The sound of footsteps was familiar, and every time, it drew the same response from the young boy, who promptly snuggled up in the covers and closed his eyes, feigning sleep. His first guess was his parents. Perhaps Daddy was having trouble sleeping again due to his headaches and was searching for their stash of medicinal herbs. The sound, however, had a different quality from the soft but heavy thuds the boy was used to. These were lighter, quicker, yet more cautious, and far more intriguing. Most young children his age would have ignored these factors and stayed put where no adults would chastise them for being awake at such hours, but Teucer was notoriously curious, and this curiosity would never be satiated until he found out the truth.
Teucer slowly slipped out of his bed and crept across the room. He had practiced these late-night maneuvers many times and found that in muffling the sound of his feet on the hardwood floors, socks were quite effective. After carefully coaxing his drawer open and pulling on a pair, he approached the exit of his room. The door was barely ajar, allowing a tiny sliver of hazy light to filter through the crack. His hand found the edge of the door and gently inched it forward until his small frame could just barely fit through. At last, he had entered the hallway.
If the menacing effects of darkness had been partially nullified by the safety of his room, the hallway retained none of it. The dark pounced on him immediately, rendered him blind and helpless, doomed him to feel his way through an obsidian world. In the absence of sight, his ears became especially keen, detecting every suspicious noise and sometimes tricking themselves. The mysterious night-walker's footfalls were the only thing steadying his trembling body, keeping his feet moving forward in their practiced cycle: lightly press to test the floorboards. If they feel firm, slowly shift weight. If not, gently lift and test an adjacent spot. Only proceed if you are certain that the floor will not creak under your weight.
Two thoughts went through Teucer's mind when he reached the stairs. On one hand, creeping down them without being caught would be much more difficult; the squeaky wooden planks would make sure of it. On the other hand, he could just barely make out a person in the living room, pulling on his coat and snow boots. He was tall, with a familiar head of tousled red locks, and a strong, youthful bearing...
Big Brother?
Just the thought of the best brother in the world made a smile spread across Teucer's face. Surely, Big Brother must be going to sell toys, or to attend a meeting with the Snezhnayan Institute of Toy Research. Perhaps he would share with them any information he had gathered in Liyue. Warm giddiness spread through Teucer's body and made him take another step forward just to get a better look. Big Brother was heading out the door now, slipping away, closing the door and placing a barrier between them that Teucer couldn't stand. He had to get moving. Now.
The instant the door clonked shut, Teucer scurried down the rest of the stairs and shoved open the closet near the entrance where the family stored their snow gear. He was no longer as concerned about making noise, now that the only people in the house were both upstairs and asleep. Although he was in his pajamas, he saw no problem with pulling on his waterproof socks, snow pants, coat, boots, gloves, scarf, hat...after years of repeating the same routine every time he went outside, Teucer could assemble everything within two minutes, and the absence of real clothes underneath did not bother him.
Worried that dressing for the unforgiving Snezhnayan night may have stalled him too long, Teucer yanked open the door and stepped outside. There, he met a delightful surprise: snow, everywhere he looked, hailing down from Celestia to grace the earth with its silvery splendor. Not far ahead, he could make out his brother's tall silhouette, falling knee-deep into the icy cushions with every step and heaving himself out again. He hadn't gone far, most likely hindered by the fresh layer of snow, and his grunts of exertion prevented him from hearing the small boy trailing behind him. Teucer strategically walked in Big Brother's footsteps, where the snow at the bottom had been packed tight so that the boy fell no further into the holes. The snow persisted deep into the forest, getting only deeper the farther they went, and as long as Teucer stuck to the path of footprints, he could stay far enough behind to avoid detection while knowing exactly which way to go.
After a long while of nervously following the holes, Teucer saw the silhouette come to a halt. He approached with caution, found a hiding spot behind a tree, and slowly peeked around the trunk. In front of him stood Big Brother and, to Teucer's astonishment, one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on...and also the most terrifying. The pale moonbeams illuminated her flawless porcelain skin, which flashed its alluring presence through tasteful gaps in her dress. Though one eye was shrouded by the lacy, mask-like part of her headpiece, it only took one look at her sinister iris to send chills down Teucer's spine. He had seen Big Brother's colleagues before; although they were dressed funny and carried huge, scary contraptions and spoke as if they were looking for a fight, their intimidating demeanors had never fazed the young ginger. Anyone who sold toys for a living must be harmless and fun, just like his brother. But this woman...a single movement of her sickeningly voluptuous body, a single twitch of her smirking lips, and Teucer felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in terror.
But she was a toy seller, so she must be fine. Right?
"Oh, good. I was starting to think you wouldn't show." Ice, unforgiving and painful, swamped through every inch of his body and settled in his bones. On the surface of his skin, fire licked at the tender flesh, engulfing him until he could no longer breathe. She's just another toy seller. Another nice lady. Don't be afraid, Teucer. Don't be afraid.
"Don't you know me? I never miss out on a fight."
Were they going to compete with a rivaling toy company? Still, something was strange about Big Brother's voice...
"My troops are in position. They're waiting for us."
"Then let's not keep them waiting."
The pair continued deeper into the forest, and Teucer, now shaking so vigorously he could barely keep his balance, clambered miserably behind them. It was far too late to turn back now; while he could have followed the footsteps back home, walking through the forest in the dead of night alone was simply not an option. His only source of security was Big Brother, the bringer of all things good in the world, the person who would play with him and bring him gifts and protect him indefinitely. He could not leave this beacon of safety, not when the forest's darkness already slipped its phantom coils around his unstable limbs.
After what felt like hours of walking, they stopped. In front of them, the forest opened up to a large clearing, where numerous tents sat upon the snow. There were people among them, men and women dressed in thick Snezhnayan snow gear with an extra layer of something hard and shiny that Teucer guessed was armor. Perhaps they were testing out costumes? Still, besides for the wind, the atmosphere here was eerily quiet, and that woman's presence still haunted him. He almost squeaked in fear when she spoke again.
"You divert their attention. Use whatever means necessary. I'll strike from the shadows and capture their leader."
Capture the leader? Were they playing a game?
"Sounds good," came Big Brother's reply.
"We have my soldiers for backup but I doubt they'll be of much use; you should be able to handle this."
"Okay, I get it." He sounded annoyed now, which Teucer didn't often hear from him. "Are we going now?"
"Yes. Go. Ugh, so impatient."
At those words, Big Brother darted off into the clearing and stopped in front of the nearest person there. Teucer, hopelessly confused, did not know what to expect, until a brilliant flash of blue ripped through the air and before he could blink, the armored man had collapsed onto the ground. Excitement rippled through Teucer as he realized that he would finally be able to witness Big Brother's fighting skills, and he silently cheered him on as he subdued guard after guard with ease. Whatever game this was, Big Brother was winning, which made Teucer swell up with pride.
But it didn't last.
Boom! A thunderous noise darted through the air, barely overshadowing Teucer's startled scream. An invisible force chipped a chunk of snow off the surface of the earth, courtesy of a small projectile, invisible against the night, that missed Big Brother by an inch. Teucer never noticed he had squeezed his eyes shut until he opened them again, and the strange woman was nowhere in sight. Another horrible sound ripped through the atmosphere, and suddenly, Big Brother was on his knees. He recovered quickly, quick enough to catch the blade of an advancing guard with his spear. But as swiftly as he defeated one, several more arrived, climbing out of the tents and speeding out from the woods, fully armed and ready.
At last, Teucer would have his first taste of bloodshed.
* * *
Their tactic was even simpler than he had predicted. He need only to face them head-on and wait for Signora to find the leader. Of course, there were always possibilities: perhaps the leader was not actually present, or perhaps they had more reinforcements, or perhaps they had planned an entirely different, outlandish maneuver that the Harbingers couldn't possible anticipate, but whatever the case, Childe felt confident he could handle it. If nothing else, the Fatui could always press the enemy for information afterward, and any advantage was precious if the Tsaritsa's life was being threatened.
Of course, Childe also recognized the unlikelihood that a band of rebels such as these could lay a finger on Her Majesty. She had ranks of Fatui protecting her, including her eleven Harbingers, and her own power could only be rivaled by that of other gods. It was more of a matter of punishing those who dared question her authority—to shatter their organization and remind them of their inferiority to the prime deity of Snezhnaya. Still, with such extravagant threats as the ones these rebels boasted, extra caution must be exercised. Thus, Childe gladly flung himself into the conflict.
He supposed the enemy thought they had pulled quite a clever little trick when they dared to shoot him from a distance. He supposed there were more ranged shooters in the trees, setting their aim on his vitals, and possibly being ruthlessly slaughtered by Signora, who he had not even glimpsed since he entered the fight. The rebels' pathetic attempt at strategy was laughable; it made his lips curl into a dark, vicious smirk. Did they not know that to incompetently land a bullet in his arm was to guarantee them a defeat? That the pain, the adrenaline, the momentary shock, was exactly what he needed?
Fools.
Childe unleashed his Delusion and laughed as his boundless currents of electricity sent rebels dropping within seconds. Hot blood splattered on his face, rivaling the frigid wind and leaving its metallic tang to linger on the air. His precision was impeccable; he could strike enemies in the precise spot that would bring them to their knees without killing them, constantly walking the border of lethality, but never quite crossing it. The euphoria came, familiar and hot, charging him through his flawless dance, until his spear clashed with another and he felt the spark of an even more invigorating sensation flash through his bones.
At last. A worthy opponent.
She was quick, light on her feet, agile despite her thick layers of clothing, with a sly evasiveness that forced Childe to take the offensive position. He knew her sort: the sort that he could chase for hours without landing a single hit, until she drained him and finished him with a final, powerful blow. He thought of switching to his bow, but the darkness would make aiming much more difficult, and to use a ranged weapon—as well as his personal worst—while surrounded by close-range enemies was simply not practical at the moment. Perhaps, with enough raw power, he could eliminate the surrounding enemies entirely, and then he could focus on this new player that had foolishly entered his game. So Tartaglia, Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, unleashed the monster festering within.
Any resolve the rebels once possessed seemed to shatter once they glimpsed this glorious display of dark, Abyssal energy. Childe practically brushed them out of his path as if sweeping dust from his desk. The mysterious woman braced herself. He could not see her face, for she had pulled a black mask over her nose and a pair of snow goggles over her eyes, but he felt her stare, shocked but unafraid, not a hint of hesitance. Falling. Darker, deeper. Goodbye to the person, hello to the beast. Childe made the first move, ruthlessly slashing, forgetting the original intent of the mission as he watched her resist and evade him. Perhaps she had picked the right strategy; when he was so grossly outnumbered, Childe would have inevitably had to use his transformation in order to match their strength in numbers with his own sheer power. But doing so placed a timer on him, a limit that had to be managed carefully, and this mystery woman need only avoid him long enough for his time to run out. Clever girl. You did your homework, didn't you? Of course, there were issues with this plan, the most significant one being the presence of the Eighth Harbinger, Signora. Childe glanced over his shoulder just long enough to glimpse her icy blasts obliterating everything in her path, and despite standing in the heat of battle, doubt crossed his mind. He ignored it, pursued the quick, obscure woman, had a bit of trouble trying to catch her with so many surrounding distractions from the rebels he guessed to be her subordinates, until he landed a single electric strike and she tumbled into the snow. She recovered quickly, swerved to the side, ducked out of Childe's sight for a moment too long, and suddenly she was above him, polearm in hand, with a flurry of snow gathering in an wispy halo around her, pulled towards her by an invisible force. Anemo gripped Childe by the shoulders, pulled him over, nearly swung him straight into her blade as she landed back on the ground below him, but he ripped himself out of the anemo energy's grasp and used the momentum to deal another massive blow. Veins of electricity splintered through the frozen crystals on the ground and seized her body, throwing her to the ground with a pained gasp. Childe tore her weapon from her hand and pinned her to the ground with his foot, effectively immobilizing her for the time being.
A burst of cryo struck him hard in the back and branched off on either side of him, disrupted by his presence. He turned and found the source, Signora—and had Childe shed his obsidian armor a moment sooner, the blast could have gravely injured him, just like the countless other warriors it had felled with a single stroke. As Childe finally allowed himself to shrink back into his usual form, the doubt that had previously twinged him returned with a haunting "hello."
Signora, the powerful, ruthless Harbinger, sauntered over to Childe and the woman beneath him. "Well done, Childe."
The man, panting, nearly collapsed from the physical strain that now embraced him fully. He clamped a hand over his arm and squeezed the wound tightly, gritting his teeth, letting the pain steady him. The natural tension kept his foot firmly planted on the woman's back, which was at present the only thing keeping her from running off.
"You two. Seize her." Signora gestured at a pair of Fatui Skirmishers, who promptly grabbed the woman by her arms and forced her into a kneeling position. Childe stepped away, but he still kept his hand pressing painfully against his wound, as it was the only thing preserving his firm posture. "Alright, then. Are you ready to talk?"
The woman made no reply.
"You heard her," pressed Childe with all the intimidation he could manage. "Start talking. Now."
"Shut up, Ajax. I tire of hearing your voice."
Childe froze.
"H...how do you..." But he was cut off short by the most unexpected sound imaginable: laughter. Signora's laughter. "Signora, what's going on?"
He had never seen her like this before. She couldn't get a single word out through her cackles, and Childe could only stare at her with a dumbfounded expression, but of course, her laughter was far from innocent. Something sinister hung in the air.
"Is this some kind of a joke?" He was angry now, and it was exhausting to be angry, but the longer she taunted him, the hotter his blood ran.
"Oh, Childe, you poor, ignorant soul," continued Signora once she had regained her composure. "I hope this won't be causing any rifts between us. After all, I'm not the one who betrayed you."
He knew. He knew the voice, the style, the way she moved. He turned, he looked, he saw it clearly despite the dark and the snow, and to his dismay, a catch entered his throat. "Cass?"
Another burst of melodious, wicked laughter. "You, why don't you help her remove all that gear she's wearing so we can see her face?"
The Skirmishers quickly obeyed, pulling off the woman's hood, her eyewear, her mask. Long red locks spilled out over her shoulders, and her icy blue eyes flashed in the dark. Childe stumbled several feet backward, shaking his head in denial. He had numerous things to say, questions, accusations, but in the confusion, all he could manage to produce was: "Why?"
"Don't ask me why. You know why. You just won't admit it."
He kept shaking his head, as if to command fate to alter its course. "So you don't like the Fatui," he finally said. "Fair enough. But...assassinating the Tsaritsa?"
"What can I say? I'm ambitious. Runs in the family."
"But...don't you think that's taking it too far?"
"Too far?" For the first time during their conversation, Cassandra looked up and pierced his gaze with her cold glare. "What do you get to say about going too far? You want to rule the world, right? Combat exists for your sake, right? You can threaten entire populations of people as long as it's fun for you, right? For Archons' sake, Ajax, don't you dare talk to me about going too far."
"Cass..." He hadn't a single response that could counter her. Frantically, he searched, but could find nothing viable, and in his daze, he turned to Signora for answers. "You..." A thousand realizations crept up on him at once. "...you knew. Didn't you."
Another string of laughter glided from her lips. Childe's fists clenched.
"You never needed me for this mission. You could've easily taken them all on your own. You only brought me here because..." He trailed off, unsure of how accurate his hypothesis was.
"Of course I knew," replied Signora. "Anyone who's seen your face could easily connect the dots." She took a few slow steps towards Cassandra and faced Childe with her condescending smirk. "The other Harbingers wanted to hide it from you. They feared it may cause you to...waver. But then, you wouldn't be a Harbinger if you harbored any doubts, would you?"
"N-no. Of course not."
"Exactly. So, I figured that...honesty would be the more prudent path."
"Why not just tell me?" seethed Childe, suspicious of Signora's claim; honesty was not common among the Fatui.
"Would you have believed me?" Childe shut his mouth. She was right: he wouldn't have. "That, of course, is precisely why I went through all the trouble to bring you here. You had to see it for yourself. Quite a waste of time, if you ask me."
"So you tricked me." His fists clenched even tighter; he had still not forgiven her for her ploy in Liyue, and this most recent development was akin to salt in the wound.
"No. I showed you the truth. You should thank me."
Childe growled in frustration and turned back to his sister. "What's going to happen to her?" His question was targeted at Signora, but his eyes were locked on Cassandra.
"She will be tried before the Tsaritsa for treason and attempted assassination."
"You're taking her all the way back to Zapolyarny Palace?"
"Crimes of this magnitude must be handled with equal consequence."
Childe pressed his eyes shut, then opened them again. He wondered why a trial was even needed; her sentence would surely be death. Despite how her betrayal stung, it didn't help him come to terms with the idea of losing her. "Does her status as a Harbinger's sister grant her any protection from the law?"
"Not even we Harbingers are spared the punishment that is due for us. You know this as well as I do, Childe. Say...do I sense a shift in your loyalty?"
The atmosphere went dead silent. Childe closed his eyes again and searched desperately for an answer. He still had an image of the Tsaritsa, in all her supreme glory, painted in his mind: of her unforgiving white stare that only the bravest of souls could endure. Then, there was Cassandra. Although she used to dote on him just as he now doted on his younger siblings, he was never particularly close to her. But she was part of those sweet memories by the hearth, of seven little orange heads huddled together to keep warm in the prime of winter. Even if she had taken lead of a rebellious organization that planned to overthrow the Tsaritsa's rule, she would always be Big Sister Cassie.
But Childe couldn't defy the Tsaritsa's will.
"No." A tear rolled down his cheek.
"Ajax, you can't do this!" It was his sister's voice, now dipping its toe into the pool of desperation. "Don't you get it? This is why I joined the rebels, Ajax."
"I'm sorry, Cass. My loyalty is to Her Majesty only."
"Don't you see what they're doing to you?" Now she, too, sounded on the verge of tears. "Family first, right? It was always family first, and now they've taken that away from you. Don't you see?"
"Shut up."
"You were my little brother, Ajax. And they took you away from me. And they've taken so many other sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, taken them and turned them into monsters! And it's only a matter of time before they take the rest of us."
"I said shut up!"
"My, is that the time?" Signora's voice cut through the tension. "We best be going. You two, please escort our prisoner to the nearby Delusion factory. I'll be with you in a moment."
The Fatui Skirmishers took a firmer grip on Cassandra's arms and dragged her behind them. They joined a group of other Fatuis, who were all handling their own prisoners, surviving rebels from the recent battle. Afraid it would freeze, Childe wiped away that single tear he had shed before facing Signora once more to hear her say her next dreadful words.
"Well, it's quite the family reunion today, isn't it? Come on out, little one. Don't be afraid."
Childe didn't even bother to ask her what was going on. He turned in the direction Signora was looking, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes focusing on a small, timid form in the distance. The temperature suddenly dropped several degrees.
"I think I'll leave you to sort this one out," decided Signora.
Childe waited as Signora took her subordinates and left the Eleventh Harbinger alone to face his next challenge. He could barely make out the silhouette peeking out from behind a tree, frozen in place with fear. Cautiously, he took a few steps towards it—with difficulty, between his fatigue and the deep snow—until he finally understood just how serious of a problem he was facing, and the dread did not hesitate to sink its teeth into his flesh. "Teucer?"
"B-Big Brother?"
The little boy's voice trembled with his body, which drew genuine concern from the elder. "How...what are you doing here?" Teucer made no reply. "Come here, let's go home." Spreading his arms, Childe bent over to pick him up, but instead of falling into his embrace as expected, the timid boy took several nervous steps backward. His once affectionate pair of sky blue eyes were now laced with fear, the same fear that had gripped Lumine after that incident by the lake. Childe suddenly felt sick. "Teucer?"
"Why?" The tone of his voice hit Childe with a horrible pang in the chest, like hundreds of Snezhnaya's most unforgiving icicles impaling him all at once. "Why were you fighting those guys?" Teucer choked out through his terror. "I thought you were gonna sell toys."
"I..." Quickly, Childe thought of a way to escape the situation, but he couldn't quite silence that tiny voice in the back of his mind that warned him his efforts were futile. "Those people were planning to attack the village. I was protecting us."
"Why did they take Sister Cassie away?" Childe's throat went dry. "Why were you fighting her?"
"Teucer..."
"Are you...the bad guys?"
Childe's eyes widened. It seemed so easy to say no, to insist that he and Signora were only trying to help the village, but no matter how many times he pleaded himself, he couldn't seem to force the lie across his tongue. It was no longer a matter of hiding the truth. Teucer had already discovered it, and the ensuing pain was so potent that Childe lost all hope for redeeming his image in his precious brother's eyes.
"I...I'm sorry, Teucer."
The boy shook his head and continued to back away. "You're...not a toy seller." Childe's breath shuddered. "You lied to me!"
"Teucer, I—" Childe reached out towards his brother in a desperate attempt to keep him, to hold him close once more, but Teucer squeaked in fear and jumped away from him. "Teucer, come on. Let's go home. You shouldn't be here." He kept moving towards him, but Teucer only inched further back. "Come on. Don't be afraid. It's me! Ajax! Your Big Brother!"
"You're...not my brother."
Falling. Hitting the bottom at last. Bones shattering with a sickening crack.
"You're a monster!"
Broken body writing on the ground. Ice, fire, pain. So cold, so horribly cold, burning, searing, screaming, howling into the darkness as agony claims him.
Then Teucer turned and ran.
Childe hardly even noticed his own desperate yelling as he tumbled after the brother he had just lost. He shouted Teucer's name, over and over, following blindly in the dark, but his transformation took a heavy toll on his body and he simply couldn't keep up with the boy ahead of him. Suddenly, Teucer was out of sight, and suddenly, Childe collapsed face-first in the snow, and suddenly, he was sobbing uncontrollably, sobbing his dear brother's name.
The snow in the air swirled around him with the frosty breeze, light and free and glittering with hope that Childe could never have. The world's serene beauty was not for him; blood was. Its life and joy and peace were not for him; pain was. Its love, designed so wonderfully for the likes of the human race, belonged to every individual in Teyvat...except for him. Fate had stolen his father's love. Then his sister's. And now, his little brother's, the boy he had held so close to his heart. Perhaps he had felt that Teucer was the least likely to leave him, and that was why he dared to hold him so close, even as he kept his distance from the rest of the world—for those closest to the heart were the ones most able to break it. Perhaps Teucer had been the safest option; to lose him was unlikely. Not impossible, but unlikely. But fate cared not for unlikelihood. Fate did not play by the rules of chance. Fate was cruel to him on that cold Snezhnayan night.