Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Zapolyarny palace door thudded closed behind Childe, and then he was alone. He’d almost forgotten how subzero these winters got. Even in the middle of the bustling capital city, the air was biting and numbing. There were snow flurries everywhere and several inches of snow crunched under his feet. The weight of his coat felt familiar and comfortable on his shoulders. Not like Natlan where he’d felt almost naked in just a loose shirt and pants. The heat was unbearable there.

Maybe the Tsaritsa would send him on an assignment in Dragonspine next time. Then at least he wouldn’t melt.

Childe tilted his head back and reached for the snow flurries, letting them rest in his palm. Their voices were quiet and gentle.

Welcome home, Childe.

He smiled.

"It's good to be home."

Leaving the Tsaritsa's palace behind, Childe meandered in the direction of the train station. The train heading for Morepesok left in a few hours, so he took his time to stop by the stores. It had taken him a while to feel comfortable waltzing into unfamiliar shops and dropping a lot of mora, since he’d grown up frugally and didn’t know what quality materials even meant. But now he didn’t even think much of it–the shopkeepers were all delighted to have a high-paying customer, and many of them were more than willing to teach him the ins and outs. Anything to please a servant of the Archon.

Being a Harbinger definitely had its perks.

The deference to his position was kind of weird though, and he'd never really quite gotten used to it. At home, in his house and home town, he was just Ajax. To the other Harbingers, he was the annoying little brother. To everyone outside of Snezhnaya, he was Fatui, suspicious and mistrusted and watched at every step, but oddly charming. All of this felt natural to him.

But many of the Fatui and the citizens of Snezhnaya treated him like royalty and it made him uncomfortable. So he put them at ease as best he could and that felt better.

"Are you from Iirkutsk?" He asked one shop keeper as he purchased a set of high quality crystal paint brushes for Tonia. "Your accent is beautiful. I love the sunsets down there.”

She smiled and relaxed visibly as she finished wrapping the paint brushes. “I’m from Borovsk but very close! You have been? I suppose you’ve probably been everywhere. My Lord Harbinger,” she added, flushing a bit.

He smiled back at her. “I do travel a lot, although I never get as much time to explore as I would like. What should I make top of my list to see next time I’m in the area?”

The woman’s face unfocused a little, and he recognized the expression as one he often wore in his own heart: that of missing home. “About two hours north of Borovsk there’s a frozen waterfall–any of the locals can tell you where to find it. It’s beautiful anytime, but if you have clear weather, be sure to go at night; it reflects the stars and you’ll feel like you’ve Ascended.”

Childe’s heart ached to see a view like that. “May we both get an opportunity to see it soon,” he said, and thanked her for the paint brushes. If he didn’t pass through there soon, maybe he’d go on his next break. He took note of it in his journal.

By the time he’d reached the train station, he’d collected quite a few packages, and added them to his boxes that were already there waiting for him. He packed light, himself–all you really needed on the road was mora. But he couldn’t resist whenever he found something special that made him think of his family.

And clothes. He liked clothes.

It was a smaller train, since it was heading to the smaller coastal towns of Snezhnaya. A couple of Childe’s Mirror Maidens were on the train as well, also heading home, and he waved to them. When he was called back to the palace, they would likely be as well.

There was a private car at the front of the train for elite guests, and Childe had it all to himself. The Mirror Maidens could’ve joined him but they chose not to. Several of his other elite Fatui–the Agents, Cicin Mages, and Mirror Maidens–did often joined him. He considered them friends—they’d make bets and talk Fatui gossip—and those train rides were always more enjoyable. He was glad he rarely traveled with the other Harbingers though. They were boring at best, and misery the rest of the time.

The train started and quickly left the Capital behind. Wind pelted the windows, and the snow was so thick it was impossible to see anything. Even with a blazing fireplace in the train car, the air was chilly. Much of the expanse between the Capital and the other coastal cities was in an almost constant state of blizzards and could be quite dangerous.

Childe pulled his coat tighter and curled up into a bolted-down chair by the fire. He meant just to warm up, and then he’d work on a puzzle device he’d brought with him. Instead his long blink never reopened and he fell asleep.

“My Lord Harbinger.”

Childe stirred and rubbed a bleary eye. “Ah! Good morning.”

“It is well past midday, My Lord,” the train steward replied evenly.

“It’s morning whenever I wake,” Childe said back, “regardless of the time of day. I suppose we have arrived in Morepesok?”

“Your possessions have all been delivered to your house. A carriage is prepared for you when you are prepared to leave. I wouldn’t have woken you except the Mirror Maiden insisted.”

Such deference, it was almost a little ridiculous. It was clear they were prepared to hold the train all day if he desired. “Skip the carriage,” he said. “I’ll walk.” Where had they even found such an escort in Morepesok?

The steward looked as if he thought this was a questionable idea, but he didn’t argue and left to relay the order. Childe’s thick coat was warm and dry now, and he fastened it tight, and wrapped his scarf around his neck an extra time. He’d already traded his normal boots for his fur-lined leather ones. Then his gloves and his bow. On to brave the snow.

He was tempted to change his mind when he stepped off the train and the subzero temperature slammed into his body. He really had forgotten how cold it was here—he’d been gone for too long. But his earring was burning against his skin, and he felt his resolve solidify–when had he ever backed down from something as trivial as the weather?

He took off in the wrong direction, outside and around the small town. How long had it been since he’d seen it? A couple years maybe? He couldn’t quite remember. Time had never been one of his strong suits. Time meant you were on a schedule, bending to the wills of others, or forcing yourself towards deadlines, or focusing too much on the future. He loved Liyue but they had definitely cared far too much for future appointments and deadlines.

Childe lived for the present.

The snow reached up to his thighs as he got deeper into the forest, and he could feel his muscles starting to complain about the effort. “Come now, you’ve grown too weak,” he said. “You call yourself a Harbinger and you’re slowing down because of a little snow? Skirk would be ashamed.”

He missed her.

It was over an hour before he finally located the wolves. Their tracks weren’t hard to find, as they often roamed near the town looking for scraps, but in this weather they were sheltering in place. A layer of snow had covered their sleeping forms, and there was only slight movement as they breathed. It wasn’t clear how many there were or even where one body started and the next stopped, but none of that mattered. Once he’d cemented their location in his head, he pulled back a proper distance.

Childe reached over his shoulder for his recurve bow and an arrow, and then pulled off the glove on his right hand and tucked it in his pocket. His skin screamed against the biting air and his fingertips were already white with the lack of blood. He attached the string to the end of the bow and then docked the arrow, testing to see if the string was too loose or too tight. It felt normal? He didn’t feel comfortable assessing the status of his bow yet, but he wouldn’t learn unless he kept at it. He’d either be right or deal with the consequences.

He looked up, smiling into the sky. And then he howled.

The wolves bolted at him a lot faster than he’d expected, and that made Childe’s smile widen. The sound of the clapping bowstring was caught up by the wind and swirled around them as his first arrow took off, vanishing into the snow near a wolf in the back. There looked to be about four that were running for him, although he could see a couple others hanging back. Probably the pups.

He released three more arrows before they got to him–his aim was terrible but he was at least fast. Each had slammed into the snow and vanished, further away from the targets than he would have liked. The wolves circled him, growling and posturing threateningly. They looked hungry.

“Come at me, boys,” he said, grinning, and pulled another arrow back to his cheek.

This arrow landed true, smacking into a tree close to one of the wolves, and it jumped away, startled. It immediately returned to circling him, but the more arrows he released, the more skittish the animals became. The angrier they became. Their jaws were dripping saliva. One of them dashed in and he smacked it away with his bow. It snarled at him. Now that the alpha had initiated, two more ventured close. Childe swung his bow at them again, hard. He felt bone give on one of them and it whimpered. He took one last arrow and threw it at one of them, hitting a back leg and injuring it.

“Time to play!”

He dropped his bow and launched himself at the alpha.

His heavy clothing slowed him down but it also kept injury to a minimum. The wolves swarmed him, biting and clawing, but Childe’s thick layers of leather held true. One got a hold of his shoulder and yanked down, and he lost his grip on the alpha. They leapt on top of him, going for his face, his throat. He threw his arms in the way to shield his exposed vitals. For a moment all he could see was fangs and it flooded him with terror and excitement.

He laughed.

One of the wolves got too close and he headbutted it, feeling bone give again. Another got within reach and he used his own teeth to rip part of its nose off. They leapt away, howling and whimpering, and he leapt for the alpha again, this time managing to get a good grip on it. Then, leveraging against the ground with his knee, he twisted the alpha’s neck.

The snap was satisfying.

When the other wolves realized what happened, they ran, collecting the pups and racing up the mountainside. They stopped and looked back only once, and then vanished over the horizon. Childe looked down at the alpha slumped on his lap, and saw its eyes still moving, although it’s spine was most definitely severed. Oops. A water dagger formed in his hand, and he thrust it up through the alpha’s jaw and out of its skull. Now it was dead.

“I promised you that would be the last time you bested me,” Childe panted. “Sorry it took me so long to come back.” Seven years. The last times he’d been home, the pack wasn’t there, and before that he was too much of a coward. But this time, they were running from him instead of the other way around.

The trip back felt like flying in comparison, despite the body and trail of blood he was dragging behind him. There was a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before, and he’d all but forgotten the cold. Home was so delightful.

“Hello Daniil,” Childe said brightly, shrugging the wolf off his shoulder and slamming it down onto the table. “Got something for you. Your beard is looking fabulous by the way.”

Daniil was about ten years older than Childe and had taken over the Butchery and Deli from his mother some years before. The beard was new though and it looked rather excellent. It had a few tiny fibers of gray in it that added a sense of pepper-colored dignity. Somehow Childe didn’t think gray would look as charming in his ginger hair.

“Ajax? Is that a…wolf?”

He really loved it when people just called him a name instead of a title. It didn’t matter which one: Ajax, Childe, Tartaglia, they were all him. Daniil was also one of the few people in Morepesok that didn’t seem to hold a personal grudge against Childe and it felt nicer coming from him.

“Mmm, indeed. I don’t think my parents would enjoy me skinning this by the house, but I’d like some of the meat for a recipe. Could I come by tomorrow to pick it up? I’ll pay you for all the labor and everything of course. I’ll take what I want and you can have the rest.”

Daniil still looked shocked, but he was able to shake it off enough to finally respond. “Um, yeah I can do that. You sure?”

Childe smiled at him. “Very sure. I’ll see you tomorrow. Is your family doing well?”

“My daughters are growing up nicely,” Daniil responded, smiling in return. “See you tomorrow.”

It was dark by the time Childe finally reached home. The house was tucked in the corner of Morepesok, largely hidden by trees but with an incredible view of the frozen river. It looked both smaller and older than he remembered—the thick logs seemed more scuffed and warped, the windows more scraped. The tetherball pole was still standing strong by the freezer shed, although the rope looked like it was on it’s last fibers.

Light flickered on one of the frosted windows, framing a small face. It warmed Childe’s soul, and his smile came easy. He waved. The face vanished and then reappeared moments later as the door was thrown open and three figures tackled him all at once: Tonia, Anthon, and Teucer. Childe hugged them all and then ushered them back inside quickly before they froze.

“Sorry it took so long to come home—no I don’t know how long I can stay—of course I’ll play tetherball—yes the packages are for you—I missed you all too—” The questions were an onslaught and he could no longer keep up with the answers. He threw back his head and laughed in delight.

The warmth of the inside of the house made his skin itch, and he started peeling off layers before he melted. Tonia hugged him again. “I missed you,” she said, voice quiet under the din of the boys’ chatter. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Childe kissed the top of her head. “I’ve missed you most of all,” he whispered back.

“Welcome home, Ajax.”

He looked up to find his mother smiling at him, arms held up for a hug. He swept her up and buried his face in her shoulder. “Hi Mother.” He towered over Miroslava now, but somehow still felt small—a little boy no matter how far away he may seem.

His father, Luka, was there too, but didn’t say anything.

“The kids have been inconsolable ever since the train steward delivered your things earlier,” Miroslava told Childe. “I expect you to make up for the headache you have caused and put them all to bed in a timely manner.”

Childe laughed. “Of course.”

“Back to the table, children,” Miroslava said, her voice saying this was not a suggestion. “Give Ajax some space to settle in and he’ll join us when he’s ready.” Teucer whined but followed Anthon and Tonia back to the kitchen where the smell of dinner was wafting into the air. Miroslava went too, to Childe’s chagrin.

“Hey, Father.”

“Welcome home.” Luka’s voice was stiff.

Childe finished peeling off his last few layers, and was just finishing the ties on his boots when his father said, “Is that blood?”

Childe looked down and found that there was indeed blood on the left shoulder of his shirt. He lifted the neck of his shirt and pulled back to look.

“Oh.” He laughed. “Missed that.”

Luka stared at it for several beats and then said, “Well come on then, I’ll patch you up.”

“I can do it myself,” Childe began, but Luka had already started down the stairs. Childe followed apprehensively; there was a reason he had not brought the wolf home, made sure to clean it’s blood from his coat before arriving; and it was because of this.

While Luka gathered supplies, Childe pulled off his shirt and inspected the wounds. When the wolf had bitten his shoulder, it must have made it all the way through his coat. He hadn’t even felt it. The wounds didn’t look deep but were still bleeding.

The silence was palpable as Luka cleaned the wounds. The alcohol stung like hell and Childe had to fight not to cringe. Caring for his own wounds was easier because he could prepare for the moments of pain.

“If only the Hydro Archon had gifted me healing water instead of a spear,” Childe said, knowing that he was pushing Luka’s buttons and doing it anyway.

“If only,” his father echoed.

Childe smiled. This was not the best way to start their reunion, he knew, but he was feeling petty.

When Luka gave him the okay, Childe stood and stretched out the shoulder for a moment, testing the strength of the stitches.

“Is it a bite?” Luka asked.

“Yeah. Wolf.”

“…Did you kill it?”

“Yes.”

Childe waited for a moment to see if any more questions were forthcoming, but his father just busied himself with putting away the first aid supplies. “I’m going to find a fresh shirt,” Childe said, starting up the stairs. “Thanks!”

Luka just grunted and Childe left to find a shirt somewhere in his boxes.

“…and one of the adepti is so grumpy that if you trespass on his mountain uninvited, he’ll imprison you in amber forever!”

“So they are made of stone,” Anthon said stubbornly, and Childe laughed.

“I suppose you’re right, little brother,” he said, tousling Anthon’s hair. “Now it’s time for bed or Mother might kick me out again.”

“Can we play with Mr. Cyclops tomorrow?” Teucer wanted to know from the other half of the bed. “Please! And all of our new toys?”

Childe laughed. “After school, Teucer, but of course I will. And, if you go to bed nicely, I’ll even walk you to school in the morning. Can you do that for me?”

“Ugh. Fine.” Teucer pouted but let Childe tuck him in nicely. He kissed them both and headed upstairs to find Tonia waiting for him with a board game set up called Tri-Peg.

“Sit,” she said. “Today’s the day I beat you.”

She didn’t win, but she’d certainly gotten better. Childe glowed with pride. He didn’t mean to play favorites, but Tonia—Tonia was his favorite.

“I was so excited to kick your butt,” Tonia groaned. “I need someone better to practice with. Anthon’s just not very good competition.”

Childe wracked his brain. “Isn’t there that one kid, Matvey or something? I remember him being really good at strategy games.”

“Matvey is like twenty-three or something now,” Tonia said. “I can’t hang out with someone that old.”

“I’m only twenty-one,” Childe said, “and you like hanging out with me. It’s not that different.”

Tonia had an evil grin. “Well you’re also old, and who said I like hanging out with you?”

He lunged for her.

They were in the midst of a tickle fight, Tonia squealing happily, when Luka’s voice interrupted, “Stop that. You’re not children anymore.”

Tonia stopped but wasn’t happy about it. She brushed her hair out of her face, then folded her arms and huffed. “Well, if I’m not a child anymore, can I drink Fire Water all by myself now?”

“No.”

Tonia stuck her tongue out at Luka. “Whatever,” she said. “I want to play another game of Tri-Peg.”

Childe still won, but it was delightfully funny to see how frustrated Tonia got.

Chapter Text

Walking through the town the next morning, Childe almost regretted his offer of walking the kids to school. Not for his sake—he didn’t care—but he didn’t want to cause trouble for his siblings.

Teucer was singing happily on his shoulders–which hurt the injured one a lot actually, but Childe didn’t have the heart to refuse. Anthon was skipping ahead, and Tonia walked at his side, holding his hand. She was probably too old for that now–she should be holding the hand of a crush or something, but Childe liked it and let her do it anyway.

Teucer seemed blind to the looks they got, but Tonia was not.

“I wish they wouldn’t do that,” she said grumpily. “They act like you’re going to turn into an Abyss monster at any second.”

Childe laughed. “They’re just afraid of people that are stronger than them,” he said. “Abyss monsters are nothing. Don’t let them irritate you, Tonia, that just means they’ve won.”

“I’m a teenager,” Tonia said matter-of-factly. “It’s only natural that I care what people think. I haven’t grown out of it yet.”

“Irritate them instead,” Childe suggested. “Then you’ve won.”

Tonia grinned at this thought and Childe could see the wheels turning in her head the rest of the walk. Maybe this hadn't been a waste after all.

Nytva was the biggest coastal town around Morepesok. It had three large factories, just a few of the pieces contributing to the massive export capacity of Snezhnaya. They were largely machine-driven, but required frequent maintenance, supervision, and improvement from the locals, and had been a huge boost to Nytva itself and the surrounding towns. Much as Childe disliked Dottore, he had to admit that the other Harbinger had had an amazing effect on Snezhnaya’s economy. As he stepped off the train a brief hour away from home, he was amazed how much things had changed. The buildings were sturdier, better-insulated, they’d built better storm walls to help stem off the worst of the blizzards. The shops were fuller, cheaper–there was more food in the freezers and even more firewood available for sale. It was incredible.

He hadn’t meant to browse the shop windows but it was irresistible. There was even a massive field dedicated to ice sculpture displays; they’d never used to have much time for such artistic endeavors. Eventually he headed to the blacksmith’s shop, who pointed him to a weapon’s specialist, who then suggested a woman in town named Sasha who was supposedly an excellent bow hunter. An hour later he had finally found—he hoped—the right door.

“Who are you?” the woman asked blankly, staring at him across the threshold.

“I’m looking for someone who knows what the hell to do with a bow,” he said, “and I was told you were the girlie I needed.”

“’Girlie,’?” she repeated flatly. “You are definitely at the wrong place.”

Childe grinned. “No, I think I’m exactly at the right place. Whatever responsibilities you have, I can pay someone to take care of them for the day, and I’ll pay you generously for your time as well.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes. “Who are you again?”

“Ajax,” Childe said. “I live in Morepesok.”

“You’re Tartaglia,” she said. “I’m not an idiot. What do you really want?”

He held up his gloved hands in surrender. “Tartaglia is also one of my names. I really am just here for some archery practice. I promise. I don’t want any trouble.”

"And why does one of the best warriors in Snezhnaya need archery practice?"

He put a hand behind his head and gave an embarrassed laugh. “I'm actually rather terrible at it and I don't like being bad at things.”

“You’re pretty pathetic if you need help from someone like me.”

That was just the kind of thing Skirk would say, and Childe grinned. This was already going so well.

"My patheticness is here to be instructed," he said shamelessly.

She shut the door in his face.

Childe stood there for a moment, shocked, and also rather disappointed. So close. Bow was the one weapon Skirk hadn’t been able to teach him, simply because they didn’t have the resources to keep making new arrows. How on earth was he supposed to find a decent teacher? He'd already tried in Zapolyarny, but there weren’t many Fatui bow-users due to the development of rifles years ago, and those that did exist relied heavily on elementally-infused aimed shots. He could do that. Before he’d successfully managed his disappointment and decided what he wanted to do next, the door opened again. Sasha strode out and past him, now bundled up in a heavy leather coat and tall boots, and with a long bow in tow. He stared at her back.

“Are you coming or not?” she snapped, and he happily followed.

She led him outside of town, getting right to business. “What kind of bow do you use?” she asked. “Do you buy your arrows or make them? What’s your maintenance regimen? What training have you already had? What weaknesses are you aware of?”

He answered as best he could–what the hell kind of maintenance regimen did a bow need?--and the frown on her face only deepened as they walked. “Aren’t you supposed to be a, you know, good fighter or some nonsense?” she asked. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing with a bow,” Childe corrected. “If you gave me literally any other existing weapon, I could defeat just about anything except a god.” Except Aether! The thought filled him with excitement.

“Arrogant much?”

“It’s not arrogance, it’s true.”

Sasha finally stopped at a large open space where multiple targets were set up at various heights and distances. She knocked the snow off of the closest one. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

“You’re not going to demonstrate first?”

Sasha broke off a loose piece of wood from the target, tossed it, and shot it out of the air in such a fluid motion that Childe’s mouth fell open. “You look stupid,” Sasha said. “Now show me.”

He hadn’t even drawn the first arrow back before she was manhandling his arms, his shoulder, fixing the position of his fingers. Childe let his muscles be loose and fluid, falling back into the training pattern effortlessly. It felt good to be instructed again, to actually be learning things.

“You’re not aiming straight at all,” Sasha said, standing back to look at him and frowning. “Is your vision off in one eye? Weaker muscles on one side? And what the hell is wrong with your shoulder?”

“It’s just an injury, it will heal. I’m left-handed, does that matter?”

She made an exasperated noise and took the bow out of his hand and shoved it into his other hand. “Forget everything you know,” she said.

The hours passed quickly until Sasha finally said she refused to go any further because his shoulder was too tense, and refused to listen to any protests. She taught him a few basics of bow maintenance, and then said suddenly, “I don’t know how to use a bow efficiently in a battle or anything. I’m just a hunter, and most of the things I hunt aren’t actively trying to kill me back or outwit me. I’m not going to have Fatui knocking down my door if you die or something, right?”

Childe laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m extremely hard to kill. And whenever someone finally manages to do the job, the other Harbingers will probably celebrate with a festival bigger than Krsnik Noc. You’d probably get a medal.”

“They really like you, huh.”

“I charm everyone I meet.”

She rolled her eyes. Childe gave her the promised mora, and then asked if he could come back tomorrow. She studied him with a frown. “Don’t forget to bring extra mora for whoever you’re paying to do my real job.”

Only Luka was home when Childe returned. The older man was in the shed, sawing a chunk of ice into smaller blocks for the freezer. Childe added the wolf meat he’d picked up from Daniil to the freezer, then dropped his bow against the wall and breathed with delight.

“You’re meticulous as ever,” he noted of Luka’s work, and then announced, “I’ve been in Nytva! I’ve finally found someone that can teach me some archery.”

Luka frowned. “You don’t already know enough ways to kill people?”

Childe laughed. “The ways I don’t know are the ones that will kill me in return. Anything that makes me stronger is a good thing. It makes the fights that much more exciting.”

“Preying on the weak is that exciting?”

Childe’s smile faded. It was an age-old debate they’d had ever since he’d climbed out of the Abyss. He lived for fighting, but his father just couldn’t understand that it wasn’t the same as being a bully—or a murderer.

Luka had been the one to inspire his love of adventuring. When they’d gone ice-fishing together, just the two of them, Luka had passed the hours by telling Childe of all the places he’d traveled to as a younger man, the things he’d discovered, puzzles of the world that he’d solved. The sense of adventure was deeply alluring to Childe, and that’s why he’d ventured out to the forest that day in the first place–desperate for something exciting.

Maybe he should’ve realized the significance of taking a sword with him, when his pacifist father never had. But it wasn’t a conscious decision. That thrill for the fight didn't hit him full-force until the Abyss. Until Skirk.

He remembered it vividly. Darkness surrounded him, the ground barely visible. The shrieks of nearing beasts and monsters flooded his senses and petrified his soul, he couldn’t move, he was so afraid–and then Skirk had appeared before him, seeming to emerge from the darkness as if it belonged to her. She grabbed his chin and yanked him up so their eyes were mere inches apart.

“Do you wanna fight or do you wanna die?” she demanded. “Those are your only options and I don’t have time to babysit you.”

“I don’t wanna die,” young Ajax whispered.

“Then let’s go kill some monsters,” Skirk said, and her voice was oddly happy. She took his fingers and wrapped them around the hilt of her own sword, eyeing him as she let go to make sure he could handle the weight. Assured that Ajax wouldn’t immediately impale himself, she turned and took off running, ready to fight the beasts of the Abyss with nothing more than her bare hands.

Ajax had never seen anything so incredible.

He’d never understood himself until he’d met Skirk. And no one had understood him since he'd left her.

Childe watched his father now, knowing there was really nothing he could say to make Luka understand. He had already tried. "You think so little of me.” Childe leaned back against the wall of the shed, arms folded. “I used to be your favorite, once. Have I really fallen so far in your eyes?”

Luka was slightly shorter than Childe, but was thick and strong from years of labor; so when he set down his saw to face Childe fully, his presence loomed and Childe was almost intimidated. “I don’t know who you are anymore, Ajax. You will always be loved, but I cannot accept what you have chosen to do with your life. I’m sorry that your mother and I failed you.”

The words should have been angry, or pleading, or threatening, but instead they were just sad.

Childe stood straight and uncrossed his arms. “I never asked you to accept me,” he said flatly. “I don’t even expect you to understand me. But if serving the Tsaritsa means I’ve lost your respect, then I can’t really say I want it anyway. I’m proud of what I do, and I’m honored by who I serve. Giving me to the Fatui was not failing me. It gave me everything I wanted. I’m sorry I didn’t turn out how you hoped.”

He picked up his bow and left.

Luka was there the day Childe had made a name for himself in the Fatui.

From the moment Childe crawled out of the Abyss, things had been different. He couldn’t—didn’t know how—to explain how drastically it had changed him. For them, only three days had passed. They thought he had just been wandering around, lost, and why should anything have changed?

And he was lost, but for him it was months. For him, it was hell. For him, it was darkness and pain and fear.

But hell had awakened his soul, and he would give anything to go back.

He could hear his parents talking at night about how worried they were. They talked about Ajax, how he seemed so arrogant now, so unhinged and angry and dangerous. How he was always getting into fights, how the light had gone out of his eyes, and what should they do with him?

But he wasn’t Ajax. Ajax was dead. Ajax had fallen into the Abyss, and someone entirely different had crawled out.

He was restless. His hands were made for combat, and in Morepesok, there wasn’t enough. He’d pick fights with anyone that would rise to the occasion but it still wasn’t enough. His purpose had been given to him and then almost immediately ripped away again, and it made him crazy.

But then they had jumped him, and part of fighting was finishing the fight. You didn’t just hit an Abyss monster a few times and then walk away—you made sure they wouldn’t follow you back, you made sure they couldn’t follow you back. In the Abyss, you killed or you were dinner.

But they weren't Abyss monsters, and he’d beaten them too close to death. The people of Morepesok had had enough, and his parents were forced to make a decision.

Luka and Childe were on the train to Zapolyarny the next day.

The Fatui’s military initiation exercise was not supposed to be a fair fight. It was supposed to beat you into submission, make you realize how small and pathetic you were so you’d listen to authority and keep your head down. But all Childe could see was the huge men with the heavy electro-infused gauntlets and cryo gunners, the women with refraction mirrors and glass cages made of hydro, and he knew he was finally in the right place.

He remembered taking down the last Mirror Maiden, her mirrors shattered and her arm snapped behind her back. He was grinning in pure ecstasy—this was it, this was everything. The Fatui is where he needed to be. He’d looked around to make sure he hadn’t overlooked any opponents, and he saw his father. He opened his mouth to call out, proud of how well he had done in the initiation, excited, his blood pumping and his smile wide—

Luka was horrified.

Childe erased his smile. He closed his mouth. He did not call out, he did not ask for praise. He stood. He walked out of the arena, back stiff and head held high. It didn’t matter. He told himself it didn’t matter.

Hell and combat would be his companions now.

Chapter Text

True to his word, Childe played with Mr. Cyclops and the new toys with Teucer as soon as the kids returned from school. Anthon waited impatiently, asking every three minutes if they could go play tetherball yet. Finally Teucer relented and released Childe, and he went to play ball with Anthon and Tonia.

Anthon was rather terrible, but his fighting spirit was strong and he was screaming challenges and insults the whole time and giggling at everything that happened. Tonia’s expression was fixed in a permanent state of concentration, although it made her body tense and stiff so her hits were always too hard. And Childe just played and loved everything about his little siblings.

“Ajax?”

Childe turned to find his older sister Yulia standing at the cusp of the hill, watching him with surprise. Anthon took this moment of distraction to pelt the ball into Childe’s face.

“Hey!” Childe leapt at Anthon and tackled him to the ground, the younger boy giggling and squealing as Childe pretended to wrestle him down; but oh no, Anthon found a weak spot and wiggled away. Tonia glared down at both of them, impatient to get on with the game.

“Come on,” she insisted.

“Go on without me,” Childe said to her, standing and kissing the top of her head. “No, don’t worry! I’ll be back. Just going to say hi.” Tonia harrumphed but didn’t protest further.

Yulia hadn’t moved. “I didn’t know you were back,” she said, looking a little alarmed at the prospect. “I thought you were in…Natlan?”

“I was, and I’ll be back. But things are wrapped up for now, so the Tsaritsa sent me home!”

“Oh. Um. Good to see you. Are mother and father home?”

She didn’t even wait for an answer, just walked past and disappeared into the house.

Childe stared after her for a moment, feeling hurt and torn. He honestly shouldn’t have expected much better. The older ones were like his parents—wary, fearful, as if he might explode if he got too close.

While traveling, he always thought of home and how desperately he wanted to see Tonia, Anthon, and Teucer. He thought of home-cooked meals and snowy hills and laughter. But when the Tsaritsa told him to go home, he was filled with apprehension. When he was away, it was easier to ignore the fact that to more than half of the household, he was a barely-tolerated existence.

It’s not that other people of Teyvat thought much of him either, but they didn’t matter. His family did. They were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Them and the Tsaritsa. And fighting.

Childe looked back to Tonia and Anthon, and knew just what would cheer him up. He leaned down. The snow had thin layers of ice, just enough to be perfect for packing. He scooped up a handful, packed it into a ball in his hands, and chucked it at Anthon’s chest.

Their smiles made everything worth it.

“Tell us more about Liyue,” Miroslava said from her place by the fire. “Obviously they aren’t made of rock and don’t eat rocks—”

“Mother,” Anthon complained.

“—but what sorts of people are they?” Miroslava finished, smiling. Apparently Anthon’s hope for stone people had become a source of endless teasing.

Childe smiled, thinking of Liyue and how much he had enjoyed it. “Liyue Harbor may be the city of contracts, but they’ve used it as a foundation for creation. There are so many stores, selling everything from kites to perfume to rare gemstones. The food is incredible. There’s a chef named Xiangling that makes the most bizarre dishes, and somehow they always taste amazing. I saw an opera that was absolutely riveting. They take the beauty of their city very seriously. Every year they do a Lantern Rite festival, and the whole city transforms into fireworks and lights and games. They’re just—rich. Not in mora, but in being. But mora too."

Yulia hadn’t stayed long. Childe had made his wolf stew recipe for dinner, which everyone loved. Now Teucer was in bed and the rest of them—Childe, Miroslava, Luka, Tonia, and Anthon—were sitting by the fire, snacking on breaded fish from the freezer. Childe and Tonia had a game spread out between them that Anthon had given up on half an hour ago.

“Do you go do all that stuff with your soldiers?” Anthon asked.

“My Fatui troops?” What a laughable idea—they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves. “No. It’s more fun with the locals. I had this good friend Zhongli—he’s a funeral parlor consultant and knows a lot about old history and tradition. We’d go to all the restaurants together and try every dish. He had a story for everything—flowers, architecture, business models, fairy tales and myths. He basically planned and put together the entire Rite of Parting for Rex Lapis using traditions from thousands of years ago. Incredibly interesting man.”

“History is boring,” Tonia noted as she took her turn at their game.

“It’s all in how it’s told, little sister.” Childe thought of Zhongli and how every word that came out of the Archon’s mouth was intelligent and poetic, deliberately chosen and full of layers of intention. “We don’t really have good storytellers here, not like that. Everything I tell you is just collected ideas from memory but it's not real storytelling. People like Zhongli—when he talks, you can see everything in your mind’s eye with perfect clarity, like a play. His stories are things he knows with certainty and depth as if he’d lived every moment of history himself.”

I’m an idiot, Childe concluded, feeling ashamed of how thoroughly he’d been fooled. He paused his thoughts to take a turn at his and Tonia's game.

“The other person I did things with was a Traveler, I mentioned him in a letter I think. He wasn’t from Liyue either, so we tried out a lot of new things together. He’s a little younger than me, but he’s traveled so much and been part of so many things. He’s an Honorary Knight in Mondstadt. I got to spar with him, too. He is good. It was exhilarating—one of the best fights I’ve ever had.” I’ll fight you again one day, my friend. “If the Tsaritsa ever doesn’t need me anymore, I want to go traveling with Aether.”

“Aether?” his father asked suddenly, voice sharp.

“Yes?”

“Isn’t Aether the person that killed La Signora?” Luka asked.

Everyone looked at Childe. “Uh. Haha.” Childe put a hand behind his head and gave an awkward laugh. “That’s not quite what happened.”

"How is he your friend if he killed one of the Harbingers?" Anthon asked.

“No, no, he didn’t kill her." This felt weird to talk about, and he honestly wasn't even sure what had really happened. "There’s some law in Inazuma that duels before the throne have to be to the death, and they dueled. La Signora lost to Aether. But Aether wouldn't kill her so it was actually the Raiden Shogun that did it.”

"Didn't you say you fought with him too?" Miroslava asked. "Was he actually…trying to hurt you?"

“No, he wasn’t trying to kill either of us, and with me it was just sparring." An easy enough lie. "He's a fighter too, that’s a normal thing to do with each other. I trust him implicitly. He looked after Teucer once, remember, when he was a stowaway to Liyue? I wouldn’t leave Teucer alone with just anyone. I don't know what his beef was with Signora but I honestly can't blame him." That was probably not a very loyal thing to say about his comrade. "I'm not in any danger from him, Mother, I promise."

It was probably a lie, or at least he wanted it to be. He lived for those fights. Part of him—most of him—hoped that Aether would continue to get entangled in Fatui affairs and that they’d have a chance to fight seriously again. When was the last time he’d been so cornered that he’d had to his Delusion, let alone his Foul Legacy Transformation? The wolves hadn’t even forced him to use his Vision; he’d done that all with his bare hands and a bow he didn’t know to shoot.

Besides, he thought, as he finally won against Tonia at their game, how was he ever going to beat Skirk one day if he didn’t have decent opponents to challenge him?

Childe spent the better part of the next morning in Nytva with Sasha again. His aim was even worse than before. His shoulder was still unsteady, and fatigued easily. Switching hands didn’t feel any less awkward, although Sasha was convinced it would massively improve his aim. It was particularly cold and windy today, which made everything more difficult as well. They did a lot more target practice, and Childe felt his frustration getting the better of him. He knew everything needed a lot of practice to master, but he was struggling to even figure out what he was doing wrong.

At one point of peak frustration, he took the next arrow and just chucked it. It landed right in the bull’s eye with a satisfying thud. He turned to Sasha with a huge smile. She was glaring at him.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Well that’s how I do it,” he shot back, grinning. “Come on, it was a little cool.”

“You look like an idiot.”

“I don’t care what I look like, as long as it’s lethal.”

She shot an arrow mere inches from his ear and he humbly went back to following her instructions. How can she do that, even with the wind?!

After the morning had passed and his instruction time was over, he stopped by a small house in Nytva to see his older brother Lev. Lev was the only one he was going to go out of his way to see, but even this had taken a couple of days to work up the motivation.

“You have a baby?” he asked in surprise when Lev appeared at the door with an infant in his arms.

“Heard you were in town,” Lev responded, ignoring the obvious question. “Want to come in, I suppose?”

“No, I’d rather talk on the porch, I thought being frozen to my boots sounded like an exciting idea.”

Lev just grunted and let him in.

Lev and Childe had never been close, but he liked him better than the other older ones. The age gap between the older children and the younger ones hadn't done them any favors either, and Lev was much more reserved and quiet like their father. He wasn’t as politically opinionated though, and didn’t beat around the bush, which Childe appreciated. He felt like he didn’t have to hide around Lev, even if they didn’t have anything in common.

“I don’t have much to say,” Childe said honestly. “Just wanted to stop in and make sure you were still alive and all.”

“Still alive,” Lev said drily. “Still work maintenance at the factory. Still married to Leonid. Baby’s name is Goran. He was put up for adoption at the Adventurer's Guild, parents died in a blizzard.”

“I forgot the Guild did that.” The Adventurer’s Guild was much more expansive in Snezhnaya than in the other nations, since it had originated there. “How old?”

“Few months, not sure. We’ll pick a birthday when he gets older.”

“He’s cute. It’ll be weird to have a non-ginger kid in the family.”

Lev grunted an affirmation. “And you? What’s new?”

“Well. I’ve been in Natlan for a few months. It’s stupid hot there. I wrestled a wolf the other day.”

Lev looked him up and down with a frown. “I guess you won?”

“Yeah, we had it for dinner the other night.”

“Bet Father loved that.”

“You know how he is.”

There was a long pause and Childe tried to think of anything else they should discuss. “I think we’re drinking the sun at the coast in a few days if you and Leonid want to come.”

“Okay.”

And that was it. “Well, good to see you,” Childe said. “And nice to meet you, little Goran. Tell Leonid hi. I’ll be around.”

“Bye Ajax.”

It was a weekend, so Childe took the kids hiking by the coast.

The ocean here was unlike anywhere else he’d seen in Teyvat. Despite it being a massive body of salty water, there were dozens of meters of ice extending out from the rocky shores, cumulating in frozen wave patterns at the edge. The water crashed over top of them, melting and freezing all at once before withdrawing from the ice and rearing up once more.

They knew not to go too close. More than one unfortunate soul from Morepesok had been claimed by their frozen ocean.

Childe and Tonia sat on a rock together, huddling to stay warm, as Anthon and Teucer combed the coast looking for shells or seaweed or whatever the ocean had washed up in high tide.

“What was it like, when Teucer came to see you in Liyue?” Tonia asked out of the blue.

Childe considered it. “Stressful,” he said honestly. “It made me so happy to see him but I was in the middle of an assignment and it was difficult to keep him in the dark with so many people around calling me ‘Lord Harbinger.’ Aether and his little fairy friend helped me a lot, I couldn’t have done it without them. And he kept running into danger without realizing it. Did I tell you we went to one of Dottore’s Ruin Guard factories?”

“Yes,” Tonia laughed. “And you played hide and seek with him while you beat a bunch of them up and pretended like it was Mr. Cyclops and his friends.”

Childe grinned at the memory. “I overdid it a little, I think.”

Tonia nodded, and then said, “You have to tell him, eventually.”

“Tell him Mr. Cyclops actually isn’t very nice?” Childe laughed. “Half of me believes that his love of Ruin Guards would soften their little metal hearts.”

“Well yes, that too. But no, I meant…about you being a Harbinger.”

Childe fell silent.

“I know you don’t want to,” Tonia went on, hurrying a little because she could tell Childe didn’t like this. “I know you’re just trying to protect him, and let him be a happy, innocent, little kid, and he is, and you’ve given him so much wonder and joy, but Ajax…the longer you let it go, the more it will hurt him. The harder it will be to hide. He’s still young, but he’s not as young as when you came up with that story and we all let him believe it because it was cute. And…and he talks about you at school, and the other kids make fun of him for being clueless. They’ve even straight-up told him you’re a Harbinger before but he won’t believe it, he can’t believe that we’d all lie to him like that.”

Childe felt like he’d been stabbed.

“I just…” Tonia bowed her head and laid it against Childe’s chest, her voice becoming muffled. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, or him. I just think it’d be better if he heard it from you in person, and who knows when we’ll see you again. It might be too late next time. I think—I think he’s old enough now, I think he can handle it. He might be hurt for a while but he’ll be okay, he’s a tough kid. He’ll still love you.”

Childe buried his face in her hair. “But he’s the only innocent thing I have left,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said, and she sounded so desperately sad.

“I didn’t know they were making fun of him.”

“I know.”

“…I never meant to lie to him.”

“I know.”

Childe didn’t have any more words and for once, he just let his heart ache—here, where he was safe with Tonia. Tonia, who didn’t fully understand but also never judged him. Tonia, who always defended him and loved him no matter what anyone else said. Tonia, who was so smart and strong and self-aware, whose existence just filled his life with so much love.

They sat there for a long time like that, in a half hug, faces buried against each other, until Anthon came running up to them. “Look what we found!” Anthon was screaming, gesturing wildly. They followed him back to a crevice in the rock where Teucer was crouching next to a leatherback turtle, one of its fins frozen to the rock.

“It’s stuck,” Teucer said, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Childe formed a water chisel in his hands, and carefully cracked the ice away until the turtle was free. Teucer and Anthon helped push the turtle back towards a calmer part of the ocean, until it finally got it’s bearings and dived back into the water on its own.

Teucer looked so happy, and Childe wished for the first time that he wasn’t a Harbinger, because it meant he’d have to break his little brother’s heart.

Chapter Text

Childe was restless. He hadn’t fought something properly in so long that his fingers were twitchy, he was having a hard time focusing; he was going nuts. He’d gone looking for the wolf pack again, but they’d relocated after their alpha was murdered. The bears were still in hibernation and too difficult to find without tracks.

So he went even further. The further away from the coast he got, the stronger the wind got and the harder it was to see–this was not the safest thing he’d ever done. It made him laugh. Tartaglia, legendary warrior from Snezhnaya, Eleventh Harbinger–dead from a snowstorm. The thought spurred him on, until he finally, finally found it–a hilichurl tribe.

“Not much for adversaries, but I could always use a bit of exercise.”

He walked into the middle of their camp, laughing, his bow ready, the thrill of it already stoking a fire in his chest. They grabbed their clubs, their bows, their shields, elemental energy began clustering–and Childe smiled. It wouldn’t be a challenging fight, but it would be a fun sideshow.

Sasha’s training had done more good than he realized. Slaughtering a hilichurl tribe was hardly a difficult task even with no weapon at all, but he was happy to realize that using his bow was feeling more natural now. At least he was actually hitting them, even if it wasn’t exactly where he was aiming.

It was over too quickly. The last one dropped to the earth and burst into a million pieces of light and then vanished, leaving behind only small remnants of their existence like arrow tips and broken masks. Killing non-Abyssal creatures was more satisfying since they actually broke and bled. It was that way in Teyvat at least; the best monsters were in the Abyss.

Childe wasn’t done. A single, large footprint in the hilichurls’ camp had given him a new hope.

He put his bow away for this one. He’d proven to himself that he was getting better with it and that’s all that mattered for now. This next fight–this one was for the thrill. Another thought occurred to him and he peeled off a glove–it’s SO COLD–and ripped out the stitches in his shoulder. The wounds were mostly scabbed over now, but the stitches coming out hurt like hell. The metal of his earring was burning against his ear. Now he was ready. The pain made him smile.

The lawachurl spotted him first. The snow was so coming down so thick that Childe didn’t see the lawachurl so much as feel a shift in the air currents, and he dashed forward just in time to avoid being crushed by the huge beast. The force of it still made him stumble, and he wasn’t fast enough to avoid a powerful punch that sent him flying.

Childe got to his feet and spun to face the lawachurl, a grin splitting his face. “Amateur mistake. It won’t happen again.”

The lawachurl roared. Elemental energy gathered around it, electro armor forming around its bulky frame and crackling in its fists. At least it made it a lot easier to see. Childe summoned his own hydro daggers.

“You’re mine.”

He ducked between and around the lawachurl’s legs, slicing at everything he passed with his daggers. It wouldn’t do any real damage right now, not until he broke the armor. Then he would drop his water daggers and do the rest with his bare hands. Well. His gloved hands.

Hydro and electro clashed in the air and his water became dangerous even to himself. Electro-charged was a double-edged (water)sword–it was excellent at damaging the lawachurl’s armor, but it put Childe at greater risk for electric burns if he let the water touch himself. Luckily, he was quite adept at managing the two together, seeing as he held an electro Delusion. No mistakes here. He’d practiced plenty.

A shockwave from the lawachurl sent him sprawling, and the lawachurl leapt into the air again, ready to smash him to pieces. Childe transformed his daggers into a spear, rolling back just enough that when the lawachurl landed, his spear skewered the enormous beast. The electro armor shattered into a million tiny purple pieces and then dissipated.

“Shouldn’t let your guard down,” Childe told the beast, grinning at his own joke.

He had two minutes before the armor would reappear. Childe released his elemental energy, the hydro spear falling into nothingness. He rolled towards and underneath the huge beast instead of away, and then kicked out one of its knees.

The lawachurl went down to one knee, roaring in pain. Childe leapt to his feet and stomped on the beast’s heel, the awkward angle making the bones crunch in its foot. The lawachurl flipped over onto its back and its other leg caught Childe in the chest. He went sprawling again. He landed on his left shoulder and felt one of the injuries reopen. The blood was warm. He went running back to the lawachurl with an even greater thrill and an open-mouthed smile.

The lawachurl was back on its feet but it was limping. Keeping an eye on those massive swinging fists, Childe ducked around it, trying to keep it off balance from the injured leg, and when he saw an open moment he took it, kicking out and slamming his knee into the lawachurl’s uninjured knee directly from the side. It gave way with a satisfying crack and the lawachurl went down again.

It was easier after that. Just as the beast attempted to summon the electro energy again for its armor, Childe finished disabling its last limb. He hopped onto the beast’s shoulders, hooked his bow around one of the massive horns, and yanked it in the wrong direction. The neck snapped with a satisfying crack.

The lawachurl burst into shards of light and then vanished.

Childe collapsed onto his back in the snow and stared up into the endless white sky, unable to contain the laugh bursting from his chest. The snow kissed his face, its gentle whispers carrying to him the sounds of warmth and fulfillment.

Now that was fun.

Childe took Teucer ice-fishing. It was one of the calmest, most meditative places in the world to him, and besides–this is where he’d broken his father’s heart. He'd confessed to beating up a kid at school simply because he felt like it. It was the last time they’d ever gone ice-fishing together.

It seemed only fitting that he would break Teucer’s heart here as well.

They sat together by the hole in the ice, watching their lines. Teucer chatted away about the games he played at school and the adventures he had gone on with Mr. Cyclops. The younger boy seemed to never run out of things to say, and finally Childe had to say, “Teucer, I have something I need to talk to you about.”

Teucer threw his hands up in the air. “Okay! You can talk to me about anything.”

Childe smiled and tousled Teucer’s hair. “I know, kid. But it’s something I’m afraid might make you sad and I don’t want to make you sad.”

Teucer looked nervous but said, “That’s okay. I’m not a little kid anymore! Mother says being sad is part of how we grow up, and I want to grow up tall and strong like you. So it’s okay if I’m a little sad.”

Childe’s heart ached.

“Teucer…" He'd decided directly to the point was safest. "I’m not actually a toy seller.”

Teucer’s face was blank in confusion.

“I didn’t mean to lie to you. It was just supposed to be a funny story, and it was so cute how much you loved the idea, and we all just…went along with it. But it’s not real.”

“But I saw the toy factory, with Mr. Cyclops,” Teucer said, voice still innocently confused. It's inconceivable to him that I would ever lie. "That was real, big brother."

“Mr. Cyclops isn’t a toy,” Childe said. "It wasn't a toy factory, it was a research facility. He’s a war machine, and he’s very dangerous when he’s awake.”

“No, he’s not,” Teucer said stubbornly. “This isn’t very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m serious, Teucer. I’m not a toy seller. Mr. Cyclops was made by an ancient civilization and is actually called a Ruin Guard.”

Teucer stood, his voice and his little body shaking. “Big brother, why are you saying all this? You’re a toy seller and Mr. Cyclops is one of the toys! … Isn’t he? That’s what you told me, it’s true, isn’t it? Why are you being so mean?!”

“I’m a Harbinger, Teucer. I work for the Tsaritsa. I travel to do her bidding, not to sell toys. I’ve never been a toy-seller. I just said that because I wanted to make you happy.”

“But I’m not happy,” Teucer said, and tears started streaming down his face. “I don’t believe you! You’re…you’re just being mean! You’re just a big meanie and a liar! I thought you pinky-promised to always be my friend!”

“I am your friend,” Childe said desperately. “I am your friend, I’m just–”

“You’re not my friend,” Teucer yelled, and he turned and ran, leaving Childe alone by the hole in the ice.

Childe put his face in his hands.

Tonia had invited–or bullied, more likely–Lev and Leonid, Yulia, and their last brother, Artem, into coming over for dinner. It was the first time their entire family had been together since long before Childe had left home. Getting seven kids together was not an easy task. “Borscht makes everything better,” Tonia announced, pushing everyone into their seats and serving them.

Snezhnayan borscht was a traditional dish, and you weren’t considered a real cook until you could make a decent bowl of it. It was one of the first things Childe had learned to make, back when he’d had more time to dabble in cooking.

Unfortunately, Tonia was not yet a “real cook.”

“This is inedible,” Anthon declared, and Tonia burst into tears.

Miroslava went to the kitchen to whip up smoked salmon eggs and avocado. Childe, however, had never been particular about his food–not after the Abyss at least. He took everyone’s bowls, dumped them back in the pot, and then started devouring the entire thing himself. He made a great show of it, with exaggerated expressions of pleasure and humming, until Anthon was giggling uncontrollably and Tonia finally cracked a smile through her tears.

Teucer got up and left the table without saying a word. Childe watched him go with a heavy heart.

The older siblings and father talked amongst themselves, discussing various things about work, their own families, and various mutual acquaintances. Childe had four nephews and nieces now? He wasn’t even sure which one he had missed. He stuck to teasing Tonia and Anthon. Miroslava returned soon with her famous smoked salmon eggs and avocado, and the family happily got back to eating.

“Save some for the rest of us,” Childe noted as Anthon piled up a third plate.

“He’s insatiable,” Miroslava said.

“I’m hungry,” Anthon insisted, “and it’s good.”

“He makes an excellent point,” Luka agreed, smiling at his wife.

Tonia pouted and Childe poked her.

“Where’d Teucer run off to?” Miroslava asked, and the others looked around in surprise.

“He left,” Childe said, keeping his voice as neutral as he could muster. “He’s mad at me.”

“Whatever for? He’s never mad at you.”

“I told him I was a Harbinger.”

The room fell silent. Childe kept eating his borscht.

“Oh,” Miroslava finally said.

“You didn’t think we should be part of that conversation?” Luka asked, his voice even but his eyes angry.

“It was my lie and my responsibility.” Don’t worry, Father, I didn’t fill his head with glorifications. Childe scraped the bottom of his bowl and then stood. “Tonia and I will be drinking the sun tonight if anyone wants to come. It’ll be her first time.”

Tonia grinned.

Childe and Tonia built their fire on their favorite hill that overlooked the coast. Then they spread out a blanket and laid down on it to look at the stars. Clear nights were so rare.

"I should've looked at the stars more when I was away," Childe said. "I don't even know if they're different."

"You'll have to write to me about them," Tonia said, snuggling close to him. “I guess telling Teucer didn’t go very well?”

Childe smiled. “As well as can be expected. He won’t forgive me for a long time, I expect.”

“But he will." She sighed. "I’m proud of you. I didn’t actually think you’d do it.”

“What, no faith in me? I’m hurt, little sister.”

She grinned. “You work best under pressure,” she said, sniffing indignantly. “What is it you say when I beat you at games? ‘Losing only makes me want to play more.’ The lack of faith was all a ruse to get what I wanted.”

Childe laughed. “Seems I’m just a pawn in everyone else's games these days, even my little sister’s.”

She nodded in satisfaction.

To Childe's surprise, Lev, Leonid, and Luka all arrived soon after. The look Luka gave Childe said that he was more here to look out for his daughter than to really join them. Childe was glad Lev had brought Leonid, as the other man had a gentle but friendly demeanor that helped loosen up the rest of them.

Tonia elbowed Childe in the ribs. “So are we doing this or not?”

Childe laughed, sitting up. He revealed one of the bottles he’d brought with them. “Now, Tonia. I know you’ve tried wine and some other alcohols, but this is the strongest liquor there is, it’s on an entirely different level. You'll get drunk a lot faster. It’s going to burn going down, and it’s going to feel like fire in your chest. This is really important, Tonia: you’re going to feel warm, but you absolutely must not let it fool you into stripping layers, alright? This is still Snezhnaya, and you will freeze to death. If you can feel your judgment slipping too much, stop drinking. You understand?”

“Got it,” she said, eyes alight. “Don’t freeze to death.”

He poured some of the Fire-Water into a tiny glass and handed it to her. “Fire away, little sister.”

She downed it immediately. The rest of them whooped and cheered for her as her face contorted and she gasped. “That’s–”. She coughed. “That’s disgusting.”

Their cheers turned to laughter.

“I can see why you call it drinking the sun,” she said. “Eurgh. I feel like I’m on fire. Can I try again?”

Even Lev smiled at that.

“You’re braver than I was,” Leonid said, still laughing. “I didn’t try a second time for years.”

Childe handed out the rest of the bottles to the others, keeping one for him and Tonia to share. It didn’t take long for the vodka to take effect–he could feel himself relaxing, the stress falling off his shoulders. It didn’t even bother him that Luka had come anymore. Why did he even worry so much about his father anyway?

Childe laid his head against Tonia’s shoulder, eyes half-closed, content to just feel the Fire Water burning away in his body and cleansing his soul. He knew the others were talking, but he didn't care enough to listen. He just stared at the stars.

“You like it?” he asked Tonia sleepily after a while.

She rubbed a hand in his hair. “It’s more fun watching you be all dopey,” she said, and poked him. Childe laughed but was too lazy to poke her back.

“We've been wanting to travel more," he heard Leonid saying. "Tartaglia, what is Natlan like again?”

Childe blinked for a few moments, trying to collect his thoughts. “Hot,” he said, voice a little slower than it normally would be. “It’s hot as hell. But they have beautiful music. Fascinating culture.”

“I am vetoing Natlan," Lev said. "I still think Liyue would be the perfect vacation. The beaches, Leo."

“Aren’t there a lot of Treasure Hoarders in Liyue?” Tonia asked. "Is it safe for vacationing?"

“I’d imagine they're everywhere,” Leonid said. “Greed isn’t limited to the city of contracts. But Tartaglia would know better than me.”

Childe waved a nonchalant hand. “Treasure Hoarders are nothing, I can kill them for you.”

It took him too many moments to realize that this was not the right thing to say.

He tried to think of quick follow-up, to make it a joke, but his father's slurred words interrupted his thoughts and made the whole thing worse.

“Like how you killed the Geo Archon?”

Childe’s brain was not awake enough for this. “What?”

“Oh, I don't know." Luka was very drunk. "Ajax is one of the Tsaritsa’s best warriors, and she's at war with the other Archons. Ajax goes to Liyue. Geo Archon dies. Ajax leaves. What else are we supposed to assume, Tartaglia?”

Hearing that name come from his father's mouth felt like a slap. He really needed a more alert brain for this conversation. He sat all the way up, drank some water, and pushed his palms into his eyes. His head came a little more into focus. “Father. I didn’t kill the Geo Archon, nobody killed him…The Qixing said he failed some trial of Celestia or something. I was as surprised as everyone else.”

I tried to, Childe thought. I tried and I failed and Signora made a fool out of me, and Rex Lapis isn’t even really dead because he’s the guy I thought was my friend.

“If you say so,” Luka grumbled.

“I didn’t.” Childe was furious. Why were they doing this, in front of everyone?

“Ajax doesn’t kill people,” Tonia said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “He was just making a joke. Plus, he’s good, but even he’s not good enough to defeat a god.”

Luka actually snorted.

Unbidden, Signora’s words came to Childe’s mind. If you hadn’t created the pressure of a battle between mortals, adepti, and a god, the lump of coal resting in the hands of the Geo Archon would never have become a dazzling diamond of a city.

Irritating though it was that Signora had actually said words that comforted him, they still brought Childe a moment of clarity. He collected himself, then stood and smiled. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me, Father. It’s not like your opinion of me could drop any further. But it doesn’t change the truth. I didn’t kill Rex Lapis.”

He looked down at his little sister. Her face was tired and hurt, asking him to fix it all. But he couldn’t. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You have too much faith in me, Tonia,” he said. “I’m not the good person you think I am.”

He left them behind, and didn’t return to the house that night until long after everyone had gone to bed.

Chapter Text

Childe was late to his archery training with Sasha the next morning.

"Fire-Water," he said with a grimace, even though it was less a hangover and more not having slept much. Sasha laughed at him.

For training that day, she made him switch up targets for every shot. Her constant manhandling, and prodding, and reminding him how terrible he was all made him think of Skirk and he felt a little homesick.

When he finally returned home, everyone was thankfully still gone except Miroslava. He found her sewing one of Anthon's ripped shirts, singing to herself quietly. “You don’t have to do that,” Childe said. “It’s so easy to get more.”

Miroslava smiled. “I know,” she said lightly, “but I want to. Archons know I have little else to do these days. You’ve made things too easy for us, Ajax. An old lady has to keep herself busy.”

Childe laughed. “Old is all about perspective, Mother.” He thought of Tonia calling him old, and then thought of Zhongli, who was more than six thousand years old. Definitely perspective. “Can I help you out?”

“You’re supposed to be on break and resting,” Miroslava said, pointing to Anthon and Teucer’s bed against the wall. “Sit and keep me company.”

Childe complied, but not before collecting his own needle and thread and a coat from the hemming pile. Rich though he may be now, his mother had never been wasteful and insisted on all her children learning how to be independent. His work wasn’t pretty, but it held well. Miroslava rolled her eyes at him and smiled but didn’t protest.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, “about last night. Luka told me what happened. He swore he'd never get drunk again, although we both know how that goes."

“It’s fine," Childe said, smiling and waving it off. He was a bit surprised his father felt badly about it at all; he'd assumed the self-righteousness would always win out.

“It’s not fine,” Miroslava said, pausing her sewing to face him and show that she was serious. “It’s not our business to pry into your life, and the answers don’t matter anyway. We love you no matter what.”

He knew she regretted sending him to the Fatui, felt like she’d given up on him–she’d always had a little more hope in his redemption than Luka. These were her attempts to make it up to him.

“I know, Mother."

She stared at him for a moment to make sure he meant it, then turned back to her sewing. “We...Luka loves you too, he’s just concerned, and he doesn’t know how to show it.”

Childe really didn’t want to talk about this, but Miroslava did, so he would attempt to humor her as long as he could. He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice when he said, “And what is he so concerned about exactly?”

Miroslava pondered her words for several minutes. “We’re not used to people in our family being away like you are–even Lev stops by regularly, even if he’s not terribly talkative. You tell us a lot but we don’t really know what you’re up to, and the secrets make Luka worry that it’s–bad. News trickles down from Zapolyarny, and it sounds like the Tsaritsa is causing trouble everywhere in Teyvat, that she’s all but declared war on the other Archons. And you always seem to be on assignment where those things are happening. Even if you don’t talk about it, you must be involved somehow…we just worry.”

Childe smiled at her ruefully. “I’m the Tsaritsa’s weapon of war,” he said. “I’m not a schemer like the other Harbingers, I'm her sword. I fight, I kill, I bring chaos–I do whatever she asks of me. Of course I’m involved. Even if I could talk about it, would you want to hear more?”

She didn’t respond, which was answer enough. Her voice was quieter now. “The Tsaritsa is not well-loved in the coastal towns right now. The people fear she’ll bring the wrath of the other nations upon us, if not that of Celestia itself. They feel that she is spending too much time causing trouble for the other nations of Teyvat and not enough time protecting and caring for her own. ”

“She’s made Snezhnaya rich and respected,” Childe said, feeling disgust rise in his chest. “We’re more advanced than any other nation and we finally have enough resources for everyone to live comfortably, despite living in a place the rest of Teyvat considers uninhabitable. And Celestia…" He probably shouldn't go into that. "She’s doing all of this to protect Snezhnaya. How can people feel that way?”

“I’m just telling you what I hear.”

Childe took a deep breath, trying to still his mind. People judging him was irritating at best, but questioning the Tsaritsa stuck in his throat like bile and burned. Most people would never dare say things like that to his face. It was easier to ignore people’s disapproval of her when they were whispering it to each other behind his back.

“And what do you think?” Childe asked, feeling resigned. The sewing lay forgotten in his lap.

Miroslava came to sit next to him on the boys’ bed, putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling sadly at him. Why did he always have to make her so sad? “I just love my little boy and I want him to be safe and happy. The rest does not matter to me.”

“It matters to me,” Childe said, and his voice was more vulnerable and sincere than he wanted. “She is my Archon, Mother. Her dreams are my dreams. Her wishes are my wishes. She’s a better being than I could ever be and I will follow her until I cease to exist.”

"Oh, child," she said sadly, and took him into her arms.

Childe loved the Tsaritsa.

Morepesok was far enough away from Zapolyarny Palace that the Cryo Archon and her politics had always felt distant, more like reading a story than current events. Childe knew people thought the Tsaritsa was ruthless, condescending, cruel, that her decisions were harsh and blind to consequence. He'd imagined her to be like the upper ranks of the Fatui–mean and drunk on power.

But she wasn’t like that at all.

Pulcinella had put Childe through endless Fatui training, pitting him against stronger and stronger opponents, more and more difficult situations, and Childe still beat every obstacle in front of him. His Vision appeared on his hip and he learned to create any weapon he wanted. Eventually there was nothing left for the Fatui to teach him, and Pierro and Pulcinella brought him to the Tsaritsa.

He thought he was there to be punished for being a troublemaker, or rebuked for making the Fatui look like fools. Surely they wouldn’t let his rampage last forever. His heart was full of mourning as they entered the Palace, thinking that this blessed period of combat was over and he would be sent somewhere he couldn’t hurt anybody.

It never occurred to him that he was under consideration to be a Harbinger. He was very young, after all. The other Harbingers were well-established and well-known for their innovation and cunning. Even Scaramouche, despite being widely disliked, had a presence that commanded awe and fear and demanded deference. Ajax was just a nobody.

Pulcinella had shoved Childe into the throne room, forced him to his knees in a bow, and then left. It was just Childe and the Cryo Archon. The room was freezing, the marble cold against his hands. There was silence, and Childe, who had never really had much respect for authority to begin with, looked up before he was asked to.

The Tsaritsa was beautiful.

She had long silver hair woven into elegant braids that cascaded down her back. Her eyes were a silvery blue, sharp and striking and cold and seeming to peer into the soul of everything she beheld. A thin layer of snow was settled on her hair and clothes, and white tattoos of snowflakes caressed her skin and seemed to almost glow.

Childe honestly couldn’t remember much else–her dress had red in it, he thought, or maybe green. It didn’t matter. No matter how many times he saw her, it was the same. Her presence was so overwhelming that it really wasn’t worth noticing anything else. She was the most noble and elegant being he had ever seen.

This was a god.

Maybe that’s why not realizing Zhongli was Rex Lapis bothered him so much. More than Zhongli and La Signora keeping him in the dark, more than them manipulating him and making a fool out of him. Even after all that time Childe and Zhongli had spent together–despite how much he deeply admired and respected Zhongli–it had never once occurred to Childe that the “funeral consultant” was anything divine. Childe’s own Archon struck so much awe in heart that it was suffocating. He had falsely assumed the other Archons would be similar.

Childe had stared at the Tsaritsa, overcome, seeing the way she held herself, the proud arch of her chin and the confident lines in her shoulders, the strength that seemed to emanate from her. She was more than just an Archon, he realized. She knew combat. She was a warrior.

The Tsaritsa stepped off her throne, coming towards him, her stride long and sturdy. Childe braced himself, wondering for a moment if he was about to die. He found that he didn’t terribly mind the idea, as long as it was to someone like her. His eyes met hers and he refused to look away, even as he imagined her summoning shards of ice, ready to strike. But then, as she reached him, instead of ice shards–she held out her hand.

“Come, Childe,” she said. “I have something I want to share with you.”

And he took her hand.

They walked together on her palace grounds, a god and a mess of a human spat out from the Abyss; and the Tsaritsa told Childe her dream. She told him of how Teyvat had changed since she became an Archon, and what things had stayed the same. She told him of Sal Vindagnyr and Khaenri'ah and the pain it had struck in her soul. She told him of her desire to protect Snezhnaya, her grudge against Celestia, and her frustration with the other Archons.

“I do not take pleasure in causing pain,” she said. “I know the things I ask of my Harbingers and my Fatui are often difficult and cruel. But this evil is temporary, and I take responsibility for it all. I have found no other way to protect my people and the people of Teyvat, and I am willing to take the fall of being an evil queen if that is what I must do to achieve peace.”

She turned to Childe, her eyes burning. She reached out and touched his cheek. Her fingers were cold–but to his surprise, they were also soft, and gentle. “You are young and full of life–I have no desire to take that away from you, and I mourn the innocence already lost in your heart. You are free to walk away and live your life as you see fit.” Her hand fell. “But I need a weapon. My other Harbingers are schemers and plotters and they fulfill their roles well, but I need one that can be my hands of war. I need a Harbinger to fight for me when I cannot be there. They are my world-breakers, but you–you would be my sword, my assassin.”

Childe was not blind to the darkness in her war–he was not blind to the twisted minds of the other Harbingers, of the well-deserved reputation of the Fatui. He knew he would be asked to do things he didn’t like. He knew he’d be asked to kill, to brew chaos, maybe even to hurt and take advantage of the weak when it was necessary.

But when he looked back into the eyes of the Cryo Archon, he saw past the cold exterior and the hardened shell of indifference, and behind it there was gentleness, love, and purity. The Tsarista had the warmest heart of anyone he knew.

And Childe knew he could never serve anyone else.

Years of working with her had only deepened his respect. She was careful and tactical in her decisions, a master of manipulation and an artist of war–and all this driven by her compassion and desire for peace. Her ambition was so strong it overtook his own.

Childe just wanted a challenge, to get stronger and fight better opponents. The Tsaritsa wanted to save nations. She was a better being than him, and so he trusted her more than he did himself. He would choose her every time.

It didn’t matter that other people didn’t understand, that other people thought her evil, that his family believed him lost. He loved his family and he always would, but he loved his Archon more than existence itself.

He would do whatever the Tsaritsa wished.

I am hers forever.

Childe was shooting at trees in the forest by their house when Tonia came to find him. It was snowing lightly. “Welcome back, little sister,” he said, smiling at her. “Did school go well?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Most of his next set of shots missed, and Childe frowned.Tonia tilted her head. “You’re not actually very good at this, are you?”

He laughed. “Not at this. Hence the practice. But watch this."

Sasha would be livid, but it was just so fun. He took an arrow in his hand and threw it, the arrow hitting his target exactly. “You’re so weird,” Tonia said, laughing.

Childe went back to practicing. His shoulder had entirely healed now, and he could practice longer without losing form. Finally, he asked, “How did you know I was out here?”

“This is where you would come practice with your sword when you thought no one was watching,” she said, shrugging. “What grudges do you have against these poor trees anyway?”

Childe laughed. “None, really, they’re just targets of convenience.”

He shot again, and finally actually hit the branch he’d been aiming for this whole time. Just for the satisfaction, he created a hydro dagger and then sent it flying in the same direction. It sliced his arrow in half and struck solidly into the tree truck behind it. He released it and it vanished into nothing.

“You really do hate being bad at things, huh,” Tonia said.

“I really do.”

“Ajax,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Have you really killed people?”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, and let the snow caress his face with it’s tiny fingers. He smiled.

“And–and it was for the Tsaritsa?”

“Yes.”

“Do you…like it?”

Childe opened his eyes and looked back at her. “That one’s complicated. Are you sure you want me to talk about it?”

“I want to know.”

“Okay.” He came and sat cross-legged in front of her in the snow, their knees touching. He wanted to see her face for this conversation, to know if and when he'd gone too far. “For me, it's not really about whether people die or not. I like the combat. I like fighting. It makes me feel…alive. And the more, ah, violent aspects of it are part of what make it fun and challenging for me. I’d rather not kill people if I don’t have to. But if it’s for the Tsaritsa, if it's necessary, I will do it, and I won't hesitate. I don't enjoy it, but I also don't lose sleep over it." Somehow the next part felt like a worse confession. "But…I do like killing beasts. Monsters. The tougher and bloodier the better. It’s…deeply satisfying.”

He missed the Abyss.

“Oh,” Tonia said, her voice small, her eyes on the ground between them.

“It’s okay if that makes you afraid of me,” Childe said, although that thought felt very not okay at all.

“I’m not!” Tonia said quickly, looking up at him. “Maybe I should be…but I'm not. I’ve always felt safe with you, I still do, it's not that. It’s just…you’re still you, though. That’s what makes it so confusing. How can you be that…and also this?”

"This?"

"My brother. Fun and playful, making up stories for Teucer and being ridiculous for Anthon, helping turtles out of ice, all the thoughtful presents. How is that the same person as…as the one that likes fighting things?"

“It’s all me,” Childe responded. “I'm sorry it doesn't make sense.”

It made sense to him. It always had.

Tonia was staring at the ground again, her fingers twisting in her lap. “We’re…still friends, right? You’re not mad at me?”

“Why on earth would I be mad at you?”

She was silent for a long moment, and then she started to cry.

“Oh, Tonia. Come here.”

She did. She was too big for it but she crawled into his lap anyway and she cried and cried. He hummed to her quietly, brushing her hair with his half-frozen fingers, dusting the snow from her face before it could accumulate. Her tears finally started to abate.

“I’m sorry,” she said through a sniffle. Her voice was raw.

“Don’t be. I should be–"

“No," she interrupted firmly. "Let me finish. I’m…sorry, for everything. For not understanding. For not sticking up for you enough. For everyone else being weird to you. I tried…" The cry was coming back into her voice, and she paused to take a deep breath. "I tried so hard to get everyone together and have it be happy for you, but I just couldn’t make it work. Maybe I shouldn't have even tried, maybe it just makes things worse. I'm so sorry. And I’m sorry that…that you felt like you had to hide all of that part of yourself from me.”

Childe closed his eyes. He could see Luka’s face in his mind when he’d beaten the stuffing out of the Fatui troops.

“I was afraid,” he whispered into her hair. “That you would look at me like they do.”

“Ajax.” She crawled off his lap and turned to face him, her face serious as she looked right into his eyes. “Never. I will never look at you that way. I feel safe with you, and I trust you, and that hasn’t changed. You say that this is what the Tsaritsa has asked you to do, and you trust and believe in her enough to follow through–so I do too.”

Childe threw himself into her arms, and his voice broke when he spoke.

“Thank you, Tonia. Thank you.”

The letter was delivered in person two days later by a masked Fatui messenger. Directly from the Tsaritsa herself. It was short–a summons to return to Zapolyarny Palace for the next assignment.

Childe didn’t have much to pack. He wrote a quick note for Sasha, thanking her for the instruction, assuring her he’d send the Harbingers to her door with a medal whenever he died, and sent the Fatui messenger to deliver it. He also asked the messenger to notify his Mirror Maidens in Nytva, as they would likely be summoned shortly as well and deserved the forewarning.

Then he went to find his family members. His mother was in the kitchen, and looked up when he came in. “The messenger–are you leaving?”

“Yes.”

She looked tired. "It always feels too soon. Come give your mother a hug, Ajax.”

He swept her up, hugging her tightly. “I love you, Mother. Make Father take care of himself. I’ll keep writing.”

“Please be safe.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “I always am.”

Luka was reading by the fire, Anthon sitting on the floor next to him. “I’m going back to Zapolyarny,” Childe announced.

“Noooooo,” Anthon intoned, leaping to his feet and grabbing Childe around the waist. “You just got here!”

“It’s been over two weeks,” Childe said, grinning. He tousled Anthon’s hair. “Be good for mother and father, alright? Don’t cause any trouble. Take care of Teucer.”

“That’s what Tonia’s for,” Anthon grumbled, and Childe laughed.

He turned to go, and then Luka said, “Be wise, Ajax. Be…careful. "

Childe looked back, smiled, and said, “I love you too, Father.”

“Teucer.”

His little brother had been playing happily with his toys on his bed, but at Childe’s voice, his arms went limp. They hadn't spoken in days, despite several attempts on Childe's part.

“I’m leaving, Teucer, I have to go back to Zapolyarny.”

Teucer didn’t say anything, just stared down at his hands.

“I’m…really sorry for lying to you, and the pain I’ve caused you because of it. I…” he sighed, clueless as to how to reconnect with his youngest brother. “I hope you can forgive me. I’ll miss you.”

No response.

"Come on, don't be like that. It's still me."

Nothing.

Childe turned away, his heart falling, and started heading back up the stairs. "I’ll still send you presents with my letters, if you want them. I love you, little brother.”

A clattering sound came from behind, and he turned just as Teucer collided into him with a hug, burying his face in Childe’s stomach. Childe hugged him back.

“I’m still mad at you,” Teucer said after several moments, voice muffled.

“That’s okay,” Childe said, smiling as a flicker of hope reignited in his chest. “You can be mad as long as you need to.”

The hours back to Zapolyarny seemed to pass in mere minutes. When Childe looked out the window, he could see the huge black stone of the Palace rising in the distance. It wasn’t quite a second home, but it was still rich with familiarity and memories.

As he got off the train and walked to the Palace, he reoriented his mind. He still had things left to do in Natlan. He needed to check in with Pierro soon–hopefully he was better at cooperating than La Signora had been. So much for thinking well of the dead–that woman irritated him even from beyond the grave. Even if she had made his time in Liyue worth something.

He wondered what sorts of opponents were in his future--he'd heard recently of rifthounds in Inazuma that he wanted to try his hand at. He wondered if Aether would come to Natlan soon, in search of his sister, and if they’d get to cross blades again. The thought of it made Childe giddy.

And lastly he thought of the Tsaritsa. The prospect of being in her presence, of being her weapon so she could fulfill her dream–it consumed him with an inexplicable sense of purpose and awe.

He barely even noticed Fatui troops that knelt as he passed on the Palace steps. The cold and snow meant nothing to him now. He had walked these stairs many times before, but each one still felt like sacred ground.

And then, finally, he was before his god. He dropped to his knees and bowed, struck once more with the sheer amount of devotion he had for her.

“My Lady Tsaritsa,” be breathed.

Her voice was gentle. “Welcome back, my Childe.”

The future the Tsaritsa desires will be had, Childe thought. This is why I live.