Chapter Text
Punishment.
That was now the name of the game they played amidst the backdrop of Liyue’s peaceful, bustling harbor. Only a little more than one week ago that same harbor had been flooded with the vortex of oncoming calamity, like a total eclipse of horror in the wake of Rex Lapis’ mysterious demise.
Of course, as spectacular as the fireworks had been, said calamity failed to even graze the planks of the outermost docks.
Childe knew now that there had never been a damn chance of it in the first place. And at the end of the day, literally everybody emerged unscathed, except for one single Harbinger who’d landed with his face metaphorically planted in the salty, bitter mud. That humiliation was only the beginning of the fallout; the true punishment delightedly followed him everywhere thereafter.
With the next boat chartered back to Snezhnaya still two days out from departure, he felt like he was sinking into the fetid tar of an abyssal beast...otherwise known as a parlor of the Liyue Quixing.
Childe reclined back, a hand supporting his cheek as he casually assessed the Liyue officials in front of him. Round, and round, and round in circles they’d spoken at their equally round, gold-leafed table, dancing with politics as if it were a theater. At that moment, the tension loomed, and an easy little smile pulled on the Harbinger’s lips that failed to reach icy eyes. The plain-faced officials before him were remarkably nondescript, and Childe wondered if anyone would notice if one or two went missing.
“So as I’ve said, Minister...as representatives of Snezhnaya, we are deeply apologetic for the...unexpected consequences of our research. We would have halted our operations immediately had we known the danger it posed to Liyue,” he iterated, for what felt like the millionth time. Yet his impatience didn’t seep into his tone, overly calm and pleasant as the Liyue representatives shot daggers from the other side of the table.
Oh, if only daggers were involved. Daggers, and blood, and a swift, brilliant end to this charade.
“Then how do you explain the eyewitness accounts of Fatui operatives interfering with the Jade Palace’s defense?”
Childe sighed. Round, and round, and round indeed. They’d been talking about the same points for literal fucking hours.
Truly, a cruel and awful punishment designed specifically for him. What he wouldn’t have given to be tied up and publicly flogged instead. At least then he could mount a daring escape and take out half the Millelith in the process.
Ahhh...he wanted to fight so bad he couldn’t stand it.
“As I said, you’re mistaken. There was a lot of chaos, we were only moving to defend and secure the safety of the harbor to the best of our abilities. Even the Tianquan said it was too hard to tell what was happening, so why do you insist on casting these accusations? Liyue and Snezhnaya have always been peaceful allies, we have nothing to gain in changing that now.”
Like a snake, he lied through every syllable of his lips, hungry to sink his teeth into his prey. He knew the argument was laughably flimsy, but Ningguang herself had corroborated. After all, while the Fatui were more than guilty of putting Liyue in direct, deliberate danger, they’d ultimately done so at the behest of Liyue’s most precious god.
Childe sure as fuck would have loved to know that one particular detail. At the end of it all, he played the role of the guiltiest villain to perfection; he’d been truly willing to unleash the vortex’s terror to raze the harbor to the ground to get what he wanted. Not like he’d enjoyed the cop-out of using someone else’s power, but the chaos had been exquisite.
Unfortunately, the memory only left him with the taste of bitter backwash and a flash of an infuriating, mora-glinted gaze.
“We recognize Liyue has endured quite the shock in the wake of Rex Lapis’ demise,” Childe bullshitted, “and we understand the paranoia that other nations might strike in a time of instability. But I assure you the Fatui have no such intentions...and correct me if I’m wrong, Minister, but you have no proof to the contrary, other than the few eyewitness accounts that your own Tianquan can’t corroborate. How much longer do you intend to keep debating this?”
The minister balked, and Childe smirked, finally striking for the throat and imagining the way the man would garble if he’d really ripped it out. Despite the demeanor, he took no pleasure in this game, and he knew this was all part of the damn punishment. Ningguang might not be calling for his public execution as the culprit of the attack, but she’d certainly milk the political fallout and enjoy watching him squirm.
Seemed to be peoples’ hobbies lately.
He wasn’t a fucking fan.
“Ahem. Well, matters of intent aside, we have yet to settle on details of reparations…”
Of course, it all came down to mora in the end, one politician to pay off after another in the wake of the chaos. On and on it went, round for another go, until by the end of it his fingers really were twitching in rhythm to his violent fantasies.
By the time they’d finally released him from the political torture, the sun had crept low in the sky, and Childe’s body had grown agonizingly stiff. His wounds were slow to heal, ever-aching, and it was all he could do to idly rub at his shoulder and groan as he finally exited the parlor hall.
The air outside was cool by Liyue’s standards, but still felt like a summer breeze to him, brisk and tinged with the perfume of glaze lilies. It left his head throbbing and his stomach aching, woefully empty.
Childe lifted his eyes and surveyed the lantern glow of the restaurants lining every street corner; many he’d happily sampled over the past few months. But as his feet carried him down the stone steps of the pavilion, he didn’t even bother trying to enter. The people in Liyue only begrudgingly tolerated him now, and most would turn him away at the door. It would take some time before the Fatui could sew doubt into their gossip and ease the edges of their vitriol. Time and money could heal plenty of wounds.
For the time being, the official story was that the rise of the Vortex was the result of a Fatui research experiment gone wrong, headed up by the young and arrogant red-headed diplomat of the Northland Bank.
Well, all was well in the end, wasn’t it? Everyone got what they wanted.
Fucking fantastic. So fantastic his insides fucking squirmed. Really, he knew it wasn’t worth hanging on to the anger, and he would refrain from kicking up a fuss if those were his orders. And yet despite that, the thoughts kept creeping back and the emotions swelled like a persistent infection. At that point, he was well accustomed to such darker, quieter side-effects of his Delusion, like two minds occupying one body, ever in constant, tentative flux. It was like Tartaglia the diplomat against Childe the Harbinger of Foul Legacy, both of whom had trampled the other guy Ajax to a bloody pulp long ago. And now, tip it too far one way and there was no guarantee he’d ever make it back to equilibrium...
...Was that definitely the Delusion at play? He wasn’t close enough to any of the other Harbingers to ask if they ever dealt with anything similar. Could have been the Abyss too. Could have been he was just utterly batshit crazy.
Regardless, whenever he strolled alone, no task to occupy his mind, he started to feel the restless, unfettered waters stir once more. He’d drift back, scene-by-scene, reliving every damn moment again. The rush of battle, the stain of humiliating, sour defeat, the glint of infuriatingly omniscient cor lapis eyes…
No, wait. Those eyes were actually right in front of him, just across the cobblestone path.
Like jolted by electricity, he stumbled in his step. Childe froze, having already locked gazes with a key source of his ire before he could feign ignorance. The man’s—the god’s—expression remained as smooth as porcelain stone, his eyes slicing straight through him, as if Childe was nothing more than a paper-thin lantern swaying in the breeze.
Really, looking back, he wasn’t so sure how he’d been so fucking daft. There was nothing fucking natural about those eyes. Just one glimpse, and Childe felt every nerve on fire.
Ah...he wanted a fight. It was all too damn quiet, calm, and mundane. Everyone was somehow expected to go back to playing house, with Childe footing the whole bill. His insides itched all over. Okay, this part was definitely the Delusion talking, wasn’t it? The itching, but probably not the fighting. He was utterly bored and absolutely wanted to let off some steam.
That metallic gaze eventually flickered away in that split-second Childe tried to untangle the incoherence in his head. The Harbinger should have taken that moment to skulk off, but he supposed he suffered from the same magnetism that everyone else suffered in the presence of a damn archon. You just couldn’t quite peel away.
Looking back, that choice to stay was really the start of everything. Sometimes, people took a path at a crossroads without ever realizing they stood at one.
Aforementioned archon—Mr. Zhongli, as he went by now—sat at a restaurant table with a sheet of paper clasped in one sleek, gloved hand. Beside him was a waitress, and beside her was the owner of the restaurant, both of whom Childe had met on several occasions while dining there. A few of those times, he’d been accompanied by the very man who looked down stoically at...what seemed to be the bill.
Childe’s brows rose. It didn’t take a master of intel and espionage to glimpse from the uncomfortable faces of the restaurant staff, to Zhongli’s stiff posture, to that innocent slip of paper. And one didn’t have to be a master of lip-reading to be able to make out the syllables Zhongli spoke as he shamelessly uttered the words, “Unfortunately, I have no mora.”
…
...Really?
“Pff,” Childe couldn’t help the huff that passed his lips, eyes squinting. Seriously, what a fucking sight. What a fucking absurd, dumbass sight. It was practically a comedic tragedy in so many ways, the layers of irony never thicker.
The awkward conversation continued, and it was with sick satisfaction that Childe watched Zhongli’s eyes flash up to seek him once more. But the Harbinger had already moved off the street, just out of sight, privy to the sweet image of Zhongli’s discomfort.
Well...except the guy didn’t really look uncomfortable at all. He just looked mildly perplexed, as if he’d never fathomed the concept of needing to pay mora a day in his 6,000-odd year life. As if he wasn’t the very fucking being that had invented the damn stuff.
...If anything, it was the restaurant owner who was clearly growing squirmy.
The waitress continued fretting.
Eugh. That wasn’t it. It was funny if Zhongli ended up in deep shit, but the archon definitely wasn’t bothered at all by how much he inconvenienced everyone else. Childe noticed a fucking theme there.
Ah fine, whatever.
“Here.”
The clank of a mora satchel announced Childe’s arrival as he sauntered up behind Zhongli and the restaurant staff. There was a brief flash of relief until the Liyue citizens realized who so valiantly footed the bill; local Fatui villain extraordinaire ready to save the day. The profuse thanks on their lips fumbled in their throats, and somehow, Childe’s attempt to rescue the situation immediately turned it more awkward.
He wasn’t so bothered by that part. It was a little fun to be so infamous.
Zhongli, of course, seemed utterly impervious to it all as he shifted, craning his head to meet Childe’s face once more. Their gazes locked, and Childe hated how it felt like a magnet snapping into place. It sparked the flames of irritation in his core and the bitterness at the back of his throat. The sting of deception was still so fucking fresh, and he ached.
Gods, he’d been aching for days. That constant itching. It kept him up every fucking night. It had all ended so fucking wrong, his mission fundamentally a success but also beyond an abysmal failure. He’d at least have been satisfied to wring a second battle to the death out of the whole ordeal, but he’d barely had one round with the wayward traveler and their fucking pixie pet.
...Ok, chill out, you Delusional fuck. Childe took a mental breath to try and tame the beast that was, well, himself.
“Thank you,” Zhongli’s smooth, dulcet tone rolled through the turbulence of his thoughts, the corners of doll-like lips pulling up in a gentle smile. It didn’t reach Zhongli’s eyes, still keenly guarded. It wasn’t as if the archon would greet him with a grin and a hug after Childe had earnestly attempted to desecrate the Exuvia and cast Liyue into mortal peril. There were a lot of doubts surrounding the being known as Rex Lapis, but his deep-rooted sense of duty for the land he’d nurtured wasn’t ever a question.
Still, the man was nothing if not one for proper manners, and continued on, “I am afraid I was too single-minded in my endeavor to try the seasonal jade parcels here, and forgot to bring the necessary mora.”
“Hmmm, quite the habit you’ve made of it, too,” Childe remarked casually, “That part seems to be earnest enough, anyway.” The oh-so-pleasant smile on his lips was as cold as a Snezhnayan tundra.
The poor restaurant staff didn’t have the faintest idea of anything, but they certainly felt the chilly breeze.
Zhongli offered a steady, calm sigh; just a slow breath out of his nose. His expression didn’t change, but it made Childe feel like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, like he was two fucking inches tall and didn’t even belong at the kiddie table yet. His insides squirmed like little abyssal worms. Seriously, he was going crazy, and he scuffed his boot against the cobblestone.
“Earnest? Everything that happened was born out of an earnest wish...for both of us, was it not?” Zhongli answered cryptically, and Childe couldn’t really grasp whether the man was bothered or indifferent.
Of course, his statement was correct. An age-old archon was usually bound to be right. All the bullshit, the layers of deception, the vortex, the lies...all were born out of two earnest wishes. The Tsaritsa wished earnestly for the gnosis, and Rex Lapis wished earnestly for…
...Well, for something. Fucking retirement, apparently?
“Er, sir…” The poor bastard of a restaurant owner piped up, his voice almost a croak like he didn’t know how to penetrate the electric field surrounding the two men. Childe glimpsed up, shaking away the nagging comment, and breathed the tension away with a huff.
“Right, right, sorry about this. Well aware I’m not that great for business, won’t cause a scene, no worries.” He gave a little wave of his hand, “Just keep the change.” Then, his attention turned back to Zhongli, inclining his chin towards the road. “Shall we?”
“Mn?” The archon responded in mild perplexity, clearly not expecting an invitation to stroll.
“Oh c’mon now, Mr. Zhongli,” Childe responded, resting a hand on his hip. “Don’t act so surprised that you’re now expected to pay off your debts.”
---
They promptly resolved the rest of the affair with the restaurant and soon found themselves on their way. Childe and Zhongli walked next to one another, shoulder-to-shoulder just like they had been doing for weeks on end. It wasn’t like they had dinner every night, or even close to it, but they’d certainly developed something of an unexpected camaraderie during their business transactions.
At least, that was how Childe had seen it. He’d never set out to make friends, and a consultant for the Wangshu Funeral Parlor was at the bottom of the list of people he typically took interest in. Perhaps deep down, he’d sensed there was something profoundly different about this man, even if he was too thick-headed to notice the fat fucking obvious.
Really, at the time, he’d just enjoyed the guy’s nice voice and equally nice face as he relayed comically absurd amounts of knowledge, and there hadn’t been much more to it. It had really broken up the daily debt collection, violent extortion, nefarious skulking, and villainous machinations.
And as for Zhongli, Childe could only assume the former-archon had been keeping an eye on him to ensure his plans did not run awry. Why else would he ever even glimpse in the direction of a Fatui spy?
Augh. Fuck. He didn’t have the fucking patience to handle all this plotting and multi-dimensional scheming. Even as they walked, he felt like a wire about to snap, tension corded throughout his back even if he kept his shoulders purposely slack.
“You know, it’s pretty hard to believe that the same man who can’t grasp the concept of a wallet was able to play me like a fiddle,” he mused as they winded down a path, the crowd thinning enough to grant them some level of privacy. Ever one for the offhand small talk, Childe didn’t even really think about his words, filling that silence as effortlessly as always. But he wasn’t really in the mood to make pleasantries and dance around the point.
“I can grasp the concept of carrying a wallet just fine, it is simply...not yet at the forefront of my everyday thoughts,” Zhongli responded a little sheepish and eager to cast away that train of conversation. He inclined his head, golden eyes narrowing slightly. “Your misgivings with my deception are clear, but weren’t you intending to do the same thing to Zhongli, the ordinary funeral consultant? He could have died had your plans succeeded.”
Childe clicked his tongue. “Well, obviously not,” he retorted, although he got the point. Zhongli was calling him a hypocrite. What right did he have to complain about being played, when he’d been actively playing everyone else? It was true that he’d been willing to put everyone, Zhongli included, into harm’s way. It was true that his objective always came before his morals.
Really, his morals were always dependent on whether someone was speaking to Childe, Tartaglia, or Ajax.
It was also true that just before entering the Golden House, he’d tried to find a certain consultant, if only to subtly imply the man should maybe, definitely, positively, absolutely hightail it the hell out. Of course, Zhongli had been conspicuously absent, and Childe could only hope that it was a happy coincidence.
The Harbinger swallowed down that little burst of bitterness like an itch in his throat and shot the god next to him a benign glare.
“And obviously nobody likes being fooled. I’m allowed to be pissed I lost so bad, and I’m absolutely allowed to take that out on you by cashing in on all the mora you owe. Would you like to hear the running tally?”
“Oh?” Zhongli’s fine brows rose, perhaps in amusement or surprise. His expressions were so damn hard to read. “I wasn’t aware that there was any amount being recorded. Typically in matters of loans and debt, both parties agree to the terms of the exchange before any mora passes hands.”
Yeah buddy, Childe knew how debt worked. It was literally his daily thing.
As for Zhongli? He was knowledgeable, just like he was knowledgeable about every damn thing...yet somehow astonishingly oblivious too. Childe couldn’t help but chuckle, a casual hand extending to pat the other man on the shoulder. It was a friendly enough action, yet carried that tense undercurrent, as tangible as the sturdy, warm frame of the mortal god.
He had a spark of an idea. It was a terrible idea.
“If you’re a god, perhaps that’s how it works. Us lowly mortals, on the other hand, are far more unscrupulous and rarely ever offer anything for free. It’s an implied contract, you see? Always some strings even if you don’t see them...Oh, and by the way, the total you’re up to after tonight is 6,235,735 mora.”
He’d captured the god’s full attention at that point. Zhongli raised a hand to his chin, mulling it over for a beat. “An implied contract?”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t even seem to register the sheer quantity of monetary debt that would leave anyone else seizing in cardiac arrest.
“Think of it more like a favor if you’d like,” Childe continued, “Except this is the kind where it’d be a pretty terrible faux-pas if you never paid it back. The kind with consequences for normal humans...which, that’s what you are now, isn’t it?”
Zhongli gave a low, musing hum and a small nod, his eyes momentarily flickering to the hand still settled on his shoulder. Childe had actually forgotten it was there, and oh-so-casually allowed it to fall. Oof, awkward.
“I understand. In this instance, it is a matter of a long-term, established social construct, which in itself may be considered a type of contract even if it’s unwritten. In which case, I must ask what the repercussions of failing to pay back my debt might be...And in what way you would propose I pay it.”
Childe’s heart skipped a beat, lips twitching.
Here it was.
He stopped walking, their stroll having led them some ways out of Liyue’s gates and up a mountain path. If they carried on in that direction, they’d eventually reach Qingxu Pool.
“If you fail to pay back your debt, I will immediately attack you.” It was no use even trying to stifle the giddy eagerness that slipped through his tone, like a bubbling ooze that seeped through the cracks in his mask. All in all, he’d been managing pretty well, even with his insides itching so much he wanted to rip them out.
But now, that itching turned into eager, thrumming excitement, Childe’s eyes curled sweetly.
Zhongli stilled, but of course, he never looked that bothered. Childe would have loved to ruffle his feathers, but what could possibly dig under the skin of a 6,000 year old being? He’d settle for the calm realization that seeped into his pretty, pristine face.
“...I see. And the way to pay back my debt?”
Childe’s grin widened. It was a truly dazzling expression on his face, like a kid getting the latest and greatest toy for his birthday.
“To pay back your debt you’ll walk with me to Qingxu Pool...where you’ll then allow me to immediately attack you.”
--
Zhongli’s silent, scrutinizing gaze couldn’t deter him. He’d already gone this far, and the thought of engaging a literal archon in mortal combat was almost too much of a wet dream to be true. Still, the archon took his time to respond, mulling over the twist of events in impressively slow motion. Childe didn’t really know what there was to mull, but it was almost unbearable. His hand twitched as the silence ticked on.
“...It is interesting how you can speak to an individual quite regularly, yet know virtually nothing about them at the same time,” the god mused in a calm, cryptic tenor.
What? Childe clicked his tongue. “Are you still mocking me? We’ve already established you had me completely fooled, thanks. If that’s your answer,” his head angled down, the oceanic glint in his eyes brimming with a storm, “...then we’re done talking.”
Just shut up. Just fight. This was still too close to Liyue and there would be collateral damage, but maybe that would tempt Zhongli to take it seriously.
He didn’t seem bothered by Childe’s aggression, though. To the contrary, that soft, calm patience never wavered. “No, that’s not what I am referring to. I’m talking about my impression of you.”
Er...huh?
“It seems we were both quite good at talking for hours on end, but never saying anything of substance,” Zhongli continued. “I can’t say I mind this honesty now, but…” His eyes narrowed, chin angling upwards. The motions were subtle, yet effortlessly domineering. Childe’s heart skipped a beat, and Zhongli’s voice dropped an octave. “Your arrogance will win you no favors.”
The minute difference in tone rumbled like an earthquake. Childe’s eyes widened, an appraising whistle leaving his lips. “Oh~? I’m flattered if I leave any kind of impression at all on someone of your esteemed calibur,” he needled, “even if it’s just for being an arrogant fool. Don’t be so sure it’s all talk, though….and don’t think I’ll ever be begging you for favors.”
Zhongli’s eyes narrowed further. Why did it always take him one extra beat to answer? It seemed to draw the line of tension tighter with each breath, and Childe didn’t know how much longer before he snapped.
“...Very well, I accept your proposal to pay off my debt. I find this fortuitous, as the Liyue Qixing might be seeking restitution for your destruction...but I have yet to mete out my own punishment for your crimes.”
Punishment.
Had he accidentally fallen asleep in the middle of meeting? Did he need to pinch himself to wake up? Childe really felt like he floated in a dream. His eyes lit up like the purest noctilucous jade, a proper laugh working all the way from his stomach. “Hahaha! A punishment dished out purely as an ordinary citizen of Liyue, right? On what other authority would you have to punish me?”
Childe was just teasing at that point. The giddy anticipation welled in the pit of his stomach, just like Teucer in a toy factory.
“Mn, you’re not wrong,” Zhongli relented, those eyes now keen on him. They hadn’t lost their sharp edge, but didn’t seem to carry the same undercurrent of threat. Still, Childe saw the slight furrow in his brows. Was he...confused? Surely the fabled God of War was no stranger to bloodlust. “Old habits die hard, I suppose. I’m assuming you have no complaints.”
“None at all, Mr. Zhongli.”
--