For Archon's Sake

A Chance Meeting

A/N: Cover art belongs to @GameMatari on Twitter!

A gentle knock at his door and a muffled apology from one of Childe's servants went ignored. He was still trying to land one of his knives into one of his old mission reports he had pinned on the wall. "Lord Childe? Please, it is urgent-" "Tell whoever it is that I'll be there in five," he deadpanned, cursing as he missed his target for the eighth time. A flustered exchange of chatter from outside didn't help his concentration either. He pushed his hair back and sighed as he heard angry footsteps approach. Gods damn it, please don't let it be-

"I will personally come in there and neuter you if you don't get your sorry ass out here, now."

It would appear none of the Seven had any love for him, truly.

Childe yanked the door open with bared teeth and more than a mouthful of insults to spit at his superior, but Scaramouche was having none of it. Childe leashed his growing irritation and tried again. "To what do I owe the pleasure, comrade? I was just-" He stopped as he noted Scaramouche's pleased expression. The Balladeer never smiled unless it was at someone else's expense. Today, he realized, it was probably his. "Guess what? The person you decided to keep waiting was none other than the Tsaritsa herself. And you're five minutes late." Childe felt like he was going to throw up, but just took a deep breath and pasted the most sickeningly sweet smile he could on his face. "Duly noted," he chirped, closing the door behind him as he started off towards the poor servant who had tried to warn him earlier. "Would you be kind enough to show me the way?" The girl inclined her head and gestured ahead. As they got farther away from his scowling superior, Childe threw a wink over his shoulder and shouted, "Thanks for the warning Lord Shitface!"

The servant's face blanched as she heard the numerous guards scrambling to hold Scaramouche back without being killed themselves, and Childe flashed an easy smile at the girl. "Don't worry, he just hasn't had his beauty sleep yet. I'm sure he'll come around." Screeching obscenities and death threats followed their trail, and Childe winced. "Or...not."

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The Tsaritsa was not a patient woman.

And Childe did not wish to be a dead man. Not without having whoever brought him his end taste his steel at least.

These were the thoughts that his mind held as he rushed through Zapolyarny Palace, trying not to draw his queen's ire when the footmen opened the doors to one of the meeting rooms she was currently holding council in. Aloof, grand, unyielding, yet beautiful. The interior of the palace suited its ruler indeed. Childe winced as the door closed with a succinct boom to announce his arrival.

As the Tsaritsa finally looked up at him, he straightened. "What a pleasure to have you finally deign to join us, Childe," she said airily. Childe dipped his head and started, "I apologize, Maje-" "Enough. We'll have time to evaluate your lack of concern for my precious time yet. For now," she continued as she gestured to a man that Childe had been too focused on his sovereign to look at, let alone notice, "I would like you to meet a guest of mine. An ambassador hailing from Liyue." She also forgot to mention that the man sitting beside him was unfairly handsome. His clothes were of fine make, but the piece that caught his eye had gold and orange accents and intricate metalwork adorning a waistcoat of chestnut brown. The ambassador's expression held nothing, about as telling as the queen sitting next to him. His lids were lined with orange kohl, and it truly did something for those striking amber eyes, brighter than any of the pyro slimes he had come across. And that face...many a noble lady and man would probably pay mora through the teeth to own it for a night. Or a lifetime.