Chapter Text
The heavy pine door opened with a loud creak, letting in a flush of cold Snezhnayan air. Heads lowered in unison and uniforms rustled as salutes sounded throughout the meeting room; a row of Fatui soldiers bowed to the Harbinger who arrived at the doorway.
Childe’s boots thumped against the wooden floor, leaving snowy footprints behind, and striking fear into every agent that found themselves before him. His coat was open, revealing the gray uniform underneath, splashed by red accessories and Fatui regalia. The Harbinger’s expression was serious. His cold blue eyes were dimmed to the point of swallowing all light, lips taut and fixed in a frown, and his brows pressed so low that his servants felt personally targeted by his piercing gaze. Anybody could tell that Tartaglia wasn’t in a good mood.
As he stopped amidst the dimly lit room, the Fatui agents pressed their heads lower, gripping a hand over their hearts as sign of undying loyalty. His two most loyal dogs bowed behind him – they followed him everywhere and he seemed to not mistreat them, but every other agent in that room knew they wouldn’t be treated as nicely if they were to anger Childe. He had already fired a lot of informants, simply because he found them unreliable.
These were his fifth. Sent from La Signora’s troops, since they were most versed in tracking animals, people and Gods, and Childe had grown tired of mediocre information. He wasn’t satisfied with the people from his own units, so he simply got rid of them. He wouldn’t need them in Liyue, anyways. He borrowed La Signora’s for the time being - ripped them right out of Mondstadt city despite her complaints. If they had successfully tracked down the Anemo Archon, surely, they could find his wife.
Silence befell the meeting room of Zapolyarny palace. Nobody dared to speak before Childe gave them permission. Which was troublesome because Childe hadn’t spoken in over a week.
As far as the Fatui were aware, Childe hadn’t uttered a word since the chaotic night surrounding his wife’s disappearance. At first, the medical staff were concerned that their Harbinger suffered physical consequences after shattering a Delusion by his own hands, but they quickly deduced that Childe was fine. He merely didn’t want to speak. As to why, nobody in the Fatui knew.
Well. Certain Harbingers and their certain spies had pretty good guesses, but most of the Fatui were kept in the dark.
Nobody knew about Childe’s relationship with the Abyss. And nobody knew that the Harbinger suffered through his worst fear on the night of his wife’s disappearance.
You had drugged him. Left him to pass out in the dark, and he feared the dark more than anything. After he woke up in a hospital bed, nurtured by unfamiliar nurses, he found his mind still tortured by images and echoes of the Abyss. So he didn’t speak. And nobody, but the Harbingers, could ever guess why.
A popular theory among the Fatui was the idea that Childe grieved your disappearance. That he was so heartbroken by your betrayal that he refused to speak. And partially that was true. Your betrayal was what brought him such discomfort. Yet, despite such a betrayal, he made an effort to conceal your actions.
As far as the Fatui were aware, Childe was never drugged. He never fought you. He merely snatched your Delusion, broke it, and passed out upon the Delusion’s explosion. You ran away. That he couldn’t hide, but he made an effort to not classify it as treason. After all, you never attacked him. You never drugged him. You never fought. No matter how many times they questioned Childe, he always gave them the same answer. Written on a piece of paper because he couldn’t make himself speak.
Just like when he exited the Abyss, when he spent a little over a week not speaking to his family and barely eating. When they all questioned him about his disappearance and scars... Even comparing such a memory to his current predicament made Childe’s blood run cold.
The Fatui could paint him as a heartbroken fool. He couldn’t care less about that. It was better than painting you as a traitor to Snezhnaya, and better than painting him as a traumatized and damaged child. As Signora once politely called him.
The silence prolonged. Nobody dared to speak. Childe glared at the informants who knelt before his feet. His cold eye bore into their heads, his patience running thinner the longer they kept silent. Silence was horrible. Silence killed. Silence made him more reluctant to speak.
Childe turned stiffer, fighting back the urge to dismiss the informants and send them back to Mondstadt. The command climbed to his throat, but he just couldn’t make himself speak. Instead, he only scowled at them.
Finally, his most trusty servants recognized that he was seconds away from snapping. They got up from the floor, taking a bodyguard stance behind him before breaking the room’s cold stupor. “Unit 43, please report to Master Childe.” Their voice landed flat and stern.
One of the informants cleared their throat. “Lord Harbinger,” they started. Their voice was feeble, full of insecurity as they trusted Childe to interrupt and snap at them for speaking out of turn. After getting no response, they dared to continue. “We have found track records that indicate that Her Grace had crossed the frozen sea in East Snezhnaya sometime at the end of last week. Specifically, the Warm Gulf that allows ships to pass without icebreakers.”
The agent paused. They noticed the Harbinger tighten his fists, and they didn’t dare to look up now. They expected the Harbinger to glare at them with vicious, murderous intent that the other informants had warned them about. Instead, Childe’s cold eyes shifted to the back wall. It was covered with a giant map of North Teyvat, full of lines and notes that the other Harbingers left during their meetings.
He inspected the Warm Gulf. That part of the map peaked over Mondstadt’s sea, but it allowed sailing to Fontaine as well, as it mixed with the direct line from Snezhnaya’s capitol and Fontaine’s north ports.
“We have strong reasons to believe that Her Grace is heading to Mondstadt,” the informant said. Their voice echoed strangely in the room’s silence. They felt Childe’s glare fall on them. “Fontaine boarders have been guarded and watched by Lord Arlecchino’s units ever since the night of the incident. As of last week, no boat has passed the sea border between Snezhnaya and Fontaine, but Mondstadt boarders are always open and unsupervised because of their laws… It is quite possible that a boat from a Fishing Association had sailed through without paperwork…Or a personally manned ship…”
The corners of Childe’s lips twitched upwards.
Its been a little over a week, and these rats still couldn’t give him a concise answer? Were they aware that he had no time? He was supposed to start travelling to Liyue later in the afternoon. He couldn’t stay here and wait until they decided to be more competent. Was this truly the best Snezhnaya could offer him? He would have done a better job himself if he wasn’t burdened by other responsibilities. The mission in Liyue was far more important than this foolery.
Her Majesty would never allow him to stray off a soldier’s path.
He turned on his heels, ready to march out and leave those incompetent fools alive, when he noticed a figure in the doorway. Arlecchino stood still amidst the shadows; her red eyes gleaming like a demon’s as she mutely glared back at Childe.
He paused his steps, narrowing his eyes at her. Arlecchino. The harlot who gave his wife that Delusion. He knew it was her doing.
Yet, it was as if Arlecchino didn’t notice his apprehension. She stepped forward, entering the room with slow, poised clicks of her high heels.
“The waters to Mondstadt are currently frozen,” she mused. “The icebreakers had only forced ships to Mondstadt’s boarders as of this week, but none has crossed… You should have been aware of that.”
The informant raised his head, eyes blinking wide in surprise. He gawked at the Harbinger – at the wildly incorrect statement that she had uttered. The informant already opened his mouth to correct her, when Arlecchino’s eyes narrowed at them. They were struck with primal fear, forgetting how to speak in a matter of seconds. She didn’t want them to correct her. She wanted them to accept her lie.
Childe glanced at the map again, brows knitting slightly with confusion and desperation as Arlecchino proposed an entirely new problem. Where was his wife? Gods where was she? Childe could hardly think; the stress of his upcoming mission and the dark and gnarly memories of the Abyss all blurred together, fogging his mind beyond recognition. He needed you back. He desperately needed you back. He would never let you leave again. Never ever again. He just had to find you. That’s all he had to do.
Arlecchino watched Childe for a good while. The pale complexion of his skin. The dark circles under his red-stricken eyes. The messy, unkept ginger strands that stuck out in all directions. She recognized his mental instability – the desperation to get you back into his claws. Arlecchino clicked her tongue, walking forth with confident strides. “There, there,” she pronounced the words coldly. “Don’t look so defeated, dear colleague. The warm sea currents lead to Fontaine waters. That gives clear insight into your wife’s path, does it not? Our troops will find her… you may focus on your mission, and before you know it, she’ll be delivered back to your hands.”
“Lord Arlecchino,” the informant cleared his throat. The female Harbinger froze. Her lips tightly closed, and she glanced at the agent who dared to interrupt her. They appeared to be sweating, and they lowered their head as the Harbingers observed him. “I must apologize for interrupting, but I have vowed to serve under Master Childe’s command until the issue is resolved. Therefore, I’m afraid I must correct you, Lord Arlecchino. Mondstadt waters hadn’t been frozen for over three weeks now. Her Grace could have passed…”
“Is that so?” Arlecchino’s voice dropped.
Childe looked between them, feeling more confused with each passing breath. He could not care less for the informant’s disrespect. He could not care less about Arlecchino and her motives. He just wanted to find you. He just wanted you back. Squeeze you into an embrace until you couldn’t breathe. Tie your limbs together until you were incapable of fighting or running. He just had to find you first. Then you would never run again.
“Tell us more about the track records you found. I’m sure Childe is eager to learn more details,” Arlecchino said, her tone indicating that it was an order.
“It was a paying record. A transfer of a large sum of Mora to a private shipping vessel.”
You boarded a shipping boat? A Harbinger’s wife escaped with a bunch of boxes and rats? Is that how badly you wanted to run away from him? Is that how much you hated him? Enough to sit in a dark, damp hull of a shipping boat, battling the coldness of Snezhnayan seas and tall waves?
Is that truly how much you hated him? Enough to leave him unconscious in complete darkness? Enough to poison him until all of his muscles and organs went slack?
A lump formed at the bottom of Childe’s throat as his mind threw around questions, and his chest filled with heaviness. As if his heart was filled with cement. He blankly stared at the floor, digesting your hate and the ache in his heart, almost missing the argument that had befell the meeting room.
“That doesn’t mean she has already crossed the sea,” Arlecchino spat out. “It could have been a payment in advance. Have you considered that Her Grace is still hiding in Snezhnaya? Maybe she paid off that shipping company to put you off her trail. I’ve heard she is rather smart. Perhaps she isn’t crossing boarders at all.”
Would you do that? Childe felt a sickening kick inside his skull. He placed his hand over his aching temple. Would you spend his money so carelessly, just to assure yourself more time? Is that how badly you hated him? He closed his eyes shut and he was immediately greeted by an image of a snarling beast and Abyssal blood.
His brows furrowed as he fought to keep his eyes closed despite the terrifying images playing before his eyes. Darkness. Blood. Pain. Skirk. Like a broken record. Such memories haunted him without mercy.
“Master Childe’s units had already searched most of Snezhnaya,” the informant muttered out. “And tracks had led us to the Warm Gulf. The area is clear, which means she had already gone elsewhere. To support that theory, I would like to point out that the shipping vessel had immediately left port after Her Grace’s payment.”
Darkness. Blood. Pain. Skirk. Childe found himself holding his breath as the images replied over and over. His headache intensified. Why did have to go through this? Why couldn’t he just have you? Why did you have to hate him? Why, why, why, why? He just wanted you back. He just wanted those horrifying images gone from his mind. He would do anything just to get a moment of clearance. A moment with you. Anything. Darkness. Blood. Pain. Cracking of bones. Skirk. He was turning nauseous.
“And the owner?” Arlecchino tried. “Have you questioned him?”
Childe’s eyes cracked open. His cold eyes remained fixed on the floor. He? Heart beating louder, he waited to hear more. He waited to hear whether Arlecchino would say that again.
“The owner is in charge of sailing, since it is a small, private company,” the informant answered. “They are still away from Snezhnaya.”
“Still away? Does that not settle it?” Arlecchino sounded angry now. “If the ships hadn’t returned, then we are safe to presume they were on a long path. Mondstadt is only 24 hours away from the Warm Gulf. Their destination must have been Fontaine.”
“But Lord Arlecchino… we have no way of knowing whether the owner has personal business at the destination. They could be staying at a foreign coast due to personal reasons-”
“Fine. What do we know about the owner then. Do we know their family?”
There it was.
Childe’s eyes slowly shifted to Arlecchino. A murderous flush passed through his system, and he glared at the lying harlot who helped his wife run away. Teeth gritting together, he burned her with his glare, waiting for her to notice. She called the owner a he, and then switched to a gender neutral term to match the informant’s level of knowledge. She was hiding something.
She knew where you were.
“Only that they are of Liyue descent. It doesn’t help much, considering that both Fontaine and Mondstadt have ports connected to Liyue Harbor.”
“Fontaine’s water lines are far shorter. You are failing to take naval distance into account. Mondstadt forces ships to sail all around Starsnatch cliff and Dragonspine. The Fontaine line is direct…”
Childe held the bridge of his noise, absorbing their incessant arguing. How theatrical of Arlecchino to fight the informants’ report. How blatantly obvious and embarrassing. Did she think he wouldn’t notice? Did she think he was stupid? Childe was going to make her regret butting into his marriage. He was going to make everybody regret. Arlecchino. You. Every single person who aided you. It seemed as if bloodshed was still the most valuable teacher. Soon everybody – even the incompetent Fatui informants – will see who they are messing with. He’ll take the Gnosis back to Snezhnaya, bloody and stained. And he’ll present it to Her Majesty without a scratch on his body. He’ll make his darling watch as he rips the Gnosis out of Morax’s corpse. He’ll make her realize who she wronged. And damned be the Abyss. He’ll dive right back in and kill everything in that horrid, rotting pit until no life remains in silence. And he’ll let you count the days it takes him to obliterate the Abyssal creatures, tied up and detained like the worthless comfort toy that you so badly wanted to be. And when he touches you with his hands stained from the blood of Abyssal monsters, you’ll finally understand how much it hurts.
And he won’t let go until you are begging. Until you finally understand.
“Childe?”
The room had turned completely silent. It took him a moment to realize that their argument had ended, and that they were all watching him tremble. He didn’t realize he was shaking so badly, nor did he realize he had closed his eyes shut. Now he couldn’t stop. His hands were shaking out of control, and he watched his fingers with wide, tearful eyes. Unstained, yet heavy with the ghastly remains of Abyssal filth. Decorated with a wedding ring. Above the glove. For the whole world to see.
“How pitiful…” Arlecchino mused. “She really messed with your head.”
Childe still trembled. His entire body shook with this newfound determination and lust for blood and revenge. He couldn’t control his body at all. The Fatui agents watched him. Nobody even had the opportunity to blink or move. Arlecchino didn’t even have time to turn her head. Childe’s Hydro blades appeared in a split second. His feet moved, lighter than a feather. Quicker than lighting. Arlecchino’s shirt nearly ripped as he yanked her.
Her back crashed against the wall. Hydro blades flashed through the air, stopping directly at her throat. Childe gritted his teeth, glaring at her with so much ferocity that the entire room froze over. Nobody dared to move or speak, knowing it could tilt Childe. He already had Arlecchino pressed against the walls, Hydro Blades scratching at her throat, ready to execute. All they could do now is try to avoid bloodshed.
“Knave.” Childe’s voice sounded strange, even to himself. It was the first time he spoke in over a week, and he didn’t sound like himself. He noticed Arlecchino give him a ghost blink – she knew he was serious. She knew he could do it, no matter the consequences.
“I will ask once,” he hissed out.
He stared into the red slits in her eyes. The Abyss flashed in his memory. Images so grossly familiar that it rendered him nauseas. Darkness. Silence. Blood. Skirk. He gripped his blade tighter, pressing it against Arlecchino’s reddened neck. Her head leaned back, but she failed to express fear at his violence. She knew he meant it. She knew he would slice her head off in a heartbeat. They all knew. But she didn’t even flinch.
“Where. Is. She?”