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“Have we sunk so low, that we hope a child would carry our legacy?”
“I assure, my dear, this is no regular child. You will see soon enough.”
“Listen up, Pulcinella, regular or not, I am simply baffled. The Tsaritsa will laugh in your face upon listening to you ramble about this brat.”
Childe watched Pulcinella, the Fifth Harbinger, converse with a woman he assumed could only be a fatui Harbinger as well. Her hair was dusted pastel beige, and Childe could only focus on her downright cocky expression. If Childe remembered correctly, she was called as ‘Signora’.
He was to have an audience with the Tsaritsa, upon request from Pulcinella who has gained interest in his fighting style and various martial arts.
It has been during military training when Pulcinella spotted him taking down ten grown men at once, with Childe not breaking a sweat. The training was simply too shallow compared to what Skirk put Childe through in the Abyss. If Pulcinella hadn’t intervened, Childe would have murdered those men in cold blood.
While Childe found the audience with the Tsaritsa a bit of an extravagance, Ajax was thrumming with excitement upon meeting her Majesty. It was an honor unlike another, even Childe couldn’t deny that.
Childe and Ajax then came to an agreement. Childe didn't seem half as thrilled as Ajax for the audience, so Ajax could be trusted to front.
A tsk sound echoed from behind them, and a man wearing Inazuma traditional clothes, with a hat that was simply too big in Ajax’ opinion, glared down at him. Ajax hid a smile, knowing that Childe would have no opinion on the hat, since his fashion sense consisted of blood-soaked clothing. He was hopeless like that, Childe.
“We’ve got a fucking brat promoted. I hate you.” The man addressed Pulcinella.
Pulcinella showed a smirk. “You hate everyone, Scaramouche.”
Scaramouche bared his teeth and walked past Pulcinella and the other Harbingers, skipping to his usual station.
Signora regarded the man with an amused aura, shrugging a shoulder and walking past too. “Good luck anyways, kid.”
Ajax eyed the Harbingers, every one of them, and made a mental note to try and battle them sometime. It took a moment for him to realize Childe and he shared the same intent. They were of the same mindset lately, regarding their battle instincts, but that mainly had to do with the fatui being a strict ordeal. They couldn’t so well choose not to fight.
Pulcinella put a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention back up. “Ajax, was it?”
Ajax stilled, then spoke up. “I prefer Childe.” Letting the Harbingers adress him by his birth name away wasn't a good idea. They didn't know of Ajax' mental struggle, and since Childe took control of the body more often, the Harbingers might as well just get used to Childe. Ajax realized with a stab in the chest how much of himself he hid away lately.
Pulcinella gave a smug chuckle. “Don’t count on me doting on you.”
“That’s not it,” he answered. “It’s... an alias of sorts.” True enough. Childe was real, but he was also but an... alias.
Childe stirred at the thought uncomfortably.
Ajax winced. It was hard to stabilize his sentiments from outwardly expressing themselves. The slightest disagreements held a risk of showing on his features.
I'm okay. I'm in control. Childe... let me willingly in control, Ajax thought to himself, breathing steadily.
Pulcinella studied him for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the youth. Finally, he nodded as if understandingly. “You’ve got a story in you, eh?”
Ajax remained silent.
“Life broke you too soon,” Pulcinella stared ahead, sighing. “Anyways, listen closely. You will be in the presence of her Majesty the Tsaritsa soon, and you want to be on your best attitude. My colleagues seem to think of this a farce, so I really want to prove them wrong.
“Kid, her Majesty the Tsaritsa is a good judge of character. When she sees you, she will feel your strength course in your veins. And you’ll be asked to display your abilities in a bout.”
Oh. A show of abilities. That was Childe's expertise. Yet Ajax thought to himself if he could incorporate Childe's skills in him as well. Was that possible? Or was it purely Childe's talent?
Did that mean he had to let Childe in? Ajax gnawed at his lower lip, dreading another switch. He had so much holes in his memories already. Was the Tsaritsa's audience going to be reduced to just a hole in his memory too?
But for the Tsaritsa's sake, she had to witness Childe's abilities. Ajax knew, with a certainty, she would be bewildered. Childe would spill blood until the veins were squeezed dry. That was a mere amusement to him.
Pulcinella eyed him with a critical eye, then belatedly added. “Your bloodlust... I've seen it before. To normal folk, it’s quite unnerving, but for us Harbingers... we are looking for some of that.”
Ajax flexed his hand, willing the freezing cold away. So... they wanted Childe. They needed Childe. It was never about Ajax. Ajax, who seeked adventures, who desired so badly to be one of the heroes his father told stories of. He meant nothing. The Harbingers and Tsaritsa honored Childe, not Ajax.
Ajax closed his eyes, swallowing a whimper.
You heard them, Childe said, almost sounding predatory. They want me.
You promised you'd let me be in control, Ajax said, grasping at straws. He hated how Childe was so self-focused, ignoring everything that made Ajax who he were. As if Ajax was nothing.
He was nothing though, wasn't he? Stress settled heavily in his stomach.
You can't do it. You let me take control in the Abyss, to protect yourself. Well, Ajax, Zapolyarny Palace is just like the Abyss. It is... similar to that darkness.
Ajax hated how right Childe sounded. How his arguments sounded more and more logical.
Ajax wanted out of here. He blinked, allowing Childe to shut it out, protect him, shield him. No matter how much it hurt Ajax.
Childe breathed in the air of the palace, sensing the frozen air, relishing in the understimating looks the Harbingers gave him. He threw a cocky smirk their way, finding pleasure in their surprised faces.
Yeah, he was different from the timid Ajax.
In all honesty, Childe didn’t trust Ajax for the duration of the audience. Pulcinella made it clear they didn't need Ajax in the court, but Childe and his skills. And Ajax, upon realizing that fact and letting it sink in, upon realizing his weakness, let Childe take over.
At least Childe didn't miss much of the time Ajax had taken over. For the true event was yet to unravel.
Oh, he was getting excited. Finally... finally a place where someone -beside Skirk- would appreciate his battle skills and bloodlust. He was getting quite tired of being claimed insane and deranged in the fatui soldiers. He strived to rise far and beyond after all.This was going to be fun.
Moreover, while he might’ve reached somewhat of a truce between Ajax and him, Ajax did give him permission to take control more often. He did after all admit that Childe’s navigation of the world was better.
Childe could only act as the mature one, even when it stung, and proceed to take over when he saw fit. Childe both despised and ached of Ajax' weakness. On one hand, he knew his role was to protect Ajax from the darkness only he were able to live through. On the other, he wanted to get stronger, rise up to the top, seek more opponents to feel that thrill he's been chasing after.
The Abyss may have ruined Ajax, but it gave life to Childe. And what a life he led.
Childe flinched as a loud wail manifested in his mind... Ajax was pained, shivering in a darkness that was brash and scary. Childe agonized from that pain, but it was distracting.
Childe sighed, squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the sounds of the room, the coldness and humidity, the smell of Signora’s strong perfume, his hands picturing a spear and splitting someone’s head open. He flexed his fingers a few times, concentrating. He then opened his eyes and... there, all gone.
Childe could focus now.
“He’s fucking crazy.” Scaramouche hissed from his seat, signaling at Childe’s spiel from just now.
“Battle shock?” Another one of the Harbingers murmured, musing.
Oh, what a shit-show.
“Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, Cryo Archon has arrived,” the guards announced in a cold united chant, drawing back the attention of every present soul in the room to the figure walking in.
Childe sank down to a knee, bowing his head as should be from a mortal. His promise to Ajax to meet the Tsaritsa was basically abandoned, and it strangely stung . He left Ajax screaming in the back of his mind, and Childe, just like Ajax, didn’t like breaking promises.
Childe gritted his teeth as he awaited the presence of his queen, his new mistress, to grace him.
“You may raise your heads.” The Tsaritsa’s voice was silk, cold and steely. Demanding to be worshipped.
Childe looked up, and his breath caught.
The Tsaritsa was a work of art, figure sculpted and face artfully plump, black painted lips drawn to a line. Her eyes held the intensity of a woman who could stop a snowstorm if she willed it to.
Unlike Skirk, the Tsaritsa wore grace.
While Skirk was as furious as a Snezhnayan snowstorm, the Tsaritsa was the warmth that coursed into that cold, seeking to be melted and give life to her people. While Skirk was deadlier than the plague, the Tsaritsa was a force that could very well end a plague before it started.
“Ajax, son of Morepesok,” The Tsaritsa stared at him intensely, eyes boring through him. “I trust one of my followers, Pulcinella, took interest in you?”
“My Tsaritsa,” Pulcinella took a step forward from his spot, putting a palm on his heart and bowing his head just slightly. “I believe this child could take a place in our ranks. He’s mastered most martial arts of use, as delivered to me by the generals. And his lust for battle has proven noble. I do believe he might be a key point in your revolution, your Majesty.”
The Tsaritsa didn’t show a hint of impression, if she even were impressed, “Look me in the eyes, child.”
Childe met her eyes, sharply and unashamedly.
“Why do you seek battle?”
Childe mused on the answer, turning it over in his head. His immediate answer was to chase that same bloodlust in the Abyss, but he thought better of it. These people were too dangerous to be let on that secret.
“To get stronger,” Childe said half-heartedly. In truth, he desired getting stronger in order to protect his siblings, but that was... an abstract goal to what he truly strived for. But if he worked on it, the desire for strenght and bloodlust could coexist.
He simply wanted to fight more and more and more .
The Tsaritsa leveled him strictly. “Would you fight for me, if I asked you to?”
Childe paused. Didn’t Pulcinella say he would get a test first?
Well, there wasn’t much helping it. He knew the answer to this one as well. He would serve the Tsaritsa, for she promised the same glory Skirk had. More enemies.
“Yes, your Majesty,” Childe answered honestly.
Childe wasn’t sure about Ajax’ opinion, but he’d discuss that later with him.
The Tsaritsa eyed him for a few heartbeats longer, the intensity of her stare bleeding into his soul and defiling it. “I wish to see you fight up-close, child. Prove to me that you are worthy of becoming the youngest Harbinger Snezhnaya came to know.”
Childe’s eyes lit up just slightly, the Tsaritsa’s orders crushing his bones with weight. It wasn’t like Skirk, who forced his bleeding hands to hold a weapon to survive. The Tsaritsa’s orders held an implication of responsibility.
Childe fought the smile spreading on his lips, and stood. “With pleasure, your Majesty.”
***
Childe stood, not breaking a sweat over the hoard of Ruin Guards he brought down. Indeed, it took more strength than he was used to displaying, but Childe was used to killing his enemies until his body broke down and beyond.
The Tsaritsa had watched him from a distance, clad in her fur coat under the Snezhnayan winter. She spared him a look, and tugged her lips up in the faintest of smiles. It was a chilling expression, cold, calculating, anticipating. The Archon was stewing plans, and Childe might be the center of those said plans.
The Harbingers’ facial expressions were unreadable, and Childe did not care for their acknowledgement. For the highest prize for a warrior like him was the Tsaritsa’s honor.
Without a word, the Tsaritsa walked back to the throne hall, addressing the Fatui Harbingers to follow her immediately. Childe, to his disbelief, was included in that order.
***
“You have proved yourself, brave warrior,” The Tsaritsa was standing a few feet from her throne, a chilling smile directed at Childe. “You shall be indeed rewarded by the honor of the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger title.”
Pedrelino, the first of the Fatui Harbingers, stepped up to him and granted him the Delusion that only the Tsaritsa could bestow the honor of.
Childe gaped despite himself, his hands slightly trembling. It was hard not to feel amazement in the presence of the Tsaritsa.
A fourteen-year-old granted the power of Delusion that only few dreamed of.
It was unheard of.
The Harbingers, his colleagues now, eyed him with a hint of disgust and shock. They were both threatened and impressed. As they should, for this was a sight Snezhnaya wouldn’t see for another millennia.
Childe accepted the Delusion with honor, and swore his oath to the Tsaritsa, his Queen in victory and defeat.
Childe reveled in the possibilities that were to come, grasping at the honor with a tight fist.
“Ajax,” The Tsaritsa spoke up, gracing him with her presence as she approached them. Her robe trailed from behind, long and imperious.
“Childe, your majesty,” Childe declared boldly. “I haven’t been Ajax in a long time... only partly.”
The Cryo Archon studied him for a moment, and Childe assumed he had fucked himself over. “Childe... A mighty title. A youth born into the privilege of battle.”
Childe relished in the words. He nodded, his eyes never once leaving the feet of the Archon he would serve starting this day.
The Tsaritsa cupped his cheek and gently raised his chin, their eyes meeting. This Archon... this god, she was far beyond Childe’s comprehension. Childe held great respect in the way her gaze imprisoned arrogance and boldness. As if they were hers and hers alone.
Though Childe felt she deserved more than his respect... something Childe couldn’t give. Something he wasn’t capable of giving.
“But as every Harbinger I crowned in this room, you shall receive a title for your Harbinger too,” The Tsaritsa’s palm was numbingly cold, tugging at Childe’s soul strings. “Tartaglia, youngest of the Fatui Harbingers. I have a strong feeling you’ll live up to this title well.”
Tartaglia... Childe mused. He was nothing short of honored. Tartaglia, the stutterer. One who served her Majesty and spoke for the common folk.
Childe was going to be Tartaglia.
“From this day on, your training will only intensify for you to reach the highest form of your powers,” The Tsaritsa declared, standing back up and cutting a glance to the senior Harbingers. “I will hear of no complaints when I ask of you to guide him through his training, mainly regarding his Delusion.”
The Harbingers voiced an agreement, though they looked troubled the moment the Tsaritsa turned her gaze away.
The Tsaritsa looked back at Childe, smiling still. “Childe, Tartaglia of the eleven Fatui Harbingers, my weapon of war.”
That day, Childe knew this was no Abyss, but it was the closest thing he had to its beauty.
***
The Harbingers were merciless.
Childe found himself stuck in an endless cycle of training... no, torture. He’d welcomed the thrill of battle at first, found himself delighting in going head to head with the Harbingers. Testing his skills against Fatui Harbingers who bore a different element than his, like Cryo and Electro, was a reminiscence of his days in the Abyss. For an instance, Childe believed that two Harbingers in a fight against him was fair .
But it wasn’t long before he realized the Harbingers were just toying with him. They weren’t underestimating him, no, they were rather looking to bring him down and force ridiculous labour on him. If Signora lured him into a fight, it wasn’t because she saw him as an opponent, but rather as a boy to please for a few minutes before she humiliated him with words.
Pantalone tore his Vision and Delusion away, then forcefully shoved him into snow outside the palace. Childe was ordered to face four ruin guards without his Vision or Delusion, and Pantalone, the crazy bastard, watched him with a smirk. Childe was handed a spear to finish the job.
He finished the job in a long drawl, both excited and angered. This wasn’t like the Abyss... This wasn’t the other-worldly horrors he had to deal with to survive, this was a sadistic reaction from his colleagues to him joining.
Childe was disgusted. Where was the honor in battle? Where was the fun?
The Fatui harbingers aren’t animals, like you are, Ajax said, from within, but they are lowly humans.
Childe smirked as he got himself under his feet, wiping the blood from his lip and glaring down Pantalone. When did Ajax learn to spite him back?
Not that Childe was insulted to being called an animal. That was a close description to what he was.
“Glad you had fun, boy,” Pantalone smirked. “You proved yourself quite splendidly.”
“I thought I proved myself to the Tsaritsa,” Childe panted, disgust burning in his chest.
“That was proving yourself to her, as you said,” Pantalone turned his back, expecting Childe to follow. Childe did not appreciate being treated like a dog. “I’ll put it simply for you to understand, boy. Your admission in our ranks is insulting, for we are the Fatui Harbingers not only by title. We are the Tsaritsa’s followers; we fight by her side. But your eyes, boy... they look beyond the Tsaritsa and it is insulting. You desire to fight and kill... yet the Tsaritsa claims you her favourite. Even if she doesn’t say it, it’s in her eyes.”
Childe doesn’t budge from his position, his earlier anger now transforming into surprise. This was news to his ears.
Pantalone stopped on his heels, noting Childe was not following. His stare was sharp, challenging Childe to refuse him.
Childe prodded at Ajax, annoyance burning hot in his chest. You might want to start making yourself useful, Ajax.
No, I... Ajax whispered in his mind. I'm not... ready.
You need to resurface, Childe retreated eagerly. Just get on with it.
Wait- Ajax called him over, but Childe was too annoyed to pay further attention with the Harbingers. He didn’t desire this . Political intrigue and baseless backstabbing, being thrown back and forth by each Harbinger like a dog.
Ajax might as well start being useful, he could handle that part.
***
“Hey shorty, out of my fucking way,” Scaramouche kicked at Childe’s leg as he was hovering by the door. The sixth Harbinger gave him a chilling cold look, threatening things Childe couldn’t begin to comprehend.
Childe returned the glare, his eyes presenting the dullness and promise for blood. Scaramouche raised his chin, intensifying his stare, yet Childe didn’t back down. If this were another fight, he would get out of disrespecting his colleague, so then be it. He’d be more than happy to break a bone or two... or several.
“Scaramouche,” Signora gave a sharp slap to the back of his head. “Quit being so petty, by the Tsaritsa’s name.”
“Gah,” Scaramouche glared back. “Back off, woman. He was hovering like a kid in timeout.”
“And?” Signora crossed her arms. “That is none of your damn business. Dottore did say this kid may very well be deranged. Leave him to his delusions.”
“Tsk,” Scaramouche made a show of backing off the two. “Sinking this low, all thanks to that bastard Pulcinella.”
Signora said nothing, basically agreeing through her silence.
“Hey, comrade ,” Childe stood his ground, hissing the term at his supposedly bitter colleague. “If you want a fight, I'm all for it. I could squeeze your windpipe with one hand and pop your eyes out with the other. You’ve seen it, haven’t you? How I fight with enemies all around me. So just say it, if you want the same treatment.” Childe’s eyes bored into them, creating a clear power-difference border. He gazed at them like they were two pair of ants to be crushed. They were exactly that, in his eyes. Pathetic deceitful bastards. “I would be all too happy to end your life for you, geezer .”
Signora backed two steps away, not out of fear, but of clear disturbance.
Scaramouche clenched his jaw tightly, teeth seething together.
Childe- Ajax started, don’t fight a losing battle.
Shut the fuck up, Childe returned coldly, nerves fraying as his fists already envisioned his weapon of choice.
And then Childe perhaps did the most stupid thing he could have done. Alas it was bold, in his opinion. He used his foul legacy transformation. A transformation that he still he held no grip over.
“This idiot!” Signora cursed, readying her weapons.
Darkness engulfed Childe.
It was like the Abyss. With creatures dawning on him from every corner, with weapons being his only companion, and best of all... with the scent of blood in the vicinity. The darkness felt like the remains of a home burnt into ashes, but was still a remainder of nostalgic memories all the same. Being bathed in blood day in and day out, getting his limbs almost torn to the fangs of other-worldly creatures. Welcoming it all, he breathed in the scent of darkness.
If Childe was an animal for anticipating slaughter, so then be it.
So then... be it.
The darkness suddenly gripped Childe’s -Ajax’- existence to a pathetic fistful.
The aura slipped between his fingers and pierced his organs, gripping the very essence of his soul. This was more force than the Abyss held. Not necessarily stronger or scarier, but an alternative that shouldn’t have been toyed with. It was as if the whole capacity of the Abyss slammed into his body all at once, leaving no time to process.
“Idiot child.” Skirk’s voice echoed around him. And Childe found she was right.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Childe shoved Ajax to the front, praying that the boy either handled the power or let it slice through him. Ajax was so shocked there was an impression of an open-mouthed scream. Ajax was useless. Childe was unhinged.
They needed... they needed another one. Childe fought to resist, to live up to the title his Archon blessed him with.
NO!! Ajax screamed.
It emerged, grasped at the darkness. Embraced it, responsibly and wholly. Tartaglia held it all in the palm of his hand. All of it, including Ajax and Childe.
And then they saw dark.
***
Childe had woken up with a headache, the nerves in his forehead throbbing. Upon opening his eyes, he quickly squeezed them shut at the harshness of the light.
He could barely piece together what happened. He’s been getting picked on by those other Harbingers, he remembered threatening them... but then, it hurt to grasp at the threads of his memory.
You really forgot what happened?
Childe brought a hand to his head. Of course the stupid brat would snap at him.
It’s not Ajax you’re speaking to.
Childe startled out of his reverie, and sat up too quickly for his muscles’ liking. He groaned at the pain, but was too disturbed to focus on the pain.
Who am I talking to then? Childe dared to ask.
Eleventh of the fatui Harbingers, follower of the Tsaritsa , Tartaglia answered. I believe it’s Tartaglia.
Get out. Childe gripped his blanket, starting to pant. I’m the eleventh fatui harbinger! You're just a shield for my position.
Aren’t you as well? came the chilling reply.
Childe curled in onto himself, hugging his knees closer. He... He was to exist after Ajax, but that didn’t mean he was any less real. That much he was sure of. The real question was, who let Tartaglia come into existence? Childe didn’t wish for him at all, Childe was in control the entire time here.
Childe paused.
He wasn’t in control all the time. There were times Ajax took control. Especially when the training proved hard, boring and laborious. Childe had pushed Ajax at the front.
But his memories were hazy from when Ajax took control. It was like his memories were made of holes and chasms.
Childe held a hand to his head, trying to remember beyond the headache. But he couldn’t remember.
Did Ajax bring Tartaglia to life?
He wished to be stronger, Tartaglia said, more enduring and worthy of his position. In short, he wished to be Tartaglia, the name the Tsaritsa bestowed upon him.
Childe shivered. I’m Tartaglia though. I’ve always wished to be stronger.
No, you’ve wished to fight in order to feel the thrill of the battle. You wish to hold no responsibilities over what the Tsaritsa desires. You prioritize battle, Ajax prioritises family. I prioritise my role as a Harbinger and the oath I swore.
No! Childe was trembling. I swore the oath. I meant it.
You didn’t, Tartaglia made the impression of looking down on him. You said it yourself, the Tsaritsa deserved something beyond your respect, something you couldn’t give. I am that thing... The Tsaritsa has my devotion, my breath. I will fight for her until my limbs can’t move. For the Tsaritsa, and for Snezhnaya.
Childe couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He hadn’t even begun to process the concept of being one with Ajax, if they ever could be one. And now, Tartaglia was another he had to put up with.
Ajax, Childe coaxed, suddenly feeling lonely.
He couldn’t feel the boy.
He’s... somewhere dark, Tartaglia supplied. He doesn’t wish to talk to either of us.
Childe gulped, staring at his hands. The tremors were still going through them. You can’t take over.
Tartaglia remained silent for a while. I could, but I don’t wish to. I solely exist for the need to get stronger and fulfill the Tsaritsa’s wishes. The first could be fulfilled through you, as you seek battle too.
Childe squinted through his hazy sight. It would be a lie if he said he wasn’t scared.
He was very much perturbed. This meant he had to divide his attention on both Ajax and Tartaglia, not to mention the Harbingers.
His trust in Ajax was limited, in Tartaglia it was nonexistent. If he hoped to last, he had to learn whatever of Ajax there was to learn and incorporate it into himself.
Tartaglia prodded at the idea, a hint that he was aware of every thought going through Childe’s mind.
Fuck. He couldn’t think like this. He couldn’t think at all.
“Tartaglia,” A feminine voice called as the door opened, Signora stood in the door, accompanied by her personal guards. She eyed him critically, turning down her lips. “You’re awake.”
Childe stared at her, beginning to answer. Then got shoved aside as easily as a feather.
“Better,” Tartaglia answered, staring Signora down. “Came to snicker at me?”
Signora waved a hand. “You’re definitely a sight to laugh at. But I'll oversee it this time, for I delighted in how you’ve managed to piss off Scaramouche.”
Tartaglia kept a strict eye on her, and watched her as she retreated outside. She had simply passed by.
“Their company annoys me,” Tartaglia mumbled. “They play their stupid games of treachery and deceit. They absolutely show no value in honesty. All of them.”
I... agree. Childe was taken aback, for he truly shared the same sentiment. They know nothing of compassion.
Nothing like the Tsaritsa , Tartaglia added.
You shoved me aside... Don’t do that again. Childe was angry. For he had been weak not to anticipate that happen.
I was called by name, Tartaglia pulled his lips down. And you’re not the only one in this body. Start by respecting me and Ajax.
You’re still going to take over anyways, Childe gritted his teeth. We’re with the fatui, and you’re going to try and ‘lead’ us because you believe in them more than I.
Childe was starting to see it, the different world views each of the three carried.
Ajax, who was now slumbering, cared for family more than power and the Fatui. He for sure wanted glory for Snezhnaya, but that could stray from the glory for the Tsaritsa. He was but a villager boy from Snezhnaya.
Childe was a child of darkness. He knew nothing but how to hold a weapon and swing before he started to care for family like Ajax. Still, he prioritized his bloodlust for battle and the foes he would face in the future. He was willing to serve the tsaritsa, and he respected her as much as Skirk. But the fatui were but a stepping stone for him to face future foes.
Tartaglia was the Tsaritsa’s creation. He was what she desired in every shape and form. He was her sword and bow in victory and defeat, he was to carry out her orders for her. He was to get stronger for her glory and Snezhnaya’s. Tartaglia was the Tsaritsa’s weapon of war, and that fact made him prideful of his existence. Tartaglia cared for the Tsaritsa and Snezhnaya, he would serve them until his last breath because he respected them that much.
Childe shivered, his trembling hands sinking into the blankets wrapping around him. These people inside this body, they were all real. They were all there looking to make their dreams come true.
And Childe realized that because of their reality, and the belief of their existence, it was hard to get rid of them. Ajax... hid, a coward to his last cell. Tartaglia however was hard to assert dominance on. He believed he had as much control as Childe.
Shit , Childe thought, cold. What if I started to disappear in the same rate as Ajax just because Tartaglia thought me weak?
A chilling whisper broke through his mind. So sad yet so bitter.
Welcome to my world... Ajax. He peeked through for a second, just to mock Childe.
And Childe did not dare a comeback.
***
Childe had come back from his training at the top of a snowy mountain top, facing against the new recruits. He was himself but a new addition to the fatui harbingers ranks, but apparently his seniors –colleagues- thought it fair to dump their recruits on him.
He heard a few squabbles here and there, people mocking him behind his back for his age. Childe wasn’t too hot blooded to kill them about it. He would ruin the Tsaritsa’s plans, and frankly, Tartaglia made sure to hold him back whenever er his bloodlust got the better of him.
But it proved to be too much when the recruits whispered behind his back about him being deranged and nuts in the head. It wasn’t far from the truth, yet Tartaglia gave word for punishment. The recruits were to find their way back to the Zapolyarny palace after Tartaglia made them lost in the forest. They had it coming.
Childe walked now down the hallway of the palace, chin high and shoulders squared up. He headed down to Dottore’s office, his lab... of sorts. Childe was made aware of the kind of experiments Dottore led, but he hoped it was an exaggeration. He couldn’t believe the Tsaritsa let one such a man in her ranks.
But then again, she let us in her rank, Tartaglia reasoned. We’re broken.
Childe huffed. Don’t pretend to have lived the same thing Ajax and I went through in the Abyss. That wasn’t you.
No, Tartaglia started, dangerous and menacing. But I was born in the fatui. The responsibility and awareness that I'm –we are- a weapon of war is a feat in itself.
I thought you were proud of that fact. Child pulled his lips in a line, clenching his fists. Pick a struggle.
I am proud of it, Tartaglia answered stubbornly, but our family... I care about our younger siblings’ wellbeing too. I’ve... gotten quite attached to the younger ones, and spoiling them with toys is really fun.
Childe remained silent, swallowing down his nervousness. The humanity of Tartaglia was unexpected, he was finding it hard to claim the personality a shield. Like himself –Childe- Tartaglia was every bit as real.
Childe numbed his mind as they reached Dottore’s lab. He wouldn’t want a mental breakdown right now. He was allowed entry after announcing himself. His lips curled down at the disturbing children's cadavers in the tubes, being examined to the last cell. His fists curled; this was a horror unlike the one down in the Abyss. This was simply immoral, inhuman and wrong. For he couldn’t stop picturing Teucer, Anthon or Tonia in these same tubes.
Tartaglia turned from the darkness of the laboratory to Dottore as he brushed Childe away. “Having quite the fun, aren’t you, Dottore?” Tartaglia said, disgust in his tone as well.
“Tartaglia,” Dottore noted, his back still to Tartaglia, jotting down notes on a notebook. “Thank you for the lovely visit.”
Tartaglia scrunched up his nose. “... Your recruits are in the mountain top, I believe they’ll arrive by the end of tomorrow, if they survive the cold.”
Dottore chuckled. “Oho? You left that sorry lot to rot in there?”
“They are your lot, not mine,” Tartaglia put a hand on his hip. “Maybe it’ll teach you a lesson not to dump your responsibilities on me.”
Dottore turned around, finally facing Tartaglia with a smile dribbling of instability. “Oh? But I was hoping you could help me with my research, our youngest.”
Tartaglia stood his ground, glaring down the man.
“After all, your body is still in its developing stage,” Dottore’s lips curled up even more, leaving no room for sanity in his expression, “and you’re a harbinger, oh how I wonder what’s your story.”
Fucking... Tartaglia mentally cursed, preparing for an attack. Though he wasn’t as impulsive as Childe to strike the man down immediately. He was the eleventh Harbinger, Dottore wouldn’t dare try anything funny without Tartaglia’s consent.
“You are a disgusting piece of human garbage,” Tartaglia snarled, backing away just slightly. “If it weren’t for the will of the Tsaritsa-”
“Yes,” Dottore cut him off, now a small distance away from the boy, “If it weren’t for the Tsaritsa, I would strap you down and study your mortal energy till I figure out why you reek so much of the Abyss. Not only that, I would also take delight in understanding the broken thing that you are.”
Childe gritted his teeth, summoning his hydro vision as a spear. He couldn’t watch anymore.
Dottore raised an eyebrow and cackled. “I saw it... that shift in your expression. Oh, little child, little Tartaglia, you are a cute, broken little thing. I can’t put a finger on it, but your mental state is intriguing to observe. You intrigue me, Tartaglia.” He paused, taking in Childe’s sinking shock, and shrugged amusingly. He found Childe’s mental struggle an amusement . “As for the recruits, I'll send someone to fetch them.”
Childe fled.
His pride be damned. Celestia, he fled.
Disturbed out of his wits, Childe ran through the hallways and slid down in the nearest intersection with no guards in the vicinity.
Nausea burnt in his throat, and a headache started forming. That sick motherfucker knew something was up with Childe... with Tartaglia... with Ajax...
It was visible, people could tell he wasn’t alone in his head.
Whichever he was.
Hey, Tartaglia said, softly, responsibly. It doesn’t matter. Whatever we are, whatever this is, we fight for the Tsaritsa .
Does it not? Childe thought, sufferingly. Thinking is difficult. I want to numb all of this, like back in the Abyss. I want to fight enemies and draw blood and tune everything out.
Childe, Tartaglia reasoned. The Abyss is long forgotten. If you want to fight, we fight in the battlefield.
Nothing compares to the Abyss, Childe spat out, burying his fingers in his hair. My head hurts. My head hurts.
And Ajax hasn't spoken since his last jab at Childe. And it stung.
All of it hurts, Tartaglia echoed, weary . And yet, it is but a trial.
Childe felt shivers of turmoil pass through his body. He had no place among the Fatui if Tartaglia acted like the adult and he like the child. He had no place to exist if Tartaglia was more needed, if Tartaglia took everything from Childe.
Childe had no choice then but to steal everything from Ajax. In order to belong.
He had to learn how to smile like Ajax, how to show compassion like Ajax. Ajax was no more. Ajax wanted to disappear. Childe could help him with that.
But... would Childe be able to do that? After everything?
Tartaglia pulled down his lips. Childe, he is part of us. We, all of us, make us.
Childe groaned. He was going to scream in this damn hallway if this went on any longer. Pulling himself on his feet, Childe walked back to his quarters. His residency was officially in the palace ever since he became the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger. His visits to his family were cut down to every once a month. But he had a feeling those visits would become even more rare.
Childe, Tartaglia seemed to scold him, what good does it bring, if we erase Ajax?
He was a liability. He was supposed to be nothing but a liability from the very start.
Don’t you realize, Tartaglia said, he thought of you as a liability as well?
Childe froze up.
In the Abyss, he created you and shoved himself aside to use you as a liability. Until you started taking control.
Was he trying to erase me by creating you? Childe thought, finally arriving in his room and pacing through it. His quarters showed no hint of his character, there was nothing but his bed and a desk as accommodations. Childe saw no need to hold into sentimentalities, and apparently, neither did Tartaglia nor Ajax.
No. You failed him, so he called on me for protection. He deserves respect, Childe. We are as real, but it's all of us that makes us.
“BUT I’M THE ONE WHO BECAME STRONG!” Childe screamed in his room; throat scratched raw from the force of his scream. He was supposed to be in control, not Tartaglia. “He’s nothing. He was to be nothing. I was to protect him, he relied on me to push on through life. I can be Tartaglia, I can be who her Majesty desires!”
“You cannot.” Tartaglia took over, stopped his pacing, and sat on the bed in order to calm Childe down. It was crazy, how the switch was instantaneous. “It’s okay if you cannot. You need to learn how to trust me.”
Childe huffed.
“You can’t trust anyone in here,” Tartaglia pushed through stubbornly. At least all three of them had that in common, their stubbornness. “The Harbingers are not taking us seriously, they want to see us fail by any means possible. They’re not on our side. And if we’re not stable, we won’t last long. We need to trust in each other.”
Childe quieted down, thinking the arguments over.
Tartaglia couldn’t be more correct. And that only served to piss him off even more. Did that mean that he wasn't the only one supposed to protect Ajax? The responsibility to protect Ajax didn't weight on him anymore?
Childe didn't know if he should laugh or cry.
“Each of us can take a role,” Tartaglia added, sensing the internal struggle, expression kept mature. His gaze didn’t cut as sharp as Childe’s, it was more calculated. His meticulousness was of respect, and the bloodlust couldn’t be read on his eyes, but if one looked long enough, they’d find it in the depths of his soulless eyes. “And we can complete each other.”
Well, what of Ajax? Childe asked. He is... slumbering.
“Ajax is not well,” Tartaglia concluded after a few seconds. “We work together instead.”
Then you admit to his weakness, Childe accused.
“I admit that his exhaustion took a toll on him,” Tartaglia corrected.
Tartaglia was the adult, Childe was the... child. How ironic.
Ajax? Childe prodded on Ajax, trying to get him out. He didn’t know what took him over, but the fact that Ajax was so isolated, worried Childe. Ajax, we can’t do without you.
Ajax made no response. Instead, Tartaglia and Childe had the impression that Ajax curled even more into himself. He did not want to talk.
Well, one thing for sure, we can’t go on without Ajax, Childe remarked, a bit troubled. He knows how to handle his family best.
“ You burrow whatever you need from Ajax,” Tartaglia said in suggestion. “You wanted to do it anyways. And it’s our only plan.”
Childe nodded slowly.
Tartaglia retreated, pushing Childe to the front. In control, once more.
Childe stared at his hand, squinting. Tartaglia had a point, a very solid point. He existed inside with Childe and Ajax. If anything, he should be as worried to be erased. Instead, he wanted all three of them to hold a relationship of trust.
But trust... Childe gritted his teeth. Trust was difficult to attain, especially when Skirk stressed he trust nobody. But seeing as where that attitude led him and Ajax to, he was a fool. If he had trusted Ajax and was just friendlier, Ajax wouldn’t be slumbering and afraid to resurface.
Trust was a fickle term.
Yet Tartaglia regarded it honorably.
Morepesok, the Abyss, the Fatui. All these places shaped up all three of them, teaching them different morals, and existing within those morals was like being thrown in a chasm.
With different definitions to be toyed with, with many entities to instill their faiths in.
Childe, Ajax and Tartaglia were everywhere and nowhere. They understood almost everything, and yet also nothing.
Nowhere to be, nowhere to exist. Nowhere.
Yet, in this body, they could build a somewhere out of this nowhere to be.