You stopped dead and turned to where he was trailing behind you and gave him your attention, unfortunately rewarding his bad behavior, “Titles only, Childe.”

“I wasn’t sure you could hear me” Childe responded, now standing tall right in front of you, his smile still the same, ignoring or otherwise completely unbothered by the standoffishness on your end. “I wanted to see if you wanted to spar while you’re here.”

Like clockwork. Every damn time you came in here and he was here too he’d ask. Each time you’d say no. Each time he’d hover around you until one of you had to leave. It had worked for the other Harbingers, as he now paid them no mind but for whatever reason, he still engaged with you. Tonight, you hoped your verifiable excuse and unfriendly aura would be the last straw for him.

“I’m just going to be doing target practice today,” you said, hoping to deter him. “I don’t want to do anything too strenuous today.”

“Oh you are? Do you mind if I join you?”

You blinked, “I didn’t know you knew how to use a bow,” you verbally dug your heels into the ground, even though you knew he could just walk into the range and practice along side you if he so wanted. There were no restrictions to who could use what when, but you desperately wished he would take a hint and leave you alone.

“I’ve been practicing on my own more recently, actually,” explained Childe, “And considering you’re the best archer among us, I can’t imagine having a better training partner.”

You narrowed your eyes at his compliment, while delivered earnestly, you couldn’t help but interpret his words as being subtly facetious. Since Childe sidestepped your frustrated hint with ease, you relented with a sigh, “Do as you please.”

The two of you headed to an archery range, Childe walking along side you, while you stewed in silent annoyance. So much for introspection time.

No one quite knew how to pester quite like Tartaglia. It was the popular opinion among the other Harbingers that the 11th was obnoxious. While you and your contemporaries preferred to work in the shadows and keep the often extreme extents of your servitude to your Archon hush-hush, Tartaglia, or Childe, as he preferred, ended up with a style that was far more akin to a performance. However, unlike most performers, he would make sure that his performance would be the last his audience would ever see.

You stopped in front of a door to the small range, opening it up unceremoniously, and Childe followed close behind. The room lit up, and illuminating the long room with three suspended targets, at three distances. Even with the unwanted company, you stretched and warmed up on autopilot, the silence between you and Childe surprisingly comfortable.

You glanced over, Childe having gone through his warm up routine faster than you. He had called his bow already, and you found yourself gawking at the absolutely abysmal posture he held as he aimed at the closest target, the one on the far left.

His shoulders were hunched and his bow hand gripped the bow in such a way that seemed entirely unsustainable. The arrow sat flimsy in his drawing hand, the only saving grace of the shot being the strength with Childe drew, which was borderline disturbing. You weren’t sure if he was showing off, or if he genuinely didn’t know to hold back.

You held your tongue as you watched him fire the shot, your eyes barely able to follow as the arrow swiftly embedded itself deep into the target, although the hit was only one by the smallest of margins

You watched him fire two more arrows, the second being a ring outside of the bullseye, and the third a near miss from the top. Both would be a challenge to pull from the targets as the fletching of the arrows were barely all that stuck out.

“See, I have a problem with being consistent in the hits I land,” Childe sighed, aware that you were observing, “What would you recommend?”

You took a deep inhale, “I think most children who pick up bows for the first time don’t have posture as bad as you.”

Childe flinched, his body language exaggerated, a pout resembling a kicked puppy having formed on his face, “Cut me some slack, I’m self taught!”

You remained unrelenting in your onslaught, “That’s obvious,” you scoffed, “You put way to much strength into the draw, especially when you can barely hold the bow itself. I’m amazed you hit the target at all.”

As as satisfying as it was to drag his form through the mud, Childe’s hurt expression only seemed to deepen, and you let yourself be worn down. “Draw the empty string, I’ll tell you what you need to fix.”

He did as you asked, and you rationalized to yourself that you were ultimately helping the Tsaritsa if you assisted Childe here. If he were ever stuck in a situation where he could only use a bow, you didn’t want him to be caught with his pants down. As invasive as he was, you didn’t want him to die or anything.

You lightly tapped his upper back, “Don’t hunch.” He fixed himself quickly. You moved his elbow up on his drawing arm, and went around to bend his elbow on his bow arm, going in quickly, and touching his as little as possible. You gave explanations for why each mistake would be detrimental for any kind of combat, and how to develop instinctive shooting, while making him maintain proper posture.

You were surprised how well he seemed to internalize what you explained, and you didn’t stop yourself from going into more detail than was feasibly retainable, but he stayed attentive, and showed a passion you weren’t expecting. You eased into a comfortable rhythm, and with rudimentary fixes, Childe was able to improve.

Time passed quickly, your engagement far more than either of you had expected. Childe had been trying to gauge you for a long time, but your persistence into giving him as little as possible became entertaining in and of itself. He enjoyed the open resentment of the other Harbingers, and before you had let your shell crack, he had enjoyed yours just as much.

Your patience with any mistakes was unexpected, your exasperation and irritation with his presence having dissipated entirely as you focused on helping him despite yourself. It was endearing seeing this side of you, a side that showed itself with surprisingly little prodding or string-pulling. It felt… natural, and unfortunately for you, it was also very endearing.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he started, interrupting a demonstration you had started about sights, earning a surprised look from you as he got your attention.

It took a split second, but you noticed he used your name instead of your title, your guard went back up, and you narrowed your eyes at him, “Don’t speak informally with me, use my title, Tartaglia.” You hissed out, using his official title instead of his preferred to emphasize your distance.

“Why? You can call me Ajax,” he offered, testing the barrier you set up. He hid his surprise when you hesitated, pursing your lips. He saw through how you tried to treat him apathetically, and forced yourself to be unkind to him. You were so much softer than you wanted anyone else to be privy to, and Childe was excited to exploit it.

In your own head, you had reached a conclusion that you weren’t sure he had reached, or if he even noticed in himself. You could have been way off, but as someone so at odds with his peers, seen as a tool by his superior, and feared by enemies and underlings alike, the pieces fit in your head and spelled out the fact that Childe was probably lonely.

Realizations clicked together quickly upon this conclusion, but you kept them to yourself.

“I won’t,” you maintained, refusing to let up. You couldn’t stop sympathy and understanding from now changing the tint of your interactions or how you viewed them, but you didn’t have to let him know any of that. Childe wasn’t your business, no matter how much he wanted to be.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Childe cooed, holding back a patronizing urge to pinch your angry cheeks, “I just wanted to ask why you’re helping me, since you seem to dislike me so much.”

You shifted your weight where you stood, “I don’t think you’d leave me alone either way.”

“That hasn’t stopped you from ignoring me before.”

Resentment bubbled in your chest, “So you are aware that you’re a pest.”

“Only because I like you.”

You were baffled that he could just say something that familiar, and you hoped any warmth that showed itself on you wouldn’t be interpreted as anything other than embarrassment on his behalf. “Well, stop.”

Childe seemed more amused than anything at your words, it only feeding into his idea that you’re just playing hard to get, “Am I really so unlikable?”

“You have no idea.” Any understanding you gained during your interactions being emotionally tossed to the wayside as your couldn’t bring yourself to care about someone with such a deliberate lack of regard for boundaries.

You disarmed yourself and made way to the door, pulling it open only for it to shut fast before you could blink. Your eyes followed the gloved hand that slammed it shut, Childe now far closer than you have ever let him get before.

You didn't want to turn around, and when you did you found yourself regretting it. His eyes were cold, completely unamused at your intent to leave while he was enjoying your company so much. He didn't mind a chase, but he needed you to realize that he was serious, and very difficult to deter.

If being pleasant and fun wouldn't get you to loosen up, he could change his approach until you changed your mind.

It had been a very long time since you felt this small. You’ve always been aware of Childe’s strength, but at the end of the day, despite his irritating nature, he was an ally. Or was. In that moment you looked up to see his lighthearted facade disappear so completely, you understood that regardless of your allegiance to your Archon, he was a threat.

“Ah… seeing [Y/N] like this makes me so sad.” Hillie sighed to Moco quietly as you walked past, unable to bring yourself to rid yourself of the raincloud that had been pouring over your head the past couple of days. You carried on to sweep the foyer, your work pace slowed.

“They boyfriend left them, I heard. Barely a word to them. He just… left.” Moco explained.

“Poor thing…” Hillie shook her head, watching as you continued your duties so pitifully, “I wonder what happened.”

“Maybe [Y/N] is having an affair with the Master and he found out,” offered Moco.

“Who knows,” Hillie gave in, resigning herself to not knowing, since the only one who would know for sure was you.

But truth was, you didn’t know yourself why your boyfriend left. You came home, and all he left you was a goodbye note, and all of his stuff was gone. You felt empty and betrayed at his sudden departure. It was hard to do anything, but anything was better than nothing.

“—[Y/N] are you hearing me?”

You jumped at what felt like a sudden intrusion, clutching the broom in your hands tightly. You looked up to who was speaking to you, mortified that the Master of the estate was addressing you.

“M-Master Diluc I-I’m sorry,” you blurted, bowing slightly, horrified by your blunder.

“It’s alright,” he said, his voice even, “When you’re done with your current task, please see me in my study, I want to talk to you about something.”

“Ah, yes sir,” you answered. Diluc gave a nod and left you to your work. You picked up your pace, now afraid of making your master wait. You had seen how impatient he could be, and anxiety motivated your movement.

When you had finished with the foyer, you hurried upstairs to Diluc’s study. You took a few deep breaths before knocking and announcing yourself.

“Come in and close the door behind you.”

You did as you were told before approaching his desk, making sure to keep a decent distance between yourself and your boss.

“I wanted to check on you. You’ve seemed… down these past few days.” Despite the genuine concern of the words, the coolness of his voice made you question his intent. Was he angry? A part of your job as a maid was to be pleasant to the members of the guild, especially Diluc himself, so was your misery that obvious to others?

“I’m sorry, I’ve been moping haven’t I? I promise I won’t let my personal life interfere with my work any further,” you rambled, afraid of earning his ire.

Diluc sighed, doing his best to mask any disappointment. He didn’t understand why you were so skittish around him, “That’s not what I was asking. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” you said, shifting uncomfortably under Diluc’s heavy gaze, “I’ll be better soon.”

“Tell me what happened,” Diluc was aware that he gave an order, but he had an objective in this conversation, and you were going to reach that goal.

You pursed your lips and took a deep breath, “My… boyfriend left me. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Diluc nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that, [Y/N]. You didn’t do anything wrong,” You found yourself surprised at how gentle Diluc sounded, your eyes hitting the floor in embarrassment.

“Thank you,” you responded, unsure what else to do, or what else he could want.

You heard him stand up and his footsteps come around his desk. You stilled yourself nervously, as if being still would stop him from approaching you. In your attempt to keep your eyes on the ground, you couldn’t help but notice how close Diluc stood in front of you.

Diluc’s hand touched your face, his warmth seeping through his gloves. Your eyes met his, and you couldn’t decipher why he was looking at you like that. “You deserve better.”

You desperately wanted to slide away and forget this is happening. Why was he doing this? What was he thinking? What did he want from you?

Diluc’s mouth formed a grim line as he noted your tense body language. You were no longer taken, and yet you still behaved this way. He moved his hand away from your face, his frustration building further as he watched your body ease up slightly. He maintained his resolve, he had made the decision to act, and he would see through his actions.

“I want to take care of you,” Diluc confessed, furthering your discomfort and confusion.

“You want to— what?” You sputtered in disbelief, forcing yourself not to back away and leave the room, and the winery itself, “That would be very unprofessional, the other maids already think you favor me over—“

“I do favor you. I care about you.” The words came out with practiced precision, Diluc aware that his full and honest feelings would startle you further.

Your face grew warm with embarrassment at the situation, “That’s… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stay here with me, and that you’ll let me take care of you,” Diluc urged as gently as he could manage. Watching your panicked expression saddened him, but he had his opportunity, he had to take it before someone else could try to seek your company again.

“If you don’t agree of your own volition, I will order you. Either way, I will make sure you will never want for anything as long as I breathe.”

You recoiled slightly, “This is a lot to take in.”

“Is there—“ you stopped yourself, mentally beating yourself for how wispy your voice sounded. You cleared your throat and started again, “Is there something I can help you with?”

You knew you couldn’t actually be paying attention to your work, but you desperately wanted him to take the hint that you’re too busy to be bothered. With the way you shook like a leaf when he surprised you, there was no way you could actually sell this narrative, but you tried so earnestly every time.

“Yes, actually,” the response came, and the sound of the door closing followed. Your heart reached your throat as you sat entirely at attention, your line of sight shooting up to watch Childe approach your desk.

“Wait, please, I really don’t have time to do anything, I have a lot on my plate right now with—“ a single look silenced you in your tracks. Your eyes returned to your desk, and you held your hands in fists on your lap.

“You act like I’ve been anything less than a perfect gentleman,” he teased, leaning on your desk in front of you, carelessly shoving aside files you had stacked neatly. “I’ve always been sure to take care of your needs.” He chuckled upon seeing you shift uncomfortably in frustrated embarrassment. “Besides, I have something important I want to discuss.”

You looked up at him, searching for anything on his features that could give away what it was he wanted to talk about. His posture was lax and his smile was the same faux grin he kept on when he wanted to tease you. You hadn’t done anything that he could have known about, but you remained at your miserable edge, hanging on his every mannerism.

“Which is…?” You asked with a slow breath, bracing yourself the best you could for the worst he’d have to offer.

“I wanted to take a moment and talk about us.”

You couldn’t stand how his eyes burned into yours, and you looked away, “Alright.”

“I love you,” Your stomach churned at his words, disgusted with how fondly he spoke of you. “I know you took some… convincing to understand the depth of my feelings, but I still find myself wondering where I stand with you.”

You recalled his “courtship”, and how he wore you down into accepting him as your lover. You felt sick with every touch, horrified with how he threatened the people around you, scaring them into cold avoidance, and hopelessness with every reminder that he maintains his final say over your life.

You wanted to be honest, to tell him the lengths you would go to if it meant he’d never bother you again. But honesty would lead to a lengthy reinforcement of Childe’s power over you. “I love you, too” came your feeble response, unfortunately unconvincing even to yourself.

“I’m happy to hear that!” Childe’s voice rang hollow, a mockery of your weak lie. “Good thing, since I declined the request for your transferal on your behalf.”

Your blood ran cold, your eyes emptily staring at your hands, now lax with your palms facing upward. You couldn’t bring yourself to be angry at him, anger would imply a form of disappointment or disbelief at his acts. You knew if he found out about your request for transferal he’d do what he needed to to stop it in its tracks. You swallowed, afraid for what was to come next.

“Now, I want you to be honest with me, [Y/N].” You watched as Childe’s hands grabbed your wrists, in a sharp motion. His large hands dwarfed yours, a further cruel reminder of your weakness to him. “Tell me if this transferal was offer to you, or if you applied for it.”

You felt so small under his gaze, and under his demand for your honesty, you didn’t know what else to do. You inhaled, “I… applied for it.”

He sighed, “I thought that might be the case. Props for trying to lose me through channels that could get me into trouble if I went too far. It wasn’t a bad plan, but not one you can try again. I’m lucky your receptionist is do honest with your secrets.”

You didn’t know whether to resent the girl who ran your front desk, or pity her. Did she naively tell her superior’s lover about the request you had her mail out weeks ago? Or was she threatened by a Harbinger with an obsession? “When did-- How did you--”

“I’m a bit insulted that you thought I wouldn’t catch wind of this. Did you think you could keep it quiet and I’d let you go quietly?” Childe took your chin in his gloved hand, his grip a casual display of his strength. Your eyes met his, and you felt everything in your body scream for you to run, or shake him off, or anything. But you were frozen, eyes carrying tears that didn’t dare slip out, caught up in his abyss of thinly veiled restraint.

“I-I’m— I’m so—“ your fearful apology was cut short by Childe’s iron grip tightening and making you wince. Childe sneered at your fear, and gripped your arm with his free hand. Your heart jumped in your throat, and the tears you struggled to hold back spilled onto your cheeks.

Albedo found himself pretending to skim a selection of books a shelf closer, then two. He inched closer, and wondered to himself if you would tell him what you were reading if he asked. From previous observations, he had seen how you put on that kind smile you wore like jewels, adorning yourself so to charm those around you. But the true question lied in whether or not you were truly bothered.

He stood, and continued to watch, letting himself be stuck in a loop of whether or nor to speak to you. You continued to read on, oblivious to him. Your focus seemed far less pointed now, your eyes moving slower as you savored what Albedo could only assume was a slower scene. Done with his game of 4D chess with a mental interpretation of you, he let out a sigh and took a single step to approach you.

“Oh, h-hello [Y/N],” Sucrose’s voice rang clearly, startling Albedo from his movements to approach.

You looked up at Sucrose and smiled, “Hey Sucrose, what’s up?”

Sucrose’s cheeks went pink, and quickly looked to the book in your hands, ”I was curious, m-may I ask what are you reading?”

Albedo continued to pretend to peruse, but now different questions filled his mind. He glanced over, the image of you sat up, your attention on his student. Sucrose stood in front of you, her hands fidgeting with themselves, a habit of hers that Albedo knew she did when she was especially nervous. He moved further away, his decision to watch instead of engage now set in stone.

“I’m on a second book in a series called Heart’s Desire,” you explained, lifting the book off of your lap to show Sucrose the cover, “Lisa recommended it to me.”

As expected, you kindly responded to inquiries, your pleasant voice patient with the person who interrupted you. Albedo still felt frustrated that he couldn’t provide the control in this interaction.

“Ah, how d-do you like it?” Sucrose squeaked out. Her behavior was reminiscent of when Sucrose first sought out Albedo’s tutelage, how she stood as still as she could force herself to, and forced herself to say what she needed to. The implications put a pit in his stomach.

“So far it’s really good,” you said, taking a small bookmark from a spot many pages earlier and placing it on the current page and closing the book.

“I-I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t mean to stop you.” Sucrose stepped back, prepared to make an exit.

You raised your hands to stop her, “No, it’s alright, I was at a good stopping point, I’ve been in here for hours.” Your explanation relaxed Sucrose a bit, so you continued. “I have to check out this book from Lisa, but when I’m done I’m heading to Good Hunter to order some food, do you want to come with?”

“Oh, um, I-I have a book I’m looking for though, I don’t want to make you wait up—“

“I’m okay with waiting, I’d like your company,” you reassured.

Albedo felt his skin crawl. He scowled and forced his eyes away from the scene. You were nice, but there was a tenderness to your voice that he hadn’t heard you use to address anyone he’s seen you interact with.

He quietly walked towards Lisa’s desk. He felt he had heard enough, and the way he felt suddenly so resentful towards Sucrose startled him. He hadn’t told Sucrose that he had been studying you, so he knew the rage that began to simmer wasn’t warranted.

He relaxed his expression enough to speak to Lisa to check out the book he had been holding in a vice grip for the past several minutes. He went through the motions of signing the registry, and entertaining Lisa’s small talk. It wasn’t until you reached the corner of his peripheral that he gets out of his head.

“Hey guys,” You give a small wave and smile in greeting to both Albedo and Lisa. Lisa lazily waves back, getting herself comfortable in her chair, preparing for an early evening nap.

“Hello [Y/N].” Albedo’s vocal delivery betrayed none of his turmoil, but he felt his entire body grow stiff as you stand nearly shoulder to shoulder with him to sign your book out. He watched, acutely aware of your proximity. He found himself at a loss of words, not an uncommon occurrence when faced with your direct presence. He had so much to ask, but he forced himself to take his leave.

He knew where you’d be at least, he could visit Timaeus and take notes on you… with Sucrose. His jaw clenched, frustrated at his student’s interference. He didn’t allow himself to remain caught up in the disappointment and jealousy that Sucrose approached you before he could. Perhaps this could provide a better lead into what you like. As long as Sucrose didn’t get too close.

You’d probably be able to pick up that he’s caught feelings for you pretty easily, based exclusively on how he treats you during you during sex.

In the early phases of falling into obsession, he’d want you to become addicted to him, to deter you from looking anywhere else. He’d focus on your pleasure more.

If you don’t figure out he’s really into you by the way the pillow talk starts to last longer, how he comes over more often, and even stays the whole night... man I do not know what to tell you.

How this goes from here depends on you. If you reciprocate his feelings and get together with Kaeya, then all is good. He’ll be a jealous and protective boyfriend, but he will have kept himself in check, and congrats he won’t snap unless you try to break up with him.

If you don’t want him like that and also end your arrangement... good luck getting rid of him.

At the time, he will coolly accept that you feel that way, and says he’s sorry to hear that and leave.

You’ll think you’re okay for a while, but Kaeya has backed off only to scheme. He can’t get out of his own head, and your rejection makes him realize how much of mess you’ve made him. He knew this was a possibility, but in his eyes, he did everything right. So now he’s convinced something’s wrong with you. He loves you, so he’s going to help you.

He’s pretty patient, and he’s determined that the ends are worth the means. You will love him too, and you will stay by his side forever. He has his fears, but he’s got a long con set up by the time he approaches you again that is too good to fail.

First, he’ll make sure you guys stay friends. Even if it’s awkward at first, he is nothing if not persistent, and will remind you through your interactions that you did start off friends.

He’s going to find a way to manipulate every aspect of your life. He’s a well connected guy, and he’s good at talking people into doing what he wants, and if words don’t work, he IS the Cavalry Captain. He is not above violence in the slightest.

If you’re an adventurer or a fellow Knight, you’ll find that the commissions you’re sent on are a lot more difficult, and he’s coincidentally been dealing with completely separate problems in the same area as you.

He’ll look cool when he so dashingly saves you from danger, and reliable when help you take care of your wounds. This will continue until you somehow sustain an injury serious enough to keep you in Mondstadt, where Kaeya will so generously offer to help take care of you.

If you work within Mondstadt, you would find yourself unemployed. He’s basically scared off any of your other friends, so Kaeya is painted as your savior again when he helps you get on your feet or provide a place to stay.

Once you’ve begun to rely on him, he’ll hint his feelings haven’t left, and “tease” that you basically owe him at this point.

If he has worn you down, then great, now Kaeya is your boyfriend, and he’s a bit worse than if you said yes the first time. He’s isolated you socially, and made you dependent on him. Leaving him is hardly going to be an option at this point.

Finally, if you say no once again... He’s taking you. Give it a day or two max. He’s snapped, and he’s now going to bring out the longer con, where you stay in his room with no way out ever again.

He’ll have you framed for a crime (probably one of his own), and will have you arrested. While locked up, he’ll finish his preparations, and convince the other Knights he’ll deal with you himself.