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When the Eleventh Harbinger first arrived in Mondstadt, it happened quietly. It was an inconspicuous arrangement to award the man privacy and not raise any flags for the locals about new Fatui activity. Unless you were a knight, it was unlikely that you would even know that a new visitor arrived within the city walls.
Of course, this didn’t apply to Diluc Ragnvindr, Master of the Dawn Winery, who had his own extensive network of reliable sources feeding him information just as fast, if not faster than it got to the knights.
That is why as soon as the carriage housing the Harbinger made its way past the city gates, so did the news reach Diluc’s ears.
This also meant that within a few hours, the Harbinger would be receiving an impromptu visit from one Darknight Hero.
Under the cover of darkness, the red haired man crept his way into the city, easily bypassing any patrolling guard's notice. His dark cloak concealed most of his body while an owlish mask lay flush around his eyes, edging on being enough to obscure his identity.
Although, with his long distinctive hair tied securely in a ponytail high on his head, it would be a wonder if the other couldn’t pick him out of a lineup afterwards.
Not covering his hair was partly by design and partly simple convenience. In essence, it was easier for his vision and mobility to not have a hood on obstructing his every movement. When the timing of every action and reaction could be the difference between life and death, it was better to give himself as much wiggle room as possible. However, the other reason is that he wants whoever he goes after to know that it was him.
There was satisfaction in knowing that the last thing they’ll see at the end of their miserable lives is him—and that they were previously warned of him by those he allowed to flee with their lives. His reputation helped stave off the majority of random crimes within the nation's borders as, by then, most treasure hoarders and the like knew that if they acted out the last thing they would see is red, red, red.
That being said, dealing with a Harbinger is a whole other ballgame. If his previous experiences are anything to go by, he was going to be in for a long night.
The feeling of his nails digging into his palms through leather gloves brought him out of his thoughts.
Unclenching his hands, he stopped and took a moment to steady his breath, getting too excited would surely end in disaster plus he was just dropping in for a talk, or so he tried to convince himself. After a few deep breaths, he was finally calm enough to think clearly again.
Tightly clutching a thin strip of paper that outlined the Fatuus accommodations in his right hand while his vision steadily burned on his left, he made his way to the Goth Grand Hotel.
His objective was simple. Find out exactly what the Fatui were planning, and how much of a threat the Harbinger would pose to their otherwise peaceful nation. He knew it was stupid to go in blind—knowing only the other's title and, well, not much else—but he couldn’t just sit idly by and let an unknown threat walk around unchecked. For his own peace of mind, and more importantly the safety of Mondstadt, he had to move quickly.
Despite what his haste may convey, he wasn’t foolish enough to think confronting a Harbinger in their own hotel room would go over smoothly, regardless of his plan, he went in expecting a fight. Yet he also knew that with such a concealed arrival the other obviously doesn’t want to draw attention to themselves which would be hard to do if they caused a bloodbath on their first night here.
With deft steps, he made his way up the side of the building and onto the Harbinger's window ledge soundlessly. Skilled hands made quick work of the lock blocking his entry as he slowly but carefully nudged open the wooden frame, prepared for anything.
In reality, he wasn’t prepared at all. Out of everything he imagined, what he actually found inside was something he wouldn’t have accounted for in even his wildest mental scenarios.
There, sitting sideways at a desk facing the window with his face propped up on one hand, the other drumming a soft tune onto the hardwood, was the most beautiful man Diluc had ever laid his eyes upon.
Going off his previous encounters with other Harbingers—that were less than amicable, to say the least—he was expecting the same kind of vile scum to be waiting for him in his hotel room. A grotesque being to the highest degree, barely human if even at all. So for him to walk in and see that Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, wasn’t some smarmy, revolting creature but this?!
He almost couldn’t believe his eyes, blinking repeatedly at the man who just looked back at him. His face was initially impassive but it seemed to be slowly creeping towards amused the longer they sat in silence. For a moment Diluc thought that he might have the wrong room, but his intel was always solid and no normal person would be this calm in such a scenario.
Diluc had broken into his temporary lodgings in the dead of night yet the other wasn’t perturbed in the slightest, still wearing what looked to be his uniform as if awaiting his arrival. From the corner of his eye, he could see that the room was practically untouched save for the bed whose blanket had a corner flipped over as if inviting its patron to go rest. And if he could make it out clearly in the dimly lit room, then there was also a large square luggage propped up behind him near the exit, like whoever brought it there couldn’t be bothered to bring it any further into the room.
The desk he sat at was modest in size and completely bare except for a small lamp in the corner. It acted as the only source of light in the room, aside from the faint flicker of moonlight leaking in through the window behind him. However, the lamp was bright enough for him to make out his face clearly.
The warm light softly illuminated his features and in that moment Diluc could do nothing but stand there and take it all in. His ginger curls were slightly mussed from an apparent long day of travel but sharp eyebrows lay relaxed across his forehead, not showing any signs of stress or fatigue. He followed the curve of his brow bone as it led into a crooked nose, it had clearly been broken but never set back properly into place, but somehow it just added to his beauty.
Below that lay a pair of full pink lips, slightly chapped and curled into an almost smile. His gaze lingered there for a moment too long before he realized what he was doing and snapped his eyes back to the others, praying that his mask could hide the blush he knew was creeping up his cheeks.
And oh, what a mistake that was. If he had any hope for salvation before, it was completely gone now. Deep blue eyes that seemed to absorb all the light in the room drew Diluc in like a siren’s song, and like a poor fisherman out at sea, Diluc was helpless. He nearly forgot what he was there for but thankfully the other parted those supple lips in greeting and thus their night began.
Diluc braced himself for a dispute, for a bloodbath, but all that came was a calm conversation. His questions were simply answered when he asked them, all the while the other had a toothy grin plastered across his pretty face. He learns that Tartaglia—Childe, he introduced himself—is stationed here for the foreseeable future and that the Fatui has no current plans for Mondstadt, simply dispatching him to oversee the troops already stationed there.
He also learns that he has it bad.
They bid each other farewell but Diluc was still a bit shell shocked by the whole situation as he climbed back out the window he came from. And if he snuck a secret glance at the other one last time before he dropped to the ground, that’s nobody's business but his own.
_____
Childe has been living in Mondstadt for the past few months and, for the most part, has integrated into the population well. Those who didn’t know the Harbinger would often approach him unable to resist the temptation of his beauty. Hell even those who knew him couldn’t help but try to get close. He became famous around the city as both men and women would bend over backward just to catch a glimpse of him.
His uncommon auburn hair was already enough to make him stand out in a crowd, but when you pair that with his exceptional height and a face that looks like it was ripped straight out of a romance novel, he was like a beacon of seduction. It didn’t help that his choice of clothing left barely anything to the imagination with his midriff almost completely exposed, something that Diluc had to actively try not to stare at.
Not to mention his impossibly deep blue eyes that would lure you in like a moth to a blazing inferno. He could easily capture a piece of your soul with how they crinkled at the corners with mirth along with a crooked smile that would accompany it. There was even a rumour that went around saying if you looked into his eyes for too long, he would capture your heart leaving you incapable of falling for another, doomed for all eternity.
Diluc would neither confirm nor deny the validity of that particular rumour.
Surprisingly, despite his popularity he was extremely hard to get a hold of. This was particularly due to his line of work, but also because he was an expert at avoiding unwanted interactions. The lucky few that were able to catch him in conversation for more than just a greeting were often left stunned afterward.
There was something…off about the way he conversed.
With a whisper of an accent, the ginger haired anomaly spoke as if he were reading his responses straight out of a grammar textbook, with every sentence being delivered like an entry to a report—robotic and entirely too formal. The directness of his speech cut like a knife and displayed an authority that you would otherwise not glean from his appearance alone.
For as long as Diluc had known him, Childe has spoken in that same peculiar manner. That is not to say that his mastery of the common tongue was in question because that would be furthest from the truth. Rather, it was more likely that you might consider his style of speech to be too perfect. Diluc didn’t notice at their first meeting, partially due to trying to keep his thoughts in check, but also since they had met on what you could call ‘official business’.
Since then they have spoken numerous times, it would’ve been impossible not to. Whether through business meetings or interactions at Angel’s Share, the two were bound to run into each other. Either on purpose or not.
Yet no matter the context, his tone never once changed.
It was to be expected to an extent. As a Harbinger, it would be especially unbecoming if he were to behave otherwise during official appearances. However, even outside of formal affairs where he could let loose and don a more casual attitude, his words seemed to carry an even more awkward edge to them.
It made the severe disconnect between the way he spoke and the way he acted infinitely more prominent to those around him.
Childe was also very friendly presenting in most cases, his actions were never discourteous to the locals unless he had a debt to collect, but even then he would try to keep it contained to just a scare as a courtesy. Still, whether he was on a simple stroll through the market or interrogating a group of treasure hoarders, he spoke in that same way.
It didn’t bother Diluc at first when they were barely acquaintances. He had assumed that the other was keeping it professional—as most high-ranking political figures do—which was understandable, smart even. However, as their relationship began to progress to more than just a professional necessity and the other's manner of speech did not progress with it, he found it all the more troubling.
The terms of their budding romance were by no means soft or reserved. Regardless of their pleasant first meeting, the Fatui was still the Fatui, and the two were still technically enemies. So rather than indulging in a frilly love story, their relationship came about like a stellar collision. It was like gravity pulled them together and no matter what they did, ultimately, their explosive union was inevitable.
In the early days, they would constantly crash and tear into each other, reacting to their carnal desires but never moving past that despite their obvious affection for one another. They were both too afraid. Afraid to take the next step. Afraid of what it would mean. Afraid of what they could lose.
That's why Diluc left it alone for the most part. He didn’t feel like he had a right to bring it up. To ask for more when their situation was so fragile that it felt like it would shatter under the slightest hint of pressure. The tension in their relationship that somewhat held it together, in the end, kept steadily growing until one night it utterly burst.
It was messy and violent but it was also unequivocally them. Under the cover of moonlight, the two were finally able to reach each other, coming together to bare their souls to one another with only the stars as their witness and the scorched earth beneath their feet to keep them grounded.
After all their hardships, things finally began to settle down.
Diluc thought Childe would finally drop the formalities since they had officially become lovers, but even then—when they no longer needed to hide behind pretense—he still spoke with that same propriety.
It was like a wall Diluc just couldn’t scale no matter how hard he tried.
In a few moments of weakness, he had even attempted to try and subtly coax Childe into using a more casual tone with him, emphasizing his own words in hopes of the other imitating him. So far all his trials were unsuccessful. The only upside was that the other didn’t seem to mind Diluc’s lack of decorum when they spoke, and so he continued to relish in that closeness for himself even if the other didn’t reciprocate.
A part of him feared that this was Childe’s way of subtly rejecting him—drawing an invisible line between them that told Diluc not to step any closer. That thought haunted him on occasion, guilt keeping him awake at night as he stared at his ceiling as if it offended him instead of into the backs of his eyelids, asleep.
Even so, he couldn’t fully bring himself to believe his worries. While Childe’s speech was odd and jilting, the Harbinger was shockingly sweet and showed his affection in whatever peculiar way he could.
He didn’t call Diluc by any cute pet names (not that he wanted him to or anything), but he did often refer to him as ‘My Diluc’ which inexplicably made the pyro user’s heart stutter in his chest. The other was also very physically affectionate, constantly ensuring that they maintain at least one point of contact between them at all times.
For this, Diluc was eternally grateful.
There was also no shortage of gifts that he would shower Diluc with for any occasion or no occasion at all. He’d even told Diluc once that just being able to see him that day was reason enough to hand him the most beautiful bouquet of cecilia’s that Diluc had ever seen. He still doesn’t know how the other found out what his favourite flower was.
It’s almost hard to believe that such beautiful words could be spoken in such a harsh tone and it always left a discordant feeling in Diluc’s mind.
Not to be outdone, Diluc also makes sure to pay him back tenfold. For every kiss, he planted ten more wherever he could reach. With any gift, a crate full of things Childe might like took its place. The two are constantly trying to one-up each other, and with the amount of disposable income between them, it's hardly shocking.
While the gifts are always nice and never fail to make his heart flip, for Diluc there is no greater prize than seeing Childe’s beautifully freckled skin take on a pink hue, flushing head to toe from Diluc’s over the top gestures. He loves knowing he has that effect on the other. Something that only he has the power to do and the privilege to see.
Even after being official for a few months, the two never tired of it. It was as if holding back their true feelings for so long made them stir crazy and they couldn’t help but do everything over the top, agreeing that the other didn’t deserve anything less.
However, while they are finally free to act like the love-sick fools that they undoubtedly are, that is not to say they don’t fight anymore, because they most certainly do. Their spars could be considered legendary at this point, molten fire and pure water crashing together with only enough restraint to ensure the other didn’t suffer any fatal wounds.
It was impossible for anyone to match up to Childe in terms of battle lust, but Diluc was still a formidable opponent, providing them both with enough violence for their combat-hardened spirits to be sated.
Yet when they finally made their way back to the Winery—which now housed them both—their previous viciousness and blood-thirst had all but vanished into thin air, leaving only two men tenderly wrapping each other's wounds and planting kisses to old scars that they didn’t have the opportunity to protect the other from.
Diluc found himself becoming embarrassed whenever he delved into this line of thinking for too long, remembering how sweet the other can be to him and all the gentle moments they’d shared. Yet there was still an ugly nagging feeling in the back of his mind telling him that he was undeserving of such kindness, that the other was still keeping him at arms distance.
He absentmindedly ran a finger over a scar on his left hand that stretched from his wrist to his index finger—the matching pair of which resides on the object of his turmoil’s opposite hand— and resolved himself to formally address his concerns.
_____
Light panting filled the room as the two men lay side by side on a large bed; pillows and clothes thrown haphazardly around the room in their earlier haste. Though they had just spent the better part of a day in the throes of passion, Diluc’s mind was beginning to wander back to his earlier concerns.
Staring up at the ceiling he’s grown to resent, he contemplated the best way to go about his inquiry. That was until he felt a pale, scarred finger poking against his cheek, beckoning him to turn his gaze. Easily obliging to face his lover, the ginger haired man gave him a thoughtful look before speaking, taking that same finger to smooth out the crease that formed between Diluc’s furrowed brows.
“What’s wrong, My Diluc? You will get wrinkles should you continue like this.” He spoke calmly, yet Diluc could tell there was an underlying sense of worry in his words.
Slightly taken aback by Childe’s perception or perhaps his own transparency he elected to not respond right away. Instead, he reached an arm over the other's waist, quietly pulling the sinewy scarred body towards himself so that they were pressed flush against one another, the Harbinger's head resting along his bicep.
Satisfied with the regained proximity, he raises his arm once again to card his fingers through ginger hair as they lay there, comfortably tangled in a mess of limbs and silk sheets. Childe does not protest or offer any resistance, merely waiting patiently for Diluc to get comfortable before he responds, which he knows he will. Another moment passes in silence before Diluc finally speaks.
“You don’t have to be so formal with me you know… I think we’re well past that point.”
He spoke softly but resolutely, determined in his endeavour no matter what the outcome might be. Hoping his conviction masked any apprehension in his voice, he could only pray that the other wouldn’t catch on. He tried to keep the question lighthearted for the sake of his own heart but there's no telling what the other might say.
Childe pauses, looking at him for a moment considering the question before his face dropped into a serious look, staring so deeply into his scarlet eyes that Diluc nearly began to shiver. His heart was hammering in his chest as he prepared for the worst. Would he confirm all his worries to be true? Does Childe really not feel the same way? What if-
”Is me laying naked in your bed, with your children dripping down my thighs, not ‘informal’ enough for you, Mr. Darknight Hero?”
Cutting through his thoughts, the other spoke as he usually does when dealing with foreign dignitaries, however, his words were anything but dignified.
Childe’s expression remained steady with practiced ease as he delivered such a shameless line, his composure only cracking when he observes Diluc’s flustered, sputtering reaction. Diluc’s jaw fell open, once again falling victim to the ginger's wiles. Seeing how his teasing was successful, the other let out a bright boisterous laugh—which rang in Diluc’s ears like wedding bells.
With his nerves subsided for the moment, he shoots the ginger a withering look (which only made the other laugh more), before continuing their conversation.
“That,” He says, letting out a long suffering sigh, his face heating up at the other's crude statement, “Is not what I meant.”
It was stupid to be embarrassed at this point. The other's statement was not only a factual recounting of the current events but also not the first—nor the last—time said event has occurred. Still, he couldn’t help it, he was raised as a gentleman.
An impish grin spreads across the ginger's face as he brings up his hand to once again poke a finger against a now pink cheek. “Oh? Then tell me, what did you mean?”
Diluc catches the offending finger and kisses its tip before securing the hand within his grasp, moving to hold it against his cheek beneath his palm. “The way you speak like we’re always in a business meeting.” Like we’re still enemies, goes unsaid.
“Ah, are you bothered by it?” He asks, smoothing his thumb over the high point of the Pyro user's cheekbone. By now the blush has all but dissipated, only the lingering flush from their previous activities remaining.
“That depends, is there a reason?” He allows the touch to soothe his uncertainty, trying to maintain eye contact.
“Well,” he paused for a moment opening and closing his mouth a few times before continuing. “I did not learn the common language until I became Her Majesty’s Vanguard.”
Diluc was taken aback by the admittance, Childe had only risen to his rank of Harbinger a couple of years ago and for him to only start learning the language at such a late age was extremely rare, especially in the current year. Most people start learning the common tongue of Teyvat in the earliest years of school and continue to do so for, usually, the rest of their lives.
“I don’t understand…” He spoke finally.
Childe stared into his eyes again, but this time uncertainty swam within the depths of his irises, seemingly scanning for any signs of ridicule or judgement like he’s been scorned before. When he didn’t find any, he let out a small breath and spoke with an unwavering voice.
“I joined the Fatui when I was 14 years old and I was homeschooled before that. My village was too small for anything else. The Fatui taught me only what I needed to know of the common tongue once my Harbinger status was imminent, nothing more, nothing less.”
The gears started turning in Diluc’s mind as everything began to click into place, his eyes widening slightly in realization. The reason why he speaks like a walking textbook is because that's all he knows.
Unlike Diluc who has spent his whole life as a de facto Mondstadt noble with access to formal education and etiquette training, Childe was thrust into the language and had to practically memorize the rules given to him as fast as possible so that he can carry out his missions and duties. Not to mention how his years in the military must have impacted him.
The Fatui cultivated him into the perfect picture of authority, down to the syllable. To them, there was no reason why a Harbinger should need to communicate so casually.
As curious as he was to know more, he could tell it wasn’t the right time. So instead, he chose to focus on the man who was there, laying in his arms, instead.
Unable to hold himself back any longer, Diluc felt all the months of built-up tension leave his body with a deep exhale. So he really was worried over nothing. He felt silly but most of all he felt relieved.
Childe was about to speak again when Diluc abruptly cut him off with a deep kiss, leaving no room for debate. It took a second, but Childe quickly gathered his wits and reciprocated fiercely, tipping his head to the side to give the other easier access to his mouth. They continued like that for a while, completely lost in the feeling of one another.
When they finally parted, the two were locked in each other's gaze. Diluc leaned in to give one last peck onto the other's lips—chaste but tender nonetheless—before pulling him into a tight embrace, tucking his head into the crook of the ginger's neck. Childe brings up his hand to comb his fingers through crimson hair while a pair of soft lips rest against his clavicle.
“Are you going to tell me what this was all about or not?” He gently tugs a few locks of Diluc’s hair for emphasis.
Instead of answering, Diluc just released a soft “mmh” and tucked his face deeper into the other's neck, wanting to feel him as close as possible.
“My Diluc, do not think that you will escape so easily.”
That's the only warning he gets before Childe’s hands suddenly dart down towards his waist to enact the most gruesome torture method possible, tickling. Diluc’s eyes fly open and he immediately darts up in a frenzy but it’s already too late, Childe’s hands have made contact.
Diluc refuses to acknowledge the undignified noise that escapes him as he wiggles and writhes around on the bed trying to escape those persistent fingers. But no amount of pleading will work once Childe has begun his attack, using his inhuman strength to pin the other down and continue his barrage.
“AJAX WAIT I’M GONNA PEE!!” He shrieks out as a last ditch effort.
All it took was Childe hesitating for one split second for the tables to turn. In an instant, he had the perpetrator's hands trapped between their bodies as he bear-hugged the man and rolled over on top of him to keep him in place. Although Diluc was the one being tickled, Childe himself was left in a fit of laughter while trapped in the tight embrace. In retaliation, Diluc opened his jaw and bared down on the other's shoulder.
“ACK! Diluc, why!?” He managed to get out between his guffawing.
“That's what you get.” He replied, still leaving an apologetic kiss over the new mark that now joined the slew of others he had left behind earlier.
Childe’s laughter died down as a comfortable silence permeated the room. The two continued to lay locked together, unwilling to part to accommodate even the smallest molecule of air between them.
“I…” He began but trailed off before starting again. “I was afraid that you didn’t want to be close to me. I know it’s stupid I just…” Sighing, he closed his eyes, leaning down to rest his forehead on the bed next to the Harbinger’s ear.
Childe was able to wriggle his arms out of the space between them enough to cup Diluc’s face in his hands, bringing it up so they could look each other in the eyes once more.
“You are stupid.” He begins, which earns him a sharp twitch in the eyebrows of the other, but he continues on. “I love you, My Diluc. Do not ever doubt that.”
Childe gives him a genuine smile, it’s subdued and gentle but strikes through every cell in his body like lightning. Very unlike the one that dons his face in the midst of battle, or the one he uses when he parses through the markets chatting idly with the clerks. Here and now, his face is filled with love.
The moment changes when Childe feels something stir.
“Hm?” He says, a teasing smile making its way back onto his lips. “You are very healthy, Master Diluc.”
“Shut up.” He replies, and before the other can argue back, he presses their lips together in a soft, slow kiss.
They pull apart one last time, only long enough for Diluc to utter the words that plague his mind whenever he’s reminded of cerulean eyes and auburn hair.
“I love you, My Ajax.”