Work Text:
Approximately 5000 years ago.
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Long before the Great Archon War, a certain archon named Morax was seen as a violent god. That, he was. Where he walked, lives ended, and blood would be shed. That was, how he was before he met a certain goddess named Guizhong.
Guizhong was the god of dust, a kind and gentle goddess. They met on a battlefield, and what should have ended in bloodshed, ended in peace.
Approximately 4000 years ago.
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They walked among a field of Glaze Lilies, a flower that was the color of frost. A flower that would only bloom when in a place of peace. Guizhong knelt down and picked up a Glaze Lily. The flower was bloomed, and held emitted a soft periwinkle glow. The morning’s mist rested gently on the lily’s petals.
“Morax, if you had come to this blossoming field 1000 years ago, the poor flowers would instantly wilt in your presence.” Guizhong laughed softly, turning to look at Morax. “When I first met you, I honestly thought you were going to kill me. After all, we were in the middle of a fight.”
“I no longer seek the need to kill,” Morax responded, as he too, picked up a Glaze Lily. A few petals wilted away from the frosty flower. Guizhong made a faulty attempt at holding back a laugh. Morax stared at the flower, looking very rejected.
“Here, take this, Morax,” Guizhong said as she placed a Qingxin in his hair. “If you wear this, it makes you look a lot less scary.”
Morax felt his hand moving toward the pale ivory flower. “I,” he started, “.... thank you.” Guizhong smiled at him. “You like Qingxin, right? I picked that flower while you were away last night,” she continued, “I thought it would look nice on you.”
For the first time in over a thousand years, Morax found himself smiling.
And since that day, he would remember how she too, loved those flowers.
Approximately 2000 years ago.
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In Guizhong’s dying moments, Morax couldn’t focus. The war had been bloody, and many lives were lost. As he held Guizhong, his dearest friend, his first ever friend, in his arms, he could feel his vision blur. A singular tear fell from his eyes, illuminated in the light, it looked like a crystalline figure.
The only remaining gods were himself, Barbatos, and some others that he did not quite recognize. All together, there were seven. Seven survivors. Only seven. When the war had originally started, there had been approximately over 9000 gods. Only seven had survived the war. It would have been eight survivors, if Guizhong had lived.
As much as Morax did not want to admit it, he knew Guizhong was dying. There was nothing he could do to save her. This was her fate, and he couldn’t change it. Morax would die over and over again, if it meant that Guizhong would live.
Morax couldn’t bring himself to speak. Guizhong broke the painful silence. “Morax....,” she sighed, as her hand reached to touch his face. “... I cannot stay with you any longer. Survive, survive this war. End the bloodshed and fighting, and live. There are times,” she paused before continuing, “when you must forget the past and move toward the future. I will remain in your memory, though. Always.”
Guizhong’s hand broke away from Morax’s face, wiping away his tears. Guizhong never rose again. The Glaze Lily in Guizhong’s hair fell and withered away. The blossomed petals that were once a gorgeous blue was now stained a scarlet red. As the flower fell, it broke apart into small crystalline particles.
The pieces of the Glaze Lily was nothing more than mere dust. The particles were carried away on the wind, leaving nothing behind. The Glaze Lily was no more, and neither was Guizhong.
Morax and the last remaining gods lingered in the battleground, mourning the ones they have lost. Morax let go of Guizhong’s body, and she fell down onto the bloodstained ground. He stood up, and looked at the sky. The sky was a bloody red, mixed with tangerine, as the sun slowly faded away.
Morax left the battleground, and proceeded to make the land of Liyue, the land of contracts, and the land of Geo. “You too, should have been here, Guizhong.”
Present day.
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Zhongli sighed at the memory. It had been 2000 years since Guizhong’s death. 1500 since Liyue was established. Zhongli was no longer Rex Lapis, Liyue’s archon of Geo.
He remembered giving up his Gnosis, the thing that gave him immortality and a majority of his power. For 1500 years, Zhongli had been Rex Lapis. He had been alone, without Guizhong.
Zhongli had given up his Gnosis at will. He had grown tired of his immortality. He had just wanted to go back in time, before the Archon War, before Liyue, and back to the time when they were among the field of Glaze Lilies. Before he became an archon, way back over 2000 years ago.
Occasionally, Zhongli would still hear Guizhong’s gentle and kind voice, drifting on the winds of Barbatos, the archon of Anemo. The voice of Guzhong, the voice of the goddess of dust. The voice of the one he missed so much.
As he walked through Liyue Harbor, a voice rang out. “Zhongli!” He turned around, and to his surprise, saw Xiangling, Aether, Paimon, Hu Tao, Tartaglia, and even Ningguang and Keqing.
They were all gathered at Wanmin Restaurant. A hand decorated banner hung across the entrance of Wanmin, saying “Happy Birthday!”
“Happy Birthday, old man!” Hu Tao said, running up to him. Inwardly, Zhongli thought, “I know I’m at least 6000 years old, but you don’t have to rub it in, I know I’m old…”
Guizhong’s voice spoke once again. “Happy Birthday, Morax. Remember, you live in the present. And while you’re still here, enjoy every moment.” Her voice drifted away, and Zhongli whispered, “Thank you, Guizhong.”
And for the first time since Guizhong’s agonizing death, Zhongli smiled. He stood, gazing among the crowded streets of Liyue Harbor. “If only you could be here too, Guizhong.”
There, in the illuminated light of the day, stood a single Glaze Lily. Fully bloomed, glistening in the sunlight. Zhongli remembered how she too, loved those flowers.