POV: You are a goddess of love who has frozen your emotions, but your youngest is sad; you are worried and need to comfort a human without breaking your emotionless facade.
POV: You are a human tainted by the Abyss, and the most radiant goddess of all is making an immense effort to comfort you; you cannot understand how the world fails to see just how kind she is.
POV: A mother without a child and a child without a mother.
Her voice snaps him out of his reverie; Ajax blinks, shaking off his thoughts and returning to the Winter Garden—the place where he had sought refuge after the meeting with the Harbingers and the Archon. He loved the palace gardens for many reasons, the primary one being the serenity that emanated from the place, as if the Archon's own calm and coolness were enveloping him.
Sitting on one of the benches and admiring the small, crystal-clear pond, he looks up at the Tsaritsa standing beside him. She wears no gown or scepter—just his Archon in her military uniform of white trousers and a white coat.
She wears neither a crown nor her customary veil; her silver hair is pinned up high, with a frozen snowflake at the tip of each pin.
A tray with two drinks flies beside her, he deduces it is the tea she served at the meeting earlier.
"Of course." Childe nods, and the Archon sits beside him; both gaze at the pond in an uncomfortable silence. "How may I serve you, Your Majesty?"
"Hm, there is no official business to discuss," She hands one cup to him, and Tartaglia isn't foolish enough to refuse, his mentor had raised him far too well for that, she reaches for the other glass for herself and dismisses the floating tray with a wave of her hand. "You were distracted earlier today."
"Forgive me; you know the Harbingers' machinations rarely hold my interest." He laughs, a bit sheepishly. "I assure you, I was paying attention, even if it didn't look like it, and I know my orders. I won't be the cause of any failure."
"Your competence has never been in question; no one recognizes your dedication more than I or your fellow Harbingers." The Tsaritsa sips her drink "Tell me, what has you deep in thought, Ajax?"
It's personal. She is worried. A faint flush rises to his cheeks; he never quite gets used to it when someone cares about him, especially his Archon, who was usually as cold as the domain she ruled.
She is very kind to him, kind about many things, really, yet the world has always failed to recognize just how good she is.
"Just some personal issues," Ajax shrugged. "Family matters."
"Tell me, do mortals not usually seek out the divine for counsel?" The Tsaritsa turned fully toward him. "Share your troubles with me, my dear youngest."
He feels a lump form in his throat, he way she gazes at him, utterly devoid of emotion yet wanting to know what troubles him; the way she makes the effort, trying to be there for him despite being forced to wear a cold, unfeeling mask for the world to see.
She is so kind to him, and Ajax doesn't know what to do with that kindness; why would a divine being look at something born of the Abyss and welcome it in?
Why would she, at the height of her pure, radiant divinity, choose him, when even his own parents hadn't wanted him?
He feels tears beginning to well up.
"Ah, I just realized I can't fool myself about a certain situation anymore." He focuses on holding back the tears, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I don't think I should return to Morepesok so often. Twice a month will be enough."
"Well, I can't say that saddens me; having you around keeps the mayor’s mood much more stable. Besides, your veterans could use a bit of youth around them." The Tsaritsa nods before bestowing upon him a look as gentle as a Loveless Goddess could manage. "I, for one, greatly appreciate your company when you escort me to my engagements."
"Don't let any of my veterans hear that; they'd be upset not to get a compliment themselves."
"Well, you all entertain me in different ways." the Tsaritsa shrugged. "Drink your drink, Ajax; a hot drink helps humans feel better. I’ve learned that well over the centuries from my fools."
"I don't think any drink is going to make me feel better." The words slip out before he can think clearly, and when he sees the Archon’s raised eyebrow, he decides he lacks the capacity to hide anything from her. "I think I’ve finally reached the point where I can no longer pretend not to hear my parents and siblings whispering when I’m home, where I can't ignore the sidelong glances or the general discomfort my presence causes them."
"Hm, it really does seem like a good idea to get away for a while..."
"Your Majesty, do you think parents can stop loving their children?"
He feels a tear roll down his cheek; he feels all the anger and resentment he’s bottled up for years finally spilling out. If he’s going to confess to resenting his parents, let it be to a Goddess, not that he expects her to be understanding about it.
The Fatui prioritize family. Perhaps he’ll be punished.
Her icy touch on his face brings him back to reality; the Tsaritsa wipes away his tears with the cold touch of her bare hands, looking at him with intense focus, clearly displeased by his weeping.
"I’ve always heard that parents will still love their children even when they do something bad, that such love never truly fades..." The words spill out of him before she can reply; Ajax trembles as a fresh wave of sobs rises in his throat. Gods, he must look pathetic, but now that he’s started confessing, he has to get it all out at once. "I think I’m so bad that I’ll be the exception to that story."
"Now, isn't that a bit too dramatic? You are nowhere near being my worst Harbinger." The Archon’s lips quirked into a near-smile, well, at least his misery was amusing her. "Love is often conditional, Ajax. The moment one ceases to be what the other idealized, love can turn sour. Parents tend to idealize their children, and children idealize their parents; when the ideal isn't lived up to, resentment arises."
"That makes sense." He chuckles softly and sniffles like a child. "Thank you."
"Even so, I must ask: why does it matter?" She grips his chin, forcing him to look her directly in the eye. "So, what if they don't love you? You don't need it. Look around you, boy: you survived the darkness, you are at the heart of the nation's most important historical event, the army loves you, the people admire you. You may not have their love, but is that really a loss?"
"Yes, and clearly, they haven't done a good job in that role lately. If they’ve already let you go, there’s no harm in letting them go, too." The Tsaritsa releases him; her hand brushes his hair with such gentleness that he almost gasps. "You have your nation, your veterans, the mayor who cares about you, your master lost among the stars. You have yourself, boy. And if none of that is enough, remember that you have my blessing. Nothing else matters."
He laughs aloud, for she is right, what else matters but her in all her divine glory?
"Now finish your drink. You’re coming to the theater with me today. The Doctor and the Banker will be joining us, you know what that means, right?"
"Yes, at least two hours of stifling laughter at their scathing commentary on the performance."
"Exactly. I can't go through that ordeal alone."
He shakes his head and takes a sip, choking slightly when he realizes it’s Fire-Water; he stares at the Archon in disbelief, but she just shrugs.
"A hot drink helps humans feel better, and you looked downright miserable, so I grabbed the hottest one I could find."
Ajax has no choice but to burst out laughing.
Tsaritsa, in the carriage on the way to the theater, gazing out the window before turning to Ajax: You know, if the matter of your parents bothers you so much, we could do something about it.
Ajax, who had been sitting quietly beside her, looking utterly confused: What?
Tsaritsa: We could ask the Banker and the Doctor to adopt you.
Tsaritsa: You’re past the age for the Knave’s orphanage, but perhaps she could help with the adoption paperwork. If there’s a couple capable of overlooking all your quirks, it’s those two.
Ajax: You know what, Your Majesty? You were right; I don’t need anyone’s acceptance but yours. Please, forget I mentioned it.
Ajax: Yes, I’m sure of it.
A few seconds of silence pass, then she looks at him with a conspiratorial glint in her eye—Ajax knowing that, from this point on, it was all going to be one big joke.
Tsaritsa: But should you change your mind, I’m certain one of your seniors would adopt you if that were your wish; the Mayor would likely be first in line, given the time you spent as his apprentice.
Ajax, stifling a laugh: My Lady, you really ought to ask each of them.
Tsaritsa, agreeing with the most amused expression she could manage without actually smiling: Yes, I shall ask at the next meeting.
Tsaritsa, wearing the most serious expression imaginable when she met Dottore and Pantalone in the royal box: You two will have to adopt Tartaglia.
Pantalone choked on his appetizer, and the Doctor had to perform a maneuver to save him.
Ajax laughed until he was out of breath; some even swear the Archon herself let a faint smile slip, amused by the youngest’s laughter and the banker’s desperation.
