"So, here's the deal."
Hu Tao hefts a heavy tome under one arm and slams it down onto the table. The tea set jiggles, and Zhongli frowns, offended. Childe sits opposite him, arms crossed over his chest, regarding her with a cool gaze.
"A deal? We're making deals, now?"
"Look, I posted this commission to the Adventurer's Guild. It was denied almost immediately, red-stamped and everything. I even had Yanfei look into it to see if that was legal, but apparently, they can refuse any commission that they want, willy-nilly—"
"Miss Hu Tao," interrupts Zhongli politely.
Hu Tao blinks and clears her throat. "Right, My Lord. Sorry, got carried away. The Guild won't do it, the Traveler refused—"
"They did?" Childe's eyebrows raise and Zhongli shoots him a warning glance.
"Don't look so interested."
"Oooooh, but you are, aren't ya?" Hu Tao's face gleams at the prospect. "I knew that I made the right choice coming here. So, as I said, here's the deal: I want to hire you to procure one very unique item from one very unique place."
"Oh?"
"Childe."
Childe waves Zhongli's warning away. "Let the woman finish at least. What's the item and what's the destination?"
"A wild Glaze Lily," she starts, and then she pauses, her face split by a feral grin, "Deep in the depths of the Abyss."
Zhongli and Childe both start at the same time, for different reasons.
"I—"
"You cannot—"
Childe sighs as he rubs at his face. Zhongli doesn't know, he has no idea. An inkling, perhaps, of what might lurk in his past. Childe is curiously tight-lipped about his time before settling in the Harbor, but Zhongli isn't one to pry. It is why they've become friends, so close, despite being such different worlds. Sometimes Childe wonders why the Lord of Jueyun Karst would bother to spend time with him. He hates how his heart clenches a little every time that he sees Zhongli in that stuffy suit of his.
It is why Childe lingers in Liyue Harbor, instead of moving on as he did everywhere else.
"I've done a lot of research," says Hu Tao, cutting into his thoughts. "Spent nights pouring over texts. Glaze Lilies are extinct, you know—or rather, wild ones. You've seen the cultivated ones hanging around, I'm sure. Anyway, legends have it that in the deepest part of the deepest place, the last remaining Glaze Lily grows. You should go get it for me."
"Absolutely." Childe's response is immediate, as is Zhongli's sour frown. "What?"
"Childe, you cannot expect me to sit here and let you go to the Abyss—"
"So, come with me."
At the suggestion, Zhongli huffs. "Absolutely not." He hides his discomfort behind his mug of tea. "I suppose that I cannot stop you, but let it be known—this is the worst idea that you've ever had."
It isn't, but Zhongli doesn't need to know that.
"I've compiled some handy-dandy notes for you." Hu Tao slides the book over and Childe sees that it's stuffed with folded papers. "No deadline, or anything. Just whenever."
"And what do you get out of this?" asks Zhongli.
Hu Tao taps at her chin, smiling that too-knowing grin. "Oh, nothing. Just curiosity."
Childe likes to think that he knows her better than that.
#
Once upon a time, there was a boy who fell into a hole and lived in the darkness for a little bit too long. Childe fought his way through The Abyss, turning into a wild and rapscallion thing. Eventually, he clawed his way back to the surface, the sunlight warm on his face. But the world was unfamiliar and nothing was the same.
Especially him. He was different. Violent. Bloodlust surged in his veins. Everything that fueled him, was at the behest of that lust, and he found a home within the Fatui, a regimen of soldiers that found use in his newfound prowess.
Childe is the youngest of the Harbingers, The Tsaritsa's scourge that travels the land and does her bidding. Wholly loyal to even their death, they are her right hands, her feet, the backbone of everything that holds her together. He—
Childe was the youngest of the Harbingers, something that he sometimes forgets because old habits die hard, and it feels impossible to unlearn the worst of your parts. He is a drifter now who does deeds for good, never settling in one place because he doesn't deserve such peace.
It hurts to look at Zhongli sometimes because Childe yearns for him so badly.
"You will be careful." It isn't a question. Zhongli smooths his hands across the broad expanse of Childe's shoulders, fingers lingering a little too long for being just friends. Childe isn't stupid; just stupidly in love. And stupid in his stubbornness to do nothing about it.
"I'm always careful." He is not, and they both know that. "Look, I'll come back in one piece."
"Unharmed," says Zhongli.
Childe doesn't agree, he just sighs. Sometimes he comes back broken and bleeding, and Zhongli is kind enough to stitch him back up. He wonders where a minor Lord learned such a thing, but Zhongli is as mysterious and tight-lipped about some things as Childe is.
"Must I bring the edgy one?"
"Consider it a small request."
Childe gazes to the left. Xiao is small in stature but large in ego. He glares right back with a nasty sneer spread across his face. They've never gotten along, and Childe wonders exactly what Zhongli bribed him with.
"Childe," says Zhongli, fingers catching his chin to pull his face back towards him. The warm touch is gone almost immediately. He opens his mouth to say something else, but it never comes.
"I hear you," says Childe, his voice soft.
"Do you? You don't know what's down there."
Oh, but Childe does. There are some things that he'll never forget, and he dreams terror after terror every night about them.
"Mr. Zhongli, there is a story that I should tell you—one that you'd no doubt find interesting. Remind me when I get back."
Zhongli reaches out to straighten the clasp that keeps Childe's scarf around his neck, a soft touch that Childe is sure will fuel him throughout the expanse of The Abyss.
#
"You are too familiar with this place."
They have spent hours crawling through the first sprawling bits of The Abyss, and have stopped for some water and a quick rest. Childe looks at Xiao and sips from his canteen.
"We can't sit here for too long."
"See, that is what I mean." Xiao pauses, his gaze narrowing. "You've been here before."
Childe knows there isn't a point in lying. Xiao is an adeptus, he can probably smell it. "I've never hidden that. This place is practically home to me."
Xiao looks disturbed, his brow creasing. "You have never mentioned it, either."
"What would have been the point? I've settled down in Liyue. I keep my head low and stay out of trouble. The Abyss has nothing to do with me now." Except that it always will. Even now, it tugs at the back of his mind like an incessant whine. Childe has gotten good at ignoring it.
"It would have eased my Master's worry, at least a little bit." Xiao sounds annoyed by the idea of it, which is amusing at least.
"Mr. Zhongli—"
"His lordship."
"Zhongli," says Childe, delighting in the way that Xiao hisses at him, "Is just a worry-wart. I can't change that about him."
"It isn't that he—Archons, you're a fool. You're right, we cannot stay here for very long."
Childe takes another swig of his water before tossing it to Xiao. Xiao catches the canteen with deft fingers and gives him a sneer.
But he takes a sip nonetheless.
#
The journey drags, there are no days, and Childe forgot what it's like to have no sense of time.
Xiao is bothered by it; Childe can tell by the way that he squirms more and more the deeper they go. The Abyss stretches on for eternity, the sky an endless, starless twilight. Childe dislikes the way that it feels like coming home, like he's been missing a part of himself for ages.
He too is restless.
Eventually, they come to a fork in the road, and at its split, a floating creature. She is a small thing, with wide, curious eyes, and a mouth curled in amusement.
"Outlanders," she says, glancing between the two of them. Then her gaze settles on Childe. "Except for maybe you. You seem to belong here."
Childe ignores the way that Xiao gives him a concerned look. "So, what's the deal?" asks Childe, motioning to the two trails.
"I am Paimon," says the creature as she circles around, "And I guard these two paths."
"Which lead to?"
"Wherever you want. After all, this is The Abyss. There are no certainties here aside from death. Tell me outlanders, what have you come looking for?"
"Who's to say we're looking for something?" Xiao's question isn't a bad one, but—
Paimon's face twists into a salty-sweet expression. "There are two reasons one comes here: It is an accident, or it is to find something. I doubt the two of you fell in together." She turns to Childe once more. "You, though—"
"A Glaze Lily," cuts in Childe. Creatures of The Abyss have a habit of knowing too much, and he doesn't feel like explaining himself to the one person who seems to hate him purely because he exists in the realm of his Lord. "We heard you can still find them in the wild, here."
Paimon looks surprised, caught off guard. "I—well, yes, that is true." She thumbs at her chin. "It's been a long time since someone has come searching for one, though. Eons, like. I assumed that mortals had forgotten."
They likely have.
"Call me stubborn," says Childe.
"And why are you looking for a Glaze Lily?"
"I was asked to find it for someone. This is a job."
Her gaze narrows. "That's all?"
Childe sighs, annoyed and impatient. "What's with the twenty questions? Look, I just want to find the damn flower and get home. I promised someone that I'd come back safe."
At that, Paimon's face melts slightly into something softer and subdued. "Oh," she murmurs, "Someone special?"
He swallows, too conscious of Xiao standing right beside him. "That doesn't matter."
Paimon hums sweetly. "Alright, I'll tell you what—I don't usually do this, but I have a soft spot for romance—"
"This isn't—"
"Take this path," Paimon gestures to her left, "And follow it to the end. But, be warned—whilst at the end of the road lies a sea of Glaze Lilies, so does the beast that protects it. Be alert and be aware of just what you risk."
"What kind of beast?" asks Xiao.
Paimon preens, eager to answer such a question. "Your own worst enemy, of course."
Xiao's face scrunches in confusion, but Childe feels the dread that chills him. Sounds like an ancient curse, and those found within The Abyss never bode well.
"Thank you," says Childe, genuinely.
Paimon nods her head, and they are both on their way.
#
The sea of Glaze Lilies is a fantastical thing that sparkles and twinkles bright blue in the murky darkness of The Abyss.
And right before it, Childe's own worst enemy. Xiao's breath hitches, and his gaze narrows. He readies his lance, but Childe settles a hand against his shoulder gently. "You see it. I think it's clear that you have to sit this one out."
"Yes, I see it, but—"
"Xiao."
Xiao looks at him, genuine concern settling on his face. "Childe, explain."
Before them stands another Childe, swathed in black, a toned stomach on display. A red mask is pulled low over his face, and a blade of Electro is tossed between his hands.
Himself, Childe thinks. Of course, his own worst enemy would be himself.
"I am Tartaglia," says the shade, his voice warbled and distorted. "The Eleventh Harbinger. Tell me, myself, do you think yourself worthy to win?"
"I made a promise," says Childe, drawing his bow. "I can't go back on it now." And though he can't see it, he knows that Tartaglia smiles underneath his mask because it's what he would do, were he feeling the bloodlust surging within his veins.
"Then, let's begin."
Tartaglia is gone in the blink of an eye, and Childe barely dodges a sweep of his blade. His bow will do him no good, so he drops it, opting for a lance instead, anything to put distance between them.
"Quick," muses Tartaglia, "But I'm quicker." He is. Childe holds his own, but Tartaglia meets every blow with ease.
Childe's lance flies through the air in an arc, and he manages to nick Tartaglia's cheek. Inky blackness curls from the cut, smokelike as it rises. Tartaglia rubs at it, amused, and then he's off again.
And so, they fight. Childe is out of practice, and sweat drips down his face. His spine prickles in discomfort and he groans every time Tartaglia hits him hard. But he manages, just barely, to push him off. He knows he's disadvantaged, but he has to get out of here, he has too—
"What are you thinking about?" Childe doesn't expect Tartagalia to speak so casually, but he supposes that taunting is part of the game. "Do you truly feel so loathsome about yourself?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It doesn't?" Tartaglia laughs as Childe lunges away from his blade. "I think that's all that matters. Do you think that you can hide from me? That you can just leave this life, and settle down in some Harbor?"
"No," says Childe. He doubles down on his movements, quickening his feet, despite the way that his bones ache. "That's why I'm always on the move. Even with the Harbor, I will eventually leave."
Tartaglia tuts. "That's a lie, and you know it. You linger because you want to, but you know that you don't deserve it."
"That's—" It's true, of course. Childe doesn't deserve peace.
"And that's because you are just like me, evil to the core. Don't you miss it? Blood coating your hands, and the screams of your victims?"
Tartaglia pauses in his assault and Childe closes his eyes to think. And to ignore the way that his heart beats in his ears.
"That's the thing about men like us," continues Tartaglia, "We are only suited for one thing, and one thing only. You are a fool to think that you'd ever escape it, that you'd be worthy of something more."
Childe thinks of Zhongli, and his soft smile and the curve of his lips. How he taught him to brew tea, and hold chopsticks. The low timbre of his voice as he tells him stories of old, and how Childe thinks that he could sleep soundly at night with just Zhongli's presence in the room.
And then he moves, lunging with his lance as he flies mostly on instinct. The weapon sinks right into Tartaglia, coming out his back. Tartaglia sputters, inky blackness blooming as everything around them seems to melt away.
Childe is sore, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his neck. Xiao approaches quietly and says nothing. The sea of Glaze Lilies is gone, leaving behind a single flower, glittering in the dark. Childe plucks it from the ground and feels the weight lift from his chest.
Xiao says nothing, only presses a hand against his back.
#
The sunlight feels almost too hot on his face, but Childe sighs in relief.
He finds Hu Tao in the company of Zhongli at Wanmin Restaurant. As Childe approaches, Zhongli stands, knocking back his stool. But then he pauses.
"Your damned Glaze Lily," says Childe, pulling out a handkerchief and holding out to Hu Tao. The flower is carefully wrapped up.
"Aiyah, you did it!" She grins widely as she jumps from her seat, tugging at his sleeve. "Okay, so here's the thing—"
"Hu Tao."
"It isn't for me." Childe blinks at that, giving her an absurd, baffled look. She peers at him, tapping her cheek. "You didn't read all the notes that I gave you, did you?"
Childe did not.
"Men! Stupid!" She tugs at his sleeve again, turning him towards Zhongli. Then, she stands on her tiptoes, and pulls him down to say into his ear, "They say the gift of a wild Glaze Lily is the proposal of all proposals. Good fortune and a happily-ever-after—all that good stuff."
"Hu Tao—"
"So, go get him. 'Cause I'm tired of watching the pining." She pushes him none-too-gently and Childe stumbles across the ground.
Zhongli greets him softly, his mouth curled into a smile. "I must admit my relief to see you here."
"Uh—Yeah, look, I'm…man, this is awkward." Zhongli waits patiently. "Hu Tao told me to give this to you. Said something about it being… er—"
"Childe, I know what it means." He reaches out and curls warm fingers around Childe's wrist, and takes the flower from his hand. Childe hates that he looks bad, smells worse, and that he's grimy from head to toe. "I would be honored to receive such a thing. But first—I am supposed to remind you to tell me a story."
Right. The one about himself, the awkward elephant in the room.
"Ajax," he blurts, and Zhongli tilts his head. "It's my name. My real name. I—there is a lot to tell you, I guess."
Zhongli still holds his hand, and smooths a thumb across his knuckles. "I assure you, I have all the time in the world. In fact, I have my own story to tell. Shall we?" He points to their favorite table.
Hu Tao is gone. They share a pot of tea, and then another, and then another. There are stories of the past, and thoughts of the future.
And Childe thinks that this, perhaps, is bliss.
