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His powers mixed back together in an odd entanglement of hatred and love when he came to. Azhdaha sat in his shielded prison, staring up at the stone above him silently. Morax.. He was calmer now, able to process everything. His anger was justified; he had been married to Morax, and Morax sealed him away and never spoke to him again until he had to come back and put him back in a prison. Azhdaha’s mind wandered, as it often did, to Morax- No, Zhongli.
So little memories of the good times spent. "If we ride on your back and cross these mountains, we can reach the palace on the moon, right?" Zhongli had joked on the night. The palace on the moon- What had he meant by that? At the time, he understood, but his mind had eroded with his body, and he had no clue what it meant or why the idea had made his heart thump at the time. There were other fleeting things across his memories; kisses, hand-holding, dates. None in particular could appear distinctly in his memory, but he could remember they happened.
Then, as he always does after his thoughts had drifted from Morax, he remembered, much more clearly, the day he had been locked away in this prison. When Morax- Zhongli- Had found him scratching claw marks into the chasm with little care for the mortals at his feet, “Just as I have brought peace to the land alongside you all, so too hal I cause the mountains to split open like dragon-teeth!” he had roared, stomping into the ground, “And they shall cause your great towers to collapse, and the cities to fall into earthen chasms!”
And, for the 400,000th time, he wondered why he had said such things. After all, he had loved Liyue, he had loved Zhongli. He had loved how caring the man was, how he had gathered tiny lives under his wing. Now, he lay in a shielded cage, alone and in pain. Such a shame that his mind is so eroded; thinking is no longer his strong suit, after all. All he can remember is the end.
He had relived the end. Over, and over, and over again. It is all he can remember when he is awake. Golden arrows sinking into the human form Zhongli had made for him out of stone, the eyes he had longed for going black as Zhongli threw his bow to the ground, forcing Azhdaha down and grasping his throat. His nails scraped at Zhongli’s hands, squirming and gasping and begging, and the world went dark. When he awoke, he was blind and in the bulky body of a dragon that he used to be able to switch easily between.
No pain could ever compare to how Zhongli looked above him with his hands around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. His golden gaze cold and dissecting, as if he felt nothing when he strangled his partner to death. Had Zhongli not felt any pain? Did he not love him? Oh, how horrid the feeling was. Then, he never came back. Not even to simply speak for a brief moment. Oh, what he would have done for just a small ounce of his lovers time.
Zhongli had the scent of some mortal on him. Not the one he had been with during the fight; the image his mind gave him was that of a handsome ginger. He was jealous, of course; Zhongli had never ‘broken up’ with him, after all. Not officially,anyway. He sealed Azhdaha away and went off with someone else. He wondered what happened to the vishap they had together; perhaps Zhongli had at least taken care of it? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
A large tear fell from one of the giant dragon’s blind eyes.All he wanted was to be better, so that he could hold Zhongli’s hand again. All he wanted was for his eroded mind to be cured, so he could drink Osmanthus wine with the one he loved. He wished Zhongli had stayed with him, had tried to find some sort of cure instead of just leaving him to rot. If the seal had not weakend, would Zhongli ever had come to see him? No, he likely would not have. It was selfish, Azhdaha knew that, but Zhongli is all that he had. Zhongli simply gave up on him without making much of an effort, simply going on with life and forgetting about his husband under the ground.
He was right to be angry. He had not been right to act as he had, but he was right to be upset. Even if he supposedly agreed to being locked away, surely he had meant locked away until a cure was found, and that Zhongli would come visit him. If Zhongli hadn’t disappeared immediately, he wouldn’t have forgotten so easily.
His heart aches.
His body still hurts as if the arrows still are buried in his flesh.
His throat constantly feels the phantom of large hands on it, strangling him.
His eyes cannot make anything out of his surroundings.
He may as well just be dead.
Being dead was horrible.