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Since ancient times, even before the great Archon War, the concept of soulmates was a familiar one. Somewhere on the body, there would be a name or symbol alluding to one’s soulmate’s identity; what or who the soulmate truly saw themselves as.
Identity is fluid though. As such, soul marks change with the soul, and often shift forms throughout one’s life. And despite the numerous studies into these intriguing markings, no rhyme or reason to how or when these marks formed could be found. Regardless, many people waited in anticipation for them.
Soulmates are people you click with; a best friend, a most trusted ally, a portion of your soul. Many people fell in love with this instant connection, and thus their soulmate, but it was not unusual to marry others.
Ajax had heard this story many times throughout his childhood, before and after his mark had formed. It was a story heralded throughout Teyvat and its seven nations.
Ajax’s mark had formed at the tender age of 14. The strange, yet pleasant, burning feeling had excitement oozing out of the pores of his skin. He had been literally bouncing as he’d stripped off his mittens to take a peek at the mark.
A foreign language, he had thought tenderly, as he lovingly stroked the strange, warped script, on his upper palm. How interesting.
It had lit a burning sense of ambition and desire within the young boy.
For the whole week after, Ajax had spent every free moment searching up all the languages in Teyvat and beyond. He had even forewent his beloved ice fishing trips with his father to bury himself among scrolls, books and artifacts, despite his hatred for such boring activities. That’s how much he had wanted to find his other half. The almost instant connection he had heard so much about seemed magical, and it called to him. Mondstat, Liyue, Inazuma, and he’d even dug around to find the script of Khaenri'ah.
But alas, this strange script refused to be found. As Ajax had dropped his last scroll onto the ground, he’d slumped heavily in his seat.
Why? He had thought. Why couldn’t he find a single piece of information alluding to this script?
The initial excitement he had felt, warped into resentment and sadness. The bright hope that the mark had sparked, had morphed into a raging wildfire. However, at the same time, it felt hollowing and empty. An icy flame.
Perhaps the gods had given him false hope. He never had another half to begin with.
And that was the last straw.
The next day, Ajax had set out with just some bread and a knife, venturing into the Snezhnaya wilderness in search for adventure. Something to fill the gaping cavity within him. If he couldn’t find his soulmate, then he needed something else to feel something inside.
The abyss was dangerous. It was dark, threatening, but oh so thrilling. The adrenaline that ran through Ajax’s body as he’d chased the danger of battle was addicting. It had been like a drug that he couldn’t live without anymore.
He needed more.
More.
More.
Ajax had returned to his family, 3 months in the abyss, but 3 days in Teyvat, later. Now, a dark addiction lurking in his blood.
It had been too peaceful. The addiction in Ajax’s blood had crept out, seeping into his village life. He’d fought with anyone over anything. It was never anger that had sparked these brawls, but the addiction to that danger and thrill of a fight.
Reluctantly, Ajax’s father made a difficult decision. He’d desired to protect his children from the outside world, to not expose them to violence, and the brutalities of reality. However, the despair of an unknown soulmark has broken something in his son, and he had changed following his three days of disappearance. He’d only hoped that joining the Fatui could bring back some semblance of control and discipline back to his beloved son.
But alas no.
The day Ajax joined the Fatui, he donned a pair of black gloves, and never looked at his soul mark again.
He only chased his desire for battle; quickly rising up in the ranks to become the youngest, yet one of the most deadly harbingers. Not even a few years later, the Tsaritsa blesses him with a new name: Tartaglia, and later on, he forms an alias: Childe.
He never thought about soulmates, or his soul mark again.
That is, until his mission to Liyue.
Childe had never really made any true friends. His rapid rise up the ranks, and his tendency to use any excuse to begin a brawl, had isolated him from the other rank-and-file Fatui members. Then, after his initiation into the harbingers, his distaste for their schemes and plots, drew a firm line between them. They were never going to get along.
He never expected to find someone he’d click with. Someone, someone more than a mere acquaintance or colleague. A friend perhaps, but he didn’t dare give any substance to that fleeting thought..
As Childe sat across the table from ZhongLi, listening to his deep baritone voice explain the history and growing process of the tea leaves steeping in their teapot, the lingering doubts hidden away in the corners of his mind crept out.
If ZhongLi knew his true purpose of coming to Liyue, to steal his beloved Archon’s gnosis, he wouldn’t crinkle his eyes in amusement at Childe’s terrible jokes. He wouldn’t gaze at him like he did now, looking at Childe himself, not his status as a harbinger like many others did, or how useful he would be, like the other harbingers and the Tsurista did. So Childe never entertained those thoughts lurking in the shadows of his mind.
ZhongLi.
Such a strange man.
How such a well-dressed, and well-mannered man always forgot his mora? Childe had no idea. But the sea of obtuse information, seemingly unknown to anyone else, that poured out between his lips, and the gentle crescents of his eyes, and the crinkle of his handsome face, when he was amused, sent a jolt of something down his spine. His unusual, even for Liyuean people, cor lapis irises charmed him, possessing a depth beyond that of anyone’s he’s ever met.
One time, during one of their many dinners together, Childe had asked—
“Say, Mr ZhongLi, have you met your soulmate?”
It was a mere offhanded question, not intending to pry too deep into anything. But the way ZhongLi froze, and the strange misting of his cor lapis eyes sent a wave of alarm wash over Childe. The harbinger opened his mouth to apol—
“I have”
Childe blinked.
“I have, but...she is no longer in this world," the funeral consultant finished softly. His eyes glazed over as he looked at something within the depths of his mind.
At this moment, the Liyuean man seemed centuries old.
Childe felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to apologise for his unintentional transgression, but also felt a burning feeling crawl into his stomach.
Well. It’s not like he was expecting anything anyway. His soulmate was some unknown person with some weird self made language, he assumed. Childe could still picture the mark perfectly, even after a decade since he last saw it.
ZhongLi blinked out of his stupor. Those enchanting eyes focusing on the man sitting across him, then softened at Childe.
It sent a flutter that knocked out that previous burning sensation in his stomach.
Well. People still became close friends, or lovers— Childe ignored that train of thought— without being soulmates.
Childe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Or maybe both would be appropriate right now. He was leaning against the wall, a flat expression stuck to his face as he observed the scene before him.
Mr ZhongLi.
ZhongLi. The same man who had charmed him with his knowledgeable, yet somewhat air-headed nature, with his enchanting cor lapis eyes and comforting aura. No. Perhaps he shouldn’t call him that anymore.
Rex Lapis, donning the skin of his beloved ZhongLi, stood by La Signora and the traveller. Using the same voice and the same animated way of talking to explain to the traveller about his contract with the Tsaritsa.
Childe had been played. Had been fooled real bad. He had been completely deceived by the mysterious consultant.
He vaguely wondered whether all those conversations and that time spent had all been a ploy. Perhaps the secretive little kisses and giggles they’d shared within the shadows of the Liyuen alleyways were just a lie. All the heart pounding moments, and the soft presses of lips to his forehead.
He wouldn't be surprised if they were, he thought darkly.
Childe marched out of Northland bank without a second glance at ZhongLi. He felt tired. Perhaps he should have realised that finding this seemingly instant connection with the other man has been too good to be true. ZhongLi was just there to ensure his behaviour didn’t endanger Liyue before his grand plan.
He vaguely wondered if ZhongLi’s soulmate had been true. Despite being tricked by the other man, Childe had a feeling that the soulmate that ZhongLi has spoken of, was very real. The archon’s reaction had been too real to fake. But if so, how could the soul mate of an archon, a god, especially one as powerful as ZhongLi die so easily? Were they mortal perhaps?
Well. Regardless. ZhongLi had nothing to do with him anymore.
That’s what Childe had thought.
The next week, ZhongLi came to Northland bank seeking him.
Needless to say, Childe treated him with icy politeness. Yet, the consultant seemed unperturbed.
He, again, invited Childe out for lunch (though Childe would probably end up paying for it again), and fixed him with a stubborn expression. Everything in Childe’s brain was screaming at him to refuse. To kick and scream like the child he was before emerging from the abyss.
Go away. What do you want? Don’t talk to me ever again. Childe’s brain ran through all possible answers, but when his mouth moved—
“Okay”
Damn.
The lunch was...awkward. ZhongLi had tried a few times to steer the topic onto their relationship, and his...plan. But every time, Childe deflected.
He really didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to hear the excuses. He just—his heart clenched painfully.
Childe never thought another person, albeit a former archon—no especially not an archon—would ever cause him to feel this way. Well. There was one way Childe would be willing to talk with ZhongLi, and that would be—
“Then fight me”
ZhongLi paused. His cor lapis eyes searched Childe’s narrowed starconch-coloured irises. The former geo archon furrowed his brow, then sighed.
Childe smirked. This would be a worthwhile battle. One that would get his blood pumping, no doubt.
It was a hot day in Liyue, as they trekked into the wilderness. ZhongLi had agreed to a spar, on the condition that it would be far enough away from any form of civilisation.
Childe didn’t enjoy meaningless damage and chaos to unrelated civilians, so he shrugged.
The sun glared down at the pair, as they reached their destination. It was a relatively flat plain, with a couple of boulders here and there. Perfect for a fight.
But boy was it hot. Childe could feel himself sweating slightly in the heat, as he cast his gaze sideways to study ZhongLi.
The former archon had shrugged off his coat, folding it carefully and placing it onto a rock. As he turned to face Childe, his pole arm materialised out of the air. He gave it a couple of test swings before meeting the other man’s eyes.
Childe shrugged offhandedly, chucking his bow down next to ZhongLi’s coat. He wasn’t going to win against a former god of war with a bow, even if that said god had no gnosis.
The two men circled each other warily, as they shifted into their starting poses.
It was time to battle.
“Ooft!”
Childe fell heavily onto his back, winded. Just as he was pushing himself up, a weight landed heavily on top of him, winding him again.
Blue starconch eyes cracked open, to find ZhongLi perched on his stomach, with each knee pinning an arm to the ground. His pole arm was buried in the earth, a hair’s breadth away from the side of Childe’s cheek.
The harbinger could feel something warming in his gut. Adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, the slight trickle of blood down his neck only heightening his senses.
But damn.
Those familiar golden cor lapis eyes stared down at him almost coldly. Childe had never seen this expression on his face, and he struggled to read it. It was unfamiliar and powerful, and it set his blood on fire. He could feel his heart stutter in his beat at the excitement coursing through his veins.
THIS was the gaze of a god, and it set something off...something strange...inside of him.
ZhongLi closed his eyes briefly and breathed deeply.
The former archon’s eyes opened slowly and deliberately. Almost like a cat. “Do you yield, Childe?”
The Sneznahayan only stared. The sun had retreated towards the horizon, lighting up behind ZhongLi perfectly. It emphasised the amber tipped hair strands, and cast a holy glow onto the consultant. The shadows sharpening his handsome features and highlighting his eyes.
So beautiful.
Childe gulped silently then nodded, still not taking his eyes off the almost ethereal image. He could feel his heart thudding almost painfully, and it had nothing to do with the spar.
ZhongLi smiled and climbed off him, his polearm disappearing in a shower of golden sparks. He loosened his tie slightly, and tilted his head up as the cool, late afternoon breeze swept through the field. Childe lay motionless, eyes still glued to the man.
The former geo archon noticed Childe’s lack of movement, and furrowed his brow.
“Childe?”
The sudden glance downwards had shifted ZhongLi’s shirt collar slightly. Childe could see something peeking out, something pasted to the side of his neck, something—
Oh.
Oh no.
Childe’s lips opened silently. He could feel a lump growing in his throat, his unspoken words quivering.
ZhongLi seemed puzzled at his display. He looked concerned, reaching out a hand.
Childe didn’t respond, his eyes still glued onto that mark.
No way.
There is no damn way that—
He tore off his glove, his protection from those thoughts for the past decade. He tore it off and stared.
He still couldn’t read the characters there, but they had shifted. He didn’t know exactly what it meant, but he recognised it. He recognised it from the countless signed documents he had seen at Wangshang funeral parlour in ZhongLi’s office. Childe was sure, it was ZhongLi’s handwriting.
Meanwhile, the source of Childe’s shock was fluttering around, uncertain. After all, the Snezhayan had randomly frozen and stared at his hand.
“Childe?”, he asked again.
He jolted.
“ZhongLi...you...your soul mark,” he gestured weakly.
The former geo archon blinked. Was that what he was so shocked about? ZhongLi opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by Childe.
“I...,” Childe trailed off. He didn’t know what to say,
ZhongLi had opened up his collar even more, trying in vain to peer down at the mark plastered onto the side of his neck.
Childe wordlessly used his hydro vision to collect some water to use as a temporary mirror.
ZhongLi blinked at his reflection.
“It’s different again”
Huh?
ZhongLi unbuttoned the first couple of buttons of his shirt to study the messy scrawl on his neck. He had a pensive expression plastered onto those elegant features. "It changes so often, sometimes a certain name is more emphasised, but then it melts back into this...mark"
ZhongLi’s soulmark was an illegible scribble, but Childe could recognise his own script easily. To others, it may seem confusing, but Childe could easily recognise it as three words morphed into a single mass: Tartaglia, Childe and Ajax.
The three sides of himself. Ever since he had returned from the abyss, and had been given Tartaglia and Childe as names, he had no idea who he was. He had donned the mask of Ajax to Teucer, to his family, to give some illusion that the 14 year old boy, hopeful about his soulmate, still existed. But he was Tartaglia, to the Fatui, to the Tsarista, and to the Harbingers: cold and bloodthirsty. And he was Childe to everyone else: to Aether, Liyue, ZhongLi, just the friendly Sneznahayan diplomat.
The harbinger then turned his naked palm toward ZhongLi, training his eyes on the grass.
The consultant frowned then blinked. He read his name on Childe’s palm.
But—
“My mark was different before. It…it was a strange script, not Liyuean”
ZhongLi pondered for a moment. He then materialised his pole arm and wrote something in the dirt.
Childe got to his feet and looked down at ZhongLi’s writing on the ground.
“That’s it”. Childe’s voice was so weak, so confused and so conflicted.
“That...is the script of the gods; it says Rex Lapis,” ZhongLi’s deep baritone rumbled. “But, I believe that your mark may have changed in your time in Liyue”
“...your company made me desire to be ZhongLi. Not Rex Lapis, god of contracts, but merely ZhongLi, the funeral consultant." ZhongLi looked uncertain, as if not knowing how to continue. As Childe stood there shellshocked, he pursed his lips and shifted his weight from side to side.
He pushed on. “I...apologise for not telling you about the contract, and I--”
Childe held up a hand.
“Sorry. I-I need some time." The Snezhayan then picked up his fallen bow, then stumbled off without glancing back.
Since their spar, ZhongLi hadn’t tried to contact him at all.
Childe convinced himself that he thought it a good thing. Perhaps he could just forget about everything, and return to Snezhnaya in peace.
But, as the days crawled by, Childe could feel his skin itch with boredom. The amount of diplomatic apologies and excuses he had to make following the Osial attack were endless. THIS was the part of being a harbinger that he detested the most.
His lunches and dinners (and evenings) with ZhongLi had been the enjoyable parts of the day before. He could forget the boredom of these administrative jobs, to chat and laugh with the consultant.
Which was why, a week after their spar, Childe found himself outside Wangshang funeral parlour.
He raised a hand to reach for the door knob—
The door suddenly flew open.
It was ZhongLi. But...something was wrong. The consultant’s expression was alarmed, his golden cor lapis eyes wide open.
Childe opened his mouth to ask, but ZhongLi was suddenly shoved into him.
“Go find that boyfri—oh there he is”
It turns out, Hu Tao had been standing behind ZhongLi.
“Hey you”
Childe blinked, his hands still on ZhongLi’s shoulders as he had instinctively tried to steady the man.
“Hurry up and make up with him, he’s been making mistakes left, right and centre for the past week or so,” she huffed out a sigh. “It’s making things terribly inconvenient.”
Childe turned his stare onto ZhongLi’s face, but the consultant was staring at the ground over Childe’s shoulder, his gloved fingers grasping the harbinger’s forearms firmly. However, Childe could see his ear redden slightly.
He turned his diplomatic grin onto Hu Tao, and promised to do just that, as he whisked the embarrassed former archon away.
The two stopped at Wangmin restaurant, with Childe ordering their usual dishes, while ZhongLi had been unusually silent.
Childe broke the heavy silence.
“I’ve thought about it for the last week, and I never truly realised how much I enjoyed your company,” Childe began. “Although leaving me out of your plan did sting a bit because you didn’t tell me anything, I can understand what you were trying to achieve.”
ZhongLi’s eyes flickered up to Childe’s for the first time that day.
Childe gave a nervous, yet kind of sheepish smile. It was returned with the familiar crinkle of the eyes that made the Sneznahyan’s heart flutter.
After the ice was broken, words started flooding back. It was as if they were back before the Osial incident. ZhongLi spoke about various things beyond what a human should know, and in retrospect, Childe wondered how he never realised. ZhongLi...wasn’t exactly the most subtle.
But, there was one thing that wormed its way into his thoughts.
“ZhongLi, you spoke of having a soulmate before…,” Childe hesitated, unsure of how to continue.
But luckily, ZhongLi understood.
“A person usually has several soulmates,” ZhongLi began. “The amount of people in this world is numerous, it is difficult to imagine that there is only one person that can complete you”
Childe stared. He had never heard of that before, but it did make sense.
“But many people do not look at their soul mark ever again, after their soulmate dies, or if they do, it is usually if they haven’t met them, and it can be easily taken as a change in one’s perception of themselves.”
“Was it Guizhong?” Childe had heard of that name alongside Rex Lapis’.
The consultant nodded, his eyes misting over again. He looked so farway, and Childe could feel his heart clench painfully. He felt a little nauseous.
But ZhongLi shook himself out of his reverie, and turned his gentle gaze onto Childe.
“I loved her, that much is true, but as I am right now, as ZhongLi, I can say with certainty, that you are the only one on my mind,” he confesses softly.
Childe felt his breath stutter, and heat climb up his neck. He scrubbed his burning face with one hand, slightly hiding behind it
Oh.
That...that felt nice. ZhongLi was gazing upon him with unabashed affection and love. He had never been gazed upon with such emotion, bar from his family, and it sent warmth and affection towards the other man, rush throughout his body.
To be honest, he wasn’t envious of Guizhong for being the subject of ZhongLi, Rex Lapis’ love. He knew that he possessed an equal (if not a little more, he hoped) amount of ZhongLi’s love. The amount of love one could give wasn’t so limited as to only be given to one person.
No.
He just...Childe just felt inferior, perhaps. That maybe he wasn’t suited to ZhongLi, compared to Guizhong. He had heard stories of her: her kindness and compassion. She sounded like a lovely person, no doubt.
But Childe? He was in no way a good person. Even the oceans of Teyvat couldn’t wash away the blood on his hands, and he wouldn’t change anything; he has no regrets. It was for the Tsaritsa, and to chase his own desire for battle. He knew, and already warned others, that he was not a good person. He was bloodthirsty, violent, and often within battle, mentally unhinged.
How could he be ZhongLi’s soulmate? How could someone as violent, bloodthirsty, and broken as himself be the soulmate of an archon? Rex Lapis was pronounced as a ‘god of war’ in Teyvat’s common tongue, but it was misleading. He didn’t use violence and needless bloodshed, but rather used strategy and sophistication to deal with problems (though he still felt hurt at that). He was a benevolent god, only using violence when necessary.
Childe was the opposite. He started fights on purpose, to feel that thrill of battle. He didn’t not like that part of himself, but he felt slightly hurt by the sting of inferiority. But then, there was even another problem. His identity crisis, to put it lightly.
Childe had no idea who ZhongLi desired. He couldn’t imagine he wanted Tartaglia, and his ice cold efficiency in carrying out his missions. Perhaps he just wanted Childe, the man he had known in Liyue, the friendly diplomat. Or maybe he desired Ajax, and the warm domesticity he could bring to ZhongLi’s life.
ZhongLi hadn’t said anything as Childe had stewed in his newly found inferiority crisis, and ran laps around his brain trying to find the reason for them being soulmates. But now, he reached out a gloved hand and placed it over Childe’s.
It was as steady as the geo he controlled. Stable, comforting and safe.
“Childe,” he murmured, “you’re overthinking.”
The younger man hunched his shoulders, smiling ruefully at their intertwined fingers. ZhongLi really was too good for him. But he shrugged his doubts into the back of his mind and looked up.
He was met with kind pools of cor lapis, and a quirk of the lips. Childe couldn’t help the well of affection and contentment that surged through him.
He didn’t know who, or what force, decided soulmates, but he was grateful. Childe could feel the corners of his mouth tug upwards, as he raised the hand ZhongLi had comforted him with, and pressed his lips onto his fingers.
Thank you, for bringing me to ZhongLi.