Chapter Text
Old phantoms passed and so did his thoughts. Zhongli hummed again as Qiqi slipped past him for the third time before the girl sighed and bound up to him again.
“Mr. Zhongli?” she said.
Zhongli didn’t look up from his work. “Hm?”
“I think Mr. Childe likes you.”
Zhongli paused in his writing. His gloves brushed against the table. Shh-shh-shh-shh .
“What makes you think that?” Zhongli eventually asked.
“Well he buys you gifts,” Qiqi said. “And he brings you flowers.”
“Mhm.”
“He also gets this look.” Qiqi grinned. “This look you see on priests before their prayers, except more devoted.”
“Is that so?” Zhongli said. He flicked his pupils to the black box nearby. How curious .
“Also,” Qiqi said, more softly, “you look happier. Happier than when you came in here for the first time, at least.”
Zhongli straightened himself up at that. His fingers clenched and unclenched. “What makes you think that?” he asked stiffly. Shh-shh-shh-shh. He thought about the first time a phantom girl came up to him, tall hat in place, as she smiled, Mister, come with me!
“You looked lost in the village. And afraid. But not like those new travellers that walk in here from time to time.” Qiqi looked out the window. Calm. “You looked more like you were searching for something and knowing you might never find it. You looked like me,” she added that last part, a little too quietly. “Of course, that was a long time ago.”
Zhongli stared at Qiqi. He looked at the girl’s small build, the oversized clothes that hung off her like sacks. Yet, her face was severe. Not as old as I am, but old enough . He lowered his eyes. “I am sorry,” he said, unsure what he was apologizing for. “And thank you.”
Qiqi beamed. She shook her head. “No worries. I’m just passing an observation,” she said. Then, with a tap on the table, she asked, “Will you be looking for Mr. Childe later?”
Zhongli looked at the lacquered box again. At the packet inside. “Perhaps,” he said. He glanced at Qiqi. “I’m just curious about your observations--is all.”
Qiqi only laughed. Her depthless eyes glimmered. “Then I hope you find what you want,” she said. “I think Archons like you deserve so much more.”
Zhongli took his sweet time finishing his work. He made sure everything was pristine. Lists due for tomorrow neatly arranged, letters and appointments all lined up. He even took his time to brush around the office as well, cleaning it up, while repositioning all his favourite things in a bright new order.
This time, he put all of Childe’s flowers by his desk.
Then, he plucked up the lacquered box in his hand--weighty from the Lapis and gold--and he ran a finger over it once as he thought about all those years as his time as an Archon.
Humans offered him gold before. And Lapis. Wealth was abundant at his temples when they still stood, and from time to time, he got food, too, though he required no nourishment. He appreciated them all and took his time providing blessings to repay them all.
But they were never personal.
Now, Zhongli looked at the box, feeling the weight of wealth in it and the weight of something else. He thought about Childe at his doorstep, standing tall, with his tightly-wrapped scarf and gentle smile. He thought of his warmth.
Zhongli huffed. “Silly mortal,” he said, but his voice held no malice. He pressed a thumb against the tip of the box. “You will be repaid kindly.”
Then, he tucked it away and vanished out the door.
Childe felt the roar before he heard it.
It rumbled through the earth, ringing up his bones. A chilling spike shot through his chest as he thought, Zhongli? He whirled towards the direction of the forest.
Indeed, the trees shuddered as though they’d been rustled. And the clouds above parted as though the roar ripped right through it. Another rumble echoed in the ground as that roar came again. Childe hopped onto his feet.
What was going on? It couldn’t be that Zhongli got into another fight. There are no Archons here, and there are no enemies . But what if something else came for him? What if some person--some mortal --did the same mistake as Childe did last time, mistaking him for Koschei?
What if Zhongli’s hurt?
Childe shot down the pathway before he could even think. He dashed through the town, bumping into several people, as he swept up apologies with half-assed sincerity. He took a couple of left turns, a particularly sharp right one, before he ended up at the mouth of the forest, clearly ripped in the middle.
Someone had slashed right through it.
Thinking it had to be another person, Childe gritted his teeth and ran towards the gap. He hopped into it, seeing more bushes and vines slashed out like that, as though someone had been in a rush through these places. Childe tampered down his panic. Observe, he thought, years of the Tsaritsa’s army coming back to him. Observe and don’t act rashly. Think. What would the enemy do?
He crouched down as he maneuvered through the gaps. He tried his best to make no sound, trailing after the marks. He trailed until he heard another thumping noise and he jolted his head up and hissed, “Zhongli?”
The thumping sound came and went. Childe darted straight for it.
It led him to a familiar place. The tree trunk , he thought, where the Underlands lay . He stared at the large yawning gap as he looked left and right. Nobody.
But the sound had come from here. Childe was sure.
He walked out to the open as he looked around. No persons in the trees, none in the bushes. No hints of disturbance here, if you could count Childe’s own footsteps marking the ground. Nothing.
It was as if the world went dead.
Childe held his breath as he listened. Observe. And don’t act rashly . He flicked his eyes back to the bushes. To the trees.
What would the enemy do?
The Underlands! Childe thought as he heard a soft crackle and whirled around. He barely summoned his water blade in time, parrying another thick weapon that slammed down on him, and he stumbled onto his knees and grunted. Golden eyes peered at him from above, a thin smile in place, as his familiar voice said, “Perhaps I underestimated you.”
“Zhongli!” Childe gasped as the spear pressed down harder on him. By the Celestia’s, how strong is he? “What are you doing?”
“Testing,” he said, “to what extent Koschei’s power starts and yours ends.” He whirls the spear back and whams it down against Childe again, sending Childe shooting to the side as the man rolled and slammed against a tree bark. The force sent him seeing stars.
“ Zhongli,” Childe implored again.
“Up,” Zhongli said. “You would not survive if you fought like that.”
Childe hauled himself onto his feet as he felt his tongue licking over his lips. “Zhongli,” he started, “What’s this about?”
Zhongli mentioned nothing more and instead chose to shoot forth at the speed of lightning. Childe’s eyes flickered as he tried to follow Zhongli’s motions, parrying the spear that kept coming down from somewhere, guffawing whenever he felt the sheer pulse of Zhongli’s power slamming down at him. He parried another blow as he ducked and slid away.
“Zhongli!” he exclaimed. “Explain!”
“Hold,” Zhongli ordered as he bent down again, his knees bowing impossibly low and his body curved like a panther’s as he shot forth and sent a rippling shot that nearly grazed Childe’s torso. Childe darted aside, bracing himself with his arms only to force himself back to his feet.
Zhongli’s not explaining anything. At all. And from the looks of it, he wasn’t willing to explain until Childe ended… whatever the hell this was. Childe darted his eyes to the Underlands again, so close yet so far. He turned to Zhongli.
“Fine,” he said. “If you don’t want to explain, then--” Childe hurled towards Zhongli, making the Archon brace himself as he spun his spear and directed it towards Childe. Childe gave a small quirk of his lips as he summoned his blades, aiming them towards Zhongli, speeding up his pace.
Zhongli frowned as he shot forth. The minute the spear found it’s trajectory, it shot forth. The spear found its target and clashed with one of Childe’s blade. However, Childe parried it to the side instead, ducking beneath Zhongli’s arms and darting for the space behind him instead.
Zhongli whirled his head and saw the exact moment he knew what Childe planned. “Childe!” he yelled as much as Childe skidded on his feet and kneeled. He darted forth as Childe spun around and loosened one foot against the Underlands, dangling mid-air to what was clearly a dozen-feet fall. “Childe, what are you--”
Childe let himself slip and fall into the Underlands. However, he made not one hand’s breadth before someone caught him and hauled him up.
Childe summoned his blade and pointed it at Zhongli’s neck. “Boom,” he grinned, sweat dripping down his cheeks. “Dead.”
Zhongli looked at him incredulously as he pulled Childe up from the gap. “Technically, we would be both dead,” he corrected. “That was incredibly risky, Childe. If I were your enemy, we would both pummel down that gap.”
“But I got you, didn’t I?” Childe smiled. “One slice and the world would be saved.”
“Who said you were saving the world from anything?”
“I don’t know. There was a big bad Archon who showed up in the big bad woods. The woods that don’t belong to him, by the way. Have you forgotten this is the Tsaritsa’s domain?”
“No,” Zhongli said. “I haven’t.”
“Then why are you here?” Childe asked. “And why did you attack me? Did you know how scared I was when you--”
Zhongli pulled Childe away from the edge. His arms remained curled over Childe’s waist, and it took Childe one hot second to realize that Zhongli was pressed flush against him.
Childe swallowed. “Uh.”
Zhongli raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
Childe racked his brain. What do I say, what do I say. He settled for a genius, “I forgot what I was going to say,” and sunk into Zhongli’s arms. Wrong decision because Zhongli pulled him closer towards him, as if Childe was going to fall anytime and collapse into the darkness. Zhongli must have noticed his discomfort because he tilted his head and frowned.
“Something the matter?” he asked.
“Ah, nope!” Childe chirped back, taking this as the opportunity to wriggle out of Zhongli’s grip. Score! “Nothing! I’m completely fine.” He grinned widely and did a show of twirling himself around. “See? Completely unscathed.”
“I see,” Zhongli said, clearly not looking at anything but Childe’s face. “That’s good.”
Childe swallowed. First the grip, now the stares. What . “I, ah. Heard your roar,” Childe said, taking the chance to bring it up. He raised an eyebrow. “Any idea why’s that?”
Zhongli reared his head up. “Ah, that.” His eyes narrowed, as though scrutinizing Childe’s expressions. “You don’t know?”
Don’t know what? “No?” Childe said as much. He tilted his head. “I was walking in town when I heard you. I flew here the minute you called me.”
“I didn’t say I was calling for you,” Zhongli rectified.
Ah. Damn. “Well,” Childe mumbled, a little red. He ran a hand over his neck. “How was I supposed to know? I thought only I knew about your roars.”
Besides , Childe thought. Only I have ever spent time around you, over these years.
Unless…
Childe snapped his head up. “You have another friend?”
Zhongli tilted his head as he went, “Hm? Another friend?” His golden eyes flickered and his lips twitched just a little. “Well, I do have friends, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
What . What, what , what. Childe spent all his time around Zhongli and he had literally seen nobody else apart from himself. So… “Is it, uh, someone you’ve met before me or something? Maybe like, um.” Childe racked his brain. Fast. “Ah!” his eyes lit up as he jolted in front of Zhongli. “Is it that Traveller you were talking about? That… that…” Childe racked his brain again. Archons, did Zhongli ever mention their gender? Are they a girl? A boy? “...other human,” Childe ended lamely.
Zhongli’s lips curved properly this time. His head bent as his shoulders shook just slightly. Oh, shit . Childe found himself wanting to bury himself underneath the Underlands. Or deeper. Anywhere to get away from this scene.
Zhongli’s shoulders kept shaking as he said, “Yes, Childe. The Traveller is technically my friend, but they are the least of your concerns.” He walked forth towards Childe, tucking a strand behind Childe’s ear. “I was teasing you. The call was for you. I just assumed you would have read about it somewhere, the meaning of my roars.”
Childe snapped his head up. “Huh?”
“Did you not?” Zhongli’s eyes glinted. He paced around Childe, like a predator. “You came into my home with ancient knowledge. You came in with gifts, wrapped in splendor. You knew full well what you were giving me, when you handed me that black box and the lovely red packet in it.” He stopped just behind Childe, bowing his head low. “You read about ancient cultures. And you presented it to me, as you would a lover. Did you not?”
Childe swallowed. Ah . He opened and closed his mouth, yet he couldn’t seem to conjure any words from it. All he could hear was the low rumble of Zhongli’s voice, and the soothing cadence that seemed to lull him into a hypnotization.
“Did you know,” Zhongli continued, pacing around Childe, “that in ancient cultures, you only give red packets after you’ve proposed?” Childe startled at that as Zhongli smiled, a sly thing. “You gave me with the right intentions, though you’ve done the whole procession wrong. So I’m rectifying it. For you.”
Zhongli stepped up to Childe, only a foot apart, as he loomed above him, a shadow in the light. His eyes burned amber and Childe could only look at it, as he did when he was a child. So bright .
“Childe Tartaglia,” Zhongli rumbled, low, “I am giving back your offering for safekeeping. You may ask me again when we have been properly acquainted and courted.” He twisted his fingers and, instantly, the box appeared in his fingertips. He pressed it into Childe’s arms. “Until then, I will ask you instead: little mortal, would you accept this humble dragon as your beloved? Even with his, ah, inhumane presence and species specificities,” Zhongli’s eyes crinkled at that, teeth flashing. “I have, after all, summoned you to my home turf with my roar. I find you a valuable mate--and a strong one at that.
“So?” Zhongli finally breathed, slinking back from Childe, staring at his star struck face and his hanging jaw. “Do you accept, Tartaglia?”
Childe opened his mouth. Closed it again. He took in a deep breath as a thick swallow went down his throat. “You,” he paused, licking his lips. He clenched against the box in his arms. “You’re asking. Me out.”
“Yes, Childe,” Zhongli smiled. “Very much so.”
Childe clenched the box tighter. “You sure? You very sure?”
“I roared, Childe,” Zhongli said. “I may have even alerted the Tsaritsa of my disobedience with this.”
Childe looked like he wanted to say something else, but he gritted his teeth again, keeping it shut. He kneeled instead, putting the box down.
He stood up. “Punch me if you hate this,” he said.
Then, he shot forth and barrelled himself right into Zhongli’s arms. Zhongli barely had a second’s worth to react before two hands gripped his face and pulled him forth.
If some of the Tsaritsa’s men came later and saw the two men kissing, none of them said a word. Instead, they chose to waddle back to their stations, guessing that it was better to ignore this sappy scene than to get involved in it at all.
Years later, people would hear of the rumour: Koschei the Deathless, caught once and for all . In a once-fishing village in the south of Snezhnaya, there, they say, would live Koschei himself, sitting in cold barren offices of a funeral parlour just at the edge of town.
Koschei, they said, was like the rumours. He had dark hair. He had dark clothes. He moved--and stood--like a willow tree, bent and distant in the shadowed streets. They said he had the air of God.
But of course, instead of eating souls, they had said that Koschei had chosen to settle down, instead. There, they say, Koschei moves from stall to stall, meeting human to human as he converses with them and gives them advice. They say he sits in the funeral parlour waiting for customers as he apparently serves them, a ridiculous notion to everyone. They say he’s fallen in love.
Of course, nobody believes it until they go to the once-fishing town themselves. They will go and look for that funeral parlour, and they will see that dark willow-tree man who sits in an office all alone, surrounded by flowers and surrounded by gold. He would have the most gorgeous eyes, they said, and the most beautiful of voices.
But nothing beats the surprise whenever they actually see Koschei’s lover--a lean ginger-haired man--who comes in every single day, red cape aflutter behind him. They say that Koschei’s been snatched.
And what an odd ending, they would speak, for Koschei had been a wife-robber after all. He had stolen lovers and eaten them. He had damned anyone who looked remotely mortal. He looked all-angry at life always, and he was never supposed to be content. But here Koschei was, finally human, and so very in love.
“How does it feel to be in love with Koschei?” a little girl had once asked the ginger-haired man, out of sheer morbid curiosity. She supposed everyone in the town wanted to know, too. Who could ever fall in love with the so-called rumoured Deathless?
The ginger-haired man had looked at the little girl once and then chuckled under his breath. He swept away his jacket. Pressed against his neck.
“Like love, I suppose,” he told them, smiling. “Like being human.”
(Later on, Childe would hunt down Zhongli and tell him about the entire thing.
“Why would you ever affirm their suspicions that I am Koschei?” Zhongli sighed, almost exasperatedly. “You understand I am not the one who owns Koschei’s remnants.”
“Oh, boo-hoo, willow-man,” Childe responded as he leaned against Zhongli. He kissed those pretty eyelids. “Just admit it: You look otherworldly.”
“I am otherworldly,” Zhongli states, though on his lips, a smile. “I am literally born as God. Nothing can usurp that title.”
“Koschei the Deathless,” Childe recites. “It really doesn’t suit you.”
“Then what does?” Zhongli went back to writing down his notes. He can feel more customers coming in later, to ask him for advice. “I suppose you already have something in your mind.”
“Of course.” Childe leaned over, grinning ear to ear. He kissed Zhongli on the lips. “You are my God of the Woods. Nobody else gets to call you that.”
“God of the Woods,” Zhongli mused. He paused in his writing, looking up at Childe. “Hm. I suppose that’s better. Better than Koschei, at least.”)
END