𝕴𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊. 𝕴𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖆 𝖈𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖞. 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖓𝖔 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓...

⁜※⁜

The young man stared at the ensuing chaos in fury, whipping out his melee weapons as he discarded his bow to the side. Enough games! How dare they attack the Nation of the Tsaritsa?!

He winced as he began to call on the power of his Delusion. Who cared if he was already injured? Who cared if he was still drained from the last time he had transformed? This was his home!

The mask sliding over his face, the young man prepared to leap forward as he saw another wave of uncontrolled slaughter heading towards him. All who stood in his way would regret—

"Brother!"

He paused and an unsteady breath escaped in the form of an exhale. "Tonia..."

"Brother! Wait!"

He turned, tearing off his mask so their eyes could meet—so she could see the fear on his face as his beloved sister neared the battlefield. "Tonia! Turn back! Run to the shelter!"

"Brother!" she screamed again. "It's Teucer! He went back home for Mr Cyclops!"

The young man's breath hitched as he shook his head in denial. He suddenly stilled as he felt movement from behind. Tonia didn't have time to so much as blink as he lunged, scooping her up into his arms and shielding her from danger. He looked down at her, her face frozen in fear as the enemy died behind him. "Are you alright?"

His beloved sister could only muster a pained cry before crumbling to dust in his arms, her pieces scattering in the wind. The young man's eyes widened as he saw there to be nothing left of her—and the anger he felt instantly turned to abject despair.

He screamed out her name to the wind, but the girl could not hear him—could not return to him. As if she was never there to begin with.

The young man's gaze snapped to another approaching figure and his eyes filled with tears. "Mother..." Did she know? Would he have to be the one to break the news to her? As the enemy closed in around them, it took him little time to realise he could not tell her about his sister if she was killed before he reached her.

He winced as his Delusion starved him of energy, offering great power in return. But how could one use such power if they were dead?

Brushing aside those thoughts he raced towards his mother, killing anything and anyone that dared come too close. His attacks became more ferocious, more aggressive as he heard his mother shout the news: "All are dead!"

All were dead? Impossible... Did she mean to say they were the only two left? What happened to the shelter? To Teucer?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another wave of the enemy surrounding them and raced towards his mother, his hand outstretched as he reached for her before she could be snatched away from the land of the living. Death would not take her. No no no—

"Ajax!" she screamed as the shadowed hands of Death's Avatar claimed her in its tight grip.

He lunged for her dissipating form as if to hug her—to hold her one last time before she joined Tonia and the rest. But he was too late. As he made to grab her, she disappeared, crumbling like sand.

He almost began to cry out again but a throbbing pain in his head stopped him and he realised one fatal truth: he could no longer attack. His Delusion had failed him—or rather, his body had failed the Delusion, ever the power-hungry monstrosity.

He dropped to his knees, breath hitching as he lifted his hand to watch it slowly crumble. And as the enemy closed in on him, he only wished for Death to take him before the Tsaritsa could cast her eyes on his dismal efforts.

⁜※⁜

The young man slowly opened his eyes. It was a dream. A horrid one, at that.

He felt at his eyes, checking for tears only to find none. A grim expression formed on his face. He did not cry—a Harbinger did not cry. If the situation his consciousness had created ever came to life, he wouldn't be as bothered as his dream self had been. To die was only the way of things—a necessary sacrifice on the path to protecting the Tsaritsa and seeing her dream come to fruition.

"Heh... an interesting welcome home gift from the Motherland," he muttered to himself as he slipped out of his covers. A reminder, he supposed, that a fate of uncertainty awaited him.

He had returned home to Snezhnaya late in the dead of night with only his stern father to greet him. Waking up to find him back home would be a great surprise for his siblings and his mother.

As he cleaned himself up from sleep, he had to stop to make sure he didn't accidentally put his uniform on. No matter how loyal he was to the Tsaritsa, he had promised his father the night before he'd take the day off for his family—though he had looked at his father with disdain as he reluctantly agreed.

That said, he did appreciate the time he'd get to spend with his family. He had plenty of gifts for them all, including a photo album the Traveller had recently gifted him for his birthday.

He sighed a little as he strode to his bedroom door. "If only the Traveller would agree to duel with me... How exhilarating that would be."

As the door opened, a wave of noise crashed into him. It took him mere moments to adjust to the sudden clamour before striding out into the common room where he watched as his younger siblings chased each other around the coffee table—or rather, chased Teucer around the coffee table. His mother just stood exasperatedly to the side, no doubt already having tried her hand at calming the situation.

So he stepped in and offered some help. "Now now, what's all this running around for?" The small train of children came to a violent halt as they beheld his voice, all slowly turning their heads to the ginger. Tartaglia waved a hand and smiled. "Hey."

"Big Brother!" A cacophony of noise erupted all at once as they surrounded him, hugging him, telling him stories over the top of one another, and in some cases even slapping his sides.

"Clear out and leave Big Brother alone!" Tonia finally yelled at the top of her lungs. With that, the excited screaming of the two young boys, Anthon and Teucer, stopped, replaced with grumbles and scowls—though he knew Tonia had won, using him as the main point of her argument. His siblings adored him for any and every reason, willing to comply so long as he was happy.

"Good to see you, too, Tonia," he beamed at her. "Do you mind explaining why you were chasing Teucer around the room?"

"THEY WANT TO TAKE AWAY MR CYCLOPS!" Teucer yelled. Tartaglia tried not to wince at the level of volume.

"That's not fair, Teucer!" Anthon said, arms crossing with a huff. "We just want a turn!"

"Now, Teucer, remember what I said about sharing with your family?"

"B—but..." Teucer held Mr Cyclops before him, staring down at the gifted and most certainly precious toy. "He's a present from you."

Tartaglia's gaze softened.

"We missed you, Big Brother," Tonia reasoned. "That's why we wanted a turn. Because Mr Cyclops is from you."

Tartaglia walked forward and ruffled her hair. "There's no need to be taking Teucer's things, though, alright?"

"Yes, Big Brother..."

"Besides, I promised Father I'd stay home today, so there's plenty of time for us to play a game together later."

His three younger siblings erupted into a chorus of cheers. Tartaglia smiled at them before Tonia ushered them away. "Go on, go on! Give Big Brother some space! He just got home!"

With that, his siblings filed out of the room, waving goodbye. Tonia gave him a subtle nod before leaving with them. Despite himself, Tartaglia loosed a breath. He loved his siblings more than anything, but at times they were a bit... much.

"Thank you, Ajax." His mother walked up to him, a mug of steaming liquid warming her hands.

He smiled at his mother. "Of course—although I believe I've told you I don't go by that name anymore."

She reached for his ginger locks and ran her small, gentle fingers through them. "You will always be Little Ajax to me, my son." He sighed through his nose—both out of contentment from his mother's love and the mild exasperation he felt at hearing the name he no longer used.

"Where are the others?" he asked, referring to his elder siblings.

"They went out with your father early this morning to go ice fishing—among other things, it seems. They'll be home by dinner, so you better be here." Tartaglia grinned. Of course, he would. The small woman's gentle smile faded slightly. "Ajax, dear, you look exhausted. I hope you aren't straining yourself too much."

"Of course not, Mother." He waved his hand in denial. "I wouldn't trouble you and Father like that." That, of course, was a lie—and he knew his mother saw through it. The fight against the Traveller had taken much out of him and Teucer's sudden arrival in Liyue not long ago had also drained him. He needed a break—desperately. But he would tell no one that. No one.

His mother loosed a breath. "Do take as much rest as you need while you are here. Though I know you shall dismiss me when I say this... you cling to your work too much. Your father would describe you as married to the battlefield," she added with a wry smile. "Take time off for yourself."

"There is work to be done, Mother, even here in my homeland."

She nodded, something like dejection written on her face. "I knew you would say that." As the two stood in silence—his mother quietly drinking from her mug—he almost began to feel bad. But his loyalty to the Tsaritsa was first and foremost, no matter—"Oh, that darling girl who you used to play with as a child came around the other day. Perhaps you will pay her a visit?"

Tartaglia's eyes glistened slightly in joy. Loyalty to the Tsaritsa first and foremost indeed. "You mean... Y/n?"

His mother nodded. "She delivered us scones from her bakery. Delicious—as always."

"You... you, uh..." He tried to find the words but failed.

"Your father and I made sure your elder brother held his tongue, don't you worry." Tartaglia loosed a breath. His mother tapped his cheek lightly as she walked back to the kitchen and his face flushed—just a little bit. "By the Tsaritsa, just tell her, Ajax. Claim her or your brother will. He invited her to stay for dinner."

His face reddened—more than just a little bit. "I—I—Mother!" His fists clenched and unclenched by his side. "One does not simply lay claim to a woman," he said, finding the right words to say. The woman whom he was... good friends with... was strong. She had made it clear to him many many years ago that she was her own person, and while he did not fear her now, in his childhood, he would certainly have turned tail and run the moment she showed signs of anger.

His mother turned. "So you do like her."

"S—stop twisting my words! I—I don't—"

"You're stuttering."

He clamped his mouth shut, exasperation settling on his face as he stared at the ceiling. His mother chuckled at the face he made. He never stumbled over his words. Ever. So why now did he—

"You can't hide these things from me, my dear," his mother said, coming up to cup his cheek in her hand, steaming mug still held in the other. The sweet aroma of her beverage wafted around him, calming him with the aid of whatever herbs his mother had thrown in. "Why don't you tell her how you really feel?" His eyes flickered. Tell her the... truth?

But he merely said, "You don't know what you're talking about." It came out colder than he wanted it to—but she only laughed gently at his tone and shook her head.

"You never coped well with love. I still remember when you were younger how your elder sister would try and play matchmaker with you. What a sight that was."

Tartaglia groaned at the memories. His mother chuckled once more before her touch slipped away and she sauntered out of the room. He only stood and watched her leave as if paralysed by the thought of love. And his mother's declaration consumed his thoughts. Tell Y/n... that he loved her... Did he? Did he really and truly fall for his childhood friend? Please. His mother was filled with delusions—and she didn't even have one.

Although, he decided it would be nice to see her again. But as he was about to set out for the bakery in town, Teucer came running back into the common room, waving his arms about excitedly.

"What is it, Teucer?" he asked, turning away from the door and kneeling by his brother's side.

"Come play with us, Big Brother! We've got the perfect game set up!"

Childe laughed and pushed off his knees as he stood. "Very well. Lead the way, Little Brother."

⁜※⁜

The streets were bustling this time of day—bustling as much as a quiet seaside town like Morepesok could. My breath fogged in front of me. I giggled lightly as I exhaled—a make-believe dragon breathing fire. Childhood habits died hard.

I sighed as I gazed at the sky, the wispy clouds of white floating above as if painted by a steady artist's hand. "Glorious country, glorious day," I recited, grip tightening around the basket of groceries I held.

I traversed the sea of people, making my way swiftly back to the bakery. It was an inheritance from my late grandmother—an honour to uphold. Though I dearly missed her, I could not let my grief tarnish her legacy. I could not let the people of Morepesok forget her or her recipes. And so the bakery known as Iceflake Bakes continued to flourish years after her passing.

It took time and effort to recreate her masterpieces, but as I baked, sometimes it felt as if she was still with me, watching over me and guiding me to masterfully weave together art—though the technical people tended to call it a science. Two hours later, three cakes were in their ovens, two batches of muffins and cupcakes cooling on separate racks, and another batch of snowflake-shaped shortbread cookies were iced and decorated and ready for sale. I would make loaves of bread later that night—and perhaps another cake.

I sighed in relief and contentment, wiping my brow with my flour-covered hand. I laughed to myself before washing my workplace and then myself. I looked up out of the kitchen window and saw the sky—the glorious Tsaritsa-blessed sky. It was a sunset I refused to miss, so I threw on a thick woollen coat and ran outside, locking the bakery behind me.

The amount of people walking about had died down slightly, but it seemed that others in the town had also stopped to appreciate the Motherland's beauty. I shivered slightly as I strolled through the streets, rubbing my gloved hands together. The people I passed all smiled at me, exchanging waves and bits of conversation.

"Y/n, dearest, how fares the bakery?"

"Well, thank you! Don't forget to come in and taste the bursting flavour of grandmother's cakes!"

"Forget? Why, I would never!"

"You've bread in stock, Y/n?"

"Tomorrow, fair neighbour! Tomorrow there shall be plenty of loaves for you to pick and choose from!"

It was a wonderful time of day, I thought to myself. Glorious country, glorious day—

I paused as I saw a figure—tall, handsome, and oddly familiar. My eyes widened slightly as I watched him move through the crowd with the elegance and grace of a warrior, ginger tufts of hair peeking up from among the crowd. My breath hitched. Ajax had returned.

I hugged the walls, following my childhood friend from the shadows. He seemed to be appreciating the golden-red glow that fell upon the people of the Motherland, the light that was cast by the setting sun onto his town. I ran a few paces ahead into an alley secluded from the people and waited. And as he walked past—no doubt noticing me instantly—I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shadows, hugging him tightly.

He seemed shocked by my actions, before wrapping his arms around me and embracing me. I then pulled away, gripping both his arms and smiling up at him. "You're back! Finally!"

"Finally?" he said with a smirk. "You seem to take my returns for granted, Y/n. Appreciate it more."

"Oh, I do," I breathed. "I do, I do, every moment I spend with you is—" I couldn't stop myself from quickly hugging him again, taking in every part of him, savouring him. "I missed you so much, Ajax..."

"I..." I could tell he was about to correct me about the use of the name he no longer went by, but instead, he loosed a breathy chuckle. "I missed you, too."

"So?" I said, leading him further into the alley that I knew led out to the sea. "Tell me of your adventures! What did you see this time?"

"Many things, many things..." he mused.

"Is Liyue as beautiful as they say?"

Ajax smiled at me and nodded. "You would certainly like it there." He sighed and cast his gaze to the sky, clear of clouds, reds and oranges racing across the expanse. "But it barely holds a candle to the Motherland."

"Of course," I replied with the same affirmation he had in his tone. Nothing compared to Snezhnaya in terms of beauty.

We continued to walk in silence as I led him through the network of alleyways, when he said, "I almost met my match in Liyue."

I gaped. "Really? You? Must've been a tough opponent!"

"Indeed... Though the experience was worth it."

I nudged him lightly. "You and your love for violence." I grinned at him. "If battle was a person, you'd be the first to try and court it."

At that he chuckled, his breath curling in the cold air. "That's what my father says."

"Well, maybe he's right." The alley opened up to the beach and we stood on the path, the setting sun basking us in gold. I couldn't help the smile that crossed my face as I saw the ocean gleaming in the light. It was... stunning... beyond words. A thought then crossed my mind as I gazed at his face—at the way his sapphire eyes were duller than usual, at how his posture sagged ever so slightly. Like he was tired. Like he was injured. "How close was that opponent to killing you?"

Ajax gazed sidelong at me, contemplating whether or not he should tell me. I masked my intentions behind a merely curious expression—but he no doubt saw through it. The underlying question carried more weight than what was proposed. Much more. "Close. I had to use my Delusion, and even that wasn't enough."

I paused. And thought. "You used Foul Legacy." A secret he had told me—one that was usually never brought up in our conversations. I had no idea where it came from or how it worked—he refused to tell me—but I knew of its existence. I had little doubt not many people knew even that much.

He, too, stopped admiring the sunset and turned to me, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "What of it?" And I could see he was also trying to mask something behind that cool gaze of his.

"What of it?" I echoed, a deadly smile hiding my exasperation. "What of it, indeed..." Ajax only blinked in response, waiting. "Did you just so happen to forget that using Foul Legacy hurts you—kills you, even?" He remained unfazed, so I added, "What if one of these days, you don't come back because of it?"

His eyes narrowed. "A necessary sacrifice for the Motherland."

"Hardly!" I countered with equal forcefulness. The mask had slipped. Ajax smirked. He knew he'd won that round. So I stopped trying to pretend it didn't bother me. "I just—I don't know what I'd do if that day came! And what of your family? You still haven't told your younger brother that you aren't a humble toy salesman, have you?" This caused him to bristle, but I continued. "If the Fatui sent you on a suicide mission you would just... you would just leave