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Ajax had been a happy, loved little boy, once.
He had had a family who cared about him and siblings he adored. His perpetual wide grin always brought joy to those around him and he always demonstrated such niceness to even strangers that people deplored the fact that his ability wasn’t strong enough for him to become a hero like he dreamed to be.
Indeed, in this world where powers were quite rare but not entirely uncommon, most of those power holders merely possessed the ability to facilitate their own life.
In Ajax’ case, the small amount of Hydro he was able to control allowed him to heal injuries faster than a regular person, in addition to preventing him from falling sick. Unfortunately, these powers weren’t enough to help anyone beside himself.
At fourteen, despite his adventurous spirit, he had known that his ability wouldn’t have any actual impact on his life and that was why he was caught so off-guard when it saved him on a day he was out hunting.
There was a villain in the woods near his home.
Of course he had heard about villains; people with powerful gifts who chose to use them for themselves, hurting others in the process. Heroes’ designated enemies.
But Ajax was just a kid, who could do nothing as the woman vented her anger on him; in a mere instant, countless thin but deep cuts appeared all over his body along with an intense pain that made him cry his lungs out.
Scared out of his wits, he was left shivering in the snow from the blood loss, or maybe from fear; it wasn’t quite clear at this point.
Red was such a pretty color on the pure white of the snow... Maybe Ajax should have been more worried about his own state with the quantity of vital liquid staining the ground around him, but all he could think about was how beautiful a painting all this crimson created in the usually dull landscape.
And maybe that villainess saw something in his eyes, because she went to kneel next to him instead of walking away as she had seemed to want to do in the first place.
She grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up into her dull, dead eyes as she took in the wounds slowly, imperceptibly closing themselves.
“Well, boy , it seems like you can be of some use after all,” she told him, smirking.
Suddenly, Ajax’ world was turned upside down as the villainess threw him over her shoulder.
“A bit too weak for my taste but, that can easily be fixed.”
Ajax had felt grateful that the woman had not finished him off; not knowing yet that he'd come to regret not dying on this day.
-----
Skirk, as he learned was her name later on, was a brutal woman and an even more ruthless teacher; not a day went by that he was still able to feel his limbs.
The villainess often tsked at his weakness when he collapsed from fatigue. She was disappointed at the slow progress of his powers, although Ajax could say with certainty that they were much stronger than before. He could now heal from almost everything with a night’s rest and could even tentatively form daggers made of Hydro.
No matter how much he improved though, it was never enough in her eyes.
That is why one day, he woke up strapped to a table instead of on the cold, outside ground. Panicked, Ajax started to trash around, only stopping when his gaze fell on his teacher silently observing him from the side.
“You’re awake! Good.” Ajax was startled by this second voice, having not noticed the third person as the man was standing behind him in his blind spot. As the stranger moved from his previous position, the boy noticed two things: he was a doctor, a researcher, or something similar and he proudly wore a uniform characteristic of the Abyss underneath his white gown.
Ajax felt his blood run cold. He had known Skirk had had ties to the Abyss, of course, her own uniform was particular to the villainous organization, if slightly outdated; which meant that she had had most likely defected some time ago.
This man though was obviously an active member of the Abyss and the organization had always been particularly infamous for the body modifications its members underwent, leaving a trail of dead civilian test subjects behind. (They couldn’t sacrifice all their own soldiers away after all.)
Dread crept up the boy’s heart as he understood his situation. He could only hold back tears and a pressing urge to call for his parents, no matter how many times Skirk beat into his head that no one was coming for him and especially not them. He still remembered in how much pain he had been, the first time he had cried and screamed for them; his master had been so displeased that he could almost still feel her punishment on his skin even now.
“Where did you find this one? He’s perfect!” The scientist enthusiastically exclaimed.
“Shut up and get to work.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying...” The boy was indeed a great test subject, what with his healing abilities; regular power-holders just weren’t sturdy enough for what they needed to try out. Finding more just like him... it was the dream of all the researchers here. He couldn’t hold it against the woman to withhold that information though; it’s not like they were close. The fact that she stumbled unto such a rare, valuable specimen was probably just a stroke of luck anyway.
“You’re a lucky one, you know! There’s just been a breakthrough on the serum,” the man kept talking as he prepared a syringe containing some kind of purple-black... liquid? He flicked the glass two times to get rid of any air bubbles before turning to face Ajax once more. “You’ll become stronger than anyone,” he reassured, then smiled slyly. “...if you survive, that is.” In one swift movement, the doctor plunged the syringe into his carotid, for the fluid to better circulate.
Skirk frowned.
“Aren’t his chances pretty high?”
“With the old serum, sure. The new one... is less stable. Is it a problem?” The scientist asks, a mad glint in his eyes. Obviously, he didn’t care if it was or not.
“...Not really.” If she had cared about the boy, it would have been; but him dying was just inconvenient and nothing more. The most annoying thing would actually be the time lost training him, not losing him.
Her disinterested gaze swept over the trembling body strapped to the table, darkened veins spreading from the point of injection.
At first, Ajax felt nothing. Then, fire started spreading from where he was pricked; devouring flames that swallowed the upper half of his body and left him screaming his lungs out in pain.
Soon, the agonizing burning sensation moved along his members to settle in the farthest corners of his body, not leaving a single inch of it alone; passing out wasn’t even an option since the excruciating feeling would bring him back to awareness in a heartbeat.
Survival instincts kicking in, Ajax subconsciously called out to Hydro and the element began to soothe the pain he was feeling. The boy almost managed to feel hope before the flames began raging ten times as strong, completely overpowering his ability.
‘Is this how... I’m going to die?’
The doctor shook his head as Skirk tsked. Once again, the experiment was a failure. Ajax couldn’t even think straight from the pain anymore.
Yet, just before he finally gave in to the oblivion waiting for him, the streak of competitiveness that made him survive to this point woke up.
‘Do you really want it all to end here?’
‘Why aren’t you fighting?’
‘Are you really going to let them win? Don’t you want to prove them wrong; that you’re strong? That one day, you’ll manage to get out of this place and back to your family?’
‘ Prove. Them. Wrong. ’
His sore throat, abused by all the screaming, uttered a growl as blue eyes in which purple sparks danced opened; and for the first time, Ajax could read surprise on his master’s face.
More determined than ever to pull through, he knew if he slipped up once again it would this time really be the end and he repeated like a mantra not to forget it:
‘I need to win.’
‘I will win.’
‘I will win.’
‘Will win.’
‘Will win.’
‘Will win.’
‘Will-…'
Again and again and again until the waves of heat invading his body finally started receding.
‘ I... won?’
He cracked a fully-purple eye open, still disbelieving that he actually withstood this amount of suffering. Slowly, Ajax looked around him, taking into account the destroyed room and table crushed beneath his body. Beneath a body much larger than it should be.
Unsteadily, he got to his feet and his hair grazed the ceiling.
‘ What-’
Ajax finally looked down at himself.
His fingers were now more akin to claws than anything, and seemingly made of the same kind of black armor that covered every other part of his enlarged body.
Despite his inner panic, the boy felt strong. Stronger than he ever had before.
He also wanted to kill something like he never had before.
So, when he noticed movement in the corner of his vision, it was only natural that he attacked at full speed, claws out; the scientist only surviving because of Skirk’s timely intervention.
The woman immediately grew into her own transformation; not taking any chances.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t yet used to this newfound strength and couldn’t use it properly; tiring out before he could land a hit on the master who saw him as nothing more than some kind of pet .
When he came to once again, he was restrained; and learned that Skirk had sold him off for resources she needed. She had not hesitated for one second to give him away to be experimented on, and Ajax tried to convince himself that it didn’t hurt that even the villain who had kidnapped him found no worth in keeping him.
The scientists were elated, of course; the serum he had been injected with apparently had such a low success rate that he was the first for whom it had worked. As such, he was their only live test subject; but that didn’t prevent them from being downright cruel if he didn’t obey.
Soon, he had understood that insubordination wasn’t worth the consequences. He was a doll, more and more of his spirit gone by the minute.
Another day of being forced into experiments, Ajax was dully launching attacks at targets when intruders broke in and started slaughtering all his jailors but a few; keeping them alive for information.
The adolescent watched it all happen without moving a muscle. Before long, a lady approached, stopping right in front of him.
“What is your name, child?” The woman asked, voice just as beautiful as her appearance suggested.
“Ajax,” he answered, having nothing to lose anymore.
“Tell me, Ajax; do you wish to escape from here?”
The disillusioned boy looked at her. He looked at her cold eyes and warmless smile and knew the only reason he was being rescued was because she had a use for him. Although, did it matter in the end? She would still be the one who got him out, the one who saved his life. It did not matter what she wanted from Ajax, for his life now belonged to her.
“Yes,” he said, and the lady smiled wider; yet it still didn’t reach her eyes.
“Very well; you may then call me ‘Your Majesty’. Come now, there is no need to stay any longer in this filthy place.
And so Ajax followed her, gaining access to luxuries he could only have dreamed of before. Of course, nothing was given for free; the Tsaritsa had known him to be a successful test subject of the Abyss Order, one who had not yet been broken to follow their ideals. She couldn’t have let the opportunity to get such a precious asset go, not when she needed all the ones she could have to accomplish her ambition of creating a perfect world.
Ajax became Tartaglia, the feared weapon of the Fatui, creating chaos to bring attention onto himself and away from the operations of the organization.
Soon enough, he was classified as one of the biggest villain threats, although he made sure to dramatically destroy empty buildings instead of targeting people.
It was the last of his identity as Ajax rebelling, not wanting to cross the line of attacking innocents when he once dreamed of becoming a hero. It was insubordination that the Tsaritsa tolerated as it didn’t hinder his abilities to conduct his mission.
The more years went by, the more Tartaglia felt that he was outliving his usefulness. The Doctor had gotten all the information he needed from his body and his only asset was his strength; he was far from the ruthless Harbingers, ready to sacrifice anything and anyone, that his colleagues were.
He wore his Foul Legacy permanently and barely anyone would remember what he once looked like behind his mask.
The day he was tasked with defeating Morax, he knew he was being cast aside. Everyone knew the Archon of Liyue was the most powerful of heroes and that his skill was incomparable. Tartaglia was given a device made by Dottore which was supposed to help him in this endeavor, but he knew that even if it did , it would kill him along with the hero.
However, what choice did he have but to accept? His right to his life was forfeit long ago.
And that is how he found himself fighting the mightiest hero as the unstable realm they were trapped in was collapsing around them.
-----
Hydro weapons and geo spear collided.
The monstruous form of Tartaglia was shaking under the sheer effort his muscles were in, barely managing to hold his own against the Archon of Liyue. He grit his teeth, calling to his core to travel in an instant to behind his opponent’s wide-open back; but his blow was stopped by a shield the other had created in a heartbeat.
Morax’ gaze was as tranquil as ever; so peaceful that no one would believe he was currently fighting a villain to the death. It was the kind of gaze one would have while strolling down their favorite place, and it infuriated Tartaglia.
He wanted this man to take him seriously. He wanted , if this fight was to be his last, to at least be satisfied by it. He wanted to finally quench the bloodlust that had filled him ever since his time spent at the hands of the Abyss Order.
And that need was fulfilled, in the rare moments when he managed to push Morax enough that hints of his true ability went through his usual façade.
“Why would you serve her?” The Archon surprised him by asking as there was a pause in their fight. “She did not hesitate to sacrifice you.” The sealed realm around them was falling apart and the space would soon collapse on itself, utterly destroying anything left inside. Of course, the entrance had collapsed as soon as they were dragged in. “I read the reports from your villainous acts; although the amount of destruction you leave behind is massive, the buildings concerned are either abandoned or evacuated. You do not hurt civilians, only the heroes who try to stop you; even then, you leave them alive with easily healed injuries.” Tartaglia gulped as Morax’ gaze weighed heavy on him; he had had no idea the other had been paying so much attention to him. “Why would you become a villain when you obviously do not wish to be one?”
“I will follow Her Majesty’s will, no matter what she asks of me.” And if he was trying to convince himself as much as the Archon, well, it was only for him to know.
“I have to admit that I do not see how she gained such loyalty when this is how she treats you.” The other seemed to be... frowning? Why would a hero care about Tartaglia?
“Her Majesty rescued me from a fate worse than hell. She saved my life so it is hers to use.” Morax seemed to frown harder.
“Is this what she told you? That any person who receives help has to become a slave to their helper?”
“I am no slave!”
“Yet you have to answer to her every order, do you not? What would you call yourself, then?”
“I-” Tartaglia knew that the hero was right; he was no better than a shackled pet, living not as a human but a weapon pointed at the Tsaritsa’s enemies. He had no right to an opinion, to a choice .
But it had been too late for him at the moment he took her hand. And if it wasn’t then, it would’ve been the first time he attacked a city and was recognized as a villain.
How could he face anyone he cared about? Where would he find somewhere he could be at peace?
There was no place for someone like him in this world.
Tartaglia grit his teeth. He didn’t know why Morax had to talk to him about his situation, but he was only putting salt in his wounds.
“She was the one to send you here today, was she not?”
“... yes.” What did the hero want ?!
“She may have saved you once, but she chose to kill you today. You owe her nothing.” Tartaglia stilled as the words set in. Tha Tsaritsa had given him a device that was going to erase him alongside Morax; she couldn’t have expected him to survive.
Logically, it made sense that putting an equal weight on each side of a balance would make neither side tip.
Was he really free, just like that? So easily? Too easily?
It was as if his world had been turned upside down all of a sudden; nothing yet everything was different. Tartaglia had spent so many years serving the Tsaritsa; believing that his debt would never be repaid, that this was a scenario that couldn’t happen… he just couldn’t believe that something he had wished for all this time could come out of this mission.
He was lost for words.
“You are free, Tartaglia,” Morax assured him softly.
Did it matter anymore, though? He could only enjoy this newfound freedom for as long as this space lasted.
“It’s too late anyway, but-…” Tarta-…, no, Ajax made his weapon disappear into nothing, having lost the will to fight. “-… thank you,” he said sincerely, surprising the other.
“Why would it be?” Morax shot him an assured smile, seemingly oblivious to their imminent demise.
“Huh? What do you mean? We’re about to die, the realm is collapsing!” Ajax gestured at the cracks in space and destroyed landscape. It looked like someone had taken out random, big chunks out of a picture.
“if this little was enough to get rid of me, I would be long gone.” The hero smirked at the other, stunned at his arrogant affirmation. The Archon came closer, putting a hand on his shoulder as more and more rifts disfigured the realm. “I swear on the name of Morax that you will not die today. In return,” he started, and Ajax felt his heart drop as he already saw himself bound again. The hope which had just come back to him died down once more. “-… I only ask of you that you make good use of your second chance.”
‘ What?’ He barely had time to think as in the next instant, he found himself standing on a building’s roof far from the area which was destroyed.
Ajax let his transformation fall entirely, feeling the sun on his face for the first time in years.
“ Thank you ,” he whispered, looking at the sky with glistening eyes. “I promise I won’t disappoint you.”
It didn’t matter if Morax couldn’t hear him anymore, as it was as much a promise to himself than to the hero.
-----
“Wait, you’re telling me you had Tartaglia, and you let him go ??” It was the last thing Barbatos had expected to hear from his uptight friend.
“Yes.” Morax sipped on his cup of tea.
“What were you thinking ?!”
“I took a gamble,” he unhelpfully clarified.
“A gamble? A gamble ? Are you kidding me?! You know what he’s capable of! He-“
“He won’t.” The Archon’s tone was final; certain. “I would not have let him go if I was not sure of it.”
“… you believe in him,” Venti realized, stunned. “Why?”
“He would not have become Tartaglia if he had a choice; there was no doubt about it. I freed him.”
“I hope you’re right,” the other sighed.