Chapter Text
Childe had always taken pride in being the sharpest weapon in Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s sheath. Since the day he fell into the Abyss and learned that the world belonged to the strong, his life had become a straight line of devotion, battles, and blood. He didn't care about the dirty politics of the Fatui or the whispered schemes in the corridors of Zapolyarny Palace; to him, loyalty was simple: if his Archon pointed at a target, he would destroy it. He was the Eleventh Harbinger, the vanguard of Snezhnaya, the monster sent to do the work that required dirty hands.
He was ready to die for his homeland. He was ready to wage wars in the name of Ice.
What he was not prepared for, however, was enduring Rosalyne’s lecturing for over two straight hours while their boat docked at Liyue Harbor.
The mission was simple. No, it wasn’t even a mission; it was merely a negotiation meeting between Snezhnaya and Liyue. A peace treaty after all these years of war between the two most powerful nations in Teyvat. Tartaglia had already lost count of how many talented, loyal men under his command he had lost to those brutal battlefields.
The statement was obvious. Sending both the Eleventh and the Eighth Fatui Harbingers was a blatant show of power. It was as if the Tsaritsa was saying, "Yes, I accept this agreement, but if something goes wrong, you are all dead." Well, a battle against the five Qixing would certainly be interesting—especially against Lady Ningguang and Lady Yuheng.
And to make matters worse, it wasn't the Tsaritsa herself who was going to meet Lord Rex Lapis.
"Are you even listening to me, Tartaglia?"
The sharp, icy voice sliced through his thoughts. Rosalyne stood just a few paces ahead, the heavy silk of her Crimson Witch-esque coat defying the warm Liyue breeze.
She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the bustling harbor approaching them, but her tone held enough venom to freeze the ocean beneath them.
"I am always listening, dear lady," Childe9 replied, a lazy, easygoing smile spreading across his face as he rolled his shoulders. He adjusted the grey Fatui jacket over his shoulders, resting his hand casually near the Hydro Vision at his hip. "You said 'don't kill anyone', 'don't challenge the Millelith to a duel', and 'try to look like a diplomat instead of a stray dog looking for a fight'. Did I miss anything?"
Signora finally turned her head, her gaze piercing right through him. "I am serious. This isn't Mondstadt, and this certainly isn't a playground. We are about to step into the court of the oldest living Archon. Lord Rex Lapis is not a god you can provoke for a thrill. You will sit down, you will hold your tongue, and you will not embarrass Her Majesty in front of the Liyue aristocracy. Am I understood?"
Childe let out a soft laugh, his blue eyes gleaming with an dangerously excited spark. "Relax. I know exactly what I'm doing. If this Geo God is as powerful as the legends say, I'm just looking forward to seeing what kind of aura a Prime Adeptus carries."
He was ready for a threat. He was ready for a standoff.
He had absolutely no idea what was actually waiting for him inside that room.
They had been on that ship for at least a week. Liyue was certainly far away... They had been forced to sail around Fontaine and make a stop at the port of Mondstadt just to catch some fresh air. But there was no time to relax; even during their brief respite, Signora and Tartaglia had to maintain their diplomatic posture, handling political matters with the Knights of Favonius. Only then could they finally set sail for Liyue, crossing the ocean past Musk Reef before at last entering the Sea of Clouds.
When they were finally able to disembark, the harsh rays of the sun struck Tartaglia's face. Heavens, he would never get used to the climate of these foreign lands... He much preferred his good, icy Morepesok, with its snow-covered fields and lakes that remained frozen for nine months of the year.
The heavy presence of Millelith soldiers everywhere was to be expected. Two major political figures had just arrived; it wasn't as if the Harbingers actually needed protection, but Childe understood the tactical precaution. As they stepped onto the docks, a female figure with light blue hair approached, accompanied by a young man with aquamarine hair. Childe immediately sensed a sharp, powerful aura radiating from them, prompting him to shoot a sideways glance at Rosalyne.
"It is an honor to welcome you, Lord Tartaglia and Lady Signora," the woman said, as both emissaries bowed politely. "I have been sent by Lady Ningguang to escort you to the Jade Chamber."
The ascent to the Jade Chamber was nothing short of breathtaking. As the floating platform carried them higher into the sky, the true grandeur of Liyue revealed itself. Below, the harbor stretched out like a sprawling canvas of amber tiled roofs, bustling docks, and towering cliffs of pure stone. The Sea of Clouds glittered under the midday sun, looking like a sheet of liquid gold. Even Childe, who usually found beauty only in the thrill of battle, had to admit that the Geo Archon’s nation was magnificent. It was a golden cage, built on absolute wealth and ancient foundations.
But the poetic view dissolved the moment the massive, ornate doors of the main hall swung open.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick enough to choke a lesser man. The room exuded opulence: walls of dark sandalwood, delicate silk tapestries depicting ancient legends, and the faint, grounding scent of burning incense.
Lady Ningguang sat near the head of the long negotiation table, her crimson eyes sharp as she offered a polite, entirely superficial smile. Next to her, Lady Keqing sat straight-backed, her purple eyes tracking the Harbingers' every movement with cold, undisguised suspicion.
"Welcome to the Jade Chamber," Ningguang’s voice hummed with a smoothness that sounded far too pleasant for a post-war negotiation. "We trust your journey through the Sea of Clouds was... peaceful? Liyue's waters can be quite treacherous for those unfamiliar with our tides."
Signora stepped forward, the click of her heels echoing sharply against the polished floor. Her smile matched Ningguang’s in its fake warmth. "The tides of Snezhnaya are far harsher, Lady Ningguang. Our ships are built to crush ice; a little Liyue mist is hardly a challenge."
Childe suppressed a smirk, taking his seat across from the Yuheng. He leaned back, resting his chin on his gloved hand with a lazy, patronizing ease. "And let's be honest, Lady Ningguang, a little danger is what makes the journey fun. Though, I must say, your city looks much more fragile from up here than it does from the battlefield."
Keqing’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, her fingers tightening against the edge of her ledger. "Liyue is built on solid rock, Lord Tartaglia. It does not break under pressure, nor does it yield to foreign... nuisances. I suggest you remember that we are here to discuss a peace treaty, not for you to scouting our defenses like a feral hound."
Childe let out a soft, delighted laugh, his blue eyes flashing with a competitive spark. "A feral hound? Ouch. And here I thought the Qixing were known for their hospitality. Don't worry, Lady Yuheng, my weapons only come out when the conversation gets boring. Let's just hope your terms are as sharp as your tongue."
"My terms are absolute," Keqing shot back, her voice dropping to an icy, bureaucratic edge. "And if Snezhnaya thinks it can intimidate us by sending a boy who values bloodshed over statecraft, you are gravely mistaken. If you wish to test Liyue's strength, I would be more than happy to—"
Before Keqing could finish her threat, or before Childe could deliver the eager retort already forming on his lips, the temperature in the room suddenly shifted.
The air grew heavy, thick with the undeniable, suffocating pressure of pure, unadulterated Geo energy. It wasn't an aggressive aura, but it carried the ancient, unyielding weight of a mountain. The bickering died instantly. The heavy silken curtains at the back of the room rustled, and the entire hall fell into a reverent, absolute silence.
Lord Rex Lapis had arrived.
The heavy doors slid open with a slow, solemn grind, and two figures stepped into the light of the grand hall.
Childe’s breath hitched in his throat.
He had expected a monster of war. He had braced himself to face an ancient, battle-hardened god encased in stone armors and rough edges. Instead, the man walking toward the head of the table was the very definition of divine perfection.
Lord Rex Lapis moved with an elegance that made the rest of the world seem utterly clumsy. He wore long, sweeping robes of deep amber and rich browns, embroidered with intricate gold threading that shimmered like veins of raw ore under the sunlight. His dark hair was pulled back neatly, fading into luminous, glowing amber tips that pulsed gently with elemental power. But it was his face that made Childe’s knuckles turn white against the wooden table. Perfect, symmetrical features, a calm that could anchor a storm, and those eyes—sharp, molten gold, framed by a striking, vibrant red eyeliner that gave him a look both dangerously predatory and impossibly beautiful.
Childe’s brain simply stalled. The smirk vanished from his lips. The sharp retort he had prepared for Keqing evaporated into thin air. His heart did a violent, erratic flip in his chest, and for a terrifying second, he forgot how to breathe.
Oh, his inner voice whispered in sheer, unadulterated panic. Oh, I am completely, utterly screwed.
Right behind the Geo Archon, walking like a lethal shadow, was a much smaller figure. The Vigilant Yaksha, Xiao. His golden eyes were wide, alert, and fixed entirely on the foreign guests.
While the rest of the room bowed their heads in deep reverence to the god, Xiao’s gaze immediately locked onto Tartaglia. The Yaksha’s senses were honed by millennia of slaughter, but it didn't take an Adeptus to read the room right now. Xiao saw the way the Ginger Harbinger was staring at his Lord—not with malice, not with tactical calculation, but with a wide-eyed, blushing, starstruck expression that bordered on the offensive.
To Xiao, Rex Lapis was not just his Archon; he was the savior who had broken his chains, the father figure he would die to protect. And watching this brat from Snezhnaya practically drool over him triggered every single protective instinct in his body.
Xiao shifted his weight, his hand instantly dropping to the hilt of his jade spear. A low, dangerous growl nearly vibrated in his chest, his eyes narrowing into murderous slits as if to say: Take your eyes off him, or I will tear you apart.
Childe didn't even notice. He was too busy drowning in a sea of amber and gold.
"Pray, do not let my arrival disrupt your conversation," Rex Lapis spoke. His voice was an impossibly deep, rich baritone that vibrated right through the floorboards and straight into Childe's spine. He took his seat at the center of the table, his movements fluid and precise. "We are here to forge a future of peace. Let us begin."
Beside Childe, Signora delivered a sharp, brutal kick to his shin under the table, desperate to wake him up from his trance. Childe barely felt the pain. His eyes remained glued to the Geo God, his hands trembling slightly as he realized that this "simple negotiation" had just become the most dangerous mission of his entire life.
Lord Rex Lapis settled into his chair, folding his gloved hands neatly over the polished wood. His molten-gold eyes swept across the table, pausing first on the Eighth Harbinger, and then moving to settle directly on Tartaglia.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Signora," the Archon spoke, his deep voice carrying a polite, melodic warmth. Then, those striking eyes locked onto Childe, and a faint, courteous smile touched his lips. "And you must be Lord Tartaglia, the youngest of the Tsaritsa's Vanguard. I have heard much of your... remarkable prowess on the battlefield. Liyue welcomes you."
The moment the god’s gaze focused entirely on him, Childe felt his soul leave his body. The sheer weight of that undivided attention made his ears burn hot. He needed to speak. He was a Harbinger. He had given speeches to thousands of soldiers, taunted monarchs, and faced monsters without blinking.
He opened his mouth, but his throat felt as dry as the Jueyun Karst.
"I—uh. Y-Yes. Your... Your Excellence. Majestic. I mean—Your Majesty," Childe stammered, the words tripping over each other in a disastrous pile-up. His usual smooth, cocky tone completely evaporated, replaced by the squeak of a panicked teenager. "The... the honor is mine. To fight—no, to meet you. Gold. Liyue is gold. Very nice."
Absolute silence descended upon the room.
Keqing’s jaw nearly dropped. She blinked, staring at the fierce, terrifying warrior who, just two minutes ago, had been practically baring his teeth at her, now reduced to a blushing, stammering mess. Ningguang raised a delicate eyebrow, hiding a knowing, amused smirk behind her elegant pipe.
Behind the Archon, Xiao’s grip on his spear tightened so hard the wood groaned. The Yaksha’s eyes flared with pure, venomous jealousy. He is disrespecting Lord Zhongli with his pathetic incompetence, Xiao thought, his aura turning visibly dark. Let me banish him. Please.
Signora, on the other hand, looked like she was actively having a mini-stroke. Her perfect, diplomatic smile twitched violently. She inhaled deeply through her nose, her hands clenching into fists beneath the table so hard her nails drew blood. If looks could kill, Tartaglia would have been turned into an ice sculpture and shattered into a million pieces.
Sensing the sudden, suffocating tension, Rex Lapis merely tilted his head, his expression remaining perfectly calm and genuinely curious. He didn't seem offended by the stuttering; if anything, he found the young Harbinger's sudden bashfulness rather... refreshing compared to the usual stiff fear he inspired in mortals.
"I see the journey has left you a bit fatigued, Lord Tartaglia," the Archon murmured softly, his tone laced with a gentle, grounding concern that only made Childe's heart beat twice as fast. "The crossing from Mondstadt can be draining. Please, drink some tea. It will help soothe your spirits."
Childe swallowed hard, his face now a vibrant shade of crimson that perfectly matched his hair. He blindly reached for the delicate porcelain cup in front of him, his hand trembling so much the tea sloshed over the rim.
"T-Tea. Right. Thank you, Mr. Geo," he muttered under his breath, completely losing his mind.
Underneath the table, Signora kicked his shin again—this time, with enough force to crack a Ruin Guard.
The walk to his designated suite was, without a doubt, the longest and most excruciating walk of Tartaglia’s entire life.
Through some twisted stroke of terrible luck, Lady Ningguang had ordered the Vigilant Yaksha himself to escort the foreign diplomats to their quarters. While Signora had been led away by Ganyu, Childe was left entirely at the mercy of the small, terrifying Adeptus.
The silence between them during the descent from the Jade Chamber was deafening. Xiao walked half a step ahead, his shoulders tense, a literal aura of dark, murderous animosity radiating from his skin. Every time Childe so much as cleared his throat, Xiao’s hand would twitch toward his spear, and those slit-like golden eyes would flash with a warning that clearly read: Give me a reason.
Childe, normally the first to enthusiastically provoke a deadly warrior, didn't say a single word. He just stared blankly at the floorboards, his ears still burning a deep, humiliating crimson.
The moment Xiao stopped in front of the ornate wooden doors of the guest suite, he turned on his heel, gave Childe one last fuzilating glare, and dissolved into a swirl of dark green anemo particles, vanishing without a sound.
Childe didn't even care about the neat Adeptus trick. He practically burst into his room, slammed the heavy door shut, locked it, and marched straight toward the massive, silk-lined bed.
He threw himself face-first into the mattress, burying his face deep into the plush golden pillows. A muffled, agonized groan escaped his throat.
“Mr. Geo,” he replayed the words in his mind, and his entire body shuddered with raw cringe. “Liyue is gold. Very nice.”
Heavens above, he was a Fatui Harbinger! He was the Vanguard of the Tsaritsa! And he had just spoken to the oldest, most respected god in Teyvat like a brain-damaged hilichurl. At that exact moment, Childe genuinely felt that throwing himself off the edge of the floating Jade Chamber into the ocean below would be far less painful than having to look at Lord Rex Lapis ever again.
"Ugh!" he groaned loudly, his face buried in one of the pillows, feeling like a teenager again. He still had to endure three painful months in that place. Three months. He was absolutely certain that he couldn't stand being in that palace for even another second.
He wanted to die.
Or, at the very least, he wanted to pick a fight with someone capable enough to bruise his ego and clear his mind. But Liyue’s imperial guest quarters offered no such mercy. The chambers Signora had secured for their delegation were far too quiet, smelling faintly of glazed lilies and ancient, polished wood—a gilded cage explicitly designed to keep the Tsaritsa's vanguards on a tight leash.
Ajax rolled over onto his back, staring blankly at the intricate golden dragons carved into the ceiling. His skin still burned from the heavy, suffocating layers of his official Fatui uniform, which he had recklessly ripped off and thrown across a velvet chaise lounge the second the heavy oak doors had closed behind him.
Three months of bowing. Three months of listening to self-important ministers recite trade tariffs while Signora played her venomous games of chess at the imperial court. He was supposed to be the muscle, the Tsaritsa’s hidden blade, a lethal distraction. Yet here he was, rotting away in silence because drawing a weapon in the presence of the God of Contracts was an immediate act of war.
He let out a long, heavy exhale, dragging his hands down his face.
It wasn’t just the suffocating boredom driving him insane, though. It was him.
Closing his eyes only made the memory sharper, burning it into the back of his eyelids. The grand assembly hall. The suffocating weight of divine aura pressing down on the entire Snezhnayan delegation the moment the golden doors had opened. And there, sitting upon a throne of dark stone and cor lapis, was the Emperor himself. Morax. Rex Lapis. The God of Contracts...
Ajax had expected an ancient, untouchable deity, or perhaps a terrifying beast of legend. He hadn't expected a man whose sheer, breathtaking elegance could make a Harbinger's heart actually stutter. Clad in imperial robes of dark amber and gold that draped flawlessly over broad shoulders, the Emperor possessed an otherworldly beauty that was both serene and entirely lethal.
When those glowing, inhumanly bright eyes had lazily drifted past Signora's theatrical diplomacy and locked directly onto Ajax, the world had simply stopped.
Ajax had felt a jolt go straight down his spine—a dangerous, electric friction. It wasn't the freezing terror of the Abyss, nor the crushing weight of the Tsaritsa's gaze. It was a suffocating, intoxicating heat. The Emperor hadn't even blinked. He had merely tilted his head, a subtle shift in his imposing posture, and Ajax had felt completely, utterly bare before a god. It felt like being claimed without a single word being spoken.
It was infuriating. Love at first sight was a foolish, pathetic concept he usually mocked in Snezhnayan plays. Yet, his pulse was still hammering a frantic rhythm hours later, his skin hypersensitive to the phantom weight of the Emperor's stare.
"Get a grip, Ajax," he muttered to the empty room, his voice raspy.
Desperate for something—anything—that could anchor his soaring pulse and make him feel like himself again, he kicked off his boots and marched over to his travel trunk. He dug past the polished leather, the spare blades, and the formal cloaks until his fingers brushed against a thick, heavy knit sweater.
It was an old, oversized thing, worn-out at the cuffs and utterly unbefitting of the Eleventh Harbinger. It was the sweater his mother had knitted for him before he left Morepesok, washing it with the cheap, chamomile-scented soap she always used at home before packing it into his bag.
Ajax pulled the sweater over his head, burying his face deep into the high collar.
As he took a long, shaky breath, the faint, lingering scent of chamomile, woodsmoke, and the icy air of Snezhnaya filled his lungs. It was the scent of home. The scent of a life before the Abyss, before the Fatui, and long before he found himself helpless under the gaze of a dragon god.
He sat on the edge of the silk-sheeted bed, the long sleeves draping over his knuckles as he hugged his knees against his chest. Wrapped in his mother’s sweater, the towering imperial palace of Liyue felt just a little less intimidating, even if his heart was still completely compromised.
Outside his window, the imperial capital glowed under the moonlight, every single lantern a silent reminder of the Emperor who currently owned Ajax's every thought.
Sleep was clearly out of the question tonight.