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“I love you.”
Three words, yet to some they held so much meaning. Three words, to Childe they were meaningless.
I
“You show some promise after all,” the Fatui officer had told him as they stood in the arena full of fallen Fatui Agents, patting him proudly on the back. “Keep this up, and you’ll become one of Snezhnaya’s best soon.”
Ajax had grinned up at him, turning to show his father what he had been able to do, how proud he was going to make him- but his father was long gone, only his mother still standing there, pale as if she were about to faint. Ajax didn’t understand- he’d felled so many experienced agents, and it couldn’t be about the bloodshed, too, because he had been lenient with them, had not let them face the wrath of his Foul Legacy nor had he cut off any limbs or damaged vital organs. Shouldn’t she be proud of him?
He opened his mouth to say something, but was left speechless, unable to think of anything to say. “I love you,” Ajax’s mother had told him as she turned on her heel and followed his father out of the Fatui office, wiping away a stray tear with her hand.
Ajax cried for the last time that day, watching his mother leave him, knowing that she did not truly love him, had not since he emerged from the Abyss.
II
“Big Brother!” Teucer called out, throwing open the door and running into Ajax’s waiting arms- because with his siblings, he was always Ajax, the best big brother there was. The carriage he had arrived in, embossed with the Fatui logo, was long gone and on its way back to the capital.
But for now, there was no need for Fatui matters- the red mask and his Delusion sat safely at the bottom of his bags, far, far away from Tonia, Anthon and Teucer. And even though his father refused to say a word to him and his mother avoided making eye contact over the dinner table, at least he had his siblings to tell tales of his journeys to.
"And there was this Yeti in the mountains, and I saw it and talked to it!" Ajax said, grinning as three pairs of blue eyes looked at him in wonder and awe. It had, in fact, been a Frostarm Lawachurl, and Ajax had killed it, but his siblings didn't need to know that.
"Woah, you understand Yeti language?" Anthon gasped.
"There's no such thing, dummy, they probably speak Snezhnayan," Tonia replied, crossing her arms and staring at Anthon haughtily.
Ajax laughed. "Come now, no need to argue! Teucer, remember to eat your veggies, so you can grow stronger," he nudged Teucer's plate, watching proudly as his little brother picked up the spoon and shovelled vegetables into his mouth with a grimace. The last time he'd come home, he had had to feed Teucer their borscht! Look at his little brother, all grown up now.
He supposed that also showed how long he'd been gone. But never mind that, he was here now and that was all that mattered, wasn't it? Speaking of, "By the way, I have gifts for you all!" Ajax exclaimed, smiling as his little siblings cheered and made to rush for his travel bags.
"Tonia, Anthon, Teucer," the stern tone of his voice made them all stop in their tracks. "Finish your food first, then we can open the presents, okay?"
"Okay, Big Brother!" they chorused, picking up their utensils and eating with renewed vigour. Ajax smiled and picked up his empty plate, heading to the kitchen to wash it when his mother stopped him.
"Leave the plate," she said, eyes never meeting his. "I'll wash them."
"It's my plate, and I'll wash it. I always washed mine, and theirs too when I lived here," he glanced over at his siblings, "why can't I wash them now?" Why become so involved in your children's lives now ? was the unspoken question.
His father stood abruptly, slamming his hands down onto the table. "This is not your house anymore. You don't live here, you're not my son, and you aren't their brother. Understood?"
Ajax- no, Childe snapped back, setting the plate down and meeting his father's gaze with a far darker one. "Then who, pray tell, raised them for years single-handedly while you were busy with work and Mama did god knows what? And if I ever were your son, why send me to the Fatui?" he replied, voice deadly and low.
"Big Brother?" Teucer's scared voice interrupted them, and Ajax could see how there were tears in all his siblings' eyes.
"Yes, Teucer?" he asked gently.
"I don't like it when you and Papa argue," he whispered softly.
And just like that, all traces of anger were wiped away as Ajax wrapped all his siblings into a hug. "I'm sorry for making you scared. Don't cry, okay?" he whispered back reassuringly, wiping away Anthon's tears and ruffling Tonia and Teucer's hair. "Now, who's ready for some gift opening?"
His siblings visibly perked up at the mention of their gifts, and Ajax said nothing about the uneaten vegetables on their plates as they rushed towards his travel bags.
Laughing, he unzipped the bags and carefully removed three wrapped gifts from them, handing them over to his siblings with a flourish.
Tonia's was an emerald green box, her favourite colour, and seeing her eyes light up upon seeing the ice figurine of a mythical princess from a popular children's fairytale was worth every Mora he had spent on getting a Cryo vision holder to immortalise the figurine and ensure it never melted.
Anthon's, meanwhile, was packaged with deep purple wrapping paper, and inside were limited-edition comics of the comic series Anthon loved, only available in the capital. Hearing Anthon's excited squeal, Ajax laughed and left him to flip through the pages of the book.
Teucer's was neon orange and in a cylindrical box, his favourite colour at the moment. Inside was a Ruin Guard plushie, specially commissioned at the capital. "Mister Cyclops!" Teucer shouted, embracing his brother in excitement.
Ajax grinned, ruffling their hair. "Thank you, Big Brother!" they chorused excitedly, finally looking up from their gifts. He hadn't thought it possible, but he found his smile widening as his siblings hugged him, their roles now reversed.
"I love you," Tonia smiled at him, and his little brothers, hearing her words, were quick to add, "We love you too!"
They did not love him, no. They only loved the version of him they saw, the one who brought them gifts and let their vegetables go uneaten, the one who was the best big brother on the surface of Teyvat. They would no longer love him if they had seen the delusion and Fatui mask at the bottom of his bag, or if they had chanced upon him just days earlier, standing in his Foul Legacy transformation after having decimated the best of the Fatui's forces in a training exercise, their blood freshly splattered across the field.
And if Ajax's grin deflated just the slightest bit at the thought, no one needed to know.
III
The wind whipped around Childe's neck as he walked up the steps to Zapolyarny Palace. He couldn't imagine what the Tsaritsa would personally summon him for, but as long as it was Her Majesty's rule, he was obligated to go.
So here Childe was, on one of the coldest nights Snezhnaya had ever experienced, walking into the palace of ice. He had never been before, but clearly it lived up to the stories parents told their young children and the rumours that abounded in the Fatui camps- grandiose ice sculptures at every turn and intricate chandeliers, the light of which reflected and bounced off every surface, creating a kaleidoscope of colours. It was truly beautiful, but colder even than the blizzard outside- a representation of the Tsaritsa herself.
A god with no love left for her people, Childe recalled the other Fatui saying amongst themselves. And though Ajax would probably have been trembling in his boots, Childe was not, striding straight up to the door of the Tsaritsa's throne room and knocking confidently.
"Enter," a voice rang from within, and when Childe pushed the doors open, he saw his Archon, in all her regal splendor, seated upon the throne and surrounded by her ten Harbingers, famed throughout the land for their prowess in battle. Instinctively, Childe's hands twitched by his side, as if reaching for his twin blades, itching for a good fight.
But he remembered himself, and knelt before the Tsaritsa, bowing his head and reciting the speech he'd been told to memorise with careless ease, "Your Imperial Majesty, it is an honour to be in Zapolyarny Palace, graced by your divine presence, today. To what does this lowly subject of yours owe it to?"
"Hm," her tone was low and considering, and Childe could hear the sound of her heels on the ice, approaching him slowly before ice-cold fingers lifted his chin in a poor imitation of a mother's touch, so that dull cerulean met piercing ice blue.
"I have heard much about your prowess on the battlefield. Truly, it is impressive, that you have managed to climb the ranks of the Fatui in such a short amount of time- two years, was it not?" the Tsaritsa asked, and Childe replied, "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," still looking into those eyes of ice.
"I even managed to watch you in combat recently. It was rather impressive, to see your raw skill and potential. Don't you think an Electro Delusion would go well with your Hydro?" the Tsaritsa inquired, but they both knew it wasn't a question- and wait. A Delusion? Wasn't that an honour only granted to the Harbingers?
"Your Imperial Majesty, I am afraid I do not understand. Pardon this lowly subject, but it was my understanding that Delusions are only given to the Harbingers." Childe says, as confusion gets the better of him.
"That is precisely what I am saying. From this day on, you shall be known as Tartaglia, Eleventh of my Harbingers. How does the Vanguard sound?" the Tsaritsa asks, letting go of his chin in one swift motion.
Him. A Harbinger. It shocks even him, the one known to never display any emotion on the battlefield. And after a too-long silence (though perhaps, it is not too-long when one considers it is that span of time in which he bids his childhood one final goodbye), he replies, "That would be a great honour for one such as myself. I am deeply honoured and humbled that Your Imperial Majesty has deigned to offer your lowly subject this position."
The Tsaritsa watches him intently, before the First Harbinger- Pierro, the Jester- rises from his seat and strides over to Childe- no, Tartaglia now, before leaning down to pin the badge that is his Delusion on him. It looks deceptively plain, but Tartaglia is of the opinion that it will change to the purple of Electro when he uses it.
"Rise, Tartaglia. You may take your seat at the table," the Tsaritsa commands, and so Tartaglia does so, walks over to the final seat and sits on the ice-cold chair.
Tartaglia can feel the gaze of all the other Harbingers on him, knows that they are appraising him, that they do not yet regard him as an equal. It ignites a fire in him, a desire to prove himself.
"Someday, my Tartaglia, you will become a perfectly honed weapon. My weapon. And you know how much I love and cherish my weapons, don't you?" the Tsaritsa speaks yet again. She does not love the cunning and devious, yet charismatic and cheerful Childe, does not love Ajax, the best big brother in all of Teyvat, of course- no, her love is only for Tartaglia, the weapon. Her weapon, he thinks, and the thought settles over him in a wave of nauseating finality.
"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Glory to the Tsaritsa, and may her reign be everlasting as the ice of Snezhnaya's mountains," Tartaglia replies evenly.
VI
"Good evening," Childe smiles as he stands to greet the delegate of the evening, a contact of theirs from the underground.
“Lord Tartaglia,” the man- Alexei, was it?- greets in return, offering him a slight bow. “It is an honour to meet you.”
“Please, sit down,” Childe replies, and they engage in some meaningless small talk. Childe has always hated pleasantries, but for the Tsaritsa’s sake, he will do what is necessary.
Then they get to the business. “So, have you found the necessary intelligence yet?” Childe asks albeit frostily when the man happens to ask about any family he has. The man, to his credit, does not flinch, instead nodding and procuring the documents, before launching into a spiel about economics and the like. Though Childe has tuned out Pantalone’s lectures on economic theories far too many times to count, the Regrator’s constant lecturing has ensured that Childe can, at least, understand the gist of what the man before him is saying.
When he finally finishes, Childe nods, taking hold of the documents and standing up, a clear indicator that the meeting is over.
“Thank you, Lord Harbinger,” the man greets, and at long last, leaves his office. Childe lets out a sigh of relief, before walking towards the room where the other Harbingers are gathered, awaiting his return.
“Well, well. Look who’s back at last,” Signora, ever the pleasant one, sneers as the doors swing forward before him. Pierro, as ever, is absent, his seat at the head of the table unoccupied.
“How did it go?” Pulcinella asks warmly, and Childe shoots him a small but more genuine smile. After all, Pulcinella was the one who helped him make the leap to Harbinger, and if there was any Harbinger he would trust, it would be the Rooster. “Decently. I got the documents, and helped forge a connection with that man’s organisation,” he says, placing them on the table and watching as Pantalone snatches them up, bespectacled eyes skimming rows of text before he nods in satisfaction.
“Not bad, Tartaglia. Someday you might actually start to understand economics,” he smiles, and Tartaglia returns the smile with a colder one of his own.
“I prefer to let my blades do the talking,” he replies, still smiling.
“Now then, let’s not take this matter out of hand,” Pulcinella interjects, placing a hand on Childe’s shoulder. Childe exhales a short breath, and nods once.
-
“Tartaglia,” the Tsaritsa speaks, and Tartaglia looks up as the Tsaritsa approaches him where he is kneeling before her throne. “You’ve done well in the years I’ve had you as my Eleventh. It is time I let you see more of Teyvat, is it not? I have a mission for you.” At that, Tartaglia’s attention doubles, and he focuses his gaze on his Tsaritsa, her and her only.
“Find Morax’s Gnosis, and bring it to me,” she commands, the power and authority in her voice ringing. “La Signora will accompany you on the boat to Liyue, to oversee some other matters. You will have the cover of being there to manage operations at Northland Bank.”
Morax . Better known as Rex Lapis amongst his followers, the Geo Archon of Liyue, oldest of the Seven. Tartaglia wanted nothing more than to go against Morax and test his powers. By his side, he felt his blades twitch, as if in anticipation for a fight.
Before all that, though, he had to agree.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replies, bowing once again. “It is an honour to be assigned this mission. Glory to the Tsaritsa, and may her reign be everlasting as the ice of Snezhnaya's mountains.”
This time, unlike the first time those words left his mouth, he truly means it.
“Childe. It is good to see you again. Congratulations on getting the assignment,” Pulcinella says as they walk out of the throne room.
“Thank you,” he replies, sending Pulcinella a smile.
“I promise, on my honour as the Fifth Harbinger, that I will take care of your little siblings in your absence, for I care for you,” Pulcinella abruptly says as soon as they are out of earshot of the other Harbingers- they both have never cared for pleasantries or farces.
“Thank you, Pulcinella. That means a lot to me,” he replies earnestly, and the two part ways there, for there is not more to be said. He does, too, have a trip to pack for.
-
Later, in his quarters in Zapolyarny Palace, he mulls over Pulcinella’s words. The Mayor of the capital, superior to him in rank amongst the Harbingers, yet he treats Childe like family.
Childe likes the old man, more than he likes the other Harbingers for sure. But then again, he thinks, shoving a spare uniform inside his travel bags absentmindedly, all of the Harbingers have their ulterior motives. He hopes Pulcinella’s care and, dare he say, love, is borne of genuine goodwill. This wish of his, though, doesn’t mean that he’ll let his guard down fully. For all that Pulcinella is a father figure to Childe, he is also a Harbinger- and one can never trust a Harbinger fully.
(Thinking about it makes Childe sad, but there is no time for stupid emotions like that, not when he has a mission to complete.)
plus one
Childe had spent a year in Liyue now. A year trying to track down Morax, and then, when he died, trying to avoid capture and to find the Exuvia. A year spent having too-frequent lunches with the attractive funeral parlour consultant, Zhongli, listening to him talk and footing the obscene bill they racked up at every one of their dinners. (Admittedly, he’d also spent that year falling for Zhongli.)
And all that, only to find the Gnosis was not inside the Exuvia. He’d lost his cool at that, transformed into the Foul Legacy, but the Traveller had still managed to beat him. Truly impressive, but he had not allowed himself time to recuperate, instead releasing Osial from his watery prison to lure Morax out.
To his surprise, the Qixing, with the aid of the Adepti and the Traveller, were able to subdue him, albeit at the cost of a Jade Chamber.
He thinks about this as he makes his way to the bank, dirty glares and loud murmurs shot his way as he walks through the streets. His first overseas mission failed, and his reputation in Liyue non-existent.
Then he walks into the bank and sees Zhongli and Signora, standing and talking. What is Zhongli doing here, with a Harbinger of all people? If Signora so much as dared to lay a hand on him-
“…Thank you for being so cooperative, Morax,” his train of thought was cut off by Signora’s words. Morax? Was Morax here?
Then it hit him like a pile of bricks. Zhongli was Morax. And Zhongli was very much alive.
He tries to keep control of his emotions, even as the Traveller walks in, clearly still upset at him after their battle at the Golden House and having to defeat the Fatui interfering with their battle against Osial, even as Zhongli waxes poetic about his plan for Liyue, in which he was just a paid actor. He hides everything under a mask of pettiness towards Signora and Zhongli for deceiving him.
But when the Traveller and Signora leave, and it is only him and Zhongli left, the mask cracks. No, it splinters, and Childe hisses at Zhongli, “You played me for a fool!”
Zhongli winces, seeming to compose himself before replying, “Childe, it was not my intention to hurt you. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
Childe pauses. No one has apologised to him for hurting him, not since before he fell into the Abyss. Not his parents after screaming at him, not his superiors in the Fatui when he had just joined, definitely not Skirk in the Abyss when he was injured, and of course never his Tsaritsa after he came back wounded from a mission.
Then again, he hadn’t had someone to call a friend since then too. Having Zhongli just discard their friendship like that had hurt him, more than he cared to admit. But he had apologised, and he seemed sincere in it.
Perhaps he would give it another chance.
“…Okay,” Childe replies softly, but Zhongli hears it and the most beautiful smile breaks out on his gorgeous face- no, wait, he shouldn't be thinking about that now, not when they’ve just salvaged their friendship. “So, wanna go get dinner at Wanmin?”
“Of course,” Zhongli smiles, and the two men walk out of the bank together.
-
Two months have passed since the Osial fiasco. Childe, having received news from Tonia that his father’s headaches have not subsided, sighs as he makes his way to the Northland Bank, a letter and Bubu Pharmacy’s best (and most expensive) herbs in hand. He knew his father would never eat it, and that the herbs were just a waste of Mora, but it wouldn’t be very good on his part to ignore the headaches Tonia had written about, would it? After all, though he hated it, his parents were still his siblings’ legal guardians, and it wouldn’t do to have his father unwell.
Pushing open the Bank’s doors, Childe cheerfully saunters up to the counter behind which Ekaterina is standing dutifully, though the moon is high in the night sky. “Evening, Ekaterina! Could you help me deliver this envelope to Snezhnaya?” he asks, placing the envelope containing his letter and the herbs onto the counter.
“Of course, sir. I’ll ensure it’s sent out with the first ship,” she replies.
“Great! Thank you,” Childe smiles, lifting a hand in greeting as he leaves the bank, the smile slipping from his face as soon as he is in the streets of Liyue. People still whisper about him, but the rumours have died down a little. Today, though, they seem especially loud, coming from intoxicated people as he passes, thoughts filled with images of his father.
“Childe,” a deep, familiar voice greets from somewhere nearby. Turning, Childe sees Zhongli standing a few paces away from him, and calls back, a little too eagerly, “Zhongli! I didn’t expect you to be here at this hour.”
“I forgot the time while I was giving a lecture on Liyuan burial customs to a new employee,” Zhongli sheepishly admits. “Would you be amenable to getting drinks with me at Third-Round Knockout? The night is young, after all,” he smiles disarmingly. Childe, caught off guard by that beautiful smile and the way those honeyed amber eyes seem to glow in his happiness, nods wordlessly, following Zhongli through the streets of the city.
They reach, ordering some baijiu, and Childe listens to Zhongli talk about his day- apparently, the new employee had been rather clueless about what to do, and Zhongli had lectured him for almost six hours.
“Six hours? Xiansheng, that’s- hahaha, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day!” Childe grabs the edge of the table as he laughs, gasping for air.
“I do not see what is so amusing about it,” Zhongli frowns slightly, only serving to set Childe off again. Childe orders yet another round of baijiu, and patiently explains to Zhongli that you don’t just lecture someone for hours on end.
Zhongli nods, seeming to understand, before changing the topic and asking, “My alcohol tolerance, by nature of being a former Archon and the Prime of the Adepti, is naturally high, but Childe, you have an extremely high alcohol tolerance. How did that come to be?”
Childe laughs, downing yet another glass as he replies, “In Snezhnaya, we have firewhiskey, which is much more potent than this. This is child’s play to me, hahaha!”
“It does seem that you are getting a little intoxicated, Childe. We have had many glasses,” Zhongli says. “Perhaps it would be better if you spent the night at my home. It is nearer to here, and I do not think it would be wise for you to walk to your home and stay there in this state.”
Childe likes Zhongli a lot, and there is no way in hell he’ll refuse that offer, so he laughs and replies, “Alright, xiansheng! To your home we go, then!”
He plops a large Mora bag on the table, standing up- then wobbling a little. Okay, maybe he’s more than a little drunk, but it’s okay, he’ll manage!
A hand comes to rest on his back, and Childe realises belatedly that it is Zhongli’s. A small little smile appears on his face, and he reaches for Zhongli’s other hand, grasping it tightly. The other man gasps softly, before intertwining their fingers. Childe does not notice it, but Zhongli is wearing a matching smile as he whispers, “Come on, let’s go home.”
Home. With Zhongli. What a novel concept, though Childe is not opposed to it.
They make their way to Zhongli’s house, and Childe drags Zhongli straight into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed and letting out a small, satisfied moan. When he cranes his neck to look behind, he finds that Zhongli is still standing by the side of the bed, and he mumbles, “Get onto the bed, silly Archon, stop standing there and staring at me.”
Zhongli chuckles fondly and obliges, crawling onto the bed with all of his usual grace and elegance. Childe beams at him, saying, “You’re pretty, you know, Zhongli? Like, really really pretty, I wanna kiss you kinda pretty. I like you a lot, you know?”
Zhongli, having just settled on the pillow, stares at him in shock. From this distance, Childe can feel Zhongli’s warm breath on his cheeks, and he asks, “So? Can I kiss you?”
“Of course, Childe,” Zhongli smiles, and Childe leans in, locking their lips. It is messy, given that they’re both lying down, but Zhongli still manages to seem elegant as ever, tasting of Silk Flowers and incense.
“‘Li, you might just be my favourite Archon,” Childe smiles as they break apart. Zhongli returns his smile with one of his own, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as Childe drifts off to sleep.
“I love you,” he whispers, and suddenly Childe’s eyes are open again.
“You love me?” he repeats dumbly.
“Childe, I love you. It has been this way for some time, and I apologise if this was sudden or unwanted- Childe?” Zhongli pauses to glance at Childe. For he is crying, crying like he hasn’t in years.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying, but I’m just- it’s just that no one has seen all sides of me and stood nothing to gain, and still said they loved me, since I was a little kid. I’ve been the Tsaritsa’s weapon of war, someone tainted, with the blood of innocents on my hands, since I was fourteen, ‘Li. I just- are you sure you want to love me?” Childe- no, Ajax whispers, almost scared.
“Of course, Childe. You are not unlovable in any way, regardless of what you may think. I, too, have the blood of many on my hands, and have many sides to me.” He pauses, then resumes, “You, too, have seen my many sides and stayed.”
“I love you,” Ajax whispers as he grips Zhongli’s wrists. “And if we’re this far in- call me Ajax. My birth name, before I became who I am today.”
“Alright, Ajax,” Zhongli smiles. “But know this too- I love you, regardless of whether you are Tartaglia, Childe or Ajax.”
Ajax cries again, laughing wetly as he punches Zhongli softly. “Stupid xiansheng, you’re making me cry,” he smiles. Zhongli merely smiles and pulls him into an embrace, warm and loving.
“Come, Ajax. Let us sleep,” he whispers, and Ajax smiles, snuggling against his chest as he falls asleep.