Archive of Our Own

Ajax– no, Tartaglia, he was Tartaglia now– knelt in front of the throne of the Tsaritsa, the starched fabric of his brand new Harbinger uniform making a sharp noise as he did so.

“Your Majesty,” he began, remembering the words and gestures that Pulcinella had drilled into him in preparation for this moment. “My gratitude–”

The Tsaritsa clicked her tongue under her breath, the sound quiet but her distaste seeming to echo endlessly through the silent hall. Pulcinella hadn’t told him anything about what he should do in a situation like this. The practiced speech he had been counting on seemed to slip out of his mind as if it were water he were attempting to carry in his hands. He sat frozen, waiting on a cue from the Tsaritsa.

“Something is troubling you,” she said after a moment. “Speak.”

He dared to glance up towards her veiled face– something that Pulcinella had specifically told him not to do. She was still as a statue, no motion in the rippling white fabric covering her form to signify that a person was beneath, but Tartaglia could feel the weight of her gaze nonetheless. But even if she were intimidating, Pulcinella also told him to respond to any direct questions or commands. He opened his mouth to answer, but–

Nothing.

His eyes fell, and he closed his mouth, one shaky hand coming to cover it. The delicate red string around his ring finger swayed with the motion.

The Tsaritsa, however, didn’t seem angry. “It has something to do with that, does it not?” Her hand rose slowly, a single finger pointing towards the thread.

“…Yes, Your Majesty.”

The hand returned to its perch on the arm of the throne, mirroring its twin in perfect symmetry. “Go on.”

“I…” 

He knew what the truthful answer was, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak it. Surely the Tsaritsa would strike him down for rejecting her gift, no?

“I want it gone.”

Childe braced himself for a strike that never came, but the Tsaritsa, surprisingly, did not respond beyond a small nod of the head. “So be it.” 

She flicked the same hand in a quick, sharp gesture before returning to the same pose.

He felt nothing, but when he glanced back down towards his hand, where the intangible string had once extended on, slowly fading away as it got further from his hand, the frayed end now laid in his palm.

“Thank you.”

In Snezhnaya, soulmates were celebrated to no end. They were appreciated in the other nations as well, of course, but Snezhnaya was unique in its exaltation. Finding one’s soulmate was the reason to live, the ultimate success in life. Children of parents who were not soulmates were only spoken about in hushed whispers, and those whose strings were cut short were objects of pity. When a soulmate was found, the two families would host a party, sharing food, drinks and stories to celebrate. Ajax had been to a few before; hosted for his older siblings. He remembered the homemade food, the deserts his family wouldn’t usually splurge on, and how happy everyone there had been.

When Ajax was young, he– like many children– had dreamt of finding his own soulmate. He had no idea what kind of person they would be like, but he hoped they would be someone who would finally pay attention to him, the way his parents could barely see anyone but each other. He dreamed of his own party, with soup and cake and inlaws, and knowing he’d never have to be alone again.

Trekking behind Skirk through the depths of the Abyss, he decided they must be someone kind. Gentle. They’d probably be someone from his town who he had never crossed paths with before, who joined in the search party alongside his parents. They would be there when he escaped. After all, that’s how all his father’s stories ended– the hero would finish their trials, and at the end, waiting for them, would be their soulmate. It meant the story was over and the hero would get to live the rest of their life in a quiet, happy ending.

Ajax escaped the Abyss alone. There was no soulmate, not even a search party. He trudged through the snow on the way back to his village, but couldn’t get very far before passing out from blood loss. He woke up in his bed at home, but didn’t have time to appreciate that before his father began yelling at him, asking where he had been, why he would do such a thing, and did he know that he almost gave his mother a heart attack.

He doubted that last part was true, but he didn’t tell his father as much. Eventually, he seemed to get-tired of the one-sided argument, and left Ajax alone in his room again.

It seemed silly, then, to have imagined that he would be greeted by his soulmate. This wasn’t what the happy endings in his father’s stories were like.

In the Fatui, there were many more cut strings than Ajax had seen in his village. People who had lost their soulmates and decided they needed something else to give their life meaning, probably.

They didn’t get pitying looks like they would in a normal town– at least not to their faces– but, devoid of pity, Ajax decided he resented them. They had lost a single person– maybe not even met them– and then chose to become warriors as if it were simply a vacation. They would never understand what it was like to be forced into that role, to fight because there was danger instead of just because you couldn’t think of anything else to do.

He also knew he was a hypocrite. Coming out of the Abyss, he hadn’t been able to function as a person without violence, so the only reason he was here was out of his Father’s futile hope that the simulated danger of the military would be able to fill the hole in head dedicated to the need to fight for survival. 

His father was wrong. The buzzing in his bones was still there. He still got into fights, but now, his father didn’t have to deal with the aftermath. Instead, he’d be brought to one of his superiors, sometimes praised for his strength, usually disciplined harshly. Always still hungry for more.

During the long, quiet hours he spent forced to clean the barracks by himself as punishment, he often found himself thinking about the string around his finger.

If they were someone he deserved before, then they would be better off without him . The shy, earnest young boy whom they had been destined for was dead, replaced by a monster that no one would want to be fated to. The soulmate he had imagined as a child would be sad if they woke up to see their string severed one day, of course. Anyone would, if they’d never actually met the person before. But that heartbreak couldn’t compare to that of learning that the perfect soulmate that they had dreamed of for years– the one he used to hope he was– didn’t exist. That the person the universe had decided was meant for them was actually someone– someone like him.

(Selfishly, he would rather be a dearly missed opportunity than a disappointing reality, even if it did hurt his soulmate more.)

By the time he arrived in Liyue, he had long forgotten about any childhood dreams of a soulmate. For all intents and purposes, they no longer existed. They could have died after the string was cut, and he would have no idea. They could have passed each other by, and would never know. It was better that way. At first, every person with a severed string he came across, the thought that they might be his soulmate briefly flashed in his mind. He always shunned it from his mind as soon as it gained form– this was his choice, after all. The right choice. There was no room for regrets anymore. After a few years he stopped wondering. It didn’t matter if they were.

His first meeting in the nation of contracts was with a man named Zhongli. The brief given to him by his new secretary said he was a funeral parlor consultant with a severed soulmate string, well-respected for his discretion in regards to the Fatui’s burial needs. They were to meet at a restaurant so that they could discuss him becoming Childe’s guide for his time in Liyue. He arrived earlier to the meeting than required, taking the liberty of ordering drinks ahead of time.

The man who sat down next to him was nothing like he’d expected. He had expected someone older, for one. Stuffier. Zhongli didn’t actually look much older than himself, but his job, demeanor, and the broken string around his finger suggested he had experienced more than most his age.

Childe, however, mentioned none of that. Even in Liyue, where threads of fate came from a foreign goddess instead of the local ruler, it would be rude to ask someone you had just met about their soulmate who had passed away. So, instead, they enjoyed their food and drink, and Childe appreciated the company more than he would like to admit.

Childe was… interesting, to say the least. He acted well-behaved, but Zhongli knew what he was capable of– what he did on a regular basis. He acted carefree, but the cut string around his finger suggested otherwise. 

Not that Zhongli could judge that, of course. His own string…

No, he had lived without a soulmate for thousands of years. He didn’t need them, per se– he had his Adepti, his fellow Archons, and various human acquaintances in the harbor (Childe included). It wasn’t his own loss of companionship that he mourned. He had accepted, after thousands of years without any string on his finger at all, that he would outlive his most likely mortal soulmate either way.

What upset him was that his soulmate had died so young, and that he hadn’t even been able to console their family after the fact. He had not yet even begun to look for them, having decided that he would delay the search until they were an adult, at least. He had assumed– foolishly– that the string would still be waiting for him. Instead, he glanced absentmindedly towards his hand one day to find that, barely sixteen years after it appeared, the string was broken.

He had been inconsolable for some time after that. All around Liyue, there had been terrible earthquakes, tearing down buildings and wreaking havoc on the country he had worked so hard to sustain for thousands of years. Once word of the destruction reached him, though, he realized what he had done, and knew that he had to try his best to end his grief. No matter how much his heart protested, he had duties to Liyue that he couldn’t fulfill in such a state. Eventually, he had decided that the best course of action was to return to mortal society. After all, he would no longer have to worry about prematurely coming across his soulmate. There was no soulmate to come across, after all.

He couldn’t stop himself from mourning completely, but he was able to contain himself better, after a while. He put together a small shrine for them in Jueyun Karst; not a proper grave, but something to remember them by. A ginkgo tree and a commemorative stone; a place where he could grieve privately when he needed to.

Some years after that– not many from his own perspective, but enough– he found himself here, walking the streets of Liyue alongside the Harbinger. There was no soulmate for him to go home to either, so they often stayed out together until late into the night. 

Usually, they kept their meals together at restaurants, but tonight Zhongli had invited Childe to his home instead. He wasn’t much of a cook, so the food was still restaurant fare, but he had made an effort to set things up nicely, having brought out a bottle of wine he was saving for a special occasion alongside flowers he bought in the markets on his way home. 

Hopefully, Childe would appreciate it. He knew he was likely stepping over a boundary– something like this was much too intimate for two people who weren’t soulmates– but given that both of theirs had passed away, how wrong could it be?

He, at least, had never met his soulmate. It wasn’t as though he was replacing someone he had known with someone new, he had just… given up on waiting for someone he knew he would never find.

Zhongli had to be Childe’s soulmate. He had denied it at first, but sitting across from him at the low table in his own home, drinking wine together in the dim lamplight, he couldn’t unsee all the ways he matched up perfectly with the soulmate he had imagined in his childhood. His kind, gentle nature, his warmth and stability, the sense of humor which his buttoned-down appearance made easy to miss; it was all that his younger self had hoped for and more.

It might have been conceited to assume that, because Zhongli was the perfect soulmate that he had wanted, that he would be the same for Zhongli. He might have even had a different soulmate– a real soulmate– who had died, leaving that string on his finger.

It hurt to imagine someone else having him. If there had ever been another, he was glad they were dead.

He supposed that a normal person could rely on fate to keep them out of situations like this. They could trust that they would end up with the person they were meant for, and that person wanted them in return.

Do I regret my decision?

The thought almost surprised Childe, but… if he could have been with Zhongli, without any pretend dead soulmates coming in between them, would he want to?

Zhongli was looking at him, face scrunched up slightly in concern. “Childe? Are you alright? You looked… distant.”

“It’s nothing, Xiansheng, ” Childe assured him. He didn’t regret his choice, he decided. He liked Zhongli, but this way was better. After he left Liyue, Zhongli wouldn’t have to miss him, and he wouldn’t have to reckon with the fact that his soulmate had turned out like he had.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of fun, would it? To get just a glimpse of what it would be like to have the fairytale happy ending he had imagined with his soulmate? To indulge for a few months, and finally satisfy his curiosity? 

(It would hurt. Childe knew that, but he had never been very good at making good decisions.)

Childe looked conflicted, not meeting his eyes. Zhongli asked him if he was alright, but he merely brushed off the question. He continued looking down, seeming lost in thought, before meeting Zhongli’s eyes.

“I want to kiss you,” the other man admitted, voice soft as if afraid of disturbing the strange lull their conversion had come to.

“Alright,” Zhongli said, before he could consider why this might be a bad idea. When Childe made no move to do so, he leaned over the table, careful not to disturb any of the plates or glasses still spread out over top of it, and placed a hand on Childe’s cheek, the other resting on his shoulder. He waited for Childe to act on his words, but all he did was close his eyes and lean into Zhongli’s hands.

“Are you sure?” Zhongli asked when Childe continued not making any move to initiate. He simply hummed an affirmation. His eyes didn’t open, but he pressed harder into the hand on his face.

Taking that as confirmation, Zhongli moved in closer, pressing his lips to Childe’s.

Childe froze for a second, and Zhongli considered pulling back, but he seemed to get over whatever internal turmoil had frozen him and pressed forwards towards Zhongli. Without separating, Zhongli did his best to maneuver them up and away from the easily spillable food and drink, moving over towards a couch instead. 

Childe followed his lead, seemingly having gained more confidence in his actions as time went on, and although he held onto Zhongli tightly by the waist, he didn’t resist as Zhongli lowered them onto the couch– a much better choice of location, all things considered.

The sight of Childe beneath him, face red and breathing slightly labored, was almost too much for him. He had to fight down the draconic side of himself that wanted to hoard him away in his personal domain and never share him with anyone else again.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, bringing up a hand to brush at the hair that had fallen around Childe’s face.

Childe smiled at that, but it was a weak expression, as though he didn’t fully believe it. “You are, too,” he replied, and leaned up to kiss Zhongli again.

Some small part of him felt guilty– this was something one was supposed to do with their soulmate– but a much larger part of him was preoccupied with Childe, his hands gripping onto his back, his breath warm on Zhongli’s lips. 

Childe woke slowly, a luxury he didn’t usually get to experience. It took him a moment to place where he was, but once he noticed the other person in bed with him, the memories from the previous night came rushing back.

Zhongli was still asleep, dark hair fanned out around him like a dark brown halo, and Childe could feel his soft breath from where his head laid on Childe’s shoulder, mouth brushing slightly against his collarbone.

He felt a sudden restlessness– the feeling of being pinned under another person made something nervous spur in his chest. Different from the anticipation of battle, though.

There was a movement, and suddenly Zhongli’s warm golden eyes were on him. “Childe, you’re awake.” He smiled, and brushed a hand across Childe’s cheek. “Do you need anything? Water, perhaps? Breakfast?”

Childe considered for a moment, but shook his head. “I’m alright.” Selfishly, he’d rather spend a few more minutes alongside Zhongli before needing to get up and start his day. They hadn’t discussed exactly what their relationship was, yet. Childe doubts Zhongli would cold-heartedly send him away if he were to request that they do something like this again, but something in his mind still protests that once Childe allows this to end, he’ll never get it back.

Zhongli hummed, pleased, and the arm laying over his stomach curled under his back, pulling him to Zhongli’s chest as the other man pulled the blanket back over their shoulders. “Then I hope you would humor me by lounging here just a bit longer, no?”

Childe nodded, tucking his head into the junction between Zhongli’s neck and shoulder and wrapping his own arms around Zhongli in turn. It had been quite some time since he’d last been held like this, he realized. Since returning from the Abyss, the most he’d gotten was awkward half-hugs from older siblings, and even those dwindled as he rose up the ranks of the Fatui. He had forgotten how nice this was. Zhongli was warm against him, and although he had felt nervous at first, feeling another’s breathing against his chest and their hands rubbing circles into his back was unexpectedly calming.

“I’ll make you breakfast when we get up,” Childe mumbled into Zhongli’s skin.

Zhongli laughed softly in response. “You don’t have to, but if you want, I would enjoy it.”

To his embarrassment, Childe ended up sleeping much longer than Zhongli. He only woke when he felt a hand on his shoulder softly shaking him awake.

“Hmm?” Childe groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“It’s almost noon,” Zhongli informed him with a smile. “I took the liberty of heading out for lunch. It’s in the kitchen whenever you’re ready.”

“That sounds great. I’ll be out in a minute, I just need to clean up a bit.” Childe gestured to where bite marks littered his neck, shoulder and collarbone, and Zhongli coughed slightly, looking away. Such deceptively sharp canines hidden behind an elegant smile, Childe thought.

“The bathroom is just down the hall. I’ll get everything ready for you.” At least he had the sense to act bashful after the fact.

“Ah, Zhongli-Xiansheng! Childe’s not with you?”

“I’m afraid not, Xiangling,” Zhongli said, although he couldn’t suppress the small smile on his face. “I believe he’s still asleep. I was hoping to pick up something to eat before he wakes.”

Xiangling’s eyes widened slightly at that. “Oh– I’m really happy for you two, in that case. Anyways, what do you want to get?”

“Just the usual is fine. Slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup for me and black back perch for him, please. Oh– and a round of soup dumplings as well.”

“Of course, I’ll have it right out. That’ll be four thousand, three hundred mora.”

Zhongli nodded, reaching down for his wallet…

…only to come up empty.

“My sincerest apologies, I believe I left my wallet at the funeral parlor,” Zhongli said with a guilty smile. “I will be right back, if you can hold onto the food for a moment.”

Xiangling just waved at him dismissively, though. “Don’t worry about it. Consider it on the house. Just don’t leave your lover boy waiting too long.” She winked at him before returning to the kitchen with a cheery jingle.

Lover…

He and Childe hadn’t discussed anything of the sort, but he had to admit he liked the way that sounded. Still, he couldn’t be presumptuous or hasty– he had no proof Childe felt the same way, and without knowing anything about his dead soul mate, it would be massively overstepping to assume he was already over them and willing to take a new lover.

He still hoped he would, though. Even if it were selfish. And even if they didn't become lovers, Zhongli hoped that the previous night could become a recurring experience between them. Something is better than nothing, at least. Zhongli is practiced in the cycle of loving and losing. 

People initially seemed surprised at Childe and Zhongli as an item, but they adjusted quickly. Quite a few people congratulated them, or said they were glad to see them together, and even though Childe knew that, behind their backs, the fact that they each had other soulmates who had died garnered whispered gossip, the conclusion most agreed on was that it was nice that they had found someone new in each other. 

And it was. Nice, that is. Although they had still not put a label on it, Childe liked getting to hold Zhongli’s hand in public, liked spending every meal with Zhongli, liked spending the night at Zhongli’s homely flat instead of his own under-furnished quarters at the bank.

Every day that they spent together, Childe also became more sure that Zhongli had actually been his soulmate, before the Tsaritsa had severed his string. He was just too perfect- and that was why he had to keep believing that he had been meant for someone else. What they had was nice- more than nice, even. Childe could say with confidence that this was the happiest he had been since escaping the Abyss- maybe the happiest he had been ever. But it couldn't last. Eventually, it would be time for him to enact the Tsaritsa's plan, and Zhongli, as perfect as he was, would certainly shun him alongside every other citizen of the harbor. It would be easier if he didn’t know that fate had decided he deserved someone like Childe.

Childe took back every flattering thing he had ever thought about Zhongli. He wasn’t the person that he had hoped for as a child, he was the person that this current, warped version of himself deserved. He had been right, when he reasoned that he would be better off without a soulmate he deserved. There had never been a Zhongli; he was nothing but a cruel illusion Rex Lapis had used to manipulate him.

Despite the betrayal, though, and his desire to be gone from the Harbor as soon as possible, he still needed closure. He needed to be sure that it really was Zhongli that fate had chosen for him.

As he stood outside the door of the funeral parlor, he briefly wondered if Zhongli was going to refuse to emerge at all. That would track, at least– it would make sense with his sudden cold shoulder. 

However, right as the idea of going home and scorning Zhongli in private was sounding more appealing, there was a rustling behind the door, and Zhongli emerged, frustratingly unruffled, smiling at him like that was something he still got to do. Zhongli’s level-headedness was at the expense of Childe’s own, and he could already feel the anger bubbling up in his chest again. 

“Childe.  It's a pleasure to see you.”

A pleasure? Was that all this was? Making Childe believe there could be someone in the world who loved him, before pulling the rug from beneath his feet was a pleasure?

Or perhaps the Geo Archon saw it as nothing more than a game to mess with mortals, pretending to be human. Childe just hummed in response, not trusting himself to stay civil otherwise.

As angry as he was at Zhongli- there was still one loose end that Childe needed to clear up, or else it would well and truly drive him mad. 

Sturdy islands rise from the sea, ancient stone having slept undisturbed for millennia. 

“Did you… want something?” Zhongli asked after a moment.

Hah. So unbefitting of a god to ask a mortal what they desire. So dishonest, when Zhongli had already shown just how little Childe’s feelings mattered to him. But he supposed that Zhongli was right. 

“I just wanted to ask you one thing before I leave.” Childe noticed the look of surprise that briefly flickered across the other man's face, but didn't point it out. “Tell me about your soulmate.”

The relentless tide crashes in, enveloping the rock, sweeping against it.

Another strange look appeared on Zhongli’s face, and he opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it twice before sighing and closing his eyes. “I can't. I never met them.”

“Still looking?” Childe knew this was almost certainly more than Zhongli wanted to tell him, but he couldn’t resist the need to know for certain. 

It settles against the sand, foamy blue on glittering gold.

Zhongli shook his head. “They died young. Quite some time before I even had a chance to look.”

That was it, then. There was no doubt left who either of their soulmates were. 

The sea brings shells, glass, and trinkets to the shore, bringing the sand alive with motion.

“Do you wish you could have been with them?” 

Zhongli seemed to think that over much harder than Childe had expected. “No, I don't. I wish I could have been there for them, at least, and I hope they weren't alone, but…” Zhongli trailed off, eyes firmly on Childe. “I would not want things to turn out differently.”

That settled it, then.

Childe pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. “That was all I wanted to know. Goodbye, Zhongli.”

But eventually…

“Childe, wait,” Zhongli called out, but Childe paid him no mind, turning around and walking away.

The tide recedes.

Cold-blooded as he was, furs did little for Zhongli in the Snezhnayan frost, but they at least served as a barrier between his skin and the wind and snow. It was only a small comfort, but it tided him through as he waited outside the Zapolyarny Palace. He suspected the Tsaritsa already knew he was here, but had decided to- for some reason- make him wait outside in the freezing cold. 

After not too long, though, a guard appeared at the gate by which he stood.

“Her Majesty can see you now.”

Zhongli nodded, and followed behind as he was led to the Palace’s entryway. It was a grand place, sure, but Zhongli was used to grandeur, and more than that it seemed… harsh. Uninviting. Cold, if he may.

He imagined Childe wandering its halls. The idea was almost comedic- the Childe he knew was kind, cheerful, not someone suited to a place like this. There was a metaphorical light in his eyes despite their dull appearance; one that would be snuffed out like an unneeded candle here. 

The Childe who had said goodbye to him, though… Zhongli could suppose there was more of a case to be made there.

Zhongli had briefly been hopeful when, after refusing to speak with him for weeks, Childe had appeared on his doorstep. However, instead of giving Zhongli a chance to make amends, he just asked a series of questions about his soulmate, leaving before Zhongli could do any more than answer his questions. He had been surprised at the topic of conversation, confused why Childe brought it up.

Given the few words Childe had said to him at Northland Bank before storming off, maybe he had thought their relationship was a fraud, that Zhongli was still in love with his soulmate. Zhongli had tried to assure him that they were never in the picture, that Childe was the only person he’d ever loved, but that didn’t seem to be the right answer, given how Childe still left.

If, after this, Childe still didn’t want to forgive him, Zhongli could accept that. What he couldn’t handle was the other man’s disappearing act– after what they’d had, Zhongli hoped that ending things would require at least a conversation.

The only alternative, then, was that Childe had been the one faking his feelings, trying to get closer to Zhongli for information without having any genuine love for him, but… Zhongli didn’t think Childe was that kind of person. Others might see only the ruthless Harbinger who would do anything for his mission, but that was just the outer shell of who Childe was. All those who saw him like that had never seen him like Zhongli had– the way he looked while sleeping, soft and unguarded, the way he melted into physical affection even if he insisted it was embarrassing, the way his dull eyes lit up when speaking about his family in Snezhnaya. Of course, those things could have been fake as well, but… Zhongli didn’t believe they were.

At any rate, Zhongli wanted to at least have a conversation with Childe before breaking things off, and so he came here to Snezhnaya to meet with him.

First, though, he would have to speak to his Goddess. The idea left a bitter taste in his mouth– not the idea of speaking to the Tsaritsa, she may not have quite been a friend, but she could at least be described as an ally. 

What irked him was thinking of her as Childe’s Goddess. Childe hadn’t spoken about her much, but he still swore in her name, sometimes murmuring prayers in Snezhnayan before he went to sleep. Zhongli knew it wasn’t his place to be jealous, having lied to Childe about his own status as a god, but it still felt like a pin in his side when he spoke of another Archon in reverence like that.

Still, he would be civil, speak to the Tsaritsa and then go visit Childe, and do his best to prove he had been genuine all those months.

The Fatui guard leading him to the Tsaritsa’s throne room kept sneaking glances at Zhongli that he thought he was hiding. Zhongli didn’t blame him– a foreigner getting an audience with the Tsaritsa could hardly be a common occurrence. If he were anyone else, there was a good chance they’d be scraping him off the floor once this meeting was done, but he wasn’t afraid of the Tsaritsa. If it came to a fight, he felt confident he could come out on top even without a Gnosis, but since the Tsaritsa knew that as well, she would have to be civil to him in turn.

Finally, they reached the ornate doors, and Zhongli nodded towards the guard. “Thank you. I shouldn’t be too long.”

The Tsaritsa wait for him on her throne, white fabric falling around her body and a veil on her face. Zhongli thought it felt rather condescending that she left it on while speaking to an equal, but it was he who had requested this audience, so he didn’t get to criticize her reception.

“What is it that you’ve come here for, Morax?” she asked, leaning to rest her head on a palm. “I believe our contract is over.”

“That it is,” Zhongli affirmed. “However, there is still one bit of… unresolved business I’d like to deal with.”

“The Harbinger, I assume?” The Tsaritsa did not need to specify which one it was.

“Indeed. If he does not want me, I will leave him alone, but things between us ended so quickly… I want to at least say my piece before we break things off.”

The Tsaritsa hummed, considering. “And how do you know he is interested in hearing what you have to say for yourself?

That almost startled Zhongli, and he paused for a moment. “I do not,” he finally admitted. “But I would hope he does.”

“Has he not already made his choice? In fact, he’s done so twice.”

“He– what?” Twice? Zhongli thought back to their relationship, the way it ended, but he couldn’t think of a second choice that had been made.

“You don’t know, then?” The Tsaritsa’s hand came to curl in front of her face in amusement, clearly already having been aware that he was clueless to the situation. “My.”

“Don’t play games with me. Just be out with it.”

“You’ve seen the string on his finger, no? Severed?” A small lilt graced her tone, pleased she knew something he didn’t.

“Of course,” Zhongli said, but he hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Has he told you the truth about it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He never mentioned a past soulmate, if that’s what you mean.”

Even through the veil, Zhongli could see the Tsaritsa’s expression become even more amused. “It is not. Are you aware of my own powers, God of Contracts?”

“In passing,” Zhongli replied. An understatement– when the Tsaritsa had first become an Archon, he had tasked Xiao alongside a few other loyal Adepti with reconnaissance, coming back with a detailed report on her combat abilities. That being said, it was only really combat that he had studied– he was less aware of the scope of her other abilities as the God of Love.

“Then you are aware that strings of fate are within my dominion?”

“Of course,” Zhongli replied, though he was already running through possibilities for how this could connect to her earlier statements and coming up blank. “How does this connect to Childe’s string of fate? Did you do something to it?”

“Not without his own request,” she said, smiling slightly. “In fact, it was the first thing he ever asked of me, upon first being appointed Harbinger. He said he wanted his soulmate string gone, so I severed it. Just looking at his finger or that of his soulmate, one would think that their partner had died.”

In fact, he’s done so twice.

His second decision was obviously when he left Zhongli in the harbor, but the first… If it had been when Childe rejected his soulmate and had the Tsaritsa sever his string of fate…

 “You’re saying I’m his soulmate, then?”

The realization made a tentative hope rise in his chest, although it wavered with the reminder of Childe’s scorn– both of Zhongli personally and his then-anonymous soulmate.

“In as much as two people who are connected by no string of fate can be soulmates, at least.”

“Does he know?”

“He does not. He could have asked, but he never did. I suppose he chose this because he didn’t want to have a soulmate, so he never sought them out.”

“What is your point in telling me this? To convince me to stop trying to talk to him?”

“I doubt I would be successful at that either way,” she said, sighing slightly. “But before you go barging in, I would at least like you to know the full situation. That way, if he refuses you, it won’t be so out of nowhere.”

“You seem confident that is how this will turn out.”

“And you seem confident it is not. Which of us do you think knows him better? You, who spent a few months with him under false pretenses, or myself, who has been his God since he was born?”

Zhongli took a deep breath, then let it out, trying not to let the Tsaritsa’s words affect him. “I am going to go speak to him either way. Now that you have said all that you had to say, is there any reason for me to stay here instead of going to him?”

“I have one gift you may be interested in, before you storm off,” she offered. 

Zhongli halted his plans of leaving to go find Childe– his soulmate– and nodded, gesturing for her to go on.

 “If I can take strings of fate away, it stands to reason I can put them back, doesn’t it? It might help your discussion some if you can prove you are not lying about your bond.”

Zhongli blinked, surprised. “You would help me?”

“I care for Tartaglia, whether you believe it or not. I want to see him happy, and if you believe that you can do that for him, then I will at least let you have a chance. If he rejects you, though, do not believe I won’t take the string away again. This is the only chance I’m giving you. Don’t think I’ll be so kind as to throw him into your lap once more if you fail.”

“That’s why you chose him to be the one to come after my Gnosis?”

“Not entirely, but I will admit I had it in mind. Clearly, something did happen between the two of you, even without knowing you were soulmates, so you can’t say I was entirely unsuccessful, can you?”

The string was cut, but the connection? Clearly not. Fate had been undeterred by such a cosmetic change, it seemed.

“No, I…” Zhongli paused. “Thank you. I promise to make the most of this.”

Childe was sifting through paperwork, curled up in the depths of his suite, when he felt a sudden burning on his hand. He hissed, glancing over at it, only to see…

It’s back.  

The thought froze Childe in place, unable to tear his eyes away from where the delicate red thread tied around his finger, fading off into the distance innocuously, as though nothing had ever been wrong with it in the first place.

Childe stood so harshly that the objects on his desk rattled, a bottle of ink falling over and crashing onto the floor.

Zhongli. Had he done something, or had the Tsaritsa’s spell just… expired?

Was he here, somewhere in the Zapolyarny Palace?

He paced around the room, a combination of fear and anticipation clenching his heart in its grasp. Was Zhongli refusing to let him go? Did he think he still had some claim to Childe despite what he had done?

There was a knock on the door, but Childe ignored it. Whatever servant wanted his attention could wait a bit longer.

“Childe? Are you in there?” Zhongli’s voice called out, sounding no different from the last time they had spoken, if a bit more hurried.

His voice was muffled through the doorway, but his smooth baritone was unmistakable.

Blue eyes swept over to the doorway; wide, alarmed, and more than a little confused. 

Childe entertained the idea of not responding, but… he couldn’t deny he’d missed the other man, even after all he’d done. Before he left Liyue, he’d taken only enough time to ask his own questions, so he supposed now Zhongli deserved some answers of his own– especially if he was in the same situation as Childe now was, with a long-gone string of fate now back in its place as though nothing had ever happened.

Childe made his way to the door slowly, still steeling himself for whatever Zhongli might want with him. Would he be upset with Childe for lying? It wouldn’t be fair, given Zhongli had done the same. In a way, did their lies cancel each other out?

“Zhongli. What are you doing here in Snezhnaya?” Childe asked, not quite opening the door the whole way, still letting it separate him in his suite from Zhongli in the hall.

“I came to see you,” Zhongli said, eyes looking almost sad, gold pools ever so slightly downturned.

“You seemed hurt after everything was said and done, and I didn’t have a chance to apologize. I came here to try to make amends, but before I could see you, I spoke to the Tsarisa who showed me… this.” He raised his hand, where an identical string was now tied around his ring finger, pointing towards Childe’s own hand. The two strings almost looked like they connected, now. “I promise I had no knowledge of this during our relationship. Did you?”

What an understatement. 

Not only had he known, he still left afterwards. Left and convinced himself it was better that way, even if returning to the chill of his homeland made him miss the warmth he had in Liyue.

But Zhongli came back, chased him all the way across the nations. What did that mean for them? Childe was so committed to not having a soulmate, but Zhongli was equally stubborn.

…Was it better this way? Could either of them be happy without the other? Maybe, Zhongli had felt just as empty and cold as Childe did.

Childe paused, looked down, and collected his words. The least he could do is answer his questions. “Not until the end,” he said. “That’s why I had to ask you before I left. I had to be sure.”

A flicker of something ignited in Zhongli’s eyes, he stood a little straighter as he peered through the doorway.

“Even without knowing we were soulmates, I promise my feelings for you were genuine. I hope you know that.”

Childe felt… oddly shy. He wasn’t cutting off his soulmate from a bad partner anymore, now he was just hiding. 

“I… how can I be sure?” Childe asked after a moment. “I had believed you when we were together, but after learning you lied to me… I don’t know if I do anymore.”

“Is there anything I can do to prove my feelings are genuine?” His tone was desperate, locking Childe’s breath in place.

“I want to believe they were,” Childe admitted. “I had suspected you were my soulmate when we were first together. It’s just that, when I realized you were lying to me…” He stopped, and rearranged his words, starting at the beginning.

“When I originally asked the Tsaritsa to sever my bond, it was in part because I thought anyone fate decided I deserved would have to be someone I’d hate to be around. When I learned the truth, I assumed that had to be the case. You were the person I deserved because I deserved someone who would hurt me.

“But more than that… I missed you. I’m not sure there’s anything you could do right this moment to prove you’re sincere, but if we could just continue things how they used to be… I think I’d like that.”

“I would as well,” Zhongli said, and despite his earlier words, Zhongli’s smile was almost enough to make Childe forgive him in and of itself. Without thinking, he let the door open further, Zhongli stepping into his suite behind him. A gloved hand came to rest on his cheek, rubbing circles into his skin. As they touched, the strings on their fingers connected, like a lonely forgotten tapestry finally repaired.

 “May I?”

Childe nodded, and Zhongli closed the gap between them, pressing their mouths together into a kiss that was chaster than many they’d had. Still, Childe felt warm under Zhongli’s hands.

“I love you,” he heard Zhongli mumble into his skin.

“I love you too.”