Diluc ran.
His bare feet pitter-pattered against the icy floors.
There were a few guards that stood here and there.
Each and every one of them were bewildered by him.
Or was it the fact that Ajax was right behind him, trying to grab anything to stop him.
He didn't have a damn clue where he headed.
Nor did Diluc really pay attention.
But he felt his Vision near.
So, so close.
The halls were so tall.
The halls were so, so wide.
Ice and frost had lined the walls.
Even the very lanterns were coated in light frost.
But Diluc didn't even run very far.
He was stopped, blindsided by so much white.
Whatever happened next was a tad too quick for Diluc to follow.
He found himself in Ajax's chest.
Almost as if he was shielded away.
Ajax's hand kept steady behind Diluc's head.
Kept blocking the other's sight as he tensed.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," Ajax greeted reverently.
Bowed his head in the awkward position.
Diluc shifted, tried to get out of those arms that were oddly strong.
But Ajax held firm.
"Tartaglia."
It was surreal to feel how cold and piercing a voice spoke.
Like a sharp dagger that scraped Diluc's skin.
Ajax stiffened underneath him, "Your Majesty."
Diluc tried once more, finally able to turn his head so see.
If Ajax's heartbeat picked up under Diluc's ear, he didn't even notice.
His crimson eyes only spotted a familiar vermillion against the whites.
His Vision glowed warmly in the pale, pale hand that wasn't his own.
It almost called to him.
Wanted him back.
Diluc followed that hand, noting how unbearably cold the skin seemed.
Blinked owlishly at the person who almost towered before him.
In front of the open balcony with the snowy night behind her.
Her cold, cold eyes bore into his.
Even though she spoke to Ajax.
He heard her voice, but he didn't listen.
Almost too shocked to listen at all.
The woman before him was important.
Divine even.
Far too powerful to ignore.
He could literally feel it.
The cold, yet gentle touch of her.
Nothing like the Abyss.
Nothing like Mondstadt's winter.
"You look exhausted," she sounded so amused.
But her eyes were so deep.
Like he looked into a frozen pit.
"Stand up."
She held out a single hand.
"It does not bode well to rest on the floor, Diluc Ragnvindr."
Diluc didn't move.
Almost too afraid to move.
Even when Ajax nudged Diluc to move.
Maybe it was because he hadn't heard his name in so long.
Spoken with layers upon layers of ice.
But he still pulled away from Ajax.
Only spared a glance at his Vision as he took her hand.
It almost felt as if she burned his hand.
His warmth clashing with her cold.
The strength behind that thin hand was surprising.
Pulled Diluc right to his bare feet on the frozen floor.
Her eyes did not leave Diluc once.
He wanted to speak.
To say thank you.
To ask for his Vision back.
But the words weren't there.
Like his throat didn't want to work.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Ajax answered for him.
Already placed a steady, warm hand at the base of Diluc's spine.
As if to ground him back into reality.
She tilted her head to the side.
"The night is cold, Tartaglia."
Ajax hummed in agreement, even bowed his head.
"Return inside. We mustn't have our little phoenix catch another death so soon."
Diluc's blood ran cold.
She looked directly into his eyes.
As if she had seen right through him.
Knew everything single thing about him.
Then Diluc found himself being pulled away.
Ajax's arms were secure around him.
Bodily pulled him away from her.
Away from his Vision.
The very Vision that was never to leave his side.
He wanted to go back, to ask for it back.
Because his mind was still reeling.
Over the fact that he woke up.
He woke up.
Without his Vision at his side.
His father's voice echoed endlessly in his mind.
Words his father unknowingly ingrained into his very bones.
"Never let go of your Vision."
Diluc looked back.
"It's the sole reason you're still here."
She clenched the vibrant vermillion in her pale, pale hands.
Held it like a treasure.
Even met his eyes.
Cold and pure.
With her own.
Diluc didn't look back again.
._._._._._.
"Who is she," Diluc breathed.
When Childe settled him back into the room.
Even wrapped a blanket over Diluc's shaking form.
Though, Childe knew that the Firefly wasn't cold at all.
"Her Royal Highness, the Tsaritsa."
Diluc looked at him.
Eyes wide.
Face so, so pale.
"Oh."
If it were another time, Childe would've laughed.
Diluc sounded small, meek, and a tad shocked.
Almost shy in the wake of meeting his Tsaritsa.
But there was something wrong.
Something very, very wrong.
Childe stood before Diluc.
Held the blanket in place as the other hadn't moved.
"You know, I thought you'd be asking a lot of questions by now."
It was meant to be a joke.
Something to lift whatever shocked haze Diluc seemed trapped in.
But the Firefly stayed silent.
"But, it's late, cold as hell, and I need to talk to Her Majesty."
He grabbed Diluc's hands from under the blanket.
And made him hold on to the fabric.
"Go and sleep more," Childe smiled ruefully, "but when I get back, you can ask away."
Crimson finally locked on to cerulean a second later.
And pale, scarred hands properly held the blanket in place.
"You better, Ajax. I have a shit ton."
._._._._._.
The Tsaritsa waited for Childe.
At the grand balcony Diluc managed to find by pure and utter chance.
The cold night bit into his skin.
Almost drained whatever warmth he had.
His Tsaritsa looked at him, cold and pure.
Still clutching Diluc's vibrant Vision in her gentle hands.
"Did you learn your lesson, Tartaglia?"
Childe hadn't stepped out into the balcony yet.
When the memory of the throne room assaulted him.
The memory of her doing absolutely nothing to help Diluc.
Childe closed his eyes, recited the words she drilled into his bones she only said once.
"Before a Phoenix revives, it must die first."
He joined her outside.
Ignored how the snow began to fall.
Ignored how the Tsaritsa nodded so approvingly.
"But I don't understand," Childe admitted.
Because he wasn't one for large plans.
For large, intricate, complicated plans.
He was bold, brutally genuine, and subtle.
He craved the rush of battles and hard-earned victories.
But now all of the pieces were suddenly too much.
Too fragile to piece together without a delicate touch.
"Why… did you want Diluc dead," Childe paused.
Gathered his racing thoughts to finish his inquiry, "If you knew he'd live again?"
Not even a second later, the Tsaritsa's shoulders began to shake.
Her pale, pale hand fluttered over her face.
To cover the growing smile on her lips.
To cover the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes.
The sheer temperature dropped several degrees.
It was Childe's only warning.
The Tsaritsa's laughter rang.
Like gentle bells that graced the air.
Like sharp icicles that dropped upon the unexpected.
Childe could only watch in quiet awe.
Because his Tsaritsa still looked beautiful.
Still looked so pure.
Still looked so damn torn.
"It's rather simple really."
She dropped her hand.
The Pyro Vision glowed ever softly in the night.
Her cold, cold eyes bore down to Childe's cerulean.
"Would you still come to me if he died earlier?"
Childe moved to answer.
But not a single word came to mind.
Not even a thought of reason.
Quite literally, Childe drew a sudden blank.
And couldn't answer.
"Better yet, consider this, my dear," the Tsaritsa smiled.
As if she treasured the very emotion she held so deeply.
"How beautiful a father's love is for his children."
So dearly brushing her hand against Childe's frozen cheek.
"How he'd do anything to keep everyone in believing a lie."
So sweetly holding Childe's face in her gentle hand.
"Imagine how wonderful that deep love and trust is."
So lovingly brushed her chilled thumb under his eye.
"Only for it to be ruined in a single, brutal death."
Childe threw himself away from her freezing hands.
Away from the love that she poured so openly.
Away from the frozen smile that stayed in place.
The Tsaritsa tilted her head.
And Childe nearly dropped to his knees.
Because a million things ran in his head.
He had only known the Firefly for such a short time.
Knew about his life through second hand sources.
How dearly treasured Diluc was.
Mondstadt's beloved uncrowned prince.
He pieced together Diluc's story.
The clear betrayal that was supposed to break him.
Kill him.
Murder him.
Turn that love into harsh horror.
Harsh anger—
Harsh anything.
It hit him then.
Did Diluc know?
Childe looked at his Tsaritsa.
She didn't laugh anymore.
Her face had settled in that familiar cold and purity.
She watched the snow.
Dangled the Pyro Vision from a thin finger.
"Tell me, Tartaglia, how beautiful is a brother's love?"
Childe clenched his hands into tight fists.
"I'll do something better, Your Majesty."
His Tsaritsa blinked then.
As if surprised to hear his challenge.
"I'll show you instead."
Cerulean stared determinedly into cold and pure.
The Tsaritsa's face never changed.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"Then show me."
.
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