Chapter Text
“No,” Lumine breathed, shaking her head. “No, no– ha, no–”
This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening.
The tavern shook with a ferocious roar of thunder, the eye of the storm not too far away from the heart of the city. It knocked any of the remaining drunks out of their stupor, looking around in hazed confusion.
Her heart slammed against her rib cage, the dull thud of her rushing blood cutting out any noise. Her stomach flipped, then again, twisting and squeezing like someone had reached inside of her to ring out a wet cloth. The knot in her throat made it hard to breath, her mouth drier than the Sumeru desert.
Childe hadn’t let go of her hand.
“No,” She managed, running a hand through her wet hair as Dainsleif continued to stare at the letter. “You’re wrong. Translate it again.”
He lifted his head to her, the darkness that always swirled under the surface of the former Royal knight deep and cutting. “...I did. Three times.”
“You’re wrong!”
“My memory may be eroding, but I still remember my mother tongue.”
“No!” She shouted, standing up with such force it knocked over the wine goblets. Neither of the men reacted to the spill, the slow drip, drip, drip of the drink hitting the floor just loud enough over the rain. “This can’t be the answer! You can’t just drop bombs like these every time you show up, Dain!”
“Starlight–”
Dainsleif’s eyes narrowed. “You came to me with this riddle,” He rasped, fingers clutching the letter in his gloved hands.
She should just reach over and rip it into shreds, be done with this whole thing. “I refuse to believe you’re telling the truth!” She shouted, her voice cracking as she clutched her chest. Every breath ached like she’d run through the Mikage Furnace all over again, fingers quivering as she clutched the hem of her dress.
“What’s going on over here?” Diluc’s deep voice rumbled from behind. Lumine whirled around to face him, his scarlet brow pinched with concern. The warm hand of a friend she’d relied on in the back felt so foreign against the base of her spine, and she stumbled backwards to rid herself of it, nearly knocking over another table. “Lumine, what–”
“I can’t,” She croaked. “I can’t–”
Childe couldn’t stop her as she pushed away from all of them, bumping into every chair along the way. In a flash, she was out the door, a ripple of lightning flickering in the sky as she disappeared into the night.
It was the good Master Diluc who reacted first, whirling around and slamming his hands on the table. “What did you do?” He snarled, teeth bared as he towered over the two men.
He swore time had grinded to a complete halt. His own stomach churned, head spinning. For once, he was speechless.
“This was not the Harbinger’s fault,” Dainsleif explained, folding up the letter and sliding it into Lumine’s backpack. Archons, she’d been so torn up she left it behind. Where would she put her butterflies and flowers when she was done collecting them? “It was mine.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Diluc growled, the vitriol snapping Childe out of his stupor.
He slowly turned to face the bartender, unable to suppress the disdain in his voice. “Now is not the time for your petty grudge,” He managed to say without spitting in the man’s face, his gaze returning to the door.
“Petty?!”
“Lumine received an answer she’s been looking for for some time now, I believe,” The mysterious knight said. “Unfortunately, it seems it was not what she was looking for.”
“Archons above.” At that, Diluc seemed to soften, his own red eyes finding the door. Another roar of thunder shook the tavern, goosebumps rising on every part of Childe’s exposed flesh. “I should go after her.”
“No, I will.” Another part of the invisible chain pinning him to his seat snapped. Childe used the energy to stand, ignoring the way his legs shook.
A frown. “You?”
“This isn’t up for debate,” He hissed, smoothing his hair out of his face and brushing past Diluc to grab her bag. He needed to get it back to her; if she didn’t have it… He forced himself to pay attention to the here and now, not the what ifs. “Dainsleif, don’t go anywhere. Once she comes to her senses, we’ll have questions.”
“Okay,” The man agreed, and for once Childe thanked the gods for not making his life harder. His adams apple bobbed as he continued, saying, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” Childe couldn’t look him in the eye, slinging Lumine’s bag over his shoulder. “Me too.”
He hurried after her, stepping into the stormy night without looking back.
The rain and wind swirled around him like a hurricane, the water soaking him to his bones. Even for a Hydro user, the storm was overpowering, like he’d been dunked into Cider Lake and held under for hours. Perhaps that was the horror of the answer to the riddle.
“Lumine!” He called out, but he didn’t expect an answer. His voice didn’t carry about the roar of the weather, another clap of thunder echoing above him as lighting tore across the grey sky. His feet moved before his brain, sprinting down the slick streets of Mondstadt, searching for any signs of his partner.
One of you must make the ultimate sacrifice to save us all. The boy inside his chest wanted to run and hide when he heard those words too. It had been the 11th Harbinger who had clung to reality, keeping him in the moment. And while he understood why Lumine had panicked, especially with her deep seated fears, he also knew not to doubt the two of them. The Harbinger and the Traveler had been through a lot worse than a bunch of silly words on a piece of parchment.
His sopping mess of hair clung to his forehead as he weaved through the empty streets, the glow of the lanterns suppressed by the sheer amount of water. If he were Lumine, where would he go? Mondstadt was full of places she loved and felt comfortable at. It could be at the base of the Barbatos statue or the Knights of Favonius headquarters. But both were so public and she was already so worried about her precious reputation. Perhaps she’d turn to a friend? No, that didn’t seem like something she wanted right now, not when the panic on her face had been so evident. She’d want privacy, a place to break down by herself.
Immediately he knew where to go.
He started sprinting out of the gates, black boots splashing in deep puddles. Another streak of blue and white lightning tore across the sky, followed by a devastating crack of thunder. Ajax had never been scared of thunderstorms before, but even this shook him to his bones.
He was not afraid to die. He never had been. Each day since crawling out of the Abyss had been a blessing, another chance to see the world and explore and fight and live. But that didn’t mean he didn’t think of how he would go, be it beast or a horde of enemies ready to challenge him.
It was just words, wasn’t it? Words did not make a prophecy, nor did he truly believe in fate. Just because it said one of them must die didn’t mean there was another way around the problem. He and Lumine were built different, one crafted by the heavens, one molded by the Abyss. And as his master had urged him, he would never give up, no matter what challenge he faced. He would fight his way through any enemy and keep moving forward, prophecy or no prophecy, riddle or no riddle.
But Lumine…
His fingers clutched her backpack tighter as he approached Windrise, the great oak tree towering above the expansive plains. A sigh of relief escaped him when he saw he was right; his starlight paced back and forth at the roots, hacking and slashing at the ground. Unfiltered rage weighed on her features, her shoulders hunched as she screamed and kicked and rationalized her frustration with herself.
“You’re going to dull your blade like that.”
She swung around, swiping her sword down at him in a strike. With all the water in the air, it took no time to summon his own Hydro sword, countering her attack with ease. Lightning flashed across the tumultuous sky, revealing the gold in her wide eyes, her jaw slack. The blue hue of the upright Barbatos statue pulsated across her features as the ancient god prepared for this fight, the only light in a grey field of darkness.
She hesitated for only a moment. Then she shrieked in frustration not directed at him, pressing her blade down with as much force as she could manage. Childe grunted, pushing her back, just enough to put a little space between them. “Talk to me,” He begged, brow twisting.
She ignored him, lowering her center of gravity to swipe for his legs, but he was fast, much faster. Training the recruits for the past few weeks had done wonders on his speed, proving to them what they could and couldn’t do. Plus, the storm electrified him in ways he didn’t know possible. He became the monsoon tearing across the valley. He became each individual raindrop, moving with an ease he hadn’t felt in months.
If he wasn’t so worried about her, this would have made for the perfect fight.
Her movements were so much more erratic and hurried, and from the way her face twisted with each lunge, he knew the wound on her side bothered her. Childe hissed as he barely managed to dodge the tip of her blade, then swiped his leg out to knock her to the soaked ground. She landed with a splash, another streak of lightning accentuating the rage on her face as he jumped on top of her, pressing his knee against her inner thigh.
He sucked in a ragged breath, pushing the wet golden strands of her hair out of her face. “You shouldn’t be fighting,” He said as she squirmed against him. “Your stitches–”
“Again!” She shouted, her free knee connecting with his stomach and knocking him off of her. He groaned as he rolled to the side, but didn’t let the pain phase him. He didn’t have time to order her to stop as she pounced again, parrying her extended blade.
Metal sang against Hydro as the storm raged on, the thunder and heavy rain dulling any other sound. Childe dodged, then thrust his weapon out, trying to disarm her. Lumine parried, then counter-attacked, desperate not to be defeated.
It hit him then that she did not need the softness of the man who’d carefully stitched up her wounds when she was unconscious, the tenderness of the lover who had traced her scars while they lay naked in bed together. She didn’t need the boy buried deep in his chest. She needed the Harbinger she hated so much, the cold killer who showed little mercy. She needed him to frustrate her, to drive her mad with anger and grief. She needed an emotional response, needed to stop bottling up these damn emotions until she broke from the weight of the world.
“So you’re going to let a stupid riddle get to you?!” He shouted over the roaring storm, knocking her to her knees. Her eyes widened as he paced around her like a hungry cat, his Hydro sword slowly transitioning into his polearm. “You’re just going to act like a child who didn’t get her way?”
She scrambled to her feet, clutching her side. “Shut up!”
His brow furrowed. “Make me.”
Lumine threw herself at him again, this time getting closer than he’d expected. He didn’t have time to attack as she scrambled up his body, nails digging into his skin as he stumbled backwards from her sudden weight. He growled, letting his weapon quickly dissolve as he wrapped his arms around her and fell to the ground, pinning her beneath him again.
He slicked back his hair as she gasped for air, the hit knocking the wind out of her. He hadn’t meant to take her down that hard, but it couldn’t be helped when she clawed up him like a wet cat. “That’s five to four, kochana,” Childe said, his own breathing hard. “You better stop while you’re ahead–”
It was too dark to see her as she leaned in and bit his exposed shoulder hard.
He yelped in surprise, as she shrieked and pushed against him, using her remaining energy to kick him off. Another lighting strike lit up the field as he scrambled to stand, spotting her slip backwards in the mud and wince as she raised her weapon again. “I hate you!” She shouted, barely audible over the thunder.
This was getting ridiculous. “Oh really?” He snapped, pushing himself to stand and crossing his arms, not even bothering to summon his lance again. “Then why are you so torn up by the translation?”
“Because!” She yelled, her voice cracking. “Because– ugh!”
One final time she lunged, sloppy and weak, a mix of frustration and exhaustion and pain slowing her movements. It was almost cruel how easily he brought her down. His large hands encompassed her wrists, pressing them flat against the soggy ground, both knees pressing against her thighs to keep her from wiggling free and hurting herself again, no matter how much she fought against his grip.
They had officially tied in their string of battles. Five victories, five losses. And yet, it was an unsatisfactory accomplishment, seeing as there was no real challenge in facing a broken girl.
Childe pressed his forehead to hers as she burst into tears, her sobs ragged and shaky.
Her fingers dug into his chest, no longer fighting to push him away. The gut wrenching wail that escaped her would haunt his dreams and nightmares, the scream the only noise over the roaring downpour. Shivers raced up and down his spine as he brushed the hot tears away from the corners of her eye, blocking her from the torrential rain as she crumbled in front of him.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to connect with someone!” She sobbed, struggling to catch her breath.
What he had left for a heart cracked. “Don’t say that,” Ajax whispered, their noses brushing together. It didn’t matter how many hardships they went through, he loved what they had.
“It’s not fair!”
“It never is,” He pulled away to look at her, bathed in the soft blue glow of the statue, the grey sky dulling the shine. “But a few words written on a piece of paper do not make a prophecy.”
“Then what’s the point?” She sniffed, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes, her body still wracked with sobs.
He sat on his knees. “The point is to find the truth.”
Another streak of lightning lit up her tear-streaked face, a mix of rage and heartbreak contorting her features. “Stop being so blasé about this, Ajax! The ‘truth’ points to one of us dying!”
“But it doesn’t have to!” He shouted, curling his fists into tight balls.
Her eyes narrowed. “What if it does?” Her voice broke as she sat up, slicking her soaked, shaggy blonde hair back. “What if the only way we can get the answers is by sacrificing one of us?”
“I don’t know, Lumine.” He refused to believe that was the only way to get the information they needed, refused to believe they were only picked to be slaughtered like cattle. “But we won’t get those answers until we start asking questions. Come on, Dainsleif is still at the bar–”
“No.”
Childe frowned, wishing the great oak tree provided more protection from the rain. “Of all people, I never expected you to give up when things got scary.” She flinched, hiccuping as she wiped her face. “This is the best chance to find your brother, right?”
“I don’t want to do it this way!”
“What, by facing danger head on?” Something snapped in him, leaning forward and cupping her face with both of his gloved hands. “We face death every day and neither of us flinch! So why is it that the minute some mysterious person writes a string of letters down, do you decide we’re done?”
“Because what if it really is a prophecy?!” Lumine shouted, her hands clutching to his on the side of her face as she sat on her own knees, savoring the hint of warmth behind the wet fabric. What didn’t he understand? “What if we keep digging into the riddle and find out we really have to sacrifice–”
“Stop it.”
She couldn’t. She was too deep now. She’d been too deep for months. “What if we can’t pull back from the edge because we know too much?” She asked, another round of tears burning a path down her face.
“Archons, kochana,” Childe scoffed, pressing his forehead back to hers. She couldn’t help the way she trembled in his touch. “What’s it going to take for you to realize I don’t care?! The only thing I care about is you.”
Her heart skipped a traitorous beat.
“I will do anything to see you happy,” He growled, his voice steady and firm as she struggled to make her brain work, “And I will do terrible, terrible things to keep you safe, even if it means tearing down the whole damn sky. So forgive me if I’m not scared of a little piece of paper.”
“You…” She breathed, the sobs slowly easing from her body at his admission. “You are the most insufferable person on this stupid planet. And if I hadn’t already given you my whole heart, I…”
“You’d what?” He asked, voice husky. “Say it.”
She couldn’t. But not saying it was a declaration of its own. “I…”
“Say it.”
“I’d kill you myself,” She wailed as thunder echoed across the open valley.
The only noise between them was the rain hitting the great oak tree’s giant leaves and their shaky breaths. Then Childe smiled, his canines gleaming in the soft blue light. “I’d love to see you try.”
Lumine threw her arms around him, pressing herself against his chest as firmly as possible. Her body ached from the exertion and she’d definitely popped another stitch in her torso, but that was a matter for another day. Her partner’s muscular arms tightened around her waist, his warmth encompassing her in the icy downpour. “I can’t lose you,” She whimpered, cold nose pressed against his throat, feeling his pulse against her face. “I can’t.”
“You’re not going to lose me and I’m not going to lose you.” Childe rubbed small circles on her back, his lips pressed against her forehead. “I’m not going down without a fight– and you’d better not, either.”
“I’m not giving up,” She said, and she meant it. Giving up would mean this entire year would have been a waste.
Still, the Harbinger pulled away to look at her. “Oh really? It sure looks like it to me.”
She scoffed, pushing his chest hard. “Why are you such a dick?”
“Because you don’t need someone soft to hold your hand and coddle you.” He said, that same smug smirk on his face as he brushed her soaked hair out of her eyes. “You chose me as your partner. You chose me because you wanted someone who can handle themselves, someone you don’t have to worry about. So don’t start worrying now.”
Her heart fluttered again as he tilted her chin up to look him in the eye, his red hair dark from the rain. Lumine blinked, trying to rid herself of the same butterflies that had once filled her stomach every time she looked at him. That raw stubbornness crossed his face, followed by aching tenderness. “You chose me because I challenge you and frustrate you and push you to be better.”
There it was again. That same feeling she’d had in the cave when he’d calmed her down from her last panic attack. The same squeeze of her heart.
She didn’t have a word for it, but she knew she couldn’t let it go.
“Ajax.”
“What?”
She tugged on his lapels and pressed her cold, soaked lips against his. He stiffened at first, then melted, hot breath mixing with hers as he gripped her own jacket. Soft at first, still unsure, still aching from the truth. But like everything they dove into, it soon became a desperate battle for more. His hands slid underneath her coat and yanked her towards the curve of his body, her fingers tangled in his mess of red hair. Her heart beat wildly against her sore ribcage as he moaned into her mouth, the rumble of his voice sending a wash of heat down her spine.
Despite the chill, she was lit on fire from his fervor, her body quivering from the intensity of his hungry mouth. Lumine could barely stay standing, leaning on him for support. He easily captured her weight as he dove deeper, his teeth grazing her pouty lips. Those dangerous hands, those hands that had torn down countless enemies and traced her scars in the safety of their shared bed, dug into her waist, as if he was terrified to let her go. She didn’t care— she was just as scared to pull away.
They kissed until the roaring storm moved off the coast, and kissed until the sky was painted a mix of reds and purples and oranges with the fading sunlight, and kissed until their lips were raw and their lungs screamed for air. They parted at the same time but refused to go far. Childe grinned against her mouth, but it was not the same ecstatic smile he wore. Something about the softness to it cut her deeper than she expected.
“You’re right,” She finally managed, swallowing hard as their noses brushed together. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“An apology and admitting I’m the logical one?” He chuckled, holding her hips against his. “That doesn’t happen very often.”
Idiot. “Don’t push it.”
Another soft smile, another brush of his thumb against her cheekbone. “I’m not giving up on this, starlight.” He gave her that usual tender once-over that drove her wild, as if he were seeing her naked– no, not naked. As if he were peering directly into her soul. “And I won’t forgive you if you do.”
She sighed softly, hiding the blush on her face. “I know,” She breathed, resting her head against his firm chest. “I don’t want to give up either.”
A comfortable silence settled between them as the last rays of light faded over the valley, leaving them in the shadow of Windrise. By the time the color drained from the sky and revealed the stars above, she’d finally worked up the courage to move forward. “So,” She started, looking up at him and shuddering as those dull blue eyes found her. “What’s next?”