a predator avian who originated from Snezhnaya. A talon released its grip on a sealed letter, the message easily picked up by Tartaglia.
“Ah, I finally got graced with a letter today. About time.” Tartaglia couldn’t help himself, his internal bitterness causing his inner “Childe” to slip through. He opened the letter with ease, scanning over the words.
“Alright, alright, I got the letter.” No matter how one rearranges the words, Tartaglia knew it was all the same. “You better soak up the sun while you still can. It’d be a shame if your wings froze.”
Those beady eyes stared and, for a moment, Tartaglia imagined it latching onto his neck with talons as cold and sharp as ice. Without a sound, wings beat once more as it took off into the distant sky. Tartaglia simply turned around, placing the letter in a box by the fireplace. The box already flowed with similar letters.
This was a common occurrence that happened once a month. He would receive a letter, take it, and send the messenger bird back without a written response. There wasn’t anything he could say other than waste paper and ink on pointless words. At this point, he was sure everyone was satisfied by getting an empty-taloned bird.
He knows that the whole point of the monthly letters was to make sure he wasn’t dead… or something like that. Nothing more, nothing less.
Tartaglia sometimes imagines a day where that avian swoops in with a letter, only to have its cruel eyes stare upon his corpse. A corpse that was incapable of warmth much like the bitter cold of Snezhnaya.
But that was merely a construct within his mind. It was not real even if it could be. For now, it was just one thing of many that Tartaglia imagines.
Ah, what should he be doing now? That’s right.
Tartaglia emitted a huff of humorless laughter. “I should make sure my garden isn’t dying.”
The first time he picked up a weapon, he took to it like a fish in water. He was a natural fighter, swiftly learning the art of battle. Before Tartaglia knew it, a spark ignited within him. The way his heartbeat reached his eardrums, the way the adrenaline coursed through his veins, the way he felt as he came out victorious…
It was a dangerous feeling. He was playing with fire and he didn’t mind if he got a little burnt. He’d probably embrace getting burnt. Even from an early age, he was a monster in the making. When the others in his hometown saw him in combat, even if it were only mere spars, they were not blind to the potential. They foresaw the destructive and cruel monster he could become. They could see the ruthlessness before he could.
Learning to fight was a simple hobby at the time. Another thing to add to his pool of knowledge and skills. It was refreshing. The younger him just didn’t know how far it would take him.
The younger him didn’t know where it would take him.
It wasn’t long before he gained his Vision. He remembered the awe he felt when he first grasped it in his own hands. The deep glow of the Hydro element was reflected within his eyes, the small item suddenly becoming heavier. He found himself numb to the snow beneath him, his body’s heat slowly melting the layers at a painfully slow pace. Tartaglia ignored how the freezing snow seeped into the fabric of his pants, knees stinging from the bitter frost.
Footsteps approached him, every step clinking like a heavenly chime of glass. It carried an air of divinity to it. Yet, it also brought a scathing chill that felt as if it could induce frostbite within an instant.
The child dared to raise his head, meeting the Tsaritsa’s eyes. It was like examining a glacier, something deeper and even crueler hidden underneath the deadly waters. It was something no one could have the hopes of observing as they would die the instant they tried.
“You have potential.” She had said, her voice carried by the falling snow itself. She held no love for her people and her people held no love for her. Yet, there were those within the Fatui who served her and supported the goals she desired to fulfill.
Tartaglia had never seen one before, but he knew that a Cryo Regisvine couldn’t even compete with the being that is the Tsaritsa.
“Come with me and I shall make you rise in greatness.”
They were words full of meaning, but emptiness. She looked upon his mortal form and saw an opportunity. There was no choice in the matter. He would either go along with her or be struck down. In the end, his disobedience was insignificant to her. Failing to obtain him would be equivalent to wasted time. Even at this tender age, he knew the Tsaritsa did not truly value his life.
Tartaglia rose and yet a part of him fell that day. He took her offer, surrendering his free will, loyalty, and identity in a single moment. The freezing air seemed to bite at his neck.
Tartaglia imagined that he wore a collar of sculpted ice, chains hanging from it as they threatened to pull him down.
“Childe… That shall be the name you bear.”
Tartaglia stared into the mirror and a stranger wearing his skin stared back.
“Rise, my Childe.”
Tartaglia was no longer needed. And so, he turned away into the depths of a mind that was no longer just his own. “Childe” walked forth, purposely bumping shoulders with “Tartaglia” as they passed. But that was all within his mind. It was a construct of his mind and yet, it felt so very real. “Tartaglia” and “Childe” know better though. They have to if they wish to survive. They didn’t want to.
The imagination is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Just don’t let it embrace you for too long or it will spirit you away. That would be a bad thing. A very bad thing.
Would it really?
Liyue Harbor has always carried a sort of enchanting charm when night falls. The sky darkens and the city lights brighten with the color of flames. It is just as active as it is during the day, the paved stone illuminated with an orange hue. Footsteps tap against the surface as the citizens walk forward. If one were to listen, they could pick up the trickling of water.
The ponds within the civilization were typically still in nature, a perfect and natural mirror to reflect the world beyond.
There was a refreshing scent within the air. It carried the sea and high mountains, but it also brought along the smell of fresh food. It was no surprise considering how many businesses and merchants there are here. This is a city under the God of Contracts after all.
Speaking of which, Tartaglia had always heard about the Rite of Descension. It occurs once a year and is the time where Rex Lapis makes a physical appearance to the people of Liyue. The Archon would then give advice and predictions to the people which ends up helping many businesses all around.
It made Tartaglia wonder what kind of Archon Rex Lapis is. His Tsaritsa makes rare physical appearances as well, but not for such purposes. She only appears when it is necessary or if something piques her interest enough.
Rex Lapis sounds so different. The opinions of Rex Lapis are so different. Everyone in Liyue showers the god in praise and love. They look to him for guidance as if they are children running to their parents. It was fascinating, but Tartaglia knows he could never witness it. It was forbidden.
He was already pushing his luck by convincing his Tsaritsa to let him at least visit Liyue Harbor. In return, he tries to not come by too often. He doesn’t want to make it seem like he was running away to Liyue Harbor if anyone were to catch him. He’ll enjoy whatever time he can have, follow his rules, and slip away back to his isolated way of life.
Tartaglia lightly tugged at his sleeves, his outfit still standing out a bit despite it not being his style. It was similar to typical Liyue wear, but not quite. Regardless, he did his best to make it so any lingering Fatui wouldn’t recognize him. Even if he has permission to be here, Tartaglia swore his skin prickles at the idea of walking around with his identity exposed.
He didn’t want to have the eyes of the Fatui in Liyue on him, always watching. Always waiting to report any sign of disobedience.
He knows he must look a little strange with his cloak, the hood slightly falling over his face. But he remembers purchasing this to replace his old cloak. Due to that, this one’s style and design help make him look a bit more natural.
It was the best he was going to get.
“Ah… I have forgotten once more…”
Tartaglia paused in his steps, curiosity rising as he turned his gaze toward the source. He isn’t sure why he stopped. Perhaps it was the person’s unique voice or maybe it was the pure dejection in the other’s tone.
He crept closer, eventually catching sight of a bright yellow glow. Tartaglia managed to gain a better view, recognizing the glow to be a Geo Vision. It hung on the person’s waist and was located on their lower back. He continued forward once more, finally managing a full view of the individual. The man in front of the stall was tall with a rather wealthy appearance. He could not see the man’s face from here, but Tartaglia could notice the long strands of hair that hung over the man’s back. The tips of his hair were like a light shade of auburn.
“Sir, I’m afraid I can not accept your purchase unless you have the Mora upfront.”
“Of course.” The man closed his pouch, storing it away within his coat as he offered a slight bow. “My apologies. I’ll be sure to return with the required payment.”
Tartaglia blinked, wondering why such a man didn’t have Mora on his person. Taking some pity on the other, Tartaglia found himself strolling forth. As he got closer, a carefree smile formed on his face. It was as easy as wearing a mask.
“It sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble. Mind if I help out?”
The lady at the food stall and the tall man turned their attention toward the newcomer. It was then that Tartaglia got a better view of the man’s face. He internally stilled when he caught sight of those eyes. They were even more brilliant than Cor Lapis.
Without a hitch in his movements, Tartaglia let “Childe” take control of the situation. He placed a hand on the table, casually leaning his weight. With his other hand, Tartaglia easily fetched the Mora he brought from his abode. He was lucky that he still had plenty left over from his last visit to the bank. This would be very hard to explain if he needed to suddenly withdraw Mora.
Ignoring the fact that he may be pushing his rules, Tartaglia spoke up with a smooth voice. “So, what’s the price? Lay it on me.”
Next to Tartaglia, the tall man had been observing in stunned silence. He never expected some stranger to come along and pay for him. From where he stood, he could barely spot those orange strands of hair and blue eyes from under that hood. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself. It is an error on my part. Besides, this is a rather… common occurrence.”
Tartaglia simply shrugged, straightening himself as he heard the woman share the price. He counted the Mora he needed as he answered. “Even more reason to pay. It must suck to always have this happen when treating yourself, yeah? Just let me handle it. I gotcha covered.”
The other would have continued to protest only to accept it. He noticed the look in those blue eyes and knew that there was no point in trying to convince the young man to rethink. Within minutes, the two individuals found themselves making their merry way through Liyue Harbor’s streets. Carried in their grasps were neatly packed food to go. The aroma was mouth-watering and a part of Tartaglia wondered if he should return later and get some for himself.
“Thank you for your generosity.” Tartaglia glanced over at the tall man walking beside him. The other looked back, his ethereal eyes capturing Tartaglia’s attention once more. Surely that eye color can not be natural?
“It’s no problem,” Tartaglia responded. “Consider it my treat.”
The other hummed in appreciation before speaking up once more. “I realized that I have not introduced myself. I am Zhongli of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.”
“A funeral parlor, huh? Well, you’re probably the first one I know of with that job.”
Zhongli nodded, taking note of how the other hasn’t introduced himself. “I suppose it isn’t that common. However, may I know who you are?”
Tartaglia paused. The milliseconds seemed to last a century within his mind. He’s been living within this region for years and not once has he shared his name with others. He never needed to. In fact, when was the last time he introduced himself properly?
He thought about saying “Tartaglia”, but dismissed it swiftly. He couldn’t let someone say such a name in public when there are Fatui around. Neither could he risk saying “Childe” even though that’s the personality he’s using right now.
He knew the clock is ready to tick and he needs to respond now. If he’s too quick about it, it’s suspicious. If he’s too slow about it, it’ll leave doubt.
“Glia.” Tartaglia found himself answering with. He continued with a semi-diversion. “I hope you don’t go laughing about it though.”
Zhongli offered a gentle smile. “I didn’t plan to, but it is a pleasure to meet you, Glia. I am in your debt.”
Tartaglia raised a brow. “I just got you dinner. I don’t think that requires a debt. Especially not such a formal one.”
“I stand by what I said. I am in your debt and I will be capable of paying it should that moment arise.” Tartaglia had the urge to pause in his next step. However, he pushed aside the feeling and continued his pace. He isn’t quite sure why, but the way Zhongli spoke held an air of finality. It was as if, no matter what, this “debt” will be met when that day of payment arrives.
A part of him wondered just how serious Zhongli is about this so-called debt. He wondered what this man expected the payment to be. Was it something as minor as just paying back for the food or was the tall man expecting to complete a favor? Maybe a task? Like some sort of fetch quest?
Tartaglia doesn’t think too much about it. He doubts this man will remember him by the time of his next visit to the harbor. Instead, he simply laughs it off. He speaks up playfully. “I see that the locals of this place are truly serious about business. It’s no surprise considering their Archon. From the sounds of things, I feel like I accidentally walked into a contract!”
Zhongli’s expression took a more relaxed one, eyes shining with something humorous. Tartaglia ignores the feeling that he just missed some sort of inside joke.
Maybe he’s somehow wrong about that. Even if he does retain his lessons on socialization, it has been a long while since he truly needed to use it.
The first time Tartaglia knowingly disobeyed his Tsaritsa, he paid dearly for it. The scars he bears for his transgressions never completely healed. But that was nothing compared to the life he ended.
It was during one of his trips in Liyue, the autumn season settling in. He thought he was careful. He thought he was discreet enough. But, in the end, it all fell apart.
Tartaglia barely suppressed his flinch, the polished floor bitter and unforgiving. He remained kneeling in his spot, head lowered as the floor frosted over. He didn’t dare to move his hands which went numb from the cold. It was like gripping an icicle, the skin of his palms unwillingly gluing themselves to it. He wouldn’t be surprised if trying to lift his hands would cause his flesh to peel off.
Books fell in a careless heap before him, pages bending if one opened upon landing. Any paper covers folded in on themselves as well, the hardcovers gaining dents in their edges. The ink of any opened books seemed to blur, particles of ice clinging to the words and slowly melting into them.
The knowledge contained within those endless pages interested Tartaglia. He wanted to know more about the world, but he went too far. A Fatui had found him purchasing books and wrangled out the contents.
His Tsaritsa is far from pleased and he hates how small he feels under her gaze. Perhaps this is why she gifted him the name “Childe”.
He sure as hell felt like a child right now.
The Tsaritsa, his Tsaritsa, rose her foot as her heel dug into his shoulder blades. Tartaglia did his best to quiet himself, biting his tongue as he became numb to the world. He deserves this. He knowingly broke a rule. A very important rule.
Tartaglia didn’t dare beg for mercy, nor did he think of desiring forgiveness. It would only irritate her. She was not one for mercy. He is to recognize what he had done wrong and simply take the punishment for it. Even if that punishment may be his demise.
“Were my orders not clear, Childe? Did I not say to avoid such learning material? If there was something I required you to know, then I would make sure you know it.”
Tartaglia remained silent.
There was a moment of quiet before his Tsaritsa removed her shoe. Seconds later, it returned as it impacted his head. Tartaglia gave a muffled cry at the sudden gesture. He did his best to stay kneeling before her. He did his best to continue his display of submission and respect.
He did his best to ignore his bitterness and sorrow, focusing on the pulsing ache on his head.
“Your disobedience shall not go without punishment. However, you will not be killed for your defiance. Be grateful that I am sparing your life, Childe.” But, what if he isn’t grateful? Perhaps he’d rather die than continue this existence. An existence where he is designed only to hurt and be hurt. “Do not take this lightly. Shall there be a “next time”, you are to relinquish your life. Understood?”
He spoke not.
His Tsaritsa took his silence as acceptance, the air a tad less frigid than usual as she left. The Fatui guards on stand by, who remained silent during the entire exchange, dragged Tartaglia out of the room.
By the time his flesh was marred with blood and carved with marks, he had no voice to use.
When he was returned to his abode in Liyue, he refused to enter Liyue Harbor. He quietly checked if the books he managed to sneak home from previous outings were still in their hiding places. He was minorly pleased when he found that they were still there.
For the rest of the month, he had not seen that messenger bird he was used to seeing. A part of him wondered if this was part of his punishment. It certainly did make him feel a little too alone than usual, but it was also relieving.
And then, on the final day of that month, he received a letter. He read it, checking to make sure he didn’t accidentally toss something important away. What a shame it would be if he ignored his Tsaritsa’s orders because he was under the impression that it’d be the usual check up on his well-being.
The letter did possess different contents. It was also written by his Tsaritsa herself.
That night, Tartaglia learned that his sister had “suddenly” dropped dead. There were no condolences to mock him. His Tsaritsa would not bother with such a thing.
There were just her threatening words that promised cruelty and mercilessness. His future has never felt colder.
For a while, Liyue didn’t seem as bright and colorful as it once did. Tartaglia kept his fireplace running, his windows sealed shut. He only ever allowed sunlight and moonlight through those glass panes. Despite that, Tartaglia still found himself shivering as a phantom blizzard assaulted him.
He never knew Liyue could feel so cold. Then again, maybe that was just his imagination once more.
It was always his imagination. Always, always, always. He was simply overreacting to the slightest of temperature drops. He was simply being too aware as his scars pulsed and stung.
He was simply awake a bit too late at night when he thought his Tsaritsa’s nails were trailing the veins in his neck, ready to pierce through his jugular.
It took him a while to go back to Liyue Harbor, even after he was gifted permission to visit. It took even longer for him to stop wandering the place with paranoia. Or, at least, more “healthy” levels of paranoia.
“Well, I better get going.”
Zhongli’s gaze wandered toward the sky in thought. “I suppose it is getting late.” He gives Tartaglia a small smile. “May I escort you home?”
Tartaglia chuckled. “Quite a gentleman you are, but I’ll have to refuse your generous offer. I’d hate to pull a local out of their beloved city.”
“Oh? Your home is not in Liyue Harbor?” Zhongli pondered. “I suppose that is why I haven’t met you until now.”
Tartaglia gave a smile and a shrug as he responded. “Maybe. I don’t come here all that often. Maybe about once or twice a month. It’s nice here and all, but living away from the world can do wonders.”
“I see.” Zhongli paused in his steps, Tartaglia coming to a stop as well. “Well then, I wouldn’t mind leaving for a bit. Especially if you live outside the city walls. The roads are typically clear of monsters to some extent, but it is better to be safe than sorry.”
Tartaglia raised a brow. “I don’t know about you, but I can handle some monsters. Besides, nothing about you says “fighter” from what I can tell. You’re a bit too dressed up for that.” He rested his arms behind his head, his steps beginning to carry him to Liyue Harbor’s entrance. “And, unlike some lovely ladies, I doubt the monsters will drop dead at the sight of you.”
Zhongli’s smile grew, a breathy chuckle escaping past his lips. “I suppose not, but you’d be surprised.”
Something in Tartaglia’s instincts said that he should take the other man’s words with a bit more seriousness. Instead, he continued to wear a playful grin. “I sure hope that’s not the reason why your funeral parlor is still in business.”
Zhongli raised a brow, his eyes glinting with mirth. “Perish the thought.”
By the time they reached the main entrance into Liyue Harbor, it felt all too soon. Their shadows stretched before them, the orange hues of the city warming their backs from afar. The light could only stretch so far, the darkness of the night consuming the very edges of the dwindling brightness. The sky was dark, lit by a blanket of stars and a luminous moon.
The warmth faded a little, the warm atmosphere slowly being left behind. It wasn’t necessarily a cold or cool night, but there was certainly a difference within the wild where nature roams.
“Are you sure you will be alright?” Zhongli questioned once more.
Tartaglia waved a hand in dismissal, expression calm. It offered Zhongli some reassurance to see the other’s confidence. “I told you that I’ll be fine. Fighting monsters is the least of my worries. It’s probably the thing I’m best at.”
“If you say so. I wish you a good night, Glia.”
For a split second, Tartaglia forgot about the name. He was swift to recover from the realization. It was impossible to tell that he was caught off guard in the first place. “Same to you, Zhongli.”
To say another person’s name on friendly terms… It felt foreign on his tongue.
Zhongli’s steps tapped against the stone path, the warm glow of Liyue Harbor greeting him upon his return. Tartaglia’s steps seemed louder than they should be, the shadows and moonlight welcoming him like an old friend.
The two men parted ways that night like any other farewell. Their paths crossed and Tartaglia left with the confidence that they’d never met again.
Friendship is a foreign concept to Tartaglia. It didn’t help that he seemed to be different compared to the rest. Additionally, the locals within Snezhnaya knew how to be just as cold as the weather that plagued them.
Tartaglia was very young when he ignited the first sparks of fear in the eyes of others. It was like flint and steel. Luminous and molten sparks sprinkle and dance like sparklers, but fail to bring a flame to life.
He was a child with frighteningly natural combat skills and hair that stood out amongst the white of snow. His eyes were not like ice, but would later be capable of causing a similar effect. Perhaps it was his eyes in the midst of combat that kept people away. He isn’t quite sure, but he certainly knows nowadays how to make himself approachable.
Even before he gained his Hydro Vision, his eyes were like the open sea. They were capable of reflecting his flexibility, calmness, and gentleness. His eyes were like the waves that could lovingly rock one to a peaceful slumber. A sense of peace.
Yet, he could make them turn twisted like an ocean storm. The waves could become deafening as they ensnare the unfortunate and drag them under. He could make his nature suffocating, he can make others drown without actual water.
Regardless, it never changed when he was brought into the Fatui. He would be surprised if it did. The closest thing to friendship was simple companionship. Relationships were no more than simple business relations. Fight together and work together. That is all.
Even if there were any friendships between Fatui members, then Tartaglia could never hope to experience it. His Tsaritsa would disapprove and his reputation as Childe steered others far away.
It was for the best. He wouldn’t trust Childe either. After all, Childe is the eleventh of the Eleven Harbingers. He may be the youngest, but that makes him no less dangerous. Whether it’s on the battlefield or holding a mere conversation, one shouldn’t drop their guard.
Childe embraces the way he is. Tartaglia despises the way he is.
A light blue hue shone brightly against the wood flooring, the tint of a flame passing by from a light Tartaglia had lit. He traversed his darkened home as he prepared for bed. He grabbed a random book from his fiction collection, carefully placing the candle on his nightstand.
With a drowsy pull around his eyes, he let his body slump onto the comforting mattress. He rolled a bit, gathering the covers and blanket as he did so. Once he finally made himself comfortable, he checked the title of the book he had grabbed.
“The Boar Princess, huh?” He didn’t have any complaints. Reading was reading and he was too tired to care.
Tartaglia fell asleep that night, his mind plagued by eyes that Cor Lapis couldn’t hope to compete with. He could remember vividly how they seemed to glow like bioluminescence. It was like something you’d hear within a fairy tale.
Maybe he was just thinking about it too much. Perhaps such eyes were a natural possibility. It’s not like he meets the eyes of that many people anyway, so what did he know?
Tartaglia didn’t want to disappoint himself with the hope to meet Zhongli again. That was alright. He was used to such feelings and he’s lived for this long all alone.
Tartaglia was fine with it if no one, not even his Tsaritsa, ever knocked upon the door of this his? home.
It was fine. He was fine.