Chapter Text
Ajax knew that when he fell into the Abyss, a part of him had died. He was never exactly sure just what exactly it was that did, but he was fairly certain he should not feel as emotionally detached from the events transpiring as he did.
He realized when his master would look at him with such a sullen gaze, eyes cast upon his own before Skirk would look away. Sometimes she would mutter about puppets and orders and love under her breath.
Ajax only learned what might be wrong when he received his first order.
'Kill all these Abyssal creatures, child. Do everything to survive. We will climb this staircase and you will reach the surface once more.'
And like a click, his entire purpose had shifted from being to surviving. He took notice of nothing else. Skirk fed him as he forgot to nurture himself. She'd ramble into nothingness, eyes upon her unhearing student.
And Skirk for the first time had felt terrified again. Had the kid snapped? Had she lost him entirely before she could bring him out?
And so she had asked, ordered;
'Tell me how to fix you. Child please tell me how to make you responsive once more.'
And as ordered, her student replied.
'Pat my head and tell me I've done well.'
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Upon the surface, the light Ajax had entirely forgotten existed blinded him most days.
It had been a month since he'd stumbled out of the forest, blood on the sword in his hands, his hair stained into a lighter color at the tips and his left eye hurting unbelievably.
They'd received him with worried exclamations, warm hands and even warmer blankets. And though Ajax remembered all of their faces and voices and names, he did not feel warm. He did not feel anything for that matter.
Strange. Ajax had been sure in the past he'd felt such undeniable warmth. Loved and adored and so very fond of his family.
Now all he felt was numb and cold, and he had an inkling of a thought his parents and older siblings started to realize as well.
He saw it in the lingering gazes of wariness. In his older sister forgetting he was in the house at times. In his older brothers confining him to his room when they went out to play with his younger ones. In his mother ceasing her hugs and kisses, even her fond head pats. In his father spending longer times writing letters and sending messages, glancing at him in silent contemplation before continuing to write.
He knew he was supposed to feel sad or scared about all of this and yet, to him it didn’t really matter. It was something currently shifting his life, yes, but still the coldness did not leave his being.
So numb. So cold.
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It was not exactly long afterwards that Ajax understood his father’s gaze and the letters.
Fatui. At his door, dragging him out even as he protested, Skirk’s order of ‘Be with your family now, child.’ never leaving his mind. And thought he fought and growled and screamed, they still dragged him away. Away from a horrified mother, holding back little Tonia and Anthon. Away from his judging older siblings and his father’s guilty yet determined face.
They even restrained him when they sat him in the carriage. Ropes upon ropes and a muzzle and a blindfold.
But wasn’t he just following orders? Wasn’t he just doing as told by his master Skirk back in the Abyss? Why did they drag him out? Why wasn’t he allowed to carry out his order?
And so he sat in silence, mind a whirlwind of images and a shrill peep, never ending and hurting his head and ears. He swore his eye flared up in pain again and at some point, the buzzing in his brain to fulfill the order fulfill the order fulfilltheorder brought him to a state of rest. Conscious yet at the same time not.
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After that, his memories were a blur.
Not in the sense that he did not remember at all, but more that he felt as if he watched himself.
He was brought in front of a woman, sat on a throne even colder than his soul felt. He felt watched, analyzed, picked apart to his very core.
And she’d mumbled, “I see. I understand.”
The guards were told to bring him away, to wait for a man called “Pulcinella”. And afterwards he’d sat in an empty room, walls and floor whiter than snow with a single chair and a clock.
Somewhere in his subconscious he’d felt a presence, soothing and calm. Refreshing and healing like water on his skin. And as a smooth voice released him from his last order, waking him up again as whispers of soft hands pressed a glassy object into his hands.
In parting strokes on his cheeks the voice told him, ‘You’ve been dealt injustice. And as my gaze travels to you I hope with my blessing you too can find your justice once more. Take my gift child, for this vision shall accompany you to eudaimonia.’
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His next order was by a short man with a tall hat. Voice powerful and strict but with a certain tone of curiosity. “Pulcinella”, he recalled.
‘Climb the ladder of the Fatui, child. From the bottom to the very top. Her Majesty wishes to see, do not disappoint.’ he’d said.
And as ordered, Ajax did just that. He was lucky this order was much easier to complete than the last.
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The next time he sees the icy woman from his first day in the Fatui, it’s in a ceremony. Gathered to the right side of her throne are ten people, one of them he’s familiar with, Pulcinella, the rest he does not know.
It’s with noblemen and noblewomen sitting in seats behind him. Other high ranks in the Fatui or high political figures littered in the audience as well.
It’s with him standing in front of the throne, gaze on the icy woman as she towers above his figure, pinning a mask to the side of his head, pressing a glassy object similar to his vision into his smaller hands.
It’s to her telling him “From this day forth, you will bear the name of Tartaglia. You will serve me as my eleventh Harbinger, my vanguard. With this delusion, I declare you one of my very own and as you are to serve me and carry forth my every word, I shall take care of you as my youngest.”
For once in what feels like so very long, Ajax, now Tartaglia, does not feel entirely numb, for there is a fleeting warmth crawling under his skin.
(And if the Tsaritsa sees a small light in dead blue eyes and a small smile on expressionless lips for the very first time since the child came to her palace, she does not mention it.)
(And if the Harbingers by her side see the same, neither do they.)