Chapter Text
Little Ajax is special, cared for, cherished. Playing with his only but favourite toy, he has never wondered why the youngest is the only one in the house who can just be. He doesn't have to prove his usefulness with actions or help, he is loved simply because of that.
Because he is special.
A phrase that often slips between dear parents: during an argument, during a tantrum, during the prayers that are an integral part of life, all of which make it undeniable that Ajax is unique.
When Tonya was born, it was hard to get used to her. The boy constantly kicked, refusing to recognise his sister, but in time he came to terms with it, ignoring the girl as if she didn't exist. The parents only sighed heavily, accepting this reaction - it was better than waking up with the feeling that someone was silently watching, as if waiting for the right moment to strike. Their son often stood over the cradle at night in shadow, staring blankly at the tiny creature.
Who is it and why is it here? Ajax mumbled something unintelligible, retreating to his room in frustration.
His father shook his head and his mother cried, realising what a mistake she had made.
Ajax is special and he was too used to it, relying on his elders for everything.
So it played a bad joke on him when, falling for the rude words of the neighbourhood kids, he ran away from his father's house into the forest, in search of adventure. Unfortunately, adventure found the boy, driving him into a corner. The boy ineptly ran away from the wolves, constantly falling on his side. There was no fear, but his mother had always taught him that if the creatures didn't have a kind expression on their faces, you should hide.
Gasping for breath, Ajax stumbled backwards, falling into a gloomy crevice. Falling into the dark space, he noticed the fluffs of snow dissolving into warm water dripping down his face.
Is this hell? – The boy swallowed hard, remembering his mum's swear words, reprimanding his father who suggested getting rid of the poor sick lamb so he wouldn't suffer:
— You can't!
— It's better for him.
— Selfish, you'll go to hell if you do!
Hell is bad, a little child understands if a mother screams, it means she's screaming something bad.
Ajax landed painfully in the thorny bushes, and drops of melted snow fell from above, washing over the small scratches. Ignoring any discomfort, the boy slowly climbed out, looking around. Not noticing the solid white canvas, his breathing quickened and the back of his neck was covered in goosebumps from the realisation that this place was unfamiliar.
A loud murmur is heard and the boy curls up, covering his eyes and ears. He doesn't want to see, doesn't want to hear whatever made that sound.
There is no fear, but his body screamed danger, urging him to run and not look back, but it is too clumsy, so Ajax is trapped, doomed to certain death.
Feeling someone else's stinking breath, he had no choice but to freeze, waiting for the end, but suddenly there was a squeal, followed by something hot splashing against his freckled cheek. Opening his eyes, the boy touched his face, noticing a red liquid that looked like his older sister's favourite lip paint. Is the sister here?
Turning around, hoping to see the familiar, only to be confronted by the darkness of frozen raspberries, staring as if into his very soul.
— Rain child? — Ajax opened his mouth and tilted his head to the side, not sure what the woman was talking about: — I saw you fall, accompanied by the water. You're her favourite, apparently.
— You are who? The boy looked away, wringing his hands.
— Your saviour. — The stranger hummed, crossing her arms over her chest: — Be thankful to the mercy of the abyss that I was passing by and decided to see what kind of whale came down from the surface, and with such special effects.
— I'm Ajax. — The child also hummed, not quite catching the atmosphere. — Me help, please. Me home take.
— Think first, then speak, Rainie, the sentences are not quite right. Bad luck for you, kid, there's no turning back, you'll have to sit here. — The woman frowned, looking at the ginger curls and big blue eyes. — But you'll be dead before the portal appears.
— ... You'll die before the portal appears. — The boy frowned, not agreeing with that outcome. — Help.
— I will if you're willing to let go of your past life and become a different person. You're a hothouse child raised in care, the Abyss will not accept you.
— What do I should?
— Become a monster. — The stranger squinted, deep in her heart pitying the creature. Wouldn't survive, couldn't cope.
— Good. — Ajax hesitated, not fully understanding what was being asked of him, but if he could get back to his parents that way, he'd try.
— Fine, then follow me. — She turned to the boy as she was about to go into the depths of the abyss: — I am Skirk. You will soon be begging for mercy, calling out that name.
The boy mumbled in agreement, but he doubted that would happen.
The clinking of blades interrupted the oppressive silence, the two: woman and child in a practice battle, no different from the real thing. Ajax was out of breath, almost whimpering at the sluggishness of his own body. Falling to the ground, he covered his ears with his hands, begging for mercy.
— I can't, please, it's for me hard.
— If you want to live, pick up a blade and fight. — Skirk looked coldly, showing no pity.
— It's for me hard.
— You are special. And that's why you have to fight even harder for your existence. People like you are not liked, so learn to save yourself.
— It's for me hard, it's for me hard! — The boy whimpered, rising clumsily to his feet. He needed to be strong, whatever it took.
— You're acting like a perpetual child, Rainie. — The woman stepped closer to her apprentice, peering into the muddy blue eyes. This place has already taken away their sparkle, creating a true monster. — The Abyss grants you a new name. Childe. Take it and thank her for her blessing.
After which she attacked again.
***
The ship approached the harbour, and the ginger young man headed straight for the place he had indicated earlier, the Northland bank belonging to Fatui, with confidence.
This was the Eleventh Harbinger's first mission outside of Snezhnaya, and even though Tartaglia was now stressed from the long journey and change of climate, he could not let the Tsaritsa down.
After his father had abandoned him, sending him to the army for re-education, Cryo Archon had been the one to welcome the rambunctious teenager into the cold embrace of his new mother.
Childe pulled a photograph from his pocket, scrutinising his extended family. He would not want to forget what they looked like again, so he cherished the one thing that reminded him of his siblings moulding snowmen.
— Mister Harbinger. — The young man didn't immediately respond to the title. The woman took a deep breath, stepping closer to her superior. — Mister Harbinger, my name is Ekaterina, I have been assigned as your assistant. I hope the journey has been easy.
— Thank you, yes. — Tartaglia smiled crookedly as he looked at his subordinate. — 'It's time for our meeting, take us to it. The Tsaritsa me told about the consultant, he'll help.
Ekaterina's eyebrows twitched at the strange construction of the sentence, but she still led the harbinger along.
The shouts of merchants, the laughter of children, the quarrels of married couples mingled into a cacophony of unpleasant sounds, reminiscent of the gnashing of monsters from the abyss, thus frightening Ajax.
It seemed as if a vile creature, giggling viciously, was about to reach out its claws towards the boy to tear his little body apart, and the child was unable to defend himself, helpless against the creature. And no one can save him, no one. Childe is not loved, Childe is not recognised, Childe cannot cope.
Childe is weak, Childe is worthless, Childe is pathetic.
Childe is miserable because he's special.
The hands clasping tightly over sensitive ears shuddered at the realisation of how small Ajax is amongst all these people surrounding him to devour a misguided ginger child. They're monsters. They're all monsters, having somehow crawled out of the abyss to drag an escaped beast into the underworld. Closing his eyes, the harbinger felt his breathing quicken and his body shake involuntarily, remembering that fall into the darkness, accompanied by warm drops of melted snow.
Suddenly his shoulder was touched, causing a herd of goosebumps.
— Are you all right? — The voice was pleasant, gentle, like a beckoning ray of sunshine peeking out from the portal of the abyss. After months of darkness, it was like something new, still unknown, but already painfully loved. Light is good, light is salvation. Slowly opening his empty blue eyes, the young man meets the bright amber: the exact opposite of the cold roundels of Skirk's raspberries, but the sensation is the same. It's as if Ajax is once again a fourteen year old boy being pulled from the clutches of ignominious death. Smiling crookedly, Tartaglia finally straightened up, mumbling something unintelligible. Ekaterina, previously unsure of how to proceed, exhaled in relief:
— Sir, although the meeting was to be held in a restaurant, let me introduce your attendant. Zhongli Xiansheng.
— Nice to meet you, as already said, my name is Zhongli, I work as a consultant at Wansheng Funeral Home, but was hired by the Northland Bank. — The man smiled faintly as he watched the indifferent young man.
— Tartaglia. Call Childe. Xiansheng, nice to meet you. — Ajax looked away from those attentive amber eyes.
The lunch might have gone well, if Ekaterina hadn't decided to leave the harbinger alone with his new acquaintance. Of course, the young man always does his job perfectly, by his standards, but socialising with people has never been his strong suit. Childe was born for battle, not negotiation, and now, nervously rolling the hydro vision, he looks at Zhongli without the slightest bit of excitement. Tartaglia was so engrossed in himself that he didn't immediately notice how he was being addressed, asking about his choice of dish. He looked indifferently at the menu and asked for seafood soup, not really asking if it was on the list.
The consultant twitched, but Ajax ignored it.
— So, what brings you here? — The man, who had been in control of the situation up to that point, felt a certain discomfort as he watched his rather passive interlocutor. Usually he could support any conversation, but what could be talked about when the other person was simply silent?
Childe first folded his hands in a prayer gesture and then began to eat his soup, staring at one point. The flavour was strikingly different from what was served in Snezhnaya it was annoying, but not enough to turn the plate over. It wasn't until about five minutes later that the young man remembered the consultant:
— Looking for a Geo Archon. Need a gnosis.
Zhongli was taken aback by such directness. Was it normal to tell something like this to, in fact, a resident of Liyue who revered Morax? For something like this, the Qixing are well within their rights to kick the harbinger out of the country and demand an explanation from the Tsaritsa.
— I guess it's not something that can be talked about so easily. — The man coughed, trying to get the distracted boy's attention.
— You asked, I answered. — The harbinger shrugged his shoulders.
— If someone else were in my place, he would definitely raise a scandal.— Zhongli averted his gaze, doubting that this person would be able to cope with the mission assigned to him. Should he writes a letter to Cryo Archon to complain about not taking the contract he made seriously?
— If someone else were in my place, he would definitely raise a scandal..... — Tartaglia frowned, monotonously repeating the phrase he had heard. — Scandal is bad. I like to fight, but noise is not good. I'll ask Ekaterina do to what.
The consultant sighed, not understanding what was wrong with this guy. He's lethargic and has a problem with his speech, does the Tsaritsa really keep her Vanguard so busy that he doesn't even have time to sleep? Looking closer, the man finally noticed how exhausted Childe was.
— You look tired. — Zhongli felt guilty for putting the meeting on the day of the harbinger's arrival, but the Rite of Descension is just around the corner, so need to hurry. — I hope you can rest and appreciate the harbour to the fullest.
— I don't like it. — Tartaglia sighed, setting aside his spoon. — It's noisy. Bright. Lots of colours. It hurts my eyes and ears. It's dangerous in Snezhnaya, but it's quiet and the only colour is white. I want to go home soon. My family home.
The consultant did not know how to react to such a frankness from his interlocutor. He was used to everyone admiring Liyue while praising Morax for doing such a good job, so a negative comment from another person was a sharp tip that stabbed into his heart. The seemingly great Rex Lapis, a Geo Archon who had lived for over six thousand years, yet he let himself be hurt by some strange kid's words.
On the one hand he sympathised with Childe's honesty, on the other he didn't like the fact that someone had criticised the harbour.
— Maybe you're just not used to it yet. Different culture and nature won't always appeal to you at once, but you'll realise how much you like Liyue later.
— I don't think so. — After that, Ajax didn't answer any more questions, preferring to focus on playing with the vision. Zhongli realised that he was not going to get anything else, so he suggested that they part ways, which the ginger young man was very happy about.
The men said their goodbyes and agreed on the next meeting, and after a while Tartaglia met the traveller to whom he had transferred some of his work.