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I.
Pulcinella and Pantalone
The Novelty of Falling in Love
“Pantalone,” Pulcinella greets and sighs as he takes one of the free seats around the dining table.
It is a rare thing for the Harbingers to seek each other’s company, and the dining room in the Harbingers’ wing of Zapolyarny palace was often empty. Still, Pantalone’s presence in the dining room is something Pulcinella can be grateful for today.
It’ll save him the time to look for the other Harbinger later.
“Have you seen Tartaglia and Arlecchino lately?” Pulcinella asks as he tears into his meal.
Pantalone, who has not acknowledged his presence and greeting, suddenly stills, his hand frozen on the glass of water he was reaching for. “Why?” The geo vision wielder asks with a suspicious look on his face.
“Surely, you’ve heard the rumors,” Pulcinella scoffs. “Ridiculous though they may be.”
Pantalone takes a sip of his water. “I don’t concern myself with rumors unless they are necessary for my job. I wasn’t aware such unimportant things can interest you so much.”
Pulcinella lets the very obvious jab at him go, preferring to think his next words through as he pushes at his meal. Before he can continue, the doors to the dining room burst open with a slam, and he hears the loud laugh of the youngest Harbinger.
Childe’s laughter stops at the sight of the two older Harbingers on the table, and his eyes widen in surprise. Behind him, Kaeya yawns and rubs the sleep from his eye. The Twelfth Harbinger almost crashes into the Eleventh, who has stopped completely.
“Childe, good morning,” Pulcinella greets his prized student.
“Sir!” Childe salutes before he seems to realize something with a sheepish look. “Oh, I’m not supposed to do that anymore. Well, good morning!”
Childe then laughs as Kaeya starts tugging at his sleeves to pull him towards the sideboard where an array of food has been displayed. In their casual clothes, the two truly looks too young, and Pulcinella is reminded of the scrawny Ajax who had stared at him with blood on his hands years ago in Morepesok.
The Eleventh Harbinger hovers nervously around his partner as Kaeya takes enough food for the both of them. Pulcinella sees a short whispered conversation between the two before Childe laughs and heads toward them.
“You just returned, didn’t you?” Pulcinella says when Childe takes the seat next to him, and he ruffles his hair. Even he doesn’t know when Childe turned from a useful asset to something more akin to a younger brother for him. He doesn’t like to acknowledge it. Attachments can so easily turn into weaknesses, after all.
It is why he doesn’t want to acknowledge the worry that he now feels for his wild child who seems to have gotten attached to his conniving partner.
“Last night,” Childe nods, and his next words are cut off by his own yawn. “It was fun! Everything went exactly like Kaeya said it would.”
“I see,” Pulcinella says. “Good job.”
Childe seems pleased by the praise, grinning at him though Pulcinella can see the tired slump in his shoulders. Before he can say anything else, Childe turns towards the doors, where the Twelfth Harbinger waits with a plate piled high with food.
“Oh, Kaeya’s done,” Childe says as he shoots to his feet. “It was nice seeing you again, Pulcinella. I’m going back with Kaeya to his room.”
Pulcinella frowns. “Don’t you have a room of your own?”
Childe pauses on his way back to the other teenager. There is a frown of confusion on his face as he tilts his head. “I always sleep with Kaeya after missions though?” Pulcinella stares in surprise, and when Childe decides that he isn’t going to say anything else, he follows after Kaeya out the door.
“Well, isn’t that interesting?” Pantalone speaks once the doors have closed. His lips are pressed in a displeased line, and Pulcinella wonders about their financial minister’s thoughts at that moment. After all, while it was Pulcinella who trained and took care of Tartaglia, Pantalone had done the same for Arlecchino, though at a much shorter amount of time. “To be young and to be in love--how novel in our line of work.”
“So you do know the rumors?”
“Please,” Pantalone scoffs, and his utensils clink on the plate as he places them on it. “I do not need any rumors to see something so obvious. Didn’t they just say they were sleeping together?”
“If that Arlecchino harms Tartaglia in any way--”
“Do not place that blame on me, Pulcinella. Kaeya’s schemes are his own,” Pantalone pushes away from the table and drops the napkin on his lap on top of the plate. “Besides, out of the two of them, isn’t it Tartaglia who is more likely to hurt Arlecchino?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’ve grown attached, how quaint,” Pantalone smirks, and it takes all of Pulcinella’s will to keep from tearing that smirk away from his face. “Still, you cannot deny that it’s Tartaglia who has a long history of violence, can you?”
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II.
Alexander Nikolayev and Ekaterina
The Small Mercies of Harmless Youths
To become an aide-de-camp to one of the Tsaritsa’s Twelve Harbingers is considered quite an honor and a promotion that many sought after.
For Alexander, becoming the Eleventh’s aide-de-camp feels like a demotion after all the work he’s done for the Fifth Harbinger. A part of him resents the recent transfer, and it often feels like being assigned to babysit Lord Pulcinella’s favorite. Another part of him is starting to understand the need for it, considering both the Eleventh and the Twelfth Harbinger are only teenagers.
Sometimes, he wonders why they even allow children to work in such dangerous circumstances, and then he sees the way Tartaglia and Arlecchino move in battle, always in tandem and always quite terrifying to their opponents, and he understands why the Tsaritsa would make exceptions for these ones.
He can only hope that Lord Tartaglia would one day learn to hold back when he is outside the battlefield. It would save Alexander and the rest of the agents some time for cleaning up.
“Katya,” Alexander greets the Twelfth Harbinger’s own aide-de-camp when he sees her in the shared dining room of the inn the Harbingers have rented out for the entire Fatui. He carries his glass of ale and takes the seat next to her. She seems to be completing a report on their most recent mission. “Do you know where Lord Tartaglia has gone?”
“Master Kaeya has informed me that they would be seeing a play tonight,” Ekaterina replies. She must have seen the horrified look on his face because she tries to assuage his fears right away. “He told me that he will ensure no extreme incidents this time.”
“Yes, but--” Alexander sighs as he presses his fingers on his temple. “Another date night, huh?” The last time the two youngest Harbingers had gone on one of their habitual dates after a mission, they had burned down a theater by accident. The agent isn’t even sure how that happened when neither of them had a Pyro Vision and Arlecchino refuses to use his Pyro Delusion for anything.
“I know,” Ekaterina laughs as she pats his shoulder. Like him, she has been assigned by one of the older harbingers, Lord Pantalone in her case, to watch over the youngest Harbingers. “But if anyone can control Master Childe, it would be Master Kaeya.”
Alexander sighs again as he downs his glass of alcohol. “I don’t remember any dates with my wife ever leading to such a mess as theirs do. What do they even do?”
Ekaterina smiles as she stacks up her paperwork. “I think it’s quite sweet,” she says. “Even Master Childe seems harmless when he clings to Master Kaeya.”
“I guess that’s true,” Alexander acquiesces.
The doors to the inn slam open and the two Harbingers enter, stumbling into each other, their faces flushed and both of them giggling with their clothes askew. Tartaglia almost trips to the floor when he tries to climb up the stairs, but Arlecchino catches him easily, the Twelfth pulling the Eleventh gently to his feet and up the stairs. At least this time, Alexander thinks, he doesn’t hear the sound of any screaming from outside, and they haven’t come back covered in blood. It would just be difficult to rouse the Eleventh Harbinger from his sleep tomorrow when the hangover finally hits him.
Ekaterina seems to echo his own sentiments. “At least there isn’t any fire or angry mob this time.”
Alexander snorts and gives her a wry smile. He downs the rest of his drink. “Small mercies,” he says. Really, it is easier to forgive these small misdemeanors. Even he remembers how giddy it feels to be so in love.
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III.
Il Dottore
The One that Leashes the Storm
“Stay still,” Dottore hisses as Tartaglia squirms under his grip.
“I still don’t want you to do anything to me,” Tartaglia growls as he shies away from the syringe that Dottore is holding. If it wasn’t Her Majesty’s personal request for him to check on Tartaglia’s delusion and its effects on the boy’s body, he would like nothing more than to kick the youngest Harbinger out of his lab.
“Such a shame that neither of us has a choice in the matter,” Dottore drawls, and he glares at the other occupant in the room. It is his first time seeing Arlecchino in person, though he has certainly heard of the young man from his time in Mondstadt. By now, the rumors in Zapolyarny have spread too much that even Dottore, who prefers his research and experiments, has heard of the famed Innamorati. What a ridiculous thing, he thinks. “Will you stay, or will you leave?”
Tartaglia’s grip on Arlecchino’s hands tightens. Their fingers have been interlaced since Tartaglia had come in, limping and bleeding from his most recent fight. Dottore guesses that in this case, at least, there is some truth to the rumors around Zapolyarny.
Tartaglia doesn’t even wait for his partner to answer. “Arlecchino’s staying.”
Arlecchino simply gives Dottore a charming smile, one that carries no warmth and friendliness. It is what you would expect from another colleague. Rather, it is the bond between the two youngest that is an aberration.
“So he says,” Arlecchino drawls. “Well, are you going to proceed with the check-up? We don’t have all day.”
“I wonder,” Dottore smirks. “You’d be a wonderful test subject too, aren’t you, Arlecchino?”
“You--” Tartaglia snarls and almost leaps out of the examination table if it weren’t from the sudden grip that Arlecchino places on the Eleventh Harbinger’s shoulder, keeping him down. How interesting that Her Majesty’s weapon and wild beast would so willingly allow himself to be tamed.
“I’m sure I would be,” Arlecchino laughs and smirks at him. “But I’m more useful to the Tsaritsa as a Harbinger than a test subject, so it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?”
Ah, Dottore thinks, it is more understandable now. A calming schemer to Tartaglia’s untamable storm, perhaps, even this partnership is simply a part of Her Imperial Majesty’s grand plan.
“Very well,” Dottore says, now facing the only Harbinger who can probably leash the Fatui’s Vanguard. “Keep him still for me, Arlecchino.”
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IV.
Scaramouche
Her Majesty’s Sharp Blade
The training yard is empty but for the three Harbingers in it. Arlecchino sits at the sidelines, reviewing the details of their next assignment while Tartaglia faces off against the sixth Harbinger.
“You little shit!” Scaramouche sneers as he charges at Tartaglia. The younger harbinger simply laughs and dodges the sparks of electro that come for him.
“Come on, Scaramouche,” Tartaglia taunts, and Scaramouche snarls at the smug look on the younger’s face. It’s been a while since he’s been back in Snezhnaya, and it seems Tartaglia hasn’t changed at all like he’s heard. “Can’t you do better?”
“You must be joking,” Scaramouche scoffs, and his next attack is much more powerful, with the intent to injure and teach the younger Harbinger a lesson. Tartaglia crouches, calling on his hydro blades to prepare for the attack. However, before the attack can reach Tartaglia, it hits a wall of ice that suddenly comes up between the two of them.
Scaramouche’s glare turns towards the unknown Harbinger. Arlecchino smirks at him from where he’s seated. “Tartaglia,” Arlecchino says without looking at the Eleventh Harbinger. “Shall we go?”
“Who told you to interrupt us?”
Instead of echoing his own sentiments, like Scaramouche expects of Tartaglia, the younger just whines. “Oh, but I was having fun, Kaeya.”
“Ah,” Arlecchino laughs as he stands up and he gives a false smile. “My apologies, Lord Balladeer, but Tartaglia and I have a job to do. Her Majesty’s orders, you understand?”
Scaramouche almost laughs at the realization that comes to him. “So it’s true? That ridiculous Innamorati title?”
“That’s not--” Tartaglia begins, but Arlecchino interrupts him by lacing their hands together.
“All rumors are as true as people make them out to be,” Arlecchino says, proving that he is just as fond of the schemes and plans of the other Harbingers, so different from the violent and straightforward Tartaglia. “Well then, we shall take our leave. I’m so sorry we have to cut this sparring short.”
“Hey!” Scaramouche calls out when the other two Harbingers have reached the edge of the training yard. “Don’t spoil Tartaglia too much. You’ll turn him dull.”
And the Tsaritsa’s blade must always remain sharp, Scaramouche adds in his head. It doesn’t matter if said blade has gone and fallen in love.
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V.
La Signora
The Truths Told by Liars
For the Tsaritsa herself to throw a ball is a rare thing, and thus, all her Harbingers have been asked to attend. Then again, the victory in the recent civil war in Snezhnaya’s borders is something to be celebrated. Such a victory will now allow them to proceed with Her Majesty’s next plan--her move against the rest of the Seven.
The guests of honor for the party, the Innamorati, dance together at the center of the ballroom. The youngest of the Twelve Harbingers and the most reckless, sometimes, it is hard to believe that those two were able to decimate entire battlefields by themselves.
Then again, she muses, one of them has been fighting since he was fourteen.
Still, the two are so different that Signora cannot understand how they fit together. Arlecchino is quite similar to her, always with a scheme, a charming facade, words like sharp knives in hand. She cannot ever imagine herself with someone like Tartaglia. She doesn’t understand how Arlecchino remains ever patient.
When the music stops, the two Harbingers on the dance floor bow to each other before they part. Childe, she notices, heads towards the buffet table while Arlecchino heads towards the private balcony she occupies, the one that has been reserved for all the Harbingers.
“My fair lady,” the Twelfth Harbinger smoothly greets with a small bow. “Good evening.”
“Shouldn’t you be watching your little pet?” For really, Signora can think of no other reason for the Twelfth besides the advantage it would bring him to have one of their best combatants on his side.
Arlecchino chuckles as he takes one of the seats available in the balcony. “Childe can entertain himself for a couple of minutes.”
She notices that he doesn’t deny her words, but that means nothing among them. The Harbingers are often liars. Arlecchino should be no different. He was a student of Pantalone after all, that greedy little bastard.
“I don’t understand how you can manage him,” Signora muses out loud, lips quirking into a smile. She wants to see how the newest addition to Her Majesty’s ranks would react.
But Arlecchino only stares across the dance floor, calm and unmoved by her taunts. When he turns, that strange one eye of his seems to glimmer under the brilliant lights of the ballroom. “Tartaglia isn’t a difficult man to love.”
The Harbingers are often liars. Even at that moment, Signora can tell that Arlecchino isn’t lying.
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+1
The Tsaritsa
The Child of the Stars and his Loyal Knight
The Tsaritsa has learned to keep her heart close to her chest. She’s learned how harsh and brutal the years can be. She’s learned how the grandest of empires can fall and turn to nothing but memories and stardust.
Recently, she’s also learned that even lost stars and those who dream of dreaming can still hold on to hope.
Kaeya’s eye is brutal in its familiarity as he looks up at her when he makes his report. She remembers similar eyes looking at her long ago. She remembers the desolation and emptiness that replaced it.
It isn’t fair to this child to make such a comparison, but she is old and weary, and the memories seep unbidden through the ice in her chest--the same ice that she can sometimes see in Arlecchino’s.
But the ice melts when Kaeya looks upon her youngest child, dear Ajax who has survived the horrors and desolation of the deep abyss but still continues towards Celestia’s mighty height. The two of them, she thinks, will be important to the goals she wishes to achieve.
But for now they are her children, and though she has long frozen her own heart, she still remembers the days when they called her the Archon of Love. She can allow her children such warm wishes especially when the two of them will be better together than they will ever be alone.
“Arlecchino,” she stops Kaeya before he turns to leave her throne room.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Never doubt the love that child has for you, and always love him in return.” The old blessing falls, a soft echo from her lips. Once upon a time, she has watched her people and gave such blessings freely. Once upon a time, she would have also wished for better days for these two children of hers that do not seem to quite fit with anyone else but each other.
But now she knows better. Now, she plans for an uncertain world that she cannot promise them would be better.
Still, she smiles when Kaeya gives his reply. “I will follow where he goes, always, as long as he wishes for it.”
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