Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Tsaritsa had eleven children. The eldest being Crown Prince Pierro, and after that, his ten younger siblings: Capitano, Columbina, Dottore, Pulcinella, Scaramouche, Arlecchino, Signora, Pantalone, Sandrone, and Tartaglia- also known as Childe.

Childe had been a little too power hungry from the day he returned from the Abyss at the ripe age of fourteen. He may have been the youngest—and arguably least powerful— of his siblings, but by no means was he dumb or weak. He knew well the competition for the throne between the Tsaritsa’s heirs, particularly that of the higher-ups. Except for Capitano, oddly enough. He always seemed content as second in line.

Childe wasn’t in the way of anyone looking for a spot on the throne. He was dead last in line, and all his siblings knew it. But they were wary of him nonetheless— well, the ones closer to his age and status were. Pierro and Capitano had never acknowledged his existence, and the most he’d gotten out of Columbina was a wave two years ago. Dottore pitied him, he thought, and so did Pulcinella. Down from there, it was all turned backs and words like knives. Sandrone particularly despised him, though he could never understand why.

So, as power-hungry as he was, he wasn’t desperate or insane enough to try murdering all ten of his siblings- well, not yet, at least. But that didn’t mean Childe was giving up- far from it, in fact. He just needed to do as Dottore said and “work smarter, not harder.” And then his mother threw her annual “Connections” Ball. (That wasn’t what it was officially called, of course; it would send the public into a panic.)

The purpose of the Connections Ball was exactly as someone would think: Teyvat’s richest, most powerful, and all around most influential would receive an invite—one was only considered part of the “big leagues” once they received that royally sealed envelope—and then, The Tsaritsa, her beloved children, and her closest advisors could make connections and harvest information as they wished.

Of course, the balls were also used as a means of finding one’s soulmate. While not always the case, it turned out that it was far more likely for someone’s soulmate to be in a similar class; and thus, the public dubbed these gatherings “The Soulmate Balls,” for the higher-ups to mingle with the very top of the rest of high-class society and find their fated love. Which, personally, Childe found amusing— perhaps because they were so close to and yet so far from the truth.

He, of course, was never pressured much to socialize- at least, not even close to Her Highness’s demands for Pierro and Capitano, who were expected to make at least five and three new important connections each year, respectively. So imagine his shock when Childe hit the figurative goldmine.

He’d never been particularly fond of these events; he’d found them boring and stifling, filled with the dusty elderly and way too many girls— and guys, honestly— trying to get with him. The thought made him laugh; if they wanted any real power, they would have picked an older sibling, one with a chance at the throne. No, they wanted the safe choice. The young choice. The one who could give them a comfortable, drama-free life. Of course, he turned them all down.

Being the Tsaritsa’s youngest son, the least important— and, according to his siblings, at least—her favorite, he could likely have her blessing to marry anyone he wished. But if he couldn’t attain power from his blood lineage, there was only one other path to real influence. Marriage. And he wasn’t about to give up his most likely chance for power on a pretty face.

But, y’know… if his power could also come from someone hot, that would be appreciated.

He’d been doing his mandatory rounds- reminding all the people he’d known since birth of his name- when a newcomer in traditional Liyuean garb caught his eye. With such a limited number of invitations given, rarely did Childe find newcomers, and even more so ones he hadn’t already heard of. The likeliest explanation was some new pop star- though he didn’t seem the type. Perhaps he was a scholar? But what must he have discovered or invented to get him an invitation to the Connections Ball? It was probably nothing interesting, but curiosity squirmed in Childe’s gut. Pantalone would know who it was. So, sparing one last glance at the mysterious stranger, Childe went to find him.

His older brother was chatting with some minister when Childe tapped him on the arm. His head shifted slightly to the left, and he glared at him from the corner of his eye. He turned back and continued his conversation. Childe frowned.

“Yes, sorry, Minister. I believe the Northland Bank’s policy on loans is clearly stated in the servicing and loaning contracts, but I’d be more than happy to receive feedback on the formatting and wording—“

“Deepest apologies, Minister,” Childe interrupted, “But I’m afraid I require The Regrator’s service for a moment. If you’ll excuse us.” Pantalone smiled apologetically at the man, muttering a small “duty calls” before allowing himself to be led away by Childe. The moment they were out of earshot, the smiling facade dropped instantly.

“I have half a mind to have you escorted out for that, Ajax,” his elder brother snarled, looking down at Childe the way some would glare down at an insect.

“Oh, you know Mother wouldn’t have that.” Pantalone looked as if he was about to slap him. Childe grinned smugly. Instead, his brother pinched his nose and took several deep breaths.

“What do you want, asshole? And it better be damn urgent, too.”

“Yeah, mhm. Who is that?” He gestured over to the stranger, who was now standing by the eastern wall, chatting idly with the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing.

“Her? Ningguang? She’s been Tianquan for ages. Really, Childe?”

“No, moron, I’m not dumb!” Childe snapped, “I know who Tianquan Ningguang is. Who’s she talking to?”

“Oh, him.” Pantalone chuckled conspiratorially.

“He does seem like your type… rich, powerful, not bad on the looks side- and definitely not bad on the brains side.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, dumbass.”

“Fine, Fine. That, Ajax, is the latest Emperor of Liyue, Morax. After his father, the previous Emperor, and his elder sister, first in line for the throne, died in a terrible accident earlier this year, he ascended to take their place. Last of his bloodline, and everything. I imagine he’s under quite the pressure to find a spouse.”

“Hm.” Childe wasn’t really paying attention anymore. He was more focused on the jackpot he’d just hit. Last of their bloodline, powerful, and looking for a spouse.

“Is that all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You pulled me aside from important Harbinger business to ask the name of your latest fling? Really? Tartaglia!” But by then, Childe was already halfway across the ballroom.

The young prince stationed himself by the banquet table and waited. He watched as the Emperor said goodbye to the Tianquan, and started walking away. Right towards him. He startled. Okay, Childe, game face. Don’t blow this.

“Oh, Emperor, just the man I’ve been looking for!” Emperor Morax paused, a baklava cube halfway to his mouth. Almost mournfully, he set the cube back down on his plate, and turned to face him.

“Well, I’d be more than happy to be of assistance—but I do not believe I have so far made your acquaintance.”

Oh shit. Holy shit. His voice was.. deep. And hot. Very, very hot.

“O-Oh, no, I just hadn’t found the right opportunity yet, but I suppose there’s no time like the present. I’m Tartaglia, eleventh of Her Majesty’s harbingers and youngest of her sons. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He managed an awkward bow. Morax chuckled. (And oh GODS, it sounded more like an earthy rumble than a chuckle.)

“Had I known I was in the presence of royalty, Prince Tartaglia, I would’ve bowed myself. Excuse my lack of etiquette.”

“Oh, please, Emperor, just call me Childe. Everyone at these stuffy balls calls me Tartaglia.”

“As you wish, then, Prince Childe.”

“So, what brings you here? I don’t remember your father ever coming to these.” Morax sobered, and Childe winced.

“My father had… other priorities than fraternizing with the upper crust.”

“What makes you different?” Childe asked quietly.

“As the last of my name, it would be… irresponsible of me not to attempt to find a spouse.” Childe nodded somberly. The Emperor’s tone almost made him feel guilty for snooping. Almost.

“And yourself, Prince Childe? Why do you return to these “stuffy balls” year after year?”

“My mother expects much of all of her children, Emperor. Besides that, I suppose, I hold out hope that I’ll have better luck with soulmates than my sister.”

“Ah yes, Princess Signora, betrothed to a Knight of Favonius. A tragic tale, his disappearance was. Even she met him here, however. Hm. Perhaps the public is on to something, what with the “Soulmate Ball” alias they’ve given these celebrations.” He laughed. It appeared this Emperor Morax knew more than most about the Snezhnayan royal family.

“Indeed.” Childe’s stomach rumbled. The Emperor glanced forlornly down to his plate, where the baklava cube had fallen onto its side, honey oozing everywhere.

“Oh, Emperor, don’t let me stop you from eating. I barely bother with etiquette anymore.” To prove his point, Childe picked up the closest bite-sized dish he could reach and shoved it in his mouth without missing a beat, forgoing a plate entirely. Morax snorted.

“What’s so funny?” Childe said, mouth full of food- thought it came out more like, “Whaz o unny?” He swallowed. And then his tongue started burning. His eyes started watering. He glanced, alarmed, down at the table- only to find the appetizer he had just shoved in his mouth whole was a stuffed jueyun chili. Shit.

Emperor Morax rumbled with deep laughter as Childe began pacing up and down the banquet table, looking for a glass of water, or milk, or something- anything!!- to ease the burning pain. He found nothing. He spun on his heel, desperate to have another look, only to be met with Morax stuffing a cream-cheese-covered-cracker into the unprepared prince’s mouth.

Shit, he was tall. Childe was used to being head to head with the tallest of his siblings, but the Emperor must’ve been at least a half-foot above him. Morax rubbed his thumb across Childe’s lower lip- most likely to remove the bit of cream cheese that lingered- but still. Wow. His hands were very close to Childe’s mouth. He swallowed hard.

“Better, your highness?” His voice still rumbled with a bit of amusement as he rested his hands back at his side. Childe chuckled.

“Yes, thank you. I can’t believe I, the great northerner that I am, was bested by a jueyun chili. Fire water is much hotter than that!” Emperor Morax raised an eyebrow.

“Fire water? Shall I even ask?”

“Oh, your highness, you are in for a treat. We’ll see how high Liyue has built up your spice tolerance. See if you can handle this after all of the demon peppers growing in your homeland.” Morax chuckled. Childe grabbed a bottle of fire water from the table and looked back at him, a glint in his eye.

“That is, if you dare join me for the Snezhnayan twist on truth or dare.”

Morax followed him out onto a balcony— screened in, of course; the wind blew snow into the faces of any that dared go outside— where the two of them sat presently. Childe, obviously, hadn’t had the foresight to grab shot glasses, but when he turned to the Emperor, the taller man just smiled and pulled two from the folds of his outermost robe. Childe whisked them away from him gratefully, and gestured for Morax to take the chair across from him. He obliged.

“So, dare I ask to try some of this “fire water” you hold so highly?” Childe snorted.

“Sure, but I guarantee you won’t like it.” He uncorked the bottle, deftly filling up two shot glasses before handing one to Morax.

“You filled it to the brim,” Morax pointed out, with a note of concern.

Childe smiled, taking his own shot and gulping it before setting the empty glass down.

“What, scared you won’t be able to keep it down?” Morax frowned and took the shot, smoothly pouring it into his mouth and swallowing hard. He set the glass back on the table, seemingly unaffected… until his eyes started watering. He turned, trying to discreetly cough into his fist. He was going red in the face.

“Can’t take your alcohol?”

“Are you,” cough, “trying to poison me, Prince Childe?” Childe grinned, faking offense.

“On our first meeting, Emperor? You wound me.”

“You mean to say that you drink this regularly but lose your cool over a jueyun chili? Should I be concerned?” Morax had mostly recovered from his coughing fit now, though he was rubbing his throat tenderly.

“Well, now you know why the new recruits use the fire water as a disincentive. Otherwise, any sane soldier would back out of every dare.”

“Hm, I see. And what’s to stop you from backing out, Prince Childe? You’re seemingly unaffected.”

“Excellent point, my dear friend, but who said I was sane?” Emperor Morax laughed again, and Childe found himself laughing too—not like the snorts, chuckles, and fake laughs from inside— genuine laughter, the kind he hadn’t shared with a stranger in years. Perhaps he could see himself with Morax for the foreseeable future. It’d be a pity when he had to die.

“In that case, your highness, shall we begin? The night won’t be getting any younger.”

“Indeed, Emperor. I suppose it’s time then: truth, or dare?”

_____

The night had progressed with laughter, taunts, and a few shots on both sides.The first came when Morax had accidentally asked Childe about secret, inner-Fatui workings, and the second when the young prince had been dared to steal Scaramouche’s hat. The Emperor had also suffered, having declined to share his childhood nickname or tap one of the guards on the shoulder and ask where the bathroom was in Liyuean.

“Alright, Childe,” the Emperor said, having been dared to refer to him by only his first name for the rest of the night, “truth or dare.”

“Hmm. Dare.”

“You’ve picked dare the last five times!”

“Well, I’m just a very daring person.” They both laughed, even though it wasn’t all that funny. It was very easy to get drunk off of fire water.

“Fine then. I dare you to… show me your soulmate mark. You have one, right?”

“Yes, I do, but… that’s all, Emperor?”

“That is all I could think of, Childe.” The Snezhnayan sighed and rolled up his sleeve, exposing his upper arm to the biting cold.

“Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve looked at it, it might’ve disappeared completely and I wouldn’t even have noticed!” Awaiting a response and receiving none, Childe looked up again.

Morax was quieter than usual. He was staring in shock- or awe, perhaps- at the mark on his arm.

“Emperor?” Still saying nothing, but looking away from Childe’s arm now, he rolled up his own sleeve. In small, angled letters- Childe’s own handwriting, he realized- was written “Ajax”. Exactly how he would sign a letter to a close family member, if he had any. Morax’s eyes met his own.

“Ajax?” Morax finally spoke, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. Childe just nodded, dumbstruck. Staring down at his arm again to confirm, the young man indeed found the proof he was looking for—in elegantly curled cursive, the Emperor’s name was inscribed on his arm. His real name.

“Tartaglia, mother’s looking for you. She said something about wanting to make an announcement—” Signora turned the corner and stopped mid-sentence. Childe and Morax stared at her. Her eyes narrowed on Childe’s exposed arm, and then the Emperor’s. She gaped.

“Mother’s—her speech can wait. But not for long. Wrap up this… session.” With her composure regained, she turned on her heel, icy as ever, and whirled back inside.

“...What now?” Morax asked quietly.

“I- I don’t know, Emperor—”

“Zhongli. If you would, you may call me Zhongli— though I suppose you’ve realized that was my birth name by now.”

“Okay… Zhongli. I guess we should probably head inside.” Emperor Morax— no, Zhongli— stood, so Ajax joined him. Until, suddenly, he dropped to one knee and fished out a small box from inside his robes.

“Zhongli?”

“I promised my sister that, should I ever meet my soulmate, I would marry them. I may have only known you for one night, Ajax, but I am so very grateful that it is you. I know it is a lot to ask, for you to leave Snezhnaya and your whole life behind for a man you’ve just met… but I’d be most pleased if you would marry me.” Childe stared in shock. Quickly, he reviewed his options.

Zhongli: hot, smart, rich, powerful, last of his bloodline. His soulmate. Asking for his hand in marriage. Well, it isn’t much of a choice, is it?

“Yes. I would love that, Zhongli.” He found he didn’t even have to force the emotion into his voice- he was already getting choked up. Though, that was more likely from the life-changing decision he’d just made, and the fact it meant his life-long dream was coming true.

Zhongli- his fiancé- stood, a smile wide on his face, as he took hold of Childe’s hand and slid the ring onto his finger. It was a little big.

“I took the largest size they had. It’s easier to have a ring sized down than up. Besides, it’s merely temporary. A ring as cheap as this one isn’t fit for the future Emperor of Liyue.” Childe examined the ring in question. It was of obvious Liyue make, with the gold band carved into delicate, graceful swirls. In the center was a cluster of five small diamonds in the shape of a flower, and on either side of that were two larger jade pieces, carved into the shape of leaves. It was clearly a very nice ring. Childe just nodded numbly.

“Do you— do you just carry an engagement ring around with you everywhere you go?”

“How else would you expect me to fulfill my promise?” Childe laughed at the man towering over him, and turned towards the door. Zhongli tucked the box back into his hidden pocket, and his hand dropped to hold Childe’s. The prince tensed, caught off guard. The Emperor’s thumb stroked gently up and down the side of his hand, but it only served to prickle uncomfortably.

Zhongli looked down at him affectionately, and Childe did his best to return the mushy “couple face.”

“We should— we should go.”

“Indeed.” But neither of them moved. After a long silence, Childe took the first step, and Zhongli fell into step beside him. His free hand came up to open the door, but paused on the doorknob.

“Zhongli?”

“Yes, Ajax?”

“My family… is very observant.”

“I would expect nothing less of the Snezhnayan royal family.”

“They’ll see the ring.”

“I have no problem with your family seeing our engagement.” Childe paused.

“You don’t— you’re not… embarrassed?” Zhongli turned, confused.

“No? Whatever would I have to be ashamed of?” Childe sighed, mumbling a small “never mind” under his breath as he turned the doorknob. Zhongli squeezed his hand, and the prince could feel his face heating up. The door swung open, and when the world didn’t end, Childe let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and made his way to find his mother.

_____

“Oh, Tartaglia. There you are. And just in time too, I was about to start without you.” Childe chuckled nervously. The Tsaritsa was facing away from him, straightening out the back of the curtains.

“And who have you brought with you? Emperor Morax? I had assumed I wouldn’t need to specify this was family only.”

“Well, that’s the thing, mother.” She turned smoothly towards her son. Her piercing gaze fell first on him, then Morax, and then down on their still-intertwined hands. Finally, her stare fell on the ring. The Tsaritsa’s eyes narrowed.

“May I speak to you, Tartaglia? In private.” Zhongli nodded gracefully, squeezing Childe’s hand one last time before letting go and leaving the room. His mother’s frown deepened.

“Explain. You have sixty seconds.”

“I won’t say I love him. You and I both know that’d be a lie. But I’ve ascertained he has the potential to love me.”

“Oh? And what, pray tell, led you to this conclusion.”

“We’re soulmates.” This seemed to stop her for a moment. Those few seconds of silence may have been the longest in Childe’s life. Then, her face fell into a weary smile and she sighed.

“Ajax. I don’t wish my life for you, but I suppose you’re dead set on the… execution… of this plan?” Childe nodded.

“Well, at the very least I know you will be well cared for during your time with Morax. I spoke with him earlier; he is compassionate, but intelligent, and he will do what needs to be done. I hope you know it will not be easy.” She sighed again, and crossed towards him. Though she was four inches shorter than him, her six-inch heels more than made up for it. For a moment, she seemed almost... sad.

“You have my blessing to marry Morax. But I bid you, be careful. And know it is never too late to change your mind.” Then, quickly, before he could second guess himself, Ajax hugged his mother for what might very well be the last time for many years. And, to his surprise, she hugged back.

“I’ll miss you, mother.” His voice came quieter than he’d expected.

“As I will you, my shining star. Lead with your head, my child, but listen to your heart. Sometimes it holds the greater truth. A mother’s parting words. Now go. I believe I now have a more important announcement to make.” She let go, turning back to the curtains. He smiled, sadly, and turned away, leaving through the same door as Zhongli. His fiancé was waiting on the other side. He tilted his head questioningly.

“We have her blessing. In fact, she’s about to announce the engagement.”

“Is everything alright? I do not mean to pry, but you seem… distressed.”

“Of course. I will miss Snezhnaya and my mother, but it isn’t as if I will never return.”

“You don’t seem to be very upset about leaving your siblings,” Zhongli pointed out. Childe snorted.

“Good riddance to them, I say. Sandrone hasn’t said a kind word to me all her life, and Pantalone would gladly arrange my funeral. Signora likes to pretend I’m the dust beneath her feet, Arlecchino is batshit crazy, Scaramouche literally calls me “dead face”, Pulcinella- well, I might miss him a little. Dottore is also insane, and I’ve literally never spoken to Columbina, Capitano, or Pierro. I don’t even know their personal names.” Zhongli seemed shaken.

“I take it you didn’t know siblings could hate each other?” The Emperor shook his head.

“Yeah? Try having ten of them, I bet you’d understand.” Zhongli smiled slightly, taking his hand again.

“I was planning to leave for Liyue tomorrow, but I will gladly extend my stay for as long as you need to pack your things and give your farewells.”

“Does Liyue have no urgent business?” Morax chuckled.

“Most of the day-to-day work is handled by the Qixing. If I spent all my time settling civil disputes or filing paperwork, I would find myself with a to-do list miles long. Nothing would ever get done.” A thunderous- if muffled- applause sprang up from behind them, and both men jumped. Childe could only conclude his mother had just shared the news with the crowd.

“Childe, I- I must ensure you know our relationship can stay platonic. I will never force you into anything more. Having you rule by my side is plenty enough.”

“I’m flattered, Zhongli, but I will do what needs to be done for yourself and the people of Liyue. I’m not fragile.”

“And I would never imply otherwise.” Childe smiled softly.

“A half-day will be more than enough time for me to gather my things. Are you staying in the palace tonight?” Zhongli nodded calmly, and a gentle strand of chocolate brown hair fell across his face at the motion. He wanted to reach up and tuck it gently behind his ear, and his heart gave a little flutter at the idea. Stupid, traitorus heart. This plan wouldn’t work at all if he fell in love with the Emperor! Zhongli’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Yes. Ningguang informed me it was the western wing.”

“Oh good, that’s close to the royal suites. I’ll show you to your room.”

“I would be most grateful.” Childe nodded, leading his new fiancé through a side door and out into the palace corridors. They took a left turn, then a right, before coming to a grand staircase. Ascending, they turned left once more, coming at last to the west wing. They headed down the hallway, and Childe almost spoke, before-

“Ajax! What the actual fuck!?” He spun, turning behind him just as Scaramouche rounded the corner.

“You can’t marry a man you’ve just met!” He stormed towards them.

“Well hello to you too,” Childe muttered. Zhongli said nothing.

“Scaramouche, dearest brother-” Childe hissed as his older brother grabbed his shoulder harshly, digging his nails in as he pulled him away from the Emperor’s side.

“Quit the mind games, Childe! You-”

“Let go of him.” Scaramouche snorted, turning to Morax, who had a fiery glint in his eye. He released Childe, who rubbed his shoulder gingerly.

“Would you look at that. Wonder if your latest fling would be so eager to marry you if he knew your dirty little secret.” Ajax winced. Morax glowered.

“If you’re quite done,” Childe snapped, “How about you find someone else to complain to? I’m sure Signora or Sandrone would be more than happy to empathize with you about how awful I am. Piss off and bother them instead.” Scaramouche smirked, turning on his heel.

“Fine. If you want to throw your freedom away to be some rich man’s lapdog, so be it. The palace will be warmer without you anyway. One less mouth to feed.” And with that, he disappeared around a corner. They listened to his footsteps fade.

“Childe-”

“Don’t. Don’t say anything. Your room is the second to last door on the left. If you need anything, there’s a bell you can ring right outside.” So Childe left too, walking calmly away until he was sure Morax could no longer see or hear him. Then he broke into a sprint, dashing up the stairs, down the hallway, and to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He listened to the click of the lock, and threw himself onto the bed.

“Some rich man’s lapdog—”

He shook his head violently. Normally, he would never let Scaramouche get to him. His every word was like a twisted dagger, intended only to hurt, and he would never let someone stab him, so why should he let someone cut him with barbed words?

No, he thought, it wasn’t what he said, not really. It was the company. He recalled the way Morax’s face had twisted with fury when Scaramouche grabbed him, and the way it had melted to concern when he’d left. But since when did he care what a near stranger thought? Since that near stranger held your entire future in his hands. He chuckled bitterly- and winced when his shoulder moved. Right. He should probably check that out.

Making his way to the bathroom, he removed his vanguard coat- which, to his dismay, had little imprints in the fabric of the shoulder- and under that, his white t-shirt had small, nail-shaped holes in it. He took that off too, not bothering to hang it over the side of the counter, instead just tossing it to the trash.

There were five little crescent moons on his shoulder, courtesy of one older brother. Childe sighed.

He washed them gently, bothering only with disinfectant. It would be a waste of bandages and they’d be healed by morning. Vaguely, he wondered how someone so short could even reach his shoulder. The thought made him laugh.

Logically, Ajax knew he should at least begin packing tonight, but he found himself unable to imagine anything other than sleep. It would be his last night in this bed, in this room- and he’d had a big day. So instead, Childe removed his outer layer of pants- opting for his comfier under layer- and switched off the lights, falling into a light and fitful sleep.

Chapter Text

The sun shone brightly and blindingly through Childe’s windows, but he was already well awake. One didn’t go through Fatui boot camp without having an early-rising routine beaten into them.

He’d spent the hour or so before sunrise puzzling over what all to bring. As the new Emperor-consort, it was unlikely he’d keep many of his traditional Snezhnayan clothes for long. His weapons, he’d miss, but he doubted he could get them through the teleport security. Besides, he often used water constructs anyway. And Childe was nothing if not up for a challenge.

Looking around his room, it almost shocked him how few of his possessions he really needed to bring with him. For a palace— and a room— he’d lived in all his life, it was mostly bare. The walls were a clean light gray, with naught but a single photo hung on them. All of his clothes were hung neatly in the walk-in closet, hung in row after row of fur-lined silk suits and more accommodating athletic wear.

He had one small bookshelf next to his desk; mostly filled with old textbooks and non-fiction on anatomy, geography, etiquette— even one on history, a recent purchase. The bottom shelf was reserved for his collection of journals, for important occasions and even just the occasional check-in. He’d filled out about four throughout his years, and was about a third through a fifth. He smirked at last night’s hasty entry: ‘Marrying the Liyue Emperor, we’re soulmates. Leaving tomorrow. Scaramouche is a bitch.’ He didn’t even recall writing it.

Eventually, he settled on one small suitcase containing two day outfits, one dress outfit, two sets of sleepwear and his favorite athletic pieces. He packed two books– one storybook, more for appearances than actual use, and the half-read history book– and one empty journal, just in case, though he’d have to be careful what he filled it with. At the last minute, he pulled the photo off of the wall. It was a picture from a charity event he’d attended a few years ago at Arlecchino’s insistence. He, to this day, insisted he wasn’t the charitable type— but he did end up enjoying himself.

Arlecchino had taken him to the Fatui-sponsored orphanages that she’d funded. Childe, against his will, had ended up caring for the children on his own for several hours. They talked first about the orphanage, a little boy piping up about the leaky roof and how he’d fixed it. Childe, a little impressed, asked him how he did it, and from there, it spiraled. By the time Arlecchino returned, he was laying on the floor with the boy— Teucer— and his siblings, Tonia and Anton, drawing pictures with crayon stumps.

At the end, they’d taken a picture. Childe in the front– holding Teucer– while Anton sat on his shoulders and Tonia clung to his legs. Arlecchino was beside him, and the rest of the kids were sitting in a neat little row in the front.

As he removed the photo from the frame, smiling fondly, a second slip of paper fell out from behind it. It was quite detailed– for being drawn with a tiny sliver of blue crayon– but it appeared to be some sort of diagram for the inner workings of a clock. In the corner, scribbled like how Childe had tried to teach him, was Teucer’s name. After a second of hesitation, he tucked both the picture and the drawing into the front of his notebook and into his suitcase.

Satisfied with his packing, he zipped up the pack. However, there was one last thing to be taken care of before he was ready to go. Stoking the small fire he’d attempted to start in the fireplace, he fanned the flames carefully. After several minutes of cautious pampering, he stepped back. With a sigh, Tartaglia took his journals from the shelf and flipped through them a final time.

Here was the documentation of beginning and end of boot camp, and here was the entry from after Childe received official recognition as the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger. There were the entries from each of the soulmate balls, and entries for every new fling. He cringed at these. Eventually, he came to the incriminating pages, the ones scribbled from top to bottom with detailed notes on each of his siblings, their strengths and weaknesses, their fears and achievements. He had pages on all of the recurring guests at his mothers balls, and pages on the gods he’d researched and the countries he’d visited.

Then, he found the pages that damned the journals. The ones filled with plots and power plays. The ones detailing his plan, the ones about poison and weapons and contact information for the most discreet of assassins. He scoffed, throwing the first journal into the fire. He watched as it burned, casting a warming glow on his legs and devouring his past before his eyes. There was no room for the past in this future. The second journal went into the fire. It, too, crumbled to ash, and was followed by the third journal, then the fourth. The fifth journal was gone almost as soon as he held it.

Once the flames burned quieter again, he sent a small splash of hydro over the remaining flames– then one more to quell the embers. He stood, staring at the fire for but a moment before pulling his suitcase behind him through the door, shutting it with a quiet click. The last time he would ever leave that room. He didn’t bother locking it.

Finally, he headed down the hallway. After last night, he wasn’t the most excited to speak to Zhongli, but it needed to be done. The plan would not be interrupted by his siblings’ antics.

Just then, he heard footsteps. Speak of the devil.

“Pantalone, Pulcinella! It’s good to see you.” They paused their conversation, Pantalone looking up and towards him. While they were stopped, he walked a little faster to catch up.

“So the bastard actually did it. I’m not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed.” Pantalone smiled, a taunt somewhere between his pristine white teeth. Childe laughed dryly.

“Ajax! I’m thrilled to hear about your engagement. I see some of us have better luck than Signora— I’m sure she’s exceptionally bitter today.” Pulcinella, for his part, sounded genuine. Childe managed a smile.

“Thank you for the warning, Pulcinella. I’ll make sure to stay out of her way.”

“Ah, no worries— and no need for such formalities! We’re in private, and goodness knows how long it may be before I see you again.” He nodded gratefully.

“I will miss you, brother. Though, I can’t say the same for you, Pantalone.”

“Go to hell, Childe.” But even Pantalone’s usual dry insults had lost their barb. Huh. Goodbyes truly are the stuff of miracles.

“Well, you’d best not keep your new fiancé waiting! You must be quite smitten to marry him on the spot like that.” Pantalone snorted. Childe faked a smile.

“Oh, you have no idea. But you’re right— I wouldn’t want him to be late on his return.” Pulcinella nodded solemnly. Pantalone rolled his eyes.

“It was wonderful saying our farewells. I wish you well on your journey, and to know that you may always return to your home in the ice. Though I’m sure the Golden House will be most kind to you.”

“And best wishes to you two as well. But I must be off.” With one final glance and one last smile, he brushed past them to the staircase, lifting his bag into his arms as he descended. Making the left turn, he walked down Zhongli’s hallway- only to run into a swarm of servants and attendants buzzing outside of his door. As he approached, one of them seemed to take notice, swiveling fast to face him.

“Master Tartaglia, you’re early.”

“Deepest apologies for throwing off the schedule, but you needn’t wait longer to return to Liyue. I’m all ready.”

“Where are your bags? I can send someone to fetch them, Master Tartaglia.”

“No need. Everything I require is right here.” He patted the top of his suitcase. Another servant turned.

“Oh? But how can that be, Master Tartaglia? Do you not wish for further articles of clothing, or, perhaps, your weapons?”

“Again, there’s really no need.” The attendants turned away for a second. Childe hesitated, then spoke.

“Actually, I do have a question.”

“Yes, Master Tartaglia?”

“Yeah, it’s about that, actually. You’re under Zh- Emperor Morax and Lady Ningguang’s services, correct?” The servant nodded.

“Then why do you address me as “Master Tartaglia?” As is common etiquette of foreign leader’s attendants, you would address me by my Snezhnayan title. I mean no disrespect, of course. I’m just curious.”

“Orders from the Emperor.” Huh. The attendant turned back, seemingly distracted by a new wave of buzz from the crowd. It didn’t take long to tell why when the crowd parted, making way for Morax— and Tianquan Ningguang behind him— to stroll down the hall. Zhongli’s face lit up when he saw Childe.

“Prince Childe. You are early.”

“Indeed, Emperor. I found it took me less time than expected to pack. We should be able to follow your original schedule.”

“Wonderful.” Zhongli gracefully took his arm, and Childe fell into step beside him.

“Pardon my interruption, Emperor,” came Tianquan Ningguang’s smooth voice, “but I doubt that will be possible. We’ve made reservations for brunch at a local cafe. For two.” The venom in her voice caught Childe off guard. He’d hardly spoken to this lady, and she already had a vendetta against him? She seemed friendly enough— if a bit… high-strung— when he spoke to her last year.

“Oh, I do not expect that to be a problem. I am quite certain a cafe so high-scale as to require reservations for a mere brunch will be plenty accommodating.” He looked over to Childe.

“Join me for brunch?”

“I’d be most inclined, Emperor.” He shot Zhongli a grateful look. If the sharp man noticed, he didn’t react.

“Tianquan, would you mind accompanying Lady Ganyu in the other carriage? I wish for some… privacy with my fiancé.” Ningguang nodded, though not before shooting Childe a nasty glare.

When they made it out to the carriages, the group split. Zhongli climbed into the first carriage, pausing before offering Childe his hand to climb in. Childe, who was halfway in already, accepted. The valet lifted Childe’s suitcase– which was so small as to fit under the plush bench he sat upon– and swung the door shut quietly behind them. Childe, always hypervigilant, began the mandatory check of the new space. No cameras, no microphones, easily securable exits.. the window latch was even a mere slider, with no lock in sight. The glass did appear several inches thick, though. It would be difficult to break, should the need arise. The carriage began moving, interrupting his train of thought.

“How was your morning, Ajax? I trust everything went smoothly in regards to my attendants?” Childe nodded.

“Zhongli, I don’t think I’ve seen that many servants around anyone but my mother! Though, I suppose it makes sense, with you both being the leaders of your respective nations.” Though his tone was bright and friendly, he cringed internally at the implied intimacy of calling the Emperor by his private name. It would likely take him a while to get used to it completely.

“Many of those you’ve spoken to today have been in service to me since I was a child, even as the youngest. Is this not the case for you?”

“No,” he responded, slightly amused, “I’d be lucky to have someone address me as “Prince” some days. Obviously there’s the kitchen and cleaning staff, and sometimes I speak to one of the palace’s secretaries, Katarina, but aside from that, I’m pretty much on my own.” Zhongli seemed to consider this. He was silent for a while, before starting again.

“Well, I suppose I could see the practicality in such a practice– but what of your luggage? I saw only that suitcase, but surely one of my attendants has transported your other bags prior?”

“No, actually. This is my only bag.”

“Is there not more you wished to bring with you? I brought more simply for this single-day trip.”

“Another matter of practicality, I guess. That and the fact I simply don’t own that many things.” Zhongli’s face couldn’t seem to settle between confusion or concern.

“I am afraid I do not understand. Have you not collected a number of things over the years you have been alive, as is common practice?” Childe laughed.

“Not really. The fact of the matter is, I’ve spent most of my life training. The only things I really have are my clothes, a couple of books, and my weapons. But… I couldn’t really bring those through teleportation security.”

“Have you no interests? No hobbies?”

“I like sparring. I’d say that’s a hobby. And kids. Kids are cool.” Zhongli looked as though he were constipated— and his eyes were full of pity.

“No. Nope! Do not make that face at me.”

“I am simply concerned that your… “hobbies”… are stabbing and children.” Childe burst into a fit of laughter while his fiancé just massaged his temples.

“I say I like sparring and you come back with “stabbing and children”.”

“You understand, Ajax, that children are not a hobby, nor are they a verb. We will have to find you more acceptable things to do.” Childe scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Yes. Like calligraphy or tailoring. Pottery. Culinary arts. Perhaps you could even take up weapon-making.”

“Oh? And dare I inquire what hobbies befit an Emperor?”

“I myself enjoy calligraphy, and the study of history and geography as far as my literary preferences. I also enjoy sparring… though I more so practice a peaceful, meditative style of fighting.” But Childe had stopped listening the moment he’d said the word “sparring.”

“Oh, Zhongli, you have to fight me!”

“…Hmm?”

“Yeah, when we get to Liyue! It is customary for me to test my fighting prowess against all the new competition I meet, so I can further my strength and skills in combat.” Zhongli looked mildly worried.

“I am afraid the Emperor and his new fiancé exchanging blows in the courtyard would not be smiled upon.” Childe pouted.

“But—”

“—However,” Zhongli cut him off, a patient smile on his face, “I did not say it was impossible. We would merely have to… ensure our privacy beforehand. Though I am warning you, I doubt you would actually enjoy it. I am concerned it would be a serious hit to your pride.” He gasped in (semi) mock offense. Zhongli smiled, as if he hadn’t just insulted Ajax’s entire being and life purpose.

“Bold of you to assume I’d lose!”

“Bold of you to assume you’d win.” Before Childe could think of a suitable comeback to properly grind the stuck-up asshole in front of him into the dirt, the carriage rolled to a stop. With a wry smile, Zhongli stood, having to bend at the waist to get through the doorway. He offered Childe his hand, but he ignored it, still slightly offended. Zhongli just laughed and found Childe’s hand at his side instead.

They entered the restaurant to find Ningguang already inside, talking to someone who appeared to be the manager. She turned when they entered, giving a slight bow to Zhongli and completely ignoring Childe’s presence. He shifted uncomfortably.

“My humblest of welcomes, Emperor Morax, Prince Tartaglia. It is an honor to serve you today.”

“If I may,” Morax chimed in, “due to recent developments, Tartaglia’s official title has changed to Emperor Consort. It would be most appreciated if you would refer to him as such subsequently.” The manager blinked for a second, processing. Ningguang frowned.

“Of course, Emperor. My apologies.” Morax chuckled, but it seemed to Childe flat and devoid of actual amusement.

“It is not I that you owe an apology, sir.”

“R-right.” He turned to Childe.

“Deepest apologies, Emperor Consort Tartaglia.” He bowed deeply, and it wasn’t long before Childe gestured for him to stand– still uncomfortable with the reminder of his new status.

“No worries— I’ve been called worse, anyhow.” Though his tone was light and teasing, the room paused awkwardly.

“Well,” the manager broke the silence, “Allow me to show you to your table. It’s right this way,” the man awkwardly directed. Morax followed, Childe at his side, with Ningguang behind them. The back of his neck prickled under her sharp glare.

Once they were seated, the manager was quick to scuttle away to some dark corner. The table was small– almost too small for the three of them to sit comfortably. It was pushed against a floor-to-ceiling crystal window, and the sun’s early rays shone spectacularly down from above, fracturing into a thousand flecks of rainbow scattered across every surface. Zhongli took the middle chair, and Ningguang the chair to his left. Childe, ever the least powerful in the room, sat last– in the only remaining chair on Zhongli’s right.

The Emperor looked through the window, his golden eyes staring softly at the gleaming white landscape before them. “I must admit, I did not think Snezhnaya’s beauty could ever match that of my homeland. But this... the snowfall is beautiful.” Childe laughed quietly, staring out into the snow. The light refracting off of it seemed to wink at him as would an old friend.

“It is, isn’t it? Those who brave the blizzard witness the dawn of a thousand frozen crystals. Not many do, of course.” Childe frowned. “Oh, but I’m getting all poetic with my excitement. It’s only a few hours before the snow is long behind me.” The room was quiet for a moment.

“Perhaps, Emperor, having Tartaglia leave Snezhnaya at this point is inconsiderate of us. He is clearly most attached to his homeland.” Ningguang didn’t even acknowledge his presence— not to mention the downright insult of not using his title— or even his title as Prince of the territory they currently resided in. Ajax bristled.

“Actually, Tianquan,” Childe nearly snapped, “I am more attached to my fiancé. I shall follow where he goes and perform the duties required of me, as I so far have and always will.” Ningguang opened her mouth, as if to snap back, but sat back with a huff as Zhongli raised his hand.

“Now, there’s no need for a fight. Ningguang, my fiancé and I have spoken and covered these issues. He has assured me that he is quite certain of his choice.” Ajax smiled smugly. Morax turned to him.

“And Tartaglia, I wish you would try harder to get along with my Tianquan. With your new position, you two will have much difficulty performing your duties if you are constantly at odds. You both are the most important people in my life at the present time, and it would mean much to me if you would at least attempt to get along.” Sufficiently chastised, they sat back in their seats; two sulking, and the third complacent.

“I-If you’re ready to order, I can...” All three turned sharply. The poor server, now with three sets of piercing royal gazes upon him, started shaking.

“N-Never mind. I’ll come back later.” He turned tail and barely refrained from sprinting away.

“…Perhaps it is time to look at the menu?”

_____

After a pleasant— if a little… tense— meal, the three returned to the carriages; only to have Zhongli’s retinue inform them the valets had insisted on moving them a ways away. At least they’d bothered to shovel a pathway through the ever-falling snow for the royals to follow.

Zhongli, surrounded again by a mass of servants, flicked his wrist, dismissing the mass of them. A few fell back, bringing up the rear, while the majority ventured up front with Lady Ningguang, leaving Morax and Childe in semi-solitude.

“I apologize for Tianquan Ningguang’s behavior today, Ajax. Her bitterness is uncalled for and recently developed. I have never seen her so averse to an incomer.” Zhongli didn’t seem ashamed or angry so much as pensive; as if Ningguang’s downright nasty behavior was nothing more than a new puzzle for him to solve. Ajax seethed. Nevertheless, he knew the proper response.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Zhongli. I’m the one who should be apologizing anyway, I did as much provoking as she did.” The sugared lie tasted bitter in his mouth. All he did was defend himself, and they both knew it.

“I appreciate your cooperation, Ajax.” A sentence that would’ve sounded bland or even phony from anyone else somehow seemed incredibly genuine from Zhongli. Maybe it was the look on his face. “I suspect Ningguang distrusts you because of the sudden shift in power.” Childe nodded understandingly, like he knew he should.

“As many would, Emperor.” Now it was Zhongli’s turn to nod. They were quiet for a moment, before he felt Morax’s arm brush the small of his back. He began to turn to him, questioningly, when his hand came to rest on Childe’s shoulder. The one Scaramouche had happened to bruise. He jerked away before he could stop himself. Morax looked concerned.

“Ajax? Are you alright?” Dammit.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m fine.”

“My apologies for not asking, I suppose I just assumed..”

“No, you— it’s not you. I just— I wasn’t expecting that. And it’s just, my shoulder, uh… Well, you can hold my hand, if you’d like.” Zhongli’s brow furrowed.

“Are you injured, jiàngxuě?” Despite the unknown foreign term, something in Ajax’s chest gave a little flutter. He pushed it down and made a mental note to look up the word later.

“No. Well, technically I suppose—” But now Morax looked even more concerned, so Childe sighed and slid off his coat. After that, his vanguard jacket, before he pulled the sleeve of his white tee underneath up to expose his shoulder. He began to shiver in the biting cold.

Zhongli took one look at his shoulder— five indigo crescent moons, a sea of deep purples and blue spreading from each one, before he turned away, anger brewing in his eyes. Childe quickly slid his sleeve back down and his layers back on– wincing when he brushed his shoulder a little too hard.

“…Your brother gave you those bruises?”

“A parting gift, as I’m sure he would tell you,” Ajax replied— perhaps a little too flippant. Zhongli frowned, impossibly, deeper.

“Did you sustain this kind of... injury... often, at the palace?”

“I mean, not everyday. I usually get a bit of a break in between being my older siblings’ punching bag.” Zhongli looked furious.

“That— that was a joke!” Childe laughed nervously, “No, it doesn’t happen often, and it’s never all that bad. Maybe once or twice a month? Depending on how many people I manage to piss off.” If he had mellowed at Childe’s mention of a joke, Morax’s face was back to downright stony with fury by the end.

“How long has this been going on, Ajax?”

“I dunno… I mean, for sure since I was fourteen, but knowing them… probably before that too.”

“Fourteen...” Morax muttered under his breath, sounding somehow pained and furious at the same time.

“It really isn’t that bad,” Childe started, in a vain attempt to console him, “I’ve been on the receiving end of much worse, both from and not from my siblings.” Morax nearly growled, and he startled.

“What kind of worse, Childe?” Shit.

“I mean, they’re not really the kindest sparring partners…” and they’ve tried to have me assassinated every year without fail… Zhongli seemed to settle a little, though he still seemed like he knew Childe left more unspoken. They walked the rest of the way in silence, Zhongli’s arm snaked almost... protectively around Childe’s torso. The warmth, though he would never admit it, was comforting.

Morax led him again to the first carriage when they came upon them again— and he frowned a little at the loss of contact when Zhongli had to let go of his waist to enter the carriage. But he chuckled when the Emperor seemed to miscalculate the difference between his head and the carriage doorway, so his poor mood was quickly resolved.

_____

It was a long, quiet ride to the teleport waypoint. Zhongli seemed preoccupied in his own head, and Childe was more than happy to sit in silence and stare out the window. It wasn’t as hard to say goodbye to his entire life as he had thought it might be. Though, Liyue’s warmer climate might have him missing the constant snow. But it could’ve been worse. Had he ended up in Natlan, he doubted he’d ever see snow, even in the bitterest of winter months. At least Liyue’s climate could drop to the frosty side half the year.

Besides that, he only worried about his rusty Liyuean. Sure, with Liyue being one of Snezhnaya’s more important trading partners, he’d learned the language with mediocre fluency– but it had been nearly a year since he’d practiced, and his memory blurred around the edges.

Most of Teyvat’s nobility spoke in Common out of courtesy and respect for each other’s culture, and the majority of everyone else could speak at least a little bit of it. Most. It would be most improper for the Emperor consort to lack the ability to speak to his people.

His thoughts were halted as the carriage rolled gently to a stop. The haze he’d felt entering the carriage followed him outside, hovering overhead like a somber veil. The mood was sour and stuffy as they followed Zhongli’s pointlessly large entourage into the teleportation check-in building.

Their bags were run through several sets of scanners then, the latest elemental detection technology from Fontaine. They removed their visions and other items of great elemental energy, placing them in the hands of one of the many retainers present. Once everyone was scanned, and they revived their luggage and visions once again, they crossed to the actual waypoint.

As they passed, Childe noted faintly the throngs of people waiting in what seemed like a never-ending line to the waypoint. You’d think instant teleportation would speed up the process, but he supposed they could only teleport one at a time anyway. That practically eliminated the idea of multiple lines, or lines for different places. It would simply increase inefficiency, since they’d all feed through the same waypoint anyway.

They, however, did not join the masses. Instead, they split from the crowd to follow thin velvet cords all the way to the front. They were behind only two others- whom Childe recognized as one Grand Sage Azar of Sumeru’s Akademiya, and one who appeared to be a messenger of some sort, carrying only a small bag at his hip.

The line moved quickly; after all, the VIP line and the normal line were merged in an every-other-group manner. A mother and her small children lined up, one by one, touching the waypoint and vanishing. The messenger went next. Then, a series of frustrated looking men in business suits. The Akademiya Sage went next. A little girl and her oblivious older sister. Finally, they began to send the beginnings of Zhongli’s attendants through. The people behind them in the normal line began to groan, realizing the magnitude of the group in front, and thus, the length of time they’d have to wait before their turn.

Lady Ningguang disappeared in front of them, and Childe, as the next most important there, vaguely registered stepping up to the waypoint and placing his hand onto the cool stone. With a small sigh, he closed his eyes and willed himself to Liyue.

It was black all around him. His eyes were open, and yet they might as well have been closed for all the good it did him. Childe could feel no ground under his feet, and the thought made him want to simultaneously try a flip and heave up the contents of earlier’s brunch. Though, he doubted he could even throw up in this empyrean liminal space.

Perhaps it occurred to him that he’d been conscious here for far longer than the mere millisecond transport actually took. Perhaps it didn’t. The normal flow of time through the ley lines failed to hold when there were no ley lines. As he felt himself think it, Ajax felt that awful sucking again. And then the world was no longer black. He had made it to Liyue.

Chapter Text

Allegedly, it had been a while since Childe’s last teleportation. It was this that he used as an excuse as he stumbled to the nearest bathroom to heave the remains of his last meal into a toilet.

When he returned, Zhongli was waiting for him, looking a little steadier on his feet. He did seem mildly concerned, however. As they retrieved their luggage and set off, he spoke.

“Are you feeling alright, Tartaglia? Few are accustomed to teleportation, but you seemed to stall for several seconds longer than average. That much exposure to the divine would disrupt anyone’s bodily systems.”

“I’m feeling much better now, thanks,” Childe responded. At least now his head was clearer. Morax hummed his agreement, and they ventured forward in silence, towards the natural light peeking around the corner. They slipped out of the building, into the crisp mountaintop air, and Childe couldn’t help but gasp, as if channeling the youngster he was named for.

Below him were the vast expanses of Liyue— rolling hills in shades of green and gold, a sky of endless azure falling to meet a sea of even deeper cobalt at the horizon. A gentle breeze danced through his hair, ruffling the lapels of his jacket. It carried the scent of sea salt and calming florals.

Though Liyue’s natural treasures were many, what struck him most, perhaps, was the people. Even from the ledge where they stood, he could see many milling around the city far below, like mindless ants. He watched ships come, go, and bob in the harbor. He caught the glint of mora exchanged for fun and games, food and water, or even a simple promise of repayment in services ranging from household maintenance to lavish foreign cruises.

Where one might normally interrupt, Zhongli said nothing. He merely smiled and let his hand rest on Childe’s lower back as he looked on in wonder at the lives of the people below him. They stayed this way for a while, too, Ajax too enraptured to even feel discomfort at the casual affection.

Eventually, Ningguang coughed pointedly— not as endeared by Childe’s behavior as some. Zhongli simply smiled once more, and nodded to her as he gently led his fiancé away from the view.

“Beautiful, is it not? I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that few lands can match that beauty.”

“It’s a different kind than Snezhnaya’s, for sure,” Childe responded, “but gods, it is plentiful. I think Liyue and I shall get on very well indeed.” Zhongli let out a laugh— another of his deep, booming chuckles—and continued on, as sagely as ever.

“I find a quiet mountaintop to be the perfect place to rest on a hectic day— but perhaps that is the bias of my geo energy. Nonetheless, among the blue skies and the qingxin, I find true solace. Perhaps we could picnic here sometime.” Despite himself, Ajax couldn’t help but look forward to it; he nodded his animated agreement at the mere thought of the idea.

They kept their causal pace all the way down the hill— the foot of which they finally arrived at the carriages. And gods, if Childe had thought the carriages Morax had had in Snezhnaya were fancy, these outdid them by miles-– leagues, even! He’d daresay they were even more expensive than the ones kept by the Tsaritsa at the palace.

From the outside, they appeared to be made of solid crystal– though the crystals were mostly opaque. They seemed to range in hue from cor lapis to noctilucous jade too– a brilliant display of wealth and power.

“One would think the crystal carriages would be simply too heavy to move,” Zhongli commented. He must have noticed him staring, and Childe’s face flushed a little in embarrassment at the thought.

“However, if you look towards the wheels, you may notice something quite unique.” And indeed, he did. Lining the circular notch for the wheels’ axles was a thin band of some green stone— plaustrite, Ajax recalled after a moment (he noted, specifically, that it resembled sunset vermillionite—) that lifted the carriage ever so slightly up.

“The vermillionite allows the axles to bear little to no weight, effectively making the carriage both lighter and faster. A true fusion of modern innovation and ancient value.”

“Extraordinary,” Childe remarked, only half invested in Zhongli’s explanation.

“It is, isn’t it?” He sobered slightly, as if recalling a tragedy, and his eyes softened around the edges as he continued.

“My sister invented them. She was brilliant with most everything, but her passion was innovation.” Grief was heavy in his voice, and it sparked an unexpected pang of pity in Childe.

“Oh, Zhongli… She would’ve been a wonderful Empress.” He found the comforting words slipping out almost before he could react. It was the correct response, yes, but it unnerved him how unconscious the action had been. It may have been alright this time, but what if the next unconscious slip revealed something more severe? He’d have to keep a closer eye on his guard.

“Indeed.” Ajax had met Crown Princess Guizhong only once, but he found her company simultaneously jovial and disconcerting. She was warm and welcoming, almost deceivingly so— so when she turned around and (correctly) guessed all of your darkest secrets, it was incredibly off-putting.

He nodded his solemn agreement, and then they spoke no more, because the driver opened the carriage door and they stepped inside. It shut with a quiet click, and Childe was alarmed to find the carriage had no windows at all. The only light shone through the semi-opaque crystal, casting everything in an orange-gold glow. In the case of a hasty escape, he would simply have to hope he could reach the door before his assailant. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Though, he thought as the carriage started moving, it is quite pretty. The amber light coated all surfaces, softening and enriching every edge and plane.

Zhongli looks stunning in this light too, Childe thought. The normally black hue of his hair, which appeared actually to be a rich shade of deep mahogany, shone with warmth, and his golden eyes sparkled. He was glad the lighting hid his now-flushed cheeks.

Zhongli, meanwhile, was tracing the delicate carvings of clouds and mountain peaks along the inside of the carriage, humming softly to himself. Seemingly sensing Childe staring, he looked up, and for one illusory moment, their gazes locked. That moment ended when Ajax looked away, still too flustered from earlier musings to fight this particular game of wits.

“Ajax?”

“Yes, Zhongli?”

“There are a few things you should note before you enter the palace. First, as we previously discussed, the Tianquan has a… rather prickly… disposition towards you. Unfortunately, this view may be shared by many at the castle. Liyue is a grieving nation, and grief spins threads of suspicion around the newly-guarded-hearts of its people. The nation will not accept you easily.” Childe nodded solemnly. Admittedly, he’d expected as much— but he certainly would have hoped for an easy transfer.

“Do not misinterpret my words— I have no fear that you will be able to woo the people of Liyue as you have me—” Childe coughed awkwardly. Surely it was a bit early for such jokes?

“—but I merely wish for you to be prepared. And, of course, if anyone treats you less than kindly, do not hesitate to inform me. I will have the issue duly dealt with.” Childe nodded, making a mental note not to gripe about any hostile people he might interact with at the palace.

After all, doing so would only further the gap between him and the servants at the palace, not to mention the general public. If he wanted this plan to work, he’d have to fool not only his immediate surroundings, but every single citizen of Liyue– including Tianquan Ningguang– and anyone else who didn’t trust him.

“I know what you are thinking, Ajax. No matter who it is, they will face the consequences. That includes the Tianquan, should she continue to treat you poorly.” As a matter of fact, that was not what Childe was thinking, and it almost made him want to laugh.

Who, he wondered, did Morax see when he looked at him? Ajax, the abyss monster little boy who hardly existed anymore– aside from bits and rotten pieces? Childe, the happy-go-lucky, ambitious, suave and charming facade? Tartaglia, the brilliant and bloodthirsty military strategist and eleventh harbinger? Which was the object of Zhongli’s affections? Because it certainly wasn’t him.

_____

The Golden House certainly lived up to its extraordinary reputation. A feat of modern architecture, it stood at nearly two-hundred and fifty feet— or about seventy-six meters— tall, with roughly twenty-five stories, seventy bedrooms, a hundred bathrooms, and copious stairways. Childe was particularly annoyed with this last statement— his previous room in the Zapolyarny Palace was only on the fifth floor— as he had now climbed no fewer than thirteen staircases in pursuit of Morax.

“This palace is big enough to need its own teleport waypoints!” Childe exclaimed, “Or, at the very least, imported stamina-flowers from Sumeru for any guest unlucky enough to be expected at the twenty-fifth floor.”

“Actually, Ajax, the twenty-fifth floor is reserved for the royal family and select friends. Few aside from us will ever need to make this climb. Hardly any outsiders ever lay eyes upon its hallowed halls.”

“Yes,” Childe huffed, “But I’m in peak shape and my legs are not quite agreeing with me. And that’s only halfway to the top!” Zhongli chuckled, and Ajax could’ve swore he picked up a note of guilt in his voice.

“What? You sound like there’s something you forgot about that would’ve made this trip far easier.” Despite being on what appeared to be only the fifteenth floor, instead of heading for another set of stairs, the Emperor turned to the right and started down the opulent hallway.

“Zhongli?” He said nothing, just kept walking— so Childe followed, bewildered.

After a short while, they came upon a closed door, engraved with gold and jade that seemed quite hefty. With an effortless push, the doors swung open under Morax’s hand and the two entered a shaft of sorts. The room itself was tiny- not even large enough for Childe to lay down- and between the two of them, it was decently cramped.

“Zhongli?” He prompted again, a little louder.

“Where are we?”

“This,” Zhongli started, refusing to make eye contact with him, “is an elevation shaft. Like the carriages, it, too, functions off of plaustrite. Selecting and pulling a lever from this panel will add or subtract a particular amount of ore, just enough to bring you to the respective floor of the lever you chose.”

“Are you saying,” Childe paused, picking his words carefully, “That the last fifteen minutes we spent climbing stairs could’ve been accomplished with the press of a button?” Morax shifted uncomfortably.

“The flick of a lever. But, otherwise, correct.” But while Morax was concerned, most of what little anger Childe did harbor had already dissipated. Instead, he laughed.

“Well then, I suppose this is just another way I have to get stronger!”

“Pardon?” Before Zhongli could pull any of the levers, Ajax pushed the doors open. They were indeed quite a bit heavier than the average door.

“Until I am quite certain I can scale all twenty-five floors of staircases in this palace ten times over– without breaking a sweat– this elevation shaft will see no use, not from me.” Zhongli frowned. Childe grinned maniacally.

“Ajax, do you not think this is a slight… overreaction? He blinked.

“Over-reaction? Goodness no, Emperor. Anything less would be inadequate!”

“...” With that, he watched the doors slide shut, slowly cutting Zhongli off from view. Childe sighed, standing there staring at the doors for another second. Then, breaking out once more into a broad smile, he dashed for the stairs again.

_____

When he finally made it to the top floor– at the expense of his legs, he might add– Childe found only a set of ornate golden doors– looking entirely like they could weigh more than the entire Golden House. There was hardly even a landing at the top of the stairs. Just several flights of steps and then a few feet of hallway. And then, of course, the doors.

With a slight frown, Ajax decided that the easiest way to go through was probably to just… open the door. Then came the first problem: he could see no doorknob of any sort. His frown deepening, he supposed it was probably a push door. But, alas, the door didn’t budge, even when he threw his whole weight against it.

Letting out an annoyed huff, Childe readied himself for another attempt at using his shoulder as a battering ram, before he heard soft footsteps behind him. Deciding to wait and see who it was before making a fool of himself, Childe fixed his clothes. Just in time, too, before a very out-of-breath looking gentleman came up the stairs, hauling several large suitcases and Childe’s smaller one.

He rushed to help the attendant, who thanked him gratefully, before pulling from his pocket a jade key. He slipped it into a keyhole Childe hadn’t even noticed. The man started to pull the suitcase through the door, but Childe stopped him.

“Are you sure, Emperor Consort? I’d feel awfully guilty having you do my job for me.”

“Nonsense,” Childe responded, “It’s really no trouble at all. Besides, I'm headed there anyway!” The servant thanked him profusely again, and Ajax waited until he could no longer hear footsteps before he picked up the luggage and dared to venture forward.

Cautiously, he poked his head through the doorway. Childe saw no one, but if he listened closely, he could hear two voices murmuring in quiet conversation. One he recognized– it’d be impossible to mistake Zhongli’s deep timber for anyone else– but the other he did not. It was higher, though still distinctly male, and seemed rather… aggressive. Not that the man seemed to mean any harm to the Emperor; his voice was just rough around the edges.

Curious, Childe made his way down the hall, making sure to relax his posture back into his “normal” over-confident gait. No need for Zhongli to think he was sneaking around. Besides, he had no clue who was speaking with the Emperor. It could be anyone– so Ajax had best seem like he belonged in that castle as much as anyone. Wouldn’t want anybody getting any ideas, after all.

“–worry our guard is severely understaffed, My Lord.”

“Do not distress, xiǎo-Xiao. The Adepti Corps. are for my protection, and with myself around, that is hardly even a necessary thing.” Childe, who had still not been noticed despite his active flaunting of his presence, paused for a moment. A term of endearment? he wondered, stifling the small prickle of hurt that spiked in his gut. Now, I’m not sure– because gods know Snezhnaya and Liyue are nothing alike– but it sounds almost like what someone would call a lover. I mean, if I started calling him Zhong-Zhong, surely that would imply a relationship? Ajax shook off the feeling of betrayal blooming in his gut for a second time– and this time, the emotion only made him irate.

He turned the corner, and finally the two were in sight. Zhongli was lounging carelessly against a wall, the picture of languid grace. His hair shone in the gentle sunlight streaming in from the palace’s large windows. Another, shorter man, dressed in light armor and a fair bit of gold and jade finery was standing in front of him, a couple feet away.

“Zhongli-xiansheng, are you sure–”

“Quite.” The Emperor’s face and voice softened considerably when he noticed his companion flinching slightly.

“I apologize. That came out… harsher than I had intended. I meant only to reassure you, captain, that I could defend myself should the need arise.” Who was this guy?! He knew the Emperor's private name? They used terms of endearment? Morax apologized to him? Childe felt oddly enough as if he were an intruder in his own palace, with his own fiancé.

Luckily– and perhaps unluckily– for him, it was at that moment that Morax’s companion seemed to notice him. His eyes narrowed, and then before Childe could open his mouth he found himself pinned to the wall. He smiled, adrenaline already beginning to flow through his veins at the prospect of a good fight. Clearly, this guy was good. He’d– summoned?– a polearm from thin air, not to mention the near-instant speed at which he moved. Yes, this fight will be thrilling indeed, Childe thought, as he stared down into the murderous gaze of his opponent.

“Xiao. Stand down at once.” Zhongli’s voice came sharp from the side of the room. Both boys turned to look at him. He didn’t shout, exactly, and Ajax couldn’t in very good conscious say that he sounded particularly angry either. That isn’t to say his tone wasn’t intimidating— In fact, Childe could’ve sworn he felt this… Xiao… jolt when Morax spoke.

“But, Emperor, he-”

“Xiao?” This time, the Emperor’s tone left absolutely no room for argument.. The man practically growled, tearing his arm away from Ajax and turning to glower at Zhongli.

“And the polearm.” With what sounded scarily akin to the huff of a petulant child, the spear tip was slowly dragged away from its position at Childe’s throat. He laughed- partially in relief, sure, but mostly of excitement. Xiao turned back to face him, a deep frown giving way to a dropped jaw— one that looked more offended than surprised.

“Wow, Zhongli! You’ve been holding out on me!” He took a particularly smug bit of pleasure when the little angry man seemed repulsed by his blatant— and borderline disrespectful-– use of the Emperor’s personal name. Zhongli, on the other hand, seemed almost exhausted.

“How so, Childe?”

“You haven’t introduced me to your little friend here! He seems like he’d be more than happy to fight me!”

“I am not Rex Lapis’s “friend” and I am certainly not little! You have no respect for the ways of the adepti,” Xiao practically growled. Zhongli merely sighed.

“Childe, this is Captain Xiao, head of the palace’s Adepti Corps. My personal team of guards, if one would choose to call it that. Xiao, this is Emperor Consort Tartaglia, of Snezhnaya.” Ajax watched with a haughty grin as Xiao’s eyes slowly widened. He watched the news sink in, real time.

“But– Xiansheng, that would mean–”

“Hi comrade! I’m number eleven of the Fatui Harbingers, codename Childe– but more recently, Emperor Consort Tartaglia, Emperor Morax’s soulmate.” Childe, by this point, had made his way across the room to drape himself over Zhongli’s shoulder. The Emperor tensed a little under his touch, and Tartaglia could only hope that he would just go along with it. Xiao, meanwhile, looked very deeply constipated. They waited one second, then two, before finally, Xiao dropped into a bow– albeit, a very angry bow. He muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that, captain?” Zhongli asked, quietly.

“I said,” Xiao spoke through gritted teeth, “I apologize for my rude and irrational behavior.” Childe smirked. Victory tasted very sweet indeed.

“Ah, don’t worry about it! It’s like I said, I’m always looking for strong opponents to fight! You should spar with me sometime, Xiao-xiansheng.” He slapped the honorific onto the end for good measure– bonus points when Xiao seemed disgusted by it. I’m sure I used that wrong, but it makes his little face of repulsion even sweeter.

“You are dismissed, Xiao,” came Zhongli’s deep voice from beside him, “You may return to your patrol. I will be quite safe in my and my fiancé’s more-than-capable hands. Xiao simply grumbled and disappeared.

“He seemed like a nice guy.” Zhongli huffed, though he seemed more amused than frustrated.

“Childe, he tried to kill you.” Tartaglia laughed, airy and bright.

“What can I say, Emperor? The encounters I crave most are the ones that bring me closest to my own demise!” Morax frowned, apparently not as pleased with the sentiment as Childe was. He cleared his throat.

“In any case, as you are aware, the Golden House has twenty-five floors, all of them with their own unique purpose. You will learn the names and purposes of each of the floors in due time, but for your immediate use there will be but a few you should memorize.”

“For starters, the floor we’re on, floor twenty-five, is the Emperor’s,” he gestured to himself, “and his families, spouse, spouses and concubines-”

“Wait,” Childe interrupted, “spouses? Plural?” Zhongli nodded with an amused smile.

“Yes. Even in this world, one that encourages monogamy so, it is not uncommon for a Liyuen Emperor or Empress to take additional concubines or spouses. My father himself married twice, though his second wife was assassinated before any children came of their marriage– most likely by the factions in support of the late Empress Consort.” Ajax laughed nervously, a little off-put.

He hadn’t considered that Zhongli might take another spouse. Though, in retrospect, it just didn’t make sense for him to only marry Childe. He could produce no heir, and the Emperor said it himself; Liyue needed Morax’s bloodline to continue. Zhongli needed his bloodline to continue.

How long would it be before Morax got bored of him? Two months? Three? Childe would have to work much faster than he’d anticipated– otherwise Morax’s next wife would steal his throne.

“Of course, if I were to take another, they would carry the title of imperial consort, as befitting of their rank. The practice of having many spouses– traditionally an Emperor having multiple wives or concubines– dates back many centuries in Liyue. It is commonly seen as an expression of Liyuean imperial royalty’s generosity and love for their people, and concubines, consorts, and marital royalty alike were treated with the utmost respect and devotion by the people.”

“The practice, whilst still widely accepted and even encouraged, is not as common today. I believe Guizhong was to have multiple husbands– two of whom were engaged to her prior to her death. However, in the land of contracts an engagement means very little. During the extent of the engagement, they are treated as a member of the imperial family, but should anything happen, they are cast out and retain no connection to the throne. Marsochius and Azhdaha both were devastated at her passing, but they’ve returned to their prior statuses besides.” As Zhongli continued on what Childe now realized had turned into a bit of a tangent, he grew increasingly worried.

If an engagement was so easily broken, who knew the extent of what Tartaglia could get away with before he was kicked out of the palace!

“In any case, I, as the second prince, had no fiancés established, as I was left much to myself. The late Emperor and Crown Princess’ deaths came as quite a shock to the Qixing, and double such when they realized I hadn’t courted anyone prior. But, well, I suppose they needn’t have worried so. After all, I found you.” Zhongli reached down to grasp his hand, and it was this that snapped Childe out of his downward spiral of overthinking.

“Hmm?” he asked, trying to fake a pleasant expression.

“Guizhong always spoke of how she wanted to marry her soulmate. Unfortunately, she never found them. She made me promise I would marry my soulmate. She made me promise I would marry you, Ajax.” He smiled softly down at him, and Ajax’s heart gave a little flutter.

“You can be so embarrassing sometimes,” Childe chuckled, looking decidedly away from him to hide the red creeping onto his ears. Zhongli pivoted to face him, lifting his chin with a gentle touch. This man would be the death of him.

“And what is embarrassing about it? I found you, and I will marry you. That is simply what is. There is nothing to be embarrassed over.” Childe smacked him away playfully.
"I don't know how you can say stuff like that with a straight face." Zhongli laughed a little, settling back to holding just one of Ajax's hands.
"Well, jiàngxuě, it is a matter of principle."
"Principle of what? A stellar poker face?"
"The people do not call me Rex Lapis for nothing." Childe laughed, and Zhongli laughed with him.

_____

Childe set his bags by the door, sighing. He’d brushed Zhongli off when the other had asked him if he needed any help unpacking, saying that he just needed a little rest. Luckily, he didn’t seem to think too much of it, and left him by himself with no further questions.

He couldn’t help but feel relieved when Zhongli kept walking past the room he’d labeled as his own. As much as Childe said he would do anything, Ajax had a feeling sleeping in the same room– or worse, the same bed– as Zhongli would prove quite troublesome. He drew the line at sharing his one bit of respite from the constant acting.

The room Zhongli had led him to was spacious and opulent– if a bit sparsely decorated. There was the four-poster bed– what he believed Mondstadtians called a “King-size”– with a nightstand a walk-in closet, attached bathroom, one or two small bookshelves, a window seat, and a single calligraphy wall hanging that he couldn’t read.

Right. He’d have to work on his Liyuean.

Tartaglia put his few books on the shelves, but tucked his journal and photos in the nightstand drawer. Hanging his clothes in the closet, he couldn’t help but notice the abnormal amount of space in here. I mean, how many clothes does one man need? Enough to warrant 100 square feet?

Regardless, now that he was unpacked, Childe had no clue what to do– maybe for the first time in his life. For as long as he could remember, missions came first. If he didn’t have a mission, then training. Childe’s entire life could fit into a single small suitcase because, at the end of the day, every single second of his time was spent fighting. Without his weapons, his delusion, his vision, his fists, who was he? What was he?

But here in this palace, he had someone to be. Not Ajax, the half-boy-half-abyss stain, but Childe, the Emperor Consort. Childe, the charming, quick-witted, and gracious fiancé. Childe who had wooed Zhongli, Childe who would woo the people. “Childe who would woo the people” did not spend all of his free time training. “Childe who would woo the people” would spend his free time reading or practicing his Liyuean, practicing to become better for the country and the people.

Tartaglia scoffed and peeled himself back up from the bed. At some point, he’d have to find the library. He’d heard, scholarly as both Zhongli and his late sister are/were, that the library was made significantly larger at their behest. Supposedly, it was second only to Sumeru’s Akademiya. There he would hopefully find a book or two on Liyuean for beginners– although, finding a book he could actually read would prove a challenge.

“Childe? My deepest apologies for interrupting again so soon, but I usually have the chefs prepare dinner at around this time. It should be ready in approximately ten minutes, if you wish to join me. …Then again, I understand if you are still nauseous or if the difference in time zone has you not quite hungry yet.” Zhongli paused.

“No, of course! I mean, of course I'll join you, that is. Just one question.” Childe responded, immediately mentally facepalming at his own poor choice of words.

“Anything.”

“Right. Where, exactly, is the dining hall?” He heard a quiet chuckle from beyond the door.

“Don’t worry, I shall collect you on the way.”

“Alright then. See you in ten minutes, Zhongli!”

“Yes,” Zhongli called, the traces of his smile still audible in his stately voice,”I will see you in ten minutes, Ajax.”

Chapter Text

 Nine minutes later, Ajax hadn’t moved from his bed. So, precisely sixty seconds after that, when a knock came at the door, he was just as unprepared as before. But who was he to keep the Emperor waiting? Wasting no time, Childe made his way to the door, hesitating for just a moment before pushing it open. 

 “Ajax.”

 “Zhongli.”

 “If you would follow me.” The prince obliged.

Childe followed the emperor into the dining room, making sure to commit the entry turns to memory. From his room, it was just down the hall, a right turn, a left turn, and then the second set of double doors on the right. Not confusing at all.

The dining room itself had multiple entries; the grand double doors, a smaller, side door that Childe could only assume was for the waitstaff, and a back exit that Zhongli verbosely explained led to another (mostly pointless) hallway.

Aside from the doors, the walls were devoid of windows. However, the interior was still bathed in the deep cognac glow of sunset. And, looking up, it was easy to see why. The ceiling was made of hundreds of crystal-clear glass panels, and at the joint of each one, a minuscule cor lapis sphere glittered. At the center of it all hung a brilliant chandelier, the likes of which Childe had never dreamed of before. For once, he found himself actually paying attention to his fiancé's droning ramblings, curious about the room around him.

"–which all came from our mines here in Liyue. Most notably, perhaps, the adeptal amber, which is called such because it, like the carvings on these walls, came from the practiced craftsmanship of the adepti. The adepti are a prime few recognized by the imperial family, craftspeople of the highest standard. Many of them studied under illuminated beasts– some are hybrids or illuminated beasts themselves– and worked for decades to become the best of the best in their field of expertise.”

“As for their craft, it can be just about anything. Some are skilled diplomats, others musicians, artists, foragers, mathematicians, inventors– and yes, some are skilled in the art of the fist or the blade.”

“The scenes carved into these walls are stories of times far past, and–" Childe tuned him out again, having begun to lose his daily patience with Morax's spiel already. Just another thing he'd have to work on.

While the Emperor chattered onwards, he took the opportunity to further observe his surroundings. Now that he was putting aside the room’s beauty to examine it more practically, Tartaglia instead took note of the entrances and exits, plotting an escape if the need arose.

 Obviously, there were the grand double doors Zhongli had led them through– but off to the side was a smaller, plainer looking door. It was barely noticeable, a dark wood against the deep mahogany walls of the room. Childe’s theory was that it was the servers’ door, meant to minimize the entrance and exit of the waitstaff from the dining hall. He doubted they led directly to a kitchen; more likely, they led to a flight of stairs or an elevation shaft.

 In the center of the room sat a relatively small square table. Following Morax after a moment’s hesitation, he floundered desperately, trying to remember the rules for sitting alongside the emperor. Luckily for him, Zhongli pulled out a chair for him to sit in. Thank the gods. He sat and returned to looking around.

 Oddly enough, the dining table had only room for five. For such an ornate hall, Childe would’ve expected more seating space. Then again , he remembered, Zhongli did mention that this floor was royalty only. It only makes sense it has just a few chairs. Other dinners must be held somewhere else.

 In the center of the table, there was a sort of circular dais that spun as the waitstaff placed dishes upon it. As far as he could remember from his etiquette class’s brief unit on other cultures’ dining habits, it was called a “Lazy Susan.” Mostly, it was used for ease of access. You never had to reach across the table to get at what you wanted, and it solved the problem of not being able to choose the portion sizes should the waiter simply put it on your plate.

As the first food was brought out and laid before them, Childe began to worry. Admittedly, he had noticed the chopsticks as he sat– but he’d hoped they would just make more use of the soup spoon.

Childe waited for the Emperor to serve himself before he took anything. Mainly because he had no clue what to take, but definitely also because he didn’t want to violate some long-forgotten dining rule. Zhongli, luckily, could be counted on to describe anything and everything. So all it took was a simple–

“Tell me about the food, Zhongli.” –and everything was explained exactly. Maybe a little too exactly, but, eh. He’d take what he could get.

 Very soon, he learned that the dishes were as followed: The salad was mint and jueyun chili, the fried blossom-looking things were lotus flower crisps, the puffs of dough in vaguely fish shape were golden shrimp balls, and the remaining plate had pickled radish and lotus head. Childe also learned that these were only the appetizers- a light first course that would be taken away in a matter of minutes.

 The Emperor took just a bit of everything (except for the golden shrimp.) Childe mimicked him. Although, he did take a couple of the golden shrimp balls. And increased all of the portion sizes in general. What could he say? They looked delicious, and he was starving- after all, he had nothing in his stomach because of earlier’s little… stomach acid escapade.

 Quickly, it became obvious the slight increase in portion sizes was a mistake. For starters, Childe couldn’t get a single piece of food to his mouth without dropping it at least a couple of times- but he didn’t dare eat with his hands. But he suspected even if he could use those damned sticks for anything other than stabbing, he still wouldn’t be able to finish in time, as Zhongli was just finishing his last bite as the waiters came back out to clear the table. With a small sigh, Ajax relinquished his chopsticks and plate to the waitstaff.

 As soon as the first group left with the plates, a second wave came in–  this time with the soup that Childe was hoping for. He listened to Zhongli droning on about the intricacies of making lotus blossom soup while he dug in, ravenous for some proper sustenance. The Emperor was still too lost in thought to notice his (likely atrocious) eating habits.

 After dinner, Childe retreated back into his room, exhausted from all the drab talk and all of the acting. Subtlety was never his forte, and mind games just made his head ache. But sometimes he’d learned that a little espionage was the only thing that worked. And this, unfortunately, was one of those times.

 There was a knock at the door. Childe had to suppress a groan.

 “Ajax? I realized the tour I have so far given you is incomplete. If you would like, we could continue? Perhaps I could show you the gardens?” He sighed. Actually, touring the palace was the last thing Tartaglia wanted.

 “That sounds wonderful. Though, I would like to change into something a little more traditional, if others might see me.”

 “Of course,” Zhongli replied, as smooth as ever, “You can borrow some of my spare robes for the time being. I’ll fetch them from my quarters.” Childe flushed, embarrassed. Then again, it’s not like he had much of a say in the matter. He’d just have to make do. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

   _____

 The garden was ethereal under the moon. Silvery light reflected off of every leaf and petal, and the scattered starlight rippled in the quiet fountain. Zhongli was as serene as ever beside him. When it became evident he would be doing no guiding, Ajax took a hesitant step forward. Morax nodded his permission, and Childe had to hide a disgusted grimace. Who was he to grant him permission— not that he was asking for it in the first place.

 Shaking off the anger, Childe began to explore. He crept around the first overgrown corner, the first buds of curiosity blooming inside him. The first thing he discovered was rows and rows of silk flower bushes. The deep red blossoms seemed almost velvety in the darkness- and he almost laughed at his own thoughts. To compare the basis of one fabric to an entirely different one was a stretch, even for him.

 He strolled down the rows for a while, stopping to collect a fallen bloom occasionally. How fragile, he thought as he gently caressed the thin petals, and how easily I could crush this in my fist. Tartaglia wondered if the juice of its leaves would run crimson down his arm. He chuckled. The flower fell, crushed beneath his foot without sparing it another thought.

 Next Childe came upon a series of greenhouses, all full of exotic wildlife. It appeared as if each greenhouse was tailored to a specific region, and thus that region’s temperature. And, oddly enough, none seemed like a typical greenhouse. Curious, he stepped into the first one.

 It was like stepping directly into Mondstadt. The air was warm, gentle, and breezy. Windwheel asters and small lamp grasses lined the walls and calla lilies grew underfoot on the bank of a little stream. Cecilias were overflowing from hanging planters, probably meant to simulate the altitude at which they normally grew. A few stray dandelion seeds blew past, tickling his nose, and Childe sneezed– immediately sending them whirling away. With a small smile, he stepped back out into the Liyuean night.

 The next greenhouse appeared to be Inazuma themed. Amakumo fruits grew in clusters, scattered sparsely across the ground. Naku weed filled in the remaining space, and sakura trees dangled cherry-colored petals above him.The air here was cooler, thicker, and definitely more humid. It felt like the room could erupt into downpour any second– which, Childe supposed, was fitting for the land of lightning.

 There were more greenhouses, of course, but he wasn’t very curious about the others. Well… there was one he was looking for. He walked further down the path, peeking through the glass of each greenhouse as he went. Sparse Natlan, fertile Fontaine, lush Sumeru– until at last, he came to one with its glass frosted over. With a small smile, Ajax stepped in.

 The Snezhnayan greenhouse was quiet. There was no whistle of the wind, or ambient crackle of lightning. Just silence, pure and uninterrupted. He let the door fall shut noiselessly behind him as he ventured in further.

 There was the occasional evergreen tree, branches dusted in snow- but apart from that, the fields and slopes were flat, gentle, and mostly barren. Ice crystals glistened from the blades of grass, morning dew frozen brilliantly clear. Serdtse asters– the likes of which he hadn’t seen since he was a little kid– glittered from the shade beneath the trees. And, of course, he only noticed the air temperature when he shivered. 

 Childe’s first reaction was shock, of course. A Snezhnayan? Cold? But then he remembered– he’d shed his much warmer Snezhnayan clothes for the light, flowy, Liyuen ones. It was no wonder he was shivering, what with the paper-thin layer of silk being his only shield from the bitter ice.

 Now that he thought about it, it was a small miracle that they’d managed to get a space this cold. The serdtse asters, he knew, grew best in twenty degrees or less– and the tiny snowdrops much preferred subzero temperatures (though they’d tolerate up to about thirty degrees.)

 Either way, Childe figured he ought to get out of there before he lost a finger or two. So, with a little reluctance, he pulled himself away and out of the greenhouse. As the door shut behind him, leaving him back in the seventy-something temperate climate of Liyue, Tartaglia reminded himself that he could come back any time. Zhongli said the gardens were always open. All he’d have to do was don a Snezhnayan outfit and he could sit in there for hours. The thought soothed him, and he continued through the garden.

It occurred to him that it had been a while since he’d seen Zhongli. Judging by the moon’s position… maybe an hour and a half? Whatever the time was, it had certainly been an almost worrying amount since he’d seen the Emperor. And, of course, the very second he thought this, Childe rounded a corner, straight into Morax. 

 He stumbled backwards, leg falling out from under him, flailing his arms. Fortunately, another arm caught him. Unfortunately, Zhongli had massively overestimated the amount of force required to pull Childe back up, thus pulling him so far up that he ran smack into the Emperor’s chest for the second time in a couple of seconds. He squeaked. Zhongli’s arm dropped so fast Childe almost fell again. Instead, he just stumbled back awkwardly.

  Ajax coughed, trying to cover his embarrassment. It was one thing to run into the man– it was another thing entirely to be practically slammed into his chest. Looking back up, the Emperor had a flush so deep even the darkness couldn’t hide it. Internally, Tartaglia smirked. He could run with this angle.

 “I’m so sorry, Zhongli, I just wasn’t looking where I was going and…” he trailed off with exaggerated embarrassment, waiting for Morax to fill the silence.

 “Do not worry, Ajax, the fault was my own. I must admit, I was… distracted.”

 “Oh? What by?” He looked up at the Emperor, lathering on the charm. He even batted his eyelashes for good measure. God, shitty-hat the Balladeer would be so disgusted with him right now.

 “These flowers were Guizhong’s favorites.” Well dammit. Cockblocked by the dead sister, once again.

 “She always loved glaze lilies; she would sing, and people swore they would bloom for miles around. Her voice was lovely.” Internally, Childe was bashing his head against a wall. 

 “I wish I could’ve heard her sing.” Zhongli nodded, somber.

 “The glaze lilies have not bloomed since she died. Ningguang said they, too, mourn with the people. What an Empress, to make even her flowers weep. I wonder, sometimes, if I will ever measure up to her grace.” He was quiet, then. Facing the field of glaze lilies, the moon shone down, smiling sadly. Childe’s heart curled inward, infuriating emotions getting tangled with his plan. He sighed softly.

 “Zhongli.” He waited until the Emperor turned to face him again before he continued. 

 “I met your sister only once. She was smart, kind, quick witted, and incredibly beautiful.” He paused, apprehension heavy in his breath. The most difficult part of this next bit was maintaining the right emotions on his face. 

“But so are you. You’re all of those things too, Zhongli, and everything that would’ve made her a great Empress will make you an even better Emperor.” Childe did not have time to stop and process the thought that he had just called Zhongli incredibly beautiful. He did not.

 Zhongli was silent for a long while. Eventually, he began walking, taking Childe gently by the arm to lead him with him. He seemed pensive.

 “We have many affairs to tend to, Childe. First and foremost, we must plan our wedding.” Childe nearly flinched. Of course. He’d forgotten about that part.

 “There is the matter of dress and food, of course, but I feel the need to address our difference of culture. Being a Liyuen imperial wedding, I don't know how many traditional Snezhnayan customs we will be able to include.” Zhongli’s eyes were quiet with sadness. Childe thought about it for a second.

 “That’s alright. Honestly, I never thought much about my wedding, so I guess I just never got too attached to any specific idea.” What he didn’t mention was his fear that having the wedding with Snezhnayan customs would hurt. He never had thought much about love, and he knew marriage was a tool for attaining wealth and power, but if the wedding felt too much like a match of love, Childe worried he might get attached.

 “Still, I would not be satisfied if there were– as a bare minimum– no nods to Snezhnayan tradition. We shall simply have to pick and choose carefully which traditions to observe.” By this point, the two had rounded back towards the castle, and had almost reached the doors again.

 “I’m sure we can reach a happy medium,” Childe said, emphasizing his grin for good measure, “And besides, we can’t even have the wedding until we’ve picked a date.” 

 “Of course,” Zhongli responded, ever the calm one. “How about three months from now?” Internally, of course, Childe was celebrating. So soon, and he hadn’t even had to prompt it!

 “So soon?” Morax deflated a little. Now he had him right where he wanted him.

 “I mean, I just worry that the staff won’t be able to accommodate on such short notice. Though, I guess the sooner the better.” Of course, he couldn’t force himself to blush– so looking to the side in mock embarrassment would have to do. Zhongli’s cheeks, on the other hand, had already become a dusty rose.

 “I am overjoyed that you feel the same,” Zhongli muttered, nearly too quiet for the other to hear. Childe inched hesitantly closer- with a reluctance he didn’t have to fake. As he looked up at the Emperor, time seemed to slow. Deep breaths, Chide. It’s just a kiss. You’ve done it loads of times before. Easy–peasy. This doesn’t mean anything. They leaned in closer. Morax’s eyes fluttered shut.

 “The Tianquan requests your presence, My Lord.” The Emperor pulled away quickly, instantly snapping back into his formal self. Xiao was glowering from the doorway. Ajax smiled abashedly, feeling very much like a schoolchild caught sneaking around under the bleachers.

 “Of course.” He turned to Childe. “My deepest apologies. I trust you remember the way to your quarters?” Childe nodded, trying his very best to look sympathetic and not relieved.

 As Captain Xiao led Morax back into the palace, Ajax found himself feeling more than a little crushed. He didn’t understand it. But, more than that, there was an overwhelming sense of relief he chose to bask in instead. And Tartaglia shoved that little ache so far down that it would never surface again; right next to all the other feelings he didn’t understand– which was, undoubtedly, most of them.

 Thank the gods he didn’t have to kiss Morax. So, then, if someone would explain why that little pain in his heart was even there in the first place, he’d be greatly appreciative.

Chapter Text

It was the gray hours of the morning when Ajax awoke, nearly shooting out of bed. He was glad he never seemed to remember the nightmares he had. With a sigh, he sat back against his pillow. All of the blankets were on the floor.

“Figures,” Ajax muttered. He'd always been a warm sleeper– you had to be, if you wanted to survive in Snezhnaya– so it was no surprise that he found trouble in Liyue’s significantly warmer climate. Begrudgingly, he remade the bed, and pulled out the journal from the nightstand drawer.

Taking one of the calligraphy pens from the desk, Ajax held pen to paper by the faint light of the rising sun. He paused. There was a high chance that this book would end up in the hands of Liyue, one way or another. He didn’t trust that adeptus fellow one bit. So, with another breath, Childe began to write.

Today marks my first full day in Liyue. As far as plans go, I’ll have to find the library and touch up on my Liyuean. It’s a bit rusty, and there are a couple of words specifically I'm curious about.

Aside from that, the palace staff are all very polite. The maid I talked to last night practically tripped over herself to show me the way back to my room! I’m glad I still remember the Liyuean basics, because I would’ve been hard-pressed to find someone fluent in Common.

Zhongli has been nothing but sweet to me. It is an honor to be engaged to him, truly, and I look forward to our future through rose-colored lenses.

He resolved to update the rest later. But, hopefully, that should appease anyone that decided to go snooping around where they didn’t belong. Now to find the library.

_____

After several minutes of looking, (and several flights of stairs) Ajax found himself in front of two grand double doors, oddly reminiscent of the ones outside of the Imperial Wing. It seemed, looking at the thick gold and intricate carvings, that they’d just sawed one big, carved, slab of gold into four and made them doors. He huffed a dry laugh, though nothing was really funny.

Luckily, these doors were a lot easier to open than the last ones. With barely a push, the seemingly heavy doors swung open, light as a feather. Ajax stepped in to get a better look.

The library was massive, in every sense of the word. The room itself was several stories tall, with ceilings around forty feet above his head. The walls were lined with shelves which were lined with books, countless volumes covering anything anyone could think of.

It seemed to be empty– there wasn’t a soul in sight, not even a librarian. Guess he’d just have to hope no one noticed a couple books missing. There was no way he was waiting around to check out books on how to speak the local language. Childe shuddered at the thought of another awkward staff interaction. Meeting that maid last night was embarrassing enough as it was, what with the way she practically threw herself at his feet when she realized he was the Emperor-Consort.

As he wandered down the central path to what appeared to be the library’s hub, Childe began questioning his decision to come alone. He’d massively underestimated the number of books in here. Finding anything in here would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack! Nevertheless, Tartaglia wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. And so he began his search.

It was an hour or two later when Childe emerged from the library, a large stack of books threatening to fall from his arms. The sun was just beginning to shine over the horizon, and all around him the halls were getting busier and busier. Normally, he’d just use hydro to carry things if he simply had too much- but that wasn’t exactly something you could do with books. He had no desire to steal and ruin them.

So instead he just struggled up the five or six flights of his stairs back to his room. Childe had no clue how many books he was supposed to check out. But nobody needed to know he’d probably exceeded it. Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion Zhongli wouldn’t mind all that much.

He kicked the door to his room shut behind him, wincing a little when it slammed. Oops. He dropped the pile of books unceremoniously onto his bed. Naturally, it toppled sideways, sending the top few books careening to the floor.

“Shit!” Well, if Zhongli wasn’t awake already, he certainly was now.

With a sigh, Childe retrieved the books, setting them on the second shelf of his bookshelf for now. Hopefully it would help him remember they needed to be returned. Nothing said “I’m grateful to be in Liyue” like stealing royal library books.

Looking out the window, he figured he still had some time before breakfast– not that Morax had specified when it was, but it barely looked past seven. Ajax grabbed the first book from the top of the pile. “A Beginner’s Guide to Liyuean Tradition.” He flipped it open.

It was around the tenth page that Tartaglia was about ready to hurl the book at the wall. This book was so boring. There wasn’t any violence or killing at all! How was he supposed to read something like this?! He’d had an easier time reading the 600 page Fatui handbook!

Suck it up, the part of his brain that sounded suspiciously like Pantalone said. This needs to get done, so do it. You’re acting like a child. It was right. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. So instead, he compromised. He would just go back to the table of contents, pick the one or two sections that he thought might be the most helpful, and read those.
Alright, he decided, I’ll read “Honoring Your Elders” and “Traditional Wear”. Those sound like they might not be terrible.

Forty-five minutes later, Tartaglia was convinced this book was trying to claw his eyes out. But he’d read the chapters, both of them. And now he could drone on almost as long as his idiotic fiancè about the difference between a hanfu and a qipao.

Interestingly enough, he also discovered that he’d been publicly disrespecting the Emperor since he’d arrived in Liyue. Wonderful. He had a couple more formal honorifics that he could choose from– but Xiao’s face flashed through his mind. Childe frowned. Morax was his fiancè. He’d use whatever damn honorific he wanted. That way, no one could accuse him of being blatantly disrespectful, but he could still lay the lovey-dovey-couple act on thick when Xiao or Ningguang was around.

There came a knock at his door.

“Come in,” Childe called, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact he’d never changed out of his sleepwear– or took the time to try and tame his hair, fruitless as the efforts would be. He really hoped it was only Zhongli who came through that door.

Ajax let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as the Emperor stepped into his room.

“I am not surprised to see you have already awoken. I had my valets wake me a bit earlier than usual today. I must admit I was hoping to find you asleep. Your sleeping habits fascinate me to no end.” Ajax chuckled nervously.

“That’s kind of creepy, xiansheng. I mean, you can’t just tell people you were trying to watch them sleep!” Morax stared.

“Zhongli-xiansheng? Are you alright?” The other man cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Of course, Childe, I was just– hmm– I just noticed you’ve picked up some Liyuen honorifics.” Ajax’s heart dropped to his stomach. Shit.

“Oh. Sorry, I– uh– did I mess it up? I can barely remember any of these, so just correct me next time and–”

“No, you misunderstand. It is… nice… I mean you are– well, your mastery of–” the great, noble, intimidating Imperial Emperor Morax sighed and turned away, head in his hands.

“I am… impressed. That is all.” Childe giggled. GIGGLED. He was done for. Sweet Tsaritsa, he was so thankful his siblings weren’t around to hear that. The Emperor frowned. Great. Now he was doubled-screwed.

“Sorry, xiansheng, it’s just so cute when you get all flustered like that!” Cute. CUTE?! Tartaglia roared in his head. He wanted to smash the desk into the wall. He wanted to smash Morax’s head into the wall. But more than anything, he wanted– no, needed– to kill something.

He’d just called his target cute.

He definitely needed to kill something.

“I will keep that in mind, jiàngxuě.”

“You- you’ll what?” Zhongli ignored him, moving past Childe to sit on the food of his bead. He smirked, just a little.

“So, Ajax, I have formulated some tentative plans for the coming day. After breakfast, I arranged for the finest tailor and seamstress in Liyue– an adeptus, at that– to visit. In all likelihoods, that will last until lunch. After that, I do not have any care other than to spend some more time together.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude upon your personal time. I’m sure you’re very busy.” Morax frowned.

“We are to be married, Ajax. I’d like to know you.”

“Zhongli?”

“Yes, Childe?”

“I was wondering if, maybe… Well, you said you wanted to spend time with me, right?”

“Correct.”

“What if we had just… a quick spar.”

“Pardon?” Ajax laughed, suddenly nervous.

“Well, I mean– you said one of your hobbies was sparring, and I– I just thought.”

“Alright.” Now it was Ajax’s turn to be confused.

“What?”

“If you believe that sparring will be a sufficient bonding experience for the two of us, I shall show you to the barracks after lunch.” Holy shit. He couldn’t believe that worked! Already, he could feel Tartaglia growing louder and louder in the back of his mind, chanting for blood, blood, warm crimson spilled across the pearl-white snow, crumpled bodies across the fields, skies painted red–

Childe was absolutely going to have to find a way to sneak out and kill something before they sparred. As much as part of him already thirsted for Morax’s blood, killing him now would ruin everything. He had to stay in control. Otherwise this would all be for nothing.

“Though, xiansheng, we should wait at least thirty minutes after we eat. Gotta let the food digest, right?” The Emperor nodded serenely.

“You make a convincing point. We shall go our separate ways after lunch, for, say, an hour? Does this appease you, Ajax?”

“Ha! Consider me appeased.” Zhongli smiled softly. He beamed back.

Very few things scared Tartaglia, eleventh harbinger, prince of Snezhnaya– but in this moment, he was truly terrified of how genuine his smile was.

_____

The tailor’s appointment was long and boring, and lunch even more so. Zhongli, of all things, rambled about the origin and evolution of ducks throughout– which, Childe guessed, was probably prompted by the roast duck they’d been served.

As for the tailor, she’d bowed so deeply when she saw him that Childe swore the top of her odd little hat brushed the ground. It was… unnerving, to say the least. She’d promised to return within the week with a wardrobe full of finery the likes of which he’d never seen before. To which Tartaglia asked if she would make sure to include some darker colors in there too. He wasn’t always in the mood to be stared at after battle.

…She’d gone awfully pale on the face. Zhongli ushered her out rather quickly after that.

In any case, it left Tartaglia even more on edge. He was practically vibrating with malicious energy now, and he was almost certain his abyssal taint had started seeping into the air around him. There was no other reason for why people practically ran away when he walked by. Unless he was making a face. There was a good chance of that, too.

The Millelith guarding the walls nearly sprinted to a different post as he strolled by. Childe paused, waiting to make sure no one was around. Then, when he was satisfied no one was watching, he jumped up and scaled the wall in a couple of seconds.

He landed with a soft thud into the grass. Looking around, Tartaglia saw… nothing. In fact, it was kind of odd that there weren’t any guards on the outer walls of the palace– that could be a major security breach. He’d have to tell Zhongli, and–

Wait. Childe nearly laughed at his own stupidity. What did he care? In fact, this could only help him. No, he wouldn’t tell Morax. If the Emperor wanted to walk around with a massive security breach waiting to happen right outside his walls, so be it. Who was Tartaglia to try and keep him safe. For gods’ sakes, he was literally here to kill the man!

Instead, he bounded off into the forest. At a bare minimum, he’d find a boar or two to kill. If he was lucky, maybe some geovishaps.

As he got further and further from the palace, his hold on Tartaglia began to slip. His head whipped around at any little noise. A bird had chirped and he grabbed it off of its little branch, crushing its spine in an instant. Anything that moved now was prey– and the bigger, the better. Bigger meant more blood splattered across the green and auburn landscape. Bigger meant a threat. Bigger meant a thrill.

He emerged from the trees, practically panting from bloodlust. He stepped out onto a plain- and that’s when he saw it. A geovishap hatchling, barely out of the nest.

Tartaglia wasted no time with stalking. He lunged, soaring through the air, forming blades of hydro as he went Midair, channeling the cursed energy within his delusion, he wove Electro through the weaponry, plunging down, down, down until he split through the geovishap’s shell with an exhilarating crack. The poor thing never stood a chance.

Bored already, he examined the blood on his hands, tilting them around under the light. Tartaglia watched, enraptured, as a single crimson droplet rolled down his fingertip and into his palm. He clenched his fist.

Beneath his feet, the ground began to rumple. A sick smile split his face. He tensed in anticipation– and a fully grown, primo geovishap burst up from the hill under him.

He flipped backwards, bringing his now blood-splattered hydro blade down along the side of the vishap as he fell. One of his favorite things about hydro blades was the manipulability. Geovishaps had tough scales, yes, but that was nothing when your blade contorted to slip itself through the cracks in your armor.

The only mercy shown today would be mother and child, dead by the same blade.

_____

Tartaglia was satisfied with his work. The fields were painted bloody and carcasses of whatever he had found lay in heaps across the horizon. He licked the blood off of his thumb. Not a scratch.

He would need to get cleaned up before his match with the Emperor. That was sure to be interesting.

_____

He watched as Zhongli made his way up to the wall of training weapons. They were all blunt, of course– couldn’t be too careful when it came to Liyue’s beloved emperor.

The Emperor paused before pulling a polearm down, and Tartaglia tried to conceal the obvious jolt of excitement that ran through him. He didn’t get to fight polearm users very often. It wasn’t the most common of weapons in Snezhnaya– or the Fatui, period.

“So, xiansheng, what’re the rules? What are we thinking? Just weapons? Visions?” The ghost of a smile graced Morax’s lips.

“I hate to ask you to hold out on me, Tartaglia, but I worry for the safety of the guards and the structure should we both utilize our full potential. We will have to save a true battle for another day.” Childe noted that the few guards around the perimeter now looked mildly worried.

“Weapons only. Got it.”

“Until pinned?” Ajax nodded, excited. Even after earlier’s little murder session, the prospect of battle would always get his heart going.

He barely had time to process before a spear was thrust towards his chest. With a grin, Tartaglia flipped backwards, letting the cool metal brush his shirt just a tad. Mostly to taunt Zhongli– but also to get into the thrill of the fight. What could he say? Everyone had their guilty pleasures.

He landed the flip, sliding to the side to dodge another spear thrust. He ducked. Sidestepped. Sidestepped again. All to avoid Morax’s increasingly quick jabs.

After several more seconds of observation and dodging, Tartaglia caught an opening. Using the momentum of his next dodge, he slid right under his arm. With a quick flick, his sword hilt knocked upwards and into the base of his opponent’s polearm. Got you.

It was the perfect disarming. Everything was placed perfectly to give Tartaglia the upper hand, to annihilate Zhongli’s composure, to send his polearm soaring through the air.

Except for the fact that it didn’t move an inch.

Zhongli peered back over his shoulder. His gaze met Ajax’s– cold and vicious, with just a spark of obsessive pride. It was very, annoyingly hot.

He didn’t have another second to think before Morax slammed the butt of his polearm backwards and into his gut. In a whirlwind of earth-toned silks, his sword skidded away across the courtyard and Ajax was pressed flat on his back, a foot on his chest and a spear at his throat.

“Match,” came the Emperor’s deep rumble. Fuck. Shit. This was not good for his heart. He smiled wildly.

They stared at each other for a couple of seconds, Ajax admiring the fierce intensity in Morax’s eyes. It seemed he’d violated one of the most basic rules of the battlefield– never underestimate your opponent.

Zhongli removed his foot and extended his hand. Brushing off the internal disgust of Tartaglia, Childe reached up and took it. And, in a second, the battlefield’s intensity was gone.

“Wow xiansheng! I had no clue you were so strong! I totally underestimated you!” He was back to Childe, all smiles and sunshine. It seemed Zhongli was back to his prior self too. His face was back to his signature serene smile as he gently polished the polearm in his lap.

“It would be most strange if I were not well versed in combat, what with the many years I spent as a general.”

“The many years you what?! Wh- you were a general, xiansheng?!” Zhongli chuckled, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that Childe might not know that.

“Yes. I led Liyue’s armies for many years, both in arms and in strategy.” He smirked, just a little. “Even so, I had not expected you to be the type so easily bested.” Ajax sputtered.

“Wha- you- easily bested?! Now you listen here, Morax, don’t you dare put that spear away. Best two out of three. Unless you’re scared?”

“The only thing I am scared of, Childe, is hurting you. But if you insist.” Childe scoffed, stepping back into the courtyard.

“Oh, you’re on, old man.”

“Old? I am merely five years your senior.”

“Only thing senior about you is the fact that you’re a senior citizen.”

“Fighting words, Childe. Can you put your Mora where your mouth is?” Tartaglia grinned.

“Watch me.” With that, he lunged– this time taking the offensive. Every slash, Morax parried. Every stab, he sidestepped. He circled, slowly, taking his time to scan for further weaknesses.

From the– admittedly little– Tartaglia knew about polearms, Zhongli’s stance and grip were perfect. His footing was steady, his sides were covered, his gaze was laser focused. There were no openings. He’d have to make his own.

“So, Morax, what do you do for fun?” He stepped to the side with a messy slash, and Zhongli parried perfectly.

“I do believe we have discussed this prior.” Zhongli slashed twice– once diagonally and once up. Childe spun away with a cheeky grin.

“Well, sure, but jog my memory.”

“Calligraphy. Literature– particularly history, geography, and geology. Poetry. Sparring.” They exchanged blows again. Slash, parry, slash, parry.

“Hmm. Well, I may have stretched the truth a little when I told you my hobbies.”

“Oh?”

“I rather enjoy dancing- especially duet dancing. I find it's a bit similar to fighting, no?” Childe smirked.

He slashed hard downwards. But this time, Tartaglia didn’t step back when Zhongli blocked with his polearm’s shaft. He pressed harder, more forcefully– and he might not have been strong enough to rip the polearm from Morax’s hands, but he was most definitely stronger than whatever wood the body of the spear was made from. It split down the middle with an exhilarating crack.

Morax paused, staring down at his polearm. Ajax could almost see the gears turning in his head. Finally, he tossed the broken spear away. Tartaglia grinned. He, too, dropped his sword, kicking it over to the weaponry racks.

Now the fight really begins.

He let Morax throw the first punch. He swiftly dodged it, of course– as well as the next six or seven. On the eighth strike, Childe decided to spice things up.

He grabbed Morax’s fist when his arm was extended. The Emperor stared, clearly confused. Childe slid his fingers into Zhongli’s.

Slowly, he twisted their hands above his head, trying to get Zhongli to pull him back into a traditional spin. About halfway through, he got the idea– thank gods– taking the lead and pulling Childe gracefully towards him until his back was pressed gently against his torso.

With their hands still tangled above their heads, Childe looked back over one shoulder. Huh. So he has the same intensity in his eyes whether he’s fighting or dancing, Ajax mused. He brushed the thought aside.

Childe winked.

A lot of things happened next, all in very rapid succession. First, Zhongli tensed up. Then Tartaglia slipped his hand from his grip. He elbowed him– hard– in the gut, and when Morax doubled over, he dropped into a crouch and swept his legs out from under him in one quick kick.

Zhongli fell flat on his back, thoroughly winded. Childe dropped back into a crouch over him.

“Looks like I win this one, old man.” Zhongli flushed furiously beneath him. Childe threw his head back laughing– only a little crazed. Victory felt good. Victory felt great. He rolled to the side so he was laying next to the Emperor.

“I was… caught off guard.”

“Yeah, xiansheng, that was the point.” Morax frowned, standing. Childe stood too.

“Either way, you have to admit we’re pretty evenly matched.” The Emperor scoffed.
“Okay, now that’s just insulting.”

“On the contrary, Tartaglia, I find it insulting that you would stoop to such measures to get the better of me. What is next? Pulling my hair?” Childe smirked.

“I mean, if that’s what you’re into…” One of the guards coughed– most likely thoroughly embarrassed over the current conversation.

Morax didn’t get the chance to respond before a frazzled looking page sped-walked out into the courtyard.

“Your Imperial Highnesses,” He gasped, sounding quite out of breath and dropping into a deep bow, “I would not have interrupted you, except that it is urgent.”

“Stand. Present whatever news you bring, messenger.” In an instant, Zhongli became the emperor again. The sweaty, casual mess disappeared, replaced by that commanding grace that alway seemed to follow Morax wherever he went.

“The Fair Lady, Princess Signora, Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers is currently at our gates. She claims that she is owed an audience with you, your Imperial Highness, for matters to do with Snezhnaya and Liyue.” Morax sighed.

“Alright, bring her in. Have her settled on floor twenty-four, and arrange for people to bring her bags up. After which, she may meet us in the throne room.”

“As you wish, your Imperial Highness.” The page scuttled away, clearly quite relieved he hadn’t been smited at the news. Zhongli turned pensively to him.

“Childe?”

“It’s fine. She can stay. I don’t know if joining you in the throne room is the best of ideas though. She… if I'm there, you won’t get anything done.”

“If you believe that to be the best course of action, you are free to do as you please– but I would like you by my side. My knowledge of your siblings is limited. You are likely to have better insight than I.” He shifted uncertainly. Zhongli took his hand.

“If you would be uncomfortable at any point, Childe, you may simply leave. No one shall hold it against you. But I do wish you would join me.” Ajax sighed. He looked up at Zhongli, who’s eyes were so full of hope. He gave a tired smile.

“Alright. But we should get cleaned up first.”

“Yes, we should.”

Chapter Text

Childe emerged from the bathroom, still toweling off his hair. He’d changed into a less formal robe set, with only three or four layers– there didn’t seem to be much point in stealing another of Zhongli’s fancy ones, not for a meeting with Signora.

Signora… What was she doing in Liyue so soon after his departure? Was it possible that something had happened in Snezhnaya? Or was she just stopping in for a taunting visit? He huffed a stark laugh. It would be just like her to pull a stunt like that, if only so she could exercise the little power she still had over his life.

A knock came at his door. He opened it, wet hair and all, and– naturally– came face to face with Zhongli. Or, more accurately, face to shoulder. Because the man was a giant.

The Emperor had also opted for more casual dress, though his robes were still far more ornate than Childe’s own, and his hair was somehow entirely dry. Magic. There was no other answer.

“Ajax.”

“Zhongli.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah. I mean, my hair’s still wet, but–” Zhongli cut him off.

“But are you ready emotionally? I know your siblings are… sore subjects.” Childe paused. What was he supposed to say? “No, actually, I hate Signora and I think it’d be better if I never saw her again?” And then he would just… not have to see her. Yeah right. In his dreams.

“No, it’s alright. I can handle it. But… thank you for asking.” Childe watched Morax’s face light up.

Note to self, thank the Emperor more often.

“Wonderful. If you are ready, then?”

“Oh, uh yeah, of course, let me just.” He lifted a hand, channeling his vision through it, and pulled the water droplets from his hair before flicking it into a nearby plant. With a quick ruffle, he was back to looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, but artfully.

“How did you do that?” Zhongli asked, seeming suddenly enraptured.

“Do what? Dry my hair? It’s nothing special, just practice, I guess. Some things just take a delicate touch.”

“Your control over your hydro is impressive nonetheless. It is not something to be diminished.” Childe laughed awkwardly.

“Oh stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” Morax tilted his head, puzzled.

“Why do you diminish your achievements and then deflect compliments? It takes more than just practice, in the same way it takes more than just talent. You should take pride in your skills, Ajax.” Now he was blushing for real. Gods, it was embarrassing how easily a stupid compliment could reduce him to this.

“We should– ah– we should get going. If we keep Signora waiting much longer, I can guarantee she will make this ten times worse. Speaking from experience.” Zhongli’s eyes narrowed, but otherwise he said nothing, simply dipping his head in agreement.

“Then let us go.”

_____

The two of them strode into the throne room, flanked by several sets of guards, all in slightly more ornate uniforms than the rest of the Millelith. There were two thrones up on the dais; one shockingly ornate to the point of discomfort, and one slightly smaller, but still plenty intricate. This is going to be arduous, isn’t it? Childe resigned himself to his fate with a concealed sigh. He followed Morax up onto the dais, allowing the Emperor to take a seat in the larger throne before he sat next to him.

Past the Emperor on his right, Xiao stood, spear in hand and severe expression on his face. Did that guy never relax? Well, he guessed he’d give him props for that. It’d just make Childe’s life harder.

Directly on Childe’s left, the Tianquan had taken her place. She stood, rigid, borderline glaring at the main door before them. The one where Signora would enter. Did Ningguang just hate all foreigners? The thought gave him a bit of relief; perhaps she would lay off of him as she grew more accustomed to his presence.

There was no more rustling of footsteps in the room. Everything was silent for a second.

And then, the grand doors in front of them swung open. Two Millelith held the doors open, and La Signora, Princess of Snezhnaya, The Fair Lady, Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers, and Tartaglia’s older sister strode through. She smirked. This was going to go absolutely swell.

“Princess,” Morax spoke, sprawled out over his throne. The picture of languid grace, as always.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Signora came to an unhurried stop, a few feet away from the edge of the dais. She dropped into a respectful curtsy, somehow making the whole gesture seem… challenging.

“Our arrangement, Emperor Morax. Surely you remember?” She looked over at Childe, fake pity brimming in her eyes. His own narrowed in suspicion.

“Naturally.”

“Good,” she purred, “Then I’m sure you don’t want my brother here.” She turned to Childe. “So sorry, but I'm sure you understand. This is sensitive information.”

“Wait, hold on, Emperor– what– what does she mean? What arrangement?” Zhongli ignored him. And fuck, it stung.

“Let us proceed with this discussion, La Signora. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can finish.” She laughed, cold and mean.

“So eager to get this over with? Very well, Emperor… The Tsaritsa has upheld her end of the contract. It is time you uphold yours. Hand over the diamond.”

“Very well. Tianquan?” Ningguang, who he just remembered existed, stepped forward, a ring-sized box in her hand. Signora took it gracefully, a smile wide on her face. She spun the box around and opened it, as if to show it off to Childe.

“Oh, look at it! Gorgeous. Perhaps mother will let me have it for my wedding ring.” She snapped the box shut with a glaring snap.

“In either case, the contract is fulfilled. Your duty here is done.” Morax scowled.

“Ouch, Emperor. So cold. I sure hope you’re nicer behind closed doors… wouldn’t want our dearest eleventh getting frostbite.”

“Now hold on,” Childe started, fury boiling beneath his skin, “there’s a time and place for secrecy, but do you really have no intention of cluing me in?” Signora’s gasp was dramatic– and clearly faked. Her eyes shone with a cruel pleasure.

“You mean… You didn’t tell him, Emperor Morax? How awful! Why, if Rostam treated me this way, I think I would have to leave him on the spot!” Childe was much too preoccupied with Signora’s words to focus on her tone.

“Morax,” Tartaglia chimed in, “care to explain what you didn’t tell me?” The Emperor did not turn to face him. He sat, as stiff and unfeeling as stone, staring straight ahead and never turning to see those around him. His voice was low and cold when he spoke.

“The Tsaritsa extended an offer to me shortly before her annual connections ball, which I was set not to attend. She divulged to me that my soulmate was present at her very own Zapolyarny Palace, and that if I should attend, I would most certainly meet them. I made the intuitive choice for myself and my nation.” His neck stiffened, eyes focused straight forward and avoiding the target of his bladed confession.

Childe stared, dumbstruck, his breath stolen from him. Gods, it burned. Every little implication-

That Mother practically arranged our marriage.

That Zhongli— that he AGREED.

That neither of them decided to divulge that little piece of information to the pawn they were tossing around.

The two most important people in my life think my value is equivalent to that of a sparkly, shimmering, worthless rock.

“And then,” Signora cut in, hungrily, “Mother requested this lovely diamond you see before you. All contracts must be fair, after all.”

“So what, suddenly I’m some item to be traded around as you people please?!” His eyes narrowed.

“La Signora. Send your mother my regards.” Morax turned to the guards. “If you would escort her out, please.”

“Hey, what about me? Doesn’t anyone feel the least bit of remorse over deceiving me?!” Signora smirked over her shoulder.

“If anything, Morax should be thanking you. You accepted a proposal from a man you’d just met that day. You gave Liyue a future with the bloodline it trusts. You fulfilled Morax’s most painful, personal contract. And all with seemingly no motive… why, to an outsider, it would seem you’ve been taken advantage of, Childe.” He gritted his teeth. Morax stood.

“Thank you, Princess. That will be all. I believe the Emperor Consort and I are due for a little chat.” The Emperor’s tone was icy. Ajax stood too, fury and hurt swirling around in his chest and rushing like the rapids of an icy river.

Signora laughed wickedly. “Oho, trouble in paradise?”

“Out,” Morax growled. The door shut quietly behind them. Although, it might as well have been slammed, the way it seemed to suck the air from the room.

“Tartaglia.”

Childe did not look at Morax. He heard, more so than he saw, the other slump back down into his throne, sighing as if exhausted from a long day of whatever the fuck important royalty did.

“Leave us,” Morax spoke, and he sounded so bone-achingly tired that for a moment, Tartaglia actually believed it. The Millelith shuffled out. The door swung shut softly. The room was dead silent for a moment. And then Morax spoke.

“Ajax–”

“Don’t. Don’t fucking call me that. When did I give you permission to use that name, Morax?”

“You’re my soulmate.”

“Oh yes, so I heard. Wait, so let me guess– If being your soulmate entitles you to buy me, then why wouldn’t it entitle you to use my personal name? After all, it’s tattooed on your arm. I live in your palace. I’m your soulmate.” He couldn’t help it– the hurt leaked into his voice. This was dumb. It was all so dumb. He was here for a reason, and it certainly wasn’t to get attached.

“That’s not what I meant, jiàngxuě. I apologize. You are not just a diamond to be sold or bought.” Tartaglia let out a dry chuckle and stood, finally turning to face Emperor Morax.

“Funny, coming from you. The one who got your soulmate for a rock barely bigger than your fingernail.” He gritted his teeth, staring into those confusing golden eyes. “All contracts must be fair, after all.”

The Emperor winced, and Tartaglia might’ve believed it if he had something to be hurt over.

“It was not I who proposed the deal. Your mother–”

“Don’t you dare bring her into this! Don’t you dare,” Childe hissed, rage finally bubbling out of control. “I will not let you insult the one person that cares about me, no matter what she may have done.”

“I care about you. You’re my soulmate.”

“…I knew it. You’re not sorry, not one bit.”

“I am, Ajax–”

“What did I say about that name, Morax?! If you were really sorry, you would prove me wrong. Prove to me that you value me over some shitty diamond. Prove to me that you care about me because of who I am, not what I am. When you can prove that you care about Ajax, not just your soulmate, then, and only then, will you earn the right to know me.”

The Emperor was too stunned to speak. He just sat there, and stared, absolutely dumbfounded– as if the idea that Tartaglia would be furious had never occurred to him.

“If there isn’t anything else, I’ll be going, Your Highness.” Without waiting for a response, Childe spun on his heel, turning fast for the door. It swung open in front of him– courtesy of two guards who had almost certainly been eavesdropping for the pity in their faces. That… or they’d just noticed the absolute shitstorm of a mood he was in.

_____

Ajax made his way to the Snezhnayan greenhouse– he didn’t know where else to go. He shrugged off a couple of robes, the silk suddenly seeming leaden on his shoulders. The icy bite in the air permeated the thin outer layers anyway.

He lay back in the snow, suddenly feeling very small again. The frosted glass seemed to cloud the sky, and all at once Childe was home in Snezhnaya. Pines and other varieties of evergreen were just as white as the snow covering them, rendering their only value in contrast their height. A beautiful, icy, monochromatic landscape.

It was quiet. No, not quiet, he thought coldly. It was silent. So noiseless, perhaps, the only sound for miles was the gentle brush of snow on his and his own racing heartbeat. He could walk for hours in any direction without finding a single soul. It was terrifying. It was freeing. And so he began to walk.

Ajax stopped occasionally to marvel at the sights in this greenhouse that seemed to go on forever. That tiny building, maybe 10 by 20 feet, somehow went on for hours. Yet it wasn’t long before he began to shiver.

But he couldn’t go back. The thoughts of burning, suffocating Liyue and Morax’s vile eyes were enough to drive him forward, further into the snow with his bare hands tucked into his armpits.

He came across frozen lakes and waterfalls, some frozen so clear he could see the fish preserved still as stone beneath the surface. He came across orchards of crystalline fruits, dripping from every hanging branch, cascading down in a brilliant symphony of motionless motion. He came across trees with icy branches scraping the sky and far-off mountain peaks, ethereal in their beauty. Yet not once did he see a single fox, nor hear a lone bird chirp. Just the wind whistling through distant treetops, and the gentle crunch of his footsteps through the snow.

Being surrounded by ice and snow had its drawbacks, though– especially when one wasn’t dressed for the occasion. Frost creeped into his fingers, his toes, and the corners of Childe’s mind. His heartbeat slowed. He kept walking.

_____

It was easy to get lost in there. That much was evident. He couldn’t see the walls anymore. He wondered if there even were walls in the first place. Not like he remembered.

_____

It was cold. That registered vaguely, he supposed. As long as he kept moving, he would be warm. Just keep walking. Don’t stop. As long as he kept moving, everything would be fine. It would all be fine.

_____

Ajax stopped shivering. He was so tired.
_____

He didn't turn around. He was sure of that much. And yet, up ahead in the snow lay Morax’s silks, the ones he’d discarded minutes? hours? days? ago. He’d been walking for so long, he’d forgotten. He bent to pick them up, and found he couldn’t stand. Then again, it was nice here. It felt like home. Maybe he didn’t need to get up.

No one would yell at him here…

It was so quiet…

…

..

..

.

_____

…but something was nagging at the corner of his mind.

_____

There was something he still had to do.

What was it?

_____

He had to… he had–

He hadn’t finished his mission yet.

Yes, but his mission to what?

He was in Liyue for a reason. He was in Liyue. Not Snezhnaya. Then why was it so cold? Why could he feel snow at his back?

Something was wrong. He was in Liyue– he was sure of it! But where in Liyue could be so cold… and why was he in Liyue in the first place?

His mother. He remembered his mother had sent him on a mission. No, that wasn’t quite right. He sent himself on a mission then. A mission to Liyue.

For– for power. For power, and for mora, and for respect.

He came to Liyue to kill the emperor.

He came to the palace to kill the emperor, because he was engaged to the emperor. Because he and the emperor were soulmates.

He was in the palace. In Liyue. And it was snowing. It was cold… …because he was in a greenhouse. A greenhouse designed to replicate Snezhnaya’s brutal, beautiful cold.

A greenhouse in Liyue. Where he was wearing the emperor’s silks.

Oh shit.

He was going to die out here if he lay around any longer. He was so close to the door. It was barely 10 feet away, and yet he couldn’t move.

…Come on. Was he really going to die to the cold? After all he’d lived through, all he’d survived– would he really succumb to the most basic threat of his homeland, thousands of miles away? No. He’d lived through every battle, every assasination attempt– hell, he’d lived through the Abyss! A bit of snow wouldn’t get him, not in a million years.

So, painstakingly, he stood, silks wrapped around his shoulders. His joints creaked and his muscles protested, but he hobbled towards the door, one step at a time, and pushed it open. Within seconds, he collapsed against the wall of the greenhouse, ever thankful there didn’t seem to be any guards present.

Everything felt so warm. Despite Liyue’s supposedly mild climate, the summers got quite warm. Then again, he supposed anything would feel warm when you’ve just stepped out of Snezhnaya.

Childe resolved to sit there for a while longer. It was important to warm up slowly– as tempting as it was to draw himself a hot bath, doing so would result in an incredibly painful experience that could further endanger his health. The last thing he wanted was to pay a visit to the palace physician. Nonetheless, he made sure to wiggle his fingers and toes in an effort to increase blood flow.

When he was finally feeling a little less like a block of ice, he started slowly re-dressing, one layer at a time, taking five minute breaks in between each garment to let his body temperature adjust. After maybe twenty minutes, Childe decided he was probably safe to go inside. He could only hope he looked better too, and that the guards at the door wouldn’t question him too much. For the first and last time, he lamented not taking a page from Signora’s book and carrying a mirror with him everywhere.

So he stood, and walked, and he nodded to the Millelith with a smile and walked some more, and he broke his promise to himself and used the damn lift because he was just too tired. Each step was small and measured, seeming almost graceful, when in reality it was just the byproduct of his frozen, aching muscles.

He staggered through his room door, locking it behind him and throwing the top few layers of Morax’s hanfu onto the bed. In the bathroom, he drew himself a warm bath– resisting the temptation to test his heat tolerance and jerk the knob all the way to the hottest setting.
While Childe waited for the room to steam up and the tub to fill, he paced back to his bedroom. Now that he was taking a second look, he noticed a note placed on the nightstand. Moving closer, Childe picked up the paper– which was, thankfully, written in Common– and began to read.

Dearest Ajax Tartaglia,

The clothes we commissioned for you have arrived. The staff have taken the liberty of hanging them in your closet. They are instructed to take great care to separate them from the clothes you have brought with you and sort them based on occasion. Further organization is left up to you.

And then, a smaller note at the bottom, seemingly hastily written:

I humbly request you join me for dinner again tonight. It is held in the same hall as last time. I trust you remember the way, and if not, there are maids aplenty to guide you. I am sorry.

Yours,

Zhongli

Tartaglia scoffed. All of that and Morax had crossed out the one meager apology he’d shoved in at the end. Why be bothered to put one at all, at that point? Coward.

Needless to say, he would not be attending dinner. He’d rather starve than sit at that damned table and make idle chit-chat with that snake. Ugh. Tartaglia hated politics. Everything would be so much simpler if all of the world’s problems could be solved with a brute-force fight. Quick, clean, and efficient, no lying or scheming or sneaking around necessary. Not this bullshit.

He ventured back into the bathroom. Steam had fogged up the mirror, and Ajax took a deep breath in– which was immediately followed by a bout of dry coughing. Something told him his voice would be raspy for a long time.

Childe’s underlayers were still cold and damp, and they were certainly not helping him warm up, so he folded them a bit neater than previous layers and set them by the door. He stepped into the bath without even checking the water temperature.

Sinking below the water, Childe had to make a conscious effort not to fall asleep. Imagine coming home after a long, tiring day and sinking into the warm embrace of your bed and blankets, fresh out of the dryer. Sleep is right there, beckoning you. But Ajax wasn’t home. He was thousands of miles away, betrayed by his mother and his soon-to-be husband, and the closest thing he had to home had nearly killed him.

He was alone. It was time that he accepted that and got over it. The next time he slipped up, trusted someone he shouldn’t, and allowed them to hurt him? It could be his last.

Childe sank back under the water and watched the bubbles of his exhale rise to the surface. This would be a long three months.

Chapter Text

Childe avoided Morax the next day. And the day after that. And the one after that, too. In fact, he hardly left his room at all. After he’d skipped dinner, the Emperor had just had all three meals sent to his door daily, which pretty much eliminated the need to leave. It was kind of sweet— in an emotionally manipulative, twisted way.

For the most part, he just stayed holed up reading his Liyuean linguistic books, waiting to go stir crazy. And, today, it finally happened. Of course, he’d been sneaking out through his window every night to train undisturbed, but there was only so much downtime one could take without going insane.

He wanted to fight something. He wanted to feel the crush of bone and sinew between his fingers. He wanted to feel flesh give beneath his blades. Tartaglia was ravenous, and no mere dinner would satisfy this hunger.

Ugh. Staying in Liyue was going to prove exhausting if he had to sneak out and kill something every four days. In Snezhnaya, his status as Harbinger meant he’d just commandeer a Fatui mission; something with a lot of violence necessary. There were Fatui in Liyue, of course, and he hadn’t lost his station, but something told him he wouldn’t be leaving the palace without speaking to Morax. Which, obviously, was the last thing he wanted to do.

It almost reminded him of his early days in the Fatui, back when he was fresh out of the abyss and had just been sent off to boot camp. With endless hunger for blood and a constant thirst for violence, he developed a dark reputation. Not a single recruit would step within ten feet of him for fear he’d tear their face off unprovoked.

Of course, it didn’t start off that way. The Fatui either didn’t know he was the Tsaritsa’s son, or they didn’t care, because they treated him just the same as any one of them, if not worse— likely because he was fourteen.

Either way, he had to prove himself a threat to these puny imbeciles. So he picked a fight in the lunchroom one day. It wasn’t hard to find an instigation— not with the way he was always either ostracized or picked on whenever other recruits were around.

What the poor guy did, he didn’t remember, but it wasn’t long before he was on the ground, nose broken, eyes rolled back in pain. Problem was, no one could stop Ajax. As soon as someone tried, he’d just beat them too and they’d end up on the steadily-growing pile of victims.

Even when the fully-trained soldiers came in, Ajax was taking on four or five at once— though, once a few more came in, he had to pull out his vision. But once he got serious, they got serious, and then he had to get more serious. It took five platoons to finally subdue him, but by that time, there were already at least a dozen confirmed casualties, and many more in critical condition.

Funnily enough, the first one he fought ended up the least injured on the scene. Sure, his nose healed crooked (because Ajax had semi-accidentally taken out their best healer when they came to try and recover some of the injured) but he was back to normal after a few weeks. Although, Ajax recalled, apparently he developed claustrophobia from the trauma of being trapped under a pile of his comrades’ dead and dying bodies. He shrugged. He was probably fine. Mostly.

His wistful reminiscing was interrupted by a knock at his door. Right. There was another part.

With an aggravated sigh, Childe swung his legs off of the bed and stood, making his way over to the door. He pulled it open before they had the opportunity to knock again, and found himself face to face with a very short and seemingly flustered maid.

“Um, uh, Lord– I mean, Prince– no, wait, uh, Emperor– Emperor Consort Tartaglia, I bring you this package, and, um, this letter. From, uh– from our– from the Emperor, of course. Not from me. Obviously.” She cut herself off in a series of nervous giggles.

“I can, um– I can speak the best Common, so our Head– uh, Head Maid personally chose me for, uhm– for this, um, this job. Sir.” She was shaking so badly he couldn’t tell if the poor girl had a stutter or if she was just shy. Childe almost took pity on her. Almost. But at the end of the day, even if she was just following orders, she still came to bother him with more of Morax’s shallow gifts. And that would not do.

“Why, thank you, girlie~ Much appreciated.” He bent down to pluck the package from her still trembling hands, making sure to lean in arguably closer than was necessary and linger just a tad longer than he perhaps should’ve. Naturally, she went bright red.

“Oh! Um-– I– uhm– I should, I should really get, uh, get going, and– uh–” Childe cut her off, leaning one arm on the doorway with a casual smirk.

“Oh? But I do so enjoy your company~ Perhaps you could… come inside? We could have a little fun~”

“No! I mean–um, yes, I would love too, but– um– sorryIreallyhavetogonowseeyouanothertimebye!” The girl straight up bolted away, zooming down the corridor and around the corner before one could say flustered three times fast. Childe laughed, a warm, sunny sound, before throwing the package and letter on the pile, unopened. He shut the door behind him.

A small part of his mind whispered that word of his incessant flirting with the maids would get back to the Emperor, and who knows what he’d do when he found out. Let him hear, thought Tartaglia, Let him hear of my behavior. Let jealousy and hurt and betrayal seep into his gut and corrupt his soul. Let his heart break a little at the thought of me with someone else.

The first gift Morax sent was in the hands of a young page, more skin and bones than he was muscle. Nevertheless, he had a defined waist and a pretty face, which was really all Childe needed to tease the poor boy. After that, the Emperor started sending girls– hoping, he supposed, that he only swung one way. He was wrong.

Many would be shocked if he ever showed interest in someone- it was a common misconception about him, really. Anyone who had spent more than a couple of hours with Childe would tell you he had a shameless flirting problem. He could and would flirt with anyone– male, female, it didn’t really matter. He would tease them just the same– which ended on several instances in further interactions of a more… sexual nature.

Despite this, he’d never actually entertained thoughts of having a serious relationship. Previous crushes had been just that– childish infatuations that held no more than carnal instinct at their core. Sure, he’d had “partners”– but they never really lasted more than a week or two. He supposed it was only so long before they saw through Childe and into Tartaglia, and it wasn’t like he was going to try and hide it from them. Anyone who wanted to date a bloodthirsty maniac should probably have some idea of what they were getting into.

He’d sent gifts two or even three times a day, and the pile of them on the other half of his bed was starting to grow considerably. None of them were opened, of course, because his spite was stronger than his curiosity, and he made sure to steer far clear of the letters attached to each package. Childe trusted himself not to be swayed by presents, but words were far more dangerous.

But of course, because fate never let him have anything, his curiosity had only grown over the past few days. And, well, it wasn’t like Morax would be able to tell if he’d opened them or not, right?

…

Childe decided to open them in chronological order, because it made the most sense, and Morax seemed like the type to try and build on past gifts. Then again, he also didn’t seem like the type to buy a husband, so maybe he should stop putting so much faith in what he thought someone was like.

The first gift came in a small, deep blue box with a glaze lily tucked into the ribbon tied around it. Lifting the lid carefully exposed a deep blue comb. Ajax held it up to the light with some sort of almost-wonder. The morning sun bounced around inside the crystal- he vaguely recalled one called noctilucus jade that seemed about this color. There were little starconches engraved in the corner of the comb, dusted in silver- and the whole thing was quite stunning really. He set it aside and moved on.

The next box he opened was a promise ring. In the accompanying letter, Morax stated it was a promise to be by his side for as long as Tartaglia would have him. He scoffed and moved on.

Next was a set of ornate chopsticks, beautifully embossed with a looping pattern of a dragon and a phoenix, swirling around each other. The dragon had its tail tip intertwined with the phoenix’s tail feather. Childe didn’t bother reading the note.

There came a knock at his door.

“Another one? It hasn’t even been an hour!” He set the chopsticks back in their box and stood, sighing agitatedly. Before Childe could even reach out to turn the doorknob, however, the door swung open, almost hitting him in the face as he quickly stepped back. That was definitely not going to help his mood.

The man at the door was Zhongli.

“Tartaglia,” he began– but he didn’t really have time to continue. Because Tartaglia slammed the door in his face. Nope. No way in hell he was doing this. Not now, not ever. Morax knocked again. Childe scoffed.

“Ajax, please,” came the voice again– this time muffled by the door. “I need to talk to you.”

“The only thing you need to do is leave me alone.”

“I came to apologize.” Childe laughed- a bitter, resentful sound.

“Bullshit.”

“Ajax, I–”

“Don’t you dare try to convince me you’re in the right! Not when you keep fucking up the one thing I asked of you!”

“I’m not.” Morax’s voice sounded strangled, choked through the haze of his deceit.

“Liar!” Tartaglia swung his arm in a rage, sweeping the gifts and wrapping paper and letters to the floor. The calligraphy pen rolled slowly before coming to a stop at his feet. He kicked it away in disgust.

“No, Tartaglia, I believe you have misunderstood me. I am not trying to convince you that I was correct because I was not. I am not.”

“...What?”

“Apologies aren’t about convincing someone you were right and they were wrong. They are about expressing serious grief at your own actions and the harm they caused to your loved ones. There can be no apology where there isn’t remorse.” Ajax was silent. Was… was he trying to imply that he didn’t mean to? Or that he regretted buying him? Shit. Fuck. This was it. He’d been so angry, and hurt, that he’d forgotten his mission and now Morax had come to return him. Zhongli had come to return him.

“I suppose what I am trying to say is… I am sorry. It was wrong of me to make contracts affecting your life without your knowledge and failing to inform you. I am deeply guilty and remorseful for the way my actions have hurt you. I truly regret that.” He took a breath so deep Childe could hear it through the door. Even Celestia seemed to be on the edge of their seat.

“But I do not regret my actions.” What?

“What?”

“Perhaps it is selfish of me… but I have enjoyed immensely the time that we have spent together. I worry that, had I not made this decision– foolish as it was– I would not have met you. And that, to me, would be a great loss indeed. I– I would like to spend more time with you. If you would have me.” He froze. And in that second, Tartaglia made a split-second decision.

He marched over to the door, swinging it open without hesitation. He looked up at a shocked-seeming Zhongli, eyes slightly puffy– almost as if he’d been crying recently. He was holding a bouquet of glaze lilies and Snezhnayan snowdrops. Childe’s eyes grew cold, twinkling like snow in the new morning.

“Fight me.”

“Tartaglia–”

“No,” he cut him off, “No. Fight me, Morax. Hold nothing back. If you win, I will forgive you. If you lose, we call off the engagement and I move back to Snezhnaya.” The Emperor paused, shock flickering through his eyes but for a moment before it was replaced by indecision.

“We cannot fight in the palace.”

“I couldn’t care less where we fight.” There was a short pause.

“Alright. I agree to your terms. When shall this fight commence?”

“As soon as we can find a place.” Morax dipped his head in agreement, and the two set off– the Emperor in the lead, Childe trailing along slightly behind him.

_____

The field they found was pleasant, quiet, and absolutely abandoned. Though the Emperor had insisted that no guards need follow them, they had two or three trailing them anyway. After a quick warning of “stay as far away as possible,” The two men stood their ground about five feet away from each other.

“Until surrender?” Tartaglia asked. Morax nodded.

“And no holding back on me, xiansheng.”

“I ask the same of you.” And then Tartaglia, eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, Snezhnayan prince and Liyuean consort lunged at Morax, Emperor of Liyue and Rex Lapis, Prime of the Adepti.

The two men danced between blades, in which any step could be the difference between life and death. It was almost funny, Childe thought, the trust between them. Neither held back because both knew the other was above injury from basic combat, even between the two of them. They both trusted each other to use their full potential.

Morax was mostly taking the defensive; he would put up a shield every time Tartaglia got a little too close for comfort, and mainly stuck to blocking or dodging his attacks. Childe, on the other hand, was throwing everything he had at the man. Sometimes he used his swords, other times he morphed that same water into a bow– but no matter what he did, he simply couldn't crack that jade shield. There was no other choice. He’d have to take it up a notch.

Ajax still remembered the day he got his delusion. He was barely fifteen, fresh out of the abyss, his naïveté long erased as he knelt before his mother. He’d gone through three months of Fatui bootcamp and a month’s rotation under each of his siblings– barring Pierro, Capitano, and Columbina, of course, because they had “more important things to do than babysit a little kid,” in the words of Dottore. He was just irked that he wasn’t “important enough” to get out of babysitting duty.

It was time. He felt the familiar electricity crackling around him– pulling on his veins, his skin, the edges of his very being. Whilst a vision drew on elemental energy around oneself, a delusion drew it from inside oneself. It was, of course, due to this that the repeated use of a delusion was too much strain on the body of a non-vision wielder. They just simply did not have enough elemental energy inside of them to sustain using it for very long.

The purple whip of lightning coiling itself around Childe’s forearm certainly caught Morax’s attention, which was all the distraction he needed to launch himself at the other. Without much thought on his part, the electro crackled through the ground at his feet as he leapt, the extra energy propelling him into the sky.

With the combination of the already-soaked battlefield and the static heavy in the air, the very atmosphere around them felt electro-charged. He landed right behind Morax, forcing him to spin. With the combination of the sudden position change, the slickness of the ground, and the blade he was shoving directly towards his back, defeat was imminent. Except Morax didn’t turn, he jumped.

Morax soared overhead, higher than any normal person could jump. Midair, he transformed into a dragon– the Exuvia. A talent that all in the Liyuean royal family possessed, yet only the Emperor or Empress was allowed to use on the battlefield. A symbol of Liyue’s wealth, prosperity, and might on the battlefield. It was glorious. He never thought he’d get to set it in person– much less receive the honor of getting to fight against it.

He shook himself out of his stupor and pulled his newly-reformed bowstring taut. With a roar, the Exuvia dived, and Tartaglia stared down the shaft of a sparking arrow at it. His eyes met Morax’s. His arrow flew true, of course– dead set to hit the diving dragon directly between the eyes.

Perhaps there was more anger left in him than he thought. If he killed the Emperor now, he would have no chance at the throne– and with the Millileth most likely still watching, he would be executed for high treason as well. But it didn’t matter, because the Morax-Exuvia split the arrow in two with one massive claw in a swipe that doubled as a slash at Childe. He bareley rolled out of the way in time, a new exhilaration pumping in his chest.

Was it time? Did he even have enough abyssal energy for a full Legacy transformation? He hadn’t killed anything in several days– hadn’t even sparred with the guards. If he could pull it off, would he be able to sustain it for long enough to finish the fight? He would certainly lose if he overestimated his abilities and de-transformed mid-battle. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t particularly want Morax to see his weakened state on the end side of a transformation. No, he would win this battle without Foul Legacy. He had stamina yet, and it wasn’t worth the risk.

He zipped to the side, away from several golden projectiles aimed at his head. The ground rumbled as the Exuvia roared. The earth trembled beneath Tartaglia’s feet, and he barely jumped to the side in time to dodge the massive geo pillar construct that sprung up from the very ground. Then another one, beneath where he stood now, and another one where he dodged to the third time. All within the span of a second or two.

There was no escape on the ground. He’d have to go up. So the next time a pillar began to spring up, about a half second later, he focused his energy on launching himself into the air. He landed flat-footed on the pillar, and began to spring forward in time, giving himself an extra bump whenever a pillar shot up beneath him. He sprinted towards Morax, swords in hand, manic grin on his face, and jumped one final time, propelling him upwards towards the Exuvia’s face, a mighty overhead slash in the making bearing down so fiercely it casted a wavering shadow in the afternoon sun.

And the dragon merely swiped him aside like an ant.

Tartaglia hit the earthen ground hard, although he remained on his feet. Alright then. Time for plan B.

Tartaglia focused, pulling within himself in a way not even his delusion managed to simulate. He reached inside his very soul, grabbed the writhing, hissing, spitting monster that was his abyssal energy and pulled it over himself, molding every feature and aspect to its will. It was the one doing the pulling now, and every inch of his body burned under the pressure– just another reminder that there was nothing natural about the Abyss.

His height more than doubled, his features stretched, his mask fused to his face, and his hair stood on end like he was being constantly shocked with electro, yet flowed behind him as if he was perpetually submerged in hydro. It was during this transformation, one he had only used a single digit number of times in his life, that the little that was left of Ajax faded away. Even Childe was uncharacteristically quiet. This form was raw power, through and through, and it was Tartaglia. It would not hold back.

The Exuvia seemed to stop for a moment, staring at it. It smiled, wickedly, though no one but itself would know, and re-entered the fight with double the fervor.

Many hours later, it started to run out of steam. It's attacks were slowing, becoming sluggish and sloppy. Everything he threw at the dragon glance harmlessly off of it’s scales, and every arrow it stabbed between them Morax hardly seemed to notice. Even his battle whale didn’t seem to do much of anything. He’d wiped out armies with that battle whale.

Childe began seeping back in through the cracks of Tartaglia. This fight would be over very soon if he wasn’t careful. And then the sky darkened. The Exuvia dived, in a glow of golden light so bright it obscured his form, and landed back on his feet as Zhongli, the human. He crossed his arms and the clouds began to swirl. And then, from the sky, a meteor fell.

Foul Legacy dissolved in specks of black miasma, and Ajax fell to his knees.

He had been beaten. He knew that. But it didn’t feel any less painful when Morax strolled up to him, placing his spear at his throat.

“Do you yield?” He spoke, deep, gravelly, (a note of worry seeping through his voice.) Childe chuckled, painfully, every inch of his body alight with a throbbing pain. He coughed, spat a bit of blood onto the ground at Morax’s feet, and raised his head defiantly to look the Emperor in the eye.

“Kill me.” For a moment, he seemed taken aback.

“No.” Childe cocked his head, a smile tinged with sadness growing on his face.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve lost enough people I’ve loved. I’m not going to lose you too.” Morax dropped his spear and held out his hand. Ajax took it.

Zhongli pulled him up, and Ajax staggered as his world swum. Zhongli pulled his arm over his shoulder, and they stumbled back towards the castle.

“I yield,” Childe spoke, so quiet it was practically a whisper, “and I forgive you.”

And then the world went dark.

_____

As Ajax collapsed in his arms, Zhongli picked him up gently, situating his head over one arm and the bend of his legs over the other. He would carry him back to the castle, and call the physician immediately.

As he walked, he brushed a soaked hair out of Ajax’s face. His jiàngxuě. His snowfall.

Chapter Text

Childe awoke blearily, body aching in more places than he could count. A couple of vaguely human-shaped shadows milled about the room, talking in hushed tones. He could only catch snippets of what they were saying.

“–with his current state–”

“–but what about–”

“We just don’t know enough yet–”

“-he’ll be okay?” Were they talking about him? It sounded pretty serious– so he coughed a little, making a big show of sitting up. His vision cleared a little.

Zhongli had stopped pacing and was now staring at him. Honestly, he looked terrible. His normally perfect posture was slumped, his hair fell tangled and frizzy down his back, and the appearance of dark circles under his eyes gave him an almost sickly pallor.

The other man Childe didn’t recognize. He had long green hair, a strand falling over one shoulder, a pair of spectacles sitting on the brim of his nose, and a– snake?– curled around his neck. It was he who spoke first.

“Ah, Emperor Consort, you’re awake. I’m Doctor Baizhu. I would ask how you’re feeling, but I would be shocked if you said anything other than terrible.”

“Well, I’ve felt worse,” he said, wincing at the hoarseness of his own voice. He coughed again.

“Can you answer a few questions for me?” He nodded.

“Good. Alright then, what is your name?”

“I can’t remember.” Childe watched with amusement as shock flickered over the doctor’s face– and then a heartbreaking horror fell onto Zhongli’s. Ajax was quick to correct himself.

“Kidding, kidding! I’m Tartaglia, obviously. My memory isn’t that bad!” Morax’s face falls into a stern frown, and the doctor simply sighs.

“No more jokes, please. This is a serious medical examination. Continuing on; where are you right now?” Childe thought for a moment.

“The Golden House, right? Unless you’ve moved me somewhere else.”

“That is correct, yes, you are in the medical bay of the palace. Any ringing in your ears or difficulty looking at bright lights?” Childe shook his head.

“Good. Can you recall the events leading up to your loss of consciousness?” Childe shifted embarrassedly, shooting a questioning glance at Zhongli across the room. He dipped his head as if to confirm he’d already shared the whole story.

“We, um– well, Morax and I had a bit of a sparring match. That I lost. And, well… yeah.”

“A bit of a sparring match?” Baizhu raised an eyebrow. “From the wounds you both sustained, it sounds more like a battle of the ages.” Tartaglia chuckled.

“Well, either way, you don’t have a concussion. That’s good,” he remarked, “because you were out for quite a bit longer than average.”

“Oh,” Childe remarked, anxiety tingling around the base of his spine, “how long was I out for?”

“About ten hours. Not highly uncommon, but rare when the patient hasn’t sustained some kind of brain trauma. I’ll have to ask some follow-up questions later. For now, I’ll leave you two be. I’m sure the Emperor is about ready to fire me, the amount of time I’ve made him wait.” The doctor turned, collected his clipboard, and headed for the door. His hand paused on the doorknob.

“Nothing too rough, alright, Morax? He’s meant to be recovering.” And then he was gone, quicker than Childe’s face could go beet-red. Before he could think too much about it, Zhongli was kneeling at his bedside. He reached for Childe’s hand, pressing the palm of it against his cheek.

“Ajax, Ajax, Ajax,” he mumbled into his palm, “my darling Ajax. I am so, so sorry.” This was not helping his blushing mess of a face.

“Morax– er, Zhongli… what–”

“I was so worried. I was… I was scared that I had gone too far. That I was going to lose you.” He laughed a little, quietly.

“I’m tough, xiansheng. I’m not going anywhere.” Zhongli began peppering little kisses all across his hand, starting with his palm before trailing over to his knuckles.

“What.”

“Hmmm?” Zhongli paused his kissing for a moment to glance up at him. Somehow, Childe flushed impossibly redder.

“Oh, uh, nothing, Zhongli. Nothing at all.” Zhongli did not resume his hand kisses, thank Celestia. But his relief didn’t last very long because he instead moved to rest his head on Childe’s shoulder, burrowing into the gap between it and his neck.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” And there was Baizhu, standing in the doorway.

“I would’ve waited longer, but it’s been thirty minutes already. Now, if you’d excuse us, Morax? I need to speak privately to my patient, please.” Perhaps it was his imagination, but Childe could’ve sword he saw Zhongli shoot the doctor a dirty look as he stood and left, the door falling shut behind him.

Baizhu pulled up a chair close to where Zhongli had previously been kneeling and sat, setting down his clipboard before he spoke.

“I noticed that some of your healing seems to be accelerated, while other areas– some that shouldn’t even be injured, based on Lord Morax’s description of the fight– seem to resist any kind of treatment. Do you have any idea why this could be?” Getting straight into it then. Tartaglia supposed he could respect that.

“No,” he answered, just as bluntly as the doctor had asked. Of course, he knew exactly why– but he wasn’t about to share.

“Hm. I also noticed whilst examining your hands that your fingers have clearly been broken several times in the past. Naturally, a fighter of your caliber will have scars and various injuries that never quite healed right, but the apparent number of excruciating-looking breaks in each of your fingers is… quite worrying to say the least. Could you explain to me how this happened?” Childe scowled.

“Some of those were years ago doctor– maybe even a decade. I couldn’t detail how I broke my fingers, I was like, twelve.”

“Can you remember some more recent ones?”

“Sure, but I really don’t see how this is relevant.” Baizhu sighed, but at least it seemed like he’d dropped it. He readjusted his glasses and began anew.

“So, as I mentioned earlier, Emperor Consort Tartaglia, It is quite uncommon for patients to remain unconscious longer than a couple of hours when they haven’t sustained a concussion or further brain damage. Any past injuries or physical trauma to the head I should know about?” If you count hitting my head on the way down into the Abyss, he thought mirthlessly. Nevertheless, your tragic backstory isn’t really something you bring up on your first meeting with someone, doctorate or not.

“Not that I can remember.”

“Hm,” the doctor mused, shifting a little in his seat and mumbling to himself something Childe couldn’t quite make out.

“Pardon?” he interjected.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Or, well, if it is something, you’ll find out soon enough I suppose.”

“Any history of other kinds of trauma?” Tartaglia bristled. First withholding information that most clearly had to do with him, then prying into matters he had no business in? This ‘Doctor Baizhu’ was begging to be his next fight.

“With all due respect, Doctor, I don't see how that is relevant to this conversation.” Baizhu huffed a little, clearly a bit on edge.

“Now hold on, Emperor Consort, a couple of deep breaths, please. To answer your underlying question, it is not uncommon for victims of psychological trauma to experience changes in the brain akin to someone who took a particularly nasty fall.”

“Sorry Doctor, but I have too many things to do to sit still for an impromptu therapy session, like beat up whoever let you in here. Seriously, they’ve tried that one. You can’t therapy my neuroticism away. Now if you’ll excuse me-” Tartaglia tried to stand, finding his legs shaky (and surprisingly sore!) before finally stumbling up and making his way to the door–

“I believe you have dissociative amnesia,” Doctor Baizhu blurted out, just as Childe was about to reach for the doorknob. He turned slowly back around to face him.

“What did you say?”

“Dissociative amnesia,” Baizhu repeated, sounding a little more sure of himself this time. “It’s a type of amnesia caused by excessive stress or trauma, mental or physical. It causes a person to forget an event, period of time in their life, important parts of their life or identity, or even their entire life and self. It is also characterized by said amnesiac not being particularly worried by the gaps in their memory. And also, you really shouldn’t be standing.”

It was then that there came a knock at the door. It was but a moment before it swung open, and Childe barely managed to step back in time before it would’ve smacked him right in the face.

“Aja– er, Tartaglia, I heard shouting. Is everything alright?” Morax slung a protective arm around his hip, scowling softly at Baizhu. The doctor sighed and stood, folding his clipboard under his arm as he walked to the door.

“Yes, yes, everything is fine. Emperor Consort Tartaglia's brain appears to be in great health. No problems whatsoever.” He made eye contact with Childe, frighteningly cold whilst his face was lit up with a cheerful smile. Ajax shivered. Zhongli pressed him closer.

He wasn’t going to say anything to the Emperor? Withholding important medical information would definitely be enough to get him fired… was he so uncertain of his diagnosis he’d rather keep it to himself? No, that would only make sense if Baizhu had kept it from Childe, too. But he didn’t. So why..?

“I will send an envoy with the second and third rounds of herbs once I prepare them. In the meantime, I would advise limited movement with a minimum of two days’ bed rest. After that, physical activity should be limited as much as possible for the next two weeks, and training shouldn’t take place for another month.”

“Wait wait wait– Are you saying no sparring for six weeks?! Because there is no way–”

“Thank you, Doctor Baizhu,” Morax cut him off, “Please send the herbs with haste. You are dismissed.” The doctor bowed his head respectfully on the way out, the door falling shut behind him.

“Zhongli–” he began to protest when he was cut off again.

”No, Childe. You will abide by the doctor’s orders, and if the doctor’s orders are not to fight for a month and a half, you shall not fight for a month and a half.”

“What if the doctor’s orders are stupid?” he pouted, not unlike a petulant child. The corner of Morax’s mouth quirked upwards in amusement.

“Listen please, jiàngxuě,” Zhongli began gently as he slowly guided Childe back to the bed by the waist, “I know you may find this difficult. I would be lying if I claimed that I, too, would not struggle with this order.” As they reached the bedside, he didn’t even get the chance to try and get in bed before Zhongli was sweeping him up into his arms and setting him down under the covers. It was for but a second, but looking up at his fiance made him wonder if this was how he was carried back to the palace. Bridal style in those arms that stayed surprisingly lean for the muscle mass they carried…

“However, it is of the utmost importance to myself and all of Liyue that you abide by these restrictions. Liyue needs their Emperor Consort,” He paused to tuck Ajax in, not resuming his speech until not an inch remained that wasn’t pressed up against the softest blankets Childe swore he’d ever felt.

“And I need my husband. My Ajax.” Damnit Zhongli! My flush was just starting to come back down!

Despite himself, Childe yawned. Something about being fussed over like a little kid soothed the ache in his– well– his entire body. The image of Zhongli above him blurred as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Hold your horses, silly… we’re not married yet,” he muttered sleepily. It just earned him a soft chuckle and a– a– a gentle pressure against his forehead. Soft, warm, and barely there for a second. Was that… a kiss?!

He barely even had enough energy to react anymore, his eyes sealed shut now. He vaguely registered an embarrassed-sounding whine (was that coming from him?) and a warmth of presence lost.

“Do not worry, my darling. I will be here while you rest.” And then, Ajax slipped peacefully away from consciousness once more.

_____

Trying to escape Zhongli’s watchful gaze was misery anew. It seemed like every time Childe had one foot out the window– literally and metaphorically– he was back, firmly but gently guiding him right back to bed “where he belonged.” Bullshit. The only place he “belonged” was on the battlefield, and Morax was keeping him from it.

As the Emperor firmly steered him back to his bed for the third time that day, Childe sighed, long and full of the day’s pent-up frustration.

“Broken ribs this, fractured finger that! All you talk about is confining me to this stupid bed!”

“Fractured fingers,” Zhongli gently reminded, ever patient.

“Doctor Baizhu said a minimum of two days of bed rest, Ajax.”

“It’s already been a day,” he protested, “isn’t that good enough?” Morax sighed. His ever-lasting patience was running thinner, at least. One of these days, Childe would break him, and then he would be free. Even a mountain could be worn away by a pounding river.

“Childe, every time you get out of bed the clock resets.” He paused, sighing wearily.

“Besides, I shudder to think of the damage you’d do to your stitches if you ever actually got out of that window– not to mention your finger splints.” Childe rolled his eyes dramatically, now (unfortunately) seated back in that damned bed.

“They don’t even hurt!” Zhongli raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Childe huffed.

“Okay, they don’t even hurt that much. Besides, I heal faster than your average joe.”

“I doubt that. All humans heal at remarkably similar speeds, bar a few minor exceptions.”

“That’s me,” Childe said, for once perfectly serious, “I’m the exception. Major exception, technically. It’s because of–” Childe stopped short, suddenly aware that he was about to spill incredibly sensitive information to his target. Shit.

“Because of what?” Morax inquired, head cocked slightly to the side.

“Because of my superior battle prowess, of course! Fontaine wasn’t built in a day; I wasn’t always all-powerful.” It might’ve been a trick of the light, but Childe swore he saw the Emperor’s gaze darken. He wasn’t going to buy this story, was he.

“If you were truly all-powerful, Childe, you wouldn’t be here right now. Now, please rest here for a moment whilst I have a maid fetch you your lunch.” Catching the mischievous glint in his eye, Zhongli tacked on, “And I won’t be out for very long, so I would discourage any further escape attempts.” Seeming to finally process that protesting wasn’t going to get him anywhere, Childe opted to simply pout instead. His efforts were wasted as the other barely seemed to notice, leaving the room without a second glance back.

“What’s the good of bedrest anyway,” Childe mumbled to himself, “especially when he refuses to believe I have superior healing skills. Which I do. But how exactly am I supposed to explain something like that without bringing up the Abyss?” Then again, he supposed that conversation would probably be inevitable too, what with the way he’d used Foul Legacy in combat like that. It was reckless and dumb on his part, just like he’d known it would be. But past him had decided that was a problem for future Childe, and now future Childe was downright pissed about it.

What could he even say to Zhongli? The Emperor had the Exuvia… perhaps he could pass it off as an inherited trait from his mother? Then again, everyone had heard of the Liyuen Imperial Family having a draconic form– would it really make sense for a Sneznhayan transformation of the same sort to be such a well-kept secret? And even if that was plausible, the fact of Tartaglia flaunting it so openly would be a clear sign he wasn’t as closely guarded about it as one would have to be to keep said secret a secret. So… that was out of the question.

Could he cite the form to his vision or delusion? While Morax most likely knew too much about visions– due to having one of his own– delusions were some of the Fatui’s best-kept secrets. It was unlikely he would know enough about the foreign technology to disprove anything Childe said, so long as he kept it within the realm of possibility. Yeah.. he supposed that would work for now.
“Alright, Ajax, I have requested a meal be brought to us here.” Zhongli stepped back into the room, shutting the door and making his way to the chair sitting adjacent to the bed.

“Oh, good,” he chirped, trying to keep his tone light, “I’m starving.” The other frowned.

“I apologize for neglecting your nutritional needs.” Childe chuckled awkwardly.

“‘Don’t be? I was unconscious, it’s hardly as if it’s your fault.”

“But it is,” Zhongli said somberly. “I was the cause of your injuries and your loss of consciousness, and thus the bare minimum I can provide as recompense is a safe and fulfilling recovery, and I have failed even that.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Really, I’m okay.” Alright. Time to change the subject, fast, Childe thought.

“Besides, I was too busy admiring the Exuvia to regret picking a fight with you. I mean! Not that I was admiring– not that I wasn’t-” Zhongli let out a rumbling chuckle, cutting off Ajax’s embarrassing stumbling. Wow. He did not remember being that bad at subject changes.

“I reciprocate some of your curiosity, Childe. I must admit, I was not expecting you to hold the ability to manipulate a second element. If I may, where did it come from?”

“Oh… well, it’s… it’s from my delusion.”

“So that explains the sudden influx of electro energy…” Zhongli muttered under his breath.

“And the… transformation?” Childe laughed a little, trying to conceal his nervousness.

“The delusion as well.” Morax’s eyes narrowed. Ajax gulped quietly.

“Really? Doctor Baizhu noticed a corrosive property degrading the majority of your tissues, akin to the kind of energy found around rifthounds, creatures of the abyss... We’d assumed this to be the result of such a transformation.”

“Well, delusions do have ‘corrosive properties’, though I can’t say if they’re abyssal in nature. Most certainly don’t survive for very long, assuming they’re using it on the regular.” Childe paused when suddenly a thought occurred to him.

“Oh! I could write to Dottore and ask about the abyssal thing if you’d like?” When there was no response, Childe looked up from where he was fiddling with his hands. Zhongli was quiet, with a small frown and a… sad look on his face? Or was it more… worried? Maybe guilty?

“Zhongli-xiansheng?”

“When did you receive your delusion, Childe?” The man raised his head slowly, finally meeting Childe’s gaze, and– oh. The look on his face was pain. He decided to opt for the truth. Just this once.

“Fifteen.” He watched carefully, wincing as Zhongli’s expression shifted through shock, horror, and anger before settling back into sorrow.

“Sweet Celestia… fifteen…” He murmured, squeezing Childe’s hand a little tighter.

(When had Zhongli started holding his hand, and why hadn’t he noticed? More importantly, why didn’t he want to pull away?)

“Well, I’d already mastered most weapons by that time and graduated Fatui training in record speed. It was the next logical step,” Childe said, partially defending the Tsaritsa, partially himself, and partially to… comfort Morax? ...Why would he feel the need to reassure Morax?

“You don’t give something like that to a child!”

“I asked for it.”

“And if you’d asked for a rope to hang yourself with, would your mother have provided you with that too?” Silence. Childe’s anger fizzled out, even in the wake of such a– frankly, insulting– statement.

“I– I apologize. I just… I do not believe it right to hand one so young, no matter how capable they are, a weapon so terrible, knowing full well how few survive. It is not about you being unable to handle such a thing, but bestowing it upon a kid– not to mention your son, someone you are supposed to protect…” Zhongli’s voice was soft and heavy with grief and pain. His voice was so painful. It made Ajax want to cry a little– which Tartaglia immediately shoved down, of course. Nevertheless, Childe comforted the man anyway; it was the politically correct thing to do. His own emotions had no hand in this decision whatsoever.

“But I survived, didn’t I? I’m right here.”

“You are,” Zhongli murmured, a sad smile blooming on his face, “I am endlessly thankful for that. But, please, refrain from using that… thing… in future spars. It is not an order from an Emperor– because I could not control you, even if I tried.” His smile grew a bit more fond, a little bit warmer.

“It is but a simple but heartfelt plea from an entirely unimportant man who goes by the name of Zhongli. He– I– don’t like seeing you injure yourself, especially not in the search of power when you already hold so much, entirely of your own strength and effort.” Somehow, the statement that Tartaglia would consider insulting or patronizing from anyone else just seemed… genuine. Like someone actually cared if Ajax got hurt. Like he cared.

“I won’t.”

The lie tasted bitter and acrid in his mouth. If he was alone, he might’ve laughed at the irony of his situation. Feeling guilty over lying to Morax? He was here to kill Morax! This whole thing was a lie! This was so dumb. It was all so dumb.

He must’ve let down his guard a little because Morax leaned in to rest his head on Childe’s shoulder.

“Apologies, jiàngxuě, I did not mean to upset you.” Alright, time for a distraction, and fast.

“No, it’s uh– it’s fine. Say, um, Zhongli? You keep calling me that… uh… jiangshe?”

“Jiàngxuě,” he smoothly corrected, a pleasant smile overtaking his face. Thank Celestia for this man being so easily distracted.

“As to its meaning… I believe in Common it translates to ‘snowfall’. I suppose in this context one could consider it similar to a Sneznhayan pet name.”

Welp.

“You mean to say this whole time you’ve been calling me the equivalent of ‘honey’ or ‘baby’ and I’ve just been calling you Zhongli?!” In standard Childe fashion, an embarrassed flush quickly overtook his features. Zhongli merely chuckled. And, uh, wow, were the vibrations something pressed up against his neck like this. Luckily, he doubted he could flush any redder than he already had, so at least he was safe on that count.

“I do not mind, Childe. I find it quite endearing that you simply call me by my birth name. There are very few left in this world who know that name, and you are the only one to have spoken it since Guizhong passed.” And there it was again, that oppressive sadness. And Ajax didn’t like it one bit.

“Cheer up, shǎguā.” There, his brief borrowing of those library books had finally come in handy. Of course, the syllables came out all rusty and wrong, nothing like the genty elegance with which Zhongli spoke. Nonetheless, the other didn’t seem to be too upset that Childe had butchered his beautiful language. If anything, he looked exceptionally pleased.

“Ajax, you– you know Liyuean?”

“Uh, I mean– I studied it, yeah, and I used to be decently fluent… but that was years ago, and I only really started studying up again when I got here.” He didn’t get to continue before Zhongli muffled him in a hug, squeezing so tightly that he could've sworn one of his ribs cracked further.

“Ow, ow, ow, Zhongli–” The Emperor sprang back almost instantly, a nearly devastated expression sweeping across his features.

“Celestia, Ajax, I apologize–” But this time CHilde cut him off in between heavy breaths.

“Seriously, it’s… it’s fine. I actually, uh…” unfortunately, it seemed he couldn’t quite get the words out. Gods, this was so embarrassing.

“Hm?” Zhongli inquired, tilting his head slightly.

“It was really nice… maybe just not so hard next time?” This time, when Zhongli leaned in, his touch was lighter than a feather, his fingers barely ghosting over Childe’s skin. He fought hard to suppress his whole-body shiver, but it seemed nothing could escape the meticulous Mr. Zhongli.

“Are you alright, Ajax?”

“Yeah, uh, I’m just–” –Imagining how your fingers gliding under my shirt would feel– “–Just cold.”

What the fuck.

Zhongli moved to get up, but Ajax stopped him, tugging him back down by the sleeve.

“No, um– you’re very warm. Just, uh…” With a defeated sigh, he scooted over, patting the new space beside him. With a gentle smile, Zhongli climbed in.

Gods, he was warm. Wait. Shit. No.

And so it was that in the peacefully quiet room, a silent Ajax (with his fiance curled up beside him) was internally screaming.

Chapter Text

The healing process was slow and tedious– even though it did, in fact, take a significantly shorter time (as Childe had predicted.) What was estimated to take six weeks ended up barely more than half that time, a fact that Childe would never stop shoving in Zhongli’s face.

All in all, it meant he’d been away from home a bit over a month now. Which meant his birthday was fast approaching. If he had any luck at all, it would pass without note.

Often, there would be a day– or even several days in a row– where Tartaglia very nearly went mad with bloodlust. He was only able to sneak out successfully once, and was fully convinced it was the only thing keeping him from snapping Morax’s neck then and there.

For the most part, Zhongli kept him occupied with wedding planning. No fighting didn’t mean staying in one room, or even staying in the palace, so once Doctor Baizhu deemed Childe alright for minor physical activity again, they hit the town.

The first stop was a restaurant and bakery for cake samplings– because if there was one thing Ajax was insistent on having at his wedding, it was cake. Naturally, it was the best in all of Liyue– because if there was one thing Zhongli was insistent on having at his wedding, it was the finest quality goods. And of course, the sampling was no little affair.

The girl they met at the door had purple hair and an electro vision, and the most disappointing pair of not-quite-cat-ears he’d ever seen.

“It’s not every day Your Imperial Highnesses stop in to sample your cakes! Please, if you’d pardon my asking, what’s the occasion?” Childe paused for a moment, his smile slipping as he turned to face Zhongli with a questioning look. He didn’t tell anyone yet?

Zhongli met his eyes, his own question in his gaze. Childe nodded, slowly. Not like he had any problem with sharing it.

“Well,” Zhongli began, “Tartaglia and I are getting married in a few months time. This information hasn’t been disclosed to the public yet, however, so on behalf of the palace we’d appreciate your secrecy.”

Despite her obvious giddy shock, the poor girl showed commendable effort in refraining from squealing. She coughed awkwardly, looking to the side and taking a couple deep breaths before turning to face them again.

“I am so pleased to hear that! Best of wishes to you both. You’re looking for a wedding cake then?” The Emperor nodded his agreement, looking slightly bemused.

“Wonderful,” The girl smiled, turning away slightly, “Then I’ll be right back out with some flavor samples. Please do make yourselves comfortable.” Then, with a nod to each of them, she practically fled the room, the “Staff Only” door she left through banging shut behind her.

In the other room, a sudden, high-pitched noise rang out. Ajax startled a little, and Zhongli placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. He gave a little smile.

“You will never believe what the cake is for! Gods, it’s so romantic!” It was nothing but a love-crazy baker. Ajax chuckled a little, moving to sit in one armchair as Zhongli sank into the one beside him, leaving the third supposedly for the woman when she returned.

“We may have a bit of a problem keeping this wedding a secret, xiangsheng.” Zhongli merely smiled fondly.

“I do not mind if you have no issues with revealing it to the public.”

“None at all,” Childe grinned, reaching across the chair to squeeze his hand a little. A disgusted huff came from the corner of the room, where Adeptus Xiao was sulking. He’d insisted on coming along, muttering something about keeping an eye on Tartaglia. When Childe had (rightfully) suggested to the Emperor that they go a little heavy on the lovey-dovey couple act, Xiao just sighed and said it was a sacrifice he had to make. Now he was looking like he regretted all of his life decisions up to this point.

Morax sent him a firm glare, and the guard attempted what had to be the worst shot at a pleasant smile he’d ever seen. It looked like the kid was in pain, for Celestia’s sake! He barely suppressed a chuckle before Xiao was back to death-glaring, this time aiming his malice at Childe with particular venom.

After that the kitchen fell silent for a while, and Tartaglia was beginning to think they’d been forgotten. That is, until the head chef from before emerged from the same door, followed by about a dozen others, all carrying two platters. They laid them out on the table in front of them, about twenty five to thirty in total.

Each platter featured two forks, a slice of cake, and two individual bites of said cake, pre-portioned. There were labels with the flavors listed on them as well, and they seemed to include everything under the sun. Just of the ones he immediately spotted, there was coffee, vanilla, lavender melon, zaytun peach, and sunsettia.
As the rest of the workers filed away, the lady from before stayed, smiling broader than should be humanly possible.

“So, as you can see, we have over fifty flavors here, but I have our twenty-five most popular for your convenience. Of course, if you wish to see or sample more, just let me know, and we will get right on it!” Zhongli nodded respectfully, dipping his head in a clear dismissal, but the girl simply stood there, watching with that massive smile on her face. They decided to just shrug it off and get on with it.

“Did you have a particular flavor in mind, xiansheng?” Zhongli dipped his head a little, a quiet smile blooming on his face.

“Only that which pleases you most.” Childe blushed a little, coughing and looking away. The head chef scribbled frantic notes in the background, causing both men to look up at her. Xiao’s frown deepened.

“Oh, haha, don’t mind me,” she placated, “just trying to keep track of preferences. Please pretend I'm not even here, Your Highnesses.” They turned back to the cakes.

“I don’t really have preferences when it comes to flavor, so I guess we should just go down the line?” Zhongli nodded, reaching for the first plate and setting it on the little table between their two chairs. The little tag said lemon, and Zhongli was already sampling before Childe could even grab his fork.

When he got the cake into his mouth, it was surely pure bliss. His eyes snapped shut of their own accord, cutting off one sense to focus on another. The flavor positively exploded in his mouth, bright and zingy and the perfect balance of sour and sweet. It was incredibly refreshing, and he swore he hadn’t had something this delicious since… since… since he wasn’t quite sure when. Maybe not ever.

It was Zhongli’s quiet chuckle that snapped Childe out of his food-stupor.

“Enjoying your cake, jiàngxuě?” His eyes flew open, and he quickly swallowed what was left of the cake.

“Oh, sorry, Morax– I should be asking what you thought. I got a little carried away, I guess.”

“Do not apologize,” Zhongli grumbled, looking momentarily stricken, “I am most pleased this brings you joy. Nothing makes me happier than seeing you with an expression of such bliss on your face. In fact-” With Childe just barely managing to keep his face from bursting into flame, Zhongli turned to the chef, who was frantically scribbling in her notepad again.

“I would like to extend my most sincere thanks to yourself and his establishment. Anyone who can bring my consort this much happiness deserves all the palace’s gratitude. Should you find yourself in need of anything, please do not hesitate to write to the Qixing or myself and ask. We would be most obliged to honor your request.” Ajax flushed bright red, sitting a little quieter in his seat. The baker lady also looked quite flustered, and had gone a rather shocking shade of vermillion.

“What is your name? My apologies, but I do not believe I ever asked.”

“K-Keqing, Your Highness,” she managed to squeak out. Morax stood, moving around the side of the chair to clasp both of her hands in his.

“Lady Keqing, I hope you will accept my most grateful thanks. This establishment is truly as fine as they say.”

“O-Oh,” she stammered, “Actually, my girlfriend does most of the cooking and baking. I just take care of the more managerial things, so it’s- it’s really her you should be thanking.” Zhongli smiled warmly.

“Then, please, if I could trouble you, bring the baker of these fine cakes. I would very much like to thank her as well.” Keqing had no more words it seemed, because she dropped Zhongli’s hands as if they were burning her and ran off with only a quick series of nodding.

As soon as she was in the other room again, she miraculously found her voice, for there came another high-pitched squeal not long after she’d left.

“Xiangling, you have to meet them! He held my hand! He loves that consort so much, he stood and shook my hand to thank me for pleasing him!” Childe, who had barely recovered from earlier’s embarrassment, chuckled and stood as well, figuring he also owed the creator of such delicious food proper thanks. It wasn’t long before Lady Keqing returned, another, shorter girl at her side.

Her dark hair– which seemed almost blue– was done up in two braids tied in a bow,and she had a bandage over one knee, as if she’d been injured recently. Over her small jumpsuit hung an oversized “kiss the cook” apron coated in flour, and trailing behind her seemed to be a small orange bear. A pyro vision swung at her hip.

“Ah,” Zhongli began, “So you are the one Marchosius took on as his apprentice. Suddenly, your mastery of the culinary arts surprises me marginally less.” The shorter girl seemed confused.

“You mean Guoba?” She cast a look back at her fuzzy companion, who seemed to hop happily at the sight of Morax.

“Ah, so that is what he is going by now? Alright then.” Seeing Childe’s confused expression as well, Zhongli turned to him to explain.

“Marchosius– or, as he prefers to be known now, Guoba– is an adeptus who is a distant relative of mine. Very distant indeed, since he is an illuminated beast, but after a substantial loss of his powers– after using them to save Liyue a great many times– he has shrunk to this form and taken to teaching talented individuals culinary skills for centuries.”

“Oh,” the chef said dumbly. She wasn’t put out for long, however, because her eyes lit up again a second later.

“I guess there's more to learn about my new friend! Always another adventure, Guoba!” The bear hopped happily, dancing around her feet. Zhongli smiled, his expression tinged with sadness. Keqing cleared her throat expectantly.

“Oh! Right,” the chef giggled nervously. She bowed at the waist quickly.

“Your Imperial Highnesses, it is a pleasure to meet you both. I’m Xiangling, the head chef of this establishment.” Her voice was formal for a second before dissolving into little giggles, a genuine smile on her face She turned to Childe, extending a flour-covered hand. Noticing the odd expression he gave her, he startled and quickly rubbed her hand off on her apron.

“This is a traditional greeting in Snezhnaya, right?” Childe chuckled warmly, reaching out to shake her hand. She had a surprisingly firm grip.

“Well,” Childe began seriously, “it is typical among the common folk. Not every day one shakes the hand of royalty.” Keqing and Xiangling’s eyebrows flew up simultaneously, and they looked at each other with panic. Although they were soon calmed when he burst into laughter

“Please, excuse me, ladies. It was cruel of me to make such a joke on our first meeting.” Xiangling smiled warmly– and discreetly elbowed Lady Keqing when she noticed the other was frowning rather rudely.

“Don’t even worry about it! I’m sure our faces must’ve been hilarious.” She turned to Zhongli expectantly.

“So, I’m told I received an Imperial summons?”

“Ah, pardon me,” Zhongli said rather sheepishly. “Yes, I asked to meet the chef behind the cake that pleased my dearest Tartaglia so. I wish to extend my most humble thanks to you, for there is no greater joy than my fiance’s.” Keqing looked like she might explode. Ajax could relate.

“Oh! Which cake was it?”

“Lemon.”

“That is one of our bestsellers– though, I myself prefer our more… daring flavors.” Keqing’s eyes went wide with panic again.

“Ah, no matter!” She interrupted nervously, “It seemed you both quite enjoyed the lemon. Shall we get that down, or would you like to keep sampling?” But it was too late– Childe’s curiosity was peaked.

“Daring flavors you say? What kinds?” Lady Keqing seemed to be growing increasingly more alarmed with each passing second, and that alone was enough for Childe to keep pressing.

“Oh, no, I doubt you would enjoy them anyway. They make up about ten of our fifty flavors, and less than 1% of our sales. Really, they’re just experimental.”

“Hey, if there’s one thing I love, it’s a challenge!” Xiangling lit up like a christmas tree.

“Well, my personal favorite is a combination of jueyun chili and slime condensate! I find that the spice from the chili pairs quite well with the coolness and richness of the condensate. We’re also currently experimenting with onkiabutos imported from Inazuma– although, I must admit, I haven’t been able to get quite the right shade of purple in the batter yet.”

“Onikabutos? As in… the Inazuman beetle? Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said bold! Can I… can we try some?”

“Of course! I’ll bring them out myself!” With that, she went dashing off into the kitchen, Guoba hot on her heels. Keqing shot a panicked look at the door, then back at them.

She muttered a quick, “Please excuse me for a moment,” before dashing after her eager partner, the door slamming shut behind her.

Zhongli and Childe shared a bemused look as they sat back down, clearing a bit of space for Xiangling’s return. And they were not disappointed. When she returned, an exasperated Keqing on her heels, she was precariously balancing three plates on each arm and one on her head. But if you thought that was all, you’d be wrong, because Guoba hopped alongside her, another plate in its arms.

She shoved the plates on the table a little further to make room, and Keqing and Xiao dashed over in unison to catch a couple plates that fell over the other edge as Xiangling placed her new dishes onto the table. Guoba extended his chubby little arms to place his plate on the table as well.

When Adeptus Xiao thought no one was looking, he took a small bite of the cake he was holding– the same lemon Childe had been fawning over earlier. His eyes went saucer wide for a split-second before his face settled into a begrudging frown.

“So these are just my favorites, but we also have frog, plain slime condensate, philanemo mushroom, sea ganoderma, and some others, if you decide you want to see more. I’ll let you two explore, then!” She stepped back towards Keqing, who was scribbling on her notepad again, and slung an arm around her hip as she stood on the tips of her toes to peer at the taller girl’s writing.

So, the two began to dig in. Every cake was just as delicious as the last, even though Zhongli didn’t seem to enjoy some of the more outrageous ones quite as much as Childe did. He seemed to pale particularly at one cake labeled simply, “squid.”

As they went on, one cake in particular caught his eye. It was a bright, crimson red, exactly the color of fresh blood against pale snow. His favorite color. The label read, “Dendrobium,” which, he had to admit, wasn’t something he’d ever heard of before, although it sounded like some kind of plant. I wonder where it’s from. The only place I’ve ever seen that color was in Snezhnaya, after a particularly joyful battle.

“Zh– Morax?” He questioned, fidgeting slightly at his misstep. Zhongli smiled serenely, looking up from his plate of silk flower cake.

“Yes?”

“Have you heard of dendrobiums before?” He nodded slowly, finishing the bite of cake before he continued. Childe couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallowed. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Dendrobiums are flowers that grow in Inazuma. Once thought to be extinct, they were rediscovered on some smaller islands in the archipelago recently. They are very expensive and difficult to obtain, and legend says they bloom most brilliantly on sites of great bloodshed. In some cultures they are considered to be a flower of death.” And, naturally, Tartaglia was snapped out of his stupor at the mention of blood. He only had two moods after all.

“They have a faint iron-y taste as well,” Xiangling piped up from the corner, “It pairs really well with sweeter bitters, like dark chocolate, if you want to think about frostings.” Looks like blood, tastes like blood, symbolizes death? Has there ever been a better wedding cake?

As if sensing his excitement, Zhongli hummed quietly, a fork of red cake in his hand.

“What are you waiting for, xiansheng? Give it a taste!” Instead, Zhongli extended his arm towards Childe, who tilted his head curiously.

“Xiansheng?”

“Open your mouth.” Ajax flushed, but obliged, leaning in a little so Zhongli could reach easier. Gently, he sucked the cake off of the fork as Zhongli drew it back, placing it onto the plate. Xiao muffled a cough in the far corner of the room.

The taste was both bright and dark, indeed being eerily similar to the taste of blood, but deeper and sweeter.

Zhongli leaned in again, this time without a fork. Childe made a sort of questioning noise, swallowing his cake as the other man placed the pad of his thumb against the corner of his mouth, dabbing gently. They locked gazes for a second, and Morax’s eyes glowed bright with something warm and fierce. It had Ajax blushing even harder as the other leaned back again, licking the crumb of cake that had been sitting against Childe’s lips a moment ago from his thumb.

Xiao gagged and began choking, Xiangling quickly rushing over to offer him a glass of water. Keqing took furious notes.

“This one is perfect, ladies. Please mark it down for a five-tier cake, dark chocolate syrup between the layers, red buttercream frosting on the outside with traditional gold and red decor. A dragon and phoenix must be present on at least one of the tiers. I’ll have an envoy sent with the rest of the details and a deposit fee. The cake will need to be ready in approximately two months, with further details to be sent.” With a pause, he turned to the still stock-still Ajax, giving him a small smile.

“Do you have any objections, baobei?” Childe shook his head slowly before standing to join his fiance, who was clearly in a hurry to leave now, for some reason.

“We shall be off then.” And, swiftly (but not before taking Childe’s hand in his) they strolled out, leaving Xiao– who was still hacking up a lung– to chase after them hurriedly.

_____

“Zhongli,” Childe asked curiously once the two were back in the confines of the Imperial Wing, “I have a question for you. Why did we leave so quickly? And why did you agree to all the PDA if you hadn’t even made a public statement yet?” Not that I mind, said an intrusive part of his brain that he pushed to the side immediately. “It just seems a little pointless is all.” Zhongli chuckled a little, rubbing the back of his neck a bit ashamedly.

“I must admit, I did not consider that part of the plan. The idea sounded quite appealing to me, and it caused me to act out of character in that I did not further consider this plan as I normally would. This seems to be a weakness of mine– except, in general, I seem to find this kind of discrepancy around you rather frequently. Hmm. Perhaps it is not my situational short-sightedness that is my weakness.” Ajax’s stomach fluttered a little as they came to the end of their walk. He found himself oddly disappointed that his quarters– his sanctuary– was so close.

“And as for our quick departure,” he continued, “I felt a sudden urge that would be… improper to act on in public. Often, it is better in such situations to simply seek privacy.” Childe tilted his head, confused, but didn’t press further.

“Well, Xiao certainly got a kick out of your “situational short-sightedness.” Perhaps we should embellish more often,” he teased, leaning in a little and then dancing away before Zhongli could reach out to grab him.

“He seemed rather distressed,” Zhongli frowned.

“Ah, yeah, I think he’s just suspicious of me. I don’t blame him one bit though– I’d be wary of myself if our roles were reversed.” Zhongli’s frown deepened.
“He is not giving you any trouble, is he?”

“Oh, no, he’s been perfectly civil. Well,” Childe said softly, “not civil, per se, but tolerant. That’s really all I can ask for, I guess.”

“I shall have to have another talk with him.” Childe paused, turning to Zhongli.

“Wait, another talk? You’ve already talked to him once on my behalf? When?”

“Shortly after your first meeting. He threatened you. I explained that he had no more right to be hostile to you than I did to him. It seems I was not clear enough.” Ajax stuttered a little, a weird blend of emotions pulsing in his chest.

“Oh, no. No, uh, it’s really not that big of a deal, xiansheng. If it means that much to you, I’ll try to be friendlier with him. The Tianquan too– treat others how you want to be treated, y’know?” Zhongli sighed, pulling Childe into a hug. He stiffened.

“If you insist, jiàngxuě.” They stayed that way for quite some time, and while Tartaglia would’ve pulled away in a heartbeat, Ajax found the shared warmth to be very pleasing indeed.

Eventually, they pulled apart, Childe turning to enter his quarters. He paused for a second, his hand on the doorknob. He looked back over his shoulder at Zhongli, who hummed curiously.

“Xiansheng? We should hang out more often.” Zhongli smiled, a burning, bright thing that reminded Ajax of the sun.

“I would like that, Ajax. I would like that very much.” Ajax smiled, not quite as radiantly, but with a quiet sort of joy.

He turned back into his room, letting the door shut behind him as his face settled into a pensive frown. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Chapter Text

The day of his birth was upon him, and Ajax wanted nothing more than to vanish from existence. Of course, voicing these thoughts would only lead him down a rabbit hole of concern, and then he would be prompted to explain, and then not only would Zhongli know it was his birthday, he would probably feel terrible for not celebrating it. Which meant another day of pretending to be in a jolly good mood, except ten times worse than usual.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up with the momentum. He’d been ready for an hour, fancy silks and all. If there was one thing he could appreciate about Liyue’s clothes, it was the ease of which they dropped wrinkles.

Allowing himself one more sigh, Childe stood, walked towards the door, swinging it open and making his way to the outside world.

He met Zhongli for breakfast outside of the normal dining room.

“Er, Zhongli? Are we going to go inside?” The other man blinked, pausing as if this hadn’t occurred to him.

“Actually, I had other plans. The dining hall is currently under construction, as I wished to have some of the wall carvings updated with… newer scenes. I had thought, perhaps, that we might dine on a balcony.”

“Oh,” Childe blinked. Newer… wonder what scenes he’s planned

“Alright. Lead the way.” Zhongli nodded and set off at a moderate pace, Childe trailing a little behind him. Hopefully he was telling the truth, and there was no other reason for the change in schedule. The last thing he needed today was any surprises.

They reached the balcony– which could hardly be described as such, given that it extended a full eleven feet from the palace and had two walls and a roof– and sat at the table Zhongli motioned to. It was mostly empty aside from place settings and what appeared to be a pitcher of lemonade. Childe tilted his head, confused. Rare was the day they had to wait for their food— not that he minded, of course, but it was just odd. He shivered unconsciously.

“I apologize for the waiting, Ajax, but I requested an especially complex set of dishes from the chefs this morning and I intended to oblige them a little extra time for the finishing touches.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all!” Childe responded though his gut churned violently. Oh Celestia, there was no way he knew, right? He’d been so careful, so cautious… was all of his effort for nothing?

“Is there some sort of special occasion?”

The wave of relief that flooded over Ajax as Zhongli shook his head was immense enough it threatened to show on his face.

“No,” the other replied calmly, “Not in particular. I simply wished to share with you a couple foods I am considering serving at our wedding. I know you have given me the prerogative of decision making, but I wish not to upset you or your family with my choices, so I find it is better to err on the side of caution.”

Ah. “Oh. Well, I look forward to it. Care to share what you’ve picked?”

“Well, there are appetizers and meals both, though I believe they intend to bring out the appetizers first. In fact, here they come now.” Indeed, there came a knock on the balcony’s door, and at Rex Lapis’ quiet, “Come in,” several servers entered, arms loaded up with plates. They shuffled out of the room just as quickly as they’d came, and Zhongli continued his explanation.

“As many of the Adepti are vegetarians, there are a multitude of vegetarian options, including fried radish balls, rice buns, and lotus-flower crisps. There will also be meat-based options as well— jade parcels, golden shrimp balls, mora meat, and matsutake meat rolls.” He nodded his head towards the platters in a welcoming manner, picking up the chopsticks in front of him to begin gracefully filling his plate with appetizers— despite the fact that he’d surely had them all before.

Childe picked up his own chopsticks, which he could now say he was borderline proficient in using, and began serving himself as well, frowning a little when Zhongli piled a few more meat rolls onto his plate.

“Don’t we have at least two more courses, baobei?” Zhongli’s smile grew warm and bright as he piled yet another meat roll onto Childe’s already overflowing plate.

“Actually, jiàngxuě, there are three. Salads and soups, entrees, and a few added dessert choices for those who have alternate preferences.”

They made it through the mint salad, jewelry soup, and the hearty adeptus’ temptation next. The entrees followed swiftly behind— a delicious golden crab, tender tianshu meat, a vegetarian abalone, and several others came out all at once. Finally, the flow of mouth-watering plates slowed down– Childe found he had quite a bit more eating stamina than he remembered; perhaps it was all his time spent with Zhongli stuffing his plate with food.

When dessert came, they weren’t able to polish it off at the same speed, and Ajax found himself even enjoying the warm morning, just chatting and occasionally taking another bite of the lovely almond tofu or rice pudding.

“I’ve gotta say, xiansheng, you’ve really outdone yourself. All of these are great, and I’d be more than happy to have them at the wedding. I’ve gotta ask, though— do you have something against seafood? You seem to avoid anything that comes from the ocean like the plague.” Zhongli laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with more than a little shame.

“You are.. correct in assuming this, Ajax. This particular reservation of mine comes from an unfortunate military experience from days past. If you have no objection, I would rather not speak of it longer than I have to.” He almost shuddered, and Childe struggled desperately to smother a laugh. His giggle escaped anyway.

“You would laugh at my predicament?” Zhongli questioned, half confused, half concerned.

“I just— I’m sorry, Zhongli, it’s just so hard to imagine the big scary Emperor of Liyue afraid of a couple of fish!” He giggled again, and marveled at the sound of his own laughter. How strange— the best birthday he’d had in a decade, and not a single acknowledgement of the day itself. Zhongli frowned.

“I am not scared of a measly, writhing, slimy…” His face had morphed so quickly into one of such disgust that Ajax could barely help but bust out into laughter again. The mood was contagious, he supposed, because even Zhongli let out a little huff. Ajax put a hand to his mouth, catching his breath, and when he glanced back up the expression on his companion’s face sent a shiver of surprise down his spine.

Zhongli was staring at him with a warmth in his eyes. It wasn’t… anger, exactly, or even annoyance. It didn’t burn like those fires at all. The closest thing Ajax could think of to connect it to was coming in from the cold to the warmth of a lit hearth, or crawling under the blankets after a long, tough day.

Sunlight was warm against the side of their faces, and it struck Ajax suddenly how pretty he was.

I mean, subconsciously I’ve noticed that he was beautiful. But that, like everything else about Zhongli, had simply slipped into routine. Wake up, have breakfast with the pretty man, wedding plan with the pretty man, lunch with him, spar with him, dinner with him– when had this domestic life bled into his routine? Although that was entirely an understatement— this was his routine! When had he let his guard down? When had he become so damned comfortable staring into those pretty gold eyes of his?

They were closer now, closer than they had been when the staring started, surely, and the warmth of the sunlight was nothing against the warmth of Zhongli’s breath– still smelling of almonds– against his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut. There came a knock at the door behind him. Zhongli cursed quietly and whipped away, falling back to his seat as if nothing had happened before muttering a terse, “Come in.”

The Tianquan stood proud in the doorway, if a little taken aback by the Emperor’s gruff tone.

“The… room is complete. You are free to survey it, shall you find yourselves ready.” Zhongli seemed to brighten considerably at that, and Childe wondered what was so special about the new dining room carvings that he’d get so excited.

“Thank you, Lady Tianquan, we shall head there immediately. If you would send someone for our dishes, I'd be greatly appreciative.” She nodded and held the door for them as they left, and the two started down the corridor.

“Here, this way, Ajax.” He followed at Zhongli’s request, trailing a little behind the other tentatively. This whole thing was way too unusual for his liking.

They stopped in front of an entirely normally looking door in a wing of the palace he’d never visited– which was not that unusual, Ajax reminded himself, a bit forcefully; he hadn’t exactly been exploring. It could very well be a back entrance or the door to a smaller staircase or lift.

One of Zhongli’s hands came over his eyes, blocking out the world around him. He shivered a little, unconsciously. Zhongli wouldn’t betray him. He was in good hands.

“Zhongli?” he questioned, voice rising slightly in pitch, betraying the way dread and panic had begun to dance in his gut. The door swung open. The hand was dropped.

And Scaramouche stood front and center, a calm grin on his face.

“Surprise! Happy birthday, Childe.”

He couldn’t help it. He flinched. Violently. The motion sent Ajax jerking back into Zhongli, who was still standing there, right behind him. The other man’s arms clenched around him protectively, hands giving a gentle squeeze from where they were wrapped around his bicep.

“Oh, goodness,” Scaramouche smirked, “We didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just a birthday party, that’s all. Come on in!” Tartaglia snapped into place.

“Scaramouche. I didn't expect to see you here.” No, no, his voice was too hard. People were going to whisper. Childe took over.

“I can’t believe you came all the way from Snezhnaya to Liyue for my birthday!” Zhongli stepped up beside him, curling a hand around Childe’s waist, ushering him forwards. The door swung shut without Childe’s foot in it.

“And I cannot believe you did not say anything about your birthday after your arrival in Liyue. I would have had no clue if The Balladeer had not reached out and expressed a desire to throw you a surprise birthday party.”

Gee, it’s almost as if I kept it a secret on purpose.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I must’ve forgotten. Well, no point in dwelling on it now. We should enjoy this… lovely party.” Zhongli hummed his agreement as the three stepped further into the room. Tartaglia took the opportunity to scan for escape routes, suspicious persons, and otherwise dangerous activity.

Against one wall was a great banquet, full of his favorite dishes, Liyuean and Snezhnayan alike. Probably poisoned. In a large round table in the center of the room, there was a cake, several tiers tall, coated in blood red frosting. Also poisoned. Or maybe it contains sharp bits of metal or glass. Likely both. A piñata, originating from Natlan, hung in another corner, shaped like a fish with a cheeky grin on its face. If I break that open, daggers will fall out. I’d reckon an airborne poison, but The Balladeer wouldn’t endanger himself like that. A group of Snezhnayan men he’d never seen before stood in the corner, passing a bottle between themselves. He knew every nobleman, every servant, and any person of note. Assassins. They have that sort of look about them.

So, to sum up, danger everywhere. Tartaglia mentally sighed. He’d have to be on guard. Keep his back to the wall. Speak to no one. Eat no food unless Scaramouche ate it first. Avoid activities with unknowns like the plague. And just wait it out. The Balladeer would have to get bored eventually.

_____

About 45 minutes into his objective, Zhongli made it abundantly clear that he would sequester himself away no longer. He approached Tartaglia, who was leaning against a wall in a brightly-lit corner.

“Childe, why are you hiding? This is your birthday party, you should try to enjoy it.” Zhongli sank into the chair next to him, and Ajax winced– but luckily for the both of them, no blades sprang up through the cushions.

“I-I’m not hiding,” he mumbled, “I’m just people-watching. I like it.”

“Darling,” Zhongli murmured, pulling one of Childe’s hands into his grasp, “Your hands are shaking.” He paused for a moment, giving Childe a quick once-over. “Actually,” he continued, “It seems like much of you is shaking.” Ajax jerked away, his hands returning to hover in front of him. They rubbed together nervously.

“Is something the matter?”

“No,” he laughed nervously, “I just…” His gaze flitted to the far side of the room, where Scaramouche was chatting amicably with one of the assassins from earlier.

“I just need a moment.” Zhongli’s gaze narrowed, following Childe’s line of sight before the other could cover his slip-up.

“Is it The Balladeer’s presence that is upsetting you? I can have him removed, if you would like.” Childe shook his head frantically, trying in vain to calm his shaky limbs.

“No, no, no, it’s fine. People would get concerned, and then we’d have a whole situation. And what kind of a brother would I look like if I kicked him out of the birthday party he so graciously planned?” He cast his gaze downwards, a bitter laugh slipping past his lips.

“So it is The Balladeer. Has he said anything to you? If he has harmed a hair on your head, I–”

“Xiansheng, please, calm down. I’m fine, really,” Childe soothed, placing a calming hand on the other’s shoulder. His eyes, which had begun to burn a bright gold, settled a little.

“Either way,” Zhongli hummed, “You clearly do not want to be here. We should take our leave, and you can always return should you feel ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure. If any here have questions, I would be more than happy to lay their fears to rest. Besides, the party is for you. Why bother if you are not enjoying it?” Ajax nodded with a quiet sigh. Holding out any longer would only make Zhongli tighten his grip, he knew that.

“Alright. I know a spot where we could slip away.” Zhongli curled his elbow around Childe’s as they stood, and he led them towards the door. He was just starting to believe they could really get away without being stopped when Scaramouche blocked their path.

“Leaving so soon, Childe? I would've thought you’d at least stay for the piñata– it was a lot of mora, you know.” Ajax hated how he winced at just the sound of his voice. He hated, especially, how the force of his shaking nearly doubled. Zhongli’s arm squeezed tighter.

“If you would not mind moving, Balladeer, I have my own surprise for Childe. We will return soon.” Morax’s voice was deep and sharp, it’s edge almost threatening. And, of course, Ajax’s stupid heart warmed at Zhongli’s excuse; nothing that would betray his true feelings or make him seem weak or ungrateful. Even Tartaglia nodded in approval.

“If you insist, Morax. Even though you’ve had all day, and several hours yet, I get it. True love doesn’t wait, right?” Scaramouche slipped to their side, fingers trailing up Childe’s arm and coming to rest on the same shoulder he’d injured those few months ago. He squeezed– not hard enough to hurt, really, just enough to remind him. The message was clear.

He wasn’t safe here, and as long as his brother got his way, he’d never be safe anywhere.

Morax nearly growled as he pulled him away, and the two marched out of the room without another second wasted. He led him up a winding set of stairs– it was only one or two flights, but with the sudden weakness in every muscle, it felt like he was only shaking harder by the end of it.

They came to a stop on a small balcony facing the harbor. It was gorgeous in the late-afternoon sun, waves rippling in the bay and golden leaves rustling in the breeze. Ajax quickly sunk into an armchair, not even bothering to check it for hidden knives. He was just too tired.

Zhongli joined him after locking the doors, and while the little click nearly sent Ajax spiraling, he knew he’d rather be confined here than risk someone barging in where he couldn’t see. And it was… fine. Zhongli wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Not on purpose, Tartaglia whispered, and he shook his head a little, trying to banish the thought.

“Jiàngxuě, do you wish to share with me your worries? Of course, I understand if you hold reservations, but–”

“He threw me a birthday party every year,” Ajax started. He jumped a little, too— he’d surprised everyone, even himself. But he was just so tired of being scared.

“Every year since I—” Since I returned from the abyss. “Since turned fourteen. The first time, I trusted him. I was just so… starved for attention that I believed someone who’d been nothing but horrible to me might’ve actually meant well. I was stupid. Naive. Pathetic.” He chuckled bitterly, and Zhongli really looked like he wanted to interrupt, so Childe began again before he got the chance.

“It was a trick. Of course it was. The first year was a poisoned cake, I think, and the only reason I survived was probably–” Having to eat worse in the abyss. “–having to eat worse in Fatui training. It was just an experiment, though. He could’ve easily killed me if he was really trying. No, he wanted to scare me. Make me paranoid.

“I gave him another chance the second year. Maybe the cake was just bad, I told myself, or maybe I had just had unfortunate timing and gotten sick on my birthday. But I steered clear of the cake, just in case. It didn’t matter, because the second I left to use the bathroom, two guys in all black jumped me. I dealt with them, of course, but I didn’t exactly get away unscathed.”

“I tried not to go to the parties after that. I’d say I was too tired, or I wasn’t feeling well, but somehow I’d always end up there anyway. Eventually I didn’t even bother making excuses. That’s when the surprise parties started. I never did like surprises.” He faltered as Childe’s influence kicked back in, burning with shame at exposing his own insides so carelessly. He never should’ve gone with Morax in such a sensitive state.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overshare like that.”

“Ajax, my darling, please, do not apologize.” Zhongli’s face was etched with a deep sorrow, and yet beneath that an even deeper fury.

“Never apologize. There is only one who should apologize here and that he is that wretch, the most sorry excuse for family I have ever seen. He disgraces the word. And your siblings, for that matter, for allowing such to happen to their youngest kin.” His voice was hot and thick with vitriol and pure disgust, and it made Ajax want to curl into a ball and cry. It was instinctive, he thought, the constant feeling of needing to defend those who held his life in their hands.

But they didn’t. Not anymore; this party made it clear enough. With Zhongli, he was safe, and once Zhongli was gone, well… He stayed quiet.

“I, however, went through the precaution of having servants thoroughly examine everything that went in and out of that room– I was not without my own suspicions, given how The Balladeer has treated you in the past– but they found nothing. That was the only reason I allowed you within ten paces of him.”

“You don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, cold and unfeeling, even as his composure cracked a little further.

“Of course I believe you, darling,” Zhongli mumbled, swooping in like a mother hen to hold him close.

“Even he is not idiotic enough to attempt to perform an assasination in Liyue’s own Golden House– especially on one so precious as my consort, my husband-to-be.” He couldn’t help it. He flushed.

“Zhongli,” he whined, “you can’t just say things like that.”

“I think you will find that I can and I will, jiàngxuě. Now, perhaps you would feel better if I had The Balladeer escorted off of the premises? We can even expedite his return to Snezhnaya. You will never have to see him again.” Childe paused for a moment, contemplating.

On one hand, it would be oh-so easy to hide until Scaramouche was gone. But on the other hand… that’s what it would be, wouldn’t it? Hiding? Tartaglia did not hide. He fought. So, tentatively, he shook his head. Then a second time, bolder.

“No. I want to deal with him. I want to show him that he can’t push me around.” Zhongli nodded his approval, and the two men stood, splitting apart except for their hands, which stayed intertwined at their sides. It was funny– he hardly even noticed his slightly-big engagement ring anymore.

They marched back towards the room, Childe’s hand steady in his fiance’s. Zhongli reached for the door and pulled it open, and though he shuddered, Childe stood strong. He would not be bullied into submission by Shitty Hat any longer. He wasn’t a little kid, he was the Emperor-Consort of Liyue, and he’d damned well act like it.

“Scaramouche,” he started, interrupting the conversation his brother was currently partaking in. He turned with an aggravated sigh and the man he was talking to slipped away with a grateful nod. He almost laughed aloud.

“What?”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome.” And in an instant, the calm facade was gone.

“You don’t order me around, dipshit. Dunno where you got that into your head. I make the rules around here, remember?” Morax, still standing supportively at Childe’s side, cleared his throat. His brother stiffened.

“We’re not in Snezhnaya anymore, dumbass. You can’t pull rank on me here. Actually, you can’t pull rank on me anywhere starting in about a month.”

“You are not welcome in Liyue.” Morax spoke softly, but with an edge. With a threat. “Leave, immediately, or I will arrange for you to be escorted out.”

“How inhospitable of you, Morax! I’ve hardly been here a day, and only to throw a party for my little brother and your beloved fiance. You’d kick me out so soon?”

“That’s Emperor Morax to you, Balladeer, and you’d do well to remember who’s soil you stand on. Leave. I won’t tell you again.” His eyes glowed molten as he practically growled out the words, venom dripping from every letter. There must've been something in the words this time, because Scaramouche dipped his head with an aggravated growl as he slinked away.

Zhongli, not yet satisfied, beckoned a nearby guard with the quiet command to make sure the Snezhnayan prince made his way back home– and just like that, the situation was resolved. No more Scaramouche.

“Would you like to return to your room, darling, or perhaps the balcony?” Zhongli’s gaze was warm with something that almost looked like pride, and Ajax smiled.

“No,” he said, glancing over at Zhongli again. “There’s such a lovely party here. We might as well enjoy it.”

Chapter Text

After the party, things returned to a relative normal. Of course, the wedding was fast approaching, so the palace was abuzz with anticipation, but it still seemed more normal than he’d felt at Zapolyarny for a long time. Zhongli, on the other hand, was being unbearably clingy– more so than before.

It seemed like every second of the day he had a gentle hand on his shoulder or hip, not to mention the absolute motherload of gifts that he was showered in. Jewelry and silks smothered in gold and jewels, practical gifts, edible gifts– but no matter what category a gift might fall into, they all had one thing in common: lavishness.

He’d begun using the apology gifts that Zhongli had sent him during their spat as well, especially the chopsticks– even though it was mostly because he just looked so pleased, despite Ajax’s persistent lack of skill in the utensil. “If only I could master chopsticks like I master weapons,” he’d mourned, and Zhongli had simply laughed and insisted that he would teach him. Even Tartaglia reluctantly agreed that he’d improved in leaps and bounds since then.

Today, however, was a day marginally more important than the rest. Today was the day his wedding garments would be chosen. Although it wasn’t traditional for one’s partner to help with choosing a dress and accessories due to the superstition of not seeing each other before the wedding, it had become increasingly more common, so Childe would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit surprised when he breached the topic with Zhongli.

“I’m afraid not, jiàngxuě. Whilst I would love nothing more than to see you dripping with all the finery my nation has to offer–” Childe rolled his eyes. As if he wasn’t drowning under the weight of five separate gold-pearl necklaces as they spoke.

“–It is a tradition that is of the utmost importance we follow. You will, however, be accompanied by the Tianquan and Adeptus Xiao. The Tianquan has always accompanied the bride, and I trust Xiao with my life. Whilst I do not doubt your fighting capabilities, many of the dresses available will be quite… limiting of functions.” Despite himself, a flush creeped up Childe’s cheeks.

“I trust your judgment, xiansheng, but is it really necessary for those two to join me? Something tells me they aren't exactly going to be my biggest supporters.” Zhongli’s face softened as he moved to place his hands on Childe’s shoulders.

“I know, darling. The owners of this particular boutique are… friends of mine. One of them, in particular, will be joining you as well, and I have the fullest of faith that she would at the very least shame them should they speak unkindly to you in any way. But if it pleases you, I may also arrange for one of the Qixing’s secretaries to join you. She is a known peacemaker.”

“Are you sure that wouldn't be too many people?”

“It would most certainly not. In fact, I believe having another, alternative point of view would be most pleasing indeed. I shall call her at once.” Zhongli turned to the door, directing one of the guards posted right outside to bring the secretary.

“In the meantime, can I ask you what kind of things I should look for?” Childe moved to sit across from where Zhongli had settled with no particular rush.

“I have instructed the Director as to which dresses to pull aside, so it is simply up to you to pick a gown you find pleasing,” Zhongli spoke calmly, occasionally sipping from a cup of one of those fancy teas he held such a fondness for.

“You keep mentioning dresses, Zhongli,” Childe laughed, “Should I be worried?” Zhongli smiled contentedly, a little flush of amusement settling into the lines of his face.

“Yes, while there are some that are closer to traditional Liyuean menswear, all of the wedding clothes available are indeed dresses. If this sincerely bothers you, we may yet find a workaround, but I implore you to give it a chance. I have no doubts that you will look ravishing.” Though the other’s face remained a simple, content smile, there was something in Zhongli’s tone that set his stomach into knots.

“I don’t mind that much, though I certainly wasn’t expecting it. I mean, they’re just clothes, right? As long as I can walk down the aisle, it doesn’t really matter.” He smiled warmly over to Zhongli, though internally Tartaglia was throwing a bit of a hissy fit about the impracticality of skirts.

There came a soft knock at the door, and at Zhongli’s command, a blue-haired woman stepped into the room. She bowed deeply, first to the Emperor, then to his Consort. When she straightened, Childe noticed two dark red horns curving around back from the space right above her ears. Her clothes, too, seemed almost as nice as Ningguang’s. This was no mere secretary.

“Lady Ganyu,” and again, it was confirmed, “It gladdens me to see you.”

“And you as well, Lord Lapis. If you would pardon one, why has one received your summons?” Ganyu spoke softly but firmly, and though her eyes were full of veneration, her tone remained even. Interesting.

“There’s no need to address me so formally, Ganyu. You may speak as you would.” Zhongli’s face, though it couldn’t quite be called a smile, shone with fondness. Secretary Ganyu smiled in return.

“Thank you, Morax.” He nodded graciously.

“I believe introductions are in order. This,” he paused, lifting Childe’s hand to place a soft kiss against its back, “Is my fiance, Emperor Consort Tartaglia.” Ganyu began another bow, this one directed again towards him, and Childe laughed quietly.

“Really, don’t bother, Lady Ganyu. And call me Childe. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He dipped his head, and Ganyu, still straightening from her almost-bow, returned the gesture.

“Wonderful,” Zhongli said, “But onto your summons. I will not keep you waiting any longer. As you know, Ganyu, Our wedding is approaching rapidly, and many of the adepti skilled in the art of thread have put forth gowns for my darling to wear.” Zhongli turned to him, and Childe grinned, continuing.

“Yeah, so I know we just met, but would you come dress shopping with me? I know you’re probably busy, so there’s no pressure, but if you’re up for it, we’re leaving soon.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly realizing how awkward this ask was. Ganyu, however, didn’t seem to mind in the least.

“It would be my honor,” she replied, and it seemed like Zhongli’s eyes glowed ever brighter.

“Wonderful. Then you should depart soon. Adeptus Xiao and Tianquan Ningguang are waiting by the carriages.”

_____

The carriages pulled up slowly, coming to a gentle stop as morning light shone through the amber crystal all around Childe. The door swung open and the coachman helped him out, both feet landing softly on the pavement. Lady Ganyu and Adeptus Xiao stepped out from the green plaustrite carriage on his left, and the Tianquan emerged from the sapphire noctilucous car on his right. As they made their way to him, a relatively short girl with twin ponytails spilling down her back popped her head out from the door of the boutique in front of them.

“Oh! It’s the Consort! We’ve been expecting you. Come in, come in!” She stepped fully out, holding the door open and beckoning him forward. Before he could reach her, Xiao cut him off, sending the girl a stony glare as he entered the building.

“Adeptus Xiao, always nice to see you!” The girl chirped, seemingly unbothered by his prickly attitude.
Ningguang was next, and she got a similar greeting. Ganyu gestured for him to go ahead, and Childe sent her a grateful smile. Tartaglia was starting to get real tired of being cut off, even if it was for security reasons.

Once they were all inside, the girl turned to face them. Dresses lined the walls, most in shades of red or gold, though he thought he spotted a couple white ones. Behind them was a rack where a few gowns had been pulled from hangers. These especially shone, though all the dresses were beautiful. They seemed a higher quality than the rest, with flowing silks and floating tulles, adorned with plenty of red, gold, and beautiful embroideries.

“I am Director Hu Tao, and welcome to Wangsheng Wedding and Funeral Parlor!”

“Wedding… and funeral?” Ningguang’s voice was laced with an interesting mixture of condescension and formality. “That seems a bit of an odd combination. Do you sell your coffins in the back?” Hu Tao cackled as if Ningguang had just told the joke of a lifetime.

“Actually, we sell them next door.” She turned to Childe, an almost predatory gleam in her eye. “And actually, Mister Consort, I’ve heard that you have quite the violent tendencies. Eleventh Harbinger and all that. So I’ll cut you a deal, a little discount.” She slipped him a bit of parchment reading “Buy One Get Half Off Your Next Four Coffins!!!” He nearly giggled at the absurdity of it all, but he schooled his face into something resembling seriousness and shook her hand. The director had a surprisingly firm grip.

“Please, Director Hu, call me Childe. It’s great to meet you.” She laughed again, and Xiao and Ningguang looked like they’d rather die than be here. Then again, they’d be in Hu Tao’s hands, so they reduced their aspirations to just passing out.

“Well, Master Childe, shall we begin?” asked Ganyu from the corner, seeming a bit eager to get going.

“I don’t see why not. Director, show me what we’ve got?”

“Gladly.” She began a short rant, outlining the different types of hanfus, cheongsams, and qipaos they had available and the differences between them.

“Anything standing out to you?”

“Honestly,” Childe said, not having the faintest clue where to start, “Why don’t we just try them all on? Then we can revisit the ones we really like.

“Sounds like a plan!” Director Hu chirped, nearly throwing the first gown at him, “Go get started!”

He stepped behind the partition to change, trying first to make heads or tails of it. This one seemed to be a hanfu, so after struggling out of his palace clothes, he began first with the skirt bases, layer after layer of chiffon and silk skirts. Eventually he reached the main top, tying it like Zhongli had shown him back when he first started wearing Liyuean clothes. Hanfus were worn by men and women, though men’s hanfus usually came with a set of pants underneath.

But Childe still wasn’t done. There was another top that sat over this one, another layer of chiffon with silk borders and more rich, golden embroidery. Finally, he picked up the silk sash for the belt, tying it carefully in the back and accentuating his waist. He stepped out from behind the panels, arguably more nervous then he should be. It was also way more difficult to walk than he expected, so instead of a graceful step, it was more like a little scooch and then trying not to step on or trip over any of his skirts.

Hu Tao gasped dramatically.

“Ah, what a score! If you weren’t engaged to the Emperor, why, I’d put you outside. You’d be turning heads so fast the necks would snap!” Ningguang, for her part, didn’t flinch, and Xiao was as stony as ever, but Lady Ganyu’s face seemed akin to if someone had strangled a puppy right in front of her. She quickly schooled it with a cough before Director Hu could notice.

“You look… pleasant,” Ningguang managed, her face stuck in some odd approximation of a pained smile. Xiao said nothing, just frowned.

“Yeesh,” Hu tao remarked, “Tough crowd. It’s beautiful, really. Either way, onto the next.” She handed Childe the next garment, and he went back to change.

This continued for quite some time, though Ganyu did seem to get less and less startled every time the Director made an offhanded death comment. Ningguang said something to the effect of “charming” every time, and the only compliment they managed to drag out of Xiao was “acceptable.” All in all, Childe was beginning to feel rather discouraged.

“What about this one,” Childe asked about seven dresses later. They only had a couple more on the rack, so if they didn’t find a crowd pleaser soon, he’d probably just end up going with a random one.

“You look like a mangled rat that got dragged through the snow, the mud, and then drenched in glitter and sequins. This is a waste of my time,” Xiao groused, crossing his arms and subtly edging towards the door.

“Ugh,” Childe groaned, more bothered than he should’ve been, “That bad?”

Director Hu flashed Xiao a subtle glare, although her cheery attitude remained intact. “Now hold on, adeptus, just because you have a stick up your ass doesn’t mean you can insult my boy.”

“You– He is not yours to have. For whatever unfortunate reason, Celestia help us all, our Lord has chosen this one.”

“Wow, Xiao, edging on sacrilegious there, dont’cha think? Are you implying that Rex Lapis makes bad decisions?”

“I would never–”

“I dunno, Xiao, that seems pretty disrespectful to me. I mean, what, first the Emperor entrusts you with the safety of his soulmate and bride-to-be, then you continually insult said soulmate, and then your Lord himself? I’d be begging for forgiveness.” The Adeptus went quite pale. Then, as he hadn’t quite forgotten himself, he mustered an apology and a quick half bow, adding something about “trying to be more positive.”

“Alright then! We only have a couple left, but I have a bit of an idea. Wait here.” When Hu Tao returned, she held a cheongsam so long it was folded over her shoulder and the edges of the train still brushed the floor.

After jumping behind the panels to change, it took Childe a solid thirty seconds to build up the will to step out again. And the dexterity, because this gown’s beautiful flowing bottom left walking quite the problem.

There was no mirror behind the partition, so his first glimpse was about the same time as Hu Tao’s gasp. The dress was a deep red silk, closer to carmine than red or crimson, and started a quite bit form-fitting at the top before splaying out around halfway down the thigh. The fabric fell into what could only be described as a shimmering pool at the bottom, floating gently behind him as he stepped closer to the mirror. Delicate gold embroidery crept up from the waist to circle around the bodice, a phoenix with its head resting right on the corner, three-dimensional feathers flaming out and swirling like sparks from a flame.

The dress seemed almost alive, burning against pale skin like he’d be turned to ash in a second. The beauty of the flame, the fragility and resilience of it, all woven together in a deep red tapestry of symbolism, hanging off of his slender frame. It stole his breath. Or maybe that was the corset-like tightness of the bodice.

“Well isn’t the emperor a lucky man… This is why you always trust your intuition, people.” Hu Tao, of course, was the first to speak, circling around from her spot near the far wall.

“Hmmm. Close your eyes now, alright?” He obliged as she pulled a little at the back of the dress. Childe raised his arms, letting her adjust as she wished. When the motions ceased, there was a pause before something was placed atop his head, more than a little heavy.

“Alright, open up.” She stepped back, and he looked in the mirror once more, only to find a deep red veil draped around his shoulders and flowing behind him. It was a bit longer than even the trim, and it wasn’t hard to tell the extra weight came from the additional feathers, flowers, and beading fading off as they curled upwards towards his head.

“You look… Master Childe, you look lovely,” said Ganyu, voice the slightest bit thick with tears. Ningguang only nodded, though even she looked a little misty-eyed. Xiao sighed.

“The Emperor will indeed be pleased. The cheongsam compliments you.” But it was Xiao’s (begrudging) compliment that shook him from his stupor.

“Is that… Is that a compliment from the great and stoic Adeptus Xiao? Really?” Though said adeptus remained silent, he nodded, once, and then looked away. It took everything Childe had not to do a fist pump.

“Then I guess this is the one, Director Hu.”

“Please, Childe, no need for such formalities. We’re supposed to be friendly, no?” She giggled, and Childe chuckled too. He liked this girl.

“Thank you, Hu Tao, really. It’s a lovely store you run, and a lovely dress.”

“Well, I’ll have the dress sent to the palace right away– but you’d better visit our counterpart before you give me too many compliments! You do have a coupon after all!” Ningguang and Xiao began filing towards the door, and Childe followed, the littlest bit sad to be leaving.

“Goodbye, Director!”

“Bye, Consort~! Say hi to the Emperor for me, ‘kay? Oh! And I’d better be receiving a wedding invitation!” Her voice trailed off into the distance as the door shut behind him and the four filed back into their respective carriages and headed back towards the palace.

_____

He walked with Zhongli back from dinner, the two pausing occasionally so Zhongli could point out some decor aspect and its origin. The result was a five minute walk becoming a fifteen minute walk, but Childe couldn’t say he minded that much. Zhongli’s speech was soothing yet captivating– he had the kind of voice that could talk for hours about the most mundane topics and yet never grow tedious to the ears..

He couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that crept in as Zhongli gently intertwined their fingers. Less than a month until the wedding, and only a couple of months after that he’d be the sole Emperor of Liyue. But for now he was Childe, the charming and charismatic Emperor-Consort. He needed to remember that.

When they reached the chambers, Zhongli pulled him towards his door instead. Childe tilted his head questioningly, and the look in his fiance’s eyes said only, “Trust me.” He nodded. They stepped inside.

Zhongli’s room was dark and warmly lit, gently flickering lanterns forming a cozy atmosphere. The walls were lined with various trinkets, likely worth millions of mora apiece. The curtains against his windows were drawn, blocking the view of the harbor whilst making the room feel impossibly smaller. Which, all things considered, was an odd feeling to have in a room bigger than most people’s houses.

Childe sat in one of the armchairs Zhongli had beckoned to, but the other did not sit just yet. His eyes traced the curve of Zhongli’s back as he strode calmly to a small cabinet in the wall. Twisting a set of dials in a rather complicated maneuver, he smiled as a small click sounded and the door popped open.

“This,” he began, back still facing Childe, some unknown object in his hands, “was worn by my mother on the eve of her wedding. It is tradition for a short and relatively superficial coronation shortly after the wedding, to symbolize the final act of the couple’s unity.” He turned and stepped closer once more, and Childe managed to catch his first glimpse of what his fiance was holding.

It was a circlet of sorts, with crystals and flower carvings and feathers dangling from golden chains so thin he could hardly see them. Zhongli stopped, only a few feet off now, and held the crown up to the lantern. Dancing specks of light floated around the room in various shades of pastel, glittering like sun spots on a cresting wave. The silence spoke for itself.

Eventually, Zhongli moved once more, kneeling to Childe’s level, lips parting so softly he could’ve never spoken and the universe would know no difference.

“It is sacrilege to place this crown upon a foreigner’s head, for in the eyes of Liyue’s law and people, you are but a prince from a cold and distant land.” His hands moved upwards, the headdress barely brushing some of Childe’s lower-hanging locks. He paused.

“And yet, you make my heart grow so frightfully warm that I wonder if you were ever anywhere else but by my side, for surely without you I would’ve frozen long ago.” Zhongli settled the crown gently upon his head, a dangling jewel brushing against the tip of his ear ever so gently. A gloved hand softly brushed a wisp of hair aside, curling it around his ear.

“I cannot wait to make you my wife, my Queen, my Empress. Until this crown sits atop your head for all to see as you walk to me, draped in reds and golds and the most precious finery the world has to offer. I would give you everything, Ajax. My darling. My love.” His hand, still resting next to Childe’s ear, trickled down his jaw, cupping his face gently as his thumb stroked over his lips.

The crystals rang softly against each other as Zhongli grew close, closer, and his hand drew Ajax closer too. Close enough for Zhongli’s breath to swirl into Ajax’s lungs, and simultaneously, Ajax’s breath in his. There was a pause, a brief moment when that shared breath hung heavy in the air. A pause, waiting for the interruption that never came.

The kiss was hesitant, soft; barely a whisper, barely there. In that moment, it seemed quite like no one was sure of anything. But no one pulled away. Neither moved at all, in fact, except for the occasional fluttering of an eyelid. They stayed, just like that– pressed against each other, lips hardly even brushing– for hours or seconds or minutes.

Maybe it was days later when they leaned back in tandem, a mutual agreement to stop and to start. There were no more words exchanged, just two smiles; one that lasted long into the night, and one that faded with the click of a door.

And all Childe could think, as he stood alone in his room that night, was…

What have I done?

Chapter Text

Time until the wedding was dwindling, and Childe grew more nervous with every passing day. It wasn’t like him to be so scared of a plan’s imminent conclusion. It didn’t need to be personal. It wasn’t going to be. It would be quick and easy— painless and clinical, like getting a shot at the doctor’s. You might feel a pinch, and then it would all be over.

For some reason, that thought left him more hurt than reassured. His brow furrowed.

Before he knew it, weeks had gone by. Then came the last day– or more accurately, the last day before Zhongli would be gone for a whole week. Childe thought it silly, of course– a day? That he could handle. But a week? Well either way, it wasn’t for him to decide. He would see nothing of Zhongli for a week, and that was final.

This is the last I’ll see of Zhongli for a while, he thought, glancing acutely over to where the other was fidgeting with some artifact he’d plucked up from the markets. He focused in as if to memorize the lines of his body, the curve of his neck, the way his eyes glinted in the evening light.

“Is something the matter, jiàngxuě? You’re staring.” Ajax glanced away, embarrassed.

“Don’t be shy, darling.” Zhongli crossed the room, fluid in his motions, the picture of elegance. “We are to be married in less than a week. What’s on your mind?”

“You,” he answered truthfully, and Zhongli swept him into a kiss. Guilt swirled in Ajax’s stomach as he leaned in, pressing flush against his fiance.

“I do not know how I will fare without your company, Ajax. I fear it will not be well.” Childe laughed.

“Well, I'm not gone yet, Zhongli. Just a week; then we’ll be married, and you can have all of me you want.” Zhongli rumbled happily, as if this thought very much pleased him. It was times like these when their height difference really came into play, with Zhongli’s head resting solidly on top of Childe’s mess of ginger waves. He hummed a slow tune, swaying the two of them around the room, floating as if they were two clouds dancing through the sky.

They came to rest by the door, Childe still locked in Zhongli’s embrace.

“I should go,” he started, “It’s nearly midnight.” Zhongli’s grip tightened, his stance widening subconsciously as if to stop this inevitable leaving.

“Zhongli,” he whined with an amused smile, “Get off of me. I have to go. You know I have to.” His hold loosened enough for Childe to slip out, though he didn’t seem very happy about it.

“I apologize, Ajax.”

“Don’t worry about it, eh Zhongli? A week’s barely any time at all. I’ll see you soon.” He pried the door open, and got one leg out before–

“–wait. Once more, before you go.” He leaned in obligingly as his lips met Zhongli’s again, and he had that blissful moment of forgetting once more before the remembering came back and he slipped away. The last glimpse he caught was Zhongli’s beautiful brow creased with loneliness.

The door to his quarters was barely shut before a voice spoke, cold, clear, and sharp.

“Consort Tartaglia.” Tartaglia whipped around, hydro coalescing into blades at his fingertips, one arm raised in a defensive stance–

Adeptus Xiao stood stiffly against a wall, and Ningguang sat calmly on the corner of his bed. He let the water crawl away, watching it evaporate into the air.

“As much as a fighter as ever, I see,” Ningguang mused, spinning a pipe deftly between her fingers. She slipped it into a fold in her dress to eye him sharply.

“I hope you’re kinder in love than you are in war.” She stood, stalking over to him, his small leather-bound journal in hand. He stood his ground.

“You can hardly blame me, Tianquan. I think you’d do the same if you stepped into the privacy of your room, only to find unknown persons awaiting you.” Tartaglia’s tone was as sharp and cold as hers, steel in his eyes. Xiao spoke again from the corner.

“We know you’re plotting against the Emperor, Tartaglia.” Though his veins froze, ice seeping into his very core, all Tartaglia did was scoff.

“Oh? And what would have you think that, dearest adeptus? Tianquan? Have you approached him about this?”

“While our proof thus far is limited to the testament of those who have eyes–” Xiao frowned. “–I’m sure we’ll no doubt find something in this little journal, no?” Her eyes glinted cruelly in the light, her fingers toying gently with the cover.

“Actually,” Childe started, taking over, “I’d prefer if you didn’t. I have some pretty embarrassing stuff in there for you to read on a whim.” He grinned sheepishly and Ningguang paused, analyzing. Xiao scoffed, moving in a flash to pull the notebook from her hands. She scowled but made no move to take it back, instead settling back onto the bed.

“Unlike you to be so easily dissuaded, Tianquan.” He flipped open the cover and began skimming the pages.

“No, Adeptus Xiao, I really don’t think you want to read that–” Almost immediately, Xiao dropped the book with a screech that Childe most definitely could’ve used for blackmail. It fell to the ground with a thunk as Xiao stared in shock, mouth agape.

“What?” Ningguang snapped, “What is it?!” When Xiao made no movement, she dove for the book, hastily bringing it to her eyes, pages still open where Xiao had dropped it. While she didn’t shriek, she definitely went quite pale as she snapped the book shut, clearly having come to the same conclusion that the Adeptus had. Ningguang set the book down softly on his nightstand.

“See, I told you you didn’t want to read that. What a mess.” Childe sighed, carefully concealing his amusement with embarrassment.

“You– You–” Xiao spluttered, clearly still at a loss for words, “That you would write such– such heresy about our Lord! That you would taint his image so–”

“Well, jeez, Xiao, I didn’t pin you for such a prude! I mean, aren’t I allowed to look? You can't go around accusing every man with eyes of heresy, and I’m certainly not the only one who can admire a man of his beauty. And then looking turns to imagining, and imagining, well… I mean, you saw what imagining leads to. I did warn you,” He said rather solemnly. With each word, Xiao looked closer and closer to throwing up, whilst Ningguang’s grimaced deepend.

“You can’t– you won’t tell him, though, right? I mean, help a guy out, Lady Tianquan.” Childe rubbed the back of his neck in faux embarrassment. She didn’t respond, simply pushing the door open and dragging Xiao out with her.

“Hey, wait!” He shouted after them, “You can’t blame a guy for looking!”

They’d already started far down the hall, so Childe shut his door wearily and made his way over to the bed, all pretenses of embarrassment lost. Though, he did smile a little.

“I really didn’t expect Xiao to be so easily deterred,” He muttered to himself, picking up the journal from his nightstand.

“I mean, it’s not like I was writing anything too bad.” The offending paragraph?

Man, I really scored with this one! I mean, he’s funny, and smart, and I think he really loves me. Is this what love feels like? That flowing dark hair, those piercing amber eyes… and that physique. Those statues don’t leave much to be imagined, and I’ve seen him in battle. So strong… I’m feeling a bit faint just thinking about him. He’ll be my husband soon, my baby, my darling, my love, my heart and soul, my– Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. To think that a couple of sentences hastily scratched on a sheet of journal paper was nearly enough to rid the last remaining Yaksha of his dinner. It almost made laughter bubble up again.

Well, not much use dwelling on it. Childe was laughing, Tartaglia was still bristling at such a blatant breach of space, and Ajax just wanted to sleep. Ugh.

Y’know… sleep doesn’t sound so bad, Childe conceded, and Tartaglia, who was too busy sulking to care all that much, nodded with righteous anger. So Childe-Ajax-Tartaglia went to bed, too tired to keep his selves in line.

_____

The next few days were spent rather boringly; Childe was pretty much stuck in his room since the Emperor had important matters to attend to, and he’d be out and about. Meals were brought to him, and, of course, his room had a bathroom attached, so he had no real reason to leave. But Tartaglia was not the type to be satisfied stationary, so when he did leave, inevitably, it was surrounded by a dozen or so maids, who had to peek around every corner before he could turn to make sure Zhongli wasn’t there. All in all, it made him feel a bit too much like an intruder, so the second time he started going stir-crazy, he just climbed out of the window. Childe could do his own espionage, thank you very much.

After a couple of days of wandering idly atop the palace walls, looking for something to fight, he began to spot carriages rolling in. The first ones seemed to be normal, traditional Liyuean carriages. Fancy, for sure, but probably some lesser nobility, maybe even some adepti.

The second day the carriages flared in diversity. Childe spotted a carriage with dark obsidian detailings and carvings of deep red wooden flame running along the sides. There was a double-decker carriage of clear blue glass, rippling like water in the morning sun. They vanished from view once they got too close to the castle.

On the third day a carriage that was all curved lines and wooden accents arrived, dripping with flowers and vines. It was followed by a carriage draped in layers of white and teal tulle, floating along in the breeze.

The fourth day there was a carriage bearing a lightning motif, swathed in gemstone purples and reds. There came, too, the carriage– or rather, carriages– he’d been waiting for.

The breeze blew colder as they rode down the street, bright white carriages gleaming like freshly-fallen snow. The procession rode all through the winding streets of Liyue, people staring as they passed. When they disappeared from sight, one could say he went against his “better judgment” and followed them.

Swinging down from the rooftops, he slunk against the walls’ shadows, following the carriages as they trailed slowly inwards. They eventually came to a stop in the large courtyard by the main entrance, and so Childe settled himself into a corner and waited.

Shortly after, the first doors swung open. The grass frosted beneath his mother– Her Highness, The Empress of Ice— and her six-inch heels. They clicked coldly against the pavement as she stalked towards the palace doors with all the silent grace of the midnight moon. His siblings followed, in suit– or most of them did, it seemed, because Pierro was notably absent. Well, nine out of ten’s not bad.

They disappeared into the palace, one by one, and their carriages were led away until the courtyard returned to nothingness, as if they’d never arrived at all, save for a small trail of frost where she had stepped.

_____

The day of the wedding, the palace was ablaze with color, light, and sound. The hallways were a whirlwind of people– from the chefs slaving away in the kitchen to the tour guides leading visiting royalty to the pavilion, no one was stationary. Childe himself had enjoyed a measly five minutes of solitude before the Tianquan and her entourage of waitstaff burst into his room and dragged him from his bed, eyelids still fluttering with sleep.

They huddled around him as they walked, the thirty-something girls almost completely blocking his view of the rest of the castle, He glanced at Ningguang questioningly and she muttered something about it being tradition for only girls to view the bride on their wedding day, though she seemed far less pleased than even he was. With the look on her face, you’d think she’d just been told Lantern Rite was canceled.

They ended up in a room someone jokingly called “the Groom Room,” which his half-awake self found hysterical because he was fairly sure that he was the bride in this relationship.

The poor maids who went to get the dress came back rather pale, and he could hazard a guess as to why, because the noise Hu Tao made when she jumped from behind its many layers was loud enough to be heard back in the main chambers.

As they dressed him up, the Director talked through the day’s schedule cheerily. Ningguang lay about in the corner, acting as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

“–so after that the ceremony will officially begin. The bridal procession will walk down the aisle, and then traditionally, your late father would walk you, but, well, he’s “late.” So I believe–” Hu Tao said, stretching through the word as she flipped through papers quickly, “–your mother will be walking you. After that, you say your vows, you have your little kiss, and then we go on to the reception!

“Don’t get too comfy with the good-ol’-emperor yet, eh, because you separate for a short period whilst any guests who may want to approach you personally can do so, and then you join each other again for another, longer block of greeting time, and–” she cut herself off with a huff, “–geez, didn’t anybody ever teach this planner how to have fun? A five-hour long reception and a whole hour of it is just greetings. Lame.” Ningguang’s scowl deepend in the corner of the room.

“Anyway. After that you dance, then everyone else dances, and then it’s just enjoy the party. Well, technically, it looks like there’s a quite rigorously planned schedule, but all I see are the words “No Fun” printed over and over again, so I’m making the executive decision to tell you all of that is crap and you should spend that time having fun. It’s your wedding, eh? You should enjoy it. If all goes right, you’ll only get to do this once.” Her smile was more somber than usual, and he couldn’t help but shiver a little under her reassuring gaze.

They moved on to hair– and to Childe’s great disdain, makeup– as she continued chattering away, talking about the latest drama and which guests she’d seen arriving and who she’d seen them with. Childe, for his part, was busy trying to zone out. He figured, maybe, if he wasn’t in his own mind, it’d be a lot easier to pretend that he wasn’t terrified.

Because for all of Hu Tao’s reassurances, he was still scared. This was the end. After this, any time he spent idle was hesitation. Any meandering about in the afternoon sun while they shared gentle kisses was time wasted, was weakness. Tartaglia was nothing if not strong, so the terror crept in. And if he was so scared to finish this mission, did that mean he was already weak?

And so terror snuck in from the seeds of terror he’d planted and sown with his own two hands and he just kept digging and digging and digging, deeper and deeper and deeper. His panic was so perpetual that he wasn’t scared at all, just excited, just bright and up and ready with adrenaline pumping through his veins. His hands trembled and Hu Tao held them and blamed it on “The poor thing’s nerves.”

Time crept forward. It seemed to Ajax that the world was in slow motion, each second taking an hour, and yet as he stood at the palace doors, waiting for the bridal carriage, he couldn’t remember all the time that had gotten him here.

A young lady took him by the arm, leading him off towards the now–arrived carriages, and as he settled in, he couldn't help but think of all that had brought him here. From the moment the Tsaritsa shared the true details of his father’s death, to the next ten years of planning, through Fatui training and the antics of his siblings, to every Soulmate Ball he’d ever been alive for, to Liyue. To Zhongli.

And a bump in the road interrupted his train of thought and when had they started moving? His dress squeezed uncomfortably tight around his torso, his waist. The fabric of the collar brushed against his neck and he flinched, barely stopping himself from tearing it away.

They rolled to a stop, the wheels squeaking a little. Gentle flute music floated through the air, wrapping itself around Childe’s ears soothingly. The door opened. He stepped into the sun.

There before him stood what he assumed was the bridal party; Lady Ningguang, Lady Ganyu, Director Hu Tao, the Tsaritsa, and…

“Lady Keqing?” The words tore themselves from his throat before he could control himself. All eyes were on him.

“Yes, Consort Tartaglia?”

“Why…” Childe trailed off, not even sure how to pose such a question.

“Why am I here? A short while ago I was hired to the position of the Qixing’s Yuheng, who traditionally is a member of the bridal party.” She blinked at him, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, then began to frantically scribble on that writing pad she brought with her everywhere.

“Consort Tartaglia, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” a small voice piped up from the corner of the room. The other inhabitants turned to look as well, and Childe caught a glimpse of a… child? This was his wedding day, why were there so many surprises?!

“I’m Yaoyao, disciple of the adeptus Streetward Rambler, skilled in the ways of music. I’m your flower girl! It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

He managed a, “Pleasure to meet you, Yaoyao,” before time slowed again and the procession began to line up. The music swayed into a tune more familiar, even in the language of a foreign land’s instruments. The doors opened, and the bridesmaids stepped out, floating down the aisle with more grace than he could ever muster.

The world felt as though it had come to a halt, no longer spinning through the void of stars above.

Oh gods. What if I fall?

Yaoyao stepped out, red and white petals scattering as she strode with certainty down the aisle. His mother took his arm, her breath frosty against his neck. She offered no comfort; he accepted none. They start out the door and into the evening’s bright light. It is time.

Chapter Text

Zhongli was there. He always was, Childe supposed, but somehow, this was different. Perhaps it was simply absence, perhaps just the difference of the day– the occasion– but it really did feel different. Cold, harsh, a stark conclusion to what usually was a comfortable and welcoming home.

Home? When did Zhongli become his home?

The aisle stretched on and on, and though Zhongli was no more than thirty feet away now, it felt like he’d been walking forever. His mother’s presence was cold at his side, unyielding as ever.

He found quite a bit of difficulty in choosing where to look. People were surrounding him from all sides, staring staring staring. He couldn’t look these people in the eyes and lie to them. Lie that he was in love, that he and Zhongli would live a happy life, that their beloved Emperor would rule them for decades to come. They pressed forward.

He reached the end of the aisle, and they split; The Tsaritsa moving behind Zhongli to stand next to Ningguang on her pedestal, and Childe moving to stand across from him.

Him.

Ningguang started speaking, but he hardly registered the words. Zhongli was staring at him. In fact, Childe wasn’t entirely certain he’d blinked yet. But his eyes were so full of warmth, and laughter, and tears, and Ajax couldn’t look away. His own vision swam, and he wondered passively if these were tears of joy or guilt. Not that it mattered.

Ningguang looked to them expectantly. Both men startled, Zhongli’s smile turning sheepish as he took to one knee. Childe followed suit. They’d practiced, he knew how this would go. Zhongli would say his vows, then Childe, and then they’d slide the rings onto each other’s fingers and be wed. All witnessed by their parents; though unfortunately, only the Tsaritsa remained.

“Tartaglia,” Zhongli spoke, his voice raspy with tears, “when I am with you, the whole world seems alight. You’re more than just my soulmate; you’re my light, and my darkness, and I’d be perfectly content if only you’d let me spend the rest of my life at your side. If only we could spend it together.” He paused, the sentiment heavy in the air, and a wet chuckle slipped from Ajax’s mouth before he could clamp it down.

“I swear, by myself, the man and the Emperor, by the land of Liyue that I am forever devout to, by Celestia and The Abyss and Teyvat in between, that I will stand by you and with you, that I will be here with you through our lows and our highs, our falls and our climbs, our fights and our peaces. I wish nothing more than to be with you every breathing moment, forever more. Let it be oath, by us and by the law of Liyue, or shall I suffer the wrath of the rock.”

With his vows concluded, Zhongli nodded, slowly, encouragingly, and Ajax took a deep breath. He began.

“Morax, nothing brings me more joy than being with you. You’re the one that lights my darkest nights, the one that soothes my most troubled thoughts, and the one that holds me softly when a hard day is done. You’re a wonderful man, and a wonderful Emperor, and I wish only to be the same for you.”

“I promise to be with you until the end of our days, to serve you and Liyue to the best of my abilities, to protect you and to hold you, to stay by your side. Let me be the one you love. Wherever you go, I will follow. Let it be oath, by us and by the law of Liyue, or shall I suffer the wrath of the rock.”

The ring boy stepped forwards, head down, and presented the rings. Zhongli stood, lifting Childe with him, sliding the ring onto his waiting finger. Childe did the same, the boy stepped back, and Ningguang continued, smoothly.

“Under the eyes of Celestia, let these two be wed in the eyes of the law and the people. You may now kiss.”

Zhongli took a step forward, slowly, pushing back the edges of the veil and leaning in. Their breaths mingled for a second before their lips merged. It was short, sweet, and surprisingly chaste– Childe had to pull away after it became clear his new husband had no intentions of stopping.

They turned to the audience, who stood, and bowed once, deeply, and the audience did the same. They straightened, and another man stepped up onto the altar, one that Childe didn’t recognize. He held a crown and a circlet; the crown he handed off to Ningguang. They knelt, hands still intertwined. Ningguang placed the crown softly upon Zhongli’s head as the man came up behind Childe, placing the circlet gently atop his head before making himself scarce. Ningguang stepped to the side, gesturing for them to stand again.

“Presenting Liyue’s Divine Ruler, Imperial Emperor Morax, and his new husband, Imperial Emperor Consort Tartaglia. Let it be by the Divine Celestia. All hail,” she boomed, and the crowd echoed, a resounding “all hail,” reverberating through the pavilion.

After was a blur of motion, color and sound. He was whisked away to a throne– a smaller one than the Emperor’s, he noted– where a short line of people had already begun to form. It was nowhere near the length of the Emperor’s, obviously, but he had to admit there were more people than he’d been expecting.

Hu Tao was first, of course– he expected no less from her. She curtsied deeply, bending back up with a smile.

“Lady Hu Tao, at your service, your imperial highness.” She paused, only managing to keep her composure for a few seconds before they both burst into raucous giggles.

“Oh, don’t bother,” He managed, “I’m the same old Childe.”

“Oh, I know.” She grinned impishly.

“So… how’s married life, eh?”

“Awh,” he groaned, “Too soon, isn’t it?”

“Hardly. From what I’ve been hearing, you’ve been acting like a married couple for weeks already!”

“Not that different, then, I guess.” It makes all the difference.

“I mean, now I get to make public appearances?” Not that the palace is all that private.

“And I have the title– I mean officially, since basically everybody was calling me the consort already.” But now it’s law, Tartaglia’s mind whispered, now something can be done about it.

Hu Tao soon pranced off with a cheeky wave and a little grin, and Lady Ganyu stepped forward behind her. They exchanged niceties and short conversation, before she too smiled and left. The rest of the line went off much the same– mostly adepti he didn’t know or “old friends of Rex Lapis’s” who just wanted to get a first peek at the new Consort.

“Tartaglia.” Pantalone’s voice rang sharp, much in contrast to the warm smile plastered across his face.

“Oh, to what do I owe the pleasure, brother?”

“Mother wishes to speak to you.” His voice remained calm and cordial, but in his eyes was something sharp. Childe scoffed.

“Whilst I appreciate the memo, she can come speak to me in this line, as you so have. Unless… there’s some other reason you’re here?” Pantalone rolled his eyes– just a quick flick upwards, hardly slow enough for anyone else to catch it– and shifted his weight.

“Oh, I just wanted to congratulate you. Didn’t think you could actually pull it off, you know. You don’t usually have the… charisma.” Childe’s eyes narrowed.
“What’re you playing at, Regrator? If there’s something private you need to say to me, see me after the ceremony.”

“Oh, come on, Childe. You can’t honestly expect me to believe you enjoy this– I mean, you’re like an animal in a cage for all of Liyue’s best to gawk at. That doesn’t bother you?” Pantalone smirked, as if he’d caught his prey. Childe’s face turned cold.

“If it’s a cage, at least it’s a pretty one. Tell mother she can come here, or I’ll find her after the ceremony.” Pantalone bowed, mockingly.

“So I shall, my liege,” he muttered, “so I shall…” He slunk away, leaving Childe to the rest of his guests.

_____

It was later in the evening when the Tsaritsa approached, a chilling draft winding its way through her skirts. She pulled him aside, into the nearest building and then off through a hallway, eventually settling in a small sitting room with a pot of tea sitting on the coffee table. She gestured for him to sit. They sat.

“Well?” Childe asked, not all that patiently. It was his wedding, damnit, and he was going to enjoy his hard work.

“You’ve done well.” Her voice was cold, but not unkind. Just cold, as it always was. And, quite frankly, the praise pulled the air from his lungs and the fight from his voice.

“I am not surprised, though diplomacy is far from your area of expertise,” she continued, voice going even softer. There was a long pause where Ajax tried to come to terms with the fact that his mother was praising him directly. Then she spoke again.

“You two look happy together. Enjoy yourself. And… it is never too late to change your mind.” With that, she stood and walked to the door, pausing to squeeze his shoulder lightly. And then the Tsaritsa was gone, back off to the party. He supposed he should as well, before the dancing started.

He ventured back to the party, pushing his way through the crowd and making his way into the evening air once more. The sun had set whilst they were inside, and thousands of stars glittered in the sky above them, platinum against ebony. The lanterns that had been strung all about in the day were lit now, casting the pavilion in a beautiful golden glow.

Someone stepped up to the microphone and announced it was almost time for the first dance. Childe scanned the crowd hurriedly as the tide of people began to recede around him. They flocked to the tables and the walls, and then came the realization that he was standing in the middle of the floor, alone. A warm hand settled onto his shoulder. He turned.

Zhongli looked down at him, barely contained joy bursting through all his features. As the Guzheng and the Erhu began their soft and lilting melody, they began to sway. Zhongli led, his hand staying firm at Childe's shoulder whilst the other one came up to hold his free hand. They spun around the stone floor, bodies pressed closer than dancing etiquette allowed. The rest of the world fell away, and there was only the gold of the lanterns and the stars, the gold of Zhongli’s eyes burning so deeply into his that his very heart turned to molten gold.

They danced and spun and swayed and then the song was over and the next one had begun. The floor was flooded with new dancers, though they all gave the two quite a large berth, Childe used this excuse to press himself even closer. He paused, looking up again to Zhongli, and–

Oh.

It was warm. Burning hot actually, but not painful at all. Burning hot, and the music played on but they stopped. Two lovers intertwined, right in the center of it all. Two lovers that leaned in, that leaned down and up until their lips met and they were whole.

And the warmth and the golden lights danced around them, enveloping them with bliss and love. A giggle worked its way up, burst out of his throat in a fit of sudden giddy laughter, because he was here and Zhongli was kissing him and someone was finally, finally looking at him like he was the sun, the moon, and the stars. Like he was the whole world. Like he was loved. Ajax was loved.

The music quieted and people kept dancing, but Zhongli pulled them away from the dance floor. Once they were safely out of the fray, he broke into a light jog, trailing Ajax along by the hand, a mischievous smile bright on his face. Ajax laughed, loud, kicking off his shoes and hiking up his skirts and following, letting Zhongli lead him away.

They ran through the dark, laughters mixing, barreling past people like they were little kids caught in an all–important game of tag. The lanterns that lit their path trickled off as they turned another corner. They slowed, Childe– still holding Zhongli’s hand– coming up to walk beside them.

At the end of the little alley they crossed into was a little bench, over which stood an arch, dripping with vines and white wisteria. Little sprigs of baby's breath poked out from the gaps, and ivy climbed in between the wooden slats of the arch base. Little strings of lanterns were hung overhead, and ivy and flowers dripped from those too. The bench itself was much more like a loveseat, padded and plush and perfectly inviting. Zhongli pulled him to it, and they sat close, sides pressed against each other like they couldn’t bear to lose the contact. Ajax definitely couldn’t.

“This place… Zhongli…” Ajax trailed off– both out of breath from their little running spree, and from the sheer wonder of the night.

“Do you like it, Ajax darling?” Zhongli was out of breath as well, and had to pause before he could continue his sentence for another deep breath.

“I arranged for it beforehand, as a bit of an insurance policy. I anticipated that once we were reunited, we might benefit from a place a bit more… out of the public eye.”

“It’s… I was gonna say beautiful, but that feels too cliche,” he laughed, riding off of the high and the giddy joy. Zhongli laughed too, melodious and deep, and then they were kissing again, beautiful and messy and perfect. Ajax rested his head against his husband’s collarbone, smiling like a fool. Zhongli cleared his throat. He looked up, expectantly.

“Ajax, I… I wish for you to remember my promise, the one I made the night we first met.”

“That you would marry me?” Zhongli laughed, slow.

“That I would never force you into a relationship, romantic or… otherwise.” He paused. The words hit like a bucket of cold water to the face. The giddy joy swirled down the drain with it.

“I would like you to think deeply and clearly before we continue down this path.”

“Wh– Zhongli?” He laughed, nervously, pulling away to get a better view. Zhongli folded into himself, his eyes distant. Childe tugged at his sleeve, pulling him back, turning his head with a hand on the cheek to face him. His eyes were warm, but warm with fear, with sadness.

“Zhongli–” he paused, anticipation heavy in his voice, “Why would I be here right now? Why would I have kissed you on whims? Why would I spend my days and my nights in your company? I’m not good with words, and I won’t pretend to be. But do you really think I’d stick around like this for anything less than love?” He hesitated, words both said and unsaid hanging heavily in the air between.

“I love you, Ajax.” And for all of Zhongli’s fancy words and complicated metaphors, this one thing was as simple and true as any poem’s hidden meaning.

“I love you too,” he whispered. Zhongli’s eyes lit, and his face followed suit, breaking out into a splitting grin. And Ajax laughed, really laughed, and leaned in, eyes fluttering shut.

They stayed that way for a long while, lips interlocked, breaking apart only to catch their breaths before immediately slotting back together like magnets. Eventually, Ajax’s wayward lips trailed down Zhongli’s neck, kissing gently along his tendons, hyperaware that he was holding his husband's life between his lips right now, and yet he lay complicit beneath him.

He giggled, the noise vibrating through Zhongli’s veins. The other man reached up to his collar, tugging at it gently, kissing the pale space revealed. He kissed every freckle dotting Ajax’s nose, under his eyes and up the bridge of his nose, circling around down his jawline. Zhongli hummed, and the vibrations against his jaw tickled the space behind his ear.

A throat was cleared, softly, more like a scuffing of shoes on the pavement than someone trying to garner attention. When they didn’t stop, it came again, louder. Finally, Childe looked up, the aphrodisiac of his wedding night clearing a little bit.

The poor girl was covering her eyes with both hands. She stood stock still, like she expected one of them to make a move for her any second now. Childe had to suppress his laughter.

“Yes?”

“I– um, well– the, the ceremony is about to conclude, and, um, your Imperial Highnesses are supposed to be present. Sorry! So sorry,” she squeaked. She hesitated for only a split second before practically sprinting away. Zhongli, who hadn’t stopped his adventure down Ajax’s jawline the entire time, looked up questioningly, lips now pressed to his pulse.

“We have to go, love.” Zhongli hummed disappointedly, pulling away and straightening his clothes.

“Don’t be like that, eh?” Childe smiled, nudging Zhongli’s shoulder playfully. “We can pick up where we left off when we get back to the palace.”

“Indeed,” said Zhongli, “we shall. It is a contract.” Zhongli took Childe’s hand, his thumb caressing up the side of Childe’s.

“You rascal,” Childe exclaimed, tone light and teasing. He nudged again as they walked, and Zhongli nudged back. The lanterns grew brighter again as they made their way back to the ceremony, and the chatter of the people and the strumming of the instruments grew louder once more.

People were flocking to their tables, Childe noticed, and Zhongli pulled him gently towards a central one, situated at what would be roughly the head of the area. Childe’s family was already seated, leaving two seats open at the head.
They sunk into them gratefully, hands still interlocked under the table.

It was only a bit longer before Ningguang got the memo and made her way to the podium with a small sigh that very few caught. Lady Keqing stood slightly behind and to the left, talking to the girl that had interrupted them earlier. She was frantically taking notes. He shook his head. Something about that girl was odd for sure. Ningguang’s booming voice interrupted his train of thought.

“It is now that this blessed ceremony comes to a close, and with it, we welcome the customary toasts and speeches from those who are important to Our Imperial Highnesses. First, welcome Adeptus Xiao, the Guardian Yaksha and head of the palace’s royal guards.” Childe did a double take as said adeptus stepped up to the podium, taking Ningguang’s place. He hesitated before he spoke.

“I… do not believe myself to be worthy of an honor such as this. I have dedicated my life to protecting and serving the Imperial Family and all of its members. I am honored to have another to defend. I wish Our Imperial Highnesses a joyful and prosperous marriage. Thank you all for entrusting me with Your Imperial Highnesses’ safety. I will do everything in my power to ensure this. He bowed as deeply as the podium allowed, before stepping down and disappearing into the shadows. And all without so much as glancing in their direction even once.

Ningguang returned to the stage once again, this time to announce Ganyu’s speech, which went much the same way. There were a few more speeches by various adepti he didn’t recognize– (Though Zhongli pointed one out to him as Azhdaha, Guizhong’s to-be husband and military general.)

When the speeches were over, guests finally began to trickle out. Tradition dictated that the newlyweds could not leave until all guests had gone, but even Zhongli looked as if he might say “screw tradition” and fly Childe home on the Exuvia. After the last of the guests left– a particularly chatty anthropomorphic bird who went by “Cloud Retainer”– Tartaglia’s family and the other visiting royalty who were staying at the palace piled into their respective carriages and pulled off, leaving Childe and Zhongli to the wedding carriage.

Unfortunately, they would take the long route to the palace to parade them through the streets for Liyue’s common folk to see. This added, to Childe’s best estimate, roughly thirty minutes to their journey, a fact that Zhongli bemoaned to no end once he’d been told.

Once they finally– finally– got home, Tartaglia decided screw the stairs, he’d use the damned lift if it would get him there faster. It did.

Muscle memory led him to the first door, but Zhongli pulled him farther, to his room, to the Imperial Suite. Right. The door swung open softly, like it had so many times before, but something felt different this time. He hardly registered the rest of the night– there was kissing, and lots of it, but it was all swept into one big hazy and entirely lovely blur. Eventually, as was expected, the warmth and the fuzziness faded entirely to black.

_____

Ajax awoke alongside Zhongli the next morning, body still shining with leftover oxytocin– not to mention the fresh wave that hit him just from looking over and seeing his husband. His husband. Oh, what a world.

Zhongli blinked slowly at him, shifting against the silk sheets to press ever-closer to Ajax. The silk of their nightclothes brushed against each other, smooth against fabric and skin. He smiled lazily. When he spoke, his voice was even deeper than normal, the morning seeping into it and pulling it back under the covers.

“Darling,” he started, and Ajax shivered just from that one word. Zhongli’s smile quirked into a smirk.

“I have been thinking. I wanted to ask you about last night. Some of the markings I have witnessed against your skin…” Childe turned away, rolling to his other side. Unconsciously, he curled into himself, seeking the warmth and comfort that only his vision could provide, the only proof of gods in this godless dimension. Zhongli’s warm hand on his shoulder brought him back.

“I apologize, my love, I have brought you anguish. Let us speak not of this whilst it upsets you so, hm?”

Childe could feel the cold brush of Zhongli’s ring against his collarbone as he turned him back over, facing each other again.

“No,” he decided. “I need to tell you.”

“Alright,” Zhongli simply said. No pressure. No expectations. Just understanding.

“Read to me the story written upon your skin.”

Chapter Text

The room was quiet, the only noise being Zhongli breathing behind him and his heartbeat pressed against Childe’s back. He nudged him off a little so he could slip the shirt over his head, directing Zhongli’s attention to his shoulder.

“We start here.”

_____

Ajax shot awake, fumbling in the dark, gasping for breath that didn’t come. His hands grasped blindly around him, feeling until the cold, smooth glass of his vision rolled under his fingertips. There. He pulled it to him, cradling the light to his chest.

The gentle blue glow faded in and out, softly, like the ocean lapping against the shoreline. Ajax’s breathing slowed, syncing, and his muscles unclenched. He gradually eased himself out of the state of panic he’d woken up in.

Grumbling, he reached out for his bedside lamp, bringing light to the room again. Another nightmare, then. Ajax was here, in his room, and he was alone, for better or for worse.

He’d dreamed of it again, that awful place. The monster inside him shifted, grumbling. Hungry.

He’d dreamed of the Abyss.

“I dreamed of bootcamp, of the long days of brutal training and the freezing nights of scorn.”

His fingers trailed down the freshly healed scar, still stinging with phantom pain.

Zhongli’s cool hands traced the old, raised scar tissue over his shoulder, touch delicate and hardly there, as though he were afraid the decade-old wound would fall open with too much pressure.

The Abyss was dark, and cold, and wet. You’d think, actually, with a hydro vision that wouldn’t be too bad– maybe good, even! But the “water” –if it could even be called that– was thick and corrosive, unwilling to be moved, and the water vapor in the air took too long and too much effort to condense. It was like a starving man, slumped at the bottom of a fruit tree. Life so close, and yet infinitely out of reach.

Ajax still remembered the gnash of teeth as the unnamed beast grew closer, frantically snapping and lunging at him, unable to fit its massive head very far into the hollow he’d escaped into. It lashed out with claws this time, as though attempting to tear through the entrance of the tiny cave, the bone and keratin scratching horridly against stone. One claw did make it in, though, ripping an arc across his left shoulder, and he’d screamed, so embarrassingly loud and strangled.

The scream and the smell of blood just drove the beast into a further frenzy, and just as true cracks began to form around the small entry hole he’d crawled through, Ajax noticed a faint light source coming from above. The adrenaline running through him was just enough for him to scramble up the rocky cave wall, barely managing to swing himself up and through the small gap he hadn’t noticed before.

The ground beneath Ajax shifted just as he got to his feet. Right. That thing must’ve gotten in. It’d have to turn around, and that would buy him some time, but he couldn’t afford to wait around. He turned, surveying the area, and quickly decided that climbing would not be his friend here.

Still mostly holding his left arm onto his torso, he took a deep breath before launching himself off of the edge of the cliff. Ajax landed in a roll that had him crying out in agony, shifting his grip because all the blood was making it slippery. Faintly he wondered how long it would take for him to die from blood loss.

An outraged roar came from behind him. Right. It didn’t matter how quickly he’d die to blood loss right now, because Ajax was almost certain that whatever that thing was supposed to be, it would kill him faster.

So he was up on his feet again, running, panting, trying to hold back tears. Gods, in what world did this happen to a fourteen year-old? He ran until he could no longer hear the beast screaming behind him. He ran until the pain in his lungs burned brighter than the pain in his shoulder. Then Ajax collapsed against some sort of giant root, both pains already fading to the back of his mind.

He saw his mother, his siblings. He remembered them, their laughter and faces and threats, and briefly he wondered if this is what it was like to have a life flash before your eyes. Then the visions changed; he saw gold and red, a delusion shining against a scarred palm, a man with deep brown hair and golden eyes, laughing.

Warmth spread from his shoulder to his arm and chest, then the rest of his body. And despite it all, he couldn’t help but smile. Everything faded, until he could only see the visions, and then those faded too, leaving only a growing silhouette on the horizon. Ajax’s eyes closed.

“And that is where you acquired this injury?” Zhongli’s hand paused at the end of the scar he was tracing, slowly moving back up to massage the side of Childe’s neck gently.

“Yeah, more or less. Bad training accident– spurred my training partner on a little too hard, and I think he took it personally.” He laughed softly, and Zhongli joined in, though he shifted a little and it was clear he wasn’t particularly joyful. His fingers found their way to a nick under his ear, caressing the raised line gently.

“And this?”

“Sword up, boy. You’re getting sloppy again.” Skirk’s mask’s perpetual grin was unnerving, especially at times like this, when her tone was deadlier than either of their blades.

“Master,” he hesitantly offered, “we have been sparring for several hours without a break for food, water, or toilet. I’m not exactly at my cleanest.”

“Shut up!” she snarled, “You think a beast is gonna care whether you need to pee? You think your next meal won’t take advantage of the fact you’re half-dead with hunger?!” Skirk lunged at him again, and the sharpened stone edge of his “sword” didn’t come up quite fast enough. What would’ve been a killing blow, were she actually as angry as her tone suggested, barely nicked past an artery. Blood and pain singed through his nerves nonetheless.

“Hey!” Ajax shouted, indignancy mixing with main in his tone, “What the hell was that for, huh?!”

“Stop yapping,” Skirk growled, “and fight me!”

“A training wound as well. Sparring with my Master. She was… also decently pissed at the time. Possibly my fault.” Zhongli’s brow raised.

“You seem to have quite a few injuries sustained from aggravating your opponent.” The amusement in his tone was plain and Childe swiped at him, laughing a bit himself.

“Well,” he said between giggles, “what can I say? I’m a man of many talents, and if they find my incredibly charming personality an affront to them, then that’s hardly my fault.”

“Indeed,” Zhongli echoed, pressing a kiss to his now-flushed neck.

“How about this one, then,” he said, fingers circling a small puncture wound on the side of Childe’s right hand. “Tell me about this one.” Ajax winced but began nonetheless.

“Oh?” Signora purred, stalking into his room like some sort of big cat.

“Writing something?” she smirked, eyes sharp and cold.

“Fuck off,” he snarled, but the quiver in his voice betrayed him. He snapped the book shut, one hand splayed possessively over the cover. She strode over, making a show of invading his space, of not bothering to close the door. Power plays, all of it. And gods, did Tartaglia hate power plays.

“If you have something to say, get out with it,” he threatened, voice low. Signora laughed, clear and icy.

“Oh, little brother,” she started, amusement playing through her tone, “I do so wish you could learn a little subtlety. Hmm, but then again, not all of us are destined for the throne.” Signora’s smirked grew cruel, almost haughty. Tension coiled through Tartaglia’s muscles.

“If you came here to fight, there’s only one kind I’m interested in. Surely even you know that.” She laughed again.

Tartaglia lunged, his patience long since having run out. Or at least, he tried to. His legs were frozen to the ground, thick spikes of ice curved around his feet. Another laugh, a man this time. Tartaglia’s eyes narrowed; he would know that laugh anywhere.

Dottore stepped out from the shadows. Ajax swore.

“Hello there, Ajax.” Tartaglia snarled again, still straining against the icy shackles at his ankles. They were chipping, melting bit by bit, but it wasn’t enough. He was thoroughly stuck.

“There, Dottore,” Signora said, voice drained of amusement, full instead, now, with business.

“I told you I’d get him, and I did.”

“Yes,” Dottore purred, “Don’t worry. You’ll get the poison and the book, as I promised.” He waved dismissively at her, perhaps expecting her to vanish. He circled around Ajax, who was still rendered immoble in the middle of the room. Signora did not disappear. Her scowl deepened.

“Doctor,” She sneered, ice in her tone, “I want to watch. You said I could watch.” The last bit came out as almost a growl, and Dottore stopped his pacing for a moment. His eyes were still fixed on Tartaglia. He didn’t bother to turn.

“Don’t be ungrateful, sister. It’s unbecoming.” Then, a flash of silver. It was all Tartaglia caught before his knees buckled under him, darkness invading his vision. Signora’s squawks of protest faded to noise, and then to nothing.

Zhongli said nothing, but Childe swore the very air darkened around them. Forcing away a gulp, Ajax gently moved Zhongli’s hand– which hand began to clutch his rather hard– to another scar, this time right over his heart.

It was dark and he was running.

He didn’t remember very much of this. He hardly remembered anything at all.

Something– or someone– was chasing him. Wait. No. Two someones.

The footsteps were heavy. They didn’t bother trying to hide them, hide the thrill of the chase. They crashed through brush, and it was cold, and dark, and he tripped and fell to the ground. Tears welled behind his eyes.

They caught up with him, of course. Scaramouche and Marionette.

“Worthless,” he proclaimed.

“Utterly risible,” she echoed, that mentioned laughter sharp in her voice.

There wasn’t much more he remembered, after that. Most of it was redundant, too. There was a sharp, burning pain in his chest, in his heart, except his heart wasn’t there, so he supposed it hurt where his heart was supposed to be.

And there was laughter, so much laughter.

Zhongli’s hands closed around him, and then his arms, and his chin rested on Childe’s shoulder, hair spilling down his torso. His hold was tight but not constricting, reassuring and comforting all in one gesture.

“We can stop,” he mumbled into Childe’s shoulder, lips moving softly against the pale skin there. Ajax shivered.

“No,” he said softly, “I’m not done.”

So Zhongli’s hands moved slowly, almost leisurely to a starburst wound on his lower left abdomen. A chill spread with his fingers. Ajax began again.

_____

They went on like that for almost an hour more, Zhongli picking a scar, and Childe telling him the story– usually, the altered version. For all his new openness and honesty, there were some things you just didn’t tell people, and the Abyss was one of them.

They almost certainly would have continued, except for the knocking at the door. Ajax fumbled to pull his sleeping robes back on as Zhongli stood, confident, certain, and strode towards the door. He didn’t envy the poor messenger who had to face the dragon’s ire.

“Breakfast is prepared,” said Zhongli, simply, closing the door and turning back to Ajax. “Though it is more like brunch by this hour.” He smiled, slowly, and made his way over for a languid kiss.

“I know that was difficult for you, darling. I would like to commend your bravery.” Zhongli’s smile was warm and loving and the sight of it sent a bright spike of guilt through the pits of Ajax’s stomach.

“I, uh,” he started, the guilt rising like a vise around his throat. Childe sighed.

“Thanks,” he muttered, settling his head into the curve of Zhongli’s shoulder.

They stood like that for a while, swaying gently back and forth in each other's arms. Eventually Zhongli pulled away, whisking off to get himself properly dressed, and encouraging Ajax to as well.

The two made their way to the dining room, the late morning light shining warmly through the ceiling. They ate in peace and relative silence there, and they were nearly finished with their meal when Xiao and a full ten guards burst into the room.

Xiao was barking orders like mad, and the guards flitted around the room, securing exits and ushering the Emperor out of his chair.

“Adeptus Xiao,” Tartaglia snapped, “what is the situation? Why have you interrupted our breakfast?”

“Because,” he answered darkly, the usual annoyance drained from his tone, “someone has tried to kill the Emperor.”

_____

The bunker was mostly bare, with the exception of three mildly padded chairs, a bed, and a desk. Five Millelith stood guard inside with them, and Childe knew that a dozen more patrolled just outside. The Tianquan and Yuheng were safe inside another bunker under the palace’s east wing, and the important generals were situated in yet another bunker in the west wing.

As far as Tartaglia knew, the bunker they were positioned in sat roughly in the center of the palace– or, rather, underneath the center of the palace.

The descent had been long and slow, heat sapping slowly out as they burrowed deeper and deeper underground. Childe had wondered what it must feel like as a user of geo to be surrounded by so much raw power– but when he’d turned to ask Zhongli, his eyes were dull and glazed. It was abundantly clear his mind was elsewhere.

Even without Zhongli’s opinion, Childe thought he could gauge some things for himself. Being this far down provided an abundance of groundwater and hidden streams. They’d whispered to him as they descended, telling stories of eons past. Ajax had shivered and pressed onwards.

_____

They’d been in the bunker for edging on six hours now, and Tartaglia was beginning to get restless. Zhongli was still out of it, and there was no word from Xiao. In fact, until there was word from Xiao he’d be stuck down here where he was utterly useless!

He growled in frustration. The guards didn’t even flinch. They were lucky there was hardly anything to throw in here, because Tartaglia imagined the sound of smashing things would be incredibly cathartic right about now.

A maelstrom of thoughts crashed about in his head, all roughhousing and shouting over each other for his conscious attention. They drifted in and out of his head, but the one that stuck in the spotlight most frequently was the question of who else wanted the Emperor dead.

His mother, perhaps? Maybe she wanted to spare him the pain of such an act. Tartaglia very nearly scoffed out loud. His siblings, then? Not to help him out, no, perhaps to frame him. Yes, that seemed likely. Hmm, but that was petty, even for them. So what then? He was right back where he started.

Childe swore under his breath, turning back around from his pacing. Zhongli came into view. Huffing out a sigh he strode back over, plopping down next to him. Zhongli barely blinked. Ajax leaned into his shoulder, hands folded in his lap.

It was another thirty minutes before the Emperor really stirred, and another thirty after that before Xiao finally, finally came down. They both jumped up. Childe never thought he’d be so happy to see the man in all his life. Zhongli perked up at the sight of him too, at the relaxed slump of his shoulders as he affirmed that his Emperor was okay.

Zhongli swept him into a gentle hug, and Xiao stiffened for only a second before accepting it. Ajax tried to bite down the waft of bitter jealousy that curled around his throat. He had no right. None. And yet his stomach threatened to make its contents known at the mere sight of Zhongli– even platonically– with someone else. He turned away, his own disgust for himself practically radiating out of every pore.

He settled again on the bed, watching and listening as Xiao briefed Zhongli on the situation. Apparently, this someone had scaled the palace’s outer wall, evaded the guards, and then scaled all of the palace’s many stories to break in through the window of the Imperial Suite. A passing maid had heard the crashing of glass and called Adeptus Xiao immediately, who arrived to find the perpetrator gone, at which point he’d mobilized the guards and swooped everyone away to safety.

Upon closer examination of the room, it seemed as if the assassin had escaped further into the palace instead of making a tactical retreat. Either they were getting paid quite the large sum or they had no regard for their own life. Childe’s bet was on the latter.

They found geo dust among the shards of glass from the window, indicating that the visitor likely had a geo vision and had used a projectile to smash through it– which also explained the confusion over how such reinforced glass had been broken whilst the intruder was clinging to the side of a building. Most likely a catalyst user as well.

After everyone of importance had been evacuated– Childe sniffed at this, as if the staff wasn’t important– they’d locked down the building, interrogating each and every member of the remaining staff as well as doing their best to track the perpetrator.

They’d eventually found him in a pantry. Apparently, his mission was easily forgotten in the face of imperial sweets. It really is a shame that Childe didn’t actually bet anyone anything, because he’d be a very rich man by now.

“Odd,” said Zhongli, drawing Childe’s attention back to present company, “Are we quite sure he was here for an attempt on my life? Any assassin who is able to break into the Golden House is not so easily swayed.” Ajax shoved the rising guilt away again. Gods, if he was going to have to do this every five minutes, he’d have to get this assasination underway sooner than he’d expected. The thought of Zhongli lying dead on the floor prompted another wave of nausea, and Tartaglia quickly banished it from his mind.

“We aren’t certain,” Xiao admitted, shifting his weight.

“The perpetrator has been detained, but he’s been so far… unwilling to tell us anything. I have no doubt we will get it out of him eventually.” The adepti’s mouth was set in a line of grim determination, and Ajax shivered a little. Zhongli squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“Then there is nothing else to be done but wait. We shall resume today as planned, with what time we have left, and my Consort and I are not to be disturbed bar an emergency. I will summon you later tonight for a briefing, Xiao.” The adeptus nodded, though his mouth twisted into a slight grimace.

“Very good. You are dismissed.” Xiao bowed deeply before leading the remains of the guards up the stairs. The two men gave them some pause before starting up themselves.

“Are you quite alright, love?” Zhongli’s voice was quiet and steady, reaching out like a calm, warm hand in the dimness.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m– I’m fine,” Childe responded, leaning his shoulder more into Zhongli’s as they climbed. His gentle, slender fingers brushed against Childe’s, slipping through and intertwining until the warmth of their palms were pressed flush against each other.

They made it up to the top floor again– this time they ventured into Childe’s old room, however. The glass in the Imperial Suite was still not cleaned up, and neither of them particularly fancied a draft.

After an hour or two of simply laying around, relaxing, Zhongli settled down and readied himself for bed, Childe found himself at his old desk, staring out the window. It was only about nine in the evening, a bit early for bed, but he supposed it had been quite the long and stressful day, and even he was feeling weary.

His husband stepped into the hallway– presumably to summon Xiao– and Childe found himself looking through the drawers of the desk. He wasn’t particularly sure what pushed him to do so, but perhaps it was just a gut instinct.

The first drawer Childe opened was empty. The second contained one letter, sealed, frosty cold. “To Ajax” it read, and dread curled up his spine. He shut the drawer right as Zhongli opened the door again, and they settled into the bed, laying side by side.

“So,” Childe started lamely, trying to push down his nervousness, “Any updates?”

“No,” Zhongli sighed, rolling over to face him, “Nothing as of yet. Xiao told me that he would not rest until he had personally seen to getting the full story out of this man. I told him that if he hadn’t slept by the time I summoned him tomorrow, there would be consequences.” Zhongli smiled, so Childe did too, and before he knew it, his husband was fast asleep, chest rising and falling slowly with his breath.

He sighed and rolled onto his back, trying to get some sleep– but no matter how long he closed his eyes, nothing came.

Chapter Text

It was several hours more before Childe rolled out of bed, still just as exhausted and restless as when he’d lay down to sleep. Zhongli snored soundly on the bed, just loud enough to reassure that he was still there, still alive. Comforting even in his sleep. Ajax shook his head.

He made his way over to his desk, slowly, almost tentatively pulling open the drawer. Quietly, Childe slid the letter from the folds of its envelope. He paused. Zhongli was still fast asleep, but he didn’t want to disturb him– or to be disturbed himself.

Making his way to the ensuite bathroom, Childe took care to close the door as quietly as possible, wincing at even the tiniest click that still sounded when the door latched. He shuffled over to the shower bench, letter still icy in his hands. He took a deep breath before unfolding it.

“Dearest Ajax,” the letter began. His mother, then. Ajax hadn’t had much doubt, of course, but it was more than possible that one of his siblings could’ve sealed the letter with the same type of permafrost that their mother was so fond of using. But none of them would start a letter to him in such a way, not even to butter him up. None of the siblings played at pleasantry so. He continued reading.

“This letter is for your eyes only. I trust your time away from home hasn’t disrupted your senses so, but if it has, now is the time to get rid of any unwanted company.

“Depending on your current emotional state, I expect you will be reading this between 6 to 18 hours after the attempt on Morax’s life.” Ajax’s breath hitched. Not his siblings, then.

“As we have returned to Snezhnaya, I have no choice but to reach you through such easily intercepted methods as paper and ink. So, again, I warn you, what’s past this point shall not only be seen by you alone, but not shared, should you value your life.

As you’ve likely guessed by now, the assassin was sent from Snezhnaya, but meaning only really to scare. (Had I truly wanted him dead by my hand, he would have been long ago.) I believe our official story aligns with a baron who was offended by the trading deals offered to him by the Qixing. He has recently fallen from my graces, so should the assassin crack and the Qixing come looking, I would be positively gratified to hand him over.

The actual story, as you certainly expect, is that he came from me. An offer, if you would be so inclined to accept it.

See, my darling, the longer you wait to kill Morax, the less able I fear you will be able to do so. I could take the prerogative, If you find yourself no longer capable. However, I doubt you would choose the easy way out. You will undoubtedly want to finish what you started, and so, to alleviate any suspicions that could potentially be put upon you, this is your alibi. Any competent murder would be linked, instead, back to the troublesome baron.

But the Qixing are not slow. They will reach the baron soon enough, and once he is neutralized, so too goes your alibi. The clock is ticking, darling. Best of love.”

The letter was unsigned. Not that it needed a signature, really, because the moment his eyes had crossed over the final period, the paper dissolved into snow, already melting in his hands. Numbly, he deposited the snow into the porcelain bowl of the sink, where what was melted had already begun to swirl down the drain. Then, he sank down against the wall.

She was right. He didn’t want to take the coward’s way out. And yet… and yet the very thought of Zhongli, dead– by his hand or not– shook Ajax to his very core. But again, she was right, he didn’t have time. Depending on how well-trained the operative they’d sent here was, he’d crack any number of hours between now and three days from now, counting on the Qixing to be brutal but fair. In fact, he might’ve cracked already.

It’d be less than a day before the baron was arrested then, on suspicion of high treason. Mother would hand him over to prevent a diplomatic incident, and that would be that. Childe would lose his window.

So he made up his mind. Tomorrow he would speak to the assassin. Then he would find his own, and all would be dealt with.

_____

As Childe stepped into the interrogation room, his eyes instantly met those of the man chained against the wall. From the angle his arms were shackled at, he would’ve almost certainly been uncomfortable standing. Someone had provided him a chair. Xiao growled in annoyance.

“He’s all yours, Consort. I doubt you will be able to get much more out of him than we have, but Lord Morax implored us to give you a chance.” Dark circles rimmed Xiao’s eyes, and his voice was laced with exhaustion he hardly seemed to notice. Looked like Zhongli would be having another… conversation with him.

Tartaglia nodded stiffly as Xiao left, the door clicking shut behind him. The remaining two guards shifted uneasily at their posts by the door.

“You can go,” he said, not really paying attention as he gestured towards the door. The two guards looked at each other, unsure. Tartaglia straightened, turning to face them, a cold fire in his eyes.

“You are dismissed, soldiers. That’s an order.” The guards, apparently having decided his word trumped Adeptus Xiao’s, left as well. Then, they were alone.

Tartaglia strode in a wide semi-circle around the man, who still, despite making even eye contact, had not spoken. For someone who had supposedly been distracted by the sweets in the pantry, he was oddly… cold? Calculated? He held himself the sort of way you’d expect a trained assassin to, not an amateur fool with a penchant for sugar.

Once he was sure that any guards would’ve gotten far enough away to not be able to hear or bored enough to not pay attention, Tartaglia broke the silence.

“Soldier,” he said simply, “report.” The man straightened as much as he possibly could, though he didn’t try to salute– which was probably for the better. He cleared his throat– a dry raspy sound– and spoke quietly, as if he hadn’t had a whisper of water all night. He probably hadn’t.

“Sir, I’m afraid that information is–” a pause for a dry cough, “–classified.”

“Oh?” Tartaglia crooned, drawing himself up the littlest bit taller, “From me?” He swirled a bit of water around in the air for added effect. He observed carefully as the man’s eyes lit with desperation, with thirst. So, his hypothesis was correct then.

“I… I–” Tartaglia splashed the littlest bit of water onto the back of the man’s head. He imagined the feeling of cool, fresh water, running down your spine, cutting through the filth and grime on your skin, and you haven’t had a drink in days, but you just can’t reach it. The man squirmed uncomfortably, probably trying to choose between his thirst and what was left of his dignity.

“Talk,” he commanded, voice reverberating around the solid stone walls. The would-be assassin shivered a bit, glancing around the room as if looking for a savior. Tartaglia snorted.

“No lord or baron is coming to save you.” The man’s head snapped up, eyes suddenly focused.

“How do you know?”

“Know what?” Tartaglia smiled. His prisoner’s face dropped. “Ooh, lucky guess?” He didn’t need to know that it was, in fact, carefully gauged. It just made his imminent victory all the sweeter.

“A baron, then, interesting. Which one?” He watched the man’s panic grow and then smooth away over his face, returning to a practiced calm. Childe almost laughed out loud– this guy was clearly Fatui trained, through and through.

“Listen, comrade,” he started, once it was clear that the would-be assassin planned to reveal nothing further, “You’re loyal, that’s a valuable trait. But if the Qixing find that you weren’t hired by anyone, they’ll execute you under high treason. You won’t stand a chance. If you’d just tell me which Baron it was, it’ll be his head on the line, not yours. You’ll probably just be up for a couple years in prison, and I know a couple of great lawyers who could minimize that sentence, too.” Tartaglia watched as the man’s lower lip quivered. He stared, desperate for water, for safety.

“Baron Norbury. It was Baron– Baron–” And then the tears came. It was, honestly, surprising that he had enough water left in his body to be crying as he was. It hit Childe then, how young the poor guy looked. His cheeks were still soft with remnants of baby fat, and his eyes, though they’d lost their innocence, remained wide and round with use. His demeanor softened.

“Erm, there there,” Childe said awkwardly, giving the boy a strong pat on the back. “You need to be saving water there, comrade.”

“What’s your name then, hmm?” Childe asked, really just trying to get the poor guy to stop crying. He’d be of no use on trial if he was dead.

“Ivan,” the man managed, sobs fading to sniffles.

“And how old are you, Ivan?”

“Sixteen, sir. I just– I have a– I have a family back North and I– I really did mean it when I told them I’d left the Fatui, but it was just such good money and– and–" he trailed off into sobs again.

“Tell me about your family, Ivan.”

“Well,” he began, slowly, calming a bit, “I have two little sisters, you see, they’re just ten and eight, I love them dearly. My mother died in childbirth; my father disabled in the Fatui himself. Begged me not to go when I told him I’d enlisted. Said he’d lost enough to an army that only got you into trouble, and, well, I suppose he was right, looking where it landed me. But I needed some sort of work, y’know, with him having his troubles and whatnot. Guess I shouldn’t be blabbing about this stuff to you, Lord Harbinger, especially since you’ve been so good to me.” Childe cringed a little. Well, there goes my fearsome reputation.

“They say they found you in the pantry, soldier. What’s that about?”

“Oh,” Ivan chuckled nervously, “Yeah. Well, when I really realized where I was and what I was doing, I just kind of panicked. Ran into the first room I could find, and I just remembered my little girls… they always talked about sweets, ‘specially the foreign ones, and I just remember thinking, ‘Well, if I’m going to die here, I might as well live their dreams so my ghost can report back.’ Like, at least I can do that for them.” He looked up, meeting Childe’s eyes, and there was so much hope there that he had to look away.

Gods, he was just a kid. There wasn’t a lawyer in Liyue who could get him any less than twenty years, and he’d rot away in a jail cell, only finally emerging in a country whose language he didn’t speak, whose currency he didn’t have, with no way to return home to his family. Those little girls would grow up thinking their brother was dead, and his father would feel so betrayed, and so angry, angry at the Fatui who had once again taken everything from him.

“Listen, kid, I’m gonna do my very best to get you out of here, alright? At the very least, I’ll send word to your family, okay? But you’ve got to promise me something.”

“Yes, Lord Harbinger, anything.” The boy nodded frantically, devotion shining bright in his eyes.

“You stay away from the Fatui. Assuming you get off, I might be able to find you a nice job at the palace, but you cannot go back there, understood, soldier?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Lord Harbinger.” His eyes swelled with tears again, and Childe patted him on the shoulder hastily.

“Not a problem. Here, you get some water back into you, I’m going to go talk to the captain.” Ivan nodded as Childe passed him his flask, watching for only a second as the boy gulped it down before tearing his gaze away and leaving the room. Almost as soon as he stepped out, Adeptus Xiao pounced on him.

“Tartaglia. Did he–”

“Yes, he talked. Xiao, did anyone even bother asking his age? The kid’s sixteen. Sixteen, with a family to feed.” The grim satisfaction and surprise on Xiao’s face melted into disgust.

“That is not my problem, Consort,” he hissed. “He attempted to assassinate the emperor. Your husband, in case you’ve already forgotten.”

“I haven’t,” said Tartaglia, through gritted teeth, “And I worry about his safety as much as you. Check the bunker cameras if you don’t believe me. But his crime hardly warrants the death penalty. He broke into the palace and immediately got scared and attempted to flee. He never came within 500 feet of the emperor, and breaking and entering, trespassing on private property, and a touch of petty theft isn’t worth more than ten years. Never mind that that’d be the sentence we’d give a man with a fully developed prefrontal cortex.”

“You’re forgetting the attempted FIRST DEGREE MURDER,” Xiao practically screeched, drawing the attention of several nearby guards.

“I would hardly call it attempted murder when the boy never even saw me.” Zhongli’s baritone echoed through the corridor, immediately drawing both men’s attention.

“Morax.” Xiao immediately dropped to one knee, eyes cast downwards.

“How many years, Adeptus Xiao, will you be alongside me before you stop bowing? How many has it been already?” He reached out a hand to the still-bowing captain, who took it almost hesitantly and rose. Zhongli, his arm now free again, looped it through Childe’s.

“You said the boy is sixteen?” Morax questioned, turning to Childe.

“Yes,” he nodded, “Poor kid’s gotten himself in over his head. But even if we could get him off of attempted murder charges, I doubt the best lawyer in Teyvat could get him less than twenty years.”

“Well,” said Zhongli, “There is always the option of an Imperial pardon.”

“What?!” cried Xiao, very much distraught.

Childe’s eyebrows shot up, stunned. “Xiansheng, I’m not sure that’s a very good idea. I mean, your mercy is admirable, but he did come with murderous intent, and still committed various crimes along the way…” Zhongli held out his hand, cutting Childe off.

“Whilst I am appreciative of your sentiments, Childe, there’s really very little harm done.”

Xiao stepped forward. “But–”

“I do not wish to fight you on this matter, Xiao. I am hardly in the mood to argue.” Xiao’s protests died in his throat, head bowed slightly again.

“Good. Then it is settled.” Zhongli beckoned a nearby guard, who’d already looked somewhat starstruck to be in the presence of the Guardian Yaksha and the Eleventh Harbinger/Imperial Consort, not to mention the Emperor himself.

“Go in and inform the man that he is soon to be officially Imperially pardoned, and that I regret that due to procedure I may not tell him myself,” Zhongli instructed, and as soon as he was done with his nearly floor-deep bow, he raced off into the room behind them.

“Walk with me, you two.” The two settled into a comfortable pace trailing slightly behind Zhongli as they set off.

“My lord, if I may–”

“Just Zhongli is suitable, Xiao, we’re alone.” The adeptus shifted uncomfortably.

“Right. Zhongli, forgive me if I’m out of line, but… why?”

“Why would I pardon a man who tried to kill me?” Both Xiao and Childe flinched a little at the bluntness of it, but Zhongli just stopped and turned to face them.

“Liyue is a country of fairness. And fairness isn’t equality, not always. Often, in fact, what’s fair is what each individual needs to elevate them to an equal ability. We do not kill children because we kill adults.” And with that, he did a smooth one-eighty and continued walking.

Childe hurried to catch up, momentarily quickening his pace, but paused again when the third set of footsteps never joined them. When he looked back, Xiao was gone.

“Zhongli?” he questioned, speeding up to walk alongside him. Zhongli intertwined their fingers and a hot spike of guilt coarsed through him.

“Yes, darling?”

“That’s not the only reason you’re pardoning him, is it.” Zhongli stopped, pulling Childe to the side of the hallway for a quick kiss.

“Perceptive. Indeed, I will admit sentiment plays a larger role than I was willing to share with Xiao.” He paused. Childe tilted his head, a question in his eyes.

“I trust your judgment. I trust you. If you believe he is innocent, then so shall he be in the eyes of the law. I find it nearly dangerous the wholehearted trust I carry for you. You cloud my judgment.” For a moment, Childe was speechless.

“It would seem,” Zhongli continued, voice quieting, “that logic would suggest I abandon you before I lose further sight of justice. That my obligations to my people are more important. Yet I find myself wanting no such thing.” He leaned in closer, bending slightly until they were nearly kissing again.

“In fact, I find myself wanting to pull you closer.” Zhongli closed the distance, his lips on Childe’s once more. Childe, for his part, was too entirely stunned to do much more than kiss back.

_____

Later, when Zhongli left to sign the official pardon paperwork– and suffice it to say that Ningguang was even less pleased than Xiao was– Childe returned to his room. Of course, they had gotten the all-clear to return to the Imperial Suite now that Ivan was a free man, but there was some business yet that Childe had here.

He turned the dagger over in his hands. It was nothing more than a hydro construct– naturally, he wouldn’t leave such an obvious murder weapon– but it felt solid in his hands, as solid as any metal ever had. Childe could wave his hands and it would evaporate, literally, and yet all the same he held the choice.

Ajax was struck with a sudden bout of doubt, sitting there, weapon in hand. Was he really going to do this? Could he even trust that he had it in him? Any other day, any other person, the answer would be yes, instantly. But not here, not with… him.

Hell, with this level of unsurety he’d hire someone to do it. But I’m out of time.

He sighed, waving away the dagger. He knew he couldn’t do it now. But it would have to be tonight; Xiao’s guards were already heading to Snezhnaya to apprehend the baron. He’d need an alibi; somewhere else he was supposed to be. Nobody would buy, “Oh my gods, I just slept through my husband’s assassination!” Xiao, though Childe liked to think he’d warmed up to him, was definitely still suspicious– and he could forget about convincing Ningguang.

Plus, Zhongli would find it suspicious if he slept in another room, or if Childe wanted to stay up.

Or would he?

He had just completely pardoned his would-be assassin because Childe had seemed fond of him. But suspicion aside, if Childe wanted to stay up, Zhongli would just stay up with him, and trying to sleep in a different bed than your newly wedded husband would surely raise red flags everywhere, especially now that the Emperor’s life had been threatened.

Perhaps feigning insomnia? Zhongli never needed to know. Wait until he was asleep, then go out for a midnight stroll. Tell the guards you thought you saw someone hopping the wall whilst on said walk, then use their panic to escape back to the bedroom. Kill Zhongli, then find Xiao and tell him you were too late. Easy-peasy. The thought made him sick. But at least Zhongli would die quickly and painlessly, and with a husband who loved him.

Eventually, Zhongli returned, sitting gracefully onto the bed beside him, hand immediately going to the small of Childe’s back, rubbing gentle circles there. Childe chuckled.

“You’re really one for physical touch, huh, xiansheng?” Zhongli smiled at the rhetorical question, simply choosing to lean his shoulder farther into Childe’s.

“Hey,” he laughed, “You’re gonna make me fall!” Zhongli’s smile grew as he nudged Childe a little harder, then harder again until he did indeed fall back onto the mattress, with Zhongli looming over him. They were both laughing, hair falling over eyes and cheeks crinkled up, the beautiful light that can come only with true laughter surrounding them.

Zhongli’s laughter stopped, almost abruptly, and Childe’s laughter faded out too once he noticed.

“Zhongli?” he questioned, “what’s wrong?”

“I love you, Ajax,” came the quiet reply. “I love you so much. Sometimes I almost forget, and it sinks into the back of my subconscious, and then you smile, and I fall anew.” Before Childe had the chance to say much of anything, Zhongli was swooping down, melting their mouths into each other’s.

He smiled up into the kiss, laughing as it broke apart and Zhongli fell next to him, still pressing little kisses against his jawbone.

“Who would have thought that the strong and mighty Rex Lapis would have such a romantic side,” Childe laughed, laughter laced through his tone. Zhongli hummed noncommittally.

“I love you, my darling Ajax.” There was a pause, as if Celestia itself was holding its breath. But Ajax found he couldn’t say it. Not because it wasn’t true; he’d never had a problem lying to Zhongli thus far. He just couldn’t.

So he said “I know,” and that was that.

Chapter Text

It was time. The room was long dark and long quiet, save for the occasional gentle shift of Zhongli in his sleep. It would be so easy– no, more than easy, it would be nearly effortless– to just stay in bed. To stay, so much easier than to go. And yet Tartaglia found himself slipping out into the night anyway.

Though he could’ve left through the window, it probably would’ve been a hassle with the increase in guards watching it now– not to mention that it was just downright suspicious. No, it’d be better to risk running into someone in the hallways.

For believability, (because you never know when you might have a witness,) Childe took his time strolling through the gardens, waving at the few soldiers he saw patrolling. He smiled when they waved back, though inside he was struggling to stay afloat in the ocean of guilt he was harboring. After a sufficient amount of time (ten minutes? Twenty?) he turned back to the palace, hastening his step and plastering what he hoped to be a sufficient look of alarm on his face.

Childe turned a corner, in the process nearly running into the guard stationed there. Perfect.

“Oh my gods,” he managed, “I am so sorry. It’s just– I’m glad I found you, I could’ve sworn I saw someone jump one of the hedges. I tried to give chase, but they were gone once I got around. I wouldn’t bother you except…”

“Except the Emperor’s life was so recently in danger. I understand, Imperial Consort Tartaglia. I will gather all forces at once.”

“Excellent,” Childe nodded, “I’ll get back to the Emperor.” With one last swift nod, they went their separate ways, the soldier out to the gardens, already calling out for backup, and Childe up towards the Imperial Suite, heart nearly pounding out of his chest.

When he finally reached the Imperial wing, it was dead silent. Not a guard around– in fact, he hadn’t seen one for at least the last three floors. Good. A soft rain had started,hardly more than a sprinkle, droplets sliding softly down the reinforced glass. The sky was heavy with clouds and the promise of storms to come.

The door eased open with hardly a sound. Childe crept in, dagger materializing in his hand. Quietly, he unlatched the window, busting the outside lock and wincing at the sound of metal crumpling, which echoed through the room. Earlier’s sprinkle had already become a drizzle, and water fell in through the window, dampening the desk and its papers. Childe couldn’t bring himself to care.

He knew he didn’t have very much time. Any moment the guards would find no one, any moment they would come pounding up the stairs, rallying to defend their beloved emperor.

Zhongli rolled onto his side in his sleep. Childe crept closer, dagger clutched in his shaky hands. The tip wavered over his throat, less than an inch from the flesh beneath. It would be quick, painless. It was likely Zhongli wouldn’t even wake.

The knife evaporated in his grip.

“What?” he muttered, immediately wincing at the volume of his own voice. He stepped away, pulling at the hydro in the air again. The dagger reformed. Childe sighed, shaking his head. He was psyching himself out, here. He stepped forward again. Again, the weapon disappeared

“Shit.” Zhongli shifted. Childe held his breath, heart climbing into his throat.

“Ajax?” Zhongli finally murmured, sleep heavy in his voice.

“Yes, love?” he responded, hopefully imbuing his tone with enough exhaustion to not be suspicious.

“Why are you up, darling? Come back to bed.”

“Sorry, Zhongli, I can’t sleep. Go back to bed.”

“Mm, alright. Lay with me, at least?” Childe sighed fondly, laying back down, shoulder pressed to Zhongli’s.

“Love you, Ajax.” His eyes stung at the words, at the reminder of what he was here to do and what he was losing. Gods. Who knew having your lifelong dream come true would suck so much?

He waited until the emperor’s breathing evened out again, hazarding a small, “Zhongli?” and standing when he was met with silence. There. He didn’t have long.

Childe found his vision blurring as he stared down at the man on the bed, sleeping peacefully. As he crept closer– third time’s the charm– the tears started falling. It made him pause for a moment, if only for the sheer incredulousness of it. Tartaglia hadn’t cried for years, and here he was, half of his dream in his hand, the other half lying on the bed in front of him, defenseless, and he was bawling like a little baby. Like a child.

Childe’s shoulders slumped as the tears fell, silent sobs racking his body. He was going to ruin this for himself, and all because of some stupid attachment? Failure was not an option. He inched closer.

Failure was not an option.

Failure was not an option.

Failure was not an option.

Failure–

Light flooded the room.

Xiao stood in the doorway, silhouettes of more guards in the hall behind him. Rain was pouring in through the broken window, soaking through the desk and onto the floor.. Childe stood, knife in hand, only a few feet away from the Emperor.

He didn’t get another moment to think before he was almost impaled on the tip of the adeptus’s spear. Dodging swiftly to the side, Tartaglia immediately engaged. He dodged and parried blow after blow, completely unable to get a word in edgewise.

“Xiao? Childe?” A quiet voice poked through the clash of steel against water, sleep thickening the tone. Zhongli. Adeptus Xiao stopped, though he managed to get the tip of his spear touching Tartaglia’s throat, the cool metal pressed hard against his skin.

“Adeptus Xiao, stand down at once. I will not have my husband harmed in his own room!” Zhongli’s voice was murderously quiet, even having just woken up. Xiao’s spear did not move.

“With all due respect, Emperor,” Xiao said, whilst trying and failing to bow in his current position, “This man is under arrest for high treason, espionage, and attempted murder. It would be irresponsible of me as a general to let him stand unguarded.”

“...What?” came Zhongli’s quiet response. Childe turned his gaze away, unable to look at anyone. The spear scraped painfully against his neck.

“In addition to the compromising position we found him in when we entered, we’ve just received word from the Millelith we sent to Snezhnaya. The baron forgot to destroy his missives from Zapolyarny palace.” What?

“No, no, there must have been a mistake. Adeptus Xiao, do you realize what you are implying here? That is my husband. In fact, we were wed not two days ago. You were there. Tell him, Childe.”

Silence. Childe shifted, still unable to even look in Zhongli’s direction.

“Childe? …Ajax? Tell him he is wrong. Tell him you did not do it.” Zhongli’s voice was a plea, practically begging. His heart shattered.

“Darling, look at me. Please.” Ajax swiveled. This, at least he could do. He could watch the despair pass hope leaving, on its way in. Ajax could watch Zhongli realize what he’d done.

“Celestia. You did.”

Childe could’ve defended himself. He could’ve called bullshit, claimed he, too, was paranoid after the attack and wanted to be prepared in case someone burst in. Zhongli would side with him. He knew he would. But… didn’t Zhongli deserve better? Better than a liar, a spy, an abyssal monster? Didn’t he deserve to know what kind of monster he’d called his husband? And so, slowly, Childe nodded.

“I knew it,” Xiao growled, shoving his spear harshly against Childe’s throat. “Traitorous scum, so deep within our own midsts! How dare you, you who should use his Imperial Highness in such a way, who should–”

“Xiao.” Zhongli’s voice was quiet and uncertain.

“Leave us.”

“What?! Respectfully, Emperor, this… thing… has just admitted to trying to kill you. Twice!” The crowd of guards outside parted for the click of heels against tile floors.

“Emperor Morax, you have been deemed presently unfit to rule, due to your current mental state.” Ningguang stood, cold, an imposing figure backlit from the hallway.

“Citing bill 1478, clause 16B, in the case of such an event, the Tianquan reserves the right to assume the position of Emperor or Empress Regent, until proper mental facilities have returned. I’m sorry, Morax, but this is for your own good.” She turned to Xiao.

“Adeptus Xiao, please take this man to our most secure cell, and station two guards inside the cell and four outside. Also see to it that Morax is moved to a more secure location, and that he stays there, heavily guarded.” Xiao grimaced, attempting the awkward half-bow of earlier.

“Yes, Acting Imperial Regent.” The adeptus lowered his spear, though it was just as quickly prodding him in the back urging him forward. Through all of this, Zhongli remained silent, sitting quietly on the bed as Childe was led away.

_____

The cell was cold and dark and unbelievably dry– altogether not unlike the one Ivan had been held in less than twenty-four hours ago. Except he was most definitely not provided with a chair.

Naturally, they’d taken his vision and delusion. It wouldn’t do for him to have easy access to weaponry, after all– though, it seemed like Zhongli hadn’t told anyone about Foul Legacy, since this cell was hardly resistant to a full or even partial transformation.

He couldn’t stay here, that much was obvious. Childe would only need to grab his vision and delusion– he would be forever grateful that he wasn’t the sentimental type. He’d preemptively changed into his harbinger uniform, just in case, and now he was especially glad he’d had the foresight.

Alright then, where would he go? At the very least he’d need somewhere to stay while he figured things out. Obviously, Snezhnaya was out of the question; his mother did not tolerate weakness, nor did his siblings. Liyue was ruled out too– there was no way he was staying in a land that wanted him dead. Fontaine would turn him over in a heartbeat if he was found out, and Sumeru likely would too, not to mention its geographical closeness. Inazuma was impossible to get into nowadays. That left Mondstadt or Natlan, then.

Mondstadt was also much too physically close– plus, Childe had heard that Morax and Barbatos, the absentee ruler of the country, were close friends. And Natlan was, well… hot. It was the nation of pyro, after all, and, well, maybe it was a dumb reason, but Childe just didn’t think he could do it.

So where, then, if that was all of the nations crossed out? Where else could he go?

…There was one place that jumped to mind. But was he ready to return? Scratch that, was he even able to return? When he’d fallen into the Abyss, he’d fallen by accident. Was it possible to just… stumble into another Abyssal rift?

Well, it wasn’t like he exactly had much choice.

With that decided, it was time for an escape plan. He’d utilize a partial legacy transformation– he needed his full strength to get away– and break the cuffs on his wrists through sheer force. He’d storm the two guards in the cell, and by that time the door would’ve opened with the four guards outside coming to subdue him. After he took down those guards, he’d have to find his vision and delusion, and he’d need to work quickly– if Xiao showed up, his job would get a whole lot more difficult.

Alright then. Was there any further reason to delay? It didn’t seem so– or, at least, Childe couldn’t find one.

So the gears of the plan began to turn.

Funneling power into his wrists and hands, he could feel them swell as the chains started to splinter like a toothpick. This, obviously, alerted the guards, who jumped to attention. Time to play. Tartaglia swung one monstrous fist from behind his back– his hands now free– and watched with his trademark sort of glee as it collided right with the man’s chest, sending him flying backwards against the wall with a crunch.

Opponent number two was more obviously hesitant, but it didn’t matter. Tartaglia tossed him aside just as easily, just in time for the door to fly open. He took out the other four guards in no time at all, leaving the bodies in various states of consciousness as he fled the room. Childe allowed his already-throbbing hands to shrink back to size, shivering a little at the abyssal miasma in the air.

Alright, he thought, if I was confiscating a prisoner’s vision, where would I put it? You’d probably want it in your direct sight whenever you were dealing with said prisoner, but still far enough out of reach to minimize all safety risks. Behind the two-way glass, then. Into the guard room. Whoever was in there had almost certainly pulled the alarm now, too, even if he couldn’t hear it ringing out through the halls. He’d better hurry.

The glass had been roughly west of his cell, according to Childe’s best memory, and with that he was off. He hadn’t actually been to the guard room before, nor had he spent much time in the containment portion of the palace in the first place. He hadn’t exactly had reason to, outside of Ivan. In hindsight, it probably would’ve been a good idea.

As he spun again at the end of his third dead-end hallway, he found himself face to face with several more guards– which, again, he knocked out with little difficulty. But this did give him a clue. He ran down the hallway they’d come from, slowing his pace when he heard a few voices nearly shouting coming from a room with the door wide open. Bingo.

As Childe approached, the voices became clearer. “–isn’t time for this, Tianquan! We need to lock this place down, and–”

“Excuse me,” Ningguang’s voice rang out frostily, “You are addressing the Acting Empress. You’d do well to remember your place, Adeptus Xiao.” Uh oh. Both of them? Ningguang he could handle, and Xiao he could probably sneak around, but the two together spelled trouble. After all, he could only draw his vision from a short way, and if either of them had a tight hold on it, Childe might as well say goodbye to his escape attempt.

One of them would probably be facing the doorway, so sneaking in was out– and just bursting in, claws blazing was a no-go with Xiao there. He’d have to cause a diversion, then–

“You know I answer to Morax. Do not forget who brought you here, Ningguang.” And then came the tell-tale sound of Xiao disappearing in his standard gust of anemo. It was truly a shame Tartaglia would never be able to ask him how he did that. Teleportation would be truly fearsome to face on the battlefield.

But he guessed that solved his dilemma. So without waiting further, he charged into the room, fists fired up, pulling on the elemental signature of his vision. He spotted the gem only a millisecond before he spotted Ningguang– who was indeed facing the door– before the vision flew into his waiting grasp. Tartaglia’s delusion, however, was sitting squarely in the palm of Ningguang’s hand. Looks like he’d get his fight after all.

“Tartaglia.”

“Ningguang.”

And then they leaped at each other– well, more accurately, Tartaglia leaped at her, only to find himself oddly disoriented as he fell through some sort of geo barrier. Interesting. From his new place on the floor, it seemed that the Tianquan had created some sort of lingering construct that would minimize incoming damage and maximize outgoing damage. Resourceful and practical– as expected from someone like her. Tartaglia grinned. This would be fun indeed.

Ningguang coldly turned her wrist inward, as if lazily admiring her own nails— and then, with a flick, energy coalesced in the air around her.

Tartaglia dodged around her precise geo crystals– a catalyst user, which explained perfectly why he’d never really seen her with a weapon– and dove, trying to get even one finger on the delusion that was now cradled to her chest. Tartaglia knew that that one finger would be enough, that the energy would latch onto his abyssal one and cling to it, trying to draw on the power within him to release Electro energy, as it was meant to do. Tartaglia swiped at her again, ducking around another projectile and dancing around the corner of another one of her geo shields.

The fight didn’t last for very long; Ningguang was at a steep disadvantage. When he grabbed it, when she faltered, everything came to a screeching halt. Childe turned to escape. Ningguang stopped him.

“Where will you go?” she asked, almost tauntingly. Anger boiled within him.

“We will find you, you know. We will never, never stop searching. Run to your mother if you’d like, but I wouldn’t expect a warm welcome.” He barked out a laugh, cruel and bitter.

“Where I’m going I doubt you’ll want to follow– If your men don’t die first.” Ningguang straightened, a haughty smile playing over her normally reserved features.

“Oh? And where is that?”

Tartaglia smiled smoothly. “The Abyss,” he replied, his eyes gleaming.

Ningguang froze. His chance unveiled, Childe turned tail, Delusion firmly in hand, and ran.

Now he was on the defensive, placing the disadvantage on him. Nevertheless, no one really expects their opponent to just go barreling into the nearest wall, so when Tartaglia did just that– unleashing the full Foul Legacy transformation just in time– she screeched to a stop right before she could go barreling out of the hole next to him.

He took a moment to glance back, watching as Ningguang followed his downward trajectory with complex fury. The cathartic satisfaction sent a shiver of new adrenaline through his veins.

It was still pouring outside, so Childe took the opportunity to clip his vision and delusion to his belt as he was freefalling, soaring back up at the last second in a travel construct. He’d learned this trick many years ago, shortly after conjuring his first battle whale. To this day he could only really do it in the rain– it was the only time that the water in the air was in enough abundance to support an entire human being.

Childe flew in silence for several minutes, unwilling to focus on anything but the rain slamming against him and the mission ahead.

He decided not to land at the closest waypoint station, but to a couple after that, wanting to put as much distance between him and the palace as possible. When Childe finally touched down– somewhere near Qingce Village– he took the time to clean himself off as quickly as he could before completing the rest of the journey on foot.

It felt like no time had passed before the familiar doors were sliding open in front of him.

The elderly lady working the check-in counter smiled at him sweetly, though perhaps not with the reverence of someone standing in the presence of their Emperor Consort.

Or, in fact, the suspicion of someone standing in the presence of said Emperor Consort without a guard to be found. It had only been two days, and he hadn’t really made a public appearance yet. In fact, it was entirely probable that this woman didn’t know him at all.

“To Snezhnaya, please,” Childe requested, plastering on his best respect-your-elders smile. She smiled back and directed him towards the station’s long-distance-travel line, in which there were only a handful of people, most of whom were carrying heavy luggage.

The line moved quickly, especially with only one person in the neighboring VIP line. Before long he was through, picturing that forest in Snezhnaya. There was nothing for a moment, and then he was home– or, well, as close to “home” as he ever would be again. Pushing down the urge to vomit, Childe strode calmly away and out of the waypoint station, into the forest.

Snow pounded down around him as he trudged through the trees– grateful for the third time that day that he didn’t have to carry anything. The shift in time was shocking– what had before been the middle of the night was now almost midday by his estimates, and the exhaustion creeping through his bones felt particularly out of place. Not that it would matter soon, what with the Abyss’ eternal night.

Childe trudged on.

_____

The snow was so heavy, Zhongli’s thin silks were beginning to freeze. They’d become soaked when he’d rushed out of the palace and into the pouring rain, immediately alarmed by the news of Ajax’s escape– and, according to Ningguang, his destination.

He’d used the Exuvia to fly to the nearest waypoint station– because even he couldn’t fly that fast– and asked the lady at the front desk if she’d seen Childe. She could barely get two words out, but when Zhongli eventually gathered she hadn’t, he stormed out in a bit of a huff.

It had taken him quite a while before he found the station Childe had gone to– but Granny Ruoxin kindly informed him of the “red-haired man’s” destination, and so he ended up in Snezhnaya. It appeared that luck was at least partially on his side, because he didn’t have to go from station to station– in a stroke of divine good fortune, the man at the receiving counter was able to point him in the direction of his former prince. Zhongli was out the door before the poor fellow had put his hand back down.

As he ran through the forest, following a quickly disappearing set of footprints in the mounting snow, memories flashed behind Zhongli’s eyes. Childe, laughing the night they met. Tartaglia’s ambitious glint as they sparred. Ajax on the day of their wedding, frosting smeared across his face. And what about that night, the first time he told Zhongli he loved him? What about all the times after? How much of that was a lie?

How many times did Childe lie to him? When he said that he liked being around him, when he told Zhongli that he loved him… how much effort did it take to hold his hand, to sleep next to him… to kiss him? Zhongli shuddered as he recalled the soft brush of Ajax’s lips against his. Was all of that fake?

He pushed down the mounting burning in his eyes and ran faster. His whole body felt like it had been set aflame, despite the cold that was quickly encroaching. Zhongli was fueled only by his desire, no, his need to find Ajax. He ran through a snowdrift– not that it mattered, since he was already frozen nearly to the bone.

The footprints grew deeper, more recent. He was getting close. Zhongli turned a final corner, fear and anticipation twisting in his gut. There he was, bright ginger standing out against the stark white snow. He turned.

Ajax.

“Don’t!” It was all Zhongli could get out between his gasps for breath.

“Morax? What are you doing here? Where are your guards– Xiao and Ningguang must be having a fit right now,” Ajax said quietly. Evenly.

He admittedly had a point– he hadn’t deigned to inform anyone of where he was going.

“And you’re frozen solid!” Again, correct. His many silks were almost completely solid, weighing heavily on his frame.

“Childe, you can’t go!”

“What? Morax, you’re not making any sense.”

“The Abyss is a death sentence. No one comes out.” Childe barked out a laugh, the humorless sound draining the rest of the warmth from Zhongli’s body.

“I’m here for a reason, Emperor. The Abyss is where those who can’t be found go.”

“You– it is not safe in there, Ajax!” Childe shivered, but made no move to warm himself.

“Nowhere is safe now. I can’t even return to Zapolyarny– my siblings would have me turned right back to your doorstep, as punishment for my failures. The Abyss does not tolerate failures. Perhaps it’s past time for me to learn that lesson.”

“I– I can figure something out. I can give you a pardon. As long as the press hasn’t caught word of either of your… attempts… I can find you a house and a job. We can work something out!”

“Why do you keep doing that!?” Ajax’s voice cracked painfully, raw emotion visible for just a second.

“Doing what, Ajax?!”

“Stop! Just stop. Stop using that name like that, stop– stop being so nice to me! I tried to kill you, for Celestia’s sake!”

“I–” Zhongli started, his voice cracking now too, “—I know. And I do not– I do not understand… I do not know if I ever will. I do not know if I can forgive you.

“I don’t want your forgiveness! I don’t want your love– I just– why won’t you hate me!? Hate me like anyone else– like any sane person would!”

“Who said I was sane?” Childe barked out a wet chuckle, tears welling in his eyes. So they’d come full circle.

“I need to know one thing, though,” Zhongli started quietly, having trouble meeting Childe’s eyes. “How– How much of it was a lie?” Childe choked on another sob.

“I do– I did,” he corrected himself, “genuinely enjoy your company. But I think everything…”

“Everything?” Zhongli whispered. Ajax nodded, seemingly holding back tears.

“Why?” he breathed, a simple question, yet so, so heart wrenching.

“I– I wanted you to think, at least– and then at least you would’ve died with a husband that loved you.”

“Why?”

“It’s not– you– you couldn’t understand. All I wanted– all I’ve ever wanted!– was for people to listen to me. To see me– and I mean really see me! I wanted power, I wanted to matter. But being the youngest of eleven? That was never going to happen. Power was a fantasy, Morax. I had no choice.” His voice had hardened, carrying the anger of a neglected child. With every new piece of the picture Childe painted for him, Zhongli’s anger deepened.

“But you– you had all of that. You had that with me.”

“No! No I didn’t, Morax, and I never would have. I had to– I had–”

The ground rumbled. They looked down.

“I’m sorry,” Ajax whispered. And then they were falling.

Chapter Text

They are falling. Through the flashes of fear that have come to haunt him a second time, Childe catches a glimpse of Zhongli, transforming. The Exuvia soars towards him, scooping him up in its arms and slowly flying downwards. Childe uses his remaining airtime to tamp down his involuntary shaking.

By the time they land he is steady. Childe steps out onto the familiar cold stone and watches as Zhongli falls back into his human form, shaking off the last draconic features in a flash of golden light. He winces at the brightness among the eternal dark of the Abyss.

It was entirely silent.

At once, the gravity of the situation slammed into Childe, dragging him into the present and almost stopping his heart as he locked eyes with the man he tried to kill.

The emperor.

His husband.

But we have bigger things to worry about, his mind whispered. The Abyss demanded your full attention.

Being back in the quiet reminded him again just how much he hated it– so quiet you had to go barefoot because otherwise your footsteps alone would echo for miles around. Talking must also be kept to a minimum.

“Childe–” Childe crossed the distance in a second, shoes already off his feet. He pressed an urgent finger to Zhongli’s lips, only removing it once the other showed no further signs of speaking. Instead, Childe leaned to whisper into Zhongli’s ear– it wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would have to do.

“Morax, everything within a ten mile radius can hear our footsteps. Everything within a mile radius can hear our breathing. If we must speak, we speak like this. Take your shoes off. We must move quickly; something is almost certainly already coming to kill us.” He stepped away, waiting until Zhongli’s shocked expression faded to grim comprehension before they set off.

They ran towards the mountains in the distance– caves would shelter you from bigger creatures as well as providing smaller ones for dinner. If he was lucky, they might even find some of him and his Master’s old romping grounds, the few cave systems he knew like the back of his hands. If his Master had stuck around here after he’d left, they might even be clear of monsters.

Ajax winced at the pounding of Zhongli’s feet against the stone. It was clear to him that lessons on running quietly would be in order; he couldn’t have Zhongli alerting every monster halfway across the Abyss.Though, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to teach Zhongli– he’d be out before it really mattered. If Childe knew anything, it was that he could not allow this place to change Zhongli like it’d changed him.

They came to a stop outside a cave, nearly indistinguishable from the other caves lining the mountain’s rocky foot– unless you knew what to look for. Following the vague sense of discomfort coming from the darkness, Ajax searched for a familiar patch of moss, wincing as his fingers brushed the razor-sharp edges of the tendrils– he’d been gone too long, getting pricked on a plant like some beginner.

As he gently lifted it up, he found a carving underneath– Skirk’s signature, of sorts. It pulsed with a sort of unsettling energy– hardly enough to be noticeable unless you knew what you were looking for, but it served well at keeping most caves monster-free. This energy was recent, too– his Master must’ve been around recently to renew it. These sigils couldn’t last more than a month or two without renewal, and they couldn’t be kept in the open on the chance an abyss mage or herald would find them.

“Ajax?” Zhongli whispered, so close lips were brushing his ear. He jolted up, dropping the moss as he startled. It was a testament to how quickly he adapted back into the Abyss that he didn’t even swear when it sliced into his leg on the way down.

“We can stay here for a bit,” Childe whispered back, wincing a little as he inspected his leg. The gash wasn’t too deep, but that last thing you wanted in any wound was Abyssal energy. Concentrating, he pulled a small patch of Legacy up his leg, covering the gash. It was a method that Skirk had taught him when they didn’t have any boundweed, which was the go-to fiber for all manners of clothing and wound dressings.

Zhongli, seemingly satisfied with this, settled into a corner, a pensive expression splayed across his features. Ajax, meanwhile, fell back into his old routine– check the darker spots for voidcrawlers, the ceilings for any variety of dangerous spiders, and check outside to make sure nothing had snuck up on them whilst they were settling in. It came entirely naturally to the point of being unsettling.

Typically, he would also be starting a small fire by now to dry off or cook the day’s catch (if they had meat), but Ajax didn’t see much point without it. Zhongli shifted in the corner.

Ajax didn’t bother to sit– he merely leaned against the cave’s back wall, eyes laser focused on the entrance. Something could come barging in at any time; without his Master here, there wasn’t an abyssal presence strong enough to ward off nearby monsters. Actually, it was shocking they hadn’t encountered anything yet as it was. When he’d first fallen, he’d been swarmed in seconds.

Zhongli shifted again– presumably still trying to get comfortable. The sigil was probably putting him on edge– but it wasn’t as if Childe could explain that without telling Zhongli this wasn’t his first rodeo, which would cause a whole load of emotions they didn’t need right now. No, what they needed was to get Zhongli out of here, and Ajax had absolutely no idea how to do that.

A silhouette appeared in the cave’s opening. Morax sprang up. Tartaglia barely had a chance to move before a sword was positioned snugly across his throat, blade biting ever so slightly into the skin there. Childe looked up.

His assailant’s hair was long and braided, flung over her shoulder by the force of her lunge. What was too short to be pulled back was pinned away with what looked like scrap metal, though a few pieces had fallen free. A scar trailed just under her left eye, creeping dangerously close to blindness. She was large in build– taller than he was, bulkier than more than half of all the Fatui Windbracers he’d seen. Her gaze bored into him, tracing his features, the vision at his waist, his eyes, before settling on the bleach-blond strand he’d kept up all these years. Her blade dropped. She roared with laughter.

“Hey there kid, somebody aged well! Not too hard on the eyes now, are you Ajax?” Zhongli glared at her from the corner.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.” She paused, turning, as if finally noticing they weren’t alone. Though, obviously, she’d known the whole time.

“And who’s this you brought with you? A first-timer?” Ajax nodded, a bit embarrassed.

“Honestly, Master, he wasn’t supposed to follow me.” Zhongli’s grimace deepened. Skirk laughed again. He spoke.

“Childe, I was under the impression we were supposed to be quiet.”

“We are. She can be as loud as she wants– there’s not a monster in this place she can’t defeat. Her very presence is enough to scare most off.” Skirk grinned, crossing the room to Zhongli, extending a hand for him to shake. He did so, but quite begrudgingly.

“The name’s Skirk. Well, it isn’t, but that’s what you’ll call me.”

“You may call me Morax then, assuming we are in the practice of using aliases.” She nodded, stepping back to clap Childe heartily on the shoulder, attention switched in a second.

“Sit, sit. Tell me where you’ve been, what you’ve been up to up there. What’s it been, ten years?” The two of them moved to sit. Zhongli continued to hover in the background.

“Eight, actually. Down here?”

“Ah, I’m never sure. More than 200, I think. What’s the rate? A month down here’s a day up there?” Childe nodded.

“I’d say about 240, then.”

“Well, my siblings pushed me around a little less. Well, no, they pushed me around more, but I could fight back, so I suppose it felt different. Went through bootcamp in record time. Got my delusion– electro like you predicted, actually.”

“Sweet. Can I see it?” Ajax obliged, unhooking it from its place on his belt, passing it to Skirk’s open palm. She shivered a little at the contact.

“And your grand plan?” she asked, passing it back. Childe shot an uncomfortable glance over to the corner where Zhongli was standing.

“It didn’t exactly go as I hoped. Fucked it up at the very end.”

“Damn. Did’ja at least have time to get a divorce on your way out?” She jostled his shoulder playfully, as if sensing the drop in his mood.

“Hah,” Childe chuckled, glancing over at Zhongli once again. “Not exactly.” Zhongli stepped forward.

“Emperor Morax, at your service.” Skirk’s jaw dropped open. Childe winced.

“No. Fucking. Way. Kid, when you told me you wanted to marry the Emperor, I thought he would be, like, old and gross. This guy’s a catch! Hell, he looks strong, too.” Zhongli’s glower grew impossibly deeper.

“So– fuck, man– how did this happen? The very guy you’re trying to get away from?”

“Well,” Childe chuckled awkwardly, “I was planning to get here alone, but obviously I can’t detect Abyssal rifts, so I was just walking in a forest where I know they happen sometimes.” Skirk’s eyes narrowed at the omission. He continued.

“He caught up to me just as one opened beneath us. No clue how he found me in the first place, though.”

“I’ve gotta say, kid, this is the best entertainment I’ve had since I watched a rifthound pack stumble into a field of boundweed and knife moss a hundred years ago.” She chuckled a little, as if reliving the memory.

“I am glad someone finds it funny,” Zhongli snarled, face contorted into something threatening. Skirk blinked once, twice, and then burst into a fit of cackling laughter. Zhongli stormed out.

“Morax–” Childe started, standing to follow him.

“Don’t,” Skirk said, tone suddenly sharp, pulling him back down by the sleeve.

“He’ll die out there,” Childe retorted.

“No, he won’t, not as long as he has the common sense not to wander too far away. Besides,” she paused, turning to stare at him, “Why do you care?” A shiver ran through Childe’s body.

“Killing him would serve no purpose.”

“You’re not killing him, you’re letting him die. There’s a difference. And that’s never stopped you before.”

“He’s innocent.”

“Less innocent than some you’ve killed.” Skirk raised an eyebrow. Childe was silent.

“Listen, kid. I’m not going to judge you for getting attached. It was bound to happen eventually. But you couldn’t have picked a better person than your target?”

“I’m not– I’m not attached,” Ajax denied, shaking away the encroaching feelings of guilt.

“When was the wedding?”

“Two days ago,” Ajax whispered. A wave of grief overtook him, and he fell quiet. Skirk slung her arm awkwardly over his shoulder in what was probably an attempt at a comforting touch– but when you’re without human contact for centuries at a time, you kind of lose your sense for that kind of thing.

It was a while before either of them spoke. Childe had come back to his senses enough to realize Skirk’s relative discomfort. Obviously she didn't mind the silence– it was the emotions that set her on edge.

“I should really go look for him,” He started quietly, standing as he spoke. “He’s been gone for some time now.”

“Kid.”

“What?” Childe snapped, anger cracking sharply like a whip. The regret began to seep in almost immediately after the word had left his mouth. Skirk said nothing. She just stared. For a long moment, everything was silent again.

He remembered this. He remembered all those years ago, back when the silence was the most frightening thing in all of the Abyss. So relieved was little Ajax to be around Skirk, who was loud and boisterous and so, achingly familiar. But one thing Skirk could never be said to be was kind. So any little screw up– between picking the wrong species of berries to endangering their lives– would likely be met with the silent treatment.

Sometimes it went on for hours. Sometimes days. The dead silence was a special form of torture– Childe would’ve recommended it to the Fatui for interrogation tips except for his unwillingness to share that particular weakness. Eventually he would crack, go sobbing apologies to Skirk, begging for her to say something, anything, just to break the cursed silence. And she would ruffle his hair and call him kid, and all would be well. To this day he hummed to himself when he was alone in his room, when the quiet seeped in.

“Sorry,” he muttered, turning away, trying to shake off the adrenaline that had already started pumping through him. Skirk sighed.

“Admit it.”

“What?” She snorted, annoyance settling over her features. Childe was silent.

“You know what I’m talking about, Ajax.” Guilt tinged memories crept in, slithering into Childe’s mind. The gentle press of Zhongli’s lips against his– once, twice, a hundred times. Whispers of “I love you,” quiet and sweet. If it was all a lie, why am I so upset?

The answer smacked him in the face harder than the thump of a rifthound’s tail.

“Holy shit. I’m in love with him.”

Skirk nodded approvingly, clapping him on the shoulder.

“There you go, kid. Took ya’ long enough– it was so painfully obvious even a blind man could see it.” Embarrassment twinged through Childe’s feelings.

“Damn, I’ve really fucked this one up.”

“You can say that again,” Skirk laughed.

“I don’t think he can forgive me, Skirk. Gods, this– this is so much worse. What in Celestia do I do now?”

“Go,” she simply said. “Go to him and try to make it right. I won’t keep you.” Childe nodded.

He walked slowly to the entrance, anticipation and something like anxiety battling inside of him. Childe left the cave, taking the first right turn– and nearly running right into Zhongli, sitting on a rock. Oh shit– how much did he hear?

“Ajax.” Zhongli nodded, scooting over and beckoning for Childe to join him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ajax obliged. He was hyper aware of every point of contact between their thighs.

“We need to talk,” Childe blurted. Zhongli didn’t seem the least surprised.

“Indeed. It seems you have been to the Abyss before.” Ajax froze.

“What? N-No, Zhongli, I don’t– where would you get that idea? I–”

“Childe,” Zhongli interrupted, “You very clearly know the ins and outs of this realm. You are an expert in the silence existing here requires. You are familiar with which caves are safe and know how to identify them. You are the student of someone who resides here, someone who greets you by name and whom you call “Master”. She referred to me as a “first-timer,” implying that you, in fact, are not. It seems you take me for a fool.” Childe winced.

“Well, I suppose it can’t get any worse,” Childe muttered under his breath, turning closer to Zhongli.

“Yeah, this isn’t my first time.” Zhongli merely nodded at the confirmation of his previous thinking. His silence soon made it clear he wanted Childe to continue.

“I first fell here a little over eight years ago. I would’ve been– what, fourteen?” Zhongli sucked in a breath.

“When I first landed, I was swarmed. I’d fractured my arm on the landing; I fell from a bit of a lower place, but I didn’t have, well, a dragon to carry me down. I didn’t know where I was. One second I was with Scaramouche and Sandrone, and the next, I was falling.

“There were monsters everywhere. The rifthounds I’m sure you’re familiar with, but they’re one of the tamer things that showed. If one of those who’d appeared wasn’t Skirk, I’d almost certainly have been dead within a few minutes. As it was I had quite a few injuries– and the last thing you want in any wound is abyssal energy, what with it being as naturally corrosive as it is. Anyway.” He coughed awkwardly, trying to ignore the pity that was practically radiating off of Zhongli.

“I was down here for three months– however, when I returned, no one believed me– because in the world we know I’d only been gone for three days. Time is odd down here, so you needn’t worry about being gone for too long. Each day we’re down here is only a bit more than an hour,” Childe finished awkwardly, not quite looking Zhongli in the eye. He flinched when Zhongli’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, rubbing back and forth almost… reassuringly.

“Oh, darling…” He started, voice soft, “I believe you.” The tears took him by surprise. They crept up behind Ajax’s eyes, burning as they began to run down the sides of his cheeks. Zhongli pulled him into his shoulder, his tears already wetting the fabric.

The tears didn’t last long– he’d been trained out of tears by Skirk, the waste of water far too great to justify in almost any scenario. His silent sobs faded and he pulled away, though Zhongli’s arm remained around him.

“Zhongli,” he began, voice quiet with hesitance, “...how much did you hear?”

“Everything,” came the return whisper. Childe looked up from his lap, swiveling his head slightly to meet Zhongli’s eyes.

In them he found a whirlwind of emotions– pain, joy, fear, relief, disbelief, and just a hint of that warmth he was starting to realize was love. It was nearly enough to send him to tears again. For a moment, all was silent– though, for once, the quiet seemed oddly comforting.

Ajax hesitantly leaned in. Zhongli said nothing– but he didn’t shove Ajax away either, so he would take what he could get. When their lips were almost touching, he paused.

I can’t believe I never saw it before.

And I almost extinguished it forever.

“Zhongli?” The man hummed his acknowledgement.

“Can I– can Ajax– kiss you?” Zhongli nodded once, then twice. His eyes fluttered shut as Ajax brought their lips together.

It became very clear very fast that things had changed. Zhongli sat, stiff as stone, hardly moving at all except to steady himself. He sat waiting for Ajax to make every first move, as if waiting for reassurance, as if he was suspended in his disbelief.

It was a fairly short and chaste kiss, not escalating past two sets of closed lips. When Childe leaned away, guilt was heavy in his eyes. Eventually, he had to break the silence.

“So… what now?”

“What now indeed,” Zhongli echoed, taking on a pensive expression.

“I suppose first and foremost we must leave the Abyss. After that you will need to find a permanent place to stay.” Childe smiled sadly.

“I think I’ll probably stay here. At least down here I don’t have to worry about the damned Millelith hunting me down. Besides, I have Skirk, and, well– she’s more than anything I’d have on the surface.” He chuckled weakly.

“You would have me.” Ajax froze.

“No, Zhongli, you have a kingdom to rule. You’re the Emperor, remember? You’re Rex Lapis.”

“Perhaps it is time for the people to relinquish Rex Lapis. It was never the role I aspired to obtain in life. I find it does not suit me.”

“Then you clearly must not have seen yourself,” Childe retorted. “You were the definition of imposing regality!”

“I am too soft. I do not have the cruelty or practicality for a job affecting so many. But that is beside my point. Lady Ningguang will make a great Empress in my absence.” Childe sputtered against Zhongli’s serenity.

“But– what about everything else? Where will we live? What’s stopping them from coming after me– or you, for that matter? I refuse to be on the run for the rest of my life.”

“I agree; Lady Ningguang will not take the throne whilst I am still alive to do so. Therefore, I must perish.”

“What?” Childe questioned, alarm seeping into his tone.

“If the Qixing, the Millelith, and the people of Liyue believe me to be deceased, they will no longer try to find me.”

“Okay,” Childe said, “I’ll give you that, but they’ll definitely come after me if you “die.” Zhongli didn’t even stop to think.

“I will pardon you.”

“Pardon?”

“Indeed. The Imperial Pardon. I will return to the palace, convince Ningguang that my mental lapse has been amended, and pardon you. Then I will stage my untimely demise.”

“And then what? Where do we go?”

“I see no reason why we cannot stay in Liyue. The public still has not met you– they will not be able to recognize you. The large majority will not be able to recognize me, either; you would not believe the selective blindness of the human brain when it comes to seeing the unexpected.

“We would pick a smaller village, farther from the capital, and live our days there, barring the occasional travel to another country as we grow bored of our stationary life.”

“Wow,” Childe murmured, “You’ve really thought about this, huh?”

“Yes,” Zhongli responded truthfully, “I have thought many a day about escaping with you.” Ajax leaned in for another kiss, and this one felt better. More reciprocated. Healthier. He smiled, a bit of true joy floating to the surface. Zhongli smiled too.

“What do you say, Ajax? Run away with me?”

“I’d like that,” he said, finding his own words surprisingly truthful. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

Skirk poked her head out of the cave.

“Glad all’s going well, lovebirds, but the next hole outta’ here is fast approaching. It might be months before the one after that, so I’d suggest you get ready. Quick.”

Childe scrambled up, pulling Zhongli with him. They sprinted in the direction Skirk had gone off in.

“Ajax?” Zhongli questioned.

“Abyssal rifts are constantly opening, but they vanish just as quick. We can’t open them, but Skirk can sense them and where they’re forming and leading to. This one’s going to just about the same place we came from, which is pretty rare. It can take any amount of time before another rift would open that we could use.” All of Ajax’s words fell out in a tumble, but Zhongli simply nodded his understanding as they kept running.

They were quickly gaining altitude, running up the side of their cave-filled mountain. When they made it– Skirk looking effortlessly composed, the two men very out of breath– a humming energy filled the air. Skirk had made quick work of the rifthounds that were gathering, so the plateau was clear.

It wouldn’t be long now. Time to say goodbyes.

“Master?”

“Mhm?”

“You know you can come with us. You don’t have to stay here.” She snorted, returning to cleaning her blade.

“Thanks, kid, but like I told you the first time, the Abyss is my home. I wouldn’t make it up there.”

“Alright,” Childe murmured. He turned back to the cliff’s edge, though he shifted uncomfortably. Skirk sighed.

“Fine. One won’t hurt. C’mere, kid.” Ajax turned and definitely did not run into Skirk’s arms, taking great comfort in even the weird stiffness of her muscles.

“I’ll come visit,” he said, though they both knew it would be a very long time before he returned, if he ever did.

“Yeah, yeah,” Skirk said, releasing him awkwardly before patting him strongly on the back.

“Farewell, and… and have a good life, and all that. You know I’m not good at goodbyes.” Ajax smiled, though it was tinged with sadness.

“Ajax,” came Zhongli’s voice, “Is this the rift we’re looking for?” He whipped around– indeed, it was.

“Go on, then, kid. Don’t miss it.” Skirk smiled, and Ajax flashed her one last grin of his own, before running up to Zhongli. They stepped forward in unison, and the last they heard of the Abyss was Skirk’s voice fading into nothing.

“Take care of my boy, Emperor.”

Chapter Text

Childe and Zhongli stumbled out into the cold, nearly falling over each other as they struggled to regain their balance. They tumbled into a snowdrift, silks and furs tangling into each other. Childe sighed– but, buried three feet deep in the snow, it was hardly audible.

He pulled himself up without too much trouble, though it seemed that Zhongli was still struggling. It was a real shame he didn’t have a kamera.

After a minute or two, Childe reached down and pulled Zhongli, who was shivering furiously, from the snow. He shook the snow from his coat with great irritation, and Childe stifled a laugh.

“Ah, Zhongli, you should’ve seen the way your legs wiggled!” Zhongli frowned, and Childe found the sight so absurdly odd and endearing that he burst out into laughter anyway. Even Zhongli cracked a smile then, and then they were standing in a snowy forest smiling together.

“So,” he said finally, “What’s the plan?”

“Simple,” Zhongli responded. “I go to the palace while you find somewhere to hide. I convince Ningguang to relinquish my throne to me, and then pardon you. Shortly after I will fake my death in a public place, and thus will I return to you.”

“But…” Childe hesitated. “Are you sure Liyue will be alright? I mean, Zhongli, you’re a brilliant ruler. Your people look up to you. Will they really be okay under Ningguang’s rule?” Zhongli smiled, that soft, serene thing.

“Ah, but see, my disappearance has been their trial, and upon returning to the palace, I have no doubt they will have passed with flying colors.” Childe nodded thoughtfully– he did have a point.

“Alright, then it is settled. Where can I find you when I return?”

“Northland Bank,” Childe answered, only the tiniest bit unsure. He guessed it didn’t show in his tone, because Zhongli simply nodded.

“Then I will leave now. I suggest a waiting time of approximately an hour before you follow.” With that, Zhongli turned to go. Hze only managed to take a few steps, however, because Childe spoke again.

“Wait!” Zhongli turned back, puzzled.

“How– how long will you be gone, do you think?” It was a desperate attempt to keep Zhongli with him just a little longer, to stop the forming of a memory of his fading back into the snow.

“No more than a week, jiàngxuě.” The nickname did flips in Childe’s gut like the very first time he’d heard it.

“Alright then. Goodbye.” Zhongli smiled.

“Goodbye, Zhongli.” They paused, neither of them quite willing to be the one to turn away first. Almost shyly, (Which is absurd, Tartaglia cried, I am NOT shy!) he blew a little bubble of hydro into a heart, sending it towards Zhongli with a flick of his wrist, like a blown kiss. It splashed against Zhongli’s lips before scattering, disappearing into the air once more.

They both turned at the same time, and Childe could barely hear the gentle crunch of Zhongli’s footsteps in the snow. Eventually, they vanished altogether.

_____

Zhongli was ushered into the palace through the side gate– likely because Lady Ningguang was not keen to advertise his reappearance, and therefore his disappearance. They’d been secretive all through the Harbor, even going so far as to avoid passing through the city altogether. It led only to the conclusion Lady Ningguang had been careful to keep his vanishing act private.

The guards led him gently to the throne room, which, itself, was surrounded by guards. Those that noticed him offered bows, though hesitance lined their movements. No one knew exactly what status an Emperor was reduced to when the Tianquan took over.

As the throne room doors slid open, Zhongli took the moment to prepare himself. His and Ajax’s futures depended now on his ability to reclaim his throne. Should he fail to convince Lady Ningguang, nothing was certain. Ajax was depending on him. There would be no failure.

He strode confidently to the base of the dias, observing the surrounding environment as he went. The wide arms of the throne were buried in paperwork, and several large cork and chalkboards had been dragged down from the jade chamber, which were positioned at various angles facing the throne. Lady Ningguang’s secretaries had settled in the court’s stands, a similar mountain of paperwork enveloping them. They all seemed exceedingly exhausted.

Acting Tianquan Keqing was seated in the smaller throne to her right, which was typically the space Ajax would inhabit. It took a curious amount of effort to remain calm at that comparison. She, too, seemed not to have slept in days, despite Ajax’s assurances that less than an hour had passed. All together, that placed the total time of his adventures at just under five hours.

The Acting Empress herself seemed more frazzled than ever, though no one but Zhongli and possibly her secretaries would be able to tell. In fact, Zhongli noted with some semblance of pride, he was able to count approximately four entire hairs out of place, and the slightest tinge of wrinkles lining her forehead.

She looked up from whatever she was filing, paused, and returned back to her work, swiftly flourishing her signature at the bottom before wordlessly handing it off to Lady Keqing at her side, who accepted it without even looking up from her own work. The Acting Empress’ focus returned to him.

“Morax,” she spoke, voice only slightly less composed than normal, “Where in Teyvat have you been? It’s been nearly four hours.”

“Five, Acting Empress,” Lady Keqing corrected, who continued to scribble furiously on the document in her lap.

“Five, I see,” provided Lady Ningguang, looking ever-so-slightly flustered. “Fine. My question stands. Morax?” Zhongli inhaled, keeping his composure.

He had to admit, when Ajax had initially suggested lying to the Acting Empress, Zhongli had strongly disapproved of the idea. Not only did being dishonest disagree with his moral code, it was a tricky subject when it came to the laws of Liyue. Of course, laws surrounding interrogations prohibited falsehoods, but as Ajax pointed out, it was unlikely current situations would be considered as such in the eyes of the law.

However, as he had then retorted, should Lady Ningguang call for a formal mental investigation to reaffirm his status as the ruler of Liyue, he would be prohibited from lying. Should they ask him questions about his previous whereabouts, it would be very concerning if his story did not match what Lady Ningguang had previously informed the proctor.

The consensus, then, was to stick as closely to the truth as possible, whilst omitting a few details– namely his visit to the Abyss and his interactions with Ajax. As far as any would know, he had searched everywhere for Ajax, but never found him. Defeated, he had then returned to the palace, determined to move on from the husband that had betrayed him.

“I took a visit to Snezhnaya, Acting Empress.”

“And why would that be, Morax?” Lady Ningguang peered coldly down at him, feigned disinterest in her gaze. She would be a wonderful Empress. Guizhong would have approved.

“I wished to find Tartaglia, Empress.”

“Acting Empress.” Her eyes narrowed.

“My mistake.” Whilst Lady Ningguang did not seem quite ready to move on, she continued.

“And did you find Tartaglia?”

“No. I traced him through Liyue and to Snezhnaya, but was unable to find him once he had returned to his homeland.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but Zhongli swallowed it down. Now was not the time for doubts. This was for Ajax.

He pushed his doubts about Ajax farther back with the rest.

“I see,” Ningguang hummed, crossing her legs. “And I suppose you’ve returned to be reinstated.”

“If you believe me so ready,” Zhongli responded, the quiet respect in his tone the farthest thing from a falsehood. “There is a reason you were appointed Tianquan; I place every trust in you.” Ningguang seemed thoroughly unappeased by the praise.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, Morax, I am not the only one who should deem you worthy. There are others who have served you for longer and know you far better.” Lady Ningguang snapped. Adeptus Xiao stepped from the shadows. Zhongli’s blood ran cold.

Ningguang, as shrewd as she was, he could potentially fool. How could he convince Xiao of something so intrinsically against his character? Xiao, who he’d practically raised since he was a boy, Xiao who he saw as a son, Xiao who saw him as a father? And all without even mentioning his inherent unwillingness to lie to the boy.

“Adeptus Xiao.” Xiao nearly flinched back at the sound of Zhongli’s voice, the faintest trace of hurt in his eyes.

Oh. Oh no.

“Morax,” Xiao addressed him stiffly, “state your case.” Zhongli dropped into a bow, telling himself that the only reason he was doing so was to show his deepest apologies. It had nothing to do with his sudden inability to make eye contact.

Lady Ningguang turned to address the room before he could respond.

“Leave us,” she commanded.

“But Acting Empress, the paperwork–”

“Take what you can carry. Quickly please.” Her attendants and the Lady Keqing shuffled out awkwardly, arms stuffed with paper. Lady Ningguang gestured to the guards as well, and then the three of them were alone.

“Rise, Zhongli,” Ningguang spoke, her voice soft and yet slightly painful. He rose.

“You may continue.”

“I trusted Tartaglia,” Zhongli began, the words sticking to his throat as he pitifully attempted to hurl them into the world.

“I was naive enough to believe that simply because he was my soulmate, he felt the same way about me as I did him. He– I did not believe him to be the lying type. I did not believe him to be a lot of things.” He fell silent for a moment, very real hurt swirling inside him.

“But he is gone now. Regardless of his actions, whether he cared or not, he is gone, and he has left no trail behind. I am forced to believe–” Zhongli stopped, the words lodging in his throat to the point he felt himself to be choking on them.

“I am forced to believe he is unapologetic for the hurt he has caused me and our nation. There is no point in further pursuing someone like that except to hold them accountable for their crimes.” As the pain rose in his chest, Ningguang nodded approvingly, but Xiao shifted, seeming unconvinced.

“Morax… no–” he seemed to decide, mid-sentence, “–Zhongli. I don’t believe you would abandon him that easily. Not unless…” Xiao stopped, turning slightly away. Unwilling– or unable– to go on.

“Unless what, Xiao?” Zhongli endeavored to keep his voice even, though emotion wavered through.

“You have chosen him over me at every available opportunity. He is your soulmate, I can accept that. But I cannot accept that you would throw away someone you valued so dearly with such ease.” He stopped, anger beginning to simmer in his gaze. Zhongli was silent.

“But if you tell me– if you can tell me, right now, that you didn’t value him as much as I thought, then you have my vote. If you can look into my eyes and tell me that Childe, whom you loved, is worth nothing and I am worth less, then I will believe you.” The anger had built in Xiao’s tone throughout his proclamation and had now come to a startling point, a knife embedding itself deep between Zhongli’s ribs.

“Xiao,” he gasped, no longer able to hide the flow of hurt in his voice, “I did not know. I am–”

“No, Zhongli, save your apologies. I am not asking for your sorrow, nor your remorse.” Zhongli glanced at Ningguang, as if looking for help, but she sneered down her nose at him. He would find no help from her.

“He needs this closure, Zhongli. Give it to him, one way or another.” There was a long silence, a startling agony fighting within Zhongli. Then, as he was about to give in, and utter merciless lies to Xiao’s face, the adeptus sighed.

“Just… stop. I take no pleasure in watching you squirm like this. My fears are confirmed.” Zhongli’s dread sprang up, heavy as it was.

“But… You wouldn’t stop caring about him anyway, and I wouldn’t believe you if you said you did. With that in mind, just because you still care about him doesn’t mean you’ll lead with your heart. I trust you, Morax.” Zhongli let out a breath he did not know he was holding.

Though Ningguang seemed to disagree, she sighed, and began to stand.

“Then so it shall be.” She descended the dias steps, making her way down to Zhongli, who dropped onto one knee in the deepest bow available.

“I renounce my temporary title as Liyue’s Imperial Empress to return the crown to you, Zhongli.” She placed the delicate circlet from top her head onto the crown of his, fingers lingering no longer than necessary. She stepped back. Zhongli stood.

“All hail Emperor Morax, rightful Imperial ruler of the great lands of Liyue.” And though the only other person in the room was Xiao, he snapped into a salute. The hurt still lingered in his eyes, but he had returned to his vacant mask. It seemed this mistake was a costly one indeed.

_____

Childe had taken his own route back to Liyue– even further circumventing the security that was now crawling the Harbor. They’d only been gone a couple of hours, but it was clear Ningguang had only truly had time to mobilize now.

He snuck through the shadows, light on his feet, curving stealthily around corners as he opted to scale the buildings versus climbing their spiraling red staircases.

Tartaglia knew just where to go when Zhongli asked where to meet him. He’d never spent an extended amount of time in Liyue before, but on the two occasions he’d passed through, he and whoever he was traveling with would stay at the Northland Bank. Now, strictly speaking, the bank was not under Fatui control– but it wasn’t exactly a secret it was one of their biggest outlets in Liyue. Would they probably have questions for him? Yeah. But Childe was confident he could talk his way out of any interrogations the receptionists were able to attempt.

He rounded the corner, sucking in a sharp breath as two Millelith emerged from the facility, talking in clipped undertones. Childe followed them with his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief as they vanished off into the city. He turned back to the bank, only to come face to face with a very calmly furious woman. Without further words she dragged him inside by the ear, hardly caring for his sputtering except to shove a hand over his mouth.

The doors shut behind them with a resounding thud, leaving Childe feeling wholly trapped in the one supposedly safe spot in all of the Harbor.

The (surprisingly strong) mystery woman finally released him, and a hand went up to his ear, despite the fact he’d sustained wounds hundreds of times more painful. She rounded to face him, her fury quickly unleashing as they were separated from the public.

“Master Childe, what are you doing here?! The Millelith are scouring the city for you and you have the gall to come into an “unaffiliated” bank? You’re lucky we don’t turn you in on the spot! The Qixing are already looking for a reason to shut us down– now you’re endangering my employees?! The ice we stand on is too thin for you to go treading on it like some southerner!”

Childe and the other employees stood stock-still, trying to process what had just happened. Her breathing was heavy, as if she was trying to catch it after the spiel she’d just spouted. By the time Childe was ready to speak again, she seemed almost calm.

“Well, Ms…?”

“Ekaterina,” she answered frostily.

“Ms. Ekaterina,” he continued. “It seems to me that you care very deeply about the others who work here. I promise, it was never my intention to bring harm to any of you. The matter is, I need a place to stay for the short-term future, and, well, there isn’t anywhere else in Liyue I can go.”

“And why Liyue?” she retorted. “If things have gone this badly, why stay in Liyue at all?”

“Well,” Childe responded, shifting nervously, “I have a sort of plan.” Seeing Ekaterina's eyes narrow, he scrambled for a cover-up.

“It’ll be resolved within a week, I swear! Then I’ll be out of your hair for good, whether the plan works or not. And you have full permission to kick me out if I cause trouble before then.” Ekaterina paused, as if weighing her options, before glancing back to the middle-aged man by the counter. He shrugged. She turned back to Childe.

“Fine, but only because it would be suspicious if you turned up at our doorstep, regardless of what we did about it. We can convert one of the unused offices into a temporary bedroom.”

“Are the guest bedrooms unavailable?”

“No… but we wouldn’t want to be conspicuous, would we?” She smiled, a cold, cruel thing, and Childe understood. He could stay, but it would be on her terms. And her terms seemed to include making him as miserable as possible. Childe shuddered a little. Ekaterina was a scary, scary woman.

_____

Zhongli waited until the skies had fallen dark and the shuffling of servants’ footsteps in the hallway ceased before he sent summons for Hu Tao. He regretted it almost immediately, of course; despite the constant complaints of being exhausted, the girl had way more energy for half-past midnight than anyone had any right to have.

“So lemme get this straight– You want to fake your death? And you came to me for help? Zhongli~ I’m flattered!”

“Not so loud, Director Hu. Just because it is late does not mean no one is awake to listen.” She nodded with mock solemnity from her position in the corner, where she was currently inspecting a cor lapis paperweight.

“And would you please, for the love of Celestia, put that down?” Hu Tao set it down obediently, but her shit-eating grin stayed stagnant. Zhongli sighed for what felt like the thousandth time.

“So, Director Hu, how would I go about faking my death?”

“Well, you said you wanted it public, right? What would be easier than using the Exuvia? I mean, it’s not like we really have dragon specialists on hand. Plummet down from the sky or something, then lay on the ground and play dead.”

“Hmm. I suppose that could work. But what with the body? Would you have me buried alive?” Hu Tao scoffed.

“Of course not! How could you think so little of me? No, no, no, Mr. Emperor, as Director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and Wedding Boutique, it is my responsibility to honor the funeral rites of all living creatures. At least, that’s what I’ll tell those twerps!” She giggled. Zhongli felt like he might now understand why Childe sometimes hit himself in the face.

“I’ll bullshit something about proper mountain dragon burial rituals involve returning you to the great cave, blah blah blah, and then you can just move the boulder trapping you in!”

“...Who said anything about a boulder?” Hu Tao moved on as if he had said nothing. He sighed again.

“Fine. I see no issue with this plan.”

“Alrighty then, boyo! How will I know when you’re ready? And where are you faking your dramatic death? Not to make anything obvious, but I totally wanna go watch.” Zhongli grimaced. Hu Tao’s grin grew wider.

“Yujing terrace. It is a location that holds great significance to the people of Liyue Harbor, and there should be a sufficient crowd. It is busiest at around midday, right before the lunch rush. As for the day… hmmm… I suppose three days from now will suffice. Is that enough time for you, as well?”

“More than enough!” Hu Tao’s head bobbed up and down like a figurine bobblehead, and Zhongli couldn’t help the weird kind of curiosity at this abomination of physics.

“Heck, buddy, with all that time, I’ll write you a cool eulogy– ooh, and maybe a poem too! You can trust your funeral won’t be boring with Hu Tao around!” Zhongli sighed. Again. At this point it felt like he’d sighed more than he’d blinked.

“Please refrain from poetry at my funeral. Public, or private.” He paused, silent in contemplation for a moment.

“However, I do owe you a great debt. Should you wish to make a contract–”

“Nope! No, no thanks, pal, I got it. I’m no lawyer, I’d get myself in a pickle and think it was a cucumber.” Zhongli blinked, at once mystified. Hu Tao shook her head.

“Never mind. Listen, I’ll see you then, alright? Don’t flake on me, I’m expecting the show of a lifetime!” Without so much as a chance for Zhongli to say goodbye, she practically flew out the window. He sighed for what would hopefully be the last time that night.

Crossing the now too-quiet room, Zhongli sat at his desk. Pulling out a sheet of parchment from the deep mahogany drawers, he began to write. There was one other thing he had to do.

Chapter Text

Childe awoke in a cold sweat. He remembered. He remembered everything.

_____

Zhongli paced anxiously across his room– a habit which would be most concerning should someone enter and take notice. As Hu Tao had noted, it was uncharacteristic of him to show such a blatant display of negative emotion.

Everything was in order; his will was sorted and sufficiently updated, (Ningguang had raised an eyebrow at that, but she had found it understandable that Zhongli wished to write a wanted criminal out of his last will and testament) his room was cleaned, and he had said his goodbyes, though the people he had spoken to did not know it was goodbye.

It was all done. All except one thing, one person he had left to say goodbye to.

Zhongli strolled out into the gardens, nodding to the guards as he passed. It was interesting to see how quickly they had adapted back into what they supposed was the natural order of things. He worried for them now that he would soon be gone again.

He rounded the corner to the field of glaze lilies. Though it was day, and thus, the flowers were closed, Zhongli could not help but be entranced by them all the same. It was funny; he’d never cared much for flowers before Guizhong died.

She had a public grave, of course– naturally the people wanted to pay respects to their beloved Princess– but Guizhong had requested to be buried here, among her flowers, and no one was willing to deny her that wish.

In the center of the flowing fields there lay a pavilion of sorts, which would seem no different than a small gazebo to the uneducated foreigner. It was built of simple, unadorned stone, and in the center lay a plaque, bearing simply “beloved Guizhong.”

The knowledge that she lay here, beneath his feet, her rotting form slowly giving nourishment to new life, was enough to make Zhongli shiver. He knelt slowly, one knee pressing against the hard cold stone beneath, and sighed.

“Guizhong… I finally fulfilled my last promise. He… was not like what I expected him to be. Yet he is strong and smart and kind, though he does not think himself so. I think…” Zhongli paused, each breath heavy in the morning air.

“I think you two would have gotten along nicely. I wish my two favorite people could have met.” The grief came strongly then, crashing into him at the speed of a Fontainian motor boat, shattering Zhongli to pieces on the ground.

The few tears that came were little more than a welling up of the eyes, but Zhongli felt completely and utterly destroyed nevertheless. It was funny how grief came in so many ways. Loud, crashing, roaring like thunder and flashing like lightning; or quiet and subtle like a wave rolling slowly over the shore, bringing the sand farther and farther out to sea.

The moment was heavy, and it felt not quite long or short, but eventually it ended, as all things do, and Zhongli picked himself back up from the ground and brushed the dirt from his silks as though nothing had happened.

“Goodbye then, sister. It pains me to abandon you in death as you did in life, but… I have a feeling I must move on. I truly hope you will understand.” And with that, Zhongli went, heading back to the palace for the final time. Though sorrow and anxiety soured his gaze, he held onto the hope dragging him forward and continued on.

_____

Childe paced across the floor of his borrowed office, thoughts racing. It had been a perfectly normal nightmare– until… Well, to be honest, Childe still wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, only that suddenly, he had come face to face with memories so suppressed he hadn’t even known to look for them. It was like a switch had been flipped. His brain hurt from all the recontextualizing he was doing.

Honestly? What he remembered wouldn’t have been that shocking had his siblings just told him it had happened. Being beaten, manipulated, left to die– that was perfectly common– for their family, standard practice even! Pondering it, Ajax supposed the difference, then, must’ve been him.

Baizhu was right, he thought faintly. Amnesia indeed. Everything from before the Abyss had always been… well… fuzzy, to say the least– but he’d always had more important things to worry about, and besides, everyone had a little bit of childhood amnesia. That was normal, he was certain. But perhaps… not to that extent.

Either way, it didn’t matter now. Soon, his family wouldn’t even know he existed. Maybe he should write them something. Like… a suicide note of sorts. He paused, turning towards the window.

He could see Yujing Terrace from here. It was peaceful now, the sun’s early rays just barely peeking over the horizon. It would be chaos when Zhongli fell.

Childe turned away.
_____

Zhongli loitered around Yujing Terrace,, keeping away from the crowds and doing his best to stay in the shadows. Hu Tao bounced happily from civilian to civilian, apparently trying to hand out some new– and likely horribly distasteful– coupons. Even from his position in the shade of the mountain overhead, the passerby seemed… less than pleased.

The sun was high in the sky by now, and Zhongli snuck a glance towards Northland Bank, standing tall not too far off. Unfortunately, there was not much he could do for the establishment once he had “died”– Zhongli would simply have to hope suspicion did not fall too heavily upon them. Perhaps Zhongli could vouch for him as the well-respected funeral consultant many of the public knew his face as.

He had ventured out with dwindling frequency as his father had grown ill, but Zhongli still received the odd respectful nod from passing vendors or particularly well-educated patrons. He had built a small name for himself outside the palace when he had the availability, always taking the time to appreciate and/or access wonderful pieces of jewelry, fine art, ancient relics, and the like. Zhongli had become known as a mysterious and wealthy connoisseur of the finer things in life, garnering respect from businesses and clientele alike. It would be a useful alias to wear once he retired to the countryside with Ajax.

It was almost time. Zhongli made eye contact with Hu Tao, who gave him an uncharacteristically solemn nod before returning to bothering the people flooding through the streets. It was of the utmost importance that nothing seemed out of place. Quietly, he stepped away, making his way to a more secluded area just outside the city.

As Zhongli stood at the top of a small peak overlooking the terrace, he found himself oddly emotional. Indeed, tears seemed to be welling in his eyes. How odd. It was not as if he would never see the harbor again– in fact, they would practically be living in it.

Perhaps it was due to his nature as a guardian of the city. Perhaps it was the unique perspective and responsibility he was surrendering. Zhongli knew, in his core, that this city did not need him the same way he needed it, and that Lady Ningguang would do a marvelous job as its leader– but there was still some level of sorrow in this small goodbye.

Ah, well. There was no use dwelling on it. The day was getting past them. So, with that final thought as the ruler of Liyue, Zhongli flew up into the air, soaring up into the clouds so as to obscure all visibility for the people below. He assumed a smaller scaled Exuvia, out of both a desire to minimize impact and a desire to minimize destruction of property and injury to bystanders.

And then he dove.

The fall needed to look as reckless and wild as possible, so once Zhongli had broken the cloud bank and sufficiently aimed himself at the least populated area, he let go. The screams started.

He was not afraid of the pain landing would cause– and indeed, it did not hurt at all– as his scales were thicker than a mountain and built with plenty of shock absorption capabilities. The force of his impact was less painful than the crash he made, which itself sent people scattering. A massive cloud of dust washed out from the crater in which he had formed despite his best efforts, and the few who were around began to cluster a safe distance away, forming a mounting crowd.

Hu Tao shoved her way through, shouting “I’m a doctor, let me at him!” Which… was incorrect on multiple counts, but he could not exactly object from the afterlife. He reverted to his human form in a flash of gold light whilst Hu Tao ran to his side, taking his pulse in some approximation of a hurry before standing slowly, almost sadly, and shaking her head at the crowd.

A gasp rippled through the people, and the Millelith began to force people back, surrounding the crater. Hu Tao shut his eyes, and the world was plunged into darkness. He could hear her making her way over to what must have been the commanding officer of this area and explaining the situation. He vaguely made out something about taking him back to the funeral parlor, and then he was lifted from the ground and carried off. Everything according to plan.

_____

Childe had watched the Exuvia fall from Northland Bank’s westward-facing window. Even from that distance, he could feel the tremor that ran through the ground upon impact. Regardless of knowing Zhongli was alright, there was some sort of shiver that had run through him at the sight of the dragon dissipating into his lover, vacant eyes staring upwards. Childe had turned away.

Back in the present, he paced that same office. He’d informed Ms. Ekaterina of his guest, the one person who could come to see him should they ask. Zhongli should be there soon. He would be there soon and then they could run off to somewhere no one would ever bother them again. He sighed a little at the pleasant thought.

On the desk of his stolen office, a letter lay half drafted, ink long dry. It was addressed to the palace back in Snezhnaya.

His mother would read it first, then it would likely be passed on to his siblings. If it made it through them without being pinned to a wall to throw knives at, it’d be used to draft an official announcement and then left to rot in a museum somewhere. It was, at its core, a suicide note.

Mother,

I’m done. The plan has gone, and it’s gone astray. There is nowhere for me in this world now. I’ve fucked it all up. Though I doubt I’ll be much missed, you’re due thanks for your part in raising me, and for your support when it was given.

Pulcinella,

Thank you, genuinely, for what you’ve done. Keep an eye on my kids for me, ‘kay?

Pantalone,

Dottore?

The rest of you,

Thanks for nothing. I’m done pretending you all weren’t twisted fucks of human beings, so have fun with damage control for this one.

If nothing else, the letter was closure. It was his safety net to fall back on.

A quiet knock at the door startled Childe from his thoughts. Hesitantly, he made his way over, not entirely willing to announce his presence– lest he gave himself away.

“It’s Zhongli,” came the familiar baritone, “May I enter?” And then the door was flung open and Zhongli– who was nearly leaning against it– almost fell forwards as Ajax rushed at him.

Their hug seemed more frantic than usual, and far less tender. It was ravenous, almost, the love that echoed between them, still whispering wisps of betrayal.

“Are you– Is it–” Childe could hardly string two words together. He was shaking ever so slightly, and Zhongli placed one hand on his arm as if to steady it. “I’m dead,” he blurted, his eyes perhaps a touch wider than usual.

Zhongli tilted his head.

“I mean– dead to the world? To my family, definitely.” He nodded at the letter. “That’s… they’ll believe I’m gone, after that.”

“Ah.” Zhongli was quiet. Thinking. A smudge of dirt on his cheek caught Ajax’s attention, and he subconsciously swiped it away. The former Emperor made a small noise of surprise.

“So I finished my part. As far as the world is concerned, I died by my own hand last night. I’m gone.” He met his husband’s golden, glittering eyes, still shaking the smallest bit as he grasped the soft hand on his forearm.

“Are you? Are you… gone too, Zhongli?”

“Yes, darling,” Zhongli whispered. “It is done. We are gone. We are free.” Tears stung Ajax’s eyes, and he let out an awkward sort of chuckle.

“So we are. So we are.”

Chapter Text

Zhongli watched from the window of their house on the coast as Ajax splashed along the shore, diving in the water and then out in a heartbeat, completely dry, before submerging again. He swam to and fro like a fish, but nevertheless a far more endearing fish than any Zhongli had ever had the displeasure of encountering.

 He briefly entertained the notion of going outside to accompany him, but decided against it; the bamboo shoot soup must be watched over as the time arose for it to be removed from the heat. Hu Tao would be by soon for dinner.

 Ajax burst through the door, a grin wide on his face and a small puddle of water pooling at his feet.

 “Ajax, darling, you forgot to dry the soles of your shoes.”

 “Oh,” he chuckled, face flushing slightly, “My bad.” The puddle vanished in an instant, and Zhongli turned back to the stove, admiring the pale golden shimmer of the broth in the evening light. Childe came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Zhongli’s torso and resting his head on Zhongli’s shoulder like some sort of puppy.

 “Soup done yet?”

 “Not quite, jiàngxuě .” A warm silence settled over the room, Ajax swaying the two of them ever-so-gently side to side as Zhongli pulled the spoon through the simmering broth. It was peaceful, quiet… domestic, even. Sure, Ajax got bored and went gallivanting into town or off into the wilderness, and of course Zhongli never remembered his mora and flinched away at the sight of fish, but the two of them didn’t spend long in that seaside cottage anyway. 

 They traveled; to Inazuma, despite the Vision Hunt decree, which, in Childe’s words, was “just added another level of excitement,” and the Sakoku decree, which delayed their departure by a fair amount; to Sumeru, where Zhongli very much enjoyed the Akasha terminal for the wealth of knowledge it presented and Childe for the break from the nightmares; and to Mondstadt to visit Zhongli’s old friend, the absentee king, who had all but handed democratic power over to the people. It was going… surprisingly well, for having no one in charge.

 As Childe had predicted, his letter resurfaced in a museum less than a week after his public “funeral”– which he and Zhongli attended, just for the fun of it. With the help of Hu Tao, they had even managed to sneak their way into Zhongli’s decidedly less public funeral. Such was the difference between a forgotten prince and a beloved emperor.

 Childe wandered over to the table, fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth, worry lining his features. Zhongli sighed a fond sigh, turning away from the stove to comfort him. 

 “What troubles you, Ajax?” The other man looked up, slightly startled, as if he hadn’t noticed his own anxiousness.

 “Oh, it’s nothing.”

 “I thought we were past such inaccuracies?” There was no heat to Zhongli’s tone, simply quiet concern. Childe looked away.

 “I’m not a very good liar. What if I let something slip? It… wouldn’t be the first time.” There was an awkward silence, a prodding of a wound still bleeding at the edges. “I mean, the only person we’ve hosted so far is Hu Tao. She’s not exactly much of a risk to us. I just–” He sighed.

 “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

 “I would not worry, Ajax. Should someone figure it out, we can simply… remove them from the picture.”

 A pause.

 Ajax burst out into laughter. Zhongli’s face softened into a small smile.

 “Wha– is that– is that your idea of a joke, Zhongli?!”

 “I was attempting to– how is it said– lighten the mood?” As Childe continued to laugh, a knock came at the door.

 “I know I’m a bit early, boyos, but I figured I’d help set up!” Hu Tao swayed through the doorway, carrying a pot of something so large it appeared as if it would topple her over any second. Ajax quickly swooped over to help as Zhongli removed his bamboo shoot soup from the heat. The steam would finish the rest.

 “Welcome, Director Hu. It is always a pleasure to host you.”

 “Yeah, yeah– we both know it isn’t, but I appreciate the sentiment!”

 As Hu Tao and Ajax danced around the room, laughing and setting the table, chaotically beautiful, Zhongli couldn’t help the gentle smile that tugged at his lips. This was what he had been seeking, in all his years of travel and shirking his responsibilities to walk among the people, disguised. By no means did he think himself or his beloved Ajax would have been bad rulers… but this normalcy? It was worth so much more than the power and respect and finery. 

But even more than that, it ensured his and his husband’s peace. This life wasn’t quiet, and it wasn’t calm, but it was lovely.

 Through all they’d been through, and all they’d worked through… he’d never stopped loving Ajax. And Zhongli knew, now, that Ajax had never stopped loving him either. So no, they weren’t “fixed”. That trust was still broken, and a flash of pain flared through Zhongli as he reminisced over their troubled past. But together, and with their friends, in time, even that wound would close, the pain fading into a dull throb, and then into nothing. There would always be bad days– but the good ones continued to shine brighter and brighter.

 It was these thoughts that consumed Zhongli’s mind as he absentmindedly watched the rest of their guests trickle in. The friends they’d made since retirement, some young, some old, but all supportive and kind. The people of Liyue really were more than he had ever hoped. 

Guizhong was right, as always.

 Zhongli only hoped that one day, he could live up to her expectations. For now, though, he would embrace this simple life.

 And slowly, they would change, like lovely bitter water flowing downstream and finding an ocean of possibility. If Zhongli had learned anything from his beloved Ajax, it was that everyone deserved another chance at life.