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"Hiraeth" ↠ Childe [ANGST]

"Can you be homesick for something that is not a home?"

Characters: Childe x GN!Reader (You)

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 3,592 I’m sorry, I got carried away

Warnings: Archon quest spoilers, Childe's story quest spoilers

A/N: This is my first ever Genshin fic, so please look after it kindly! Inspired by Childe's pinkie rings and brought to you by my panic over having to fight him 🤡 AKA help I love this man so much

Special thanks to @seerie and @tartagilicious for carrying my butt; this is all for you, please enjoy~ ♡

Part II: Quatervois

HIRAETH: (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return to; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

But everything is shattering and it's my mistake

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

“If you were Fatui, I imagine that you would be entitled to a generous reward from the Tsaritsa herself.”

You freeze at the voice, dread settling in your stomach like dead weight. No, it can’t be.

But the figure approaching you slowly is unmistakable.

No, please.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” You stutter, panic making your lips unable to form proper words.

Childe smiles, but you notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s a deadened look in his azure pupils. “Oh come on now, what do you think I’m doing here?” He gestures grandly at the Exuvia, and you shake your head wildly, scrambling backward to move in front of Rex Lapis’ body.

No.

Memories of everything the two of you shared comes rushing at you like a whirlwind and hurt floods your system. Your mind goes blank save for the panicked chants of no, no, no.

Our lives don't collide, I'm aware of this

“You-you were playing me to get close to the Exuvia,” you spit the words out at him. You feel like an utter idiot, completely betrayed and blindsided. How stupid. You knew he was Fatui. You knew he was one of the eleventh Harbingers.

He smirks, the expression now maddening to you instead of endearing. “Don’t act so surprised. You’ve seen this world, you of all people should know that this should have been expected.”

He was right. You had been the one who had let him in, had let him get close. And now you were going to pay for it.

You draw your sword as he approaches slowly, the tip of the weapon sickeningly close to his throat. Archons, please let this be a nightmare. You desperately hope that this was all a prank, someone popping out of the corner to say “Gotcha!” But he is close enough that you can feel the heat emanating from his body and you know it is no joke indeed.

“I won’t allow you to get near the Exuvia,” you say bravely.

Childe grins and there is a tangible excitement in the air. “Oh? So you do intend to fight me?” His glee is disturbing, making you instinctively step back.

Was this really the same man who had whispered sweet promises about his wintry homeland? Was the man before you the same as the one who had pretended to be a toy-seller to protect the innocence of a childhood dream?

“We’ve now come to my favorite part. A simple pleasure, and one that I am oh-so-delighted to be sharing with you,” Childe continues, and suddenly the bow that was slung over his shoulder appears in his hands. “The battle.”

Your gaze wavers ever so slightly as you consider your opponent.

You of all people knew how much Childe loves to fight, the thrill of the battle is what drives him. He chases after it like a drug. But on the other hand, you knew the consequences of what would happen if Childe got his hands on Rex Lapis’ Gnosis. You’ve seen it happen firsthand to Venti, after all.

“I won’t kill you,” Childe proclaims, “I’ll just play along, to feel the thrill of the battle. Besides,” he smirks again, and it makes your skin crawl. “You can never defeat me anyway!”

You grit your teeth as you glare at him, “I can never defeat you?” You can’t help but feel the dangerous edge of white-hot anger run through you, like a hot knife through butter. “You’re completely delusional!”

The laugh that comes out of his chest tells you he is pleased with your answer, “Fighting talk, I love it! Now, let’s see if you live up to it!”

You barely had time to react before arrows start flying in your direction, pure muscle memory is what keeps you out of harm’s way. Your body goes on autopilot, instincts taking over as you do all you could to defend yourself against the onslaught of his attacks. But you refuse to go on the offensive, something Childe quickly notices, and he presses you. The attacks get more ferocious, but you do your best to parry them.

A blade, forged out of water, appears out of nowhere and knocks your sword out of your hands. When you move to follow after it, Childe is standing in front of the Exuvia. ”Not bad, your swordsmanship is quite impressive. But that’s as far as you’ll get.” He sounds triumphant. “I’ll be taking Morax’s Gnosis now!”

“NO-”

There is a blinding light and then nothing. You raise your head to look at Childe, who is staring at his hand. The gloved palm remains empty.

A shocked gasp leaves your mouth as Paimon and you exchange confused looks.

“Well…” Childe begins. The look in his eyes is foreign to you, a brief flash of confusion burns away to reveal fury. You instinctively lick your dry lips, feet unconsciously moving backwards. The Childe who stands before you is not the same Childe you’ve known.

“I see, this is most unexpected,” his voice is much too calm, and you shiver involuntarily. He turns to you. You notice that he clearly looks different now. A purple aura glows around his entire body as he stalks towards you. You’re not sure if it was your imagination, but he looks bigger, more threatening. “You beat me to it, didn’t you?”

Mute, you shake your head, but Childe doesn’t seem to notice. He turns slowly, his manner imposing.

“Where is it? Where is the Gnosis?” His voice is akin to that of a growl, and you gulp.

“I don’t know, I don’t have it!” Your words emerge as a frightened yelp when he jumps down from Rex Lapis’ corpse, causing you to stagger from the sheer force. Lightning crackles all around you and you’re forced to scramble.

“This is going to cost you!” A brilliant streak of violet electricity and suddenly, the ground disappears under your feet. You freefall, wind whistling in your ears, and you make an effort to protect your head from the fast-approaching surface.

Pain blossoms in your body and you can’t help the whimper that comes out before everything goes dark.

Your sword clatters next to you. Childe lands on the ground, his boots creating craters. Everything is far too quiet. He makes his way over to you, brow creasing as he assesses your surroundings. You do not move.

“Hey-” he calls your name, but you give no response. Paimon gives him a dirty look as she keeps trying to revive you, shaking your lifeless form frantically. Worry overrides the anger and panic sets in.

Get up, Childe pleads silently, watching your limp body. GET. UP. Panic rises in his chest when Paimon tugs desperately at your arm.

The tiniest groan of pain, so small, that he nearly misses it, and you begin to move feebly. Relief engulfs him like a tidal wave coursing over his entire body and Childe staggers, trying to keep his Foul Legacy under control. Bile rises in the back of his throat as he watches you lean heavily against your sword, using the weapon as a means to prop yourself up.

The differences and impulses and your obsession with The little things you like stick, and I like aerosol

He shouldn’t be worrying about whether or not you get up. He shouldn’t care. He was a Harbinger after all. The Harbingers prided themselves for being the Tsaritsa’s weapons of war, without being susceptible to useless things such as emotions.

And yet, Childe feels his insides twist unpleasantly as you force yourself into a fighting stance, breathing labored and sword arm trembling.

“I’m not going to let you get away with this,” you say, but your voice has no force, no life. Childe sees the exhaustion settling in and guilt gnaws at him.

But failure is not an option for him. It’s better to end this now.

He grips his staff as he sneers, “You never had any chance of beating me to the Gnosis. In fact, you had no connection to the Gnosis, no matter where it had been taken.” It’s easier for him to be the bad guy if it means he didn’t have to see your tears. It’s better if you were angry, instead of being hurt by the likes of him.

“Unfortunately, it’s time that our battle ends. My quest still beckons.” Despite every fiber in his being protesting, Childe raises his staff. Currents of electricity sizzle in the air.

Just before you throw your arm up to block the blow, you see him hesitate. The hesitation lasts only a split second, but it is enough. You knew. For someone who loves the thrill of the fight as much as Childe did, he never hesitates in battle. Hesitating means the difference between life and death. Hesitating means you lose. As the purple beam of lightning hurls towards you, a small smile appears on your face.

The bolt lands mere inches from you, making your eyes squeeze shut from the stifling air, but the smile remains on your face.

He missed.

When you open your eyes again, Childe is nowhere to be seen.

━━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━

The days following the battle with Childe and Osial have you attempting to help others. It wasn’t until Zhongli had suggested that you rest and Paimon threatening to tie you to your bed, that you relented.

And on one sunny afternoon, you watch the bustling streets of Liyue from the window, confined to your bed, lest Paimon unleashes her wrath.

A quiet knock breaks you out of your thoughts and you murmur a soft “Come in,” expecting to see Zhongli for tea or Baizhu with your daily medicine. The battles had taken quite a toll on you.

You were not expecting, however, the ever-familiar figure in gray with a somber expression.

“Have you come back to finish killing me?” The words that you utter are flat.

Childe winces slightly at your frigid tone and starts slowly towards you.

“Stop.” You throw out a hand and Childe obeys, watching you cautiously. “Before you say anything, tell me this.”

He cocks his head as he waits. And suddenly, you feel the urge to cry, but you shove the feeling down.

“Tell me,” you say, voice hoarse from unuse or unshed tears, Childe does not know. “Who are you? Who is the person who stands before me?” You were trying to put up a front, but he can see the cracks beginning to form. Your voice wavers. “Are you Childe, the pride of the Tsaritsa, the person who went on all these adventures with me, my cheerful comrade in arms? Or are you Tartaglia, the eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, bloodthirsty and power-hungry, the one who tried to kill me the other day?” There is a hitch in your throat as you continue, “Or…are you…Ajax,” your voice is trembling, the name pushed through your lips as if difficult to say, “Defender of Childhood Dreams, the person willing to give up his reputation to save the hero-like image Teucer has, warm-hearted and kind, the one named after the hero. Ajax, the one who made those promises to me?” You press your lips together as you look away, gaze landing on the window, where it stays.

Childe is silent, for he does not know the answer to your questions either.

And my hopes, they are high, I must keep them small Though I try to resist I still want it all

Minutes pass and the silence is overwhelmingly stifling.

“Does it matter which version of me is before you?” He finally breaks the silence. You squeeze your eyes shut at that, not wanting to see, to hear him.

He sees you grit your jaw, tension running a clear line, the same place where he had loved to press soft kisses against. “Yes, because I’m trying to figure out if all the memories we shared were real or not.”

“And if they were?” Childe breaths out, the ghost of his words hovers in the air between the two of you, “What if I told you that they were, every last one of them, as real as the sunlight filtering through the window right now?”

“You expect me to believe that?” You laughed dryly, sound grating and harsh. The laughter continues as you pull off the silver ring on your pinkie and flick it at him. Silver circle catches the light, a tiny streak glinting in a wide arc, and the two of you watch as it sails towards its original owner. Childe catches it by instinct, swallowing hard when he did so.

“And what about this promise?” You challenge, raising your brow. “You sounded so sure when you made this promise.”

“You’ll love the rest of my siblings,” Childe murmurs. He grabs your hand and holds it up for his inspection under the moonlight. “I’m very proud of them. They’re great kids.”

You laugh as you lean back into his arms with a satisfied sigh. “You’ve been saying that so many times, but we haven’t gone to Snezhnaya yet. I’m starting to think you’re a hoax.”

“I promise,” he turns to you, gaze earnest, “I promise I’ll take you there.”

“Pinkie promise,” you offer and waggle your pinkie playfully, “Or else, I’ll throw you on the ice.”

Childe smiles, cerulean eyes disappearing into cheerful slits, as he hooks his pinkie around yours, “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again,” he recites the ever-familiar nursery rhyme. “Close your eyes, I have a surprise for you.”

You look at him questioningly but obey regardless. You feel Childe take the hand that he had been holding and something cold glides up your pinkie.

“Ajax-”

“Shh, don’t want to ruin the surprise now, do we?” Warm fingers grasp yours and you feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. Lips, albeit chapped, press against the unfamiliar coolness, as if branding some sort of unspoken vow.

You give in to the urge to open your eyes and you do, just in time to see Childe sit back with a relaxed smile. “Wha-“ you begin and that’s when you notice a silver ring around your pinkie. “What’s this?”

Childe smirks, a self-satisfied upturn of his lips as he grasps your hand again. “A pinkie promise,” he proclaims proudly. He curls his pinkie around yours but this time, there was a gentle clink. You see a similar ring glinting on his finger. “I promise I will take you to Snezhnaya and you will get to meet my siblings. That is a promise I fully intend to keep.”

Your pinkie tightens around his and there is the distinct clink of your rings knocking together. You decide you rather like the sound of it.

“What about the promise?” You ask again.

Childe does not speak, but you notice his hand tighten around the ring ever so slightly. You can’t read the look in his eyes.

“If you make a promise, you keep it. If you make a mistake, you apologize…” You softly repeat the words he had said to you long ago. “The nursery rhyme Teucer taught me… You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again,” you recite the words, each one hammering a nail that would seal your fate. “Looks like you’re going to have to break the promise,” you settle back against your pillows with finality.

He swallows then, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. As much as you hate to admit it, you feel hope rising inside of you at the sight.

Was any of it real? Were his feelings genuine?

But the fact remains still, was that he had betrayed you.

“We’re going on two different paths. You, on the path to power. Me, to find my brother. Our paths should never have converged,” you are surprised to hear that your voice is steady, not betraying the turmoil you currently feel raging inside of you.

Only fools fall for you, only fools fall

Childe closes his eyes, sighing softly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, so faint you barely catch it, “Truly.”

You feel disappointment settle in and you berate yourself mentally. What did you expect?

“You’re full of contradictions,” You breathe out, drawing the covers closer to you as if they could block out the hurt. “You refuse to let Teucer know about your real job because you wanted to protect his childhood, yet you do everything in the name of the Tsaritsa. Who even are you?” You laugh, but there is a little catch in your voice. “You make all these promises with honeyed words, yet you tried to kill me when you believed I stole the Gnosis from you, just because I happened to be in your way.”

“As one of the Eleventh Fatui Harbingers, it’s my duty to see the will of the Tsaritsa fulfilled,” Childe reminds you. It was a reminder you didn’t need. You can’t help but notice the loneliness in his tone.

You snort derisively, “The will of the Tsaritsa. Does it include nearly destroying entire cities, putting thousands of innocent lives at risk?” Does it include getting close to me to gain my trust only to betray it in the end? Was I part of this plan? You want to ask, but you were afraid of the answer.

“She will get that which she desires,” Childe is firm, and you have to bite down the disappointment.

“So where does that leave us?” The question comes hurling out before you can even begin to process it. You bite back a curse.

Childe exhales. “You should know…Anyone who strives as I do to grow stronger shall be called a friend, even if our friendship can only be shown in battle against one another,” he says softly. The expression on his face is forlorn. “The next time we meet, it will be on the battlefield.”

You laugh in disbelief, “Friends,” you scoff, “Friends don’t cross blades with one another.” Friends don’t betray one another, you wanted to add, but you held your tongue. “It would be more fitting to call us enemies.

“I harbor no ill will towards you,” Childe’s admission is nearly silent, “In fact, most of my happier memories were those shared with you.”

“It’s too late,” you grit out and there is venom in your words.

Childe studies you as if trying to commit all of your features to memory. You think to yourself that you have never once seen this expression cross his face, lost and melancholic. “Farewell, comrade,” he finally says quietly, “I hope you find all the answers to the questions you’re searching for.” He turns to go.

“Ajax…” you call his name, his real name. It comes out of your mouth before you can stop yourself and it hovers nervously in the air. He stops at the sound of his name, and he turns back to you, expression unsure. “You hesitated,” you say simply. “Inside of the Golden House. You hesitated to kill me. And you missed on purpose, didn’t you? That means you lost.”

Childe does not say anything. He offers you a slight smile as he pulls the door open. And just like that, Childe is gone from your life, leaving the same way he had entered.

Only fools do what I do, only fools fall

━━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━

Nighttime finds Childe under the tree where he had made the promise to you. It overlooks the ocean, Liyue lights blinking in the distance, a would-be pretty sight if he had better company save for himself. It’s a moonless night and Childe thinks to himself that it is fitting for a night like this.

“You seem quiet, what’s going on?” Childe asks as he plops next to you, jostling your arm.

You huff at him, moving your sketchbook out of the way, “Careful,” you warn.

Childe pushes himself onto his elbows, curious, as he peers down at the paper. “Your brother?” He asks, voice gentle. “Are you thinking of him again?”

You nod, filling in the details of your brother’s face. “I wish I had more information,” you sigh.

He watches you work, your expression was forlorn, lost and Childe wishes he could do something to alleviate your pain.

“You’ll find the answers, I know you will,” Childe offers, draping himself over you. His body presses against yours and the familiar warmth calms you. “Don’t forget I’m assisting you as well.”

“I’m just…homesick I guess,” you admit as you shade the contour of your brother’s jaw. “Have you ever heard of this word?”

“Hiraeth,” Childe mumbles. He remembers what you said to him.

“Homesickness for a home you cannot return to. The nostalgia, the yearning for the lost places of the past.”

It makes him think of warm arms and cheerful laughter. Of quiet nights under the stars and dreams uttered against lips. Of playful fights and adrenaline-fueled battles. Of forgotten duties in lieu of lazy mornings in bed, surrounded by the mere essence of one another.

It makes him think of you.

Home is not a place, it’s a feeling. It’s a person.

It’s you.

He presses a kiss to the smaller of the silver rings, his whisper lost to the wind. Nothing but the sky and the trees bearing witness.

“You were my home.”

Fin.

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