Chapter Text
It all fails.
His Tsaritsa’s plans crumble in her own hands and he watches as she cries in anguish. He watches, bloodstained and injured and aching for her, as she screams and cries and asks why this is happening when all she did was love Teyvat to its very core . Her plans all crumble and he is the only Harbinger left (one of the only ones, he does not know what has happened to the others) and so he pushes himself up on shaking feet and reaches out to her.
He grabs those ideals that he had fought for, pulls her close and is uncaring of the bitter cold that seeps straight to his bones. The Tsaritsa does not cling to him, she does not embrace him with her love like she did before. She cries and cries and cries, the world crumbling around them, until silence falls.
The Tsaritsa falls limp in his arms.
His heart drops.
He can hear the footsteps behind him, can feel the charge of elemental energy. Desperately, frantically, he twists his body, hydro blade at the ready, but it is just the Traveler--it is just Lumine. In her hands are the gnosii, the items so, so crucial to his Tsaritsa’s plan.
(The Abyss laughs at him, haunts him)
“Childe,” Lumine says. Her voice echoes loudly in the chamber, and he hates it, he hates hearing it so much right now when before they were such good friends. There had been no bad blood, regardless of what he had done, but now he doesn’t want to see Lumine. He does not want to see her face, he does not want to hear her voice, but most of all he does not wish to see what she holds in her palms.
“You can’t,” Childe rasps out.
Lumine’s mouth purses into a thin line, “I have to. To stop my brother.”
The Tsaritsa still doesn’t move. She stays still in Childe’s arms, still breathing, still thrumming with power, but he is afraid. He is afraid that if Lumine takes her gnosis it is all over. There will be no more Tsaritsa. There will be no more Snezhnaya.
There will be no more Tartaglia.
“Childe,” Lumine says again, more desperate.
“I--okay, okay,” he says. “Okay. But let me do it.”
Lumine doesn’t say anything else. She only nods and doesn’t move. It’s the least she can do for him in this situation, Childe realizes, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. Carefully, he moves the Tsaritsa so that he can see her front. Her eyes are glassy, the briefest hint of light behind them (and so much grief that Childe aches for her). His hand is shaky as he presses it against her chest and slowly pushes in. His fingers sink into her flesh, through where her breast bone would be, and he thinks about how he has almost done this to so many other archons but it is only his own that he finally gets to take out a gnosis.
It makes him sick. His stomach churns as he wraps around the chill of his Tsaritsa’s gnosis. He wants to vomit as he pulls his hand out, pain and fear all bundled into one. With one sharp tug, the Tsaritsa gasps (and he’s so scared, so scared it’s her last breath), and in his palm is her gnosis.
“You better win, Lumine.” Childe hands her the Tsaritsa’s gnosis. “You better win or I will hunt you down, and I will kill you, our friendship be damned.”
“...I will.” There’s determination in Lumine’s eyes. “For the friends I have made here. For the Archons...for your Tsaritsa’s dream.”
It is all she can promise him. It is enough.
As Lumine walks away, off towards her final battle, it leaves Childe alone in the throne room of Zapolyarny Palace with the Tsaritsa in his arms. There is so much he has to do, so much he has to tell the other Fatui, the people of Snezhnaya.
But there is no leadership.
Nothing.
He jumps as he feels a cold hand on his cheek.
“Tartaglia…?” The Tsaritsa’s voice is weak. “Will my gnosis...help bring peace to Teyvat?”
Childe doesn’t want to lie to his Tsaritsa. He does not want to lie to the God who had given him purpose, who had pushed him to do his best and had not judged him for the violence he purposely sought. But he does, to give her that last glimmer of hope, “It will, my Lady. It will save the Teyvat that you love.”
The Tsaritsa smiles at him, so beautiful, so fragile. It is different from the cold and proud image she had cut. It is different from the stoic, imposing figure he remembers. It brings her closer to what she is, makes her more mortal. Slowly, she brings her hand down. Slowly, she closes her eyes.
Childe wishes her a good sleep, still holding her in his arms even as the doors to the throne slam open and La Signora comes limping in with the Tsaritsa’s name spilling off of her lips.
*****
Lumine wins.
She wins and she cries and she mourns.
Lumine wins and the Archons regain their gnosii, but Teyvat can already live on without them. They are content to fade into the background, content to watch. Childe, Signora, and, ironically enough, Dottore, are the only Harbingers remaining. They stay in Zapolyarny, barely getting along and yet somehow still working together enough to keep Snezhnaya together.
It has always been the Tsaritsa who ruled.
It has always been her as the Queen.
But she is not well. She sits on her throne, alive but staring through glassy eyes, unblinking and unflinching.
“Perhaps once Miss Lumine returns with our Tsaritsa’s gnosis, all will be well,” Dottore muses. He has lost some of his enthusiasm, his theatrics. They have all mellowed out, in a ways, thanks to the stress from the war, from the anxiety of waiting.
Signora goes through some more reports on the state of Snezhnaya’s current economy, “We can only hope.”
Childe isn’t very good with this paperwork stuff, so he tries to excuse himself to go on patrol around the capitol. Signora clicks her tongue in warning and he sits back down. This is how his days go until Lumine finally comes to Snezhnaya. She looks as tired as they do, her hair a little longer, her eyes battle weary. Around her neck is her brother’s scarf, and in her hands is their Tsaritsa’s gnosis.
“It took you long enough, comrade...Lumine,” Childe says.
The smile Lumine gives him is tiny, thin, but genuine. “I’m sorry,” she says. “But I won. Just like you asked.”
Signora is the one who approaches Lumine to take the Tsaritsa’s gnosis. Signora is the one who approaches her figure on the throne, slowly, reverently, pressing the gnosis back into her body. The three Harbingers left in the room hold their breath, to see if their Tsaritsa will blink or twitch.
Nothing.
She continues to sit there peacefully. Her breath is even, slow, and she continues to stare out with glassy eyes. The only change is the sudden pulse of power, the sudden chill, that settles into the room.
“Impossible, that should have worked,” Dottore mumbles and he sweeps out of the room, anger and confusion in each of his steps. Signora is slumped in front of the Tsaritsa, defeated, and Childe...Childe walks past Lumine and beckons her to follow. He leads her through the palace to the library, walking towards a section he has visited time and again between each of his missions.
The first thing he grabs is a book on Sumeru, and he points Lumine to another shelf. She doesn’t say anything about it. She just looks and pulls off a book she think will help. They spend the rest of the night like this poring over books until the Snezhnayan sun rises and the servants are bustling about.
“So will you go?” Lumine asks.
“I will,” he answers.
*****
Signora and Dottore keep their titles as Harbingers.
Childe does not.
He sheds the title, the responsibilities, but he is given permission by Signora to leave. A missive has already been sent to the Dendro Archon, and in return he sends a letter back requesting that he bring the Tsaritsa with him. Signora protests at first, but she relents.
The Tsaritsa is dressed in plain clothes, her hair tied back, and Childe takes a carriage from the palace to Sumeru.
He is the only one guarding it.
He has to be the only one.
The trip to Sumeru is long, uneventful, with Hilichurl attacks being few and Treasure Hoarders even fewer. When he arrives in Sumeru the Dendro Archon is already there, arms crossed and eyes earnest.
“Welcome, Harbinger,” the Dendro Archon bows but Childe waves him off.
“No longer a Harbinger, just Childe,” he says. “You’re looking better than before.”
“My time without a gnosis has given me much to think about,” the Dendro Archon leads them to the palace in the middle of the city. “It has shown me how foolish I had been to let people pursue wisdom so eagerly.”
“There is nothing wrong with that. How else will they learn?”
Childe, briefly, remembers Zhongli. He remembers the stories Zhongli told of Guizhong, of how she loved mortals and their ingenuity, of how eager they were to explore and challenge the unknown. The Dendro Archon pulls Childe out of his thoughts with a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Yes...but I had worried too much about what role I was filling. I remember the cold gaze of the Tsaritsa, the pain she had felt when my predecessor had died. So concerned was I with being a good Archon I failed to see how something so uncontrolled could also be...bad.”
The Dendro Archon goes quiet.
“It is a shame that it is something I learned when I am barely needed.”
Childe does not know what to say. The Dendro Archon is the youngest, the one with the least experience. He has not had the time for trial and error as the others have had, for five hundred years is too short in the eyes of gods. “...some things are better left unknown, right?” Childe supplies.
“Yes...but for the Tsaritsa, for helping me to understand, I will do everything in my power to help her. I also owe Miss Lumine a favor as well, and I know how close you two are.”
Ah, Lumine, even when not here she still tries to help. Childe can only be thankful for her.
When they make it back to the palace, the Dendro Archon helps Childe take the Tsaritsa out of the carriage. They are given their own private rooms, Childe’s connecting to hers, and the Dendro Archon offers all the help he can. Every bit of knowledge, of magic spells and recipes for potions, that they can gather from the Library of Sumeru, they try and collect to figure out what it is that is wrong with the Tsaritsa. The Dendro Archon even tries to use the power of his gnosis to try and thread together any potential gaps in her power.
It does nothing.
It does nothing .
This cycle repeats itself over and over, Childe stuck in Sumeru with the Tsaritsa for year after year clutching onto every single bit of hope they can find, until the Dendro Archon finally apologizes to Childe.
“It is beyond what we know,” the Dendro Archon says. “An Archon would usually die first. There are no records about this, and it’s something beyond a damaged gnosis.”
“Thanks for trying,” Childe tells him anyways.
His heart is not in the words.
*****
Another year passes, Childe returns to Snezhnaya.
He’s been keeping up with Signora and Dottore through letters. His failure in Sumeru is met with tiredness from Signora, disdain from Dottore. Not that Dottore has fared any better, Childe thinks. He can already imagine the heaps and heaps of corpses that needed to be buried from the Dottore’s experiments sitting in the basement.
Not that Signora will stop the mad scientist. She wants their Archon back as much as they do, and she figures sacrifices must be made. While they do the research, the leg work, Signora keeps Snezhnaya together.
Childe thinks that she will probably become the next ruler of Snezhnaya in this archonless age.
“We tried everything,” Childe says, running a hand through shaggy hair. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s had it cut.
Signora, her eyes already showing the faint line of wrinkles, frowns.
“Mondstadt...perhaps,” she mutters. “Barbatos had stopped by hoping to visit, and when we mentioned that you were in Sumeru with our Lady he had suggested that you try the Alchemist in Mondstadt.”
“Wow, Barbatos actually willingly visited you after you kicked him and stole his gnosis,” Childe drawls but there’s no bite to it. Likewise, the glare Signora gives him is less harsh and more exhausted.
“He understands this is a different time, Tartaglia. It is a different era. For the world the Tsaritsa wanted, I will play nice with him.”
But Barbatos’ advice is sound, and Childe pens a letter to the Knights of Favonius requesting a meeting with the famed Kreidprinz of Mondstadt. He receives a reply almost a week later. It is in the elegant, looping handwriting of Grandmaster Jean, giving him permission to come but to know that his presence may not be all that welcomed. Childe figures--the wounds the Fatui left are too far, too deep, especially in Mondstadt.
At the bottom of the letter is a request from Albedo himself, saying that he wishes to see the Tsaritsa firsthand.
Childe figures.
Dottore tries to wiggle his way into this trip, his past actions in Mondstadt be damned. He wants to see how Albedo works, what he will do, but Signora stops him and Childe leaves once more.
“How long?” she asks.
Childe shrugs, closing the carriage door. Inside, the Tsaritsa still sits, still breathes, a porcelain doll with a barely beating heart.
“Don’t know,” he answers.
And he’s honest.
*****
When Childe arrives in Mondstadt, walking alongside the carriage with the horse’s reigns in hand, he’s not surprised to see Lumine. She still keeps her hair short, she still has her flower accessories in her hair, and no longer does she look as tired as when she had returned with the Tsaritsa’s gnosis all those years ago. Her brother’s scarf is still wrapped around her neck, tied with a little bow in the back.
Floating gently by her side is Paimon.
“I thought you would have gone to another world by now.” Childe stops next to Lumine, staring out across Cider Lake with her.
“Paimon and Lumine still have stuff to do!” Paimon answers, tiny hands on her hips. “We’re not leaving just yet!”
“And who says you’re going with me?” Lumine asks. Paimon gasps, floating frantic circles around Lumine.
“But, but, you’ll be alone and Paimon made a promise!”
Lumine shakes her head, but there is fondness in her eyes. Childe is glad that after all these years, after losing her family, there is still a light in her eyes. “So what are you doing here?” Lumine asks. She stares at the carriage behind him, wondering who it is inside.
“Here to see the Head Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius,” Childe says. “For the Tsaritsa.”
Lumine doesn’t pry. Instead, she offers to accompany Childe so that he won’t get too many looks.
“And what about your family?” Lumine’s question hangs heavy in the air. The only contact he’s had with them is letters and more letters. About what he’s doing, his job. To Teucer, he is still a toy seller, to Tonia and Anthon, he is still of the Fatui. To his older siblings, to his parents, he is a traveling mercenary now, going to where the money takes him. They know nothing about his mad quest to restore the Tsaritsa.
Childe hums, “They’re fine. I need to visit them.”
“But you haven’t.”
“I haven’t.”
“They won’t be there forever.”
Lumine’s words hurt, but it’s the truth. They will not be there forever. They will grow old, they will die, or other things may happen. They are not gods, they are not immortal, and Childe himself is already showing signs of age. But the Tsaritsa has always been first for him, ever since he had been deposited with the Fatui at the age of fourteen, ever since she saw something in him that no one else saw.
They make it to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, making small talk here and there. It is comfortable, companionable. It is a break that Childe didn’t know he needed until he finally has it. Lumine tells him to wait outside and goes in, exiting a few minutes later with Jean and Albedo trailing behind her.
Albedo strides past Childe with purposeful movements, opening the door to the carriage. Childe snarls, but Lumine stops him.
“I apologize for our Head Alchemist,” Jean says in Lumine’s place. “He has been interested in this case ever since your letter came. He most likely wants to observe her immediately.”
There’s mumbling from inside the carriage and then Albedo exits.
“It’s quite fascinating,” he mumbles. “She is alive, her power is there, but she is not reacting to any outside stimulus at all…”
Albedo looks at Childe with bright eyes.
“You will help me, correct? Good, help me carry your Tsaritsa to my lab there are some tests I wish to conduct--”
Childe is suddenly glad Dottore didn’t come along.
*****
Albedo’s tests are rigorous and thorough.
There are times where Childe almost cuts the man’s hand off, but for the Tsartisa he refrains himself. Any test of Albedo’s that might get too invasive, his assistant Sucrose talks him right out of it. Potion after potion is made, and item after item is transmuted. Childe settles himself in for the long haul, and it is a year into his stay at Mondstadt that he is asked to accompany Lumine to Dragonspine for a special flower that grows there.
Lumine has her base of operations in Mondstadt, and Albedo had caught her on one of the few times she is in.
Dragonspine is as cold as always.
But never as cold as Snezhnaya.
The flowers that Albedo seeks are deep in the caves of Dragonspine. They fight past frost hilichurls and lawachurls, trying to keep warm the deeper they go. Warming seelies help, and the beacons throughout do, too, but the chill has already set into Lumine by the time they find what they’re looking for.
Behind a Ruin Grader.
The fight is long, tough, Lumine’s reflexes slowed because of the cold. She can barely dodge attacks, the elements at her command coming out almost sluggishly. Childe is covering for her, attacking the Ruin Grader where it is weak to stumble it long enough for Lumine to recover. He wonders how long it has been since she has been in Dragonspine for the cold to affect her so.
It is when the Ruin Grader is almost dead that it happens. A final flail of its arm, slamming down hard towards Lumine. She’s panting, struggling to move, and Childe is quick on his feet. He shoves her out of the way last minute, his harsh scream echoing in the cave as he feels and hears the crunch of his leg.
“Childe!?” Lumine calls out, rushing over to try and pull him out. Paimon is panicking as well, and it is with monumental effort that they get the fist off of his leg. Red stains his pant leg and the snow around it, and he’s pretty sure that it’s completely crushed. “Hold on, I’ll help you!” Lumine is panicking, Dendro energy easily coming to the tips of her fingers as she tries to heal him. It only does so much, the muscles and bones in his leg too ruined.
“Just...just get the flower and teleport us back to Mondstadt,” Childe gets out through grit teeth. Lumine nods, doing everything he asked with shaking hands.
She’s scared.
She’s so scared.
Childe wonders if she is reliving what she felt when facing her brother in the abyss. “Lumine,” he calls out, “Lumine, look at me.”
She does with watery eyes.
“It’s okay, I’m fine, I won’t die. Get us back to Mondstadt and I’m sure that the Head Alchemist has something that can help.”
Lumine wipes at her eyes and nods. She takes them back to Mondstadt via teleporter, dragging his limping body to the Knights of Favonius headquarters. People stare at Childe, being dragged along with one lame leg and blood trailing behind him, but they don’t say anything. Albedo doesn’t even bat an eyelash when they stumble into his lab.
“I see, how unfortunate,” he says, but he offers Childe a vial. “It will hurt, but you won’t need to remove your leg.”
Childe barks out a raspy laugh, “Joy. What simple mercies.”
He bites through his lip to stifle his scream after he takes the potion, his leg forcibly knitting itself together and his bones trying to fuse back into the proper place faster than it should. In the end, his leg heals a little wrong and he has a limp, and Albedo clicks his tongue.
“Needs more work…” he hears Albedo mutter.
Childe doesn’t comment on the fact Albedo used him as a guinea pig. He’s just happy he’s healed and can walk, even if it’s not perfectly. He’ll just have to adjust how he fights and everything will be fine.
Lumine hands Albedo the flower, and the alchemist gets to work.
A half year passes, and nothing changes.
“It irks me but...I don’t think I can do anything else,” Albedo admits.
Childe sighs.
“It’s fine.”
*****
“How old are you again?” Signora asks when Childe returns from Mondstadt.
He blinks, confused.
“Why do you need to know?” he asks.
Signora is frowning at some paperwork on her desk, flipping through page after page after page. “Some new law that the council wants to pass that only allows people to join the Fatui at a certain age,” she says. “A lot of people are for it, and it is sound judgment. Less of the future generation dying during our training.”
“Where was that when I was enlisted?” he asks.
Signora shrugs. He takes a seat across from her, tired and weary. He thinks about how many years has passed since the Tsaritsa failed, since she’s been in this comatose like state. He thinks about how much time he has spent in Sumeru, in Mondstadt, and how they have found nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
“I don’t know...maybe almost thirty,” he admits. “I’ve not been keeping up.”
“Hmph, no surprise...how did you get that limp?”
Of course she would notice.
“Dragonspine.”
Signora doesn’t say anything else on that matter. She waits for him to start telling her about the time in Mondstadt, about how not even Albedo could find anything. She sets her papers, her pen, down and pinches at the bridge of her nose.
“We’re running into walls, Tartaglia,” she whispers. “Even Dottore seems close to giving up. Shouldn’t you?”
Childe shakes his head.
“Not when there might be a chance out there. I want her to see this new Teyvat.”
Signora mutters what might sound like the word “foolish” under her breath. It is foolish, Childe will admit that, but he has hope. He will always have hope. The Tsaritsa did not die when her gnosis was taken from her, and she did not die while waiting for it to be brought back. There is still hope, and Childe will find a way to bring her back.
“Have you tried Fontaine or Liyue yet?” Signora picks her pen up again. “What about Inazuma or Natlan?”
The mention of Liyue makes Childe pause. These past years, he has been so caught up with the Tsaritsa that he has not thought much of Zhongli. He has not even bothered to send letters, and, truly, what does that make him? When he had left from Liyue the first time, that had been that. Zhongli hadn’t even sent him any letters in return.
“...I’ll try Natlan first,” he says.
Signora just raises an eyebrow.
*****
Natlan doesn’t work. Murata shakes her head and apologizes, tells him these kinds of things are beyond her expertise.
“What about Morax?” she offers.
Childe goes to Fontaine next. The Hydro Archon tries his best, lets Childe stay for as long as he thinks he needs to, but it is the same result.
“Morax should know, he is the oldest of us all,” the Hydro Archon says.
Childe goes to Inazuma.
Inazuma, where Baal looks at him with harsh eyes and turns him away.
“What you seek is not here,” she tells him. “Go.”
It only leaves Liyue.
Childe swallows his pride and goes.
*****
He does not know how to confront Zhongli, nor how to go about letting him know of the situation. He does not send a letter like he did with the others (sans Barbatos--Venti--who goes where the wind takes him). He does not announce his presence loudly nor does he try to find the other man. He just lets Signora and Dottore know he is heading to Liyue and that is that.
He, of course, takes the Tsaritsa with him.
He follows the well traveled path from Snezhnaya to Liyue. He points out the sights that he remembers of the Dihua Marsh, follows the path to Wangshu where he plucks a silk flower and gets inside the carriage to place it in his Tsaritsa’s hair.
It looks beautiful, but her eyes still remain glassy.
“If anyone will know,” Childe whispers, “it’s xiansheng, y’know?”
The old title he used to call Zhongli rolls awkwardly off of his tongue. He hasn’t said that word in...years. Too much time, too many events. He’s older now, laugh lines on his face and a limp to his step, his hair a little longer and tied back in a small ponytail. He’s grown a little bit taller, has filled out with muscle and is no longer the scrawny young adult he once was. There’s even stubble on his face, a few extra scars, and, archons above, will Zhongli even recognize him?
But he keeps on traveling to Liyue, carriage and all, past Wangshu Inn, through Guili Plains, and past the ruins.
It’s the ruins that he’s stopped at, Treasure Hoarders circling around him.
“Looks like we got a rich one, a cocky one,” their leader says. “One guard? Must be pretty confident.”
Childe doesn’t bother to taunt them. The years have worn him down, his bravado replaced by a quiet calm that hides the bloodlust simmering underneath. He’s in a foul mood and they’re the perfect targets to vent his frustrations of these past years. He’s learned to adjust for the limp in his leg, he hasn’t exactly been resting on his laurels either.
Plus, they’re endangering the Tsaritsa.
They don’t even get a chance to blink. In a flurry of hydro blades and energy, screams echo across the plains. Blood splatters on the ground, limbs hit the dirt, and in the middle of the chaos is Childe. Childe who fights like a man possessed, who fends off these Treasure Hoarders and shows them no mercy.
When he is done, he is breathing heavily and the carriage is untouched.
“I must admit, when I had heard the screams it was not you I expected to find,” a familiar voice says. Childe jumps, turning to find Zhongli walking towards him. He hasn’t changed a day, Childe notices. He still has the same amber eyes, the same long hair tied neatly, the same pressed suit--it’s as if Childe is thrown back into the past when he had first ran into Zhongli.
“Xiangsheng...no, Zhongli,” Childe corrects himself.
Zhongli’s mouth quirks into the slightest frown but he says nothing. He just approaches the carriage and touches the door.
“May I?” he asks. “I can sense her power, but she is not one to come out here willingly.”
Childe swallows and simply nods his head.
Zhongli opens the door.
“...it is best we get her inside the harbor,” Zhongli says. “I have heard from Venti, but I did not know it was this bad.”
“I tried everything I could. Everything.”
Zhongli says nothing, but his eyes say it all. Childe wonders, he wonders and wonders and wonders, what did he miss for the usually taciturn Zhongli to suddenly become so expressive? What events happened between the end of the battle Lumine fought for Teyvat and now? What did Childe miss? That he could have experienced if he had not been desperately searching for a cure for the Tsaritsa?
Childe doesn’t even move when Zhongli places a hand on his cheek.
“You can tell me everything when we are home,” Zhongli says. “You no longer have to carry this burden alone, Childe.”
Childe doesn’t even comment on how Zhongli uses the word home, how he talks about this burden as if it is theirs to share. There have been so many years without contact and now it is as if nothing has changed. The only difference now is that Childe is older, stands just a bit above Zhongli and is broader, has a bit more wrinkles in the face and his chin and cheeks dotted with stubble.
“...yeah, I will,” Childe says instead. “I will. Thank you, Zhongli.”
If Zhongli notices Childe’s limp, he doesn’t say anything. He just rides the carriage alongside Childe as it makes its way into the harbor, telling his usual tales and informing Childe of the progress Liyue has made since he’s stepped down as their Archon.
It’s as if nothing has changed, and Childe does not know how to feel about it.