Chapter Text
“She always seems engrossed in her research. Hmm… I wonder if those machines have anything to do with her? Anyway, I've only met her a few times, but every time she looked like she wanted to murder me. I have no idea what I possibly could have done to annoy her.”
The creeping sensation of being watched flared Childe’s instincts, his body tensing as his hands prepared to form his hydro blades to defend himself. Though the Zapolyarny Palace was meant to be safe, strictly guarded by Fatui soldiers on patrol—after all, the Winter Palace is where the Tsaritsa lived—it didn’t mean that there weren’t dangers wandering the halls. In Childe’s case, the biggest threat to his life came in the form of a young brunette and her massive ruin guard companion, Sandrone. For some reason, unbeknownst to Childe, she hated him. Her calm expression and gentle demeanour hid her sadistic nature, but by the way she stared at him with bloodlust in her eyes… It sent chills down his spine.
Loud footsteps shook the ground, the sound of gears whirred as Childe both heard and felt Sandrone approaching the gardens of the Zapolyarny Palace, where he was. He only turned around when the thudding of marble was replaced by the crunch of snow, silently cursing that she was indeed heading his direction and not somewhere else.
Sitting on the hand of the ruin guard was the lady herself, serenely brushing her hands across the icy flowers as her dress and coat fluttered in the wind.
Neither of them said a word. Childe felt himself grow more guarded with each passing second, “Lady Sandrone… I didn’t know you were coming here. I’ll be taking my leave then.”
The Zapolyarny Palace gardens had multiple connecting paths which lead to different sections holding different species of plants. It was just his luck that he was standing in the one area where there was only one path. The path that was currently being blocked by Sandrone’s ruin guard. With tense shoulders and an eye on the unassuming figure of the Tenth Harbinger, he moved forward.
As he was just about to walk past, a hand tightly seized his wrist, startling the youngest Harbinger. It took everything Childe had not to summon his blades and cut down his superior right then and there.
“What are you–” His words abruptly cut off as a gloved hand tenderly caressed his cheek, a stark contrast to the bloodthirsty glint in those teal eyes. Her gaze was disturbing, objectifying. He felt his body grow cold, “Let go of me.”
“How amusing.” Her mouth stretched into a Cheshire smile, voice mocking his attempt at ordering her around, “Aside from a few imperfections, everything about you is perfect. Dear Eleventh, I promise to turn you into a lovely puppet if you act a bit nicer. If not, I might have to cut off that tongue of yours.”
Flinging her hands off, Childe took a couple of steps back and summoned his hydro blades. The crazed affection in her expression quickly melted into vicious coldness, but she did nothing else. Childe had to shake off the goosebumps as her murderous intent only grew.
“I’ll have to turn down your offer. If you want anything from me then you’ll have to beat me in a fight.”
Sandrone pressed a finger against her lip as if contemplating his words, her eyes narrowing to a crescent in amusement, “That is a very tempting offer, but it would be a shame for me to damage your body. I wish for you to be my magnum opus, doesn’t that sound lovely?”
“Hardly. I am not letting you turn me into one of your disturbing living puppets.”
“That’s quite a shame…” Sandrone looked remorseful for all the wrong reasons, “The process will be so much smoother if you simply accept my offer, but I see you’ve already made up your mind.”
Her mouth curved up and she softly laughed to herself, “I suggest you watch your back from now on then, dear Eleventh.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Only if you see it as such.”
Dematerialising his weapons, Childe turned around and stormed off without another word, his cloak billowing behind him. The sound of her sinister giggles still echoed through his ears, even when he was back in the safety of his own office.