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Many thinks its ironic how two people who should live in a countryside with two children and a happy, humble life is forced to live the complete opposite. Having to stand upon opposing sides and drawing their swords against the man they’ve sworn to give nothing but affection.
And they have to be enemies, because being anything more than that, could tear the world apart.
And the Gods would have to sweat blood and tears from preventing the tragedy they chose to start. Since they were the ones who let them meet and they will have to be the ones who will make them separate.
It seems far from being just, doesn’t it? An instance they chose to start to inflict mild chaos upon their dull world is now threatening the very balance of that same world that they spent thousands of years to perfect and now, as a result of their actions, it is the mortals who has to suffer in their place.
How absurd, one might say, but can a mortal man really blame the selfish desires of the divine?
How could they possibly think of such a heinous thing? After all, no matter the power or the strength, everything is futile in the face of the ones who calls themselves the heaven, for they are simply the earth, yearning until they take their last breath, regretful and unfulfilled.
But the world has always been like that, especially one with a God so preposterously inconsiderate. One who thinks of nothing but the present, one who thinks of nothing but their own entertainment and one who never stops to think of what they would have to reap because of what they thoughtlessly sowed.
And as they look into each other’s tear filled eyes in the safety of their home, a sick feeling causing their chests to clench as they caressed each other’s cheeks as a final farewell, neither of them willing to face the future ahead of them. It’s miserable, some may say, but whether they were in the battlefield or in each other’s warm embrace, nothing else mattered.
It was them, together, no matter the circumstance. One would have to betray the other and one would have to take the other’s heart, since they were never meant to be soft hearted lovers, sitting on their bed with soft kisses till they grow old.
Because the Gods are cruel and they take some sort of sick fascination in watching humanity’s strongest warriors fall into the depths of boundless warmth.
Just for it to disappear as if it was never there.
“Childe-“
“No, Zhongli. We’ve talked about this, remember? We can’t keep on pretending that our hands aren’t bathed with blood. We can’t keep on running away.” Childe snapped, tears in his eyes.
“We can’t escape this crippling torment, because we were never meant to be anything more than strangers.”
“Please, listen-“
“No, you listen. We both know that our role is to protect our nations no matter the cost. You have to kill me and I have to kill you for the war to end. That’s reality. We can’t escape from it.” Childe said, his eyebrows furrowing.
“No, you’re well aware that I can’t just stay still while knowing that I could have the chance to protect the man I love.” Zhongli insisted, clenching his fists.
“It’s pointless.” Childe spoke coldly, startling the other man. “I never should’ve come here.” He started, “I never should’ve let my guard down and let myself melt at your fond smiles. I regret it. I regret it all.”
Childe sighed helplessly, while the older man just stood there, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he stared at those lifeless blue eyes filled with unbearable sadness.
“I regret meeting you. I regret loving you. But strangely, I also know that it is all one ridiculous lie. Because meeting you was never something I could ever regret. Rather, I regret meeting you as Childe. As Tartaglia. As Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s vanguard. I regret that you came to know this repulsive man standing before you. I regret that you’ll never be able to live the life you deserve because of me.” He said, tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared at those amber eyes, his hands trembling.
“Childe.” Zhongli uttered, his voice soft and quiet as the other man shook his head, refusing Zhongli’s show of affection. “No, Ajax.” He corrected, placing his palms on the other’s cheeks. “I love you.”
The younger man’s breath hitched, his eyes wide open. He stood there frozen while Zhongli continued to gaze at him fondly. The man’s hands continued to tremble as his bottom lip quivered, more tears spilling down his cheeks as he tries desperately to wipe it away. Zhongli only cooed at him while gently wiping his tears away with his thumb, repeating the words ‘I love you’, over and over again as Childe’s facade continued to crumble like brittle glass.
“I hate you.” Ajax said in between sobs while the older man hummed, moving his hands to card his fingers through ginger hair. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
“I love you.” Zhongli replied with a smile so foolishly naive despite his infamous reputation of being a ruthless God.
He leaned in and pressed his lips onto the younger’s forehead gently, his sobs quieting as the brunette placed his palms on the other’s cheeks once more, smiling at him while bumping their foreheads together.
“I love you, you self deprecating fool.”
Would the world really be so cruel as to take away the only thing a man has ever chosen to love? The answer was simple. Yes.
Tartaglia breathed heavily, each ragged breath being forcefully punched out of him every time he tries to take in air. His eyes widened and his fingers trembled as adrenaline slowly left his body. His muscles ached from exertion but he could care less at the moment.
He stared at Zhongli’s form, untainted and free from hideous scars, perfectly guarded due to his authority as an immortal being. So why was he as pale as paper? Why does blood trickle down the corner of his mouth? Why does he look weaker with each passing second?
Why is he smiling with pure, unbridled joy?
“Zhongli-“
“Ajax.” He croaked out, his voice rough and dry as it grated on the other’s ears.
What in Celestia is going on?
“Ajax.” He repeated with the same tone, trying to catch his attention with that same damned smile.
“Shut up.” Tartaglia replied hurriedly. “Shut up right now, Zhongli.”
They stood there in silence, Tartaglia’s spear by his side, the tip dripping with blood after having pierced Zhongli’s heart. But it should be fine, right? Zhongli told him once that his immortality prevents him from dying even if his head is severed or his heart is ripped from his body. It should be fine.
But why isn’t that tauntingly empty hole regenerating already? It’s been too long, if he loses too much blood. He’ll-
“Ajax, dear.”
“What’s going on?” He asks in a panic, his eyes bloodshot.
Zhongli chuckled, placing a hand on his hollow chest. “I’m dying.” He said casually, like they were talking in the kitchen with cups filled with warm coffee in their hands.
Almost immediately, Tartaglia stood frozen in place, gritting his teeth as his hold on his spear tightened. “Is this a joke? Are you kidding with me, Zhongli? It isn’t funny, you know? There’s nothing funny about this.”
“It’s not a trick. And I’m glad it’s you.” He replied with the same smile, the younger’s chest clenching at the display of the man’s calm acceptance of death.
“Don’t kid with me.” He said, clenching his fists. “I’m not in the mood to joke right now. Nothing’s funny.”
“As I’ve said, it’s true, dear. You’ve always wanted a battle with me, didn’t you? It seems you’ve won. I thought you’d be more… enthusiastic at the thought.” Zhongli said, as if he isn’t paling further, as if more blood isn’t dropping from his open chest.
“Zhongli, I’m serious-“
“You’ve beaten me, love.” Zhongli said softly, closing his eyes with the warmest smile on his lips.
Tartaglia rushed to catch his body as he fell forward. He laid his body across his lap, checking his pulse and holding his body as tightly as he could without hurting him.
He felt cold and lifeless.
Childe panicked, his vision unconsciously creating blobs of hydro to treat the man’s gaping wound. Tears spilled from his eyes as he kept his head down, hugging Zhongli’s body tightly as the blobs of hydro continued to envelop his body with healing fluids. He gripped the other man’s body desperately, repeating the man’s name like a madman, hoping he’ll come back. Hoping this is all a horrible nightmare and he’d wake up in his warm embrace.
Nothing made sense. Why is this happening? Why him? Why them?
He hears footsteps approaching him, quickly dispersing the trance he didn’t know he was in. He raised his head, tears still dropping from his eyes. He notices their concerned glances but was replaced with joyful faces upon seeing the lifeless body in his arms.
“You did it, Lord Harbinger!” One of them exclaimed.
“You successfully killed Rex Lapis!” Another said, joy coating her voice.
“The war is over! Liyue has surrendered after the fall of their deity!” They cheered.
Ah. The war. They fought because of some woman’s lofty ideas. Because of some moron of a God who’s favorite pastime is messing with mortals. This is what he died for?
Ah. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
Tartaglia broke.
He stared numbly at them, weakly nodding in affirmation as they nodded back, leaving without another word. He let his head down with a quiet sigh, hugging the body in his lap tightly while closing his eyes, wishing his beloved nation’s cold climate would freeze them together. For he simply couldn’t imagine a future filled with darkness, without a light to guide him through the right path.
…
It seems the Gods was willing to accept this mortal’s humble request.