When Pierro arrived, the Eleventh was there.
Waited for him at the front of the small town.
Cerulean eyes lacked a certain shine.
Had been for years.
The boy looked exhausted.
His stance wasn't straight.
A leg carried most of his weight.
Despite resting against a bloodstained wall.
The brother was there, too.
On the ground beside the Eleventh.
Crimson eyes spared Pierro a glance.
It didn't even last for a moment.
The boy seemed drained.
Pierro was mildly surprised that he made it on time.
That ankle was barely healed the last he seen him.
A Fatui member stood before the two.
As if the guard was there to watch over them.
He seemed unscathed.
Pierro came closer, and the Fatui guard immediately saluted him.
Fist on his chest and head bowed.
Childe smiled hollowly when he spotted him.
He waved a small envelope in the air.
"It's complete."
Pierro took the envelope, "Any information?"
Childe frowned then, "No. They weren't mentally there when I caught up."
"Take them back to the Palace," Pierro said, looking at the Fatui member.
If the Fatui was surprised, he didn't show it.
"We'll handle the clean up."
But Childe spoke up, "No, I want to help."
Pierro stared at him.
The usual smile gone.
"Are you refusing my orders?"
The Phoenix even stood, using the wall as a brace.
"I want to help, too," he said, then tacked on, "Please."
There was a long moment of silence.
Those crimson eyes were rather firm on the idea.
Pierro gave one order to the Phoenix.
"When we're finished, burn it down."
He turned on his heel then.
Ignored the way the bothers shared a look.
It wasn't his moment to share.
Pierro was used to death.
It came with the territory of conquest.
He didn't blanch at the sight before him.
He turned to the closest Fatui and put them to work.
Bodies were gathered.
Names and records were collected.
Everything they could find about the people.
About the Children of his Tsaritsa.
Though small, whole bloodlines were lost.
Pierro was angry.
Upset.
His unsmiling face was a warning.
The Fatui around him kept their distance if they could.
Pierro had trusted subordinates.
The information he gained about the traitor came from his own.
He trusted Tartaglia to keep his mission.
And the boy did.
Completed the execution with a bit of help.
Somehow, someway, the detail of the traitor working with the Abyss got away from him.
Pierro swore he'd find that mole.
And crush it.
Thoroughly.
._._._._._.
Diluc sat, waiting for the flames to die.
Ajax pressed him against his chest.
As if to cover the sight left behind.
The ground was warm.
The snow all melted away.
Revealed nothing but dead soil and stone.
Dark with water and stained crimson.
There was nothing left to say.
Nothing left to do.
They could've left.
The victims were properly buried.
Possessions sorted for possible family outside of the town.
The town itself was burned down.
With Diluc's own flames under orders.
To erase the horrors left behind.
Diluc tried to pull himself from Ajax.
But the other refused to budge.
"You don't have to hold me," Diluc told him.
You don't have to protect me, he didn't say.
"I want to," Ajax told him.
Just let me, he didn't say.
So, Diluc gave up, closing his eyes.
A bone deep exhaustion clawed its way into him.
Dragged him closer and closer to sleep.
He leaned against Ajax.
And listened to the crackling of the flames.
._._._._._.
"Where are they?" Pierro asked.
The handful of Fatui members glanced at each other.
Before one spoke up.
"They're over there."
Over there was literally behind a crate.
Pierro had a small, teasing lecture at the tip of his tongue.
But when he saw them, it died.
The brothers were fast asleep.
One leaning over the other.
Childe's arms were locked in place.
Diluc was secured at his side.
Pierro stared at them for a moment.
It was strange.
To see them as nothing but children.
At that moment, that was all they ever were.
It was stranger still.
That Pierro did not feel an ounce of regret.
Not for them.
He bent down.
Untangled the brothers.
The Eleventh tucked under his arm.
The Phoenix draped over his shoulder.
Neither stirred under his handling.
Both in too deep to wake.
A testimony of how drained they were.
Pierro walked off with them.
Left only a track of his footsteps.
And the ashes of a town behind.
._._._._._.
Diluc dreamed.
He knew he did.
His plain room reflected back at him.
(For some reason, Kaeya rarely ever left him alone here.)
The simple bookshelf at the corner.
(Jean had given him novels to read, but Kaeya read them in his stead.)
The desk too tiny for actual work.
(Diluc loved ignoring that tiny wooden surface, just to throw his work on the ground.)
The expansive floor under him.
(He spent hours upon hours sitting on this floor with Kaeya, sorting through thousands of thoughts.)
He sat on the edge of his bed.
The blankets were just as he remembered it.
Soft, and plain.
Diluc never did care for luxurious things.
Not when he had other things to focus on.
It made him wonder then.
What was his?
What was Kaeya's?
What was his father's?
How much of his own room was actually his?
He stared at the box in his hands.
The one that Kaeya had given him years ago.
It held nothing but miscellaneous things.
Odd things he kept for himself.
A playing card here.
A broken chess piece there.
A couple of marbles he managed to keep.
A box of treasures that held precious memories.
That box was the only thing of value to himself.
He'd never shown its contents to Kaeya.
He hid it well.
Deep in the corner of his room.
Beneath a shelf where cobwebs gathered.
But in his dream, Diluc held the box in his hands.
The lid was still sealed shut with a long ribbon.
One of the many he used to tie his hair before.
Behind him, sat another figure.
A remnant he swore he burned away.
But it was still there.
Something that always sat in the back of his mind.
A power mangled and scattered from its burns.
Diluc didn't turn around.
Didn't greet it.
Instead, he closed his eyes.
Clung on to the box in his hands.
And got up.
The figure only shifted.
Maybe confused as to why he did.
But there was nothing he had to say.
Nothing he could think to say.
Why should he?
Diluc didn't look back.
Took nothing with him but the box in his hands.
And stepped out of his room.
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The echoing click of a lock rang endlessly in the emptiness.
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._._._._._.
When Diluc woke up, someone was there.
A personalized mask of gray could only mean one thing.
Another Harbinger Diluc probably had the misfortune of meeting now.
Ajax didn't exactly describe every Harbinger, but this one seemed to be a bit different to him already.
The odd, maybe even eerie smile on his face was uncovered.
"Oh, you're awake."
Diluc couldn't help but blink at him.
"Well? Don't just lay there— get off the cot and see if you can stand."
He didn't need to be told twice.
Even slipped off the cot without much struggle.
Although, his leg quivered from a pain he certainly didn't feel.
It was easy to tell that his ankle still wasn't healed all the way.
"You look fine. Well, for now," the Harbinger said, even as he pushed up the sleeves of Diluc's clothes.
Strips of white covered his healing scratches.
A much cleaner work from Ajax's.
"Keep these clean, unless you want to be come my newest experiment."
If he was bothered by that statement, Diluc certainly didn't show it.
The Fatui Harbingers were all very strange in their own way.
Diluc looked up at the Harbinger, and thanked him.
The wine red eyes of the other almost gleamed for a second.
Flashed with an emotion that made Diluc pull his guard up in that instant.
"Ha! You won't be thanking me once Her Majesty is done with you. She isn't happy."
Diluc moved out of the way of the other Harbinger, who muttered underneath his breath.
("Maybe I should've drugged him to try at least something. Wasted opportunity.")
Ajax was on the other cot.
Still, but breathing.
Diluc couldn't help but notice the blue bruises along his arm.
Worry chewed at him.
Made him step closer to really see if Ajax was fine—
But the other Harbinger stopped him.
The tip of a pair of scissors held up to his eye.
Wine red met with crimson, "If I were you, I'd go see the Tsaritsa right now."
Diluc didn't step back, "Will he be alright?"
The eerie smile grew to something downright unnerving.
"If you're really worried about him, come back later. I'll have him allll fixed up."
._._._._._.
"You disobeyed me."
The Tsaritsa's tone was flat.
Dead.
Maybe even angry.
But Diluc would call it worry.
Barely noticeable in the frigid display.
Diluc knew he had broken his end of his promise.
The promise to stay within these walls.
To master the 'blessing' given to him.
It was the very reason why Diluc didn't dare to move.
His legs could barely feel anything.
Not when ice had encased them the moment he knelt before her.
The cold seeped into his skin, stole his warmth.
But he looked up at her anyway.
Held on his own warmth.
His own quiet defiance before her.
The ice threatened to swallow him whole.
Cold and pure bore down on him, "Why."
Diluc bore his own crimson into that cold.
And spoke plainly, "He's my brother."
An honest, honest truth.
Because, really, what kind of brother would he be if he didn't?
If he didn't come running to save Ajax from getting skewered?
If he didn't worry about him enough to blindly follow the paper in that coat?
The Tsaritsa stared at him.
Long enough for the silence to become deafening.
She stepped down from her throne.
Every step echoed in the hollowness of the throne.
And stood before Diluc.
"Your family?" she asked, twirling a crimson lock around her finger.
Diluc did not flinch when frosty skin brushed his cheek.
It was nothing compared to the ice that began to pierce his knees.
"Yes."
She stopped.
Her hand stayed still.
Cold and pure seared into warm and true.
"Would you die for him?"
It was a sudden question.
One that Diluc almost didn't comprehend at first.
But within moments he remembered Ajax.
When he woke up that day.
Surrounded by unfamiliar things.
He remembered how Ajax wailed.
Cried so hard under the weight of self blame and grief.
How Ajax refused to let go of him.
Diluc came to his answer.
So he told her.
Bluntly.
Brutally honest.
"No."
The slow blink of mild surprise demanded a reason.
"I'd do anything to keep Ajax from that pain again."
Diluc flinched at the cold touch of her skin upon his.
(The frost crawled across his Vision, barely melting from its defiant heat.)
Held his face so dearly in her hands.
(Inched over his navel, turning his clothes to brittle ice.)
Rubbed her chilled thumb so kindly under his eyes.
(Numbed the nerves as it traveled up his waist.)
Then she laughed.
Her pale skin alight with a faint hint of rose.
Lovingly sweet with the gentle ring of her laughter.
Diluc couldn't help but stare.
Not out of awe like Ajax.
Not out of fear either.
He just stared, unsure what to feel.
As if the bitter frost tampered his emotions.
Froze them over.
That laughter didn't last long.
Ended within seconds.
"I see now," she mused, finally pulling away from Diluc.
Away from his remaining warmth.
"How beautiful a brother's love can be."
Diluc could hardly move.
Didn't even realize how his arms had crossed over his chest.
As if to protect the heart that beat beneath his chest.
Then the Tsaritsa stepped away, pulling her cold hands with her.
The cold receded.
Crept away from his chest.
Slipped back down his hip.
And finally melted from his body.
Diluc gasped—
The cold, searing air stung sharply with every desperate breath.
He was haunched over, shaking from the rush of warmth that swept through his body.
The warmth he knew all too well of his Vision.
The Delusion sat quietly on his hand, offered nothing in relief.
"Don't worry, Little Phoenix," the Tsaritsa's voice echoed around him, "As thanks for your assistance, I will forgive your disobedience."
He dared to look up.
Dared to bear the cold purity the Archon of Love granted him.
"I won't seal you. Not yet."
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._._._._._.
When Childe woke up, Dottore was there.
He held a roll of bandages and a pair of scissors.
"You. Are the sole reason I'm delayed for my project."
His face looked rather disgusted with Childe more than anything, really.
"If Her Majesty didn't order me, I would've liked to see how you'd bled out."
Childe warily eyed the scissors, "You could just stab me."
The smile on Dottore's face was one step closer to him actually doing just that.
Childe, if he could, would've already ran for it.
But his limbs felt heavy.
A crude headache pounded relentlessly in his head.
It had been a while since he felt that familiar pain.
The Delusion was never kind in return of its power.
He huffed.
Wondered if Diluc was feeling the full effects of it too—
Then it hit him.
He suffered a punch to the face when he got up too fast.
"Move like that again, and I'll throw you out," Dottore snapped.
"But Di—" Childe cut himself off, because he remembered that Dottore was here.
The very last thing that Childe wanted to happen to him.
Dottore spared him a glance, "Your petty excuse of a brother is meeting Her Majesty. He's fine, by the way."
Childe did punch him this time.
Well, tried to as Dottore had easily sidestepped it.
"Temper, Childe, temper," he singsonged.
The terrible smile didn't leave the other Harbinger's face.
"Now, sit still."
Oh, Archons, how he wanted to leave.
Childe glared at him, even wondered why Dottore was here and not buried in some laboratory across Teyvat.
"Although, I must admit," Dottore began, "That so-called 'Pyrebird' is impressive."
The Harbinger tightened the bandages far too unkindly.
"For a delusion that was inactive for so long, it still works quite beautifully."
Childe couldn't help but look at the Harbinger.
"Oh, don't give me that. You were the one who picked it up from me."
It was suddenly an open invitation.
A mere second to gain information Childe usually never pried into.
So, he damn well took it.
"Where did you get it from?"
Dottore almost scoffed, as if Childe was too slow to sort the pieces.
"Now you ask," but the sarcasm quickly turned into glee, "Mondstadt."
The very far away look that the Harbinger gave drove a knife down Childe's back.
"It's delightful to see him using his father's gift 'oh so well.'"
Dottore spoke as if he knew the man.
As if he knew almost everything about Diluc—
Then it clicked.
It really, truly clicked together in the most horrible way.
Several months too late.
Childe felt a cold rush of anger flood beneath his skin, "You—"
It threatened to burst, to rage, but Childe knew better.
He stamped it down.
Anything to keep himself from tearing Dottore's throat apart.
"You killed his father," Childe spat, hissed, something along those lines.
Nor did he exactly care.
Because right now, more than anything—
He wanted to gut Dottore right then and there.
But he couldn't.
Not when the door knocked.
And clicked open for someone to enter.
Diluc peeked his head in.
"Is he okay?"
Dottore's face broke into a wider grin.
A sort that twisted an ugly blade down Childe's back.
"A bit of rest, and all will be well, Diluc," Dottore spoke as if they were friends.
And Diluc— Diluc smiled in relief, like he trusted the other's word, even gave a short bow.
"Thanks."
Dottore waved him off.
Even made a show as if he busied himself putting away his supplies.
But, in reality, he leaned close to Childe.
His voice so low that even Diluc wouldn't hear.
Dottore moved away.
Stopped by Diluc's side.
Even patted his shoulder.
And left them alone in the room.
With that damned, damned smile on his face.
Childe's hands didn't unfurl.
Couldn't unfurl.
Not when that damn, damn Harbinger's words echoed in his head.
"How much longer are you going to lie to that so-called brother of yours, Tartaglia?"
And guilt tore at him when he looked at Diluc.
Who looked like he dragged himself out of river.
Who casually squeezed the water out of his coat.
Who smiled so damn kindly at him, "Are you alright, Ajax?"
And Childe lied.
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"Yeah, I'm alright."
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