Work Text:
The Eleventh Harbinger never really knew when his life took a turn for the better. All he knows is that his life had more sunshines and rainbows when someone came into the picture. That someone well, he wanted to keep her a secret so hidden yet so open. He wanted the world to know this special someone was his and he was hers. Though, the consequences outweigh the rewards.
All he did was for his beloved, enduring the pain when healing his wounds himself just so he doesn’t have to see her cry when patching him up despite the numerous attempts she made to tell him she never minded, the Young Master always views himself as a puppet to the Tsaritsa, a powerful one at that. Yet, he trusts himself wholly to his beloved.
If he was a marionette, she would be the one in control of his strings, able to pull him every which way. She could snap and cut his strings for all he cares, she was the one who’s tugging on his heart strings anyway. Nevertheless, she never once tried to view him for his title. In her arms, he wasn’t her marionette or the Tsaritsa’s puppet, nor was he a harbinger. He was simply Ajax. Her lover who’s maybe much more childish than he, himself would like to admit, who’s much more human than he perceives himself to be.
So, imagine his surprise. When he didn’t try to patch himself up and made a beeline to their house. Imagine her surprise, when she found her husband all bloodied and bruised, standing at their doorstep looking like a kicked puppy in the rain, albeit a kicked puppy isn’t doused in blood.
Not wasting anymore time, she hurried her husband inside and began to run him a warm bath. The Harbinger himself was still in a daze, not being able to process anything around him. He was brought back down to earth when soft and delicate hands cascaded down his shoulder blades, and shed him of his maroon shirt.
She noticed how his shoulders seemed tense and a wrong move could make the situation even more tense, she was walking on eggshells. She called out his name no, not Childe but,
“Ajax.”
The boy could do nothing but turn his head and look at her, eyes glassy and brimming with tears. He looks vulnerable and human. His wife smiled, a simple gesture but a complex emotion behind it.
She started applying pressure to the wounds, with him wincing from pain every once in a while. Just because he’s wounded half of the time doesn’t make it any less unbearable. All of a sudden, he found himself asking if he was ever worthy of her care and so he spoke, with a shaking voice.
“D-do you love me?”
Oh. He did not expect this, why did he do it? He shouldn’t have asked that. No, he definitely shouldn’t have asked that.
“Yes, Yes I do.” the girl replied,
Concise, very concise but it certainly did the job for him. Sobs, so powerful his body starts to tremble and hunch over, he no longer cares for the painful wounds he’s been inflicted upon. As she finished dressing his wounds, the same hands trace over his scars and at the same time, his eyes grew wide and frantic. The girl’s hands reach over to cup his face, wet with tears.
“A puppet also deserves to be loved, yes? I love you, Ajax. Not a puppet for the Tsaritsa rather, a loyal knight for the ones he loves.” She whispered, as if he’s the only person in the world.
The puppet- no, Ajax cried, burying his face at the crook of her neck. Hugging her as if she’d dissipate into thin air if he were to let go.
He was definitely loved, a comfort not even the Tsaritsa herself could take away from him. The loyal knight has found the princess he wanted to protect.