Chilled Grip (a chaeya fanfiction)

Introduction

Tartaglia stood patiently in the corner as his mistress enjoyed a glass of wine. As her makeshift table, a hillichurl sat shivering with a plate of fruit on its back, piled high with her majesty's favorite produce. It had been on its hands and knees for hours, whimpering in exhaustion. Tartaglia sighed.
"You really ought to let it leave." He said softly.
The tsaritsa laughed darkly, an idea forming in her head.
"So you would prefer to take its place then, dearest harbinger?" She questioned, her eyes glinting with cruelty.
"If I may spare the pain of this innocent creature, gladly." The orange haired boy replied. Tartaglia heard a scoff from beside the tsaritsa's throne.
"Always so noble, aren't you Tartaglia?" Scaramouche snickered. "You ought to end its suffering instead of making shallow promises."
The tsaritsa considered that for a moment, before she raised a hand and gestured towards the hillichurl.
"Tartaglia, if you wish to take the place of this beast so badly, I order you to kill it, and since you're such a noble dog, you ought to drink the fruits of you labour."
That raised a quiet chuckle from scaramouche, who tried to conceal it with a poorly acted cough.
Tartaglia almost gagged as he drew his blade. "Yes mistress," was all he replied.
After scaramouche kicked away the corpse of the animal and drained some of its steaming blood into a frosted chalice. He handed it to the orange haired boy with a smug look.
"Drink up, Childe."
Tartaglia did so, almost vomiting twice due to the metallic taste. After he finished, he threw the cup against the wall behind scaramouche, where it shattered into razor sharp fragments.
Smiling, the tsaritsa beckoned Childe over to where she was seated.
"Come, dearest harbinger, you can take the place of that animal. Pray you do not spill my wine, for there will be consequences."
Slowly walking over to her, he got onto his hands and knees, feeling the cold glass placed between his shoulder blades.
"Such an obedient young man, I ought to give you a promotion." She mused.
"Yeah to kitchen staff," retorted scaramouche.
The dark haired boy placed a hand on Tartaglia's lower back, causing the taller boy to flinch slightly. Drumming his fingers on the exposed flesh of Tartaglia's back, he sent sharp jolts of electricity into the other harbinger. The cup on Childe's back wobbled, and he bit his lip as he tried to steady himself. Scaramouche sent a final, violent burst of pure voltage, causing Tartaglia to cry out and spasm violently. Hearing the cup shatter, the tsaritsa tsked. "A little bit of lightning too much for you?" She inquired.
Gritting his teeth, Childe tried to stand up, however his legs had stopped working entirely.
Laughing loudly, Scaramouche stared down at him.
"So, the feared 11th harbinger can't handle a few volts of electricity? That's rather pathetic if you ask me."
"Gnnnh," was all Childe was able to reply, too dazed with pain to form a coherent sentence. Stooping down, scaramouche poked Childe in the cheek.
"Look at him. I almost feel bad." He kicked Tartaglia in the ribs.
"Almost."
                                          • • •
Childe woke up the next day, his body stiff. Cracking his knuckles, he sat up, surprised to see Scaramouche leaning against his doorframe.
"The Tsaritsa requests a meeting with you at once." He said.
"Tell her to let me put some fucking clothes on," Childe retorted bitterly.
"Aw, is someone still butthurt from yesterday?" Scaramouche snickered.
"Hurry up before I zap you again, 'dearest harbinger'."
Childe grimaced as he pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt.
He walked into the Tsaritsa's throne room, where she was sprawled elegantly across her throne.
"Hello, Childe." She greeted.
He simply bowed his head in acknowledgement.
She started, "Since you spilled my wine, I have come up with proper punishment." Her eyes glittered maliciously. "You will spend 12 months in mondstadt, in order to compensate for your mistake.
"Mondstadt? The most boring city in teyvat?" Childe was horrified. What would he even do there? Hang out with drunks at the tavern? He swallowed nervously.
"So uh- when is my trip to Mondstadt?" He managed to say.
Smiling with false kindness, the Tsaritsa simply replied,
"Today."
                                         • • •
Childe stood in front of a large suitcase, unsure of what to pack. Opening it, he found a list of requirements written in neat script. It was signed by a woman named Katherine. Folding up the letter, he packed accordingly, making sure to include attire for warm weather. He also packed his bow and half a quiver of arrows, he was sure he could ask the local blacksmith to craft more later. Slinging the bag over his shoulders, he left his homeland, and approached the new and unfamiliar city ahead of him.
                                    • • • • •

Congrats! You made it to the end. This is just the beginning, and I'm still not sure whether I want to make it angst or not. I'll probably add 2 endings s everyone gets what they want! Also further content warnings for the next future, Tartaglia gets really fricking drunk. Anyways I'll update as much as possible, so make sure to check back every 1-3 days for a new chapter!
(Title picture creds to 1000feuille on tumblr- go check them out)