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He couldn’t remember how it happened…
One day, he realized he was in love with Zhongli, and he enjoyed so much to be with him. He loved to cook for him, to cuddle with him, and even to just stay around him, even if he was taking care of his weapons while Zhongli would read, or if Zhongli was playing chess and him taking care of paperwork.
It was just… agreeable.
He loved to be able to weep on him when he wasn’t feeling alright; he loved to be able to talk. He also loved to be able to drag Zhongli away from work by bringing him in the streets of Liyue. When they were walking together, Zhongli describing him the wonders of his town, his nation, Zhongli didn’t think about work, and, to be honest, Tartaglia didn’t think about his own work…
It was agreeable.
But there was a problem Tartaglia never saw coming…
Zhongli was Morax. Zhongli deceived him. Zhongli manipulated him…
When he left Liyue, he had the heart in tatters and the belly heavy…
Everything went so fast after that. Inazuma’s situation, Signora’s death and Scaramouche leaving them.
He was still having hard time to process everything.
The only good thing coming from stepping back into Snezhnaya was the fact he could wrap himself into layers and layers, so his belly would disappear.
He wished it stopped there, but he was invited at Signora’s burial and he had no other choice but to go there. He didn’t like his colleagues, they didn’t like him–to the exception of Capitano that was weird but his first crush; and Pulcinella that he loved and who loved him dearly–and him and Signora’s report were…
And he was so tired.
They would notice it, right?
They would see he was so tired he stayed sit on the benches. And could anyone notice his bum here? And what when they would realize he didn’t want to fight? Usually, he pestered Capitano… Could they just believe he was growing? Could they think Liyue had changed him?
Liyue had changed him.
Changed his body.
When he was forced to get up to stand around the coffin of Signora, he made sure to move his arms right so no one would notice the roundness. He thought Pulcinella might have noticed it because he kept staring at him in a special way. His little eyes scrutinizing him past his glasses. Tartaglia gave him a smile.
But that was all.
‘One’s thing is sure… everything’s going to change the minute everybody will know about the baby…’ he bitterly thought.
The problem wasn’t even the baby. He loved that baby. He really did…
He wanted to raise them.
He just had wished he could have announced it to the father, but it was ridicule.
He wished he could tell it to the Harbingers but he slept with his target. Even if in fact it wasn’t the case and in fact he slept with his target because he had been deceived, the finality didn’t change. He did it. And he had a baby to prove it.
How to make it worse?
Twins?
Pulcinella invited them all to come around the coffin, and Tartaglia huffed slowly as he tried to get up.
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t get up.
Arlecchino stopped and stared at him. They put their hand on their hip with the brow peaking out.
“You don’t get up to say goodbye to Signora? I know you weren’t this close, and after Liyue…”
“I will come,” Tartaglia said.
He pulled on his hand to get up and almost stumbled over. Arlecchino grabbed him before he would fall. Ugh, it was really something to adapt to such an added weight.
“Thanks…”
“What is happening?” Columbina asked.
“I hadn’t sleep much last night,” Tartaglia said.
It wasn’t even wrong.
Arlecchino let go of him, so Tartaglia walked to the big coffin. So big. He caressed it under the looks, pressed his hand on it. No one said anything… it may be a way to show his respect. Tartaglia was younger. Perhaps was it just how he was behind his aspect very closeted, his cold attitude towards the other Harbingers…
He always said he didn’t like them, that they didn’t like him back…
But who knew?
They were seeing each other so often through missions and reunions, they had the same ideals, they all wanted to give their life for the Tsaritsa. For real, like Signora did it, or in images… perhaps was it the reason why they were unable to stand the sight of Scaramouche since now… He ran away. He abandoned his oath. How could they hold respect for him anymore…
Pedrolino pronounced new words for La Signora, Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter, and as he mentioned the work she did for the Tsaritsa–who couldn’t be here with them–mentioning Mondstadt, Liyue… and Tartaglia broke into tears. Columbina moved towards him, caressing his cheeks, caressing away the tears.
“My Dear… what is happening?” she whispered. “Do you miss our sweet Rosalyne already?”
Tartaglia couldn’t tell them who he was missing. He nodded.
“Tarouchka…” Pulcinella said. He looked at the silhouette, looked up at the tears rolling down the sweet cheeks. “Are you…”
“Tartaglia,” Pedrolino cut short, “your feelings touch us, but I do not believe they are useful.”
“You’re a weapon, Tartaglia,” Capitano added, “and weapons don’t weep.”
Usually, Tartaglia would have gladly taken this objectification because he did believe he was nothing, no one, just an object, a weapon… but at the instant, he was only thinking about the little he gained but everything he lost… His fingers shivered over his belly.
“Are you pregnant, Tarouchka?” Pulcinella asked.
Tartaglia opened his lips and started to move his chin to say ‘no’, but Sandrone’s eyes laid on him. She scrutinized and a slow breath came out her lips.
“Why are you putting your scarf over your belly like this?” Pantalone asked.
“Are you?” Capitano asked as well.
Tartaglia blushed, reminding himself he once dreamed for that man to be the father of his baby. But the one who was the father of his baby… was his true love, he firmly believed it, but there was no hope to ever be with him, see him hold the baby.
“But the true question is… Who is the father?” Dottore asked with a mocking hum.
Tartaglia wanted to yell at him, spit on him, but he only cried even more…
He was the shame of the Harbingers.
When they would know…
The word didn’t slip out of his lips, they had to fight their way out, tearing his lips with the awful thorns adorning it…
“Morax…”
“MORAX?!”
The voice didn’t came from Pulcinella, nor Pedrolino, not even from an excited Dottore who would be able to make experiments over a little half-adeptus child…
The voice came from the coffin.
The coffin shook.
The coffin shook so violently the lid ejected by a cloud, a swarm, of red moths. They formed in a weird shape, and suddenly, a giant moth leaned towards Tartaglia.
“What did he do?!”
“He…” Tartaglia whispered.
He stuttered, blinking.
La Signora?!
Pedrolino folded his arms. “So…” he said.
“Signora!” Arlecchino growled. “You made me come here only to come back to life? Isn’t it rude?”
“It wasn’t this surprising,” Sandrone intervened, “the Crimson Witch couldn’t be killed like this. Her conscious belongs to the moths since long… perhaps she only wanted to rest a little bit… But she seems to not be happy against Morax.”
“When did he do that?” Signora asked.
“Before…” Tartaglia whispered. “We used to see each other intimately before… When I learned who he was… it was already too late…”
“What did he do?” Pulcinella growled. “When he knew.”
“I never told him…” Tartaglia’s hand shivered on his belly. “I couldn’t…”
“Then.” Signora got up from her coffin. “We’re going to see Morax and make him assume putting his..."
“… dick in your whatever!” Arlecchino said. “I’m for orphan kids, not for abandoning a mama with a baby!”
“Now that he abandoned his Gnosis, Liyue’s commerce solely depend of the Northland bank, if he refuses to assume, we can pressure him,” Pantalone said.
“And if the sneaky way don’t work…” Capitano’s phalanx folded with a demonic sound.
“God or not, I would destroy him,” Pulcinella said.
“He never had to fight the Harbingers,” Sandrone said.
“If he is too stupid to not see the jewel you are, we will be here,” Columbina said.
“But there is no reasons for Morax to want to endanger his relation with Snezhnaya,” Pedrolino finished.
Tartaglia cried again.
But this time, it was less with despair…