Chapter Text
The last of daylight had already left the room when she appeared.
Childe’s pen had been moving since before the late afternoon lamps were lit. Letters from Fatui spouses whose partners had been sent out again as soon as they’d come home. An inquiry from a mother whose son hadn’t seen his pay in two months and didn’t know who else to ask. He proudly represented Fatui soldiers in the Veche. Their concerns, their dependents, the messes they relied on government officials to resolve. Once a local boy in the outer territories himself, he took his new role seriously. Blue eyes had not found the window in hours. He only noticed the dimmed sky when the paper in front of him went from white to a deeper hue that meant he had lost the day.
“Time to get up.”
His head snapped up from the sheets of paper on his desk.
Lumine stood in the doorway with both hands fisted on her hips, the scarf he gave her wrapped around her shoulders, like his office was a short, inconvenient stop she did not intend to stay at.
“What.” Not a question so much as confusion. He had not expected her at this hour - or at all today. He hadn’t realized he hadn’t spoken to another person in hours until the word came out hoarse.
“Put the pen down. You’re coming with me.” Direct. Stern in a way that was still warm, which was worse.
“Comrade, I have to finish these.” He tapped the stack with the end of the pen. “If these don’t make the next meeting, some of these families wait another month to hear anything.”
“Finishing them tonight won’t make the outcome any better than finishing them in the morning.” She stepped fully into the room. “You’ve been locked up in here since dawn, Ajax. Have you even gone outside today?”
“I stepped onto the terrace when I had coffee.”
Her eyelids lowered first. Then a palm came up to her forehead like he had just volunteered to become her next headache.
“Grab your scarf. We’re going.”
“Comrade—”
“No ‘comrade.’” Arms crossed. If it had not been clear she was serious before, it was now. She only used that tone when he was using the nickname as an excuse and she never took those for an answer. “Up.”
He released a long exhale - part reluctance, part the simple fact of moving for the first time in hours - and pushed up from the desk. The chair scraped and his feet started toward the door before his mind had made itself up. He paused at the edge of the desk and looked back at the unfinished pages as if leaving them until morning might personally insult the Tsaritsa.
Lumine’s small huff from the doorway pulled him out of it.
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
When he came close enough she reached for his hand and tugged. No warning - just his hand in hers, and then they were off into the cold lamp-lit street that hit Childe hard after hours of a dark room, still air and ink.
Snezhnograd in the evening carried a unique kind of tempo. Carts, briefcases, the smell of coal and fried dough from a stall they passed too quickly for him to get sidetracked. Lumine moved through the crowd like the streets cleared themselves for her mission and hers alone. He let himself be led for half a block before he found his voice again.
“You could at least pretend this is a negotiation.”
“It isn’t.”
“Bossy.” He squeezed her hand once, not to stop her, just to land his point. “I had a perfect system. Coffee, papers, more coffee. You walked in and ruined a begrudgingly built process.”
“‘Begrudgingly’ sounds right for you.” She glanced back at him without slowing. “You looked like you were falling asleep. You even have ink on your nose.”
His free hand rose to rub at a spot that was almost certainly the wrong one. He’d have to get her help later. “Paperwork is still better company than most of the people I sit with all day.”
“That’s depressing, even for you.”
“I told you, comrade… The most tedious battle I’ve ever had.” Snow had started, fine and dry. It caught in her hair and did not melt right away. He watched it instead of the street - he trusted where she led him anyways. “Even if I’d rather be fighting air, I take this seriously. Those families write to me. If I slack off and go home, I’m no better than the officials who ignore them.”
“I know.” Her voice was sure, softened without losing the forward pull. “That’s why you need to take care of yourself and get out every now and then. You’re no use to them working on empty.”
He huffed a laugh. “When did you become such a counselor?”
“Bold of you, when I’m being nice right now.”
They turned onto the road toward the station. Evening lights came on in rows. A pair of young Fatui saluted him out of habit and then cast their attention to the Traveler attached to his hand.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said.
“A little.”
“The kidnapping, or showing all of Snezhnograd that you boss me around?”
“Both.” She bumped his shoulder with hers, light, almost accidental if he did not know her. “You get this look when you’ve been in Harbinger mode for too long. I don’t like that look.”
“What look do you like, then?”
“The one where you remember you have your own life.” A beat. “And a family. And me.”
The last one landed quieter than the rest. He looked at the side of her face backlit by the warm lamps, the stubborn press of her lips, the way she still had not explained a thing.
The station opened around them, the particular echo of people going home from a day’s work filling the hall. She already had the tickets; of course she did. He opened his mouth to comment and she gave him a look that made him drop it.
They boarded the northbound train a split moment before the doors closed and the train set off. She found an empty table on the side with the better view and sat without offering a word, as if the destination were obvious and he was the one being difficult.
Childe sat to her side so their shoulders could share each other’s warmth. Snezhnograd got smaller, blurring into flashes of silver and blue.
He watched her for a moment. Amber eyes looked back, completely unhelpful.
“You know I don’t do well with secrets.”
“It isn’t a secret. It’s a surprise. You’re making it extremely difficult to do something nice for you.”
That pulled a short laugh out of him. It felt foreign in his throat from the lack of interaction all day. “You couldn’t do something nice for me in Snezhnograd? I’d argue there are more nice things there than in the outer neighborhoods.”
“You’re really starting to annoy me.”
“Sorry.” He lifted his free hand in surrender. “Fine. I’m all yours for the night. But you’re helping me with those papers in the morning.”
“Aren’t they private? I’m not sure I should be looking at those.”
“Your ‘Consultant to the Tsaritsa’ title can get you away with a lot.” He tipped his head toward her. “And I trust you with worse things than late pay and worried mothers.”
She hummed, head turning toward the window. The city thinned. “Fine. I’ll help. As long as you enjoy tonight without thinking about work.”
“Can’t make promises when I don’t know where we’re going.”
“Morepesok. Family dinner.”
He went still. It was only a second. Then warmth moved through his face and down into his chest.
“…How did you even know about that?”
“Tonia told me.” She said it like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. “I promised her I’d have you at the next one. She said she wouldn’t believe it until she saw it. She doesn’t know how persuasive I can be.”
“Quite.”
“Mhm.”
He looked at her instead of the view. The train rattled. Snowy fields painted dark blue opened beyond the last of the city’s light.
He had meant to go. He always did. Work carried him away until the evening was already gone and Tonia’s disappointment was something he would fix next time. He had not even noticed the date until Lumine said the name of his hometown out loud.
She had remembered it for him.
“You didn’t have to,” he said, quieter.
“I know.” She still wasn’t looking at him. “That’s why it’s nice.”
He let his shoulder rest fully against hers. After a moment his gloved hand turned in hers, interlacing their fingers. Through the leather he could feel the familiar shape of her hand, then gave it an appreciative squeeze.
“All right,” he said. “No work. For tonight.”
“Good.”
A conductor passed. Someone in the next car laughed too loudly. The windows glazed with frost, then cleared as the heat of the cabin caught up.
“She’s going to make a scene,” he said after a while. “Tonia. When she sees I actually came.”
“I know. I’m counting on it.”
“Anthon and Teucer will think this means I can stay the week.”
“You’ll tell them you can’t.”
“And then I’ll feel like the worst brother in Snezhnaya.”
Lumine turned her face toward him at last. Close enough that he could see the snow-melt still caught in her lashes from the walk. “You’re a good brother. You’re just terrible at maintaining a proper work life balance.”
“Has anyone ever told you how comforting you can be?”
She offered a small laugh before reaching up with her free hand to fix the edge of his scarf where it had gone crooked in the rush. The gesture was small, but it undid him more than the ambush. “You can look after other families after being with your own, Ajax. Actually, it might just give you the edge you need in the next session.”
He caught her wrist before she could pull away and pressed his mouth to her knuckles, brief. Not a performance. A thank you. The only answer that conveyed what this meant to him.
“Lumine,” he said softly.
“Mm.”
“Thank you.”
She responded with a smile, color rising to her cheeks in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. “Don’t thank me yet. Your mother is going to ask what night works best for dinner every week, and I’m leaving that conversation to you.”
He laughed under his breath, eyes on the first glimpse of the coast.
“Wouldn’t dream of making you take that one alone.”
“Good. As long as I’m here, you’re not missing any more family dinners.”
The smile that spread was one he didn’t bother hiding. She was the only person in Teyvat who had met both the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger and Ajax from Morepesok and decided both of them were making it to dinner.
“Maybe I can finish the paperwork on the train.”
She shot him a look and gave him a light nudge. “You’re impossibly stubborn, you know that?”
“Oh? Pot, kettle.”
A roll of the eyes, then she relaxed back into him. “Whatever it takes to get you on this train every week, I’ll handle. I can’t look your sister in the eye if you flake.”
Another laugh, almost silent. “You didn’t pinky promise her, did you?”
“I know better than to pinky promise anyone in your family. High expectations, and you all have an agenda to throw liars on the ice.” The smile was evident in her voice.
A pause. Just the two of them resting in the presence of one another. When he broke the silence, it was much softer than what she expected.
“I love you.”
Almost casual. Like a thought that had gotten out on its own. They’d shared the endearment before, but the way he said it now, she could feel exactly what the night meant to him. Her head came up and watched him for a moment. Her gloved hand gently rose to the side of his jaw, and she pressed her lips briefly to the corner of his mouth.
“I love you too. Even when you try to ruin my nice surprises.” She spoke into his cheek.
She leaned her head against his shoulder like the struggle to get him on the train was over and the rest of the ride belonged to them. Outside, the dark water kept pace with the train until the silhouette of Morepesok was in view. Inside, for the first time since dawn, the letters on his desk felt like they could wait.
“They’re going to try to feed you all kinds of Snezhnayan food until you can’t stand,” he said after a while. “I’m sure you remember when they sent so much food with me, specifically for you, that you and Paimon were set for weeks.”
“I have a lot to thank them for. Your parents haven’t even met me yet and they’ve never let us go hungry from afar.”
“The second I told them about you, they felt at ease knowing I had a good influence in my life - for once.” He chuckled, lips finding her hair, a brief kiss pressed there. “They always wanted me to stay close to you whenever I left. Like the work would just happen to drop me wherever you were.”
“Is that why you kept ‘accidentally’ running into me everywhere?”
“No, those were coincidences.” A beat. “Happy coincidences.”
“Uh-huh.” She watched the dark glass. “Well, I’m excited to meet the rest of your family. See the life you lived before you decided all of Teyvat needed a spar.”
“Everyone usually comes. Mother, Father, Tonia, Anthon, Teucer, of course…”
“I still haven’t met Anthon yet, huh?” She thought about it. “I remember you said he always wanted to learn about other nations. Remind me to show him my Adventurer’s Handbook.”
“Oh, he’d lose his mind.” He said fondly. “He's quieter than the other younger ones. That’s why you hear about Teucer and Tonia more - they give me more content to work with.” His smile was evident in his tone, giving her hand a squeeze. “It would mean a lot if you sat with him a while. To him. To me too. Teucer’s probably already telling the house he’s the authority because he met you first.”
She squeezed back and nodded. “And the older ones? You barely mention them.”
“There’s not much to tell.” Honest, not shutting the conversation off. “I love my older brothers and sisters… We just don’t live under the same roof anymore, and nobody’s schedule ever lines up. It’s kind of been that way since I joined the Fatui. We stopped being as close as we were when we were younger.”
“That’s a shame.”
“No need to feel bad for me, comrade. We’re used to how it is - at least I am. What matters is the little ones still at home.
She went quiet for a second.“...You were the youngest once, though.”
He laughed under his breath at the thought. Ever since Tonia was born, he’d stepped into the big brother role the moment she first cried and he saw how small she was. He had not given that part back.
“Almost a decade until Tonia was born. They liked me better back then.”
She nudged him. Not hard. Just enough to disapprove of that kind of thinking. She was aware of the complicated feelings between the members of his family who knew him before the Abyss and had to learn how to live with a completely new brother. She knew it was especially hard on Ajax; though, he’d never admit it.
“Well, they can tell me every embarrassing story from when you were still the baby.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Mm. I would. It’ll break the ice so we can save the small talk.”
He tipped his head against hers. “I can’t tell if I should be nervous or impressed.”
“Usually, you lean towards impressed.”
That got another quiet laugh out of him. Morepesok was closer now, lights starting to pull apart from the dark. He didn’t let go of her hand.
“Fair warning. If Tonia likes you more than me by the end of dinner, we’re taking that outside.”
She didn’t even look up. “You’d lose.”
“Ouch. Real cocky, comrade. You want to go there again?”
“We already did. I won like always.”
He grinned against her hair. “Then it’s time for another rematch.”
She rolled her eyes and smiled into his shoulder. The train leaned into the last bend, and the lights of his hometown welcomed them into the evening.