Chapter Text
Deep within the excess of the Primordial Sea, Childe crouched upon a rocky floe, his Foul Legacy rippling around him in blazes of cobalt and violet. Fractured, chunks of armor teetering off. Every breath he took consumed effort, lungs barely withstanding the pressure of fighting ceaselessly.
How long had it been? Time passed differently within the abyss, withheld from the surface's limits. After awhile, Childe stopped counting the minutes he fought, and rather the time his form had left on his internal clock.
From above, the sheer emptiness crashed against the jagged horn of the narwhal, its single tusk arcing through the stars like a scythe. Its body crawled through the murk, gargantuan and deceivingly slow. Even after endless days of slicing and clashing with it, the primordial beast had yet to succumb to any of its injuries.
As if synced in one mind, neither of them were willing to give in first, bound to remain locked in a stagnant battle until the world itself collapsed.
But a human's body had limits. Even now, Childe understood just how far he pushed those limits. With every exhale, his body shifted between man and monster. Brackish claws clinging to an abyssal sword, plated mask chipping off his face. A heart beating with wild, inhuman hunger.
Any longer, and this ecstasy would come to an end.
Not yet.
He shifted his sword into a bow, unyielding. He nocked an arrow of living electricity and loosed it at the narwhal's flank. It hit with a satisfying crack — the damned beast barely flinched. Childe tsked.
In response, its maw yawned open, an abyssal vortex of roiling darkness consuming within it. Tendrils of the void lashed out at Childe's form, ripping loose chunks of his armor free. His skin burned with the sensation of it, prickling. It went ignored by him.
I can still do this.
Preparing once more, Childe spun into the air, trading distance for momentum, and unleashed a torrent of jagged electro shards that pelted the creature's side. This time, they struck harder. The narwhal bellowed, its howl like the sea itself dying. With it stunted, he couldn't afford to lose his chance.
He charged forward, bow merging into his dual abyssal blades, lethal and cutthroat. He slashed through the narwhal's delicate underbelly with thunderous arcs. Each blow left devastation in its wake. Every cry from the narwhal echoed in the turmoil. For a heartbeat, Childe felt unstoppable. Foul Legacy hummed through his veins, unparalleled power surging from his core as if the abyss itself obeyed his will. Nothing existed in his mind except the thrill of battle. Primal and animalistic, unlike anything before.
But his renewed vigor unraveled like a loose thread. For the narwhal was ancient, a primordial devourer born before the first stars. His master once told him of its unsurpassed strength. Its hunger was bottomless, and its resilience unshakeable.
With a bone-trembling roar, the narwhal turned its body and lunged at him. That abyssal maw opened once more, siphoning in everything in its path, including him. Struggling against the pull, his dual blades shattered into jarring pieces lost to the void. Clasping to the last flickers of his Foul Legacy, he fought to escape the pull. His limbs trembled with ache, each movement a battle against doubt and fatigue. Blood soaked through the cracks in his armor.
I won't let it end like this.
Then came the crushing inevitable. No matter how long he stood fighting, tenacious and steadfast, Childe was only human. A mortal never stood a chance against a primordial being. He'd long since tested his limits and met its ceiling. With exhausted breath, his body finally fell limp, plunging to that ravenous abyss.
The narwhal's looming jaw enveloped him, the void's teeth raking through his defenses — tearing Foul Legacy apart, devouring it and him, whole. He screamed. Or so he thought he did, but the sound never reached his ears. He only knew because his throat felt scraped raw and bloody. Pain bloomed behind his eyes. Left with nothing but a deep chill within his bones and regrets spinning in his mind.
Not strong enough.
Cold darkness swept over him in a blur, threaded by dark waves and the echoes of carnage within the leviathan's maw. Nothing existed in its greedy hollow except for him. Clinging to the last bits of willpower he possessed, Childe wondered if this would be the end. In a way, he did not mind losing to a powerful foe, but dying was not in the cards.
He had to live. He had to.
If he didn't, the narwhal would invade Fontaine. His false verdict would never be resolved. In his mind, he still had many battles to overcome and grow his strength. This battle was meant to be one of those — a test of perseverance and will. His fate had long been written in the stars, winding and climatic.
Childe would lose everything here, as the stars proclaimed. He was falling
falling
falling
down.
Inside the narwhal's gullet , Childe collapsed into a sea of starry darkness and vicious water. For a moment, the sea seemed to welcome him, familiar in a way he could not name. The remnants of his electro power festered in the water, drowned by the abyssal murk. Calling his limbs yielded no results, his body unresponsive. With the amount of pain he should be feeling after being swallowed by an otherworldly whale, he was oddly grateful for the numbness. The water encapsulated his form, heavy and binding him to the edge of unknowing.
Yet in that void something stirred — a pulse beneath the phantom pain, quiet but there. Like the silent calm before the storm. Buried deep within, Childe's heart stuttered at the feeling of something unknown to him coursing in him. Not his delusion, nor his abyssal powers.
Surprisingly, it fought harder than either of those powers to rise to the surface. Even with his limp body and torn soul about to be devoured, it fought like an animal caged. Untamed and stubborn. It refused reason and abandoned all rationale as it roused awake. Something about it felt ancient, all the more unfamiliar to him.
But with all means of winning gone, Childe did not suppress it. If he was going to go out, he would at least take the ravenous narwhal with him. So with a final acceptance of his fate, he let go.
A spark ignited. Black spots clouded his vision. This new power seemed to spring to life once he handed it the controls, rising to the surface like it needed the air. Whatever it was, Childe's current state didn't possess the strength to contain it while maintaining his own consciousness.
So, he closed his eyes and accepted it.
"—Ajax! Are you listening?" A voice called out to him, shaking him out of his thoughts. He looked to the sound of the voice, gentle and bright as snow.
The sun blinded him, midday brimming down upon them. Before him sat a girl, eyes clouded with worry staring at him. The wind bristled the tall grass they sat in, peaceful. Her long hair blew with it. Unsure of what he'd just been thinking about, he opened his mouth.
"Sorry, ███████ , I was just daydreaming."
The girl crossed her arms, brows furrowing like she didn't believe him.
"Honestly, you're hopeless." She sighed, settling her hands on the grass. "I was saying the priests are getting antsier ever since you showed up."
"The priests? Why? Did something happen?"
She shook her head, slow as if unable to give confirmation. "No, but you know they don't believe in coincidences. With you showing up, they think of it as an omen of something to come." As if sensing the tension in her words, the grass stilled for a moment. The young man let out a carefree exhale.
"They aren't wrong to be wary," he hummed, glancing off to the side of the grassy pasture, devoid of anyone but them. "But no matter what comes, I'll face it head-on." His lips quirked back at her confidently.
She returned it with her signature frown, expression rolling with disbelief, but also firm resolve.
"We'll face it. Together. Do not speak like you're alone here."
At this, he laughed, genuine and grateful. Before him, someone more stubborn than him existed, willing to fight alongside him. For the first time, his heart warmed within his hollow chest.
"Right. How unforgivable of me," he jested, resting his chin in his hand. The girl huffed, but her quirking lips betrayed her.
"Then, let's make it a promise." Her eyes glittered in the sun. "In this life, and every future one."
He nodded, blissful. "In every life, we'll find each other, no matter what form we take. This is my promise to you, Snow Maiden, as Ajax."
But a promise is every bit as good as a curse. Perhaps that's why they were allowed to make such a vow, unknowing of their fate being tragically thread to end the same way it always would.
Childe's Ajax's mind, teetering on the edge of oblivion, felt tendrils of consciousness coil around his soul. He came to in waves of awareness, there and gone in a blink. Forgetting momentarily what had happened, he clawed at the bits of his mind to stay awake. Memories not his own — a clash of steel and shadow, a hazy figure with long hair and too much burden, a foreign power older than creation itself — flooded his thoughts.
Had he been dreaming? The more awake he became, the further confused he grew. Were these dreams or memories? They couldn't be dreams if he didn't recognize the faces, but they also couldn't be his own memories. They belonged to something- someone else. But that also existed within him, and his own name came out of her mouth so how-?
Ajax didn't have time to ponder it. The essence of whatever he'd become refused to be consumed, to submit. Like the dream hadn't quelled it, but motivated it. Laying in his beaten up Foul legacy in the belly of the narwhal still, it roared to life. Unraveling the bonds of muscle and bone, his body began to reconstruct itself with abyssal regeneration.
Pain bloomed like a supernova within him from the pure inhuman nature of this power, searing every nerve. His cracked armor shattered and reformed, replaced by something wilder. The abyss and the new essence wrestled for control over his body. Violently, they met somewhere in the middle — a body woven of sinew and hardened armor. Still his Foul Legacy form, just pieced back together, stronger, better.
Ajax liked that. He was finally regaining control over his limbs again, moving to float upright in the depths. Still, trying to harness the new power was like trying to tame a wild horse. Repairing his body wasn't enough, it wanted to fight. While his abyssal powers were just getting adjusted, he could tell it yearned to devour.
So Ajax fought and devoured. He let out a roar , half-human, half-whatever-primordial-power, that rattled the narwhal's foundations. Regardless of what just happened, he was still in the belly of a beast, trapped. Though not for much longer.
With his claws, he tore at the walls of the narwhal's gut with the intention of ripping an escape out of its side. Its insides were much weaker, walls made out of nothing but malleable meat. Enough slicing and he could probably create a small exit. The creature convulsed, its innards churning in revolt to his cleaving. It shook his balance, sending him flying across its stomach. Ajax steadied himself, but not before the water began to converge.
The same pull that had swallowed him before grasped him with the water surging towards the narwhal's gullet. With nothing to grab a hold of, he went with it. He soon realized what it was doing. The leviathan probably regretted swallowing him after he ruptured its insides in retaliation, and now it was releasing him before he could finish the job.
It gave one final ferocious lurch and spat Ajax out of its maw with a resentful screech. He burst forth in a geyser of ichor and brine, thankful to be free. His starry cape fluttered behind him as he turned to witness the narwhal dip down below, its tail whipping through the air in an arc of fury.
Ah, so he'd angered it. Great.
It surged into the depths below with a warbled cry. Moving hastier, more intention behind its actions. It didn't want the fight anymore. Not if Ajax was just going to devour it back. Sort of cowardly for a beast its size, but he had just nearly tore a hole in its stomach from the inside. He didn't make for the best prey.
But losing interest in him meant it had another destination to be. Fontaine. He wasn't sure how much time had passed out there, but he hoped they reached some answers to the questions about the prophecy. Even so, this starving narwhal craved Fontainean blood.
With the renewed fire coursing through him, Ajax shot after it. Water and darkness swirled in his wake, bending and twisting in obedience to his will. His gaze, sharper than any blade, trailed the narwhal through the sea as it sped downwards. As if sensing that he'd followed, it rended an abyssal rift through the stars, opening an entrance to reality. Without hesitation, it swam through.
When Ajax caught up to where it had torn the rift, the narwhal had already made its way to the other side. One pesky thing about abyssal rifts was that the space between the two sides of the opening always differed. It could take seconds to travel from one end to another, or it could take much, much longer. He learned this when he first fell into the abyss, accidentally. It had felt as though he fell for hours, even if the rift had appeared small.
So he simply hoped this one wouldn't delay him for too long. The narwhal only needed minutes to wreck Fontaine alone. No telling how long before it devoured all of Teyvat.
His body, pulsing with the promise of boundless power, shot through the rift in a bolt of piercing electro. The opening shifted into reality, where the narwhal had its vortex-consuming maw wide open in eager attempt to eat. Ajax summoned his polearm into his hand reflexively, pointed straight through the rift.
He broke through and slashed the edge of the narwhal's maw from below, impeding its rampage upon fleeing innocent civilians. His momentum shot him into the air above, and he spun with it. Aiming back down, he hurled his electro-curling polearm into the leviathan's spine. The thunderous impact sent him careening backwards onto the very same stage he'd been accused upon.
Sliding on the ground, Ajax righted himself and locked his focus back onto the stunned whale, determination flowing and adrenaline pumping. Surging for it again, he summoned his dual-bladed spear back and shot forth in a burst of electro. At its tail, he whirled — his speed allowing his weapon some weight — and struck his spear right into it.
The collision only further weakened it. His veins prickled at all the electro he infused with his attacks, but he didn't flinch nor cease. With a high decisive kick to his spear that sent it flying into the air, he caught it and jumped up the narwhal's hindered back. After fighting this thing for so long, gauging its weak points was just muscle memory for him.
Fervor and a bloodthirsty buzz under his belt, Ajax rotated his spear from one hand to another after every slash he made along its back. He could feel the gashes he left behind just by how deep he cut, brutal and stinging with sparks. Every bit of the chaos he unleashed stirred him on, that familiar ecstasy returning.
Warping to the narwhal's head, his body pivoted and mustered all the strength of a raging ocean to plunge his spear down in a whirl of deafening electro into its shelled body. The impact of it shook the narwhal into shock, and Ajax angled himself like a firework about to light. He gripped the hilt of his spear, still stabbed deep and heavy, and dug it through the narwhal's head in a final explosion of electro, charging towards the ceiling.
Smoke filled the air of what he now recognized as the Opera Epiclese, and the narwhal let out a defeated roar below louder than the surges of the ocean waves in a thunderstorm. Though still alive, it retreated back into the rift it'd opened in the middle of the court, limbs groaning at the effort.
Well, he had chased it back into its hole, at least. And while the narwhal appeared barely hurt, Ajax could not say the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, his exhausted Foul Legacy was catching up to him, armor chipping off, singes of burns from the electro overuse along his arms and legs.
Panting, he turned when he sensed an ancient gaze on him from below, peering through the clearing smoke. There, down at the stage, stood the mighty Iudex and the traveler watching him, stances suspended in tension as if anticipating his next move.
How ironic that they would meet like this.
Even from high above in the Opera Epiclese, Ajax felt the scrutinizing of his being from Neuvillette, who he had managed to scratch previously before the other knocked him out. Ah, how long ago that had been. The scratch was nowhere to be found now, of course, but Ajax was feeling just a tad petty.
Sue him, saving your accuser's nation after getting jailed in it would make anyone a little bitter.
His sight spotting in and out again and his Foul Legacy barely tethered together, he gave his audience a thumbs down, also an indicator of where his next destination would be — after the narwhal once more. While it harbored injuries, it still posed a threat. But the traveler was there, just as the hero always was. Good, he didn't have to worry, then.
Losing the battle of consciousness, he plummeted into the void.
A gentle voice drifted through the haze, bright as winter bells. She stood at the foot of the silver tree, white robes cascading around her. Her eyes never seemed to leave his.
"Come now, come... Let us recast these absurd laws with bone, and nourish the barren north with blood."
She held out her hand, and he took it without question.
"Let us build a city and a tower that soars up to the clouds, that the people of the earth need weep bitter tears no longer." Her words resolute, her resolve unshakeable.
"I cast this useless crown into the dust, that all earthly nations may breathe free of their shackles."
From atop her head, she lifted her divine crown and broke it into fragments at her heels. His eyes widened, but he did not let go. Even if the gods despised their oaths and laughed at their audacity, they would never waver in the face of strife.
Ajax awoke in a bout of bleariness, boneless and floating in the endless abyss of the Primordial Sea. His skin felt bare, too bare and vulnerable, wrenched of his Foul Legacy. Not that it surprised him. He'd broken its limits long ago.
But his real surprise came in the form of a figure he hadn't seen since that distant encounter in that ancient world. A single starry arm held onto him, cold and faraway as a fading star. Her silver hair enveloped down her back, and carmine eyes stared off into the distance, as if recounting a familiar path.
Was this another strange dream? Skirk's hold on him was solid and firm, her strength unmatched. If this too was a dream, Ajax had to give his mind credit where credit's due. Even after spending years of daydreaming about running into his master again, this had to be the most realistic one yet.
Ajax's mind blended dream into reality, thriving in the absence of control over his body. He wanted to say a million things to his fleeting master, but his mouth would not cooperate, tongue heavy. Despite not saying anything, Skirk glanced at him over her shoulder — eerie senses picking up on his awakening.
He hoped for her to say something, do something—
Her empty expression faded to darkness, and Ajax mourned his predicament once again.
The smell of the sea greeted him first, salty air invading his senses. Next came his sense of touch, which only invited a great deal of ache in his limbs and soreness in his head. His consciousness rippled, ebbing and flowing as he slowly came to. Sluggish and heavy, Ajax did not know if this was dream or reality anymore.
Until he felt something poking him. Repeatedly, on the cheek.
The sensation of it grounded him to the present, causing him to realize he could actually feel his fingers and face twitching in response. The cold he accustomed himself to in the primordial sea vanished, overcome by a radiant warmth prickling at his skin.
Right, the Primordial Sea—
Alarmed, Ajax's eyes shot open, and a tiny figure in his peripheral recoiled as if electrified. The midday sun seared his eyes, and it took him a moment to adjust to the sudden light and gather his bearings. A young voice cried out from beside him.
"Are you okay?" A young girl's voice, concerned and frightful as a curious animal.
Ajax groaned, aware that talking was too draining at the moment. Taking stock of his surroundings, he noticed they were somewhere near a beach, presumably Fontaine if the colorfully lush landscape was anything to go by. The smell of Fontaine's unique water was undeniable, though the level of it seemed no different. Had the prophecy not come true, then? Had they stopped it?
Pushing past the phantom pain inside his core, Ajax attempted to sit up, only to be interrupted by the young girl.
"Are you okay?" she repeated, this time more urgent.
Now properly sitting up, Ajax could finally get a good look at her. Stormy blue eyes bore into him, sincere with their concern. Her short brown hair blew around her tiny head, a little Fontainean hat nestled on top. She knelt in the grass next to him, hands curling into her red dress. His heart squeezed. She couldn't be much older than Teucer, perhaps around Anthon's age.
He possessed little to no idea how he'd ended up here after fighting the narwhal, but the last thing he wanted was for some innocent little girl to find him while he looked like a bloody wreck. Too horrendous for young eyes. So, he sucked up the pain, grueling as it was, and managed a weak smile he reserved only for children.
"I'm okay," he croaked, clearing his throat. "Thank you for waking me."
If she saw through his facade, she didn't show it. "Oh, that's good. I was poking you for a really long time, and you weren't waking up." She sighed in relief, only to clap a hand over her mouth like she realized what she'd said and immediately regretted it.
"It's fine. No harm done," he reassured her with a chuckle. Her hand lowered, followed by her expression brightening up.
Now, it was his turn to ask questions.
"What are you doing out here all alone?" He glanced around, noting they lied in the middle of the wilderness with no other soul in sight. Fontaine might be relatively safe, but with the prophecy looming overhead, a child shouldn't be out here on her own.
"I was collecting flowers for Mademoiselle Elton, but then I followed a really cute squirrel and got lost," she admitted, sheepish. "Then, I saw you lying here, and you looked hurt."
The purity of her explanation warmed his heart and soothed his worries, if just slightly. Still, his older brother instincts dwelled on the fact that she came out here alone and approached strangers far too freely.
"I see. Thank you, but it's not safe to be wandering on your own. You should find your way home." He winced at a particular pull in his shoulder, probably the arm he'd used to pierce the narwhal in that final attack.
More perceptive than she let on, the girl frowned. "If you don't feel well, you should see a healer. We have one at the institute!"
Stretching out his arms and legs to assess their damage, Ajax confirmed that nothing's broken, at the very least. Maybe a bruised rib and a couple of scrapes that'll leave scars, but nothing too major.
"The institute?"
"Yeah! Where I live! We have a healer that always heals us," she explained enthusiastically, her excitement tangible. "You should come back with me and see her. She can help."
Maybe it's the fog still lingering in his mind, but Ajax found himself agreeing to her proposition, despite knowing better than to go with strangers. But it's not like he had much of a choice, considering he needed to figure out how to get back to the city and meet up with the Fatui. He also needed to know what happened with the prophecy and the narwhal.
"Alright, I'll go," Ajax replied, dusting the dirt off his hands and standing up. The girl copied him with a satisfied smile, and she barely even reached his waist. Oh, right, he couldn't keep calling her "girl" in his head.
"So, what should I be calling my little savior?" he inquired, giving her a curious smile.
"My name's Mary-Ann! Some people just call me Ann, though." She observed him expectantly.
"You can call me Childe." Probably better he didn't use the Fatui name. “Do you remember the way back to this institution?”
Mary-Ann nodded fervently, and he saw something familiar gripped in her hand. Noticing, she gasped and held it out to him.
His Fatui mask, broken into two pieces.
“I found this nearby and thought it might be yours. I’m sorry about it being broken,”she mumbled as Ajax took it back from her, making sure the jagged edges didn’t cut either of them.
“Don’t worry about it. I can have a new one made later,” he waved it off, tucking the pieces into his pocket.
“Really? I think someone at the institute could probably fix it,” she said. Her lips pursed in thought, adorable.
Ajax hummed. “Why don’t you take us there, then?”
With that, Mary-Ann and he set off, and they probably made a wild sight — a little girl leading an injured grown man through the wilderness like they were about to head on an adventure. Thankfully, there wasn’t a soul around to see it.
Which, frankly, Ajax found a little strange. With all the chaos that’d been happening in Fontaine, he figured there would be some more people out here, such as gardes or melusines on patrol. The entire place was practically turned upside down by the coming of the prophecy, yet right now everything seemed normal. Calm.
A bit too calm.
Perhaps his fears hadn’t come true, then. The traveler must have stopped the prophecy, and the narwhal must have been defeated. Vaguely, Ajax recalled a faraway moment, perhaps more dream than reality, while falling into that starry sea.
His master, Skirk, dragging him like a sack of potatoes through the air. She hadn’t spoken a word, but her presence said enough. She never appeared unless she needed to. Ajax wilted at the fact they hadn’t been able to catch up, talk about the narwhal. Even years later, he still had so many things to say to her.
Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, Ajax shifted his focus back to the present. Mary-Ann kept up a good pace for them, her footsteps light and cheerful. She led them on a dirt path, presumably headed towards this institution.
“Say, this institute…” Ajax wondered out loud, hoping she could give him some clues as to where they were going. He’d only spent a week or so in Fontaine before getting imprisoned, so his knowledge on its institutions was quite small.
“It’s called the Narzissenkreuz Institute!” Mary-Ann supplied happily. “It’s a place for orphans like me.”
Her admission threw him for a loop — children had a way of being too honest sometimes. But he schooled his expression, focusing on the first part she said rather than the latter. The name didn't ring any bells, and he's sure Arlecchino would be aware of any orphanages outside the House of Hearth. If she still remained in Fontaine, he'd have to ask her for more information. If she was in a good mood, maybe he could ask her to look into Skirk's whereabouts.
"If there's many of you there, then I'm sure it's a good place." Ajax noted the way she held her shoulders higher, proud.
"Yup, my brother lives there, too."
Together they continued on, basking in clear skies and warm rays of sun over their heads, the sound of seagulls flapping their wings in a soaring melody. The landscape stretched out for miles, and Ajax could see the court of Fontaine just on the horizon. Everything still seemed relatively peaceful, as if they had forgotten all about the prophecy.
He first suspected it might have happened and the traveler managed to stop it, but the environment just appeared too unharmed. In fact, while he estimated they were somewhere within the Beryl Region, it was quite difficult to tell because some parts of the land didn't quite match up with what Ajax remembered.
Hadn't there been the skeletal corpse of some defeated beast from ages ago lying around here somewhere?
Well, it hardly mattered. He just needed to regroup and return to the city, avoid being imprisoned, and find out what happened to the narwhal. Priorities.
He and Mary-Ann had been walking mostly in silence, occasionally punctuated by the little girl's mumbling or humming to herself. Her steps contained a bit of skip in them, but she kept it down in order to stay by his side. That care-free attitude could only exist in the most innocent of thresholds, such as children like her. Innocent and unknowing of what the real world promised.
Watching her, his heart softened. His younger siblings came to mind, and Ajax couldn't help but imagine them sitting around a fire, hot cocoa in their hands as they listened to him weave tales of his glorious conquests and adventures, simplified into more…digestible stories for Teucer's sake.
He missed them.
"We're almost there! I see the institute from here," Mary-Ann exclaimed, breaking him from his melancholic daydreaming. She pointed ahead at what looked like the spire to a tall building, just over the treeline.
Unfortunately, Ajax didn't recognize it. He tried his best not to grimace in front of Mary-Ann's excitement. Instead, he offered her a shaky smile, doing his absolute damnedest to not overthink things. Fake it til you make it, as they say.
"Lead the way."
With that, she nodded and sped up, as if her eagerness could not keep up with her. Obliging, he followed her with some curiosity to fuel him, intrigued by what lay ahead. An orphanage tucked away in some corner of the Beryl Region, strangely lost to the maps of Fontaine. And a kid leading him there to boot. Funnily enough, it sounded like the type of story he'd tell Teucer to get him to go to sleep.
Finally, the path came to a halt at the top of the hill, and the rest of the journey they'd have to tread through the grass. But Ajax was too focused on the institute to worry about that.
Just like how he'd observed from afar, the building towered over the trees with its spire just peaking out from the hills it sat in. It was unlike any building he'd seen before — lavish architecture, winding stairs leading to the circular courtyard in front, grandeur present in every piece of stone. It didn't match his idea of an orphanage at all. Just how long had this been here?
Mary-Ann ran ahead of him the rest of the way, barreling towards a lone figure standing out side the doors. A woman, Fontainean judging by her clothes, stood with her hands on her hips, observing them from afar. So much for a subtle entrance, he thought.
He reached the bottom of the stairs as Mary-Ann flung herself at the older woman, who wore a controlled smile with firm eyes set right on him, assessing. It wasn't quite the usual scorn or distaste people had for the Fatui, but the hint of wariness and mistrust on her expression told him he'd have to approach this carefully. He understood it, of course, anyone would be suspicious of a stranger a kid brought back.
Ajax offered a polite smile, one he practiced tirelessly after the old man's nagging about his "off-putting" real smile. For now, he hoped this one would suffice.
"Mary-Ann, where did you run off to?" the woman questioned, checking her over. "And who is this?"
"I was looking for flowers and got lost…but then I came across him sleeping and woke him up. He seemed hurt, so I said the healer could help him," the little girl explained at a rabbit's pace, gushing.
Ajax winced a little at her explanation, but did not let it deter him. Keeping his distance on the stairs, he made sure his hands were visible and that he posed no threat.
"Apologies for dropping by like this. She came across me, and I didn't want a little girl to be roaming around on her own."
The woman eyed him more precariously, taking in the ragged and slightly wounded state he was in. Her senses were keen, he would give her that.
"Mary-Ann, why don't you go tell the healer we have a patient," the woman gently persuaded, her smile tight. The little girl nodded and disappeared behind the grand doors of the institute.
That just left the two of them, and Ajax couldn't be more thankful now that he might get some answers. Judging by the woman's expression, a sincere introduction was probably for the best. While many disdained the Fatui, Ajax did not see any point in masking his identity like his colleagues did for their schemes. Honesty was the best policy, and all that. He held a hand to his heart in a peaceful gesture.
"I am Tartaglia, but you may call me Childe. I'm not here to cause you any trouble, I just have a few questions," he explained. A moment passed.
Her expression stilled, but not out of fear or shock. It resembled something like… confusion? Brows knitting together, she crossed her arms, unfazed by the name reveal.
Huh, usually dropping his harbinger name caused quite the stir. The harbingers' reputation bled into every nook and cranny of Teyvat, weaving into the minds of the nations even if they were not physically present. Her not recognizing the name was nigh impossible, unless her acting skills were supreme or his name simply hadn't grown popular enough yet.
"I have a few for you, as well," she said, mild interest blinking in her eye. "But first, thank you for escorting Mary-Ann back. Since you have done her no harm, we shall get your wounds looked at."
Well, looked like his Fatui status meant absolutely nothing here. Perhaps that's for the best.
Ajax followed her into the institute, where children's laughter leaked through the walls and lavishness swept the halls. Clearly, this was no ordinary orphanage if its interior appeared better kept than a majority of the orphanages in Fontaine.
As the woman led him through the halls to what he assumed would be a healer, she began to speak.
"My name is Basil Elton, and I am the vice-director here. Under normal circumstances, I would not allow any kind of danger into the orphanage. But you make an exception, Mr. Tartaglia."
"Please, call me Childe. Formalities aren't really my thing," Ajax urged, hoping to ease her. "I can't thank you enough for your hospitality, Miss."
Basil hummed as they turned a corner, settled but still wary. Not that he didn't understand. He'd be on edge too if some beat up guy showed up at his doorstep with Teucer in tow.
The healer's room was more of a lab than anything. Endless books lined the shelves along the wall, flasks and beakers connected to complicated tubing adorned the table, and papers containing abstract writing and pictures littered the place. It looked more like one of Sandrone's many research labs than a healer's space.
Not to mention the healer herself, who sat on a stool observing something under a microscopic lens, seemed like no healer at all. Ajax might have mistaken this as a setup for him to be roped into some weird experiment if Mary-Ann wasn't standing right next to her.
"Mireille, sorry to interrupt your research. We've got a patient that needs to see you," Basil said, closing the door behind her. The room suddenly felt much smaller and stuffier. It reminded him of the time he unabashedly waltzed into one of Dottore's labs, only to regret it after catching a whiff of the place. Though this room was much cleaner in comparison.
The healer, Mireille, turned her attention from her work and onto them, eying him especially. The tension in the room was palpable, while Mary-Ann observed them jovially, too naive to sense any of it.
Upon finishing her assessment of him, Mireille sighed and stripped her gloves off.
"Sit over there. This may take awhile."
Ajax followed her instructions and sat on the empty table placed aside from everything, likely reserved for medical situations. His injuries probably exceeded what a normal medical situation was in an orphanage, though. Kids didn't exactly go tussle with an otherworldly narwhal on the regular.
Basil settled on the surface of some sturdy crate, relaxed but not too far from him. Her continuous caution made it hard for him to sit still, but they both knew it'd be foolish to underestimate him, even in this sorry state.
"What hurts?" Mireille asked, not afraid to encroach his space and dutifully check him over.
With little choice, Ajax let her do as she pleased. "Just my ribs, really. They're probably broken."
He winced in surprise when she suddenly braced her hand against his ribcage, directly touching a sore spot. Despite his discomfort, he endured it. In the grand scheme of things, he'd been through worse.
Mireille stepped back to check his pupils and mouth, her eyes disconcerting. From across the room, Mary-Ann watched the ordeal with a little discomfort written on her face, scrunching her nose. She must dislike doctors and check-ups, Ajax figured.
"Two broken ribs," Mireille confirmed, turning away from him towards a nearby cabinet. "It looks like you got burnt and cut a good bit, but most of it has almost healed already."
Ajax swallowed in relief. While he knew he wasn't in the worst shape, it felt good to hear reassurance. Mireille returned to him with bandages, several bottles of something medicinal, and a pair of scissors.
"Your ribs should heal naturally within three to six weeks," she informed, unraveling the bandages. "I'll apply some ointment that should help with any swelling."
She unscrewed one of the bottles, and expectantly approached him with her supplies. Belatedly, Ajax realized he was still wearing his shirt, and quickly shed it off, welcoming the cool air against his skin.
The room stilled for a second, as even the healer paused in her movements. Basil's eyes widened for a second, before she politely averted them. A gasp escaped Mary-Ann, who immediately got reprimanded silently by a firm shake of Basil's head.
Confused, Ajax scratched the back of his neck. It took him an embarrassing couple of seconds to grasp why taking off his shirt elicited such reactions.
Right. His scars.
His torso and arms were covered with them. Most of them old, long healed and forgotten about, but to less traumatized eyes, they would be quite a shock. Some were thin and criss-crossed, left behind by dainty blades. Others large and gnarly from the occasional monster claws or burn marks.
Still, Ajax felt no shame by any of them. They were proof of his battles, both won and lost. He wore them like badges of honor, and the new ones from the narwhal were also welcome.
Mireille shoved past it and began applying a cold liquid to his ribs, her hands moving methodically. She worked with the same level of professionalism as some of the best medics in the Fatui. Unperturbed and precise.
"I apologize if this is an invasive question, but may I ask how you got injured?" Basil inquired, her tone carefully neutral.
He stewed on how to answer that. If he answered truthfully, she might just kick him out right after fixing him up. Anyone sane would, after finding out he'd been dueling a celestial narwhal for over a month. They honestly might mistake him for being delusional or out of his mind.
Lying about it wouldn't be any easier, though. He needed her trust, if only a little.
"I was fighting a great beast for a long time. I ultimately lost consciousness and found myself in Fontaine in the middle of nowhere," Ajax explained, lifting his arms so the healer could wrap the bandages around him.
Basil straightened up. "A beast? In Fontaine, you say?"
"Sort of. It was kind of under water." He sucked in a breath before his next words. "It might have had something to do with the prophecy."
All three gave each other puzzled glances, just as Ajax feared. He didn't want to be called crazy, but he knew he hadn't made that whole fight up. Or the prophecy that had loomed over Fontaine. Why did no one seem aware of such a thing?
"You fought it under water?" Basil wondered out loud, disbelief clouding her expression. Her brows pinched. "And what's this prophecy you speak of?"
Finally, Mireille finished tending to his ribs and began putting her supplies away. "Change the bandages every few days. Don't exert yourself or put any extraneous pressure on your body. The cuts and burns have already begun healing, so don't mess with them," she instructed as he wiggled his shirt back on.
"Thank you kindly, miss," he replied, giving the healer a nod before turning to look at Basil, who still awaited his answer.
"I guess my head's a bit scattered after that fight," he lamented, giving a weak chuckle. "Could you tell me what's recently happened in Fontaine?"
Basil raised a brow at the strange request but acquiesced nonetheless, crossing her arms.
"Not much, to be honest. The Fleuvre Cendre was raided by the gardes and a known criminal was arrested. The last I heard, he and his compatriots were exiled. There's probably more, but we don't get much news out here."
Ajax's head throbbed. It sounded like the court of Fontaine wasn't acting any different than usual, and somehow no one here had heard of his arrest, the recent court cases, or the prophecy. The vice-director's account remained too vague, not enough information for him to grasp at and pinpoint just how long it'd been since his arrival in Fontaine.
"I see. This might be a weird question, but who is Fontaine's archon right now?" Ajax hoped this would clear things up. Perhaps more time had passed than he thought, and Neuvillette had been named the new archon.
Before the vice-director could reply, Mary-Ann erupted from her long bout of silence.
"Lady Egeria, of course!" she exclaimed as if stating that grass was green.
Ajax's minor headache multiplied immensely.