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He is alive.
He is alive.
Those were the only words running through Childe's mind as he yelled, running into the open arms of his lover, hugging him and burying his face into the crook of the older man's neck as he sobbed.
Zhongli seemed to be thinking the same thing, for he hugged Childe tightly despite the strong scent of blood that surrounded the redhead. “You're alright,” the brunette murmured in a hoarse voice, fingers digging into his lover's torn clothes.
“I'm alright.” Childe repeated, fat tears rolling down his bloodied and bruised face as Zhongli suddenly pulled away. “You smell of blood,” the older man murmured, worry clear as day on his face as he examined Childe's beaten figure.
The redhead shook his head, using a scratched hand to wipe away his tears and biting back a wince when he accidentally rubbed at a fresh bruise near his eye. “’m fine,” he sniffled. “Nothin’ I can't handle. You look tired, though..”
Zhongli bit his lip and pulled him back in for a kiss to his forehead, mindful of the amount of close bruises scattered on the younger's face. “I'm alright,” he reassured. “I'm just glad you are, too.”
Childe smiled at the captain sadly, relieved that the older still seemed to have considerable amounts of energy to worry. “My mana's more than half depleted, that's for sure... but,” he bit his lip. “..there were so many that died.. Scaramouche, Pulcinella, and even some of your own squad members..” he shuddered.
Zhongli's relieved smile turned sad at that. “I know,” he said quietly, a bare hand torn from its glove reaching up to stroke Childe's matted hair softly. “but this is a war, and a war is not won without a price to pay. When everything is said and done, all that had fought will be known as heroes and commemorated for their bravery. Many will grieve for their lost friends, comrades, siblings, parents, and lovers, but in the end, there is nothing we can do but grieve.”
Childe sighed, relaxing and leaning into his lover's touch. “..I'm glad you're alive.” Was what he said in response.
Zhongli dropped his hand to squeeze at Childe's comfortingly. “I know,” he murmured. Then, he pulled away once more to pull out his grimoire and flip through the pages, seemingly looking for a spell.
The redhead frowned. Surely the man was exhausted– there was no way he had enough mana to cast another spell! “What are you doing?” He asked, but there was no response.
Zhongli did not say anything until he found what he was looking for, backing a few feet away to cast the spell.
“Earth Creation Magic: Altar of Unity!”
Rock and dirt formed from thin air, spiraling around to form into something else, something different.
As Childe watched the magic with wide eyes, Zhongli turned to him. “I am aware this may be the wrong time to ask you this, and that I should have made more preparations, but I find myself unable to hold back anymore–”
In a kingdom where magic means everything, a boy is born with immense magic power–
The redhead watches as flowers grow from dirt, and rock smoothen into stone, and gapes as the structure is created and lowered slowly towards the ground. It is a small altar decorated with wildflowers, and Zhongli takes his hand and leads him to stand underneath him.
The first leaf represents hope, the second represents integrity, the third means love, the fourth leaf means luck and destined greatness, and in the fifth leaf resides a devil–
Childe tears his gaze away from the newly-made structure to stare with even wider eyes as the Captain of the Golden Dawn kneels down on one knee, taking both of Childe's hands in his own as the wildflowers sway in the weak breeze and release soft fragrances.
Ajax was fifteen years old when he received a five-leaf grimoire, was hailed a monster, and accepted into the Azure Deer squad by the cold captain who looked at him with gentle eyes, and welcomed him with love–
His amber eyes are tired, heavily-lidded from exhaustion, from the war, from the battles he's had to fight and never stop fighting, from the amount of death, and they are filled with sorrow, and grief, but they are also filled with hope, and with love.
Tartaglia was eighteen when he was promoted to 5th rank Senior Class Magic Knight, with the proud hand of his even prouder captain settled on his shoulder and glares of envy piercing through him, and yet he received his award, his title, with pride, chin up and never looking away from what was important–
“Ajax, will you marry me?”
Childe was twenty-two when he met the mysterious yet charming captain of the Golden Dawn, and was drawn in by his beauty and took him to dinner to discuss a new mission he was assigned to work with him by the Wizard King–
“Yes,” Childe– no, Ajax, gasped, tears filling his eyes and falling down his face once more, this time for a different reason. “Yes! I'll marry you!” Flowers fell around them.
Ajax was twenty-three when he watched his comrades die in front of his eyes, watched great warriors fall to their demise by the hands of wicked devils, and won a war with the world beginning to weigh on his shoulders.
Ajax was twenty-three when he told his beloved he would marry him.
Zhongli stood, pulled him close, and kissed him–
On a destroyed battlefield, standing under a stone altar of flowers, Ajax never felt more alive.
FIN.