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Sometimes, Childe can’t help but imagine the sensation of being killed by Lumine’s hand.
He likes to think that it isn’t a regular occurrence, but the images invade his head more often than they probably should. It would be just like this, with them facing each other in battle with no one but the two of them to bear witness, but instead of sparring in a field, their blades would cross with their lives in the hands of the other.
Some days, he almost convinces himself that he enjoys fighting alongside Lumine just as much as he does fighting against her. Uniting powers to overcome individual limits and fully depending on someone else can also be thrilling with the right person by your side. But whenever they are actually engaged in battle with each other, particularly on days when they are both more bold and reckless than usual, his heart pounds and his blood sings in ways he knows he can't find anywhere else.
Fighting alongside someone means relying on them to be there when you need them, being aware of each other’s movements, and covering each other’s weak spots. It's probably what he should desire above all from a partnership on the battlefield, but how could it compare to facing Lumine with his whole being, every nerve fully attuned to her movements, and knowing that the inverse is true as well?
Lumine in battle is radiant. Even if she doesn’t seek it out like him, it’s undeniably where she belongs. Her sword cuts through the air like a natural extension of herself, her footwork an effortless dance that is intoxicating to reciprocate. Feeling her determined and focused gaze, completely dedicated to him, might be Childe’s favorite sensation in the world. And he knows she enjoys the intimacy of trading bruises and cuts just as much as he does.
Across countless encounters, Childe has become fluent in the language of her movements, and fighting her is when he truly feels understood himself. It should become stale, yet it never does. Still, a part of him continuously longs for a real confrontation between them. Their first battle, the only one where they actually met as enemies, was fought without all this knowledge. A repeat after all this time would inevitably be fought with everything on the line.
Lumine’s expression would be even more steeled and determined, her eyes cold and unforgiving. She’d attack him with unrestrained force, every familiar movement marked by a new power that turned their usual light bruises into actual deep-seated wounds. He’d let the beast residing in him, with its insatiable hunger for violence, break free again, finally completely unchained and welcome to consume him fully until every bone in his body is shattered.
They would push each other past their own limits, reaching new heights that were unimaginable for either of them until then. His body would be completely attuned to her movements and yet delight at the new context, every blow carrying an endless-feeling history with it. Both of them would shine brighter than they ever had before while forgetting everything but each other. Intimate, yet unignorable to the world at large. A final dance that asked of him everything he was and everything he would ever be.
And then, when he felt the most satisfied he ever had and the last of his energy was spent, she would disarm him. He'd lie on the ground, completely broken and barely clinging onto life, as his own personal angel of death descended upon him, battered and bruised but more radiant than ever, bearing the wings she told him she misses desperately.
The choice of the final blow would be hers, but if his angel was merciful, she'd pierce him directly through his heart, one final act of love as he faded away in her embrace.
Or that’s how the scenario in his head tends to go, at least.
Ever since he fell into the Abyss, it was without doubt — to him and to the people around him — that he would die on the battlefield. The hunger, the unstoppable desire that has had him in its grasp since his time in the Abyss, would never be satisfied. One day, the thrilling temptation of a strong opponent would probably be his end. He accepts it as an inevitable outcome, even if he tries to avoid it.
At least, he used to be at peace with it. Until a certain traveler invaded his life, his heart, his soul, and now a death not orchestrated by her hand feels utterly meaningless. Now, the only thing to possibly bring him true satisfaction in his final moments is one last confrontation between them, where they are free at last to unleash everything they are on each other.
And no matter how much time would pass after that, no matter how long it would take for Lumine’s time on Teyvat to fade into her distant memory, his death by her hand would intertwine them for all eternity.
But he knows that such a notion is selfish and very much cruel to her. So he pushes this desire away, even if the images resurface outside of his control, and tries to channel his longing through other means, as he has done since he was 14 years old.
Fortunately for him, today’s sparring has Lumine less tightly controlled than usual. While far from reactionary, Lumine’s fighting style generally leans more towards defense, at least when faced with Childe’s heavily offensive approach. From the moment they began, however, she already dashed in close and hasn’t let off since, and Childe is enjoying every second of it.
They decided on a purely physical match, no elemental abilities and no transformations – not as if Lumine allows his Foul Legacy transformation while they spar to begin with (for “his own good”) – and Childe opted for a sword as his weapon of choice to match Lumine, giving him the impression of an old-fashioned duel.
It has already been longer than usual since they began, and neither of them is letting up, particularly not Lumine, initiating offensive maneuvers one after the other. The length of the duel is having its effect on Childe, his muscles straining wonderfully, particularly in the arm that is wielding the sword, and sweat is cascading down his body. Lumine is far from unaffected herself, and both of them are marred in cuts and bruises that he will feel for days to come.
Suddenly, Childe glimpses a careless opening on Lumine’s side – uncharacteristic in retrospect – and dives for it. A fraction of a second later, Lumine points her sword directly towards his unguarded chest and dashes forward decisively, completely ignoring Childe’s incoming attack. If he continues, his attack will hurt her greatly, but if he doesn’t want to die right here and now, he has to deflect to parry her attack, which he does in the last moment.
Her smirk tells him he was outmaneuvered before she even counters his move, using the momentum of his instinctual defense against him. She disarms him in the process, his sword hitting the grass with a thud, but not before leaving a deep cut on his other arm. The unexpected force of it unceremoniously sends him to the ground as well.
While processing what even just happened, Childe looks up at Lumine standing over him, sword pointed at his chest. For a few seconds, their gazes intertwine, with nothing but their heavy breathing filling the air. Lumine looks visibly exhausted, sweat running down her face and her hair unusually disheveled, but he barely notices with the pride shining in her eyes drawing his undivided attention.
The spell is broken when the look in Lumine’s eyes turns questioning.
“Why are you smiling?” she asks.
It takes a few more beats of catching himself for Childe to process that he is, in fact, smiling. Really hard. So much so that he can’t will himself to stop. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins, and he feels more elated than he has in a long time. The absurdity of it makes him laugh.
Lumine’s completely lost expression makes it hard to stop afterwards, but he eventually does, smile still in place. “You almost just killed me,” he says before he can stop himself, voice laced with something akin to awe.
She blinks at him uncomprehendingly before furrowing her eyebrows in annoyance. “Stop being happy about that!” she exclaims, causing him to laugh again.
The manic energy finally starts to fade after a few more seconds, even if the giddiness is far from leaving him completely, and Lumine lets out a defeated sigh. “Come on, let’s get you patched up.” She offers Childe a hand, which he gladly takes to pull himself up. While nothing serious at first glance, the wound on his arm is bleeding and should definitely be bandaged. The perpetual desire of the beast that calls for more combat isn’t satisfied, but it never is, so he ignores it.
They walk over to where they left their belongings and sit down in the grass facing each other. Lumine procures her basic medical supplies without comment. Treating each other’s wounds after sparring has been a long-standing tradition between them, a silent agreement that the person inflicting the wounds should be the one to treat them.
In actuality, it’s Lumine tending to Childe’s wounds more often than not, as she rarely gets hurt enough to require medical attention. As Lumine cleans his wound, he is mesmerized, as he so often is, by the way the cuts his sparring partner has sustained already beginning to fade, closing in front of his eyes, and soon leaving without a trace. These are the times when Lumine feels the most otherworldly, the most inhuman, to him, as if nothing could hurt her when he very much knows that to be untrue.
They sit in companionable silence while Lumine cleans his wound with great care, seemingly lost in thoughts that Childe doesn’t want to tear her from. Once she is content with her work, she puts the antiseptic away and trades it for bandages. For the first time since they sat down, her eyes meet Childe’s, who has been unabashedly staring at her this whole time. He shows her a grin, to which she replies with a huff.
“You do know that I wasn’t actually about to kill you, right?” she says as she starts bandaging his arm. “Can’t believe I need to say this, but I would’ve adjusted my aim in the end, even if you hadn’t parried.” She pulls the bandages tighter than she needs to, but Childe is distracted by the almost sheepish expression on her face.
“Well, you definitely looked serious about it in the moment,” he replies teasingly, but truthfully.
“I just wanted to catch you off guard, which totally worked by the way,” she accuses with a pout. “You have to pay more attention, or next time I might try to kill you for real.”
You won’t, he thinks.
“I will,” he says.
She scrutinizes him while tucking in the end of the bandage, as if trying to find a lie in his expression. “What?” he asks, amused. He can’t help himself, so he disentangles a strand of her hair that has been out of place this whole time.
She seems to barely register it as she asks, “Do you want to die?”
He halts for a second and looks into her eyes. What he finds is a highly focused gaze that is fully directed at him, similar to the one she has when they spar, but with furrowed eyebrows, as if she is trying to solve a complicated logic puzzle. It’s cute.
She is simultaneously close to the truth, yet so far off, that Childe can’t help but laugh. His happy disposition at the end of their spar must have immensely confused her. “No, of course I don’t want to die,” he manages. “There is still too much strength for me to gain to be going anytime soon.” That much is true.
A hint of relief crosses her face while still looking ready to argue further. “But,” he continues before she can say anything, “I am also not scared of dying young. My goals and lifestyle don’t allow for anything else. I know that any opponent could be my last, and I am at peace with that.” Any specific ideas he has about that opponent, he is absolutely keeping to himself, though.
Lumine lets out a contemplative hum. “What about your family?” she asks.
He shrugs. “Sometimes I feel like I’d do them a favor by going early,” he says nonchalantly, but while avoiding her eyes. “My parents and older siblings already lost their Ajax once years ago, now they’re stuck with this impostor they barely recognize. And my younger siblings only know me as someone I’m not, so sometimes the thought of not having to witness their opinions of me turning is nice.” He lets out a dry laugh. “But in the end, there’s no point in overthinking it. I try not to burden them, but I have my goals, and I’ll die when I die. That’s all there really is to it.”
Looking back at Lumine, he finds her spacing out, lost in her own thoughts as she so often is. Leaving her be, he lies down in the grass, looking up at the sky. The afternoon sun is a welcome presence, its warmth sinking into his skin and finally calming the restless energy he still feels a little. It doesn’t take long for Lumine to join him, lying down beside him. She is still not sharing what is going on in her head, but that is fine. He feels like he has a pretty good idea anyway.
He lets his mind drift as well, trying not to think of anything in particular. While fighting against Lumine is exhilarating, he treasures any and all time he can spend with her, which includes the stretches of time spent doing nothing at all. He can hear her soft breathing and feel her warmth beside him, and in that moment, he doesn’t need anything more.
But the earlier conversation has unearthed a question he has been wondering about for a long time.
He turns his head to look at her. Her skin is glowing under the sun, and he thinks he has never seen anyone more beautiful.
“When are you dying, printsessa?” he asks softly, as loud as he dares to not disturb their peace.
She doesn’t seem surprised by his question. “When someone kills me, I suppose,” she says. Her eyes are still fixed on the sky above them, unwilling to meet his. “Other than that, I don’t know. I probably have some kind of endpoint, but I lost track of how long it’s been a long time ago.” She keeps her voice neutral, but he finds it impossible to not notice the weariness behind her words.
And that’s it, isn’t it? The regrets of a human lifetime pale in the face of immortality, or a lifespan resembling it. He doesn’t know all she has seen and experienced, all the regrets that have undoubtedly accumulated over the centuries. The people she has loved and unexpectedly lost, the new beginnings she has faced, haunted by events only passed down as myth by others.
Immortality never appealed to Childe. He will conquer the world, gain the most amount of power attainable in a human lifespan and then some, leave his irreversible mark on Teyvat. And then he will die. Simple as that. The limit makes the pursuit worthwhile, and the inevitability of death is freeing. But Lumine will continue wandering, carrying her experiences with her endlessly, and she deserves better than for him to become another one of her regrets.
At the same time, it is possible that his quest for power leads him onto a path to immortality. Maybe he will realize that a human lifespan isn’t enough time after all. Maybe it would be worth it just to stay by her side. Maybe his death would then be joined by another, two people clashing after having experienced everything there is to experience, having become everything they can possibly be, tearing each other’s hearts out to claim them once and for all.
But for now, the birds are chirping. A gentle breeze is caressing his face. The future is distant and uncertain and wholly unimportant right now. Beside him lies a being whose experience of life is so vastly different from his, but all he can see is Lumine, his sparring partner and so much more, who he wishes didn’t have to worry so much all the time.
He slowly reaches his hand out towards hers and intertwines their fingers carefully. Even through his glove he feels the warmth of her hand, the weight of her presence. Finally, her golden eyes are focusing on him again, filled with a familiar, quiet sorrow, but she is smiling nonetheless.
She squeezes his hand once, which he returns. The beast is still unsatisfied, but its call is quieted by her touch, which is enough.