Work Text:
“That should be it. Alright with you, Teucer?” Ajax glanced from the snack cart attendant in the aisle to the long seat across from him.
The Teucer in question had a pirozhki held firmly in his mouth as he used both hands to balance a plate of miniature blini on his lap.
“Mhm!” he hummed through the mouthful of pastry and meat, nodding and making Ajax worry about the structural integrity of the pirozhki. A splat of some sort didn’t seem too far off.
“Great,” Ajax said, handing over the coins, “and could we get a— yeah, that’s perfect, thank you.” He slid the extra plate the attendant had given him under the dangling pastry as Teucer bit down, saving the otherwise empty and pristine train car from what was absolutely going to become a greasy stain on the upholstery.
“Fhank you!” Teucer called as the attendant and cart bustled further down the train.
“Hey, mouth full, remember? Chew your food, then talk.” Ajax half laughed, setting the pirozhki down in the empty space beside him.
“Buhyoufaid—” Teucer paused for a very intentional swallow, “but you said that remembering pleases and thank-yous is the most important thing.”
“One of the most important things.”
Teucer groaned, but didn’t push the issue. That was the thing about him— sometimes he listened right away, and sometimes he hopped on a boat and rode it all the way to Liyue to watch his brother, the greatest toy salesman in Snezhnaya, at work.
And hadn’t that been a whole thing— Ajax had honestly never expected to have to push that ruse quite so hard. He hadn’t exactly counted on an international stowaway situation at the same time as one of Dottore’s abandoned pet projects going haywire, not to mention all the random capital-d Duties that had popped up. Fortune had really not been giving him any slack for those couple of days.
He leaned back in the seat as Teucer dug into the blini. Thankfully, this latest trip had been totally voluntary and under his control, the product of some saved leave for a nice, easy week in Mondstadt. The only thing he really needed to worry about there were the Knights, but he could at the very least see them coming from a mile away.
The rest of his family had headed back to the motherland just a day early, on account of his father’s cough taking on a nasty, wheezing quality. He had joked that he had expected as much in the nation of Anemo, and was sure that the cold air would do him well. And that had left Ajax and Teucer with some time on their hands— not that either of them didn’t care about their father, of course. They stayed with full blessings and reassurances that one more day in the nation couldn’t hurt.
And it hadn’t! There was just enough time left to enjoy some of the scenery that Mondstadt was famous for— not to mention the market squares. They’d even lost track of time when a little theater troupe that had begun their routine on a corner; Komödie von something or other, but the actors had been masked, acrobatic, and very funny, a good time for the grown-ups and kids in attendance.
“What’d you get again?”
“Cottage cheese,” Teucer answered as he finished up the last one. “Mondstadt food is okay, but I really just wanted this all day, so—” he looked up suddenly, eyes wide, “Did you want one? I forgot to ask…”
“That’s okay,” Ajax shrugged, picking up the pirozhki plate, “I’ll just take the big brother tax from something else—”
Teucer shrieked in horror and lunged forward for the bun, swiping at the air around Ajax’s extended arm as he took an exaggerated bite.
“You ate so much,” he pouted as he slumped back into his seat, arms crossed and hat falling over his eyes. “There’s barely anything left.”
Ajax set the plate on his lap anyway, twisting the hat back and forth in lieu of ruffling his hair. “Did not,” he said around the mouthful of meat and… mushroom? Teucer was right about missing Snezhnayan food, that was for sure, “You’ve seen me eat way more than that.”
Eventually, the desire for food overcame the anguish of the brother tax, and soon both plates had been stacked and set on one of the folding trays near the window. The countryside had been turning steadily more white as they headed further north, forests and towns blurring beneath falling snow. The sun was still out, thinner but still determined, and the sky almost cloudless.
Ajax was prepared to sit back and relax all the way to Morepesok. They had to pass through Snezhnograd and a few more stops before they hit the coast, but the train was the last leg of the journey, for naps and newspapers and stuff like that.
Of course, he didn’t sleep in public, but it wasn’t like he never closed his eyes at all, so it still took him by surprise when he heard two little hands go slap against the window as the train eased into the station.
“Look!”
“What?! What is it?” He was halfway out of his seat and tensed for combat on nothing but instinct from the startle, eyes darting.
“I saw a Mr. Cyclops further down the platform!”
Man, it really was some kind of cosmic joke that such a silly string of words could make his stomach drop clean out of his ass.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah!” Teucer said, his face pressed up against the glass, trying to peer down the length of the train. “It was pretty broken, but I definitely saw some of the pieces. There was a bird sitting on top of the big part. Is that something happening for your job?”
“I don’t know, bud,” Childe heard himself say distantly, “I’m on vacation, remember?”
“Well, yeah, but toys are fun no matter what!”
Okay. Think. Teucer had seen a box of Ruin Guard parts, and probably the attending Fatuus guarding it. That, by itself, meant nothing. It meant that the back half of the train was about to get a little heavier, but everything outside the platform closest to them seemed clear. Civilians and more civilians, just a dusting of snow from the wind.
There was no way he was going to have to deal with the same whole thing twice. No way.
“Do you think they’ll let you go look at him?”
Childe breathed in, forced his shoulders to relax.
“I don’t think so,” he said, “even if I am the best salesman ever, there’s not really much I can do for a broken toy.”
Teucer hmmed as the train’s engine hummed and hissed, pulling them away from the town.
“Maybe they’re taking him back to where you work to fix him.” he wondered out loud, still staring out the window at the blurring countryside, “Do toys have doctors? Or are they called something else?”
Childe exerted an amount of mental energy that should have earned him a second Vision and did not react at all to the images of stringy blue hair and creepy masks the word conjured.
“Nope, doctors are for people. Toys have stuff like mechanics, inventors, engineers, that kind of thing.”
Teucer nodded. “Then I hope that those guys can fix him soon.”
He knew he was nodding absently back, but he needed to get out of there. Out of the cabin, to stand, to move, the spike of adrenaline had left the back of his mind buzzing and his fingers twitching, hungry for something, anything with a grip to swing and use and be ready with. Glass could shatter inward, the back door of the cabin car was made of wood that would splinter and fly in stakes and shards if it was hit, and at these velocities he would have to—
Childe slapped his hands down on his knees instead.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?”
Teucer’s brows scrunched. “Where is there to walk to?”
“Didn’t you see it when we were coming in? There’s a car with even bigger windows closer to the front. They go all the way up to the ceiling.”
“Sure!” Teucer hopped down from the seat, just a step behind Childe, as always. “It’s good for you to move after you eat, right?”
“Sometimes?” See, he was already feeling better. Normal walking, normal talking.
The observation car was only ever two or three spots away from the very front. The first quarter of any given train was usually the swankiest, making it the Harbingers’ overall favorite because really, why not? Looking ahead through the little porthole windows, he could already see how much brighter the car was ahead, only a few vague dark shapes in what must have been the seats. Definitely a good call, just a little change of scenery to soothe a couple of jumpy nerves.
He pushed the door of the separating compartment open, and Teucer was off like a shot. Not that Childe could really blame him, even he would admit that it was pretty breathtaking.
The windows did reach the ceiling, but they didn’t stop there. They curved up and around the structure of the car, meeting only a few thin supporting beams of metal that ran down the length of the car. It was dazzlingly bright and a few degrees colder than the passenger cars, but it really made the countryside feel a whole lot closer. He let the cold air fill his lungs, familiar and comfortable, and kept his eyes turned skyward for just a moment longer.
Then the little taps of Teucer’s footsteps caught, stumbled, and Childe looked down just in time to see him barely catch himself on the armrests of one of the seats.
“Oof— oh, sorry, mister, I didn’t mean to kick your bag—”
It was at this moment that Childe’s eyes flicked down, and that he registered about seven thousand new things at the same time.
To give some examples, the car was completely empty except for the person Teucer was addressing, that said person was a massive, dark shape with a long coat and wide hat, that Childe’s gut and every instinct he possessed was immediately screaming DANGER at him in big, blaring letters, that he had seen the lumpy bag that was sprawled sideways in the aisle in Zapolyarny Palace before, and that he was completely and utterly fucked.
Childe caught himself the instant before ruining everything, and in a very articulate and calm manner, said “Do—urgAHRGH.”
Literally anyone would have been better. Anyone at all. He hacked, thumping himself on the chest and trying to breeze past the half-successful attempt at not giving everything away before he’d even done anything.
“Hey there!” he crossed the length of the car and beaming as best he could at the— fucking hell, at the full-face beaked mask pointed impassively towards them.
He pivoted briefly, setting Teucer to rights on his feet. Anyone at all, Sandrone would have sneered and snapped at them but she would have left them alone, Arlecchino took care of the House of the Hearth which had to mean something, even the Captain he could have counted on to remain resolutely dispassionate— Dottore loved nothing more than making a scene.
“I’m okay, I’m okay—” Teucer wriggled away from his— not fussing, Childe didn’t fuss— and his eyes locked onto whichever piece of himself Dottore had sent out this time. “Woah,” he breathed, “who’s that?”
“This is my coworker!” Childe said, wheeling around with way too much enthusiasm and volume, but, you know, desperate times, “You know those toy engineers I was telling you about earlier? He’s one of those. Our very best.”
Teucer oohed as Dottore— whichever Dottore it was— tilted his head in a way that made him look even more like a massive black bird, then gave a short, amused-sounding “Hm!” and doffed his hat, dipping his head as he did so. The long hair Childe had been expecting to be blue was so pale it was almost white; and there was a clue. Probably an old man.
“Good afternoon, child. And Childe.”
Har-dee-fucking-har. And switch that probably to a definitely for the old man-itude, the voice was rougher than any he’d heard from the Second before.
Childe concentrated on boring a hole through that stupid mask with his eyes while his brother gave a little wave.
“Hi! My name’s Teucer, he’s my big brother and the best toy seller ever,” he said, looking up at Childe, “We’re coming back from a vacation in Mondstadt!”
“Lovely to meet you,” Dottore said, nodding again, “I am, as your brother has said, an inventor. You may call me Rho. And I am pleased to hear that you’ve only been on a temporary holiday, Childe. That would account for the lack of… sales made in the past week, wouldn’t it?”
Even though the alternative was way worse, the polite act was scraping knives over Childe’s teeth.
“Haha, yep…” he answered, rubbing the back of his head, “You know, you’ve always got to make time for family!”
“Of course. Our line of work can be rather taxing.”
Dottore turned and strode forward along the car’s length, coat sweeping out behind him and— Childe’s eyes skipped backwards once, twice.
The Doctor had a little shadow.
He was definitely another prosthesis, that much was clear— dark Sumerian skin, a shock of bright blue hair— but those wide, red eyes stared up at him from a face that couldn’t have been older than Teucer’s.
“Oh!” His little brother gasped, craning to keep the boy in sight as they tracked the pair into the same aisle they stood in, “I didn’t see you!”
“Ah, pardon me,” Dottore— Rho said, guess Childe had better start differentiating now, “I don’t believe your brother has met my grandson before.” He shifted sideways and gestured to the boy, whose impassive look was curdling into a spectacularly sullen glare.
Through the tight knot of worry and residual panic, something else twisted uncomfortably in Childe’s gut. Dottore’s segments looked perfectly human, no doubt about that, but watching them ape familial ties to each other was just… creepy.
Childe waved weakly while Teucer practically jumped for joy.
“I didn’t think there were any other kids on the train! At least not this close to the front, everything is so fancy up here, but when I go with my brother, we always use these cars. Is it the same way for you? Did you get to see people inventing toys? Did—”
“Okay, well, it was really nice running into you guys,” Childe said, “but we have a ways to go before we hit our stop, and we don’t want to bother you if you’re—”
“Nonsense!” Rho said, the bastard, “This is a perfect opportunity to catch our premier salesman up on the latest innovations we’ve made.”
“I’m on. Vacation.” Childe said, smiling through gritted teeth.
“Yes, well, what’s the saying? If you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.” Rho gestured to the door at the head of the car, “Just a few moments of your time. I insist.”
His heart hammered in his chest, the back of his neck pricking like he was in a fight to the death. Breathe in, breathe out, casual.
“Oh, alright. You’ve twisted my arm,” Childe said lightly, stepping forward, “Teucer, don’t go anywhere while I—”
“Ah, you won’t need to worry for your brother. Children can keep an eye on each other, can they not?”
Childe’s eyes snapped instinctively down. The boy had shot out a hand and grabbed a fistful of Rho’s coat, little fingers gnarled into claws. He didn’t say anything, but he stared up at the mask, brows furrowed in what Childe could only really call abject betrayal.
They looked at each other for one moment, then another. Since it was Dottore, the idea that they could literally be communicating somehow while remaining silent wasn’t completely out of the picture— maybe it came with being the same person?
“You gonna be okay if I step out for a little?” Childe asked, taking advantage of the mental clone-or-whatever-they-were warfare happening across from them.
“Mhm!” Teucer nodded, “It’ll be so cool to get to talk to him. Almost nobody else’s family works with toys like you!”
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Childe said, squeezing Teucer’s shoulder as his heart felt something similar. He knew the lie couldn’t last forever, but it was so much kinder this way. At least for now.
“Well then,” Rho said decisively, having apparently won his psychic fight with the child who now sat scowling bitterly in one of the seats, “right this way, comrade.”
Tau hoped that the train, everyone on it, and the entire world, for that matter, would explode.
He pulled his knees up to his chest on the seat, watching himself and Tartaglia disappear through the compartment doors. Even sitting, he couldn’t see through the round window and he didn’t want to, because Rho had betrayed him in a way that could never be forgiven and had ruined the entire trip.
“Sooo… I don’t know if you heard me say it, but I’m Teucer!” said Tartaglia’s brother, cheerily and airheadedly sitting down on the same bench. “What’s your name?”
If you utter that name outside of this laboratory, I’ll leave you outside to freeze.
We have designations for a reason, nevermind Xi changing his—
Il Dottore, Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers.
I don’t see any reason a bit of funding can’t be allotted— provided that you sign with the correct name, of course.
“...Tau.”
“Cool! We both have T names! My sister Tonia does too, but I don’t know why we got T names and everybody else didn’t. Well, actually, I know I got my name because it matches with my brother, and it means great archer.”
Tau wished harder that the central power coupling casing would come loose, spark, and ignite the energy cell inside.
“Because Ajax was a hero from a long time ago, and his brother was an archer—”
“Half-brother.”
“Hm?” Teucer stopped short, confused.
Tau sighed and pulled his heavy Snezhnayan coat closer. “That’s a Remurian story. Teucer and Ajax were half-brothers.”
Teucer frowned, clearly not used to being contradicted.
“No way that’s true. What even is a Remurian?”
Rho was too far away for the connection to transmit, but Tau thought his hate at him as hard as he could anyway.
“Remuria,” he said, wrinkling his nose, “it was an ancient society from before Fontaine. It was destroyed by a huge tidal wave, which is probably why you got the story wrong.”
“How do you know?” Teucer asked archly.
“My name is Remurian.”
“I think you’re lying.”
“I am not. My—” The word stuck in his mouth. Tau hated it when they pretended to be family. He hated being Alpha and Theta’s brother, Delta and Epsilon and Omega’s son, Rho’s grandchild. He spat it out anyway. “My father researched old languages. It’s a letter.”
Teucer was not impressed.
“That makes it sound even more like you’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about that?!” Tau demanded, hot and invisible hands squeezing the sides of his head.
“I don’t know! It’s weird to have just a letter for a name!”
He chewed the inside of his cheek, then his lip, then bit a dent into his balled-up fist hard enough to stop himself from asking if Teucer wanted to know what a real lie sounded like, if he knew that his brother’s time away from their cozy little house was covered in brains and blood, if all his talk about toys sounded like a lie.
Breathe. You can’t say anything. It doesn’t matter.
“...there are a lot of us,” he said at last. It sounded small and ridiculous and rotten.
Teucer didn’t say anything, for once, and for just a second, it was just the noise of the snow and train.
Zandik didn’t mean anything good. It was something maman had heard once before he was born and decided she liked the sounds of, and that was that. His ramets said that it meant heretic proudly, because they had grown up and didn’t want to go home as badly as he did.
He put the palms of his hands over his eyes and took a big breath in, pushed a big breath out. Snezhnograd couldn’t be too far away.
“...I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Teucer said quietly.
Tau tore his hands away from his eyes and slapped them flat on his knees. He glared.
“I’m not crying.”
“But you’re upset, and I didn’t mean to—” he stopped, looking down and away, “It’s not nice to call people liars, especially if they were already mad. I'm sorry.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were so,” Teucer said, but there wasn’t any snarky nuh-uh tone in his voice, “You were mad at your grandpa for leaving to talk to my brother.”
What are you doing. Just a bit of fun with the Eleventh. Why. I do need to have words with him about the factory incident in Liyue. I don’t want to talk to him. Tartaglia wouldn’t acquiesce to leaving his brother alone. I don’t want to talk to him. You said we wouldn’t see anyone else on the train. I want to be alone. We’ve been alone all day. You can spare a few moments. No. I don’t want to. I don’t want to.
Even his last resort, the loudest, most desperate ZANDIK he was capable of, had been easily batted away with Tau. Rho’s mind had been made up.
Tau nodded, the remaining mad sticking stubbornly to the insides of his head.
“I get mad at my brother sometimes too,” Teucer said, low and almost secretive, “I wish he was home with us all the time. I know it’s not true, but… it feels like I disappear when he can’t see me. He’s gone for so long, and even though I know he travels selling toys, I get worried.”
Tau could not imagine wanting to be around Tartaglia at all, and therefore couldn't care about his absence even a little bit.
“Everybody tells me it’ll be fine, but it feels like they’re just saying things at me.”
“Nobody listens,” Tau said, and his voice came out in a harsh, startling whisper. “My r— my brothers all get listened to, they do what they want. It’s not fair.”
It was more than unfair, it was worse than unfair, it was an ugly, ugly lie. They were all Zandik, they were all Il Dottore, but only he had to have a chaperone outside of the Palace grounds, only he had to fake being someone’s something. Before the last Knave had died, he had to take a retinue of Fatuus on the only big mission he did by himself. He could tell that they thought it was funny, Crucabena and his ortet, sending him to collect the injured children from the House of the Hearth. And now even that was gone, because the new Knave wished she could kill all of him at once. He was ushered out of rooms, shooed away and patted on the head, and sometimes he thought he hated Pantalone as much as the others loved him because of the way his eyes closed or slid over him as much as they could.
“Yeah.” Teucer said somberly, “I’m the youngest in my family, too.”
It didn’t make sense. He was better now. He’d made himself new and better six times over and they still did this to him.
And it would never change, he thought, and the thought was sour and tired. No matter how many birthdays passed on the calendar, he would never not be eight, just like how Alpha would never not be eighteen and Rho would never not be sixty-five.
“How old do you think you have to be to get listened to?”
Tau breathed an in-and-out again, and felt the heavy, bitter feeling spread and settle back down on his shoulders and in his stomach.
“At least thirty-five.”
Teucer laughed. “No way! My brother isn’t that old, and plenty of people listen to him.”
“My uncle is,” Tau said, because Omega deserved to be called something stupid, “but I think he’s just loud.”
Teucer tilted his head, considering for a moment, then asked, “Does your whole family dress weird?”
Tau coughed in surprise, then clapped his hands over his mouth, stifling his sudden giggles out of habit. “Weird?”
“I just meant the mask!” Teucer cried defensively, “I’ve never seen that before!”
“They do,” Tau nodded, “Most of them. We don’t like for people to see our face.”
“You’re not wearing a mask, though.”
Whoops. “I don’t mind,” he clarified, “but the others do. I’m not sure why.”
Another lie, but a small one. Tau and Alpha didn’t have any scars, but Theta and everyone else did. They had been chased out of the Akademiya and gotten a torch shoved into their face.
“Mm. My brother has a mask too, but I’ve never seen him wear it. It just goes on the side of his head, which I think looks kind of dumb, but—”
The wooden doors thunked and slid open. Tartaglia, looking just as tense and haggard as before, stepped out, followed by Rho.
“Brother!” Teucer exclaimed, standing on the seat, “What did you talk about?”
“Uh… remember when we played hide-and-seek in Liyue?” Childe said, sheepishly rubbing his neck, “Turns out we… weren’t really supposed to do that.”
“Oh,” Teucer said, “I’m sorry! I didn’t think that—”
“It’s alright!” Childe cut in, “We’ve worked everything out. I just need to help out around the inventor’s lab a little bit, and everything’s fair and square.”
You want him in the lab? Tau doubted at Rho, leaning around Teucer’s legs to squint at him.
Of course not, came the answer, I’ve merely secured the Eleventh as a delivery boy for a few irritating errands. How he translates this charade escapes me.
A pause as Teucer scrambled off the seat to rejoin his brother and as Rho moved closer.
You seem to still be in one piece.
What you did was unforgivable. I hope that while we were gone Regrator decided that he likes Epsilon the best and never talks to you again.
Surely conversing with someone your own age isn’t so terrible.
I hope that Theta erased all six of your chalkboards. I hope Alpha and Omega got into another fight with scalpels and bled all over your notes.
Rho huffed and rolled his eyes so hard that Tau knew it without seeing it.
“Come along,” he said, out loud this time, “Snezhnograd approaches.”
Tau slid out of his seat and took up their bag. He could feel the train slowing, but he kept his balance as it pulled into the station.
Shadows shifted in the way they did when Rho tipped his hat. Childe’s eyes were still locked onto them from within his fake smile, but Teucer’s wave and grin were completely real.
“So,” his big brother said, letting out a massive puff of air with it, “how did your talking go?”
“Okay,” Teucer said as he watched Tau and his grandpa descend the stairs towards the Snezhnograd platform, a swirl of cold air ruffling their coats. He walked to one of the big windows to keep them in sight. “I was accidentally a little mean, but I said sorry and I think we’re okay.”
“Really?” Ajax said, sounding confused, “What did you say?”
“I thought he was fibbing at me, but then I realized he wasn’t. He was just upset that he got left alone,” he explained.
“Alright, well…” his brother said, sounding like he was looking for the right thing to say, “It’s good that you said sorry. I wouldn’t want you to get into a fight.”
Teucer shook his head. “No, I know. He just seemed… sad.”
His brother looked like Teucer had just told him that a rock had seemed sad, but he said nothing else.
Someone was waiting at Snehznograd station, another tall dark spot against all the white snow. He was dressed in black and purple, with glasses and dark hair.
“Who’s that?” he asked, glancing back at his brother. Tau and his grandpa had approached the man, and the smile Teucer had seen on his face had grown.
“That’s… another coworker of mine,” Ajax said, still looking super confused, “he handles our money. I don’t know why he’d be— oh, Tsaritsa’s sake—”
Teucer whipped back to look out the window. The angle was a little weird, but he could see that Rho had pushed his mask (and hat) up enough to show his mouth, and had taken one of the mystery money man’s hands for a kiss, like a gentleman in a storybook.
From the platform, Tau half-turned to look back at the tall windows of the car. He searched with his eyes for just a moment, found Teucer against the sun’s glare, and pretended to throw up.
Teucer laughed so sharply, so suddenly, that he startled his horrified-looking brother, who caught him as he collapsed with giggles and the train pulled away from the station.