Chapter Text
As if a hymn like no other played in the Sovereign’s head alone, the earth and him pulsed back and forth, his adoring children humming along, big and small, high and low. They all vibrated and sang the same beautiful hymn.
“She is beautiful,” Azhdaha finally said, in reference to Liyue.
He was filled with such an intense amount of pride and satisfaction, knowing all has been well in his absence, finally peeling himself away from Zhongli, still holding him in his arms nonetheless.
“You have done far greater than I ever could have hoped, my dearest.” His voice almost hurt, still more quiet than Azhdaha has ever had it; private, intimate. “Your role has been filled. I do hope you have changed enough to understand that,” a small joke about his character, “You don't have to worry about her anymore- oh, how our kin has grown!”
Despite Retuo being the original creator of Teyvat along with the other Sovereign’s, she was not just his kin. Liyue beckoned for Zhongli all the same, as she did Retuo.
Her call was to her fathers.
Her call was to her great protectors.
She may lament the cries of Azhdaha so vividly, being one with her begetter, but she would always lament out for Morax. For Zhongli. For her stern, unwaveringly faithful father.
And now was no exception, the Dragon certain that even the humans of Liyue could feel her joy.
Azhdaha’s quickly healing forehead was pressed gently against Morax’s, much larger than the other’s. It was a nostalgic feeling, one that made a smile tug at the corners of the Sovereign’s mouth.
“I am happy to be here again. Happy to see you. I have so much I want to see- to see with you.”
A long moment of silence as Retuo’s eyes closed, their gentle golden glow ceasing behind his human eyelids.
“I feel as if a bottle of wine and a boat ride is in order.”
Then the Dragon snapped out of his display of pure bliss, returning to reality; returning to his normal naivety.
“Ah! Alas, do you have a human– occupation are they?– now? My apologies, Tai Yang!”
Zhongli smiles. He is at peace. This is not necessarily a new feeling.
He has felt it many times before. He has an abundance of time, no work to do, and so many very dear friends to meet. He has items to collect, food to enjoy. He walks around Liyue everyday, and no day does it feel dull or repetitive. There is so much to see. It is a feeling he has grown very used to; now, he can feel it with Azhdaha. What the dragon no doubt wanted all those years ago, trying to drag him to spend time among humans for reasons Morax could not begin to understand.
He should have done it while they still had time. He is grasped by a momentary guilt, but he sees Azhdaha, and calms. His guilt is worth nothing here: he will make up for the lost time now.
He takes a deep breath.
Azhdaha understands him. At all times. Without him needing to say a word. HIs tears slow, his thoughts rearranging themselves into neat sections, as they ought to be, so he can make it through a conversation without bursting into tears again. Hopefully. This human body is so very unpredictable, even if he had crafted it to his liking.
Zhongli cannot be human. It is a legend from very long ago– of magical creatures turning human. It is a legend with some truth, but not so silly as one developing human emotions and turning to flesh and blood overnight. Zhongli would always be a God, and this he is okay with, but he does swear humanity has somehow affected him even in matters of body. Past a certain hour at night, he often finds himself genuinely, legitimately, tired.
Azdhaha will laugh, he has no doubt. Morax considered sleep a ridiculous waste of time for a being who did not need it. If Hu Tao did not make him get up so early, Zhongli would sleep most of the day.
“A boat ride sounds perfect. A good opportunity for you to look at all that you have missed– ah, you should see the city at night. It has a matchless atmosphere. We could go to Wanmin Restaurant. I know a lovely chef there. Or the Third Round Knockout…the food is not comparable to Wanmin, but it does host a lively human storyteller. He tells stories about you, every now and then. He thinks I carved you with my own two hands.”
He laughs. He speaks in paragraphs, where Morax spoke in short, often irritated, sentences. He is very aware of this difference now– he must know. What does Azhdaha think of it?
He seems proud.
Zhongli is, selfishly, very proud too. He must stop comparing himself to Morax, but, equally as selfishly, he is so obsessed with these differences. With accomplishing what he couldn’t before. Even if that is something as simple as speaking slowly and at unnecessary detail.
“You’re right. She
is
beautiful. I want to show you everything.”
At the mention of work, he looks behind him, at the funeral parlor. He had almost forgotten where they were– and no doubt Hu Tao had her face pressed against the window, trying to make out their conversation from there, just moments before he looked. She is surprisingly fast for a mortal, even if she abuses it for eavesdropping and throwing flyers at people.
“Mm. This is the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. I am a consultant here. I help the director with whatever she needs, but I am mostly there to uphold tradition. Much of Wangsheng’s history is so ancient that most current employees cannot decipher it. They can’t be expected to carry out traditions they don’t remember and can’t read. That is what I am here for. I work with the families of the deceased and help them learn about these traditions. Help them decide which would be best for them.”
He takes off his glove with one hand, not wanting to wipe his tears with his very expensive clothes. He thinks Childe would laugh all the way back to Snezhnaya if he asked him for the money for a new suit.
“It is technically my day of rest. But I had nothing worthwhile to do, and some of our staff was not present, so I thought it reasonable to go anyway. There is no harm in leaving early. Although, our boat ride may not be so easily done, I must tell you. Before work this morning, I saw the most beautiful painting. I bought it and realized late that it belonged to a sort of series, but they had to be purchased individually. I got them all, and left them at home…I am not sure where to put them yet.”
A pause. He is getting off track.
“What I am saying is, I simply… lack Mora, at this time. And I own no boats. It may be a bit more complicated organizing this than it would have been before. I apologize.”
Azhaha listened, admiring the friend before him. He relished in each word spoken- in the off-track rambles- in all of it. He just
listened.
It was much different than the Morax he remembered, but something he had always wished the other would grow into. He couldn’t help but bring Zhongli close again once he finished speaking, inhaling deeply and smelling the man; familiar, yet so
different.
The Sovereign grieved.
He grieved the lost time. The change.
He grieved the past.
“I’m so sorry, Tai Yang. I will not be leaving this time around.” he said firmly, despite the conversation having passed. “I will not move. I will plant my roots deep and be as unmoving as a boulder; I will not leave you-” he went on, almost more to himself than Zhongli.
No Mora?
He wished he could laugh but instead he simply squeezed the former archon of Geo tighter.
“I will craft us a lovely vessel, Morax–”
Silence.
“Zhongli. I’m sorry, Zhongli. Habits- they grip onto my dated memories. Forgive me, but you will always be my Sun.”
It all hit Retuo in an instant.
A sense of sadness overtook the Dragon. A yarning, and an outrage so deep it only purred on the surface as it growled beneath the pebbles of his heart. He squeezed his eyes tight, still holding Zhongli captive in his grasp. Azhdaha was afraid to release him again- afraid to have his Sun taken far away- scared to be blinded once more.
Please,
he begged no one,
please, allow the sky to be clear forevermore.
Foolish, of course.
Blinded by love.
There were bound to be clouds- bound for them to part ways, even if Zhongli attempted to remain as a human– but the Dragon was lulled by such foolishness. Acceptance began to ease the anger, petting it softly like Guizhong or Morax themselves would to his own authentic form. It leaned into the touch, frustration giving way to more grief.
“I missed it all, Zhongli,” Retuo began again, voice earnest and pained, “I am beyond thankful you’ve grown as you have. But I have missed it all.” He finally released Morax. “I have remained the same. Busy, clouded by erosion. Who is to say that I haven’t missed too much, my dear Tai Yang?” a sad smile surfaced.
Azhdaha then allowed his gaze to fall, the rush of happiness bleeding back into that immense grief, memories fogged by the disease barely managing to filter through the darkness. Like a stream of sun through cracks in a cave’s roof. The Geo Sovereign remembered their contract; to protect Liyue. On the conditions that he would be well behaved, he would be alongside his Sun. And if he were to cause a threat to Liyue, Morax would banish him below the surface once more.
He then placed a hand against the ground, moving away from Morax to kneel in the spot that was cracked from the Sovereign’s impact. His fingers brushed against their imperfections, a conflicted emotion overtaking his face.
“I can feel how she’s changed. How I’ve missed out. I wish to catch up.”
His hand disappears within the ground, Teyvat murmurs and shudders softly. His hand emerges again with a small rock within it. A small rock containing a memory of the two visiting Liyue Harbour in their past. One where Azhdaha danced among the people with foolish delight, Morax watching on with a near-blank expression. The Dragon, however, could spot the small traces of endearment betrayed within his visage.
He holds it. Lovingly.
Retuo returns to the previous thought,
“...I wish to see these places with you- to witness the time that has flown past my spirit while it eroded- but what if I cannot deliver what I once could to you- to Morax? What if I am simply to be left in the past? To be left underground? It was foolish to come here, I can admit that now as you’ve spoken- forgive my own selfish desires to see you once more. Morax is no more, but a contract stands eternal. I… Allow me to be more direct.”
A long pause, Azhdaha bowing his head to the former God while placing the rock down next to him, bracing for some sense of impact.
He wished not to see his face this time.
He wished not to have it haunt him. “I must remind you, Morax. I broke our contract.”