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They stumbled out of Angel’s Share, leaning heavily on each other.
Lumine’s breath was hot on his ear. “I would win, if neither of us had hands.”
Childe winced— the Traveler was a loud drunk. He adjusted his grip around her waist, trying to remember what had prompted her declaration. Unable to pierce through the pleasant dandelion wine-induced haze that had settled like a blanket over his mind, he just nodded. “Probably.”
“Someone’s in an agreeable mood,” she said with a laugh.
He chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I be? I have you with me.” He tried walking, but Lumine was relying almost wholly on him to stay upright, her entire weight pressed against his side. “I’ve never seen you like this, pretty girl.”
She burped. “Neither— neither h-have I.” Gesturing weakly, she said, “Let’s go over there for a sec.”
Assuming her intent was to point at the tables in front of the tavern, rather than the empty space she had waved at, Childe dragged them over and set Lumine down on a tabletop. She wrapped her arms around herself. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Can I get you anything?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I—” Her response turned into a gag. Covering her mouth, she pushed past him and fell to her knees, retching.
“Oh, kochana.” He held her hair back as the contents of her stomach splattered over the cobblestone.
Lumine looked back over her shoulder and shot him a small smile. “Thank you.” The gold of her eye was bright; something about the brightness of it sobered him, and, in that second of clarity, he envisioned a lifetime of Lumine.
He saw them dancing hand-in-hand in a decorated hall, him in an embroidered suit, her in a beaded crown. He tried a beard. She grew out her hair, and he kept it out of her face when she threw up due to morning sickness— which she experienced with each of their children. They built a home together, and it always had a crowded table. He would pick the kids up and swing them around the room, and then she would laugh (joyously and freely) when he did the same with her.
He saw her loving him.
He felt his love for her.
He felt it now.
Sweet Tsaritsa’s Tears, he loved Lumine.
The sound of her heaving faded back in.
What an inconvenient time to realize you are in love with someone.
Childe rubbed light circles into her back. “How are you doing?”
She shook her head, her shoulders up by her ears, and said something incoherent.
He leaned closer. “What?”
“Ajax.” Her voice was hoarse and low. She wiped her mouth on her arm, leaving a streak of something dark behind, and turned to face him. “Something’s wrong,” she choked out.
Viscous liquid dripped from her mouth.
The door to the tavern opened, flooding the area with light.
Everything was red.
His eyes widened in shock as hers fluttered shut.
Cradling her in his arms, he looked up at the figure standing in the doorway. “Help.” The word –one he rarely used— came out mangled. He tightened his grip on Lumine, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Lumine— the Traveler— poison. She’s been poisoned.” Her breathing grew shallow. His words grew desperate. “Get help!” he snarled. “Get help!”
The figure –the Cavalry Captain— startled as if snapping out of a daze. He swore and ran into the building.
Distantly, Childe could hear a commotion erupt; the bard’s music came to a screeching halt, Diluc called for all exits to be sealed, and the Captain rounded up other knights; but all the Harbinger could comprehend was Lumine, laying nearly lifeless in his arms.
He pulled her close to his chest.
What a horrible time to realize that he loved her.
Somone in white splashed into the pool of blood surrounding Childe and Lumine. He looked up in time to see the Acting Grand Master offer a hurried prayer to the Anemo Archon. A warm breeze sprang to life, wrapping itself around Lumine. The knight placed her hand on Lumine’s forehead, her own creased in concentration. “I am only keeping her from getting any worse,” she stated. “We need to get her to the Cathedral. Quickly.”
Childe nodded, purpose helping to clear his thoughts. “I can do that.” He stood. “Do you need to come with us to maintain the blessing?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
---
What felt like years later, Childe stood over Lumine’s bed.
The Deaconess had saved her life, but it had been grueling work. Whoever poisoned her had been trying to murder her— an unholy amalgamation of poison, acids, and rifthound blood. It would have killed anyone else. Given more time it would’ve…
Childe shook his head. The sisters had cleaned her up and changed her into a clean linen gown, but he couldn’t get the image of her blood-soaked skin out of his mind.
“Something’s wrong.”
His blood boiled. Whoever it was, they would pay.
Footsteps sounded behind him; he turned to see the Cavalry Captain.
“Master Tartaglia,” he greeted, voice low. His gaze flicked to Lumine, his expression hardening. “We have found the perpetrator. Would you like to join us for an… off-the-books interrogation?”
Abyssal energy surged within him. Electro sparked at his fingertips. He grinned, flashing all of his teeth. “Nothing would please me more.”
When Lumine awoke, it was gradual. The subtle scent of dandelions hung in the still air; deep, even breathing (with the occasional snore) filled the room; gentle rays of sun hit her face, coaxing her eyes open.
The first thing she saw was Ajax, who was fast asleep— the source of the snoring. He was sitting in a chair, technically, but the top half of him was on her bed, his face towards her. Spatters of dried blood decorated his fair skin— was it from her, or someone else?
Her heart soft, she grabbed a towel from her bedside table and dampened the corner. With great care, she started to wipe the flakes of blood away.
What a wonderful time to realize you are in love with someone.
She was about halfway through when he began to stir. She brought her hand back to her side as his eyes opened. He looked at her and blinked repeatedly, like he was having trouble understanding that she was awake.
Lumine smiled. “Hi.”
He stopped blinking. “Hi.”
“How are you?” she asked.
“Good, how are you— wait!” He jerked back so quickly the force of it knocked his chair onto its back legs; flailing, he managed to right himself. He pushed his hair back from his face. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. How are you?”
Lumine yawned. “Tired.” She patted the space next to her on the mattress. “Join me.”
“Printsessa. You need to rest.”
“And that’s what we will be doing,” she asserted. “Resting.”
Childe chewed his lip. “Fine.” He crawled onto the bed and pulled her into his arms.
She snuggled into his chest.
How great it is, to be in love.