You found out in the worst way possible. And he should have known better.
The Fatui ruined your life, and that was putting it lightly. Squeezing each and every penny from your parents for some insignificant debt, only to raze your small childhood village down to ashes for a reason you didn’t care for. You fell on your knees as your life and home were set ablaze.
And what began to grow was a bitter, bitter hatred. Hatred for the world and it’s cruelty- for these so-called allies who would continue to terrorize Teyvat for years to come. Etched with the mark of Cryo, a crystal blue orb came to your aid. Icy fractals extinguished the remains of the fire, piercing the hearts of the remaining Fatui agents with spires of ice.
Tartaglia knew this. You spoke to him on one dark and dreary evening, nursing several bottles of wine in a vain attempt to erase the past. It was a dramatic lapse in your judgment, but he embraced you consolingly, stroking your cheek and wiping those sorry tears away. Your heart thrummed with a warmth you hadn’t felt in years- what a fool you were.
The fact that it was this easy to find out almost hurt. Your excellent infiltration skills, paired with naturally enhanced hearing... oh, the thought made you laugh. A hollow, brittle noise that could only mimic the sound of your anguish.
You caught him off guard- and chose wisely to hide in the shadows. A Fatui agent whispered in his ear, something related to ‘a debt that needed collecting.’ That was enough to make your blood run cold.
“Master, shall I terminate them?”
Hearing his voice shattered your heart within seconds.
“I’ll take care of it.”
You couldn’t take it any more.
A cloud of frigid air followed your tracks. It was a passive effect from your vision: whether you were adorably upset or gripped by an earth-shattering rage, mist would veil your form, causing anything that came close to freeze instantly. The first time he realized this, Tartaglia got a minor case of frostbite- but he merely smiled and called you his adorable little snowstorm.
His.
Just how long was he playing you for?
Childe’s royal blue orbs narrow to slivers as he senses a chill in the air, before falling on a pair of frosted footprints trailing out of the door. Inhaling sharply, he’s quick to his feet, and cursing himself as he races towards the outskirts of Liyue Harbor.
He’s barely able to see you in this pouring rain, with your hair cascading down your face in a curtain, desperately hiding the rage kept within. You were planning to leave quietly, refusing to give him the luxury of seeing you again. And if he does, you will never carry the same solace that he came to love- only the emptiness of a bitter cold churning within.
The one thing he does see, are those scathing orbs of yours, pinning him down in his tracks. Swallowing dumbly, Tartaglia takes an uneasy step forward, as if approaching a beast ready to tear his chest open at a moment’s notice.
“I know that I hurt you. I know that nothing I can say will change the past. But…I’m hoping that you’ll forgive me in the end. I’m hoping that I can make this right.”
But he can’t. It was a house of cards ready to come crumbling down at the slightest disturbance. A foundation of years and years of unresolved hatred; this was a long time coming, and he knew it. Tartaglia only hoped to confide in the heart of someone who reminded him dearly of home. You don’t say a word, and he edges closer to you.
“Please... just let me explain. I promise it’ll all make sense.”
Wrapping a careful hand around yours, he’s shocked by how complacent you are, until you twist out of his grasp and clamp your nails into the tender flesh of his wrist. Blood dribbles onto the ground.
“Master, huh,” you seethe, as snowflakes bloom on his skin. “Just who are you?”
Throwing away his hand with a vicious yank, he merely steps backward with an unreadable expression. Childe knew when to keep business and personal affairs separate; but Tartaglia wasn’t as sagacious. Childe knew thirty-seven different ways to maim someone without dropping an ounce of blood, while Tartaglia dreamed of moments where he could introduce you to his friends and family, gathered around the table as you dazzled his younger siblings with stories of your adventures.
Childe only knew of lies and deceit, while Tartaglia craved love.
“You Fatui are all the same,” you say, frost adorning your fingertips as your power spirals out of control. “Trampling over the hearts of many.”
He tries to reach for you once more, but this time, you draw your weapon on him, the polearm coming mere millimeters before the skin of his throat. It was a beautiful Snezhnayan piece: forged with metal from the snow-capped mountains, polished with the essence of Cryo Crystalflies to give it a silvery finish, and fitted with a Shivada Jade Gemstone at the top, giving life to the wintry blade.
It was an anniversary gift.
“This time is mercy. The next time we meet... ”
Your eyes raked him with freezing contempt, yet the small glimmer of disbelief in his eyes makes your heart weep. He is nowhere near powerless- you’re well aware of that fact. But if he even thinks that enduring the injuries you might inflict upon him would make him worthy of forgiveness, he was wrong. You never wanted to see him again.
