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Clad in the armor made by only the best blacksmiths in Snezhnaya, of the hottest flames and strongest alloys, stood a warrior. His head, bare without a helm to reveal a face full of scars, hair of the softest red. Blue eyes resemble the restless sea of his hometown, vacant yet vigilant. He, who has slain countless before him, hands slick with the red of the enemies of his beloved and fair goddess of the snow, stood as straight as a stick as he awaits for the announcement of his arrival.
In front of him are colossal doors leading to the church of another deity. A deity whom his country had been at war with since their arrival. Nay, a deity whom the entire continent has been at war with. A deity that arrived as a pair, uninvited. Thus, announcing themselves as the True Gods of this earth. That the Age of Elements have long since expired, and that a brand new one was to begin.
An Age of Light.
The Seven Archons of Teyvat would not- could not stand for this. And so it began, the war between gods over their authority of this world. Though it may have sounded like the fight was heavily favored in a battle of seven to two, the Archons severely underestimated their rival. Or perhaps, they had severely overestimated their rights.
The Tsaritsa, fair and wise, saw the end was nigh for her reign if she did not act soon enough. As a last resort, with all resources exhausted, with thousands of her own subjects’ loyalties buried deep into the rich soil of this earth, she ordained that the strongest of hers would be sent as a peace offering to the Twins.
Who else, but Ajax of Morepesok, the youngest and most dangerous of the Fatui Harbingers.
His name is called out from beyond the door and it opens to reveal the chapel of his fate sealed. He marches forward with the pride and dignity befitting of a man representing his entire nation. Much like how one is alone in the battlefield, he is alone in this endeavor. The only things by his side are his weapons and his loyalty to The Tsaritsa.
The warrior keeps his eye leveled, but head angled slightly lowered as a show of respect when approaching the dais. Several feet away from the steps, he lowers to one knee in greeting. He recites what he’s been told to memorize a thousand and one times during the trip to Khaenri’ah, birthplace of the Twins, with utmost perfection. He is presenting himself to a god who he knows has every possibility to smite his nation without a second thought. He is aware of that.
“Raise thy head, Harbinger of the North.” The voice is quiet, but it can be heard from all around him, invading his five senses.
So he obeys the word of the Twin and before him, stands the god he must be betrothed to in the name of his country. He is also aware of the dissemblance to the Tsaritsa, praise be. Her presence is a biting cold, hazardous to those who dare come any closer to her benevolence.But here instead is a deity whose presence is warm and bright, standing in the middle of the room, beckoning to those around him to flock towards his light. He is as every bit as mystifying as the stories make him out to be.
Taller than the forest trees, an endless stream of pure golden locks fall down to his feet. He has three pairs of arms that have their hands intertwined in a manner that can only be seen as prim and proper. Feathered wings droop downwards elegantly from the god’s midriff, mimicking that of a skirt, with another pair- contrastingly, translucent and sharp like made of glass shards- jut out from his shoulder blades. A pair of bright eyes bearing no iris or pupil, stare down at him, framed by long golden eyelashes that blink on occasion. Unnatural, like the habit must be forced. Long silken cloth adorns the god’s long and lithe body, golden clasps on each arm and another around his neck.
Aether, half of the Twin gods, offers a benevolent smile and Ajax’s eyes burn. Yet he cannot bring himself to look away.
The lonesome warrior sits in the garden of this never ending maze of a palace. Far from the familiar sights of black and blue, the taste of frostbite around every corner that reminded him of his home- his goddess. Light and alchemy paint the walls, embed itself in every piece of furniture and even the soil itself, Ajax cannot escape it. It is warm and uncomfortable.
He has yet to remove the armor he has worn since his arrival. The armor that has seen his rise to the position of Harbinger, the highest rank in all of Snezhnaya, second only to The Tsaritsa, the most respected, sought after position. For those who bear the title may be granted a boon of the grandest scale by their own goddess. The boon was sweeter than he had hoped. A charm to enhance his abilities on the battlefield, electricity surging through his veins so that he may move faster, strike truer than any living mortal. For her, he had become the instrument of war she so desired. That was his pride.
Now, he sits pretty in a castle with naught to his name nor a duty to fulfill. Listless, useless mortal, is he, now the spouse of a tyrannical god. The armor that hugs him is a somber reminder of the home he has abandoned, of the life he has lost, now shackled in this alluring prison. Clothing was prepared for him the night he arrived, to which he refused, unbending despite their pleas. The menials looked dismayed, looking to their god as to what they must do. But the Twin simply raised a hand to allow this one luxury for the warrior. He knows not why he had shown such leniency- does not care to ponder on the reason.
“There thou art, My king consort.” The soothing voice comes back to haunt him. “I have been searching for thee.”
Funny that. A god should be able to locate one of his own without trouble, should he not? Footsteps pad quietly, lightly against the cobblestone, ever closing the distance between them. Ajax rises from where he sits to bow deeply. His movements are stiff, both from the discomfort of being in a new environment as well as having to become subservient to a god besides the one he’s sworn fealty to since youth.
Strange as it is, the burdening presence of the Twin’s cleansing Light is not nearly as noticeable as it was in the chapel that day. It has become… ambient.
“Rise, My beloved.” His voice retains omnipresence, but less invasive than last they met. “For we are now husbands, beings of the same standing, are we not? No need for such formalities.”
Ajax wanted to scoff. The god must be pitying him. Only when Aether has stepped close enough does the warrior raise his head to face his betrothed. His eyes widened at the sight before him.
The god had stripped himself of the traits that detach himself from a regular mortal. He stands before Ajax, a young man with porcelain skin, unmarred, unlike his own. The hair of pure gold still holds a fraction of its original luster, though the length of it is pulled back into an array of braids that fall behind his slim figure. His features that were once alien and obscure, were fully defined for the mortal eyes. Round doe eyes, button nose and soft lips pulled into a subtle smile. His eyes no longer a full moon, but rather gold jewels.
Realizing that he’d been staring at the god for far too long, he turns his head away, abashedly. He rises to his full stature and notices that the other is no longer the towering figure he was before. His head comes up perfectly to Ajax’s chest.
“I see thou hast garnered an interest in My sister’s hobby.” Aether regards the garden before them. Flowers of all kinds sprout from the earth. But one that grew in most abundance was a pure white, five-petaled flora, with one of the petals being a slightly darker shade. “We have a… gift, one might say, for all things pertaining to knowledge. We crave for it, in fact, no matter the field. Nature, however, is not one I am as attuned to as Her.”
He kneels down, plucking a flower gently between two fingers to hold it close to his nose. His long lashes close to inhale its scent. “Inteyvat. A flower native to this land. It flourishes only in these soils and nowhere else.” He looks up at the warrior with a smile. “Dost thou know what would become of it should it be taken away from its homeland?”
It must be a sin, to be looking down upon a god like this, though it was not Ajax’s intention. However, he found that having to kneel once again just to meet eye level after being told to rise would be redundant. “I do not, my Lord.”
“It would harden itself. Retard its growth.” He explains. “It is a way of protecting oneself from the dangers of the outside world whilst retaining its true self. And only when the flower has found its way back home-”
He lifts the flower up into the air and it floats out of his grasp higher still. In front of his eyes, the white flower loses the last of its shine and crumbles into dust, glowing faintly as the wind picks up the last of what remains.
“-does it crumble to dust, to become one with the land and its Light.”
Ajax is so caught up in the presentation that he flinches at the touch of the god. His hands, so much smaller than they should be, gently clasped around his own. He looks down to meet piercing gold eyes that stare up at him adoringly. He feels smaller than he did when the god was several feet taller than him.
“This flower is of great importance to Me, Ajax.” He says, softly. “I trust that My beloved consort will do well to protect it from harm.”
The warrior swallows thickly. He was right to stay on his toes around the god. His question, as innocent and sweet as it may seem, is a thinly veiled attempt to test Ajax’s faith towards him. To answer no would make him guilty, immediately convicting him of treachery and harboring ill-intent going into the marriage. He is left with no choice, as is the fate of a pawn.
“Your confidence in this humble consort will not go unappreciated, my Lord. I live only to please, if nothing else.” The mortal answers, careful of the tone he opts for.
The expression on the god’s face is unchanged and that unnerves Ajax far more than if he had chosen to nitpick his response. Instead the god says, “There is much to learn about Me as there is about thee. Enlighten Me, what hobbies dost thou partake in? I am curious to know.”
He answers, obediently yet curtly, telling him of his inclination for combat. The god hums resplendently, taking it as a sign to continue their conversation, to which Ajax loathes. He would love nothing more than to have this interaction cease. Yet the voice that speaks to him is soothing in a way that is sin itself. How dare he find comfort in another deity’s presence?
“O, Aether, my Lord,” A commander of the deity’s men calls from the entrance of the garden, bowing low. “Your Light is needed in the fight against Rex Lapis.”
There is a shift in the air, one that sends shivers down his back as the god exhales a sigh. The soldier’s face pales beneath the helm having clearly interrupted their deity’s personal time and displeasing him so. However, the soldier is not smite down where they stand.
Instead, the god retracts his slender hands, leaving the warrior bereft of his warmth. He stands in front of him, leaning forward to place a tender kiss atop the crown of his head. Ajax thought nothing more of it than a blessing one would give to their loyal subject. Willfully loyal, he is not, yet he accepts it all the same. To reject a god’s blessing would mean to deprive of one’s future successes, and he would very much like to keep his childish dreams alive despite his circumstances.
“I will return, My darling consort. Until then, keep thyself far from harm.” The god warns in a caring tone.
Many fortnights have passed since the matrimony of himself and one otherworldly deity, yet encountering said deity is far and few between. Save for the rare moments in which the Twin isn’t engaged in war and finds the warrior brooding in some dark corner of the palace, reminiscing his homeland and its familiar cold. And though he remains wary of the other, he finds himself almost… anticipating his presence.
His gentle voice that reverberates in his mind has him addicted. His waning warmth as he stands by his side, never crossing that line of intimacy except for a few subtle touches. Ajax condemns himself to blasphemy for even allowing himself the indecency of indulging in another deity’s presence, and yet he cannot help himself. Perhaps it was a curse placed upon him during their ceremony, or that someone poisoned his wine when he wasn’t aware, to have been enthralled by one such being other than the goddess he’s sworn fealty to since birth.
One worrying occasion sees the young Snezhnayan walking past a room filled with officials speaking in their native tongue. The plan of action would be to listen in on vital information that he could relay to his contact, but his eyes were drawn to the projection of a battle someplace in Teyvat. A projection from a device cultivated from the brilliant minds of Khaenriah’an engineers, knowledge no doubt passed down by the Twins. Or perhaps a spoil of war from conquering the Land of Hydro. Who’s to say.
He didn’t mean to spy into the room, only to eavesdrop, but he is stunned upon seeing who it was on the battlefield. The Twin in which he’d been promised to had assumed his celestial form, the same one that he’d been introduced to on the day of, except much, much taller. Tall enough to even skim the clouds in the sky and that much he could tell simply due to the size of men and weapons of mass destruction by his feet. All that bloodshed and violence surrounding the figure and yet the Traveler looked as clean and pristine- sinless. As though this war was not brought upon by him. As though the countless of dead bodies that litter the ground were not a byproduct of his cleansing, his power.
The golden god’s head slowly turns to face the screen and locks eyes with him. His eyes aplenty stare deep into his soul, shocking Ajax out of his stupor. The god’s lips quirk slightly upwards in a smile that is reserved only for him. The poor man’s mind is blank and his breath has been stolen from him as he is acknowledged by the deity through the screen. A vast distance and a brutal war separates the two of them and yet the deity makes time to greet his beloved consort.
Ajax gulps nervously, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, a hand held over his breastplate to ground himself. He is afraid. But most of all, he is enthralled.
“Thou does not seem the type to remain silent, yet many moons have passed and thou still chooseth to bite thy tongue.” The Twin’s voice booms in this empty dining room. It was a rare occasion that Ajax would dine with the other half, but she wills it and so he obliges. “Unless thou harbor plans to betray My brother, I suggest thou speak thine mind before I expunge of it, red one.”
He glances up from his meal to look at the goddess, Lumine, seated opposite him and funnily enough, he sees more resemblance of The Tsaritsa in her than in his spouse. He has never once seen the Goddess in her celestial form, in fact, he rarely sees her in the flesh at all despite spending all his days roaming the palace grounds.
She is identical to Aether in this mortal form. She is beautiful, prim and proper, speaking in archaic dialect and dressed in all white to make her stand out even more than she already does with her golden eyes. Her hair, which is less like the lustrous golden hue that Aether bears, but rather a muted moonlit shade, is too short to even graze her shoulders yet two long strands frame her round face elegantly. In her hair, an Inteyvat, the national flower, as well as the flower Aether mentioned that she had been growing in the palace gardens. She sits with her back straight and her small hands delicately slicing into the platter in front of her.
Don’t treat this as a game, Childe. The old hag would say. Stay that tongue of yours or I’ll freeze it off myself.
“I did not think it my right to speak in this domain.” He answers, truthfully.
The Goddess scoffs. “Thine rights hast been transposed the day thou laid down arms to be one with Mine brother. Thou art a mortal of the common flesh, no longer.” She puts down her knife to take a sip of her wine. “Thoust felt it, nay? The strength of one’s matrimony?”
The red haired warrior simply blinks.
She hums inquisitively, licking her lips and leaving a tint of red on her plump lips. “I see. It seems Mine brother has chosen a rather difficult route. Far be it for Me to critique His methods of courtship. If thou hast been Mine, things may have been different.”
He blinks again. “I beg your pardon?”
“Hm? Was that not relayed to thee?” Lumine cocks an eyebrow. “Your Goddess offered thee to both of Us, to be Our shared consort. However, My brother, it seems, had been grossly enamored with thyself from the moment He laid eyes on thee. As such, I relented and removed myself from the promise. Aether can be… unreasonable with which He so covets. I have no desire to incite a war over a mere Man.”
“Is… is that true?”
“Gods we may be, but My brother is better well versed in the machinations of human emotions than I. So, it is safe to say that My brother cares for you deeply, red one.” She goes back to her meal.
“I see.” He says, seemingly dumbfounded.
Ajax struggles to process this brand new information. He never once thought in his life that he could be considered in such a way, never dreamed of it. He’s done so much for others but sought nothing in return other than power and glory. For the family that nurtured him and loved him, he returns the favour without complaint through the gold he earns from carrying out The Tsaritsa’s orders. But nothing more. He doubts his mother could bear to see the son she carried for nine months become the weapon he is now.
But to hear that a deity whom he’s never encountered before in his life, and whom he assumes had only heard of his existence until his Lady even postulated the idea of marriage, made a conscious decision to keep Ajax to himself. The notion of being a consort to both gods further pushes the idea that he is nothing more than just a peace offering- a pawn to keep their greed sated so that his Lady was given time to plan a counterattack should the day of reckoning dawn. But the act of demanding that he be betrothed to only Aether…
The weight of the armor he dons becomes uncomfortable.
“...” A muddled voice calls out to him. “....?”
“…r?”
“ Sir! ”
“Yes?” He finally comes to. He forgets where he is, but only for a moment. “Yes, you were saying?”
“We await further orders, sir.”
Ajax blinks rapidly, gathering himself. He hears the murmurs of the men clad in Khaenri’ahn colors, their doubts on his leadership, to hold the right to even lead this small helping of knights. That he remains a Snezhnayan, proud and true. But the whispers are quickly shot down by those who remind them who it was that anointed him to such a position. They were told ‘not to question the Twin deity’s decision, be it as unconventional as it may, they know not better than He.’
Still, he can feel their stares burn a mark on his back.
The red haired warrior looks onto the deep, dark forest before them. They stand at the edge of the Twins’ domain, far from the palace’s warmth and their Light, but only just. The soldiers were right to be questioning his intent, for the reason a small fleet of men stand before a seemingly unassuming forest is to hatch a plan that’s been brewing for months between himself and his former subordinates. He made a promise to his Lady long ago, one that he intended to keep till his very last breath. To weaken the forces that uphold Khaenri’ah, the Black Serpents, from the inside. Slowly, but surely. It was a futile attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. For what is a god without their believers?
Amongst the tall, dark trees, a pair of eyes signal the cue. He tightens his grip on the hilt of his blade, not too far from where the gift of his goddess sits on his belt. The mind of a weapon which is normally vacant of all thoughts outside of violence and mission, has become a whirlwind. Clouded with doubt and confusion and warmth.
The warrior exhales shakily, expecting to see the plumes of white of his hot breath freeze amidst the icy cold temperatures of home, only to find that it isn't there. Because he is not home. It is warm.
This flower is of great importance to Me, Ajax.
I trust that My beloved consort will do well to protect it from harm.
“In those trees, dozens of men armed to the teeth are waiting to strike from the shadows. We must eradicate them posthaste.” Ajax commands.
Before any of the knights could voice out a concern, he yanks a bow out of an archer’s hand and knocks an arrow, letting it fly before anyone else could react. A body comes tumbling down with the rustling of leaves, an arrow cracking the Fatui mask right down the centre. After that, pandemonium ensued. Shouting from either side of their respective languages, the clashing of blades, screams of fallen warriors. All of which should be music to Ajax’s ears, but this time, all he hears is a muffled version of his favourite tune- distorted almost.
This fight does not feel… right. It does not feel fulfilling or exhilarating as it normally would. He started this fight, did he not? He never starts a fight he did not think he would win, and this one should be no different. His hands are bloodied, are they not? So, why then, does his heart not race with the adrenaline of it all? Why does he not feel this urge to smile when he is doing what he knows best?
Is it because he has turned against who he once considered his own men, the Northerners? But are the men who call themselves the Black Serpents, not also his men? They both wear armors of the same shade of black, it’s impossible to tell apart when everything is a blur. Everything is too dark. He cannot see. The only thing keeping him alive and moving are his instincts as a fighter, as a living, breathing weapon.
In an effort to chase some form of clarity, he taps into raw, unadulterated strength. The strength bestowed to him by The Tsaritsa when he ascended to the position of Harbinger. Finally, he feels the rush of energy surge through his veins, the electricity alighting his senses. Yet again, it does not feel right. It feels… dirty. Defiled. The blood he spills sticks to his skin like tar and the sacred strength from his Lady feel like worms crawling under his skin.
In his hand, the weapon in which he made out of his own abilities became solid with the electricity now infused into it. The fluidity of its motion retains, but now with the pain it inflicts doubled. Ajax slashes relentlessly into the darkness before him, disregarding any who may stand in his way, feverishly lighting his surroundings with the deep purplish glow of his blade. He has always been this way. Reckless, violent and wild. He should be experiencing boundless joy from this action. But he feels nothing.
He is a hollow husk of armor swinging a blade mindlessly in a forest. Lost and confused.
When he comes to, all that Ajax feels is warmth and hands much smaller than his tending to his wounds. His eyes fly wide open and he is ready to grab whoever that had the gall to touch him in his sleep, only to see that he is alone in his chambers with his godly spouse by the bedside. Immediately, his heart jumps to his throat and fear consumes him whole, afraid of the divine punishment that’s sure to come, for it is an outright act of blasphemy to be using another god’s powers in his domain. He lays there patiently awaiting his sentence, but it does not come.
Instead, the god remains peacefully silent, hands as gentle as a lamb, tending to him like a mother to a child. It’s been far too long since Ajax has been treated this way, like he was made of glass or worse– something to care for. The hearth that is lit in this room is a selfless, omnipotent being that thinks him worthwhile, and that is a burden heavier than the duty he held as Harbinger. Ajax is overwhelmed by this simple act of caring that it brings tears to the poor warrior’s eyes. This, the god takes note of.
“Why do you weep, My darling consort?” He brings a finger up to wipe away the tear that forms, only to have another take its place.
“Forgive me, my Lord.” Ajax begs, his sobbing ugly. “I… I only wanted to be seen by You. I mean no ill intent with my actions! I simply-!”
“Shh, My love.” Aether coos, a thumb stroking the other’s cheek. “I know, and I apologize for not giving more of My time to thee. I have failed as a spouse to have reduced thee to such tears. Forgive Me.”
Forgive… him? Ajax is appalled. Never in his life has he ever heard a god… apologize. And to him, no less. The tears continue their venture down his cheeks, but he is no longer sobbing. Not now that genuine shock has replaced the fear and guilt gnawing at his heart. Aether notices the change and smiles once more. He leans in to place a kiss on his forehead and guide him back onto the pillow.
The rest of the day, and the days after that consist of Ajax repenting on his failures. Alone, in the silence of his chambers, he lacks the will to live. But when his deity enters with that loving smile on his face, he is revitalized. The god does not speak much, but he doesn’t show any sign of annoyance or other indication that tending to the injured warrior is a burden to someone of his stature. He could’ve easily gotten one of the menials to carry out this task, but he does no such thing. The food, the clothes, the herbs. All of which were brought by the god himself.
A fortnight has passed and the god approaches the healed warrior, standing in the hallway. He looks just as ethereal as ever, his golden hair catching the rays of his Light pouring in. His footsteps are ever so silent, yet his aura betrays him, announcing his presence with or without consent. Because he is so much more powerful than anything anyone can even imagine and that tugs at Ajax’s heartstrings.
“Hold out thy hand, My love.” His omnipresent voice sings a sweet tune in his mind.
And so he does. Aether’s gentle hand turns it to face the palm upwards and press something cool against it. When the god retracts his hand, it reveals a talisman depicting a four pointed star, a symbol of the Twins. Simple, yet beautiful, just like the deity before him.
“Keep this–” He guides Ajax’s hand to enclose the star and presses it against his chest. “Close to thine chest and think of Me, should the need arise.” His golden eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. “There, thou will find true strength.”
Ajax’s mouth opens and closes, failing to find the words necessary to express his utmost gratitude. For he had fully anticipated a punishment so severe that he would think death as a mercy for culling his own men, but instead was bestowed a gift by the very god he once thought to betray not long ago. He can feel the Light that is encapsulated in this talisman, the warmth of it as it sits dormant in his hand.
“Yes, my Lord.” Is all he can muster.
There comes a day where neither Twin is able to attend. It was a day in which forces from all the seven nations came knocking on Khaenri’ah’s front door, spearheaded by none other than Sumerian soldiers. Ajax is caught just as unaware as the rest of the officials, but it’s been a long time coming. The siege on Khaenri’ah was fated to happen someday.
Standing in the frontlines is a man clad in only the clothes in which he slept in, made with the fabric of the finest quality as it was handed to him by his own spouse. Behind him were thousands of men that answer to him, but he doesn’t give them a command. Not even when the Sumerians provide him with an ultimatum that could potentially save thousands of lives. But Ajax knew of a way to definitively save just as many.
In this mortal man’s hand is a gift from one he reveres the most and it grows hot. Staring at the glowing star, he does as he’s told and holds it close to his chest– giving a silent prayer to his god. He hears the clanging of metals on shields as the opposing forces are finally given their orders to attack, but they’re unable to push forward a burst of blinding Light pushes them all away.
Ajax sees white. Pure, untouched, concentrated Light slither from the talisman and form tendrils around his forearm, up to his shoulders, covering his torso and eventually, wrapping itself around his legs, in a gentle embrace. He is shrouded in this Light, not unlike how his Delusion would. Except it didn’t feel constricting, it did not feel like he must give something in return for this protection. It felt comforting and warm, like the blanket he had when he was bedridden for weeks with his dear god by his side.
In a similar fashion to his previous form, he is tripled in size, as he’s lifted off the ground and covered head to toe in heavy armor. But unlike it, he is shining just as brightly as his lovely star. His armor, made of the purest Light, no longer resembles that of a monster from the deep sea, but rather a knight sent down from the stars above. On his shoulder pads, wings that mimic the deity in which he now so faithfully serves.
In his hand, his trusty polearm is no longer the ominous dark purple it once was, but rather it’s been cleansed of its poison and is now a glistening clear color, like that of the icy waters of the river by his childhood home. Coursing through his veins is no longer the disgusting, suffocating electricity of the gift his goddess gave, but rather a warm sensation that he’s become accustomed to. He focuses on that familiar warmth and it travels down along his other arm and a ball of flame ignites in the palm of his hand. Its heat is soothing. Like a hearth. Like his god.
He sees a flicker of red in the corner of his eye, reminiscent of his red scarf he would sport as his accoutrement. He soon recognizes it’s his own hair except much longer and of a much different shade than the color he was born with. A long flowing red mane from the pure white helm on his head, giving the illusion that he was surrounded by a holy flame. He looks down at the men before him and they’ve shrunk in size. He knows not what he looks like in the eyes of others, doesn’t have the mind to even ponder as he’s here for one objective and one only.
To protect Aether’s precious land.
He brings down his glaive and hundreds of men are cut down in one fell swoop. The fight is incredibly heavy handed and it has the soldiers of all seven nations scrambling to their feet to even dream of standing their ground. Every swing cuts hundreds clean, bodies falling like fruit from a tree. A single footstep is enough to shake the ground and leave them stunned, vulnerable to attacks. And for the unfortunate souls that were closest to the consort’s transformation, they were vaporized where they stood from the sheer heat emanating from his newfound form.
The battle did not last for even a few minutes as Ajax made quick work of thousands of men sent by the Seven. He remains in this enlightened state, enjoying the power and clarity he now wields. He turns around to see the soldiers of Khaenri’ah and his own spouse staring at him. The soldiers– in awe; his star– in endearment.
His heart pounds loudly in his chest as he locks eyes with his venerated spouse. He swallows thickly and only when the golden god beckons him forward does he scramble to kneel before him, head bowed and weapon by his side. The god assumes his mortal form so he is so much tinier than himself, a contrast to their very first meeting, with the feelings the redhead harbors for the golden deity just as different.
It is only when he’s bowed before him, does he realize the weight of his actions. Once again, he had been reckless with this power he was so generously given. He killed without remorse being the honed weapon that he was. He is searching fervently in his mind for a way to beg for his dear star’s forgiveness, to atone him of his sins, his monstrous tendencies in the heat of battle, when he hears the soothing sound of the Twin’s voice.
“ Rise– for thou art a knight, proud and true. A monster, thou art never was.” Aether tells him, casting away all manner of doubt in the mortal’s mind. “Now stand, my darling consort, and let the people worship thee.”
A shiver runs down his spine. The thought of being worshipped by others was always a dream of his. He remembers the days when he thought nothing more than to conquer the world and become a god himself. But when he stands before the soldiers and watches as they fall to their knees to grovel immediately, he understands. For him being worshipped meant that they were worshipping his star and all his glory. He is a symbol of their god’s strength. He is the proof that their god will watch over them and become their protector for all eternity.
His chest swells with pride, with the acknowledgement that he has finally achieved the lifelong dream that he had been searching for, albeit much differently than how he imagined it. He turns around, tears in his eyes as he kneels before the object of his affection once more. Ajax, suddenly bold, guides Aether’s hand towards his lowly lips and the god permits this touch. His hands, shrouded in his cleansing Light of armor, are so much bigger than the god’s himself, almost engulfing his entire arm in one palm as he places a kiss onto his star’s hand.
“For you, my Lord, I would see the whole world engulfed in flames.” He mutters like a prayer.
His star laughs melodiously and he dares to take a peek at his radiant smile. A hand cups his cheek and the pathetic man leans into the touch, chasing after the warmth though it surrounds him.
“I will hold you to that, My love.”