Chapter Text
With only twenty days remaining until the final battle, time became the primary concern for everyone who knew the weight of the threat hanging over their heads. Training sessions stretched into the evening while strategy planning meetings lasted for hours. Sleep became the thing of dreams– sleep and good food and hot showers for soldiers who hadn't had the chance for downtime ever since arriving at the base camp. But when the Tsaritsa finally arrived, showing herself to troops who had never seen the woman they served, all of that exhaustion and anxiety dissipated like snow on a warm spring's day, replaced by that sense of strong national pride.
Inspiring confidence in her soldiers had always been something she'd aimed to do, and she thrived with their submission, whether it came from fear of disappointing her or a genuine love for her as a queen. Her Harbingers were the same way, greeting her enthusiastically as she asked for a brutally honest update on their progress. She prayed her presence brought a shred of hope to those who may have already lost it ahead of the final performance.
That included herself, in moments of quiet.
Bronya anxiously craned over the seventh Harbinger's shoulder, chewing her bottom lip as she studied the nearly-completed weapon. Six of the seven Gnoses had been inlaid into the steel catalyst frame, the circular weapon made to hold all of the power of the Archons and elements during the final battle. Sandrone did not falter, as though barely noticing who was standing over her.
"Is it almost finished?" She asked, hoping she didn't sound as desperate as she'd felt.
"Just a little more," Her lieutenant grunted, adjusting the goggles on her face and hunching over further, as if trying to hide the progress she made on the final Gnosis.
Fine. That was fine. She could find it in herself to be a little more patient. It was just that the more time had with the weapon, the better she'd feel. After all, they were already cutting it close to the deadline and with so much left to do, having one thing that was solid and finished would ease the worries weighing on her mind.
An awkward air settled around the tented war room, those Harbingers that had accompanied her to such an important day shifting back and forth in their stance as Sandrone focused on her work. Pierro worked on some strategy with Capitano in the corner, whispering in hushed voices while her right hand man scribbled on a piece of paper. Pulcinella sat with his arms crossed and eyes closed in the corner, soft breathes ruffling his bushy mustache– was he asleep? Meanwhile, Columbina fiddled with her hair, singing no songs to fill the dreadful silence amongst them. That only left Tartaglia and Lumine, leaning on one another in the opposite corner, looking over Rhinedottir's notes for the umpteenth time.
Could they be doing something better with their time? Probably. Could a war meeting have waited until the Marionette had been sure she was nearing the end of her work? Sure, she supposed. And yet, something about them all being here for such an important moment brought her an odd sense of comfort, as though in the back of her mind that random encounter with the Sustainer in her throne room had shaken her confidence down to the very core. It had, in a way. Now, every time she prepared to take the next dramatic step, she desperately yearned for the company of her Harbingers to stand behind her in case the goddess showed her face again.
"How about now?"
"Not yet, ma'am."
Sandrone may have been curt and cordial, but Bronya could feel the annoyance dripping off of her doll-like features. She couldn't help herself; this was the most out-of-depth she'd felt in her entire life, even compared to her utter inexperience when she became an Archon all those centuries ago. Perhaps if she had a better understanding of how long building a weapon would take, she would be able to calm any nerves she had on her own.
Why they had waited so long until now to start piecing the catalyst together, she didn't know. Pierro had worried that if they put the Gnoses together before all of the chess pieces were collected, it might draw attention to their secret agenda. She let that idea fester in her own mind until they could no longer delay its creation, only to find that simply placing the Gnoses together was not enough to interest the Sustainer. At least, not when they sat loose on a chessboard, waiting to move like the pieces in a game.
A high-pitched twinkling caught her attention again, watching as the Marionette positioned the Cryo Gnosis in the hilt of the circular catalyst. It slotted in perfectly, and she quickly took one of her tools to ensure the piece did not jiggle when it moved for fear of popping out. There! Was it done? Was that all? Ugh, she hated not knowing how to make these things work! She had to remind herself that this was the entire reason she had her Harbingers. She did not need to have control over every aspect of this plan. She was not supposed to be all-knowing and all-powerful.
She was not Rhinedottir.
A bittersweet tang filled her mouth, shaking her head to try and rid herself of the flavor. "Are you almost--"
"There," Sandrone interrupted, robotically standing up straighter. "It is finished."
A sign of relief bubbled past her lips, the declaration causing everyone to stop what they were doing and lean forward in their seat. The seventh Harbinger carefully picked it up from her work bench and brought it over to the map table, laying it in the center so everyone could see. The silvery metal glistened in the dim light, with seven unique colors glimmering whenever the gemstones caught the light just right.
"Fascinating, your majesty," Capitano hummed, hand on the chin of his helmet. "What do you believe this will help us accomplish?"
In an instant, she forced away the scared and hesitant thoughts of a citizen of Teyvat and reassumed the role of a Tsaritsa preparing for war. "As I mentioned before, I hope this weapon will be enough to pierce the heavens." The power of all seven Archons going against the one who had given them their elemental abilities in the first place had to count for something, right? "It will need a strong wielder to use their significant power to succeed."
"What's so special about the Gnoses that they had to be made part of this weapon, other than it having those raw elemental abilities?" Pulcinella, this time, unable to tear his gaze off the weapon.
"Ancient history tells us that these are the embodiment of the Heavenly Principles' control over Teyvat. The Sustainer relies on them for her new order in the world." A lesson a certain bard had taught her hundreds of years ago as she watched him casually explain the truth, horrified by what it truly meant to be an Archon. She curled her fingers into fists, raising her chin. "My theory is that if we could reverse her will so that it backfired against her, that we can rip the control away from her."
"Well, at least that part makes sense."
"These Gnoses were made from the remains of another Descender," Bronya explained, folding her hands behind her back. "That means they are not inherently bound to Teyvat's fate. My thought is that whoever wields this weapon will have the chance to rewrite their own story and allow them to break through whatever fate their constellation had written for them."
Her icy gaze found Tartaglia in a heartbeat, just as he managed a half-laugh. "And therefore pierce the Heavens, even if it was not expected of that person."
"Or so my theory goes."
"A lot to ride on a theory," Lumine muttered beside her partner, chewing on her bottom lip.
In truth, the Traveler was right. While her plan centering around the final performance– and how the Gnoses fit in with the battle schemes– had been in place a lot longer than the prophecy had, she still had her moments of doubt that it would actually work. She had spent countless nights staying up far too late theorizing and making movements to successfully take the next step in her plan, but if it ended up not working...
"How do you expect to use this weapon in the final battle?" Capitano asked, dragging her back to the moment rather than letting her spiral in her own thoughts, whether he knew what he was doing or not.
"Once the Sustainer has revealed her cards, we will move into the climax of our performance. By that point, the Abyss Order should be purified and on our side, giving us a substantial amount of extra firepower."
She could not look her eleventh Harbinger and the Traveler in the eye as she mentioned the prophecy, staring at the intricate detailing chipped into the weapon's steel frame. She didn't understand why it had begun to bother her so much. She'd sent countless men and women to their deaths before, tearing apart families for her own causes. Was it because she knew them personally? Was it because she had been the one to push the pair together until they found common ground and fell in love? No, perhaps it was because she clearly saw their deaths staring back at her, in the form of amber eyes and a devoted smile.
"Tartaglia will then take the weapon and, in his empowered state, use it to pierce the Celestial Dome."
"We expect the Sustainer's power to be significantly weakened after the false sky shatters," Pierro agreed, another pillar to her plans. After the fall of Khanrei'ah, she had heavily relied on him and his knowledge from working alongside Rhinedottir and the other sinners to make her own schemes come to life. "She relies on it for her own control."
A nod. "Tear down those foundations and you have a clear shot at tearing down her."
"Will the weapon still be useable after it pierces the heavens?" Columbina cooed, that eerie hum of hers threatening to send shivers down Bronya's spine.
"That depends," Sandrone said before she could even consider coming up with an answer.
"On?"
"If Tartaglia doesn't absolutely demolish it with his raw strength."
All eyes in the room turned to the redhead across the table in an instant. He blinked in surprise, his dull blue eye widening the longer they stared. "Well," He said, that crooked grin stretching across his face, "Let's hope my years of practicing with multiple weapons prepared me to wield this."
Ever the optimist. At least, he seemed to be getting back into the swing of his old self instead of the miserable boy he'd been when he'd returned to Snezhnaya after his second fall into the Abyss. She wondered what had changed.
"It is strong," Sandrone affirmed, folding her hands in front of her, "But I don't think it could last after the Sustainer is gone. Not when she was the one to create the Gnoses."
"So we shouldn't rely on them being around after the final battle," Bronya muttered.
"No ma'am."
A sigh. "What a shame. I was hoping to learn more about them when the world wasn't at stake."
"How does it work?" Tartaglia asked, already shifting into the battle-focused mindset she appreciated so much.
Sandrone straightened a little taller. "It will heighten the elemental abilities you do have, like your Hydro powers or even your Electro delusion. It will also give you those abilities you haven't used yet, similar to how the Traveler wields all seven of her elements."
Her vanguard's brow creased with an unspoken thought.
"It's strong on its own, but it relies on raw power from its wielder to actually pierce through the false sky," The Marionette continued, oblivious to any change etched into the eleventh Harbinger's face.
"And that's Foul Legacy?"
"Allegedly."
"It is," Bronya said, putting an end to any doubt that might be racing through the minds of those in the tent. She had to, to maintain some sort of stability. "Your shadowy abilities will take you to new heights where normal soldiers would not be able to reach, no matter how strong they might be."
Tartaglia frowned, giving another look towards his partner, who only nodded in response. What must the two of them be thinking about this plan, especially with such a difficult task at stake after the most heart-wrenching moment of their lives? After all, by the time her vanguard wielded this weapon, Lumine would be dead or dying, unable to see the true depth of her sacrifice before her purified blood spilled across the loom. She knew better than to think it would go that easily between the two of them– not when Tartaglia had been adamant that there had to be a way to save her– and yet, the two of them didn't flinch in the face of their certain demise.
She wondered if it had hit them yet.
"Seems easy enough," Her eleventh Harbinger finally announced, reaching to pick up the weapon. "It looks just like any other catalyst–"
The second his hand wrapped around the interior hilt of the circular weapon, Tartaglia loudly yelped in pain. He recoiled like he'd touched a hot stove, dropping it without a second thought. Everyone in the room let out a collective gasp and lunged to prevent it from hitting the ground, but the Traveler was the fastest, catching it with ease. Bronya couldn't help but sigh in relief that it hadn't been damaged, even though Sandrone had mentioned it was sturdier than some of the other weapons the Fatui had crafted. They simply couldn't risk an accident with the Gnoses this close to the final battle.
Her attention shot up to where her eleventh Harbinger stood, gritting his teeth in obvious pain. He ripped the untouched glove off of his palm and tossed it to the side, his hand involuntarily flexing as he frantically clutched his wrist. For a moment, she thought him dramatic– it wasn't as though he'd been run through with a sword. That’s when she saw it; his entire hand raw and red, the skin bubbling and swelling like he really had touched something boiling hot. Had that come from him touching the weapon? Or had it been something else? How could it have come from something else, when they’d all been watching him try to hold the weapon?
“Sorry, I– ngh–” Her eleventh Harbinger cursed in Snezhnayan under his breath, beads of sweat pouring down his brow.
Nobody in the room moved as he writhed in pain; she wasn’t even sure what to do or say to help. Finally, Lumine cupped her partner’s broad shoulder and summoned a small Hydro mimic to press against his burned palm, the only one in the room save for Bronya to have any sort of elemental ability when all of their Visions and Delusions sat in the care of one of the Fatui agents. A wave of relief washed over Tartagalia’s handsome features, a pitiful noise bubbling out of his thin, chapped lips. After a moment, his ragged breathing slowly grew under control, but the swelling did not cease.
What had just happened?
"Childe?" Lumine quietly whispered, her golden brow stitched in concern.
Tartaglia panted, still rife with pain as the mimic worked to relieve the damage done to his palm. "Is it hot for you?"
"No? It feels like any other catalyst weapon."
"That's weird," He shook his hand out, the Hydro mimic dissipating into thin air. The welts on his palm had not fully gone away yet, but at least he didn't seem in as much pain as he had been. "Let me–”
"I think you've tried enough for one day," The Traveler tsked, holding the weapon out to Pierro, who quickly took it despite the eleventh Harbinger's interest in holding it again. Bronya held her breath, waiting for it to sear her right-hand man's skin, but just like the Traveler nothing happened.
Uh oh. That didn't bode well. Why did it burn him and not anyone else? What would this mean for the final battle? No, no, she had to not get ahead of herself when it came to worrying about those things she couldn't control. They would all figure it out when the time came, even if it meant Tartaglia had to suffer a bit as he took to the heavens to pierce the false sky. She just hoped he could manage for a little while, or else they would be in for another last-minute problem that could completely destroy all of their hard work.
Thankfully, Pierro was already thinking ahead of her. "Sandrone, see if there's a way to protect him from touching direct metal. We don't need something like this happening in the final battle."
"Yes sir."
A nervous mumble rustled across the crowd, worried at how this might affect them in the final battle. Tartaglia sheepishly hung his head, flexing his injured hand with a vivid frown painting his features. It made sense that he wouldn't be thrilled by this setback, considering he didn't like failure at all. Still, he didn't need to feel shame towards it; better to figure it out now than when they couldn't adjust at the last minute. Thankfully, he had Lumine as a partner, with the Traveler offering him reassuring pats on the shoulder, the pair pressed as tightly as possible despite the ample amount of space of a war tent missing three of the other Harbingers.
Her heart twinged watching them, even if they did not do or say anything special.
"Why don't the rest of you take the evening off?" The words spilled out of her before she could stop herself, but she did not regret a thing. "Might be the last evening of peace you have for a while."
The others dipped their heads in acknowledgement-- save for Sandrone who mumbled something about work-life balance-- and slipped out of the tent without another word. Tartaglia and Lumine followed at the back of the group, mumbling something between themselves. Bronya's feet moved before her mind did, following them with a pang in her chest similar to a thousand knives digging into her skin.
"Only you would get hurt from something as simple as touching a weapon," Lumine teased as the Fatui agent returned Tartaglia's Vision to him, looping their arms together and pressing even closer in the chilly evening air.
Her eleventh Harbinger's bottom lip jutted out in a prominent pout. "Hey, be nice to me. I'm seriously injured."
"Shall I show you what a serious injury actually looks like?
"Is that a threat, kochana?"
Kochana.
Archons, it wasn't going to get any easier.
"A promise," The Traveler hummed, blissfully ignorant to Bronya watching them from across the way. "Give me your hand."
"I can do it–"
"Will you behave and let me help you?"
Tartaglia rolled his eye but extended his hand for her to take a better look. Once again, Lumine summoned a small Hydro mimic taking the shape of an adorable bunny and pressed it to his hand. One by one, the welts faded, easing back into the calloused skin he'd developed from years of practicing with a sword and hard labor. From her spot by the tent entrance, Bronya could see his gaze soften, the tension in his shoulder unraveling the more his partner cared for his injury.
She'd seen that look countless times before on men and women across her nation during her time as the Tsaritsa, but there was something in his eye, a desperate longing that yearned for something unspoken, that struck her like an icy dagger in the heart.
"We still need to determine what needs to happen when the Abyss Order arrives to shift the battle from fighting the other armies to joining as one," Pierro said behind her, oblivious to the ache in her chest. "A war cry, a flare, some sort of flag... Bronya?"
"Hm?"
"You're lost in thought again."
"Am I?"
"You always get this way after you deal with the approaching prophecy."
Not the final battle. That she could handle. No, the prophecy was what bothered her so much. "I can't help it."
Pierro came to stand beside her, crossing his arms as he followed her gaze. His frown grew the longer he stared. "The two of them will play their parts well in the final performance."
"That's not what I'm hurting over."
"...Oh?"
She didn't look away from the couple, watching as Tartaglia reached one hand behind his back to summon a Hydro mimic of his own, that crooked grin stretching across his handsome features. "Do you know how difficult it is to face the two of them as the goddess of love?" She asked, wishing she had something to occupy her hands. "What it's like knowing that if you didn't nudge them together, they would never have had to suffer the hardships they have already faced or make the impossible choice that still looms before them?
"I know."
But he didn't know. Not really. Pierro, at his core, had loved Khanrei'ah and Khanrei'ah alone, and was powered in his ambition by his desire for revenge against Celestia. He did not know what it was like to lose someone so completely intertwined with his soul that to lose them felt like losing all of who he once was. He did not know the dull ache of impending doom, nor did he understand what it would be like to face the fact that one of them would have to be the one to shove the knife deep into their lover just to save the world.
Looking at the two of them though– her perfect sacrifices mentioned in a prophecy of old, their fates etched into the great tree at the heart of the Abyss– she couldn't help but feel a great sense of loss even though they were still standing. And yet, even though they knew the fate hanging over their heads like a guillotine, they hadn't stopped pushing forward, learning new techniques to be better, relying on one another in a way many others might not the minute that they realized they were doomed.
Love would be the reason that they were destined to die, but love had brought them a joy neither seemed eager to rid themselves of, no matter the cost.
"It is crucial for the prophecy that they be in love and by gods, no one can deny that." Not when Tartaglia looked at her like she hung every single star in the inky blue sky, following her around like ocean tides yearning for the moon. Not when the Traveler looked at him like he was a great journey for her to wander, to explore, to learn every inch of so that she could recall it no matter where she might be in time and space. "To be the reason they are here, both as individuals and as partners, kills me inside."
Pierro pressed his thin lips in a tight line, turning back to watch the pair with her. Tartaglia took full advantage of her blissful ignorance as Lumine began to finish her assessment of his hand, splashing his partner with the Hydro mimic. A shrill shriek echoed across the camp, followed by the too-familiar boyish laugh that she'd heard dozens of times across the years. A few soldiers turned to look at their playful eleventh Harbinger tormenting his partner, wearing that same smug grin despite launching the first strike in this war. The Traveler took only a heartbeat to wipe the water from her eyes, lunging for him as his laughter continued to rise up into the early spring sky.
"This was always going to happen," Her right-hand man finally said, ignoring the fight. "Their fates were sealed the minute that boy climbed out of the Abyss, the minute she was summoned from beyond the stars."
"That doesn't make it hurt any less."
"Of course it doesn't, but it's a fact."
"They're just kids," She hissed, gesturing to the all-out brawl in front of her. "Kids who haven't had the chance to breathe before they get sucked into the next conflict, kids who will never get that chance to know peace whether we succeed or not."
"Bronya."
"I know what I'm putting them through," She clarified, massaging her temples. Each high-pitched squeal and deep laugh hit her harder and harder, a knot tightening in her throat. "I know that I chose this path. But that doesn't make it any less difficult."
"Is that why you gave them a night off?" Pierro questioned, finally paying attention to the two partners dancing around each other in an elaborate and beautifully choreographed battle, knowing where they other would be before their partner had made the move. "To give them whatever last shreds of peace you could?"
"They deserve the time," She croaked, raising her chin. "After all, they barely have any of it left."