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Zandik was a walking contradistinction.
Undaunted by new concepts, alien phenomena, unsettling creatures, death and the horrors of war, but quickly put to flight by interpersonal interactions.
Unlike Rosalyne, who had claimed a luxurious suite for herself not even half an hour after the Queen appointed her a Harbinger, Zandik still slept in the same makeshift lab cot Pierro offered him on his arrival.
I have everything I need, Zandik emphasised, over and over again. With every repetition, his once sincere, grateful smile crumbled a bit more until it was nothing more than a hiss through gritted teeth.
No matter how often he told Pierro that he was used to worse conditions - that he had camped in the wilderness and shared his space with other students, animals and machines - the Jester found his modesty hard to believe.
While the Fatui were a new organisation, tight on funds with the after-war-cleanup devouring most of it, they could easily afford chambers for all her Majesty's Harbingers. As long as the engines kept running and the injured were treated, no one really cared if that green faced, foreign Doctor lived as lavishly as his new rank suggested.
Pierro believed he used distraction as a weapon against his own mind.
Zandik had not once talked about himself during his first two years in the capitol. Pierro respected that, he wanted to leave his old life behind as well. Reviving the past only clouded fresh perspectives with bitterness.
Pierro also believed that Zandik was scared.
Outside of his safe space, he didn't know what to do with himself. He was still not used to commanding people around. Afraid of being perceived, he held an awkward stance during meetings, tall frame scrunched as small as possible.
Blessed with enough farsight to recognize subtle signs of self-isolation, Pierro planned to intervene before it spiraled into a serious problem.
He couldn't hole up in that damn lab forever.
Sooner or later, Zandik had to move into the palace.
◇
Pierro grunted as the tropical temperatures stung his skin after walking half an hour through the bitter cold.
Zandik was in the middle of a conversation with one of his new assistants, who hung on to his every word, completely entranced by whatever scientific marvel the young Doctor was explaining.
As he saw Pierro, Zandik’s sharp sumerian features lit up. His back straightened.
"Welcome, Sir!" Dottore offered a graceful bow. "Do you want to collect the reports? Project AA90 is finished and the south sector will be free of debris by tomorrow night."
Despite the stifling heat, Pierro's lips formed into a benevolent smile. "Already?"
"Well, of course! Time and resources, that's all I need to fulfill my... uh... vow? No, that's not the word."
"Maybe you're looking for 'promise', Doctor?"
"Yes! That's it. My promise."
Since his arrival, Zandik had learned snezhnayan pretty well, although heavily accentuated. At least in scientific terms, his smalltalk abilities were still lacking on most basic topics. It was a bit unusual for an Akademiya student, especially compared to Rosalyne, who studied them all and never missed an opportunity to tease him.
Pierro did not mind. Zandik gave him something way more valuable than the bore of noble smalltalk at court. While he had trouble learning all the other modern dialects at once, Zandik could speak, read and write fluent khaenri'ahn. He had grown up bilingual at the borders but the language was banned from the Akademiya a couple of years before he had enlisted. The Sages were not amused by his persistence to use it and quickly excluded him from any further linguistic classes as punishment.
So, as a trade and against the growing loneliness, they spoke sumerian when Pierro visited him in private and khaenri'ahn vice versa.
Zandik proved to be highly adaptable - or at least pretended to be. He had grown accustomed to venture against his introverted nature, constantly forcing himself to fit in and please those he considered his saviors. This fear of failure had shaped his every action for the first month. However, once placed in a safe and nurturing environment, the rigid manners he had once perfected began to fade. Slowly, a more energetic and authentic version of Zandik emerged, blooming and spitting infectious pollen of motivation wherever he went.
There was raw power in his unyielding drive. Every code can be cracked. Language, biology, equations, even art can be dissected.
Given the right tools, freedom and a bit of recognition, insurmountable obstacles crumbled.
During his first week, he recreated a perfect replica of Rhinedottir's alchemy papers that Pierro saved from the royal archives before they were devoured by fire.
Khaenri'ah had been full of smart, innovative people. Zandik however broke down foreign concepts and hidden logical patterns to such basic components that the lines between magic and science blurred. Pierro could not explain where his heretic streak stemmed from. Zandik was born in a tribe of shamans, dedicated to the tree of wisdom, resenting what went against celestial laws.
Exceptions are the world's greatest chance, the Queen proclaimed while pinning the royal insignia to Signora's chest, elemental fire gleaming in her remaining eye.
Both Zandik and Rosalyne, saved from the brink of death and reborn, wanted to live so desperately that it was contagious.
The Cryo Archon and her Mage may have survived but it was hard to find a will to live on. Experience had taught them to never underestimate the power of a young mindset, that they had to surround themselves with youthful spirit or all their efforts to bring their organisation forward would die of bitterness and blind rage of past ghosts.
"Well then, Jester." Zandik scratched his head. His overall posture gave off a sense of awkwardness, as if he tried too hard to appear relaxed but couldn't quite find his foothold. "The rails do not repair themselves, haha. And there is that one amazing experiment I wanted to do afterwards, you won't believe what I've found in the western ruins! The transport of these substances was a bit tricky. We have to make full use of them once I figure out how to turn crystals into fuel..."
How could those Sages throw him out? They wasted a visionary, a diamond in the making. One day, they would regret it. What Sumeru had lost, Snezhnaya gained.
"They can manage an hour without you. Come, I want to show you something." Pierro offered him a thick coat. "You may tell me about your newest experiment on the way."
Zandik eyed the fur coat. His pink pupils zoomed in and out before retracting to their normal size in pools of bright crimson. Pierro worried that his plan might be doomed already. Then again, curiosity won him over. Zandik threw the floor length coat over his shoulders, lithe frame drowning in the many layers of fabric. The young Doctor was still too thin and found little joy in eating, no matter how often Pierro told him that a bit of fat would help against the cold climate.
After a moment of hesitation, Zandik followed him outside. He seemed still surprised - and repulsed - that not sand greeted him but snow.
"Your scars are healing well."
Zandik shrugged his shoulders. "They don't bother me much."
He wasn't surrounded by babyfaced students anymore. Between soldiers and civilians who lost way more than a pretty face, his looks were no major anomaly.
"Will you tell me where we go?"
"That would spoil the surprise."
"Give me a hint, at least!"
"Patience, Zandik."
"Urgh, that again... must be easy for an old turtle like you."
Pierro laughed. "Oh, believe me, my life would have been easier if patience came with age. It's a skill that can be learned. Like everything in life."
Zandik thought about his words, silently walking beside him. Their coats brushed against one another as none of them had the intention of using the floor's full width.
"Those... are not your chambers", Zandik remarked as they halted in front of an ornate door.
"No", Pierro admitted and turned the key. "But they could be yours."
His forehead creased as he caught Zandik's wide-eyed stare. Out of dozens of empty rooms, Pierro chose the brightest and most spacious. Clean lines, big windows and polished tiles mimicked the lab that Zandik loved so much.
"For me?"
It was clearly chosen with good intentions, Zandik could not deny that.
It was large, yes, but it gave off a sterile emptiness that made him feel even smaller beneath the looming ceiling. The coldness of the clean, sleek floors sent an uncomfortable chill up his legs once he stood longer than five seconds on the same spot. Zandik pulled his coat up higher as he opened the huge balcony door and peeked outside.
He froze.
"Is it to your liking?"
Zandik had become unusually quiet. Trembling and hunched over, as if all his progress had suddenly been destroyed by the sight of the tree-shaped silhouette in the distance, his face contorted into a painful scowl.
"I hate trees", he hissed.
Pierro thought the sight would give him comfort. A sense of home during clear weather whenever he missed Sumeru or the branches of wisdom underground.
Given the visceral hatred on his face, he had probably miscalculated.
"I apologize. We will find something else for you, yes? There are beautiful chambers in the west wing - "
"It's not about that!"
Zandik's voice broke.
He gasped for air. Not now. Not in front of him.
Zandik had himself so well under control, his facade had slipped not once since he crossed the border to Snezhnaya. Why now, why now?! His chest tightened, each breath shallow and frantic, as if the air itself had turned to concrete. Zandik tried to steady himself but his knees gave up. The world blurred around him, edges muted and distant. He fell into a well, every thought spiraling faster, harder to grasp.
Two sturdy hands slowed his fall as he sank to the floor.
"An apartment is final", Zandik whispered. Bonedeep shivers shook his whole body. He still believed in the delusion that his presence within the Fatui was temporary, that it was just a job like the nurse position at the hospital in Dar al-Shifa. "I have been here for two years already!", Zandik blurted. "Two years!"
Pierro looked down at the unfortunate soul, coat spread around his shaking aura of swirling greys as if to protect him from the Mage's discerning gaze.
"Are you really that unhappy here?" Pierro asked quietly and sat down next to him.
Zandik was twenty-six now. Pierro would be lying if he proclaimed to remember how that felt.
"I don't know! I... I..." Zandik grabbed his head. Barely audible, a thought escaped his lips that he had sworn he would never speak out loud.
"I hoped I could return someday."
(Deep down, he hoped every day for a letter from the Akademiya that he was pardoned, that he was welcomed back.)
(Deep down, he still longed for Greater Lord Rukkhadevata's recognition.)
"What if we write them? Maybe, when they see her Majesty's signature, when they see what I have achieved, they will call me back? And if the Greater Lord sees, maybe she will reprieve me?"
Zandik's glassy red eyes glowed with the same yearning to belong like the day he had found him in the desert.
Pierro shook his head. "Greater Lord Rukkhadevata is no more." He hated to tell him straight to his face. Pierro feared he might fall into a deep hole otherwise, of makeshift lies and false hopes.
"I know but... if I build a god like I promised, if I build a new god for Sumeru - they could ... they will surely take me back, right?"
Pierro was not fast enough to hide his doubtful expression. Zandik's head fell against the icy frame.
"I miss home." He pressed his lips together, begging to be swallowed by the Abyss right then and there. It was too late anyway, he might as well spill his soul completely. At least Pierro would listen. "It's all gone. My notebook, my clothes, my sanity, me. I own nothing older than two years, and they surely burned my thesis so I don't even have proof that I'm a scholar at all. The people around me don't smile, every surface is cold and hard, my skin and eyes are so fucking dry, I want to peel them out of my face. I miss the sun and my dorm and the forests and the food and the colors." The desperation in his voice grew with every syllable. "How could I lose everything twice?!"
The chambers around them were long tuned out. Pierro knew Zandik would not accept his gift since he opened the door to the balcony. If it would be someone else, maybe a hug would have helped. If they were closer, he would have offered. Right now, Zandik radiated chaos and frustration. The last thing Pierro wanted was to scare him further.
"Listen. A degree does not determine your value. These sages are not worth your mourning. I promise, you won't lose everything for a third time. The Tsaritsa is not like your tribe or your former archon. She won't abandon you. I won't."
"As long as I have a worth, but what if I'm not usefu - "
"Zandik. We do not want to cage you. If you want to leave, then you can. But please, stay with us."
Stay with me.
Zandik faced the wall. Pierro noticed the slight vibrations at the end of those radiant blue curls and knew it was his clue to leave. Zandik wasn't ready yet. Not for an apartment and not for Pierro to see him even more vulnerable.
"I understand. Take as much time for yourself as you need. I won't hold your decisions against you."
◇
It pained him to leave Zandik crouching on that cold floor in the corner. However, he could add a couple more findings to the puzzle of the elusive young man. Slowly, a picture formed and Pierro came to the conclusion that their paths were determined to cross by fate.
He had heard about the "stuck up, blasphemous student with the outlandish ideas" not because of his expulsion at first. No, no. Zandik had been on their radar years before the heavens fell, when Pierro was still a disgraced mage at the King's court.
The name "Zandik" appeared first in connection with a secluded tribe at the Khaenri'ahn border to Sumeru, where a few hundred shamans lived. Their whole life's essence was to tend to Irminsul's roots, a highly spiritual society devoted to the tree of wisdom. They spent their days far, far, far below the surface, nourishing the divine roots. At night, they went back up to their village, day in and day out.
During Pierro's youth, his nation maintained a good relationship with them. But as Khaenri'ah ventured further away from their path and pursued independence, the tribe cut ties.
A decade before the cataclysm, word spread that a boy was seen at the borders, who scavenged their machines and brought them back repaired. He hold the characteristic features of the tribe, they said: pointy teeth, red eyes and colored claws. King Irmin decided to investigate. For naught - the shamans chased his delegation away and shortly after the boy was exiled from the tribe for heresy.
Pierro suggested going after him. It was their fault that his secret was discovered, after all. Those shamans possessed unique psychic abilities that could benefit them against Celestia. Irmin refused.
The next time Pierro thought of him was at the Tsaritsa's palace as he witnessed bombs falling from the sky. They detonated all around Khaenri'ah and destroyed the borders of the nation. The tribe of Irminsul, who had nothing to do with their war, self-proclaimed devoted servants of the heavens, was completely wiped off Teyvat in a matter of seconds. Collateral damage, and Celestia didn't bat an eye. Not a trace of them remained, as if they had never existed.
Their only survivor was the young outcast. Apparently, he had managed to get into the Akademiya under the scrutinizing gaze of the Sages. A smart and promising student with a mind of his own.
But as Irminsul's tribe died, the roots took massive damage. The outburst of forbidden knowledge that followed the catastrophe brought chaos to Sumeru's ecosystem. Some people went mad. Zandik, with his strong connection to the tree, lost his mind that day. Finally, the Sages had an excuse to throw him out. They exiled him under the pretense of murder (even if he was guilty, Pierro didn't care. Who was he to judge).
After his spies reported this, Pierro went looking for him. He found him in the desert, close to death's door.
They had quite the rocky start. Zandik's first instinct to the offered hand was to bite it. Badly injured and terrified, he crawled backwards into the sand filled cave beneath the ruin golem. Dried and fresh blood clung to his face and hair and clothes.
That he did not immediately take the offered water concerned Pierro. Was he too late? Had the young man lost his will to live as well?
As he crawled closer, Zandik kicked him. And he hissed. That was something he could do really well. In the future, Pierro would grew fond of it.
"Let me help you, then I will explain."
"Why waste resources on the dead? If you knew who I was, you wouldn't offer."
Pierro sat down and removed the scarf around his head. Recognition flashed through those bright red eyes, shock and, for less than a second, curiosity.
"You... you're Khaenri'ahn! You shouldn't be alive."
"Neither do you, but here we are."
Zandik stared. Then he nodded. "Here we are..."
Pierro tended to his wounds with cryo and magic as far as he could. After Zandik accepted his offer, he dragged him to Snezhnaya. Luckily, the Queen shared Pierro's vision.
Another one who shouldn't be anymore. What a collection, what a cast to perform our new play. A khaenri'ahn court mage, an angel, a witch and you.
All of them missed homes they could never return to. For Pierro, it was a privilege to recall the sense of belonging. Zandik still chased it, but since he did not know exactly what feeling to chase after, he could not find satisfaction.
Pierro was now sure where his miscalculation had occurred.
He had been under the false impression to find an apartment for Dottore.
But he had disregarded one simple thing: behind closed doors, the Jester was still Pierro.
If he wanted to convince the Doctor to stay, he had to find a home for Zandik, where Dottore could grow.
◇
A year later, on his 27th birthday, Zandik received a key.
It was sleek and heavy and pleasantly textured. He turned it under the bright lab ceiling, revealing a small scroll.
This may be yours. Design it however you want. No limits.
~ Pierro
Zandik swallowed. He had avoided private settings with Pierro after his emotional outburst.
As he stood in front of an unknown door again, the key clutched tightly in his sweaty hand, he was glad to be alone this time.
Zandik took a deep breath.
And entered.
A nice, unexpected warmth greeted him. The pre-heated room was much more comfortable, big windows on one side, carved wooden walls on the other. Zandik marveled at the familiar patterns under the orange light of traditional lamps.
In the adjoining kitchen stood a basket full of sweets, fruits and spices. Zandik rushed to the table and buried his teeth into a zaytun peach. The unrestrained moan that escaped his lips was embarrassing, until he realized he could be as loud as he wanted. Not a single soul would judge.
His feet hit something firm. Zandik put the fruit aside and looked under the table.
Oh...!
Zandik hauled the huge, neatly tied roll out of its confining space. Another letter stuck between the folds.
Dear Zandik,
I have lived a lifetime and more. Like you, I have no possessions of my past but fading memories and aching scars. If I could go back, I would get my old chess board that is now reduced to less than ash.
This rug shall have no meaning except you give it one. I hope it brings you the warmth you were looking for. Maybe one day, you can accept this as your third and last home.
His hands shook as he pulled at the bow.
Threads gave way and a colossal carpet rolled up, from his feet to the other side of the room.
Zandik choked out a laugh.
Never had he laid eyes on something more beautiful.
Pierro had gifted him a sumerian rug.
A stunning, expensive, custom made rug.
Tears streamed freely down his face.
Instead of the generic tree motifs that were part of traditional family carpets, local flora and fauna adorned the edges. A blue Aranara, desert foxes and magical shapes of Deshret's machinery were worked into silk and wool in such detail that it nearly resembled a painting.
Carefully, Zandik drove his hands over the soft surface and bowed down to take in the fragrance of the colors. His fine nose inhaled the saffron scent of the deep yellows, the moist forest air and faint aroma of spices from the vicinity of a market where it was woven.
Between sobs of joy, Zandik wiped the tears from his eyes.
He came by no means from a materialistic upbringing. This piece however would be part of his new home, he decided, and no one could ever take it away from him.
◇
In less than a month, Zandik had turned his apartment upside down.
No limits, Pierro said and he took that to heart.
"Come in, come in!"
Zandik beamed at him. He pulled Pierro into the altered chambers, bouncy steps betraying his excitement for feedback.
Zandik installed underfloor heating and built a humidifier that emitted a faint lotus scent. The most impressive thing was the balcony - he had glazed it and converted the free construction into a winter garden, highlighted by plants and floating lights. Every line and leaf formed a deliberate union with the patterns of the rug on the floor.
"You really outdid yourself."
Zandik blushed. Pierro took off his shoes before he lowered himself on one of the many pillows.
"Well, of course. It's supposed to last forever."
Zandik poured them tea, being careful not to spill anything on the carpet. Pierro unwrapped a selfmade treat and plopped it into his mouth.
"We used to make them at night in the Akademiya. But don't worry, I left out the 'fun' ingredient."
Pierro laughed and took another from the bowl.
"They are pretty good. I'm glad you're settling in."
I'm glad you chose to stay.
Zandik answered with a happy hum. Golden rays broke through the clouds and illuminated his features. Pierro hoped the sun would never set.
Zandik cleared his throat.
"I... would like to give you a gift in return."
Pierro was at a loss for words as Zandik placed a colorful chess board in his lap. The pieces resembled their khaenri'ahn equivalents to a remarkable degree. Tiny engravings around the squares mimicked his favourite spells. Pierro could not wait to ask him which methods he used to create such formidable craftsmanship.
"Thank you so much."
Pierro placed his hand over Zandik's.
"We should leave it here. So I have an excuse to visit more often.”
The warm leather caressed his scarred fingers. Zandik didn't pull back. For a brief instant, there was a silent understanding. He had not realised how much he craved connection until it happened.
"It would be my pleasure."