Chapter Text
Childe tapped his fingers against the mahogany desk in a nervous, unsteady rhythm.
He was supposed to have a perfect, sunny and warm Friday evening, having finished all of the gruesome and boring bank-related tasks for the week (in all honesty, why had Pulcinella so adamantly insisted on Childe learning the ropes of other trades as well, despite his excellence in combat being all he needed?). He planned on discarding the documents precisely at 5 PM sharp, leaving the damned bank having bid his goodbyes to his co-workers, of course, and hopping into his apartment to refresh himself before his meeting with Zhongli that he had been looking forward to this entire, tiring week. That was his perfect, Friday evening plan.
That was until he received the Letter.
He gave the innocuous-looking envelope a grumpy side-eye. There was no name on the snow-white paper, but there needn’t be. The strange, cold mist radiating from the thing and the small snowflakes gracefully falling down around it from an invisible cloud above could not have been mistaken for anything else.
It was Her.
Moreover, the letter did not arrive in the normal manner like any other letter would, no; it simply appeared out of thin air on the desk in front of Childe barely a few minutes after he’d arrived to work this morning. Having calmed down the initial wave of anxiety and nausea that hit him at the sight, he flat-out refused to open it, move it, even touch it, or in any other way acknowledge it, afraid of what the contents may be, knowing fully well that he risked becoming the target of the Tsaritsa’s ire by doing so. Childe was aware that she probably would know when the letter would have been opened, so in his head, he pretended to be doing an out-of-office task today and ignored the envelope (or, tried to). After a few hours of mental torture, he thought that perhaps he really should’ve gone out to do some field work because he couldn’t focus at all and had to read the same page six times to understand it; all because of the daunting presence of the Letter.
Childe glared at it for a second longer, wishing once more for it to disappear, and returned to the boring financial report he had been reading for the past hour - he was still on the second paragraph as he could not, for the love of Celestia, focus on anything. So, again - what was the total number of low-interest loans taken in the last quarter?
About seven seconds later his attention slowly drifted away from the document, again, as he started fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. He looked up at the clock on the wall, noticing with disappointment that only five minutes passed since he had last checked the clock half an hour ago. He groaned in defeat, turning his eyes back to-
“Ouch!” he hissed in pain, abruptly pulling his hand away from the desk. The frosty area spreading around the letter had reached one of his fingers, and with burning, stabbing cold rather painfully reminded him yet again of the message from his Archon.
“Fine,” he grumbled, his patience and anxiety reaching their limits. He grabbed the cold letter, nearly crumpling the delicate envelope in his hand. “Fine!”
Shivering, he opened the letter and pulled out a thin piece of paper from amidst the cold mist. It was indeed the unmistakable handwriting of the Tsaritsa, thin and elegant but not overly decorative, and just as sharp as it needed to be. With trembling heart he scanned the swirly Snezhnayan characters dipped in navy ink, his stomach dropping further and further down his belly with every next word his eyes scanned.
My Dear Eleventh,
I sincerely hope your stay in Liyue has been pleasant so far, despite the havoc you had to wreak upon the old Harbour. I am pleased to hear that you have successfully completed your mission, and managed to fulfil the contract with Morax, of which you have not been made aware. I believe you understand why this knowledge had to be withheld from you.
Nevertheless, take this letter of mine as summons to Zapolyarny Palace, for the annual Harbinger meeting that is to take place on the first day of the twelfth month. We shall discuss our strategy for the upcoming year, and I require the presence of all of my Harbingers, without any excuses.
Regards,
The Tsaritsa
P.S.: I have also heard that you have recently developed a rel friendship with our old Morax. I would not be as heartless as to split you apart now. You are welcome to invite him along, as your… companion. After all, it has also been too long since I have last seen him in person. I must properly evaluate him first, too.
Childe kept staring at the letter even after he finished reading it.
No thought was brave enough to face the utter chaos that had engulfed his mind as he tried to comprehend the Tsaritsa’s words. He read them again and again, over and over until the afterimages of the letters flashed under his eyelids every time he blinked. His grip on the sheet of paper faltered as he slumped back in his chair, releasing his breath in a tired, pitiful sigh when his brain started making sense of what it had just read.
“Ah, damn me,” he whispered as he tried to massage the headache away from behind his temples.
So the Tsaritsa summoned him back. Great. He should’ve expected that – he actually thought it would’ve happened earlier, as his prolonged stay in Liyue was getting suspicious to him. Childe had kind of waited for this sort of message already, but at the same time, he’d hoped it would never come. As weeks and months came and went without any official news from Snezhnaya, he started to really like the place and stopped treating it as just a stop; he was slowly easing into all of the cultural differences and social nuances, the climate was becoming slightly more bearable, more and more people kept recognizing him and greeting him every day (although Childe sometimes still felt weird whenever he realized that they would certainly not be this friendly to him had they been informed that he was the one behind the Incident, as he began to call his little rodeo with Osial). He had even started to study Liyuean writing so that he could read more advanced books and documents by himself; Zhongli was an excellent teacher for that, even though Childe was not the best of studetns.
He smiled to himself. Yes, Zhongli was also one of the reasons he had wanted to stay here longer and actually dreaded the day he would receive a letter like this. Although things between them were a bit… rocky after the events with Osial, they managed to eventually smooth out the wrinkles of their relationship. With time, their meetings returned to their previous frequency, and more – rarely was there a day when the two wouldn’t meet. It was not just for dinners or lunches either, as Zhongli kept coming up with more and more places he wanted to show Childe and share with him. Opera, theatre, spoken poetry gigs, street musicians, countryside, Liyuean wilderness through the lens of a six thousand years old being – it was amazing and warm, and it was as if Zhongli wanted to make Childe absorb so much of his world that he would’ve become a part of it himself.
He put the thin sheet of paper away and watched the letter dissipate into snowflakes, their coldness contrasting against the warmth of the mahogany wood. A bitter aftertaste was all the letter had left in its wake.
Tsaritsa’s messages tended to do this – both the dissolution and the bitterness. He buried his face in his forearms, slumping very un-Harbinger-ly over the desk.
There was a soft knocking on the door, in a pattern that he instantly recognized – three quick knocks followed by another one two seconds after. Ekaterina, with “daily business” stuff.
“Come in,” he all but wallowed.
“Wow, you’re so enthusiastic today, my lord,“ the woman sighed, walking into the room in a whirlwind of self-confidence and with a fresh file of documents in her hand. It took her a second to notice the melting remains of the Tsaritsa’s letter. She froze in her tracks. “…oh.”
“Yeah,” he murmured gravely. “’Oh.’ Wouldn’t have summarized it better.”
“What was it?” she asked with a glint of worry in her eyes. “How was it?”
Childe wondered for a second if her curiosity made her forget what “Harbinger level confidential” meant or if she never really gave a damn about it.
“Wonderful,” he replied and was rewarded with an eye roll. “I actually might have to ask you to murder me on the spot.”
Ekaterina clicked her tongue. “Dramatic. Also, killing one’s employer would not be a good thing to have on the resume.”
“Is that really the only thing that would stop you?” Childe furrowed his brow.
His assistant gave it a thought, to his surprise. “No, there’s two actually,” she admitted, putting the file she brought on Childe’s desk, careful not to touch the letter-puddle. “Mister Zhongli wouldn’t have been very happy about it.”
The Harbinger huffed out a laugh that died out too quickly and transformed into a pained sigh. Ekaterina crossed her arms on her chest, looking as imposing as ever behind her mask and with her ever-imposing five feet and two inches of height.
“Okay, so that means she summons you to the motherland,” she took a guess. There was genuine compassion in her tone. “And you’re devastated because that means no more rendezvous with the esteemed Wangsheng Funeral Parlour consultant.”
Rendezvous. Sometimes Childe thought he allowed Ekaterina too much liberty with him.
“Hey,” he protested, pointing an accusatory finger at her, feeling heat rise up his cheeks. Those gossip again! “Do not imply anything inappropriate between me and-“
“Which actually reminds me that I came here mainly to let you know that he’s waiting for you in the main hall,” she quickly interrupted him, making her way out of his office before he could finish. She stopped at the door and turned around before exiting the room. “Have a nice evening, my lord. And don’t…” she hesitated, biting her lip. “Don’t worry about it too much, okay?”
Childe sighed. For all the sharpness and teasing Ekaterina had in herself, she really cared about him. Sometimes, at least. Like an elder sister would.
“Thanks,” he replied, smiling weekly. “I’ll try to do my best.”
He sat motionless for a few minutes after the door shut close behind the woman, and the air went still again. He kept staring at the place where the letter had been, his knee bouncing nervously against his will.
How was he going to break the news to Zhongli?
“I am not entirely sure how that would be possible,” Zhongli said, “but it looks like today your chopsticks handling skills are worse than they have ever been.”
Childe hummed absentmindedly in response, suddenly pulled back from the cold depths of his thoughts into the bustling and warm world of the living, not quite following. “Sorry, Zhongli, I got a bit distracted. You were saying?”
“Nothing, just politely criticizing your skills with Liyuean utensils.” Zhongli gave him an assessing look from above the edge of his cup of tea. There was unmistakable worry in his eyes. “What is the matter?”
The Harbinger swirled a dumpling on his plate. He had to tell Zhongli, he just didn’t know how to do so without ruining their evening. “It’s… it’s nothing, really.”
The god put down his cup, porcelain gritting against wood. “You are strangely absent today, and eerily quiet; so much so that I find it almost unnerving,” the god pointed, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he went on. “You have barely spoken a word since we have gotten here, and instead of eating the food, you have decided to maul it all over your plate. There is clearly something going on and it worries me that it is affecting you to such a degree.”
The concern in Zhongli’s soft voice made Childe feel guilty. This was supposed to be a special day for them, a one year anniversary of his coming to Liyue and, consequently, a one year anniversary of them meeting each other and becoming (later on) good friends. Childe booked the best VIP room in Xinyue Kiosk, the one with a balcony overlooking the harbour, he opened an unlimited tab on his account (in spite of Zhongli offering to share the costs), and he even brought a gift for him – silken, red shawl embroidered in golden hydrangeas that he saw Zhongli eyeing during one of their strolls last week. The night was beautiful and warm, probably one of the last nights like this before the change of seasons, the sky heavy with stars and the moon in its full round glory reflecting in his cup. And here he was, about to ruin it all, smash it into pieces with the bitter news from the Tsaritsa.
“Actually, Zhongli… there is something I need to tell you,” he put down his chopsticks, mustering all the courage he possessed. “Something really, really important that I’m not sure how you will react to, but it’s something you must know.”
He looked up at the Archon, biting his lip and trying to find the right words. Zhongli gave him a weird look that Childe couldn’t decode, but it had some expectancy mixed in it, for some reason. He saw the other’s throat bob up and down – was his own nervousness so palpable as to affect Zhongli as well?
“I, um,” he continued, not very gracefully. His palms were sweating from all of this, so he rubbed them against his pants. He hated the feeling of sweaty hands. “I know we’ve not known each other for a very long time and it might be a bit strange coming from me so suddenly, but we’ve been through so much stuff together that brought us closer, a-and our relationship is… I feel like…”
Very silver-tongued of you, Ajax, he cursed at himself internally, groaning and hiding his face in his hands.
“Go on, please,” Zhongli nudged him quietly. The Harbinger looked at the god from between his fingers. There was a shadow of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and a glint in his eyes. Zhongli was probably thinking him ridiculous for not being able to express his thoughts.
“Yes, um. So,” he took a deep breath. “So I hope you know that I value our relationship and I treasure you greatly as a companion. I really enjoy the time we spend together, I like talking to you and listening to you talk for hours to no end. I’ll forever be amazed by the amount of knowledge you possess, but also by the amount of understanding you have in yourself, for someone like me, it’s…” Archons be damned, where was he going with it? “I treasure you a lot, really. Which is why I need to tell you…”
The silence that followed was heavy and uncomfortable, hanging between them as Childe searched for the right words.
“Yes?” the god asked, his voice strangely breathless, golden eyes glued to Childe. He really managed to freak Zhongli out, didn’t he? He should’ve said this straightforwardly, without making a monologue out of simple information.
“I have been summoned back to Snezhnaya,” he breathed out. “And in order to make it in time by the requested date, I’ll have to leave in two days.”
He didn’t dare to breathe as he watched Zhongli’s reaction to his words. At first, the god remained as still as stone, quite possibly stunned by the sudden revelation. Then, after a few painfully long seconds, he blinked – once, twice. He exhaled slowly, and the air escaping his lips took the smile away with it, leaving behind a frown of disappointment. Zhongli slumped in his seat in a way Childe had never seen him do before. He looked almost defeated.
The sight nearly broke Childe’s heart.
“I’m so sorry, I-“ he started, reaching out to put his hand on Zhongli’s to offer him some comfort, like a good friend would. “Trust me, I’m not very happy about it either.”
“No, I understand,” the god replied quietly, staring at their hands resting on the table. “I was simply under the impression that… Ah, never mind,” he shook his head, looking back at Childe and smiling weakly. “It will not be for long, I hope?”
The Harbinger bit his lip. Now for the hard part. “Well, the thing is… Without disclosing classified military information, I’m… not sure? There’s going to be like this annual meeting,” he explained, making a vague gesture in the air with his free hand, “where we will find out what our next missions and plans are. So, whatever the Tsaritsa says then, I will have to follow. Whether it’s staying in Snezhnaya, coming back to Liyue, or…going somewhere else. You know I can’t disobey her,” he added quietly when the silence became too long again.
“I see,” was the Archon’s curt reply.
Watching the veil of sadness unfurl over Zhongli’s face was heartbreaking, and Childe wished he could do something to tear it away. He squeezed Zhongli’s fingers reassuringly, knowing well it wouldn’t help much but still hoping it kind of would.
“There is… there is one more thing,” he began, shifting in his seat. In a millisecond, Zhongli’s full attention was back on him, with all the weight it always carried. “I wouldn’t want to involve you in the boiling pot that all of this business is and I understand completely if you don’t want to have any association with it whatsoever, but… she did mention that I can bring you with me. For a visit, that is,” Childe clarified, seeing Zhongli’s confused expression. “To Zapolyarny Palace. She kinda invited you as well. Something about not seeing you in person for centuries if I remember correctly,” he laughed nervously.
There was not enough time for him to think this over, but he was sure that although the offer of bringing Zhongli with him was tempting, he didn’t feel all that comfortable in actually doing it, which is why he hesitated in telling him about it. Zhongli was his own person, more than just a person; of course, he could very well decide for himself if he wanted to go or not, but there was something in the idea of letting him into the nest of vipers that the court of the Zapolyarny Palace was that made Childe’s skin crawl. Zhongli was good, he was light and warmth and the gentle touch of an autumn wind on his cheek. He was the sun. Childe would hate to see it stained with the schemes oozing down the icy walls of the Tsaritsa’s castle, clouded by the toxic fumes of Snezhnayan chimneys.
He really hated the idea, with every fibre of his being, and yet that dark, hungry, and selfish part of him could not secretly stop himself from wishing the god would agree. Childe was not entirely sure why he felt that weird tugging towards Zhongli – could that be that the man has become some sort of a pillar in his life, against which he could always lean to find steadiness and support? And that without Zhongli he felt a bit unsafe, in a really strange way that he couldn’t explain?
While Childe was dealing with internal turmoil regarding inviting Zhongli to Snezhnaya, the god remained silent, possibly ruminating on the offer he had just been presented with. There were no treasures on Teyvat Childe wouldn’t give away for a chance to get a glimpse into the Archon’s mind sometimes, and this was one of those times. Zhongli reached for his cup of tea and took a long sip.
“It is settled then,” he declared, smiling gently. “I shall accompany you to Snezhnaya,”
Before Childe’s heart could burst with happiness, he hesitated. “Are you sure? Do you know to what danger you are possibly exposing yourself?”
“Ajax,” Zhongli replied, looking a bit hurt, and Childe groaned. He always Ajaxed him whenever he wanted to scold him for something. “I am a six thousand years old being. I cradled this earth in my arms shortly after it was born. I am sure I can handle whatever it is that is baring its fangs for me in Snezhnaya.”
Okay, that did make Childe a bit silly for worrying.
“Besides,” Zhongli added, reclining in his chair. “It is true that I have not seen Vuel in a longer time. In fact, it would be more appropriate to visit her first.”
That last remark did not make much sense to Childe, but he blamed it on his low level of understating of inter-Archon affairs. After all, he was but a pawn in their game.
“If you won’t change your mind, then my ship leaves the day after tomorrow, at noon. Be sure to pack your warmest clothes, and by warmest, I mean surviving Dragonspine frost level of warm. My homeland is really cold at this time of the year,” he warned Zhongli. As an Archon and the Prime of the Adepti, he probably wouldn’t need it, but he wasn’t sure. Better safe than sorry, as his mother always told him.
Zhongli hummed, and Childe wasn’t sure if that was a confirmation. “Trust me, I will not change my decision. My word is as solid as stone,” he gave Childe’s fingers a squeeze, and the Harbinger suddenly remembered that they were still, for some reason, holding hands. “Tell me, what gift should I bring the Tsaritsa?”
Zhongli didn’t, in fact, change his mind, and the sight of a familiar tall figure dressed all in golds and browns descending down the harbour’s steps made Childe’s heart do a flip in his chest.
Before Zhongli boarded the ship - Dzhek Frost, it was lovingly named – Childe made sure to check with him if the god did indeed bring with him a wide assortment of his warmest clothes; boots, scarves, hats, socks, and gloves. Zhongli expressed a bit of disappointment that the clothes took so much space he couldn’t pack all the books he’d planned on taking (“Childe, but the topic of ancient Fontainean syntax is most interesting!”), but all in all, the Harbinger deemed him well-prepared.
Once all of Zhongli’s luggage was loaded onto the ship, they were ready to sail. With a corner of his eye, Childe saw a gathering of people excitedly talking to each other at the pier. He shielded his eyes from the sun and manage to make out HuTao’s, Xinqiu’s, Chongyun’s, and Xianling’s silhouettes from the small crowd. They were all waving their goodbyes at them, and Childe heard them wishing them a safe journey as well.
A tingling on the back of his neck signalized to Childe the presence of someone else, someone that remained in the shadow and preferred to observe rather than to be observed. He couldn’t be completely sure, but still, he would bet that it was Xiao, judging by the slight gust of wind sent his way that very conveniently omitted Zhongli.
“It has been such a long time since I last left Liyue,” the god said after the ship left the harbour and started picking up speed, leaving the harbour behind. There was deep melancholy in his words. “It is a rather peculiar feeling, to see the coast and its people getting further and further away.”
Despite his not-that-long stay in the region, Childe found himself agreeing. “I might have overextended my stay here because I feel the same,” he said, leaning on the railing next to Zhongli. “But I’m sure that neither Liyue’s coast nor its people will miss me. Hopefully, they will enjoy their holidays from me while they can.”
Zhongli laughed, loud and clear - a very rare occurrence – and the Harbinger was happy that his joke managed to cheer him up. The god looked at him, smiling, with sun in his eyes and sea breeze in his hair, and Childe found himself stunned for a moment. He made sure to imprint the sight in his memory, and the strange feeling in his gut in evoked.
He offered a smile back.
The smell of salt filled his nostrils as he took a deep breath and turned towards the sea that awaited them.
Notes:
Hello hello HELLO :D Welcome back! It's been a while, hasn't it?
I've been really busy with work and private stuff after I finished Drowning, and I also experienced a minor Genshin bournout, so I had to take a break. But I'm back! This story is gonna be a looot lighter than my previous one, and I just want to have fun with it, and maybe experiment a bit with my style - flirt with the language rather than fight with it. The prompt for it came to me just randomly one day and I first dropped it into the "maybe one day" pile but I couldn't stop thinking about it.
This work, unlike Drowning, has not been prewritten, which is why I can't promise you frequent updates. I have it all drafted, so I only have to actually write a story out of it, but I'm working a full time job and being an adult on the side, so I might not be able to write much. Please, forgive me. But worry not - I will not abandon it!
If you want to be notified about incoming updates or want to just interact with me - I've set up myself a twitter account! Find me sometimes at @albedouvre_ (but be aware that my account is very much +18 only).
Let me know what do you think of this idea! And why you're here and waiting for the next chapter, why don't you give a read to my first born baby, Drowning In The Tides of You, if you haven't yet? :)
Chapter Text
Behind them, in front of them, as well as below them and to their right and left, the only thing there was, was the sea.
Childe had forgotten how little there was to do on a ship. All he could do was just walking from one side of the ship to the other, looking wistfully at the horizon, bothering the sailors with his questions, or trying to sleep the days away in his cabin (which Zhongli commented upon with a disapproving look). Not even their short visit at the Mondstadian harbour town was enough to bring him some respite; it was barely long enough for him to stretch his legs while the sailors were loading the cargo that was the original goal of this journey.
He leaned back against the mast as yet another long and painful sigh left his lungs. He was just so restless, he wanted to do something, anything, to engage his body and mind. He already asked Zhongli for a spar session, but the god just said that the ship was too small and that a wooden vessel was not a good stage for a spar with someone being able to grow stone pillars out of thin air – of course Zhongli would be the more rational one in their duo. Instead of a spar, Zhongli had offered him one of his books, but Childe had only taken a glance at one of the titles (A Hermeneutic Approach to the Ancient Poetry of Watatsumi Island) to know that it would not be his cup of tea.
Unlike Childe, Zhongli seemed to have the time of his life on the ship, maybe save for the fact that they were, well, out in the sea, of which he was not the biggest fan. The god spent his days on the deck, basking in the sun, reading and occasionally writing something in a slightly worn notebook (an activity he also proposed to the Harbinger, but Childe has never been a writing type of person). Watching the sky or the sea was also one of his favourite things to do, and he once or twice gave Childe a lecture about the dangers hiding in the oceans – all while bearing a face of distrust and slight repulsion, and occasionally sending worried glances at the waters around them as if he expected the Leviathan itself to jump out of the tides right then and there. Childe found it equally amusing and endearing, knowing Zhongli’s somewhat complicated relationship with everything sea-related.
He also formed quite a good relationship with the sailors. As usual, Zhongli was very keen on learning everything about anything and anything about everything, so he kept interviewing the workers of the ship regarding the vessel’s build, functionalities, maximum attainable speed and whatnot. Once that topic was exhausted, he started asking about the technicalities of navigating the sea, reading the stars, and generally about the life of a sailor. Childe suspected that Zhongli had actually already learned all of this sometime during his impossibly long life and that perhaps he was doing all this just to kill time, but the god seemed to be genuinely interested in listening to what the sailors had to say. It also seemed that the sailors enjoyed his attention too, always ready to answer every question that came up to the ex-Archon’s mind, proud that there was someone so eager to listen to their stories.
Childe huffed, seeing yet again as one of the men was explaining something to Zhongli, gesturing passionately at the rope right next to him. Why did they react to Zhongli’s questions like this, and only politely mumbled some short answers in between their tasks to Childe’s queries? It could be because of his questions being related only to the speed with which they were sailing or the amount of time of their journey left, but it did leave Childe feeling a little bit jealous. He glared at the sailor.
The god’s sixth sense must’ve detected some kind of a signal from him, as Zhongli turned his head to him mid-word, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows. He excused himself, bowing his head to the sailor politely, and came to stand in front of the Harbinger.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. With Childe’s shoulders slumped and leaning back, Zhongli actually towered above him, a bit. Childe had to squint his eyes when looking up at the god.
“Except for nearly dying from a severe case of boredom, all’s fine,” he replied casually.
Zhongli, very un-godly, rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile in their corners. “I think you are really overly dramatizing this. There are plenty of activities you can undertake here. Many fascinating things to learn from these kind sailors, that might come in useful in dire situations.”
“Dire situations, out in the sea, like what? A big scary wave? Zhongli, I literally control the water!”
To underscore his statement, he made a pillar of water shoot out of the tides, which he then bent above the deck in a wide arch, and sent to the other side of the vessel, making it merge back with the waves. This trick caused some commotion amongst the sailors, but Zhongli remained unfazed.
“Convenient,” he noted. “What about a situation where heavy damage would have been inflicted upon the ship?”
“I’d just make a new one out of water,” Childe waved his hand dismissively. Obvious answer!
The god did not let him be. He crossed his arms on his chest, giving Childe a quizzical look.
“One that would support the weight of all the sailors and the important cargo that the ship is carrying, all the way to Snezhnaya? I know you are powerful with your Vision, but that does not sound realistic.”
Childe rolled his eyes, although the compliment did not escape his attention, lodging itself somewhere deeply below his ribcage.
“Not to Snezhnaya, to the closest harbour,” he replied. Zhongli didn’t have to know that at some point in their journey, the closest harbour would be Snezhnaya. Although he probably did.
His statement was about to be challenged again by Zhongli, who opened his mouth to point out how improbable this scenario sounded, but Childe walked up to the side of the ship and slapped his hand against the wood, like a salesman presenting his goods for sale.
“I don’t think we have to worry about that, really. This is one of the finest Snezhnayan designs, the pinnacle of our technological advancement in the marine department. Steel and wood, powered by an engine constructed with this uhhh… elemental thing inside,” he finished eloquently, flashing Zhongli a smile. “We’re literally the safest people here. And the fastest!”
The god came to the side too. He stood next to Childe and looked to the north, in the direction they were heading now.
“Yes, the sailors did tell me it is one of the fastest ships in Tsaritsa’s fleet. Apparently, our voyage should not take us more than a few days.”
“They told you that? Whenever I ask them about this they just dismissively say something about the weather and stuff.” Childe felt betrayed, actually. His own people conspiring against him with an (ex)Archon of a foreign nation? That surely counted as treason.
Zhongli looked at him from the side, golden eyes as scrutinizing as ever, but with a tiny glint of mirth. “And how many times have you asked them about it up to this point?”
“I don’t know,” Childe shrugged. “Thirty-seven?”
A quiet chuckle, akin to a gentle rumble, escaped Zhongli’s lips. “You are so inconceivably restless. You seem not to know the meaning of being still.”
“Interesting and unfair accusation coming from a six millennia old god of stone,” the Harbinger pointed out.
Zhongli looked taken aback, but amused at the same time. “Have I just been called old?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Childe’s hands rose up in a gesture of surrender. “I think. But truth be told, you’re more… ancient than old.”
“You are treading a thin line, Ajax,” Zhongli warned him. Childe could swear his eyes lit up as he furrowed his brows. Had it not been for the shadow of a smile in the corner of his mouth, Zhongli would look positively threatening.
“I do like to live dangerously,” he shrugged, sending the god a daring smile. Such bickering between them has only recently become a frequent thing, and he could tell Zhongli enjoyed it as much as he had.
The Archon studied him silently, taking a long glance at his entire frame, and then returning his eyes to Childe’s face. Something strange hidden carefully behind the golden irises made Childe feel really self-conscious, almost uncomfortable, and yet he couldn’t look away. The sun rays illuminated Zhongli’s figure, creating a halo around his head, bringing out the amber shade of the tips of his hair, which in turn made the red of his eyeliner look deeper, like fresh blood. The shadows on his face accentuated its sharp angles, and for a second, Zhongli looked like a carefully crafted marble statue, like a god he very much was.
Childe blinked, and the spell was broken. Huh, he thought to himself. That was a first for him. He guessed he never really saw all that godlike aura around him previously, which is why now it stunned him so much. How did people not know they stood in front of a god when speaking face to face with Zhongli looking like this?
He’d need to lecture Zhongli about better concealing his godhood, once they arrive in Snezhnaya. Maybe people in Liyue thought he had some Adepti blood (which he… did, in fact, actually, but that was not the point!) and just shrugged at the notion because that was not that rare, but this wouldn’t fly in Snezhnayan court.
Zhongli looked away, coughing into his fist. “Well… If none of the activities I have proposed thus far fit your tastes, how about trying something you have once told me about aplenty?” He gestured towards the sea with a nod of his head. “Ice fishing, you called it?”
Hmm, fishing, he actually hadn’t thought about that. “That wouldn’t be actually ice fishing because the sea is not frozen. You’d have to drill a hole in the ice and then use lines and fish hooks for fishing and just wait for them to catch the bait. That would be a bit impossible with the ship moving…” He scratched his chin in thought. “I could maybe get a raft that I could quickly move on the water with my Vision, should I need it-”
A sudden, strong gust of wind blew from the north, rattling the sails and messing his hair. It was a cold one, not biting-cold yet, but Childe could feel it coming soon – a wind so cold and vicious it would seep into his very bones, a trail of the Polar Vortex, wild and untamed and raging far deep in the north. He took a long breath in, inhaling the smell of Snezhnaya that the wind came bearing.
They were definitely getting close.
“Why, xiangsheng, are you suddenly craving seafood?” he asked Zhongli once the wind subsided a bit. “That’s a first.”
Childe turned his head towards the god to get some easy satisfaction from seeing the usual ineffectively veiled disgust on his face, but Zhongli didn’t seem to catch his bait this time. He was facing the north now, looking at the horizon from whence the wind blew, scrutinizing the heavy grey clouds hanging above the waves that would soon obscure the sun. Childe noticed that he was clutching tightly to his coat, wrapping it tighter around himself in an attempt to preserve his warmth.
That was not a very good sign. Childe sighed.
“I hope you’ve taken my advice about the clothes to your heart and brought some really, really warm furs in that coffer you’ve shown me,” he said.
Zhongli looked back at him, slightly surprised. He quickly let go of his coat, having noticed his reaction to the wind.
“You need not worry about me,” he declared. “I might need a bit more time to readjust to the climate than I would if I still had my Gnosis, but I will be fine.”
Oh right, the Gnosis thing. Childe had almost forgotten.
“You will soon be able to file an official complaint to the lady responsible for it,” he remarked. “Looks like we’re really getting closer to home!”
He pushed away from the wooden railing and looked around the deck, hands on his hips. He could still sense winter in the air, and it gave him a slight adrenaline rush. Now, where could he find a bucket and a fishing rod? Surely one of the sailors would have it.
“I’m gonna check the fishing logistics, your idea wasn’t all that bad. Wanna join me?”
He turned his face to Zhongli, and grinned. The aversion on the Archon’s face was fantastic.
“Tsaritsa’s tits, hold that rope!” one of the sailors yelled to the other in Snezhnayan as they all scrambled like bees in a hive to protect the sails from the claws of the ice-cold wind.
Childe watched them from the upper deck, barely out of his cabin, still half asleep, frantically putting his coat on and assessing the situation.
The storm sneaked upon them at night, bringing an onslaught of rain, wind, and tides five times as high as normal. The sailors did their best in trying to navigate the ship under these conditions, years of expertise apparent in their coordinated moves which Childe could glimpse when the lightning struck. Nonetheless, despite their efforts, the situation appeared rather dire.
Childe licked his lips, feeling adrenaline begin its race through his veins, excitement building up in his stomach like a flame. He had to do something. He wasn’t that familiar with seafaring, so he wouldn’t even want to attempt to interrupt the sailors – chances for him actually being useful to them were rather low. Instead, Childe focused on doing what he did second best after fighting – controlling the water.
With a deep inhale, he activated his Vision, welcoming the familiar tingling down his spine when the power responded. The connection with the water surrounding him immediately strengthened tenfold; he suddenly felt the push and pull of the angry waves beneath him, the velocity of the rain coming down from above, and the density of droplets of moisture in the air surrounding him. He quickly ordered the water to stay away from him, creating a safe bubble around himself so that his clothes wouldn’t soak and his vision would not get obstructed.
He jumped down from the upper deck, nearly slipping on the wet wood as he landed. With a flick of his wrist, he created a similar water-free bubble around the sailors, hoping that it would help them a little even though he couldn’t control it as well as he could his own. Thunder rolled down in the clouds boiling above them a few seconds later, so loud that his ears hurt.
Gritting his teeth, he quickly slid over to the right side of the deck where he noticed an incoming high wave that would inevitably crash down on the ship. His hands gripped to the railing tightly, as he tried his best to keep his balance despite the swaying. Once he more or less secured his position, he spread his hands wide, concentrating on the enraged tides in front of him, focusing his power on changing the will of the sea.
It was hard. Very.
Controlling a moving body of water was never an easy task, especially when it came to ones this big. He could tap into lakes and ponds easily, creeks and small rivers had never been an issue either. But the sea… the sea always had trouble listening to him. Wild, untamed, and independent, and so so vast, it always required the biggest strain from him to try to defy its will. Maybe they were just too alike to be controlled by anyone.
Childe grunted as he tugged on the water, and the water tugged back on him. Sweat pearled on his forehead when the tension became too strong and the bond between him and the tide started to feel like a pulled muscle. The wave was coming forward faster and faster, gaining momentum and height as it towered above the ship, ready to slam down any moment.
With an angry shout, he pushed against the wall of water with all of his strength, and with relief saw it fall to the side, retracting like a limb that got burned. The wave fell into the sea in a big, theatrical splash, and with a sound akin to the thunders blooming above the ship.
The storm didn’t give him much time to celebrate before another wave came, though a bit smaller this time. This one did not take that much strength to be deflected, although it still left Childe sweaty.
He couldn’t tell how long he was controlling the waves on his side of the ship before some commotion behind him grabbed his attention. A quick look thrown behind his shoulder revealed to him a high tide coming straight at the sailors still fighting with the ropes, trying to stabilize the ship. Childe diverted a part of his will towards their side, to the wave towering there, waiting to strike down. The amount of strength controlling the tides on both sides of the ship required of him was almost too much. The world spun in his eyes and he grittted his teeth when he felt the pressure of the second wave pushing down, the air knocked out of his lungs. His whole body ached and his head throbbed at the base of his skull from the strain, and he could feel his Vision getting so hot from all the elemental energy it was almost burning.
Childe focused on his bond with the two waves, pushing at them with all the power he had, but it was not enough. Tall, imposing, and dark walls of water loomed above the ship, immovable as stone. The Harbinger could feel smaller waves incoming and merging with the bigger ones, which in turn grew taller and taller, and soon it felt like they were in a tunnel carved out in the sea. He pushed again, harder, panting heavily, but the water would not even budge.
Panic spiked up his throat. This was not good.
A scream tore through the roar of the storm that engulfed them. Childe whipped his head in its direction, and saw the captain of the ship, holding tightly to the steering wheel.
Behind him was another wave, as big as the ones Childe was pushing against, threatening to spill over at any minute.
There was no way Childe would be able to support three few meters high walls of angry sea water. That would be too much even for him.
An idea popped up in his mind, as he searched desperately for a solution to the problem at hand. Maybe if he tapped into his abyssal powers just a bit…
But he didn’t have the time to think. The third wave approached and broke down above the captain’s head.
“Fuck!” Childe shouted.
Groaning through his clenched teeth, he pushed against the waves on his sides with all the remaining energy he had, so hard that his bones hurt. His head nearly burst from the strain, and the muscles of his arms spasmed as he felt the elemental energy rush through them. He had never felt this much of it before.
He pushed once again. The waves finally trembled and fell back, but he didn't have the time to celebrate.
Desperately, with the last crumbles of his strength, he extended his trembling arm toward the wave behind the captain, trying to at least create a wedge in it so that the main impact would spare the man, but his Vision would not listen. He could only watch the water tumble down with a beautiful mane of sea foam streaked through it.
A golden light exploded all around them, engulfing the entire ship in a gentle, warm glow.
For a second, Childe thought this might’ve just been a mirage seen after losing consciousness from the exertion, just before blacking out, but then he turned his head and saw the source of it, with all his glory.
Zhongli stood on the upper deck with one hand outstretched in front of him, emanating the same golden light. The wind violently tugged at his coat and viciously played with his loose hair, sending them flying all around him, the glowing amber tips slicing the dark sky like whips made of light. The god’s face was focused as he moulded his Jade Shield around the entire ship, and Childe could see his eyes burning with celestial light. A spider’s web of lightning cracked the clouds behind him.
He looked every bit the powerful mythical being he was.
The sea was still relentless in sending more and more waves their way, but all of them met their end at the boundary of the golden dome that extended all around the ship, protecting the entire deck from the onslaught. Every time a wave crashed against Zhongli’s shield, it sent a volley of golden sparks that illuminated the night, and Hydro crystallized shards fell down, scattering against the wood. The sailors looked around bewildered, having been given a moment of respite to catch their breaths, and Childe could swear he saw the captain send a quick prayer to the sky.
“Ajax!” Zhongli shouted. His voice was easier to hear, as the shield muffled the cacophony of the storm outside. “I need you to stabilize the ship. I will take care of the waves.”
The Harbinger only nodded, not having the strength to say anything. Zhongli regarded him for a longer moment as if he wanted to make sure that he would not collapse on the spot, and then he turned back to face the sea,
Childe called upon his Vision yet again, although this time he did not demand its attention, just nudged it politely. In an instant, he felt the powerful, almost overwhelming elemental aura radiating from Zhongli and his Jade Shield. Honestly, how people had not realized that there was something seriously wrong with the guy was beyond him. Kneeling down and supporting himself against the deck in order not to fall down, he reached out to the water directly below the ship. It was much calmer, less agitated than the tides forming the waves crashing above, but influencing it was still going to be a difficult task.
He heard one of the sailors yell in Snezhnayan about the storm soon coming to an end, and he could feel that in the water, too. He could sense the sea calming down, bit by bit, the waves no longer as tall as earlier, but they still needed a bit of help. Instead of opposing the currents directly, Childe coaxed them into changing their direction, to avoid the ship on the sides rather than try to ram against it, creating a small area of almost still water as a result. The ship stabilized, no longer bobbing upon the waves’ spines, and Childe let out a breath of relief. He closed his eyes, concentrating. He was so, so tired, all of his muscles hurt, his head felt like bursting open. Even his eyes felt strained, but he couldn’t give up now – not when he had all the people on the ship, and Zhongli, to protect.
It was difficult to tell how much time has passed before someone came up to him to let him know that the danger is gone. He felt a presence kneeling next to him, lightly touching his shoulder.
“Ajax,” Zhongli’s voice was soft quiet, only reserved for the Harbinger. “The storm has almost passed. We're safe.”
Childe opened his eyes and saw the god smiling reassuringly at him.
“As much as I was worried, I must admit, that was quite extraordinary,” Zhongli admitted, but Childe couldn’t quite focus on his words. “Your control over the element-“
“Zhongli, you’re soaked through,” he pointed out and wow, his voice sounded like stone grating against another stone. “Why the hell are you soaked through if you had your shield?”
The god looked away, a bit abashed. “Ah, well, there was a moment in which I had to fortify my shield as much as I could on one side and one of the waves has broken through on the other… down on me. This, and the rain. Not all of us were blessed with the wonderful ability to tell the rain to mind its own business.”
Childe rolled his eyes. He stood up, wincing at the scream his joints let out, and ignoring the soreness of his muscles; it would be worse tomorrow anyway.
“Come, we need to get you changed immediately,” he ordered, making Zhongli stand up and dragging him in the direction of the Archon’s cabin. He threw a quick glance at the ship to assess its state but didn’t notice any significant damage, thankfully. “It’s almost freezing and you’re completely wet, it will be a miracle if you don’t get sick.”
Zhongli tried to protest, probably something about gods not getting sick, but a look from Childe shut him up, and he quietly followed.
The cabin in which Zhongli slept was smaller than Childe’s but no less prestigious or cozy, as prestigious and cozy could cabins of a non-flagship vessel be, and it looked as if the god really made it his temporary home – books and notebooks were scattered on the desk, and some Liyuean trinkets also adorned the small shelf above the bed. Zhongli’s most essential belongings were carefully stacked below the small window, and Childe immediately reached out for the trunk that he knew contained his winter clothing.
“Is that not a bit impolite to intrude on someone’s private possessions like this?”
Childe turned to him. “It usually is, but not when the owner of these possessions is trembling from cold and in desperate need of help,” he said, noticing the slight shaking of Zhongli’s frame. “You should be more careful.”
“Interesting and unfair remark coming from a mortal as reckless as you, Ajax” the god retorted, echoing Childe’s words from earlier that day.
“Sometimes remarks from mortals carry more wisdom than those coming from gods, Morax.” If Zhongli wanted to Ajax him, he might as well return the favour and Morax him a little.
Childe had to bite the inside of his cheek not to burst out laughing seeing Zhongli’s stunned face.
“Anyway,” he continued before Zhongli could recover. He browsed through the entire stack of clothes but couldn’t find anything good still. “Where are the winter clothes I told you to bring?”
“Those are the winter clothes you told me to bring,” Zhongli deadpanned.
“Those?” Childe pulled a coat from the coffer. It was pretty and well crafted, he had to give the credit to the seamstress, but that was all. It was way, way too thin to withstand Snezhnayan winds. “This is merely some spring outwear! It doesn’t even have any fur lining!”
“I wore this particular coat many times during my visits to colder regions of Teyvat. It will suffice, I am sure.” Zhongli crossed his arms on his chest, trying to look offended, but it only created a funny effect combined with his wet and messy hair, and water dripping from the strands.
“When was the last time you visited those colder regions of Teyvat?”
“I am not quite sure, three hundred years ago?”
Childe groaned. His headache has gotten even stronger. So the last time Zhongli experienced any kind of serious cold was centuries ago, before he lost his Gnosis, and its lack obviously had impacted his abilities, as he had told him already. Great.
“Nah, this will not do,” Childe said, stepping out of the cabin. “Stay here, don’t move, I’ll be right back. Try to dry your hair a bit.”
He returned a few minutes later, carrying one of his own coats in his hands – one of the white, heavy official Harbinger overcoats, layered with expensive fur that were a part of his more official attire. Childe always thought it was a bit too decorative, but it was one of the warmest pieces of clothing he had ever worn, and in Snezhnaya he could ignore the design in favour of functionality. He was sure that lending it to Zhongli meant breaking some kind of Harbinger decorum or international affairs’ code of conduct, but he didn’t care.
Back in Zhongli’s room, he helped the god get out of the outer layers of his outfit (it baffled him just how many of them there were), and then carefully put his own coat on him, tucking it carefully and securely under Zhongli’s chin, noticing briefly how cold the other’s skin was. Soft, yes, but cold nonetheless.
“Now,” he said, assessing his job once it was done. “It should suffice.”
He took a long glance over Zhongli’s form in his coat, and, well, he would’ve been damned if he didn’t admit the god looked positively stunning in it. His hair was damp, yes, but it looked darker now, almost jet black, and slicked glossy, falling down his shoulders like a veil. The contrast it created with the whiteness of the coat was striking, and it also made Zhongli’s eyes stand out even more, making the amber look almost like liquid honey. The red streaks of eyeliner, which thanks to some kind of a miracle did not smear even a bit, were even more dazzling than usual, accentuating the natural sharpness of Zhongli’s eyes.
Well, there was no denying this objective fact – Zhongli was goddamn beautiful.
Childe’s eyes slid a bit lower, down the Archon’s frame, noticing how the cut of the coat emphasized his figure, making him appear taller and more slender than he already was, accentuating his slim waist–
Stop, stop, stop. Why did he notice how slim Zhongli’s waist was, now?
He coughed, feeling some kind of strange warmth on his cheeks. “I’m taking you shopping for some high-quality furs the second we arrive in Snezhnaya. You’ll freeze in these silks otherwise.”
Zhongli did not reply; he just stood there, staring at Childe, probably still in shock from being bossed around so much. Childe noticed some pink dusting his cheeks, and he was relieved to see colour returning to his face. No hypothermia for the old Archon of Liyue!
“I’m gonna go and crash on my bed, I feel like I might pass out any second now. Take some rest, Zhongli. Goodnight!” he said, awkwardly patting his hand on Zhongli’s shoulder, and getting out of his cabin as soon as he could.
He took a deep breath once he was outside, once he left the strange atmosphere behind.
That was an interesting experience, if not a bit weird.
The cold wind did not manage to cool his face down.
Notes:
Hello again!
So first of all, the reception of this fic exceeded all of my expectations. What the heck guys? I know people are oftentimes reluctant to read ongoing fics, much more so when it comes to ones that only have one chapter published, so I'm blown away!!! I did not expect that. Thank you for every single kudo, comment, bookmark, subscription, thanks for letting me know how you feel about the story so far! This has really motivated me a lot, which is why I managed to write the next chapter so quickly. The day after publishing the first one I woke up to so many wonderful comments I just had to sit down and write, household chores be damned.
Anyway, the second chapter is here! I planned for it to be at least 1,5k words shorter, but oh well, I've never been good with estimates. I hope you've enjoyed it! A look behind the scenes: I've listened to 10hrs mix of Sea Storm Sounds with Thunder on youtube while writing this, lol. And some 80s pop music - you can never go wrong with 80s pop music.
Also, Zhongli totally did not fall asleep in Childe's coat. Toootaaallly not! I wonder if Childe will ever see it back.
Let me know what you think in the comments, and once again - thank you for staying with me!
You can always come and scream at me on Twitter here as well!Have a great Saturday everyone, and enjoy your weekend!
Chapter Text
Snezhnaya welcomed them surprisingly warmly. For once, it was not snowing.
The sailors were adjusting the speed and course of the vessel as they entered the gulf, getting ready to dock the ship soon. The weather was on their side for that last part of the journey – although it was still cold, the wind was gentle on the sails, slightly pushing them forward, and the sun sometimes won its fight against the clouds, piercing through the white veil to shine on the deck. It felt as if Snezhnaya herself was happy to see her children coming back and wanted to greet them with her arms open wide, offering a warm hug.
Childe went up to the bow of the ship and glued his eyes to the horizon, feeling excitement rise up in his chest as he noticed a small, dark line of land that emerged from the water. Once it grew big enough that he could make out the familiar silhouette of the city it really hit him – he was coming home, finally, and as sad as it was for him to leave Liyue, he really rejoiced in coming back. He smiled wide, inhaling deeply the cool, salty air.
Zhongli crept up to his side, startling him a little – Childe was so engrossed in monitoring the horizon that he hadn’t heard any footsteps. The god was still wearing his Harbinger coat, white as snow in the light of the northern sun, and Childe yet again thought that Zhongli looked really good in it. Well, he briefly wondered too if it wasn’t a kind of affront or some sort of blasphemy for letting someone else wear full Harbinger regalia in public, but oh well - the most important thing was that it kept Zhongli warm. That, and the fact that he really looked great in it. Especially with Childe’s personal insignia on the coat.
He must’ve looked at him a little too long, because Zhongli gave him an inquiring look, raising an eyebrow. Childe blinked twice and coughed.
"We’re almost there,” he said, pointing his finger at the coastline and deflecting Zhongli’s attention. “Nervous?”
“Me? I am just a visitor, a tourist, I suppose,” Zhongli said lightly. “You?”
“A bit, I guess?” he confessed. A gust of salty air messed with his hair. “I haven’t seen or heard from the Tsaritsa in a while, I wonder what she has to say, what’s next for me in her scheme of things.” He grimaced. “That, and my lovely colleagues that I definitely did not miss.”
Zhongli hummed. “It is strange because I both heard a lot and very little about them. Interesting ambiguity.”
Childe thought that he, too, knew both a lot and very little about some of them despite being raised in Snezhnaya and actually literally working with them for a few years now. There were ones that he knew more about and worked closer with, that were more approachable, but there were also some that he’d spoken only a few words with since becoming a Harbinger himself. There were, of course, also some that he avoided on purpose.
“That makes two of us,” he joked. Somewhere above them, a seagull screeched, loudly.
Zhongli looked at him from the side, surprised. “Are you not co-workers?”
“Well… yes, but they’re a strange bunch of… beings?” Yes, beings would be a better word to describe them. Some of them had definitely very few human things in them. Maybe even none.
“Tell me something about them,” Zhongli asked in a light tone, leaning against the guardrail. “What shall I prepare myself for?”
Total and utter chaos? Childe thought.
“For starters, there’s eleven of us, and I hope you won’t have a closer meeting with at least a third.” Childe scratched his chin in thought. “We’re ranked by our strength, although I don’t know who’s the judge of that, honestly. There’s Pierro, our leader, which I know little about, then there’s Capitano, who’s ummm… whom I admire a lot for his battle prowess-“
“Admire?” That piqued Zhongli’s interest. “For his battle prowess?”
“I mean he’s really high ranked, so that means he’s very powerful,” Childe blurted out, as he was startled a bit by a strange, grating note he heard in Zhongli’s voice. He hadn’t heard it before, ever. “And I also once saw him in battle and, man, he’s a beast. I hope we could one day work together on something, maybe this will be a good opportunity to- Zhongli, are you all right?”
The god was tightly gripping the wooden railing, so much so that his knuckles nearly tore the fabric of his gloves. Childe scanned his face, and while there were no signs of fever or unusual paleness, Zhongli was sporting a grimace of… discomfort? Pain? His lips were pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowed, and his nose scrunched like he’d smelled something unpleasant. Some late bout of seasickness?
“Zhongli?” Childe repeated when he heard no reply to his earlier question. Worried, he put his hand on his shoulder.
The god looked at his hand with a peculiar, mixed expression. “Yes, I am fine, thank you.”
“Are you sure? I think the climate is getting to you more than we might think.”
“Yes, I am, thank you for your concern,” Zhongli replied with a sigh, smiling politely. “You really need not worry about me. Although I do find your attention to the matter and overall care taken of me very charming.”
The god turned around to walk down to the lower deck, not waiting for Childe’s reply, which he wasn’t able to produce due to being stunned by Zhongli’s choice of words. He stood there, watching Zhongli’s broad back with his mouth open, looking like a fish out of the water. It took him a few seconds to shake the surprise off.
“Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean char-“
“Prepare for the docking!” the captain suddenly shouted, throwing Childe off his course. “In an hour!”
“So soon? I need to go and gather my personal belongings,” Zhongli said to himself, thoughtfully. “Oh, I meant to ask,” he turned to Childe, “how many of your things have you brought back to Snezhnaya?”
Okay, that was a strange question. Was that Zhongli’s sneaky way of asking if he was planning to come back to Liyue anytime soon after this journey? Childe was sure he’d told him back before they left that it wouldn’t be up to him and that the question of his next orders was precisely the reason for this entire travel to Snezhnaya, but maybe Zhongli forgot?
“I only took what’s most needed, so… I’ve packed military-style, I think. Why?”
Zhongli hesitated a bit, biting his lip. “So I gather you have not taken any… gifts or memorabilia with you?”
Childe shrugged. “I mean I did take some gifts that I bought for my family, but almost all of the personal stuff has been left in the Northland Bank. I wouldn’t need it here anyway and the cargo we could take was limited,” he explained. “Why are you asking?”
There was something akin to consternation on Zhongli’s face, and Childe could sense that something was troubling him, but before he could ask about it yet again the god shook his head and gave him a reassuring smile.
“That is nothing, I was just wondering if maybe… if I have not taken too many things with me.”
A lie, a quickly conjured one to that – Childe was fairly sure of it, judging by the look in Zhongli’s eyes, but before he could say anything, the god quickly excused himself, saying that he really needed to go and prepare for their arrival. It seemed that he had a talent for ending the conversation at the point he wanted it to end.
“What is up with him,” he muttered to himself as he watched Zhongli leave.
Something was up in the harbour.
Childe was still on the lower deck, instructing one of the sailors on which luggage should go where and be sent to which address, once his people would come over to retrieve it, when a sudden commotion amongst the people caught his attention. He looked around halfway through his sentence, noticing how hushed the conversations became, which was a stark contrast to the usual robust Snezhnayan talk that filled the air on the ship. He sensed concern in the whispers, and all the sailors around him wore expressions of distress on their faces. That unsettled him a bit – they were so close to finishing the journey, what could have possibly happened to cause so much upset amongst the crew?
“What’s going on?” he asked in Snezhnayan, grabbing the arm of one of the sailors passing him in a rush.
“My lord, just look at the docks,” replied the startled man. Childe saw fear in his eyes.
He let the man go and hurried to the ship’s bow. The sun blinded him for a second, but once his sight adjusted to the weather, it all became clear to him.
No blame could be put on the sailors reacting to the view this strongly – after all, not everyone gets to be welcomed in the harbour by two squads of special Fatui forces, accompanied by a Harbinger.
Childe felt confused and at the same time, agitated. Which one of their wonderful band had some business to him this early? Were these some new orders from the Tsaritsa? Couldn’t they send him a letter by a raven, or through whatever weird mode of communication they had at their disposal?
He squinted his eyes. From this far he couldn’t make out the insignia on the soldier’s uniforms, so he couldn’t be sure who would he have to face today – only that the person wearing the signature white Harbinger coat was not too tall.
“Please don't be Pantalone,” he groaned in sudden exasperation. He did not want to see his annoying smile today.
As the ship came closer to the docking site, the silhouette clad in white became more visible, and at some point, Childe could tell, with full certainty and a small dose of relief, that the Harbinger waiting for them was none other than Pulcinella.
Chances of the Rooster harbouring some ill will towards him were rather slim. Amongst all the Harbingers, he was probably the only one with whom Childe had a somewhat amicable relationship, with Pulcinella becoming a paternal, guardian figure to him after he had joined the Fatui, first recruiting him and then helping him navigate through the maze of the military. He was one of very few Harbinger that Childe stayed in semi-regular touch with during his missions and with whom he actually worked whenever necessary, without much complaint. Childe couldn’t recall if the Rooster had ever done him wrong, or if he had ever spoken out against him – at least not that he would be aware of. It was still better, for his own survival, to stay somewhat cautious around the man, as he had learned it hard that all gifts were poisoned, to a degree. Still, he couldn’t feel anything but gratitude towards him for helping him take care of his family back in Morepesok.
So, Childe was happy that he had won the Harbinger Roulette and that it was Pulcinella and not anyone else, but still wary that the man, for some reason, came all this way to meet him – with an assortment of his own, armed people, no less.
He sighed. He had to prepare Zhongli for the meeting.
Childe had truly hoped that he wouldn’t be meeting too many of his co-workers, or that at least he wouldn’t be meeting them so soon, but fate played a trick on him again. Nothing ever went according to his plans. He quickly walked back to the lower deck, mentioning to the passing sailors that it was the mayor of the city waiting at the docks, and with a bit of amusement observing the relief appearing on their faces as the news spread. It was too early for that, he wanted to tell them, but opted not to.
Finding Zhongli in the crowd was not a difficult task, partially due to his posture, his hair, and thanks to the coat he wore. The god was patiently observing the buildings of the harbour, standing politely on the side in order not to cause any disturbance to the sailors.
“I come bearing good news and bad news,” Childe proclaimed. “Or more like, terrible and less terrible,” he corrected after a thought. “Which do you want to hear first?”
Zhongli looked at him, golden eyes wide in surprise. “The dichotomy of good and bad is a matter of personal and situational perspective.”
If there had been a third person in their conversation, Childe would’ve exchanged a knowing look with them. “Not a time for philosophical discourse, Mr. Scholar.”
The god rolled his eyes. “Bad, then.”
“Okay, so there might or might not be two dozen Fatui soldiers with a Harbinger waiting for us at the docks and I do not know why.”
If Zhongli was shocked or startled by the news, he didn’t show it except for a quirk to his eyebrow. “And the good news to balance that out?”
“We might have won the lottery and the Harbinger that is waiting there is most likely the sanest one and one that I’m on friendly terms with.”
“Is there anything I should be specifically prepared for?” The god said and bent over the railing to take a look at their welcome party with a pensive expression.
There probably was an entire diplomatic protocol for meeting other Harbingers that Childe could’ve written, but did not have the time to do now. What would be the most important thing to know about Pulcinella, before meeting him?
“Well, for starters, he’s the mayor of the city and he’s pretty… agreeable? I mean, he still does a lot of scheming and shady stuff on the side, but he’s always been nice to me. He was actually the one who introduced me to the Fatui and who later on helped me with everything there,” Childe started, observing how Zhongli’s expression changed from guarded to reassured. “That’s not to say I trust him wholly, no, but it is true that he’s been kind and helpful. He’s been also helping my family, a lot. He seems genuine, overall.”
Zhongli hummed, eyes carefully studying Childe’s face as he took in all that information. He straightened up after a moment. “So we can assume this is just a friendly welcome party, rather than an arrest attempt of sorts?” he asked.
Childe scratched his chin in thought. “I suppose so. I wouldn’t expect him to be the kind of person to do something like that in the middle of the day. But still,” he warned. “Do stay careful around him, okay? Around everyone here.”
This is not a friendly place, he wanted to add.
“Once again, you forget who you are speaking to,” Zhongli pointed out. “I will be fine, I have faced far worse threats in my life. You do not have to worry.”
“Telling me I don’t have to worry about you doesn’t mean I will stop worrying about you, Zhongli-xiansheng.”
Zhongli huffed a short, warm laugh at the remark, golden eyes crinkling adorably, and Childe’s stomach did a funny flip in response. He tried to swallow the sensation down, but suddenly, his throat was surprisingly dry.
“Prepare the anchor!” the captain shouted somewhere behind them, startling the Harbinger.
The call dispelled whatever charm suddenly overcame Childe, and his stomach did a less funny squeeze as he realized they were so close to coming down from the ship. He looked at the docks, now clearly seeing Pulcinella’s figure. The man was wearing his usual smile, but that did not mean anything, yet.
“Let’s get this started,” he muttered, gesturing for Zhongli to follow him.
They descended from the ship in silence, accompanied only by the sound of their leather boots hitting the wet wood of the docking area. The steady rhythm kept Childe grounded in spite of the nervousness prickling on the skin of his shoulders, underneath his coat. He warily studied Pulcinella and the people around him, looking for any suspicious movements, his Vision not activated but ready, as always. The Rooster’s face wore the studied mask of impartiality that he put on frequently during Harbinger meetings. Only his eyes betrayed some of his emotions, twinkling with something akin to contentment behind the thick glasses resting upon his nose. Childe’s nerves eased a little when he saw that.
“Pulcinella,” he said in greeting, giving the man a nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The other Harbinger regarded him for a second with the sharp look of someone well accustomed to evaluating various qualities of his interlocutors.
“Can’t a man welcome his dearly missed co-worker, who is coming back home after a long and arduous journey?” Pulcinella finally replied, his voice as booming as always, and Childe noticed his moustache rising up in the effect of a smile.
“Would that person need an entire legion of his own men to accompany him? Is he expecting something unfortunate to happen?” Childe asked, eyeing the soldiers closest to them.
The Fifth huffed. “Why, of course not! He wanted only to prepare a welcoming party befitting someone the rank of a Harbinger, as well as for his esteemed guest.” Pulcinella nodded to Zhongli, acknowledging the Archon’s presence. “The glory of the Tsaritsa and the Motherland is best showcased through the strength of her children.”
Pulcinella gave Childe a knowing look. He sighed. So she was already dipping her toes into all of this, huh.
Childe pinched the bridge of his nose. “She told you everything, didn’t she?”
“Dear, these were her direct orders to bring at least twenty men for the welcoming delegation,” Pulcinella replied in a hushed tone, reserved for Childe’s ears only. “I planned on coming here alone, but you know how she is sometimes.”
With his nerves now calmed after Pulcinella’s explanations, Childe gestured towards Zhongli, beckoning the man to come a step closer – adhering to proper etiquette, the god stood a small distance behind him, even though, as an Archon, he probably outranked everyone in the country.
“Pulcinella, please meet Zhongli, the Consultant at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour in Liyue. He’s been a great help to me during my mission there, and he’s now a close friend of mine.”
The man raised his eyebrows at the introduction, giving Childe a strange, mildly baffled and amused look. He then extended his arm to Zhongli in a very non-Liyuean greeting, but nonetheless, Zhongli accepted the gesture, shaking the Harbinger’s hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Mister Zhongli. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
If Zhongli was confounded by the statement, he didn’t show it. Polite as ever, he only bowed his head. “Happy to make your acquaintance, Mister Pulcinella.”
The Rooster waved his hand in dismissal. “Now that we have met, ‘Pulcinella’ will suffice,” he chuckled and then gave Zhongli a one-over. “Interesting outfit for a non-Snezhnayan.”
Zhongli looked a bit abashed, a grimace unfurling on his face. “That is entirely my fault,” he admitted. “As silly as it sounds, I did not pack clothing appropriate to the climate here, as I have not been to Snezhnaya in a very long time. Luckily for me, Tartaglia was generous enough to help me.”
The smile he gave Childe next was nothing short of radiant, and the Harbinger, yet again, found himself a bit stunned. Zhongli was starting to have a really weird effect on him lately.
“Yes,” he replied, coughing into his fist, feeling his face get unnecessarily warm. “Which is why I’m planning to take Zhongli to Iosif’s right away.”
“Is that so.” Pulcinella’s eyes drilled a hole in Childe’s soul. “Either way, good choice – there is no better tailor in the entire country than Iosif,” he nodded in agreement. “Although I must admit, the Harbinger style really suits you, Mister Zhongli. That would be one worry off your head should you ever decide to join us.”
The idea of Zhongli ever joining the Fatui, not even mention becoming a Harbinger, seemed to Childe hilarious and absolutely impossible, but at the same time, strangely enticing. Zhongli would be an excellent soldier – he was the Warrior God after all – but there was no way he would ever serve another Archon or a country other than Liyue.
“Let’s get going, Zhongli, before we break some diplomatic treaties,” Childe said, trying to manoeuvre their way out of the conversation. “We will have to leave the pleasantries for later, we’re a bit pressed for time.”
Pulcinella appeared a bit disappointed at his words. “I will not be stopping you any longer then. Once again, Mister Zhongli, it was really nice to finally meet you. Tartaglia, I hope we will see each other at the Palace sometime?”
“Of course,” Childe confirmed, as he actually wanted to speak to the Fifth to catch up on the politics of the court. “Thank you for preparing this welcome party for us.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” Pulcinella replied, smiling at them and bowing his head.
When Childe and Zhongli almost made it out of the docking site, right before the ginger allowed himself a sigh of relief, the Rooster called him again.
“Tartaglia, I almost forgot! Her Majesty expects you for a private audience. Today, at the earliest,” Childe turned his head towards him. “You and your guest, of course,” he added with a tinge of mirth in his voice.
The Harbinger tightened his lips. Great.
Any kind of rest that he’d dreamed of would have to wait.
It wasn’t that Childe didn’t want to see the Tsaritsa. He was a faithful and loyal subject, after all, and he’d never disobey an order from his beloved goddess, who was only ever good towards him. He actually kind of missed her aunt-like demeanour with all that fussing over she loved to shower him with, but he knew that she would straight up interrogate him with her incessant questions and piercing eyes. Him and Zhongli, too. That was much evident from her letter already, that she would not stop until she dissected their entire relationship. Maybe she was fearing that Childe could’ve pledged his faith to another god, effectively committing blasphemy in her eyes? Perhaps him calling Zhongli a “close friend” had gotten her too suspicious of it all, making her think that they’d become too familiar for some celestial laws that Childe was not aware of? The Tsaritsa was not the crazy or paranoid type, so all of that seemed highly unlikely, although… he’d heard, in the past, that she suffered some kind of betrayal and loss, so maybe that would be precaution speaking? Childe bit the inside of his cheek.
“Ajax, I can practically hear the clogs of your brain turning,” Zhongli remarked, calmly studying the facades of the buildings towering above their heads.
They were walking side by side, strolling through the cobblestone roads of the City of Snezhnaya. It was a particularly busy day in the city, he noticed after leaving the harbour, with many people either hastily making their errands or leisurely walking around, both groups undoubtedly with their minds set on making the most out of one of the last days of good weather this year. Childe missed the hustle and bustle of the capital, the monumental, staggering architecture, the thick glass windows, and the many vendors and merchants proudly showcasing their goods through the storefronts or on the display outside in front of their shops. He forgot how loud the city could get, with all the people talking to each other, with the sounds of footsteps, of horse carriages, of metal trams, of the occasional musical band playing some old Snezhnayan folk songs, all mingling together in the air to create a symphony so distinct from all the other cities Childe has visited. All of these sounds and sights, mixed with the smells hanging in the air – of the sea, of smoke, of freshly baked bread – meant home.
Zhongli was taking the city in, quietly observing the heart of Snezhnaya sprawled in front of him. Childe noticed his golden eyes were filled with wonder as they slid across the buildings and faces surrounding them and felt a surge of warmth in his chest.
“I’m just overthinking it,” he explained. Maybe he was getting a bit too caught up in depressing and dangerous scenarios?
Zhongli tore his gaze away from a stall selling wooden toys and gave Childe an inquisitive look. “Surely if it is engrossing your mind to this degree, it is nothing unimportant. And I wouldn't want you to downplay this for me.”
That came out almost like a lecture, and Childe chuckled. “I’m just worried about what Her Majesty has prepared for me… for us. And about the other Harbingers, too.”
“I am sure she only wishes to greet us and that she means no harm,” Zhongli replied, doing his best to put as much reassurance into his smile as possible. “I have been conversing with her myself before my arrival here. All should be well.”
The last bit did not sound too convincing, but if Zhongli had been in contact with her, most likely via some Archon-exclusive means… Well, who was he to doubt him? Unless Zhongli’s definition of “well” differed from his own, which was also a possibility.
The Archon smiled at one of the passers-by staring at them. As they traveled through the city, the people were not getting too close to them and oftentimes preferred to stay out of their way, most likely due to the Harbinger uniform that both of them were wearing, but that did not stop them from staring. After all, a Harbinger out in the town like that was a rare and imposing sight, much less two at the same time, together. The people of the city were used to Pulcinella or Childe walking around, but Zhongli must have been quite a mystery to them.
“As for the other Harbingers,” the Archon continued, looking a bit daunted after the person he smiled at hurried away – either in shyness or in fear. “If our meeting with Pulcinella is anything to go by, I suppose it will not be as much of a catastrophe as you imagine it to be.”
Childe snorted. “I told you he’s one of the more normal from the bunch and one of the more… rational.”
“Where would you put yourself on that scale then?” Zhongli asked with thinly veiled laughter reverberating in his words.
An easy question. “Oh, certainly near its beginning. Seriously, Zhongli, some of these people are crazy, and that means a lot coming from me,” he stated, gesturing for the Archon to cross the street as they arrived at their destination.
The interior of Iosif’s tailor store – the most famous and prestigious, and therefore the most expensive in Snezhnaya – was just as Childe remembered it. The dark wooden furniture was so intricately sculpted that one brief look was enough to know that this was almost a historical place, and the shining, paste-painted parquet was an obvious sign of how well was the establishment being taken care of. The walls were clad in a forest-green tapestry, and the golden accents on it were only adding to the feeling of prestige. There was a fire roaring in the big, safe fireplace, but its light was not enough to disperse the soft gloom filling the room, and the heavy curtains covering the windows strengthened the shadows cast by the various trinkets and decorations.
“Oh, lord Tartaglia, it is an auspicious day that you’ve come to visit us!” a young woman standing behind the counter greeted them in Snezhnayan. “How may I help you today?”
Childe did not remember her from his last visit, meaning that she must’ve been a new employee. She had a kind expression on her face, but the twitch of her smile betrayed her unease.
“We’re looking for a set of winter wardrobe for this gentleman here,” he explained, gesturing at Zhongli. “Premium quality, of course, custom tailored.”
The girl glanced at Zhongli, and Childe saw her eyes widen a bit. “Yes, I will call for Master Iosif at once,” she said, coming out from behind the counter. “In the meantime, please wait inside the fitting and measuring room, lords Harbingers.”
Childe wanted to correct her, say that no, Zhongli was not a Harbinger, but she disappeared as soon as she finished speaking, leaving Childe with his mouth open.
“Bad news,” he said, looking at the Archon apologetically. “Unfortunately, this young lady just made you a Harbinger.”
“Oh. How did I rank?” Zhongli asked.
“Hmm…” Childe thought, walking to the back of the store where they were instructed to go. “Sixth, fifth, maybe.”
“Please, do not offend me,” the god huffed, feigning displeasure. “I would make at least the top two. On a bad day.”
Maybe if you’d ever let me duel you, I could evaluate you better, he wanted to bite back, but then Iosif himself entered the room.
He was an older man, with a kind face and hair so white they were almost translucent. His glasses made his eyes look at least two times bigger, and his luscious beard was thicker than the hair on his head. Nature did not bless him with height, but it was not needed in his profession. Despite his age, Iosif’s designs were still impeccable, and he remained one of the most sought-after tailors in Snezhnaya, if not in the entire Teyvat.
“Please be welcomed in this modest establishment,” he said in the common tongue. His face lit up when he saw Childe. “Ah, young lord Tartaglia! It feels like ages since I last saw you.”
“I’ve just come back from an overseas assignment,” Childe replied, happy that Iosif remembered him fondly. Not many people did. “Dear Iosif, my guest from Liyue here is in dire need of a set of winter wardrobe – so dire that I had to lend him some of my own. I hope you can save us.”
The tailor inspected Zhongli with one, long look. “And what happened here, mister...”
“Zhongli, a pleasure to meet you,” the Archon bowed his head. “It seems that I have been ill-prepared for the local climate.”
Iosif nodded wistfully. “Oh indeed, Liyue does not know winter as our Motherland does. But worry not, I have something just right for an esteemed Liyuean like yourself, mister Zhongli,” he winked reassuringly at the god. “Please take off your coat and stand there, I will measure you first. Lord Tartaglia, please take a seat in the meantime.”
Both Childe and Zhongli did as instructed. The Archon stood as tall and motionless as a statue, having taken off two more layers of his Liyean attire at Iosif’s request. The tailor was taking his various measurements with an automatic measuring tape, something he had procured from Fontaine - a very prized possession judging from the story he told Zhongli. Childe knew that in general, Iosif was a man who liked to speak a lot and always had a story to tell, hidden in his sleeve – just like Zhongli. It wasn’t long before both fell into a friendly conversation, with the tailor explaining his craft and the Archon providing him with a history dump about Liyuean sewing traditions from past aeons.
“Mister Zhongli, you really have the perfect figure for a model,” Iosif remarked with satisfaction, noting something down in his worn-out notebook. “Your shoulders-to-waist ratio is just golden!”
Childe, who was not paying too much attention to their earlier chatter, stirred on his chair having heard that.
“Please, you flatter me too much,” Zhongli chuckled at the comment and oh, was that a blush on his face?
“Absolutely not, I know a model when I see one,” the tailor huffed. “I have more than sixty years of experience in my field! Oh, I know almost all of our regularly available designs would fit you like a glove, but since you’re a premium client, I will design something for you specifically.”
Zhongli blinked in confusion. “I believe that would not be necessary, really, I am sure any of your regular designs will suffice, and it would be much less arduous for you than having to design something new…“
“Iosif, we will gladly see what you come up with for mister Zhongli,” Childe cut in, standing up from his chair. “With your finest and warmest fabrics.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t pass up on an opportunity to design something exquisite for someone with such an elegant face and textbook measurements.” The tailor hummed in thought. “Yours are almost as good as his, lord Tartaglia!”
“Almost?” Childe blurted out, squinting his eyes at the older man.
Zhongli made a choking noise, something like a muffled laugh that turned into a cough at the very last moment.
“I am afraid that the funds-“ he began, having composed himself, but Childe interrupted him.
“Will be provided by me,” the Harbinger finished, which earned him a disapproving glare from Zhongli. He smiled brightly in answer. “Please bill everything to my name, and then send the clothes to the Zimniyi Prud Manor.”
Iosif made another quick note in his notebook. “Any particular wishes regarding the clothing? Design, fabrics, colours? Some accessories, perhaps?”
“I prefer earthly tones – browns, golds, ambers,” Zhongli proposed, a bit shy. “And I would much like it if the designs could combine elegance with practicality.”
Childe gave the question a thought. “The clothes need to be befitting the court, mister Zhongli is Her Majesty’s guest after all,” he gave Iosif a knowing look. “I’m sure you’ll make something perfect for the occasion.”
The tailor nodded, ardently. “Yes, yes, I shall commence work at once.” His large eyes swept over Zhongli again, but it felt as if he was not seeing him, but rather, a project to work on. “I know exactly what would work best here.”
He made another quick note, which he underlined twice. Zhongli exchanged looks with Childe but didn’t say anything.
“That will be all I believe, gentlemen, thank you so much for choosing this humble tailor’s services,” Iosif thanked them, bowing his head in gratitude. “I will let Alya know about the order, and she will prepare the receipt.”
Zhongli thanked the tailor for his hospitality and turned to leave. Childe took this opportunity to quickly bend down and whisper a request into Iosif’s ear.
“I believe mister Zhongli would look stunning in blue,” he said and smiled conspiratorially at the older man when he saw a glint of recognition in his eyes. Bound by a scheme, he patted the tailor’s shoulder and promptly left the room to join Zhongli in the hall.
Once Childe had settled the documentation and receipts at the reception and survived yet another onslaught of sharp glares from Zhongli when Alya confirmed the final price of their order, they left the store. Cool winter air enveloped them suddenly, a high contrast to the warm and cozy atmosphere of the workshop. Childe was surprised that the sun was already getting down – he hadn’t thought that it would take them so long at Iosif’s. He hoped the Tsaritsa wouldn’t be too mad for having to wait so long for them.
“You have not told me you have a manor,” Zhongli said with a slightly accusatory tone, glancing at Childe above the edge of the fur-lined collar of his (Childe’s) coat.
“Zhongli, I’m one of the richest men in Snezhnaya,” the Harbinger explained, shrugging. He had a pretty well-paying job, after all, this shouldn't be too surprising. “And I need a home that would match my social status.”
The god turned his head to the side. “And what is that status exactly?” he teased.
“Her Majesty’s Vanguard, one of the feared and powerful Eleven Harbingers, of course,” he replied, waving his hand at one of the carriages to come pick them up. “I’ve also heard a rumour that I’m one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, but honestly, who would be crazy enough to ever want to marry someone like me, with a job like this?” He shook his head, opening the doors of the carriage that had just stopped in front of them and gesturing for the Archon to get in.
Zhongli looked down and didn’t say anything, silently following Childe’s invitation. When both sat down on the soft cushioned seats, facing each other, the Harbinger knocked on the small window and instructed the driver on their destination. The carriage moved sharply at first and then rolled slowly down the main cobblestone road of the capital.
Right in the direction of the Zapolyarny Palace.
Notes:
Hiiii lovely people!
First of all, apologies for not updating any sooner - had some personal matters to attend to, and my attention was needed somewhere else.
Secondly, this little blurb of a chapter was supposed to be half of its length, originally. I outlined it to be more like an "interlude" chapter and thought that well, maybe 3,5k words at best? Then I started writing it (oh was it therapeutic to finally sit by my keyboard) and at 5k words I realized I'm barely 2/3 into the draft. Oh well!
Thirdly, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! FOR READING!!! FOR GIVING YOUR KUDOS!!! FOR LEAVING COMMENTS!!!!!! *strangles you with gratitude*
I'm always so, so OVERJOYED by all of it, I have no words. Almost 200 kudos, I cannot believe!!! You're the most amazing bunch of people I know, truly.Well well well, I wonder how will the meeting with auntie Tsaritsa go and if we will see or hear a mention of a certain... nah, I wont spoil it :>
I hope you've enjoyed reading the chapter! I will be introducing some more of the Harbingers as the story goes, obviously, but it's kinda hard to write them as for some we have like... 5 sentences in the game about, or less lol. Expect them to be a bit OOC, perhaps.
Please let me know what you think in the comments :)As always, if you want, you can find me on Twitter here ❤️
Also, I've been listening to so much "winter city ambience" or "coastal city ambience" on youtube when writing this that my algorithm thinks I'm hosting a DND session now.
Chapter Text
“Well,” Childe said, getting out of the carriage and extending a hand to Zhongli in a gentlemanly gesture. “Welcome to the Zapolyarny Palace.”
Zhongli took his hand and gracefully stepped down next to him. His eyes shone in the sunset light as they took in the grandeur of the palace standing tall in front of him.
Childe could totally understand Zhongli getting a little engrossed by the sight. When he first came to the capital almost a decade ago, he’d been utterly awe-struck by the sheer magnificence of the Tsaritsa’s royal residence. Its form was not as soaring as that of Fontainean palaces with their many towers, nor did it have the intricate decorative elements like the architectural style of Sumeru often employed, but its sheer immensity made it quite breathtaking. The walls were very thick, created to withstand even the coldest of winters, built from a snow-white marbled stone with blue opalescence revealed only by moonlight. The windows, tall and perfectly polished, reflected the sunset light like mirrors, nearly blinding all the onlookers. Silver-plated, sculpted columns adorning the building's façade added to the impression of wealth and royalty, and, lined along the entire front side of the palace, created an image of power and strength. The entire palace was a complex of many interconnected buildings, with smaller towers sprouting at their corners and courtyards hidden within its coils, but the front side was long, tall, and imposing, like a protective wall.
"It does have its effect on newcomers,” Childe joked lightly.
“It is true that I have never been to this palace before,” Zhongli explained as he carefully studied the arches of the windows. “At the time of my last visit to Snezhnaya’s capital, the Tsaritsa lived in a different place. This building has not existed then yet.”
That was a new bit of history for Childe, which piqued his interest. “Oh? What was her previous place like?”
"Ashen,” the god replied, and the answer was laced with unease. Somehow the Harbinger knew not to prod further.
He gestured towards the great silvery door in front of them, guarded by a few Fatui soldiers. “Let’s go. Better not keep her waiting any longer. We’ll be giving her too much time to think.”
Zhongli huffed a quiet laugh, which created a puff of steam in the evening air. Childe glanced at the red, setting sun and the cloudless sky. He grimaced; it was going to be a very cold night, which was not good because they would have to travel to his manor after the entire ordeal that awaited them within the walls of the palace.
The guards scrambled to stand tall and proud to salute them as they passed the gate and entered the castle. Inside, it was eerily quiet, but that was not unusual. The sound of their shoes hitting the polished, marble floors echoed through the tall hallways, empty save for a few guards scattered here and there. All of the soldiers welcomed Childe and his guest with appropriate respect - reverence, even - befitting his rank of a Harbinger, and sent curious glances at Zhongli, no doubt intrigued by his poise and the not-quite-human aura that a trained eye used to it could notice.
“There are surprisingly few guards here,” Zhongli noticed as they entered yet another hallway, slowly making their way to the heart of the palace.
Childe sent him a baffled look. “You don’t need more when you have a couple of Harbingers on hand all the time,” he said. “No one would be crazy enough to risk facing Arlecchino here, or Capitano. Or one of the Dottores.”
“One of?”
The confusion in Zhongli’s voice was utterly adorable.
“Oh, Zhongli,” he cooed, pushing another door open before the man, with satisfaction observing him scoffing as he passed by him.
They entered one of the bigger halls of the palace, one that frequently served as a pre-reception room of sorts. Tapestries depicting various mythical characters and beings from Snezhnayan folklore decorated the walls, and the candles burning in silvery wall lamps fought hard to disperse the evening gloom slowly settling in the corners. Childe walked up to one of the guards standing by another finely sculpted door that led to the throne room.
“Where can I find Her Majesty?” he asked, nodding at the man’s salute.
"She is in the strategy room,” the soldier replied, although he was looking at Zhongli only. “She’s currently having a meeting with the Eighth, but I have been informed she’s expecting you.”
Amazing. So the entire universe just collectively decided to have fun with Childe today. He bit back a groan as he thanked the guard and pushed on the doors of the throne room. Out of all the other Harbingers… must it really have been her? Couldn’t it be maybe Sandrone? Or even Pierro? Heck, he could take Scaramouche over her, even.
“Looks like we are going to see more than one familiar face today,” he murmured to Zhongli when they were walking through the empty throne room. “At least for this one, I don’t have to brief you on.”
The god wasn't too focused on Childe’s words – instead, he was drinking in the interior of the room surrounding him, golden eyes sliding over ice sculptures, marble columns, and stained glass windows depicting various folk-tale scenes in a myriad of surprisingly lively colours. Blue, magical light flickering from the sanding torches merged with the shadows softly, giving the room slightly ghostly air. In the center of the chamber stood the throne – a tall structure that looked like it had grown out of the floor, translucent, reaching up towards the ceiling with its icy talons. Childe had often wondered how sharp were the ice shards that made it up – if it was sharp enough for someone to cut themselves against the cold surface.
“That is one mighty chair indeed,” he said, passing by the throne as they beelined to the door on the far left. His voice echoed through the empty room as if it was a cathedral rather than a castle. “Was yours this tall?” he teased Zhongli, looking behind his shoulder.
“My throne was the earth that I had trodden,” was the god’s calm but somewhat haughty reply.
Childe grinned. “So it wasn’t.”
Zhongli did his best not to look offended. “It also was not made of ice, but rather of pure gold. I suppose that makes up for the lack of… caliber. Some do say it is often used as a rather poor compensation for other attributes,” the Archon remarked with a shadow of a smile on his face.
Curious. Childe did not have a chance to ask which attributes exactly did Zhongli mention not needing to compensate himself for because the door to the strategy room opened suddenly at the precise moment he opened his mouth to speak. The fate developed a weird habit of interrupting him lately.
Chile closed his eyes briefly and took a deep calming breath when he saw the person coming out to meet them, in all her whites, blacks, and crimsons, all taunting smiles and self-imposed superiority.
“My, my…” Signora mused, walking into the throne room with the confidence befitting the person sitting atop the chair towering behind them. Childe’s self-persevering instincts kicked in and made him take a step back instantly. “Is that a new recruit you’re bringing to Her Majesty, Tartaglia? Must I remind you, dear Eleventh, that the entry-level is in the barracks, and not under a Harbinger coat?”
Something echoed behind her sweet, taunting words, something mean and perhaps even spiteful, some kind of implication that passed Childe undetected. That “something” made Zhongli tense up next to him, and he was surprised to find the god reacting this strongly to her silly taunt, foregoing his usual stoic attitude. Childe usually just let her pointless jabs roll off of him like water off a duck’s back but, for some reason, Zhongli was not too keen on treating it the same way.
“Words thrown so carelessly to the wind have a tendency to birth the strongest of hurricanes,” the god nearly snarled in a tone that made the hair on Childe’s neck rise. “We ought to execute great care whilst wielding them, lest we hurt ourselves in the process.”
The woman glared back at him from behind the black lace of her headpiece, silver eyes squinted in a display of arrogance. It looked like she was considering several possible retorts, testing them in her head before she settled for one that was most appealing to her.
Her expression changed to that of a sly fox as she turned her eyes towards Childe, giving him a sour smile with a dash of mockery in its lines.
“Who would’ve thought that you had it in you to wrap the dragon of Liyue around your finger,” she laughed, although there was no genuineness supporting it. “And it’s all the more surprising considering that you wanted to destroy his very home just to lure him out.”
“What I wanted was a fair fight,” Childe bit back. “A concept that some of us here are unfamiliar with.”
Signora snorted. Childe knew she always viewed raw physical fights as an inferior way of solving conflicts, preferring to weave her way through them with the power of words, rarely dirtying her hands.
“Some of us here have minds swift enough they don’t have to turn to something as uncivilized.“
“Swift mind, or just a particular penchant for lies and deception?” he countered, with satisfaction observing the indignation appearing on her face.
“Did you just call me a liar?” She took a step forward, her voice rising.
“I did,” he jeered. “And what are you gonna do about it?”
Red flooded Signora’s face as she got even closer to him, pointing a finger at him in a threatening gesture. Her manicured nail nearly pierced her velvet glove. “You…”
“Children.”
Both Childe and Signora whipped their heads towards the door once the familiar voice echoed in the room, the tension between them instantly dissolving in place of embarrassment befitting unruly toddlers who had just gotten reprimanded by their caretaker. Signora sent Childe an accusatory look, crossing her arms on her chest.
“What have you done?” She seethed through her teeth. “You’ve pissed her.”
“Me?” Childe uttered in shock at the accusation. “You’ve decided to come out and start throwing punches at me and my guest for no goddamned reason!”
Standing next to Childe at a safe distance, Zhongli sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Come, Eleventh,” the voice echoed again.
Signora gave Zhongli and Childe an ice-cold glare and stormed past them without saying another word, leaving a trail of small sparkles and smoke in the air behind her.
“I am astonished that you needed the ancient Osial to utilize your plan in Liyue,” Zhongli remarked with a flat tone, looking at Signora disappearing behind the door on the other side of the room. “An escalated quarrel between the two of you would have been more destructive, I presume. Is that how you often converse?”
He turned his head to Childe, and the Harbinger felt a bit embarrassed under his gaze. Maybe it wasn’t a showcase of good manners to throw a scene like this in front of Zhongli.
“Well… we don’t really get along together.”
A short chuckle. “That much I figured.”
They entered the strategy room in silence, and Childe felt as if he was entering a lion’s cage. It was a much smaller chamber than the cathedral-like throne room adjacent to it, but it was not less impressive, with its crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling and tall windows overlooking the small courtyard. The ice sculptures here did not depict creatures from Snezhnayan mythology; instead, the ice was shaped into a line of tall and mighty warriors clad in impressive, transparent armour sets, with visible Fatui insignia sculpted on their chests.
However, something else was the focal point in the room – the massive wooden table with a hand-carved map of Teyvat on it, painted in beautiful colours, depicting all mountain ranges, seas, lakes, forests, and deserts scattered across the world. Thin, dark lines divided the continent into seven parts, but every time Childe’s eyes followed them he knew that they wouldn’t stay there for long – not if the Tsaritsa’s plan would be successful.
On the wall opposite the door stood a tall fireplace, and the crackling sounds of the burning wood filled the room. The light produced by the fire, although partially obstructed by two small sofas standing in front of the fireplace, illuminated the great painting of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa hanging on the wall above. It was a work of a famous Fontainean artist, commissioned decades ago, and the greatness of the painter was reflected in the realism with which he managed to capture every last detail of the Tsaritsa's face and posture and transfer it to the canvas.
A very easy thing to assess, especially when the object of the painting herself stood right below it.
Like her painted counterpart, she stood straight and proud, although not too tall. She wore one of her usual snow-white layered gowns, beautifully decorated in silver thread and pearls in the middle, from the high neckline down to the hem. The sleeves of the dress were made of two parts – the outer layer was a part of her long overcoat, carefully embroidered on the outside and lined with ermine fur from the inside, cut near her shoulders to reveal the inner sleeve that tightly hung to her slender arms. The collar, embellished with tiny tear-shaped sapphires, wrapped tightly around her long neck, and a wide silver belt neatly cinched her entire outfit around her waist. Her long, white braid slid down her shoulder, and an oval-shaped diadem-like headpiece rested upon her head. One singular ring adorned her fingers that were clasped tightly in front of her as she watched the newcomers with assessing curiosity, grey, winter eyes glinting with warmth. The ghost of a smile hid in the corners of her rouge-painted lips as Childe and Zhongli stood in front of her.
The smile was truly the only difference between the real Tsaritsa and her painted image that looked at them from above, cold and indifferent.
Childe had always found her image of a distant and strict god a bit daunting, especially since he got to be familiar with her warm and kind nature reserved only for the closest to her.
“Your Majesty,” he said with reverence, dropping to one knee and bowing his head in front of his sovereign.
“Rise, my dearest Eleventh," she commanded, voice gentle yet firm. "There is no need for formalities in private, I told you as much.”
She extended her ringed arm towards him, which he took and placed a quick kiss upon, and then rose to his feet. Zhongli shifted next to him, barely noticeable.
“Morax,” the Tsaritsa said, sweeping her gaze over him. There was a discreet tick to one of her arched eyebrows as she noticed Childe’s insignia on his coat. “What would Celestia say if they saw you like this, so openly pledging your allegiance?”
“I never had you for someone caring about their opinion this much, especially considering the fact that you are waging a war against them, Vuel.”
Zhongli’s voice sounded calm and collected, but Childe did not miss how stern his face was. The Cryo Archon digested his words for a second before she gave him a simple smile in response.
“Excellent judge of character, as always. Welcome to Snezhnaya.” She gracefully gestured towards the sofas, inviting them to sit down. “I must admit, it’s refreshing that we meet under more amicable circumstances, finally.”
The god took place on the other sofa, directly in front of the Tsaritsa, scooting a bit closer to the edge for more proximity to the fireplace. Childe bit his lip, briefly contemplating which diplomatic protocol to break – by sitting right next to his own Archon, or by taking place by another. He sighed and sat down by Zhongli’s side, perhaps picking the lesser of evils. The Tsaritsa looked pleased by his choice, for some reason.
“It has been such a long time since we’ve last seen each other in person,” she noted, reaching towards the table between them and pouring each a cup of tea. “Zhongli, is that what you are called now?”
The Geo Archon took the offered cup with a nod. “Rex Lapis is a matter of the past now. I would not say that Zhongli took his place, just that he is… someone else,” he explained and took a quick sip. A pleased expression settled on his face. “Whenever something ends, something else begins. That is the rule of this world.”
The Tsaritsa nodded in understanding. “If that is your wish, then I sincerely hope you will enjoy your new life to the fullest, freed from the burden of the past.”
“Oh, I am not naïve enough to believe that will ever be the case,” Zhongli sighed, melancholy settling in his amber eyes illuminated by the flames dancing in the fireplace. Childe thought that for the first time, he looked as old as he was. “Some stains cannot be washed off, forever.”
The Tsaritsa took a sip from her own cup, her eyes cast down. “Of that, I’m acutely aware.”
For the next few moments, the only sound breaking the silence was the crackling of the burning wood. Suddenly, Childe felt uncomfortable between the two deities, feeling for the first time how different he was from them with his status as a (presumable, because he wasn’t sure of that himself) mortal. How could he ever stand on an equal footing with creatures hundreds or thousands of years older than him, possessing the knowledge and wisdom of countless experiences? Zhongli had never made him feel in any way inferior, and neither did the Tsaritsa, but right now, seeing these particular expressions on their faces – expressions of feelings that he could probably never even hope to understand – he couldn’t help but feel incredibly out of place, uncomfortable in his own skin at the thought of the distance separating him from them. He swirled the tea in his cup with a slow movement of his wrist. His grimace reflected in the dark liquid.
“So, Tartaglia” the Tsaritsa picked up. Childe looked at her and noticed a brief flash of concern in her eyes before she gave him a nurturing smile. “I presume your time in Liyue was fruitful?”
He did not understand the question at first. He thought she had received his reports from his mission that he always so meticulously prepared. Or maybe that was a part of the interrogation she had planned for him? Was that some kind of yearly evaluation meeting, then? If Zhongli was here, maybe he could vouch for him in some areas. A promotion would be nice, after all.
“Um, I suppose so? I managed to collect a… lot of debts and do some important work for the bank, of which I’m sure Pantalone is very happy,” he began to explain.
The Tsaritsa waved her hand at that dismissively. “Oh, I didn’t ask about that, silly. I’ve meant the country,” she said, and her eyes glinted. “The people.”
“Yes, well, I really liked it in Liyue, a lot,” he admitted. “The food is excellent, the climate a bit too hot for my liking, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The people are very welcoming, too, although I’m sure they would’ve been less so I they knew the entire story with Osial and Rex Lapis,” he allowed himself a chuckle.
The Tsaritsa smiled cunningly and briefly glanced at Zhongli. “I’m sure they were,” she said in a strangely teasing tone that confused Childe. “Any particular… friendships? Affiliations?” she asked. “Affairs?”
Childe quickly peeked to his side. Zhongli looked as if he was constipated.
“Umm,” he began uncertainly. What even question was that? “I have made a few acquaintances there, some friends, too…” By the slight twitch of her eyebrow, he noticed that this was not the answer she expected. He swallowed. “Zhongli has become a really close friend of mine. He’s been helping me a lot, and we’ve spent a lot of time together.”
He turned to the god to give him a smile to vouch for his words, but the expression on Zhongli’s face dissuaded him from the idea. Why was he looking so… frightened?
“Oh, please, you don’t have to be so modest, Tartaglia,” the Tsaritsa chuckled. “Spill some more details for the old goddess. Is there a date set already? Obviously, you’d have to ask for permission first, but-”
What? Childe blinked a few times. What details? And why was there so much mirth in her eyes?
“Actually, dear Vuel, it might be a bit too early-“ Zhongli said, his tone full of caution as he observed Childe’s reaction.
“Wait,” the Harbinger interrupted him, his eyes darting between Zhongli and the Tsaritsa. “What are you two talking about?”
The Cryo Archon blinked once, twice, her eyes wide, smile slowly fading away. She looked quite shocked by his question, although why – Childe couldn’t tell.
“Tartaglia, what do you mean by this?”
“That I haven’t the slightest idea about the subject of this conversation,” he confessed.
Her Majesty’s lips formed a thin line as she turned her head toward Zhongli.
“Morax,” she called, and her voice was so cold Childe almost shuddered. Snowflakes swirled in the air outside of the place as a sudden gust of wind hit the windows. “What is the meaning of this?”
It was one of these rare moments where Zhongli looked actually told off, his face twisted as if he tasted something sour. He bit his lip, preparing an answer.
“I did make my intentions clear when I gave-“ the god began to explain, but his voice was uncharacteristically weak.
“Clear?” The Tsaritsa’s, on the other hand, was almost booming as she straightened her posture and tried to look down on Zhongli, who, in turn, slumped a little bit in his place. She gritted her teeth. “What ancient and ambiguous Liyuean metaphor did you use to fit your definition of clear?”
“I…” Zhongli coughed. “As I tried to say, I did bestow upon him the traditional-“
“Traditional to whom?!” The Tsaritsa shouted. The windows almost rattled as the wind hit them again, stronger this time. The sudden snowfall outside was slowly turning into a full-blown snowstorm. “Has it not crossed your lizard mind that he might not-“ She sighed. “I cannot believe that this is such a failure, considering my divine attribute…” she muttered, massaging her temple with one of her hands.
“Your Majesty,” Zhongli began, unsure. “Believe me, as far as my own perspective is concerned, I have made my intentions clear and simply waited for an answer from-“
“Oh, don’t you dare spin this now, Morax! I don’t want to hear any of these now, not in my own halls!” She gestured wildly with her hands and then slapped them against her thighs in a gesture of defeat, so unlike her usual calm demeanor.
Childe’s head was spinning now, as he tried to understand what was going on, but ultimately failed to. Some kind of cold unease poured all over his insides, filling his stomach with familiar anxiety. Was he being deceived by them… again?
“Stop, please!” He nearly screamed as he saw Zhongli open his mouth to say something again, and his emotions took over. Both Zhongli and the Tsaritsa startled, and looked at him in surprise, as if they forgot he was there. He took a deep breath and curled his hands into fists to stop the trembling. “I’m obviously missing something here so I would be eternally grateful if you could explain to me what’s going on.”
The Tsaritsa folded her arms on her chest. “You can’t miss something that you are not aware of,” she almost snapped, but it was not Childe who was the target of her ire.
Zhongli clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything. His amber eyes turned away as he avoided Childe’s and the Tsaritsa’s gaze.
The Cryo Archon quickly rose from her seat and straightened her gown with delicate movements of her hands. She then looked at them from above, eyes full of cold ire moving between Zhongli and Childe. The howling of the wind outside almost drowned out the crackling of the fire that was right next to them.
“I suppose that will be the end of our meeting today,” she declared. “Morax, it was nice to see you again, after so many years. Tartaglia, know that I missed you dearly during your absence and I rejoice to have you back with us in Snezhnaya.”
Childe winced at the contrast between her words and the utterly disappointed tone with which she said them. He shifted in his seat, feeling scolded even though he didn’t know what he had done wrong – at all. It rubbed him the wrong way.
“Your Majesty-“
“Please remember that the meeting with the rest of the Harbingers shall take place tomorrow, at noon. Do not be late.”
The Tsaritsa obviously didn’t want to hear anything else, from either of them, most likely, judging by how she didn’t even spare them a look as she turned and left the room, retreating to her private quarters, the frost painting intricate patterns on the floor behind her. Before she closed the door, she threw a glance at the snowstorm raging outside of the palace.
“I hope you’ll get to your home safely,” she said flatly. “I don’t think this blizzard will subside anytime soon.”
The sound of the door being slammed echoed in the room, so loud that it left Childe’s ears ringing. His mind was a mess – what did he just witness? What was that entire scene, even? He had no idea what Zhongli and the Tsaritsa were talking about, what both were alluding to, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this all was not right towards him. His suspicions grew even bigger when Zhongli didn’t say a word to him when the Cryo Archon left, and instead stared at his own hands, clasped tightly on his lap. So they are both hiding something from you – the voice in his head whispered. Conspiring, even.
That particular type of anger – bitter and betrayed, the taste of which he was too familiar with – burned in his heart, down to his still curled fists.
“So,” he began, breaking the silence. “Your assurances that this will go well did not come true.”
The god looked like he wanted to say something, but ultimately decided not to.
“Let’s go,” the Harbinger stood up and fixed his coat. “We’ve angered enough.”
Zhongli silently followed Childe out of the castle, always a few steps behind him, as if he wanted to avoid him as much as possible.
They didn’t speak during their entire ride to Childe’s manor, either, as the carriage rolled through the snowstorm towards the city’s outskirts. Some kind of distance settled between them, an unbearable space filled with uncertainty that neither of them dared to disrupt. Childe couldn’t shake off the strange feeling of familiarity as he recalled the conversation – or rather, the argument – between Zhongli and the Tsaritsa, like he had once been in a similar situation before, thrown into a play bigger than his own board permitted. He really had been, he realized, back in Liyue, when Zhongli had deceived him last time.
That situation was behind them. They’d overcome that hurdle, spoken it out, explained their feelings to each other in an honest conversation one vulnerable night, at the top of Mountain Tianheng as they watched the city of Liyue sleep. They’d decided to put that behind them, to start a new chapter of their relationship from a blank, white page. Childe was happy with that, and so was Zhongli, especially when both promised each other to always be sincere from then on.
A promise that Childe was suspecting to had been broken.
Celestia, he thought, slumping in his seat in a sudden wave of exasperation. He glared at Zhongli sitting in front of him, who had his eyes glued to the small windows of the carriage as if he could see anything through the darkness of the snowstorm.
When they finally arrived, significantly delayed by the blizzard, it was two hours to midnight. Childe didn’t have much energy left in him to reply to all the “welcome back, Lord Tartaglia” that he heard from his servants with something other than a nod of his head. Someone from the palace must have informed them that he would be coming tonight, as they’d done all the necessary preparations – including, even, refreshing the guest bedroom for Zhongli’s stay.
The god remained silent as they entered the mansion and travelled up the stairs to the second floor, and went straight to the west wing. Childe decided to postpone a tour of his estate to another day, not being in the mood for it at all.
“These are your guest apartments. The servants informed me that they’re prepared for your stay,” he said, pointing a hand at the door in front of them. He felt Zhongli’s gaze on himself and tried to avoid it. “You can call them up should you need anything, and if something happens, I’ll be in my own chambers, at the end of the corridor. Goodnight, Zhongli,” he added, not waiting for a response, and tried to leave.
For the first time since their meeting with the Tsaritsa, Zhongli spoke.
“Ajax…”
Childe clenched his teeth at the sound of his name coming from Zhongli’s lips. A foul blow. He turned on his heel, gathering the ugly anger nestled inside of himself to lash out at the god, but the fire dimmed once he saw the apologetic expression on his face and his eyes brimming with worry.
He sighed, feeling even more exhausted than previously.
“Zhongli, tell me this isn’t another plot you’ve cooked up with her,” Childe said, and he was surprised by how desperate and hurt his voice sounded. “Please, tell me you’re not hiding anything from me, again.”
“I am not hiding anything from you,” the god declared. “Ever since we reconciled, I have only been sincere with you, although I admit I have a tendency to think that things are as clear to others as they are to my own mind.”
They both stood silent for a moment. Childe’s brain did not have the capacity to digest Zhongli’s confession.
“You promised,” he reminded Zhongli quietly.
The Archon nodded. “I did, and I intend to uphold that promise. Be assured that I have not broken it.”
Childe looked into his eyes, now alight with some strange resolution. He knew the tell-tale signs of Zhongli withholding information from someone, and he couldn’t sense them now. He knew he needed to ask him for some explanations, about what transpired today between him and the Tsaritsa, but he was just too tired. For now, he decided to trust him.
“We will talk about this later,” he said, and the god visibly eased at the softer tone of his voice, at some of the tension between them thawing out. “Rest well, Zhongli.”
Zhongli bid him goodnight as well but did not enter his room before Childe closed his own door.
When Childe slipped under his own, familiar covers of the bed, he couldn’t help that feeling of anxiety gnawing at his insides.
That night he did not fall asleep easily, in spite of the fatigue aching in his bones.
Notes:
Peep the tag that I've added, hehehe
Hello, good morning, good afternoon, goodnight - wherever and whenever you're reading this chapter! Not much ramblings from me today, except that I'm back after my short holidays and that hoped you've liked this take on the Tsaritsa. For fluffier stories, I've always imagined her as a more aunty-like person who has a really kind and nurturing nature for her people, in spite of some of the general lore might imply. Vuel is also the name from Ars Goetia that I picked for her! Sounded right to me. As for her outfit - I've been googling and pinteresting a looot of traditional eastern/southern slavic traditional clothing, especially the headpieces which I think are beautiful!
When it comes to the Zapolyarny Palace, I imagined it as similar to the Winter Palace in Saint Petersburg, with some Royal Palace of Madrid, Royal Palace of Amsterdam, and Schonbrunn mixed in. More "militaristic" rather than fairy-tailish like Neuschwanstein.I promise you that you dont have to worry about this angstish bit at the end! They will be all and well and very much in love by the end of this fic.
I also must apologize if you see any typos - I was so eager to put this chapter out today, I might have overlooked some. It's 1am as Im writing this lmao.Anyway, please take this chapter as a very late bday gift from me as well :) As usual, you're very much welcome to share your thoughts in the comments!
Thank you for reading, for your comments and kudos. They really keep me going during some more difficult times <3
(don't forget that you can also find me on Twitter, sometimes!)
Oooh and one last thing before I go to bed - I will be rewriting and extending my recent haikaveh vampire au threadfic and uploading it to ao3 soon! In case you'd be interested in that. It will be a one shot though!
Chapter Text
That night, Childe dreamt of warm, amber eyes, and of their gaze so heavy with affection it was almost unbearable.
The image dissipated into golden dust when he woke up, and he forgot about it by the time he finished rubbing the sleep off of his eyes. He remained motionless, lying on his back and staring at the blue canopy of his bed, blinking away the remains of the dream. Memories from yesterday’s evening came flowing back; of the confrontation with the Tsaritsa, of his and Zhongli’s ride back home, of the stiff atmosphere when they bid each other goodnight. Childe could taste them on the back of his throat – the familiar bitter tinge of disappointment and betrayal.
Maybe it was too early, though, to talk about being betrayed or played again, a rational voice in his head reminded him. Maybe his emotions and insecurities got the better of him. This entire, confusing thing needed a clear mindset, so Childe tried to dissect it, now that he had calmed down.
There was something that obviously Zhongli was not telling him – or maybe not telling him directly. The thing with him was that he had a habit of wrapping simple ideas in a package of poetical metaphors grounded in literary and historical traditions, which often were unreachable even for people born and raised in Liyue, not to mention outsiders who had trouble understanding Liyuean writing on a basic level. It wasn’t all that surprising considering that, well, Zhongli probably played a great role in shaping the language and history of the country, obviously, and that he was a person (being?) of different times. Many of the things he said or did confused Childe, whose a little over two decades of life could not match the experience of a six-millennia-long lifespan of a god.
But was the cultural barrier a reason enough to justify this entire… thing? Especially if Zhongli was very much aware that Childe still struggled with understanding the societal cues in Liyue? Or maybe he wasn’t, or said something easy to understand and Childe just simply missed something, as he oftentimes did?
He groaned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep off of his face with his hands. Gods, that was going to be a hell of a day. He took a glance at a neatly folded stack of clothes his servants left for him on the table after having them refreshed. Childe recognized the characteristic seam and embroidered golden thread of his ceremonial Harbinger suit. He sighed as he got up from the bed. He just couldn’t wait for the day to end already.
But before he left, he needed to talk to Zhongli, the sooner the better.
The corridor leading from his to Zhongli’s rooms was empty; it was one of the unwritten rules of his estate that his servants should stay away from this part of the mansion, especially when he was staying in (which was not that often, to be honest). Childe, dressed up, refreshed, and definitely not ready, stared at the brown door for a minute, preparing the conversation in his head, before he knocked on the wood.
No one answered. He knocked again, more insistently, but still – there was no answer whatsoever. Childe frowned and put his ear to the door, but heard no sound coming from the inside. He decided that Zhongli must’ve been still sleeping, before the rising unease got the better of him. He couldn’t recall Zhongli ever telling him he liked to sleep in, but maybe that was the effect of the arduous journey they’d just had. Maybe he just needed more rest than the military-trained Harbinger who always woke up at the same hour, no matter the circumstances? Anyway, the conversation would have to be postponed till the evening, after he returns from the meeting at the Zapolyarny Palace.
Chile took a step back from the door, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. He threw one last look at Zhongli’s door over his shoulder before he descended the stairs and quickly left the building, telling the servants in passing to accommodate all of Zhongli’s needs once he woke up.
“Lord Tartaglia,” the guards standing at the twin watchtowers of the palace saluted as they saw him approaching.
Childe had spent the few hours between his arrival to the city and the inexorably approaching meeting on aimless wandering through the city’s many alleys and nooks, hoping that the bit of exercise would help him clear his mind. He hadn't thought his morning escape from the manor through, and he ended up with a bit too much time on his hands. He really shouldn’t have run away in such a hurry, but his anxiety got the better of him. The city of Snezhnaya had barely woken up by the time he arrived there. There were certain errands he’d have to run, like dropping a visit to the central branch office of the Northland Bank to set some money transfers, but even for that, it was too early, as the bank didn’t open until the ninth hour in the morning.
Aimless wandering around did help in distracting him a bit so that the happenings of yesterday were not looming at the main stage of his mind anymore and remained a shadow in the background, but he still felt strangely absent and distracted. His mood was positively sour, and the people seeing him must’ve been noticing that too – many of them getting out of his way to avoid him. It felt as if he had some kind of an aura around him, clinging to him whenever he went, like a big warning sign that made people decide against approaching him. That kind of reputation was foreign to him in Snezhnaya, but he couldn’t deny that he was thankful for it today.
The Fatui soldiers that greeted him must’ve noticed something was off, too, as they trained their eyes on the far horizon and avoided looking at Childe. He only wordlessly nodded his head to acknowledge them and walked past without a word, thankful for their accurate perception as he was not in the mood for a conversation.
That little peace he had was soon disturbed by a great weight jumping on him after he managed to barely walk through two corridors of the Palace. He grunted loudly, trying to keep his balance against the sudden load on his back. Two slender arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck, squeezing him with unexpected strength.
“Columbina, please…” Childe choked out as the iron grip tightened.
“This is what you get for coming back and not even saying hello to me,” the girl threatened sweetly next to his ear.
“I came back only yesterday!” he pleaded.
“So? That’s not an excuse for not greeting your favorite colleague!”
Childe managed to gently wring himself out of Columbina’s embrace after much struggle. She wasn’t happy with that, judging by the pout of her lips and furrow of her brows.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” he admitted, truthfully so. He didn’t like seeing her sad, no one among them did. He opened his arms in a peace offering. “Welcome hug to make up for it?”
She hesitated only for a few seconds before she jumped into his embrace, once again tightly wrapping her arms around him, although this time without trying to strangle him. Childe winced as her headpiece squished his cheek. He never understood why some of the other Harbingers had such an affection towards fancy unpractical headwear.
“I missed you lots, silly, you know,” she said once she let him go. “The Palace has been so boring without you here.”
Childe massaged his neck to alleviate the tension left by Columbina’s arms. “I would assume Pantalone and Pulcinella aren’t the most entertaining of companions?”
Columbina scoffed. “They’re bores, they all are,” she sighed. “Scaramouche is fun sometimes, but with his frequent expeditions to the Abyss… I didn’t have much time to bother him, really.”
Seeing Scaramouche holding it all in whilst Columbina attacked him with her antics was always an entertaining sight. Childe bit his lip to stifle a laugh.
“Which is why I’m so delighted to have you back! Finally, someone who’s not so stuck up. No, Dottore’s younger clones don’t count, you know that.”
She twirled around and giggled happily, the silver chains on her own Harbinger formal outfit – same in style as Childe’s but differing slightly in details – ringing loudly. She looked so small in that big, heavy coat, and not for the first time Childe felt an influx of elder-brotherly emotions towards her, which was always strange considering she was older than him, possibly older than the Tsaritsa, and maybe even older than most of the beings on this side of Teyvat.
He missed her a bit, too, he thought as he watched her skipping towards another door and waving at him to follow. Maybe even more than just a bit. Columbina was a strange person and he knew that there was something off about her bubbly personality and the mysterious reason as to why she was ranked third amongst them, but compared to other wicked Harbingers, she was quite nice and he enjoyed spending time with her. He remembered how excited she was during his introduction to their happy bunch, and she’d always been kind to him from the very beginning. Also, needlessly to say, he’d take her quirkiness over Dottore’s wickedness or Pantalone’s love for scheming any day.
“How was your stay in Liyue?” she asked, turning her head over her shoulders to look at him.
Childe was aware that she probably knew everything already but decided to indulge her anyway.
“I’ve almost learned how to eat with chopsticks.”
“Almost? What’s the part that you’re yet to grasp?”
“Not losing my grip on the food after five seconds,” Childe winced slightly at the memories of all the dumplings ungracefully falling back on his plate.
Another angelic giggle resounded in the empty hall they were walking through. “I’ve heard you’ve found yourself someone to help you with that, no?”
He looked up to see her eyes trained on him again. The ghostly silver shone with teasing mischief. For some reason, it reminded him of HuTao.
“Who’s been gossiping about me, hm?” he sighed, raising an eyebrow.
“No one in particular,” she confessed, and it sounded truthful. “The shadows told me.”
She did not push the topic further, satisfied with his reply, judging by her happy humming. If even she knew and commented on that – usually rather uninterested in other people’s personal affairs and courtly gossip – then the others would probably prod him about that too. Three down, seven to go, Childe thought as they continued their journey into the heart of the Palace. He suddenly imagined Capitano teasing him about Zhongli too, and gods, did that thought make him uncomfortable. He shivered as the picture cleared out in his head.
Childe was saved from that horrifying image by the sound of yet another door opening. This room, however, unlike the ones he and Columbina passed through on their way into the Palace’s maze, was brightly lit, and there was a quiet chatter of a conversation or two. It died out as soon as Childe entered the room, squinting his eyes at the sudden brightness.
The majority of the Harbingers were already present there. Four of them sat by the great table in the center of the chamber, on which lay an assortment of drinks and snacks befitting their highest rankings in the military – expensive imported wines, Fontainean cheeses, and fresh fruit from Sumeru, from what Childe recognized. Arlecchino was indulging in a cup of wine, next to her, Dottore was scribbling something on some documents he brought with him. Opposite them, Pucinella was munching on a snack, and Sandrone, a small girl sitting to his left, was completely engrossed in a small device she held in her hand. Behind her stood one of her great servant machines, modeled in a Fontainean fashion. It produced beeping sounds from time to time, clearly alert for any incoming danger – although Childe wondered who would be crazy enough to even enter a room with some of the most dangerous people in the world, let alone try to cause some disturbances. He looked around and saw his two favorite Harbingers present in the room, too. Signora, poised and elegant and with an air of contempt for the whole world, sat on a cushioned armchair next to the fireplace, and Scaramouche, indifferent and always with a look of thinly veiled boredom mixed with disgust whenever he’d be in the company of so many of his coworkers, sat on one of the windowsills. Other than them, Pantalone, Pierro, and Capitano were noticeably not present, yet.
Childe’s arrival at their meetings was usually a short disruption, after which everyone went back to their own business, usually not having spared him a single glance, but that was not the case today. Eight pairs of eyes drilled into him, some curious, some indifferent, some demeaning, and some outright apprehensive.
Home, sweet home, Childe thought as he managed to pull out the most sickeningly sweet smile he could and targeted it towards the less friendly stares. He heard Scaramouche’s irritated scoff instantly.
“Everyone! Look who I’ve brought along with me!” Columbina sang as she extended her arms in a very theatrical gesture to introduce him.
Dottore, tearing his eyes away from the documents in front of him, turned to him then, candlelight breaking on his mask. His lips stretched in a small smile, which was a scary sight, but not as terrifying as a full one could be. “Our long lost youngest,” he mused in a deep voice, by which Childe recognized it as belonging to one of his older segments.
“Is there a return policy?” Scaramouche deadpanned from the other side of the room, away from the rest of the bunch. Childe thought it a fitting spot.
“I have sincerely missed you too, my comrade,” he said warmly against the daggers in Scaramouche’s eyes, knowing how much he hated being called that. “What have you been up to for the past few months? We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Not failing my missions,” the shorter man looked like he was about to vomit. “And tasks more important than frolicking around with a foreign god,” he added with a snicker in his voice.
Behind Childe, Signora snorted with amusement. Childe’s fists tightened at his sides.
“Where is your esteemed guest, speaking of? Can’t see him attached to your hip,” she taunted him, a vicious smile sprawling on her face.
“Oh? What is it that I’m hearing?” Dottore asked, turning his attention to him from the sheet of paper in his hands. Childe noticed it was filled with some weird diagrams of human bodies. “An affair in the workplace? Scandalous.”
“I think my personal life is what it is,” Childe replied, moving forward to take his usual seat on the opposite side, as far from him as he could. “Namely, personal,” he pointed as he sat down and reached for a glass of wine on his own.
He wasn’t one to drink wine very often, but gods knew he’d need it today.
Dottore regarded him with an arched eyebrow but didn’t say anything more before he returned to his studies.
“Well,” Pulcinella said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Either way, it’s good to finally have all of us together here.”
Childe managed to keep his eyes from rolling – obviously, none of them wanted to be here, Pulcinella just liked keeping up appearances. They’d all much prefer to be somewhere else, anywhere else than having to spend the day with each other’s company, Childe assumed judging by the bored looks on everyone’s faces.
It seemed like Sandrone, sitting a seat away from him to his right and tinkering with some kind of small machine part on the table, agreed with Childe wholeheartedly. She stopped her ministrations for a second and sent Pulcinella a look someone could only describe as murderous. She often did that whenever someone bothered her, or when she felt like it. The giant robot standing behind her seat produced a few high-pitched sounds.
“I, for one, highly doubt this is only confined to the personal sphere,” Signora disagreed. Childe gritted his teeth hearing her voice again. She loved picking on him. “Should a similar incident happen in the future, we might risk another mission to be failed.”
“What do you mean failed,” Childe protested, not liking the accusation at all. “The Liyue mission went smoothly. We’ve acquired the Gnosis and fulfilled the terms of the contract with Morax, haven’t we?”
Anger boiled beneath the surface of Childe’s skin. Besides, how could she say anything about the mission if her only role in it was coming at the very end and taking away the Gnosis? She didn’t even lift a finger, Celestia be damned!
“And would that have been done if your personal indulgences got further in the way?”
“Oh, come one now,” Childe half-whined, half-laughed. “I have been nothing but-“
The door opened and Pantalone walked in with a hurried stride, fixing his glasses. “What personal indulgences?” he asked in his monotonous voice.
Even though his designated seat of the Ninth was to Childe’s right, he directed his steps towards Dottore, greeting him with a small smile and a light squeeze of his shoulder. Huh. That was… strange. Childe, temporarily distracted from his anger, looked around the room with wide eyes but it seemed like no one else had been surprised by the gesture. He couldn’t remember it being a frequent sight, but he surely would’ve noticed that. That obviously meant something, especially with how Dottore looked up at Pantalone and returned the smile, and patted the hand resting on his shoulder with his own.
The entire exchange was just an eye-blink long and both Dottore and Pantalone put on their usual masks back, with Dottore returning to his papers and Pantalone walking to his seat. As short as it all was, it left a peculiar impression on Childe, whose brain tried to think of a possible explanation for it. That surely wasn’t just a friendly gesture, otherwise wouldn’t Pantalone greet anyone else in the room, even with a nod of his head?
Childe thought of Zhongli, all of a sudden. Zhongli oftentimes greeted him in a rather touchy manner, too, with a hand on his back or arm. And with a warm smile, too.
Okay, that was a strange thought to have right then. Childe swallowed, shifting on his seat uncomfortably.
Pantalone seemed to have caught that. “So, what personal indulgences have we been talking about?” he asked, purple eyes scrutinizing him from above his glasses. “Apologies for being late to the conversation.”
“Someone is bored enough to dissect Tartaglia’s love affairs, and decided it a fitting topic of our… pre-meeting briefing,” Scaramouche said. He was still sitting at the windowsill, looking outside at the passing clouds, not gracing the other Harbingers with his closer presence. “Which I find quite nauseating.”
For once, Childe actually agreed with him on something. He’d also much rather just sit there in silence.
“And what is there to dissect?” Pantalone asked again, not sparing Childe a glance. “If it was a mystery, then perhaps I could agree. But what’s the point of dissecting something that has been pretty much confirmed?”
Childe felt something snap inside of him. He stood up abruptly, slamming his hands against the table.
“Okay, first of all, I’d very much appreciate it if you could stop talking about me like this because Celestia knows we’re not on terms friendly enough to talk about our hobbies, let alone my personal fucking life.” In the corner of his eye, Childe noticed Arlecchino’s eyebrow arch at his choice of words, but he did not let it distract him. “And secondly, I have been nothing but faithful to the mission and Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, so why won’t you all focus on your own commitments to Her? Especially since some are rather… loosely knitted.”
He threw a look at Scaramouche, who seemed to not have noticed that.
“Everyone, this is not the time or place for such squabbles,” Pulcinella finally interrupted them, raising his voice above their bickering.
Arlecchino, who’s been keeping quiet this whole time and whose face kept getting more and more sour as the conversation went on, signed with relief and reached out for her glass of wine.
“Finally a reasonable voice,” she deadpanned, taking a sip of her drink.
Childe took a deep breath. He looked at Columbina, who smiled widely at him and gave him a thumbs up.
Before he could sit down, the door on the other side of the room opened, then, and a gust of ice-cold wind shook the candle flames. Everyone in the room instantly stood up and bowed their head towards the Tsaritsa, who entered in an entourage composed of Pierro and Capitano. The Head of the Harbingers regarded the room with a cool stare, and their First was as unreadable as always, with his face hidden by the dark veil that only let occasional flashes of hungry eyes peek through. Both silently took their places at the table; Pierro to Tsaritsa’s right, and Capitano to her left. Other Harbingers also stood up quickly, with Signora and Scaramouche walking to the table, greeting their queen with deep bows.
“Children,” the Tsaritsa said, regarding everyone with her icy gaze. “It is a sight most welcome to have you all here, together.”
“Your Majesty,” Signora, ever the boot-licker, greeted her. “We’re grateful to see you, as always.”
Next to her, Childe saw Scaramouche rolling his eyes. He held back a snort.
“Thank you, Eighth. Please, all, you may sit down.”
Everyone did as instructed and waited eagerly for her next words. It wasn’t like they didn’t know the plan of their great mission with all the details already crafted years, years before, and laid out to them once it all “officially” started. Everyone knew what their share of it was and what specific duties had been assigned to them for the different stages of the entire mission. The Tsaritsa still insisted on having these yearly meetings, saying they would help them treat the case with a more agile approach and allow them to amend the plans quickly if something unexpected came up, but Childe knew that she had been thinking about it for centuries and there probably was not a single risk she hadn’t thought through. Either way, he diligently sat on his designated seat of the Eleventh Harbinger and quietly listened to the numbers, tactics, and news from the other side of Teyvat, spacing out more often than not.
“First of all,” her Majesty spoke. “I must congratulate everyone on successfully completing their missions of the initial phase. Although only Eight and Eleventh have been assigned the tasks of collecting the Gnoses from Anemo and Geo Archons, I must applaud every one of you for achieving good results on your own assigned tasks. Whether it be gathering intel, exploring the Abyss, or conducting valuable scientific research, I hope you all are aware that all of those are equally as important.”
“Excellent job, both of you, achieving these without extensive losses in our ranks” Capitano, who was responsible for the shape of Snezhnayan military, concurred, directing his words towards Signora and Childe. “Especially to you, Tartaglia, for your resourcefulness in using the old Liyuean deity.”
Childe felt his cheeks heat up as his heart skipped a beat from the personal praise received from Capitano. The First rarely even noticed him, so that was huge for him. With the last remains of his will, he managed to stay composed, only nodding in acknowledgment and clenching his fists under the table.
“Thank-,” he coughed away a lump in his throat. “Thank you, First.”
He felt a few stares at him, but he did not raise his sight to meet them. His fingernails were much more interesting and almost proved enough distraction from his beating heart.
“With the success of our missions in both Mondstadt and Liyue, we can now enter the third phase of our plan,” Pierro declared to the Tsaritsa. He had probably briefed her on everything earlier already. He glanced at Signora, his strange Khaenrian eyes glinting. “Eighth, if you could, please,” he gestured at the chessboard in the middle of the table.
Signora nodded and extended her hand. Two Gnoses, one Anemo, and the other Geo, painfully familiar to Childe, materialized on her palm in a cloud of smoke and sparks. She carefully put them on the board in the place of the missing pieces.
Pierro nodded to her and then reached out towards the board. One of the white knight pieces lifted at his silent command and remained suspended in the air, for everyone present to see.
“The next stage would naturally concern Inazuma,” he said. Scaramouche shifted slightly in his chair at the mention of his homeland. “It is a particularly difficult region, secluded and heavily guarded, and even our spies don’t have much intel on it.”
“That’s true,” Arlecchino agreed, folding her arms on her chest. “Even among my children, the knowledge of current internal Inazuman affairs is limited, although we do know that the situation on the island is not stable, to say the least, with a possible civil war brewing.”
“That’s certainly something we could use,” Pantalone mused. “Internal instability is a good market for our banking services, with many potential clients being interested. We might use that as a leverage with potential talks with the Shogun.”
“Good luck with getting her out of her stupid dimension,” Scaramouche scoffed. “She’s not interested in mortal affairs.”
“I’m sure a civil war amongst her own people would interest her, no?” Pulcinella asked. He was in deep thought, mindlessly smoothing out his mustache.
The Sixth sighed. “You don’t know her like I do, trust me when I say she doesn’t give a damn about anything else than her precious infinity or whatever. You may speak with the Shogun, but the Electro Archon is a different thing.”
Few of the Harbingers exchanged confused looks. Childe also found the statement strange.
“Which is why you are the best choice for this mission, Sixth,” the Tsaritsa concluded. “You know the land, and you know the Archon. You will be infiltrating the structures from the shadows, and the Eight will act like our diplomatic envoy to the Inazuman’s resistance movement, and to the clans of the Tri-Commission.”
Signora and Scaramouche exchanged looks. None of them looked particularly happy with the decision, and Childe – knowing how they disliked each other – didn’t know who he felt more sorry for, for having to work with the other.
“Sandrone,” Pierro spoke up again. The Seventh looked up at him with a blank stare, expectantly. “How are the developments of the Delusions going forward?”
“Smooth enough. The first batch should be ready in three months.” She got back to her small contraption before she finished talking.
The Tsaritsa nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent. With Inazuma destabilized, we might have a chance to explore the land a bit more. There are valuable materials to be collected there that we could use in further technological development.”
Dottore nodded in agreement. “The Mikage furnace on Tatarasuna should be our top priority in this respect. I am familiar with the place, but I couldn’t gather much information on its functionalities back when I was in Inazuma, years ago.”
Scaramouche clenched his jaws but didn’t say anything. Tiny sparkles of electro traveled up his arms as he clenched his hands into fists. Childe understood that the topic of Inazuma might be bringing up some unpleasant memories, but he didn’t know the Balladeer well enough to suspect anything more.
“We might also want to take a snoop around the Watatsumi island,” Columbine proposed, to the surprise of everyone. She rarely spoke up during their meetings. “There might be something there connected to Celestia and the Abyss. Not directly, but this could be useful enough for us.”
Capitano hummed. “Generally speaking, it would be good to monitor the activities of the Abyss Order in Inazuma. If the Electro Archon is as uninterested in her lands as you say, chances are that this will make them more active there than in Liyue.”
All of these plans sounded well-rehearsed and reasonable in Childe’s head, however, something bothered him about them. It looked like they didn’t take one very important thing into account – one they’d not foreseen in Mondstadt and forgotten in Liyue.
“These look very good on paper,” he finally said, and every head in the room turned to him instantly. The sudden attention was uncomfortable, but he braced himself against it. “But you’re forgetting about someone important – the Traveler. He’s already shown up in Mondstadt and Liyue, and our paths have crossed in both of these places. I suspect his going to travel to Inazuma next, and his actions might not necessarily align with ours. They haven’t, in the past.”
The silence that followed confirmed his suspicions. They did not consider the Traveler in their plans.
“Do we know anything more about him?” Arlecchino asked. That bit of information must have spiked her interest.
Childe bit his lip, trying to recall the things that Aether had told him about himself. “Only that they’re supposedly from a faraway land, and on a quest to find their lost sibling.”
“What Vision do they possess?” Scaramouche inquired.
“None,” Childe shook his head. “They seem to be able to command the elements without one.”
“That’s not an unusual feat,” Dottore inferred, waving his hand in dismissal. “Many elemental beings are capable of that.”
“That’s true,” Childe agreed. “But are there beings capable of using multiple elements at once?”
The Tsaritsa exchanged knowing looks with Pierro, as if some of their suspicions had just been confirmed by Childe. They didn’t seem disturbed by the revelations, more like they had been ready for something like this to come up sooner or later and just waited for a confirmation.
“We have heard reports about a vision-less Traveler roaming Mondstadt and Liyue, and I have expected someone like this to show up sooner or later,” Pierro admitted. “I’ve met someone familiar with that description, years and years ago.”
“The Traveler might be a threat to our mission, but doesn’t have to be. I don’t think they’d be much trouble in the quest for the Gnoses,” the Tsaritsa declared. “For now, let’s not try to get into each other’s way – we need to monitor how the events will unfold. He has a very limited knowledge of the history and nature of our world, and I highly doubt he’d align himself with Celestia once he unveils the truth. It wouldn’t be unprecedented.” Pierro nodded wistfully as she said this. “Who knows, we might earn ourselves an ally in the future. Maybe the 10th seat wouldn’t stay vacant for much longer,” she added with a glint in her eyes.
Childe took a glance at the chair in front of him, which remained empty for such a long, long time. He doubted that Aether would like to ever take the place, but… he also never thought he himself would be the one sitting by this table, too.
“Now that we have Inazuma covered,” Arlecchino spoke up. “I assume we move forward with the other plans without any alterations?”
Finally, something more interesting to him. Childe knew that the other Harbingers had other tasks assigned to them already, ones that were long in the planning and the making and spanned for years if not decades, but his own assignment finished in Liyue, and he wasn’t sure what he would be ordered to do next. Surely they wouldn’t bench him, no?
“That’s right.,” the Tsaritsa confirmed. “In the next year, we will not only focus on Inazuma.” She rested her arms on the table and clasped her hands together. “Second, you will go forward with investigating Sumeru and the affairs of the Akademiya Sages. Just an investigation, no action for now. Not until we have the Electro Gnosis. Likewise, Ninth, you will be cooperating with him in establishing a branch of the Northland Bank there.”
Pantalone and Dottore exchanged glances and nodded in unison. The Tsaritsa looked rather content with the decision.
“Fourth, you can start focusing on Fontaine more, even though it’s further down the line. Having a well-weaved spy network there is going to be crucial for us.”
“The children shall happily serve you, Your Majesty,” Arlecchino replied with a content smile.
“Good,” the Tsaritsa acknowledged. “First, we’ve recently sensed some strange Abyssal activities in the north of Mondstadt – you will be tasked with overseeing these. Natlan will have to wait, for the time being.”
Capitano nodded in silent agreement.
“Last but not least, Eleventh,” the Cryo Archon looked at Childe.
He suddenly felt a surge of anxiety as she contemplated his fate there for a second. A wave of cold rolled through his body, and a drop of sweat rolled down at the back of his neck.
“You shall stay in our Liyuean outpost, and await further orders in case something goes wrong in either Inazuma or Sumeru,” she finally spoke with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’ll need you ready for quick action at any time, to act as a backup should anything happen.”
Childe couldn’t believe his ears. He… was to stay in Liyue? Continue his comfortable life in the Harbor, bask in the Liyuean sun, and eat all the tasty snacks the land had to offer? He was free to stroll the streets of the city in the evenings, to wander out to the countryside or the mountains? He was allowed to stay with Zhong-
He bit his tongue to stop that last thought.
The Tsaritsa must have noticed that, a crease forming on her forehead. “Is everything alright?”
Childe swallowed. “Yes, your Majesty,” he assured her, although he could tell she didn’t believe him. “I was just… not expecting this.”
Other Harbingers sent him inquiring glances, but no one dared to speak up.
“Now, let’s turn to a bit less interesting topics,” Pantalone spoke up and took out a notebook from under his coat. The attention of the room shifted from Childe to whatever he was about to say, and he thanked him internally for that. “I have the yearly fiscal numbers to present.”
Childe heard Columbina’s pained whine, and although no one reacted to that, Childe knew that most of them agreed with her.
As usual, when the topic of numbers and files came up, he allowed himself to sit back and lose focus on the conversation he knew he’d probably not take anything valuable from. Now, he had to power through one of the few most boring hours of the year. Sighing, he let his eyes wander around the room in search of something interesting, trying desperately not to let his thoughts wander to the implications behind the Tsarista’s order, and to the possibilities it created for him. For them.
His heart thumped painfully against his chest as his gaze landed on the Geo Gnosis on the table, not so far away from him. It shone with a steady golden glow and was of the same color as Zhongli’s eyes. Noticing the resemblance made him feel incredibly guilty.
“That should be all for this meeting, I suppose. Thank you all for your attendance today, and I hope to see you all in the same lineup on the twelfth.”
“Oh, thank gods,” Childe muttered under his nose once the Tsaritsa gave a wave of her hand to dismiss them.
There were pleasant little cracks along his spine as he stretched on his seat, feeling absolutely delighted to finally be able to move after so many long hours of being glued to the chair. His head was spinning with all the information it was forced to take in, all these numbers and strategies and probabilities, and he didn’t even pay attention to half of the squabbling between his fellow Harbingers. His orders were plain and simple, if not a bit confusing, but he wasn’t one to disobey – unlike some of the other Harbingers, he was a soldier, after all. But at last, strange decisions of the Tsaritsa notwithstanding, he was free!
He pushed his chair back enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too much, as the wood grated against the marble under his feet. He grimaced as the unpleasant sound echoed through the chamber, and Sandrone, who was walking past the table in front of him, sent him a nearly murderous glare. To his side, Columbina simply giggled seeing her reaction and strolled away, humming to herself in a language no one knew, as she oftentimes did. She waved him goodbye before she left the room.
Childe managed to take barely two steps towards freedom when the Tsaritsa gave another order.
“Eleventh, please do stay for a moment. I need to speak with you alone.”
Childe froze on his spot and pressed his lips in a thin line.
Pulcinella, who was the last to leave, sent him a quick worried look before closing the door. He must have heard how his yesterday one-to-one meeting with her went if that horrendous blizzard was anything to go by. Hoping to not cause a similar one today, Childe turned back around to face his Archon, plastering a mild smile on his face to cover up the nervousness.
The Tsaritsa was looking at him with her usual stern gaze, but a kind of motherly worry peeked from behind it in her pale eyes. Childe always felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. When she looked at someone for too long, it was natural to feel stripped off of skin and flesh to one’s bare bones; for her to check on and observe in search of any imperfections or peculiarities. Childe had heard the stories of her petrifying, piercing gaze long before he joined the Fatui, and found them all true when the goddess’s eyes found his own for the first time, nearly a decade ago. It took him some years to realize that this look did not always convey only coldness and apprehension, that it wasn’t just a sign of indifferent arrogance - but that it often meant genuine concern and worry for her closest.
“Is your heart troubled,” she said in a soft voice. She didn’t frame it as a question.
“It’s just some family matters, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” he lied, shrugging. He knew she would see through it; even on his tongue, it tasted fake.
“That would’ve worked with your co-workers, maybe, but won’t convince a goddess of all of heart’s intricacies.” She gave him a lopsided smile and gestured for him to sit on the chair to her right, usually reserved for Pierro.
Childe sighed before following the command, slumping on the chair the moment he sat on it. So she was going to start her usual drilling, as the Harbingers endearingly called it amongst their ranks. Perfect.
The Tsaritsa reclined a bit, taking a more comfortable position, but her eyes had not left Childe’s face for a moment. The diamonds in her earrings twinkled when she shook her head slightly.
“Is a certain… funeral parlor consultant the reason for these troubles,” she said, picking a non-existent speck of dust from her pristine dress. Once again, she did not make it sound like a question.
There was a brief moment where he considered playing dumb and lying again, but then the rational part of his brain took over and he decided against the idea. She knew everything already, anyway. And she certainly knew about the entire thing more than he did, even though it was about him.
“No,” he almost groaned. “It’s a certain six millennia-old deity of a foreign nation who apparently can’t communicate.”
Saying this felt like breaking a spell that held him together the entire day. Childe slumped further down on his chair, almost feeling the moment his guarded mask slipped off his face as he gave in to the fatigue simmering below it. He took a deep breath and sighed, letting out the last ounces of strength he had.
The Tsaritsa clasped her hands together on her lap. “I suppose I owe you an apology. You and Morax, together. For yesterday,” she added seeing sheer confusion in Childe’s wide eyes.
There was no way he could conceal his surprise or stop the very undignified way in which his mouth hung open, not when it was a goddess – his own goddess at that, his queen – apologizing to a mortal. It wasn’t the first time an immortal mythical being or a deity had apologized to him, but hearing this word from her was definitely an experience.
“I- umm…” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Your Majesty, I’m sure there is nothing to forgive-“
“Of course there is,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m acutely aware of how… Of how overbearing I can oftentimes be.” The Tsaritsa gave him an apologetic smile. “I suppose that comes with age and the experience of years past. And I know that this is not an excuse whatsoever, but I guess that is just also a part of my nature as a goddess of all things heart-related. I just cannot walk past such troubling matters with indifference and leave them unaddressed.”
Childe observed the way the candlelight refracted on the crystal surface of the table, making it appear as if it was burning from within. He didn’t dare look up; not after picking up on what she was insinuating.
“And a mother just wants to see all of her children live a happy life, next to a person that is deserving of them,” she added in a tone so soft Childe almost couldn’t believe it was actually her saying this.
He glanced up hearing that softness, and on her goddess’ face saw an expression he hadn’t seen in a very long time; a complicated mix of affection and melancholy only a god could ever bear. He saw that particular emotion only once before – back when he was still sixteen or seventeen, still in the lower ranks of the military. It had been his first serious mission that he was entrusted to lead, and the first one that he had failed. It had also been the first time he had activated the Foul Legacy outside of the Abyss, years after using it, and the last time he had lost control over it.
She had found him there, undoubtedly having sensed a sudden influx of Abyssal energy on her lands. Childe still remembered how gentle the touch of her pristine hand had felt against his bloodied cheek, against all that violence that had clung to him then still. He remembered the soothing, soft cadence of her voice, so shockingly different from her usual stern and cold commanding tone.
“It’s okay,” she had said back then, kneeling in the snow and tightly hugging his shaking body. “It’s not your fault.”
Childe was sure that even if the Abyss consumed his entire mind and soul, he would never forget these words, or at least the warmth they carried, and how it mixed with the bitter taste of tears mixed with blood and Abyssal filth.
It turned out that the Tsaritsa’s care for him and her subjects ran much deeper than outsiders would have ever guessed, having only seen her cold and unyielding side of the Ice Queen, as she was oftentimes called in foreign lands. That first direct encounter with her, except for seeing her during some seasonal rituals or his own military oath, left a long-lasting impression on him, grounding his faith in her forever. He had vowed to never doubt her words or intentions, believing that she would never hurt her people, himself included.
She had never given him a reason to, so why should she do so now?
“I just…” he began, trying to find the words to convey his thoughts. “I just really don’t like it when he does that.”
“Does what exactly?”
“Gets so strangely distant. Pulls up this wall between him and other people and hides behind metaphors and stories, at the same time maybe hoping someone would get through it,” he let out in an outburst that surprised even him. “I feel like sometimes he hopes I can read his mind, and that I know exactly what he means even though he gives me no clues to understand any of that,” Childe added almost angrily, hands playing with the fringe of his red scarf.
The goddess tipped his head to the side as if she caught something interesting from between his words. “And when does it happen?”
Childe immediately opened his mouth to say that he did it all the time, but… did he, really? He promptly closed them and furrowed his brow in thought.
Zhongli spoke a lot. And by a lot, Childe meant really, really a lot. It was interesting to him because back when they had barely known each other and their relationship was still on more formal terms, Zhongli was not really that talkative on his own. He would always explain anything he’d found confusing or answer all of his questions, but it took time before his answers turned from encyclopedic entries to personalized stories into which he always managed to slip a part of himself – his own story or views specific matters. It didn’t happen overnight; Zhongli did not unwrap himself easily, and Childe had to be patient with that, maybe, in some way, he had to earn that privilege of getting to know him, oftentimes by offering him pieces of his soul in exchange.
So no, Zhongli was usually very open with him, as far as the majority of topics went. Only when Childe asked about something too personal to him that touched his deeply hidden emotions would he take a cautious step back and start talking in riddles instead – like that one time Childe had asked him about Guizhong. Zhongli did tell him the tale in the end, much later, but Childe still remembered the guarded expression that clouded his face when he had first breached the topic.
“He’s usually very straightforward, in a polite way of course,” he explained in the end, searching for words to correctly convey his thoughts. “But the problem begins when it comes to his own emotions, I suppose. It’s like he has trouble speaking about them.”
The Tsaritsa hummed, nodding her head slowly. She reclined on her chair and folded her arms on her chest; a surprisingly casual gesture.
“That does sound much like him,” she muttered. “Morax is very old and very wise, much older and wiser than he lets on, but the history and wisdom he carries are oftentimes more of a burden to him than a blessing. I am much younger than him so I cannot speak with full confidence, but I don’t think all of his past experiences wouldn’t have had any impact on how he behaves in situations like these. He had to build up a fortress around himself, had to become one, even; a fortress of stone which he commands. It’s natural for a fortress like this to be impenetrable.”
Childe weighted her words in his head. That sounded so unfair, to him. “That doesn’t justify him, you know,” he noted with a tinge of reproach in his voice. “That doesn’t mean he has a free pass for leading me on and hiding things from me.”
“No, of course not,” the goddess agreed. “I’m just trying to say that it’s understandable why it might be difficult for him.”
“What? Being sincere?”
“Being vulnerable.”
Of course, that made sense to him. He could see why that would be a problem to Zhongli, for whom for many, many years vulnerability could’ve meant easy demise. His anger lessened a bit, and he could get that, he really could but the sting of betrayal from someone that he considered so close to him had lodged itself too deeply in his heart to be plucked out this easily. Even if he wished for it to be so.
“Okay, so… how do I do that?” he asked, looking the Tsaritsa in her eyes, searching for help. “How do I get him to be vulnerable?”
The goddess gave him a warm smile and took one of his hands into hers. Her touch was warm, very warm – not many people would suppose it to be. Childe found comfort in it. He felt it drain some of the tension out of his shoulders.
“There is no other way than to have a sincere conversation,” she proposed wistfully. She then gave his fingers a light squeeze. “He has a heart made of quite a sturdy rock, but water will always find a way. Even through the hardest of stones.”
She always made that allusion to his Hydro powers, whenever an obstacle fell on his track - she always made sure to remind him of his resilience, like a doting mother would. Childe was skeptical about it this time because although he knew he could be incessant enough to tire even Zhongli out, he doubted that this case was like any other. He had a strange feeling this was something much personal to the old Archon, and it bothered him all the more considering that it seemed that he was deeply, deeply involved in whatever that thing was, considering all the looks and comments he’d gotten over the time, even from the Tsaritsa herself. It daunted him that he was seemingly the only one who didn’t know anything - something was definitely slipping out of the reach of his fingers.
He looked up from his hands to look at his goddess, who was still smiling at him, waiting for what he had to say next.
Right. She knows more than him. Childe decided to try and pull her tongue a bit.
“I’m always thankful for your faith in me,” he thanked her, returning the smile. A crease between her eyebrows told him she noticed his hesitance. “But still don’t even have the slightest idea what all of this is about. I don’t know what he’s hiding from me even though I’m clearly included?”
The goddess blinked a few times. Childe started to worry something was happening to her.
“What do you mean, Tartaglia? What do you mean you don’t know?”
She sounded a bit like she had yesterday during their private meeting, right before she brewed up a blizzard. Childe winced hearing that note in her voice, but he was also, quite frankly, done with explaining it and wandering in the fog all the time.
“That I simply don’t know. I’ve already said so yesterday – that I didn’t have the slightest idea about what you were talking about. Everyone seems to know something – I keep getting these strange… glances, and I keep hearing comments that allude to something about me and Zhongli and I don’t know what all of these mean!”
He heaved a breath, not realizing how heated his words became. The confused look on the Tsaritsa’s face made him feel incredibly exasperated, all of a sudden.
“Everyone throws these strange remarks whenever Zhongli and I are mentioned anywhere, together. In a very conspiring matter, like there’s a secret everyone’s let into except for me. Even Pantalone seems to know something I don’t. Pantalone, for Celestia’s sake,” he added with a groan, “who doesn’t seem to notice the world beyond his purse.”
The Tsaritsa turned her head to look outside the tall windows of the chamber. She didn’t speak at first, and for a brief moment, the only sound breaking the silence was fire crackling in the fireplace.
“I was not aware you didn’t know anything about Zhongli’s intentions,” she finally spoke, eyes still focused on the naked branches of the trees outside. “I realized yesterday that he hasn’t made his proposal in a way that would be clear to you, but to not be aware of what stood behind his actions…”
A quiet chuckle escaped her lips, a sound that threw Childe off a bit. What was so funny to her? He squinted his eyes, a bit annoyed, ignoring for now the way the word “proposal” scratched at his brain.
“And you don’t have the slightest, tiniest idea of what everyone seems to be alluding to?”
She seemed too amused for Childe’s liking. “No,” he mumbled, again attacking the fringe of his scarf nervously.
The goddess’s eyes twinkled with amusement as her lips stretched in a very self-indulgent smile. There was a hint of a long-forgotten dimple in her cheek.
“Oh, dear,” she mused. “You really are oblivious, aren’t you?”
“To what?” Childe asked. For some reason, he suddenly felt weirdly anxious, as if he knew the answer to that question, deep inside.
“To his heart, and your own. And to the way they are so irrevocably connected.”
Her words were quiet, eerily so, but said with so much meaning and weight that Childe felt them seep into his very bones. The silver echo of divine wisdom that followed them rang in his ears. Its sound resonated with the scraps of thoughts, slivers of memories, and bits and pieces of sensations and feelings, moving them around, pushing them together like pieces of children’s jigsaw puzzles. A picture started clearing out in Childe’s mind, a picture with such a distinct shape, color, and warmth he was embarrassed not to have seen it earlier.
Suddenly, overcome by a strange need for defiance, he wanted to vehemently deny the accusations, to stand up, throw the table, and declare to the Tsaritsa that there was no way in the Abyss that her words had any ground, that he and Zhongli as an item was just an irrational vision conjured by some sick mind, that they were just amicable with each other and nothing, nothing more at all.
But before he could move a finger the vision from seconds ago reappeared before his eyes. It brought along the sound of Zhongli’s voice, the feeling of safety and peace the man’s presence always brought to him, the way his laughter never failed to make him feel so incredibly accomplished whenever he managed to be the cause of it, and the calm understanding in his eyes that he so, so rarely found in other people, and so cherished in his friendship with Zhongli. He remembered the countless dinners they’d had, all their nightly strolls through the city, their little trips to the countryside and remote regions of Liyue, and the feeling of contentment of being at the right place whenever Zhongli was nearby. He had always thought it was due to him just becoming more and more accustomed to Liyue as time passed by, but maybe… Maybe he had to re-evaluate all of it now.
He rubbed his clammy hands against his thighs, breath quickened and heart racing against his ribcage. He looked up at the Tsaritsa.
“Oh,” he whispered weakly.
The goddess laughed, and Childe couldn’t recall ever hearing her laugh like this – full, loud, and sincere with happiness.
“I wish I had one of these Fontainean Kameras to take a picture of your face right now,” she said in between bouts of laughter. “Oh my, I will never forget it.”
“S-so what are you trying to say is-“ Childe began, but the Tsaritsa was quick to interrupt him.
“I’m not saying anything more than I’ve already had,” she declared. “In fact, I believe I’ve said too much. The rest is for yourselves to figure out, together.”
Her voice was sharp and her words felt like an overdue reprimand, but her eyes still shone with contentment, at last.
“It’s getting late and we’ve done enough overtime today.” She rose from her chair, preparing to leave. On instinct, Childe stood up as well, his chair nearly falling behind him. “You should hurry home, dear,” she added. “I believe there is a conversation to be had.”
She nodded her head curtly to him in a goodbye and turned to leave the room. Stunned still, Childe observed the way her dress shimmered in the light coming from the fireplace, the soft fabric rustling with each of her steps.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she stopped in her tracks to turn around. “I hope you realize that now you’re practically required to bring him along as your guest for the Aurora Ball.”
Uh… what? What was she talking about? What Ball? Childe’s head spun, too overwhelmed with confusion.
The Tsaritsa noticed that, and rolled her eyes. “By the northern winds, did you even pay attention to anything during the meeting?”
“I- I have, but…”
She put her hands on her hips. “Dear, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood today, otherwise I’d have you perform some arduous tasks for your insubordination. Like assisting Pulcinella with the city’s books of account.”
That was obviously a joke, but Childe still involuntarily groaned at the prospect. The Tsaritsa chuckled at his reaction.
“Well, anyway, the Aurora Ball,” she spoke. “The annual Ball held in the Zapolyarny palace on the 12th day of the 12th month. Be there, with him, or I will be very, very displeased.”
She finished her sentence with a smile that held a threat behind its sweetness, and resumed her steps to leave the room.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Childe came to his senses at the last moment when she opened the door. That would’ve been very unkind of him, not to thank her.
“Silly Tartaglia,” she sighed, turning her head to him. “To be frank, I did it more for myself. It was torture seeing you both so helpless and as a Goddess of Love, I simply couldn’t bear it anymore.”
She gave him one last smile and left the room, the heavy door closing with a thud.
Childe didn’t know for how long he stood by the table, but the pale moon had climbed the peaks of the night sky before his beating heart calmed down.
The manor was dimly lit and quiet by the time he came back. Truth be told, it always was like this due to it not being much lived in, but at least during the day, one could encounter the servants working on maintaining it in good shape, despite its owner never utilizing it for anything more than just a hotel, once in a blue moon. Now, however, from the outside, it seemed that no soul traveled the empty hallways at all. Childe wondered briefly if Zhongli was still up, a pang of guilt striking inside of his chest at how he had left him all by himself for the entire day. He’d have to make up for that, too.
When he entered through the big oaken front door, dutifully stomping his feet before the entrance to shake off all the snow clinging to his boots, he was surprised to be greeted by one last remaining servant on duty that day. The older man was tending to a broken electrical candelabra in the entry hall, carefully tinkering with it with a small screwdriver. He jumped as he turned around at the sound of the door opening and saw his Harbinger walking in.
“My lord!” he squealed, almost dropping the tool from his hands. “Apologies for the lack of formal greeting, we didn’t expect you to be back before sunrise…”
“It’s alright, Danilo,” Childe reassured him, remembering the man’s name and his position as the master of the manor - one of the servants in charge. “I’m not one for boisterous welcomes.”
“Still, my lord, surely a warm one would’ve been nice. May I take your coat, sir?” he offered, extending his hand.
Childe had a hard time getting used to all the aristocratic pleasantries and privileges that had been extended to him once the Tsaritsa had formally given him the title and the rank. Splendor and wealth had been foreign to him for the majority of his life, and the world of nobles he had been not so willingly thrust into as a side effect of his speedy promotions was completely unfamiliar, and adjusting to it was one of his growing pains. Nonetheless, he didn’t protest when Danilo helped him get out of his heavy Harbinger coat.
“Has anything of note happened today while I was away?” he asked, fixing up his attire. The general’s blazer with its fancy decorations was starting to get on his nerves.
“No, nothing in particular, just the usual hustle and bustle of the manor’s upkeep.”
“What about my-,” he coughed when his voice faltered for some reason. “What about my guest?”
Danilo’s eyes glinted at the question.
“Ah, young lord’s guest…” the man mused, scratching his chin. There was a similar tinge in his voice that Childe recognized as the very same that the Tsaritsa’s words were oftentimes laced with. “As instructed, we’ve offered him our help in regards to anything that he might need, but he was extremely polite and asked only for the basic necessities.”
Childe shook his head. Of course, Zhongli would do everything not to impose.
“Has he eaten dinner already?”
“No, not yet, as far as I am aware,” Danilo replied, vaguely amused. “Although I do remember that he hasn’t eaten much today. In fact, he hasn’t even left his room at all if I’m not mistaken.”
Entire day cooped up inside of his rooms? That slightly worried him. He needed to check on Zhongli as soon as possible.
Danilo must’ve noticed the concern on Childe’s face but decided not to comment on it with anything more than another smile, with which he handed him his coat once the Harbinger hastily extended his hand towards him.
“I’ll be around should you need my assistance, my lord,” the man supplied, bowing his head.
“Thank you so much, Danilo. Please bring some leftovers of whatever you’ve had for dinner today to my room. I’m starving,” he added above his shoulder as he was ascending the stairs hastily.
“Would goulash be alright?” The servant had to raise his voice for Childe to hear him from atop the stairs.
Childe’s stomach squeezed. “Tsaritsa be praised!” he shouted back as he disappeared into the shadowy corridors of the second floor of the manor.
His hands suddenly felt sweaty when he saw the door leading to Zhongli’s room. A lot awaited him behind the thick, dark wood, and Childe wasn’t quite sure if he was ready for it. The things that the Tsaritsa had told him earlier still whirred chaotically in his head; it was too soon for such revelations to sink in, but the universe wouldn’t be so kind to bless him with the time to process everything. He braced himself before reaching for the door, swallowing his anxiety down and wiping his hands against his thighs. He took a deep breath and knocked.
No answer came from the inside.
Childe strained his hearing, trying to focus on any sounds coming from the room, but he couldn’t catch anything. After a few heartbeats he knocked again, more incessantly this time, but it still produced no effects.
He chewed his bottom lip with worry. What if something happened to Zhongli? His manor was probably one of the safer places for him to be in, but what if something did happen? Maybe one of Dottore’s clones snuck in while he was away, maybe Pierro did something… He shook his head. Now was not the time to get paranoid, yet.
“Zhongli?” he asked the door. “Zhongli?” he repeated when nothing moved on the other side.
Childe took a deep breath. Maybe Zhongli was just sleeping? It would’ve been unlikely since it wasn’t that late and he knew Zhongli’s routine, but…
“Zhongli, if you’re not going to answer, I’m coming in in ten seconds,” he warned.
He held the air in his lungs as he counted, and then, when he still couldn’t hear any reply, gently and quietly pushed the door handle and entered the room.
The first thing that he felt was the nearly overwhelming punch of warmth that hit him. The room’s temperature was almost like in a greenhouse, and Childe felt sweat beading on his forehead instantly. The heavy curtains on the tall windows were shut tightly, which made the room feel smaller than it really was and a bit claustrophobic in spite of its high ceiling and moderate spaciousness. Childe looked around and saw no traces of Zhongli’s presence except for the dishes and barely-touched food on the gilded table. He took a few careful steps forward, his boots quietly clicking against the wooden floors, before a quiet, shuffling sound grabbed his attention. He whipped his head in its direction, so fast his vision swam before his eyes, and noticed a bundle of blankets piled on the couch that stood in front of the fireplace. A few steps towards it later he noticed that there was a very real person underneath the blankets.
Zhongli must have fallen asleep while reading, Childe concluded when he noticed an open book lying on his chest, rising steadily in rhythm with his deep, calm breaths. The hand that held it before the sleep claimed him fell slack off of the couch, almost touching the ground, pulling at the hem of the blanket and slipping the warm fabric off the god's torso. Zhongli was wearing his usual daytime clothes, save for the coat and tie, and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone for more comfort. His face was calm and the usual crease between his eyes was smoothed out by the deep sleep he was in. Brown silken strands, usually so carefully arranged were now running down the pillow in a playful mess.
Childe’s chest filled with liquid warmth at the sight, at the coziness of the picture right before his eyes, and he forgot he was supposed to be mad at Zhongli. He smiled to himself as he slowly kneeled next to the couch and gently picked up the book, careful not to stir the god awake. He took a quick look at the cover and was surprised to see it not being in Liyuean – A Winter’s Embrace; A Guide to the Nuptial Customs of the North, read the gilded letters. Childe felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. Surely that was a coincidence, right? Perhaps that was just a topic of Zhongli’s academic curiosity, nothing more. He promptly put the book down on the table behind him, at a safe distance from his eyes, strangely feeling as if he intruded on something.
Zhongli’s hand twitched on the ground next to him. Childe focused his attention back at him, seeing with relief that he did not wake up yet. His brows were furrowed in a sign of some discomfort, and his body shook with slight tremors. The Harbinger felt puzzled for a bit before he realized that the god was shivering. Panic-stricken, he quickly grabbed the blanket and gently tucked Zhongli in, bringing its hem up under his chin and patting it lightly to make sure it snug well. Calmness returned when the god’s grimace smoothed out and his shivers subsided.
But why was he even shivering? In a room so warm, next to a roaring fire? Was he having a fever? He was sick, wasn’t he? Gods, he told Zhongli that this entire trip was a bad idea and now he got sick on his second day on Sneznyan soil!
Taking a breath, Childe reached out with his hand to check Zhongli’s temperature on his forehead. He hissed when his fingers touched his skin, not from the scalding heat he expected to encounter, but from the ice-coldness he felt. That was not the temperature of a person with flu, definitely. He wasn’t even sure if it was the temperature of any living human being, which was a silly thought considering that Zhongli was probably far from human, really, physiology-wise.
Another thing that attracted his attention and distracted him a bit was the absolute softness of Zhongli’s skin. It felt like the finest silk under the calloused pads of his fingers, and he marveled at the feeling of smoothness as he allowed himself to lightly trace the lines of the sleeping god’s face. Enchanted, he observed the way the porcelain skin seemed to glow under the flickering light of the fire burning in the fireplace, which made the shadows of Zhongli’s long lashes dance on his cheeks. Not for the first time, breathlessly, he thought that the god was one of the most beautiful beings he had ever seen, in every sense of the word.
He wasn’t sure how long was he staring before he noticed a pair of golden eyes looking at him from beneath the half-opened lids.
“Oh,” he choked out, quickly retracting his hand as if Zhongli’s skin burned him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…” He took a shaky breath when the god did not move an inch, eyes still boring into him. “You have really soft skin,” he added sheepishly and instantly bit the inside of his cheek once the words slipped out of his lips. What the heck was that?
Zhongli blinked a few times. “Um, thank you?” he said, and wow, his sleepy voice was a novelty to Childe. A rather welcome one. “What time is it?”
“The clock hasn’t yet struck eleven in the evening,” Childe replied. “I’ve just come back from the Zapolyarny Palace.”
That seemed to shock him quite a bit. “Eleven?” he asked, rising on his elbows. “Seems like my short nap was not so short, after all.”
“When have you fallen asleep then?”
“Two in the afternoon if I recall correctly.”
It was Childe’s time to be shocked. “Zhongli, that’s… that’s almost nine hours of sleep, on top of the last night.”
“That is probably just the exhaustion from the journey taking its toll on me,” the god explained, giving Childe a reassuring smile, no doubt seeing the concern on the other’s face.
“Zhongli, you’ve slept almost the entire day and you would probably still be sleeping if I didn’t wake you up. This room feels like an oven right now, you were covered by the thickest blanket of Snezhnayan wool, and yet you were still shaking in your sleep. Your skin is as cold as ice to the touch,” Childe pressed. “Surely that’s not just exhaustion. Something’s going on, and I think it’s been going on since we’ve left Liyue.”
The god sighed, turning his head away. “My adeptal nature needs time readjusting to these foreign conditions, that is all. I am feeling a bit out of place here, and so do my powers, but I assure you, this is not a deadly condition. I have been through this before, I know how to get through that. I just need to rest a bit.”
Childe did not feel completely convinced, but Zhongli telling him he had experienced it before did reassure him a little.
“Promise me you’ll tell me if it gets worse,” he asked quietly. “I worry about you.”
Zhongli’s eyes flashed at the words with an unnamed emotion. He swallowed. “You do not have to concern yourself with me,” he all but murmured, pink dusting his cheeks.
Childe chuckled. “As if I could just stop.”
They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment, the crackling of the fire behind them the only sound breaking the silence. There seemed to be a thread of understanding forming between them, connecting them with words that had not been shared yet. As Chile took in Zhongli’s disheveled state, his messy hair, sleepy face, and eyes full of surprise at his statement he felt the last remaining traces of the previous day’s apprehension dissipate in the warmth running through his veins.
“I had a conversation with the Tsaritsa today,” he finally said, breaking himself out of the spell.
Zhongli seemed like he didn’t understand his words at first. It took him a few seconds to connect the dots. “Oh,” he said, his mouth opened in surprise forming an adorable O. “That must have been an… interesting conversation.”
Childe leaned against the couch, supporting his head with his hand. “That’s definitely one way to put it.”
The god took a sudden interest in the hem of the blanket, brushing it between his fingers. “Ajax, I am incredibly sorry for how all of this unfolded,” he started. “I feel foolish for acting in a way that causes me to apologize to you so many times, I should not-“
“It’s okay, Zhongli,” Childe interrupted him, shaking his head, and he really meant it. “It was just a miscommunication that spiraled a bit out of control a little too fast. I also shouldn’t have assumed the worst,” he admitted.
Looking back now, he had gone a bit too ahead of himself in thinking Zhongli betrayed him again. Yes, he had experiences supporting this claim, but he shouldn’t have instantly assumed that at every bump on the road. They’d agreed to trust each other – he shouldn’t let his insecurities get the better of him. Although he could’ve been clearer with his thoughts, Zhongli was not responsible for Childe’s reaction.
There was still a lot for him to unpack from the conversation with the Tsaritsa, a lot to talk about with Zhongli – lots of discussing and lots of explaining – but for now, he could accept that state of the matter as it was. A truce.
Zhongli sighed then, hiding his face in his hands. “I wish it was not so difficult for me.”
The exhaustion in his voice pulled at a string in Childe’s heart. He reached out, gently taking Zhongli’s hand into his own and dragging it away from his face, revealing a tired-looking god with tormented eyes. This must have also taken its toll on Zhongli, too. The thought struck him.
“We’ve got time to get through this,” he reassured him. “We don’t have to dive into this all at once right now. I need some time alone with my thoughts, and I’m sure you do too, but there is no rush.”
That seemed to ease Zhongli a little. He allowed himself a chuckle. “That is my quote if I am not mistaken.”
“I must’ve been spending too much time with you then,” Childe joked.
“Certainly not, it is never too much,” the god protested at once. “Never enough.”
That last part seemed to slip out of Zhongli against his will, judging by the embarrassed look on his face that followed the confession.
Zhongli stifled a yawn, and Childe noticed he’d been fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Okay, looks like someone needs more healing sleep. But maybe in bed and not on the couch,” he said, reluctantly letting go of Zhongli’s hands and standing up. “I’m exhausted too after this day, I feel like I could sleep two days straight.”
“How did the meeting go? I have not even asked you, pardon my manners,” Zhongli said, hiding another yawn behind his hands.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow over breakfast,” he said. “I do have good news and bad for you.”
“Huh?” Zhongli cocked his head.
“Well, the bad news is that you’ll have to deal with a Harbinger roaming your lands for at least another year,” he sighed theatrically. “But the good – that Harbinger is yours truly.”
Zhongli’s perplexity turned into amusement that burst with a loud and free laugh, so rare for him and different from his usual reserved chuckle did something to Childe.
“Goodnight, Zhongli,” he said, retreating. “See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Ajax,” the god replied, and Childe could swear his eyes glowed. “Sleep well.”
Childe did sleep well that night, once he managed to fall asleep. It was a fairly difficult task to achieve when all he could think about was the sound of Zhongli’s laugh and the softness of his skin.
Miles away from the manor, in a room lit only by the light of a single candle, the Tsaritsa put down her cup of mulled wine with a satisfied smile.
Notes:
Hello hello hellooooo.
So first of all - I am sorry for making you wait so long for this chapter. It seems like we've encountered some storms on the sea which my little life boat sails, but we're continuing to survive whatever waves it throws at us :) Secondly, work has been extremely hectic.
Lastly, and probably most importantly, that chapter is HUGE. It was so difficult to write, not only due to its sheer size, but I also had to juggle so many characters in it and make everyone included in the narrative. Massive scenes in here, I tell you, maaaassive. Looking at my drafts for the next chapters, I don't think we will have any even remotely close in length to it, lol. I do hope you've liked it! Maybe you've caught some foreshadowing that I've sprinkled it with, too. Heh. I'm also sorry for any grammar mistakes but I just can't keep looking at these words anymore skdfjskfj And yes, the Harbingers might feel a bit OOC but I've only had a handful of material to craft from.
Small announcement too - I'm planning on uploading a christmas-y zhongchili short fic for, well, Christmas. So if you're interested then do stick around! It's a story I started writing like two years ago but never managed to finish, silly and fluffy and sweet.
Oh, and I'd also like to thank everyone who have left their comments on my works - not just this one. They we're truly helping me during these trying times :) You might not realize it, but sometimes your comments make pushing through and dealing with stuff easier for me, a lot easier.
Onwards to catching up on 4.1 and 4.2 archon quests!!!
Thank you for reading and see y'all soon <3As always, you can catch me on Twitter, although I havent been very active there lately! Trying to not get too many AQ spoilers because I'm wayyyy behind.
Chapter Text
On the surface, not much has changed in their dynamic, compared to the pre-miscommunication period, as Childe came around to call the entire “thing” that had recently transpired between them. Their conversations were just as smooth and entertaining, Zhongli was just as patient and indulging in all of his questions, and Childe was just as insufferable, sometimes. They fell back into their rhythm flawlessly, as if they had never fallen out of it in the first place, not even for a heartbeat. Everything was good. Great, even.
Except for one thing – the strange pull of tension between them.
At first, it crept up upon him almost unnoticeably - in the way Zhongli’s lips formed his smile in just a tad different way when he looked at Childe, or in the way Childe felt the need to let his eyes linger on Zhongli for just a fraction of second longer than usual. Then, it kept rooting itself in other small, very minor things that Childe wouldn’t normally notice. Like the slightly higher temperature of his blush when Zhongli complimented or teased him about something, or the strange giddiness under his skin whenever the Archon passed close to him, or how Zhongli’s voice gained some new depth in his ears. Not to mention how now his occasional realizations of the god’s beauty did not just stop at what he saw, but continued way, way further into his imagination, accompanied by his thumping heart.
The most interesting part of that was that Childe wasn’t honestly quite sure if it was a novelty, or if it had always been this way and that he just was too dumb to realize that maybe it wasn’t a normal “friends-close-associates” thing to think of your companion’s pretty eyes or feel something squirming in your stomach at his attention – something he now recognized as the famed butterflies.
And it was good. It was enticing, daring, and cute. It was a bit scary, too, but so, so exciting.
It was also, fairly speaking, almost unbearably awkward.
It started slowly.
When they were about to meet on the day following their reconciliation, for a breakfast in one of the smaller “living rooms,” as Childe called it (he didn’t know the names for all the fancy chambers his manor had, so he settled on calling the majority of them living rooms), he couldn’t contain the peculiar giddiness. When he woke up early for his daily dose of exercises, the servants asked him what they should prepare to eat, and Childe thought that Zhongli’s first proper Snezhnayan breakfast should be something traditional, something from his own home – so he asked them to prepare his mom’s famed buttermilk pancakes and serve them with assortments of different types of jam and honey. He himself has settled for coffee to drink but ordered a fresh pot of tea to be prepared for the god.
Childe was contemplating on which words to choose to greet Zhongli with when the man in question entered the room and all of Childe’s thoughts suddenly vanished.
The god was clad in his usual browns and golds, although in a cut much more suitable for colder days. but no less elegant. His overcoat was longer and looked more like a robe than an actual coat, buttoned up on the left side up to the neck and lined with a thin layer of fur (still not enough for the biting frost of the North, but certainly warmer than what would suffice for the Liyuean climate). It was something that Childe used to see amongst the nobles of Liyue in colder months, but much more refined and elegant, with a golden dragon weaved on the torso and around his right arm, and a sash wrapped around the waistline. It made Zhongli look a bit taller, a bit bigger, a bit more royal – even though he already was all those things. A casual statement piece, befitting someone the rank of a god.
Zhongli smiled at him as he approached the table – a warm, gentle smile, same as usual. “Hello,” he said, and his voice was also unchanged.
He was all the same. Childe, however, felt like he couldn’t breathe for a second. “Hi,” he replied awkwardly, his voice almost breaking.
Zhongli quirked an eyebrow at him but opted not to comment any further on the matter, other than with another smile. He looked at the table in front of him and at all of the freshly fried pancakes still steaming off their heat. “Sweet breakfasts are a rarity in Liyue,” he noted as he sat down at the seat opposite of Childe’s.
The Harbinger nodded his head. “Breakfasts in Snezhnaya can vary greatly. It’s supposed to be a simple but filling meal that prepares you for a day of hard, manual labour. And they don’t have to be always sweet, this is just how we usually ate at my family home, as my mom made it” he admitted. “I thought you might… want to experience that for yourself.”
Childe felt the tips of his ears burn when Zhongli’s golden gaze landed on him. Gosh, why was he suddenly so embarrassed?
The god regarded him for a short moment before reaching out for a cup of tea. “I will always be grateful for whatever part of yourself you choose to share with me, including the traditions of your culture and your household. In fact, I am positively thrilled at the prospect, even if something might be an absolute novelty” he added with a smile.
Childe cleared his throat. “Yes, so, these are sort of buttermilk pancakes that my mom used to make me and my siblings for breakfast,” he explained. “There were eight of us, me and my siblings, and my parents too… so it was easier to just make one big bowl of dough and go along with it.”
Memories of times so different and distant that they seemed to be from another life came at him like a flood. So much that he had cherished, so much that he had lost in the Abyss.
“You were one of eight children?” Zhongli asked, genuinely surprised. “Pardon me if I missed anything, but I believe you ever only mentioned your three younger siblings to me.”
“I have four older as well. Two brothers and two sisters,” he explained, and his face involuntary twisted in a grimace. “I don’t have the best relationship with them, not after… you know. I suppose you could say we’re estranged, a bit.”
The god nodded in understanding. “A very common Liyuean belief states that so many children in a marriage must mean it is a happy one.”
Childe was thankful for that smooth diversion of the topic. “Oh yes, they love each other very much. Things weren’t always easy for us, not in this climate and not with this many kids in the house, but they’ve always supported each other. And they always took the utmost care of their children.”
That was true – he couldn’t deny that. Even though he used to hold a bit of resentment towards them for how they handled his return from the Abyss.
Zhongli gave him a curious look but did not pry into the things Childe was not ready to discuss with him yet. “I would like to meet your family one day,” he admitted. “I am still saddened that I did not get to meet Teucer when he came over to visit you.”
Oh, Zhongli in his family home, surrounded by his big family fussing over him, sipping tea in their living room and patiently answering all of Anthon’s weird questions about the diet of people in Liyue? That was an enticing vision. And a very warm one, to that.
“I’d love to introduce you,” Childe confessed, truthfully. “But I’m afraid we won’t have time to make a visit. Morepesok is far away from the capital, and a journey in winter is almost impossible because you have to travel through the mountains to get there. With so much snow piling up there at this time of the year, they’re impassable.”
The god seemed a bit unhappy with that notion. “Well, considering that you are going to go back to Liyue, maybe you will be able to invite them over?”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Childe admitted. “But will the old harbour withstand more than one member of my family?”
Zhongli shot him a piercing look from above his teacup. “As long as awakening corrupted ancient gods does not run in the bloodline, I believe we will be alright.”
Childe snorted a laugh, and Zhongli smiled into his tea. He put down the cup and leaned over the table to take a look at the pancakes in front of him. “What should I eat it with? Any specific recommendations?” the god asked.
“Actually, with whatever you like. There’s honey and raspberry jam here, and plum jam too, and I think this is blackcurrant one over here? It’s a bit sour, though, so be aware,” Childe warned him. “Generally speaking, these specific pancakes can be eaten with anything and can be served sweet and savoury. I’ve heard of some Snezhnayans enjoying them with a paste made of smoked fish, for example, but my mom always makes them sweet.”
Zhongli grabbed the fork next to his plate, and Childe realized that it was the first time seeing the man use utensils different than chopsticks or a spoon. Obviously, he was aware that throughout his long life, Zhongli had probably learned to eat with all kinds of utensils that existed, ever, but still – it was a peculiar sight, and Childe wasn’t even sure why it had struck him so.
At that precise moment, when he finished that thought, the fork slipped away from Zhongli’s long fingers and clattered against the smooth table with an ungraceful twang.
Both men seemed to be just as surprised by it.
“Wow,” Childe said, breaking the silence. “Looks like I’m not the only one here that needs some practice with their utensils.”
Zhongli didn’t react to his little jab at first, and only stared at his hand, slowly flexing his fingers in mild stupefaction.
“Next time when we dine in Liyue,” Zhongli said calmly, giving Childe a side-eye. “I will have you train your chopsticks skills by pick each grain of rice separately from your bowl.”
Childe couldn’t help but simply offer a wide smile in reply, knowing that he had won this one.
With a slight tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks, the god picked up the fork again and reached out for one of the plates, carefully taking a few pancakes onto his own. He then spread some raspberry jam on each, and gracefully cut a piece to take a bite, holding the knife with all the elegance and precision in the world. He hummed as he swallowed the bite and promptly cut another one.
“This is very good, Ajax,” he said. “The dough is incredibly fluffy and not too sweet, so one does not get overwhelmed when eating it with jam. Am I sensing some salt here? If so, then I must say, the addition was a smart move, as the tastes balance themselves very well on the palate.”
Childe let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Wow, was this some kind of a test for Zhongli? “Yes, in my mom’s recipe, you actually don’t add too much sugar into the dough for the very same reason. Just some salt and some sugar, that’s all,” he explained.
“Greatness lies within simplicity,” the god concluded, smiling in a way that caused Childe to feel a funny squeeze in his chest.
The Harbinger returned it, and reached out to get himself some of the pancakes too, as his stomach grumbled in displeasure for having been ignored in favour of the heart.
Later during the day, Childe took Zhongli for a trip around his estate.
It was so strange to have the roles reversed – for him to be the one explaining the meaning of painting, sculptures, and tapestries, and for Zhongli to be on the receiving end and asking questions that he usually asked. Strange, but not in a bad way – Childe was really thrilled to unveil Snezhnaya for the Archon, to tell him all the tales that he would like to hear, and to indulge his never-ending curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Of course, he was aware that Zhongli already knew a great number of things about his homeland – he had probably read a thousand books on the matter, spoken with many Snezhnayans, and visited the country in the past – but he hoped that maybe he would be able to share some parts of it that no popular books described, especially in regards to their folklore and myths and regional traditions from Morepesok which the scholars never gave much attention too.
The trip took them a better portion of the afternoon, and when Childe had to excuse himself after dinner to check on some of the military reports from his soldiers and Northland Bank’s documents delivered to him by Pantalone’s men, he did so with a strange feeling of relief (his detest towards paperwork notwithstanding). He loved, loved spending his time with Zhongli, and was absolutely elated with their conversations, but the longer he had his whole undivided attention, the more he felt like he couldn’t bear it anymore. It was just so brain-crushing and skin-tingling and heart-gripping, and he enjoyed it, but it was accompanied by such an irritating feeling, like an itch he couldn’t scratch – or was too afraid to do so because he didn’t quite understand the nature of said itch and could not foresee the consequences of giving in.
The Tsaritsa’s words from yesterday kept echoing in his mind, buzzed in his ear like an annoying fly that wouldn’t let him rest. To his heart, and your own. And to the way they are so irrevocably connected.
When he retired for the night to his chambers, he was thankful that the day was over and that tomorrow he had some duties to attend to in the Northland Bank’s offices and the military headquarters. That would give him some space, some fresh air, some time to clear his head and decide just… what to do next.
As he put his head on his pillow, he couldn’t believe he was excited at the prospect of doing some actual, boring work.
He was woken up an hour before dawn by the howling of the wind dancing outside in what appeared to be the biggest snowstorm of the season.
There was no way he could travel to the city in this weather.
He was stranded. With Zhongli in his house.
He wanted to scream.
On the third day of the unrelenting snowstorm and being cooped up with Zhongli in confined spaces, Childe couldn’t take it any longer. He couldn’t stand the constant itch under his skin, the hyperawareness for anything Zhongli-related, and the overwhelming urge to just reach out was getting too much. Even when sitting in his library, casually enjoying his evening, he was too restless, too distracted to focus on anything other than the low murmur of Zhongli’s voice when he asked him about something when he was too engrossed in his reading, on the way the light of the fireplace made his skin look like honey or the way his fingers smoothed out the next page of the book before reading it. Zhongli had read half a tome of some legal treaties of Sumeru, but Childe couldn’t manage to read a single page on that day.
He was slowly going mad. Absolutely mad.
Thankfully, there was a remedy for it. When he was going mad, there was always only one solution to the problem – a fight.
So on the afternoon of the third day of his confinement in the manor, Childe set his course for one of his favourite places in his estate – the armoury, and the adjacent training arena. Here, he could let go and rework his restlessness into the sweet ache of his muscles. He could let his thoughts soak into the sweat streaming down his back, and allow for the trained clear instincts and precise movements of a warrior to take over his mind, pushing away all of the entangled thoughts and emotions.
This was peace, he thought as he took another swing of his twin blades at one of the Fontainean mechs that he managed to bring here to train with (and that Sandrone had so begrudgingly modified for him to install more movement patterns and better attack predictions modules). Water droplets sprayed in the air around him when the mech parried the blow, dashing away with the stiff grace of a machine.
It was peace, but also, it wasn’t quite enough, he thought with a grimace as the blow didn’t strike as it should. With a click of a button on the steering bracelet, Childe put the robot into sleep mode as he took off his jacket, leaving only his maroon shirt on, and threw it somewhere behind him. He wrapped up his sleeves up to his elbows and tested the ease of his movements, flexing his arms around. Satisfied, he called upon his Vision again, this time summoning a spear instead of his usual twin blades of choice.
Feeling the water thrumming in the weapon in his hand, he activated the mech again. The machine’s eye lit up, flashing orange and red, and immediately attacked.
Childe blocked the first strike with ease, pushing the mech’s blades back and making half a twirl before attacking his leg with a clean slice. The tipof his weapon grazed the hardened metal, adding a silver scratch to the collection so artfully created there already. The mech did not like that, puffing out a cloud of steam from its engine, launching at Childe with twice the ferocity, aiming for his neck.
The Harbinger smiled, feeling a fresh rush of adrenaline burning through his veins, pumping from his heart, down to his arms and legs, to the tips of his fingers and toes, electrifying everything on its way. He waited for the blades to get close enough to him so that he could make out the scratches of past trainings on them, so that he could feel the corresponding blow of air thread through his hair like a lover’s caressing fingers. With a laugh bubbling up in his throat, he dispersed his weapon for a moment and dashed down between the mech’s legs, milliseconds before its weapons could shorten him off his head. No sane man would ever dance with danger like this, but Childe has never considered himself sane. Not when it came to fighting, anyway.
Gosh. That was good, but he needed more.
A thin layer of Hydro that he created underneath the robot for that slide allowed him to smoothly slip away from yet another powerful and aimed strike that, thankfully, hit the floor instead of his torso. Taking advantage of the mech’s confusion, Childe quickly turned around on the slippery surface, and with a flick of his wrist, he retracted the Hydro from beneath his feet for better friction. He braced his legs, tightening the muscles of his thighs, and jumped forward at the same time as his spear re-materialized itself in his hand from thin air.
The mech, undoubtedly having calculated Childe’s path and velocity with his sensors, backed away to the left with a protective swing of his bladed appendages, trusting the mathematical probability of a hit or miss. The weapon wasn’t even close, and Childe grimaced seeing the mech’s fatal error. He will have to speak with Sandrone to have the robot’s pathing module recalculated because come on. A dissatisfied grunt accompanied his next lunge at the machine as he tried to force it to mix up its attack pattern with a direct and precise hit into its vulnerable areas. The lens in the mech’s eyes contracted as it zeroed in on the Harbinger closing in on it, and the robot attempted to shield itself with his limbs. It was not enough – Childes’s blade slipped between the makeshift protection and lodged itself under its mechanical chin. The light in the mech’s eye blinked twice before it went off.
Heaving from the intense exercise, Childe dismissed his weapon and watched as the heavy machine fell down lifelessly, thumping loudly and disgracefully. He grimaced, tasting the familiar bitter dissatisfaction of a fight that ended too early, way too early, before he could loose himself in it wholly. He was now too stimulated and restless with all the adrenaline ablaze in his blood, and there was no way for him to dispose of it because that was the last functioning mech in the estate.
“Ah, fuck!” he shouted, and in an influx of pure fury, kicked the broken contraption laying below him to teach it a lesson.
He immediately regretted it as pain shot up his big toe the second his foot made contact with the mech. Right. Enhanced steel, he remembered as he hissed through his teeth and kneeled to massage the pain away.
“I am sure it is as broken as it could be.”
Childe whipped his head around at the sound of Zhongli’s bemused voice. He stood there, tall and lean, with his arms crossed on his chest and a shadow of amusement in the corner of his mouth. The amusement bloomed into a smile as Childe stood up with a wince.
“Although, I must admit, that part before kicking the poor robot was rather impressive,” Zhongli continued. “Even if a bit… unconventional for spear fighting.”
“You don’t survive the Abyss by being conventional,” Childe replied, throwing one last frown at the broken robot before looking up at Zhongli. “How long have you been watching me?”
The god’s golden eyes were strangely scrutinizing, and teasing, which was a dangerous combination, the Harbinger realized with a tingle in his stomach. “Long enough to notice the shortcomings in your stance with a spear, your unconventionality notwithstanding.”
Childe gagged a bit. That was so unprovoked? “You came here to my home just to insult me like this?” he gasped, feigning hurt.
Zhongli huffed. “That was not an insult, I was merely stating a fact.”
“That still hurt!” Childe gripped his shirt above his chest for a more dramatic effect.
“So does your lack of formal training in Liyuean spear stances, for a… Trained professional like myself.”
Childe laughed at the humble choice of words. “That’s a very mild statement for someone who created probably half of them.”
“All of them,” Zhongli corrected him, and Childe rolled his eyes. “I merely did not want to boast.”
“A god that doesn’t want to boast, that’s a novelty.”
“I am but a simple funeral parlour consultant now. With a somewhat interesting past.”
Childe always appreciated how Zhongli treated his godhood. It was an undeniable part of his character, something that did indeed affect how he interacted with the world, but it was not his driving force, nor was it the lens through which he viewed and assessed everyone and everything around him. An immortal, powerful, almost timeless being, wise beyond the understanding of most people, but with a godhood that was not a curtain, not a wall that meant distance, but rather a current moving underneath the layer of his skin, a current of life, knowledge, and history that he so readily shared with those who asked.
Now, if Zhongli was here already… Making remarks about how unsatisfactory Childe’s traditional spear stance was… Maybe he had a chance to coax him into sharing something that he had previously always denied him.
“Oh, simple funeral parlour consultant, what shall I do now if my techniques do not meet your certainly not consultant-y standards?” Childe lamented, raising his arms in the air.
He casually walked to the open display case that stored all different types of weaponry, from claymores to daggers to javelins. He looked back at Zhongli over his shoulder, awaiting his reply.
“Study is the road to perfection,” the god eventually said, cautiously.
Childe sighed as he took two training spears from the rack, fighting back a victorious smile. “Now, if only there was someone who would be quite possibly the most excellent teacher in the world and could show me some valuable techniques.”
He offered one spear to Zhongli, and with a quickened heart observed the god’s reaction.
He didn’t take the spear at first, only offered a quizzical look back and a quirked eyebrow.
“You do owe me a spar,” Childe gleefully reminded him.
With a deep inhale, Zhongli took the weapon, his eyes not leaving the Harbinger.
“We will not spar today.”
Childe snorted. “With training weapons? Of course not.” With glee, he twirled the wooden shaft in the air and took his basic stance, giving Zhongli an expectant look. “Zhongli-xiansheng.”
It took quite a few of Childe’s quickened heartbeats for Zhongli to finish scanning his form. Like a true expert of the art that he was, he carefully assessed every rigid line of his body, and Childe felt almost naked under that meticulous stare as if Zhongli could see right through his muscles. He did it all in silence – just stood there and looked at him in a way a merchant observes any potentially good investments. Childe wanted to squirm under that gaze.
Finally, Zhongli moved, and circled Childe at a languid pace, his eyes still not leaving the Harbinger for even a fraction of a second, and it was straight-up unbearable. The tips of Childe’s nerves itched him to do something, not being able to bear the weight of it any longer, the weight of sheer anticipation.
Then, Zhongli started correcting his mistakes, and it was even worse.
“Elbow higher,” he instructed him with a steady, low voice that Childe had never heard from him, and oh wow. The god lightly touched his arm to underline his words. “Lower grip,” he tapped his hand. “Shoulders drawn back. Straight,” he touched his upper back.
This continued as Zhongli rounded him again and again. Every few steps he found some minor thing, undetectable to the human eye, that needed correction to meet his divine standards.
“Knees higher.” A tap on his outer thigh. “Back straight.” A tap on his back. “Spine long.” A tap on his hip. “Feet to the sides.” A light nudge of a spear to his ankle.
Every place that Zhongli touched burned, and Childe couldn’t focus on anything but his presence. There wasn’t anything he could do except for leaning into it. He could only follow the god with his eyes, waiting for something indeterminate, intangible.
When Zhongli was finally done, he stood in front of Childe, giving him one last long, hypnotizing gaze of his narrowed eyes. Something hard and rough touched Childe’s chin, urging him to raise his head and look straight ahead. It took him a second to realize it was Zhongli’s spear.
“Head up and eyes ahead,” the god said, taking a few steps back and assuming the same stance, perfect from the get-go after thousands of years of practice. “No Visions, no elemental or abyssal powers. Just the weapon in your hand,” he added. “Shall we go now?”
Childe snickered and immediately lunged forward, his brain a bit dizzy from the realization that he was about to cross his weapon with the Warrior God himself. Despite the suddenness of the attack, Zhongli remained unfazed and as focused as ever, with ease blocking the incoming blow and stepping to the side. It was a simple sequence of movements, not longer than a few seconds, but the grace with which Zhongli did it – undoubtedly a sign of his expertise – was enough to mesmerize anyone. Especially Childe.
Zhongli remained silent as he looked the Harbinger in the eye, slightly raising his eyebrows. So many meanings could be hidden behind that simple gesture, but Childe didn’t have the mind right then to think about it. He pointed his spear at the god and lunged forward again, feeling strangely taunted.
He lasted longer now in his attack – three exchanges before Zhongli deflected his spear like it was just an annoying fly to him. Childe groaned with frustration.
“Focus, please,” the god said, not unkindly, but rather like a teacher expecting the best from his student. “I know you can.”
Childe took a deeper, bigger breath, allowing the air to nearly burst his lungs before he exhaled. Trying to focus and calm down during a duel was like fighting against his very nature, against that part of himself that had tasted the abyss and still yearned for the traces of it in every clash of blades and every drop of blood that he drew from his enemies. It wasn’t to say that he did not think of his next steps at all, or that he was just so consumed by battle rage that he was practically blind, no. He was precise, deadly precise in fact, but ruthless and unrelenting all the same, and the clarity of his mind was that of a predator focused on his prey, not that of a calm mountain lake.
He tried striking again – measuring his steps, trying to aim for areas that lacked defence, but he soon realized that with Zhongli, such areas simply did not exist. His skills with the weapon were unlike anything Childe had ever seen, even in comparison to his own master, although their distinctive styles of fighting were completely different. He had expected Zhongli to be a masterful fighter, but this was beyond his imagination. Every movement of his arm, every change of angle, every side step was simply hypnotic and so carefully and precisely executed that there was no way he could ever hope to even counter that. And Zhongli was merely defending himself, not attacking.
Frustration zapped through his core as he clenched his teeth at another one of his attacks getting deflected. Half-subconsciously, he reached out to his Vision, calling upon his Hydro powers to aid him in the duel.
Zhongli was quick to sense that. Golden eyes immediately focused on the Vision pinned to Childe’s belt, and the change in his demeanour was instantaneous. He pushed ahead, shifting his body like a snake ready to attack, and reversed the hold on his spear, sending it forward and straight into the wooden plank floor, right in the place where Childe stood a second ago before he dodged, shocked at the sudden action. The dull tip of the spear grazed against his Vision in a not-so-subtle warning.
“I would advise against breaking the rules in a duel with the God of Contracts,” Zhongli said with a calmness that did not match the molten gold of his eyes.
For the first time ever, Childe thought of Zhongli as a little bit scary. Naturally, he grinned. “Oh come on, I just wanted to… heat you up a bit,” he joked.
“Be careful to not get burned.”
With that warning, it was Zhongli’s turn to attack, and Childe soon realized that maybe he was a bit in the wrong for trying to break the etiquette of their little training-duel. Zhongli was not as vicious as Childe in his attacks, but he was just as precise, if not more. Every single movement of his body had a purpose, nothing was thrown out in the air just for the sake of it or for making a show, which Childe admitted he was sometimes guilty of. The spear cut through the air with a distinct sound, clear and sharp, and Childe had to take a few steps back to keep blocking the storm of Zhongli’s attack. He furrowed his brows in consternation as he felt sweat drip down his forehead. The more attacks he parried, the more it became obvious to him that there was no way to break Zhongli’s resolve.
With a grunt, he pushed against another blow with double the strength he had used previously, in a last attempt to get some advantage. Zhongli did not look surprised by that, but it did mess up his pattern a tiny bit, and Childe put all of his resolve into his next attack, aiming at Zhongli’s shoulder.
The god blocked it, but the moment their weapons met his face contorted in discomfort, and he quickly let go of the shaft. The wooden spear thumped against the floor pitifully, as Zhongli staggered back, gripping his right wrist and looking at his hand in disbelief, trying to flex the fingers that didn’t want to listen to him.
Childe froze in shock, immediately shaking out of his battle mode. His own weapon joined Zhongli’s on the ground as he observed the Archon with wide eyes, feeling panic clutching at his throat.
“Oh gods, Zhongli, are you alright?” He quickly approached the god, scanning his figure for any signs of pain or wounds or anything that could cause Zhongli to react like this. The attack wasn’t even that powerful to tumble back a literal god!
“I…” Zhongli blurted out, still trying to move his fingers. He managed to tighten them into a fist, but not without a crease appearing between his brows. “It seems like my fingers do not quite want to listen to me today.”
“What do you mean?” Childe asked, gently grabbing Zhongli’s affected hand. His skin was soft and cold to the touch, like porcelain. “I swear if you tell me I have nothing to worry about I will find another ancient god in Liyue to set free.”
Zhongli laughed, but Childe wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not. “It is just a symptom of my adeptal affliction, I suppose. My body is still readjusting, so I suppose certain, uh, malfunctions are to be expected.”
“Malfunctions?!” Childe nearly screamed. “Are you telling me you’re breaking down?”
“No, nothing of the sort, I promise” Zhongli eagerly reassured him, giving the hand holding his own a kind squeeze. “The flow of my powers is a bit disrupted, and it manifests itself in different ways, including momentarily losses of motor skills, to a degree, or lowered tolerance to low temperatures.”
Childe stared at Zhongli in concern, not knowing what to do. Zhongli sighed.
“I appreciate you worrying about me,” he started, “but there is nothing for you to fret over. This is not going to kill me or cause any permanent damage. I am tougher than that.”
The explanations did not, of course, calm him down even the tiniest bit, but what could he do? He had no other sources to confirm that with, there were no Adepti in Snezhnaya, and their own native magical slash mythical creatures that existed deep in the forests and mountains varied greatly from that of Liyue. Asking the Tsaritsa would also probably not give him any answers, because firstly, as far as he was aware, she was not a mythical being, and secondly, she still had her Gnosis and probably had never experienced it being taken away. He wondered if any of the other Archons had, save for the Anemo God.
Zhongli frowned slightly. Childe realized he was staring at him the whole time without saying a word.
“I know I’ve probably said it already, but… If this keeps worsening, you must tell me. We will set out for Liyue in an hour if need be.”
The god smiled at him warmly, amber eyes crinkling in the outer corners, and Childe was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were. “Some other symptoms might appear before I stabilize, such as lowered appetite or general tiredness and sleepiness. It should not take more than a few days, and then I will be alright.”
Childe bit his lips. “Truly?”
“Truly, Ajax.”
He couldn’t do anything else but sigh and shake his head. Noticing he still held Zhongli’s hand, he gently let it go, a bit reluctantly. Zhongli was probably not too happy with it as well, judging by the thin line of his lips, but he didn’t dwell on it.
Childe cleared his throat. “Let’s go back to the manor. Enough training for the day, my training dummy is broken anyway.”
Zhongli straightened up. “Ouch?”
The realization took Childe a longer moment. “Oh no, no, I meant the robot, not… not you, obviously,” he began explaining, shame burning up his cheeks. “I didn’t mean-“
The god laughed, and it made Childe feel even more ashamed. As much as he knew Zhongli’s mannerisms and habits, his sense of humour tended to surprise him often, still.
“You’re a cruel god, you know,” he muttered, picking up the weapons and turning to put them back in their place at the rack.
“I disagree,” Zhongli proclaimed, amused, putting his hands behind his back. “For some reason, teasing the mighty Eleventh Harbinger like that is strangely satisfying. Although if I do overstep a boundary, be sure to tell me right away,” he added with a serious expression.
“No, it’s… alright,” Childe said with his back turned against Zhongli, not wanting him to see his face reddening even further.
He wouldn’t admit it, but being teased like that made him feel some kind of way too - not necessarily a negative way. He had guessed it was also a part of their game of push and pull. He ran his hand through his hair as if he was trying to sweep the thoughts away.
“You still owe me that spar, by the way,” he reminded the god as he walked past him towards the exit door to the corridor that connected the training hall with the rest of the estate.
Zhongli shook his head, quite possibly still disbelieving Childe’s sheer battle lust.
“You are something else,” the Archon said, walking out through the door that Childe held open for him.
“But you enjoy that! It wouldn’t have been the same if I wasn’t.”
Zhongli huffed, fondly. “Of that, you are right.”
Notes:
Human resilience is a wondrous thing.
I got a bit carried away with this chapter, and had to move one scene to the next one (and actually change the planned numbers of chapters...), but alas! It's here :3 Hope you've liked it, even though it was a bit laid back than the rest and not so plot heavy.I'm not sure if I'll manage to write the next one before the end of the year because I have some other things planned, but you can expect the christmas-y fic in about two weeks time!
I'll be going to sleep now, in the meantime, please let me know what you think of this bit!I love you all. x
Catch me on twitter here sometimes!
Chapter 7
Summary:
For those who kept the light on - you know who you are.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“For the love of all that is holy,” Pantalone sighed, throwing the notebook back at Childe’s desk. It landed on the wooden surface with a rather sad thud. “At least try to focus.”
Childe pouted, looking at the angry red elegant lines, very pointedly commenting upon his mistakes. Reluctantly, he turned a couple of pages, noticing the red marks on each and every one of them, bleeding over his own slanted handwriting of different figures and meticulous calculations.
Meticulous, but apparently not good enough. Or, good at all, judging by how Pantalone’s notes were getting sharper with each page, the characters more and more sweeping to the point of illegibility, as if the letters themselves could no longer bear the mistakes they had been forced to witness.
Holding his breath, Childe glanced up from above his notebook to find cold, purple eyes piercing right into his very soul, right from below thin eyebrows pulled together in an expression of what must have been a reaction to the worst migraine of the month.
“Well…” he began carefully. There was a twitch to Pantalone’s eyebrow as soon as he spoke. “It’s been a while since I did some numbers.”
"Of course,” the Ninth spoke, his calm and unbothered words a contrast to the raw displeasure weaved into the lines of his face. “After all, you had more absorbing pastimes in Liyue, didn’t you?”
Childe groaned internally, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible.
“I don’t recall calculating actual annual percentage rates of interest for taxpayers with diversified capital being a part of the plan in stealing the Geo Gnosis.”
“Maybe if it was, you wouldn’t have failed,” Pantalone replied, reaching for the stack of papers to his left.
“I did NOT-“
“Or maybe you still would have,” he reflected, not letting Childe finish his thought. “Especially looking at your calculations, absolutely not befitting a person studying under myself.”
Childe put his hands against the cool surface of his desk. Inhale. Exhale. “This is in no way necessary for debt-collecting jobs. The only calculations I need doing for that is deep a cut must be to make the person shed blood but not bleed out.”
That was something he tried so hard to get across. He didn’t need any of that fancy banking and economics training! Didn’t need anything diplomacy-related, no studies on Teyvat history! Okay, foreign languages were cool, that was true, but the rest? Useless to him, absolutely and utterly useless! He was a fighter, a warrior, and therefore a weapon in his hand was the only thing he would need, not an abacus.
His status as a “foreign diplomat” notwithstanding.
Besides, the only knowledge dumps and lectures he could stand were the ones coming from Zhongli, anyway.
The other man didn’t even spare him a glance as he fixed his glasses on his nose. “Tell that to the Tsaritsa herself if you so wish. Must I remind you these were her direct orders?”
Childe slumped against his chair like a sack of potatoes, giving up to the threatening undertone of Pantalone’s silvery voice. That was a fight he did not want to pick up again, especially not after the recent… events. He’d gotten a taste of her anger, and safe to say – never wanted to have it again.
With a pout, he reached out for the notebook and buried himself in the tedious task of correcting his mistakes. He caught a glimpse of Pantalone’s satisfied smile in the corner of his eyes but didn’t let it taunt him.
Contrary to his whining and complaining, Childe was deeply thankful for actually being here instead of his mansion. The day following the blizzard, when he received a missive from the Northland Bank Headquarters, rather than being grumpy and annoyed as he usually was in that situation, he welcomed it with a sigh of relief. In fact, he was actually almost thankful (well, more than almost) for Pantalone’s summons because that meant no more suffocating under the weight of Zhongli’s presence that fell over his home like a heavy blanket and filled every single room and hallway so thoroughly that Childe felt like he had no air left to breathe. Not only was he haunted by the Archon in his dreams- okay, maybe haunted would not have been a good word, as having Zhongli’s presence in his mind always chased the Abyss-filled nightmares away, but it still bothered him that not even sleep offered him an escape from this utterly irritable presence of the god.
There was really no putting it any other way, and he really, really needed some space, some time away for figuring… things out. Memories of their most recent time spent together danced in his mind like annoying pixies, and he couldn’t think straight about anything else. He needed to get away and have some breathing space. He desperately wanted to have a moment alone with his thoughts, and when not even a private training session was possible in his estate, Childe felt the urge to run away (not that he didn’t think that his short spar with Zhongli wasn’t on the list of top moments of his life). Around Zhongli, he felt something akin to constant static sizzling right above his skin, like an eager anticipation for something, an impatient urge to just reach out, drown his fingers into this dark silken hair, to inhale the sandalwood and feel how it radiates from the warmth of-
The tip of his pencil broke with a quiet crack, turning a four he was writing into an ugly broken thing.
He heard Pantalone shift on his chair, undoubtedly checking what caused the noise. Childe knew better than to raise his eyes, feeling the warmth of his cheeks, but he didn’t need to see Pantalone to know that slight signature dissatisfied pull of his eyebrows.
“Surely there are better outlets to whatever inner turmoil you might be subjected to,” he noted. Paper rustled against paper as he turned the page of the report he was reading.
“There is no other turmoil in me right now than boredom.”
Childe didn’t want to let Pantalone’s remarks get into his head, but his prodding was rather unusual. Typically, they wouldn’t even exchange a sentence not related to bank records during their sessions, or anything beyond basic courtesies whenever they met. Pantalone was nowhere near his closest associates amongst the Harbingers – did Childe even have any? – but he was also quite far from the ones he disliked the most. So, while he wouldn’t call Pantalone his enemy, he would also not place him anywhere close to being a friend – which is why his sudden attention got him on his guard.
“And it’s definitely said boredom that causes you to sit here like a restless beast.” The Ninth made a pause here. “Or that was the reason for your… strife with the Tsaritsa the other day.”
The Eleventh looked up from his notes, pulling his face into a taut mask. Oh, so this was all about Zhongli after all, huh? Pantalone’s calculating violet eyes tried to pierce a hole in his face, and while it could make regular mortals cower in fear, it was nothing to Childe – he withstood the gazes of gods in the past, after all. Besides, there were only two ranks separating them anyway.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, calmly. “Colleague.”
There was a twitch at the corner of Pantalone’s mouth. “Please, there is no reason to play coy here. The palace is buzzing with whispers. The youngest and most charming of the Tsaritsa’s beloved Harbingers comes back home after a yearlong absence, with an extraordinary guest no less, his relationship with whom remains at least unclear, and right on the first day, after the first meeting, manages to make the Tsaritsa furious enough to paralyze the flow of commerce to and from the capital?” The Harbinger put his elbows on the desk and leaned his face onto his clasped hands. “Dare I say, that’s quite scandalous.”
Childe studied Pantalone’s face for a good second, looking for hints whether Pantalone knew more than he let out – which was probably the case. Although he might not seem so, he loved the little courtly games, and absolutely delighted in dabbling into all kinds of gossip. It was a surprising thing about him, but Childe guessed that maybe he needed a break from the monotonous clink of the coins flowing between his fingers, from time to time.
The chair creaked as Childe shifted on it, having carefully put his pencil aside. He put his elbows on the armrests and offered Pantalone a gentle smile. “Since there’s no reason to play coy, just tell me whatever you’re implying. I have no mind for these games anyway, and this will save us both time.”
“Only for you to deny everything I say? Where is the fun in that?”
“If all you say is lies and deceit, then there would be no denying, just telling the truth.”
Pantalone’s lips formed a thin line, but the glint in his eyes was not dulled. He didn’t speak for a minute, and whether he was pondering on what to say next or savouring the silence, Childe couldn’t tell.
“You and the fallen god,” he finally said, giving the word god a strange inflexion. It made something ugly crawl up Childe’s spine. “What is that between you?”
Straight to the point was a rare tactic for Pantalone, but Childe supposed he’d learned how to deal with him throughout the years. He actually appreciated that about him, a bit. In contrast, Signora would not have put aside her snarky remarks and allusions circling the topic aside, oh no. She would’ve revelled in them.
Either way, it was curious that Pantalone was even remotely interested in that sphere of his life. Curious and, frankly speaking, ominous. He enjoyed chatter and whispers and meddling into other people’s lives, but only whenever he could profit off of it, or from the information gathered that way. What could his business here be?
Childe took a slow breath. “Why does that interest you?”
Pantalone scoffed as if trying to point out how ridiculous that question was. As if Childe was idiotically oblivious. “You’ve entangled yourself with an enemy of our cause and don’t think that this would’ve been potentially impactful on our mission?”
“Not very wise to call Her Majesty’s guest and friend an ‘enemy,’” Childe pointed out. “Bordering dangerously close to treason.”
“I don’t think I’ve stepped closer to it than the person who’s… fornicating with the god of a hostile nation. If my calling it by its name is bordering treason, I have to say that what you’re doing is just straight-up orbiting it. Don’t you think this could result in a potential conflict of interest here?”
Childe tried very hard not to say something nasty, seeing Pantalone’s smirk unfurl on his lips. He quickly bit the inside of his cheek, lightly, to ground himself. “The Liyue mission has been completed. Zhongli is no longer a person of interest to our plans and is not involved in them in any way. The nation of Liyue is not hostile. And we’re not… fornicating,” he added, although that word had a hard time squeezing out of his throat.
Pantalone chuckled.
“You’re easier to read through than the Inazuman puppet, whose seething rage and boiling hatred fill every room he enters,” he said, with slight disdain in his voice. “Your heart reflects directly on your face, and that is not a good trait for a Harbinger to have.”
Childe let that comment pass over him.
“You see what you want to see, Pantalone, you always have.”
“I see what is needed to be seen to advance in our mission,” the Ninth bit back. “And right now I see a potential disruption in the course of things. Your personal indulgences must not become an obstacle, because despite our loose work relationship, I actually would like to avoid standing against you, if possible.”
Childe’s Vision, hidden beneath his clothes, warmed up. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m merely informing you,” Pantalone waved his hand. “Passing on a cautionary tale, if you wish.”
“That information was a bit too charged, in my opinion, dear colleague.”
“If it was charged with anything, it would be concern borne out of familiarity.” Pantalone stood up then, and walked to the bookshelf behind his imposing desk, turning his back, which Childe thought not to be a very wise thing to do. “I’m not sure if you remember, so allow me to remind you,” he continued, looking for some books. “One of our chief assets is gold. Currency, if you wish to call it. And so it happens that the man you’re currently courting is a god of the only currently circulating currency around the world. He held absolute power over it – in fact, that currency is quite literally a part of him, a sort of holy attribute of his godhood. It might come to a point where our… struggle for financial dominance will escalate to an economic war with other nations, and a potential depreciation of Mora or even its complete devaluation might be required. Or, perhaps, its seizure.”
With a quiet hum, finally picked one of the tomes, and turned around back to Childe. Whatever expression he saw on his face, he didn’t let it unfaze him. “I hope I’ve laid it out simply enough for you to understand the implications,” he added, setting the book on his desk and sitting behind it.
Images flashed in Childe’s mind, as Pantalone’s words reverberated in his ears. Zhongli, telling him how Mora was created. Calling it “his blood.” Explaining to him the economic and scientific importance of it. Telling him how thin the line of balancing it was. All followed by a vision of Pantalone standing above Zhongli’s corpse, with a knife glinting with fresh, golden blood dripping down the blade.
The rational part of his mind was not given enough time to dismiss these visions as certainly paranoid.
Clarity slipped out of his brain to make way for darker instincts – this time, instincts to protect rather than just simple bloodlust or fury. The elemental powers surged through his vision into his body, accompanied by a ringing in his ears that was getting louder and louder, drowning out any other sound. Hydro and something else began coalescing under his fingertips, tickling the skin on the inside of his palm, ready to sharpen into blades.
He briefly wondered if Pantalone – Visionless, with only a weak imitation of its power in the form of a Delusion strapped to his belt – could sense the shift in the room. The power raced through his veins, spreading itself throughout his body, bringing forth the focus of a predator waiting for his prey. His vision blackened at the edges as his sight focused on the exposed line of Pantalone’s throat, calculating the angle of the cut.
Childe was about to snarl out one last warning, a threat to Pantalone to retract his words, give him a fair chance of backing out of his territory, of leaving his-
Someone knocked on the door, gently, three times followed by one more after four seconds. A code. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened, and another presence entered the room.
“Dear, have you seen-“ Dottore started, but his words ended abruptly. His gaze, hidden behind a mask, swept the room, quickly reading the situation. “I see you have,” he continued after a second.
Childe let go of his power instantly, feeling its tugging as it left his veins so quickly, dissipating into nothingness. A familiar sense of brief exhaustion settled over him as his vision blurred for a moment, something that happened to him oftentimes when he drew upon his Abyssal powers. He frowned at the realization. He didn’t recall tapping into that reservoir now.
“Hmm?” the Ninth hummed from above his book, disrupted from his reading. If he hadn’t noticed Dottore walking in, it was obvious he didn’t feel the storm of destruction that brewed inside Childe just a second ago. Poor, oblivious Pantalone. “Oh, Dottore. You should’ve knocked.”
“I have,” the Second replied, although his eyes were still focused on Childe. It was impossible to read his expression due to his mask, but from the tight line of his lips and the taut muscle of his jaw, Childe could notice he was at least a little bit cautious.
Childe swallowed, feeling just how tense his body was. He let his muscles relax, bit by bit. The warmth of his cooling Vision seeped through his clothes.
Noticing the change in Childe’s form, Dottore turned his face to Pantalone, who looked between them with slight confusion. “You should install some more monitoring here, really. I’m sure Sandrone would’ve lent you some of her fancy Fontainean machines. You never know where the danger lurks, and what form it takes.”
Pantalone rolled his eyes, although there was a shadow of a fond smile in the corner of his lips. For some reason, Childe felt appalled at the sight.
“What brings you here?” the Ninth asked, disregarding the comment.
“I was looking for a certain young prodigal Harbinger, and it seems that I found him.” Dottore glanced at Childe. “Columbina is looking for you, Tartaglia. She saw me heading to the Bank, and asked me to tell you to come meet her.”
That was surprising. “Columbina? Why? I have a few squads to visit right after this.”
“Why do you think I would intrude in her business? You know the paths her mind and soul tread are sometimes incomprehensible to the human mind,” he replied in his standard, monotonous voice of a scholar bored with the conversation he was having. “She’s waiting for you in the Grand Ballroom, with all assortments of things.”
Okay, that confused him even further. What business would Columbina have with him that would in any way connect to the Ballroom?
His expression must’ve been particularly clueless. Dottore sighed with resignation. “All I know is that it has to do something with Tsaritsa’s commands for her. It would be wise not to stretch that line, again.”
There was a melody in his voice that gritted against Childe’s ears. Not wanting to hear yet another series of embarrassing allusions or poorly veiled threats, and being utterly fed up with Pantalone, he rose from his chest and grabbed his coat, making his way towards the exit. His shoulders nearly brushed Dottore’s as he passed by.
“You haven’t been dismissed,” Pantalone noted, but Childe was already outside.
“You’re not my superior,” he muttered in response, closing the door. The remains of that anger from just a minute ago simmered underneath his skin.
The time for dissecting the reason why Pantalone’s baseless threats brought forth such a reaction from him would have to come later. Now, he headed towards the Palace, wondering what was that Columbina needed him so badly for.
“I have no idea,” Childe said honestly, looking at the dozens upon dozens of boxes, figures, and machines scattered around the ballroom, “how she agreed to this.”
“Well, that’s simple,” Columbina replied, shrugging as she drew an elegant line on the paper in front of her. “I asked nicely.”
The big task for which she sought him out turned out to be decorating the Grand Ballroom for the Aurora Ball.
Columbina knelt on the polished white marble floor, her Harbinger coat sprawled underneath her as she made it her blanket. She was surrounded by boxes of various sizes that were filled with numerous types of decoration – samples, perhaps, judging by their variety. Childe could make out some modernized trinkets for the Winter Solstice holiday amongst them, which wouldn’t come until a few weeks. Curious choice. As he was about to make a remark about it, Columbina crossed something out on the paper, a quiet, irritated huff escaping her.
“This won’t match here…” she muttered to herself, grabbing her chin between her fingers in an expression of deep pondering. “And no way they would be able to make it this big.”
Childe made a careful step forward and peered from behind her shoulder. The paper sprawled on the floor was in fact a couple of big thin sheets put together, with a quick and simple, but accurate depiction of the ballroom sketched on it – from different angles and viewpoints to take into consideration all aspects of decoration and planning. There were some additional notes around it, too, on what looked like to be sheets ripped out of a notebook, crumpled and worn out, an indication of this entire thing being on Columbina’s mind for a long time now. Projects and designs for seats, tables, statues, sashes, table decor, tablecloth embroidery, and so, so much more. He could also make out the inscriptions squeezed between sketches and drawings, written in a small elegant alphabet that was, unfortunately, absolutely foreign to him.
“Oh, wow,” he said, whistling quietly, genuinely impressed. Columbina was the self-proclaimed amateur artist amongst them, as she called herself (although her skills with pencils and brushes could make some professional painters go out of business, Childe was sure), but he wasn’t aware she could do all these things. “Are you sure you need any help with this? All my talents notwithstanding, I don’t think I’m capable of doing anything here.”
“When faced with too many choices, even the brightest ones can get lost in the darkness of uncertainty,” she proclaimed as if citing an ancient philosopher. She put her pencil aside and turned to look at him. “I need your opinion.”
“My… opinion?” Childe asked, just to make sure. “My opinion on aesthetics for this year’s Ball?”
Not that he was ungrateful for being whisked away from between the Regrator’s talons and spared from listening to his nuanced threats towards Zhongli, no. He just really doubted he was the best first choice for this particular task. His knowledge and expertise in the area was, well, shit.
“Yes. Who else am I going to ask? Sandrone doesn’t see the world from outside her screws and gears, although she was very nice to lend me some of her mechs to help with the heavy stuff. Pantalone’s tastes are too office for my liking, Signora’s style is too tacky and she does not know the meaning of teamwork, Scaramouche just laughed me off when I asked him, and Arlecchino was nowhere to be seen when I was looking for her. Dottore, Capitano, Pulcinella, and the old man are out of the question. You know that.”
Childe chuckled. It always amused him how she called Pierro an old man, considering she was quite possibly centuries if not millennia older than him.
Having finished her short rant at their coworkers, Columbina stood up and went to rummage in one of the boxes to her left. Childe watched her pick out different pieces of fabric, all of different colours and patterns. He couldn’t tell what their purpose was.
“Which one for the window decors?” she asked, turning around and holding up two pieces to him. The one in her left hand was purple with tiny gold swirls, the one in her right – forest green with embroidered silver stars. Being the good older brother that he was, Childe gathered all his knowledge on aesthetics and really tried to form a critical thought. Unfortunately, not even after a minute of staring at the pieces of fabric evoked any specific emotions in Childe.
“Columbina, I don’t think-“ he started carefully, trying not to offend her. He hated seeing her angry.
“Which one?” she repeated, more insistently. The silver of her eyes shone from behind her delicate face mask.
Childe sighed and rubbed his face. “Honestly? Neither.”
“Yeah, thought so too,” she muttered to herself in defeat and put the pieces of fabric back into the box. “I just don’t know what to do! There are too many options! The Ball is in just a few days!”
Okay, this isn’t something that the Tsaritsa would like to hear. “You’re telling me that you don’t have anything ready for it yet?”
“No!” she was quick to deny. “No. I’ve got it all under control. I’ve planned this for months! I have the porcelain and crystals and table setup and flowers and everything. All is good. All is perfect. It just that a few nights ago something started to not feel quite right. Like a sock that slipped down your foot in your shoe during a walk.”
Was her voice a bit… erratic? Childe crossed his arms on his chest.
“I had to scrap some ideas, but not all of them! It’s only the final decorations that are missing. The cherries on top of this beautiful cake that I’ve cooked up.”
“I’d say that’s more like the icing itself. Not just the cherries.”
Columbina sent him a murderous look, and Childe cowered a bit under its sharpness. “Sorry?” he said.
There was so much drama in the way she fell down to sit on her coat that it was almost amusing, in a way. It truly would’ve been if not for the accompanying deep exhale of utter exhaustion and despair. Childe, feeling a pang of compassion, sat down next to her and patted her on the back like he had done so many times to Tonia when her little engineering projects did not work out.
“I have so many brilliant ideas, but they don’t feel right… They’re just brilliant. Not stellar. And I need something stellar,” she murmured, her eyebrows pulled in a frown and mouth downturned.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of much help. I guess bloody red on snow white doesn’t sound too appealing to you?” He offered in a light-hearted joke.
“We’ve had that theme thirty-eight years ago,” she waved her hand in a quick dismissal. “But thank you for trying.”
Although he was by no means an expert in whatever all of this was, he didn’t like seeing Columbina so frustrated and agitated. He could understand her – even though he wouldn’t call her a perfectionist, she always strived to do her best, and that was a feeling familiar to him. Fighting was just a different type of art, and that also needed you to be at your best at all times. Now, a theme for decorative accessories… Ah, fuck. That was hard.
Zhongli would’ve known for sure.
He must have said that last part out loud because Columbina whipped her head in his direction like an alarmed rabbit. There were hints of mischief in the teasing smile she gave him.
“Zhongli would’ve known for sure, huuuh?”
His cheeks burnt at the tease. Gods be damned, why was it so easy for him to blush when embarrassed?
“I-I mean-“
“Oh, I know quite well what you mean,” she interrupted his pitiful stutter. “Your amazing, lovely, intelligent, handsome boyfriend Zhongli would definitely know it all!”
Childe fiddled with some piece of ribbon he found lying on the floor next to him. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he grumbled, his face getting even hotter, mind again filled with a mush of emotions he tried to understand.
“But you’d like him to be, hmm?”
He dared to look up at her, just for a quick glance. She had her eyes scanning his face, but while other Harbingers teased him about Zhongli with unabashed nosiness and apprehension, she only did so with a soft smile and the faintest hint of curiosity, with a slight dash of mirth, because she wouldn’t be herself without it. But just a dash. Something in that expression, in the gentleness of it, and in something strangely wise hidden in the shadows of her face made him ease a bit, tension dissipating. The burning sensation in his cheeks lessened a bit as his shoulders relaxed.
He allowed the thought to unravel, tasting it on his tongue. Maybe…
“You don’t have to say anything, really,” she said in that tone of hers that she only used when reminiscing on something that was far beyond the reach of time. “It’s as easy to see as the stars on a cloudless night.”
Childe didn’t know how to respond, so he remained silent, and Columbina respected it. The poor ribbon in his hand was all crumpled.
The silence lasted for barely half a minute.
“Have you invited him on a date yet?” Columbina asked suddenly. That must’ve been it, as far as her modesty vent.
Childe almost choked at the straightforwardness. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘what,’ I asked a simple question, big silly.”
“We’re nothing of the sort. No. Not in a… romantic sense.” Gods, forcing that word out of his throat was a nightmare. “And you promised you wouldn’t ask!”
She pointed the tip of her pencil at something invisible in the air, like a teacher trying to stress out something important. “I didn’t promise anything. Only said you don’t have to say anything, but I really think you must.” She put her hands on her hips, angling her head to the side, giving Childe a chiding look. “We have so many beautiful restaurants with amazing cuisine, why won’t you take him out? What are you waiting for? What are you scared of?”
What was he scared of? Gods, how should he even begin? Would the uncertainty of his, uh, inclinations towards Zhongli counting more like treason or blasphemy be a good starting point for the discussion? While Pantalone’s shallow threats from earlier today were a complete bluff and nothing to worry about because he simply would not dare, the conflict of interests he mentioned actually did pour more doubt into Childe’s overflowing cup of feelings. The Tsaritsa seemed to be, well, quite supportive of the entire ordeal, but what if the tide turned, what if the wind blew from a different direction one day? What if Celestia got involved, and what of the Abyss? What of all the mysteries and six thousand years of historical events that Zhongli was involved in? How would these play against the mission?
Or, maybe the paralyzing possibility of rejection would be better to unfold this issue with? Whatever this thing he had for Zhongli was, he was absolutely terrified of the god telling him, with all those gentle smiles and soft looks and all the allusions he made earlier, that he appreciated it but didn’t feel the same. What if he was just… leading him on? Celestia above and Abyss below, that would possibly destroy him. There was nothing in him an illustrious deity such as Zhongli would find in any way interesting or attractive, or possessing something he’d never had or couldn’t get.
Ouch. He hurt himself with that last thought. But then again, wasn’t it true? It probably was.
There was no denying that he wasn’t indifferent about Zhongli, but… it felt a bit too frightening for him. Too unknown.
“What’s that sour face, huh?” Columbina asked, and there was a hint of genuine concern in her voice.
While he appreciated that, he wasn’t looking for a confidante now, even though she would’ve been the closest person to one here in this palace. He sighed. “I’m just not sure… Can we not talk about this, please?”
The look she gave him was serious, and she held it for a long second as she sat motionless, just staring at him. She took his hand, still crumpling the ribbon, in between her own.
“Ajax,” she said quietly, softly, and the use of his real name by her made him. “Whatever you’re spiralling into now, life is too short and too precious to fret over. I will not preach grand words because that’s not me, but… give yourself a chance, will you? For once, do something for yourself. Truly.”
The words struck him numb, for a moment, because… had he ever? All the choices he had ever made flashed in his mind, and he couldn’t help but wonder if these even were choices.
Columbina didn’t wait for a reply, didn’t expect one. She just gave his hand a light squeeze before she let it go, and returned to her project. Her words still echoed in Childe’s ears, though.
“I wanted to approach this differently than the Tsaritsa did, but okay. I won’t be pressing the matter any further. Word of quite possibly the last representative of an extinct species.” She put her hand on her chest as if she was making a pledge. It was adorable, and made Childe smile, breaking him out of his reverie.
“Wait, different than the Tsaritsa? Just how much do you know about it all?” How much did apparently everyone in their little circle know?
She shrugged innocently. “The walls have ears, and sometimes I am inside of them.”
The confession quite literally stunned him. “That… was the weirdest thing you’ve ever said.”
“That’s nowhere near the weirdest thing I’ve ever said and you know that,” she replied as if it was just an afterthought. “Now, what would best compliment ivory-coloured metal ornaments on crystal wine glasses?”
She looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for counsel. Once again, he felt incredibly inadequate in this position.
“You can’t say red. Or blue,” she added.
Childe scratched his chin, trying to think of a good answer. An old memory from a different world flashed before his eyes. “Midnight blue,” he said. “Almost purple, but not quite. Littered with dead stars,” he added before he could bite his tongue.
If the image sounded familiar to Columbina (and Childe was sure it did), she didn’t let it show. She wrote something down in her notebook, underlining it with a sharp line. “Thank you, Eleventh, I knew I could always count on you,” she said, mimicking Tsaritsa’s tone. “You are dismissed.”
Childe laughed quietly, but saluted nonetheless. “Always grateful for the opportunity to be at your service.”
As he made his way towards the grand door, Columbina called him again.
“Just… think of what I said. Please.”
He turned his head and gave her a smile, which he truly hoped she could see. “I will, for sure. Thank you.”
The day had stretched itself so impossibly long that by the time Childe arrived home, he was completely exhausted. He did manage to tick some of his usual Harbinger duties off his task list for the time being, but doing so was somehow more arduous than usual. Not even the elite squad training session provided him with the relief from his thoughts as it normally did. The uncertainties and doubts he was experiencing in regards to Zhongli had wrapped itself around his heart a little too tight, it seemed. Well, maybe a late evening spent by the fireplace with a cup of honey tea in his hand would soothe his mind a little bit, he hoped as he made his way up the icy stairs towards his manor.
His dreams of peaceful reprieve were crushed as soon as he pushed the front door open, and was met with unusual commotion. Several boxes of various sizes were stacked near the stairs, and a few of his servants watched them with curiosity, talking in hushed and excited tones.
One of the girls giggled at a quiet remark made by another one, but before Childe could interrupt, he was greeted by Danilo.
“Master Childe, you have arrived at the perfect moment,” he said loudly, bowing slightly. The sharp, chiding glance he threw at his coworkers did not escape Childe’s attention.
“Hello, Danilo,” Childe replied. “What are these things? I can’t remember ordering anything.”
“Master, this is a delivery from Mister Iosif’s atelier. I believe you’ve told us we can expect something to arrive in the coming days, and it has just arrived. You must have passed the messenger on your way to the estate”
Oh, right. Iosif. And clothes… for Zhongli.
“Yes, I remember now,” he nodded, counting the boxes. He didn’t know there would be that many of them, honestly. Not that he was afraid of the price, that wasn’t an issue for him at all, but he wondered if Zhongli would get the chance to wear at least half of those.
A tiny spark of curiosity ran through his hands, itching him to look under a lid or two. He managed to contain it, thinking it would be bad manners to unwrap it without the intended recipient nearby. Where was he?
“Have you seen mister Zhongli?” he asked Danilo.
“Ah, young lord’s esteemed guest spend the majority of the day in the library, but he should be in his rooms now.”
Well, it was good to know his people kept a close eye on Zhongli in his absence, in case something happened. He hadn’t forgotten the adeptal sickness’ bout during their spar.
“Please bring those to the living room in my wing. In a few minutes - I’ll go and let Zhongli know of the delivery,” he said, gesturing at the boxes, and quickly making his way upstairs.
His anxiety caught up to him as he was about to reach for the handle and open the door. He hesitated, hand barely grazing the cold metal, his heart suddenly picking up the tempo. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door first and waited for a reply. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard the familiar, low rumble of a yes? and pushed the door open.
Realizing it was him, Zhongli’s neutral yet amicable expression bloomed into a full smile. His eyes twinkled, reflecting the flames of the fireplace he was sitting by, and Childe’s heart did a funny thing at the sight.
“Ah, Ajax,” Zhongli said, closing the book he was reading and putting it aside on the nearby table. “I was hoping it would be you.”
Oh, if a meteor was to strike him, Childe would’ve been happy to die hearing these words as his last.
“Sorry for being back so late today,” he apologized, shaking off the tingle that ran down his spine at Zhongli’s soft voice. He threw his Harbinger coat at the sofa and plumped down next to it, immediately feeling the tiredness of the day weighing him down. Zhongli watched him with raised eyebrows, slightly concerned.
“As opposed to mine, your day was quite challenging, I assume?”
“You have no idea,” Childe groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, recalling conversations with Pantalone, Columbina, and the soldiers he had to train. All the while dealing with the equivalent of an emotional snowstorm inside of him.
“I am here, should you need an ear to lend,” Zhongli reminded him. “Unless these are some military confidential information, in the case of which I am still here, but with a promise of keeping all of the secrets to myself only.”
Childe cracked one eye open and glanced at Zhongli. The god was still looking at him with that soft smile of his, the golden glow of the fire making him look cosy, domestic, and even more beautiful than he was, even though that shouldn’t be possible. Childe wanted to scream.
“It’s just the usual Harbinger stuff and some side hustle as a ball decorator,” he said, instead of burying his face in the pillow next to him and letting out a series of shrieks.
“Oh?” Zhongli asked, interested. “Care to share some details?”
Childe gave him a sly grin. “My contract forbids me, but you will see for yourself in a few days. A certain someone would kill me for spoiling the surprise.”
“I wasn’t aware the Tsaritsa is so attached to her traditions of the Aurora Ball,” Zhongli remarked with a hum.
“Not the Tsaritsa. Worse.”
“I would be right to fear that unstoppable force then.”
With the eyes of imagination, Childe saw Columbina bombarding Zhongli with her antics. He chuckled. “Oh yes. Think of HuTao, but worse.”
The god shuddered in his seat.
Silence befell between them, as Zhongli reached back for his book, giving Childe the quiet he needed so much now – and how could he sense that was something Childe could not understand. With the warmth of the fire seeping into his muscles, the quiet crackling of burning wood against the howling wind outside, and with Zhongli’s presence next to him, Childe felt… content. At home. He rarely felt that here, being a stranger in this cold and empty manor that had been thrust into his hands, that he hadn’t been given enough time to settle in before he had to leave for missions and assignments.
Now, however, looking at Zhongli settled comfortably near the fireplace, underneath a blanket, enraptured in a book so deeply that he couldn’t notice a stray lock of hair nearly falling into his eyes, Childe thought that he could get used to it. He studied his face, noticing how soft the warm light made him look, how it brought out the warmest tones of his hair, how it made his eyelashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks, how it gave Zhongli’s skin a gentle, dewy glow. The entire picture felt so cosy, so intimate, and Zhongli looked so unlike the usual stoic statuesque scholar with a hint of something inhuman in the air around him, that Childe felt like he was intruding, a bit. There was no trace of that sublime godhood around Zhongli now, and yet he still looked divine, in a different, private, intimate way, as deserving of worship as the statues of him and altars built for his name.
Childe wasn’t sure what he had done to be deserving of being let close enough to Zhongli to witness that, he wasn’t sure if he truly was deserving, being the sinner that he was, but he could get used to this sight. He would like to.
When Zhongli looked up, Childe’s heart did not start running for its dear life. There was no nervousness, no twist to his stomach, no storm of thoughts, no fire burning underneath the skin of his face; just warmth, and steadiness, and the feeling of it being right. Zhongli smiled, and Childe smiled back, just as gently.
Oh, yes. He would love to get used to it.
A soft knock at the door disturbed his moment of almost understanding. Shaking off the dream, Childe suddenly remembered the reality.
“Shit, right,” he said. “Your winter clothes have arrived. I’ve told the servants to bring them here.”
Zhongli nodded, and was that disappointment on his face? Childe couldn’t tell. “Sure, let’s see them.”
The servants put the boxes near the coffee table on the other side of the room, and Childe with amusement observed Zhongli’s more and more perplexed expression as the boxes kept piling up. He looked slightly relieved when the servants bowed and finally left the room, closing the door behind them.
“That is… a lot of clothing,” he remarked. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Childe asked, genuinely confused. “These are necessities, Zhongli, you need them to be able to function outside of this building, beyond a five-meter radius from a fireplace.”
Zhongli shot him a look, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe he was starting to accept his predicament. Grateful for his temporary compliance, Childe gestured towards the boxes.
“Go on. Let’s see what the old Iosif got for you.”
He couldn’t contain his excitement, not when he saw Zhongli’s eyes widen a bit when he – with hesitation – opened the first box, reached for the fabric inside, and lifted it to see it better. It was deep crimson, a bit different from Zhongli’s usual clothes of choice, with beautifully embroidered floral patterns and a neat finish of golden thread. Although Childe wasn’t an expert in fashion and textiles, he could tell from just one look that it was an expensive and high-quality material, with soft, fur lining to withstand even the coldest of winters. Just like they needed it to be.
“This feels and looks truly luxurious,” Zhongli said in awe. “However, I am not sure how is it meant to be worn? There are few other pieces here,” he added.
Childe peered into the box over Zhongli’s shoulder, and his excitement shot up even higher as the realization dawned on him.
“Dearest Celestia,” he gasped. “This is a whole set of traditional garments of Snezhnayan nobility. You’re holding the second outermost layer here, kind of like a buttoned-up robe. There should be another one to be worn over it, and a kind of sash to tie it up with. Wait…”
Like a child searching for hidden sweets, he quickly fished into the package rummaging between different garments. Having found the correct pieces with a quiet celebratory “a-ha!”, he handed them over to Zhongli, who was just looking more and more confused with every new piece of fabric that landed in his hands.
“This is, well, a lot,” the god said, unsure.
Childe put his hands on his hips. “You’re from Liyue, you don’t get to even comment on the number of layers here.”
“Fair notion,” the god backed out, immediately.
“Fantastic that we agree here.” Childe, back to the business, started instructing Zhongli. “Okay, so you put the red one on first, on this white undershirt. Then, you put this golden coat thing on, and wrap it together nicely in the waist with this sash here. I also have a bigger coat here too but we can skip that for now.”
The hesitant expression on Zhongli’s face – the slight pull of his eyebrows and downturn of his lips – was too funny, but Childe managed to contain the mirthful giggle. Instead, he offered Zhongli a reassuring pat on the back.
“You got this. Go and try it on, I’ll wait here.” He ushered him out of the room, and sat down on the chair, waiting impatiently for the model to be back.
And when said model did get back, and Childe whipped his head to see him, he was at an absolute loss of words.
Clad almost from head to toe in traditional Snezhnayan clothes, Zhongli was a vision.
The inner robe, buttoned up all the way down from the column of his throat to his knees, held Zhongli’s torso in a tight embrace, accentuating the curve of his waist with a slight flare at his hips. The outer coat, made of beautiful golden fabric, had its sleeves loose and traditionally cut open from the armhole down below the elbow, and the fur lining peered through the hole to ensure that its wearer was protected from the cold. The sash around Zhongli’s waist tied it all together rather nicely, completing the look. The second coat was missing, and so were some good, knee-high leather boots, but other than that, Zhongli looked…
Zhongli looked unquestionably spectacular, and Childe did not know what to say.
He had never even imagined the Archon wearing the traditional clothes of his homeland, but if he had, the reality would’ve far, far exceeded any poor image his mind could’ve conjured up.
“I am assuming I tied the sash in the correct way?” Zhongli asked, his voice tinged with beguilement.
Childe closed his mouth, suddenly realizing it was hanging open. “Not quite, but, uhh… You, uhm, look very good.”
The moment the words left his lips, Childe groaned internally at his eloquence. Zhongli, however, didn’t seem to mind it, and he turned around towards the mirror on the other wall to see himself. There was something triumphant in the way his back straightened at Childe’s comment.
As Childe observed Zhongli checking the fit of the outer coat in his reflection, Columbina’s words echoed in his mind. Give yourself a chance, will you?
Will you?
“Zhongli,” he said before fear could get the better of him, swallowing down the heart thumping painfully in his throat. “Can I invite you for a dinner?”
Zhongli’s golden eyes, meeting his own in the mirror, widened in surprise.
Notes:
Alas, I am here.
And I suppose a few words of explanation are in order.
As I've mentioned in the edit of the ending note of the last chapter, fate has very unkindly woven a thread of loss into my life at the end of last year. Getting back into writing was also difficult, especially to writing this particular story. I couldn't re-enter it bearing with me the heaviness of grief. I couldn't get my mind in the right mood to fit the light and funny tone of this little fic. It took me nearly two months to finish this chapter, bit by bit, and I'm happy that I managed to get it done.
Thank you, thank you for your support. For all the kudos, views, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments. For your words of praise and excitement and encouragement. I wouldn't have done this with you and oh my godd why am I tearing up??? But yes. Thank you for reminding me there are people out there for whom what I do matters. Thank you for being patient.
But enough with me oversharing and being sad and moody here. I hope you've liked this little chapter, and are excited for the next one!!! :) I lov writing the Harbingers, lol.
Also,
Zhongli: ajax i literally kind of want to marry you
Childe: omg but what if he doesn't like me:/
As for the outfit that Zhongli is wearing, I based it on the traditional noble attire of Polish aristocracy between 16th-18th century. Here's some reference pictures:
This one is nice
So is this one
Aaaand this one as well
And this one is absolutely amazing
And I found this very good article if you want to read up on it! It's in English too!Thank you yet again!!! See yall on the date!
<3
_zmniejszamy_pl.jpg){kind=link}
Chapter Text
An elegant eyebrow arched above a black eye crossed with red.
“So, my suspicions were correct, then,” the Knave, Fourth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers of Snezhnaya, drawled in her signature Fontainean accent. “Pantalone is a dick.”
Childe nodded, although a bit thrown off by her unusually acidic voice. “I suppose you can put it like that?”
“No need to be delicate here, we both know just how full of himself the Ninth can be. He’s forgetting his place,” she added with a distinctive displeasure in her voice that bordered on disgust.
Even the Tsaritsa would’ve been jealous of the ice coating Arlecchino’s words. Childe shivered, remembering again why he would never want to get under the Fourth’s skin.
Their meeting was a strange combination of professional and private, which was both unexpected and welcome, in a way. Childe had never had a chance to work directly with Arlecchino after becoming a Harbinger. Their respective orders weren’t usually aligned and covered works on two different sides of the continent, not to mention that their… areas of professional responsibilities rarely overlapped, if Childe could describe it so. With him being on the front lines with his hands dripping with blood, and Arlecchino staying in the back to pluck on the strings of whispers and listen to murmurs crawling in the darkness, their cooperation was a rare thing. Now, however, with the details of Arle’s mission in Fontaine being slowly ironed out, she invited him for some “preliminary information gathering,” as she had put it to him. The fact that her questions pertained to the Abyss and whatever he’d seen there surprised him a bit, but, as strictly confidential as his personal experience with the strange world was, Arlecchino was allowed to this knowledge.
As the hours passed, their conversation quickly steered from strictly professional to more personal areas, less bound by code of conduct. Unlikely as it was to everyone remotely familiar with the Snezhnayan military and the imperial court, the Fourth and the Eleventh were quite amicable, even on a “regular human-to-human relationship” scale, and according to the one that applied only to Harbingers, they could’ve been probably considered as best friends. Arlecchino was still shrouded in a bit of a mystery to Childe, though, and he frequently found himself confused by her actions. On one hand, she was a stoic and cold, ruthless person, capable of putting the greater good, whatever it was to her, above everything else. On the other, he knew her softer side; her, apparently genuine, affection towards her children of the Hearth and her caretaking attitude even towards himself sometimes, especially during his first months as the Harbinger. These two sides seemed a bit too strange to mix well, like oil and water, starkly contrasting with each other. Childe wouldn’t accuse her of any ulterior motives against himself straight away, but that contradicting personality combined with her reputation, and unorthodox, to say the least, opinions, did make him feel uneasy sometimes. Not to mention her questionable loyalty to the Tsaritsa, which was another can of worms.
And yet… despite the uneasiness, she felt at least truthful in their relationship. Genuine was perhaps too big of a word here, but she was rather… sympathetic. Proof for that was plenty; offering her help in the form of providing a counterweight to Pulcinella’s opinions and influence, quietly mentoring him and giving him tips on navigating through the viper’s nest that the Zapolyarny Palace was, or not rattling out his family secrets or holding him hostage to her knowledge of any of his personal information when she somehow found out about Morepesok.
She was one strange woman, Childe thought again as he sipped on his coffee in the Fourth’s office, and it was difficult, very difficult for him to yet again try to pass a verdict on her. Perhaps he would never be able to, but as long as their goals aligned and she wasn’t trying to hurt his closest in any way, he wouldn’t consider her an enemy. That word lost his meaning here, anyway
Of course, the fact that they both hated the same coworkers with equal passion certainly helped build a bond between them. Team spirit, or so they say.
“The Doctor is the one being more dangerous here, I think, and he’s the one I’m wary of. Pantalone can yap all he wants but he lacks the power to act,” Childe noted, putting his cup away.
“I don’t think Dottore would dare to go against the Tsaritsa’s commands. It would be incredibly stupid of him to act on his threats. Breaking the guest law of Snezhnaya is a true offense in the eyes of gods,” she mused. “He wouldn’t even say it out loud to Zhongli anyway, even though his disregard for gods is a known trait.”
“I don’t think he’s a coward.”
“Oh, I’m not saying that he is. Just that he’s not stupid. Unhinged, crazy, and straight up mad at times, and as drunk on his ego as Pantalone, but not a coward, and not stupid.” She chuckled. “They really make a fitting couple, don’t you think?”
Couple? Strange choice of wording. Childe tilted his head, giving Arlecchino a questioning look.
“A couple of coworkers, yeah,” he said, almost turning the statement into a question.
The Fourth was very good with hiding her emotions behind a cold mask of porcelain indifference – hearing Childe’s words, however, must have shaken her deeply. She gave him a weak smile of disbelief, her brows pulled into a furrow in slight confusion.
“No, I meant a couple, as in a romantic sense. You can’t tell me you didn’t know,” she added flatly in response to Childe’s deepening perplexed frown.
He almost choked on air. What? “No? I didn’t? How was I supposed to know if I’ve spent the last couple of years away for most of the time?”
Arlecchino blinked a few times and then burst out laughing, hiding her face behind her fingers. It threw Childe off a bit – he had never seen or heard her laugh like this. Bouts of laughter or loud expressions of happiness were rare from her, and this one didn’t carry any hints of mockery, as Signora’s laugh always would. He stared at her as he silently processed the piece of knowledge that had just been dumped on him. It was… weird. Unbecoming. Possibly indecent. But somehow… it made sense. Somehow.
She gathered her composure almost quickly as she let it break. “By the Flames, Childe. Now I understand Tsaritsa’s frustrations with you. Albeit, it’s rather endearing if I’m being honest.”
“I don’t like being ridiculed, you know,” he half-threatened, half-sighed, feeling tired of hearing the same comment from a different mouth again.
“And I’m absolutely not doing this,” she quickly denied. “Just pointing out that you really might need to pay a bit more attention.”
Childe groaned, rubbing his face with his hand. “I’m trying to,” he mumbled.
“And how is it going so far?”
“We, um…” he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. Arlecchino shifted on her armchair, crossing her legs. “We’re going out today.”
“As in, for a date?” the woman inquired, and the smugness in her voice made Childe want to fuse with his chair in embarrassment.
“…you can say that.”
Arlecchino leaned back comfortably, resting her elbows on her armrests, interlocking her fingers together. She had a curious look on her face, and the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips made her look almost… proud? There was no I told you so, or wow, took you long enough, no. She didn’t speak a word, just looked at him in silence that was not expectant and Childe wanted to thank her for that little dose of understanding. He felt himself unable to not smile back, suddenly not feeling embarrassed anymore. Instead, under Arlecchino’s proud gaze, confidence took root in a place otherwise overgrown with anxiety and unease.
It was almost as if she knew.
He was stressed for tonight, extremely so, but the stress was not one stemming from fear – it was based in bubbling excitement, something that he hadn’t felt outside of the battlefield for quite some time now. He had to bite back a smile as he packed his change of clothes in the morning (he needed something more elegant for the occasion, of course, more elegant than his regular military outfit) before leaving for work.
Arlecchino nodded slowly to herself, still silent, but she allowed the small smile to grow a bit wider. She stood up, closing her black notebook and hiding it in one of the drawers, which she then locked by using some kind of strange mechanism that probably no one else could open except for herself.
“Let’s go to Sandrone,” she said, moving towards the doors. “The quicker we’re done with the investigation, the sooner you’ll be able to get back to your nest, lovebird.”
He pretended he didn’t hear that last part, just took a deep breath, held it in for a second, and then exhaled. He would just have to survive a few more days of it. Just a few more days.
Familiar dark corridors, with their high ceilings and glass windows so unsuited for a fortress like this, echoed their steps as they made their way toward the workshop on the palace grounds. Every soldier they passed straightened up at their sight, and either saluted them or gave them a respectful nod followed by a greeting. Childe remembered being in their place, blessed to get a glimpse of a Harbinger, eternally thankful if one of them even as much as glanced his way. And then he leaped over the military ladder, skipping quite a few ranks and levels, and became one of the people he looked up to so hard, getting a bit disillusioned with the grandeur of the position. Still, he understood its prestige and did his best to carry himself in a way to upheld that belief amongst their lower ranks.
It wasn’t a long walk from Arlecchino’s tower to Sandrone’s “office” – how she called the old, dingy workshop where she just settled in one day and refused to leave ever since, except for meetings of a most formal character. Two Fontainean mechs guarded the entrance, but a quick scan of their watchful eye lenses confirmed to them that the Fourth and the Eleventh were permitted to enter. With a squeak of gears and springs, they moved aside, allowing them to pass.
“With how much Sandrone cares about her precious machines, you’d think she would be taking better care at maintenance. These have not tasted oil in years, it seems,” Childe noticed, squirming at the high-pitched sounds.
“Be careful. I’ve heard they possess a sense of hearing and can turn detected speech into electrical impulses, which tells them whether what they’ve heard was positive or negative,” Arlecchino said in a hushed tone, passing him by and stepping into the dilapidating building. “And I’m not in the mood for fighting today.”
Childe complied, even though with a slight slump of disappointment, and followed the woman inside.
“Greetings, Marionette,” Arlecchino said, approaching the small figure sitting by a big and wide workbench.
She was rather short, but here, with stacks of boxes, crates, and a line of racks and shelves towering behind her, surrounded by different, weird contraptions, with some making strange noises and some letting out a bit of steam from time to time, Sandrone appeared tiny. The dimly lit warehouse-turned-workshop, although quite big from the outside, was so cramped inside that it was difficult to make one’s way through it without bumping into some sort of machinery. It appeared even smaller and even a bit claustrophobic with the curtains and racks dividing it into parts – some sort of smaller sections and “rooms,” perhaps? It seemed impractical to Childe, but he could never comprehend Sandrone’s way of thinking anyway.
The Seventh looked up from a piece of paper she was scribbling something on, her eyes indifferent and cold. She tilted her head slightly as she gave Childe a surprisingly thorough glance.
“Your clothes. They are different,” she pointed out.
“Nice to see you too, Sandrone,” Childe replied, a bit thrown off by the comment, forcing a polite smile on despite uneasiness prickling his skin. He never liked spending more time with her than absolutely necessary. There was something too eerie about her, in a different way than Columbina’s eerie was. “It’s, um, it’s just a replacement,” he explained, pointing at the grey coat he was wearing today because his spare white one was nowhere to be found. He was sure he packed two of his official Harbinger coats on his way back from Liyue, but oh well. Maybe it’d gotten lost. Zhongli also couldn’t help him when he’d asked about it in the morning.
“Hm,” was all that Sandrone had to say about it. Having quickly lost interest in Childe, she turned to Arlecchino. “How are the children?” she asked in the same, monotonous tone that betrayed no emotion.
“As good as ever. Taken care of and loyal, thank you. The Tsaritsa wanted to know how’s the progress going with the Delusions for Inazuma, if you’ve finished the calculations for the newest plan,” she quickly changed the topic, straight to the bottom of the issue. Efficient, as ever.
“She could’ve sent me a letter. Didn’t need a delegation of two Harbingers for that.”
Childe exchanged glances with Arlecchino and shrugged. “Maybe she wants to encourage cooperation between us. Build team spirit or some-“
There was a commotion behind one of the curtains nearby, a strange click and a dissatisfied grunt followed by the sound of something being thrown to the ground.
“Sandrone I told you it wouldn’t fit- oh.”
A rather annoyed and very underdressed Scaramouche walked out from behind the curtain directly behind Sandrone’s desk. He was shirtless, and he was massaging the back of his neck with a wince on his face. The grimace quickly gave way to surprise as his eyes briefly widened and then narrowed, noticing the two guests. With a corner of his eye, Childe caught him quickly hiding his other hand behind his back. He was holding something, but what – that he did not see.
“-thing,” Childe finished slowly, taking in Scaramouche’s state and glancing at Sandrone in silent question.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the Eight asked.
“Five o’clock tea and biscuits,” Childe said. “Same as you. Looks like you didn’t get the dress code, though.”
Arlecchino arched an eyebrow at him, unamused, and then turned to Scaramouche. “The Tsaritsa’s orders. She just wanted us to check up on something.”
“Another mission she didn’t think Tartaglia could manage alone so she had to send someone with him?” He mocked. “There’s a pattern.”
Childe took a slow, deep breath, trying very, very hard not to let Scaramouche’s words get under his skin. He could sense the elemental energy around him perking up at his budding anger.
“Not. In. My. Workshop.” Sandrone spoke up, warning them both. The eyes of a couple of mechs in the room suddenly flashed with life.
Arlecchino put a steadying arm on Childe’s shoulder, squeezing it just enough for him to feel her claws through the thick fabric of his uniform. “Scaramouche, good seeing you here, even though a bit surprising. And, well… flashy?” She pointed at his naked torso with her chin.
The Harbinger rolled his eyes and disappeared behind the curtain. He re-emerged after a second, buttoning up his shirt, still holding something in his hand. He put the something on the table next to Sandrone.
“It doesn’t fit,” he said. “The connection is not clear. Something with the switch, I think.”
He looked up at Arlecchino and Childe, giving them the coldest stare he could probably muster. The one he briefly graced Childe with was colder than the one for Arle, of course.
“I’ll be back later. Once they leave,” he said to Sandrone and left quickly, putting on his obnoxiously big hat, almost scurrying away like a child caught stealing, not sparing a proper word of goodbye to anyone. Not that he ever had.
“That… was strange,” Childe remarked once the air stilled.
“I wasn’t aware you two were working on something together,” Arlecchino said to Sandrone, crossing her arms on her chest.
“Because we’re not,” the girl replied flatly.
“Must be another team-building exercise, then!” Childe said lightly, casting his eyes toward the weird thing Scaramouche left behind. He craned his neck slightly to get a better look.
Sandrone noticed that, and with a movement far too quick than Childe ever thought she could perform, hid the trinket away in one of the drawers of her enormous desk, giving the Eleventh a murderous look. Before the thing disappeared, though, Childe managed to make out what it was.
“A… cord?” he asked.
“Yes. A cord. A piece of wire used to connect one thing to another.”
“I know what a cord is,” he bit back.
“Then why are you asking?”
Childe sighed. “That’s obviously not a regular, normal cord. What would he need it for?”
Sandrone stayed silent for a second, scribbling something in her notebook. Maybe she was taking time to come up with a non-answer. “I don’t know the details,” she shrugged. “Not my business.”
“It is, in a sense, if you’re helping him,” Arlecchino added. “Does it have something to do with his mission?”
Sandrone hummed. “In a way, yes. I really don’t know any more details. It’s Dottore’s project anyway.”
“Dottore’s?” Arlecchino and Childe asked at the same time. It was very, very rare to see Dottore working with Scaramouche. At least from what Childe heard, anyway.
“That’s as much as I know. I only supply the knowledge about machinery, I don’t have any expertise in organic matter. Though, I don’t think that word fits here. Synthetic, more likely?” She mused. “I did notice he’s been strangely restless recently, though. Haven’t you?”
Arlecchino and Childe exchanged glances. That was a weird thing to say by Sandrone; she never really… perceived them that way, never had enough interest in them to talk like that about the other Harbingers. With Columbina, maybe, as they seemed on amicable terms, but certainly not with Childe.
“He’s been assigned to help in Inazuma. Knowing his history there, his restlessness is to be expected, I believe,” the Fourth explained.
A small crease appeared in between Sandrone’s eyebrows – a known indication of her being in deep thought. “No, that’s something different,” she murmured. “His cooperation with Dottore… He sometimes comes to me to check on his mechanics. They’re tinkering with it. There are also the questions.”
“Tinkering with it?” Childe asked.
“What questions?” Arlecchino wondered at the same time.
Both were determined to wring as much information from Sandrone as possible while she was in the mood for talking since that was a rare occurrence.
The girl raised her eyebrows but wasn’t deterred by their insistence and curiosity. “I can’t always help him because, as I said, I don’t specialize in organic matter, but he’s been asking about connecting some mechanical extensions to himself. How would that work, what impact would it have on his nervous system, would it burn his synapses or whatnot,” she waved her hand as if it were very basic questions to be asked. “His body is… different from that of any other living being I’ve met, so I can rarely answer those and I usually refer him to Dottore, but he’s not happy hearing this.”
Something was not right here. Childe lightly bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. There was always a kind of mild animosity between Dottore and Scaramouche, and they rarely worked together. To have them cooperate on a strangely sounding project involving, perhaps, meddling with Scaramouche’s body was unusual, if not a bit alarming, too.
Arlecchino, it seemed, thought just the same. “So Dottore wants to expand his little passion project,” she mused. “Combining mechanical and biological. Next step of evolution, as he would call it.”
Sandrone gave her a serious look. “He shouldn’t be doing that. It is forbidden.”
The quiet note of disgust in her voice did not escape Childe’s attention. It made him feel a sliver of reassurance, knowing that except for the rank, hatred or at least animosity for Dottore was also something that the Harbingers shared. Well, at least most of us, he reflected, remembering how Arlecchino described the Second’s and the Ninth’s relationship. It was still unbelievable to him.
But going back to this strange “project” of Dottore, about messing with bodies and mechs and technology, creating a bridge between both, a sort of amalgamation of life and technology? Finding a way of tricking the nature itself? Usurping – what for such a long time was believed to be – powers exclusive to gods? His segments and clones were dubious already, bordering on blasphemy. Wasn’t that a reason he was kicked out of the Akademiya? That was what the whispers said, anyway.
Did the Jester know?
This also made him think of Zhongli, of what Pantalone said about him, and his blood. Could that have meant… more? Wouldn’t Dottore be interested in Morax’s abilities of shape-shifting too? Childe didn’t know the extent of Zhongli’s abilities in that area, but he was known to be able to mold his body in whatever way he wanted. He had shaped the one he had now. Did Dottore possess a threat to him? Would he want to use him, too?
He tensed. Protect, his instincts sang again.
He’d have to find Zhongli quickly before their dinner. Zhongli, who was currently out in the city, doing some book shopping in Snezhnaya’s many antique bookstores. Childe shouldn’t have let him wander the city alone. What if something happened?
He clenched and then unclenched his fists, slowly, trying to let the feeling of the tendons flexing ground him. No, Zhongli wasn’t his prisoner, it would be very not nice of him to keep the god closed forcefully in his house, even if he only meant to shelter him. He already felt guilty for leaving him alone there for so long, anyway.
But still…
“I think he’s way past the point of caring about that, dear,” Arlecchino said, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside of Childe’s stomach. “But having Scaramouche involved, and having him help with the experiments… I think the Tsaritsa would like to know about that. As she would about the process of the Delusion manufacturing.”
That produced a crease on Sandrone’s forehead, accompanied by a grimace of her lips.
“Surely,” she muttered and pointed at the document in front of her. “I am in the middle of it and have been for the past couple of days. It will be tight, but I think I’ll manage that. She doesn’t have to worry.”
“If you need any help-“ Arleccino began, but Sandrone was quick to cut her off.
“I will not let anyone else touch my equipment. Definitely not Dottore.”
The older woman hummed, dragging a gloved finger along the surface of the table, and then, with a grimace, wiping the gathered dust away. “I think she will need numbers. Pierro needs them for his calculations.”
Sandrone sighed. “He also knows where my workshop is,” she muttered. “Tell the Tsaritasa the plans will be ready within five weeks. Though we might need to move the actual production there.”
She pulled out a folder of papers and handed it to Arlecchino – supposedly the calculations she mentioned, in which Childe wasn’t really interested.
“Tell her I’ll send her the missing section in a few days, and the complete plan in a few weeks, as I said.”
“Thank you, I shall.” Arlecchino took the file with a nod of her head. “Well, I suppose that’s all for today. We found out here much more than we expected, anyway.”
“Yes. Now go, you’ve disrupted me enough already,” Sandrone waved her hand dismissively.
“Until next time,” the Fourth said as a goodbye and nodded at Childe. “Let’s go. It’s your big day and I wouldn’t want you to be late.” She smiled that knowing and sometimes annoying smile of hers.
Childe groaned internally but followed her anyway.
The thoughts about Dottore settled at the corner of his mind but were soon overshadowed by his excitement over meeting Zhongli.
Excitement, and a considerable dose of pure stress.
“So,” Zhongli said, looking up in wonder to take in the entire exterior of the building they were in front of. “This is where the Snezhnayan aristocracy dwells on winter nights like these.”
Their carriage was parked just outside of one of the most prestigious restaurants of the capital, known far and wide for its impeccable service and the best cuisine in the country. It was housed in one of the older buildings that used to be a city noble’s mansion before being transformed into a place where one could not only indulge in amazing food but also experience some art. Over the years, the restaurant became the heart of Snezhnayan artistic-aristocratic society, so to say, with many famous and up-and-rising artists – writers, poets, journalists – meeting here in the evenings to discuss their next groundbreaking works amidst the wafts of cigarette smoke, the smell of roasted meat, and the soft sound of the piano notes.
“Not only aristocracy,” Childe said, remembering the place’s history. “This is the place where some of our most famous recent pieces of art were born.”
He opened the door of the carriage and stepped out first. The cold of the night bit into his uncovered cheeks. Having fixed his coat and quickly glanced around in search of anything suspicious, he extended his arm towards Zhongli to help him get out of the carriage like the truest gentleman he was.
The god took it gracefully with a precious squeeze of his gloved fingers around Childe’s hand. The cold assaulting Childe’s face was suddenly less tenacious.
Reluctantly, Childe let the god’s hand go one Zhongli stood next to him, although he prolonged their contact as much as he could. Should he show off like this in public, now? The Harbingers had their suspicions (or… confirmations), but did he want the rest of the public to know? Would holding Zhongli’s hand be considered indecent?
“There’s supposedly a concert of a local pianist taking place here today,” he said, putting an end to these irrelevant worries. “I couldn’t secure a ticket for us to the National Opera so I hope this will suffice.”
Truth be told, he could’ve done that if he pulled some strings here and there – he was a Harbinger, after all, but he hated using that card. Not during one of the busiest weeks of the year, where getting tickets for him would probably mean forcefully throwing some poor person out.
Zhongli gave him one of his warmest smiles, a reassuring one, though slightly colored with amusement. “It will absolutely be a fitting replacement. It’s with you, so it’s all that matters,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
Celestia be damned. Zhongli was sometimes as smooth as a snake.
Childe bit back a smile. “Save some of your cards for later. What if you run out of things to say to make me really embarrassed?” he said, making his way towards the great oaken door.
“Embarrassed?” Zhongli scoffed, following after him. Soft, freshly fallen snow muffled his footsteps. “I believe the proper term you’re looking for is flustered, my dear. And fear not, my deck is infinite.”
“We will see about that.” Childe opened the heavy door with a strong push and gestured for the god to come in. “I think I’ve built some sort of tolerance. A tiny bit of it.”
“Certainly. And the rose tinge of your cheeks is proof of that.”
Childe was about to say something witty to that, but Zhongli graced him with a teasing smile so unlike himself that it rendered him speechless. His perfume, earthy and musky and warm, filled his nostrils as the Archon passed by him into the warmth of the restaurant.
The floors in the entrance room were made of white-and-gray marble, polished and spotless, reflecting the light of the crystal chandeliers hanging above like mirrors. Dark paneling on the walls together with the furniture made of equally dark wood and cushioned with red and green velvet balanced the lightness out so that it wasn’t too overwhelming. With the paintings of old masters depicting various scenes of nature hanging on the walls and heavy, red-and-gold curtains, the entrance felt cozy and warm, a perfect place to huddle against the snow and frost ruling on the outside, a safe respite from reality – metaphorically and literally.
“Dear misters, may I have your names to check on the res-“ a voice resounded from behind Childe, and then abruptly cut off once he turned around and the speaker. The middle-aged man, formally dressed, presumably the manager, paled a little when he realized he was speaking to a Harbinger. “My esteemed lord, I apologize profusely for-“
Childe raised his hand to calm the man down. “No offense taken, no need to apologize,” he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t like the attention that came in Snezhnaya with his position. “I sent a message yesterday to book a table under my name.”
“Yes, indeed, I do remember, sir. Please, follow me upstairs,” the manager’s lips formed into a strained smile as he gestured towards the stairs. “The VIP lounge is ready for you.”
Zhongli raised his eyebrows a little, sending Childe a questioning look, but otherwise followed the man onto the sculpted staircase.
The second floor of the building was decorated in the same slightly decadent style, only with more opulence. It was obvious that this wasn’t a section accessible to just anyone, just by the look at the secluded areas with even more expensive-looking furniture, golden embellished decorations, and slightly dimmed lights that gave off a feeling of muted secrecy and privacy. The loud chatter from below was much quieter here, although still discernible, more a soothing background noise than anything. The high ceiling and open floor allowed for those dining on the private floor to have a look at the people sitting below, and at the piano in the center of the room, above which hung an enormous, crystal chandelier.
The entire area was rather empty, with only two small groups of people enjoying their evening there within the shadows on the opposite corners of the room, from as much as he could see in the private sectors. It was unusual – even though booking a 2nd-floor table was not only a matter of money but also of social standing and (in most cases) required at least a few months of advance notice, it was rare to see the place so devoid of people. Childe couldn’t say he was unhappy about it, though.
“Please, this is your table here for today,” the manager stood in front of one of the lounges, neatly pushed in a smaller curtained alcove that allowed privacy without restricting views – just what Childe had asked for. He lit up the candles on the table with a swift movement of an automatic lighter. “Settle here, and our designated waiter will be back with the menu for tonight. Do you have any special requests so far?”
“No, we are perfectly fine now, thank you,” he thanked the manager. The man nodded and retreated smoothly, disappearing somewhere behind them, having wished them a pleasant evening.
Zhongli was taking in their surroundings, mesmerized by the richness of the décor, though Childe really doubted this was even in the top ten finest places the god had ever seen during his long, long life. Golden eyes glazed around, drinking in the sights, and Childe smiled when the awestricken Archon finally looked at him.
“This is a truly beautiful place,” Zhongli whispered in wonder. “On pair with the finest tea houses of old Liyue.”
His hands started unwrapping his scarf, and his fingers traveled to unclasp the buckle of the coat protecting him from the cold – no longer required, of course. Childe’s gentlemanly lessons kicked in as he quickly reached out to help the god.
“Old Liyue?” he asked, taking the coat from Zhongli. “So you’re saying that this beats the Xinyue Kiosk?”
“I think they’re worthy of standing next to one another at the top of the list,” Zhongli replied diplomatically, thanking Childe with a nod of his head for his help.
Golden thread woven into the fabric of Zhongli’s breathtaking outfit twinkled in the candlelight as the god sat down. Childe had seen this piece – a very tasteful and artful combination of Snezhnayan modern fashion with Liyuean silhouette – but the soft, slightly dimming light brought out some royal air from the piece. Scarlet velvet hugging Zhongli’s torso looked even softer, invitingly so, and the golden, dragon-themed embroidery along his chest and sleeves sparked like tiny gemstones. Childe made a mental note to send Iosif yet another tip and a thank-you note.
Only when Childe took the opposite place, having taken off his own coat, and saw Zhongli looking at him softly did he understand that this was happening. What was actually happening.
A dinner. Planned in advance. Intentionally, as a special occasion. Where the main attraction was them meeting together and spending time together. Where there were no excuses or evasions.
A… a date.
His throat constricted at a sudden spike of anxiety. He had been so excited throughout the day, but now fear slowly started getting ahead.
“I haven’t noticed you’ve taken a change of clothes with you today,” Zhongli remarked. “Black looks good on you, especially in this cut, and so does the blue of your shirt. I think I’ve never yet seen you wear an actual suit, now that I think of it.”
Childe’s chair suddenly felt suspiciously uncomfortable. He shifted slightly, and Zhongli, ever perceptive, immediately noticed that. Softness gave way to worry on his face.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, alarmed. There was a strange movement to his arm, as if he wanted to reach out but decided not to at the last moment.
“Yes, yes, it’s just… It’s been a long time since we, you know… Went out together and sat down like this.”
“Has it?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly. “Wasn’t it right before our departure from Liyue? Not even two weeks ago if I recall correctly.”
“Yes, but I mean something like a formal dinner. A scheduled event, if you will.” Something like a date, his mind supplied.
“I can agree with that. I do believe though, that since it isn’t by far our first meeting like this, of this character, there’s no reason to treat it any different. It’s just us,” Zhongli reasoned. “Half a continent away, but still just us. Indulging in each other’s company over a fine meal.”
“I- well…” Childe mumbled very eloquently. “It does feel different. To me.”
Again, that strange mix of amusement and confusion sparkled in Zhongli’s eyes. “Why? Pardon me, but I am asking genuinely.”
Oh no. What was he going to do? Just outright admit that hey, actually perhaps I wanted to invite you out like a person romantically interested in another person invites them out? “So-“
The salvation came in the unlikely form of a waiter, an older, white-haired man dressed in fine clothes with the logo of the establishment embroidered on the handkerchief put inside his chest pocket. He wore white gloves, and his cufflinks sparked as he handed the leather-bound menus to them.
“Welcome to Altimosse, my name is Sergei and I will be in charge of the service for your dinner tonight,” the man bowed his head and smiled at both of them. He didn’t seem to be phased by the presence of a Harbinger and his mysterious guest. “For starters, I’d propose a glass of Fontainean red wine, makes a perfect setting for the dishes we offer tonight.”
Childe was still a bit too stressed to speak, but no less thankful for the man to interrupt their conversation. When no answer came from him, Sergei turned to Zhongli, offering him an even warmer smile. His eyes sparked with obvious curiosity – Liyueans are a rare sight in Snezhnaya, especially so during the winter months.
“Yes, that sounds delightful, mister Sergei,” the god thanked him, taking the menu from the man.
“Perfect, the drinks shall arrive in a second.” It seemed that he was about to leave, but hesitated a bit before speaking again. “Sincere apologies if my question is too invasive, but are you perhaps from Liyue, mister…”
“Zhongli. And yes, I am indeed from Liyue.”
“Oh, so I thought! It’s a great pleasure to meet you, mister Zhongli. We rarely have quests from the Lands of Geo, we are especially honored to have you here tonight. Have you ever tasted anything from Snezhnayan cuisine?”
“It’s been many, many years since I’ve last had the opportunity,” Zhongli admitted, and Childe briefly wondered what exactly did “many” mean for Zhongli. Decades? Centuries? More, perhaps? In any case, he could safely bet that it was probably way before Sergei’s birth. Or the birth of his grandfather, even.
“Well then, dare I say, you are indeed in for a treat. The menu is in both common tongue and Snezhnayan, but you can ask me for anything should you need something clarified,” the man proposed.
“Thank you, but I think my companion will be well suited for that task,” the god replied and there was something wrong with the sound of these words, which confused Childe a lot.
It took him a couple of seconds to register that Zhongli’s words came in Snezhnayan.
He stared at the archon in absolute shock and bewilderment. How had that never come up, somehow, in all of their conversations? That Zhongli apparently knew his mother tongue or at least some pieces of it?
It wasn’t really that surprising after the first wave of shock passed, considering Zhongli’s age and knowledge and all the time he had to learn everything that could have been learned, ever, but…
Celestia be damned. Childe hoped that nothing inappropriate had ever slipped out of his lips when around the god.
He didn’t hear the last words from the waiter, only briefly registering the man leaving with another polite bow as he continued staring at Zhongli.
“You’ve never told me you can speak my language,” he said, in Snezhnayan, in a nearly scandalous tone.
“I believe I did? When we first met?” Zhongli replied, in Snezhnayan as well and oh, did his voice sound wonderful encapsulated in new phonemes. Rougher. “I said I know a little of it but just the very basics, that’s all. Do you not remember?”
“That’s more than just basics, Zhongli, that’s really impressive. I wish I had known it earlier. Or, remembered that you’ve mentioned it in passing. Or if you demonstrated! Why haven’t you?”
A crease appeared between Zhongli’s eyebrows as they pulled closer in consternation. He must have been looking for the correct words to say next.
“My knowledge is very limited. My vocabulary isn’t the best, and…” he finally replied, and then with a sigh switched back to the common tongue. “Ah, I find it very frustrating that I can’t express the full expanse of my thoughts and feelings in that language. It’s been ages since the last time I’ve used it for more than just simple greetings. The language has changed a lot, as languages do.”
“Yes, I could tell your intonation was slightly archaic. The word you used for ‘companion’ is also very rare nowadays.” He smiled, an idea popping in his mind. “Well, I can be your teacher, if you’d like to learn. I’ll get your Snezhnayan to a conversational level, and you’ll help me with my Liyuean.”
Zhongli chuckled, amused, but it was evident by the sparkles in his eyes that he did find that idea appealing. “Your Liyuean is far better than my Snezhnayan. That will be a very unbalanced transaction.”
“My speaking skills, yes, but you’ve seen my writing.”
“Oh, right,” Zhongli’s enthusiasm waned a bit like a sun getting covered by a small cloud. “Your writing.”
“So, do we have a deal? A contract?”
“We can think of something, yes.”
Childe beamed. “Perfect. I’ll search for some textbooks when I have some free time,” he declared, reaching for the menu. He stopped his hand in the air as he realized something. “Wait, does that mean I’ll get to be called a xiansheng?”
If he could’ve taken a picture of the look on Zhongli’s face at hearing him suggest that, he would’ve. The god’s eyes widened a bit, and a lovely blush spread over his cheeks as he coughed into his fist, obviously thrown off. “We… we will see about that.”
Childe went back to the menu with a grin on his face.
They quickly discussed the items listed. Unsurprisingly, all dishes were perfectly traditional for local cuisine, and famous all over the country and beyond it – simple, but that only made them better. Zhongli was familiar with the majority of those, saying he had eaten this and that four or six hundred years ago. Childe wished he knew more about the history of each dish – wished he could share with Zhongli the same amount of knowledge that the god had shared with him about his own, and he was a bit ashamed for slightly lacking in the area. Zhongli noticed that, always strangely attuned to his moods and feelings, and reassured him quickly that what Childe knew and shared was absolutely enough.
When Sergei came back and took their orders – some warm borshch with dried porcini mushrooms to chase away the remnants of the cold, and hearty beef Stroganoff, slow-cooked, with wine and herbs – and left for the kitchen, music started flowing from below, chasing away the silence that threatened to settle around. Through the balcony, Childe could see a man sitting down by a big, wooden piano, down below on the first floor. He couldn’t see the man’s hands but judging by the speed of the musical notes changing, he must’ve been very, very skilled.
Zhongli must have noticed it too. “Oh, that’s exquisite,” he whispered as if scared of interrupting the pianist, thoroughly enchanted, eyes focused on the player below. “Is that man famous? I must admit, I’m unfamiliar with what’s currently popular in music outside of Liyue… I’ve never had the time to take an interest in that, actually,” he added in a way that indicated that it was a sort of sudden realization.
Something stirred in Childe’s chest. Of course he didn’t have the time – how could he, being responsible for the safety and wellbeing of an entire nation for so, so long? He probably never even had the opportunity to talk to someone about it. Perhaps Childe was the first person to whom he could air his frustrations and grievances.
“Well,” he said, softly, reaching out to Zhongli’s hand resting on the table, covering it with his own in a gesture of comfort. “Now you’ll have all the time in the world to explore that. Time for travel, for example. You’re free to go anywhere now, visit places you haven’t been to in ages.”
Zhongli turned to look at his hand, sensing Childe’s touch. His lips parted as he took a breath in, and when he looked up, his eyes were filled with gratefulness.
“I’m glad my first journey of this kind was here, then. With you,” he said, and there was a weight to his words, though it was not unpleasant. “And I hope you’ll accompany me on all of my next journeys, Ajax.”
“If my work schedule allows, sure. Anywhere with you,” Childe replied, feeling a little brave. Or a little more than just a little. Actually, he kind of couldn’t recognize himself.
The heart in his chest quickened as he felt Zhongli’s fingers stir underneath his palm to grab his hand in a grip.
Sergei emerged from around a corner, and they parted their hands hurriedly, almost knocking over one of the candles. The waiter, probably having seen many similar scenes in his long life, hadn’t let it affect his flow – he simply laid their food on the table and wished them a bon appetite.
They ate slowly, savoring the dishes, slushing every other bite with wine that they kept refilling. They talked about mundane things – Childe told Zhongli about his day at work (without going into too much detail, of course), and Zhongli, very excitedly, listed all the books he’d bought and what he had seen in the city (assuring him he paid for them with his own money). It wasn’t in any way dissimilar to their lunches or dinners in Liyue – despite the changed circumstances and foreign place – and it was so, so comforting to know that nothing could affect their little routine, that he and Zhongli would always be the same way no matter what else may change. For the first time since receiving the Tsaritsa’s letter back in Liyue, Childe felt truly at ease, and even the worries about Dottore and Pantalone somehow vanished from his mind, for the time being.
A thought flashed in his mind as he reminisced about their last meal together before departure. He looked up at Zhongli, who was taking a sip of his wine and listening to another piece of music played down below. He, too, looked at ease, leaning back against his chair, with a pleasant, relaxed look on his face.
“You know, I just remembered our last dinner,” Childe said. “In Liyue.”
Zhongli slowly turned his face towards him, humming. “That’s unexpected. Why is that?”
“I remembered that you were very disappointed with something, although I don’t, to this day, know why.”
“Disappointed?” Zhongli asked, genuinely surprised. “I don’t re- oh.”
The change on his face was almost shocking. The relaxed expression was gone in a second, and embarrassment quickly took its place. Zhongli shifted on his chair, as if it suddenly became very uncomfortable to sit on, and the wine blush on his face deepened considerably. He looked at Childe, scanning his face as if he couldn’t decide what to say next. Finally, he put down his glass of wine and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, readying himself for something.
“I don’t know where to start, but I think it’s high time-“ He cut abruptly, and muttered something under his breath, something in Liyuean that Childe didn’t understand. A curse, probably, which was uncommon for Zhongli. “I really do not know how to say it best. I’m terrible at these kinds of things, as you may already know.”
“Straight away,” Childe suggested. A part of him that normally would’ve been scared of moments like his itched to know.
Zhongli inhaled deeply.
“I was under the impression that you were going to say that you accept my affections. Accept, and return them.”
The way Zhongli left it was so unlike anything else he had ever said that it was almost funny, and Childe would’ve laughed if he had not felt paralyzed at hearing these words finally spoken out loud, let out of the confines of a maybe and a perhaps.
He had been having his… suspicions, recently.
In hindsight, after his conversation with the Tsaritsa – the one they had privately after the Harbinger meeting, not the interrogation he and Zhongli had been forced to subject themselves to after their arrival – it was rather obvious. The things that previously were just scraps and slivers in his subconscious finally started to come together into coherent thoughts. His heart finally found its connection to his brain, and Childe understood that whatever he had felt towards Zhongli was not just a very friendly appreciation, but something deeper, warmer, and more magnetic than just a normal friendship would’ve been. The weird quickness of his heartbeat, the unquenchable thirst for Zhongli’s company and his praise, the pure need to make him smile and laugh and be happy, and the electricity – the static he could feel in the air and on his skin sometimes – whenever Zhongli was close. There could not have been more obvious signs of the biggest, most burning crush he had ever felt in his life.
It all culminated in his big realization he had in the morning, upon waking up.
Alright, maybe calling it a realization was a little bit of a stretch; an exaggeration, even. There were no flames erupting, no ringing of bells, and Childe’s world did not shatter into pieces to pull itself back together after a couple of disastrous seconds. His heart did not stop to skip a beat and then to pick up its race at a faster pace, no – nothing like that. It was like noticing, just in passing, that the sky was blue, and realizing that it always had been, in fact, blue. Like slowly easing into a warm lake. No celestial truth had been unveiled to him in the act of understanding. The world continued to be as it always was. There was no confusion. No groundbreaking, earth-shattering discoveries.
As he lay in his bed that morning, staring at the patterns on the canopy of his bed, he felt right. Just right.
The world, and he, were still the same. Well, maybe for that certain kind of freedom and lightness he felt within himself. And the tiny little seed that sprouted within his chest having been finally allowed some sunlight.
Yes. It was most definitely a crush.
Or, maybe something more actually, but it was far too early for him to admit that to himself. It was a big step enough to accept that there was something more he felt for Zhongli, but to say the word was terrifying. For now.
So, hearing now of his affections – even though only supposed by Zhongli – wasn’t that scary.
Hearing, however, about Zhongli’s feelings, which he also, with the great help of Tsaritsa, had started to notice and accept to be something more than what he could see on the surface, was something entirely, entirely different.
He didn’t know what to say, as his mind and his tongue refused to cooperate, but thankfully the six millennia-old god sitting in front of him was merciful enough not to expect a reply right away.
“I realize the error of my way of thinking now, I truly do, having been very… explicitly told by the Tsaritsa that I have been, to quote her directly ‘a dumb oaf of an archon.’”
Zhongli chuckled, slightly nervously maybe, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Was his hand shaking? Childe, although feeling like he was about to be crushed between two slabs of stone, wanted to coo at this strangely human gesture.
“I…” the god continued, having taken another steadying breath. “I don’t think there will be a better opportunity to say this so… Throughout the last year that we have known each other, I have developed something that is colloquially called ‘feelings’… for you.”
The way in which the word rolled off of Zhongli’s tongue, the softness he poured over it, and the fragility in his slightly trembling voice, sent Childe’s mind spinning.
“It started as simple friendliness and a little bit of intrigue after I realized that you were unlike any other person I’ve ever met.” Zhongli continued. He spoke fast, like this was something he was preparing to say, and rehearsed many times now. “With time, this transformed into something else. Something… more. The more time we spent, the deeper I felt, about our relationship, about you. I realized that the days in which my first thought in the morning was about you – meeting you, talking to you, spending time with you – were becoming more and more frequent, until you filled my mind entirely, and refused to leave it, as if you grew roots there.” He joked with a chuckle. “I began craving your presence, your closeness, and not being with you was suffocating. It took me some time to recognize it for what it was, because even though feelings like this – affection, desire – are not foreign to me, they have never taken this shape, or this force. Something was pulling me towards you and I have no idea what it was, but I didn’t want to oppose it. Not anymore.”
The last sentence stirred Childe a little. To hear Zhongli imply that he also had been scared of this, that he tried to oppose it or had trouble accepting this felt strangely comforting. Something blossomed in his chest, something warm and delicate, and he had to fight an urge to reach out to the god. For what, he couldn’t tell, but he wanted to get closer.
“It has been a long time since the last time I was, ah, romantically involved,” the Archon grimaced at his choice of words. “And I’ve never… Not with a human, I mean, especially not from- And I didn’t know- Ah,” Zhongli rubbed his forehead, frustration bubbling in his voice. “Why are my words failing me here, now that I’ve almost succeeded?”
“You didn’t know what to do?” Childe said quietly, encouragingly, deciding to help a little.
Zhongli startled and looked up at him, amber eyes thankful. “Yes. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so strongly about you that I just… didn’t know what to do.”
“And you have done what you always do,” Childe continued, gears in his mind turning slowly to put that one missing puzzle piece in place. “You’ve turned back to what you know best. Because that’s safe.”
The look Zhongli gave him was a long one. He laughed quietly then, shaking his head. “You know me too well.”
“Not nearly too well, but enough to understand… now.”
“I was too scared to face this, so I instead started leaving bits and pieces of my feelings here and there, cloaking them behind gestures, wrapping in words of tradition and history, and leaving crumbles of my heart here and there, hoping that maybe you will pick them up. I was foolish to think so because how could you have known?”
“What were you so scared of?”
“Of everything,” Zhongli’s reply came almost immediately. Childe sensed that he wanted to say this for a long time now, and felt relieved that he finally could. “Of myself. Of just how deep it felt. And most importantly, of the possibility that you may not feel the same way.” Zhongli’s lip quivered a bit. “So I’ve left an open door, or what I believed, in my mind, to be an open door, and a path leading to it, and quietly wishing that you will follow.”
That was such a Zhongli way of handling this, Childe realized. Giving an option, a choice. And hoping it would be taken. It made sense, but at the same time, slightly hurt knowing that Zhongli was so scared of these feelings and the uncertainty they brought. He remembered Tsaritsa’s words about Zhongli being scared of vulnerability, and his heart ached.
“How long would you have waited? If I didn’t…” Childe stopped himself as his mind caught up to what was about to slip out of his lips. “If this didn’t develop like this?”
Realization sparked in Zhongli’s eyes, but he didn’t follow it. “I would’ve told you, sooner or later. Or I like to believe I would. Maybe a certain archon or two would’ve hammered some sense into me.” He reached for his wine, again. “Or a certain funeral parlor director,” he muttered under his breath as he took a sip of his wine. His glass was almost empty now.
As the words spoken swirled in Childe’s brain in something that he could only compare to a big soup of emotions, something else bothered him about their last dinner in Liyue. “But I still don’t understand why you thought I would confess on that day.”
Zhongli blinked a few times, a blush creeping back onto his cheeks. “You spoke in a way that made me believe that there was a big announcement coming. And there was, of course, but my poor helplessly enamored heart thought you meant something else. And it’s been a long time since I’ve given you-“ he suddenly stopped himself as if he had spoken one word too much.
Childe perked at that, smelling something interesting. “Given me what?” His mind did a quick run through the catalog of things that Zhongli had ever gifted him.
“Please don’t make me say it, it’s so… silly in hindsight,” Zhongli groaned.
Childe raised an eyebrow, and the god just sighed.
“One of the crumbles that I mentioned earlier was hidden in a gift I’ve given you some time ago. It was the most straightforward one, at least to me, and I feared it might have been too forward or obscene, even. I’ve gotten a couple of weird stares for it, and I think some people might have realized…”
“Was it the jade lion figurine?” Childe asked, having no clue.
“No, it was… Well, it was the chopsticks. The… expensive ones.” Seeing Childe’s confused face, Zhongli sighed. “The dragon and phoenix ones,” he added, covering his face with his hand.
“The dra- Oh. Ooooh.” Childe almost choked as he connected the dots and it finally, finally started making sense. His hands got clammy and he could feel the tips of his ears burn. “The dragon. And the phoenix.”
“Yes, I even wanted to ask you if you took them with you on this journey. Foolishly, I am aware, although…”
The rest of Zhongli’s words were drowned out by a strange ringing in his ears that was getting louder and louder.
He didn’t know everything about Liyue’s many traditions and customs. A year was barely enough to scratch it, a decade would probably only be like dipping a toe into a deep ocean. But that one he managed to get familiar with. That one…
He swallowed. That imagery was used for marriage proposals.
That’s what the Tsaritsa alluded too, as well.
Oh, Celestia.
Zhongli’s eyes widened in something akin to alarm. “I’ll have you know this symbolism is not just for formal engagements, nowadays it’s generally for a lucky relationship between two-” he scrambled to explain, slightly leaning over the table. “I wouldn’t- Not even I would think-“
For some reason, Childe wanted to laugh. So he did.
His reaction must have confused the god, as he studied his frame in concern and with pulled eyebrows, maybe thinking that his confession had made the Harbinger go insane. He relaxed after a while when he noticed that it was simply pure joy and amusement that echoed in Childe’s laugh, and he joined him – first with a quiet chuckle, which developed into happy laughter as seconds passed.
When Childe finally calmed down, he felt quiet. Serene, even. He should’ve felt confused, stressed, maybe even angry, but no – he couldn’t find these feelings inside of himself, no matter how deep and hard he looked for them. Not directed towards Zhongli, anyway.
The god went quiet too, and sighed as if a heavy burden was lifted from his shoulders. Childe could only imagine how freeing it must’ve felt to finally let this all out. He only realized he was staring when Zhongli looked back at him, and he nearly melted at the pure affection that filled the god’s golden eyes.
“I understand that it might be too soon for me to ask, but I must ask,” Zhongli started, and Childe knew what he was about to say next. “Do you, by any chance-“
“Say, Zhongli,” he interrupted him instead, feeling butterflies swirling in his stomach, making him unable to stay still. “What would you say to a late-night walk around the city?”
Notes:
I am so so sorry for the cliffhanger but I just finished that paragraph one night and then when I woke up on the next day and got back to writing I thought "hmm... what if...." and I just couldn't resist. It looked as a perfect point to end the chapter! I promise it will be worth it!!!! :3
This chapter would've been out earlier actually but I had to scrap a large part of it as I wasn't satisfied with it and just felt like I was writing the same thing again. Destruction is also a part of creation!
Either way, hope you've enjoyed it! I plotted this story out before Arle's release so I hope she's not too OOC to what we've been given in canon? I haven't played Genshin in months, actually, just only got back to it recently. I have loooots to catch up on, lol.Fun fact: this is actually my second sort of confession for them that I've written and it's soooo different from the 1st one. But we got Zhongli confessing again! Next time it might not be him, and that next time is gonna most likely be...
...during Zhongchili week 2024! Or maybe it will /start/ during the week because a few days after I saw the prompts, on one random afternoon I have gotten an AMAZING idea for a multichapter futuristic cyberpunk-inspired fic. So, yeah! This is so chaotic, but anyway - I always wanted to participate in a shipweek and somehow it always slipped outside of my radar, but this time I found the list with the prompts before it started. As I just rambled, I have something planned to start on Day 4 but who knows! Maybe I'll come up with something else! And if I manage to finish Pet Reptiles Guidebook by that time (I think we'll need 4 chapters or so) then... one other day looks inviting...
Here are the prompts btw if anyone's interested: https://x.com/ZCLWeek/status/1775611248161247453And also... thank you for your support so far, and for all the nice words you've shared under the last chapter. I've been coming back to them frequently. I'm a bit better now, life is relentlessly going on. I watched the trees bloom this spring :)
Till next time <3
(BTW if you have any Zhongchi/Zhongchili/Tartali discords - fanfic focused or not! - let me know!)
Oh I almost forgot! The name of the restaurant is a not-so-obvious reference to Master and Margarita - an incredibly enchanting book, one of my favorite novels ever)
Chapter Text
The night air prickled Childe’s lungs when the restaurant doors closed behind him.
He glanced to his side, at Zhongli, who was looking at him questioningly.
“Let’s go,” Childe said simply and quickly took his hand, dragging the surprised god along as he sped up. The buzzing in his veins didn’t want him still.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Zhongli’s sigh was drowned out by the sounds of the city at night.
The city of Snezhnaya was difficult to navigate through for someone who didn’t know their way around. It was unlike any other city Childe had been to throughout his life, and he’d seen quite a few of them, including some most prominent capitals of Teyvat. Chaos and order, space and clutter, wealth and scarcity, all met here and mingled together, creating a patchwork of a city that had seen the rivers change their courses throughout the many, many centuries since the first settlement in the area. Being so sprawled and enormous, one always had a feeling that it was about to collapse under its weight and crush the small lives of its underbelly, but it was a city too big to fail, many said, and it was especially true with Pulcinella’s hands holding it together.
That man was nothing but efficient at his work, Childe had to give him that. It flourished under his care during his many terms as the governor, transforming from a 2nd rank trading city in the north into one of the most important centers of commerce in Teyvat, with Mora flowing in and out of its harbor like the whale oil the country produced. Funds were given generously for renovations, restorations, and repairs, and soon even the less wealthy districts were moderately clean and proper, with access to electricity and fresh water. Of course, the city had some dirt under its fingernails, as did Pulcinella, but that was only expected when heavy industry was one of its propelling forces.
Its size and population considered it wouldn’t be an unfounded assumption to expect the city to be rather unsafe to wander around at night, especially in less welcome areas, but that also has changed dramatically more or less recently, with the funds flooding in, and with Capitano’s city watch forces patrolling the streets and ensuring relative peace and safety. Under close scrutiny and with the crime becoming heavily punished, the people quickly learned that they wouldn’t want to open their doors to people in Fatui military uniforms looking for them. Especially so with the bloody, cautionary tales of mysterious deaths of a few petty crime lords, who had supposedly met their ends at the edge of Capitano’s sword.
But that wasn’t a thing Childe particularly wanted to dwell on or tell Zhongli about tonight – they could leave the socio-political consequences of the economic boom that Snezhnaya had experienced in the past couple of decades for another day. This night, with its ice-cold air and clear, starry sky, was for them – and them only.
His grip around Zhongli’s hand tightened as he turned to the left, into one of the narrower side alleys that he remembered well to be a shortcut that could lead them toward the main city street, which they would have to cross to get to their destination.
“Ajax, by earth and stone, slow down, please!”
Gods, the blood in his veins was urging him to run even faster to match his excitement, but the slightly distressed plea in Zhongli’s voice grounded him pretty quickly. He slowed down his steps to a slow walk as they passed right under a lamppost and turned around to check if Zhongli was okay.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, carefully examining the god’s face.
“I am, just…” Zhongli started. He didn’t look in any way tired or otherwise affected by the pace. Damned be the Adepti stamina. “Why are we in such a rush?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just- I’m really, you know, excited?” Happy, elated, overjoyed, ecstatic? Childe could find plenty of words to describe his state.
The god chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be better to savior this moment then, rather than rush through it? I’ve heard the Snezhnayan nights are long.”
Zhongli was making some good points, but Childe didn’t feel too inclined to agree with him. At least not before some good old teasing. He stopped walking and leaned in a bit until he could smell Zhongli’s perfume.
“Have you now?” Childe asked in a low voice as if he was talking about some kind of mystery, and the god immediately went still as stone, which was charming, in a way. “Or are you saying this because you can’t keep up?”
Zhongli only sighed before lightly smacking Childe in the arm.
“Ouch!” the Harbinger complained, massaging the spot. The smack itself was nowhere near as painful to elicit any reaction from him – just a playful thing – but he wouldn’t have been himself if he didn’t let his brat side how. “What for?”
“Don’t make those eyes now, it’s not going to work after your scurrilous comment.” Zhongli crossed his arms over his chest, giving him a stern look. He appeared quite imposing in his imperious-looking coat, and the look in his eyes would have certainly sent some mortals cowering in fear if it weren’t for the mirth hidden behind.
“Scurrilous?!” Childe scoffed. “Oh, come on, that wasn’t even half as scratchy to use such big words!” He resumed his walk, once again taking Zhongli’s hand into his own. “And what does that even mean?”
“Dragons are easily irritable creatures, mind you,” the Archon lectured, ignoring Childe’s question. “They’re honorable, prideful, and protective, and therefore they don’t take slights easily. One wrong step near the illustrious beast and you might find your thigh between fangs the size of longswords.”
“You forgot to add ‘humble’ to the list,” Childe remarked, stepping over a dislodged pavement plate.
Zhongli laughed, then, a rich and deep laugh that tickled the hair at the back of Childe’s neck.
“Oh, dear Ajax, I would never claim so,” he said, so softly it was almost a purr.
Childe tripped on his next step, barely finding his balance back after nearly falling.
“I need to let Pulcinella know that the state of the sidewalks is unacceptable,” he muttered, fixing his coat, feeling his cheeks as hot as if he were standing near a fireplace. “What a poor reflection of his work. A disgrace to the nation.”
“It sure is, my dear. You ought immediately to report it,” Zhongli agreed, although it was obvious from the tone of his voice that he was trying his best to bite back a laugh.
They continued walking through the city, and Childe took Zhongli’s advice, curbing down his initial restlessness and opting for a more leisurely pace. The roads got wider and better illuminated as they got closer to the center of the city and its oldest part, with tram lines – which was a new invention, fashioned after the famous aquabus of Fontaine, minus the water – running in the middle. Trees and evergreen shrubbery, tended to with care and skill, adorned the edges of the pavements, and the soft golden light emanating from the tall lampposts made the snow piling up everywhere shimmer as if beaded with diamonds. Despite the fairly late hour, the streets weren’t empty at all – there were groups of people here and there, locals and tourists alike, walking along the streets, some entering or leaving surrounding tall townhouses and the little shops, stores, and restaurants located within their ground floors. All of that, with the backdrop of the cloudless, pitch-black sky overhead littered with countless stars, looked like pulled out straight from a dream.
Childe looked to his side at some point, and he couldn’t help a small soft smile at the sight of Zhongli enraptured by the sights and sounds of the city, drinking everything in with wide eyes and lips parted in silent wonder. He had been allowed to see many faces of Zhongli throughout the last couple of months that probably not many people – or other beings – had seen in the last few centuries, but this had to be one of his favorite looks on him. It was so rare for the god to be genuinely surprised by anything, much less to have such pure marvel in his eyes, that Childe cherished it deeply whenever he saw a glimpse of that on his face.
He tried his best to fuel that wonder further, supplying Zhongli with all the tales and stories of the city that he managed to recall – there weren’t many as he wasn’t a local, but he tried still. He told him about the mythos of its foundation and some of the more ancient history, though he was sure that Zhongli was familiar with some stories – or even a witness to them, maybe. In a hushed voice, he recalled the great upset of five hundred years ago that nearly eradicated the city, though he kept that to a minimum, knowing Zhongli always winced at mentioning anything that had happened around that time. He didn’t dwell on the topic for too long and instead talked about the golden era of flourish, for which the city had to wait until Pulcinella came about as its mayor, and all the renovations and technological advancement (including the tram lines with the electrified, red metal carriages) that he had introduced.
“You paint a picture of him as a good governor, in your stories,” Zhongli noticed. “Yet I remember how you’ve described him to me as someone not to be trusted. You’re not comfortable with him.”
There was no question there. Childe thought for a second before replying. “He is good at his job, and it’s undeniable that he did a lot of nice things for the city. Just… nothing a Harbinger does comes without a price. Usually a bloody one or at the expense of others. Yes, he did help a lot of people by making the city bloom, but…”
“You’re worried about what lays at the foundations of this success?” Zhongli supplied thoughtfully.
“I know what lays there, more or less,” Childe sighed. “A bunch of lesser evils or creative scheming. A knife to a throat or two. Or more. Fatui money is blood money more often than not, and we’re not always good people. Some of us never are.”
Zhongli fell silent for a minute. He was observing the people around them, and his sight lingered on a well-off family of five that waited for a carriage to pick them up from a nearby theatre. The mother in a feathered hat was holding a sleepy toddler, while the father – a short, burly man – held the hands of two girls, perhaps twins, and lively explained something to them.
“And yet on your scale, the Rooster doesn’t place that high, if I remember correctly,” he said, turning his face to look at Childe. “And I know it has a personal dimension for you.”
Childe nodded. “The Harbingers are a can of worms, really. The entire Fatui organization is. But I can’t deny that some good came out of it, for some people at least. And for me too, I don’t know where would I be now had it not been for them, for Pulcinella specifically. I guess it’s hard to pass a verdict when someone has experienced care and a sort of kindness from a place that produces an equal measure of destruction and despair.”
They passed the street then, waiting for a carriage with the family to pass by, and then they headed towards the main square of the city.
“You’ve gone awfully quiet,” Childe said when no answer came from Zhongli.
“I was just lost in thought, apologies.” Zhongli looked at him again. “You know, I really enjoy it when you’re letting me detangle your thoughts.”
“Detangle my thoughts?”
“Yes. I like it when you’re allowing me to get to know your perspective on things. You do so with a great amount of thoughtfulness that I, must shamefully admit, didn’t think you’d have when I first met you- Ah.” He made a pause and then proceeded to quickly explain himself. “That probably sounded very offensive, apologies. You’ve turned out to be a very different person than I anticipated, based on what I was informed about.”
Childe wondered what kind of dossier Zhongli had been given by the Fatui about him. Did he have a conversation with the Tsaritsa about it? Most likely. What could she have said about him?
“And what was that?”
“Mainly a very clinical description of your profile as a Harbinger and a soldier. Nothing about your personal life. A lot about Tartaglia, something about Childe. Nothing about Ajax. Which I came to realize must have been intentional.”
Ah, yes. Just as he expected. Childe snickered, shaking his head. “She wanted you to go in blind.”
“She is wiser than most give her credit for.”
A gust of wind blew off some snow from a windowsill above. It fell on them, cold and wet, on their coats, scarves, and faces. Childe sputtered as some of it got into his eyes and nose.
“Oh, please…” the Archon mumbled, trying to shake the snow off with some annoyance.
Childe, sharing the feeling, shook his head and reached out to Zhongli’s hair to help once his own were fairly okay, at least by his standards. “Wait, let me…”
“Yours isn’t any better, allow me to fix it.”
Before Childe could blink, he felt Zhongli’s gloved fingers between the strands of his hair, meticulously threading through the strands to try and get the icy particles out of it. He tried to return the favor, but his focus started to slip away as he realized how close Zhongli had gotten, almost certainly unknowingly. So up close, he could see just how pristine was Zhongli’s skin, how sharp his eyeliner was drawn today, and the slight scrunch of his nose as he was absorbed by the task. His own movements slowed down a bit when he gave in to Zhongli’s featherlight touches, wishing that he didn’t have his gloves on.
“How your hair doesn’t get all matted and tangled together with how wild it is,” the god murmured, “is one of life’s greatest mysteries.”
The Harbinger kept looking, and for some reason, the scene felt not unlike that one evening a few days ago when he woke up on the couch. Childe’s heart reacted the same way, but this time, he recognized it for what it was.
Realizing that Childe was staring, Zhongli looked him in the eyes then and immediately stopped. “What is it?” he asked, puzzled at the reaction.
And there he could feel it again; that same pull, that tugging he’d been feeling for so long now.
He took a shaky breath in, and then a step back.
“Nothing, thank you,” he said, having cleared his throat. He offered a hand to Zhongli. “We’re almost there.”
Zhongli looked as if he wanted to say something, looking at the extended arm with confusion and his head tilted slightly to the side. He took it wordlessly eventually and followed him with a small smile.
Childe long debated with himself on what he could show Zhongli in the city that would be most memorable. He knew that Zhongli would probably appreciate and thoroughly enjoy anything, but he didn’t want to settle on just anything. Copying something from tourists' pamphlets would’ve been impersonal, and Childe disliked every bit of superficiality that was more than necessary. This required something more, something that wasn’t easy to get on a postcard from the city. Ideally, he would’ve taken Zhongli to Morepesok, and shown him the fisher’s market, the bay, and the mountain ridge, but that was, unfortunately, impossible.
Architectural wonders, technological advancements, cozy picturesque shops and stores huddled together at the main streets townhouses – that was all fine, and could’ve made a nice trip with an interesting guide, and Zhongli would still be delighted with it, but it wasn’t enough for Childe. He knew Zhongli was proud of the history, the landscape, and the architecture of Liyue, but if there was a thing he cherished above all else, it was its people. Bearing that in mind, Childe decided that the best way to show him Snezhnaya – show him another part of himself – would be to show him the country’s heart; its people, their culture, and their traditions.
“Welcome, Zhongli,” he said, presenting the sight behind him with a gesture. “To the Winter Solstice night market.”
The god’s eyes glistened with the reflection of hundreds of small lanterns illuminating the market square, hanging between the tall, wooden stalls, and thick potted spruces. Childe thought the site to be surprisingly busy, but then again, it was one of the clearest winter nights, so it made sense that everyone wanted to come and see what the market had to offer. People streamed in from all directions, feeding into the colorful mass flowing around the square and between the stalls, carrying little traditional souvenirs, nibbling on food, or drinking hot steamy beverages – either hot chocolate for the youngsters, or mulled wine or mead for the adults. Wherever Childe looked, he could see happy faces, red from frost but happy nonetheless, with wide smiles and eyes bearing no worries of everyday life. Light chatter and excited laughs filled the air and for a second, Childe thought himself back in Morepesok, at one of similar markets from his childhood times. He always loved this time of the year, always impatiently awaiting for the stalls to be opened and the lights lit. The market in his village was nowhere near big or rich, but it was more magical than anything for a child, and walking into it for the first time in the year always felt like stepping into another world. At least before the Abyss forced him to grow up.
He shook his head, chasing the unpleasant memories away. It was not the time.
He glanced at Zhongli who, mesmerized by the sights, went right past Childe, mingling with the mass of cheerful people enjoying the beautiful night. Childe followed right after him, catching the hem of his sleeve, afraid of losing him from his sight, and blended into the soft crowd together.
It was again an interesting experience, seeing Zhongli so utterly fascinated. He let the god feast his eyes first, to ease his senses into the microcosm around them before he took up the role of the guide again, remaining silently by his side instead for the time being.
“I don’t think this is really up to your tastes in, well, anything,” Childe said a bit apologetically, feeling strangely self-aware. They walked past rows and rows of stalls offering mostly traditional memorabilia or foods and drinks; dried and cured meats, smoked cheeses, pickled produce, mead, wine, and liquors. He had to bend over Zhongli’s ear to make sure the other heard him, as it was getting really loud around them. “But traditionally, this was the time for farmers and hunters to offer their products from the passing year for sale. Nothing fancy here, I’m afraid.”
The god didn’t look up, attentively studying dozens of jars with different types of honey on a stall in front of him. The color of the liquids varied from light, almost translucent gold, to dark brown. When he finally turned, with a reassuring smile on his face, his eyes were not unlike honey themselves.
“These are the greatest treasures of your lands, Ajax,” he said softly. “Not its gold, its precious stones, not rare metals, but the work of its people and the fruit thereof. You should feel nothing but pride, as I feel nothing but gratefulness now.”
Childe flustered a bit at these words. “Well, I know, I just thought that this is not really what you’d expect? Knowing your tastes from Liyue…”
“And why would that be bad?” the god asked, tilting his head slightly. They slowly moved to another stall, this time with dried fish. The smell of smoke and salt reminded Childe of home.
Zhongli continued as they moved forward. “It’s the fact that this is nothing like the, let’s say, Lanter Rite market, that makes it all the more precious experience. I’ve never had the pleasure of taking part in a Winter Solstice market before. I’ve only ever read about it,” he hummed quietly. “Truth be told, sources on Snezhnayan cultural traditions and festivities have been few and far between for a couple hundred years, so my knowledge is outdated and limited. All the more reasons to cherish it to the fullest and be thankful for every small piece of yourself you want to share with me.”
“I’m just happy that I finally can share it, you know. And pay back for your generosity in Liyue.”
Zhongli gave him a serious look then. “You don’t have to pay back for anything, Ajax. I wouldn’t want you to feel like you owe me something.”
“No, no!” he quickly explained. “It’s not that at all, just… like I said, I’m very glad that I have the opportunity to share all this in the same way that you’ve shared your Liyue with me.”
The spicy fragrance of mulled wine wafted over from a nearby stall. A short, curvy woman with a fur hat on distributed (quite sizeable) mugs amongst the people waiting around.
“Do you want to get some?” he asked, gesturing towards the stall with his thumb. Zhongli looked like he wanted to add something to the conversation, but then then changed his mind. He just shook his head slightly and nodded.
The woman – Alyna, as Childe had overheard from the crowd – gave them two steamy mugs of hot wine, so hot in fact that he could feel it through his gloves. He took a sip, and the drink almost burned his tongue, but the taste was just heavenly.
“Celestia above, this is ridiculous,” he said in disbelief. The wine was so spicy he could almost feel it in his nose. “This is the best mulled wine I’ve ever had, what the hell.”
Zhongli eyed the cup in his hand and then smelled it cautiously, and his eyes widened slightly. For some reason, this reminded Childe of a cat, a bit.
“You’ve never had it before?” he asked, suppressing a chuckle at his previous thought.
“It’s not a drink known in Liyue,” Zhongli explained. “I know they have something like this Mondstadt, though I haven’t had the chance to drink it.”
“Ours is better anyway,” Childe waved his hand in dismissal, which earned him an amused look from Zhongli. “Go on, try it.”
The god took the tiniest sip possible, and then immediately started coughing as soon as he swallowed it. Childe had to try very hard not to spill his drink as he laughed at Zhongli’s scrunched nose.
“If this is too much for you already, then I don’t know how you’re going to survive Fire Water at the Ball.”
“It’s not too much, although it is surprisingly strong, I admit. I just didn’t expect how spicy it is.” He took another sip, a bigger one this time. “It’s also very sweet.”
“Fret not then, because Fire Water is anything but sweet,” Childe said reassuringly. “Let’s go further?”
Zhongli nodded. “Sure. Just know that, as an Adeptus, I am fairly resistant to poison, alcohol included.”
“Mhm,” Childe hummed, placing a hand on Zhongli’s back and turning him to the right, deeper into the labyrinth of stalls where he caught a glimpse of something promising. “We’ll see how the Adepti hold themselves against mighty Snezhnayan Fire Water.”
Their next stop was at the booth with jewelry and trinkets made of amber. Pendants, rings, bracelets, and earrings made of honey-colored stone encased in gold and silver were laid on the table amongst pine twigs, brilliantly contrasting with the emerald green needles. Small candles, tactically placed around by the merchant, made the amber appear glowing from within, moving and changing shape within the shadows cast by the flames. Childe couldn’t take his eyes off of the jewelry, enchanted by the display. He glanced at Zhongli and smirked when he saw his expression – the very same one he so often saw in Liyue whenever the god spotted something he absolutely needed to possess. Bingo.
Childe noticed the spark of recognition in the merchant’s eyes, and with a discreet gesture of his hand showed him to stay at ease. The man nodded with understanding and turned to another pair of buyers, giving him and Zhongli some space.
“See something you like?” Childe asked, inching towards the god.
Zhongli startled and looked at him with a distracted expression, eyes roaming over the Harbinger’s face. His grip on the booth’s low guardrail tightened. When no answer came, Childe pointed at the displayed jewelry with his chin.
“Oh,” Zhongli said. “Right. The Jewelry. The beautiful, marvelous, Snezhnayan jewelry.” He looked down, though Childe noticed, with a bit of pride swelling in his chest, that his cheeks were blushed. “All of those are stunning, but…”
“I don’t think you can have all of them, I’m afraid,” Childe quipped. “Other people would want to buy some too.”
Zhongli elbowed him lightly in a very un-Zhongli manner. “Contrary to your beliefs, I do have some restraint,” he huffed, giving Childe a pointed look. “I’m thinking of those,” he pointed towards two amber earrings molded in the shape of tears held by silver leaves.
They were pretty, Childe admitted. But would just pretty suffice? With a corner of his eye, Childe noticed the merchant glancing at their side, probably waiting for a good time to walk up to them. He nodded at him when their eyes met.
“Good evening, esteemed customers,” the merchant welcomed them in common tongue with a thick Snezhnayan accent, shifting closer. “May I assist you with something?”
“Hello, dear sir,” Zhongli spoke, bowing his head in greeting. “You have an astonishing collection here. The silversmith making those is incredibly talented.”
“Thank you. It’s a family business, actually, we’ve been doing this for generations. It’s currently in mine and my lovely wife’s hands, with our daughter in training,” the merchant explained, standing a bit taller at Zhongli’s praise. “Those are very nice indeed but I’m sure you’re looking for something more… special.”
He briefly glanced over at Childe and then reached out below the counter to bring out a small, lacquered box made of dark wood. They leaned over a bit to take a peek inside, at a couple of velvety pouches in various sizes.
“I don’t have them on regular display because these are not really things that people here like. They opt for simpler, more tame or traditional designs,” the merchant explained quietly, as if he were sharing some confidential information. He took one bag in his hand and started undoing the knot. “And this particular one was made as a more decorative piece than practical, but I have a feeling it might suit you.”
A singular silver earring fell out of the pouch onto his hand, the metal glistening in the candlelight, and Childe understood at once why it was hidden away. It was molded into the shape of a dragon and was meant to be worn on the entire auricle, not merely hanging from the earlobe. The dragon’s long tail would wrap around the lower part of the ear, piercing the lobe, while its amber claws would be clutching the helix. The dragon’s silver wings were slightly folded, as if it was preparing to jump and fly back into the sky, only having a moment of rest on the ear of its wearer. Its eyes and the horns along its head, torso, and tail, all also sculpted from amber, gleamed beautifully and invitingly.
One glance at Zhongli’s expression told Childe all that he needed to know. He nodded at the merchant with appreciation.
“Do you want to try it on?” he asked Zhongli and took off his gloves, anticipating a “yes” in response.
“I’d love to,” the god responded, taking off the hood of his coat, and tilting his head for a better access.
The skin of his earlobe was soft against Childe’s fingers as he took off Zhongli’s regular earring and clasped the dragon to its place. It fit perfectly, almost as if it was modeled for the ear it was currently wrapped around.
The merchant brought them a mirror, and Zhongli’s eyes sparkled as he checked himself in it.
“I think it looks very good on you, dear mister,” the man said, trying to secure the transaction even though it was obvious he didn’t need to. “The amber compliments your eyes. The dragon’s are not unlike your own.”
Childe stepped from one leg to the other at the comment, eyeing the man.
“It’s really beautiful, thank you,” Zhongli said earnestly. “How much is it?”
“That is none of your concern,” Childe interjected playfully. Zhongli was about to protest, but he didn’t let him. “Your birthday is soon. You can take it as a birthday gift.” One of them, he wanted to add.
That seemed to reassure Zhongli, who only nodded with a sigh. “I assure you that I did take my wallet with me,” he stated, delicately taking the earring off and giving it back to the merchant for packaging.
“It’s a popular saying that it’s never too late to form new habits,” Childe teased.
He passed a hefty amount of Mora to the merchant – much more than the earring was worth in reality. The man was so shocked he couldn’t even properly reply when they bid their farewells and continued their stroll.
The clock on a nearby tower struck as the hands passed midnight. Music started playing somewhere from within the heart of the market – a playful and cheery mix of accordion, violin, flute, and other instruments that reminded Childe of home. Excitement surged within him again at the melody.
“Let’s go see it,” he proposed, grabbing Zhongli by his hand and dragging him along. He only heard a surprised sound, and the god had no choice but to follow.
All the other people seemed to follow the sound as well, as Childe noticed that the crowd nearer the center of the marketplace was getting denser and denser the closer they got. The music had also gotten louder, now accompanied by loud laughs and encouraging shouts and clapping. When they got to a clearing, Childe saw that the center of the market was a low-raised wooden platform. Next to it stood a small stage, occupied by a group of folk musicians. A few couples and groups of people danced to the music already, with more people leaving the observing crowd and joining them in twirls of coats and dresses.
Childe observed the dancing people, foggy memories from childhood nearly forgotten flashing in his mind. He remembered his older sisters and brothers dancing like this with their friends and loved ones and other guests at one of the weddings they had been invited to a couple of lifetimes ago. The people here, much like back then, didn’t dance to any specific dance or routine or anything like that – just listening to the music, absorbing it, tuning into it with their movements. It was all that mattered at the moment; this and the happiness that they felt and shared with each other.
Standing next to him, Zhongli studied the dancing crowd attentively, his eyes following their movements.
“Is this also part of the holiday traditions? For Winter Solstice?” he asked, moving closer to make himself audible over the music.
“It’s nothing specific to the holiday, I mean, the dance itself,” Childe said. “But dancing is a form of celebration, a remnant of ancient rituals done on the night of the winter solstice. It’s the same for summer solstice too, actually.”
Zhongli nodded. “You must tell me more about it, about those traditions. I’ve read about it, but like with everything I saw today, a written scholarly work probably wouldn’t do it much justice.”
Childe, realizing that he was still holding Zhongli’s hand, gripped it a bit tighter. “Maybe instead of hearing or reading about it,” he drawled, slowly stepping out of the crowd toward the platform. “How about experiencing it yourself?”
The Archon resisted, tugging the hand back and looking around, unsure. And, oh, was that shyness on his face? That was a new one. “Ajax, I don’t think I’m familiar with the choreography, so unfortunately I must-“
“I’ll show you.”
Zhongli’s chest rose as he took a deep breath in, and bit his lip. Childe thought he would decline, but despite his worry, the god nodded. Feeling as if a literal flock of butterflies burst open from a cage somewhere in his stomach, Childe skipped towards the dancing people, holding Zhongli’s hand like a lifeline.
They started a little on the side to not disturb the others. Childe gently put Zhongli’s free hand onto his shoulder and lightly grabbed his own waist with his other, thinking it would be best if he led for the time being until they both tested the dancing floor. Zhongli seemed to agree, judging by how the worried expression on his face eased a little. His body still felt stiff, though.
“I’m sorry if I step on your shoes,” Childe pre-apologized after he made a few steps, showing Zhongli the ropes. “It’s been a decade since the last time I danced like this.”
“So your earlier confidence was feigned?” The Archon accused him.
“Absolutely not, I am a good dancer, thank you very much,” he replied, pretending offense, but that only earned him an amused look. “You’ll find out at the Ball for yourself, but it’s been a while since… something like this.”
They started moving a bit faster, back and forth, though still not to the music. But it was a progress, still.
“I can assume then that the Ball will have a different tone, then?”
“Oh, yes. It will be a boring event with stuck-up aristocrats, diplomats, and lots and lots of unproductive talking in between waltzes and polkas. Maybe a mazurek too if they’re feeling funky. The food will be good, though.”
“Waltzes I can do.” There was audible relief in Zhongli’s words.
“And this you can do too, it’s not that different, technically.” Childe gripped Zhongli’s waist a bit tighter, and with the next few steps moved them closer to the other dancers. “Gods, relax a bit. You’re like a string ready to snap.”
“I just don’t want to make too many mistakes,” Zhongli apologized. He looked like a fish taken out of the water, and it was a surprisingly funny sight.
“You will make them, but who cares?” Childe reassured him. “Just… listen to the music, and follow it. You will know.”
And look at me, he wanted to add, but he soon found that he didn’t have to.
It took them a couple of tries to catch the rhythm, but when they finally did, a smile replaced Zhongli’s worried frown. Tension slowly thawed away from his body, and he started to instinctively respond to Childe’s movements, trusting his lead. When the music changed to an even faster pace, Childe twirled him around, and he – though surprised – followed, falling back into his open arms with airy laughter. It slightly startled Childe, making him almost miss a step; he had never heard him laugh like this before.
All the other dancers around soon melted with the background, and every other irrelevant thing at that moment – the people, the noises, the world – faded away and dissolved, leaving only them. They glided around, pushing and pulling together, lost in each other’s hold as if it was the only thing that ever mattered. The music changed, then, and the sounds became slower and longer, carrying a sense of yearning within the notes. Urged by the change of pace, their steps slowed and the distance between them grew smaller as they matched the music. Their touches started to linger now in between the twirls and turns, only reluctantly letting go whenever the dance required, and Childe’s fast-beating heart skipped a beat or two whenever, during a turn, Zhongli whipped his head around to look back at him as soon as possible, his golden eyes carrying enough longing to match the music.
The next time he twirled Zhongli around, Childe pushed him a bit further, taking a step back himself and extending his arm as far as he could. When it was time for Zhongli to come back, he didn’t let go of his hand, wrapping his arm around him and catching him in his embrace. They looked at each other, both panting and gasping for air.
Suddenly, there was only Zhongli in Childe’s universe. Zhongli, the music, and an answer forming in his heart – an answer he had known for some time now.
He studied Zhongli’s face – his sharp eyes that saw the rise and fall of countless empires, the skin on his cheeks that was probably soaked in blood back in the days, now colored with a blush, his parted lips that weighted so many contracts and gave more commands than he could count. He noticed, not for the first time, the divinity hidden in its corners, the history and authority underneath the beauty that left women and men, himself included, speechless. Childe was overwhelmed by it all – and by the fact that this was the face of a god whose heart for some unknown reason chose him.
The music stopped suddenly, and a round of applause erupted around them, breaking the spell that bound them within their own universe, and suddenly bringing them back to reality. Childe took a step back, bowing to Zhongli to thank him for a dance, his heart beating so fast it was about to break out of his ribcage.
“I think I need to grab a drink,” he said. “And something to eat maybe. Want some too?”
The god nodded silently. He had a strange expression on his face, slightly crestfallen, but it brightened a little when Childe squeezed his hand reassuringly and instead of letting it go, intertwined their fingers together.
It didn’t take them too long to find the nearby food stalls, though they had to wait for their turn in the line. The choice of food wasn’t that big, but they had all the local staples that should be both tasty and filling. After some quick consideration, they ordered a mix of pan-fried pirozhki with three different fillings, and yet another two mugs of mulled wine. It was difficult to find an unoccupied table to sit down and enjoy the food, but Zhongli noticed one nearby and dragged Childe there, almost spilling his drink with how fast he moved.
The archon was the first one to break the silence when they were slowly finishing their snacks. He took a small sip of his mulled wine, and then another. He seemed to be warming up to the drink. “So, this is your Snezhnaya,” he stated with a note of understanding.
Childe swallowed a bite of his pirozhek, thinking. “This is not the entirety of my Snezhnaya, at least… not quite? You see,” he began explaining when he saw Zhongli tilt his head in confusion. “Morepesok is a very small coastal village in a remote northern part of the country. It’s very different from what you can see here, from the grandeur of the capital. It’s a humble fishing settlement, and it's reflected in the culture of the region and its people. I don’t feel here quite at home, never really have. And this, as I said” he gestured around with his wooden disposable fork, “is just a small piece of my homeland.”
Zhongli nodded. “But there is something that unites all of the people of this land? Common roots, perhaps?”
“Oh yes, definitely. We’re all Snezhnayans, there’s no doubt about that, we all share the same language, history, and traditions. What I meant is that ‘my Snezhnaya’ is really… not illuminated buildings, palaces, manors, not wide roads and metal carriages, not the hustle and bustle of the city. Rather, it’s a dark forest with tall pine trees, wolves howling in the night, bonfires dispersing the cold, jagged mountain peaks piercing the sky… the smell of the ocean. And ice fishing. And ice skating,” he added. “I hope I’ll be able to show it all to you in the future.”
A kind smile blossomed on Zhongli’s face. “We’ll make it work,” he simply confirmed, imbuing the profoundness of his statement with almost impossible ease. “I’ve seen ice skating once in Mondstadt, many years ago, but I’ve never had the chance to try it myself. I’ve heard it’s popular in Fontaine as a-“
He stopped mid-sentence, undoubtedly noticing the wicked grin that Childe sported as an idea popped into his head.
“Ajax, no,” Zhongli said sternly, but his words could not stop the Harbinger’s will.
“I don’t think,” Zhongli scolded him from behind. “That theft in the presence of a god is a good idea.”
The lock of the stall at the edge of the frozen lake clicked and Childe pumped his fist in the air to celebrate. He turned his face and glanced at an unamused Zhongli. “Thankfully this dear god here is not a god of law or justice. And this isn’t theft,” he murmured, picking up two pairs of ice skates. “We’re just borrowing.”
The door creaked when he closed it. He pushed a pair of ice skates into Zhongli’s hands and chuckled at his grimace of discomfort.
“Contracts are a form of law. Please, don’t involve me in this,” the god said, almost pleadingly. He eyed the skates with distrust.
“Well, you are my partner in crime now, whether you like it or not,” Childe declared. It’s been years since the last time he wore ice skates, but his brain still remembered the correct way of wearing them. “You can fasten them to your boots, like this,” he instructed Zhongli, showing him that the clasps are adjustable.
Once his own were secured in place, he made sure that Zhongli’s were too – he wouldn’t want him to injure himself – and then he helped him, slowly, to get on the surface of the lake.
When the god admitted to never having tried ice skating in his impossibly long life, Childe could not curb the excitement at the prospect of showing and teaching him how to do it. Ice skating was a popular winter sport in Snezhnaya, and all the kids learned that at a young age. With frosts as bitter as those frequent here, all the lakes, ponds, and even rivers or parts of the ocean remained thoroughly frozen for the entire duration of winter, so it was safe to just find a relatively clear and smooth frozen surface and indulge, racing, playing ice hockey, or just having fun from smoothly gliding across the ice.
It wasn’t a long way to a nearby city park from where they had been, and unlike the market square, the park was utterly empty, so they had it all for themselves. The lack of other people also conveniently allowed Childe to break into the ice skate rental to borrow (not steal – he would leave the equivalent and a tip for the skates inside the shed) the equipment required.
Childe gestured for Zhongli to wait while he tested the ice himself. The muscles of his legs remembered what movements they had to make, and soon he was gliding around freely, the momentum tousling the hair on his head. The surface of the ice was smooth and leveled, which made it a clear, although a bit surprising indication that someone took their time to prepare it for the skaters. They didn’t have that comfort in Morepesok. The blades of his ice skates moved cleanly, and he couldn’t feel any bumps, holes, or ridges underneath, other than the shallow ones left by other skaters throughout the day.
“The well of your talents seems to be bottomless,” he heard Zhongli say. He stood there, observing him closely. “I find it rather unfair.”
“You’re selling yourself too short. I saw you fight, I saw you write. I heard you speak. And this is not a talent, please, it’s just an exercise that you are about to learn too.”
Childe took a turn to the left and, with a scrapping sound of blades shearing the ice, came to a halt in front of Zhongli, straining his muscles to keep balance. The god huffed at the display, crossing his arms on his chest. A lone strand of his hair fell into his eyes and Childe itched to fix it.
“Come,” he said instead, taking Zhongli’s both hands for better assurance and slowly, very slowly sliding backwards. “One foot, then the other, slightly to the sides. Good, very good.”
The grip of Zhongli’s hand on his own immediately tightened when the god swayed precariously but managed to stay on his feet, steadying himself against Childe. His face contorted in unease and the muscles of his jaws tensed momentarily.
“It’s okay, don’t be scared,” Childe tried to calm him down. “It will happen, but you’re doing great so far.”
“Ajax, I am fighting for my dear life here.” It came out almost like an irritated hiss. “I am a divine Adeptus, with the nature of a dragon made of the very earth, and Geo laces the very cells in my body. I can’t not feel at least uneasy without it under my feet.” He wobbled slightly as he said this.
“And yet you persist, oh divine Adeptus dragon. Take it easy, slowly. We’ve got time. Liyue wasn’t built in a day, was it?”
A quick, short nod was the only reply. Zhongli’s eyebrows furrowed as his entire focus concentrated on ensuring his right foot moved first, and then the left. It was quite endearing, and Childe chuckled quietly. Of course, the Archon’s sharp ears caught that immediately, and he threw him a sharp, accusatory look.
“No, I’m not making fun of you,” he clarified immediately. “Quite the contrary, I adore you.”
He quickly gripped Zhongli’s forearms as the man almost stumbled forward. Both remained quiet afterward, letting the embarrassed blush on Zhongli’s cheeks speak for itself.
It wasn’t easy at first, but once Zhongli caught the gist of ice skating and the basic rules of the movements, his body relaxed, allowing him to lean into and find purchase in the impeccable balancing skills he acquired throughout the centuries of practice and fighting. Childe observed him circling around, his heart swelling like that of a proud parent once Zhongli willingly let go of his hand and tried skating alone, doing so successfully and beautifully.
“Told you it’s not that hard. You’ll be making pirouettes soon if you keep that pace up,” he noted, following Zhongli by his side. “Though you might need a different type of ice skates for that, those are not suitable for it.”
“Can you do it?” The Archon asked, surprised.
“No, nothing of the sort. I can do quick turns, though.” He demonstrated the skill, turning around and skating backward, grinning at Zhongli. “I always found racing more thrilling.”
“Of course you would.”
“I do wonder, though, how would fighting work on ice skates. That must be a spectacle!”
“Until both you and your opponent fall down, break the surface, and then inevitably drown.”
Childe burst out laughing. “What a morose vision, wow. The ice could be up to two or three meters thick. We have horse carriages crossing lakes and rivers in winter, come on! There is no way it’s breaking. And even if, I can swim. Yes, even in water as cold as this. We used to do that as kids, it’s good for the health.”
Zhongli paled slightly with terror. “We’re not doing that today.”
“No, we’re not. But one day, maybe?”
There was no reply to that, other than Zhongli turning to the left and sliding away.
A couple of clouds appeared in the sky soon, though they didn’t obstruct the stars completely. Small, delicate flecks of snow fell on them as they continued to ice skate at a slow, leisurely pace, with Zhongli asking more questions about Snezhnaya and Childe’s childhood, and Childe answering them all earnestly. It wasn’t a full-blown snowfall, not nearly half as strong as those could get, but the change of the weather reminded Childe about the time, and that it was probably getting very late – which was actually not as big of a problem as the lowering temperature, which he himself could feel despite the layers and layers of clothing. He glanced at Zhongli, who was currently rubbing his gloved hands together, air leaving his lips in white puffs. Guilt washed over him instantly.
“I think it’s high time to go home,” he said. “I’m sorry, I totally forgot about the, um. Temperature.”
“It’s okay,” Zhongli smiled at him reassuringly. “I also lost track of time. It happens often in good company.”
Childe took his hand and guided him to the edge of the lake, suddenly remembering how their conversation at the restaurant ended. Although Zhongli didn’t, in any way, try to push him for an answer, he suddenly felt very stressed.
“Are you alright?” the Archon asked, concerned. His eyes jumped over Childe’s face in search of clues. “Has something happened?”
“No, it’s… everything’s fine,” he replied, brushing his stress aside. Gods be damned, he could feel his hands sweating inside his gloves. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the evening. I hope I’ve repaid you for all those times you’ve shown me Liyue around.”
A frown appeared on Zhongli’s face as he contemplated the words. Snowflakes fell on him, lodging themselves in the fur of his hood and his brown hair peeking from underneath it.
“What?” Childe asked.
“You keep saying that you wish to ‘repay’ me or ‘return the favor,’ but this is not a transaction, Ajax, and never has been,” Zhongli stated, echoing his words from earlier. “I hope you don’t misunderstand me, but… What I mean is that I don’t want you to feel obliged to do anything. You don’t have to do anything to earn kindness. To earn intimacy that sharing this,” he made a wide gesture with his arm, pointing at everything around him, “inevitably carries. I hope you know that I don’t view our relationship like this and that I don’t ascribe anything akin to material value to the things – memories, histories, experiences, or time – that you decide to share with me. All are equally precious. All are invaluable.”
The look he gave him after he finished was serious, but not stern. Like he really, really wanted his words to be heard and understood. Childe’s stress somehow both lessened and strengthened, although he had no idea how that was even possible.
“Gods, you can keep getting away with saying things like these,” Childe chuckled nervously, not knowing how to reply to that. It felt like a different kind of confession.
“Like what?”
“Like… like I’m something precious.” The mulled wine they drank earlier rang in his ears as its spice mixed with guilt on his tongue. “I don’t know. This is embarrassing, sorry…”
“Childe Tartaglia Ajax.” Zhongli said with a sigh, pronouncing every name clearly and loudly, moving closer to him. He stood on the blades much, much surer than earlier. “I have said that before, but I intend to say that ten thousand times more if that is what it would take for you to believe me – you are precious. The most precious being that has ever found its way into my existence.”
An electrified shiver went down Childe’s spine at the sound of these words, and at the softness with which they were said, and even though he didn’t scream, nothing that Zhongli had ever said felt so loud.
“Why?” he asked, his voice nearly breaking to the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Why me?”
The god took a second to think. “You are one of the very few people who have seen past my titles and my divinity. You’ve never treated me with distanced reverence, you’ve never… limited this to worship or idolatry, and this didn’t change after you’d found out the whole truth about me. You understood it all, bearing different names and titles yourselves. And I never had to be Rex Lapis or Morax with you, I always was and am just Zhongli, just… myself. And this is enough for you. Just Zhongli, just myself is enough.” He looked up at the sky, at the full moon and the countless stars twinkling above, partially obstructed by soft clouds. “The question is not ‘why you?’ but rather ‘how could it ever not be you?’”
More of the tiny snowflakes fell on him, landing softly on his face, his nose, his lips. Childe couldn’t take his eyes off of them, off Zhongli.
Words echoed in his mind and through his bones; the words he said now, or back at the market square, or in the restaurant. Other words, too, which he had been telling him for so long now, patiently waiting for having them be heard.
How could it ever not be you?
Heart thumped in his chest against his ribcage, its beating drowning out every other sound as his gloved hands traveled up to gently cup Zhongli’s cheeks together to give him his answer.
He kissed the surprised gasp off his lips as their mouths connected.
The feeling of Zhongli’s soft lips against his own was nothing short of divine. The blood inside his veins was ablaze, burning reality away when the god trembled against him and reciprocated the kiss with surprising fervor. His arms found their way around Childe’s waist, and he gasped when he felt their grip tighten. Zhongli quickly used that opportunity to deepen the kiss with a sigh. Warm tongues mingled together, tasting of wine and spice, and of a long wait finally coming to an end.
A muffled moan coming from the back of Childe’s throat spurred the god more as he pushed against him, trying to get even closer, his fingers almost clawing at his waist. He seemed to have forgotten they still had their ice skates on, and Childe himself registered that again only in the sudden sensation of falling back. Their lips parted when they lost balance and fell, and his back thumped against the ice.
It was a surprisingly soft landing, he noticed through his dazed mind. It took him a couple of seconds to recognize the black-and-gold patterns and glyphs of Zhongli’s Jade Shield floating around them, which he must have instinctively summoned to protect them from the fall. The god was above him, both arms on the sides of Childe’s head bracing him away from the ice. Some of his hair fell out of his hood and curled on Childe’s chest. He looked down on him with a stupefied expression.
“Oops,” he whispered finally, very eloquently.
Childe burst out laughing then, and Zhongli joined him after a moment. The moon created a soft, silvery halo around his head above him, making him look almost otherworldly.
“I hope that answers your question from earlier,” Childe panted, trying to catch his breath. “From the restaurant.”
“Hm? I’m sorry, I think I haven’t heard it. Could you repeat, please?” Zhongli replied in a low murmur, and the tease in his voice made Childe want to jump out of his skin. It didn’t help that he had the guts to say that one last question in Snezhnayan.
Childe rose, supporting himself on his elbows, and pressed his lips against Zhongli’s again in a quick peck. The giddiness bouncing around his stomach walls subsided immediately as he suddenly felt how cold they were. Zhongli tried to follow him as he pulled back in alert.
“Zhongli, you’re freezing. Oh gods…” he whispered, fear racing up his throat.
The god looked at him in confusion as Childe took off one glove and put his hand to his cheek and forehead, checking the temperature. His skin was almost as cold as ice to the touch.
“I’m-m n-not,” Zhongli replied or rather tried to, through the clatter of his teeth. He blinked a few times as if he realized only now just how cold he felt.
Childe deadpanned at him, and then scrambled from underneath him, to his knees. Something caught his eyes below the Archon’s chin, something bronze and shimmery. Curiosity got the better of him as he reached for it. It was a cool patch of something, hard and smooth to the touch, with sharp edges and a pattern like…
“A scale? Zhongli, you have scales?”
“Of course I have them. I am a dragon,” he replied, slightly offended. His eyes widened then when as he understood what Childe’s words meant. He ungloved his right hand to feel them on his own, and Childe gasped.
“Your… your hand. Zhongli, your form…” his voice trailed off as his eyes traced the geo patterns on Zhongli’s clawed, glowing hand.
"I..." The hand curled into a fist and then relaxed again as Zhongli watched it with wide eyes. His face pulled into a confused frown. "I can't make them disappear," he whispered. He didn’t seem to understand what was happening.
This was bad.
Oh, this was bad.
“We need to get home quickly, get you warmed up,” Childe declared, immediately standing up, trying to ease the panic threatening to erupt within him.
He offered a hand to Zhongli to help him get on his feet, and the Archon took it with his left arm, using his right to propel himself up against the surface. A crunchy sound echoed around as claws grated against the ice.
With the ice skates quickly secured away with a bag of Mora in the shed, Childe took Zhongli by the arm, and hurriedly let him out of the park to find a carriage – a heated one, preferably – to get them back to his manor. A Fatui city guard noticed them and, having recognized the Harbinger immediately, offered help.
Childe checked on Zhongli when the guard disappeared around a corner.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, noticing a couple of more scales popping up, this time on Zhongli’s cheekbone. He clenched his jaws and began to take off his scarf to give it to Zhongli.
“I’m okay. This… My powers must have become unbalanced out in the cold,” he said, his voice drawling out into a yawn. Strange. Childe had never seen him do it. “And before you begin, no, it’s not your fault.” He frowned when the last part of his sentence got muffled by thick, red wool now covering his entire head, save for his eyes.
Childe looked at him all bundled up, biting his cheek from the inside.
He really, really hoped it wasn’t, despite the sheer worry bubbling up his throat.
Notes:
...:D
In my defense, I didn't plan on having them kiss here. In my original outline, the great kiss scene was planned for the Aurora Ball. They forced me to do it! They couldn't wait any longer it seems!
Honestly neither did I, I literally giggled writing this and their exchange, and I high-fived myself when I came up with the idea of having them ice skate, and that question that Zhongli asks (really I think it's one of the top10 sentences I ever wrote).
Well, anyway! I hope you've liked it too! Let me know of coooouuuurseeee!Also, woo hoo - a chapter you didn't have to wait more than a month for! Really happy to be back to regular writing :) See ya on the next one!
You also might have noticed I added chapter count. I think we will make it in 13, but I'm not quite sure yet!Btw, there is one particular movie OST that I've been listening to when writing that dancing scene (the final part of it), you can listen it here
if you'd like to check it out for yourself. I recommend the movie too!
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Childe hissed when his head hit the carriage’s wall as the wheels drove over yet another bump on the road. He messaged the painful area, wincing slightly, angry but fully aware that this was something that he signed up for when he told the driver to go at full speed.
Zhongli, who sat next to him still carefully wrapped in his red wooly scarf, sent him a worried glance, which was adorable but a bit ridiculous considering it was him he should be worried about.
“Surely we don’t need to go at such a breakneck pace,” he remarked quietly. “We should be getting close to the manor anyway.”
“I will not allow anything to happen to you under my watch,” Childe replied, trying to sound like a chiding parent. Serious and not taking a no for an answer. Focusing on the task at hand. “So we have to. In fact, I think we should go even faster than that.”
Ensuring Zhongli was in a safe, warm place to preserve his Adeptal energy was one thing. Big, critical, important thing, of course, and he’d rather descend into the Abyss again than have something happen to Zhongli under his care. Not to mention the fact that, again, he didn’t have his Gnosis anymore, and no one really knew what would the effects of this on him be.
Another thing, right behind Zhongli’s slipping power, not nearly as emergent of course but still pressing, was everything that had happened during the last couple of hours. He managed to get all of this… stuff in check, bundled up and shoved to the back of his mind while he was dealing with their emergency, but the bubbling emotions were very insistent in trying to push themselves to the front. His thoughts were constantly circling back to the way Zhongli’s eyes glistened with the reflections of the fairy lights at the market square, how it felt to hold his waist in his arms, how his lips tasted when Childe pushed his own against them in a confession of feelings buried too deep for too long, and-
Tension gnawed at his belly, and his stomach twisted into knots in a wave of anxiety. Childe has been slowly realizing that this could’ve been the easiest part, actually. That which he thought to be tremendously stressful – so, confessing – might have not been so bad. But what… what was next?
He’d had crushes in the past, and quick flings meant to take the edge off, never leading to anything more than fleeting moments shared after hours and on the sidelines of whatever was happening in his life. He knew closeness, knew how it felt to embrace another human, to feel the warmth of another body next to his own. Childe wasn’t scared of the physical aspect, no, but this time, the physicality (not just sexual, but of this he really wanted not to think right now) was based on comfort and intimacy, and this meant being vulnerable.
And there was nothing difficult in being vulnerable around Zhongli, normally. He shared plenty of vulnerable moments with him, when he asked him for help, came to him wounded, or when he opened up to him about his problems and his past. Zhongli was probably the only person around whom he would feel comfortable and safe being vulnerable.
But at the same time, this was different. Whatever they have breached today, this was uncharted territory, for him at least.
And it was terrifying.
Exciting, yes. Causing a constant itch under his skin to reach out to Zhongli, yes. Pulling him closer to him, certainly yes.
But, nonetheless, absolutely scary. Which didn’t make sense – shouldn’t, really, considering how much he wanted it, but… but there he was.
“Are we not violating any Snezhnayan road traffic code?” Zhongli, Celestia bless his gentle soul, spoke up, breaking him out of his reverie. “I think we must be.”
Childe looked at him, blinking his thoughts away. Zhongli was almost drowning in his furs and scarves, and he wanted to burn that image into his memory. “Are traffic rules also contracts now?”
“Of course. You agree to them when using public roads,” Zhongli simply concluded as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. “May I point out that it is the second time today that you’ve broken rules in my presence?”
Childe gasped at the accusation. “I’m not the one behind the reins!”
“But the driver is under your command, is he not?”
“Does that make me responsible then? He’s free to tell me to mind my own business.”
Zhongli raised an eyebrow at him, huffing. “You do realize the power imbalance here between him and you as his employer of high…” he took a pause to think, “…government standing?”
“Everyone is equal in the eyes of Snezhnayan law,” Childe replied, echoing a part of rhyme they taught children at schools. He looked out of the window and felt a wave of cool relief when he saw the familiar outline of the manor in the distance. “Tsaritsa be praised, we’re almost home.”
With a rustle of fabrics, Zhongli buried himself deeper into his coat and scarf, getting ready to leave. “Do not presume our arrival means I am dropping the conversation.”
“Let’s leave dissecting the point of intersection of law and morality to Fontaineans and their judges,” Childe said, opening the door of the carriage and jumping out. Fresh snow crunched under his feet, the sound crisp with frost. He turned around and extended his arm to Zhongli to help him get out too. “If I’m guilty, they’ll pass a sentence.”
The god’s long look of narrowed eyes carried a lot of apprehension. “It might be advisable to perhaps… stay away from Fontaine,” he said unsurely, stepping out into the night.
“Oh? Do you have, as we say in Snezhnaya, something behind your ears?”
He let go of Zhongli’s hand and stepped closer, fixing the other’s scarf and coat to ensure that no scale peeked from behind the fabric. They wouldn’t want to alarm the servants and make more gossip run rampant than there already was.
A grimace of something uncomfortable passed over Zhongli’s face, followed by a shadow of the past. His body visibly tensed, too. “I… suppose there are better words to put it but… yes.”
Childe studied his face for a second, surprised a bit by such a reaction to something he said as a lighthearted remark. Their eyes met, and he simply got back to his job of making Zhongli as cold-proof as possible. “Alright,” he offered quietly, the word carrying apology, having sensed that this is not a bridge to cross right now. Zhongli smiled at him with gratitude. “We’ll get there when we get there. Now, let’s go home.”
Oh, how tasty did these words feel on his tongue.
They eagerly thanked the carriage driver as they passed by, with Childe giving him his whole pouch of Mora as a tip of a job very well done. The man obviously refused at first, but one cannot refuse a Harbinger for long, and he finally accepted the token of appreciation with a deep bow. The two winter stallions – sturdy, hairy beasts that feared no frost or snow – that carried them all the way from the city munched on much-deserved carrots. Puffs of white warm air were leaving their snouts like tiny clouds as they watched Childe and Zhongli hurry up the steps to the building.
Childe pushed the great, oaken door open and – as a real gentleman would have it – gestured for Zhongli to come it before him, sending him a small smile on the way. Warmth hugged him gently as he followed in and the door closed with a loud creak. He shot the hinges a glare. Had he not told Danilo to have them oiled? Well, anyway, now was not the time to worry about that.
“Come,” he said quietly, mindful of any of the servants that might still be up and around at this hour. “We need to get you close to a fireplace. And no, I will not hear objections,” he added as he saw Zhongli open his mouth. “I know you’ll deny everything to make me not worry, but we need to be more sincere with each other now that we-“
He cut off abruptly, coming to a halt on the top of the stairs to the first floor. Now that they… what exactly? He felt his cheeks heat up at the mere thought of what he implied, but he wasn’t entirely wrong to assume… was he?
To his side, Zhongli tilted his head, curiously. Expectantly.
“I mean…”
Salvation came in the form of quiet steps and faint humming somewhere from deep within the corridor to their left; the one that led to their quarters. A servant – a young woman with curly hair the color of sunrays – emerged from around the corner, holding a broom and happily sweeping away, lost in her task. Childe stood still and waited for her to notice them, like a deer caught at the tip of a hunter’s arrow.
When the woman finally saw them, she needed to take a double take, and then nearly dropped her broom, startled at the sight.
“Oh, Tsaritsa’s grace, young lord Tartaglia!” she gasped. “And… young lord Zhongli, I-“ She paused to quickly curtsy in front of them and began to hastily fix her apron. “I’m so sorry, I’m really-“
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Childe tried calming her down, with a curt bow of his own. “We’ve only just come back.”
“Yes, we were told that the night shift can expect your rather late arrival…”
Her voice trailed off as she glanced at something behind them, her gaze traveling down the stairs. The lines of her face hardened as her lips formed a thin line, but that expression was gone in a fraction of a second, and Childe had to blink twice to make sure he saw it. The woman cleared her throat and smiled again.
“Right, um, how can I help you? Is there anything you need?” she asked politely, although her voice had a light edge to it.
“Nothing specific, thank you,” Childe shook his head, offering a small smile. “Just a fire roaring in the hearth and some warm blankets. We got caught in the snowfall.”
“I noticed, yes,” she said, once again quickly glancing to something behind Childe. “Right. Lord Tartaglia, your quarters have been prepared, just as instructed by the head servant. I’ll go with you in case you need something else, please, follow me.”
She turned on her heel and walked away quickly, not waiting for them at all. Childe watched her retreating figure, slightly confused, wondering if he had done something offensive to the servant.
He then felt a tug on his sleeve and turned around to face Zhongli, who pointedly looked at the stairs below them. Childe followed his gaze and at first, didn’t understand what the god meant, but then his eyes noticed big, wet patches of melting, muddy snow staining the marble.
“Uh oh,” he murmured, remembering his mother’s angry voice scolding him and his siblings for not shaking off their boots well enough before entering their home. A woman’s ire was a scary thing. “Right,” he added, guilt making the back of his neck.
A quick tug at the elemental energies of the puddles and a flick of his wrist made the water rise in the air, the liquid forming into perfectly shaped globes. With another swift gesture of his hand, he sent them towards the tall potted plants standing in the corner of the hall, and made them sink into the soil. The proof of their transgression now gone, Childe looked back at Zhongli, who silently observed him with amused eyes.
Childe cleared his throat. “Let’s go,” he said, taking the god by his arm and leading him towards their shared living room.
The familiar warmth of the chamber – both literal in the form of its full fireplace, and metaphorical in its cozy atmosphere – thawed away some of the stress from his muscles. He breathed in deeply, shrugging off his coat and throwing it on the armchair. He was ready to walk up to Zhongli, who was now untangling himself from his scarves, to check on him and help him with his own outerwear when the door burst open, and the servant walked hastily.
“There should be enough covers in your room, my lord, but I brought these just in case, as you requested,” she said, voice strained with all the strength she had to use to hold the heavy blankets that threatened to spill over. “Would you like me to leave them here or bring them to your bedroom?”
“No, no, no, it’s fine, let me take them from you,” he offered, reaching out to help her. “Thank you, um…” he hesitated, not knowing the woman’s name.
“Oksana,” she said, curtseying and blushing nervously.
“Sorry, I’m usually better with the names of the people I employ.”
“I’m fairly new here, I don’t think we’ve met actually,” she laughed, but it was evident she felt slightly uncomfortable. “My wife, Mirra, works in the kitchens and helped me get this job...”
She froze immediately as soon as she said this, eyes going wide with panic. “N-not that I didn’t follow the proper procedures, obviously I had a formal interview first with Danilo, I assure you.”
Childe heard Zhongli’s quiet chuckle, and the sound made containing his smile even harder.
“I would never accuse him of accepting just anyone, don’t worry. And, by the way, sorry for the mess in the entry hall, I’ve… taken care of that.”
Oksana’s cheeks burned bright red. “I-I apologize, I shouldn’t… I really… It was my…” She struggled to reply, mortified.
A frown appeared on Childe’s face as he watched her, suddenly overcome with pity. She had probably met less forgiving aristocrats in her life, who would’ve fired her on the spot after such a remark, which he only meant as a joke.
“Miss Oksana,” Zhongli offered in a soothing voice, trying to calm her down. “It is us who ought to offer apologies. All hard work deserves respect, especially one required to uphold such a sizeable estate in pristine condition, and done as well as yours. Do believe me, I know something of strangers creating a mess on your own territory.”
Zhongli said that last sentence with well-meaning mirth that only Childe’s ears could pick up and understand. He narrowed his eyes and sent the god a pointed look, but the other was deliberately not looking back. If Oksana found that comment strange, she did not mention so, but judging from her eased posture, it did help her to calm down a bit. She looked between him and Zhongli, uncertain of what to say next.
“As I’ve confirmed earlier, everything in your bedroom is prepared, as usual,” she repeated, clasping her hands behind her back. “Me and the other night shift servants will be around, should you need anything.”
Childe nodded. “Thank you, Oksana, that will be all,” he said and reached out for the blankets he set aside, but his hand stopped mid-air as he realized something. “Wait, my bedroom? Is Zhongli’s room prepared too?”
The woman, who already headed towards the door, halted mid-step and turned around, confused. “We were only instructed to keep the fire and change the sheets in your room, my lord. The head servant’s instructions were clear on that…” she trailed off, eyes searching between Zhongli and Childe.
“Umm… What instructions?”
More importantly, whose instructions? He didn’t remember telling anything to anyone this morning, nothing specific about…
“Do not worry, Miss Oksana, we will manage perfectly fine,” Zhongli reassured her.
Childe, however, knew for a fact that they were not perfectly fine. He looked at Oksana, stunned and confused about the situation.
The servant, probably aware she would not get anything out of Childe, looked at Zhongli. “Is there anything else I can help with? Is there anything you need?”
“I’d love a cup of hot tea if that’s not too much hassle.”
Oksana simply nodded and quickly retreated, leaving them alone, probably not risking the conversation unfolding any further. Zhongli looked for a second at the door with a soft expression, and then turned towards Childe, smiling widely.
“She called me a young lord.”
He then proceeded to work on the clasps of his coat, chest slightly puffed out, looking very happy and practically beaming with satisfaction, unaware of a thoroughly mortified Childe staring at him, eyes wide in panic.
Childe ran a hand through his hair, trying to collect himself, trace his day back hour by hour to remember when had he spoken to any of his household staff. He did remember talking to Danilo this morning when getting his reports delivered, and then again when he was leaving, getting ready for the day. He mentioned that they would both be late in the evening and that the cooks could have the afternoon off. But he didn’t say anything about the preparations in his bedroom- No, scratch that, that sounded way too inappropriate. Way too… too.
He swallowed thickly, glancing at Zhongli.
The Archon, who was currently neatly folding his heavy, fur-lined coat, was absolutely, blissfully unaware of the dreadful situation they were in now. Had he perhaps mentioned something to the servants earlier today? Maybe something that could’ve been misinterpreted?
“Um, Zhongli, have you, uhhh…” he cleared his throat. “Have you spoken with the servants today? Before you left in the evening, I mean.”
Zhongli paused for a moment and hummed to himself in recollection. “I have, of course, but we haven’t talked about anything in particular. I conversed with a man named Oleg and an older lady called Bogumila, who works as a cook. They were interested in hearing more about Liyue, so I indulged them, and I got to hear a bit more about the history of the estate in exchange. Why?” He looked at Childe, and his previous contentment wilted slightly as he saw the distress in his eyes. “Is something the matter? You look… perturbed.”
“Unfortunately, it seems that your bedroom hasn’t been made ready for you,” he explained, wincing at how strange it sounded in his mouth.
Zhongli tilted his head in confusion. “Why, surely the bed is there?”
Childe sighed. This was going to take some time. “Well, it must be, but the room itself has not been kept warm enough. It’s probably quite cold in there.”
“I can simply take these blankets with me,” the god replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and he did not know what Childe was making so much fuss about. “Have you not asked for them for this particular reason? And besides, we could just start the fire now?”
“Zhongli,” Childe said softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Did he not know how long would it take for these walls to warm up? “You have just spent a couple of hours out in the frost. The exposure to low temperature caused you to lose your grasp on your human form.”
He took a step forward to Zhongli, and gently put his hand to his forehead.
“You are still cold. And,” he grazed his finger against a remaining small patch of bronze scales under his cheekbones, near his ear, “your lizard is still showing.”
Zhongli shivered under his touch, and Childe smiled, triumphantly due to being right yet again, for a moment forgetting that there was a problem to take care of.
“I beg your pardon, Ajax, I am a dragon, not just a mere lizard.” He tried to look wounded by the comment for a moment but then simply sighed instead. “But you are right. It would not be wise to keep straining myself any longer.”
“Thank you,” Childe replied, but the sense of victory was only brief.
They still had the sleeping issue to take care of.
“I can sleep here, on the couch,” the god proposed quickly. “It’s comfortable.”
“I will not let a guest sleep on a couch in my house,” Childe deadpanned. “You’re too tall for this, your legs will cramp, and your back will hurt in the morning.”
Ridiculous suggestion. Did he not know about Snezhnayan hospitality? Agreeing to this would be blasphemy in the eyes of his countrymen. A disgrace, even.
Zhongli crossed his arms on his chest. “So what are you suggesting, then.”
“That I will sleep here. You can take my bed.”
He tried to say it so casually and matter-of-factly as if it was the most obvious and simplest thing in the world, but his voice almost cracked at the end when his thoughts wandered off to an image of Zhongli in his bedsheets.
Without him, of course. Certainly without him.
The look Zhongli gave him was the most unimpressed he’d ever looked. “And you will not suffer sleeping on this couch despite being the same height as me?”
“I-“ Childe wanted to protest, but Zhongli’s long finger jabbed him in the chest.
“No,” the god said. “I will not let you pay with your comfort for something that is not your fault. I have caused you enough trouble as it is.”
Childe tried really hard to maintain eye contact, but Zhongli’s gaze was unyielding, much like the tone of his voice. There was no arguing with that tone – the one that Childe imagined was used only when Zhongli served as a figure of authority, be it emperor, king, or god. Or when he really wanted to get an idea out of Childe’s head.
He looked away and sighed, dejected.
“So what do you propose, hm? I don’t have a Pyro delusion nearby to just warm your room up.”
“We could simply… share.”
His head snapped up back to look at Zhongli. Did he hear that correctly?
“I’m… sorry?”
“I said that we could share,” Zhongli replied casually as if that was the most obvious and most normal way out of that situation. “Assuming the bed in your room is as big as the one in mine, then there will be no problem to comfortably fit us both in, and we would not disrupt each other’s sleep. It’s a practical solution.”
There was no denying that this was indeed a sound proposition, and Zhongli was speaking very rationally. It wouldn’t be the first time for Childe to sleep in one bed with someone else – he’s done that many times with his siblings when he was younger, during cold winter nights when they all huddled together for warmth or just fell asleep in his bed when he was telling them goodnight stories. The military had also been very simple in this respect, as sometimes there just wasn’t much space for solitary sleeping and they had to share whatever piece of the floor was available, during missions to the mountains or other remote regions. This, however… this was something different. Entirely different.
This was intimacy.
This was falling asleep and waking up to the weight and warmth of Zhongli’s body right next to him, and hearing his calm breath ward off the silence of the night and whispers of the darkness.
This was trust in allowing someone so close to his unguarded back.
As much as he imagined it many times, as much as he would crave it, as much as he felt that pull towards Zhongli, it was… scary.
His mouth felt dry when he thought about it. Firstly because yes, he fantasized about it, subconsciously. Zhongli’s closeness was a wanted thing, longed or perhaps even yearned for, for a much longer time than he would like to admit. Now that he was so close to his reach that he could graze it with the tips of his fingers, he was stressed. Extremely so. Perhaps because the situation developed so quickly, even though it was a culmination of all the past couple of months led to, and he did not know what to do? Or perhaps because the prospect of finally getting something he wanted so badly terrified him so much because he didn’t know what would come next?
Or maybe it was the trust and vulnerability in allowing someone so close? The Abyss never favored those.
Ah. As usual, he was overcomplicating and overthinking this, wasn’t he?
“Are you okay?” Zhongli asked, clearly very concerned. He must’ve noticed his frown. “Have I overstepped?”
Childe looked at him – at his soft, worried face, at his arm reaching out to him to offer comfort, at the way his eyes focused on him as if nothing mattered more than ensuring he felt safe and comfortable. Childe couldn’t help the warmth spread through his chest. No, Zhongli would never brush off his feelings and worries like he himself had done so many times.
But then again, if there was one person worthy of the effort of doing things in spite of his fears, then that person was standing right in front of him.
“No, absolutely, this is just… new. All of this,” he gestured vaguely at the space between them, suddenly feeling very jittery. He licked his lips.
A shadow of worry passed over Zhongli’s face. “Ajax, I hope you know I didn’t imply anything with my proposition besides simply sleeping in the same bed,” he explained quickly. “I would never pressure you into-“
“I know you wouldn’t, Zhongli,” Childe quickly interjected to ease him. “And I didn’t mean you had, just… Like I said, my brain just got strangely worked up and scared and really, really stressed. Not necessarily about anything… specific.”
God, his face practically burned. He looked away, embarrassed.
Zhongli’s gaze softened, and he gently took his hand in his, smoothing his thumb over his knuckles to help him ease his worries.
“There is no rush,” he said quietly, offering Childe a reassuring smile so, so full of compassion and affection that Childe could not find words to reply, his heart thumping against his chest like a butterfly in a cage.
They stood like this for a quiet moment, until Oksana came back in with a tray of tea, knocking politely before entering. She blushed profusely when she saw them so close and bowed before retreating quickly, leaving them alone again.
“You should’ve specified what tea you’ve meant,” Childe remarked with a chuckle when the smell of honey and cloves and something sweet and fruity wafted to them. “She brought the Snezhnayan warming up special.”
Zhongli looked at the table, curiously. “I’m not against new experiences,” he said, walking over and picking up a steaming cup, observing it as if it were a scientific experiment requiring measurements and notes to be taken. “Snezhnayan mulled wine was a pleasant one. It does smell very promisingly.”
“Is it not a crime on tea leaves, though, in the eyes of someone coming from Liyue?”
“This is a question I often hear,” Zhongli hummed. “And the answer is no. Each culture interprets different ingredients in its own ways, resulting in unique uses and combinations once they find their place in the respective cuisines. I find it rather fascinating to explore, truth be told. There are so many factors influencing how an ingredient is used in different dishes, including availability of other supplies or – as is the case with tea leaves in Snezhnaya – even the climate itself. The adaptability of the things that surround us is truly magnificent.”
Childe couldn’t suppress his smile as Zhongli slightly drifted off into his musings of a learned scholar, as he so frequently did back in Liyue. The familiarity of that habit and that specific cadence of Zhongli’s tone filled Childe’s heart with gentle, reassuring warmth. He loved this, he wanted this, he always craved it. It was the most comforting and soothing thing in the entire world. Maybe he’s really scared of something not so scary at all?
The god glanced at Childe from above his cup and blushed lightly. “I’m sorry, I started rambling again, didn’t I?”
“Kind of, yes, and I would never ever have anything against it as I am your most devoted audience, but it’s best to drink it while it’s steaming hot. And it’s getting late.”
Tiredness started to slowly creep up on him, and his back ached from the entire day of work and adventuring and dating, and he couldn’t fight it anymore, no matter how much he enjoyed the day.
Zhongli stared at him for a moment, visibly taken aback by something – and Childe had no idea what that was – but then he just quickly blinked the strange emotion away and took a sip of the beverage to mask it.
And, as Childe predicted, immediately started coughing.
“Well, this is-“ the god said when he cleared his throat. “This is very spicy. The black tea leaves work very well with the other herbs, honey, and lemon. It’s an intriguing combination, and it warms you up quite… considerably.”
Childe chuckled. “Finish your drink, and I’ll go and get changed in the meantime,” he said, picking up his coat and walking to the door to his rooms. “I’ll wait for you.”
Zhongli offered him a small smile and a nod of his head as he watched him go.
When the door closed behind him, Childe deeply breathed out, feeling immediately drained of all emotion safe for buzzing panic somewhere deep within his bones. Instead of letting himself be overwhelmed by it, he swallowed it down and set his course towards his bathroom, where he took a quick, hot shower that consisted mostly of scrubbing his skin red until it stung. The warm water, however, brought some much-needed relief to his stiff muscles, the tension eroding under the heated streams trickling down his back. Childe closed his eyes, letting the feeling seep in, tapping at the elemental energy surrounding him with his Vision and allowing it to soak into his body. His heartbeat calmed down, synchronizing with the pulse of Hydro cloaking him, and his anxieties eased out a bit, almost enough for him to push them away as mere overthinking. Almost.
Still, it was progress.
He even allowed himself some excitement at the prospect of what awaited him outside of his bathroom. Just some, though, but enough to make his stomach flutter.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally emerged from his bathroom, wearing a fresh set of pajamas, smelling of honey soap, and with a much clearer mind. He halted to a stop as he realized Zhongli was already waiting for him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He was reading a book, and he looked up at Childe with a gentle expression as he noticed him walk in.
Childe’s heart skipped a beat when a wild thought sprouted in his mind – that this was going to be his life, from now on.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for too long?” he said, his voice cracking at the end in a way that made it sound like a question.
“Not at all. I had something that kept me company while,” Zhongli replied, pointing at the book he was reading.
The flickering light of the fireplace softened the lines of his face and turned his skin honey-gold. He changed into his dark nightclothes, and his long hair was braided in a loose braid with a couple of strands sticking out of it. This scene was the literal definition of “cozy,” and this Zhongli was just absolutely lovely.
And his.
A shiver ran down his spine as soon as he thought that.
“I didn’t know which side of the bed was yours, so do tell me if I need to change it,” the Archon said, closing the book and looking at Childe, waiting for an answer.
Childe looked away when he realized he was staring, his cheeks immediately warming up and skin tingling.
“Whichever is fine,” he replied, walking up to the bed. “I haven’t really… had the time to make this place a home.”
“How so?” Zhongli asked and put the book away on the nightstand. He then slipped under the heavy covers, simply, as if it was the most natural thing ever.
Childe watched his every move, slightly stressed, but he then pinched his hand lightly to shake it off and followed suit. Fresh bedsheets felt heavenly against his skin, warm and delicate, and the familiar smell of the washing detergent – some kind of flower he never remembered – helped him ease a bit despite the very distracting way in which the mattress (at a safe and respectable distance) dipped slightly under Zhongli’s weight.
“The position of a Harbinger means not only privileges but also more work, often outside of the country. Being the Vanguard, I also had to be at the front of things, too,” he explained as he laid on his back, staring at his canopy bed, listening to the crackling of fire. “Not so much time to stay at home. It was empty, anyway.”
“How exactly old were you when you became the Harbinger?” Zhongli asked after a moment that he had given for the words to settle. “I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”
Childe made a pause. “A few days before my eighteenth birthday.”
“That’s rather young for a Harbinger, is it not?”
“I was the youngest. Still am, in fact.”
Zhongli seemed to think for a moment. Bedsheets rustled as he changed positions, turning. “It must have been a big burden, aside from how great of an honor it was.”
His words echoed a note which reminded Childe that Zhongli knew something about double-edged swords. He turned his head to look at him and saw him with an expression he often had when he was deeply reminiscing on something, something not necessarily pleasant, as indicated by the tightness around his lips and a deep crease between his eyebrows.
“Yes, but we’ll talk about it some other time,” Childe said quietly, itching to smooth that frown out. “Are you comfortable? Is it warm enough? How… how are you feeling?”
Zhongli huffed a quiet laugh and turned to his side to look at Childe. The bronze scales that were still visible on his cheek glinted lightly. “It was one of the most memorable nights of my life, which I will cherish for as long as I live.”
Although this was not what he had asked for, Childe couldn’t stop pride from swelling inside his chest. “I’m happy about that, but I meant… how do you feel now, physically?”
“I am better, yes. My hands are not glowing anymore, so that’s a good sign,” he pulled his arm from under his covers and flexed his fingers – now the color of the rest of his body, with no hints of Geo markings. “I should be back to normal within a couple of hours, although I sense it might take me two to three days to fully recuperate.”
That wasn’t bad news. They had a couple of days free before the Aurora Ball anyway, they could spend those at home, just doing nothing, but there was a painful pull of Zhongli’s eyebrows and uncertainty on his face that alarmed him.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… I am sorry for how it all is turning out,” the god whispered.
“What, why?” That genuinely confused him. He rose up, supporting himself on his elbow. “There is nothing you need to be sorry for. What are you talking about?”
Zhongli sighed, looking away. “I know my disposition is a great burden to you right now. This situation – you having to come back to this country so quickly having been summoned by your god – is stressful enough, and I, with my lack of care, only add to that. I know that you worry about me a great amount, and you shouldn’t be, and I’m not saying it in a dismissive way, Ajax,” he clarified quickly when Childe opened his mouth to protest. “Rather… that this situation, the reason for this worry, should not exist. That I should not be creating a burden for you now.”
Ah, so that was it. Childe took a deep breath, bracing himself, studying Zhongli’s guilty expression.
"Zhongli,” Childe started softly. “There is no possible situation in which I would consider you a burden. I care about you, I deeply care about you, and my worrying about your comfort and safety is one of its expressions. You’re important to me, and no matter what happens I could never even think of you as a burden.” He made a pause to offer the god a reassuring smile. “Even if you turned into a rock and I had to carry you around. I would simply ask a seamstress to add a special pocket to all of my clothes.”
“This is silly,” Zhongli chuckled, looking up at him.
The guilt did not quite disappear from his face yet, still etched deep into its lines. Childe laid back down and then carefully reached out for his hand, grabbing it gently and slowly intertwining their fingers. The Archon’s skin was no longer ice-cold, but still not as warm as he would think it normally would be.
“It’s only as silly as you thinking I would ever consider any part of you burdensome,” he continued. “I’m happy that you trust me enough for this, that you share this with me, and that I’m able to help you get through it together. I do worry, heck, I worry quite a lot about you, but… I wouldn’t have it any other way. I worry about you because I care about you. Let me worry about you, dear almighty Lord of Geo, Warrior God, and Archon of Liyue. Let yourself be worried about.”
You deserve that, he wanted to add.
With this, he made that guilty look disappear, feeling no small satisfaction at the feat. Another emotion replaced it, a look of deep adoration and something that Childe could not define – a strange mixture of thankfulness and relief so deep that it took Childe’s breath away for a moment. Zhongli’s amber eyes glistened as his lips formed a gentle smile so wistful that only a god could ever muster it. At the same time, he felt Zhongli squeeze his hand a bit tighter.
“Have I ever told you about the moment when I made the decision to abdicate my archonhood?”
Childe shook his head and patiently waited for Zhongli to continue.
“I had been thinking about this for centuries already by that time. About my purpose as an Archon, about the purpose of the role of an Archon. There’s… I can’t divulge much of it to you due to my agreement with Celestia,” he paused for a second, and the strain with which he said the word “agreement” did not escape Childe’s attention. “But this thought always stayed somewhere at the back of my mind, rooting itself deeply in the wearied parts of my soul and waiting to sprout. One rainy day I was walking through the harbor, lost in my thoughts as I often am, and I overheard one of the merchants telling his workers: ‘You've finished your duties, go ahead and call it a day.’”
For a moment, the crackling fire was the only sound filling the room, as Zhongli focused on the memory, eyes distant and dark.
“It struck me like lightning,” he continued. “It felt as if… as if he was talking to me. To the person behind the title, behind the burden. I stood still for hours in the pouring day, so long that the people passing by were looking at me with concern. The streets had been empty and the sun had long set by the time I finally moved, soaked through and cold but with this new sense of resolve in my heart that kept me warm and made that seed of thought finally sprout. I took it as a sign that my time had come. I remember looking up at the dark, clouded sky, letting rain fall on my face, and feeling relief. Deepest I’ve ever felt. Relief and a sense that it was… right. And I’m telling you this story because I feel similar now,” he added after a pause. “It has been a very long time since someone had told me what you just did, since someone… offered to worry about someone whose chosen duty is to worry about everyone else.”
Childe felt a heavy lump forming in his throat as Zhongli’s words sunk in. He studied his face and saw the millennia of worry and duty he had to carry reflected in its angles and long, long years of sadness hidden within the deepness of his eyes. Zhongli sighed quietly, almost inaudibly, as if this was as much as he could allow himself, as if this was the extent of his fatigue that he could show. For a moment as short as a blink of an eye, he looked small and fragile, and the sight made Childe’s chest ache.
“Come here,” he whispered with a fast-beating heart, not trusting his voice, and made some space next to him for Zhongli to settle in.
The god did not move at first, looking at the spot next to Childe with wide eyes. He glanced up, clearly unsure, but whatever expression he saw on Childe’s face must have convinced him. The mattress shifted as he quickly slid over and settled his face on the pillow right next to him. A blush dusted his cheek as Childe wrapped his arm around his waist to bring him closer. Although Zhongli could probably hear how fast his heart was racing, he hoped he would not notice his shaking hands.
“You can rest now,” he whispered, looking Zhongli in the eyes, hoping that these simple words would be enough to convey all that he wanted to tell him. He braced himself and pressed a gentle, brief kiss to the god’s forehead. “Sleep well, Zhongli,” he murmured against it.
There was no answer to that, other than the sensation of Zhongli’s body relaxing in his embrace and his soft, silken hair brushing his cheeks. This felt correct – this felt right, comforting, and soothing, like a piece of the puzzle finally clicking into its place. Like it was meant to be.
It didn’t take Childe too long to fall asleep. Lulled by Zhongli’s slow, deep breathing, he quickly succumbed to the warmth they shared, drifting off.
It was his best sleep in almost a decade.
Notes:
Hiya!
Hope you've enjoyed this soft, indulgent chapter :) I tried really hard to convey Childe's worries in a natural way, though it did take me some tweaking and rewriting.
Nothing much from me to ramble about today, other than complaining that work has been HARD in the past two weeks and writing this chapter was a wonderful escape. Just what I needed lolI'm going on vacations (much, much needed and deserved warming up on a beach) soon so next update might be a bit delayed! I'm giving you enough time to prepare some fancy outfits and dresses hehehehe Look your best for the next chapter!
While you wait... why not give a try to my newest Cyberpunk inspired Zhongchi fic? I've heard an update could come very soon!
And if you're up for something more indulgent and spicier, maybe a Wrioneuvichi PWP one-shot will satisfy your palate?
(be mindfull that both of these works are rated explicit!)Thank you for reading! Take care <3
By the way... happy one year anniversary to this fic (which as actually almost three weeks ago but I forgot)! Thank you for your support along the way <3 I wouldn't have done this without your support, guys. Truly.
UPDATE 14.10.2024:
Hi there! If you're reading this now, please don't be discouraged by how long ago the last update was! I got a couple of exams that I need to pass and it's been HELL. Hope you understand!
Chapter 11
Summary:
I recommend playing this piece of music when you see the line "The music soon started, a slow sweep of violins weaving a rhythmic cadence of the waltz" :)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Resting comfortably in front of a fireplace in the manor’s gallery, with his head on Zhongli’s lap, Childe thought that, actually, maybe this was easy.
The god’s fingers threaded through Childe’s hair, lightly, almost absentmindedly. He was engrossed in a poetry tome, occasionally supplying a verse or two to the Harbinger lying right next to him, asking him for his thoughts. Childe tried his very best to keep up with the discussion, but the warmth seeping into his muscles and the slow, delicate caress of Zhongli’s fingers was very, very difficult to fight against. Soon, he felt himself slip away into the softness of sleep.
“You’re dozing off again,” Zhongli remarked gently, a hit of amusement in his deep voice.
“Sorry,” Childe mumbled, eyes closed. “You’re making it hard not to.”
“Who would’ve thought that the Tsaritsa’s mighty Eleventh Harbinger is really just a spoilt house cat who loves being pampered.”
Cracking one eye open, Childe sent Zhongli a pointed look.
“Oh, you’re the one to talk here?” He teased. “That’s a bold thing to say by a god who sleeps in till midday, and does not want to let you go when you wake up because he wraps around you in his sleep like one of those exotic snakes that suffocate their prey.”
Zhongli looked down on him, arching an eyebrow. He tried to look serious, but the shadow of a smile dancing around his lips betrayed him.
“Sleep helps me preserve my adeptal energy.”
“Mhm. And so does not respecting your partner’s personal space?”
Partner. A curious word with a peculiar taste on Childe’s tongue. It had a hard time leaving his throat at first, the sound of it too foreign to his ears, but he hoped its edges would keep eroding, with time, until it would finally fit somewhere within himself.
“You are warm,” Zhongli explained, with a soft look in his eyes that caused Childe’s heart to lose its rhythm for a second. “Dragons, being cold-blooded creatures, naturally find that alluring.”
“So that’s what pulled you in? My physical attributes?”
“No, dear,” the god replied, ever a well of patience. “But it definitely did play its role,” he added after a moment.
Childe smiled to himself, closing his eyes to lose himself in Zhongli’s gentle caresses.
Over the last couple of days, he’d been slowly getting accustomed to that casual closeness they shared. The first morning when he woke up next to Zhongli, warm and comfortable, he freaked out a little. His whole body tensed for a second, mind reaching for his Vision, before he registered he was in his own bed, with a person he trusted and cherished sleeping soundly and peacefully right next to him. That was a first for him, and watching Zhongli’s serene face and listening to his slow breathing evoked a strange feeling in his stomach that he could not name. Of course, there was some awkwardness when Zhongli had finally woken up and, with eyes going comically wide, realized where he was and with whom, but after that wrinkle smoothed out, it was… peaceful. Normal, save for Childe’s heart thumping in his ribcage. Not quite familiar yet, but he wished it would be, one day.
The following days passed lazily. Since there wasn’t much for him to do in the city or the palace, and he categorically forbade Zhongli from getting outside to the cold for even a second, Childe thought hard about what they could do to pass the time during Zhongli’s recuperation, to not make the days too boring.
On the first day of being grounded (self-imposed, but still), Childe came up with the idea to make use of his kitchen. It was prompted by a memory of one evening when he walked back from the Northland Back and had gotten caught in heavy rainfall. Luckily for him, he had bumped into Zhongli at the Yujing Terrace. The god had only given his thoroughly soaked clothes a disapproving look and, absolutely not wanting to hear a word of objection, invited him over to his place. Being a generous and caring host, he served him a warming ginger tea and cooked him a meal as Childe tried to dry his hair with a warm towel. Observing Zhongli back then was an engrossing experience, and he had been mesmerized by how graceful he had moved around his kitchen. When Zhongli had put the bowl in front of him – full of a deliciously smelling golden soup – and smiled at him gently from above, the steam rising from the soup was not the only reason for the warmth on his cheeks.
Oh, he had been dumb as an oaf all this time, hadn’t he?
Childe wanted to recreate the experience, without the bit about getting soaked in the rain – they had enough of that. He dismissed the kitchen staff for the rest of the day and led Zhongli to the lower floor of the manor, almost bubbling with excitement. It was difficult to choose what to treat the god with, but he settled on a simple soup, the hearty kind, with forest mushrooms that gave it a darker, richer depth. Zhongli, of course, insisted on helping him, setting up his cutting board closer to Childe than it would be necessary but Childe did not mind the occasional brush of their shoulders or fingers, enjoying the contact and the bubbly feeling it brought. The soup came out wonderful, and Childe was more than happy to refill Zhongli’s bowl, deeply hoping that warm food would help him regain his strength.
Later that evening, when the moon hung high in the sky and they started getting ready to retreat to their chambers, Childe noticed an uncharacteristic hesitation with which Zhongli started picking up his things, moving slowly and dragging their goodnight out. He nervously fidgeted with a loose thread in his sleeve as he observed him, gathering courage.
“Zhongli, do you…” he said and cleared his throat, feeling the tips of his ears burn hotter than the log in the fireplace next to him. “Do you want to sleep in my room tonight as well?”
The god turned around and tilted his head as he gave him a reserved look.
“I wouldn’t want to… overexert your hospitality.”
“My hospi-“ Childe shook his head. “Zhongli, I just want to take care of you. I can see that you’ve been well rested today, and I know last night has helped you regain some of your strength.”
Zhongli pressed his lips into a thin line. “I don’t want this at the cost of your discomfort.”
Childe sight, his shoulders sagging. “Zhongli, I literally confessed to you,” he murmured, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“I remember that very well, I assure you,” the god nodded. “But you have also mentioned your struggles with the idea of a relationship and physical intimacy. And I don’t want my own wants and wishes to collide with it.”
Childe gave him a small smile. Zhongli, always putting others in front of his own needs. “I have. And this is a part of overcoming them.”
He extended his arm towards Zhongli, offering him a hand, his heart in his open palm. The god observed it for a longer second and then took it, reluctantly, and Childe gave his fingers a gentle squeeze to reassure him that this was alright.
Every evening since then, they left the living room together, and the servants soon stopped bothering with tending to Zhongli’s now empty and cold bedroom.
Three nights after that, Childe’s nightmares came back.
It was a matter of time, he thought in hindsight. It had been a while since the last time he dreamt of the twisted, dark, and oily creatures of the Abyss, the boundless ocean of stars in which he almost drowned, and the truths of the world better left forgotten. The nightmares accompanied him ever since his return, making him wake up screaming and trembling and drenched in sweat. Even if their frequency gradually lowered from everyday occurrences to weekly to monthly to more irregular and unpredictable as time went on, they always came back. Always.
Dark, dense fog twisted around him and he was fourteen again, in his tattered clothes, trying to run away from the horrors that weren’t meant for human eyes to see. Panic seized his muscles when he felt inky black tendrils coil around his ankles, slithering up his legs, dragging him back to what he was trying to escape. He flailed his arms in a desperate attempt to ward off the ones trying to reach out for his wrists, and he opened his mouth to scream even though he knew he shouldn’t when one wetly wrapped around his neck. No sound came out of his throat, and soon he was drowning in the darkness and the feeling of something cold squeezing his neck and the taste of acid and blood and…
“Ajax, please,” he heard a muffled voice, followed by a faint sheen of golden light piercing through the fog. “Ajax, open your eyes.”
Childe woke up with a sharp gasp, heaving, rapidly blinking away the afterimages left by the nightmare. He quickly focused on the feeling of the bedsheets around him, on the smell of his room, and the salty taste of sweat on his lips, and then he looked down at his hands to count his fingers to make sure he’d woken up and that this is not a dream-within-a-dream. Gods, the nightmare was so real this time… Realest it had been in a long time.
“Ajax,” came to him a soft, gentle voice. “Please, look at me.”
Still gasping heavily and with his heart racing in his ribcage, Childe looked to the side and saw Zhongli kneeling in the bed right next to him, basking the room with golden light, the same sheen that he saw in his dream. His eyes glowed faintly as he searched his face with so much worry Childe almost felt guilty.
“I’m here,” Zhongli reassured him and reached out to take his hand, silently asking for permission first. “You’re with me. In your bed. You’re safe. Nothing is trying to hurt you. Breathe deeply, slowly,” he kept repeating almost like a mantra.
Childe followed Zhongli’s short sentences, searching for purchase in them, trying to calm himself down with deep, slow breaths. Every time he blinked, he could see the shapes and shades of whatever Abyssal nightmare decided to haunt him that night.
“I… I forgot how bad they could get.,” he exhaled in a shaky voice, feeling a strange need to explain himself. “Sorry. I must have scared you.”
The god let that last part go by, though Childe knew he probably itched to remind him that he shouldn’t apologize. Instead, he gently reached out with his free hand to move his sweaty hair away from his eyes.
“How do you feel? I have tried to dispel the dream sooner, as soon as I sensed it, but my powers are not yet back to their usual level.”
Huh. So that was the golden glow that scared the Abyss off.
“Just tired,” he murmured, feeling that familiar exhaustion seep into his bones once the adrenaline waned off and his heart calmed down. “Though I probably won’t be able to fall asleep soon.”
Zhongli cupped his cheek in his hand, touching Childe so lightly as if he was scared of breaking him. He then pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, to reassure him again that the danger had passed and that he was safe.
“I’ll stay up with you.”
He laid down on the bed, rearranging the covers, and then gestured for Childe to scoot closer. Childe nodded and moved, and his muscles relaxed only when Zhongli wrapped his arm around his waist, pressing his back closer to his chest.
Silence befell in the room. Childe focused on the sounds of Zhongli’s slow breathing and the faint crackles coming from the fireplace, but he couldn’t calm his mind down, his nerves still alert for any possible danger.
“It’s been a while since my last nightmare,” he said quietly into the darkness of the room.
The grip of Zhongli’s arm tightened. “Have they always been so intense?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes not. They’ve gotten easier over time, but there is no rule.”
Zhongli knew about his dreams – he had told him about them once – but he had never witnessed them until now.
“You are safe now, Ajax.” Zhongli’s warm breath fanned against Childe’s neck as he said it. “You are with me. The Abyss will have to get through me first, and I doubt they would find that fight easy.”
He smiled, the warmth of Zhongli’s breath spreading through his body. “Wish they couldn’t get me in dreams, though.”
“I will be there too,” the god reassured him as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “Now, sleep. You need rest, love.”
Childe closed his eyes, entrusting himself to Zhongli, drifting away to the sound of his voice and the awareness of strong arms protectively embracing him.
Days passed idly by, with the warmth and comfort of company and closeness, on the backdrop of lazy snowfall outside. Though every day it was very much possible that he would wake up to orders from the Palace waiting for him, Childe couldn’t recall the last time he had so many uninterrupted days off, even if he did have to stay ready for any new commands. Always restless and always on the move, he found that sudden idleness unnerving at first, but he eased into it more and more with each passing day. He learned to take this free time with gratitude, dedicating it to resting and ensuring Zhongli recuperated from his strange adeptal illness.
The hidden smiles the servants exchanged whenever they met Childe and Zhongli somewhere within the manor did not escape Childe’s attention. Still, he allowed them to slide (he also began suspecting that the accident with the empty fireplace in Zhongli’s bedroom had not been an accident at all…). It was good to practice this, considering there would probably be many, many more looks like this to survive during the ball and then once they were back in Liyue.
And speaking of Liyue, Childe’s short vacation was also a perfect opportunity to thoroughly plan their journey back to the Harbour. There was no time to waste here, and he didn’t want to stay in Snezhnaya longer than necessary – not to strain Zhongli’s constitution even further. Instructions had already been prepared for the servants, word had been sent to his agents to prepare their ship, and letters and packages for his family had been left to be delivered once the harsh winter became a bit less harsh. The day they picked for their departure was two days after the Aurora Ball, which was quite soon after the event but not too soon as to seem improper. Preparing for such a journey was stressful, and Zhongli chided him on an occasion when he once again stayed a bit too long in his office, writing letters late into the night, but he had to ensure everything was as perfect as it could be for that final stretch of their adventure. Zhongli took that explanation with a sigh, leaving a steaming cup of winter tea on his desk as a gesture of care.
It was with both relief, anxiety, and a bit of disappointment, then, when Childe received their letters reminding them of the Aurora Ball in the two days.
They were enjoying a late breakfast when the correspondence arrived, brought from the city by one of Childe’s trusted agents. He put his teacup down and reached out for the envelope, breaking the wax seal.
“It looks like we will have to go separately,” he murmured to Zhongli, who sat in front of him, sipping on his tea. “Unsurprising. The Harbingers are usually required to arrive first and attend the formalities.”
The god scanned his own letter, noticeably shorter than the one Childe had received. All in all, Childe was slightly surprised to see two envelopes from the Palace but then again, since Zhongli was a pretty important guest – even if coming only as a plus one – that was a polite thing to do, he supposed.
“The Tsaritsa personally invites me to sit at her table. ‘In recognition of your esteemed status, I am delighted to extend to you the honor of being my Honorary Guest for the evening. As a mark of my highest regard, a seat will be reserved for you beside me, ensuring you are placed at the heart of the evening’s festivities, and treated with only the highest standard of Snezhnayan hospitality’,” he quoted from the letter, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Does that mean we will be separated?”
Childe scratched his chin, thinking. “At all the Balls that I’ve attended, she sat together with the Harbingers, though she never had the VIP guests sit at her table. And she never stayed too long anyway. That’s… curious.”
“Does your letter mention anything about the matter?”
“No, just the usual reminders and rules and dress code and whatnot… as if I didn’t know that.”
“And what is that you will be wearing?” Zhongli took a sip of his tea, looking at him from above his cup.
“I am the Vanguard, so I’m obliged to wear my official formal attire from the military,” he explained. “A bit more fancy and personalized than the regular official outfit as this one’s made for celebrations and whatnot but still military style. And have you decided? Iosif has sent you quite a wardrobe.”
Zhongli’s eyes narrowed a bit as he smiled. “I have. And he has.”
“Ah,” Childe nodded, not even picking up a fight here. There was no winning with a god set on his schemes. “And you’re not gonna tell me.”
“And I am not going to tell you.”
Childe could only shake his head at that. Fine, he would let Zhongli keep his secrets. He would find out in two days anyway.
There was another thing that gnawed at his brain whenever he thought about the ball.
“Are you… going to be okay, Zhongli?” He asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice. “I know you’ve been getting better but this is going to be a long event. A demanding one.”
Zhongli – bless his soul – smiled gently at him, though not dismissively.
“I believe I will manage a couple of hours away from here. It’s not like the ball is taking place outside in the cold, is it not?”
“No, it’s not, but still, there are going to be so many people there,” Childe explained. “Many will want to grab your attention, if for just a few seconds. Not to mention the other Harbingers which-“
“Which you’ve warned me about a lot already,” Zhongli interrupted him, not unkindly. “It’s going to be okay. And if I begin feeling my powers slipping away, I’ll let you know immediately.”
“And then we will leave home early.”
“And then we will leave home early.”
Just this one thing, and then they would be able to leave. Just this last thing to do.
He, no longer in this nest of vipers, and Zhongli, no longer affected by the cold and the distance from Liyue. Childe let the comfort of that thought ease his nerves a bit, though he couldn’t shake away all of his concerns.
“Columbina, please,” Childe nearly whined with exasperation when he felt another tug at the aiguillettes on his uniform. “You’ve fixed them four times already.”
She stopped her ministrations for a moment to send Childe a blood-curdling, murderous glare. Silver eyes shone behind her mask with resolve. “Do not question the wise one,” she warned him and then returned her full attention to his outfit.
“For all that my opinion on the matter is worth it,” Pulcinella offered, passing by and giving Childe a one-over. “I do believe it’s as pristine as it can be.”
“You are a politician,” Columbina hissed as if that sentence explained everything.
Nevertheless, she finally stopped fiddling with the cords and buttons and lightly smoothed the material of Childe’s jacket with her gloved hands, fixing the red sash. She reached out to his shoulders to straighten the golden fringe of his epaulettes, and then sighed.
“I don’t think I can make it any better.”
“You sound like I came here wearing tattered rags,” Childe huffed. “It’s my best outfit! My office outfit, too!”
“Lords and ladies of the realm would’ve flocked to him anyway, even if he had worn a potato sack,” Signora, who stood next to them with an expression of utter boredom, said as she inspected her blood-red nails. She wore a ball gown the color of wine, her cleavage adorned by a diamond necklace, long hair spilling in thick locks down her back. “The Tsaritsa’s youngest, most eligible bachelor of the realm,” she added with a ring of mockery to her voice.
Childe opened his mouth to say something but he was stopped by Arlecchino’s hand on his shoulder.
“Doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. There’s only one set of eyes he will be searching for today, anyway,” she said teasingly, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. She picked something up from it in between her fingers. “A lint,” she explained and left to take her place next to Pulcinella, a knowing smile on her face.
So, if she knew, then all of them knew, too. He glanced at the faces of his coworkers, noticing the same expression on each of them. Even Signora’s, though hers was much, much more reserved. Childe felt his stomach do a flip, and not a funny one.
“Took you long enough,” Scaramouche remarked, coming closer to their group and standing at Signora’s right side. He wasn’t wearing his big hat today, and his usual outfit was replaced by a formal, royal-looking dark Inazuman kimono, the outer layer making up his long sleeves embroidered with swirling violet patterns. It threw Childe off-guard for a second.
“I thought you were not interested in my personal life?”
“I’m not,” Scaramouche admitted with a scowl on his face. “Unfortunately for me, everyone else is.”
He heard footsteps behind him, and he craned his neck to see the missing members of their happy Harbinger family incoming. Sandrone, in a frilly Fontainean dress, followed by one of her tall robots that wore a tailcoat and a cylinder hat, befitting the occasion. Dottore and Pantalone, arm in arm, talking to each other and probably scheming, both wearing rather simple yet elegant suits and paying no mind to the other guests looking away as they passed by. And lastly, Capitano, in a heavy coat and an outfit similar to Childe’s, only jet black.
“Big night for you, I assume,” Pantalone murmured, standing next to Childe, a sly smile pulling at his lips. “Debuting your lover in the Snezhnayan aristocratic société. Where is he, I wonder?”
“Out of your reach,” Childe hissed, trying to burn a hole through Pantalone’s skull as the other looked around the ballroom, searching for Zhongli.
“Please, Tartaglia, at ease. We’ve talked about it,” Pantalone rolled his eyes.
“Don’t even-“ Childe began, but Capitano’s disapproving voice interrupted him.
“Harbingers, please,” he grumbled, walking past them all to his rightful place as the first. Pierro followed behind him, his face unreadable as always. The commanding aura around them made Childe shiver a bit, but he did wonder why wasn’t the Jester with the Tsaritsa to accompany her entrance, as was the custom. “We’re about to start.”
Childe shot Pantalone one last glare, making a mental note to keep watching him should he try anything funny, like getting within a five-meter radius of Zhongli. The Ninth pretended not to notice that; he just straightened his back and looked around with mild curiosity.
Needing to calm his nerves, Childe took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He repeated his mantra in his head. It would be okay – tonight, it would all go okay. Nothing bad would happen to Zhongli. They would dance, drink, and enjoy the evening in each other’s company. And then they would go back home to get ready to leave for Liyue.
Yeah. It would be fine.
Childe opened his eyes, looking around the room to keep his mind off of all the ways it could potentially turn into a tragedy.
Her Majesty’s Ballroom looked nothing short of magnificent this night. It was always breathtaking, even when the only guests there were the ghosts of long-forgotten past, the only music the wind howling against the windows. Tonight, however, it was truly the diamond in the imperial crown that it always was. The frescoes adorning the high ceiling, the chandeliers made of thousands of small, intricately connected, shimmering crystals, the tall, gilded mirrors that stretched almost to the ceiling, framed in ornate gold leaf, the marble floor polished to a sheen; all of this combined with the sheer scale of the room made this place one of the most beautiful treasures in Tsaritsa’s treasury. Many hailed it as the pinnacle of Snezhnayan craftwork and one of the man-made wonders of Teyvat, although Childe sincerely doubted it was wholly created by just human hands. Such opulence and elegance definitely had some magic woven into it, some enchanted components that made you instinctually lower your voice in reverence when entering the room, and wordlessly stare at the piece of art that the ballroom was.
Columbina’s decorations only amplified that feeling, transforming Her Majesty’s Ballroom from taken straight out of a fairytale into something ephemeral and dream-like, almost transient. She had taken Childe’s counsel to heart, it seemed, looking at the dark navy satin curtains draped over the tall, arched windows, the glass panes of which were painted with frost. Tiny, silver-and-gold flames floated in the air above at a safe distance from the heads of everyone attending the ball, their flickering light bringing out the shimmer in the semi-translucent ceiling drapes. The flames moved up and down at different heights as if left adrift on waves of an invisible sea, and the ones farthest from the floor sunk like stars into the dark expanse of the ceiling enchanted to look like the night sky, a bottomless ocean full of constellations and nebulae. It was a breathtaking sight, and Childe noticed everyone around them craning their necks in amazement to view the magical spectacle above. He would need to ask Columbina what kind of illusion that was because he had never seen anything like this outside of the Abyss. Her true powers remained shrouded in mystery for him, but if she could do this–
The entrance door opened suddenly, and Childe’s head, like everyone else’s in the room, snapped back to look at the farthest wall, towards the entrance. The conductor of the Imperial Orchestra, situated on a gallery on the upper floor, waved his baton swiftly, and the air soon filled with a slow, familiar tune, which quickly picked up the tempo as more and more instruments joined the sweeping, graceful melody. The lights slightly dimmed, leaving only the ones near the door shining with full light, to cast their glow and focus everyone’s attention on the most important person in the room.
Or two people, as soon became apparent.
The Tsaritsa, as always, looked like the goddess she was. She knew the power an image bore, and she used her knowledge wisely. There was no need to impress the Snezhnayan aristocracy present in the room as they were already the most loyal subjects. However, the foreign guests and diplomats from other regions of Teyvat were a different story – there was a statement for her to make, a vision to sell, and based on the reactions of the crowd, she conveyed it very well.
The gown she wore was elegant and crisp in form, crafted from pristine, snow-white silk. The material had a soft, luminous quality to it, like the sheen of a pearl or weaved-in moonlight, and it shimmered delicately with Tsaritsa’s every movement. The form-fitting bodice of the dress was embroidered with silver lace and encrusted with fine, glistening crystals that spilled over a heavy skirt that widened towards the floor. The same embroidery framed the neckline and rose higher into a tall collar, tightly supporting her neck. The collar, together with the wide, padded shoulders gave the dress a structured feel, and the Tsaritsa wore it like armor. The skirt of the dress trailed behind her as she walked forward, gracefully nodding at the bows and curtsies the people she passed by offered her. The diamonds in her silver, imperial crown sitting on the top of her head twinkled with every movement, but no hair fell out of its place in her intricate, braided updo.
Elegant, but not too opulent. Royal, but not decadent. A warrior goddess, although she was not born to be one.
A true force to be reckoned with.
As if feeling his gaze on her, the Tsaritsa briefly glanced at Childe, offering him a smile so delicate that the majority of people wouldn’t even notice it. She then looked to the side, at the person walking next to her and the arm of which she held on to, and whispered something quietly. He followed her movement and, well… if the Tsaritsa’s appearance had left everyone breathless, Zhongli definitely matched her in this regard.
Although his clothes were not as dramatic as those of the winter goddess – understandably so, considering his incognito status and his retirement – they weren’t any less impressive. The robe he wore was an eclectic mix of old Liyuean winterwear and the traditional style of the Snezhnayan aristocracy, which Childe had already seen him wear, but this… This was different. It was a mind-bending combination that should not work in theory, but somehow it did, and Zhongli pulled it off as if it was created and tailored for him and him only. Something like this could only be created by the expert hands of someone who was an absolute master of his craft, who perfectly understood and could contextualize the history and source of fabrics and shapes he worked on.
Someone who, still, took into consideration the suggestions of their commissioners, because the robe was in various shades of white, silver, and blue.
And Zhongli looked nothing short of dazzling in it.
The outer robe was thicker, wider in the shoulders, outlining his figure and tightly hugging his torso in an embrace of dark navy blue. It was intricately embroidered with silver thread in dragon imagery, rather than the usual Snezhnayan floral patterns, and was lined on the edges with thick ermine fur. The inner layer was much lighter, both in terms of color and the type of fabric used, and it shimmered with moonlight with each step Zhongli took. It formed wide, long outer sleeves that were cut in the middle and loose to reveal the innermost layer and its sleeves – tightly fitting, made of dark blue with a hint of silver. The clothes reached past his knees, to the middle of his calves – a bit longer than the normal Snezhnayan length, a bit shorter than what was worn in Liyue, and every step revealed dark pants and knee-high boots. The entire outfit was completed by a wide, heavy sash of silver brocade cinching Zhongli’s waist. With his long hair half up, half loose, and his usual sharp makeup, he looked sophisticated and regal and every bit the royalty that he was.
And Childe could not look away.
There was suddenly a kind of prodding pressure at the base of his head that brought him out of his reverie. Your mouth is hanging open, big silly, he heard whispered in his mind. Was that… Columbina’s voice?
He shut his mouth close and glanced to the side, but the girl was only looking straight up ahead, innocently. There would need to be a conversation later about what she could actually do – and maybe about privacy, as well. First hiding inside the walls, now sneaking into people’s heads? That would not do.
For now, however, there were more important things for Childe to focus his mind on. Like looking back at Zhongli at the precise moment he turned his face from the Tsaritsa to look at him, his silver-and-amber dragon earring gleaming in the light. His face – immaculate, beautiful, worth building and destroying empires for – remained a poised mask, but there was no mistaking the amused glint in his sharp, golden eyes, and the slumbering heat lighting them up from within.
Suddenly, Childe felt like he was about to burst – with pride, admiration, and utter devotion. Zhongli was a breathtaking vision; a noble, royal figure casting around an aura of authority and silent yet unmistakenly godlike power.
And he was his.
Oh, how powerful did that thought taste.
Childe lightly tipped his head in silent greeting, unable to suppress a smirk, feeling slightly hot around his collar. Zhongli returned the gesture, not breaking their eye contact as if the hundreds of people around them did not matter a single bit.
They finally came up to the elevated part of the room on which the tables for the Harbingers and the Tsaritsa were located, dividing them from the common people. Zhongli led the goddess to the center of it and stood a few steps to the back as she prepared to address the attendees, as was the custom.
“My faithful subjects,” she began, her voice crystal clear and amplified, lightly accented Snezhnayan echoing in the room. “Thank you for gracing this hall with your presence. Yet again, we meet together to celebrate the passing year, and I am most grateful for how bountiful it was. Again, we have proven how unrelenting and strong we are as a nation, and how our greatness lies within our shared goal. It is thanks to your unwavering loyalty and support that we can stand here tonight and, with pride, look at our achievements. As we also look with hope and anticipation to the new year ahead, let us embrace the opportunities it will bring. May we face all of its uncertainties and challenges with courage and unity, and emerge not only victorious but also stronger.”
Applause resounded in the air, and the Tsaritsa paused for a moment, smiling. Once it died down, she continued, this time in common tongue.
“I would also like to welcome our esteemed guests from other nations. Diplomats, politicians, trade masters, scientists, scholars, consultants,” she began, and there was a certain lilt to her voice as she said this last word, “and many, many more renowned and distinguished people. Thank you for your extended support and cooperation with my nation. Your presence here tonight is a testament to the bonds we share, a proof of the commonality of our goals as the peoples of Teyvat, and I am filled with deep, deep gratitude. I am honored to see you today, and I hope you will enjoy our Snezhnayan hospitality tonight.”
She extended her arm, and a tall glass of champagne materialized in her hand. She raised it high in a toast, and the people in the room followed suit, grabbing glasses from the trays brought by the waiters.
“To our common endeavors and the success of our undertakings. To the glory of Snezhnaya, the glory of all nations, the glory of Teyvat!”
Everyone in the room bowed their heads before the Tsaritsa and joined her in the toast. It did not escape Childe’s attention that she didn’t mention Celestia even once in her speech this year.
“May this night be filled with enchantment and revelry, and may it forge bonds lasting for eternity.”
Childe watched as the Tsaritsa waved her hand lightly at the orchestra in the gallery, and the air was soon filled with delicate and slow music, accompanied by idle chatter. The Harbingers quickly scattered away in groups and pairs, leaving Childe alone. He stood motionless, still quite stunned, watching the Tsaritsa talk with Zhongli about something while slowly approaching him.
“Oh, my Eleventh, how good to finally see you today,” the goddess began, her eyes twinkling with mirth, and Childe took a deep breath to prepare himself for all the jabs that would inevitably come from her tonight. “It has been quite a few days since the last time you’ve been to the Palace.”
“My lady,” he replied, bowing his head and continuing the act. “I have simply needed to use up all of my emergency leave days.”
“Indeed, and what an emergency that was.” She glanced at Zhongli with an innocent smile. “I wouldn’t recommend staying out late in the cold at this time of the year. Not for someone unaccustomed to our weather.”
Zhongli took that on the chin, not even blinking at her implying she knew of everything that had happened that night – which, in retrospect, shouldn’t really be that surprising. “It was a very enriching and unforgettable experience, and I am glad to have had the opportunity to partake. And for the good support of Childe’s arms, although I know it must have been quite a hassle to haul me around. For which I apologize, again.”
Learned instincts kicked in and Childe opened his mouth, ready for the thousandth time to reassure Zhongli that this was not in any way a problem, but the Tsaritsa was faster.
“Yes, his arms are definitely a place you should have ended up in,” she smiled sweetly again, a shade of triumph in her voice. “I am beyond happy that you have finally reached your destination, though we will all agree the journey took a bit too long.”
Childe blushed, exchanging a quick glance with Zhongli. “My lady, please-”
The Tsaritsa sighed, rolling her eyes. “Let the old lady have some fun with it. You have no idea how long and torturous the wait was.” She reached out for a glass of champagne from the tray held by a waiter that had materialized next to them. She took a sip, shaking her head lightly. “It was one of my hardest matches, you know, but also one of the more interesting ones. Waiting and betting on which one of you will crumble first has been enrapturing!”
“Just… just how much did you know before we…” Childe trailed off, watching the bubbles in the golden drink in Tsaritsa’s glass and trying not to feel too self-conscious.
She smacked her lips. “Oh, everything. Well, almost everything,” she corrected herself after a second of thought. “But enough still. And no, I would not have acted upon that knowledge, it is not my style to interfere like that. I prefer to watch the fate play out as it wishes.”
Zhongli hummed. “So the choice for your contract with me was purely incidental?” he asked, slightly amused but also a little bit shaken. Much less than Childe was at the moment, though.
“I do sometimes push it,” the Tsaritsa admitted with a wink.
Suddenly, the music serving as the background to their conversation halted to a stop, which was a sign everyone understood. The crowd stilled for a second and then moved like a wave across the room, the chatter transforming into excited buzzing.
“Oh my, it is time for the first waltz, of course!” The Tsaritsa exclaimed, putting her glass away on a nearby table and clasping her hands together. Childe realized he hadn’t seen her this excited and lively in a long while, without the air of melancholy that tended to follow her. He smiled, watching her be the happy goddess she supposedly was before the events from half a millenium ago.
Something shifted in the air and his smile waned a little, replaced by wariness and caution when he noticed Pierro approaching them. The Director of the Harbingers regarded him with a glance, his face ever an unreadable mask, and then lightly bowed his head to the Tsaritsa, like he always did – not with reverence, only with respect. He then looked at Zhongli, and his schooled expression broke for a second, revealing tension and shadow underneath, and a dark glint in his eye that disappeared with a blink. His cold mask was soon back in place, though a hint of his previous expression remained in the tightness around his lips.
“Morax,” he said, greeting Zhongli, looking at him with his bright eyes that betrayed nothing. He did not tip his head, even though the protocol requested so. “Five hundred years.”
Zhongli’s face was a similar mask, practiced for millennia, though Childe knew him well enough to pick up on the telltale signs of discomfort. Not for the first time he felt an urge to reach out to him, to take him away from them all, though he could only clench his jaw to stop himself from doing so.
“It has been a long time, indeed,” Zhongli replied, careful. Cool.
“Not long enough for the memories to fade,” Pierro continued. His voice had an edge to it, one too sharp to be kept within its sheath. “Or to the blood to wash off.”
Before anyone could say anything else, he turned towards the Tsaritsa, extending his arm towards her. “My lady, would you like to share this dance with me, per our long-established tradition?”
The goddess looked at Pierro’s hand before her; an offering laid before her many times. She took it, nodding, though the smile she gave in return wasn’t as bright as before the brief exchange between Zhongli and her Harbinger. She glanced at the Archon briefly with something akin to apology, and walked away to the dancing floor, following Pierro’s lead.
“That was charged,” Childe said, stepping closer to Zhongli and lightly touching his arm in a comforting gesture.
“It was,” Zhongli replied, voice distant, eyes trained on Pierro’s back with a thoughtful expression. “There’s… history.”
“That much I figured. Are you alright?”
“Yes,” he said, turning his head towards him and offering him a reassuring smile. “Let us not dwell on it for too long today, there’s joy to be had.”
Feeling slightly calmer – though still very much alert – Childe offered Zhongli a hand.
“Would you grant me the honor,” he said, “of having your first dance tonight?”
The god took the hand in his own without a second thought. “I would grant you the honor of having all of my dances. Tonight, and every other night, too.”
Childe sighed, though his abashed smile gave him away. “You’re being too corny sometimes,” he remarked, leading Zhongli to the dancing floor, feeling the eyes of every person in the room on him.
“You find enjoyment in that,” Zhongli countered, turning to stand before him and arching an eyebrow.
“Guilty as charged.”
More and more couples were steadily gathering their courage to join their queen at the dance floor. With a corner of his eye, Childe noticed some other Harbingers coming to the dance as well amongst the sea of prominent Snezhnayan aristocrats and other notable people, but with Zhongli this close, right in front of him, everything faded into unimportance. They stood at the center of the floor, Childe’s arm on Zhongli’s waist and Zhongli’s on Childe’s shoulder, their hands linked as they waited.
The music soon started, a slow sweep of violins weaving a rhythmic cadence of the waltz. The lights around them dimmed slightly, turning the dancing floor into a dreamscape with a starry sky overhead, giving way for the melody to rule the senses. Childe lead the dance, allowing his muscle’s memory of the familiarity of the routine to take over. Zhongli followed him, much surer than he was a few days ago at the night market, but just as eager.
“Everyone’s looking at us,” he murmured quietly, just enough for Childe to hear. “At you.”
“At me? Strange, considering the most beautiful person in the palace is right in front of me,” he replied and was rewarded with a delicate blush dusting Zhongli’s cheeks.
“I am quite sure it is you, not a foreigner they’ve never seen. You’re cutting quite an imposing figure, today especially. Which, to add, I quite like.”
Childe hummed, thinking, trying not to let that last bit get a bit too deep into his head, lest he missed a step. “Don’t you think that aura of mystery around you is precisely what would draw everyone’s attention?”
They each stepped to the side, guided by the music to a different figure. Childe’s hand dropped from Zhongli’s waist but quickly found its way back as they returned to each other.
“An unknown beauty appears and sweeps off one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers,” he continued, moving a tiny bit closer. “Surely that’s someone to take note of. Who is he? What does he want?”
He smiled slyly, teasingly, then lightly spun Zhongli around, marveling at how the blues of his robe flowed with the movement.
“For them all to stop staring at his beloved like this,” Zhongli said once he was back in Childe’s arms, eyes aflame.
“Jealous, huh?”
“Dragons are possessive creatures. And they do not like to share their treasures.”
Zhongli emphasized his words with his fingers digging lightly into Childe’s shoulder. The sensation, inconspicuous but strong enough to carry meaning, sent a bolt of hot energy through Childe’s entire body. He shuddered lightly, emboldened. He didn’t leave that without a response, allowing his hand to very deliberately slide to just above the small of Zhongli’s back, giving into the strange tension materializing between them.
“Do they also like to stake a claim on said treasures in public? For everyone to see?” he asked, watching the way Zhongli’s pupils grew a little wider at the question.
“Perhaps.”
Childe’s smile widened, heart quickening, hearing the low rumble of Zhongli’s voice. “And how would they do that?”
The rhythm of the dance warranted another step to the side, and this time Zhongli’s hand landed back on Childe’s shoulder a little bit closer to where it should, closer to his neck. Childe felt a warm touch of his soft finger sliding delicately against his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, quickening the pulse beneath. The movement could’ve been mistaken for meaning to fix a stray hair but underneath that, it insinuated something entirely, entirely different.
“Best in a place where everyone would see,” Zhongli whispered lowly, looking back at Childe’s face.
The melody of the waltz transformed then into a soaring thing, still full of sweeping arches and elegance and grandeur, but now every note carried an urgency with it, a pull as if the instruments wanted to call out to the dancers like sirens, hoping they’d get lost in their music, in the dance, in the intimacy between them. Heeding the call, Childe pulled Zhongli closer to himself, their chests now almost flush with each other’s, his hand pressing lightly to the arch of his spine. It was perhaps a bit indecent for societal standards, but who would care about that? Certainly not him, not with Zhongli looking like this, looking at him like this, face flushed, lips parted, eyes dark and glowing with desire.
Everything else became a blur; faces, dresses, figures, every color blended into a nondescript, muted smudge of little importance. Only the blues of Zhongli’s robe remained, the dark, silken brown of his loose, half-up hair, the rose tint of his cheeks, and the warm, inviting amber of his eyes, all making up an entire world. The music grew more dramatic and heavier, now that brass and cymbals stepped forward, closer to the violins. It drowned out all the other sounds except for Zhongli’s quickened breath and Childe’s galloping heartbeat, both echoing in his ears. Nothing else seemed to matter at that moment, everything except them ceasing to exist for a couple of seconds. There was nothing else but them, the rise and fall of the waltz, and the melody – urgent, building up, more and more demanding, almost threatening to spill over its edge.
The music slowed down then a little, signalizing that the waltz would soon come to an end with a final arc. Childe spun Zhongli around once more, again marveling at how gracefully and fluidly he moved. This time, however, he pulled a little as Zhongli was coming back, spinning him into a closed embrace, one arm wrapped around him, hands still joined, the other placed securely and possessively on the small of his back. The god landed in his arms with a hitch in his breath, eyes wide and pupils slightly blown. The musicians stopped playing, but the melody still reverberated in the air, reluctant to fade out, lingering a little longer in a gentle afterglow.
Zhongli’s eyes searched Childe’s face, his breath fanning over his lips with how close they stood, unwilling to let each other go. The warmth pulsating in Childe’s ribcage with every beat of his heart was a heavy thing, not of the gentle or cozy kind, but rather something barely containable, something he felt could make him burst open if one of them dared to move even a millimeter closer. It melted down, dripped thickly to his stomach, and pooled at the pit of it, not a warmth anymore but rather a smoldering heat. Childe swallowed, noticing how Zhongli’s eyes wandered down to his lips, and his head moved on its own–
A storm of applause erupted around them. The world re-materialized itself in this sound, and the colors, lights, and people were soon brought back into existence. The dancers congratulated themselves on a first waltz well and beautifully done, bowing and curtseying to each other in respect and gratitude, but not without stealing glances towards a pair in the middle, still in a close embrace.
The heat in Childe’s body faded out to a simmer, and he burst out laughing when Zhongli’s face twisted in an expression of embarrassment. He stepped back, bowing gentlemanly and raising Zhongli’s hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss upon it. The Archon’s cheeks blushed a deeper red, but he confidently returned the bow of his own.
“Let’s go grab a drink, shall we?” Childe proposed, a little breathless, gesturing towards the tables reserved for the Harbingers. Zhongli nodded, following behind, tightly holding onto his hand.
Almost every eye in the room followed them, curiously.
The Cryo Archon was the first person who approached them after the waltz, of course, whisking Zhongli away for a dance that she did not want to hear objection to. Childe observed them from the distance, two gods amongst a sea of (mostly) mortals, gliding gracefully across the dance floor, carefully avoided by everyone. He could see that they were talking about something but he couldn’t hear anything obviously, and he was too far to try to read off their lips. Maybe if he could get a little closer… Yes, this was most likely some form of invasion of privacy, however, judging by the Tsaritsa’s sly smile and Zhongli’s mildly uncomfortable frown-
“Relax. She’s not going to eat him,” a bored, ever-mocking voice from somewhere behind him said.
Childe turned on his heel, seeing Scaramouche leaning against the wall.
“On the side, alone, and supporting the wall,” Childe started, folding his arms. “Looks like you’re enjoying the party.”
Scaramouche fixed his gaze on him for a second, pouring just enough disgust into it to make his affections towards Childe known. “It’s better entertainment than fawning over your boyfriend like this,” he said. “It’s kind of pathetic.”
Childe rolled his eyes. “Tell me you wouldn’t have been like this if someone close to you found themselves amongst them.”
“I see we’ve moved past the denial stage, huh?”
“Is there a point?”
A shrug was Scaramouche’s only reply before he turned his eyes again to lazily look around the room, his expression back to showing nothing but boredom. He’s never really enjoyed these balls, as far as Childe could say with their rather cold relationship.
“Although I hate agreeing with you,” Scaramouche said after a moment of silence between them. “And I have my own opinions on most of the Archons…You’re right about keeping the distance. With your family, and with him, especially.”
Okay. That was a surprise.
Childe glanced at him to the side, wondering what could’ve prompted him to say this. This was rare. There were no warm feelings amongst their little group – at least amongst the majority of them – and Scaramouche was one that was particularly outspoken about his dislikes towards the other Harbingers, but…
The visit to Sandrone’s workshop. The body modifications, the strange cord, the things Sandrone said about his project with Dottore. About tinkering with evolution, playing god.
“Are your… dealings with the Doctor a reason you’re warning me about it?” he asked tentatively, the hair on his neck standing up.
Scaramouche remained quiet for a second, his indigo eyes clouded. His jaw clenched, and Childe knew it was the wrong thing to ask about. “Those are none of your business,” he said dryly, pushing himself off the wall and walking away, taking with him any chance Childe had at getting details from him.
He stared at his retreating back for a moment, head full of thoughts and worries, before someone grabbed his arm, dragging him away straight onto the dance floor with a loud giggle.
“No sulking!” the hurricane of Columbina warned him, taking his other hand, ready to dance. “Go on, lead. Do it as prettily as you did with Zhongli.”
Childe sighed, though couldn’t contain a small smile. Her presence quickly lifted his spirits and chased away the Dottore-shaped shadows.
“So,” Columbina started, looking up at Childe with those piercing eyes of hers. “Do you have a ring in one of your pockets?”
Childe almost misstepped. “That’s very forward even for you.”
“It’s not. Do you or do you not?”
“It’s… it’s been barely more than a week,” he admitted, his cheeks getting almost uncomfortably hot.
“So what?” Columbina shook her head, the silvery ornaments in her hair twinkling in the lights. “If it’s love then it’s love, plain and simple! And once that’s done you can-”
Childe gave her a flat stare and then twirled her around mid-sentence, which probably wasn’t the nicest way of asking someone to drop the topic, but still worked. He heard Columbina’s frustrated sigh which turned into an amused giggle as they faced each other again.
“Point taken,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Well, anyway, you two look very good together. And your dance! Like from a fairy tale of some princes and princesses but without princes and princesses.”
“Technically speaking, Zhongli would count as a king, I think,” Childe explained, leading them a bit closer to the center of the dance floor, so as not to bump into any of the other dancers. “Or an emperor, though maybe not anymore?”
“God-kings and Harbingers, then. Doesn’t sound as good and oneiric and doesn’t have that balladic quality to it, but we will make it work,” she nodded fiercely and Childe wondered what ideas raced through her mind. “Everyone will make it work, and I think they already started. You should have seen people’s faces as they watched you both.”
“I could… feel that they looked.”
“But you were occupied with something else, huh? Ah, young love,” she grinned at him but quickly gathered herself when he replied with another flat look. “Yeah, they did. Everyone did. Some with curiosity, some with happiness, some with jealousy, with hunger… some with coldness. Even the other Harbingers! Arlecchino, of course, and Pulcinella, both with some kind of pride. Signora too, even though she danced with that one lord everyone says to be super handsome. She had an interesting look on her face, too. Distant, almost sad.”
“What about Dottore, or Pantalone?” Childe asked, wary, hoping to get some information here that he failed to gather from Scaramouche.
“Well, they were mostly focused on each other,” Columbina explained through yet another spin. “But yes, they did glance, from time to time. Everyone did, as I said. Even Capitano! I thought the old man to be completely wholly disinterested in anything besides the Abyss and swords and there he was!”
Childe groaned internally, awkward and embarrassed. He really hoped she did not know about his past crush-slash-fascination he had on the man…
There was a sudden spark in Columbina’s eyes as she looked around the dance floor, and Childe almost tripped when she suddenly pulled him towards another dancing pair, which he noticed to be the Tsaritsa and Zhongli. Childe could only stand and watch, mortified, as she crashed right into them with the delicate force of a meteor, grabbing Zhongli’s hands and almost hauling him away.
“Sorry, time to change the partners!” she exclaimed happily, smiling brightly at a completely lost and confused Zhongli. “Do you know how to dance a polka?”
“I-“ Zhongli stuttered, looking between her, an equally lost Tsaritsa, and a shocked Childe. Adding to that, the music the orchestra was playing was certainly not polka.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll teach you!” Columbina exclaimed, leading the dance.
Childe and Tsaritsa stood still for a moment, observing them as they chaotically moved around the dancefloor – with Columbina excitedly pulling a still confused Zhongli along and talking about something all the way through it – until they disappeared behind a mass of dancing couples.
“Is he going to be okay?” Childe asked, offering his hand to the Tsaritsa.
“He’s been through worse. He survived Barbatos,” she replied, taking his hand and allowing herself to be pulled into a dance.
Childe contained the urge to roll his eyes. “Please, no more lectures.”
Her face softened a bit and she gave him a warm smile – the one so rare. “I know. And I recognize I might have been a bit unbearable, for which I apologize.”
“Well, I suppose a push was needed,” Childe admitted. “Who knows how long would we have danced around each other otherwise.”
“Perhaps that’s true, but I believe what you needed most was simply time. I told you, you would’ve gotten there, one way or another. With or without me interfering. How are you settling up?”
There was an unusual carefulness in her voice as she said that question. Childe appreciated that.
“It’s a novelty, that’s for sure,” he said uncertainly after a short moment. “It was… scary at first. Which is a bit stupid now but-”
“It’s not stupid,” she interrupted him. “Love is very often scary. A person suddenly becomes a whole world. That can be overwhelming, and you’re not stupid or misguided to feel that way.”
He mulled over her words for a second. “I’m just… I was worried that I wouldn’t be enough, or that I wouldn’t know what to do, or that I’d just disappoint him. Or that I won’t be able to give him… me. Or that this will be precisely what he will get. That’s really just-”
“If you once again use the word ‘stupid’ in this conversation, Eleventh, I will step on your toe,” she threatened, arching an eyebrow.
Childe chuckled, though he knew she meant what she said.
“Emotions are not stupid,” she continued. “Feelings are not stupid. They can be foreign, alien, new, they can be so big and complicated you might think you’re too small for them, but you should trust yourself in this. Trust him in this. Vulnerability is uncomfortable, if you think about it, especially when love demands so much of it, but that’s precisely why trust is so important. You’re allowed to be scared, but the only way to overcome that is to trust.”
The music ended, and they slowed to a stop. The other dancers began applauding the orchestra, but the Tsaritsa still held on to Childe’s hands, her thumbs swiping his knuckles in a comforting gesture. She smiled at him again, cold eyes full of ageless wisdom.
“It’s going to be okay. Not easy, perhaps. These things are new to you and to him, but you will be alright because you have each other. Be one another’s respite, one another’s anchor.”
She let go of his hand to gently cup his cheek, like a doting mother would.
“And I need you to know that I’m really happy for you. And proud. Always proud. Whatever happens, remember that.”
A small lump formed in Childe’s throat as Tsaritsa’s words sunk in. He swallowed it down, though; it wouldn’t look well for a Harbinger to break down crying in front of hundreds of people, especially Harbinger as fearful as himself. He felt moved by what she said – moved and reassured, first and foremost.
“Have you given him the same pep talk?” He asked, giving her a lopsided smile.
“Something along the lines.” She winked at him. The music started again, signaling another slow dance to begin soon. “Would you grace your old goddess with another one?”
Childe looked around in search of Zhongli, just to check up on him. He was on the other side of the dancefloor, still occupied by Columbina’s shenanigans, who was very animatedly talking about something to him. There was a gentle, almost fatherly expression on his face, very similar to the one he had when looking at Hutao when she wasn’t paying attention to him.
“Absolutely,” he said, leading the Tsaritsa into another dance.
The next couple of hours went in a blur – they weren’t given nearly enough time to sit back and rest, constantly whisked away for a conversation, a dance, or both. Though the vast majority of people present were rather intimidated by Zhongli’s presence, few still found themselves brave enough to approach him to strike up a conversation. Those – unlike the dances – Zhongli seldom denied, ever hungry for learning more about Childe’s homeland and her people, as he replied to him when he asked, concerned, if he wasn’t too tired.
Childe, even if occupied by generals, high-ranked Fatui, or other important figures connected to the military, always hovered somewhere close, keeping a close eye on the Archon when he couldn’t be with him, wary for any sign of discomfort or his powers acting up – or a dagger glinting in the shadow. Perhaps it was a little too paranoid of him and maybe he was acting slightly overprotective but he needed to make sure, at all times, that Zhongli was safe and comfortable.
He also looked out for any Harbingers approaching them – approaching Zhongli – but it seemed that none of them were particularly interested in getting more acquainted with him tonight, thank Celestia. Or maybe thank the Tsaritsa’s presence that kept them and everyone else in check and prevented them from acting up… usually. Scaramouche lingered somewhere at the edges of Childe’s vision, and he once saw him, very displeased, dancing with Columbina, who took it upon herself to bother as many people as possible, it seemed. Signora mingled with the crowd, never staying too long with one group of people, though she did sometimes return to sit and talk – and sometimes dance – with Capitano and Arlecchino. Pierro was mostly keeping Tsartisa’s company, like a shadow, and talking with some foreign dignitaries that seemed too important even for him to ignore. Pulcinella also kept to his usual business partners, though of a more domestic scope, and he did find a moment to strike up a conversation with Childe and Zhongli to congratulate them (at which Childe cringed a little inside). Dottore and Pantalone stayed with each other for most of the evening, although Pantalone seemed to have some duties to fulfill of his own, and some wealthy patrons to talk with as well. The more Childe observed them all, sipping on his wine, feeling its warmth spread nicely through his body and delicately ease his stress and anxiety, the more he realized that this, too, was war and that the scheming and plotting never, ever ended. Not for them.
Well, maybe except for Sandrone, who spent most of her time in the company of her big guarding mech.
Childe went to his table to grab another drink, needing to catch his breath after a dance with Arlecchino. Though there were still plenty of people present, there were noticeably fewer of them, and the ballroom was not feeling so crowded anymore. The clock at the wall behind the tables pointed out that it was almost midnight, which meant that the ball would soon come to a close. Childe felt relieved at the realization – he was starting to feel a bit exhausted with all the dancing and talking and anxiety of having to constantly look for any danger or harm that might come Zhongli’s way. He sighed, undoing a button right below his Adam’s apple. Just an hour or two more before he would be comfortably nestled in his bed, with Zhongli’s warmth next to him, and then it would be just a matter of hours before they could leave for Liyue.
He kind of couldn’t believe they survived Snezhnaya. Not unscathed, of course, not with Zhongli’s condition, but… they survived it. And with the ever-present cold gone soon, he should be able to recover quickly. If not, there are always the other Adepti to consult and seek help from.
But other than that, the court, the winter, the Harbingers… it was almost over. Oh, how relieved he felt.
Childe stood by the table with drinks and refreshments, munching on a much-needed snack, when heavy footsteps signaled someone approaching him. Here, it could’ve only meant another Harbinger. He turned around to face Capitano’s broad and tall frame, and the darkness that shrouded what his face should’ve been.
“Tartaglia,” the man began, the timbre of his voice devoid of the usual sharpness reserved for those beneath him. “I believe we haven’t had a chance to talk yet. You’re leaving for your station in Liyue soon?”
Childe swallowed, wiping his hands in a handkerchief to give himself time to gather his thoughts. Capitano striking up a conversation with him? So casually?
“Yes, that’s true. I’m set to leave in about two days,” he replied carefully.
“I have had a look at your contingents and the troops assigned directly to you. I have arranged for some reinforcements to be transferred under your command, to make up for the losses taken during the Liyue mission. I realize I might have forgotten to mention it earlier.”
Back in the days – back before Zhongli – Childe would’ve been completely awestruck by Capitano approaching him like this. Their conversations were few and far between, and Childe would drink up any sliver of attention the man would have given him. He used to idolize him, and he still did, as his strength and skills as a warrior were unmatched amongst them, but that little rush that used to make him feel a bit funny around the First had somehow dulled.
“Thank you, First,” he replied, keeping the conversation professional. “I will ensure that the troops are ready for whichever task will be assigned to them.”
Capitano tilted his head slightly, giving him – what Childe assumed to be – an inquisitive look. He couldn’t say it for sure because he wasn’t able to actually see the other’s eyes, but he could feel slight curiosity from him. The darkness shrouded Capitano well, and Childe often wondered what hid behind it. Fantasized, even, but not anymore.
“I have no doubt here,” Capitano said, nodding. “There might be a mission to take care of, deep within the Chasm and underground mines, but the details are not confirmed yet as the information we have is a bit murky, and the research team has not yet provided us with their findings. I will be in contact with you in the coming months.”
Childe opened his mouth to reply, but then, from the corner of his eye, noticed Zhongli approaching him. After a few hours of dancing, talking, and otherwise being present at the ball, the Archon still looked immaculate, though Childe could find signs of weariness in the lines of his face. Did he look a bit paler than usual too?
Zhongli came up to his side, smiling warmly at him, putting a hand on his back in a comforting – or maybe protective – gesture. He then glanced at Capitano, still smiling, but with a particular glint in his eyes that Childe had never seen before. It made him look slightly dangerous.
Oh, Zhongli was jealous.
For some reason, it felt… exciting. Thrilling.
“The Tsaritsa has told me the ball will soon come to an end,” Zhongli said. “I hope I’m not interrupting any sort of confidential conversation?”
Childe bit back a grin. Of course he was, kind of. And of course, he knew about it.
“Nothing of much importance, for now,” Capitano replied, voice back to coldness. He looked at Zhongli for a moment and then turned his face back to Childe. “As we’ve discussed, Tartaglia, we will be in touch.”
The hand on Childe’s back traveled a bit further, Zhongli’s fingers clutched at his waist. Tightly. Warmth spread through him from that point of contact, followed by a shiver running down his spine. He swallowed. The wine he had earlier amplified the feeling.
“Of course. I will be awaiting orders from Her Majesty.”
Capitano nodded to bid them farewell, first at Zhongli, then at Childe, face tilting slightly as he took a very quick glance at Zhongli’s arm wrapped around him. He left without another word, retreating towards Pierro and Pulcinella, who stood on the other side of the room.
“Was that another dragon way of marking your claim?” Childe asked, wrapping his own arm around Zhongli, onlookers be damned.
“No,” Zhongli replied, voice smooth. “Just a Zhongli way. For now.”
Childe chuckled, pressing them closer to each other. Zhongli rested his head against his shoulder, sighing, his body slumping a little.
“I know,” Childe murmured.
“I really enjoyed the ball, don’t misunderstand this,” Zhongli clarified. “It was magnificent, and it’s been a very, very long time since I last took part in something like this. But it was also… strenuous.”
Childe rubbed Zhongli’s back with his hand. “No, I don’t blame you. I’m just as tired. Happy that you were a part of it, with me, and that it went without any incidents, but also exhausted. How are you holding up?”
Zhongli knew he meant his constitution. “I’m… not unaffected. I do feel the reserves of my power depleting again,” he said quietly after a moment. “But I’m concentrating on maintaining my form very hard.”
Childe turned his head to press his lips against his forehead, checking the temperature of his skin. Cold. It made him panic a little.
“Do you feel dizzy?” he asked, scanning his face and hands, checking for any scales or his Geo marks peeking out and finding none. “Lightheaded? Increasingly draconic?”
“Just very tired, for now,” the god reassured him.
“Let’s try to sneak out. We just need to find the Tsaritsa to let her know, if she’s still here.”
They began their search, though couldn’t find the goddess anywhere in the enormous room. She wasn’t on the dance floor, and Childe couldn’t glimpse her white, shimmering dress amongst the thinning sea of people. Zhongli mentioned speaking with her just a couple of moments before approaching Childe, but it seemed like the goddess had vanished.
Well, since she wasn’t anywhere to be found, surely she would understand?
They turned their steps towards one of the back exits from the ballroom. Childe craned his neck to look out for a servant to ask to prepare their carriage, but-
“Sneaking out early?” a snarky voice suddenly interrupted his search. “My, my, isn’t this scandalous? Surely a first-page story for every newspaper in the capital.”
Childe closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Of course, the evening could not be done without her.
“Signora, my dearest friend,” he said, turning around on his heel and offering her a sweet smile. “Yes. Very sorry to not have shared a dance with you, I promise to make up for it next year, twice over. Have you seen Her Majesty anywhere, perhaps?”
“What, you want her to bless your union?” she asked, smiling just as sweetly, dizzyingly so.
“Already have it, thank you very much. Now, have you seen her or not?”
He expected her to continue with another quip, another bite of a remark, and he almost got it, but then Signora glanced between him and Zhongli, once and twice, and something snapped within her. Her sardonic smile turned sour, transforming into a blood-red painful wound, and her eyes dulled beneath her pulled eyebrows. She swallowed her response and looked away, taking a sip of wine, and only then did Childe notice the number of empty glasses on the table in front of her.
“She had a matter to attend, but said she would be back for the final farewell,” she said finally, voice hoarse and heavy with… grief? Envy?
Zhongli’s hand clutched his own a bit tighter, and they exchanged a look. This was uncharacteristic for her, to say the least.
“Are you-“ Childe began, concerned, but she cut him off, throwing him a sharp glance.
“Don’t. I have no need for your pity,” she barked. “Go away.”
Normally, Childe would’ve said something, perhaps offered a helpful hand, but… that was Signora. Not the warmest one of his colleagues, and certainly not the friendliest. The wedge between them was deep. If she wanted to be left alone, well, she would be. That was none of Childe’s business.
The Tsaritsa came back soon after, emerging from one of the side doors in a burst of frost and snowflakes. A servant trailed behind her with a tray of tall, empty glasses. She waved a hand at all of the Harbingers, beckoning them to come closer.
“My dearests, I know we’re almost finished for today,” she began, walking towards their tables. “And I know that the hour is late. However, it wouldn’t do without a proper final toast, as per our tradition.”
She held something up – a bottle, an old one, judging by the dust gathered on it and the faded letters on the label.
“As we have our honored guest with us this year,” she said, nodding towards Zhongli, “we have something special for this occasion. Procured by our Ninth, although I must admit I have no idea what strings needed to be pulled to find this.”
Pantalone smiled a reserved smile, though it was evident he reveled in the praise. “Just a couple of old friends here and there, and some favors that needed to be returned.”
The Tsaritsa handed the bottle over to the servant that came with her. He unscrewed it skillfully, and the air was immediately filled with a sweet scent.
Zhongli gasped quietly.
“That’s-“
“Osmanthus wine? Yes, indeed,” the Tsaritsa confirmed, gesturing at the servant to pour the wine into the glasses and distribute them.
“A very, very old vintage,” Pantalone added, voice full of pride, violet eyes glistening. “Priceless.”
Childe swirled the golden liquid in his glass. The drink looked rich and just by its deeper smell and darker color, he could tell it probably cost a fortune. It was a popular alcohol in Liyue, if not a bit old-fashioned, but still liked enough to be available in many restaurants, especially those on the more luxurious side. He had the opportunity to taste it a couple of times, but this one was obviously on another level.
He glanced at Zhongli, who was holding the edge of the glass up to his nose, enjoying the fragrance of the wine. He closed his eyes, undoubtedly lost in a flood of memories of centuries and millennia past that the drink brought up. His face looked almost serene except for a furrow between his eyebrows – a telltale sign of feelings and emotions tumbling inside of him.
Childe decided not to interrupt; to let him have that brief moment for himself.
“Well then,” the Tsaritsa began once they all had their glasses. She looked around, meeting the eyes of all of her Harbingers, offering all of them a small smile. “I have already delivered my speech for today, so I will keep this brief – I am forever thankful for your service and commitment to the cause. Though we are a group of very distinct personalities, and each of us has a very different story, one common goal, like a silken thread of fate, unites us all. May you all find the justice, revenge, and success you are looking for. But first and foremost, may you all find your peace.”
Everyone in unison raised their glasses in a toast. Childe took a sip of the drink, savoring the delicate, sweet taste that unraveled on his tongue. He echoed Tsaritsa’s words in his mind as the wine’s warmth seeped into his belly, and added one more, small wish for his and Zhongli’s wellbeing.
He looked at him, smiling, and Zhongli smiled back, the sight evoking a small swarm of butterflies in his stomach.
Childe leaned in closer and opened his mouth to tell him that they were free to go home now, but a sound of a glass breaking interrupted him.
Pieces off it rolled on the floor, suddenly devoid of purpose, and the golden wine that it contained spilled over the white marble in an unsymmetrical splash. Zhongli’s hand gripped Childe’s shoulder, his fingers digging into his flesh, and then his body fell limply against his, like a theatre doll whose ropes were cut.
Childe’s brain had not yet registered what happened, but his arms managed to catch Zhongli before he hit the floor. He lowered his body gently, clutching it tightly, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of damage, wound, blood, a piece of glass or metal protruding from his body through his clothes, his-
Zhongli gasped for air as if he had difficulties breathing, as if he was in pain. His hands tightly held onto Childe’s clothes, face pale as snow, amber eyes wide and surprised, a grimace twisting his expression. But then there was a spark of… recognition? His breathing slowed down and the grasp of his fingers loosened a bit, his face easing a little.
“No…” Childe whispered, panic constricting his throat in a white-hot grasp when Zhongli’s eyes closed, slowly. “Zhongli…”
There was no wound anywhere, open or not. No blood to trace. No weapon, no-
His eyes stopped at his lips, still wet, glistening. They caught sight of a drop of golden liquid sliding down Zhongli’s pale cheek.
The wine.
A piece clicked into place in Childe’s mind.
Cold, unabridged fury exploded within him, rushing through his veins, burning everything on its way. He slowly looked up and the world was suddenly veiled by red, thick mist. The Harbingers and the Tsaritsa stared at him and Zhongli in utter shock, all frozen in place.
But they didn’t matter. He only wanted one of them.
Dead, blue eyes found violet, sly, slightly widened in surprise. Pantalone opened his mouth to say something, perhaps an explanation, but he would have none of that.
“I,” Tartaglia said, voice low, trembling with the fury he barely managed to contain. “Am going to kill you.”
He activated his Foul Legacy and jumped.
Notes:
First of all - sorry you had to wait so long. Adultood decided to adult recently, and we're not on good terms.
Second of all, umm... sorry for ending it on such a note? :'D Was it or wasn't it poisoned, hmm.
Well, I do hope you liked the chapter! Sorry for any mistakes or typos and stuff, my eyes hurt from staring at it for so long. It was a beast to write (more than 13k words my God!!!), I'm not going to lie, it was haaaard. But at the same time, I had the most pleasant journey through Cetral/Eatern-European composers thanks to it! Gosh, so many absolutely stunning pieces of music created by them. I do imagine this is what Snezhnaya must sound like - like Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, Dvorak, Shostakovich, Khachaturian, and many, many more.
Thank you for reading and see you in the next one! It's going to be much much shorter, I promise!
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The blood inside Childe’s veins burst aflame, and the coiled beast within roared as the chains containing it broke off, allowing it to take over and transform.
Then, several things happened all at once.
Capitano’s instincts of a seasoned warrior kicked in first. His black sword steamed off dark light as he summoned it, swinging it to take a defensive yet aggressive pose, stepping forward to block Foul Legacy’s coalescing glaive before it could taste blood.
Arlecchino immediately secured Childe’s other side, summoning her flames and reappearing with her mighty scythe. Her black eyes narrowed as she quickly glanced to the side, a commotion within the crowd in the room catching her attention for a fraction of a second.
Dottore grabbed shocked and paled Pantalone by his arm, dragging him back, his other arm gesturing at Childe to give a signal. Several figures within the crowd and amongst the servants snapped their heads towards him, eyes glowing red under masks and disguises that soon blurred and melted, revealing Dottore’s clones hidden underneath. All broke into a run toward their master, summoned to fight.
Columbina’s several pairs of aethereal wings sprung out behind her. She drew an arch with her arm and spoke something in a language unknown to anyone, her voice bearing a strange reverberance, a celestial echo that seemed to penetrate bones. A curtain of silver light manifested behind them all, separating them from the rest of the room. The girl then gestured at Childe, summoning a beam of the same delicate light right above him.
Violet Electro crackled across the marble when Scaramouche put his hand on the floor, sending a lightning chain meant to shackle an enraged Childe by his legs. His brows knitted, face twisting in a grimace at the chalky smell of the Abyss.
To Scaramouche’s side, Signora stood motionless for a brief moment, stunned as she stared at fallen Zhongli with wide eyes, her gaze absent. A pained cry escaped her lungs at the same moment that Childe kicked off his transformation. She summoned her butterflies, flames bursting around her but, curiously, it was Pantalone she aimed her rage at, not Childe.
Behind all that, Sandrone’s mech let out some steam from its many joints, metal plaques twisting and turning as it transformed into battle mode. Its one mechanical arm scooped the surprised girl closer to its chest, protectively, the other opening a gun in its arm.
Pulcinella, who stood by the Tsaritsa’s side, took a quick step back, eyes darting frantically between Childe and Pantalone. His fingers fiddled with the Delusion at his belt, as he was unsure whether he should engage or not, weary of being caught in the crossfire. Next to him, Pierro drew upon his own, reality-bending powers, and quickly reached out for the Tsaritsa, attempting to shield her from the mayhem that was about to unfold.
The goddess, however, didn’t need protection. She shrugged off Pierro’s hand, taking a deep breath and extending her arm in a commanding gesture. The very air around her froze, eyes and hair glowing white, and then she gave one, simple command, her voice so loud and charged and multiplied by a thousand echoes.
“Tiysha!”
Cold heeded the call of its queen immediately. Blue ice crawled on the floor outwards from where she stood, wrapping around the legs, torsos, and arms of the Harbingers, Dottore’s clones, and Sandrone’s mech, locking them all in place in a frosted embrace. Breaths turned into puffs of white air and frost sprawled across metal weapons as the temperature dropped further. The Tsaritsa twisted her hand and pulled at the air, and the sheer power radiating from her dulled Arlecchino’s flames and extinguished Signora’s fire butterflies. Scaramouche’s lightning met the same fate; the chain collided with a wall of ice in an explosion of sparks.
Everything took precisely four seconds.
Childe didn’t register any of it. The familiar, sickening thirst for blood hit him too hard to focus on anything other than the thin skin of Pantalone’s neck and the distance that the Foul Legacy urged him to close as soon as possible. The instincts within him raged for a fight, for revenge, for payback for what he had done. Sly man, not strong enough to pick up a weapon in a fight, hiding behind poison instead. A pathetic excuse for a Harbinger. But still daring enough to raise his hand against Tartaglia’s beloved? A vicious growl bubbled up in Childe’s throat at first, changing into a threatening, inhuman rumbling from within his chest as his transformation proceeded. The changes in his body were quick, extremely so, the Abyssal power responding to Childe’s anger with delight. He bared his teeth when he felt the familiar weight of his weapon in his hand, armor almost complete, darkness rising like steam from between the joints, though hissing as it met some kind of light pouring from above. Something was trying to slow the process down but–
That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Only the warmth of Pantalone’s blood that he would soon taste on his blade.
Then, immediately, a familiar voice pierced through the Abyssal fog engulfing his brain, and everything stopped.
He felt himself constricted, unable to move. Ice climbed up his body so quickly he didn’t have time to react, encasing him almost wholly, leaving only his – just partially transformed – head out. His weapon dropped to the floor with a loud clang when he lost control of his hands. He tried to move, tried to break free by repeatedly tensing and relaxing his muscles, but to no avail. Another growl escaped him, frustrated this time, the sound echoing in the crystalline silence around him. Though his transformation stopped, thoughts of bloodlust still swirled in his brain. Why wouldn’t they let him out, why wouldn’t they let him fight, why wouldn’t they let him protect Zhongli? Why would they contain him? Wasn’t it what he was supposed to be doing?
“Pierro,” the Tsaritsa said to the only Harbinger not currently covered in ice. Her voice was unshaken, solid, and her gaze – concerned despite the strict, tense mask on her face – fixed on Childe. “Reverse the transformation.”
The Director nodded, taking out some strange device from the pocket of his coat, and walked up to heavily breathing and growling Childe. He activated it with a click and tried to put it to his forehead, but was met with a warning in the shape of a loud snap of teeth.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Childe rasped in the deep, twisted Foul Legacy voice. “Let me go. Don’t dare stop me!”
Pierro gave him a level look. “Tartaglia,” he tried reasoning as he yet again attempted to get his device closer. “You must control yourself-“
Neat trick, repeating the old lessons he drilled into Childe’s head years ago but there was no containing the fury that raged inside of him now. Not when it wasn’t just bloodlust powering Childe anymore.
“I need to kill him,” Childe growled. “He needs to die.”
The Tsaritsa came closer, putting her hand on Pierro’s shoulder, and gesturing at him to give her the purifying trinket. Pierro obeyed, taking a step back – small enough to give her space and to react as soon as possible should something bad happen.
The goddess looked up at Childe, searching his face, trying to make direct eye contact to establish a connection between them. When she finally did, her icy blue eyes meeting his purple, hazy with Abyss, she whispered one, soft word.
“Ajax.”
Momentarily, Childe stopped fidgeting. The muscles of his body tensed for the last time and then relaxed when the sound of his name pierced through the veil covering the rational part of his brain – not quite pulling it completely off, but enough to at least let some light in. The growling coming out of his chest stopped, the fire coursing through his veins easing into a low simmer, still hot and ready to burst, but for now contained.
Seeing the change, the goddess put up her hand – the free one, not the one holding the device – and delicately cradled Childe’s cheek in it. Her touch was so cold it was almost searing, but it served well as an anchor in reality.
“That’s it, good,” the goddess said, like a mother would to her child. “Remember. You must not let it consume you.”
Childe gritted his teeth, his mind flexing against the pull of Foul Legacy. “He hurt Zhongli,” he hissed, and the pain the sound carried rippled in the air. “He– The poison–“
The last few words came out of his throat torn, choked. His gaze once again was clouded by red, and he flexed against his restraints as the beast inside growled again.
He hurt Zhongli he hurt Zhongli he hurt Zhongli He
The Tsaritsa did not pull her hand back. “Ajax, focus. He did not poison him-” she said, firmer now but it was not enough to get through to Childe.
“He did,” Childe rasped, interrupting her. He was still cognizant enough to form sentences, but that wouldn’t last for too long. “He threatened him. I knew he would try this. That he would want to kill him to use his blood to–“
“Ajax,” the Tsaritsa said firmly to not let him spiral again. Her fingers dug lightly into the flesh of his cheek to keep him at his senses and to focus his gaze back on hers. “If there was enough poison in that bottle to kill – or even hurt Morax – we would all be dead by now. Me, you, all the Harbingers. The Ninth included.”
That argument seemed to get through to Childe. His body froze again, the fog in his brain retreating, letting him suddenly realize where he was. A quick look around – as much as the ice restricting him would allow – revealed to him the rest of the Harbingers, all in similar ice prisons, in various poses suggesting readiness to fight.
Including Pantalone – pale from fear, eyes wide in shock, gaze traveling between Childe, Tsaritsa, and something behind them, which must have been–.
Zhongli. On the floor behind Childe, far from his reach. Needing his help, first and foremost.
Childe took a deep breath, clutching to that thought, focusing on it – and Zhongli – like on a lifeline. He clenched his jaw and slowly, with each breath, felt the tidal wave of Foul Legacy recede.
“That’s it,” the Tsaritsa reassured him quietly. “You must not let it control you. Just like you’ve trained.”
With a wave of her hand, the goddess dispelled the ice containing the other Harbingers, though she still kept her gaze fixed on Childe, observing the last bits of Foul Legacy’s armor dissipate into flakes of purple-and-black dust. With the beast contained again, the fury propelling Childe’s blood in his veins evaporated into exhaustion. His body sagged within its prison and his vision blurred – he always felt wrung out of energy after drawing from his Abyssal powers.
Only then did the Tsaritsa finally release him from his icy confines. Childe’s knees gave up when his feet touched the floor, though the goddess managed to catch him before he fell on his face.
“Zhongli,” Childe whispered once he stood more sure on his legs and his mind cleared a bit. Panic surged up his throat again, giving him enough adrenaline to push through the fatigue because there was something far more important to take care of.
Childe fell down to his knees next to Zhongli’s side and took his head into his shaking hands. First, he reached to check his pulse and closed his eyes in a quick prayer when he felt it, right beneath his fingertips pressed under Zhongli’s jaw. His breathing was good, too – not labored but strangely slow as it fanned against Childe’s cheek. Then, he searched the god’s face for any sign of strange discoloration or burst blood vessels, but didn’t find any. There also weren’t any fluids leaking out of his mouth, nose, eyes, or ears. Zhongli’s skin looked fairly normal except for its paleness and bits of bronze scales peeking out here and there; more than he had ever seen before. The scales also littered his neck, though these were slightly paler, more beige-gold than bronze. Childe reached out for Zhongli’s hand and noticed that it was glowing amber light, though much fainter than it had by the lake a couple of nights ago. It was, also, almost unnaturally cold.
Still, there was something obviously wrong. Childe tried shaking him a little to wake him up, whispering a quiet yet urgent plea to his ear, but it wasn’t working. Helplessness welled up in Childe’s chest, settling heavily at the bottom of his stomach. Whatever it was that put Zhongli in this state, it wouldn’t give up that easily.
The Tsaritsa walked closer and knelt on the floor on Zhongli’s other side. She briefly studied the calm expression on his face, then looked at Childe’s hand clutching onto Zhongli’s.
“We would have known if a god died here today. It would have taken us all,” she said, her voice eerily distant.
Childe looked up at her, but he couldn’t bear the shadow of pain hidden within her eyes.
"He…” he started, though his voice came out too weak. He shook his head. “He’s alive but… that doesn’t rule anything out. Pantalone said that-“
Something shifted behind him as the Ninth came closer. Dottore trailed behind him, wary, studying Childe like one would a feral cat.
“I dislike my name being thrown around like this,” Pantalone muttered, brow furrowed. “I have not done anything that could have caused this; this must simply be an unfortunate coincidence.”
Oh, that was a wrong tone in his voice, and anger surged in Childe again. How dare he lie like this? To their faces, right in front of the fruit of his schemes?
“You have outright threatened me that you’d use up Zhongli’s blood to create gold, should your mission require that!” Childe nearly shouted, the words seething through his clenched, sharp teeth. “You have, very explicitly, implied that you would not back down from harming him if it was necessary for your plans!”
Foul Legacy brushed against the length of his spine, ready to be seized. Pierro and Capitano must have felt it and moved closer to him, to act quickly if he tried to reach for it again. Likewise, Dottore stepped closer to Pantalone, looming behind him protectively.
Surprise flashed on Pantalone’s face, briefly, but then it melted into a look of recognition. He shook his head slightly, brow furrowing again.
“Do not put words in my mouth, Tartaglia, not when you are implying treason by acting against the Tsaritsa’s orders. This is a vile accusation. I have not said anything like that, ever, not even alluded to it.”
Childe stared at Pantalone’s face, at the thin line of his lips, at the bewilderment in his eyes, and could not believe he could lie like this.
“You liar,” he said, voice hollow. “You said exactly this to me when I was in your office and now you-“
“Whatever your clouded mind has conjured up and added to my words on that day is not my responsibility,” Pantalone cut in sharply. “Neither is your misinterpretation and the conclusions you have drawn from it. Besides, do you really think I would have risked our lives, the life of our queen to do that like this? That I would risk my own life?”
Silence befell around them, so loud it almost echoed between the marbled walls. Childe could feel everyone weighing Pantalone’s words, considering the possibilities, but knew no one would speak up – not even Dottore – before the Tsaritsa.
The goddess judged the Ninth with an impenetrable gaze.
“Columbina?” she finally spoke.
The girl sighed quietly. Her silvery barrier separating them from the rest of the ballroom was still up.
“I’m not the Fontainean Oratrice, but…” she started, then took a deep breath.
Her eyes lit up and she looked at Pantalone. The man winced like one would at a too-loud, high-pitched sound, but did not protest against the discomfort.
“He’s not lying,” she declared.
“Then…” It was Sandrone, surprisingly, who next spoke up.
Columbina shook her head. “Tartaglia is not lying either. I don’t feel deception from him. Not deliberate.”
The thoughts in Childe’s head swirled into an incomprehensible mess as he stared at an indignant Pantalone, meeting his angry gaze.
“We will leave the matter of this misunderstanding for later, Ninth,” the Tsaritsa spoke. Pantalone wanted to protest, but one sharp look from the goddess kept him silent. “We must focus on the issue at hand. All of us.”
She looked down at Zhongli again.
“Whatever happened to you, dear friend?” she said quietly, as if to herself.
She put her hand atop his chest, her fingers glowing with white-blue hue. Tiny, thin tendrils of light connected her to Zhongli’s torso, creating something akin to a spider’s web. Several seconds passed before her hand closed into a fist, threads of radiance drawing back.
“I do not feel changes to his godlike essence, though I might not be as reliable without finding an anchor in his gnosis… In any case, this is not something connected strictly to his godhood, of that I am sure.”
“I cannot sense the Abbys around him,” Capitano mused, looking at Zhongli with his head slightly tilted as if he was pondering on an interesting riddle. “Other than the residues from Tartaglia’s attempted transformation but these do not cling to him.”
Next to him, Pierro nodded in agreement. His previous animosity towards Zhongli disappeared – his goddess orders always took precedence before personal feelings. “We would need a blood sample if we wanted to run more thorough tests.”
That caught Dottore’s attention. “I can take samples to run some tests; see what I might be able to-“ Dottore began in his monotone voice.
There was a sickening echo of excitement and greed behind his words at the opportunity presenting itself, and it made Childe’s blood run cold.
“Don’t you dare touch him!” he warned him, once again feeling Foul Legacy’s familiar tingling at the back of his mind, both his Delusion and his Vision warming up at his side.
“Do not,” the Tsaritsa commanded to the both of them. “Ajax, keep your composure. Dottore, your expertise will not be required. I know the acuteness of Capitano’s senses can be trusted.”
Machinery whirred as Sandrone and her mech came closer, the lens of the contraption twisting and flashing with light as it – Childe assumed – scanned Zhongli’s body. The robot extended its arm towards Sandrone, and the girl opened one of the metal plates to reveal some sort of a… black sheet of glass that displayed various graphs and numbers? Childe had never seen anything like this before, save for Dottore’s laboratory.
“The patient’s vitals are stable. His heartbeat is slower, slower even than a sleeping person’s, but stable otherwise. Except for the temperature, of course, which is far below what’s normal for humans.”
“Fortunately, he is not human,” Scaramouche offered, his arms folded across his chest. The usual disdain underlying his biting tone was gone. “It wouldn’t be a wrong assumption to think he’d be able to withstand a lot more.”
Sandrone shook her head. “That’s not it. He’s still an organic being. At least… I believe he is. Godlike or mythical in nature, yes, but limits still apply. Or certain set of laws of magic and nature. Usually.”
“So you do not know and this analysis of yours is largely inaccurate?”
The girl shot him a glare that could’ve shattered glass. “At least I am trying to help!”
“Sixth, Seventh… please.” It was Pierro, this time, who silenced the squabbling Harbingers.
This was not enough. Even though knowing Zhongli’s state was stable and that this wasn’t Abyssal corrosion or a poor assassination attempt was slightly comforting, still… it wasn’t enough. Zhongli was lying on the floor, cold and unresponsive, and Childe couldn’t help him. He swallowed thickly, gritting his teeth against the thorns of panic stabbing his heart.
“What if it was poison, after all? What if his glass was smeared with it?” he tried again, voice quiet. “What if the poison was added to his glass after the wine was poured?”
“I know that strong emotions might tamper with one’s memory but I was not the one who brought the glasses or served the alcohol,” Pantalone said dryly. “Besides, we have established that it was not me.”
“I haven’t even mentioned your name,” Childe seethed through his teeth. “But I wouldn’t be unlike you to bribe someone to dirt their hands in your stead.”
Heels clicked against the floor as Arlecchino made a few steps and picked Zhongli’s broken glass from the floor, acting before things could escalate again. “Well, we can find that out soon enough.”
Crimson-and-black flames erupted in her hand. They burned for a moment, until the glass turned red, then orange, and gave off a faint glow of heat.
“Nothing,” Arlecchino confirmed, looking at the cooling glass with a frown. “If just a trace of poison was in the glass or the drink, my flames would’ve detected it.”
Childe looked back at Zhongli, blinking away the afterimage of the glass. His eyes caught the gleam of bronze scales again. Something must have happened. Something must have strained his body enough for him to lose his control over it. Something must have upset his powers that he was no longer able to...
…to withstand the cold.
Thoughts raced in his brain, propelled by building guilt. It was the cold, wasn’t it? It was Zhongli’s unbalanced Adeptal power that finally gave up under the onslaught of Snezhnayan frost. He should’ve seen it coming, in hindsight; there were signs of it coming, he just didn’t connect the dots. Zhongli’s trembling and cold hands. The amount of sleep he needed, more every day. His spear dropping unceremoniously to the floor during their training spar. His draconic form peeking out by the lake, out of Zhongli’s control. The exhaustion tonight that he tried so well to mask. His cold, cold skin.
It was… it was his fault. Because he hadn’t seen it, because he hadn’t taken enough care.
Celestia above.
Guilt surged through Childe’s body like a river of ice, contrasted by the burning ring of shame clamping around his fast-beating heart. He started shivering, hands trembling as they clutched the soft fabric of Zhongli’s robe. A knot formed in his throat, too small to choke him but too big to swallow, still.
It was his fault.
“Ajax?” the Tsaritsa asked with concern, noticing the changes.
“We need to warm him up,” he whispered shakily.
“I’m… I’m afraid my powers can only do the opposite.”
He looked up at her worried face and then glanced around at the other Harbingers. Couldn’t they try anything else? Arlecchino’s flames, Pulcinella’s Pyro Delusion? Anything? If Childe could, he would’ve set the very air on fire to give Zhongli some warmth–
Something bright flew by in the air, a streak of red and orange. A big, fiery butterfly, Childe realized, like the ones that Signora could summon. Warmth radiated from it as it settled gently on Zhongli’s chest, above his heart, fluttering its delicate wings.
Signora’s face was a taut mask when Childe glanced at her, though he could notice some emotional turmoil in its shadows. Her bright eyes, always bearing that glint of mockery, were now clouded with remembrance but it was not enough to hide the pain.
“It helps with repelling sheer cold,” she explained, voice coarse. “When willing, one can allow it to sink inside to enhance the effect, but since Morax is unconscious, this is the extent of what I can do without hurting him.”
Childe gave her a confused look but asked no further questions. He nodded with gratitude, and Signora deemed that enough.
“Your Majesty, we need to move Morax from here,” Pulcinella, who remained quiet during the exchange, spoke up suddenly, startling everyone. “The guests and dignitaries will soon start suspecting something, if they haven’t glimpsed it already, of course. Columbina’s illusory wall served as a good distraction, but…”
Childe couldn’t give a damn about any guests at the moment, but they did need to move Zhongli somewhere warmer. He sent Pulcinella an angry glare to express his disappointment with the man’s priorities, and then stood up, carefully picking Zhongli up, trying not to hurt him more than he already did.
He was so strangely light in his arms. His throat constricted.
“It’s too dangerous for a journey back to your estate now,” the Tsaritsa said.
“I’ll take him to my old quarters,” Childe replied.
The goddess nodded. “Though your chambers always remain ready for you, I’ll send servants there right away should you need anything.”
She then began giving commands to the other Harbingers, to ensure everything remained in absolute order – she didn’t want any scandal to unfold, though rumors would inevitably start to circulate soon. Although Childe appreciated her efforts – thinking, in good conscience, that it was her trying to make the situation as least difficult for both him and Zhongli as she could – he couldn’t care any less about the people. Or, really, anything that wasn’t Zhongli.
“I’ll go with you,” Columbina quickly proposed, walking up to his side. “I’ll conceal us under an illusion so that no one bothers us on the way. Or sees Zhongli in his current state.”
Childe nodded in agreement and appreciation. The girl touched his arm and he saw silver light infuse him, making him and Zhongli glow for a brief second until it turned into a faint shimmer slightly warping the air around them. He understood it as a sign of an illusory image covering them now. Columbina then did the same thing to herself, though she remained visible as she was to Childe’s eyes.
“We’re going to be just two regular servants now. Let’s hope no one wonders why a fire-made butterfly would be interested in a pile of curtains,” she said, gesturing towards Signora’s gift still protectively resting on Zhongli’s chest.
Childe huddled his body closer to his chest. He quickly left the room through a side door, letting his legs take him down the familiar path to his designated rooms in the palace, Columbina following him close behind.
Though they weren’t as opulent and spacious as the manor he had been given, his chambers in the Zapolyarny Palace were still elegant and more than comfortable. The rooms had been assigned to him shortly after his elevation to the rank of a Harbinger – a perk of higher ranks, a luxury unavailable to simple soldiers – back when he’d still preferred military sparseness, so they lacked personal touches. Long-term missions and frequent voyages hadn’t been helpful in making the place feel more lived-in either, and it was silence and cold that more often occupied it than its assigned resident. Childe hadn’t had much time to make the rooms his own.
Still, opening the creaking door and walking into his small, carpeted living room made him feel almost at home. The shadows cast by the wooden furniture were angled the same way, the fireplace crackled happily as if it was never put down, and the books on the shelves were arranged in the same order. Even the trinkets on his desk (which was dusted and polished to shine) were still the same as he had left them years ago.
It was like walking into a time bubble, and the only thing here that changed was him.
“She always makes sure to keep your rooms clean and warm,” Columbina mused as she walked by him to open the door leading to his bedroom. “I think she’s playing favorites,” she added with a teasing tone, though she respectfully dropped the topic as she noticed Childe was not interested in friendly banter, even one aimed at lifting his spirits.
Childe strode across the room, shaking off the strange feeling of sentimentality, and walked through the door held open by Columbina. He hurriedly put Zhongli on his bed and buried him under all the covers and blankets he could find, carefully tucking him in.
“We need to make the room warmer,” he decided, looking over his shoulder at the roaring fireplace. “It’s already quite warm but…”
“More fire,” Columbina saluted, like a soldier taking an order. “Yes, sir.”
She ran out of his bedroom and, after a couple of seconds, came back with a whole basket of firewood from the living room, which she then dumped all into the fireplace. The flames licked the new fuel hungrily, growing in heat and brightness, and roaring up the chimney.
“I hope that’s enough. And that it won’t explode.” Columbina eyed the fireplace suspiciously.
“It will be okay,” Childe reassured her. “Thank you for your help.”
She smiled, gently and comfortingly. “No need to, silly.”
The servants came to them soon, bowing respectfully and trying their very best not to cast curious glances at the big bump in Childe’s bed. He ordered them to bring more firewood and some water, should Zhongli wake up and ask for it. They scurried away quickly to fulfill his requests, closing the door behind them as they left.
Silence befell the room, interrupted only by the crackling of burning wood and the howling of the wind outside. Exhaustion started to slowly gnaw at the edges of Childe’s brain again; an after-effect of his adrenaline crash. He stood at the bedside, looking at Zhongli’s serene face, feeling utterly helpless. There weren’t any signs of discomfort or pain that he could catch a glimpse of in the god’s expression, yet something must have been wrong to cause… all of this.
Something… something must have gone unnoticed. He must not have paid enough attention to Zhongli’s symptoms. Maybe he should’ve picked up on Zhongli downplaying it, even though they had promised each other to be honest. Or maybe even Zhongli himself wouldn’t know what was going on if he stood at Childe’s side, looking at himself? And he was berating himself for something he couldn’t prevent?
Gods. His mind felt so fuddled, with his thoughts spongy and slimy like overcooked noodles.
Suddenly, Childe felt himself get pulled into an embrace. He looked down to see Columbina’s arms wrapped around his torso, her head pressed just under his chest. She glanced up at him and he frowned, confused.
“Sorry,” she explained, “but you really look like you need it.”
Childe returned the gesture, though his arms felt as heavy as lead, and moving them felt unnatural. Everything around him felt unnatural. They stood like that for a brief, calm moment of silence, Columbina’s presence grounding Childe’s groggy mind.
“I should’ve protected him better,” Childe whispered finally, his voice choked. His tongue felt alien in his mouth. “I should’ve… I don’t know. We shouldn’t have come here today.”
“This is not the right time for thoughts like this and you know it,” Columbina was quick to remind him. “You can’t let your brain reach out there.”
He mulled over her words for a second. She was right, but… “I just–“
A finger dug in between his ribs, and Childe winced in pain. “No,” the girl repeated, firmly. “I will not let you use that easy outlet for your frustration. You can’t keep taking things out on yourself, even though it might feel rational and tempt you to get that quick sense of control. This is only going to hurt you in the long run.”
Childe sighed. She could speak with wisdom when she wanted to, when things were serious.
“There have been signs, Columbina, of this happening, and I shouldn’t-“
This resulted in another jab at his ribs, strong enough to elicit a hiss from him.
“If you say ‘I should have’ one more time I will curse you to dream of your teeth falling out every night for the next ten years.”
When the threat did not provoke a response, Columbina tightened her hug. “There will be a time and place to sit down and discuss this with a reasonable approach, but you’re too upset for it, and attempting to do so right now will only make you spiral further and further. Something you have a tendency to do. For now, all that matters is that Zhongli’s life force is stable, and has not quivered even slightly. You should try to get some rest.”
“You speak like the Tsaritsa sometimes, you know that?” Childe teased, though he failed to add some bite to his words.
“I should be offended by this comparison and demand an apology, but due to the unusual circumstances that have affected your state of mind, I will let it slide this time,” Columbina replied, serious but with a tinge of humor. She pulled back to look up at Childe again. “I am serious though. You won’t be able to help Zhongli if you’re all exhausted by being buried deep in unwarranted guilt.”
He did have to agree with this. That was true, wasn’t it? He looked at her and saw steel-hard resolve written on her face. “Alright,” he breathed out. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Columbina offered him a small smile. “The Tsaritsa is here,” she said, and soon someone knocked at the door quietly.
Childe called the goddess in. She walked into the room alone, still dressed in her ball gown and her ceremonial tiara. A few strands of hair slipped away from the tight confines of her braided updo. Her face was schooled into a neutral expression but it was broken by a crease between her eyebrows and a tight pull at her lips – her telltale signs of worry that she was not able to rein in. Her eyes traveled between Childe and Zhongli, and the lines of her face relaxed a bit, though her posture still spoke of concern for them.
“I have sent out the Harbingers and some of my trusted servants for further inspections,” she said. “We do not suspect any third-party involvements based on our initial findings, but I will not let a single thread rest unraveled. I can assure you of that.”
Knowing that she took this seriously – not that Childe doubted she would – was reassuring. Childe trusted the expertise of his colleagues in this department, at least. “Thank you,” he said.
The Tsaritsa nodded, taking up a couple of steps until she stood on the other side of the bed and was able to touch Zhongli’s forehead. “He is getting slightly warmer now,” she noticed. “Let us hope this leads to him waking up soon.”
Childe swallowed thickly, grasping desperately at that thought, fearing what might happen if this didn’t come true.
The goddess must have noticed the change in his demeanor. “Columbina, would you leave us alone for a moment?” she asked.
The girl nodded. She withdrew from the hug, though not without reluctance, and Childe instantly missed the feeling. Columbina gave him a final, reassuring smile, and then bowed to the Tsaritsa, quietly leaving the room afterward.
“Ajax,” the goddess whispered as soon as the door to Childe’s room closed.
Something snapped inside of Childe at the soft, motherly way in which his name sounded on his lips, something pulled incredibly tight that just waited to break under the burden of everything that happened today. The Tsaritsa saw that and quickly walked up to him, catching him in an embrace as his knees gave up, falling together with him to the floor. He felt himself crumble to pieces under the avalanche of emotions that crashed against him, so, so terribly exhausted, the fatigue finally catching up to him now that nothing was pulling it back. The bitter taste of anguish mixed with the acidic tinge of Foul Legacy left in his mouth in a cold, sudden wave of sorrow that washed over him. He felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, but he was too tired to let them fall, too tired to even cry.
Oh, Celestia. He messed it all up so badly.
The Tsaritsa hugged him closer when he gripped at the fabric of her coat, trying to find a purchase in it. His body trembled uncontrollably, and she tried to help him regain control by drawing soothing, tender circles on his back with her hand.
“Ajax, it will be okay,” she said quietly, so gently it almost hurt. “Zhongli is safe and will be okay. I will not let anything hurt him, or you.”
Dark thoughts circled Childe’s mind like vultures. “What if he doesn’t wake up? What if it’s me who hurt him?”
The Tsaritsa stopped her calming motions and for a brief, terrifying moment, Childe thought he had said something wrong or that she would agree with him, saying that it was his fault and his only and–
Instead, the goddess took his face into both of her hands, gently but firmly making him look at her, forcing him to. He obeyed, and the mixture of care, worry, and love that he found in her bright eyes nearly overwhelmed him again. The world blurred behind tears, and Childe’s chest hurt.
“Don’t say things like that,” the Tsaritsa said. “I understand you feel extremely concerned about Zhongli, but you can’t think of it this way.”
Her thumb gently caressed his cheek, and Childe felt something wet spread over his skin. His tears, he realized.
“Sometimes certain things happen out of anyone’s control and you might be looking for some aspects of the situation to help you put the blame on yourself, but you must know it is not your fault. Thinking like this is the least helpful, and Zhongli wouldn’t want you to do it now.”
“It’s… I think it’s been happening for some time now and I–“
“And you’ve done everything you could have to prevent it,” the Tsaritsa interrupted him. She took a deep breath. “And even though it eventually happened, it doesn’t mean you’ve caused it. Sometimes, there is only so much that we can do,” she added wistfully. “It is not your fault.”
Reluctantly, Childe nodded, trying to accept her words despite his sense of responsibility for Zhongli fighting against it.
“The best thing you can do to help him now,” she said, most likely sensing his incoming reply, “is to get some rest. Zhongli is in stable condition, he’s warm and taken care of, and now he needs you to be well-rested as well. It’s closer now to dawn than it is to midnight, and you must rest. We will start exploring our options tomorrow, but you need to be at your full capacity then. Okay?”
Childe held his breath for a second. “Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly.
The Tsaritsa smiled. “Good,” she replied, standing up and helping him do the same. She still held his hands, for a moment. “Get some sleep now, and we will talk about the matter and our next actions tomorrow. I will not leave you alone with this. We will not leave you alone.”
Warmth bloomed in Childe’s chest, chasing away the ice-cold anxiousness. He wanted to thank her, say that he appreciated her support, but the words could not get out of his throat. She seemed to understand that, only giving him one final hug before leaving, quietly closing the door behind her.
Childe breathed in deeply, so much so that his chest nearly hurt, and then breathed it all out, slowly, focusing on the sensation of his lungs emptying. He clung on to the lingering warmth of Tsaritsa’s words, trying to keep the reassurance at the forefront of his thoughts as a dam to ward off his worry, stress, and self-doubt, which would be so easy to give in to. He knew he had to be strong – for Zhongli.
With that resolution, he quickly changed into some old, spare night clothes found in his drawer, and slipped beneath the covers right next to the Archon. He didn’t know if he could hug him – it would help with sharing warmth, for sure, but what if, somehow, he hurt him instead? – so he settled on taking one of his golden hands into his and cradling it close. He brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon the tender skin, sending a quick, desperate prayer for help to anyone who might be listening.
There was no answer to it.
Notes:
Well, nothing better to start the new year with a bit of angst! This particular spice was necessary, but I promise you, there won't be too much of it going forward.
Anyway, I so enjoyed reading your comments under the last chapter. I really managed to pulled the rug from your feet, didn't I? :D I'm very happy it played out like this. Let me know what you think of this one? What are your predictions?
Gosh, we're almost at the end, too. I might have to add one more chapter as an epilogue, depending how the last chapter plays out (I'm still debating on scene choice), but yeah. We are almost doooneeee baby!Happy New Year everyone - I wish all of your dreams to come true. Hope yall stick around with me for another one :D <3
BTW. I'll be updating Bleeding Over next (probably within the next two weeks or so) so head out there!
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sleep eluded Childe throughout the night.
He lay motionless, clutching tightly to Zhongli’s hand, reality and dreamscape mingling together in a dizzying cocktail of diluted time. The hours stretched into eternity, filled with uneasy visions that seeped into Childe’s mind whenever he closed his eyes for a short bout of sleep. Zhongli falling down, Zhongli coughing up golden ichor, Zhongli with his chest pierced with a Harbinger blade. And him, unable to do anything, unable to react in any way, his voice refusing to leave his throat as he tried to scream for help, to beg for divine intervention and for forgiveness.
In yet another tattered dream, he was watching Zhongli drown. The ice on the lake shattered beneath him with a loud crack and he tumbled down, right into the cold, dark waters. Childe quickly dived his head in and tried to reach out, to grab Zhongli’s hand and pull him out onto the ice floe, but he was too slow. Panic surged up his stomach. His fingers brushed against the god’s, cold as ice, but they slipped away from his reach as the waters pulled Zhongli down, into the darkness. He tried to scream, again, beg, but the words were nothing more than bubbles of air.
Childe woke up with a gasp, heaving, sitting up so fast his head spun. Celestia above, that was… He rubbed his face with shaky hands, trying to calm down from the vision.
The room was swelteringly hot thanks to the still-roaring fire, and he could feel his night clothes uncomfortably clinging to his sweaty skin. Sunlight filtered through the thick glass of the windows, meaning that it must have been well past the morning. The night had passed, but Childe did not feel rested at all, plagued by anxiety-fed nightmares.
To his side, Zhongli was sleeping peacefully, curled up on his side, serene face resting against the soft pillow. Childe put his hand to his forehead to check the temperature, with relief noting that it had not gone lower. He gently stroked his cheek, an ache budding in his chest. More scales adorned Zhongli’s skin now, making up a glinting, bronze mosaic. Childe’s hand went up to smooth out his tousled hair. Should he try to comb them, perhaps? Hair as long as Zhongli’s tended to tangle easily, he knew that well from all his attempts to detangle Tonya’s curls, and—
He paused his motions when his hand smoothed over something hard protruding from Zhongli’s head, right above his forehead. Cold sweat washed over him, mind racing a thousand thoughts a second about what this thing could be. Some sort of a lump? A growth? Childe quickly parted the brown strands, revealing…
…a horn?
It grew right out from Zhongli’s skin, just a little more than a nub, surrounded by a patch of small scales and soft tufts of fur. The sight took Childe aback and, captivated and a bit giddy, he gently brushed the dark horn with his fingers.
As soon as he touched it, Zhongli stirred.
Childe took his hand away quickly as if it burned him.
“Zhongli?” he asked, hopefully, but the god was still sleeping soundly, face a calm mask, not a single emotion reflected on its face.
Despair gnawed at his stomach once again, but it didn’t trample the hope that this little sign of responsiveness brought. Not knowing what to do, he simply laid back on the bed, observing the god for any – any – signs of him waking up, and finding none.
Time passed by slowly. Palace servants came in at some point to bring more firewood, knocking politely and explaining that the Tsaritsa had instructed them to do so. Hesitantly, they mentioned bringing food earlier and leaving it in the living room, but Childe’s only reply was a non-committal hum. His sustenance was the last thing concerning him now, but another worry sprung to life in the back of his mind. Did Zhongli need to eat now? How would he eat, if so? If he didn’t manage to wake up, would that mean he’d just wither away because of malnutrition?
Not too long later another knock against the door shook him out of his thoughts, this time a heavier, more confident one, which alarmed Childe. Who else could it be, if not a Harbinger? He slowly reached out to the bedside table where his Vision rested, taking it to his left hand and readying his right to summon a water spear that he would hurl at the intruder because they definitely—
The door creaked open, revealing an annoyed Pulcinella.
“Boy, you’ve made a greenhouse out of this room oh Tsaritsa beloved!” he shouted, scrambling away as a glistening spear flew right above his head, missing his forehead by a couple of inches and splashing against the living room’s wall behind him.
The gust of wind that trailed behind it blew Pulcinella’s hat off his head. If this was someone taller, say Pantalone or one of Dottore’s clones, the spear would’ve now been sticking out of their chests. Childe felt a bit disappointed, but the outraged glare Pulcinella shot him sobered him up quite quickly.
“Sorry, I thought–“
The man waved his hand, sighing loudly, as if Childe just knocked over an ugly vase, and not almost killed him on the spot. He picked up his hat, dusted it off lightly, and put it back on his head.
“Next time, wait at least three more seconds to give your brain a chance to register what it’s seeing before potentially destroying these outrageously expensive imported carpets by staining them with blood,” he grumbled, shaking his head at the absurdity of the idea. “It doesn’t wash off that easily.”
“Why are you here?” Childe rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling even more tired than before.
Pulcinella scoffed, his mustache ruffling up. “The servants reported to the Tsaritsa that you haven’t eaten anything today and are overall not in your best disposition. Since she’s occupied with some archonly matters today, I have volunteered to check up on you.”
He took a few steps forward and reached out to hand Chile a small paper bag.
“I also brought you some food, though nothing from the palace kitchens.”
Childe took the bag hesitantly, warily eyeing Pulcinella. The man rolled his eyes.
“You’re getting a little bit too paranoid, my boy. No one means you harm,” he added, a bit softer. “Especially not me. Have I not doted on you all these years, and taken care of you as if you were my own?”
There was a barely noticeable hint of sadness in Pulcinella’s voice, but Childe decided to ignore it for now. He muttered a quiet thanks, trying to avoid Pulcinella’s eyes. He opened the bag and the sweet smell of baked yeast dough immediately filled his nostrils.
“Vatrushki!” he exclaimed, reaching into the bag to grab one of the buns. Childe’s mouth watered at the sight of the soft dough with tvorog in the middle, sprinkled generously with blueberries. He bit into the bun, the familiar, sweet taste pulling at the memories of his childhood home.
“I have brought more in hopes that maybe your… companion would be able to enjoy them but it seems that my hopes were a little too bold.” He glanced over a sleeping Zhongli. “How is he faring?”
Childe swallowed down a bite. “Well, as you can see. He’s sleeping, and I can’t wake him up. And I don’t know why.”
Pulcinella hummed. “The Tsaritsa has asked all of us to try and research what could be happening, but I’ll admit, I am myself not too experienced in matters such as these. I have contacted my friends at the Imperial University but I have no news yet, as of now.”
Childe felt a sudden influx of gratitude at that, this certain kind of it that felt unbearably heavy at the same time and made it difficult to swallow. Even though Pulcinella and the others were just following orders, he couldn’t help but feel some sort of fondness towards them that prickled at his eyes.
He immediately felt embarrassed by these thoughts. Gods. He really was exhausted, wasn’t he?
“Thank you,” Childe replied, giving Pulcinella a small smile. “I mean it.”
“And… how are you?”
Pulcinella looked at him with so much concern in his eyes that his glasses could not conceal it. It was so much, almost too much, and Childe didn’t have the mental capacity right now to deal with the peculiar guilt budding at the pit of his stomach.
“Worried,” he sighed out. “Exhausted. Lost,” he whispered, eyes drawn back to sleeping Zhongli. Suddenly, the sweetness of the bun he just had turned bitter in his mouth.
Pulcinella took a couple of steps forward to where Childe was sitting on the edge of the bed. After a moment of hesitation, he put his hand on his shoulder. Childe knew it was meant as a comforting gesture, but it only made him feel more unsure, for some reason.
“Ajax,” the Rooster said gently, like one would to an upset child. “I know that in situations such as this one hearing someone say ‘don’t worry’ brings only more worries and more anger, so I won’t say it. But… you mustn’t let your mind keep you in this stupor. I know this might feel like a hopeless situation, but you have the brightest and most experienced minds of this court trying to come up with a solution here.”
Childe let his words sink in, but they didn’t bring the expected relief and reassurance.
“I just feel like if it wasn’t for me this—”
“No,” Pulcinella interrupted him firmly, lightly squeezing his shoulder with his fingers. “None of that, not now. I’m sure a wiser mind than me has told you this already.”
A humorless laugh slipped out from Childe. “She told you to watch out for this, didn’t she?”
“She didn’t have to. I know you well enough, Ajax, to remember your penchant for self-blame.”
The man gave him an assessing look, pursing his lips hidden behind his bushy mustache.
“Listen,” he began. “Mister Zhongli’s condition will not get better just because you’ll find a recipient for its blame. You won’t help him by withering away in a grief wholly unfounded. And by denying yourself rest and nutrition.”
Childe looked at him, at his earnest, consoling smile, and immediately felt even more tired than before.
“You don’t understand, Pulcinella,” he confessed, slumping his shoulders and hanging his head down. “I’m a warrior, a fighter, I solve most of my problems with a blade – or two if one isn’t enough. I’ve been told, taught that spilling blood is the right way. The only way, nothing else. And yet now I can’t use any of my skills to save the person I… I care about the most.” He swallowed thickly, hands involuntary closing into fists. “My life’s whole experience is useless here. I have never felt this powerless in my life before. Not even in the Abyss.”
Pulcinella remained silent, stunned by Childe’s sudden outburst. Maybe he didn’t know what to say.
“What of riches and prowess when you can’t protect the ones you love?” Childe whispered, closing his eyes.
“Ajax,” Pulcinella began. “There are many ways of protecting and taking care of others, and fight is only one of them. Don’t reduce yourself only to a weapon, because you’re just as swift with your mind as you are with your blades. After all, your fighting skills aren’t the only factor that allowed you to ascend to the rank of the Harbinger so quickly.”
“But I don’t—”
“Get some rest, Ajax. Try to sleep, take a bath, freshen yourself up. Do not let your despair take the reins.”
Childe glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping Zhongli. Well, sulking away wouldn’t help him, for sure. Pulcinella was right.
He looked back at the man, offering him a small, thankful smile. Pulcinella once again gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze.
“Eat some more,” he said, in a tone eerily similar to his mother’s when she had been making sure her kids had eaten everything from their plates.
Not wanting to argue with that tone, Childe grabbed another bun from the bag and ate it, gingerly. Pulcinella took a seat on the armchair under the window, a pleased expression on his face, and began telling Childe about the recent developments in the city that he had to oversee as the mayor. He told him a story of a new crafts school that opened recently for kids from families with lower income, and though Childe knew Pulcinella was only telling him this to distract him from his thoughts, he still felt grateful for the company.
When Pulcinella bid him farewell and slipped out of his rooms, Childe decided to listen to his advice. He took a long, scolding hot shower, changed his sweaty clothes into fresh ones, and went back to bed just in time for his meal to start lulling him to sleep. Zhongli’s resting face was still calm, undisrupted by any discomfort when he lay next to him, and it soon dissolved in his eyes as sleep had finally claimed Childe’s tired mind.
The next morning, Childe woke up to the feeling of something heavy and hot pressed over his waist. Still partially dizzy with sleep, he let his hand tentatively investigate the curious thing, feeling hard, smooth scales beneath the skin of his palm. It took him a good couple of seconds to realize it was a tail.
His eyes shot open, his mind sobering up immediately. Zhongli was snuggling close to his chest, his hands tightly grabbing at his shirt as if he was afraid Childe might slip away. His antler-like horns, yesterday just small nubs, now protruded proudly from his head. Childe briefly wondered how they didn’t knock against his face in his sleep, but maybe he was just sleeping that deeply? He felt an itch to touch them, glide his fingers along them as bronze gave way to gold, but he quickly suppressed that silly want.
Zhongli’s face still wasn’t, much like yesterday, betraying any thoughts or emotions. The lines of it though looked a bit sharper, more… draconic, for some reason, though the shape of his nose or mouth did not change. There were definitely more scales on his skin, though, across his forehead, along his eyebrows, jawline, and beneath his cheekbones, so perhaps that was why Childe felt this way? The scales were also on his golden hands that were still clasping the fabric of his shirt, and when Childe gently pried them away, he noticed that Zhongli’s fingers ended in long, black claws now. He swallowed, feeling their sharpness against the soft pads of his fingertips.
The tail, though… yeah. The tail.
It was a heavy thing, probably very strong, too, if judging by how tightly it snuggled over Childe’s body and didn’t want to let him go when he tried to gently free himself from the embrace. All elegant, lean muscle and bronze scale with golden lines and specks here and there, and a line of soft golden mane that ended in a longer tuft at its end. Childe had never seen it before; only heard that yes, if inclined, Zhongli could take up a half-dragon form, but had never shown it to him before, always dodging Childe’s questions with a bashful expression.
Childe had to strain his muscles quite a bit to move the heavy tail off him, and when he finally did, grunting and with sweat beading at his forehead, he sat up and had to take a moment to gather his breath, and his thoughts alongside it.
So, Zhongli’s transformation was progressing.
Childe didn’t know what to do with that knowledge.
Puzzled, he recalled their conversation from some days ago when Zhongli started losing his grasp on his form, how he explained that letting his Geo marks manifest for a time felt better for conserving his energy. Putting two to two, he came up with a new hypothesis – maybe letting go of his human form and transferring into this half-dragon one was a way for preserving his adeptal powers, and would mean that Zhongli would soon wake up?
That was a rather far-fetched assumption but it still didn’t stop hope from sprouting somewhere within Childe’s heart. Frail and small it might be, but it was there suddenly, and Childe decided to grab onto it, tightly.
That… that brought the earth back beneath his feat. And he needed that.
Feeling slightly revitalized, he got up and went to the bathroom to freshen himself up, for yet another scalding hot shower. Not wanting to stay yet another day in bed, he put on some old informal clothes he found after rummaging in his wardrobe. The sun on the sky outside was quite high, which must’ve meant that he had slept for more than fourteen hours. He couldn’t recall the last time he slept more than seven.
He went to Zhongli’s side of the bed to tuck him under the duvet and blankets, and stopped abruptly when he noticed that the glass on the bedside table there was empty. His heart picked up the pace. Childe could recall, very well, that yesterday the glass was still full, so that could only mean that…
Zhongli hadn’t just snuggled closer to him in his sleep. At some point during the night, he actually woke up to drink the water and then went back to his slumber.
Which didn’t really explain anything, but made the little seedling of hope inside of Childe’s chest sprout another leaf.
This observation needed to be shared with the Tsaritsa. Suddenly, he didn’t feel as tired anymore. Resolve brought by the revelation coursed in his veins, urging him to act, to do something, and, oh, how Childe missed that feeling.
He forcefully reigned it back, though, because it tended to cloud reason. First, he needed to find the Tsaritsa. She would know what to do next.
In a couple of long strides, he crossed the bedroom and entered the living room, paying little attention to the cold meal left by the servants on the table yesterday. He grabbed the door handle leading out to the corridor and yanked it open, intended on—
“Oh, Tartaglia,” Arlecchino greeted him, lowering her ready-to-knock hand to support the box she was carrying. If his sudden appearance surprised her, she didn’t show it. “You look… better than what Pulcinella prepared me for.”
“Arlecchino? What are you…” Childe shook his head. “Thank you for your visit, but I’m in a hurry now. I need to find her Majesty.”
“I’m sorry, but she’s not in the Palace right now,” she explained, giving him an apologetic look. “The Polar Vortex in the North is unstable again, and she had to investigate.”
Against logical thinking, Childe felt a spark of anger flicker in his stomach at the news. How could she leave him like this, leave Zhongli like this? Then he remembered what Vortex’s instability meant – in short, biting cold that could wipe out entire villages, raging about unchecked, threatening to spread all the way down to the coast – and realized that this was something she couldn’t just ignore. Nevertheless, this dampened his earlier enthusiasm, a bit.
“You look dejected,” Arlecchino noticed.
“Just needed to share something with her, urgently.”
The woman’s brows furrowed. “Morax’s condition worsened?”
“No, no,” Childe explained quickly. “Quite the opposite, but… Did she say when she’ll be back?”
“As soon as possible,” she replied, shrugging lightly. “May I come in?”
Childe took a step back, letting Arlecchino into the room and closing the door behind her. She put the box on the dining table and opened it, pulling some neatly packed food out.
“First Pulcinella, now you,” Childe said, gesturing at the dishes she laid out. “I’m beginning to suspect a conspiracy here.”
“Someone has to force you to take care of yourself in time of Morax’s affliction,” she explained matter-of-factly.
“Who decided the order of your visits? The Tsaritsa?”
“No, we drew straws. Actually, Pantalone pulled the shortest one but we thought that maybe it wouldn’t be good to have you fight in such a cramped space.” She pulled a chair for herself and sat down by the table, reaching for one of the two cups that she brought in. The smell of coffee filled the room when she opened the lid. “I’m joking,” she clarified, noticing how flabbergasted Childe looked.
“I might have been a bit of a jerk with… you know,” Childe admitted, sitting down across her and reaching out for the food. Typical, hearty military breakfast of eggs and sausages.
“I believe threatening to cut off someone’s head slightly breaches the definition of ‘being a jerk’, but it’s not the worst thing you could’ve done. We’ve had worse feuds among us. He’ll get over it,” she waved her hand dismissively, taking a sip. “He probably deserved a bit of that, though.”
"Still, I’ll have to talk to him. I suppose.”
“Don’t think about it now. How is Morax? What are the news you wanted to share with the Tsaritsa?” Arlecchino asked, changing the topic.
Childe swallowed a mouthful of eggs before replying. “I think he woke up in the night, at some point.”
Interest sparked in her eyes. “How is that?”
“I left a glass of water next to his side of the bed and it was empty in the morning. I don’t sleepwalk so it must have been him.” He paused for a sip of coffee. “And he’s, um, transforming,” he added.
“Transforming?” the woman pronounced the word slowly, arching an eyebrow.
“Well, Rex Lapis is…” Childe wasn’t actually sure how much she – or anyone here – knew about Zhongli’s abilities and different forms. Probably not much. “It will be easier if I show you, I think.”
He made an attempt to stand up but Arlecchino sent him a sharp look that grounded him. “Eat first. He’s not going anywhere.”
When Childe finished the meal and thanked her for bringing it (suddenly remembering his good manners), the Knave only waved her hand. He then led her to his bedroom and gestured at the Zhongli-shaped bundle on the bed, giving her an introductory lecture on Rex Lapis’ history and skills, of his complicated nature as a god, an Adeptus, a dragon, and a qilin. She listened intently, brows pulled together, her dark fingers lightly stroking her chin in thought. She didn’t speak for a moment after Childe finished his story.
"You’ve mentioned you’ve noticed the signs of that earlier?” she asked. “The scales and such?”
“Yes, though it didn’t go further than scales and his Geo marks. And then yesterday I noticed the horns and today I woke up to… this,” Childe gestured widely at Zhongli.
“So it’s progressing,” Arlecchino said, as if to herself. “And we don’t know when it will stop. I have little experience with dragons or vishaps, even less with Liyuean pantheon. But I know that all dragons are highly powerful beings, tied to the elemental energies of the land. I’m not sure about your hypothesis – the distance to Liyue shouldn’t have affected him this much. Geo runs everywhere.”
Childe bit his lip. “Could it have been the lack of Gnosis then? That somehow weakened him? Zhongli mentioned it as a possible reason – that he had to readjust to his body and powers without it.”
The woman hummed. “Perhaps, but Gnoses don’t work as you imagine. It’s a bit more nuanced… Although I’m not an expert, quite obviously.” She looked up at Childe. “It’s a pity we can’t easily contact the Adepti of Liyue. They would be best able to give us some guidance on this, and on Zhongli’s complicated heritage.”
It was something he thought about before, but a message there would take weeks to arrive. He could try writing a letter, still, but not with much hope.
“I will ask the children at the Hearth about dragons or Adepti. Maybe they know some stories from other nations that would be useful,” Arlecchino suggested.
That didn’t sound like a convincing idea to Childe. “Children stories? Fairytales? Arlecchino, I don’t think this is going to help us.”
“There’s ageless wisdom in them. Only a fool would dismiss them so easily,” she said in a reprimanding tone, then turned to leave. “I have three wards in the Hearth from Fontaine; Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. Stories of the Hydro Dragon are aplenty there, perhaps they’d be able to share something of value. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” Childe said, following behind her, still not convinced.
“And for you,” she said, turning her head to look at him above her shoulder, “I’d suggest leaving the room and taking a walk. It can’t be good for a mind to stay cooped up inside such a small room for so long. Especially not for yours.”
“I don’t want to leave Zhongli alone,” he protested immediately. “I need to be here should he wake up again. Or should someone want to… try something here.”
The Knave laughed – a short, quick sound. “As if your rooms weren’t currently veiled with the best warding barriers and spells known to the Tsaritsa. And Columbina. Oh, hers are particularly unpleasant. Walking through that door feels like trudging through a spiderweb. She worries about you, by the way,” Arlecchino added, voice more serious. “She didn’t want to disturb you on top of my and Pulcinella’s visits, but I can see it in her eyes that she’d like to talk with you.”
Childe smiled lightly. “I’ll try to find her, then. And, um… Thank you for coming, by the way.”
“There is nothing to be thankful for,” the woman said, taking a sip of her coffee. She sighed then, wistfully, a teasing spark in her black eyes. “Ah, though I do believe an invitation would be a nice compensation.”
“We’ll think about it after the dragon emergency,” Childe said, ignoring the warmth of his cheeks. “I don’t think they make suits with cutouts for tails.”
As it turned out, he didn’t really have to search for Columbina – he just needed to let himself be found, much like it always worked with her.
After saying goodbye to Arlecchino and ensuring Zhongli was safely tucked in, Childe stepped out of his rooms for the first time in two days – and Arlecchino was right, stepping outside the threshold did feel like traversing through some strange membrane. He shivered lightly at the difference in temperatures between his living room and the hall. Though the Zapolyarny Palace wasn’t ice-cold, as many would probably believe, and had good heating infrastructure, it was still a drop by a couple of degrees as compared to the microclimate of his quarters. Childe wondered, for a second, if he should maybe go back for his coat or a thicker sweater, but ultimately decided that a bit of cool would be good to refresh his mind and ease his nerves.
The guards at the door saluted him, and if they were surprised seeing him walking out, they didn’t let it show. He went past them, to the staircase, down to the lower floor, towards the smaller, inner tower that served as an astronomic observatory, where he knew Columbina liked to spend her days (and nights) most of the time. The halls were eerily quiet and empty, much like they always were, and the weather outside he glimpsed through the tall windows didn’t seem too pleasant, with grey, angry clouds threatening snowfall at any moment.
Columbina found him strolling through one of the corridors close to the tower. Childe first heard her – a quiet, pleasantly surprised gasp and a dull thump of something heavy hitting the floor – before she ran right towards him. Instinctively, Childe spread his arms to catch her in an embrace. She clutched her arms tightly around his neck as if she was scared of letting go, and buried her head in his shoulder. He was reminded of Tonia, of the hugs that she always gave him on the rare occasions they met, a lump of guilt forming in his throat.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” she whispered, still not letting him go. The lump of guilt in Childe’s throat grew at the concern he traced in her voice.
“Me? There’s nothing to worry about, Columbina,” he reassured her. “I’m not the one who’s currently incapacitated in bed.”
She pulled back from the embrace, giving him a serious look, her silver eyes steely hard on him. “You’re the one currently crumbling from within from all the stress and anxiety that this situation is causing you and—”
“And I am probably blaming myself for everything,” he finished for her. “I’ve heard that already.”
Columbina narrowed her eyes, then lightly poked his chest with her finger. “You’re not denying it.”
“I’m not. And yes, I know I shouldn’t. But I am.”
There were no further comments from her, no attempts at negotiations. Just a look of understanding and compassion that, in a flash, made Columbina look thousands of years old; one a bit too similar to the one he’d seen on Zhongli’s and Tsaritsa’s faces many times in the past. One of a god.
“You do look better today,” the girl noticed, taking a step back and looking at Childe up and down in an assessing manner. “Much better than what Pulcinella had told us yesterday.”
“Well, you can say that. I’m surprised that Arlecchino hasn’t filled you in yet.”
“She’s left the Palace as soon as she left your room,” Columbina shrugged. “Probably to the House of Hearth.”
Effective and unwilling to waste any time when there was a task at hand – that sounded much like Arlecchino. “Yes, she did mention to me that she would ask her children for stories about dragons.”
Columbina gave him a confused look, tilting her head. “Dragons?”
“Oh, it’s…” Childe sighed. “It’s rather complicated.”
“Thankfully, I have some free time for you in my otherwise extremely busy schedule today. Help me take these books to the observatory,” she gestured with her thumbs towards the sizeable heap of books on the floor behind her, “and we can talk. Unless you’d rather walk around, sulk, and bite your nails, worrying about the entire world?”
“Hey! I’m not biting my nails,” Childe grumbled, feigning offense, but still dutifully walking up to the books and picking them up. From what he glimpsed on the few covers in languages he knew, they were all about ancient arcana arts. Some from Liyue, he noticed in surprise, though he couldn’t tell what they were about. “What do you need these for?”
“It’s a figure of speech!” Columbina retorted, picking up two or three tomes herself. “And, well, I wanted to do my own research. See if maybe I can help too…”
Childe looked at her, at the worried crease between her brows, and felt his throat tighten again. “Thank you,” he said, voice strained.
She smiled at him in response; a gentle, delicate smile, so different from her mischievous grins.
“You are not alone,” she said simply, but the weight of these simple words settled somewhere deep at the bottom of Childe’s chest, where he knew it would stay for a long, long time.
The palace observatory wasn’t really as impressive as the one at the Imperial University; it was more a place of leisure rather than true astronomic research and discoveries. Still, the roof of the tower was made of glass, which allowed one to view the city and the night sky without anything obscuring the view (granted, of course, the wind dispersed the clouds and factory fumes). Columbina took a liking to this place ever since it was built because, as she claimed, it was easy to look out for fissures in the sky – whatever that meant. It was a cluttered place, but cluttered in a cozy way, with a sofa pushed to one wall, a desk to the other, some framed night sky maps, carefully drawn, and a small but still quite powerful telescope, for its size. The small bookcase was filled with tomes of different sizes, all about the vastness of the sky and the nature of stars.
“Step carefully,” Columbina warned him as they walked into the room. The floor was almost entirely covered with sheets of paper, full of writings and various diagrams on them, much of which Chile couldn’t understand.
“What are these?” he asked, stepping over a sheet filled with some strange calculations.
“My research,” the girl replied, putting the books she was carrying on the desk.
“Which is about…?”
“About the Ley Lines underneath Snezhnaya and how they affect elemental energies of the land. And the people. And generally about anything that I thought could be useful to consider.”
That sounded like… a lot to trudge through. “You think the local Ley Lines could’ve caused Zhongli’s powers to behave like this?”
Columbina shrugged, walking over to one of the sheets with symbols of all the elements drawn on it, red lines connecting them with some inscriptions on the side. “It’s possible. Except for Natlan, the Ley Lines across Teyvat don’t differ much from land to land, but there are differences in the energies flowing through them. Anomalies, sometimes, in places of great importance, historically speaking. Locations where large amounts of elemental energy were once released, like sites of battles or places where gods or powerful beings died.”
Childe plopped down on the sofa, slightly overwhelmed by the vastness of the topic at hand. He himself had more expertise in the Abyss rather than the Ley Lines. “Arlecchino mentioned that the Polar Vortex is unstable and the Tsaritsa went away to check it,” he noted.
Columbina hummed. “I talked about it with her, in fact. That the vortex, being heavily connected to the Cryo elemental dragon and just Cryo elemental energy in general may respond.”
“You think that it’s the Vortex responding?” Childe raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Not the other way around? I would’ve thought—”
“Unlikely by my calculations,” Columbina interrupted, pointing at yet another piece of paper to her right. “Not impossible, but highly unlikely.”
“So… it’s not that,” he noted, slightly dejected.
“It’s most likely not, but that’s one trail we don’t need to follow. It’s good,” she added to reassure him. “Narrowing the research down is as good as pushing it further. We know this isn’t poison, and not the Abyss,” she counted on her fingers. “And likely not the Ley Lines or the Cryo energy of Snezhnaya affecting him. It must be something else.”
The weight of the unknown pulled Childe down like a stone attached to his legs. He rubbed his face. “Any other ideas?”
“For that, I brought these,” Columbina gestured at the newly brought books. “I wanted to try a new approach, after disproving my earlier hypotheses. Instead of looking at the cause, I want to look at the result and try to trace it from this point, if that makes sense.”
“The result being… sleep?”
Columbina clasped her hands, eyes shining with resolve. “Sleep! Magical sleep, to be precise. Don’t look so shocked, this is a whole area of research. Sleep, in general, is an interesting topic for academic research, in whichever field you may look at. I suppose it’s natural considering how much time humans sleep,” she added in thought, tapping her chin with her finger. “Did you know that some of the earliest recorded pieces of literature we have are actually recordings of people’s dreams?”
“I… no, I didn’t,” he replied, truthfully, reaching out for one of the books to do something. He read the golden-lettered title, slightly worn off. “‘Five Easy Steps to Oneiromancy’?”
Papers shuffled on the floor as Columbina shifted closer. “Oneiromancy is a form of dream divination,” she explained in her scholarly tone. “It’s based on the idea that dreams are secret messages sent by the gods to mortals, and contain revelations about the future.”
“Zhongli can communicate via dreams,” Childe mentioned, fingers absentmindedly tracing the leathery spine of the tome. “Do you think it would be possible to connect to him the same way?”
Columbina was quick to curb his sudden enthusiasm. “I don’t think so. I could sense he’s too powerful to break through his mental barriers from the outside. It would take another god – one specializing in dream visitation, too – to do it.”
A pained, tired groan escaped Childe’s throat. “Of course, this wouldn’t work either… Why are we even looking for oneiromancy then?” he asked, waving the book in the air.
“Because the common error amongst dreamers is failing to realize one is in a dream sent by a god! And if Zhongli is transforming out of control, his dream-related powers might also be out of control, meaning he could enter your dreamscape any night. And you have to know how to recognize it.”
“I think I would know if Zhongli was in my brain?” Childe said, feeling a little skeptical.
“Not in an unstable dream,” she pointed out. “Dreams are fragile, especially so when handled by an uncontrolled subconscious. Weird things can happen, then.”
With that, Childe didn’t argue. He opened the book about oneiromancy and obediently began reading the thin letters, sentence after sentence.
Time passed away quickly, and the day outside slowly bled into red and purple hues of sunset, to then give way to the darkness of the night. They made a little progress with their research, though a little progress was still progress, and Columbina noted down every interesting bit about magical sleep they found. Most common causes thereof, historical and literary examples, common spells, elixirs and tonics that could prevent it or wake someone affected by it up, but nothing quite fit the description of Zhongli’s slumber. Childe didn’t want to say it out loud, but with every next book, his doubts about finding anything useful grew bigger and bigger.
He rubbed his stiffened neck, yawning, putting away one book and reaching for another. He stopped for a moment as soon as he opened it, staring at the familiar though unreadable characters on the paper.
“I am going to disappoint you,” he began carefully. “I can’t read these.”
Columbina looked up from one of her notes, not stopping her writing for even a moment. “Hm? I thought you could speak Liyuean,” she said, confused. “Which is why I brought these.”
“Speak, yes, but write…” Childe winced. “It’s a different story. I only know a couple of signs.”
She blinked a few times, brows furrowing slightly. “Oh.”
“Oh.”
“Well, that complicates things,” she murmured, putting the pen away and sighing. “These are about Liyuean dream traditions. I had so much hope in these… I’ll try to find an interpreter at the University. Surely someone there knows the language.”
A hassle, Childe knew, and that made him appreciate her dedication and unbreakable spirit all the more. Pity that they didn’t have anyone amongst the Harbingers who would know Liyuean script – at least as far as he knew.
“If only we could contact the sources directly, it would’ve been so much easier,” he said, reclining against the sofa. Gods, sitting on the wooden floor for a couple of hours straight wasn’t good for one’s back.
Columbina gave him a skeptical look. “Uh… The authors of these books are long dead and I draw the line at necromancy.”
“What? No, I- I meant the Adepti,” he explained quickly, shoving away visions of rattling bones. “They’d know it all. I mean, technically I could send a message to Liyue about it but it would take weeks. I might have to do that. Better to wait for a response with some hope rather than…”
He trailed off, noticing Columbina’s silvery, clouded gaze staring blankly at some undefined point on the wall above his head. “What?”
“There might be a simpler way,” she said as if to herself, then blinked a few times, pulling out of her thoughts. Her eyes sparkled with recognition. “There is a simpler way and we’ve been sitting on it all day!”
She began rummaging through her notes, discarding the papers that were annoyingly inaccurate to her current way of thought. Childe scooted a bit closer to the sofa to avoid getting in her way.
“There it is!” she exclaimed victoriously, holding a sheet of paper up like an ancient artifact. “Induced dream divination, ah, we’ve even talked about it!”
“But you’ve said that it’s not going to work on Zhongli,” Childe said slowly, not quite seeing Columbina’s vision. “If it’s not going to work on Zhongli then how is it going to work on the Adepti? They’re powerful, too.”
“They’re not gods,” she pointed out. “With them, it could work. Potentially.”
“Potentially. Okay. Alright,” Childe tried not to cling to the idea too hard, though he did feel a rush of excitement. “Would you be able to do this?”
She took another sheet of paper to her hand, shaking her head. “No. I mean, I could try, but this particular, non-divine kind of dream visitation requires a connection between two sleeping people to bridge their minds,” she explained, handing Childe her notes. “I don’t have that connection so chances of me succeeding will be lower than yours.”
Childe scanned the papers she’d given him, noticing words like powerful underlined twice, herbs, and tea with a question mark above.
“Your way of doing notes is a bit all over the place. I don’t think I get it.”
“If I can read it, it means it’s perfect,” she said, snatching the sheet from his hands. “There are certain herbs and plants called ‘oneirogens’ that can allow one to traverse through dreamscapes. The caveat is that, as I said, there must be some sort of connection between the minds that are going to be connected, and that the individual attempting the art must be quite powerful to succeed. There are some other rules to follow and things to be mindful of but we’ll get there when we’ll get there.”
“You’re saying I’m powerful?” Childe asked cheekily, which earned him a hit on the head from a rolled-up parchment and an unamused look from Columbina.
“Ajax, you literally survived the Abyss and carry its piece within you. It’s not your pretty face that secured you the spot amongst the Harbingers,” she said flatly. “Any Adepti that you think could be a good choice?”
Childe gave it a quick thought. “I’ve met a couple of them, but none that I’d say I’m close with… No, wait, there is one,” he realized. “I spent some time with him in Guyun Forest, we fought together on the occasion. Spared, sometimes. He probably won’t be too happy to see me in his dreams, though.”
“Something sour between you and him?”
“Yeah, if me unsealing their ancient evil god and attempting to destroy the city can be called that,” he snorted. “He’s a guardian Yaksha, and holds Zhongli in a particularly high esteem. He won’t be happy to hear what happened.”
“About you wooing his god and stealing him away despite all that?” the girl teased him with a smirk.
“Columbina.”
She giggled. “Okay, sorry. Anyway, let’s call it for the day. It’s late already and I’ll have to figure out how to get the herbs.” She stood up, dusting off her knees. “We’ll try this tomorrow.”
“Maybe I could help with the search?” Childe proposed, trying to make himself useful.
“Oh, no, I know where they are. Or who has them. I just need to somehow get them.”
He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Do I want to know?”
“You don’t,” she said, smiling brightly, innocently, and Childe did not ask.
He knew something was not entirely right even before he entered his rooms. Some kind of an itch, a sixth sense, whispering to him that something had changed.
Before coming back to Childe’s quarters, he and Columbina made a detour to the palace kitchens for a quick meal to silence their empty, demanding stomachs. Equipped with dinner leftovers neatly packed by the servants, they quickly walked back to Childe’s living room, taking a couple of shortcuts that most likely only they knew about.
As Childe was about to open the door, however, a strange sensation weighted on him, suddenly, like a heavy blanket. He hesitated, hand hovering above the door handle.
“Have you sensed someone walking through your barriers?” he asked, turning his head to look at Columbina standing behind him.
“No, no one. I would’ve known immediately—” she stopped mid-sentence, thin eyebrows furrowing. “I can feel it too.”
A shiver ran down Childe’s spine. He grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, ready to activate his Vision in a fraction of a second.
The living room was just as he had left it. Warm, quiet, empty, with only the burning logs crackling in the fireplace as fire consumed them. There were no signs of anyone being here; even the servants did not come during his absence, judging from the untouched remains of his breakfast on the table. Still, something was off about it, about the air in the room. It was too stiff, too heavy, charged with invisible energy that prickled at Childe’s skin.
With his heart thumping wildly against his chest, he put the food containers on the coffee table by the fireplace and carefully walked up to the door to his bedroom. He didn’t dare to break the silence in the room, as did not Columbina – she looked around alert, with an expression of confused curiosity on her face. She glanced at him as he reached for the door, nodding encouragingly.
Childe reached out to his Vision again, readying it, and pushed the door open, holding his breath. The hinges creaked quietly as the heavy door moved, and what Childe saw inside was just…
Well. Was just something he did not expect.
His shoulders relaxed, air leaving his lungs as if punched out of them as he stared, wide-eyed, at an enormous dragon curled up on his bed, all gleaming bronze scales and soft golden mane.
“Fuck me,” he whispered under his breath, not believing his eyes.
The body of the dragon was just the same as he remembered from the Descension Ritual and the Golden House, though bigger by about a half. It was way too big and too long to fit on the bed entirely, so a bigger part of it was coiled on the floor, spilling out of the mattress. It reminded Childe of a cat, somehow. Zhongli’s head rested on his paws, golden horns and claws glistening in the light of the fireplace. His breathing was even, deep, and his whiskers (gods, Zhongli had whiskers) twitched slightly where they curled on the bed in front of his snout, in the rhythm of his breaths.
Zhongli completed his transformation. His control over his form slipped entirely, and the air in the room was brimming with elemental energy that it left behind.
“What is it?” Columbina asked from behind him, voice slightly strained with anticipation. She peeked into the room under his arm, slightly pushing him to the side to get a better view. “Is he— oh by the Four Shades.”
“Yeah,” Childe agreed quietly, though he didn’t know what that meant.
She looked at the dragon, stunned. “I’ll get the herbs,” she said, turning around and disappearing with an absolutely inhuman speed.
Childe nodded, slowly, too stunned to react.
He could only stand there and wordlessly stare at the big, long dragon sleeping comfortably in his bed.
Notes:
Imagine getting back home to your boyfriend transformed into a big eepy dragon, lmao
Anyway, there it is! The actual pet reptile was the lover we've made along the way. And are now supposed to take care of him!
(god that was so lame)You may notice that we will have 15 chapters and not 14 - it's because I went back to the whiteboard and noticed that some scenes had to be rearranged. I have, yet again, miscalculated, which shouldn't really surprise anyone because it was initially supposed to be 5 chapters. I will also most likely go back to the first couple of chapters and fix some clumsy wording and spelling errors that I have noticed recently. My style kind of changed along writing this fic and I think the first 2-3 chaps could use a face lift. Nothing major, no changes to the substance or the plot - just errors and fixes, that's all.
ALSO IT'S A HUNDRED THOUSAND WORDS? WHAT THE HECK? More than the 1st Hunger Games book! We are reaching Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice levels of word count! My god. And I did that????As always, thank you so much for your support. I love love love reading your comments and reactions! <3
(oh and yes, he said the word. hehe)
Chapter 14
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It took a good few minutes for the shock to thaw out of Childe’s body, finally allowing him to move. He made a few slow steps forward, for some inexplicable reason, very careful not to make a sound. Once he was by the side of his bed, he took a long look at Zhongli’s body – at his snout, his antler-like horns, his soft mane, his sharp claws, at the spiky golden ridges of his spine that went along his entire body, and at his long, smooth tail. Well, there was no denying it. Childe took a deep breath, running a shaky hand through his hair.
A dragon. Celestia, have mercy on him. A goddamn dragon.
He had no idea how he was going to explain that to Xiao. He could only hope that killing someone in a magical dream like the one they were going to share wouldn’t mean killing them in real life because the Yaksha certainly wouldn’t be happy to hear the news. Of that, at least, he was sure.
The soft crackling from the fireplace and the slow, steady breaths of the beast in his bed were the only sounds disrupting the silence in the room. As Childe kept staring at his big problem, he began subconsciously fidgeting with the edges of his sleeves. An itch to reach out and touch Zhongli crept up on him from some hidden, muted parts of his brain. His horns glistened so beautifully in the warm light of the fireplace, and his mane looked so impossibly soft, almost begging him to run his fingers through it. Even though he didn’t like coming back to that memory, Childe remembered the coldness of the hard scales of the Exuvia in the Golden House. Now, he wanted to feel the warmth radiating from them, from the strong, celestial flesh underneath.
As if struck by a spell, Childe slowly extended his arm, carefully reaching towards Zhongli’s snout and—
“We need to employ some new chimney sweepers because this is unacceptable.”
Childe snapped his arm back as if something had burned him. Behind him, Columbina leaned against the doorframe, panting heavily and clutching to her side. She was covered in smudges of dark soot, her white dress torn in a couple of places, dark hair in a wild disarray. She looked up and gave him a questioning look.
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing,” Childe replied. He could feel his ears burning. “Do you have it?”
The girl nodded, walking up to him and pushing a small bag to hands. “If anyone asks, you have not seen me anywhere near Dottore’s labs.”
“You stole this from Dottore?” Childe asked, quite stunned.
“Where else would I find exotic Sumerian herbs? Certainly not in Capitano’s armory. Or Pierro’s office,” she scoffed. “Sly bastard had all sorts of warding spells around his private lab, so I had to use a good, old way in. The chimney.”
Well, that did make sense, of course, but with Dottore’s track record… Childe weighed the bag in his palm, giving it a distrustful look. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
She pressed her lips in a thin line, looking straight at him. “No. But there’s nothing else to do, so…”
Childe nodded to himself, swallowing. It really was this or nothing. “So how do we prepare it?”
“We need to brew it like tea, and you need to drink it while it’s still hot,” she explained. “Put the kettle on the fire, I need to try to wash at least some of it off. Yuck!
She looked down at her arms, face twisting in a grimace of disgust. The only way to the bathroom was guarded by a sleeping dragon, but Columbina didn’t mind – she simply skipped over the tail curled on the floor, barely glancing at Zhongli.
It took a good few minutes for the flames licking the iron, old-fashioned kettle to boil the water that Childe summoned from the air within with his Vision. He sat down by the fireplace, staring at the fire and absentmindedly playing with the bag of herbs. The sounds of the bubbling water, crackling fire, and crunched, dry plants blended together, creating a soft background noise for his thoughts. The initial excitement and rush that he felt at finding a possible solution dulled when uncertainty stepped in. How was that going to work from a more technical perspective? Would he even know how to steer a dream to mend it to its will? Or would he just appear in Xiao’s mind like a glowing figure of light to break to him some bad news in a booming, oneiric voice? And, well, what if the Adeptus wouldn’t be sleeping at the same time?
The footsteps of Columbina approaching him escaped his attention. He jumped when she spoke right next to his ear, face rubbed clean and hair back in place, more or less. “Teyvat to Ajax? You’re going to burn that old kettle if you don’t get it off the fire.”
Childe scrambled to his feet, reaching for the kettle and wincing at almost getting burned. “Ouch! It’s so hot,” he hissed.
“Likely state for a kettle to be in,” Columbina mused. Childe sent her a glare, to which she replied by showing him her tongue. “Quicker, you have a dream to dream!”
He put the kettle on a coaster and then opened the small bag of herbs. They looked quite unassuming, and he wouldn’t be able to tell them apart from normal dry tea leaves if it wasn’t for their color – pale yellow, almost ghostly white. Childe thought it fitting.
“How much?” he asked.
“About a teaspoon. More could be too much.”
He glanced at the girl, unsure. “How much ‘too much’?”
“Hmm, let’s just say that for some time, we would have a sleeping beauty to match with our sleeping dragon,” Columbina smiled sweetly, although Childe knew her too well not to notice a hint of strain in that smile.
He swallowed down the knot of fear forming in his throat. He carefully measured the exact amount, put it in a cup, and poured hot water over it. A faint, sweet smell immediately wafted off of the drink, similar to chamomile but more delicate, with an undertone of something tart underneath.
“Like I said, you need to drink it while it's still hot; that’s when it’s the strongest,” Columbina instructed him, her face reflecting on the clear surface of the tea. “It will make you very sleepy very quickly, so it’s better if you sit on the couch just in case, otherwise, I’ll have to haul you around the room.”
Childe nodded, taking the cup in his hand and leaving the bedroom, stealing one last glance at Zhongli above his shoulder, his heart heavy in his chest like a stone. Careful not to spill anything, he slowly sat down on the living room’s plush sofa. Columbina took her place on the opposite site, curling her legs under herself, not minding that she could stain the red velvet covering the furniture with the soot still clinging to her clothes. She looked straight at Childe, face clouded with worry. She bit her lip.
Childe looked away. “How long will I be asleep?”
“A few hours, probably,” she replied quietly, shifting on her seat. “I’ll stay with you here until you wake up. Watching you just in case… something happens.”
So much kindness and so much worry. Too much. Childe barely could bear it – it was yet another list of things to berate himself over for later.
“I’ll treat you to a dinner,” he proposed. “Once all of this is over.”
Her eyes widened. “Ajax, gods alive and dead, this isn’t a farewell!”
Childe couldn’t help a chuckle at her appalled tone. “I’m just saying I owe you one!”
“Then don’t make it sound like you plan not to wake up again!” She moved like she wanted to throw a pillow at him, but she stopped herself once she remembered the cup of tea in his hand. “It will be okay. I wouldn’t give you something I wasn’t moderately confident in. I’m not Dottore!”
“I didn’t say you were!” It was Childe’s time to feign being bewildered. Columbina shot him another look but didn’t continue.
The tea in the cup was still as clear as water; the pale leaves, now unfurled, swirled inside lazily. The steam rising from it warmed Childe’s face in gentle caress, the sweet-and-tart smell filled his nostrils.
“What can I expect?” he asked.
When Zhongli appeared in his dreams, it felt as though he had complete control over them, as if the dreams submitted to his will and stepped back to allow him to complete his tasks. He supposed in his case it wouldn’t be that easy.
“Based on the accounts I’ve read, you might be thrown into a dream that will already be being dreamt, if that makes sense,” Columbina explained. “You’ll have to cooperate with it and then let the dreaming person know who you are and that this is dream walking, kind of. Dreams are fragile, Ajax,” she warned him in a serious tone. “Be careful not to disrupt them. Acting too out of place or provoking too many strong sensations or emotions might shatter it.”
“And then I’ll be thrown out?”
She nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
Well, there was no backing out now, was there? Childe raised the cup in a toast to Columbina and then drank the tea in one big gulp, trying to avoid the leaves.
It burned uncomfortably in his mouth, barely cooled enough not to leave blisters behind as it trailed down his throat. Despite the faintly sweet smell, it tasted nothing alike – it tasted like dust, like one that gathers on old untouched for too long, like old, crumbling parchment covered in cobwebs. At least that was what Childe would imagine it tasted like, not that he ever had the pleasure to try it. He coughed, wincing against the unpleasant aftertaste left on his tongue.
“What a nice floral bouquet,” he rasped and shuddered. Columbina snorted, her shoulders relaxing a bit at his attempt at humor. “What now?”
“Now we wait.”
It didn’t take too long for Childe to start feeling soft, plush warmth spreading through his body, followed by a tingling sensation somewhere underneath his skin. His eyes grew heavy, the world around him turning into a soft mush of colors and sounds, and he soon found it difficult to maintain a sitting position and resist the pull of the sofa.
The world turned black almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
He awoke to the smell of war and the sound of thunder rolling through the sky.
It was a dizzying sensation, and the sudden onslaught of everything materializing from the soft darkness made him fall to his knees. The barren earth was coarse against the skin of his palms, trodden down by tens of thousands of soldiers that have probably fought there. The smell of the air hit him next – a little dry, with the signature, metallic tang of elemental energy running wild. There was something else in its undertones, something dark and rich and familiar.
Blood, of course.
The sound of skirmishes filled his ears next – hastily shouted commands, screams of the charging soldiers, painful groans of the wounded, the silver sound of metal clashing against metal. Childe got up on his knees, slowly, head still spinning from trying to take everything in. It seemed like it was long after the battle began – at least, long in soldier terms – and the front line of the enemy was broken, the fight now transformed into separate, smaller skirmishes. Who was fighting against who, Childe couldn’t tell.
The sky above was clouded and dark, and despite the rolling thunder, it wasn’t raining, and no lightning zapped through the billowing clouds. The sun seemed to be settling with the way its light turned everything golden, shining, almost burning. Childe looked around, finding the scene familiar. He knew battle, knew war, at the dreamscape was realistic enough (scarily realistic, in fact) for him not to feel too lost. He didn’t know what battle that was or when, but they never differed much, not to his experience.
It mattered little, in the end. All he had to do was to find Xiao and speak with him.
He glanced at the soldiers fighting around him but did not find a single familiar face. Their uniforms weren’t that of the Millelith and looked quite antiquated, for some reason, just like the swords and spears they were handling. These were just common soldiers, infantry perhaps, and this wasn’t the center of the battle. He wouldn’t find Xiao here – he needed to get to its heart, or to where the generals were.
At first, the people in the dream did not pay too much attention to a stranger walking around them in the middle of the fight. As he moved through the battlefield, Childe noticed that the soldiers varied greatly, and not all of them looked human or even were human, which he found curious. So it wasn’t some kind of minor skirmish between human kingdoms, and neither was it a battle with the Abyss – he would’ve recognized it immediately.
“Hey, soldier! What are you doing, loitering around!” someone called him from behind, obviously annoyed.
Childe spun on his heel, seeing a tall, domineering man glaring at him from the slit in his helmet. He wore armor similar to the other soldiers, but his looked more… refined. More sturdy. The hilt of his sword had some decorations on it, as did his helm.
A battalion lord, perhaps? Or some other person in the chain of command?
Either way, he must’ve seen Childe as one of the other warriors on the field, not as a redheaded Snezhnayan Harbinger. Childe saluted at him, brain scrambling to find the right justification, Columbina’s words about the fragility of dreams echoing at the back of his mind.
“Sir,” he said. “I’m carrying a message to Xi- umm, Adeptus Alatus.”
The man looked him up and down, distrustful. “You’re not one of the messenger boys.”
“There weren’t any at the outpost, sir, so I was appointed this duty instead.”
The distrust and suspicion in the leader’s eyes grew even deeper. “A message from whom?”
Childe swallowed. Shit. Who could it be? Childe didn’t even know what battle this was. “From—”
A sudden, loud thunder interrupted his words, which sounded as if the very sky had ripped apart, and the ground shook underneath their feet with the force of it. Childe immediately covered his ears, but the other soldier just smiled through a mild wince and looked up in relief.
“Rex Lapis is back with us!” he shouted, raising his sword high. The blade gleamed in the sunlight, a symbol. “Soldiers, onwards!”
Shouts of encouragement filled the air, and all the warriors around fought with double the fervor before. From what he saw so far, Childe could predict that this was a battle that they were going to win anyway, but now the enemy stood no chance against inspired soldiers.
Childe glanced up at the sky, noticing a glowing figure in billowing clothes, surrounded by enormous spears of rock that waited in the air for a command. From that far back, he couldn’t notice who that was, but he didn’t need to see to know. Zhongli.
His heart tugged in his chest. The god rose his arm in a commanding gesture, and the spears hurled down, straight at the enclaves of the enemies, doing no harm to his own soldiers. Zhongli – Rex Lapis – looked down for a second before he disappeared into the clouds again.
It’s just a dream, Childe thought to himself to fight the longing and disappointment swelling inside of him. Just a dream.
The sudden appearance (and disappearance) of the god seemed to make the leader questioning him forget about Childe’s existence – or maybe it was the dream removing an unknown element from itself to stay stable. He ran away towards the fighting, crossing his blade with one of the few remaining enemies, leaving Childe alone, who sighed in relief.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts and what he knew of the dream now. Ancient-looking armors and weapons, an army composed of humans, non-humans, and mythical creatures. Zhongli, actively fighting as Rex Lapis. Was that… the Archon War? Or at least one of the many battles that took place during it? If that was true, then they must be fighting against some evil god. And, from what Childe remembered, Xiao must be relatively fresh in Zhongli’s army. At least in god terms. Still, he would probably be somewhere at the heart of the battle, close to the actual deity that they were fighting against.
Childe picked up his pace, running past the skirmishes between humans, monsters, and mythical creatures, looking out for something loud and enormous, most likely, if Osial was anything to go by in terms of evil gods. The task didn’t prove too difficult, to his surprise (or maybe it was the dream itself helping him again). His ears soon caught a distant, pained shriek, and the further he went in the direction of it, the more the air became charged with the energies of Electro and Anemo. Panting, Childe ran up a small hill and looked at the valley below him.
A giant, bird-like creature with six legs and eyes burning red tried to snap its beak at two ribbons of aquamarine and violet circling around it. The creature – god – tried to flap a wing at the violet one that stopped in the air briefly and threw a lightning spear at it, but it was too slow. Childe noticed that the bird’s other wing hung limply at its side, dark green feathers stained with black blood seeping from a deep gash near its back.
Black blood, red eyes. Never a good sign.
Childe tried to get closer to the battle. The fighters – which he assumed was Xiao and another Yaksha or a different Adeptus – continued circling the creature, looking for an opening. Their moves were coordinated, experience from years of battles fought together evident in the way they knew when and where to strike so as not to interrupt one another. It didn’t take them too long to take the god down – one of many this day, Childe supposed – with the warrior wielding Electro blinding the bird and Xiao driving his spear right through his neck.
A strong tremor ran through the ground and air around them as the god gave one final shriek and collapsed, its life finally finding the end at last. Something dark steamed off of its body, a kind of black, oily smoke that seemed, somehow, both solid and misty. It wasn’t the Abyss for sure, but something sinister and evil, and Childe could feel it even from a distance.
Xiao stepped closer to the god, the wisps of black energy reaching out to him hungrily, but the other warrior stopped him with his arm. He said something quietly that Childe couldn’t hear, and Xiao attempted to disagree, but the Electro-wielding Adeptus didn’t want to listen – he simply stepped forward and reached out into the smoke, its tendrils quickly enveloping his arm and seeping into his skin. His whole body shuddered as he accepted the essence, his knees buckling, but he did not accept Xiao’s helping hand. Once the dark smoke disappeared, having fully entered the warrior’s body, the Adeptus smiled at Xiao weakly, saying a few short words – of encouragement, or command, Childe couldn’t tell – and then disappeared in a whirlwind of Electro sparks. Xiao stood there motionless for a moment, gazing at the place where his companion had stood not too long ago.
This, somehow, was strangely intimate, and Childe looked away, feeling as if he was intruding. Which, to be fair, was actually true because he was in Xiao’s head right now, in his brain processing the memories of war. Whether his mind was giving a nightmare to him or not was hard to decide, but he sure knew that these were not the most pleasant of recollections he could’ve stumbled upon.
Xiao stepped closer to the body of the god he had just killed and jerked his trident out of its neck, cautiously observing the creature for any signs of life. Childe took this as a cue to approach him, carefully walking up to him, trying to come up with a plan on how to announce that he was not a random soldier but a Harbinger from modern-day Teyvat and how to make Xiao believe that without disrupting his—
The tip of the spear, still dripping with black blood, almost grazed the skin on Childe’s throat. “I was wondering when you would show up,” the Adeptus greeted him. “Fatuus,” he spat.
Childe suppressed a groan, mindful of the blade at his neck. Nothing like a warm welcome. “I missed you too,” he said. “How did you know I was here?”
“You really foolishly thought I would not sense someone trespassing in my dreamscape?” Xiao’s yellow eyes – so similar to Zhongli’s but brighter, colder – narrowed in a suspicious look behind his mask. “Besides, Abyss clings to you, even here. Especially here.”
Another not-very-nice jab, but he would take it. “I’ll admit, I haven’t thought it all the way through, to be honest. I’m also not the most adept at the art of dreamwalking, so I didn’t quite know how it would work out… Handbooks on the topic are hard to come by.”
Xiao grunted. “I can see that. The fact that you are in my dream and rely upon it for connection already tells me everything. Let me guess – herbs?”
“Nothing escapes the attention of the learned Bane of All Evil,” Childe said, smiling.
“Hmpf.” The Adeptus’ blade was still close to Childe’s neck.
“Are you, umm, not going to lower the weapon?” Childe tried, looking for an anchor to continue the conversation.
“Depends,” Xiao replied, still eyeing him with distrust. “What brings you here?”
“So before we get to this, I want you to kindly take your blade away because I really, really need your help, and I can’t allow for anything to disturb this dream.”
Childe hoped that the pleading note in his voice would soften Xiao’s adamant stance, but he didn’t even budge. Seconds extended, painfully long, as if the dream itself anticipated what would happen next.
“Promise me you’ll listen to what I have to say before you decide to shorten me by a head. Please,” he added for good measure, trying to keep his voice as sincere and as serious as he could.
Xiao’s grip on the shaft of his weapon tightened slightly. “Why do I feel that this is something sinister? Why else would you be contacting me now?”
Childe licked his lips. “No, it’s… It’s nothing sinister. Nothing bad, at least I think…” he sighed, trying to find the correct words. “Well, this is about Zhongli and—”
Xiao’s eyes widened behind his mask, and it was purely muscle memory that Childe could thank for not having his throat pierced when the other lunged forward. Heart thumping in his chest, he extended his arm to summon his water blades to fend off the next attack, but his Vision didn’t listen.
Right. A dream.
With a grunt, he jumped away before another strike, his boots scratching against the stone under his feet. Xiao immediately closed the gap between them again, attacking viciously and quickly, not giving Childe even a second to try and look around for any discarded weapons.
“Please, just listen to me—”
“You hurt him!” Xiao seethed at him. “You Fatui scum, you hurt our Archon!”
“I didn’t!” Childe shouted, dodging another strike with a sidestep. “Gods, why are you so hot-headed!”
The dance between them continued, strike after strike, dodge after dodge. Xiao attacked impossibly fast, his weapon swishing in the air. Thankfully, Childe wasn’t here with his body, so he wasn’t getting tired, at least not physically. He heard an angry grunt from Xiao after he managed to lean away from another attack, and he noticed the world blurring weirdly in the distance. Panic seized his throat. Celestia be damned, but he couldn’t, couldn’t let the dream dissolve. Not before getting some answers.
Distracted by the distant blurring, he didn’t notice the next swing of the weapon. Xiao swept his spear above the ground, intending to knock the Harbinger down, and Childe grunted when the hard metal connected with his shins. He wobbled for a second before he, very ungracefully, met the ground with a dull thud.
Xiao stood above him, towering for once. The glare of his yellow eyes carried so much hate and disdain that it was almost unbearable to keep looking, but Childe did not falter. He ground his teeth, pushing himself away from the Adeptus, reaching around blindly in hopes to find something, anything that could serve as a weapon, or at least a shield.
“You are going to pay for any harm done to him,” Xiao warned, stepping closer. “In this world, in reality, and in any other world that might exist. I’ll hunt you down until nothing of you remains.”
“Charming vision, but you need to listen to me, please.” His fingers, still searching for some form of protection, grazed against something long, cold, and solid. Tsaritsa be praised.
“The only thing I want to hear from you…” Xiao’s voice was low, bubbling with anger. The world around them blurred again, rippling in some places. “Is your scream of pain as you die.”
He jumped up, dark fog coalescing around him, mask lighting up. The tip of his weapon aimed right at Childe’s chest, and it glinted in the sun as it descended.
Xiao growled angrily when Childe managed to dodge the attack by an inch. He rolled away, fingers grasping the cold shaft of a discarded spear, raising it just in time to block another vicious attack. The force of their weapons colliding made his teeth hurt. Xiao continued to push, trying to overpower him, his blade getting dangerously closer with each passing second. Childe noticed that the blurring became even stronger, more violent, and now started to lick at the edges of Xiao’s mask.
“I warned him before you,” the Adeptus muttered through clenched teeth. “We all did, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Childe groaned, trying to push away, panic spreading through him. He could not let the dream end. “He’s not hurt,” he said yet again. “He’s alive. But he needs your help. And you’re the only one who can help.”
“Why would I listen to you? You’ve lied and manipulated before.”
That hurt, but Childe ignored it. His pride was least important now. “Because he will get hurt if you don’t help him. Are you willing to let this happen because of your own prejudice? Will you withhold your help from your god because of your hate towards me?”
Something sparked in Xiao’s eyes then, something like an unpleasant recognition. With a frustrated growl, he jumped away, propelling himself with the strength of their clash. Childe lowered his spear and stood up, breathing heavily, his arms hurting, but he didn’t throw his weapon away. Not yet.
“I know I don’t have the reputation of the sanest person, as far as my status as a Harbinger goes,” Childe began through his labored breaths, supporting himself on the spear he held in his hand. “But I see no reason as to why I would come into your dream to boast to you about hurting your god.”
Xiao remained silent, and his eyes betrayed no emotions. The blurring of the dream abated, though, which meant that Childe most likely managed to speak to his reason.
Before he could sigh with relief, though, the wind suddenly picked up, bringing fallen golden leaves that swirled around them.
“What’s happening?” he asked, alarmed, watching the leaves create smudges of gold in the air. He hadn’t seen any trees close to the battlefield. “No, it can’t—”
“Relax,” Xiao said, taking off his bloodied mask. The streaks of gold turned into a cocoon, enveloping them both in pleasant, warm light and drowning out the sounds of the battle. “I’m taking us somewhere calmer. The Archon War is not the best time to discuss such matters.”
He still looked at Childe with distrust, though there was no hiding the tiredness on his face as he spoke. A nightmare, then, for sure.
The wind suddenly stopped, and the golden cocoon wrapping them dissolved into hundreds of golden gingko leaves. Childe looked around, blinded by the sudden change of scenery; a sunny clearing in the middle of a dark forest, with a small creak streaking through the middle of it, glistening in the sun. There were white cecilias growing in groups, swaying in tandem with the tall blades of grass. A gentle breeze lightly ruffled Childe’s hair, and it brought the smell of warmth and the sound of a quiet flute tune with it.
“What is this place?” he asked, quite stunned, looking around. “I don’t recognize it from Liyue.”
“Because it’s not Liyue,” Xiao replied sharply and quickly changed the topic, cutting to the chase. “What happened?”
Childe understood he meant Zhongli. “He’s…” He tried to think of the best way to describe everything that had happened. “Something is not right with his powers,” he continued. Xiao’s brow furrowed, but he did not speak up. “Not in regards to his control over Geo, but more… physically? He sleeps a lot and easily succumbs to the cold weather. He reassured me that this was most likely him readjusting after giving away his Gnosis, but it didn’t stop there. He gradually began losing control over his human form, and now he’s…” Childe swallowed. “Zhongli has transformed into a dragon. And he’s fallen into this strange slumber that we cannot wake him up from. ”
Not the smoothest or most cohesive statement from him, but it seemed to get the message across. He looked up at the Adeptus expectantly, hoping to get an answer or counsel, but Xiao’s face was full of confusion.
“I gather that this isn’t a frequent occurrence then,” Childe said quietly.
Xiao remained silent for a second longer. “You are sure he has not been poisoned? Not charmed? Not struck with some kind of spell of Snezhnayan magic? Sure that Doctor of yours has not gotten his claws on him?”
Childe sighed, pinching his nose, though he did appreciate the way Xiao hissed Dottore’s name. “No. I’m as sure of that as I can possibly be. No stone left unturned by myself, other Harbingers, and the Tsaritsa. And no, it’s not the Abyss, not the Ley Lines, not anything of the sort,” he added when he saw Xiao open his mouth to continue his questions. “We’ve checked all our options. This is my last resort.”
Xiao grunted, crossing his arms on his chest and looking away in thought. “Did he say anything on the matter?”
“Would that be so easy…” Childe muttered. “No. Just that he thinks it’s the Gnosis. I suspected that the Snezhnayan cold weather might play a part too, and we were days away from departing to the journey back, but then a dragon happened.”
Childe let himself plop down on the grass, suddenly tired of the whole situation. He noted that feeling tired in a dream felt strange – like something pulling at a thread tethered to his brain. “We don’t have Adepti in Snezhnaya, and our native magical creatures and peoples are rather different from these in Liyue, so… so I came to ask you for help.”
Xiao looked down on him, yellow eyes glistening in the sun. “I’m unfamiliar with the symptoms you’re describing, but I also prefer my human form and don’t know what could cause one to unwillingly shapeshift into an illuminated beast. Let me call on the others.”
Childe tilted his head in confusion. “The others? Who?”
The Adeptus didn’t reply, just rolled his eyes at him before closing them and whispering something that Childe didn’t catch. Almost immediately, several figures materialized around them in flashes of golden light and the same yellow leaves. The lights quickly morphed into shapes that, with each passing second, became more and more familiar to Childe. He scrambled up to his feet, quickly dusting his pants off.
“Alatus,” Moon Carver said and lightly bowed his head in greeting, shaking his impressive antlers. He noticed Childe and eyed him up and down. “Is this Harbinger here the emergency that you have mentioned?”
“I highly doubt that’s the case,” Cloud retainer added, fluffing up the feathers of her wings, looking curiously at Childe. “Intriguing, considering what one remembers our dear lord saying about him…”
“I—“ Childe began, but was quickly interrupted by someone he did not expect to be summoned.
“Oh, boy, has our lord yet again done something silly?”
“Um… Madame Ping?” He was quite confused seeing this calm, old lady here, in Xiao’s dreamscape, heeding his summons. “You’re—”
“Amused,” she interrupted him, eyes glinting mysteriously. “By whatever new heart turmoil has that old dragon thrown himself into.”
Xiao spoke up, then, trying to bring some order to the discussion. “Esteemed Adepti, please. This is no laughing matter. Rex Lapis might be in danger.”
He motioned at Childe, which the Harbinger took as a cue to begin his story. He explained in detail everything that had happened to Zhongli ever since they set foot in Snezhnaya (well, maybe omitting some more personal bits). Childe could sense that they became more puzzled as his story progressed, especially when he mentioned what had happened during his little sparring session with Zhongli and how his draconic traits began emerging against his will. They were all stunned silent when he got to Zhongli’s sudden collapse at the ball, his sleep, and the transformation into a dragon. Silence fell over them all after the story finished. They exchanged looks, but it seemed like no one wanted to start talking first.
Childe felt his exhaustion pull stronger at him – the same, weird sensation as earlier. “So what is the verdict?” he asked, slightly irritated and impatient. “What do I do?”
“I wish Mountain Shaper was here to hear this,” Moon Carver sighed. “Seems he is too preoccupied with some matters in the waking world.”
“Why?” Childe asked, panicking a little. “So you don’t know what is happening? Would he be able to help? Do I have the wrong audience here, and should’ve contacted him directly or…“
“One would advise you to relax, Tartaglia,” Cloud Retainer said gently, trying to calm him down, but how could he calm down?
To even suggest that was baffling. “Relax?” He almost shouted, shaking his head in disbelief. “Your god is out there, unresponsive, unconsciously transformed into a dragon, and we can’t wake him! And you’re telling me to relax?!”
He glanced at Xiao for help, trying to tell him with his eyes to please, help, but the Adeptus only gave him a puzzled look. It seemed like he was just as stunned by their reaction.
The dream, again, began to blur at the edges. Anxiety sparked in Childe’s chest again.
“You do have the right audience, we can assure you,” Madame Ping said, but there was amusement in her voice that Childe could not understand. “Houzhang just expressed his disappointment because Jiehu will most likely not believe it when we tell him.” She chuckled to herself lightly. “And it is much funnier to hear it from the source.”
Childe looked at each of the Adepti, one by one, to confirm if they also thought Madame Ping was out of her mind. He obviously couldn’t read anything from Moon Carver or Cloud Retainer, but there was something in the air around them that told him they were also, for some reason, amused by the situation. This, and the fact that they didn’t rush to explanations seeing Childe’s obvious distress.
“Pardon me, but I fail to understand the joke of the situation.” It was Xiao who spoke, glancing between his Adepti companions. “Rex Lapis’s situation sounds rather dire, and as much as I hate to admit that, I am on the Harbinger’s side.”
Cloud Retainer sighed. “Our Lord is not hurt, neither is he in danger. However, one suspects that he has yet again not listened to advice that we have given him prior to his journey.”
The blurring of the dream advanced, now licking at the edges of the trees behind them. The thread of exhaustion tugged at Childe’s mind yet again, as if trying to pull him out.
“It has been millennia, if memory serves, since the last time it has happened,” Moon Carver said, striking the ground with his hooves, twice. “It’s no surprise he might have forgotten. And the Gnosis could’ve played a role, for all that we know—”
“I’m sorry, I appreciate the history lesson, but can we get to the root cause quicker, please?” Childe urged, interrupting the Adeptus. He began feeling weightless, and the colors around him shimmered strangely. The dream was dissolving, and this time, he couldn’t do anything to stop it. “Seems like I don’t have much time left.”
“Dear, you took a dragon to the North, in the middle of winter, what did you expect?” Madame Ping explained calmly, not at all moved by Childe’s plea. “Reptiles do not do well in cold, do you not know it? It seems like Morax has also forgotten that part of his nature.”
Childe furrowed his brows. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”
The blurring of the dream crept closer, now swallowing the grass and flowers around them. The trees in the background were nothing more than green splotches now, slowly getting swallowed by darkness. Panic seized Childe’s throat. He wanted to make a step forward, closer to the Adepti, but he found that he couldn’t move anymore. He looked down and saw his own legs blurring, too.
“Please,” he asked yet again, though his voice came out choked, quiet, every word a fight now. “Please tell me what to do!”
Madame Ping’s lips moved, but her voice did not get to Childe’s ears. The entire scene shook, the picture before his eyes trembling and blurring. His time was done.
The last thing that he saw was a sparkle of recognition and understanding in Xiao’s eyes at Madame Ping’s words. The words that Childe did not get to hear.
The dream dissolved entirely, and he woke up.
“Here they are, my lord,” the librarian said, putting the stack of books on the desk next to him with a loud thud. The wooden desk moaned under the additional weight. “All remaining books on dragons and biological handbooks on reptiles and lizards, as requested. Including the ones lent to us by Akademiya’s Amurta scholars.”
Startled, Childe looked up from the tome he was leafing through. The librarian – an elderly man with a long beard and sharp eyes – looked at him inquisitively. He was surprised to see him barge into the university library at the break of dawn, all in disarray and with an almost feverish look in his eyes.
“Thank you, mister Kasimir,” Childe responded, nodding his head at the man politely. He eyed the volumes in the stack, noticing their varied thickness and bindings. “You sure these are all?”
The man huffed as if slightly offended. “I’ve been working here for forty years, young lord. I know the resources here better than anyone. All must pass by my hands first before they’re put on these shelves. Trust me when I say this is all we have.” He gestured at the other stacks weighing the desk – dozens of other books on the topic. “It will take you long days to read through them all anyway. And if you don’t find whatever you’re looking for on these old pages, then it most likely does not exist.”
Childe wasn’t sure of that. He’d heard about the Akademiya’s catalogue in the House of Daena, but he hoped it would not come to having to travel all the way there.
“Thank you for your assistance,” he said again, earnestly. “I apologize for the trouble.”
The librarian waved his hand dismissively. “You’re very welcome. We’re always glad to be able to assist our esteemed Harbingers and the Tsaritsa herself. Please, do be careful with that coffee,” he eyed the closed cup to Childe’s right, distrustful. “I’m making an exception here to allow this, but Harbinger or not, you will be held accountable for any damages done to my books.”
Childe balked a little at the sudden harsh tone of the man’s voice. Well, he couldn’t blame him for feeling protective over these books. And there was no arguing with that; this was his kingdom, after all.
“I’ll be careful, I promise. And this is the safest cup I could request. No spillage.”
Kasimir didn’t look like he believed him, but nodded nonetheless and simply left Childe to his research. Once the rolling of the librarian’s cart drifted away, Childe turned his eyes back to the book in front of him, sighing, and massaged his temples.
It was… a lot.
It took him a few long minutes to gather his thoughts once he woke up from that dream, thrown out of the vision so unceremoniously. He slept for a couple of hours total, but he did not feel rested at all; quite the contrary, having to navigate the dream left him drained and exhausted. Thousands of thoughts clouded in his mind, swirling in disarray, trying to connect the few dots that the Adepti threw at him. He found the experience unhelpful and was extremely annoyed at first, right after waking up, that they joked at his despair and misery like that. He had the urge to curse at them and throw something heavy against a wall, just to find an outlet for his frustration, but the sight of a sleeping Columbina curled up on the sofa opposite to him helped him regain his control and refocus.
So, instead of taking satisfaction in something being destroyed, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes to calm himself down. He thought back on what Moon Carver and Madame Ping had told him (Childe didn’t have the time to unpack the fact that she was also an Adeptus – he categorized that for later).
Apparently, this whole thing had happened before, though the last time had been “millennia” ago. It was nothing unnatural, quite the opposite – it was connected to Zhongli’s draconic nature, a part of it. The Gnosis, probably, kept this thing under control or hadn’t let anything affect it. It also had something to do with how reptiles tolerated cold.
And it was something that Zhongli had forgotten about. Of course.
Childe opened his eyes and looked at the flames in the fireplace, cogs turning in his brain slowly. He had thought this had been the low temperature, that it had played some kind of role, but even if it had, he knew now that warmth or straight-up heat did not revert the damages the cold did. There must be something else to it that was outside of his knowledge, and he had to admit that his knowledge of dragons or even reptiles was far more limited than, say, his knowledge about the Abyss.
It was time to visit the Imperial University’s Library, then.
Feeling a faint sense of purpose again, Childe stood up from the sofa and started getting ready to leave. He checked up on Zhongli to make sure he was still in the room (still draconic, still asleep), put some more wood to the fireplace, and then gently covered sleeping Columbina with a spare blanket, tucking her in. Gods knew the girl deserved some rest as well, for all she had helped him with. Wasting no more time, Childe slipped away, carefully closing the door behind him and letting the guards know not to let anyone in except for the Tsaritsa.
A couple of hours later, Childe was on his second coffee and third book compiling stories about dragons from Natlan – he thought that it would be best to first go through some stories from a nation that was abundant in draconic species. He started his research session by taking out a notebook and writing down all that he knew so far – which, admittedly, wasn’t much, but he had hoped it would help him organize his thoughts and find anchor points for further search. So far, he had something like this:
- Dragon
- Reptiles – cold (bad?)
- Occurs frequently (cycle??? just an assumption)
Which didn’t look very promising, but at least it wasn’t nothing.
Disappointingly, he didn’t find the books from Natlan very helpful. These Saurians, as they called their dragons, weren’t… well, weren’t all that draconic. At least not in the way Zhongli was, based on the pictures and descriptions the books provided him with – they didn’t remind him of the dragon currently sleeping in his bed at all. There was a lot about their history, evolution, and coexistence with humans, and as interesting as it was to read about, it gave him nothing to add to his very short notes.
Groaning, Childe closed the book and put it on his “checked” stacked, on top of other Natlanian books, Liyuean myths about Rex Lapis (that he already knew and, according to Zhongli, were rather unreliable) and Snezhnayan children books with the stories about ice dragons, which he put away at the very beginning. He saw no reason to read about ice dragons since they were immune to the effects of cold based on their connection to ice and Cryo and semi-mythological status. Bracing himself, he reached out for another book on the “untouched” stack, this time with stories about the Vishaps of Watatsumi Island, and Orobashi – the Serpent God. He carefully turned the cover and began reading the first page, engrossing himself in the study.
So much so that he didn’t notice any footsteps until he heard a quiet murmur right next to his left ear.
“Now that’s an interesting story you’re reading.”
Childe jumped on his chair, slamming the book closed and leaning away from the voice as far as he could. The owner of said voice was none other than Scaramouche, standing idly with his arms crossed on his chest, looking at him with amusement, as if scaring his coworker almost to death was a funny concept to him.
“You should’ve asked if you wanted to know more about Inazuman folklore,” Scaramouche said, shrugging, but there was no mistaking the teasing in his voice. “I would be very happy to indulge you in the tales of my homeland.”
“And then what? We would’ve grabbed a beer together? Painted each other’s nails?” Childe replied flatly, trying to calm himself down from the shock of his sudden appearance.
Scaramouche snorted at the idea – a rare sign of appreciation of a good joke.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Childe asked. “It’s fairly early.”
“It’s the only time where there aren’t too many people in here,” Scaramouche said. “And I needed to check something.”
He left it at that, but Childe glanced at the book he was holding under his arm. A thick tome with a blue cover and silver lettering, very old if the condition of the leather was anything to go by. Something about an “irminsul,” whatever it was. It didn’t ring a bell in Childe’s head. Maybe it was something in a foreign language?
Scaramouche walked up closer to the desk, curiously eyeing the books on the table, spine after spine. “Dragons?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is the one in your room not enough for you?”
“He’s one too much, and that’s why I’m reading about them,” Childe muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’m looking for something that would help me heal him, even though he’s not really sick. No magic involved, no Abyss, no anything of the kind. Part of his nature, apparently.”
“Then you won’t find stories about Orobashi helpful. They’re long dead, and their death sliced an island in half,” Scaramouche replied lightly, almost offhandedly.
“Fantastic.”
Childe put the Inazuman book away with mild irritation and reached for another tome from the stack – this time, a thick volume about whichever draconic creatures they have in Sumeru. Scaramouche took this opportunity to bend slightly over the table and take a peek at Childe’s sparse and pitiful notes.
“Look at you, scholar,” he teased with a smirk. He was in a surprisingly good mood today, which made Childe all the more suspicious of him.
“Shut up.” He pulled the notes closer in annoyance, trying to shield them with his arms, but Scaramouche still kept his eyes on the page, brows suddenly furrowed. He quickly pointed at something on the page.
“Hey, wait—”
Annoyance flickered down Childe’s spine. “If you don’t stop bothering me, then I’m going to ask you to—”
“Do you not know that snakes and lizards hibernate during winter?” Scaramouche interrupted him, looking at him with disbelief.
What a stupid question, meant to annoy him further. How did this have anything to do with Zhongli? With him trying to fix whatever was happening? There were almost no snakes up North and—
Childe looked down at Scaramouche’s fingertip. It pointed at the word “cold,” written in his elegant cursive. He looked at it intensely until the dark lines of his pen stopped making sense.
And then, with a loud crack, something snapped.
Like one of the threads that held the world together.
Childe kept staring at the page, unmoving against the chaos that ensued in his mind. He blinked a couple of times, slowly. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it when no words came out. Then he blinked again.
“Are you malfunctioning or what?” Scaramouche looked him up and down with a mixture of worry and disgust, but Childe didn’t care.
He was too busy trying to comprehend how utterly stupid he had been all this time.
Gods. Dead and alive. Celestia above. Archons.
Scaramouche was right.
And Childe was the stupidest person in all Teyvat, all along.
“We, uhh… I…”
Scaramouche hummed. “You know, that’s one of the smartest things you’ve said today so far.”
Childe let that comment pass by. He leaned back in his chair, staring blankly ahead, covering his mouth with his palm. Taking in the sudden wave of understanding that rolled through his body.
By the Seven. He was such a dumbass. Straight-up idiot. A total dimwit.
Frantically, as if in fever, he reached toward the books to his left – to the untouched stack with biology textbooks brought by mister Kasimir, forgoing any mythological, historical, or religious text from other nations. His shaking fingers traced the spines of the books, reading the titles. They bled together in his mind. Naturalis Historia, Systema Naturae, On the Origin of Species… He stopped at one Fontainean title which he could barely read in his mind, frowning. Erpétologie générale, ou, Histoire naturelle complète des reptiles? His Fontainean wasn’t the best, but he did recognize the word reptile, so…
“You might want to start with this one,” Scaramouche said, picking up a simple, brown book on the thinner side and lightly throwing it at him.
Childe managed to catch it, albeit clumsily, and scanned the title printed above a picture of a smiling snake with its tongue out. How to Take Care of Pet Reptiles: a Guidebook for Dummies. He shot Scaramouche a glare.
The other shrugged. “It’s fitting.”
Taking a deep breath, Childe opened the book. He scanned the table of contents and, with his heart beating so fast and hard it threatened to break through his ribs, he went straight to chapter nine, titled “Hibernation (well, actually…),” and began reading:
It is a common misnomer to say that reptiles hibernate; they don’t. That’s for mammals. For reptiles, the process is called brumation.
When temperatures begin to drop, days begin to get shorter, and the daily amount of sunlight becomes smaller and smaller, snakes and lizards will start searching for more food to accumulate energy reserves for the harsher conditions. Then, they will set out to search for a warm hiding place where they can safely curl up and rest until the next spring. Their metabolism slows down quite significantly during that period, and they remain in something akin to a slumber for a couple of months.
Unlike mammals, however, reptiles do not stay asleep for the entire duration of their dormancy. They might occasionally wake up to drink water (but, similarly to mammals, they won’t eat) or sunbathe on warmer, sunnier days. Provided that the climate is kind!
This typically does not occur for lizards and snakes that are kept as household pets, where the stable conditions in the terrarium should provide them with enough warmth and light (via the sunlight-imitating lamps). In special cases, the owners might decide to allow for brumation for their reptiles; particularly for specimens kept for breeding purposes, as brumation…
Childe put the book down and stared at the shelf in front of him.
Light filtered through the thick, glass windows illuminated the tiny particles of dust floating in the air. A loud, squeaking noise of a cart’s wheels signaled the librarian walking somewhere nearby. Someone said something, quietly but sharply, but their voice could not pierce through the ringing in Childe’s ears.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
He kind of didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t, really, but it all started making so much sense now. All the pieces suddenly fit together – Zhongli’s general constitution, the amount of rest he required, his sleepiness, his very low tolerance for cold… And his slumber. His hibernation— no, his brumation, as the book called out. Not everything wholly aligned with the contents of the book – well, Zhongli was a dragon after all, not a mere lizard, there were bound to be differences – but it was all similar enough for all this not to be just a coincidence.
Disappointingly, however, there was no relief in knowing the answer – at least not in a way Childe hoped there would be. He exhaled heavily, slumping in his chair and supporting his head in his hands. What now, what now, what now… His eyes turned back to the book in front of him.
What to do with this brumation? How to undo it? He chewed on his lip, scanning the page, reading the words again, and again, and again, hoping they would reveal to him something…
He stood up abruptly, his chair scratching against the stone floor with an almost ear-piercing screech. The cup of coffee on the table wobbled dangerously, as did the preciously stacked books.
“… you even listening to me?” Scaramouche demanded, trying to break through the fog in Childe’s brain, but there was no fog anymore. No, it was all crystal clear now.
“I need to find Sandrone,” Childe declared, grabbing the guidebook from the table and sprinting out of the library, leaving a very befuddled Scaramouche alone.
Notes:
Oh my god oh my god oh my godddd we're almost there! Almost!!!
This was the fastest update since I think September 2023, and I'm doing my best to get the last chapter ready as soon as I can. Any predictions as to what happens next? :D
As always, thank you all for all the kudos and comments and bookmarks and whatnot. You've kept the fic going <3
Chapter 15
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Childe burst into Sandrone’s crammed workshop with all the unstoppable force of a snowstorm.
If anyone were to calculate how quickly he managed to get from the Imperial University to the Zapolyarny Palace, it would surely make for some record. Surprised eyes of the few passers-by followed him as he sprinted through the early-morning Snezhnayan streets, the city barely awake at this early hour. The guards at the Palace didn’t even attempt to stop him to ask what happened when he passed through the gate, and the soldiers and recruits he met on his way towards the heart of the castle simply stepped away, clearing the way. No one probably wanted to get involved in whatever it was that would’ve caused a Harbinger to act like this.
The door opened with a swing, and Childe almost tumbled inside, heaving through his burning lungs. Sweat practically streamed down his back, and his legs nearly gave up underneath him, muscles trembling from exertion and screaming for relief. The world darkened around the edges, and Childe had to support himself against a shelf with one arm not to fall, his second tightly gripping the little brown book like a lifeline.
When he finally had enough strength to look up, he saw Sandrone staring at him in utter shock, her hand holding a pen frozen in the air, mouth wide open. Right behind the girl, her mech froze in a similar pose, its unmoving lens of an eye focusing on the intruder, the tiny, bronze rims circling it moving around. To Sandrone’s left stood Capitano, whom Childe hadn’t noticed earlier, tall, dark, and imposing, and even though his face was as always obstructed by his helmet, he was probably as confused by Childe’s sudden appearance as the rest of them.
“Sa- Sandrone…” Childe panted. Gods, his throat hurt. “Thank gods you’re here…”
“Where else would I be?” Sandrone asked flatly.
“Tartaglia,” Capitano began, taking in Childe’s state. “What is the meaning of this?”
In normal circumstances, Childe would probably take a step back at the First’s stern voice to gather himself and present a detailed report on whatever had caused him to behave like that. This, however, were not the normal circumstances, and Childe could not care less about protocols, rankings, military structures, orders – whatever – when so much was at stake. He really wanted to cut the bullshit and get to the bottom of the issue, so he did.
“I need lamps.”
“Lamps,” Capitano echoed, like he wanted to make sure he heard that correctly.
“Yeah,” Childe exhaled. “Lamps.”
Sandrone and Capitano exchanged a confused look. The girl narrowed her eyes.
“Couldn’t you just go to the palace warehouse or ask some servants to provide you with lightbulbs if something in your rooms broke?” she prodded. Evidently, she thought that the idea of Childe coming to her with such a mundane request was at least stupid.
Childe shook his head. Perhaps he cut a little too much of the bullshit. “No, not like these, not…” His throat burned now with every next breath. “Gods, I need some water,” he croaked.
Something beeped within the depths of the workshop, startling them all. Sounds of rustling fabric and creaking machinery followed soon after, and something fell from a height with a loud thud. Sandrone groaned.
“Oh no. I forgot to turn it off,” she said, massaging her temple with her free hand.
“What?”
Childe soon received the answer to his question in the form of a small, wheeled mech rounding the corner to their right. It looked like a small waiter, with one of his “hands” being a tray and the other holding a small napkin over his forearm. Like all other Sandrone’s mechs, it had one lens-eye, which stared up right at Childe’s face.
“As requested, a glass of water, miss Marionette,” it said in a gentle, cybernetic voice, extending its tray-arm towards Childe rather abruptly, causing the glass to shake dangerously close to the edge.
“Um, I’m not her, but thank you?” Childe replied, though his confusion turned the end of his gratitude into a question.
The mech beeped curiously, if a beep could be curious. “Are you again questioning your ability to feel gratitude, miss Marionette? Well then, let’s ponder it from a few philosophical standpoints, shall we? Can a construct—”
The light above the mech’s eyes flickered and died. Immediately, it hung its head, and its arms fell limply at its sides. Childe’s reflexes kicked in quickly enough to catch the glass before it crashed against the floor, and he used his Vision to keep the water inside of it.
“What is that?” he asked, looking at the deactivated robot. He’d never seen one that would be this good at talking.
Sandrone cleared her throat. Childe glanced at her and noticed a faint blush tinting her cheeks. “Side project,” she grumbled, then shut her small console down. “Anyway. What lamps?”
Childe, busy with gulping the water down to soothe his parched throat, simply handed her the book he brought. She stood too far away to reach it, but Capitano was right there to help her. He glanced down at the cover and tilted his head a little, but did not ask for explanations before handing the book to Sandrone.
“Pet reptiles?” she asked, grimacing. “Tartaglia, my time is too precious to waste on some idiotic jokes.”
She made a gesture like she wanted to throw the book into the trash bin standing next to her workbench. Childe’s eyes widened, and he nearly choked on the last drops of the water that he was drinking.
“No, wait!” he shouted, throwing himself on the table between them and the blueprints on it, trying to snatch the book. “ThisisaboutZhongli!”
“What?” Sandrone and Capitano spoke at the same time. While Capitano’s tone was genuinely surprised, Sandrone’s carried irritation.
“Ah, just—” Childe reached out, taking the book out of Sandrone’s fingers. She stood motionless, looking at him with a puzzled expression.
Childe put the book on the workbench and delicately opened it, covering up the blueprints that showed some new types of weapons and flying vehicles that did not interest him at all at that moment. He flipped the pages until he got to his desired chapter, put his fingers on its title, and began his tale.
Sandrone’s scowl gradually softened as Childe’s story progressed. The sharpness in the edges of her face continued to dissolve with each new argument and proof presented, until her brows furrowed and her lips tightened as the silly story turned into a scientific problem. Capitano’s reaction was more difficult to judge, for obvious reasons, but there were telltale signs of intrigue, like a slight tilt to his head and a quiet hum after Childe finished talking.
“I see your point here,” Sandrone began, looking up from the book. Her ashy fringe was falling into her eyes, but she didn’t look bothered by it. “But why would lamps help solve the problem? Shouldn’t you be packing Morax into a padded crate to ship him off to Liyue so that nature can do its work?”
Childe’s eyelid almost twitched irritably at the suggestion, but he let it go before he even reached for it. No time to make enemies, now. He sighed. “That could work, but logistical difficulties aside, it would take good weeks before we get to Liyue. Weeks that I don’t have,” he added.
“Why?” she challenged. “The book clearly states that this is a natural process for reptiles. It should bear no harm.”
“Because it’s been long centuries since the last time it happened, and I’m very worried and have no guarantee what will happen next? Because returning a foreign god to its country in this state could be a diplomatic incident?” He gestured in the air with his hands. “Because I messed up and I want to fix it?”
Because I want him back, he thought, but bit his tongue before he could embarrass himself in front of his coworkers.
Sandrone crossed her arms on her chest, her stormy eyes drilling holes in Childe’s soul. “His natural cycle has already been tampered with, thanks to your negligence. Yours and his, may I add. I don’t think that tampering with it further would do any good, from a scientific point of view.”
“Yes, the cycle has already been disrupted, but this is why I think it needs to be restored to its previous state,” he tried to reason with her. “I need to correct that mistake.”
The girl opened her mouth to rebut this take, but it was Capitano who spoke next, to the surprise of them both.
“I’m inclined to agree with Tartaglia,” he said quietly. Amazing how a couple of months ago, words like these coming from him would’ve turned Childe into a blushing mess. Now, he only felt thankful. “We mustn’t forget that Morax is not just a mere reptile, but a dragon, no less. For a creature as elementally connected and ancient, a change like this could be dangerous, and it’s possible it could bring about other unforeseen consequences. Not just to Liyue.”
Sandrone glared at Capitano, at the darkness in the place of his face, but didn’t argue any further. She gave a tired sigh.
“You might be right,” she murmured, slightly unwillingly, taking the guidebook in her hand and flipping the pages. “So. The lamps.”
“Yes,” Childe confirmed, nodding eagerly. “The book mentions special lamps used in terrariums that stimulate sunlight or… sun rays. Apparently, they’re needed to keep the pets in good shape.”
Childe winced at his unsure explanations. It felt a bit silly, talking like that, having little to no experience with actual reptiles in real life, knowing that they were a fairly common occurrence almost anywhere outside of the north. For northern Snezhnaya, which Childe hailed from, they were almost an exotic sight, and he supposed the handful of species that did manage to evolve to survive the harsh winters weren’t quite the same as their southern cousins.
Capitano, however, seemed to be far better acquainted with them
“Heat lamps,” the man murmured thoughtfully, to Childe’s surprise. “For light and temperature.”
“Um, yes, exactly,” he replied, a bit thrown off.
“I thought warmth had proven to be ineffective?” Sandrone arched a thin eyebrow.
“I think it might be a bit more complicated than just a simple temperature increase, especially if we take elemental forces into consideration,” Capitano explained. “Think of this – there are creatures and beings feeding on Hydro, but simple river water is not enough for them. They require an energy to it, a special one at that. A simpler comparison would’ve been a seedling that requires sunlight to grow, not just mere warmth, although… I do believe dragons are slightly more complex than plants.”
Sandrone frowned, considering Capitano’s explanations for a second. Childe studied her face, waiting patiently for her response, nervously biting the inside of his cheek. He needed her genius spark, and he needed it now.
There was a shuffling noise, then, as Sandrone pushed away the sheets of blueprints until she dug up a clean one with nothing on it. She dusted it off, then grabbed a pen from the side and uncapped it, biting on the cap.
“A-aith,” she mumbled around the cap, and began her work.
White lines cut across the ocean of blue with an almost deadly precision. Sandrone’s hand held the pen like a weapon, and swiped above the page with learned expertise, quickly filling it in with squares and circles and other various shapes and scribbles. To Childe’s eyes, they did not make much sense, but then again, he was not the engineer among the three of them in the room. And yet, he couldn’t deny that there was some strange elegance and beauty to her creation, even though he couldn’t understand it besides noticing that yes, it did indeed look like a lamp, sort of. He simply stood there, feeling a bit out of place, and looked at it in silence with his eyes wide.
Sandrone abruptly stopped her work then. She straightened up, put her hand on her hips, and gave it a critical look, exhaling deeply.
“’s do-e,” she began, then winced, pulling out the cap from between her teeth. “It’s done.”
Childe blinked. “Wait, what? That’s… that’s it already?”
“Well, this isn’t exactly arkhe science. It’s just a simple design, I’ll still have to run some calculations, but…”
“This looks quite ingenious, Marionette,” Capitano said, craning his neck slightly to get a better look at the blueprint. His gloved finger gently traced the lines of the schematic, and it stopped at something in the middle of it. “Are you sure a pneuma block is the right choice here? It can be a bit… unstable.”
The tiny hairs on Childe’s neck rose at the sound of the word. He glanced between Sandrone and Capitano, alarmed. He wouldn’t want to hurt Zhongli any further while trying to help him, gods forbid. A word of protest formed at the back of his tongue, but Sandrone spoke first.
“I thought to stabilize it with just a touch of ousia in the core. It worked in my past experiments.”
Capitano hummed. It seemed that, for whatever reason, he enjoyed the scientific problem, and his involvement was as welcome as it was unexpected. “Why not use something more stable that we know could work for both light and warmth, and that has enough elemental energy within?”
Sandrone’s brow furrowed. “Like what?”
“The philogiston.” Capitano gestured vaguely at the heap of weapons and machinery schematics that they had been working on previously. “It is widely used in Natlan for similar purposes, after all.”
To Childe, the name did not sound even a tiny bit familiar, but Sandrone’s eyes widened at its mention. Her eyes sparked with recognition and, with a gasp, she went back to the blueprint, scratching some things out and frantically scribbling more in her tiny handwriting – numbers and diagrams and short notes. Watching a genius at work was an exhilarating experience, if not a bit scary too, but it filled Childe’s chest with hope. He couldn’t help feeling excited as well, seeing the spark in Sandrone’s eyes shine brighter and a shadow of a tiny smile dancing in the corner of her mouth. At that moment, she looked like a scholar on the verge of a great invention, the mask and aura of the formidable Seventh of the Fatui Harbingers put aside, almost forgotten.
Finally, she straightened up, looked down at the corrected design, and, with contented sigh, put the cap back on her pen.
“Now it is done,” she proclaimed. “The numbers look promising. I will use some ruin guardian cores in the construction, the runes should work with philogiston too.”
“So… You will help?” Childe asked, hopeful beyond measure.
Sandrone gave him a pointed look and held it for a few anxiety-filled seconds. “I didn’t just design a new device customized for this purpose for leisure,” she said, cooly. “Besides, the Tsaritsa did order us to help, if possible.”
Childe barely contained the sudden urge to run up to Sandrone and smother her in the tightest hug imaginable, his self-preservation holding it at bay. He just gave her a wide, happy grin instead, but even that seemed to be a little too much for her to take, judging by her frown.
“Sandrone, I don’t know what I would—"
“Ugh, nothing of this,” she interrupted him almost immediately, porcelain cheeks suddenly dusted with a blush. “Just give me a couple of hours. Alone,” she added, pointing her hand at the door behind him; a clear sign for Childe to see himself out.
“Um… hours? I thought it would take days.”
The girl snorted. “Please. I’m the Seventh for a reason.”
“Come, Tartaglia,” Capitano spoke, gathering the blueprints of the weapons that they had been discussing prior to Childe’s sudden arrival. “Let’s give Marionette the space she quiet she requires. We will continue our discussion at a later time, and I’ll try to do some revisions in the meantime,” he added as he passed the girl by.
Sandrone, however, was already getting pulled into her work. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, opening up one of her weird mechanical devices and gesturing at her mech behind her to hand her something.
Childe grabbed the guidebook and went to the door, trailing behind Capitano. He hesitated at the door, for a moment, turning his head before he left to take a glance at Sandrone. She had interrupted him earlier, but he wanted to say something – thank her, profusely and earnestly, so that it would reflect the relief that he felt at the moment. With his initial burst of euphoria at her accepting his plea for help gone, he couldn’t find the right words. Not when they weren’t really the closest and the friendliest together, and Sandrone would rather silently scowl at him than offer a friendly conversation. Battling through his awkwardness, he offered her a small smile over his shoulder, even though she wasn’t looking at him and therefore couldn’t see it.
He left promptly before his presence could draw her or her mech’s attention. He silently followed Capitano’s footsteps until it was time for him to take a turn to the left, back to the palace, to his chambers.
The guards stationed before his rooms saluted him as soon as they saw him, perfectly synchronized. Battling the tiredness of the last night and this early morning slowly creeping up on him, Childe straightened his back and responded with a quick nod.
“At ease, soldiers,” he commanded. “Is miss Damselette still inside?”
“No, sir,” one guard replied. “She left a few hours ago. She was requested by the Fair Lady and the Rooster to attend to some court matters during Her Majesty’s absence.”
Childe bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. So that meant the Tsaritsa was still away, and they didn’t know how long her task in the North would take; otherwise, she most likely wouldn’t have handed the court matters over, if it was just a two or three-day journey.
“Miss Damselette asked us to convey her message to you, sir,” the other guard added, suddenly looking slightly uncomfortable. “She, uh, wanted us to tell you, word for word, to eat a proper meal and get some rest as soon as you are back, otherwise she would be the one visiting your nightmares tonight.” The soldier winced as soon as she said the words, her face going red.
“Direct quote, sir,” the first guard mentioned quickly in their defense.
Childe chuckled lightly. “It does sound like her indeed. Anything else of note to report?”
“No, sir, no one else has approached your chambers today.”
His rooms did indeed look untouched from how he left them, save for Columbina’s neatly folded blanket resting on the arm of the sofa, and a container with food waiting for him at the table, with a quick small drawing of a bird tucked underneath (also Columbina’s work, he presumed), but before that he had to check up on Zhongli. He walked up towards the closed door to his bedroom, just to take a peek inside to make sure that he hadn’t mysteriously disappeared and that he was still okay. Even though he now knew the details of the god’s predicament and had it in mind that probably not even an explosion would’ve woken him up, he still pressed the door handle in the most gentle way to make as little noise as possible.
And the dragon was still there indeed, to his relief, though he wasn’t half lying on Childe’s bed anymore. Instead, his large body was now curled on the carpeted floor, right in the middle of a sunny spot, arranged in a way to take in as many of the sunrays as possible. The light of the winter Snezhnayan sun falling through the glass window bathed the strong coils of his body in a gentle glow that brought a brilliant shine out of the bronze and golden scales. Zhongli must’ve moved during his sleep to seek the light and the warmth it carried, even though it couldn’t provide him with the amount that he needed, not so close to the winter solstice. Childe wasn’t aware that brumating reptiles could move during their slumber – well, just a couple of hours ago, he hadn’t even known that reptiles did brumate – so he’d have to read it up in the guidebook. He took one last look over Zhongli’s form and then gently closed the door, leaving him to his deep sleep.
His stomach picked this very moment as the perfect opportunity to remind Childe of its emptiness, grumbling angrily. Gods, he hadn’t had anything since yesterday except for coffee in the morning, had he? The food container on the table called out to him, and when Childe opened the lid, the smell of roasted potatoes and well-spiced roast teased his nostrils. His mouth salivated, and he quickly grabbed the utensils on the side, making a mental note to yet again thank Columbina for her care.
A contented sigh left Childe’s lips once the meal was devoured and safely stored in his belly. Oh, how he needed this after that avalanche of a night, the frantic academic nightmare, and the not-so-short sprint through the city. Also, as it turned out, anxiety and stress do require a lot of energy to upkeep. And now that the mystery was solved and he was beginning to think that it would be, in the end, alright, he kind of… did not know what to do with himself.
He looked around his empty room, taking in the silence, letting it ring a little in his ears. He tried to let it console him, but it only made him feel more uneasy. The approaching idleness disquieted him. He began picking at the dry skin around his fingernails just to do something with his hands. All that was left now was the wait for Sandrone and her engineering genius, and while he recognized that he would be of no help to her in any way, he hated waiting. He slumped on his chair unhappily.
The small, brown book that saved his life rested on the table right next to the empty food box. Childe bit his lip, thinking. Well, maybe there was something to do – something useful, at that, that wouldn’t just be filling up the empty hours. Childe took the book and stood up, the chair making a muffled noise against the carpet. The sofa looked inviting, soft and warm next to the living room’s fireplace, but a strange sense of unease and anxiety – of something that would probably be better called unbelonging – constricted his throat. He didn’t want to be alone, as difficult as admitting it was. With a shake of his head, he trudged towards his bedroom and the dragon occupying it.
Quietly, he closed the door behind him and glanced at the armchair standing by the wall, but did not go there. Instead, he slowly walked up to Zhongli curled on the floor, and sat down next to him, desperately reaching for the scraps of his soothing presence. Once seated comfortably, he allowed his hand to gently caress the god’s tail, fingers weaving through the tuft of fur at its end. The sensation surprised him; it was so incredibly soft to the touch, he wouldn’t have guessed it would be. It looked thick, same as the fur making up the mane, and before he could think about it, Childe felt himself scooting a bit closer to the dragon’s head and softly petting it, giving in to the urge he felt when he first saw the god transformed.
Zhongli, of course, did not respond to his touch, deep in the throes of his slumber as he was, but it still stung with disappointment. Childe swallowed it down, trying not to let it overpower him, but he couldn’t ignore just how terribly he missed him at that moment. He held out hope for Sandrone and her lamps, but it did little to soothe that particular ache. There was no hand he could take into his own now.
“Come back to me, will you?” he whispered, burying his face in the dragon’s mane, inhaling the unmistakable notes of Zhongli’s smell. The familiarity of it made him relax a little, his muscles loosening until he almost sagged. He hadn’t realized how tense he was.
Childe pushed himself back a little, leaning against the main bulk of Zhongli’s torso, trying to find a comfortable position to kill time in. With a sigh, he opened the guidebook on page one and began reading it, but the pull of the warmth of Zhongli’s body was a bit too strong. The words on the page blurred, and soon opening his eyes after each blink became more and more difficult. His head felt strangely heavy, and he slumped down to rest it against Zhongli’s body for just a minute, just a second, but oh, the dragon was so warm and his breathing so deep and steady…
When he jerked awake, woken up by loud, incessant knocking at his door, the sunlight was long gone, and the moon was shyly taking a peek into the room, its pale light gently coating him and Zhongli in silver gleam. He sat up abruptly, hissing loudly at his sore muscles protesting – as it turned out, sleeping on the floor, curled up against a dragon’s body, is not the most comfortable position. A now-familiar weight rested atop his legs and torso, undoubtedly also the reason why he woke up pressed so close to the dragon. Childe flushed a little at the realization, warmth climbing up his neck. He tried to push the tail away, but it was just a tad bit too heavy to quickly get out from underneath it.
“If you don’t open in three seconds, I’m barging in,” a muffled threat sounded on the other side of the door. A follow-up came in almost immediately. “Ploppy, open the door.”
Childe panicked. “Wait, no—”
The door swung open, held by the mechanical arm of a familiar, gentlemanly mech. Sandrone, brows pinched and nose scrunched, peeked in from between the mech’s legs. Her gaze quickly swept over the room before landing on Childe, still tangled with the dragon’s tail, all ruffled from his nap. Few tense seconds passed, during which none of them moved, before Sandrone spoke.
“I would’ve hoped you had at least a bit of decency in you.”
Childe winced, reattempting to push the tail away. “This… this isn’t what you think it is.”
“I do not think anything about this. I’d rather not, trust me.”
Contrary to her words, her glare was extremely accusatory, as if she’d just witnessed something borderline blasphemous. Childe scratched his head, trying to conjure up an explanation, pointing at the dragon himself being the sole reason for this situation. Before he could protest, though, the mech in the door disappeared at Sandrone’s commanding gesture, giving a few beeps of affirmation of having understood the task before trudging off.
“I have brought the lamps,” Sandrone said, looking down at Childe. “Get up.”
Indeed, after a moment, the mech reappeared, carrying a large, heavy box that barely fit below the doorframe. The mech put it down next to Childe’s bed and beeped again, high-pitched, as if proud of being of assistance.
“Go on! Open them!” Sandrone clapped her hands, giving Childe an expectant look.
With a huff, he finally pushed the dragon’s tail away and rose to his feet, smoothing out his wrinkled clothes as he walked up to the box. Very conscious of Sandrone’s stare on his back, he reached out to open it, his stomach feeling like a big, heavy knot, for some reason. Familiar anxieties returned with doubled force when he stared at three unassuming, tall metal poles with rectangular panels attached to their tops. Far be it from him to doubt Sandrone’s engineering qualities, but…
“No,” she cut coldly, undoubtedly sensing his hesitation. “They will work. They do work, I tested them already. Do you seriously think I would bring you some broken contraptions?”
“No, never,” he quickly denied, afraid of raising her ire even further. “I’m just… suddenly not sure if this is going to help.”
Her grey, stormy eyes narrowed in thought. Childe knew she had it on the back of her tongue to sharply say that it wouldn’t be her problem then, and certainly not an issue with the lamps themselves, but in the end, she decided against mentioning that. Her face softened a little, almost imperceptibly, and for a moment Childe wondered if it wasn’t just the light playing tricks on him.
“There is little sense in borrowing worries from the future,” she said, sounding almost wistful. It surprised him; he never took her for a philosophing type. “Take the lamps out and arrange them around your scaly companion, so that the panels on top are faced towards him. I’ll prepare the batteries.”
There was nothing Childe could do but listen to her command. He got to work, carefully picking up the lamps. They were surprisingly heavy, and Childe felt himself warmed up with the exercise, however brief. He sighed heavily when he was done positioning the lamps around Zhongli’s coiled body. Sandrone, back to her usual no-nonsense steel-hard self, observed him attentively, and once he was sure he finished the task just the way she asked him to, she walked up to the robot and opened its torso (or the part that was supposed to be a torso). From the small storage space therein, she picked another box, much smaller than Childe expected it would be if it was supposed to carry batteries. When the girl joined him by one of the lamps, he could feel light warmth radiating from it.
“I need to give Capitano more credit,” she began, opening the lid of the box. “His suggestion to use the philogiston as fuel was surprisingly… scientific. The method of extracting the energy from it that I devised needs to be worked on, but it could potentially lessen our reliance on arkhe shipments from Fontaine.”
She pulled out the batteries; three oval-shaped crystals that seemed embedded in a cage of metal and glass. They glowed brightly in beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows, radiating gentle warmth that soaked into Childe’s skin as he held the batteries in his hands. He marveled at the sensation, feeling its soothing effect on his muscles, before Sandrone nudged him to place them in their slots on the lamps.
“I guess Pierro will be happy to hear that,” Childe said, gently securing in the first battery. “He’s complained about that during our meeting.”
“Yes. He and Pantalone. ‘Diversification of our key military-related imports is something we must focus on’, ’ she added, mimicking his pretentious tone of voice.
Childe snorted. That was quite an accurate one, he had to admit that, almost as good as Columbina’s. He glanced up at Sandrone, noticing a shadow of a smile on her face.
“Hey,” he began, putting the battery in the second lamp. “I know you said you don’t want to hear that, but… thanks. Really.”
She was silent for a second, considering. Childe didn’t dare look back now, but he could imagine, feel her looking at him calculatedly with her impenetrable eyes. Her cold regard towards him always confused him – he didn’t know what he had done to deserve that – but then again, maybe she didn’t need a reason for it. He’d never seen her being particularly friendly with other Harbingers, so maybe that was just who she was. They were all a crazy bunch of weird, peculiar people, after all.
“You’re welcome. Really,” she replied, quickly and courtly, like she was in a hurry to let the words out. “There are switches right above the battery panels, flick them to turn the lamps on.”
Childe smiled to himself at the abrupt change of topic. He put in the last battery and followed her instructions, pushing the switch down with a quiet click.
The light that poured from the lamps was not as bright as he expected, and the tiny wires inside the glass tubes glowed with soft red rather than blinding whiteness, which confused him quite a bit. Surprised, he brought his hand up, observing his skin under the reddish glow, feeling the warmth from it, noticing how it wasn’t nearly half as strong as that from a fireplace or even from the philogiston in the batteries itself.
Sandrone must’ve noticed his furrowed brow. “It’s the frequency that matters here,” she explained. “I won’t go into details because that requires a few years of academic study to fully understand, but this part of the light spectrum has the highest energy throughput for philogi— Um, let’s just say it’s going to give him the most energy.”
Childe nodded, tucking his doubts away. “Not going to question your calculations.”
He switched the other lamps on, adjusting the light panels so that as much of Zhongli’s body as possible was bathing in the red glow. He took a step away, critically examining the sight before him, looking for any sign – anything – that would indicate the lamps doing something, any reaction or the smallest of twitches from the dragon coiled on the floor of his old bedroom, biting his lip.
“How long do you think it’s going to take?” Childe asked, not looking away.
“More than 30 seconds, that’s for sure,” Sandrone coolly replied. “I don’t know. You should check in that dragon manual of yours.”
Right. The book that he was supposed to read before he fell asleep. He began searching for it, while Sandrone picked up her things and seemingly prepared to go.
“My part here is done,” she said, having instructed her robot to take the big box away. “If something stops working or starts acting weird, send someone to let me know. And…” she hesitated for a moment. “Let me know when he wakes up, too.”
Childe turned to look at her, but again, her face betrayed no emotions. Only her eyes glimmered with some sort of hesitation that he couldn’t find a name for. “I will. Thank you… again.”
The corners of her mouth twitched upward for a moment. “You’re welcome… again.”
She left quickly afterwards, her heavy mech following close behind. Childe waited for the sound of its footsteps to disappear behind the door outside, then he grabbed the guidebook from his bed and settled in the armchair opposite Zhongli. A perfect spot to observe him. He opened the book with a sigh and began to read again, looking up from time to time at the dragon.
Waiting had never been his favorite pastime, but recently, he began hating it even more.
Since that morning, Childe had read the book three times, although skipping some parts he thought not necessary to his predicament. The good thing out of it was that he could probably call himself an expert in reptile feeding, growth, and brumation, at this point. The bad – it mentioned that it usually took up to a couple of hours maximum for a snake to wake up from brumation after being exposed to lamplight and warmer temperatures.
And, well, it has been two days, and Zhongli had not given a single sign of waking up soon.
Childe did understand this was probably only applicable to normal, regular, non-magical, non-divine, and non-mythical snakes and not to magical, divine, mythical dragons or dragon-slash-illuminated-beasts hybrids, but he still hoped that this would work… somehow. He was at his wits’ end, and this was really his last resort, almost. One last option that remained was packing Zhongli in a padded, wooden box and shipping him off to Liyue (with himself onboard, of course), but he did not want to consider it yet.
Some of the Harbingers came and went, checking up on him (barring Pierro, who was away with the Tsaritsa, Dottore, and Pantalone, of course, and Sandrone, who seemed to be a bit too busy in her workshop). Even Signora had shown up at some point, walking silently behind Arlecchino. Columbina tried to drag him out of his rooms, saying he needed at least some fresh air, but he adamantly refused – Zhongli could’ve woken up at any time. She brought a set of chess instead to distract him just a little, but Childe couldn’t focus on the tactics, not to mention that he had never been good at this game, so the results were rather poor. Although Columbina didn’t say it, he could feel her frustration at beating him for the fifth time in an hour. She soon left him to his broodings, but not without making him promise to get some sleep and eat some food.
He appreciated that they showed so much care towards him, all in their own ways, but their attention was slowly making him more exhausted. And that only added to his ever-present feeling of guilt about the whole situation, now that the excitement at finding a possible solution with the elemental lamps was almost gone, waning further with every hour that passed without results.
If only the Tsaritsa was here… Childe understood that whatever she was inspecting in the North Pole was extremely important and could be connected to Zhongli’s case, but a part of him couldn’t help feeling a little bit abandoned by his goddess.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes that hurt from dryness. It was getting late again, and his lack of sleep was starting to weigh on him. Childe stood up from his chair and tried to stretch himself a little to fight off the stiffness of his muscles. The fire in the fireplace seemed slightly weak, so he added some wood there, watching the tiny sparkles fly up the chimney. Briefly, he considered going to bed, but then a sobering thought sprang to his mind again – what if Zhongli woke up when he was asleep and couldn’t find him? Confused, abandoned, alone? No, that wouldn’t do. He sat back down on his armchair and, for the lack of anything better to do while he watched the dragon, picked up the book again. He managed to turn three pages before sleep took him in its embrace, the book slipping out of his hands.
A soft rustle of fabric awoke him, and then he felt a gentle, cool touch against his forehead. Childe startled awake, military-trained mind racing and urging him to summon his weapons. Through his bleary eyes, he saw someone standing next to him, clad in whites and navy blues, extending their hand towards him. He blinked rapidly a couple of times to get rid of the sleepy fog, but he recognized the new presence in the room before his vision cleared, and the relief he felt upon it washed over him like a tidal wave.
The Tsaritsa looked down on him, her face pinched with worry. She was taking in his disheveled, unorganized state, without a doubt noticing how he’d been neglecting himself over the last couple of days. With a deep sigh, she kneeled next to him and again reached out to push his ruffled hair away from his forehead, like a caring mother would. Childe shivered against the coolness of her touch, but did not withdraw from it.
“My child,” she said quietly. “I am so sorry for leaving you alone with all this.”
Her voice was heavy with regret, and while Childe had previously felt bitter about her sudden disappearance, a quick glance over the queen’s form revealed to him that whatever happened in the North, it certainly hadn’t been easy on her. She usually did a good job of presenting herself as the unmovable ice goddess strong beyond belief, but he knew her a bit too well now not to notice the exhaustion peeking through. Dark circles beneath her eyes, the tautness around her lips, that particular shadow in her normally crystalline eyes. She was also still wearing her travelling clothes, far more practical and less intricate than her court gowns and stained with the troubles of her journey. With a pang in his chest, Childe realized she must’ve come to see him right after returning to Zapolyarny Palace, without even taking a break to change.
“You must be tired after your journey,” he said, gathering himself together and trying to stand up to offer her his seat, but she stopped him halfway.
“Don’t worry about me, dear, I’m tougher than that.” She gave him a small smile. “I had to see you first. How are you holding up, besides the glaring lack of rest and proper nutrition?”
Childe winced at the chiding note in her voice. He guessed he deserved that, though. “Better than when we last saw each other, although not by much,” he nodded towards the dragon in front of them, still sleeping soundly. “Worried that a journey to Liyue is the only option now.”
The goddess glanced at Zhongli, brows furrowing. “I can sense him. His energy,” she explained. “It is stronger now than when I left. You have been taking good care of him.”
That sparked Childe’s hope again, although he remained cautious about it. “That doesn’t mean he will wake up soon, does it?”
Tsaritsa’s lips tightened into a straight line. “That I cannot tell,” she replied. The lamps caught her attention, and she looked at them with curiosity.
“That’s Sandrone’s invention,” Childe explained. “We thought… well, I’ve read this book which mentioned that there are special lamps for pet reptiles that imitate sunlight’s energy and warmth, and I hoped that it would wake him from his brumation but—”
“Hold on for a second,” the Tsaritsa interrupted him, raising her hand. “Sunlight? Brumation? Pet reptiles?”
“Oh, right, you don’t… Wait, where is it?” Childe turned and twisted on his chair until he found the book – dropped to the floor when he fell asleep. He picked it up and began retelling the story of the last few days, suddenly realizing just how much had happened during that time.
The Tsaritsa listened closely to everything that he said – about Zhongli’s gradual transformation, about waking up to him turned into a dragon, about his research with Columbina, the experience of dream walking, and his expedition to the library. Her face betrayed no emotion during his story, but Childe glimpsed a shadow of a smile when he recalled the role Scaramouche played in all this. She seemed overall pleased with the help and care he had received from the other Harbingers, and quite surprised at the extent of Sandrone’s involvement and the unusual warmth that she had shown him.
“Well, that is certainly an interesting turn of events,” she mused. “I’ve sensed some Vortex destabilizations the night of Morax’s… accident, and went with Pierro at once to investigate it, but that turned out to be a false lead, too. One of the seals wore out, which happens from time to time. We have made sure that this time it was neither the Abyss, nor any other external force.”
Childe hummed in acknowledgement. “That’s good, even though stabilizing it didn’t seem to affect him, either.”
Discomfort flashed briefly on the goddess’s face at the words, and Childe quickly regretted saying them, even though he did not intend for it to come out like this.
“No, wait, I didn’t mean—”
The Tsaritsa shook her head. “I know, dear. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is my failure. No, don’t deny this. Even if not directly responsible, I am accountable for whatever misfortune happens to my guests under my roof. I have broken one of the most ancient Snezhnayan laws, although not willingly.”
Childe sighed. This felt like a strange confession. “If that is your attempt at shifting me blaming myself for it to you, it’s a poor one.” He sent her a look. “I’ve had some time to think this through, many, many times now. Just an unfortunate situation, that’s all. One that I hope will be remedied soon.” He sounded almost sure of it.
She gave him a soft smile, that warm and motherly one which, at the same time, betrayed her true age and wisdom, and the melancholy that clung to her like the smell of winter. It was a smile that he knew very well – it was the one she had given him when she saved him on that battlefield when he had lost control, when he swore his Harbinger oath, and when they first spoke about whatever it was between himself and Zhongli. It was still a mystery to him how so many words and emotions could be hidden in one single gesture – in one single smile.
“You’ve grown,” she said. Not changed, Childe noted. Not grown up. Just grown.
Grown. It sounded weird in his ears, at first. He could’ve flipped it into a joke, brushed it off like he often did to similar remarks, said something about legally being an adult for a few years now, about holding one of the highest positions in the country ever since, but somehow denying that felt improper, this time. There was something more behind that word, something more that she meant than just the literal sense; something which he understood. He knew she was right.
“How so?” he asked nonetheless.
The goddess thought for a second before giving her answer. She reached out for his hand, her clothes rustling softly with the movement. Her touch, as always, was cool against his skin, despite the warmth filling the room.
“When you first came to the capital, you were a wild animal. You had this peculiar hunger behind your eyes that I was scared would swallow us all one day. You itched for a fight, always – demanded it, even – not because you lacked fear, but precisely because you possessed it, in great quantity. It took us a long time to chase away the shadows that the Abyss left in your mind.”
She paused for a moment, perhaps waiting for his reaction. Childe kept his eyes trained on her pale fingers delicately clasping his scarred hand.
“When you’ve emerged from these shadows, you were all sharp, jagged edges, with only a few precious softer spots that you’ve never shown to anyone. You were fearless, not because of righteous bravery, but because of recklessness that pushed you to seek danger. Your hunger for a fight turned into a thirst for thrill, any thrill; you needed that to feel alive, because just living was not quite cutting it for you. And while I was no longer afraid that it would take us all, I was scared it would end up drowning you.”
Memories of that time, before and after his ascension to the rank of a Harbinger, were always a little hazy whenever he recalled them now – not that he liked doing it often. Even though they trailed behind him whenever he went, clung to him in his reputation. He felt himself tense involuntarily.
“There’s a different air to you now, I have noticed,” she continued. “Ever since you came back from Liyue. You carry yourself differently. That self-assuredness you had turned into a quiet confidence that needn’t be forced. You can rein yourself in, keep that swiftness and ferocity sheathed like a well-honed weapon. There’s a glint of quiet awareness in your eyes, instead of that bottomless hunger. I believe traveling out and clashing with different perspectives and experiences had a profound effect on you, had it not?”
Childe knew what she was alluding to. He swallowed down the rising uneasiness, bracing himself for what he was about to say next.
“Someone wise once told me that change is the deepest mark of love.”
She laughed quietly, recognizing this as something she had once told him.
“And grief its greatest proof,” she finished the quote, a drop of sadness coloring her voice for the briefest moment.
It took Childe a few seconds before he reluctantly looked up to meet the Tsaritsa’s eyes, anxious of what he might see, but he found nothing but fondness there.
“I’m glad that it’s him,” she said. “Such an intriguing match, yet one that works so well together. Like an ocean and a jagged, sharp chunk of glass.”
“I suppose… Zhongli would prefer being compared to a rock instead,” Childe remarked. He had to admit, the comparison didn’t make much sense to him.
The Tsaritsa chuckled. “Oh, he is the ocean here, silly.”
The reflection of the flames from the fireplace glinted in her pale eyes. The light of the lamps dispersed the shadows from her face, making her look both more human and more ethereal, at the same time. Childe opened his mouth to ask for a clarification that she clearly waited to provide him with, but as soon as he took a breath in, he heard a faint rustle of something smooth sliding slowly against the carpet.
A sound that neither he nor the Tsaritsa could make.
With his heart caught in his throat, Childe immediately whipped his head towards the center of the room, right in time to see the dragon yawn. The beast’s golden, slitted eyes blinked as he looked around the room, visibly confused and still half-asleep. Childe could only gape with his breath held, disbelieving of what his eyes were seeing.
It was only when Zhongli looked at him and stilled mid-stretch with a distinct look of recognition that Childe finally sprang from his chair, nearly tripping on his own feet, and fell to his knees next to the dragon’s coiled body to almost collide against it in an embrace.
“Celestia above and Abyss below,” he breathed out finally. “You’re back.”
Zhongli’s calming, signature scent filled his nostrils when he buried his face in the dragon’s mane and inhaled shakily. His quivering fingers gripped the soft fur, and then he felt a scaly tail push him closer. All of the emotions that constantly bubbled inside of Childe during the last couple of days – doubt, sorrow, anger, pain – swelled in his chest almost painfully, and his whole body shook with the force of it.
It worked. The lamps worked. Zhongli was back, alive and well, and—
“Oh gods, oh Archons,” he repeated as hot tears threatened to spill from his eyes, voice thick. “I was so, so worried you wouldn’t wake up.”
The dragon’s body he was clutching to shifted, shuddering slightly in his arms throughout its length. For a short, terrifying second, a new fear took root in him that there was still something wrong with Zhongli, but a moment later a soft, golden light washed over the room, and the dragon disappeared as the god shifted back to his human form.
Childe steadied himself against the sudden emptiness in his arms, shifting back a little to take a good look at Zhongli. He was still wearing his blue robe from the ball, all rumpled now from his sleep. His long, dark hair was a little tangled, his face a bit pale, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. Childe wasn’t sure if his mind was playing tricks with him or not, but it seemed like Zhongli lost a bit of weight, too, with the slight hollow to the god’s cheeks. He clenched his teeth hard, feeling tears welling up in his eyes again.
At least he was awake. At least that. They can work on the rest later.
“Ajax,” Zhongli finally spoke, bringing Childe out of his short stupor. He cleared his throat, wincing slightly. His voice was rough and croaky from not being used in so long, but, oh, how Childe missed the sound of it. “Ajax, what—”
The rest of the sentence was punched out of his lungs as Childe crashed against him in another hug. He gripped him harder, pulling him as close as possible, burying his head in Zhongli’s neck, his fingers in his hair, like he couldn’t believe he was real and alive and back, finally. The god tensed at first, and then looped his arms around Childe’s torso carefully, and the gentleness of it made the dams in Childe’s mind crack.
“Ajax, my beloved, I am fine,” Zhongli soothed him, delicately stroking his back with his hand, drawing slow circles there. “It is fine.”
At this, Childe crumbled further, his sniffing turning into full sobs that shook his whole body. The relief of finally hearing Zhongli’s voice, of seeing his face, of holding him in his arms, and feeling his touch was just too overwhelming, sweeping the ground from under his knees like a tide. The strain of stress and worry that weighed over him released with a long, stretchy ache that faded into tiredness; a sensation similar to lying down in your bed after a long and strenuous day and feeling your bones finally sigh.
Shakily breathing out, he slightly loosened his grip around Zhongli, enough to shift back to take a look at his face. “You have no idea,” he began, voice still unsteady, “how much you scared me.”
Zhongli bit his lip, eyes full of guilt. He lifted his arm to cup Childe’s cheek and leaned in to press his lips to his other one, softly kissing a tear off of it. “I know, and I am immensely sorry. It’s not something I was prepared for, either. Although I realize I perhaps should have been.”
“The Adepti told me it’s been a while since last time, so I get the confusion.” Childe leaned his forehead against Zhongli’s, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath in. “But, anyway, you are back now, and it’s all that matters.”
The god stilled for a moment. “The Adepti?”
Oh, right. There was a big hole in Zhongli’s memory that Childe needed to patch with everything that happened while he had been out. He pushed back a little, snorting lightly at the puzzled look on Zhongli’s face.
“We have a lot of catching up to do since your collapse. Me trying to murder Pantalone, drinking weird tea, getting almost killed in a dream by Xiao, meeting your Adepti, the pet reptiles handbook, Sandrone and philogiston,” he gestured at the lamps around them. “I need to let her know it worked, by the way. And the Tsaritsa too, damn—” he remembered with a gasp.
He turned around to address his forgotten queen, but she was not in the room anymore. The door was left slightly ajar, so Childe figured she must have slipped away to give them some privacy. He looked back at Zhongli, the god looking even more puzzled than before.
“No,” Childe declared suddenly, setting the priorities. “First, you need a warm bath, fresh clothes, and something to eat. Gods, you haven’t eaten in so long, you must be starving. Let me call the servants.”
“I—”
“None of that now,” Childe interrupted him immediately. He stood up, helping Zhongli stand as well, carefully guiding him. He was visibly weak from sleep, his legs unsure. “You do as I say now, and then we will talk. By the way, did you know that Madame Ping is an Adeptus?”
Zhongli blinked incredulously a few times, eyebrows nearly meeting his hairline. “Well—”
Childe shook his head, gesturing at the bathroom door. “Bath now, talk later. Come, I’ll help you.”
During the next hour or two, Childe left Zhongli’s side only for a short minute to ask the servants to bring food to his rooms (which they told him was already requested by the Tsaritsa on her way out). Other than that, he did not, even for a second, let him out of his sight, too scared to do so lest something happened again, although Zhongli reassured him that he was feeling fine and explained that it wouldn’t be possible to return to brumation now having been fully awakened. This is something they needed to talk about, too – about the dragon biology and life cycles to which the Adepti alluded – but for now, Childe tucked it at the back of his mind. There were more important things to do first.
He helped Zhongli in his bath, gently washing his hair and brushing it, and then loosely braiding it for protection like he had often done for Tonya while they were kids. He gave Zhongli some of his old clothes that he found in his drawer, trying to squish down the funny feeling in his belly at seeing the old Archon in Fatui clothes. When the food arrived – chicken broth and a light stew with fresh bread and tea, of course – they sat together by the fireplace, and Childe began the tale.
Explaining everything that had happened wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Childe had to rein himself back a few times so that he wouldn’t stray too far from the course of the story. Moreover, recalling everything made him realize how emotionally exhausting those few days were, and how tired he felt now that everything was more or less resolved. He still couldn’t help the shaking of his hands when he told Zhongli about his collapse and his control over Foul Legacy slipping, and of the first days of his sleep filled with despair. Zhongli listened to the story with patience, not interrupting once. He looked away, cheeks dusted with blush, as he heard how he possessively clung to Childe with his tail. When Childe told the part about drinking the tea that Columbina had stolen from Dottore’s lab, visiting Xiao’s dreamscape, and meeting the Adepti, he was quite surprised that it worked so well, and then he observed the lamps with a curious look when Childe explained their purpose and Capitano’s idea to put philogiston in them for the right light and heat.
“Pet… reptiles guidebook…” Zhongli muttered, holding the little brown book in his hands. Childe finished the story and was cleaning up the dishes, letting the god soak everything in. “Although dragons and illuminated beasts are not pets, I am glad that this is what steered you on the right course.”
Childe found Zhongli’s distaste at being referred to as a “pet” unexpectedly funny. “Seems like biology sometimes does align. Thankfully for us. I was losing my mind at that point, and the Adepti did not help me as much as I hoped they would. No offence,” he added quickly.
The god sighed, putting the book away. “I am preparing myself for quite a… conversation with them once we go back. Or, rather, a sermon.”
“That bad?”
“They are not going to let me live for quite some time, I imagine. And this will be a story that will follow me for centuries,” he said, face sour. “Not without a rightful reason, though. However they are going to tell me off, they will be right in their reprimands.”
Childe smiled, sitting down next to Zhongli and taking his hand in his. The god’s skin was warm again, and his face regained some of its color. “Who could’ve thought that a simple journey to the North would throw the ancient dragon god back into his nature-ordained cycle of life?”
“Probably the ancient dragon god himself, if he is being honest,” Zhongli replied, wincing and looking away. “I should’ve known that giving the gnosis away would mean losing its protection over this part of my nature, too.”
“Hey,” Childe said, lightly grabbing Zhongli’s chin and tipping it so that the god looked back at him. “What happened, happened. Although yes, perhaps we could’ve been a bit more careful, all is well that ends well. We will know next time what to look out for.”
There were words of protest ready at the tip of Zhongli’s tongue, Childe could tell, but the god only nodded.
“Good. Now, is there something else that you should tell me about that dragon-related stuff that can happen now, after your brumation? Something I should be ready for in the near future?”
Zhongli thought for a second, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I might still require a bit more sleep than usual, and my appetite will likely be heightened as well. And I will molt soon, though not until a couple of weeks or months from now,” he added with a slight wince. Childe read about molting in the guidebook and, judging by Zhongli’s reaction, assumed it wasn’t a pleasant experience.
“It’s okay, I’ll help you,” he said immediately. “If I can and you want my help, that is.”
The god smiled lightly and leaned in to place a soft peck on Childe’s lips, but stopped halfway to Childe’s great displeasure. “There’s… there’s also the matter of…”
A quiet knocking interrupted him, and Zhongli straightened up immediately, thrown off. Childe noticed an adorable blush on his cheek, probably from embarrassment at being interrupted in the moment.
“May I come in?” the Tsaritsa’s voice followed. “I just want to check up on you both, it won’t take long.”
Childe cleared his throat. “We will join you in the living room in a second,” he replied, standing up and helping Zhongli to his feet as well.
The Tsaritsa met them with a gentle smile on her face, hand clasped in front of her, not dissimilar to how she looked when she first greeted them when they arrived in Snezhnaya in what felt like months ago. She changed from her traveling robes into a more proper, courtly gown, white as snow with silver embroidery. Columbina stood behind her, almost jumping with excitement at seeing Zhongli all awake and well. There was one more person in the room whom Childe did not notice at first, as she stood at the far back, near the door. Signora’s usual disdainful smirk was gone again, and she nodded at Childe with acknowledgement when their eyes met. He glimpsed something akin to relief passing over her face, but couldn’t be quite sure as she soon slipped back her cold, unmoving mask on.
“Apologies for disappearing so quickly and without a word,” the goddess began. “I wanted to give you both some space and needed to begin necessary preparation as soon as possible.”
“No apologies needed,” Zhongli replied, bowing his head in appreciation. “I want to thank you and your Harbingers for their hard work and cooperation during these trying times. Ajax told me what happened while I was… indisposed. They all have my utmost gratitude.”
Childe had to bite his tongue not to mention that not all of them actually deserved said gratitude.
“It was a good exercise,” Columbina chimed in lightly, silver eyes sparkling behind her headpiece. “Glad to see you are in health, Deus Auri.”
Childe glanced at Zhongli curiously, hearing an unknown title. The god did not say anything, only offered Columbina a reserved smile.
“As much as it saddens me to say it,” the Tsaritsa began, expression pained. “I believe we will all agree that it will be most reasonable that you two return to Liyue as soon as possible. In the present circumstances surrounding your health, Morax.”
“Ah. Yes, that is most reasonable indeed,” Zhongli agreed, nodding.
“Please, do not take this as me trying to get rid of you or being inhospitable. I’d love nothing more than to host you for longer, but I’d simply rather be cautious than endanger you both for more stress and complications.”
“That’s understandable,” Childe reassured her. “I have meant to depart for Liyue right after the Aurora Ball, either way, for the same reason.”
The Tsaritsa nodded. “I have sent word to your master of the estate to resume the work already. I will also lend you my personal imperial vessel for the journey, to ensure it is as quick and comfortable as possible.”
The Northern Star, the crown jewel in the Tsaritsa’s navy, was the fastest non-military ship in Snezhnaya. Childe was a bit taken aback by this offer.
“I appreciate the gesture, Your Highness.”
“Everything should be ready by tomorrow noon, I’ve been told. And although I’d love to speak to you both now for longer, you should both take some well-deserved rest. Even though you, Morax, might be quite sick of sleeping,” the Tsaritsa added with a small smile.
“Yes, rest would be welcome,” Zhongli said. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”
The goddess nodded with contentment. “We will catch up some other time, then, via other means, both of you. For now, I’ll leave you to your rest.”
The queen and her Harbingers left soon (though Columbina not without crushing both Childe and Zhongli in a hug first), leaving Zhongli and Childe alone in the rooms again. Childe slumped down on the sofa, exhaling heavily with relief.
“I’m surprised it went this easily,” he said. “I wanted to propose we set off as soon as possible, but feared she might not like that idea.”
The pillow on the sofa dipped slightly as Zhongli sat next to him. “She is reasonable, I don’t think she would protest, although I imagine she would want to spend more time with us. As I would like to spend more time in your homeland as well.”
Childe cracked one eye open to see Zhongli smiling at him sadly. He reached out to him, pulling the god into an embrace, wishing to make that sadness disappear. “We will figure out what to do for this not to occur again, and then we will come back. There’s plenty of what you haven’t seen yet that I’d like to show you. Or maybe we will simply journey here during spring and summer? It doesn’t get Liyue warm here, but it’s definitely less hazardous than winter.”
Zhongli rested his head against Childe’s shoulder. The feeling of his warmth against his body was almost divine. “Summer does sound more welcoming indeed,” the god agreed. “And you’ve mentioned earlier we might be able to visit your family in Morepesok during that time.”
“True. As I said, though, this is not Liyue summer. Not even Mondstadt summer. Furs are still very much in order.”
“I don’t plan on throwing mine away, do not fret. Now that I know what kinds of furs are actually considered sufficient here.”
Childe chuckled, planting a soft kiss on the top of Zhongli’s head. “Let’s go and really get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”
When they settled in their bed, as close to each other as possible, Childe finally, finally allowed himself to truly let of his worries. With Zhongli’s steady breaths brushing his neck and his heart beating strongly underneath his palm, he, at last, could truly feel calm. They still had their entire journey back to Liyue in front of them, but for now, he let himself not fear for Zhongli’s safety, for the first time since arriving in the capital. Childe buried his face in the soft mass of god’s hair and inhaled, letting the familiar smell fill his lungs and spread through his body in a calming wave.
Zhongli shifted then slightly, moving his head to look into Childe’s eyes.
“It is extremely embarrassing, but I almost forgot… to thank you,” he whispered quietly, golden eyes full of affection and gratitude and love. “So thank you, dearest, for taking care of me. I know it must not have been easy on you.” Zhongli worried his lower lip. “And I’m so—”
He stopped abruptly when Childe put his finger to his lips. The god blinked in confusion.
“No. Don’t say that,” Childe said firmly, softening his words with a smile. “This isn’t your fault, so you don’t dare apologize. And I only did what anyone in my place would do.”
“I’m not sure if taking care of an overgrown dragon like this is something just anyone would do,” Zhongli argued.
“Perhaps not,” Childe agreed, then took a deep breath. “But taking care of someone you love is definitely a normal thing to do.”
The words stunned Zhongli for a second, his eyes searching Childe’s face in wonder before he pushed their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss. Childe melted against it, wrapping his arms tighter around the god, feeling Zhongli shudder against the sensation, the warmth of the kiss spreading through his chest.
“Get some sleep, Zhongli,” he murmured against his lips once the kiss broke. “You’re safe now.”
“You are safe now, too,” Zhongli replied, burying his face in the crook between Childe’s neck and shoulder.
A strange lump formed in Childe’s throat. He swallowed it thickly, shifting slightly to better fit his body against Zhongli’s. Surrounded by the god’s warmth and smell, he fell asleep shortly after, slipping into the soft unconsciousness, for the first time in days finally getting some real rest.
The sun shone brightly on the cloudless sky, glimmering in the calm, dark waves of the bay. The Northern Star looked beautiful, white sails bright against the blue horizon, as the sailors brought the last of the crates on board. In the distance, the captain, a tall woman with bright red hair, shouted orders in thick Snezhnayan in preparations for the departure, her keen eye making sure everything was in its right place.
There was a small gathering at the pier of a handful of people and a couple of palace guards in shining silver armor. The harbor workers eyed them curiously, especially the Harbingers amongst them, but dared not to look too long, overwhelmed by the presence of their goddess. It was rare for her to appear in public outside of the Zapolyarny Palace.
“Once again, I am saddened to see you go so soon, without a proper goodbye,” the Tsaritsa said. Her white cloak swayed heavily on the gentle breeze blowing from the sea. “But I do hope you will come to visit me again in the near future.”
“If that’s an official invitation, I happily accept it,” Zhongli replied politely with a slight nod. He looked much better after a night of good sleep, clad in regal-looking clothes that brought out the air of authority around him. “You are also more than welcome to travel to Liyue. You have not been there in so long, and my own homeland has changed greatly since.”
Mischief sparked in the goddess’s eyes. “Oh, I do hope to have a reason for such a visit very, very soon.”
Childe coughed into his gloved fist. “Thank you, my lady, for your help with everything. And for all the rest, too.”
The Tsaritsa smiled at him. “Anything for my beloved child. I wish you smooth sailing, which better happens soon, if we do not want to anger Captain Irina, and I wouldn’t recommend it. Please, do stay in touch,” she added as she took a step back, letting them board the ship.
They exchanged their goodbyes with the rest of the Harbingers who came with the Tsaritsa. Almost all of them showed up, except for Pantalone and Dottore, which did not surprise Childe one bit. He preferred it that way, too, at least for some time before all the tension finally settled. Pierro nodded at him wordlessly, as did Capitano, reminding him of a possible task at the Chasm that he might be assigned to. Arlecchino’s goodbye was short and efficient, but she also wished to see him soon. Signora and Scaramouche regarded him with curt nods, Signora now back to her usual demeanor of a displeased aristocrat. It was good to see her back in her old spirits, as weird as admitting it was to Childe. Pulcinella embraced Childe in a fatherly manner, promising him to keep taking care of his family and making him promise to take care of himself. Columbina, as always, jumped into his arms, punching the air out of his lungs, silently hugging him tightly like she didn’t want to let him go again, which made his heart ache. The last one of them, Sandrone, stood a bit further away and did not approach Childe, but he did see a small smile on her face instead of her usual scowl that she regarded him with.
So much has changed in such a short time, Childe thought, taking Zhongli’s hand in his, almost not afraid to show his affection in public. The god smiled at him gently, and then they both walked up to the deck of the ship for their journey back home.
The sails of the ship unfurled and quickly filled with the wind, and the sounds of the usual hustle and bustle of the crew resounded in the air. Childe and Zhongli stood for a bit at the ship’s railing, waving goodbye to the Tsaritsa and watching the silhouette of the Snezhnayan capital grow smaller and smaller until it became a thin, dark line on the horizon.
“Home, huh?” Childe began, turning to Zhongli. The wind played with some loose strands of the god’s hair, the sun bringing out the amber of their ends.
“Home indeed, my beloved,” Zhongli replied, closing his eyes and basking in the warmth of the sun. He opened them again when he heard Childe’s chuckle. “What is it?”
“Nothing, just… you just did a very reptile thing. Sorry, I think I’ll never be able to stop thinking about those little things this way!” he apologized when Zhongli lightly slapped his arm in a playful manner.
“I’m not a mere reptile. I am an illuminated beast, a graceful, ancient dragon,” Zhongli declared, rising his chin high.
Childe bowed deeply at that, arms outstretched. “I sincerely apologize for referring to your illuminated majesty as a reptile. It might happen again, but I will apologize again, if that’s what your ancient highness requires to forgive my grave offense.”
Zhongli leveled him with a stare, very badly hiding his amusement. “You’re incorrigible.”
“And yet you love me,” Childe grinned cheekily at him, taking a step closer.
“And yet I love you,” Zhongli confirmed, closing the gap between them and giving him a much, much quicker kiss than Childe would like it to be.
He smiled against the god’s lips and then remembered their interrupted conversation from last evening. “So, now that you’ve woken up from your brumation and your lifecycle is kicked off again… what follows next? What’s in store for a dragon’s spring?”
Zhongli took a deep breath, face turning serious. “Just like I told you yesterday, I will need to shed my old skin first,” he began slowly. “It’s called molting, and although not painful, it’s not a pretty process. Very itchy, too.”
Childe narrowed his eyes at the sudden change in Zhongli’s demeanor. “Okay, that I remember, and offered my help with,” he dragged his response, indicating that he was waiting for more.
“And then… Well, then, I…” Suddenly, Zhongli’s cheeks got almost furiously red, and he looked away, avoiding Childe’s eyes.
“Zhongli?” Childe prodded, alarmed, the sirens in his mind ready to blare. “Zhongli, what’s next?”
The god swallowed. It took him a longer moment to finally choke out the answer.
“The mating season.”
Notes:
Umm... sooo... ta-daaaaa! here it is, the final chapter of Pet Reptiles Guidebook! Haha!
First of all, I'm so very sorry this took more than three months to finish. I hadn't realized how difficult it is to write the last chapter of a longfic like this. I struggled a lot to come up with a satisfying wrap up and it took me many rewrites before I was finally content with the final scenes of it.
I have also been, yet again, struck with the AO3 writer curse, which this time included things like having to move places, almost being laid off from work, and having my old, childhood pet cross the rainbow bridge. But alas, I couldn't just leave the fic unfinished for any longer, so I kept adding to the chapter bit by bit everyday until it was finished.Secondly, I'd like to also ruminate a bit on the fic as a whole. My God, what a journey writing it was. My first actual longfic! Almost 125k words (almost the length of the Return of the King)! Almost two full years! I've learned so much about writing when working on this fic, and learned so much about myself, too. I've grown a lot as well during that time. It's a small miracle that I managed to finish it, really, and get it to the point it is now at. It was supposed to be 5 chapters long at first, 50k words at most! I'm so incredibly proud of myself and of this story. It's not perfect by far, and it's not even remotely close in quality to my fav fics, but it's mine! :) Silly, a bit cheesy, cranky here and there, but mine.
But most of all, I have NOT expected, not in my wildest dreams, how warmly you will embrace this silly story of mine. I was, and continue to be, overwhelmed and BLOWN AWAY by it. All the kudos, the comments, the bookmarks, you have NO IDEA what it means to me, how much strength you've given me with your kind words during my moments of doubt. I'm a very doubtful person when it comes to my abilities, so thank you for this warm reception and for the love you've shown this story and myself. If there's one thing I'm hoping for to achieve with this story, is that it gives someone some warmth on a dark night, and that it inspires someone to give writing their own ideas a shot. You can do it! If I could, so can you :)
And last but definitely not least - thank you again, dear reader. Yes, you! Whether you've been here since chapter one or just stumbled across this work today, thank you. Form the bottom of my heart.
I hope you've enjoyed this last chapter, and the story as a whole. Let me know, of course!!!! You might have also noticed Something, and you might expect Something to come in Some time... a wedding maybe... or Something... hehe.(I might need a bit more time before I come back to regular writing, but if you'd like to read more from me, check out my other stories! I'll be focusing on my Cyberpunk story next, which is currently on hiatus, but I might publish a one shot in the meantime just to feel the groove again :))
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