Chapter Text
[twelfth birthday]
It was family tradition that once you turned twelve, you were too big to share a sled with your older siblings. As such, the family would pitch in for your own sled as that year’s birthday present. The duty of sharing with the younger ones now fell on you as well, and it was expected that you inaugurated your new sled with the next youngest sibling (or if you were the very youngest, with a younger neighbor or cousin) on that most auspicious day.
Ajax had been looking forward to turning twelve even before Tonia was born. For so long, he’d been that very youngest. He’d been the one to be taken care of and watched out for. Now that he had reached the almighty age of twelve, he was going to do just as good a job as his older brothers and sisters.
Tonia was immensely proud to be the passenger of honor on his sled’s maiden voyage. Everyone in town knew that her "big brother Ajax is going to turn twelve, and I’m going to sled down the big hill with him."
Ensuring Tonia’s safety was a serious responsibility, so Ajax was careful to take several precautions in the days leading up to his twelfth birthday. With his mother’s permission, he rummaged through the closets to pick out the thickest coat and softest, most shock-absorbent hat. He reviewed their departure and arrival protocols with Tonia every morning after breakfast. He made contingency plans in case his new sled was just too fast to stop at the bottom of the hill and they ended up all the way in Fontaine (his accent was decent, according to Monsieur Sebastien, former authentic Fontaine native and sole owner of Morepesok’s little photography studio).
The last thing Ajax expected was to be told the night before that a part had unexpectedly broken, and his new sled wouldn’t be ready until next week.
His parents were just as upset as he was, if not more. They’d known very well how much this milestone meant to him and how long he’d anticipated it. But there was nothing they could do, since the repairs wouldn’t be finished in time and there was no world in which they’d send two of their children down the big hill on a broken sled.
Several of Ajax’s older siblings had returned home for his twelfth birthday and to witness his rite of passage. At different points throughout the evening, each of them gently offered to let him use their own sled instead, so he could at least still ride with Tonia on the day. None of them were surprised when Ajax declined.
The next morning, the whole family went outside for snow forts and an all-out snowball fight. This cheered up Ajax a little bit, especially after his mother swore him to secrecy and told him the secret to building and throwing the perfect snowball.
Even so, the day was still a far cry from how he’d dreamed it would be.
Once his new sled was hill-worthy, Ajax did take Tonia to the big hill. Her thick coat and soft hat had been much appreciated, all safety protocols were followed, and his passable Fontainian accent hadn’t been necessary.
Their parents let them stay out later than usual that afternoon.
[fifteenth birthday]
A group of older recruits entered the dorm, asking for ‘Kneecapper.’
They were quickly pointed towards the second bunk from the corner.
Ajax pretended not to notice them approaching, but made sure to maintain a steady pace on the potholder he was finger crocheting for the Tuesday lunch lady. Friendly relationships with the staff at a Fatui training facility were rare, and the Tuesday lunch lady was the only one he hadn’t completely won over yet.
“Hey.” The recruits’ leader stopped at the foot of the bunk, with the rest of them fanning out a bit to cover his escape routes (but for some reason with their backs to him, as if to make sure everyone else stayed well away). “You ‘Kneecapper’ Ajax?”
Ajax checked his most recent set of loops on the potholder. “Who’d like to know?”
“Word is that Kneecapper got sent a package for his birthday last month, but the instructors wouldn’t let him have it.” The leader glared at him. “Something about attitude issues.”
Ajax glared right back. “So?”
The older recruit leaned closer and growled, “So somehow the package went missing from the confiscated bin, and somehow ended up falling behind the sword rack at the north training hall.”
Ajax had never met any of these people before, so there was no reason to think they were telling him this out of the goodness of their hearts. Definitely not with his nickname.
“Baba Manya sends her regards. She also says you’re too scrawny to be helping out in the kitchen after hours and you should mind your own business.” Leaning back again, the leader snapped his fingers to signal the other recruits that their conversation was over.
They all glared at Ajax one last time for good measure before stalking back out of the dorm.
Later that night, after everyone else was finally asleep, Ajax snuck out to the north training hall.
Crammed into a crevice underneath the sword rack was a package about the size of his fists. Careful not to make a sound, he picked apart the layers of brown paper and twine (which had been tied in his mother’s signature style) to find inside half a pack of cigarettes (his older brother Aleksandr’s favorite brand), a flask of pink sauerkraut (his oldest sister’s recipe), and a picture of a strawberry cake with a file sticking out of it (clearly Tonia’s handiwork).
[eighteenth birthday]
The book from Pulcinella had explained why Harbingers had fake birthdays complete with fake birthday parties, but Childe still didn’t like any of it. He could see the messy collision of the obvious need to keep their personal details secret, with the ostentatious need to throw elaborate parties where nobody actually enjoyed themselves. But the ordeal was insufferable. He’d rather spend his evenings throwing arrows at Cryo Abyss mages than throwing words at simpering dignitaries.
Even so, Childe hadn’t necessarily expected the other Harbingers to be of a similar mind.
In the months leading up to Tartaglia’s midwinter birthday banquet; Pierro, Dottore, and Pantalone sent separate recommendations for discreet tailors who, for the right price, could sew snack-sized pockets into any dress garment. Pantalone even included a holiday bonus in Childe’s paycheck for “tasteful modifications to formal attire.”
Signora and Sandrone stayed behind after meetings to go over court etiquette, even though most of their “advice” seemed to contradict the book from Pulcinella. “If you want someone to go away, tell them they should excuse themselves to powder their mother’s nose. If they refuse or look confused; get in their face, ‘accidentally’ step on their feet with your heels, and say you’ll do it for them if they don’t remove themselves immediately.”
Pulcinella and Capitano scheduled ballroom dancing lessons every other week for him, and at least one of them would stay for the entire session. Sometimes, if Childe was really struggling, they would step in to demonstrate, with Pulcinella taking the lead.. “Come now, Captain, let’s show young Lord Tartaglia how it’s done, shall we?”
The morning of the event, Columbina serenely told him to swirl his glass four times if the person he was talking to needed putting in place. Arlecchino handed him a pair of dark glasses as she mentioned that the guest magicians would be releasing birds that turned into flashbangs during the main performance. And Scaramouche threw a paper airplane at Childe’s head that said “GOOD FOR ONE FREE MURDER OR CAVIAR BUTTERCREAM TORTE. NO QUESTIONS ASKED.”
Even though it was nearly five months after his actual birthday, something about it all still gave him a fuzzy feeling inside.
[nineteenth birthday]
Every so often, Childe would bring treats for everyone at the end of the month. Ostensibly it was to keep up his troop’s morale on long missions. But if it also happened to be July, he could pretend it was for his actual birthday, even if nobody knew it was secretly a celebration.
Childe had been stationed here long enough he’d gotten to know the nice couple who ran the bakery at the edge of town, and they were more than happy to fill his bulk orders. It was at the point where they’d always add one special version with a little Fatui mask made of red sugar to that month’s order (it was a temporary badge of honor among Childe’s troop to be the one to find the special version and present it to him).
This July, he’d brought cupcakes in a variety of flavors. They were beautifully frosted and decorated, each one a tantalizing work of art. Everyone had been most admiring of the lovely cupcakes. Those with kameras took commemorative pictures, with bonus prestige points for the ones who managed to catch the Lord Harbinger with his red mask cupcake in the background.
After a little bit, Childe excused himself and his cupcake back to his office, citing important payroll documents that needed signing. Nobody wanted to come between his signature and their salary, but everyone did raise a half-eaten cupcake in salute as he walked by.
Childe checked that his office door was closed and locked, then opened the secret drawer in his desk. Reaching past the signet from the Tsaritsa and the squirrel stuffie from Teucer, he grabbed a handful of birthday candles.
He counted out nineteen, then put the rest back and relocked the drawer. Fitting all those candles onto a single cupcake was no easy task, but Childe Tartaglia was a man who liked a challenge.
After lighting the final candle on his cupcake, he sang a quick and quiet happy birthday to himself before promptly blowing them all out.
As always, the cupcake was delicious. The bakery at the edge of town did excellent work.
The care package from his family arrived two weeks later. Childe was used to his personal mail taking a while to get to him, since it had to be rerouted several times to throw off potential trackers. Not to mention he still traveled here and there even when stationed on long missions, and he wouldn’t see anything that arrived for him until he returned to the temporary headquarters.
Considering all that, two weeks later was pretty fast this time. Maybe they’d sent it earlier than usual this year.
Most of his family members contributed to his birthday package, but it was now tradition for Aleksandr, Yelena, and Tonia to include half a pack of cigarettes, pink sauerkraut, and a hand-drawn picture.
This year’s picture was of newly twelve Anthon taking Teucer down the big hill.
[twenty-first birthday]
After a few months, Zhongli had learned many of Childe’s routines. The Eleventh Harbinger was always up early for morning training. When putting on or taking off his shoes, he always started with the left one. He liked making his own breakfast, then going out for lunch or dinner. He made time to play with the local children and give them little toys.
All this to say, it was out of the ordinary for Childe to make so many visits to the post office. The two of them would be out on one of their walks, and Childe would invariably make a “quick detour to see if it arrived yet.”
It was also out of the ordinary for him to reminisce about his childhood. Childe was good about not mentioning his past and casually deflecting anytime it came up, but recently he’d been telling Zhongli anecdotes about snowball fights, sledding down the big hill with his siblings, and eating endless servings of pink sauerkraut.
The frequent post office trips and stories from Snezhnaya continued all the way until late August, when Childe burst into Zhongli’s office, waving a brown paper package.
“IT’S HERE, IT’S HERE! LOOK, ZHONGLI, IT’S HERE AND I’VE FINALLY GOT IT!”
Zhongli had started to get an idea as to the package’s contents and their significance, but it was polite to not bring it up unless Childe mentioned it first. Still, congratulations were in order. “That’s wonderful. I’m glad to see you in such good spirits.”
“Do you mind if I open it here?”
Saying no to those pleading puppy eyes was impossible. Zhongli shook his head as he reached for a letter opener to offer to Childe. “By all means, please go ahead. Would you like…ah, you have it taken care of.”
In moments, Childe had the package opened and splayed out on Zhongli’s desk. There was a small glass bottle, a pink flask, an embroidered handkerchief, two checkered bowties (one large and one small), a bag of fragrant potpourri, a pencil sketch of a basket of oranges, twenty-one red buttons, and a partially full pack of cigarettes.
“Oh wow, it’s a family portrait!” Childe admired the pencil sketch in all its glory, then proudly showed it off to Zhongli. “Isn’t it great?”
Upon closer inspection, each orange contained a person’s face in varying stages of surprise. Some merely had raised eyebrows or mild gasps, and others were in full screams with bulging eyes and gaping mouths.
“Capturing so many different facial expressions takes a certain kind of skill. Drawing this must have been no easy feat.”
“My younger sister is very talented.” Childe had a smug smile as he carefully laid the sketch aside. He picked up the small glass bottle and held it up to the light. “What’s this? Am I supposed to drink it?”
From across the way, Zhongli said, “There’s a label on the other side.”
“Thanks.” Childe turned the bottle around to read SNO (with a backwards S) in large, crooked letters. “That’s Teucer’s handwriting! He must’ve wanted to send me a piece of home.”
[twenty-second birthday]
Childe had wanted to spend his birthday with Zhongli, but missed the timing to tell him about it. Then when Zhongli was so pleased to receive a personal invitation to a very exclusive funeral parlor conference during the latter half of July, selfishly asking him to not go was the last thing Childe wanted to do.
Still, spending his birthday by himself was lonely.
“I guess it’s on me for not telling him my real birthday earlier. We had so many of those honesty-is-the-best-policy conversations after that scene at the bank, you think I could’ve at least mentioned something about it.” Childe sighed. “What are your thoughts, Mr. Squirrel?”
Seated next to Childe on the picnic blanket, the squirrel stuffed animal lost its balance and toppled facefirst into the Wanmin takeout.
“Yeah, same here.” Childe fished Mr. Squirrel out of the spicy chicken, then wiped him off with a napkin. “Whoops, careful. Would hate to get sauce on your bowtie too.”
They both looked at the Jueyun chili stain on the larger bowtie at the base of Childe’s neck.
“No, it’s okay, thanks. I’ll ask Zhongli to take a look at it when he comes back. He knows a lot about plants and ancient rituals and stuff. There’s gotta be something about cleaning bowties.”
They continue talking and eating for another few minutes, until they’re both stuffed. There was a minor, good-natured argument over who should take the leftovers home, but Childe eventually conceded that it was his birthday meal and it had been Mr. Squirrel’s treat.
Before they could begin hiking back down to the harbor, there were a series of rumbling sounds from higher up the mountain, but they didn’t sound like the usual earthquake or landslide rumbles that could be heard throughout Liyue. Childe had deja vu because he recognized those rumbles the moment they started.
They were from snow. Those were snow rumbles.
In July? In Liyue?
Childe stared at the wall of snow bearing down on the picnic spot. He wasn’t seeing or hearing things, that was definitely a torrent of beautiful, sparkling snow.
Then an enormous pair of black and gold Geo hands were lifting Childe (and Mr. Squirrel and their picnic leftovers) clear of the avalanche, as a fleet of sleds zoomed towards him atop the snowy waves.
With moves not to be attempted by non-Snezhnayans, a group of people flung themselves from their sleds, somersaulted the rest of the way to Childe, and buried him in a pile of hugs.
Childe was so stunned, he barely registered Aleksandr and Yelena shaking him and shouting, “WE DIDN’T RAISE YOU TO SIT AND STARE WHEN YOU SEE AN AVALANCHE COMING AT YOU!”
His mother was right there next to them. “Really, Ajax. What kind of example are you setting for your younger siblings? For Zhongli? He already finds snow difficult to handle, so you need to make sure he’s prepared for the next time he visits us.”
There were also three ginger limpets each clinging onto one of Childe’s limbs. Teucer and Anthon were squeezing him as tightly as they could, while Tonia looked very pleased with herself as she whispered, “I wrote to Mr. Zhongli that today was your actual birthday.”
After Aleksandr, Yelena, and their mother let him go, the rest of Childe’s siblings had their turns teasing him and ruffling his hair and punching his shoulder. It took another ten minutes to convince the younger three to finally let him go.
Zhongli stayed behind while everyone else went to retrieve their sleds. He pressed himself close to Childe for warmth, even though it really wasn’t that cold.
“I can’t believe it.” Childe threw an arm around Zhongli’s shoulders. “You brought all my favorite things together. You, my family, Snezhnayan snow, and Liyue.”
Zhongli reached for Childe’s other hand and clasped it in both of his. “You should have only the best. Happy birthday, my love.”
Childe’s family stayed in Liyue for several days after his birthday. He and Zhongli took them on tours of the harbor, fed them the finest Liyuan cuisine, introduced them to Wushou dancing and the Yun-Han Opera Troupe, and bought endless souvenirs for them to take back home.
Unsurprisingly, his family's original package arrived a few weeks after they’d gone back to Snezhnaya.