The system of Snezhnayan royalty was one that angered Childe to no end. As much as it was the one responsible for him holding the power he currently did, he couldn't help but bemoan the existence of such a thing.
The Tsaritsa, their overall ruler, was replaced every 60 years. They were always female. And they could never be a blood relative of the current Tsaritsa, and therefore always had to marry into the royal family.
Ridiculous, no?
Luckily he didn't personally suffer from this. He was not the crown prince, that was his brother Anton. A much more suitable choice in his opinion. Certainly more domestic in nature than his younger brother.
Even more luckily, his brother was (since birth) arranged to be married to the eldest daughter of the Natlan queen, Eshana. It wasn't a marriage of love nor lust, merely one of convenience. They had been allied nations for many years, so a marriage between them was a perfect one to strengthen that bond. It did not matter that the Natlan queen would be permanently giving away her eldest daughter, nor did it matter to the current Tsaritsa that she was 10 years older than the crown prince. It was simply the way things were, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that.
Unfortunately, as it turns out, many other things about Eshana did not matter. Such as her lineage. As was eventually discovered, Eshana was a bastard child of the queen and a Snezhnayan diplomat. It appeared that the queen may have taken strengthening bonds between nations slightly too far.
Even worse, said diplomat happened to be a cousin of the Tsaritsa, meaning that Eshana was not only a scandalous mistake, but also broke one of the primary rules laid out by Snezhnaya's founders.
No one is entirely sure how all this information came to light, however Childe had suspicions that it was Anton himself who leaked it to the press, wanting to weasel his way out of an arranged marriage that he did not care for.
But the poor bastard got more than he bargained for. The Tsaritsa was so enraged by this betrayal that she broke her alliance with Natlan and demoted Anton to the rank of a mere Duke, almost entirely stripped of his status as a royal. Not that it was entirely Anton's fault, but the risk of such a scandal was too big to take. And so it was better to act like he had never existed.
All this happened behind closed doors, the many informants working for the royal family managing to stop the story before it hit the presses. But now there was the matter of finding a new successor. And, much to the dismay of Childe, he was thrust into the role of crown prince.
It was a role that did not suit his character. Yes, it was true, he was widely known for his charm and charisma, but his heart itched with the need for a fight. It was his driving force, and, before he had been forced to swap his military uniform for ballroom attire, it was his future. He was the head of the finest army in the world, feared throughout all the nations of Teyvat. Each and every citizen shuddered at the word Fatui. People had been known to faint at the mention of his codename 'Tartaglia', although he thought that story to be more of an urban legend than anything concrete.
Yet another painful Snezhnayan tradition was that of the masquerade ball. He had been to many before when Anton was the crown prince, and Childe had always despised them. First of all, from a military standpoint, it made infiltration painfully easy, as it was difficult to identify who was behind the mask. Second of all, not knowing whom he was speaking with irritated him, as did the itchy fabric his crimson mask was made from.
So even as he stood in a small corner of the palace's grand ballroom, he couldn't help but wish he was in the battlefields, arm in arm with his comrades. His heart swelled with pride as he watched his agents guard the entrances and exits. Although, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of green jealousy, wishing he could swap his champagne flute for a deadly weapon.
Childe knew he was supposed to be joining in with the festivities. After all, this party was in honour of him and his new title, as well as an opportunity to scout for potential brides. But he couldn't find himself feeling enthusiastic at the thought of being shackled to some ignorant, pampered princess for the rest of his life; even worse was the thought that one of them may be in charge of the country soon.
Of course many of the women here were undeniably beautiful, and from the amount of fawning they were doing, he felt no doubt in his mind that they too found him attractive. Yet there seemed to be something missing. Perhaps some degree of humanity?
He had danced with nearly every woman here, listened to them ramble as he swung them around the dance floor. There seemed to be such a wide range of them, each from a different nation and family. However each time the outcome was the same, and by the end of every dance, Childe was hoping that one of the ladies would slip and fall, perhaps breaking an ankle or shattering a knee cap.
No amount of charm could save him from the sheer boredom he felt conversing with these women.
He quickly knocked back the rest of his glass of champagne, deciding enough was enough and making a beeline for the balcony. On the way he passed by a waiter holding a silver platter with many empty glasses, and deftly placed his own on the tray before slipping past him.
Luckily no one seemed to have noticed as the man of the hour weaved through the crowd and out towards the cool night air. He nodded to his agents standing guard as he passed, glad that he still had the loyalty of his troops despite his change in role.
Childe had initially gone to the balcony for a break from the noise and stress inside the ballroom, although as he had neared the entrance the desire to throw himself off of it became more and more tempting. Yet these thoughts were immediately abandoned when he caught sight of the woman leaning against the stone work.
While he could certainly describe his other suitors as attractive, there were none that he could describe as breathtaking. The first thing he noticed was the long, sleek hair, flowing into a series of knots and twists. Tucked into each knot were blue flowers, forget me not, hydrangea, pansies. It reminded him of a princess from one of the fairytales he read to his younger sister, the one about the girl with hair that never stopped growing. Rapunzel? Was that what it was called?
Then he saw the silken clothes hanging off of a slim yet curvy figure. Midnight blue satin embroidered with silver stars. It was the typical native dress of someone from Sumeru, and Childe wondered how the woman wasn't shivering from the harsh Snezhnayan winter they were currently experiencing.
He had just about managed to take in these details when she suddenly noticed his presence, turning to acknowledge him.
Deep brown eyes bored into his own like two dark jewels in the centre of her ornate mask. The mask was made with the same material as her clothing, studded with diamonds. A portion of netting hung down over the rest of her face, so he could just see the lazy smile hiding beneath.
"Hello. What brings you out here on a night like tonight?" Even her voice sounded beautiful, like a siren's song pulling him in.
"I was hoping that if I came out here then I would be granted a wish." Childe moved closer to her.
The woman laughed, her eyes shining in curiosity.
"I'm afraid, sir, that I am not blessed with such miraculous powers. But will you do me the honour of telling me what your wish may be?"
"Alas, my wish has already been granted, although slightly misinterpreted."
"Oh?"
"You see, I wished that tonight I would meet a beautiful woman, however instead I have been presented with someone who exceeds the realm of beauty and has entered into breathtaking." Childe feigned distress, although was unable to resist breaking into a grin at the sight of his companions' own smile.
"My, that is rather a predicament, whatever shall you do!"
"That was precisely my own question. I believe that the only suitable solution is to invite the lady in question to dance." Childe responded, holding out a hand for her to take.
"Well then, what kind of lady would she be if she denied such a kind offer." She threw him a small smile and took the outstretched hand.
Childe felt his body sink into the ingrained positions he had learnt in etiquette classes as a child. His hand at a 90 degree angle to his wrist, his back straight and his head held high. He struggled to keep his gaze from straying towards the mysterious woman beside him, firmly focusing his eyes straight ahead.
This time he did not bother to skulk amongst the swarm of foreign dignitaries and instead strode straight through them, watching as they all parted for him and his dancing partner.
They finally reached the centre of the dance floor and the string quartet immediately stopped playing, recognising the man in the centre as their crown prince. Childe gave a subtle nod to the conductor, who whispered something to the lead violinist. He then nodded and struck up one of Childe's favourite waltz's.
He took up the usual position, and his partner slotted in, placing her hand in his as he moved an arm around her waist. Then they began to move, spinning slowly around the floor.
"You know the waltz? I had assumed you were from Sumeru?" He said, not bothering to hide his puzzled expression.
"You would be correct in that assumption, however what kind of guest would I be if I didn't bother to learn the dances preferred by my host?" She replied, clearly proud that she had been able to impress him in such a way.
And he was indeed impressed. All the other women he had danced with tonight had stepped on his feet and he was left to pick up most of the slack. However with her they moved in perfect harmony, each person's movements in sync with the others. But there was one question that stuck out in his mind.
"And tell me, how do you know that you are currently dancing with your host?" His tone was slightly darker, however the curve of his lips betrayed an undercurrent of frivolity.
"Do not tell me that you believed that mask could disguise your identity?" She said, not unkindly, "I believe everyone from here to Mondstadt could tell that I am dancing with the crown prince."
Yet another reason why Childe despised the tradition of masquerade balls. Everyone could always tell who he was, yet he had not a clue who they were.
"Ah. I've been exposed then have I?"
"I'm afraid to say that it was so obvious there was never anything to expose." She let out a small laugh, and Childe was unable to resist cracking a grin in return.
"Then, can I ask your name?"
"Of course you can ask, but I would not tell the truth." She laughed again, but the prince couldn't help his furrowed brow.
"But I do not see how it is fair that you should know my identity when I am unable to know yours?"
"Is that not the fun of it though? The mystery?"
He was currently resisting the urge to rip off her mask and reveal her face to the entire court. Lord, he would have revealed her face to the entire world if it meant he could witness her in her total glory.
"I do not find it fun when I am unable to know the name of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."
He leaned down slightly as he said this, whispering directly into the shell of her ear as they continued to whirl around the dance floor. Unfortunately, the mask covered any reaction she may have had to this, although he liked to imagine her blushing brightly under the blue satin.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." She winked at him again.
Then the music reached its climax, and he was forced to end their dance prematurely. Childe bowed to the woman before him, smirking slightly as he pressed a kiss onto her hand.
"I guarantee you, I will."
Childe straightened himself back up, and began moving away from the dance floor and back into the throngs of people. He turned to invite the woman back to the balcony with him, but she was gone. Somehow she had managed to slip away into the crowds without him noticing. The prince silently cursed himself for being so idiotic as to let her out of his sight for a mere moment. Now he would never discover her true identity.
Perhaps it was for the best.
The woman also cursed herself. But her frustration was for an entirely different reason.
She hadn't intended to get so distracted tonight. It was a simple mission that she needed to complete, and by becoming so engrossed in her dance with the crown prince she feared that she may have jeopardised her position. Of course, the mask helped slightly with concealing her identity, although with a bit of digging it wasn't difficult to discover who anyone was.
She had purposefully gone out to the balcony to kill time and avoid detection by any lecherous government officials. Yet it appeared that she had done the opposite (although she couldn't say she didn't enjoy the hungry look on the face of the prince). But alas, she had a job to do. The Akademiya hadn't sent her all the way to Snezhnaya to flirt with attractive royalty.
As she sped through the back corridors of Zapolyarny palace she ripped the mask from her face and sighed, rubbing her nose and relishing in the freedom from the itchy thing. Then she took her long braided hair and coiled it around itself so that it was a large bun on top of her head, not bothering to remove the flowers from it.
Then she darted towards a window, throwing the drapes wide open and heaving up the sash, letting a strong blast of freezing air blow into her face. She shivered slightly, but pushed down her discomfort and slipped out the window onto the slate of the roof.
Her feet scrambled for purchase on the slippery surface, and her hands clung tightly onto the window ledge. Eventually she managed to regain her foothold and started to make her way up the side towards a flat section of the roof. She heaved herself up and swung herself over the small wall and onto the gravel. There she uncovered the small bag of items she had hidden there earlier on in the week.
She often wondered how the Fatui earned such a fearsome reputation when their attempts at security were so pathetic. She had easily managed to break into Zapolyarny palace. Wasn't the home of the royal family and the Tsaritsa herself supposed to be the one that was the most closely guarded?
She was so unbothered by this mission that she didn't even feel the exhilaration that tended to come with scaling a roof. Instead she felt she was overly calm. She felt so relaxed that she feared her heart may stop beating out of boredom.
But now was no time to let down her guard. She replaced her heeled shoes for comfortable leather ones and removed her starry cape, shoving it into the bag along with any jewellery that may make unnecessary noise when she moved. Then she was on the move again, but not before tucking two small daggers into the straps on her inner thigh.
The woman moved swiftly across the gravel and towards the small door at the far end of the roof. She easily barged it open and began to descend down the stairs, careful to tread as lightly as possible to make minimal noise. Luckily, at this time of night the east wing was mainly deserted. Even any officials who may still be working were enjoying the party and wouldn't be in their offices tonight. It was the perfect opportunity.
The only potential spanner in the works was the prince. She had managed to give him the slip for now, but if he really was so intent on finding her then who was to say he hadn't spotted her leaving and was following her down the corridor, silent as an assassin, hiding behind columns and rogue suits of armour-
She turned to look behind her, unable to stop the tidal wave of thoughts that swirled through her head. But there was nothing there, only a long dusty hallway. Now in contrast to the boredom she had felt only minutes before on the rooftop, her body tingled with paranoia. The woman felt the familiar buzz of anxiety but let it swell rather than push it down. It made her work better.
Suddenly she felt like she was moving even more silently and quickly before, spurred on by the twinge of panic she felt. Then she turned the corner, and as it happens, her paranoia wasn't for no reason.
Standing in the centre of the hallway was an agent of the Fatui, dressed in their typical garb. A black and red cloak and steel mask that mirrored the one their prince wore during the ball. And speaking of the prince, that was who stood conversing with the agent, his bright white and gold uniform shining even in the dim light of the east wing.
The woman couldn't help but feel herself become drawn to the beautifully lit angular features of the man in question. He had now removed his mask, and she had to say that he was one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen. The way his hair fell in swoops across his face and the side of his head, the way his bright eyes shone even in the darkness. But what really caught her eye was the sinister, conspiratorial smile crossing his lips. Because even though he was blessed with outstanding good looks, he was still as dark and sleazy as the rest of the Fatui. After all, he was their general.
She pressed herself against the wall and held a hand over her mouth, praying that the silver stitching on her dress wouldn't expose her. She watched carefully at Tartaglia and the agent speaking, trying to listen in or at least read their lips. But she couldn't focus on anything apart from the thumping of her own heartbeat.
Suddenly they broke apart, and she noticed the distinct look of irritation on the prince's face, and the sudden pale complexion of the agent beside him. Tartaglia waved a hand in the man's face dismissively and began to stomp back down the corridor. She felt herself shrink even further back into the wall, wishing in that moment that it would come forth and swallow her up. She kept praying that he wouldn't see her, but luckily the prince seemed so preoccupied by his anger that he didn't see the cause of his upset lurking in the shadows.
She watched as he disappeared down the end of the corridor, pressing herself even closer to the wall when the agent rushed off to follow him. The poor man was like a lost puppy.
God the Fatui were pathetic.
The woman emerged from her hiding place, peering round the corner. She let out a sigh of relief at the sight of an empty corridor, and continued to move towards her target at the end of the hall.
As she moved she took in the decor. It was all stunningly ornate, each and every crevice was coated in gold leaf. The carpet was covered in detailed patterns, and eventually the woman realised that it was a mural set into cloth. It seemed to be telling the story of Snezhnaya's origin, and how the first Tsaritsa was birthed from the snow and north winds.
The walls were covered in portraits of the royal family over the generations. Princes, Dukes, Rulers, Queens, all of them were immortalised on the walls of Zapolyarny palace. She even recognised the 3 princes, (lord tartaglia being one of them) the princess and the current Tsaritsa in pride of place in the exact centre of the hallway. These Snezhnayans really were humble.
The woman stopped in front of the portrait and stared, carefully looking at the painting. Then she noticed it, reaching forward and pressing a button on the bottom of the golden picture frame. What was revealed to her was a dark pine door, with a simple brass knocker in the centre.
Now was the moment of truth. She sent a quick prayer to the archons that there would be no one inside, before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
The room was, thankfully, empty, and the woman let out a deep sigh of relief. This mission had suddenly become much more stressful than before. Inside, she found an office that was just as ornate as the hallway outside.
There were the same plush carpets and gold leaf as well as an enormous glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. At the far end was a large oak desk, carved down the sides with images of the Snezhnayan army at war. Certainly a fitting image for the former head of the army.
She was pleased to find that she was exactly where she had intended; in the office of the current crown prince of Snezhnaya. She wasted no more time gawking at the decor and moved quickly towards the large desk, walking around it and opening the draws, quickly rifling through the documents.
Then she found it. A series of documents pertaining to the stolen gnosis from Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma and Sumeru. Inside were both the locations and usages.
A gnosis was a powerful energy core used to regulate the climate in each of the nations of Teyvat. The Fatui had been leading a coordinated effort to steal the gnosis of each nation to be used in weapons manufacturing. Tornadoes, earthquakes, uncontrollable thunderstorms and pollution of the land had begun to destroy each of the nations as a direct result of the theft. In response, they had made an alliance led by the Akademiya to take back their gnosis from the Fatui.
The woman smiled and snatched up the documents, hastily shutting the drawer and leaving the room. She shut the door behind her and hid it away behind the portrait before moving back down the corridor as fast as she could. Luckily didn't encounter any more agents or aggravated princes. Eventually she reached the stairwell that led back up to the roof and quickened her pace to sprint up the steps.
She recovered the bag she had left up there with her cape, heels and mask and replaced them with her leather shoes and the classified documents she had just stolen from the crown prince. Unfortunately it was time to return to the party, as well as drop off her bag to her contact here.
She then swung herself yet again over the small wall and back onto the slated roof. She slowly inched her way down towards the window before slipping through, quietly shutting the sash as she went.
The noise of the party was now audible and she returned herself to the role of the sweet and polite socialite, carefully slipping the mask back on her face. The woman strutted back towards the entrance and went up to one of the agents, doing her best to look shy, holding the bag innocently behind her back.
"Excuse me sir?"
"Yes ma'am?" The agent seemed surprised that she was talking to him, and stood up slightly straighter.
"I'm so sorry to ask, but I'm looking for the ladies room, you wouldn't happen to know where that is would you?"
"U-Uh yes no problem ma'am, it's down the hall to the left."
She thanked him and began to walk to the bathroom, clutching the bag protectively in her arms.
She found the right door and swung it open, taking notice of the other woman in there. She had short dark hair and a red pointed mask, almost like a bird's bill. But she immediately noticed the familiar swirling pattern that they said her contact would have.
"Awful night for a picnic is it not?" She began. "Normally I tend to avoid smog and smoke."
The other woman appeared to clock on and replied.
"Indeed, where I come from it's always raining. On nights like these I prefer to meet with friends and write poetry."
'She's talking about the documents. It's definitely her.'
"Oh really! Me too, here, look at these I wrote only the other day." She moved closer to the woman and began rifling through her bag, before handing the documents to the woman.
"These are great!" She replied, flicking through the dossier, "Do you only write about nature?"
"I also write about my hobbies." The contact nodded sagely and slipped the file into her own bag.
"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, make sure you keep writing!" She said, smiling at the contact before striding out of the room, letting the door swing behind her.