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hypostatic-oath · 1 year ago

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Tales Of Meropide

SAGAU!Tartaglia-centered, angst with some comfort.

Warnings: Swearing. I think it's just one but I'm not entirely sure. Written before 4.2, but finished after 4.1 - contains spoilers for the released story quest so far.

_________________

Childe had never once in his life assumed jail would be fun. He had no delusions in that regard. But he had to admit, his hopes were raised once he heard of the Pankration Ring in the Fortress of Meropide. A competition ring for those who had "extra energy" they wished to "burn out" through regular sparring matches? Sign him up!

His hopes were very quickly shattered once he was told that no, a Fatui Harbinger was not allowed to compete, because "no way anyone would sign up to fight him" and "even if he did fight with one hand behind his back, that would set the bar too high for the other matches, and the spectators would be bored." Damn it - so the ring wasn't truly for fight afficionados - it was a marketing ploy! The fight itself wasn't the focus, it was the fact that it had to look good for an audience.

Childe huffed as he sat in the bed he'd taken to occupying. Fontaine was getting on his nerves - it seemed as though everything was for show, and very little was actually real. Where were the Traveler or the Overseer when one needed them?! Oh, what he wouldn't do to fight against a decent opponent!

His boredom was made worse by the fact that the Overseer - damn them and their excuse of "immersion" - had decided to bench him until he was out of prison. So now he rusted away in the Fortress of Meropide, with no one to fight, no one to banter with...

He could try the Duke again, he figured. While at first things hadn't gone his way, after explaining his issue, Wriothesley had, once or twice, been amenable to a sparring match, and it was the one thing keeping Tartaglia remotely sane. But lately the warden had been more and more busy - and less and less inclined to indulge the restless Harbinger. Were it not for the fact that he already had an escape plan in the works, Childe was sure he would have lost his mind for real. He was getting rusty. Every day that he did not raise his weapon was one day he grew weaker, and that the competition grew stronger. And he knew he had competition, both among the Fatui - how he was the Eleventh of a group of nine still eluded him - and among the other vessels.

It had hurt, the knowledge that right after his banner would come that of the Iudex who'd promptly knocked him out and sent him to jail... and that he wasn't even there to fight him about it! He hadn't been aware of the sheer strength of Fontaine's Chief Justice, but now that he'd caught a glimpse, Childe had to admit he was intrigued. And by intrigued let it be absolutely clear that what he meant was "eager to fight him again". Hell, the judge had managed to knock him out while he was using Foul Legacy! What else was this Neuvillette guy capable of? And, more importantly... had you noticed?

It was a thought Ajax didn't like to have. One he'd been trying to drown out - hah! Drown! Now that his hydro Vision was gone, and Neuvillette was out there using hydro as he pleased - since he'd first been told he wouldn't be able to fight down here. And yet, now that the Fortress had quieted down for the night, there was no sound to overpower his own thoughts.

The thoughts of being replaced. The thoughts that told him he was no longer enough. He was growing weaker, even before being arrested. His Vision had failed him. And now, how convenient - an insanely strong Hydro user was available. It didn't matter whether or not you'd pulled on Childe's banner earlier - he knew you needed strong members on your team, and at this rate he'd be no match for Neuvillette. Not in a fight, and not in your team. What was he supposed to do without it?! The worst of all was the nagging feeling that you'd grown used to not having him with you already. He'd been imprisoned for a while now, and not a peep from you. Not for the Abyss, not for Ley Lines, not for Domains, not even for Commissions.

He missed it.

He missed you.

Childe laid down on the bed - which was only slightly less uncomfortable than the slab of rock he used to sleep on during hos months in the Abyss - and turned to face the brass wall, his fingers absentmindedly tracing along his Delusion.

If only he could use it while you were taking hold of him - if only he could use his Foul Legacy transformation, too. He had developed (and tested) the theory that due to your influence, these things would have almost to no toll on his body. That was, apparently, part of the unspoken contract between an Overseer and their Vessels - not only would they become stronger, but their injuries and exhaustion would be your responsibility instead of theirs. For Childe, it was the perfect deal, lending you control of his body to fight all kinds of opponents and having his strength increase a hundredfold. Except for the part that, try as he might - and most importantly, try as you might - it was impossible for him to use his Delusion, or his Foul Legacy transformation, or, much to your chagrin, his signature "whale toss".

Ah, yes. That had been another issue.

Ever since he'd gotten to the Fortress, he'd seen it.

In dreams, in flashes during the day, hell, he was even hearing it, its song echoing through the brass walls. And yet, no one else seemed to be able to. That in itself was a sign - this was indeed the one he'd roused from slumber... and it was beckoning him to answer its calls.

He closed his eyes. Perhaps tonight's dream would provide more insight. He'd seek it out as soon as he managed to leave, he just had to wait for a pipe cleaning day in order to make his escape. For now, though, all he could do was wait, as time passed agonizingly slow. And so, lulled by boredom and whalesong, he forced himself to sleep it off.

_________

You were getting impatient.

You'd decided to give storyline immersion a try once Childe was arrested, thinking that it'd be pretty weird for the recently arrested Harbinger to be roaming the streets of Fontaine - and you'd been doing a lot of roaming recently, having a whole new nation to explore. By now, you were aware that your game was responsive to you, and that had been a big reason why you'd made that decision, knowing that they were aware of what you did. You did not want to stir up trouble with Neuvillette or Wriothesley... not when they hadn't come home yet. It was best to play to their interests a little bit. However... this was getting ridiculous.

"We're gonna have to break him out at this rate." You huffed, as you picked up yet another Romaritime flower. As usual, the members of your party who hadn't been so used to you seemed a little startled at hearing your voice, while the Traveler and Paimon were far more relaxed. You supposed it made sense - if a disembodied voice started talking about jailbreak out of nowhere, you'd probably be pretty spooked too.

"But, Overseer..." Paimon began. "If we break him out of jail, won't people notice he's missing? And you still want to get Monsieur Neuvillette as soon as his banner drops - are you sure we should interfere with justice right now?"

"Neuvillette will come whether he likes it or not." You said, a steely determination in your voice. You'd meant nothing threatening by it, only that he was guaranteed and near pity, but it still sent a chill down the most inexperienced members of your team's spines. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that's what the next Archon Quest will be - break Childe out of jail. He's gonna come home with us, and everything will be okay. So it shouldn't really matter... if we give him a taste of freedom early, now does it?"

"I suppose it's alright." The Traveler chimed in. They were still the vessel who was more in tune with your emotions after all these years together, and thst could be both a blessing and a curse. Now, what they felt was your eagerness to see Childe again... and concern.

You were worried about him.

With a few clicks, you opened the map. Were it anyone else, you would've teleported to somewhere nice. Maybe Angel's Share, or Liuli Pavilion, or any of the many other restaurants and cafés that dotted the regions of Teyvat that had opened themselves to you.

But you knew that after being stuck for so long, your Tartaglia would need something more than a simple apology meal.

__________

The Golden house. Of course his dreams would take him there - he'd fallen asleep to thoughts of you. It was a respite from the other ones, but pleasant as dreams of fighting may be, they had about the same effect as dreams of a feast to a starving man. No matter how much he fought, he'd still wake up feeling empty.

"What's the matter with you? No 'Surrender is a valid option' today?" Your voice rang out. Oh, yeah. He'd forgotten his usual taunt... did it matter, in a dream? Apparently it did, because you'd commented on it. Still, he wasn't sure if he felt like going along with it. Why would it matter? It wasn't real. He'd likely never see you again, and his stupid dream was only making things worse.

"You seem out of it. Childe." The Traveler stood before him as you spoke, their weapon lowered but still unsheated. "Maybe prison put you in a worse shape than I thought... oh, I'm going to kill them. I don't care. Traveler, we're going to take this man out of there."

"Paimon's pretty sure that's illegal..."

"Illegal? Look at what they've done to him! They massacred my boy! He has no will to live!"

Tartaglia watched as you spoke with the Traveler and Paimon. It wasn't often that he got to witness such direct interactions, and he had to admit, it was a little bit funny seeing the blonde outlander and his companion arguing with the air. They usually faced the direction opposite of where Paimon hovered - mostly so the poor guide didn't feel like they were arguing with her instead - but it still looked as though the Traveler were speaking to absolutely nothing.

Even though he was sure this was a dream - of course it was, after all, you bringing him for a fight now, and within a few seconds immediately deciding to break him out and go on a murder spree for his sake? Tartaglia could recognize his own wishful thinking - the image brought a smile to his face.

"What have they done to you?" You asked, addressing him directly once more. "How bad is it? Are you eating enough? Are you eating at all? Are you sick? Bastards..."

Concern. He could almost feel your warmth. He had to remind himself that it wasn't real. He had to remind himself that, in the real world, in the waking world, he was still in bed. That you, powerful entity that you were, could pull him out any time, and yet you hadn't.

He'd started thinking this was just like last time. Just like in the Abyss.

At first, he'd wanted his parents to come looking for him. He'd wanted them to notice he was gone, and many a night had he dreamt of them finding him. Then came his master, and with her, he held even less delusions that she'd come to his aid. And then, he'd joined the Fatui, and there it was set in stone that comrades as they may be, there'd be no help whatsoever, so he might as well give up hope.

He still dreamt it, sometimes. That someday there'd be someone to reach out a hand, someone who'd give him a bright smile when he was at his worst and help him stand, so they could take on the world together. He still dreamt that for once, just once, someone would care enough to help.

But nobody came.

He needed to be strong. He loved being strong, he loved fighting. Which was a good thing, he'd many times surmised, since it was the only thing the world needed him to do. You win the fight, you live. That was that, and it was all it had ever been and all it ever would be.

There'd be no parents looking for him. No Skirk coming in at the last minute to parry the blow. No comrades to call upon. No Overseer willing to go on a murder spree to take him out of jail.

The truth, the cold truth, was nothing like the warm dreams where someone came to his aid. The truth was that once again, he'd have to break out alone.

All he could do for now was enjoy the opportunity to fight "you", even if just in a dream, so he took a deep, shaky breath, and got ready to spar.

_________

You wondered if he knew he was crying.

It didn't last too long. You quickly opted out of the Golden House - you'd clearly overestimated his will to fight. Even as he stood at the ready, you could see the changes in his demeanor. Maybe you should've gone with Angel's Share after all.

You emptied your party - save for the Traveler - and placed Childe on one of the empty slots. Then, you quickly teleported the three of them (because the Traveler always counted as two, with Paimon beside them all the time) to your teapot. It was clear Childe needed more than just an apology fight.

"Traveler, do me a favor." You asked, once the loading screen was out of the way. "Could you get some food started, please?"

That should give you a little alone time with the Harbinger. Maybe it'd be easier, you figured, to coax information on his wellbeing if you were alone.

As the Traveller nodded and went to handle the cooking at a nearby stove, you switched to Tartaglia. It was a little odd now, controlling them when you knew they were aware of your existence. The vast majority didn't seem to mind, and you took some comfort in how responsive and talkative they were - at least you weren't some malevolent, brainwashing eldritch entity. Your characters - erm, Vessels, as they preferred to call it - seemed fine.

Childe, however, didn't.

"Hey. Ajax." You made sure to keep your voice softer than usual as you guided him towards the hot springs, sitting him down. "I'm sorry. I genuinely thought we'd get to break you out sooner."

For a while, he didn't answer.

You placed the cursor over his shoulder. By now, you knew they could feel a sort of phantom touch, and it was the closest thing you could do to offer a comforting hand.

"Whatever they did to you ends now. I'm hereby overruling your sentence. You're staying here while I'm logged off until the Traveler and I resolve this, and when I'm around, you're back on the team."

You could see Childe trying to look at you, so you did him the favor of turning the camera in such a way that it looked as though you were sitting beside him.

"Over here."

He couldn't see your expression, but you still hoped he could somehow hear the way you felt through your voice. Oh, how you wanted to be able to reach him.

Tartaglia looked in the vague direction of you, and you wished you had a way to cup his cheek and wipe away the tears threatening to spill from those lifeless eyes. You moved the cursor to rest over his pinky finger - this was the closest thing you could do to a pinky promise, after all.

"It's over, Ajax. It's done. Canon can go fuck itself. If they want to put you back in jail they're gonna have to go through me first."

__________

Ajax had wished you were physically in Teyvat many times. Most of these times were because he wished to fight you personally, some because he wished to share some food with you. This time, feeling the unmistakable warmth of your phantom touch slide from his shoulder to his hand, before focusing on his pinky as you promised to fight for him, he wished he could pull you into the tightest embrace. What a cruel dream - couldn't his mind have dreamt you a physical body, too? One he could hold on to. One he could curl up around.

He felt your touch on his back, soothing circles of warmth rhytmically rubbed, and he would've leaned into your touch if he had any idea of which direction to lean into.

"I have an escape route planned already." He sighed. "And a few other things I need to handle, too."

"Still." You insisted. "You look terrible. No offense."

"I'm f-"

"You're not fine, Ajax. I'm not an idiot. Look, the teapot has a place for you whenever you'd like. You have the Sigil of Permission, and I'll make sure to leave an empty room, so you can come and go whenever. So you at least get food, drink, a place to sleep... I'm pretty sure that with the Shogun around you'll always have someone to spar with, too, that should keep you from boredom-"

The Sigil of Permission.

Of course.

How could he have forgotten?

A dream as this may be - and he was start to suspect it wasn't, due to the unmistakable feeling of your energy seeping into his own and, perhaps a more obvious sign, how his clothes felt against his body due to being in the hot springs fully clothed (perhaps Overseers had no concept of clothing, and you refused to remove it because you considered his outfit a part of his skin? He'd heard you refer to the Tianquan's new outfit as a "new skin" once, after all...), the water making them heavier - it had still provided him something that could help him once he woke. The Traveler had once bestowed him with a sigil of permission that granted him access to your Serenitea Pot - a sigil of permission that was still in his possession.

Childe could feel a spark of hope inside his chest, the corners of his lips curving in a discreet yet confident smile.

He'd definitely take you up on that offer later.

"That's more like it!" You sounded relieved. And, as it usually was for Vessels when you were pouring your energy into them, your energy felt relieved as well, your emotions bleeding through into his body. All that, just for a small smile? Tartaglia smiled wider, in the general direction of where you should be, and the feeling increased.

He felt that familiar sensation of your focus on his hair, and found himself thinking that maybe, if you were there beside him, you would've ran your fingers through it, and maybe he'd lean closer, perhaps to rest his head on your shoulder or your lap.

Archons, what was happening to him? He wasn't supposed to let himself go like this. This wasn't a dream at all, he couldn't simply indulge as though it were. He had to stop leaning into your phantom touch, he had to stop hoping. This sort of hope, this sort of weakness, it'd kill him. He needed to-

"What you need is rest. And to be comfortable. And to let me and the Traveler take care of you." Your voice brought him out of his spiraling train of thought. Oh, right. He'd forgotten that lately you'd gotten better at hearing their thoughts. A trick you'd picked up in Sumeru, no doubt. He sighed.

"That... would be nice. Thank you, comrade. But you really don't need-"

"I don't. But I want to, so I will. So come on, let's get you fed while I redecorate the teapot again. It was bound for a change sooner or later, anyway."

#oof this one got LONG #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin au #genshin impact sagau #sagau tartaglia #sagau childe #i made myself sad with this one ngl #also if yall haven't listened to Say Don't go (TV) I recommend it so much #it's so good for writing angst to #sagau overseer

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