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you're an immortal god, the oldest of your kind. you saw the land transformed before your very eyes, villages built themselves into cities, friends and allies coming and leaving, and without you knowing thousand years worth of memories have been carved in. you watched a boy grew up into a man, and then his son after him, and then his son after him, and it repeats on and on and on sometimes it feels like you blink your eyes and the season changes.
the lord of geo, the god of contracts — those are two of the many titles your mortals have bestowed upon you and you accept them all. you take all their worships and offerings in exchange of the guidance you'd bless them. and for centuries you're content watching life as it flowed around you.
and yet there's still an odd sense of.. emptiness in you. the strange longing won’t go away despite the many times you share with your fellow adepti. and so you entertain the idea of donning disguises to try living among your people, and for a few decades you claim your curiosity is sated. but in the end the feeling always returns, and settled as you are with your current role as a funeral consultant, you know in your heart that something is still missing.
one day you thought you might have found your answer. your job is done, your purpose is no more; the very city you've sworn to protect has grown strong enough into its own, your disciples and the seven leaders are more than capable of leading from now on.
freedom, that must be it. the one thing you’ve been missing, and surely now you can be free.
but you need to make sure your decision won’t be a mistake. you don’t have the heart to sacrifice your people for your own freedom. you need a trial, you need to test your own judgement. you need a situation where your people can show they’re capable on their own.
and so you make your last contract with the only archon you know loves the world most; your gnosis for a controlled catastrophe and continuous help in protection of liyue is a fair trade in your eyes, and now you're eager to follow through the final chapter of your grand tale.
..until a certain harbinger enters the stage.
--
he introduces himself as tartaglia, the cryo archon's eleventh harbinger. master childe, his subordinate adds. you've heard of the battles he won, the blood he shed, and the storm he brought down, but the young man who smiles as he bows before you exudes nothing but warmth and friendliness. he invites you to lunch in celebration of wangsheng and the northland bank's new partnership, and excitedly tells you about his long boat trip from snezhnaya, all the while stumbling around the mere task of picking up a piece of tianshu meat with his chopsticks.
"aw, dammit! are there no other utensils here? knife and fork, maybe? a spoon?"
he truly is an enigma, you muse, watching as he continues to struggle holding what he claims to be the bane of his existence, despite all those bloody tales attached to his name.
and as the once called god of war, it's only natural that you're drawn to him.
--
you're made to smite, you're made to destroy. your hands have taken lives after lives, have painted the very land you wish to protect with countless red, and yet he leans into you with more trust than you'd ever give yourself. he closes his eyes and listens to your words as if there's nothing else matter more in this world.
"don't i bore you?" your curiosity gets the best of you one night, after you finished telling him yet another tale no one else ever heard the end of, simply because you would usually lose them halfway in.
the young man sitting before you rolls his blue eyes petulantly. "why would you?"
he reaches for his cup and empties it in one go, before noticing your persistent questioning stare and adding, "you love telling stories, i like hearing your voice. it's a win-win, if you ask me."
there's a warmth blooming in your chest. a good kind of dull ache you've grown to notice making itself known whenever you spend time with him. a longing of sorts: to get closer to him, to spend more time with him, to listen to his laughs, and see his smile, and —
"i am fond of you." you decide. he blinks at you and laughs — the quiet, precious one he lets slip when there are only the two of you, that you have learned is the real one he keeps hidden under his masks.
"well, what a coincidence, then!" he says after his laughter quiets down into a shy smile that stutters your heart. he reaches for your hand and laces your fingers with his own. "i'm fond of you too."
--
when you first plan your retirement you picture a quiet life; your nearly empty humble abode and mundane routines, and it goes on and on until fate decides it's your time to go.
but with him you start to imagine more. you imagine adventures and challenges, of days filled with not just duties and works but also outings and spars and so much more. you dream of coming home to a laugh and open arms, and waking up to a smile under the gentle morning light.
he makes you want more, and you're looking forward to everything he promises.
"..one day i'll introduce you to my siblings." he mutters slowly against your chest, sleep starting to get to his voice. "they're a handful, those little rabbits, but you tolerated me long enough."
"i would tolerate you forever." you tease, smiling at his grumbling and playful poke against your arm. you raise your hand to card gently through his hair and he quiets down, so wonderfully docile despite the horror his title brings and the many deeds he's done.
"whatever precious to you i would protect with my life."
your answer seems to please him, and he pulls himself up to reward you with a lazy kiss.
--
“but what about me, master zhongli?”
there’s a playful lilt when he whines and calls your name, but you’ve made yourself fluent enough in reading him to notice the strained rage beneath his taunts. he’s livid, and you want nothing more than to hold his face and gently hush his anger away.
but you have your own part to play, and for now you are the stoic, ancient archon of stone who just gambled your very own land at the cost of your divinity.
the northland bank is empty save from the three — now four of you. the eighth harbinger eyes you with suspicion, her curious stare going back and forth between you and her youngest brother, leaving you no option but to force yourself to keep your attention on the traveler.
“now," you ask your new friend, "do you have any other questions?”
minutes tick by slowly. only after you’re sure both the eighth and the traveler have truly left that you shake off your persona and chase after him. you find him near yujing terrace, and when he doesn’t heed your call you reach out to his hand.
only for him to shake your grip off.
“tartaglia—”
"congratulations for getting what you want. if you'd excuse me, i'd like to have some time for myself."
"you are upset." you accuse.
he stares at you in disbelief, opens his mouth then closes it again.
a moment passes between you.
"i know i'm nothing but her majesty's pawn.." he begins, hand over his chest, only to shake his head and turn away.
"i pray you'd never feel what i feel." is the last thing he said before he leaves, his tone chillingly neutral despite the storm brewing behind his eyes. "although i guess you don't have that kind of liability, huh? being a god and all that."
--
"he asks about you." the traveler says one afternoon when he catches you strolling through guili plains.
"ah." it has been a while since you last saw him.
"have you guys.. ever made up?"
"made up?" you parrot, genuinely confused.
aether pauses and you halt too. "he'll be departing for snezhnaya in two days." he says slowly. "i think he's waiting for you to say something."
"but what's there to say?" you muse out loud because for all your thousands years of life you have never been in a situation like this. you made plans, and everything followed through: liyue came out unscathed, the tsaritsa got what she wanted, and he too had a good fight he’d always longed for.
(you're the geo archon, the prime adeptus — you’re used to people trailing after you trying to please you.)
you know he's still angry for some reason. gone are the days where he would shadow your almost every step, of the evenings where he would grace you with his laughter, of the afternoons with him shaking his head and fondly complaining despite hand already reaching back to his pouch to pay whatever caught your interest for the day, and you would be lying to yourself if you say you didn't ache to see his familiar figure, or even to hear his lovely voice. but you figured he needs time. and time is something you have in excess.
your friend stares at you and smiles; the kind you'd later note similar to one guizhong used to give you. "just.. just make sure you don't have any regrets, okay?"
--
you don't have any regret, you tell yourself days later when you watch over ships leaving the harbor.
it's just a matter of time and things would be fine.
it was necessary, you think to yourself the following weeks when you head to the parlor to start your day.
you hurt him and he needed to heal.
he'll come back to you one day, you hope convince yourself whenever you catch your legs making way yet again to the northland bank the months after.
(..if you'd chased after him, would it be any different?)
--
maybe it's meant to be, you can't help but wonder when you notice the first sign of snow falling down the third —fourth? fifth? year after you last saw him.
weakened as you are now, you're still a god. and gods are meant to watch over people, not indulge in them, nor be part of their life.
--
a huff. fingers drumming against the wooden coffin. "human's lifespan is really short, don't you think?"
you close your eyes, trying to ignore the urge to rub your forehead to stave off a familiar headache growing. "director hu?"
"mmm, nothing. life never fails to surprise me, is all."
it's a young millelith, the last body for today. a small accident during his patrol near tianqiu valley. the image of his lover crying her eyes out still fresh in your mind, and you've been trying not to let your thoughts wander too far, lest they might conjure images of a certain red head and red blood and goodbyes and—
"i heard from his parents he was supposed to be married next month too. poor soul. guess you'll never know the time, huh?"
you open your eyes to her crimson ones peering into your face.
"isn't it about time for you to stop pining?"
--
he's in fontaine. the elegant icy blue cursive marking the small parchment tells you. his mission should take no longer than a few more weeks. i have sent orders for him.
you frown as you count the days until his arrival. you used to be good at waiting; used to embrace the infinity of time and content to watch life play before your eyes, then he came into your life and for the first time you’re actually eager to take part in the play. he kept you grounded, kept your mind from straying away to time that is no longer around, kept you focusing on the current, and after he’s gone you found yourself gradually slipping back to your old role of a mere watcher between mortals.
and it’s funny because it was your original plan, it was what you’re supposed to look forward to, and yet even the sight of liyue prospering on her own couldn’t fill this jagged missing piece in you. you thought the longing would leave with time as you travel the lands in hope of making use of your newfound freedom, but half a decade in and persists it still.
just a few more weeks..
a gingko leaf floats down through your window and you can’t help but smile as it lands on your hand.
(you’ve spent years wishing to be able to see him again, and yet now that you're allowed this one last chance, you have no idea how to even start.)
--
you can feel his presence the moment he steps into your land, and by the time he walks into wangsheng you swear you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears.
"you're looking for me." he says in lieu of hello. "how may this humble servant be of use now, oh great rex lapis?"
"tartaglia—"
"master childe, master zhongli. we must not forgo the formalities. is that not how partners should act to honor their contract in liyue?"
it pains you to see his eyes, the guarded stare he used to reserve for strangers now directed at you. he's so different and yet so familiar, hardened during the years he was away from you.
your entire being aches to touch him.
but first,
"i want.. i need to apologize."
a scoff. "what for?"
the question still catches you by surprise. you aren't sure what to say, so you default back to what you do best; what you remember he told you he loved. you tell him how you feel during those years when he's gone: you tell him what you thought, what you expected, what you decided. you tell him what you learned, what you felt, and how you longed for his presence.
you tell him of the conversations you had with the traveler, with your fellow adepti, with the people of the harbor who knows him as you do. and you tell him of the young millelith and his poor fate; the many regrets you have had, and the one you would never ever want to have.
you tell him of the emptiness you found clawing in your chest — nothing to do with your lack of godhood but him.
and he listens to you. you can see his hand gripping into a fist a couple of times, sensing him seemingly a breath away from turning his back and leaving again, and yet he stays. he stays and waits for you to finish, and oh celestia, is it alright for you to hope he would stay forever?
"and i'm sorry." you end your own tale. "i cannot apologize for the decisions i've taken for the future of liyue, but i've come to realize that i've hurt you in the process and trust me it was never my intention. my feelings for you were.. and still are real. i long for you to be by my side, and if you would let me understand, i would try to make it up to you."
a full stop. the silence between you two is so loud, nothing like the countless quiet, calm evenings you spent with him once upon a time.
six thousand years, and you can't remember if you've ever felt this.. anxious.
he’s searching for something in your face and you can only hope he finds whatever it is; finds you have been nothing but honest.
"..tartaglia?"
"i can't forgive you right now." he tells you straight.
you still.
"..but i'm willing to try."
you let out a breath you didn't know you have been holding. your chest feels lighter for the first time in years. it's something. it's a start. you let your legs finally take you closer to him and reach for his hand, bringing it to your lips in gratitude, and delighting when he doesn't pull back.
(he sighs and leans his head against yours instead and oh how your heart sings.)
you can tell he has his own battles in his head, can guess that despite time the betrayal is still fresh in his mind, but he’s willing to meet you halfway and it’s all that matters.
"i'll make it right." you vow once more against his knuckle.
it will be weeks before he finally trusts you with his real name and the familiar taste of his lips, and a few more months before he gets down on one knee and offers you something you never knew you wanted. but for now you're content with just having him here by your side.