#and your child is destined to become the singularity.

[toestalucia]

i need to watch risings story before the main story update drops so i can make nonsense theories (but they wont be nonsense TO ME)

[skelliko]

|°- kazutora's the last piece

a/n: just something random with minor angst I had thought of

kazutora is starting to feel like the last piece of cake in the relationship that he's in. or maybe it's just his mind spinning and turning buttons in his brain to make him over think.

a cake is laid out on a table, it's shared but everyone cuts their own slice, meaning it's not equal enough. slice by slice the cake is cut, someone has more slices than the other and someone has a bigger piece than the one next to them, it's on going until there's one slice left. all the uneven and wonky slicing in wanting the best part of the cake left a broken down slice to last. a slice that is knocked over on its side from how thin it got, the frosting is no longer sturdy and if you were to pick it up, the frosting would stick to the current plate instead.

the only person that would want the last slice is someone that didn't get enough or someone that feels bad about wasting food, or maybe both.

hence why kazutora feels like the last slice of cake and you're the one that had picked him up. not because you wanted to, but because you had to.

does he think he's worthy of your love? no. but will he stop crumbling and put his mistakes that he couldn't control on top of yours? also no.

not to mention that the last piece of cake also doesn't taste as good as the other slices. a lot of the time you'd think that the last bite would be the best but instead it's actually not. are you starting to feel that way towards him? take a singular bite out of the last slice and put it back down upon realising why it's the last? or will you endure it until there's no more left and then sigh out a relief once it's finally over?

he didn't have a good upbringing, neither did that specific part of the cake that made it to be the last bit since by the time the icing went around the top it had started to run out, the baking process made that particular area go wonky too and get neglected. that slice was destined to be neglected the same way kazutora was.

would you do that to him? despite him being fully mature at 27 there's still a heart with the mentality of a child inside of him begging to gain a weight of security that he rarely got at a young age, mentally he's scared like a little kid that's afraid to get lost and you're the one that hes afraid to lose.

the seeds of the fruit from the cake will stick to your teeth the same way kazutora is starting to become more clingy towards you. wondering what's changed with him and why is he acting so different compared to the past. he's grown sweet but it's starting to become sickening from the amount, all you can do about that is to stop it but how could you when it's still so tempting?

 ♡---

[kckt88]

Arrival(s)

Summary:

Aemond is delighted when Vaera announces that she's with child.

Warning(s): Worry, Swearing, Threats of Violence, Pain, Child Birth.

Word Count: 1600.

Author Note: A companion piece to A Time for Grief/The Gullet & Harrenhal and the Rivers, but can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Again” shouted Aemond as he lunged forward.

“I think that’s enough for today my Prince” replied Criston as he blocked Aemond’s attack.

“No, I want to keep going” said Aemond sternly.

“You are distracted. Your mind is not focused on your training”.

“Apologise Ser Criston” muttered Aemond his shoulders slumping.

“What troubles you, my Prince?” asked Criston.

“I asked that Vaera visit the maester today. She’s not well”

“Ahh, I’m sure she’ll be fine” replied Criston.

“I hope so. I just can’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. I never thought that I would come to love her as much as I do”

“Despite whom her mother is. Vaera seems to be a good wife. It pleases me greatly my Prince to see you so happy” replied Criston.

Aemond smiled and nodded but his attention was caught by Vaera entering the training yard.

“I-Is everything ok? What did the maester say? asked Aemond nervously.

“Well-“ said Vaera as she took Aemond’s hand and placed it on her stomach.

“-What?” exclaimed Aemond his singular eye wide in surprise, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I’m with child” replied Vaera smiling widely.

“T-Truly?” gasped Aemond elated.

“I carry your child inside of me. A piece of you and me together” said Vaera giggling as Aemond quickly dropped to one knee and placed his head on her stomach.

“Issa byka zaldrīzes. Nyke aōha kepa” whispered Aemond (My little dragon, I’m your father).

“Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis” (Fire breather, winged leader, but two heads, to a third sing).

Vaera closed her eyes at the sound of Aemond’s voice.

“Perzyro udrȳssi, Ezīmptos laehossi, Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan” (With words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing).

Vaera smiled as she felt Aemond rest his head on the round swell of her stomach.

“Hae mērot gierūli:, Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī” (As one we gather, and with three heads, we shall fly as we were destined, beautifully, freely).

Ever since Vaera had revealed that she was carrying his child, Aemond had devoted himself to pouring over countless books in the library to gain as much information as he possibly could about pregnancy and how to raise a child. Apparently, he also found a book that said babes can hear sounds from the womb after the sixth moon of pregnancy. So, Aemond never missed a chance to spend time talking or singing to his wife’s stomach.

Vaera of course didn’t think too much of the advice in those ‘books’ at first, but as her stomach began to swell, and the babe began to kick, she noticed that he or she would always move around more whenever Aemond spoke.

Aemond of course was delighted when Vaera told him. She knew her husband was worried about becoming a father, given the fact his own wasn’t a very good one and it terrified Aemond most days, that he would turn out like Viserys. But Vaera knew that Aemond would be a fantastic father, he was utterly devoted to their unborn child.

Seeing his wife grow round with their child made Aemond immeasurably happy. He marvelled how her body changed and the feeling of their babe moving was something he would never forget.

The mood swings however were something else entirely.

Sometimes Vaera would scream and cry at him whenever she felt uncomfortable, she would rage and order him to stay away from her, only for her to come to him in floods of tears and drag him back to their chambers and beg him to fuck her.

Often there were times where she would sink to her knees and tear open his breeches, only for her to stuff his cock down her throat and torture him as she sucked and licked his hard cock until she’d milked every last drop of seed from him.

Quite the predicament, that of course his brother Aegon found extremely amusing.

“You do realise that she’s already with child. You don’t need to keep sticking it in her all the time” said Aegon smirking.

“I can’t help myself. Seeing her belly round with my child, knowing that it’s my seed that’s taken root. Drives me mad with desire” replied Aemond honestly.

“Drives your wife mad with desire too from what I’ve heard” said Aegon.

“Hm” muttered Aemond.

“Heard she was ordering you not to touch her anymore only for her to find you training with Ser Criston and without skipping a beat she dragged you back to your chambers and neither of you were seen for the rest of the day” laughed Aegon.

“I had my husbandly duties to perform” retorted Aemond.

“We all know how seriously you take duty little brother” exclaimed Aegon.

“A shame your wife cannot say the same” snarked Aemond.

“Easy there brother. If I wanted a lecture on decency I would have stayed with mother and grandsire” muttered Aegon.

“Hm”

Suddenly a knock at the door interrupted both Princes.

“Come in” said Aegon loudly.

“Apologise for the interruption Prince Aemond, but it’s your wife, she has begun her labours”.

Aemond didn’t know how much longer he could stand listening to Vaera’s pained wails, as he paced back and forth outside their closed chamber door.

Vaera’s labours had begun just after midday and Aemond was soon ushered out of their chambers, as a flurry of maesters and midwives surrounded his wife.

“A-Aemond,” cried Vaera.

Aemond had been ordered to remain outside as the midwives claimed the birthing room was no place for a man, let alone a Prince of the realm.

“Aemond” begged Vaera.

Aemond screwed his eye shut and clenched his fists.

“I want AEMOND” screamed Vaera.

Aemond couldn’t stand it anymore, so he took a deep breath and barged into his chambers.

“My prince. You should not be here. It is not proper” urged Maester Orwyle.

“I don’t give a shit what’s proper. My wife needs me. I’m staying” snapped Aemond gazing at Vaera who was laid on their bed as naked as her name day.

“B-But my Prince-”

“Do not attempt to remove me again maester, or I swear to the seven I will throw you out of that fucking window” shouted Aemond.

“P-Please. Aemond. I need you” sobbed Vaera.

“I’m here ābrazȳrys” (Wife) exclaimed Aemond as he knelt down beside the bed and took Vaera’s hand.

“It hurts so much Valzȳrys” (Husband).

“I know. But you can do this. I know you can” said Aemond, doing his best to reassure his wife.

“No, I can’t” wailed Vaera, grimacing in pain as a contraction ripped across her stomach.

“Yes, you can Issa prūmia. Squeeze my hand as much as you want” urged Aemond (My heart).

Maester Orwyle instructed Vaera to take a deep breath and push.

“That’s it. Issa dōna, keep going” (My sweet) encouraged Aemond.

Aemond had no idea how much time had passed since Vaera was instructed to push, even as the labour tired her, she kept going. Her red face covered in sweat and tears.

Her nails dug into his skin as she pushed with all her might.

“That’s it Princess. I can see the babes head”.

“You can do it my love. That’s it. Keep pushing” urged Aemond, grimacing slightly as Vaera squeezed his hand even tighter.

“Keep going Princess. Your doing so well-“

"Your doing it my love" exclaimed Aemond.

“The head’s out. Now just wait until the next contraction and push”

Even though she was exhausted, Vaera took a deep breath and gave one last push.

Then an ear-piercing cry shattered the silence of the room. 

Aemond’s heart swooped at the sound, his lips parting in amazement as he watched Maester Orwyle, cut the umbilical cord and quickly wrapped the babe in clean cloth.

Vaera whimpered next to him, her eyes shining with relieved tears. 

The babe was a boy.

Their son was passed to Vaera who held the tiny babe against her bare chest.

“Aemond. Look, our son” gasped Vaera.

“He’s perfect” whispered Aemond in awe.

His heart bursting with love at the sight of his newly born son in the arms of his wife.

“He looks like you” said Vaera happily.

The babe had a full head of silver hair, never in his life had Aemond ever seen so much hair on a babe.

However, Vaera starting whimpering in pain again.

“W-What’s happening?” asked Aemond in alarm as his son was quickly pressed into his arms.

“It-it seems as though there’s another babe my Prince” replied Maester Orwyle.

“Idañnykeā zaldrīzoti” gasped Aemond (Twin Dragons).

Aemond couldn’t believe it. His sweet wife had delivered twin babes.

“Another son” declared Vaera proudly as she gently rocked their son in her arms.

“I’m so proud of you” replied Aemond as he sat on the bed next to Vaera.

Aemond couldn’t believe it he was a father. He had two children. They were perfect. His sons. His boys.

“Congratulations to the both of you. What are their names?” asked Maester Orwyle.

“Aemon-“ whispered Vaera.

“-Yes?” asked Aemond.

“No, you daft idiot. I want to call our first son Aemon. In honour of his father” said Vaera as she gently rocked the sleeping babe.

“A-Are you sure?”.

“Of course, I think you should name our second son” replied Vaera.

Aemond looked down at the small babe in his arms and smiled. He hadn’t been blessed with as much hair as Aemon but what silver hair he did have was already beginning to curl. There was only one name he could think of. A name he’d picked out after Vaera had told him that she was carrying his child.

“Rhaegar” whispered Aemond.

“Aemon and Rhaegar” said Vaera smiling.

“Our boys, Princes' Aemon and Rhaegar of house Targaryen” said Aemond proudly.

[songsofadelaide]

Race Against the Sunset

cw/tw: Duke Fraldarius Felix x Princess reader, Azure Gleam route spoilers, no use of yn, childhood friends to lovers, family drama and trauma, long flashback, swordsmanship references, mentions of the deaths of loved ones, marriage of convenience turned loving marriage. wc: 16k (I am going to cry again) ୨୧ This fic will not use 'yn' and instead follow my usual naming convention. Please kindly see yourself out if you're uncomfortable with fics using placeholder names for the reader. I do not use 'yn' in any of my fics. I still use 'you'/second person pronouns and write with a generic (f) reader in mind. The name isn't mentioned often and is just for my preferences since I find it jarring to write 'yn' frequently. Thank you for understanding!

For a moment, he remembered that week you spent in their estate at Fraldarius territory many years ago. He recalled the singing of the young women employed in their estate's kitchen and how you sang along as you helped in meal preparation, even though you weren't supposed to be there because you were a guest. Those were hymns to the Goddess even he was unfamiliar with.

"Blessed are they who bask in the splendour of Gloriana's unreachable, empyrean domain!"

Felix had never been a pious child even from the beginning, even though the Kingdom of Faerghus' roots were so deeply intertwined with that of the Church of Seiros. Yet here was a girl who made him worship the very ground she walked on. 

Here was his Gloriana, her sword arm unmatched and her skill unparalleled. 

Not that he would ever admit it.

The succession crisis between the two princes of House Blaiddyd was played out like a melodrama. Birth order meant little in the Kingdom, where a singular truth prevailed time and again: those born with Crests were destined for greatness, and the Crestless would have to settle for what would be handed to them. 

You were born to your parents on the fifth day of the Harpstring Moon in Imperial Year 1163, four months after the birth of your cousin, who would become the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Dimitri's birth overshadowed yours, a fate your father believed you shared, given his position as a king who never became. 

Much to everyone's amazement, Prince Rufus doted on you immensely, so much that he seemed more human than the decrepit stand-in many thought him to be. Your father loved you dearly. How could he not? When you were born with the very thing he lacked, the blessed blood that made him so different from his younger brother, the sole reason he fell so short of becoming the king himself. Rufus cared not that you were born from a mistress mother. You were his blood— and his salvation. 

…But mistress was hardly the correct term to refer to your mother. She hailed from a cadet branch of House Charon and was a distant relative of the current head of the ancient house. That must explain the auspicious mixing of blood between the descendants of Blaiddyd and Charon, which resulted in you being born with a Minor Crest of Blaiddyd— the very same one your cousin possessed. 

When the plague swept through Faerghus, not only did it claim the life of the Kingdom's beloved Queen Consort, but your mother's as well, leaving your father and Grand Duchy household to care for you as you grew older. Rufus had no time to mourn his muse, and it was only after an exchange of condolences between the brothers that the king caught wind of the one thing that kept his older brother sane.  

King Lambert was only made aware of his niece's existence when she turned five years old, a time in which he also searched for appropriate companions for the crown prince. On your fifth birthday, your uncle sent you many an exquisite gift from the capital— a lovely dress the colour of Blaiddyd azure, a tailored coat made of the finest winter fox pelts, a box of delectable sweets from the city's best pastry shop, an ornamental dagger with a mindfully crafted leather hilt— a kind that fit your little hands perfectly— and a letter of invitation to Fhirdiad. While it was addressed to you, it was clear from the tone that it was meant to be read by your father, who only looked at the gifts in disdain. 

Rufus knew the truth behind the gifts and what you symbolised to the nobles of the Kingdom, especially those in the capital. Your existence was a threat to the current state of things and perhaps this invitation was Lambert's way of ascertaining his brother's allegiance to the Crown.

Yet he could not deny the truth of the matter, too. You were part of the Royal Family as much as he was… And the fact that your governess suggested a higher form of education for you only compounded his thoughts. 

"Papa, look! It's so beautiful!" 

Lifting his tired blue eyes from the letter sent by his younger brother, a smile lit his dire face when he saw you don the pristine white coat and twirl around at his feet, your sweet laughter of delight ringing in his ears. 

The coat was of exquisite quality, its paleness further highlighting the features you inherited from your mother— and it pulled at your father's heart so. Many thought him incapable of loving anyone other than himself, but it was clear from the way he tenderly spun you around as you danced that he cherished you. 

"And how beautiful you are, my little star." 

And there was no way that he would let you out of his sight, not even at the king's command.

"The Grand Duke of Itha, Prince Rufus Thierry Blaiddyd, and his daughter, Princess Imogene Aislinn Blaiddyd."

In Imperial Year 1168, Rufus was astounded by the fanfare and celebration that marked his daughter's first visit to the Kingdom capital, and among those who received you at the castle town were the king himself and the crown prince. He had his watchful eye on you as you gracefully curtsied in obeisance to your uncle the king and your cousin the crown prince. The look on Lambert's face softened as he bent down on his knee to receive your little gloved hand in his. "The honour is all ours, my little niece. I know you must be rather tired from your travels, but Dimitri insists on introducing you to his friends…"

"Oh! You're wearing the coat I chose for you! I'm so happy you like it!" Dimitri remarked with a smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes. His face was framed with the same golden hair as your father. "Did you… like our gifts for you?"

"Yes, I did! Even the little cakes were so delicious!" You beamed at the boy dressed in the same Blaiddyd azure as you were, happily recalling the afternoon you shared the said sweets with your father and your governess. The castle at Itha Plains had been your home all your short life, with your father, your governess, and the household staff the only people you've known so far…

"Come with me. I would like to introduce you to my friends," the boy said with an outstretched hand. You hesitated and turned to your father, who only gave you a short yet apprehensive nod of assent. 

"Very well, Your Highness. I—" You stated as you placed your gloved hand in his open palm, and he grasped you with a tremor that called your attention to his face once more. 

"You need not call me that, mine cousin. You and I are family. We are cousins— and you are the only one I have in the world."

Your astonished eyes met his wide blue ones, the weight of his statement still settling in your mind. Dimitri was your cousin, bound by the shared blood of your fathers, and just as he was the crown prince, you were a princess of this country, too. "Very well, Dimitri. I would very much like to meet these friends of yours."

"Such a pretty girl can only take after her mother. Caitlin must be pleased," Lambert remarked as he eyed the children's retreating figures. While you had a semblance of your father, it was your mother's soft features that stood out more when you first came face to face with your uncle. "It does my heart good to see you well, brother." 

Rufus was quiet in his place as he eyed the city alight with merriment. The plague that ravaged the country struck Fhirdiad at its heart, but here it was, beating once more, the castle town so full of life that you'd mistake it for another place or another time. 

"The change is marvellous, wouldn't you agree? All of this was possible with the help of the talented Court Mage…"

He wondered how Lambert's grief did not blind him to the fact that so much had to be done in Fhirdiad if he wished for it to be a dignified place worthy of its glory as the capital of the Kingdom. He had to admit that this was a feat he could not have achieved without losing his mind in the process. 

Rufus nodded at his younger brother, the two of them in their similar signature Blaiddyd azure regalia, yet still different sides of the same shining coin. "It is good to see you, brother."

There was a warmth in the king's face that unsettled his older brother, but it might have been the fact that Lambert was truly happy to host his niece and Rufus in Fhirdiad after many years. "You must tell me all about her. I doubt I'll have the time to speak with my niece myself now that she's with Dimitri. He was most excited to meet her…"

Dimitri's excitement was indeed obvious by the way he led you to his friends, most of whose names and stations you couldn't remember yet, but it was clear from the delighted looks on their faces that they were pleased to have finally met you, the Princess of Itha, and the crown prince's only known living cousin. 

But you heard the whispers as well— men who called you a "usurper"— and only understood the meaning of it all when you were reunited with your father later that day. Rufus did well to politely decline Lambert's later invitation to remain at the capital for the remainder of the week, citing your "homesickness" as the reason for your departure to Itha. 

He couldn't have you hearing those things. You were innocent… until he said otherwise. 

On the carriage ride back to your home, your father held your hand in his. "Did you enjoy your time at the capital, my little star?" 

You happily nodded your assent to his query. "Yes, papa! I had such a fun time with Dimitri and his friends! They were all so nice to me!"

A dark-haired boy was particularly awestruck by your presence, evidently surprised to see the resemblance between you and your cousin firsthand. The nameless boy shyly yet quickly stuffed his present into your small hands, and you held onto it for the rest of the day, the pretty wrapping paper crinkling in your grip. You were only able to ascertain what it was when the ribbons eventually came undone— a little decorative dagger with a blunt blade made of Mythril, the hilt delicately crafted with precious aquamarine stones.

"Will we come back again? To Fhirdiad? Dimitri said that I would always be welcome there… That we would always be welcome there. Because we are a family," you wondered aloud, the ornate dagger still in your hands. "I know that some of the people there hate me… but I would never take what isn't mine, papa. Madam Liadan told me that I shouldn't do it because it's bad… and the Goddess would punish me…"

Rufus was evidently surprised by your statement, which was far too forward for your age. He lamented the fact that he wasn't able to shield your ears from the mindless prattle of the Kingdom nobles under Lambert's file. 

Had he been the one… you would be his heir. The crown princess. He offered you no more words, but simply hoisted you on his lap and held you in his arms until you fell asleep, the exhaustion and excitement of the day finally settling in your little bones. You clung onto the gifted dagger until you arrived back at Itha, refusing to part ways with it even as your father tucked you into bed. 

That night, you dreamed of a dark-haired boy in aquamarine, his hazel eyes disappearing into his smile as he held out a gloved hand to you. 

Following your first meeting, Dimitri often requested your presence at the capital. The boy only spent a day with you but already considered you one of the most important people in his life. Rufus received countless letters of inquiry and invitation and eventually relented— allowing you to visit every once in a while, especially since it was at the crown prince's behest. 

Your visits to Fhirdiad were often short but memorable. While you spoke of the trivialities of your life in Itha, Dimitri often talked about how wonderful it would be to have your constant support and presence with him at the capital. It almost sounded like he was asking you to move there. 

"It's nice to visit every once in a while… But papa has stressed the importance of my presence at home. As your future Grand Duke of Itha, I still have much to learn, and as do you, as our future King," you told him from across your table, laden with a spread of sweet tea and pastries for your tea party for two that afternoon. "Speaking of which, where is Uncle Lambert? I have not seen him since this morning."

"Father is on a campaign further north," the young prince replied to your query. "In Sreng."

"I pray to the Goddess for his safety…" You said rather quietly. "Surely they did not send him there unprepared…"

"You need not worry. Father has the finest men in the Kingdom riding by his side," Dimitri smiled at you. "Even I am not troubled in the least bit. Those men are his closest friends."

Friends. Your memory was jogged. 

"That reminds me… When I first visited Fhirdiad, one of your friends presented me with this lovely dagger," you started, carefully pulling out the tiny ornamental blade from your floral embroidered satchel. "I never got around to asking his name. Your friend with the pretty black hair, I mean."

Dimitri inspected the dagger and easily recognised who it was from by the colour of the gemstones that dotted the hilt. "You must be talking about Felix. He is the second son of Rodrigue, who serves as my father's right hand at present."

"Felix…" 

"If you'd like, mine cousin, I can ask Felix to come here as well on your next visit," Dimitri stated as he returned the dagger to you. "That way, you can thank him for his present."

"I would like that!"

"Your Highness," one of the house's older female servants arrived at the garden where your tea party was being held and gave a quick bow to your cousin. "Your weapons instructor is here. It is time for your lessons."

"Is that so?" Said the boy with a frown. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut our tea time short…"

"Weapons instructor? You mean you study how to use weapons?" You asked rather curiously. 

"Yes. I will have to learn how to properly wield Areadbhar, the Hero's Relic entrusted to our family, though I am still not allowed to hold it, of course…" he replied, catching the curious yet crestfallen expression on your face. "You are to be the Grand Duke of Itha in the future. I believe you should at least know the basics of wielding a weapon. Would you… like to come with me, mine cousin?" 

Dimitri saw the shine of wonder that lit your eyes this time, your excitement clearly uncontainable as you leaped off your chair. "Oh, can I really?!" 

"Of course you can. I will have someone prepare a change of clothes for you," he said with the same warm smile as he beckoned the elderly servant to do as he had told. "But I must warn you. Gustave is a strict teacher. Just as he does not take it easy on me, he will not take it easy on you, too."

And not only was he strict, but an incredibly effective teacher. Despite his apprehension, Gustave was able to drill down the first principles of swordsmanship into you, even as you struggled in the lengthy trousers lent to you by your cousin. He sensed the same potent strength within you so akin to the king— and the crown prince… the blessedness of your blood. 

The power of a Crest. 

The feel of a sword was so different from holding but a mere dagger. You felt its weight in its entirety, dragging your shoulders down unless you put your back into lifting it. As you practised your swings with a blunted iron sword, Dimitri held an iron lance in his slightly larger hands, watching you sweat at your diligent efforts.

"Why did you teach her the sword, Gustave? Aren't axes and lances your specialty?" 

"The sword is easy to teach to a beginner, Your Highness. It seems she has taken a shine to it, too," the older man stated, his tired blue eyes drawn to the corner where you stood, cutting through the air with the dull weapon he chose for you. "I do not want to cause any trouble by teaching her the lance. The princess, she… She must not get the idea that she, too, can wield your family's Hero's Relic. Not only is it a weapon of old, it is a symbol of your sovereignty. She must never aspire to even just hold it in her hands." 

As your visits to the capital grew more frequent, the time you spent with your father grew less. Rufus always made time for you whenever you asked, but it was clear that he was busy with the affairs of Itha and many other discussions that required his attention more and more. Contrary to your initial thought that he would get angry at the swordsmanship lessons you had with Gustave at Fhirdiad, your father was amazed at your skill and the progress you have made so far. 

In fact, Rufus was so pleased with your efforts that he purchased a rapier of excellent quality for you. You and Dimitri only admired it from inside its sheath and leather case as you continued your lessons with the red-haired knight, who marvelled at your shared strength and skill, which was clearly a family trait. 

Gustave no longer looked at you with unease and trepidation whenever he instructed you but with a newfound admiration, especially on the rare occasions when he permitted you and the prince to spar against each other. You declared outright, after all, that you wielded your blade in the service of your king and your crown prince. 

The skirmish between the two young royals would often draw the attention of many knights and squires in the training grounds, who watched in awe at the sight of your shared exerted effort. Many have learned to watch out for stray sparks and splinters whenever your weapons broke apart from yours and the crown prince's sheer strength.

Dimitri was a fierce opponent even at your young age. He never went easy on you but did his best to match your ferocity. You possessed similar Crests which meant you stood on equal ground, even though you were a girl. You didn't see any shame in losing to each other, either, but often considered each loss a learning curve. Your hands— now callused after how many moons of arduous training with the blade— no longer shook as your training sword clashed against your cousin's training lance. 

It was during that sparring match that you encountered the boy who gifted you the aquamarine dagger once more, his present now one of your most prized possessions. 

"So the rumours were true. You have been training the Princess of Itha as well, Sir Gustave. I can only imagine the number of weapons they've already broken," said an older boy with the same long and dark hair as Felix. He eyed the bout between the royal cousins and was both amazed and troubled at how well you could hold yourself against the prince. "It seems His Highness has found himself a stimulating training partner. That saves me some of the exhaustion, at least."

"Well met, Glenn. The princess has proven to be a keen student herself," the older knight stated as he acknowledged the presence of the two brothers. "She will be an asset to the Kingdom in time of need." 

An asset is what many wished you'd be, but there was no denying the disquieting possibility that you may be used against the Royal Family— even though you were part of it, too. 

"Well, here she is, Felix. A far cry from when you last saw her, huh?" The older boy, Glenn, chuckled as he placed a hand on his younger brother's head of dark hair. "You should join them. I'm sure Sir Gustave wouldn't mind another head to look after."

"You're free to join them, Felix. I know you've sparred with His Highness before, but I must warn you that the princess is not someone to be underestimated," Gustave said as he walked over to the centre of the castle training ground to call for a truce between the sparring cousins. 

Felix stood there, his warm hazel eyes following the length of the prince's spear as its blunt pointed end met with the dull edge of your training blade. Dimitri lowered his weapon as his blue eyes fell to your face, a look of concern washing over him when he saw a small scratch on your cheek. He quickly reached out to cup your grazed cheek, but you only laughed as you gently swatted his hand away.

"Are you hurt anywhere else? I must have not noticed…" 

"I'm fine, Dimitri! I swear!"  

It was only when Gustave gestured towards the direction of the spectating young noble that you noticed him, another smile lighting up your face as you and your cousin made your approach. 

"Felix! It's good to see you!" Said Dimitri as he held you by your hand. "My cousin had been looking forward to seeing you again."

"Your Highness," came Felix's rather distant and embarrassed greeting to his friend. He echoed the same sentiment as he finally came face to face with you this time. "Your Highness."

"H-Hello," came your nervous salutation. "I-I wanted to say thank you f-for your present when we first met."

"You're welcome, Your Hig—" 

"You can call me by my name," you stated a bit more confidently this time. "A-Are you here because Dimitri said I wanted to see you again?" 

"I— I am, my lady," the dark-haired boy sputtered as he shifted his gaze from you to the prince, who had a pleased smile on his face that slowly shifted into a chuckle. 

"She said she did not need such formality, Felix. Just as you and I are friends, so are the two of you now," said Dimitri as he reached for his friend's gloved hand. He then brought your hand forward and engaged in a three-way handshake. "Now then, shall we call it a day? I believe you and Felix have a lot of catching up to do." 

"W-We do?" Came your sheepish query. A soft laugh left your lips as you placed a warm hand on the back of your neck. "Well, if… If Felix i—"  

"A-Actually, I would like to c…" Felix stepped up with a more determined expression on his face. "I would like to challenge you to a sparring match, Princess." 

"I—"

"I-If you're amenable to that, of course!" 

"I'd like that very much! I'm sure Dimitri is bored stiff having to spar with me all the time."

"I'm pretty sure you're talking about yourself," the young prince said with a smile and a small sigh of defeat. "Well then, carry on, my dear cousin. If Felix is here, then I'm certain Glenn is as well. He shall be my training partner."

Dimitri approached Gustave and gestured in your direction, clearly advising the older knight of your intention to spar with the second son of House Fraldarius. You adjusted your training clothes and trousers, picked up your sword once more and took a deep breath. 

From your lessons with your governess, you knew that House Fraldarius is a family of warriors. Rodrigue earned his title as the Shield of Faerghus for defending the king in their last military excursion to Sreng. His eldest son, Glenn, was a knight in the making and Dimitri's preferred training partner, seeing as the older boy could keep up with the prince's stamina. 

It was clear from his movements that Felix had the build and stride of a child at ease in battle. Such was their family's claim to success, apart from the fact that they, too, were the progeny of one of the Ten Elites. Your opponent shed his winter coat, a striking aquamarine blue with a collar made of the same fine winter fox pelts his family could afford. In his hands was a similar training sword, and in his eyes was a spark— an obvious exhilaration at having to do battle with an unfamiliar adversary. 

"I won't go easy on you just because you're a princess," he said as he raised his blade and assumed his battle stance. "Just because you're my friend."

His statement was bold yet bright, compelling you to step up to the occasion with the same excitement filling your chest up to your throat. You steadied your feet and raised your blade in response to his declaration. "I welcome the challenge! Come at me, then!"

In Imperial Year 1171, the Saintess, Cornelia, welcomed an Imperial lady to her home, and the King was so besotted by her that he married her in the shadows. Lady Patricia was a kind woman who raised the prince as her own, and yet… There was a certain sadness to her that you couldn't quite put a finger on. It was during one of your visits to Fhirdiad that you were introduced to each other, and the older woman warmed to the idea of having you around as her company.  

That same year, a girl from the Empire arrived in Fhirdiad, too— and there were whispers about her being a princess, too. You saw the delight that lit your cousin's face whenever he spent time with her, a girl whose air of precocious maturity matched the rumoured title she held. The girl, who simply introduced herself as El, taught you and Dimitri how to dance, and took pleasure in gently commanding your movements. 

"You need to learn how to dance, too, Immie. You're a princess, after all!" 

The young prince could only laugh and smile to himself whenever you blundered a step as El's partner. He cherished this memory— of you and him dancing with the girl who wore Adrestian crimson amid the pale blue cold of Faerghus.

There was a sadness in her you couldn't quite comprehend as well, so akin and similar to that of your new aunt. You tried your best to make them feel welcome in the capital, Dimitri even more so, but you both lamented being unable to do anything to ease the burden of their loneliness. 

You could relate to them in a way, especially since you've been seeing your father less and less. The day you last saw him was on the annual New Year's hunt at the Itha Plains, which did not go as planned since Rufus was inebriated from the festivities the previous night. He, along with his counsel and companions, most of whom were family members of the Kingdom's western lords, rode deep into the thicket in the heart of the plains, closely followed by you and your attendants on horseback. 

While it didn't please you to see your father drunk beyond his wits, the very thing you couldn't stand back then was the sight of several noble-born women flocking around him. They lauded his missed strikes, the sound of their shrill voices nothing but grating to your ears. And it annoyed you even more that he relished the attention.

You took the minibow you were equipped with and released a single arrow that struck a startled forest fox, much to the surprise of your father and his counsel and companions. 

"Th… The first ki—" 

You did not even wait for the knight to finish his declaration and rode towards your father with an indignant expression before lowering your head in exaggerated, mock reverence. 

"May you have a blessed and bountiful hunt, Grand Duke," you coldly stated before riding off to the castle, leaving him behind with the rest of his men. You made your way to Fhirdiad not long after, not a single response from your father even after you sent word that you arrived there safely. 

Part of you wanted to return home to Itha to see him. To reconcile with him. But part of you also wanted him to suffer in silence. 

Your seemingly short visits to the capital soon turned into moons. And before you knew it, you were celebrating your birthday with your cousin's family rather than returning home to Itha. Your uncle and aunt were happy to have you there with them, but Lambert understood that you longed for your father, too, though your pride wouldn't allow you to admit it. 

The king presented you with many gifts from his side of the family, but there was one Dimitri did not recognise as theirs— another leather case that contained yet another sheathed blade. "This is from your father. I believe he also has a letter for you."

It was another exquisite sword for you, the Crest of Blaiddyd engraved onto its silver blade. Along with it came a thick fur scarf made of the striking scarlet pelt of forest foxes native to the Itha Plains. You tried to receive the presents without tearing up and only read your father's message in the silence and solitude of your bedchambers after all the festivities celebrated in your name.  

"Happiest Birthday, my little star.  May you use this blade to strike forth and cut a path to your destiny, which I am hard at work to see come to fruition.    Papa misses you so." 

The letter was brief and had little detail, but you could tell from the erratic handwriting that your father was grief-stricken in his attempt at reaching out to you. 

He would have to wait a bit longer. 

The following day was your birthday celebration with your friends, all of whom piled presents upon presents in your arms once more. Despite being Dimitri's friends originally, they welcomed you into the fold as part of their close-knit circle. Sylvain, the heir of House Gautier, gifted you with a classical board game you used to play with your father, while Ingrid, the daughter of Count Galatea, presented you with a pair of fine leather riding boots. 

This year, Felix gifted you yet another dagger, but this time was different, for he had given you a functioning toothed knife rather than another ornamental trinket. 

"The Itha Plains is one of the best hunting grounds in the Kingdom, and perhaps all of Fodlan. As its princess, you're bound to host hunts there sooner or later. I can only hope that this will serve you well," he stated, handing his present to you with a short bow. "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, Felix. And to everyone, too, for all your lovely presents! While all of these are so precious to me, the mere fact that you're here to celebrate this day with me warms my heart," you beamed at your circle of friends as they sat across from you, your table in the castle garden filled with sweet and savoury snacks and flowering tea. "I'll be going home tomorrow. As always, I'll carry my time here in my heart… And I hope to be back soon. For now, I have to speak to my father."

"Ah, that reminds me. Felix mentioned earlier that he can accompany you on your way back to Itha before he heads back to Fraldarius," Dimitri stated as he lifted his head from his cup of tea. "Have you not told her yet, Felix?"

"How thoughtful of you, Felix. Though I must tell you now that I have no intention of riding by carriage," you replied to your cousin's statement with a smile before eventually turning towards the dark-haired boy. "I will go on horseback, giving me the perfect opportunity to break in these lovely boots Ingrid got for me."

"And that gives us the perfect opportunity to race, too, Princess," Felix said with a small snort of derision. "That is if you're not against getting those new boots dirty, of course."

"Wanna make a bet while we're at it, too?" You said with a laugh. "The loser will do whatever it is the winner wants."

"Deal."

Dimitri could only shake his head in defeat as he listened to your thoughtless wager. By nightfall, he came to visit your bedchambers one last time before you went your way home. He found you packing your belongings, among those the ornate aquamarine dagger Felix first gifted you years ago. It sat on your bedside table on a special wooden stand carved by one of Grand Duchy's household staff. 

You placed the toothed dagger next to the jewelled one and smiled to yourself. "I have so many knives and swords."

"It is a thoughtful gift. I don't know if this has been taught to you, but we from the Kingdom consider such weapons as tools of destiny. I believe Felix wishes for you to cut open a path forward for yourself…" 

For an object to hold such weight… 

"And though it might be purely ornamental, its message doesn't really change," Dimitri stated as he sat down next to you on the edge of your bed. "You are the Princess of Itha, but if there is anything else you wish to be, you… You have only to tell me. So we can discuss it."

"Well, I…" You started, a sheepish grin now on your face. "It might sound like a girlish dream, a-and maybe it is to you, Dimitri, but I…" 

You beckoned him to lean down so that you could whisper your tender dream in his ear. A gentle laugh left his lips as he nodded to himself. "I think we can do something about that."

"But I will continue doing my best… so that he'll like me for who I am."

"I'm pretty sure he already likes you as much, my dearest cousin."

By daybreak the following morning, a retinue from the Grand Duchy Army was prepared to receive you, and they were surprised to see that you'd already mounted your horse, opting away from the carriage they readied for you. 

Riding beside you was the second son of House Fraldarius, his dark hair already tousled by the calm morning breeze. Several Fraldarius soldiers tasked with his protection shuffled into your retinue's line. 

"We'll race when we catch sight of Itha Castle," you declared as you gave your steed a gentle kick, prompting it forward. "For now, we have all the time in the world to talk, Felix. Have you thought of a prize if you win?"

"I have," came the boy's silent but confident response. 

"I suppose I should think of one now, then."

"We have all the time in the world," Felix echoed your sentiment with a small smile on his face. "Consider it carefully, Princess."

From a view of a map, the Itha Plains was but a stone's throw away from Fhirdiad, but travel to and from still took at least half a day. The boy riding next to you asked you questions about your early childhood— from before you knew him— and even went so far as to ask you about your intentions in the future. 

"I know that many still think I am a usurper… And that no matter how much time I spend in the capital, they will still look at me like I would intentionally cause a succession crisis," you said with a defeated chuckle, but not before raising your eyes to meet his gaze, your vision unclouded and clear of any hint of deception. "I've said it before and I will say it again— I've no intention of taking what isn't mine. When the time comes and if the need ever arises, I will fight for the Kingdom as Dimitri's sword. I've no intention of being Queen." 

"That's reassuring to hear." 

"I'm glad to hear you think that, our future Duke Fraldarius."

By the time the afternoon sun had made its way up in the sky, you and Felix had already spoken about nearly everything you could— and you already spotted your castle's first turret from across the horizon. 

"Race you," you declared to him, gathering your horse's reins before giving it a small yet impactful smack on its behind. Your steed picked up its pace as the path towards the castle slowly tapered upward. While you were sure you had a headstart, you caught a flash of aquamarine in the corner of your eye. Your horses were sprinting alongside each other at what seemed to be equal speeds, but you could only laugh out loud as Felix and his steed narrowly edged you out and arrived at the castle courtyard mere seconds before you could. 

"Welcome home, Princess," the dark-haired boy stated with a small smirk on his fine face. "Expect to see me again soon." 

"I eagerly await that day, Felix," you said with a smile and a nod. "Thank you for taking the time to accompany me back to Itha. Please take care on your way home."

"Dearest ■

How fare you, my dearest cousin? Last I heard from you, you arrived at Itha safe and sound. It does my heart well to know that you made it back home safely.

I only heard from Rodrigue the other day that you spent about a week in Fraldarius at Felix's request. I thought your loss would teach you not to make such ill-considered gambles in the future, but it seems you enjoyed your time there with Felix and his family… Are you perhaps grateful for that loss? It sounded like a win either way.

I am more surprised at how you and Felix managed to convince Uncle Rufus to permit you to go on that excursion. The old man watches over you like a hawk, as far as I know. Regardless, I hope you had fun. 

El says she misses you. I do, too. 

I hope to see you again soon. Please tell me all about your trip to Fraldarius. I am pleased to hear that you and Felix are getting along so well. 

Sincerely yours, 

Dee."

"Dearest Dee,

How fare you, my dearest cousin? I have been well and I hope you are, too. I apologise for my lack of communication with you lately… and for the lack of visits to Fhirdiad. Papa and I had a lot of catching up to do. 

Let us just say we have reconciled and leave it at that. Papa apologised for his mindless actions the last we met and I apologised for my impetuousness. 

Can I ask you how you felt when Uncle Lambert remarried? I am not too keen on the idea, but I suppose papa is still a man… I just wished he would choose his companions wisely.  

And as you already know, I spent quite a vacation at the dukedom. It was not so much a vacation, really, but more of a training camp. From sun up to sun down, Felix and I have done nothing but spar, hunt, and maintain weapons. Lord Rodrigue almost sent me home when Felix made out with their family's Hero's Relic without permission. It's a terrifying thing, isn't it? A Hero's Relic. The shield almost seemed alive and breathing to me. I shudder at the thought of having to wield something so… grotesque. But you've been training for that your whole life. 

I miss El terribly, too. And you, too, of course. 

I'll tell you all about my trip to Fraldarius when I visit Fhirdiad again soon. For now, stay warm and stay safe.

Yours truly,

 ■"

In Imperial Year 1176, your uncle the king perished in the Tragedy of Duscur, along with many other knights and vassals of the Kingdom. Duke Fraldarius lost his son Glenn in the clash, too, and you couldn't shake the thought that something more nefarious occurred in what should have been a peaceful diplomatic mission. 

And even as you pleaded in tears to be allowed to go to Fhirdiad to see your cousin, who had just lost his own father, Rufus did not permit you to go. 

"The Grand Duke is right, Princess. There is no need for you to rush," the Saintess, Cornelia, whom your father had taken as one of his closest companions in more recent times, also dissuaded you from heading to the capital. She spoke of the right moment to make your appearance, which was strange since you wanted nothing but to be by Dimitri's side at that time. 

…Something about your father's calmness about the catastrophe unnerved you. His reaction was almost inhuman, but you didn't want to give it too much thought. He could have been shocked, for all you knew…

By the time you were finally allowed to visit Fhirdiad, your father's regency had been finalised, and the nobles of the capital and the castle's household only seemed to look at you with even more contempt. You did not see much of your cousin even though you remained in there for his sake. The lords loyal to the late king evidently did not want you around the crown prince, either. 

You were almost violently rebuffed that one time you tried to help Dimitri when he was having a panic attack. His unfamiliar guardian from a foreign land shoved you away and spoke to you in broken sentences— both in the language of Fodlan and Duscur. It was only when your cousin placed a reassuring hand on the imposing boy's shoulder and explained to him who you were that he was able to quiet down.

"She is my cousin, Dedue. The only one I have in the world."

Dimitri, who was the sole survivor of the tragedy, was inconsolable for the first few moons after the horrific incident, and even you could not pick up your sword to train without being reminded— without imagining the hellscape he endured and survived— and the eerie feeling that clawed at your chest when you recalled your father's unbothered expression when he received the news of his brother's death. 

Whispers of your father's involvement in your uncle's death did not help your reputation in the capital, either, and the fact that Rufus did little to disengage himself from the rumours only compounded the frigid treatment you've been receiving from the nobles and the castle staff. 

The only ally you ever had was gone, too, driven away by his shame. Everyone had the same response when you asked about Gustave's whereabouts— "He's gone."

At Felix's behest, you were present with House Fraldarius when they held a memorial for Glenn, a true knight of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, or so Rodrigue said… But not even your soothing touch could quell Felix's fist, his entire body seizing in a tempered rage he tried his best to contain. He was not the only one who lost a loved one, after all. And yet, he couldn't stomach how his father glazed over his eldest son's death. No words of embellishment will take away the fact that Glenn was killed horrifically in the Tragedy of Duscur. Felix would resent his father for that.

It was Rodrigue who implored you to return to Itha while Dimitri gathered his bearings. He knew of the grievous treatment you endured in the capital, even more so now that Rufus preoccupied himself with the Saintess's company more than anyone else's.  

"His Highness will certainly ask for you once he has figured everything out, Princess. Return home for now. I'm certain you're tired of all the suspicion yourself."

And you did so, only because it was true that you could no longer abide by the royal household's disdain for you. You did not know that it would take Dimitri four years to reach out to you again, the boy you knew changed beyond recognition. 

In Imperial Year 1178, Dimitri, the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and Felix, a knight in the making and the Heir of House Fraldarius, were tasked with suppressing an insurrection in Western Faerghus. Many of the knights who accompanied them attested to seeing the prince roll over the rebels with maniacal bloodlust.  

You were half-certain Felix might have developed the same grisly instinct, but you were relieved to find out that he was blatantly disgusted by the boar's unhinged behaviour. The incident prompted him to step away from his knightly vows, his sole intention now was to become a swordsman of unparalleled skill. 

You spent the past few years handling the affairs of Itha as the acting Grand Duke. As the regent, Rufus spent his days holed up in Fhirdiad under the thrall of the Saintess, Cornelia. He did not bother to manage the Kingdom, let alone reach out to his only daughter. 

…Though you knew for a fact that you may not be your father's only child now. 

You received no word at all from Dimitri, either, and you could only assume that he was busy with his responsibilities and studies as the crown prince. 

Or maybe he wanted nothing to do with you, either. 

Still, you handled the affairs of your home with all the knowledge and grace you possessed thus far. You often received wise counsel from the Head of House Gaspard, Lord Lonato, who once served as your father's retainer in their youth.

"Since it is now the Horsebow Moon, I suppose we should open a portion of the hunting grounds to the public…" You stated as you browsed through the stack of documents piling up on the desk in your father's office, which you have used as your own these last few years. "Oh, and the merchants and craftsmen from the Leicester Alliance should be accompanied by members of the plains' official hunting guilds. Many are unfamiliar with just how dangerous the grounds can be…"

Your elderly governess, Madam Liadan, now stood as your sole attendant and counsel while you were acting in an official capacity as the Grand Duke of Itha. She took pride in your expertise and manner of leadership as you steered your hometown in a direction that would benefit its people. 

"A word, Your Grace," came a knock outside the den. "Lord Felix of House Fraldarius has requested an audience with you."

"…Felix?"

True enough, your dearest childhood friend found his way to your home with only a handful of guards. His dark hair was grown out, now kept in a messy bun. His once warm hazel eyes stared down at you with a fierce coldness as he refused to dismount his horse, riding around you and your courtyard as you came face to face with him after how many years. 

"Ride with me, Princess," he stated with a small scoff. "Or are you content playing house and assuming a title that isn't even yours yet?"

"I—"

"We don't have to race this time," he said. "Just talk."

"Call for a stableboy to fetch Aureolin for me," you motioned to one of the household staff present to receive the heir of House Fraldarius. "And have one of the servants fetch my sword, the one from my father. I'm certain the heir of House Fraldarius did not just come here for a horse ride. Or to just talk."

"We shall have an attendant f—" Madam Liadan stated, only for you to cut her off with a mere wave of your hand. 

"There is no need for that, Madam Liadan," you said with a smile that did not reach your eyes. "Lord Felix is my friend. He and I have much to talk about, none of which is any of your business."

You heard a faint chuckle leave the said friend's lips as he steered his mount to the castle gates once more. 

"Receive his good men instead, please. Give them food and drink and allow their horses to graze," you instructed the household staff as you saddled and mounted your steed, Aureolin. "Shall we be off then, Felix?"

Your ride was quiet but meaningful, and it allowed you to rest your mind from all the noise of having to manage your household and lands. Felix noticed the pleased yet pensive expression on your face as he steadied the pace of his horse to match yours. He only spoke once you were in the heart of the plains, far from your meddling governess and the prying eyes of your father's loyal people. 

"Before everything else…" 

"Did you think I'd shirk my training just because I've been busy with paperwork, Felix?" You said with a low laugh as you swiftly dismounted Aureolin and unsheathed your sword. "Come. It's been a while since I had a worthwhile sparring partner."

The sounds of the grass in the plains crunching under your boots and the steel of your swords clashing quickly dissipated in the air, the open field unable to contain even your heavy breathing and heaving as you steadily held against your opponent. 

"Well, I'm glad all of that bureaucracy didn't dull your skill," Felix stated with a smirk and a small grunt as he parried your blow. Your bladework in your youth was wild and untamed, but your hands were more steady now, your strength measured and concentrated in a way that matched his own. "This cursed strength, though—!"

"You aren't so bad yourself," you said with a huff and a laugh. "Let's put our back into this, Felix!"

For a moment, he remembered that week you spent in their estate at Fraldarius territory many years ago. He recalled the singing of the young women employed in their estate's kitchen and how you sang along as you helped in meal preparation, even though you weren't supposed to be there because you were a guest. Those were hymns to the Goddess even he was unfamiliar with.

"Blessed are they who bask in the splendour of Gloriana's unreachable, empyrean domain!"

Felix had never been a pious child even from the beginning, even though the Kingdom of Faerghus' roots were so deeply intertwined with that of the Church of Seiros. Yet here was a girl who made him worship the very ground she walked on. 

Here was his Gloriana, her sword arm unmatched and her skill unparalleled. 

Not that he would ever admit it.  

It was only after you both broke a sweat that you called in a draw. You sat next to each other on the grass, knees and elbows brushing as you each wiped your swords clean with your cloaks, like when you were children.

There was only the faint sound of a calm breeze and the gentle swaying of the grass and weeds as you worked up the blade of your sword. You ran your thumb over the engraving of the Crest of Blaiddyd before eventually asking, "How is Dimitri?"

"Here," Felix stated, further slicing through the silence that enveloped you. He pulled out a single sealed letter from the inner pocket of his cloak and handed it to you. "The boar… has been trying to reach you for the last four years. Did none of his letters ever reach you?"

Letters? From Dimitri? 

You shook your head. "No. Not at all…"

He sighed. "Figures. He said he sent you countless letters, but I wouldn't be surprised if this was your father's doing." 

"My father?"

"Are you so out of touch with reality that you're in denial about what's going on in the capital? The boar no longer has allies there," he scoffed at your ignorance. "I'm not going to sugarcoat things for you just because he's your father. He's doing a terrible job as the regent and if you're going to pretend to be blind to that fact, then you're just as terrible as he is." 

"Felix… My father hasn't reached out to me ever since he assumed the regency of the Kingdom. Ever since Lord Rodrigue urged me to return to Itha four years ago. I wrote him letters but received nothing in return," you stated with furrowed brows after hearing everything for the first time. "And Lord Rodrigue told me that Dimitri would call for me once he's figured things out. The last I heard about him was after the Western Kingdom rebellion. You were there with him. He… must have figured things out by then, but…"

You pursed your lips as you held the unopened letter in your hands. "Part of me thought he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Many of the nobles of the capital have made it clear that they hold nothing but disdain for me, after all."

"That's not true. The boar could never hate you."

"I feel so foolish," you said, swallowing a sob before it could escape your lips. "I should have stayed there with him."

Felix reached out and wiped away your tears with a callused finger. "No use crying over that now. And trust me— the boar— Dimitri doesn't hate you. He wouldn't have bothered with that letter if he did." 

"Dearest ■

How fare you, my dearest cousin? It certainly has been a while. I can only assume that my previous letters never got to you. You would write to me as soon as you received one, after all. How can I be so sure? Because that is how we've always been. You are my only cousin in the world, the closest thing I have to a sister. You are a friend I know I can trust my life with, regardless of what other people think. 

I've been hearing much about your good work at Itha. Many claim that your political acumen is just as good as your father's, but we can do more about that. I know things must have been terribly lonely for you, yet you handled everything with ease and grace. 

I am writing to you once more to let you know that I intend to enroll in the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach next year. Many of our old friends, including Felix, will be attending as well, and nothing would give me greater joy than being reunited with you— and seeing you amongst the rest of the members of the Blue Lions House. 

Believe it or not, Uncle Rufus and I have spoken about your enrollment, too. He did not say much about it but only agreed, which was all the more surprising given that he hasn't spoken to you much these past few years. I would know since he kept no one else close to him but the Saintess. 

I hope you are taking care of yourself and I truly hope to see you again soon. And maybe we can discuss some of the things that happened back then.

Sincerely yours, 

Dee.

PS: Let us celebrate all the birthdays we missed out on because we were apart."

In Imperial Year 1180, you joined the Officers Academy at the same time as all of the other noble children of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, forming the Blue Lions House under Dimitri's leadership. It was there you were reunited with your cousin and childhood friends and heard the truth about his way of life these last four years— and why his letters never reached you.

You didn't want to believe it at first, but every detail made sense. The Tragedy of Duscur, the death of your uncle, the Western Kingdom uprising, and Dimitri's solitary confinement in his own home… Everything pointed to your father and his obsession with possessing the throne that was never meant for him.

"I'm sorry, Dimitri… All the signs were there in front of me, but I never… I never…" You said, your voice cracking as you sat across your cousin, the tea and sweets no longer appetising and inviting after everything you heard from him. And Dedue, who wanted nothing more but to trust you after everything your father has done. He did not believe in blaming children for their father's mistakes, but you had a mountain of doubt to climb and overcome if he and the rest of the house were to trust you completely.

"It is not you who has to apologise," Dedue stated. "His Highness said before that he trusted you with his life. If you are still that person, then you must prove it with your actions."

"I don't care if it's not my fault, either," you sobbed into your hands this time. "I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for what he's done, I swear…"

It was only after you calmed down and had your tea that Felix approached you, a dour expression on his face as he spoke directly to you, ignoring your companions. "Are you finally done with your whining? Spar with me, Princess."

"Spare me, Felix. I'm too spent to even think about picking up my sword. The monastery is huge and the academic year has just started. I'm sure there are many skilled people just as eager to test their mettle against an unknown quantity…" You replied with a hand on your temple. 

"I'll only be warming up with you," the dark-haired young man said with a scoff and a shrug. "You're right, after all. There won't be a lack of people to spar with here."

"Did you just call me a warm-up session, Felix?" You quirked an eyebrow at him. "You know what? I'll have at you. I'm angry and need a way to blow off some steam, anyway."

"Are you calling me a cooldown session, Princess?" He snorted. "On second thought, it's good that you're angry. That means you won't hold back." 

While the peaceful school days gave you a sense of normalcy, those days did not last as long as everyone initially thought. Your latest mission saw the rescue of Baron Ochs's missing daughter Monica, who was found by your new mercenary friend in the bandits' hideout. Her reappearance opened a can of worms that needed to be cleaned out. Following the disappearance of the librarian Tomas, trouble and turmoil brewed in all three cornerstones of Fodlan simultaneously, like a masked puppeteer masterfully pulling strings— and everyone else along with it.

And unsettling as it was, the Blue Lions could only press forward into the truth you long sought, about who was truly running the show in Fhirdiad. 

But your enrollment was swiftly withdrawn following the dangerous revelation about the truth of the identity of the librarian Tomas. And though you protested, everything fell on your father's deaf ears. 

"He is right to be concerned about you, mine cousin," Dimitri told you as you shared a meal during what was supposed to be your last day of schooling. "And it would be wise not to anger him. That way, you can still convince him to return when the issue has died out." 

"But I don't want to go home," you said with a little grumble, absentmindedly poking your food with your fork. "Not after we've only reunited…"

"Scared of missing out on all the fun?" Felix sneered at you, to which you responded by stabbing the remaining teppanyaki in his place and scarfing it down whole. "Wh—! Hey!" 

You reluctantly parted ways with Dimitri and Felix and the rest of the Blue Lions House by order of the regent, your father. Ahead of your trek back home to Itha, you made a quick and unexpected detour to the Kingdom to see how he had been doing. 

"Welcome home, Your Highness!" 

You were welcomed by new Royal staff, all of whom took orders from the regent. Among those who received you at the castle town was a lord you were unfamiliar with by name, but you remembered him as one of your father's companions from the New Year's hunt.  

"Have you been well, Your Highness? Allow me to take you to His Grace." 

"Oh, thank you, uh…" 

"Viscount Kleiman at your service, Princess," the older man gave you a quick bow. "You would do well to remember my name and my face, especially in this coming era." 

This coming era?

You tried not to pay too much mind to the viscount's words and simply focused on who you came there for. "Has my father been well?"

"Perhaps you should see for yourself, Your Highness. I'm certain your presence will lift his spirits."

A strange chill danced up your spine as you were led to the former king's bedchambers, where Rufus paced and lounged these past few days. 

"Papa?" You called out to him as the aged wooden doors harshly creaked open, as though they hadn't been for quite some time. 

"Is that you, my little star?" 

Your father looked worn out, and it was evident from the rubbish that littered the room that he accepted no other company apart from the Saintess, Cornelia, who closely stood next to him. 

"Have you been well, papa? Oh, it's been so long…" You said, your voice cracking from both the joy and despair you felt as you stepped into your father's space. He was crowned with an unfamiliar circlet of precious blue steel, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look even more ragged and unhewn. He could only grasp your wrists in place as you lifted your hands to hold his face, your thumbs tenderly running over his cold cheeks. 

"His Highness h—" Cornelia started, only for you to shoot her a look that could have killed if only possible.

"With all due respect, Saintess. I wasn't talking to you." 

"How lovely you've grown, my little star," Rufus managed a small smile. It was his turn to gently hold your face in his freezing hands, which you tried not to notice. "Fret not. We won't be apart for long. You'll return to me once everything has been settled."

"What do you mean, papa? What will you do? What's going to happen?"

He did not answer your questions but only pressed a soft yet cold kiss on your forehead, the kind you were so used to receiving when you were a child. 

When it was just you and him.  

"Return to Itha, my little star. Stay there until I send for you," he stated as he turned away from you. "Go."

"But papa—!" You tried to reach for him, only to be rebuffed by the Saintess in crimson, barring you from approaching your father once more. 

"His Highness needs his rest, sweet princess. But worry not. It won't be too long until you remain here for good. This is your home, after all."

"The Itha Plains is our home, Saintess. You would do well to remember that."

"The Grand Duke has fought tooth and nail for his house's future. Your future, if we are being more specific, Princess."

The same eerie chill swept up your spine once more as you locked stares with the green-eyed mage. Still, you showed no hint of trepidation as you approached her. "I did not wish for him to fight for me. I wish for nothing but to spend time with my father, not the regent. And once Dimitri is crowned king, he and I will return to our home."

Cornelia smiled at you, her eyes void of emotion but her voice was still saccharine and sultry. It was no wonder your father was so enthralled by her. "Of course, Princess. Believe what you will."

The days blurred altogether as you resumed your management of Itha. You expected your father to send for you sometime soon, but what broke your routine was a lone Kingdom soldier allied with the Crown Prince, riding past your castle security with haste. 

"I have an urgent message for Her Highness, the Princess of Itha! His Highness and his counsel have sent for you!"

"What's going on? What happened?" You asked as you rushed past your household staff, not a care in the world with how undone you looked. 

"It's the regent, Your Highness! The Grand Duke seized complete control of the capital and declared war on House Fraldarius! He is calling for the annihilation of Lord Rodrigue and his family! He claims they are controlling His Highness!"

No. 

You felt your blood run cold at the revelation that was sent to you. All the signs yet again point to your father— and his fanatical, maniacal obsession with the throne. With killing Dimitri.   

"This conflict will only end with one of them dead," you said, your lip quivering in terror at the thought. "I… I will ride to Fhirdiad!"

"You will not, Your Grace! His Majesty will send for you once he has put the usurper to rout!" Madam Liadan declared as she barred your way to the stables. "Such is the price of peace—"

"There is no peace and there will be no peace even with one of them dead!" You shouted, swallowing the lump in your throat as you flung her out of your way. "Get out of my way, Madam Liadan. I will plead for my father's life if I have to."

"Y-You forget yourself, Princess! Everything he's done, he did for you! You would disrespect him by begging for his life— for leniency?! From a usurper?!" 

You once dreamed of officially inheriting the Itha Plains from your father. You dreamed of him accepting your choice of a husband. You dreamed of him as a grandfather, carrying your children— dark-haired, with eyes as warm as hazel and sunrise— and you dreamed of caring for him in his old age. You dreamed of a long life for him, far from all the melodrama he was initially born into… and a gentle death befitting the gentle father that he was to you. 

But no matter how good of a father he was to you, the weight of his sins to his family and the Kingdom hung heavy and low in the scale. He would pay the ultimate price for it. 

In your shock upon your arrival to Fhirdiad, in the aftermath of the succession crisis and Dimitri's resolution, you fell to your knees in tears of agony, crying and cursing yourself for arriving far too late— for never being enough for him to disregard the indignities of his youth.

"Hey!—"

The last thing you saw before blacking out entirely was Felix hurriedly reaching out to you. 

Finally, you dreamed of your father holding you in his arms as you made your way back to Itha following your very first visit to the capital, blissfully joyful and unaware of all that has yet to transpire. 

In the days that followed in the aftermath of the succession crisis, it was revealed that the Houses Elidure, Mateus, Kleiman, Rowe, Duval, and many other minor western lords played a part in the assassination of the late king. Dimitri's counsel worked swiftly to ensure your father's part in the ploy was also unveiled and made known to everyone in the Kingdom. You accepted that as the truth now. 

Your interrogation was conducted by Margrave Gautier, who accepted your statement as fact. Even if you had known anything, you would have related it to your cousin as soon as you could.

"The Princess of Itha has made it clear that she had no involvement in the matter and knew nothing about the coup," the older man related to the young king and the rest of his counsel. 

It made sense that you knew nothing of your father's scheme, for your role would come to pass in the future. For the pieces of his plan to fall into place seamlessly, you had to be blameless and unblemished. He kept you as far away as he could so he could present you as his faultless heir. Rufus would deal with the fallout in the years that followed. 

But your father was dead, and you were nothing else but a misplaced pawn. 

"I know," Dimitri stated. "How is she?"

"The princess is of sound mind if that is what you wish to know, Your Highness. I believe she is waiting for a chance to speak to you if you will permit it."

You remained confined under guard in your childhood bedchambers in the capital. This place was once filled with happy, joyful memories of your youth, but now it served as your prison cell. 

More of your father's misdeeds came to light when you last spoke to the Margrave, and though he does not blame you, he also made it clear that your presence would mean contention for Dimitri. For once, you found yourself cursing the very blood that flowed through your veins. You cursed the Crest you were born with that made your father aspire for things beyond his grasp. 

The indignities of your cousin's youth had yet to be repaid, and you swore to him that you would do so in kind for as long as he wished.

When Dimitri finally came to see you, you could only grasp his hands, unable to look him in the eye. "You've known where my heart and my loyalties lie ever since we were children, mine cousin. I swear to the Goddess. To our dead fathers… I no longer care what you wish to do with me, but believe me when I say not even once did I aspire to be Queen."

"I've known from the very beginning," he stated as he held your hands and quelled their shaking. "I believe in you. And I cannot cast you aside, even if you wish. You are the only family I have left… And I do not want for us to become like our fathers…" 

"We will never be like them," you strongly declared through your tears. "Never."

Dimitri and his counsel worked tirelessly to restore order to the capital before eventually extending their reach to the rest of the Kingdom. You assisted with implementing many of the reforms after being proven innocent of the regent's attempts at usurping the throne. 

You were used to the mistrust of the people, so much that you wished your cousin would delegate you tasks that required others to watch you carefully— just so you could prove that you meant him no harm. That your heart was nothing like your father's. 

Your fate, as the elephant in the room, was the topic of discussion in one of their recent councils, where they burned their candles at both ends to come to a resolution. While some of them voted to banish you from the Kingdom, others argued your possible usefulness to the king's cause, including Felix, who attested to your skill with the sword, which you previously pledged to Dimitri's service, whenever he asked for it.

As it stood, you remained a political prisoner granted remarkable leeway— so much so that you were still permitted to eat, train, and spend time with the prince and your friends, much like when you were children. 

"The matter with the princess is rather complicated. We simply cannot allow her to walk away from all of this," Margrave Gautier stated. "We cannot allow her to return to Itha, either, lest she be taken away by the remaining forces of the western lords—"

"—and be used as a symbol. A weapon against His Majesty," Rodrigue remarked.

"You're right. But she is no political prisoner. She is my family," Dimitri stated this time. "And she will be treated as such by everyone else while she is here."

Margrave Gautier turned to the young king. "If I may, Your Majesty. You said you trusted the princess. How can you be so sure that she will not betray you?" 

"Because she spoke the truth. She never wanted to be Queen, even when we were children. The highest thing she ever hoped to be was…"

A ghost of a smile made its way to the young king's face, only for it to disappear following several puzzled looks from his counsel. Felix was equally perplexed by the sight. 

"Unlike her father, she supports my claim to the throne and never once contested me for it. I'm certain that caused some kind of rift between them, but my uncle's desperation and determination to keep her away from the infighting only showed how much he cherished his daughter still…" Dimitri said with a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Since we're on the topic of what should be done with her, I may as well give you the best option. A way to ensure her loyalty to our cause… though I know we do not need such methods. It will require your approval, Rodrigue. But, ah… I suppose it would be more appropriate for the new Duke Fraldarius to have a say in it, since he is also part of this plan."

"What do you mean, boar?" Came Felix's incredulous quip, to which his liege only responded with a small but knowing smile. 

"All she's ever wanted to be is your wife, after all."

For Dimitri, there was no turning back anymore from what had already been done. The Kingdom called for his ascension and he cannot put it off any further, no matter how he tried to avoid it. A mountain of tasks lay at his feet ahead of his coronation and you were there to carve open that path for him, at least that was what you endeavoured to do after everything that transpired. When word reached you that Felix would soon become the next Duke Fraldarius, you pondered where your place would be in all of this. 

The Itha Plains, its surrounding lands, properties and territories have been consolidated under Kingdom rule in the meantime and all of the dealings you and your father previously signed off on have been effectively frozen. The new king will figure out what to do with the Grand Duchy once the more important issues have been resolved. 

While you were initially part of Dedue and Rodrigue's reconciliation campaign to Duscur, Dimitri has made indications that he will need you elsewhere, and that your father's sins are not yours to bear. But until he speaks to you about it, you will continue your work as a basic weapons instructor in the Kingdom, alongside the mysterious mercenary from your academy days, the one who possessed a power so eerily similar to that of "Tomas" and the "Saintess", Cornelia. 

It gave you no pleasure to put the knights in place, especially when they were loyal to your father, the regent. Some would declare their fealty to you, their blade under your command should you want it, but it was evident that they were misguided and led away by the false promises made by an irresponsible king who never was.

You missed Rufus, but it was clear to you that the Kingdom would fare better without him at the helm. And you would want nothing to do with ruling even in the future. 

When the evening came and training sessions came to a close, it was only you and your mercenary friend left in the castle training grounds to round up and conduct an inventory on the weapons used throughout the day.

"For a princess, you're surprisingly diligent," they remarked as they gathered the used swords in place. "Whenever I think of princesses, I'm always reminded of how… delicate they must be." 

"I'm a far cry from delicate, even when Dimitri and I were children, Commander. When Gustave taught me how to wield a sword, I fell in love with it at the first instance. And I suppose it's only fitting even for a girl like me born into the Kingdom, which values strength and our heroic bloodlines over everything else," you replied with a low chuckle as you carefully lined up the spears and lances in their racks. "My Crest made me stronger than the average person, too… So surely there was something I could do to support my cousin, too…" 

"You know, Dimitri told me something before the incident�� when I was questioning this… gift I had. I thought you ought to hear it, too. You both have the same kind of strength. He believed his power was given to him so he could protect others. Your cousin has always believed in the innate goodness of a person more than anything. That explains why he chose to trust me despite everything. I know for a fact that he believes in you and greatly trusts you, too," they stated with a firm resolution, a spark of hope in their amethyst eyes. "I'm only able to stand here before you because of Dimitri, who believes my gift can be used for the greater good. Do you think the same way as I do? The only thing left for you to do is to prove that you are worthy of his trust. Of our trust."

"I… I'll prove it. I wield my blade in the service of my king. There is nothing more I could want."

Your conversation was cut short when you heard approaching footsteps followed by your cousin's wide shadow spilling on the ground. "There you are, mine cousin. Gustave said I'd find you here." 

"Well, we're just about done here anyway, so I'll leave you two to it," your mercenary friend said with a smile. Dimitri gently patted their shoulder as they passed by him. "I'm gonna help myself to some dinner now!"

"Oh, thanks for the help, Commander!" You managed to holler at them as they disappeared into the castle. 

"I was hoping we could share a meal ourselves, mine cousin," the young king started as he offered his elbow to you. "You know, we never really got around to talking about your time in Fraldarius lands."

"That week I spent there was one of the most unforgettable moments in my life," you chuckled as you linked your arm in his. "Felix… still smiled a lot back then."

"That is true. I suppose we will see less and less of that once is officially named the new Duke Fraldarius," Dimitri stated as he led you through the castle halls, specifically through the Hall of Kings, where portraits of the members of the Royal Family hung. You paused between the portraits of your father and your uncle, the late king, the brothers in their similar signature Blaiddyd azure regalia, yet still different sides of the same shining coin. "My counsel and I have come to a decision regarding your fate. There were some who wished to banish you from the Kingdom, but I would not have that. I could not agree to that… out of my great love for you and my respect to my uncle, who was nothing but a good father to you, I believe. You are my only family left in this world." 

"And you are mine," you solemnly nodded at him.

"I know the Itha Plains is your birthright, but we have decided against granting it to you. There are still some who fear the contention you pose and think you will not be so different from your father. There are still some who will not think twice to herald you as the rightful heir to the throne."

"Perish the thought," you said, your brows furrowed as you shook your head in dismissal of the notion. 

"I wish to keep you close, for I know that I can still trust you with my life, but in order for that to happen, you will have to renounce your royal title."

It was an unexpectedly lenient consequence, but not entirely surprising to you. You had no right to be begging for anything after everything that has happened, and to prove your worth and compliance to the Kingdom's cause, you agreed. "That is something I can do. Perhaps something I deserve, too."

"And marry Felix."

???

You looked up at Dimitri with eyes as wide as saucers. He did not just say that, did he? "Wh— Wait, what did you say?!"

"You will marry Felix and become his wife as your way of ensuring your loyalty to the Kingdom's cause."

"I— I would have renounced my title either way, Dimitri!" You attempted to disentangle yourself from him, only for him to hold you hostage with his grip. "A-And what did Felix have to say about this?! He must be seething in anger at having such an important thing be decided for him—"

Your bickering drew yet another set of footsteps this time, followed by the familiar, cynical voice of your childhood friend, who just happened to be your topic of discussion. 

"You ought to stop putting words in other people's mouths, Princess," Felix stated as he made his approach. "Are you done talking with her, boar?"

"Since he's here, you may as well ask him yourself," your cousin said with a smile as he placed your hand in the other young man's open palm. "I suppose I'll have dinner with our mercenary friend while you're at it."

"D-Dimitri! W—" You groaned to yourself as you watched the young king's figure walk away from you, as though he successfully led you into a harmless trap. 

"What's this I heard about you wanting to marry me ever since we were children?" 

Felix was never one to mince words, so you weren't at all surprised that he didn't evade the issue. 

It was embarrassing to hear him talk about it upfront, though.

"Th-That's—! Th-That was supposed to be a secret between me and Dimitri!" You squeaked at him. "I-I didn't expect him to actually find it usef—"

He squeezed your hand, reminding you of where you were and the decisions that had to be made. "And you'd rather it remain a secret than find out what I think about it?"

"I…"

"Hmph. Will marriage to me be such a chore for you?" He scoffed as he slowly released you, only for you to grasp his sleeve.

"N-No! I— It's true that I've always wanted to marry you, Felix! But I… I would never want for you to marry me out of obligation! Doesn't it sound like a punishment to you? I-I'm practically a traitor's daughter to everyone else, more or less… B-But this—! This… is such an important matter! This is marriage! I-If we agree to this, you'll be spending the rest of your life with me, of all people…! A-And—"

Oh, you were rambling at this point, your words strung together and incoherent as you attempted to explain your side to no avail. It was only when Felix held your hands in his once more that your mind was silenced from the thoughts that crowded it. 

"Princess," he said, his low and steady voice slicing through the noise of your thoughts. "I'm not marrying you out of obligation. This is not a punishment and you are not defined by your father's sins. Only fools refuse to accept the fact of your innocence. I agreed to that decision because I want to marry you."

"I… I—"

"And we're only having this difficult conversation because the boar beat me to it," he grumbled this time, his embarrassment evident by the blush that crept up his neck to the tips of his ears. "S-So what's it gonna be, princess?! Are you going to marry me or what?!" 

"Y-You want to m-marry me?! S-Since when?!"

"Wh— Why does it even matter?! Just say yes so we can be done with this!" 

"O-Of course I'll marry you, Felix! Th-This is like a dream come true! B-B—"

"I—"

"I-I've liked you f-from the start!" You sputtered at him, your hands burning in embarrassment as you squeezed him right back. "A-At first you were the boy with the pretty black hair, b-but when I started training with the sword and we started training together, I— I've been thinking of so many ways to grab your attention!"

You only realised now that you didn't have to try so hard.  

It is now 1182. Two years have passed since Dimitri's ascension as the King of Faerghus. As part of his reforms to the Kingdom, he established his private army spearheaded by none other than the not-so-mysterious mercenary from your academy days, who proved to be a reliable and trustworthy person. They grew to be a well-respected commander by both the nobles and the commoners who banded under the banner of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.

As agreed upon by the king's counsel, Rodrigue stepped down from his position as Duke Fraldarius and passed his title to his named heir, Felix. After renouncing your royal title, the two of you were wed in a simple yet elegant celebration in Fraldarius lands, the snowscape becoming the perfect backdrop of your union. 

The promise was sealed with a pretty ring he inherited from his mother. For all his austerity, Felix was a good husband and he was exceptionally kind to you, even though it was mostly him growing and maturing into his role— both as the Duke Fraldarius and as your spouse. 

For your efforts in aiding Dimitri in his reforms, you were officially appointed a Kingdom General. The title couldn't come any sooner, with Adrestia's declaration of war against the Central Church. That same church is now knocking at the Kingdom's doorstep and to deny it assistance would be denying Dimitri's ascent to the throne. As a member of the Kingdom vanguard, you understood that the declaration wasn't just a mere threat, but a promise that the Empire would do whatever it could to accomplish what it set out to do.

But the deeper into Imperial territory you step into, the looser the lid on the can of worms becomes— that can pertaining to the cloud of mysteries left in the wake of the Tragedy of Duscur. The string of deceit will unravel by the King's hand, and many of your allies who lost someone dear to them in that incident will receive the closure they deserve. 

You don't speak much about it, but Rufus sometimes visits you in your dreams, sometimes in unpleasant ways that rock you awake. When Dimitri was held hostage in Fhirdiad after being captured by the witch Cornelia, you hardly had a wink of sleep because of the image of your father's headless corpse standing at the foot of your bed. 

The exhaustion you felt deep in your bones was forgotten in the rage that nearly consumed you in the battle to liberate Fhirdiad. You backed your husband and the commander as they made their way into the castle before eventually safeguarding Rodrigue, who was tired but thankful. In a moment of respite, he spoke of how their captors brought them to heel by means of manipulating the king's heart for his people. Dimitri, who was once consumed by the throes of vengeance for the dead, was so concerned about the living and breathing that he willingly surrendered Areadbhar in exchange for a fragile peace in the city. 

There is no peace, you told yourself as you angrily charged at the enemy soldiers that attempted to attack your father-in-law. No peace for me, either.

Cornelia had nothing but a haughty look of derision as you brought her to heel. "Well, if it isn't the Princess of Itha. Ah, but you're no longer that person, are you? To see you reduced to a wife of a mere lord. Your father must be turning in his grave."

"Silence, witch. You're fortunate Dimitri still requires answers from you. I would have struck you down without a second thought if I could," you stated, pressing the pointed end of your silver sword to her throat. "Don't speak of my father. Don't speak as though you knew him. You only corrupted him. And for all it's worth, you were the one who killed him."

That night, you dreamed of your father's decapitated corpse once again, only to find him holding your head in his hands this time.

Ahead of the decisive skirmish against the Western Coalition, Dimitri beseeched you to step away from the fighting for only this instance. He said he couldn't risk you being taken hostage by the western lords and be heralded as a symbol— be used as a weapon against him. Felix agreed with him, surprisingly, but only because your husband noticed your severe lack of sleep.

"Felix is right, mine cousin. We can't have you collapsing on the battlefield because you didn't get enough rest," Dimitri said as you spoke ahead of your war council. "But more importantly, I know the western lords aren't above using atrocious tactics to upend the battle, even more so if they find out that you will be fighting in it."

"For once, I agree with His Majesty," your husband remarked. "Royal title or no, it doesn't change the fact that you are a princess of Faerghus and the daughter of the dead Grand Duke who started this all." 

"But don't you see? All the more I should be in this battle. To teach those western lords the error of their ways. To show them once and for all that they will gain nothing from putting me on a pedestal."

Your declaration would have been perfect if you weren't nearly captured in the ensuing battle. It was a misstep you attributed to your exhaustion, your sound decision-making crippled by the fatigue that enveloped your head. 

Your head. In your dead father's hands. 

No. 

When word reached Felix that you were overwhelmed by the opposing forces, he raced through the battlefield in a fit of rage and fury and a flash of aquamarine, nearly razing the enemies to the ground in lightning and ashes. 

"Get your hands off my wife!"

You were awakened by the golden glow of the setting sun that peeked through the opening of your lodging. As you moved slowly, you were surprised to find yourself encased in an embrace as your husband slept soundly and calmly on your warmed bed. You were out of your battle regalia and in a comfortable sleeping tunic. There were clear signs of your injuries having been cleaned recently and you couldn't help but think of how much of a burden you were to your allies after having made that thoughtless declaration of strength, too. 

Felix mumbled in his sleep, his brows furrowed as he buried his face further into your chest. As you settled into his arms, you noticed the crimson ribbon holding his ponytail slightly coming loose, so you decided to untie it, allowing his silky hair to fall behind him. You caught a lock of his hair and gently toyed with it, curling it around your finger until it eventually came loose. 

"Are we… actually a love match?" You quietly mused to yourself. You didn't mind not getting an answer. You cherished these quiet, tender moments where he was nothing but a husband to you. Not Duke Fraldarius. Not a general of this army. Just Felix. Your Felix.

"You're not one for words, I know that much. You've saved me countless times. I don't even know what to say…" You started, your voice hushed to a whisper. He smelt of your favourite tea blend, too. "And for a man who values strength above all else, I still can't help but wonder what it was you liked about me."

"Mm…" You felt his low grumble reverberate in your chest. 

The colour of the sunset was lovely, casting a warm glow over your entangled figures, illuminating the space until it prompted Felix to wake. 

"How're you feeling?" Came his gentle inquiry. 

"I'm well, thanks…"

"That's good to know," he started, slowly releasing you and sitting up. "Because you're going to get an earful from me! This recklessness of yours really runs in the blood, huh? You and your beastly cousin are cut from the same tough cloth!"

Here comes his tirade, you thought to yourself with a small sigh. But it's only right, I suppose… 

"I'm sorry, Felix," you said apologetically, your hands gently reaching for his own. "I have no excuse for being caught unaware back then."

"What is going on with you, anyway? You haven't been eating. Your bladework has been sloppy," he sharply replied. "And you've been having trouble sleeping?"

You didn't want to conjure it in your head— the image that's been keeping you awake. 

"Hey," he called out to you as your mind wandered, your lashes lowered to your quivering hands. "Tell me what's going on."

"I…" You started, eventually prompted to continue by the way your husband squeezed your hands reassuringly. "I see him in my dreams, Felix. My father. I see his headless corpse holding my severed head in his hands. Maybe I am as guilty as he is."

"You're not."  

"Then why? Why does he visit my dreams in that form?!" You sobbed at him, warm tears filling the corners of your eyes. "I…"

"That's not him," he stated. "Those are just your regrets. You regret not being enough. Not being able to save him. So much that you wish you were dead as well."

Instead of lashing out at his realisation, Felix simply encased you in yet another warm embrace. "The truth hurts but it is the truth, regardless. There was no saving your old man after how far he'd gone. And you have to understand that his sins don't define you. How many times must you hear it from me and your cousin?"

You blinked away your tears and gently coiled your arms around your husband's neck. "Does he ever visit you in your dreams, too? Your big brother, I mean…"

"I can't count the times he did," he replied with a low hum. "Perhaps not as grotesque as your father's appearances, but it was still jarring all the same to me."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence before Felix posed another question to you. "Do you remember the jewelled dagger I gave you on your fifth birthday?" 

"I do. It is one of my most prized possessions."

"It was Glenn who suggested I give you a dagger. I thought it was strange at first because we hardly knew each other back then… But he told me, regardless of whether or not we knew each other, I should wish for you to carve open a path for yourself. And that's exactly what you did."

"Did I really?…"

"You carved open a path for yourself the moment you chose to follow Dimitri rather than fight him like everyone else around you expected you to do."

"Oh, yes. I think I did that," you said with a soft laugh. "I never wanted to be Queen, anyway. I wanted to be the Grand Duke Itha and your wife, though I knew I could only be one of those."

"Hmph. Well, I'm sorry if the Fraldarius Dukedom is all I can offer, Princess," Felix replied with a teasing scoff. He gently released you from his embrace and reached for a carefully wrapped parcel on the floor. "Speaking of which, I have something for you. My mother had it delivered to us."

"What could this be?" You wondered aloud as your fingers nimbly tore through the thick parchment. "Oh!"  

You couldn't take your eyes off the finely made mantle the moment you unwrapped it. 

Aquamarine, with cream white fur lining the collar and hem to protect your neck from the elements. You ran your gloved fingers over the Crest of Fraldarius that was embroidered on the cape with sturdy yet delicate-looking silver thread. 

"Beautiful…" You murmured in tears yet again. 

"I know the Itha Plains is your home, but it's likely that it will go to one of His Majesty's children in the future," Felix stated as he unfurled the cape to its full length before draping it over your shoulders and fastening the clasp on your chest. "This is to remind you that you still have a home. With me."

It was heavy— both the weight of the mantle and the duty tethered to its creation. You would never be the Grand Duke of Itha, but you were the Lady of House Fraldarius and wife of the Shield of Faerghus. 

But first and foremost, you were Felix's wife. A dream made manifest the moment you whispered it in your cousin's ear long ago.

You've faced the shadows of your past and supported each other through the most pitch black of moments. Your love, once a quiet promise made in the innocence of your youth, has blossomed into something profound and enduring. 

That night, you dreamed of your father in your youth, nary a trace of all his exhaustion, but only a calm smile on his face as he finally bade you farewell, your figure cloaked in Fraldarius aquamarine this time, your husband's gloved hand in yours as you marched ever onward, racing against the setting sun. 

୨୧ The images used here are from the lovely webtoon All Colors of Snow by Ah Ai Maria. 💛

[rosemarysndthyme]

✞ The Summer of Ravenswood Manor: A Haunting Tale ✞

Honey Dreary moves the desolate town of Angels' Creek in the Midwest, desperately trying to escape her troubled past. Unexpectedly she becomes entranced by the mysterious and brooding owner of a rundown mansion on the edge of town, Ravenswood Manor. The two begin a tumultous romance as she begins to uncover the dark secrets of his past.

Character Moodboards here

Chapter 1: Milk, Honey, Harmony

Considering Jesus died almost two thousand years ago in sanction for our sins, seems he had failed. At least in Honey Dreary's eyes.

The trees in this dismal town seemed to howl and shriek, their brittle bare branches reaching out like bony fingers, waiting to pick and pluck every morsel of life from its residents. Often things would vanish. Cars were parked and never to be seen again. Small children would wander off from their parents, never to return.

Honey, in her cherry red 1967 Ford Mustang raced down the road, blazing a fiery red trail to a new beginning. With a Marlboro gold hanging from her opulent cherry lips, and the wind in her hair, it was enough to distract her from a possible grave mistake. No, she wouldn't let herself admit she'd made an impulsive decision, upping and leaving her old apartment in the city in the middle of the night. Not telling anyone where she was going or for how long and with no plans of a job. As her mother always said ‘every cloud has a silver lining’. She'd found an ad for an old chapel converted into apartments, using what little savings she had on the small deposit and gathering the rest for her first months rent. She decided the rest would work it’s self out. The apartment had a pretty little porch out front for her to sit out and read, smoke or play her vintage Billie Holiday vinyl. If nothing else, that would be this cloud’s silver lining. She was looking forward to an escape from her previous city life, one where she could do as she pleased without the torments of being a city girl in her 20s, or the ever-looming disapproval of her family.

Angels' Creek was a sleepy rundown Midwestern town. A place that was no one’s destination and not even somewhere you’d be passing through. It was surrounded by open fields of forest and farmland. Honey had chosen it for its lazy hazy atmosphere, now closing in on her late twenties , she decided a more tame lifestyle was due. There definitely wasn’t much in the way of modern amenities or entertainment. From what she could make out, the town had one singular main road that ran from one end of town, Angels’ Entrance, to the other, Ravenswood End. She lived at the far end, like a guilty child banished to a dark corner. The street was littered with tattered shops: Daisy's Diner, The Cloudy Laundrette, Pembrooke Supermarket, and somewhere called Ray's. All are in need of a good refurbishment, their lit up signs flickering and dying, as was the life from this town. There was a heavy sense of faded glory, with the town's best days behind it, the barren remnants sit gathering dust in the middle of a vast plain of deathly trees.

Honey's tyres screeched as she pulled up to her new apartment. Flicking what was left of her cigarette onto the pavement, she takes off her sunglasses and adjusts her windswept blonde hair in the rear-view mirror, as she leans over to the passenger seat to gather her bags before grounding her wedged heel onto the pavement. Her perpetual hazy cloud of cigarette smoke, amaretto perfume, and bad decisions, pervaded the air around her.

A sweaty outstretched palm startled her, 'Miss Dreary' a voice spoke before she'd hardly put her other foot down on the pavement. She shifted her gaze up drinking in the sight, brown trousers, starched shirt, round bald head with friendly overly enthusiastic blue eyes. ‘Mr Bluebell. I’m your new landlord.’ Honey grasped his hand, using it to hoist herself up from the drivers seat bringing her to eye level with her new landlord. ‘My gosh! What a beautiful car you have. Must be a 1974.’

‘It’s actually a '67.’

‘Yes. Of course. You’re correct. Anyway. Would you like me to show you inside? Your particular apartment is named ‘Garden of Eden’ …controversial these days. ’ Mr Bluebell turns around with Honey on his tail… she guesses he’ll offer to help with her bags after the tour. ‘I bought this property years ago now. It was a derelict church before I had the idea to convert it into quaint little apartments.' It was an insult to call it an 'apartment' really, she thought.

Mr Bluebell continues... 'The previous owners weren’t too fond of the idea, but they came around once they saw how much I was offering! You have the ground floor, it’s cosy with excellent bones, well lit in the mornings with east-facing windows.’ They pass the sweet white porch before entering the small living room with a kitchenette attached. ‘This is your living space, as you can see it comes with a sofa, and a TV cabinet.’ The ‘sofa’ he was referring to was more of an armchair, and the ‘TV cabinet’ was a single television plonked on the floor in front of said ‘sofa.’

He leads her down a narrow hallway. ‘Down here is your bedroom. And to the left is your bathroom.’ They come to a halt in front of a large window overlooking the street opposite. Mr Bluebell quickly snatches a glance out before snapping his head back into place. ‘I’ll leave you now to settle down and get comfortable,’ he huffs. The middle-aged man makes his way back to the front door, still rambling on. He comes to an abrupt stop. He leans uncomfortably close to Honey’s uninterested face. ‘I will say, be wear. Of the Manor on the hill. Strange things happen in Angles’ Creek. Just… be careful.’ His serious demise reverts back to his usual friendly cheerfulness. ‘Toodaloo! You can always find me at Ray’s,’ with no more than a wiggle of his chubby fingers he nearly vanished from Honey’s porch.

She wasn't even sure exactly which manor he was talking about. All she could see were brittle twigs for miles in the bleak distance. But. There was a murky grey space, what looked to be an opening in the whispering trees. If she squinted hard enough, yes, there was a tattered house in the distance. One that combined a lavish art deco style with 1950s Americana brilliance. There were holes in the brickwork that looked to be poorly boarded over with scraps of rotting wood. The old hanging porch lights, once a crystal shiny glass, now swung smashed from its socket. A gate of exquisite design once stood guarding the house and its glory is now ripped off its hinges lazily swinging and creaking with the wind's force.

Retrieving her suitcase and what little belongings she brought with her from her car, Honey begins to unpack. With interior design not being her strong suit, her judgement told her the framed Elvis photograph looked best on the already dusty glass shelf in the bathroom, ironically. Her American flag was pinned above her bed in all its failing glory. The small vintage trinkets she considered her prized possessions: a little bone China jewellery dish with hand-painted pink roses, a porcelain doll her grandmother gave her for her first birthday, and a wooden box of teeth she found in an antique shop. All neatly placed on her brown dressing table in front of the infamous east facing window. The cramped structure left no room for any kind of wardrobe, meaning her few items of clothing had to be hung off the end of the cream curtain pole, supporting the flimsy mesh lace curtains that provided a very minuscule amount of privacy. She supposed in a run down town like this, not enough goes on for her to need more modesty.

The crinkle of her cardboard cigarette carton simmered off the walls as she fished one out to light between her supple lips. That’s how quiet Angles’ Creek was. How drab, how dull, how dismal. Not even the sound of footsteps from passers by, nor a car engine. Only the howling wind. Honey wanted quiet, and that’s what she got. The urge to fill an unfamiliar void of anonymity had her unpacking her record player to put on ‘I Call My Baby Pussycat’ by The Funkadelic. Leaning back on her new bed, she’d stripped herself of her plaid miniskirt and wedged heels, left in only her soft white thong that read ‘rockstars only’ across the front and a white lace tank top. She decided to unwind with the one of the only ways she knew how. Slipping her fingers into the front of her knickers, thinking thoughts of James Dean in ‘Rebel Without a Cause’, and Marlon Brando sweaty in a wifebeater. Her brain and body was nothing but oozing chocolate pudding and sticky melted marshmallow- a tapping on her window drew her out of her dreamland and anchored her down into reality. She padded over to see where the sound was coming from, expecting it to be that annoying old man again, just to find it was nothing but a tree branch blowing in the wind. So dead and bony, making a sound akin to dry fingers tapping and scraping at glass. No one was there. Not a soul in sight.

The old manor atop the hill in the distance caught her attention once again. A yellowish light bulb now glowed through one of the second-floor windows, right at the top of the house, beneath the deteriorating roof. It was almost as if a deathly shadowy figure created a colossal silhouette. If she squinted, the figure had a pale face. One of a handsome gentlemen, younger than she would expect of a manor so old. Stood there in nothing but a lacy vest top, nipples hard and protruding, and her knickers. An ominous figure of broad stature remains staring back at her.

[kyufessions]

boy on the bus

synopsis: you’re writing a letter that won’t reach him

pairing: non-idol! changmin x g.n. reader

genre: fluff turned angst (??)

word count: 1.2k

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois

tbz taglist: @ilovechanhee

i was told life is supposed to be boring. everyday we wake up and attend our normal jobs that we either love or despise. i did what was told of me, got my degree, and got that boring job. i also never missed a singular day of work, not daring to be looked down upon by my supervisors but rather being looked at as the employee that goes above and beyond, whether the company deserves someone like me or not. but i did what momma told me, and lived that boring life that i only dreamt of as a child. “life won’t be that boring, will it?” id promise myself i wouldn’t make it boring, but rather have it be fun and exciting. but still do exactly as momma said. and that i did- except, i felt little fulfillment and joy. until i met you.

it was just a normal wednesday afternoon after work, sitting in the back corner of the bus for the next ten minutes until i arrived at my destination. headphones played day6’s discography on a loop as i stared ahead out of the window, admiring the same view of the busy streets and occasional trees and bushes that i notice everyday through the changing seasons. but this day was different, because of you.

i noticed you coming in from the bus stop in front of the local college campus, you were wearing nothing but just grey sweatpants and a random graphic tee with a pullover flannel with frames glasses that accompanied your face perfectly. the way small strands of hair stuck to your forehead was something i couldn’t help but notice, my mind fluttering with curiosity. i watched as you looked around for a seat- your eyes finally meeting mine. once they did? i felt my heart do a kick that it hadn’t for several years up to that point. no one had caught my eye quite like you did, not a single soul. but yet here was a random stranger on the bus making my cheeks heat up at the shyest smile that’s thrown at me.

one afternoon, all the seats had been occupied- all except the one next to me. this was when my life changed for the better. instead of choosing a seat farther from me, you’d sit next to me instead. we’d catch up on life (mainly yours, mine was too repetitive for any curiosity to arise) until i got off at my spot, saying our goodbye’s until the very next day we’d do the same thing. one day, we ended up getting off at the same spot due to me having to do grocery shopping. and, funnily enough, you accompanied me. then it became a friday afternoon tradition for us to go grocery shopping until one of us had to leave- each friday becoming a little longer than the previous. it was sweet, it was slow.

one day, you didn’t show up. i said “hey, i’ll see him tomorrow. it’s okay.” but that day never came until three days later. playfully, i scolded you- jokes like that became our thing. instead of getting off at your spot, you got off on mine. that night, we just walked around my neighborhood and shared a bowl of tteokbokki and kimchi at the restaurant down the street from my apartment. you told me everything from your stressful college days, to overworking yourself i. both work and classes, to friend drama- everything. it made us closer, and it made my heart warm to know how close you considered me to be to gush your feelings out to me on a random thursday night.

that very next day, i didn’t need to go grocery shopping. after telling you that, you said words i thought i had only dreamt of: “let me take you on an official date then!” the excitement in your voice, that smile.. how could one say no? you took me to your favorite cafe, remember? i do. we had banana pancakes and coffee at 6PM, then we stayed at the arcade until they kicked us out. when your hand slipped in mine, butterflies erupted. everything suddenly started feeling okay. everything felt okay.

the weekends were our date nights. do you remember when you asked me to be yours? in the sunflower field? it had been my first day off of work in a while and you had promised to make it special. and that you did. you made all my days worth living again. you made them fun, more exciting. the light was no longer dull but rather blinding with endless possibilities. it was like that for an entire year until everything suddenly stopped.

no more bus rides. no more dates. no more gushy facetime time calls as we do our skincare routines as we complain about not living together yet. it had been one day where you didn’t show up on the bus. “sorry, got busy.” was all you said. silence filled my phone for the remainder of the night until the next day. you didn’t show up again, so i asked if you were okay. “sorry. meet you for dinner?” but you never did. you never met me at that same restaurant near my home, so i walked thirty minutes to your favorite cafe. but it was closed. during the thirty minute walk back i called you, but to no avail. by the third call, i gave up. assuming you fell asleep or became busy with your finals for graduation.

the next day you didn’t show up on the bus either. i texted. no response. i texted your friend. no response. “maybe he’s busy.” id say, making up every excuse in the book. instead, i got off at your stop and walked to your apartment to find it empty. no furniture, unlocked doors, an empty fridge. i asked your neighbors, and quickly called you once they said you had moved out almost a week ago. but once again, no answer.

it’s been months, and i’m still stuck on the boy from the bus; i’m still stuck on you, ji changmin. i should be mad whenever i think of our lazy mornings with our feet tangled together as you hum a soft tune into my hair, your fingers playing with the messy strands. but i don’t. i instead get butterflies, just like when i first saw you on that autumn day. you were my first love. you taught me how it felt to feel genuinely loved for who i was, you taught me how it felt to be loved back. whether that love was true or faux, i still thank you.

should i? should i really be thanking the man who has me sitting outside of our your favorite cafe with tears streaming down my face at 3AM? probably not. but i fell pathetically for you. and i fear i might still be doing so until i snap back into reality.

why did you leave suddenly? with no warning? are you okay, wherever you are? did you finally create your own dance studio? or did you debut? do you ever miss me, too?

you made my life worth living for a while, ji changmin. maybe i can find the excitement on my own this time? maybe you were a lesson sent by the universe. and for that i thank you. it was a very cruel lesson, but thank you.

sincerely,

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — ZHONGLI X FEM READER

Even after the Rite of Parting, the people of Liyue have found themselves unable to come to terms with the death of Rex Lapis. Unwilling to abandon his city, Zhongli has one final duty to perform - to say his goodbyes to those who had loved him so dearly. Torn between dedication to Liyue and the burden of thousands of years of existence, Zhongli needs someone to teach him how to become human and you, as a member of the Qixing and Liyue's foremost cultural expert, might be just the one for the job.

total wc — 23.2k

contains — Violence, playing fast and loose with lore, fluff, mild angst, reader is not traveler, devotion to a god turned love for a man, attempts at integrating chinese culture, play fighting with xiao over zhongli, actual fighting with childe over zhongli, when you take shots at mondstadt but now your city is also godless oops

Glossary | To read this in chapters, check it out on AO3. 

If the city was riotous in celebration, you could not hear it. Ningguang had arranged for her personal carriage to ferry you to your destination, and it had been soundproofed by the finest anemo craftsmen. Though it’s purpose was more to protect state secrets than to block out the noises of people weeping in the streets, it served just as well to keep you mired in your thoughts as the carriage made it’s bumpy way across the cobblestone streets. 

The aftermath of Osial’s attack had left the Qixing scrambling to hold the city together. The Fatui needed to be dealt with, the transition of power from Rex Lapis to the Qixing was in dire need of immediate attention, and most of all, the people of Liyue were, for the first time in their life, lost. 

They had never been alone from the time Rex Lapis had led them south to the ocean. Liyue had always had their god to watch over them, but now they found themselves faltering at a test no one had predicted. Either the city would burn to ashes or find itself resurrected, stronger than ever. 

At the moment, no one could tell. In a desperate attempt at preserving a shattered and shell-shocked Liyue against the enemies swarming for a chance to bring down the once invulnerable city, every capable body was pressed into service. 

When Hu Tao opened the door for you, she nearly fainted in shock. As Lady Ningguang’s emissary, you came dressed in her colors - white and gold, which also happened to be the colors of funerals and weddings. For all intents and purposes, it looked like you had come to either kill or marry one of the inhabitants of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and all bets were on the bachelor who was currently the subject of all the burning rumors in Liyue. 

“Zhongli,” she stammered. “What did you do?” 

Towering behind her, the man blinks slowly, completely unperturbed by the strange sight. It’s a small mercy that Wangsheng Funeral Parlor rarely has loiterers, or this could blow up into yet another scandalous whisper to follow his name. 

“Nothing that I can recall,” he muses. “I don’t suppose the young lady is here for you? Perhaps this is one of your pranks?” 

She scoffs, offended. “Even I wouldn’t go that far-“

All it takes is a singular, arched eyebrow from him, and she relents. “Okay, maybe I would, but this-“ she waves a hand in your direction. “Is not my doing! I know you can be kind of a ditz, but I can’t believe you got yourself married without realizing it!” 

You smile demurely. “Don’t worry, Miss Hu Tao. It’s nothing so concerning. I’m just here on behalf of the Tianquan. Zhongli-xiansheng, would you do me the honor of coming to tea? I would like to discuss why the Qixing have called for your services.” 

Though polite, both parties involved are aware that this is not an invitation. You’ve heard Hu Tao is a notorious prankster, and a bit of a plague on the elders of Liyue. Her particular form of advertisement has not endeared her to many, but somehow, she still finds joy even in the worst of tragedies. It’s a testament to the reputation of the Qixing that for her to lose ever present mirth. Worry lines her features for her dearest friend, but Zhongli soothes her worries. “Who am I to deny the kindness of the Liyue Qixing? Hu Tao, I’ll be back soon.” 

It’s a short walk to Heyu Tea House. Zhongli shucks off his coat, and drapes it over you, careful never to actually graze your exposed skin in the process. Under your curious gaze, he explains. “You might attract strange looks walking through the city in your garb, though I understand why you came dressed in Ningguang’s colors.” 

Only the lady herself could get away with such a social faux pas. White and gold were Ningguang’s colors before they were for weddings or funerals, but the same couldn’t hold true for you, one of the newer additions to the Liyue’s elite. You would have to work your way up to that kind of status. 

The tea house is a favorite of the nobles of Liyue for it’s delicate architecture and beautiful performances, though currently, it’s been emptied out for your meeting. Even the waitresses have been replaced by your people. No effort is spared when it comes to wooing a god. Besides, the Qixing, of all people, could never be accused of holding out on a guest. 

A seat on the second floor has been designated for you, overlooking the streets below. 

Heyu has always felt comfortable to you. It was where you first met Ningguang. Eventually, it became the place that you began to associate with the Qixing, and your induction into their ranks. 

Every member of the Qixing has a preferred place for negotiations, as such, this is yours. Though few of you are superstitious by nature, familiarity is always a comfort. Today, that normality is ripped away from you. Funeral white has joined the usual red and gold of the decorations, lucky colors.

The entire city is in mourning for the man sitting across from you and at the same time, grateful to be alive. 

It’s strange, the fine line between love and misery. Without the enchanted walls of the carriage, the people are still loud enough to be heard even off ground level. If you touch the tables, your hands shake slightly with the force of the vibrations moving throughout the city. Fireworks explode overhead. The open air of the terrace makes them your only source of light besides golden lanterns glowing dimply. As the people weep, they rejoice in equal measure. Ningguang’s name and the mysterious traveler’s are carried on whispers throughout the city. The adepti, too, are rumored to have returned. It’s a miracle, and a tragedy. 

The city has survived, but it’s god has not. 

Or at least not that they know of. 

Everything on the menu has been prepared for Zhongli, but he barely touches the Calla Lily Seafood Soup and Crystal Shrimp, preferring to nurse his oolong tea and Jade Parcels. You hadn’t expected the former Geo Archon to be a picky eater, much less to dislike seafood. After all, it’s the staple of the city he held dominion over, but few personal details were known about the god. 

Ningguang, you think, would ease into the conversation, starting with formalities and pleasantries she didn’t really mean before getting to the point. You are not Ningguang. You are trying to be, but you don’t think masquerading as a different person would get you very far with him. 

“Zhongli-xiansheng, what do you plan to do now that you no longer go by Rex Lapis? Will you sit and watch as your people live in fear, attempting a gradual return to normalcy?” 

As expected, the God of Contracts is not offended by your inability to skirt around the matter, though he does raise an eyebrow at the way you phrase it. He waits before he speaks, letting the silence stretch on, your words marinating between the two of you. There is little noise besides the clink of his ceramic spoon. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’s purposely trying to make you uncomfortable, then you cast the thought aside. You don’t really want to know. 

“You want to know if I’m a god that can abandon his people?” 

You refuse to lower your eyes at the direct interpretation of your words. You meant what you had said, even if you definitely hadn’t meant it to come across as harshly as he had phrased it. Like everyone else in Liyue, you still loved your god. And you believed that he had not turned his back on you. 

You have never been meek, but you have also never been in the presence of a god, much less one whose presence has loomed over you for your entire life. It’s only with Ganyu’s etiquette training that you refrain from picking at the golden threads embroidered into the table cloth under his similarly golden-eyed scrutiny. Everything in Liyue is Zhongli’s. 

“I don’t think you are.”

“No,” he sighs. “You are right. I am not. You have a matter you need my assistance with, or else you would not have come to me. Speak directly.” 

“The people are grieving. Their city is shattered and their god is lost to them. They are afraid. The Rite of Parting is not enough.” The tortured look on your face is not an act. 

By the time the Qixing had taken you in, you had already dedicated your heart to this city. You would sacrifice anything for it, and once, you would have sacrificed anything for the god who presided over it. Now you wonder if there is anything to offer him at all. “I want my people to live in peace. Zhongli-xiansheng,” you slide a pen and paper across the table. “Please make a contract with me.” 

The Qixing were stretched thin enough as it was already. The Tianquan had resorted to running Liyue’s base of operations out of the Yuehai Pavilion, now that the Jade Chamber had fallen. The Yuheng barely slept, carrying out her work at all hours of the night. Even Ganyu, your ever competent secretary, had found extra work to do. The Kaiyang, leader of Liyue’s military forces, had fallen during the night, though no one knew how. Some suspected a fatui assassination plot, though you were leery. Among the Qixing, it was common knowledge that he had been ill for some time. 

Through it all, Liyue found itself trapped in a haze of grief and mourning, as if the malaise of Wuwang Hill had somehow spread to the golden city. Their pain was amplified by crushed hopes, the strength of a people who, holding out against all odds, could deny it no longer.

Even those who had witnessed the passing of the great dragon at the Rite of Ascension had believed that he would somehow make a triumphant return. After all, why else would the Qixing make such a suspicious attempt to hide the body? 

But perhaps the greatest claim against the possibility that he was really gone was that this was Rex Lapis, their infallible god. His people loved him too much to consider the possibility that he was capable of succumbing to such mortal things as death. They had believed in him until they could no longer. 

You had been inducted into the Qixing when your battle prowess had garnered you Ningguang’s attention. Promotions had come steadily due to your competency, until you had risen so high as to become Lady Ningguang’s secretary. Then, under her, you had become recognized as the foremost expert on the history and culture of Liyue. 

You were a nightmare to face on the battlefield and a well of wisdom in the conference room, but though your talents were many, they did not extend to this, no matter how much you cared for your people. Conveniently, funeral parlor consultants were adept at handling grief. 

It was an easy decision. 

The Qixing would employ Zhongli as an envoy to the people, guiding them through the grief left behind by the death of a god. In return, you would teach him what it meant to be mortal. 

“The people are too reliant on their god,” he says, shaking his head at your noise of protest, “but I would never wish harm on Liyue. It seems my work is still not finished. I must guide them into a new era, one in which I am no longer needed.” 

“And then?” 

“I will finally be able to retire, I suppose. Though I’m not sure when that will be.” 

You’re not sure how gods retire. What Zhongli likely means is something more similar to death than human ideas of retirement. Centuries of existence have taken their toll on him, leaving him weary to the bone. More than anything, he wants rest, but he cannot when Liyue has need of him.

The end of the era of gods had shattered the city that had walked with gods. It was resistant to the possibility of a lonely journey. After all, it was the city that Rex Lapis had cultivated from nothing with his own hands, and perhaps spoiled, in his desire to provide for his people all that they needed. 

He had admitted it to you himself, with a melancholic smile on his face. “The human life is so short compared to that of the adepti. I would like to see my people comfortable in the little time we have together.” 

Even after renouncing his title as the Sovereign God of Liyue, he couldn’t help himself from looking after his people. Rex Lapis had ruled over Liyue for 6,000 years. He had seen more than you could imagine, in an immortal life that could snuff yours out in an instant. He was the oldest of the Seven who had grown tired of his long reign, and had relinquished his city to the Qixing, only to find himself called back into service. 

Though he was basically living history, never in his life could he recall a tradition like this. After all, there was no recorded instance of a god descending to live among his people. It was an age of new beginnings, one that no one had expected. 

New beginnings made people hungry. You could see it in the city, the restlessness that burned under their skin. Liyue had been invincible for so long, the people no longer knew what it was like to be weak. When Rex Lapis had founded the city, the people had been little more than dust, hastily cobbled together huts and prayers to a doting god. And now they had returned to that state, unsure of when disaster might strike. They were afraid, as you had never wanted your city to feel. 

That was precisely what had driven Rex Lapis to take the form of Zhongli, and what had brought you to his doorstep as an ambassador from Tianquan Ningguang. An olive branch, of sorts, after the long centuries of strained relations between the adepti and the Qixing. A partnership for the common cause they both served, the good of Liyue. You didn’t mind - after all, between your sovereign and your god, you were more than willing to serve as they saw fit. 

Even if your god insisted he was nothing more than a funeral parlor consultant now. 

“Zhongli-xiansheng,” you started.

“You can call me Zhongli. We will be seeing each other often, and it’s unnecessary.” 

You stumble, unused to his name in your mouth without honorifics, even if back then, you had called him Rex Lapis. “Zhongli, then. I will report your acquiescence back to the Qixing. If you are amenable to it, I will meet you at the funeral parlor to discuss our first assignment further.” 

Normally, you would bring the completed contract to Yanfei to look over, but as the other party was the god of contracts, today you found yourself free to return directly to Yuehai Pavilion, to find Ganyu. 

Ending the day with her had become a tradition ever since you joined the Qixing. You would forever be grateful for the way she took you under her wing. It was only around her that you felt comfortable letting your guard down, openly displaying the effect Rex Lapis had on you. Being in his presence (you had been praying to him since you were nothing more than a child) had left your mind spinning, and you only noticed when Ganyu pointed out: his coat is still draped over your shoulders. 

“I know we sent you there dressed in gold,” she teased, “but I hardly expected you to actually find yourself wedded. You’ve risen quite above your station, haven’t you?” 

Around her, it’s easy to drop the pretense of dignity, so you feel no shame when you gasp and clap your hand over your mouth. “I forgot to return his coat!” 

“Are you sure you just forgot?”

“What are you saying?” Ganyu is like an older sister to you - which means she also finds the greatest pleasure in poking fun at you. 

“Oh, nothing. Just that you were awfully enamored with Rex Lapis as a little girl. I wonder if you really grew out of it? It wouldn’t surprise me if-“ 

“Enough! I’m going home.” 

The sound of her bright, airy laughter follows you all the way back home. When you hang the coat up in the foyer, a light fragrance drifts down to your nose. It smells like him - like osmanthus flowers and sweet wine. You’re almost reluctant to let it go as you climb into your silk sheets. 

Walking through a silent Liyue is eerie. 

To see your city so adrift makes your heart ache. It’s never been as rowdy as Mondstadt (and good grief), but it’s a trade city. There should be bustling crowds surveying wares, hawkers tempting people to spend their day’s paycheck on piles of hand carved Noctilucous Jade, steaming plates of Almond Tofu, and bouquets of fragrant Qingxin. Everything about this feels wrong.

 You can only hope that later in the day, the sun will encourage more citizens to come out and bask in it’s warmth - even if Rex Lapis is no longer here to enjoy it with them. 

Or, to their knowledge. It’s all so confusing - how to handle their grief while keeping the very man responsible for it a secret, wiping their tears away in the company of the same god they’re crying for. 

Zhongli’s steady footsteps bring you out of your thoughts. “I brought you a gift,” he says, before you can greet him. “In honor of our partnership.” 

“Oh, there was no need. Thank you for your kindness.” 

He winces. “Don’t thank me yet. I, ah, forgot-“ 

“You scoundrel!” There’s a young man chasing him down the street, one you’re quite familiar with. It’s the owner of A Second Life, Dongsheng, and he looks like he’s about to unsuspectingly murder the god that he prays to every morning before he starts work. You step between them. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“This- this thief! He ordered 50 servings of lychee yesterday, only to show up today with no mora. Then, he tried to run off!” 

When you pull off your hood, he recognizes you just as you recognized him. Upon seeing your face, he drops into an instant bow, shoulders stiff. It makes you uncomfortable. Your people should enjoy seeing you, not be afraid. It was another quality you wanted to learn from Ningguang. “I’m so sorry for my rudeness, jiyao mishu. I almost didn’t recognize you at first.” 

“I wasn’t trying to run off without paying,” Zhongli says mildly. “I was simply hoping to find my acquaintance. You see, the lychee were a gift for her.” 

Dongsheng blinks. Then, without a second of doubt, he presses the basket of lychee he was carrying with him into your hands. “These are free of charge, then.” 

“What? No, I can’t!” You protest. He waits for you to finish speaking before he argues, ever deferential. 

“I insist! We all know what you’ve done for Liyue. Please, take this as a token of my appreciation. I only regret that I cannot offer more. Though,” his voice drops an octave, forcing you to lean in if you want to hear his next words. “I hope I’m not overstepping, but I would be wary of the company you keep, my lady. All of Liyue treasures you - he would be very sorry if he took advantage of your kindness.” 

If only he knew the true identity of who he was talking about. 

As Dongsheng hurried back to his unsupervised fruit stand, Zhongli remarks, “You are very beloved.” 

“And you,” you say archly, trying to hide your amusement, “are surprisingly bad with mora for being the god of it. What was that?” 

“I have never needed to worry for mora, I suppose. Whatever I needed, I had.” 

You would have never described Rex Lapis as cute. He was adored, venerated, worshiped - but not quite endearing. Yet, in the face of such blatant naiveté, from a god, no less, you couldn’t help smiling. “I suppose I will make that my first lesson in teaching you the ways of mortals.” 

“Let’s address whatever task the Qixing have set for us today first. A contract is an equal bargain, and I intend to uphold my half of the agreement.” 

You’ve been to Xigu Antiques many times before, but never under such inauspicious circumstances. It’s one of Ningguang’s favorite stores, suited for her expensive taste, and many of the vases in the former Jade Chamber were sourced here. Usually only open after sunset, today, it’s not open at all. 

“Linlang?” Knocking on the door receives no answer. You try again, but still, the door refuses to open. You’re just about to consider removing the door entirely when Zhongli presses your hand down, just as the door swings open to reveal it’s owner, blowing her nose into a tissue. One more knock and you might have hit her right in the nose. 

“I’m so sorry for the delay, my lady,” she looks embarrassed. “I haven’t been feeling my best lately.” 

“No need for such formalities, that’s why I’m here. How are you feeling?” You lay a gentle hand on her arm, and that’s all she needs to start weeping into your shoulder. Though you weren’t exactly close, she had attended Ningguang’s dinner parties enough that you could call her a friend. Besides, you felt a special skinship to her. Everyone in Liyue was devoted to Rex Lapis, but Linlang was even more pious than the rest. 

Zhongli stands awkwardly behind you. He doesn’t shift from foot to foot, as many people would in such an uncomfortable situation, but it’s impossible to ignore the looming presence of the towering man behind you. You’ve been surprised by him many times today, though you suppose anyone, even a god, would have a hard time getting used to a completely new form and life. 

“Where are my manners?” Linlang sniffles, her voice thick and congested. You want to urge her not to speak more than she has to. “Please, come in.” 

When you start washing the lychee you brought in the kitchen sink, she protests - “How could I ask you to serve me, my lady?” - but you insist. 

“Linlang, this is Zhongli-xiansheng.” He frowns at your return to that old title. “We know it’s been a strange and difficult month, so if you feel any hardship at all, please feel free to call on me at Yuhai Pavilion. I share the same feelings as you about Rex Lapis, and it would not trouble me at all to lend you my ear.” 

“Is he also a follower of Rex Lapis?” Linlang asks curiously.

“I suppose you could call him that.” 

“Thank you.” Linlang looks down at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “I will survive. After all, Rex Lapis was not just mine, but the entire city’s.” 

“But he was special to you, was he not?” Linlang’s family took pride in a direct connection to him. It was apparently her favorite story to tell, though you had not gotten the chance to hear it yet.

“I suppose I haven’t told you, my lady. Rex Lapis has kept watch over my family for centuries. He sent my great-great-grandfather a vision that started Xigu Antiques.” She takes a deep breath before she can continue, then another, and another, until she’s almost hyperventilating, but she can’t stop speaking.

“I used to say that Mondstadt was incomparable to us. Our god has walked with us for all our history - and now he does so no longer.” Her tears do not stop. Uselessly, your hands flutter at your sides. All you usually offer in comfort is quiet platitudes, but here, it might make things worse. 

Thankfully, Zhongli seems to know what to do. It’s almost effortless for him. Quietly, he offers her his hand, letting her grip his fingers until his knuckles are white, knowing he can do little else in this moment. Her shoulders shake with heaving sobs as you kneel in front of her, urging her to match her breaths to yours before she runs out of air. 

The three of you sit with the suffocating grief in the room, letting it tire itself out like a child throwing a temper tantrum before Linlang recovers. Even crying, she’s pretty, her nose and cheeks lightly blushed. Zhongli pulls his hand away from her to rummage in his pocket. 

“This is for you,” he says, drawing a red cord out. “It’s a leftover from the last Rite of Ascension. Tie it around your doorknob and it will keep evil spirits away. Consider it a parting gift of Rex Lapis - perhaps his protection extends beyond his death.” 

Linlang considers him with wide eyed confusion, but she takes the cord from him anyways. She presses her lips to it, tears still leaking out of the corners of her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmurs, over and over again, though it feels as if she’s addressing the thread, and perhaps the spirit of Rex Lapis through it, rather than the two living people in the room. 

You leave her like that, a scrap of red fluttering from her front door - the last piece she has left of a presence that has watched over her from before she was born. 

“Thank you, Zhongli.” 

He looks sympathetic. “I do not like to see her in pain, though I cannot reveal myself to her. I remember her ancestors - one of them looked just like her.” He’s lost in the memories of the past, and far from earlier, you recall how old he is, this god currently offering you his arm as you stroll along the streets of Liyue. The street lanterns twinkle like dying stars as he escorts you. 

“Even if she isn’t aware, at least Rex Lapis still lives.” 

Gently, as if he is trying not to cause offense, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Rex Lapis exists only as memories now.” 

Seeing the Yuheng at Yuhai Pavilion outside of weekly meetings is rare under normal circumstances, but especially strange in the turmoil Liyue currently faces. More often than not, she spends every waking moment at the Chasm or elsewhere in Liyue. 

Well, perhaps that was the reason why - Keqing was not awake, after all. Gently, you rouse the sleeping girl, painfully aware of how young she looked in her dreamless slumber. You even feel generous enough to let it slide when she shoots upwards and knocks you in the chin as she wakes up. 

“Oh! Sorry, did I fall asleep? Thank you for waking me,” she says, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “That would be embarrassing if anyone else found me.” 

“No need to be embarrassed,” you smile, “but do me a favor? Let me walk you home.” 

Graciously, she accepts, and the two of you fall into a steady stream of conversation. Out of all the Qixing besides Ganyu, Keqing is the one you feel closest to. Ningguang is something of a savior for you, always slightly out of reach, and too extraordinary to call a friend, but Keqing and Ganyu had brought you into their circle almost as soon as you met them. 

You and Keqing were the youngest of the Qixing, both with a chip on your shoulder and something to prove. She channeled her desire to forge Liyue’s path forward with critiques of Rex Lapis that sometimes antagonized the elders. You, on the other hand, have always admired Rex Lapis. One commonality brought the two of you together - painstaking effort in the name of Liyue’s future. In the end, though the Qixing squabble amongst themselves, it is all for the city they serve, so you can forgive her almost anything. 

Sometimes, she tends to take advantage of that fact. 

Like now. Your friendship is why she, like Ganyu, can tease you about Zhongli so easily, and she never passes up an opportunity. “How is working with Rex Lapis?” 

“I know what you’re doing,” you warn, but she pushes on. 

“Come on, you can’t blame me for being curious. I wonder how he reacts to your dedication. I can’t imagine him being flustered.” 

“First of all, he doesn’t know, and you aren’t going to tell him. Second of all, I am being professional, thank you very much.” 

“Are you?” She hums, and then backtracks as she can feel you actually start to become irritated. You turn to face her with an intent to pinch her on the cheek, and she throws her hands up defensively. “I’m just teasing, don’t be angry with me! You’re doing important work, and we’re all grateful for it.” 

“I’ve had enough of you and Ganyu,” you huff and change the subject. “Tell me about how Liyue is reconstructing. Is it going well?” 

Predictably, she ignores you. “Isn’t that the man of the hour? Hey, Zhongli!” 

“I’m not falling for that.” 

“Yuheng, jiyao mishu.” Keqing, for once, wasn’t joking - Zhongli is actually here. 

“What are you doing?” Keqing asks. 

“I wanted to mingle among the people of Liyue a little more,” he says. “I thought that the markets would be a good place to start.” 

A thought occurs to you. “Zhongli-xiansheng, aren’t you broke?” 

He pauses in his scrutiny of the goods laid out on the cloth in front of you, his fingers twitching as he tries, and fails, to conjure mora out of thin air. Giving up the status of a god comes with it’s pitfalls. “Ah. I forgot.” 

Keqing has her scheming face on, which never bodes well for you. “Zhongli, why don’t I offer the company of this lovely lady as compensation for all of your hard work today? The Qixing would never deign to dishonor Rex Lapis by leaving his vessel without funds. Consider this all covered by your stipend for your new position.” 

“Keqing, you can’t just trade me off like I’m some object,” you argue. 

“So you’re not going to accompany him? That’s shameful, my lady. Shouldn’t our god receive the utmost respect from us?” 

“You are so annoying.” 

“I’ll translate for you,” she tells Zhongli. “That’s a yes. Well, I’m off now! I haven’t slept in hours - but you two have fun.” She throws a wink at you as she leaves that you pointedly ignore. 

“What were you looking at?” You ask Zhongli, giving in since you know things won’t be going your way.  

“This starconch reminds me of a friend I’m expecting soon.” 

“You have a great eye, sir!” The merchant, sensing weakness, hurries over. “Do you see that orange hue? Most starconches are blue, so this is a very rare find. For that, I must mark up the price, but observe how it shifts in the light - is it not worth it? For your discerning eye, I’ll give you a discount. Only 40,000 mora!” 

Zhongli makes a passive noise of agreement, just as you feared. “Fascinating. I’ve never seen this before - I must study it further. It seems like a fair price for such a gem-”

Gently, you pull his arm back. “Wait a minute. May I see that, please?” 

The merchant pales as he recognizes you, originally too focused on making a sale to notice who accompanied Zhongli. “Jiyao mishu,” he bows. “A-as you can see, it’s truly a remarkable piece.”

“Spare me. Zhongli-xiansheng-“

“Zhongli,” he cuts you off. 

“Zhongli, this doesn’t look right. It was probably originally blue, but he probably soaked it in a mixture of Jueyun Chili, Berries, and Qingxin dye to get this orange color.” 

“Jiyao mishu,” the merchant cries. “How could you accuse me of such a thing!” 

“Are you saying I’m a liar? Look - right here, you can see a mark where the pigment has left a residue. 40,000 is not a fair price at all.” You frown at him. “What’s your name? The Qixing do not look kindly upon falsehoods.” 

“Please, my lady, I meant no disrespect! I never lied - it is a starconch, and it is orange.”

“You want me to overlook your lie by omission,” you say. “Well, in that case - shall we make a deal?” 

You walk away from that merchant’s stall with a promise not to attempt to scam any more buyers and the orange starconch - free of charge, for your mercy. Impressed, and in need of your practicality, Zhongli asks you to accompany him as he makes the rest of his purchases. He’s a strange mix of overly wise and completely vulnerable. Though he delights you with his opinion on Silk Flowers and Cor Lapis, more knowledgeable than the merchants themselves, he fails to recognize simple market tricks and the wily words of the vendors.

“This,” he says, “is a rare beauty. It’s been a long time since I saw such a remarkable specimen. The veins of gold must mean it was harvested from the peaks of Mt. Tianheng.” He held it up to the light in amazement. “Fascinating. In ancient Liyue, noble ladies believed that glasses carved out of this material could make the most powerful love potions. In fact, there is a pool in Yujing Terrace named after a concubine who, after failing to seduce the emperor with an aphrodisiac brewed in a Cor Lapis chalice, threw herself in and drowned.” 

Not everyone appreciates his commentary. Two young ladies from House Yu nearly trip over themselves in their haste to get away from you, even ignoring Zhongli’s outstretched hand. But to you, these small snippets of the past are fascinating. Even with your frankly unmatched memory for Liyue’s history, you had never heard of such a connection between the lakes and the royal consorts. You couldn’t help yourself from indulging him, even as you found yourself at the most expensive florist in all of the city.

“These Glaze Lilies,” he sighed and lifted them to his face, inhaling the delicate fragrance. “I had a friend who cherished these.” 

The look on his face was so melancholy you couldn’t help yourself - you bought him the store’s entire inventory. It was, you argued to yourself, a justifiable purchase for a god. 

As a thank you, he bought you a delicate sprig of Violetgrass (though you’re not sure how it could be counted as a gift if it was also paid for out of your pocket). “Here,” he said, pressing the flower against your face. “It is said that the scent of Violetgrass flowers can be quite fortifying, just like the flower itself - clinging to the mountainside even in the harshest conditions. I hope you’re not overworking yourself.” 

Without further explanation, he continues his appraisal of the hothouse flowers, ignorant to the startled, but pleased smile that made its way across your face as he tucked the flower behind your ear. 

“Jiejie,” a small blur practically flies across the street and into your arms. It’s one of the children of the merchants. You bring her candy whenever you see her, though she has to promise to keep it a secret from her mother.

“Who is this?” The inquisitive child looks curiously at Zhongli. 

“Be polite,” you scold. “This is Zhongli-xiansheng,” but you've already lost her attention. 

“Yanfei-jie was looking for you!” She holds her hands out hopefully. 

“Thank you,” says the woman in question, popping up behind you with no warning, as she tends to do. “Here, have a Lotus Head for your trouble. You!” She directs the latter part at you. 

“Me,” you say, amused.

“Thank you for finding that book for me! I checked every single bookstore and library I could find, and none of them carried it. If you hadn’t had it in your private collection, I think it might just have disappeared forever. What a waste of knowledge.” 

“I’m glad to have been able to be of help. If you’re finished with it, you can return it to Ganyu - she’ll know what to do with it.” 

“Please, let me treat you to dinner sometime,” she insisted. “Thank Rex Lapis-“ the man next to you flinches, though it’s barely noticeable- “for your contribution to the city. If you ever need some pro-bono legal advice, come to me! I’ll be more than happy to help after all you’ve done.” 

As Yanfei walks off, Zhongli looks introspective. “I’ve said this before, but you really are beloved among the city, aren’t you?” 

“No more than Ningguang,” you reply breezily, “and almost certainly less than you.” 

“Hm.” He leaves it at that. 

Another three hours into his exploration of the markets, and an agonizing three hours on your heels, he finally pauses with a furrow on his brow. He’s noticed your limp. “Please excuse me. It’s been so long since I’ve walked the streets of Liyue like this, now I find that I’ve been inconsiderate. You should’ve stopped me if you were in pain.” 

“Not at all! I quite enjoyed your history lesson,” you say, and it is not at all just an attempt at appeasing him. “It was my honor to be able to hear you speak. In fact, since it is getting late, let me invite you to dinner to repay you. No, don’t protest, or you’ll wound my pride. You know the Liyue way is to uphold reciprocity above all else.” 

“You’re hardly indebted to me for a few words,” he points out, “but I’ll be glad to accompany you, if you’ll have me. In fact, I know of this delightful little restaurant I’m sure will please you. Third-Round Knockout has never disappointed me.” 

Third-Round Knockout lives up to it’s name - as soon as you bite into their Jueyun Guboa, it’s like your mouth is on fire. It feels like there’s smoke in your nostrils just from the heat you feel on your tongue. You’re in the fight of your life against the war being waged on your tastebuds, and yet, it’s simply sublime. You can’t get enough of it, even as tears well up in your eyes and you reach for your third glass of water. 

At the man who recommended it to you, you accuse, “Zhongli, I think you’re a sadist.” 

“Does that make you a masochist? After all, I may be wrong, but it looks like you’re quite enjoying it.” Still, he smiles and offers you his wine to soothe your tongue. As always, he’s picked well. It’s a light and fragrant flavor, the perfect complement to the biting spice of the Jueyun Chilis. 

“Can I ask you something?” He waits for you to nod before he continues. “Do you hate me for giving up Liyue? Sometimes, watching you, I feel like I haven’t quite abdicated as much as forced you to take on my responsibilities. You are a child of this city - tell me honestly, do you hate me for abandoning you?”

How could you ever hate him? You mean to tell him, but he makes another attempt to speak first. A woman at a nearby table makes an annoyed shushing noise at him. You’re forever amazed by how people treat him now, compared to if they knew his true identity, but you know Zhongli prefers it this way, if the light smile playing at his lips is any indication. You try to speak to him again, but he shakes his head. It’s alright, he mouths. It was just a thought. 

Silence descends on the small restaurant - the bards have arrived. One is from Mondstadt, but most are from Liyue. On a dimly lit stage, they set up their instruments, and among them is a zither. Your fingers twitch, a fact that does not go unnoticed by Zhongli. “Can you play?” 

“A little,” you say, and leave it at that, because the bards are speaking. It’s impolite to talk over them, and besides, you love their stories. As a child, you had preferred the aftertaste of folklore on your tongue to an actual dinner. Ningguang liked to joke that you were raised on starlight and fairy tales. 

All of that respect for their carefully honed craft goes out the window as they begin their story - about you, and the monster you had brought down in the service of Liyue, the first act that had garnered you the attention of Ningguang, all the way above in her Jade Chamber. 

Back then, Ningguang had just been in the process of building her home, and it was much further below the skyline than it had been when it was used in the battle against Osial. It was a stroke of luck that she was close enough to witness you crush a yao guai that had gotten too close to the city. Stonehide lawachurls were, though infrequent sights, easily dealt with by the Millelith. 

This, a huli jing, was a completely different matter. A fox spirit looking for another life to take in order to complete it’s nine tails, it had prowled the city limits in order to find fresh prey, preferably young and pretty. They were vain creatures like that. Ningguang, a new recruit of the Qixing at the time, had not realized how close the creature had gotten to the gates, but did not have time to act before you struck. In front of nearly half the city and the Tianquan, you took down the monster in the name of Rex Lapis.

At that, you see Zhongli lean forward, interested in the mention of his name, and you can bear it no longer. Your chair screeches as you shove it back. Zhongli looks confused and concerned as he reaches for you, but you’re too busy trying to do damage control. 

“Jiyao mishu,” the bard cries out as he sees you, not expecting the subject of his song to be present. The people around you go down on one knee, all excluding Zhongli, once again earning him the ire of the woman at the neighboring table, who whispers loudly of the disrespect, and how if he was her son, she would cuff him around the ears.  

“Thank you, for such a wonderful tale,” you say, fighting back your embarrassment, “but may I borrow the stage now?” 

“Of course,” he stammers out, already making room for you. 

“The moon is bright tonight,” you muse. “I’d like to tell the story of Chang-Er, the girl on the moon, and her Jade Rabbit. Does that please everyone?” 

“You know your stories are incomparable, my lady,” shouts an encouraging voice from the back, and you laugh. 

When you’re finished, the entire restaurant is silent, still basking in the glow of the tale you’ve woven for them. If they blink, the moon still hangs bright and full behind their eyelids, and the sad-faced girl who occupies it smiles at them. They break into stilted, then roaring applause - a standing ovation. 

“I can’t believe it,” whispers the woman who had shushed Zhongli. “Who would have thought we would be so lucky? It cost Ms. Bai 200,000 mora to hear one of the jiyao mishu’s legends at a concert hall. 

“I heard that she’s always invited to speak at Lady Ningguang’s exclusive dinner parties.”

“What a night!” 

All around you, the whispers abound. Zhongli sits as still as a statue as you make your way back to him, accepting thanks and compliments as you go. He looks like a mystical being carved out of moonlight himself, as if the goddess you had spoken of had been so moved by your retelling, she had sent you a gift. He’s always beautiful, but under this full moon, his eyelashes tipped in silver and white, he’s heartbreakingly beautiful. 

“An interesting tale,” he muses, “though I hope you still prefer Rex Lapis to the lunar goddess.” 

“You know I do, my lord,” you laugh. “I’m not sitting with her at the moment, am I?” 

“I wasn’t aware you had such talents. It was a wonderful performance.” 

“Well, I am Ningguang’s jiyao mishu. As the enforcer of the law, she needs Liyue’s past available to her at all times.” You incline your head. “That is my role. I am Liyue’s living history, guardian of the memory of the land.” 

“Memories,” he says softly. “I see why Ningguang sent you to me.” 

“If I may, Zhongli-xiansh-“ and, at his frown, correct yourself, “Zhongli. I’ve been thinking about what you said last time. Rex Lapis may only exist as a memory now, but if you just watch your people, you’ll see. Their eyes are shaded with grief, but all around us, the city of rock endures. When even stone crumbles to nothing, memory outlasts all. Your people will survive, even when you are just the whispers of a great-great-grandmother’s bedtime story.” 

Zhongli looks at you as if he is seeing you for the first time. 

“I’m glad,” he says softly. Though not drunk off the wine you’ve been served, it’s loosened his tongue somewhat, mellowed him out. He’s always carried himself with a sweet sort of sadness, an ever present ache, but it seems to leave him for moments at a time, like now. “I’m glad that my people have someone like you to watch over them.” 

Before the sun rises the next day, Ganyu is already dealing with your regrets of the previous day. She’s a wonderful friend - even though she has no idea what has happened, she holds you through your incredulous self flagellation. “Ganyu,” you groan. “What have I done?” 

“Care to fill me in?” Keqing asks, leaning against the doorframe. 

“You’ll laugh at me,” you accuse. 

“There’s no denying that, but,” she says, “you’ll feel better. Come on, let it all out.” 

“Last night, Zhongli and I got tipsy at Third-Round Knockout-“ 

“Scandalous,” Ganyu interjects, her cheeks colored a light pink.

“And I accidentally got carried away and gave him one of my lectures.” 

Keqing can’t help herself - she bursts out laughing.

“I knew it! I’m never telling you anything again. My only friend is Ganyu,” you wail, nuzzling further against your self-proclaimed only companion. 

“Stop,” Keqing chokes out. “Oh, I can’t breathe. I need a minute. Okay, okay, I’ll be serious now. Does it really matter?”

Just like that, you turn on her. “Are you kidding me? Of course it matters! I lectured a god - our god! The oldest of the Seven and the wisest! He’s probably spent my entire lifetime studying some esoteric craft I couldn’t even hope to know about, and my puny mortal self thought I could educate him. Please, Keqing, end my misery.” 

“Hm,” Ningguang says, and your spine straightens so quickly you hear it crack. No. Not Ningguang, your boss, and the person you look up to the most. You could deal with anyone but her overhearing your embarrassment. She waves off your frantic apologies as you scramble to your feet. 

“In my limited experience with Mr. Zhongli, I think the two of you are quite similar.” There’s a twinkle in her eye you’re familiar with as the look she gets when she’s about to execute a particularly stunning political decision or business partnership, but you have no idea what it means in this particular situation. 

“I’m sure he didn’t mind,” she says. “After all, he goes on similar tangents. I see by the look on your face that you’re familiar with what I mean. In that case, there’s no need to be so sulky about it,” she smiles, but still, you hide your face, thoroughly humiliated.

“No need to be shy about it, either. It’s quite cute. I’m sure someone else thinks so, as well,” she says, as her parting message. The Tianquan is always busy - it’s one of the things you admire about her the most. 

“Why are you so dedicated to Rex Lapis?” Ganyu asks curiously. 

“Aren’t we the same?” You reply, even more confused than she is. “Don’t you also feel it? Just being in his presence feels like some sort of weird compulsion has come over me.” 

“No,” says Keqing. “I don’t feel it.” 

Ganyu, as always, tries for a more diplomatic approach. “No, you’re-“ she winces, clearly trying to find a tactful way to word whatever bomb she’s about to drop on you. “You’re, ah, shall we say different? We’re all devoted to him but you seem to want to…” 

“Die for him,” Keqing supplies. “Or live for him. Whichever one would make his life easier. It’s all very dramatic, and very like you, so I told Ganyu not to worry.” She laughs. “You’ve always been obsessive - first it was Ningguang, now it’s Zhongli. I wonder who it will be next?” 

“Who will be what, next?” Says Zhongli behind you. Ganyu bows, much to his exasperation. Centuries of fighting alongside him have not managed to dim her undying respect. Keqing does not, but you see the tips of her ears turn a pretty pink. 

You yourself are frozen in shock, the gears in your brain turning extra slowly as you connect his presence and the Yuhai Pavilion. They are two worlds you never saw colliding, even if logically, it was just a matter of time, now that he worked for the Qixing. 

Zhongli’s face, as calm as ever, doesn’t match his words as he continues. “So I’m not special? I’m a little displeased, to be honest.” 

Ganyu’s eyes are so wide there’s a strong chance they might pop out of her head. She’s half adepti, you reason. She could probably survive that. You couldn’t, however, so you needed to stop gaping and respond, but you can’t. You’re hoping that if you stay still enough, the ground will open underneath you and swallow you whole so you no longer have to deal with this entire situation.  

Zhongli beats you to it. “No matter. I know you’re busy with other Qixing work, so I’ve prepared our visits for today in your stead. There are several merchants who are causing trouble for the Yuheng.” 

Keqing sniffs. “It can hardly be called trouble. Annoyance is more like it.” 

“Nevertheless, you are far too busy to handle it, so we will go.” 

When you see the first name on the list, you groan out loud. Bolai is a suspicious merchant who, though he sells high quality products, you have always suspected of being a front for the black market. That’s not what has condemned him in your eyes though. After all, Liyue plays fast and loose with morals, as expected of the city of commerce. 

As long as he avoided direct and irreversible harm to the rest of Liyue, and brought in trade, then you looked the other way. If not, well - there were plenty of merchants who had learned the hard way that the Qixing did not look kindly upon those who harmed their fellow citizens. 

No, what irritated you about Bolai was his groveling. You hadn’t always been a member of the Qixing, and so he had ignored you the first few times you had encountered him. Only those of appropriate status, whether socially or intellectually, could approach him, and at the time, he had no way of knowing you would become either. 

When you had met him as a member of the Qixing however, his tune had changed. Gone was the infuriating condescension, the sneers and constant questioning of whether you had to mora to purchase his wares (to be fair, you hadn’t). Instead, he was overly ingratiating. 

He didn’t even remember who you were before, and that, more than anything, had earned him your ire. Yet here you were, standing before him with a bored look in your eyes as he prattled on about Rex Lapis. Such was the duty of a government servant, though Zhongli was thankfully more than willing to take the lead on this one. 

Zhongli, it seemed, had earned Bolai’s respect long ago for his knowledge on esoteric arts. Now they were drawn into deep conversation, heads bowed over a sheet of paper, as they discussed porcelain glazes and the appropriate firing temperatures. Bolai even trusted him enough to show him his prized possession - a teapot stored behind his desk, only taken out for certain meetings. 

“Zhongli-xiansheng,” he preened, “you absolutely must keep this a secret. Every citizen in Liyue would be after my head if they knew about the value of this simple earthen tea pot. You see,” his voice dropped into a whisper. “It was given to my family by Rex Lapis. I only take it out for special meetings that must go well - and every time, it works like a charm. He must have blessed us with luck. Just for you, I’ll let you have a taste.” 

It seemed that every citizen in Liyue had a connection to Rex Lapis somehow. Many foreigners believed that the city was exaggerating it’s claims of divine intervention, but Liyue knew better. From the simple family businesses sequestered into hole in the wall establishments to the lords of commerce that worked out of lavish golden mansions, Rex Lapis governed them all with a gentle but stern hand. 

Everyone with suitable ambition and dedication could find themselves the recipient of his benevolence. Indeed, some families passed down his blessings as heirlooms: pressed glaze lilies delivered from the claws of a dragon, the last mora left of a stash foretold in a dream, the shed scale of a great beast who had swept them from danger. Rex Lapis’ presence permeated all of Liyue. 

It would not be soon forgotten. 

As Bolai poured the tea, he sighed and turned his head away. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I am just remembering that Rex Lapis no longer walks with us. This is all I will have left of him.” 

He soon found another reason for his tears as an armed Millelith soldier burst into the store. One look at the man, splattered with blood, sent his customers scattering. “Just what is the meaning of this?” he snapped, but was completely ignored as the soldier, panting, turned to you. 

“My lady, Captain Cheng requests reinforcements! There are treasure hoarders at the Guizhong Ballista and he fears it’s an organized attack. There’s too many for us to hold off - we thought it was just going to be a normal patrol. I don’t think we can hold them off for much longer!” 

Bolai gasped and pressed his teacup to his forehead, hands clasped in prayer. “Rex Lapis deliver us. This would have never happened if he was still watching over us.” 

You had no more time to wait around and listen to his babbling. “Zhongli-“ 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“There’s no need-”

“I can still fight,” he insists. “And this is my city. I owe it.” 

This is no time for arguing. 

One soldier is propped up against the battlements, being guarded by another man, but the rest of the eighteen soldiers are making you proud. This particular regiment, including Captain Cheng, had been trained by you back when you had been in charge of new recruits. 

It’s a sort of light hazing ritual the Qixing do. They’re not the kind to force any kind of real harm on their newest members, but it’s one of the least desirable jobs. When an opportunity comes to push it onto some hapless initiate, they’re more than willing to do so. The soldiers’ resilience in holding off a force that far outnumbered them is commendable, but you’re still glad you got there when you did. 

You find that Zhongli had sorely understated his abilities in saying, ‘I can still fight.’ Even with his skills restricted in his mortal form, even holding back to avoid alerting the Millelith of his true identity, his first blow takes out an entire line of treasure hoarders, shaking them so badly that you can continue punching through the rest of their formation with your sword. 

Standing behind him like this, you wonder what it would have been like 2,000 years ago, watching him fight the Archon War. You’re almost a little jealous of Ganyu, having been able to see him in his prime. The view of his broad back is comforting. It’s a reminder that he will always be able to protect you. The defender of Liyue will never abandon his city. He is eternal. It makes you want to stand at his side all the more. 

“Hold the line,” one treasure hoarder squeaks out, but he doesn’t sound very convincing, especially as Zhongli unleashes a wave of geo energy that petrifies the rest of his foot soldiers. Watching him fight, you realize that he can’t detach himself from Liyue, no matter the fact that he insists he’s no longer a god. When Liyue had need of him, he came running, as if he couldn’t help it. 

There’s a rush of shame in you, too, all at once. Rex Lapis is retired, you remember, as much as you hate to admit it. There’s a selfish part of you that’s holding onto Zhongli as the last living remnant of your god, but he’s not. It’s unfair to him to treat him like he is. You can’t ask him to fight your battles for you, as he always has. 

Both of you, you realize, are still trapped in the old ways.

Then, he slumps against you.

Had he overdone it? Frantically, you grasp him around the waist, desperately trying to keep him up as you continue to bulldoze through your enemies, your own vision flickering in it’s little glass encasement on your hip. He’s working with you as best as he can, feet stumbling, but it still takes a little longer than you would like to dispatch the rest of their ranks. 

“Zhongli,” you hiss, as soon as you have done enough for the Millelith to be able to take over. One treasure hoarder stares up at you in terror, a whisper of monster escaping his lips as he looks at you, but you shove his shoulder down with your foot. And stay down, is the unspoken message. You have more important things to take care of. “Are you alright?” 

When he looks up, his gaze is completely clear. Of course - the Millelith were whispering already, about this unknown soldier with shocking capabilities. Zhongli is in retirement. This was the opposite of the low profile he had hoped to keep. And, says the unwelcome voice in your head, this was your personal failing. If you were better at keeping Liyue safe, Zhongli would be able to live his life in peace. 

But as guilty as you feel, there’s no time to indulge yourself, not when the soldiers are looking at you with curious eyes. 

“Thank goodness you took that Unmoving Essential Oil I gave you before we got here,” you bluff, “though I’m sure it took a toll on you. I will personally reward you for your sacrifice. There will always be honors for those who love Liyue well. Millelith!” 

They snap to attention for you. “I will be taking Mr. Zhongli back to the Yuhai Pavilion. Please, continue as you were. Rest assured that the Qixing will thoroughly investigate this matter.” 

They don’t look reassured. What would Ningguang do? She’s always been the role model for you ever since you joined the Qixing. Then, another voice chimes in your head, with a thought you’ve never had before. What would Zhongli do? 

“Fear not,” you add, unsure if this is the right thing to say, but it can’t hurt. “I am with you. No harm will come to you in the service of Liyue as long as I still live.”

At that, a tension goes out of the soldiers, stiff as trees in their armor and unyielding shoulders. They salute you and Captain Cheng comes up to grasp your hand. “Thank you for coming, my lady,” he says, smiling so wide you can see his dimples. “You’re as good as I remember. Please, allow me to apologize for my gross incompetence. Can I make it up to you with a dinner at-”

Zhongli lets out a soft groan against your neck, breath coming in warm puffs that make you shiver. 

“I’m so sorry Captain, I have to go. Feel free to send me a messenger with whatever you need to say,” you tell him, even as he narrows his eyes. He’s clearly not buying Zhongli’s act, and you wouldn’t either. Zhongli;s overdoing it. You need to get him out of here. 

You let go of him in a quiet section of the Qixing’s personal gardens, far away from prying eyes.

“Are you alright?” It comes out drier than you mean it too, but you’re not angry, just confused. 

“They were looking at me suspiciously,” he says. “I thought it wise to get out of there as soon as possible, though I am sorry for cutting your conversation with the captain short. Do you know him?” 

“A little,” you say. “Are you sure it’s not anything else? I need to investigate this further. If you’re not feeling up to it, I can ask someone to bring you back to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” 

“I’d rather stay with you,” he says, and that’s that. 

There’s something you’ve been meaning to deal with for a long time, but haven’t been able to. In the light of recent events, that has changed. Storming into Northland Bank, you demand an audience with the Fatui. They try to put you off, as they have before, but there’s a look in your eye that signals to them how different this is from every other time you’ve approached them before. You’re sick of their meddling in your city, and diplomatic immunity only goes so far. 

Even so, they still do their best to work their way around your demands. All of their high ranking officials, the ones you usually deal with, are conveniently ‘out’. You’re stuck speaking to a random Fatui footsoldier whose insolence is starting to get on your nerves. When you’re finally granted a private room, you’re beyond ready to take these fools apart.

“We had nothing to do with it,” the masked man insists, spreading his hands. “You are being rather rude, my lady-”

That’s the final straw. You have been more than tolerant of the Fatui’s presence in your city, even after they had nearly flooded it, even after all of their missteps. You aren’t even accusing them of being behind the attack, which you had more than ample reason to, considering their long history of working with treasure hoarders and other unsavory individuals, and their previous crimes against your cities. 

You were just asking for information, and they weren’t giving it to you. On top of that, they had dropped some rather unsubtle hints of how this was Liyue’s fault for being incomptent, not their problem, which infuriated you. 

“Enough,” you snapped venomously. “I will have order in Liyue. You-“ your finger dug itself into the chest of the Fatui footman. “Mind yourself. The Fatui are overstaying their welcome. Neither Lady Ningguang nor I will tolerate such uncivilized behavior for much longer.” You turn to leave but the man calls after you. 

“Zhongli-xiansheng,” he says. You hadn’t realized he knew the man at your side, as he had given no sign of recognizing him until now. “He’s back in town.”

Zhongli shoots him a cold look, and the man falls silent. Strange. 

As soon as you’re out of the Northland Bank, Zhongli says, casually, “I will have order?” 

Your entire body seizes up, remembering who you’re with. You had thought you were safe - after all, you were with Zhongli, and the two of you had grown close enough to think that he might not mention it. 

Only, you had forgotten that Zhongli was also Rex Lapis, the original speaker of the line you had delivered back there. 

You’re trying to think of a way to excuse yourself - how humiliating - when he smiles. “I liked it. It was cute. Do you quote me often?” 

It takes all of your mental strength to answer him and not run away, but finally, he relents and walks you back to your home. For a moment, the two of you just stand at the threshold, him unwilling to leave and you unwilling to go in. 

The arch of the entrance is hung with wisteria flowers Keqing brought back for you on a trip to Inazuma, back when the country had still allowed visitors. It usually attracts geo crystalflies to your door, so it shines with a dim light even at night. One attaches itself to Zhongli, perching on his nose. He goes almost cross eyed trying to look at it. 

Your laughter breaks the silence. A cool breeze stirs his hair, and he smiles at you fondly. The two of you part ways there, though when you turn back to close the door, you almost call out to him. You wanted to ask him if he’d like to stay. But it’s late, and instead, you turn the key. 

Weeks pass without incident, and you settle into a steady routine with Zhongli. Liyue is peaceful, for once. The Qixing’s quiet attempts at recovery are slowly but surely mending the city back together - so of course, that’s when things go wrong. 

It’s the middle of the night when Ningguang staggers to your door, bleeding wounds bound in gold. You can recognize Zhongli’s handiwork anywhere. She has no need for armor when she’s (usually) untouchable. It’s a lesson both of you know well - the best defense is a good offense, and if the enemy is dead, he can’t hurt you. But the tangy smell of iron tells you this is not a dream. Ningguang really is hurt.

Ningguang practically raised you, even though she’s just barely older than you are. Like an older sister, she had been your biggest supporter when you had been nobody worth taking notice of. She had been willing to put her newly forged name on the line for you, a risk you had been determined to pay back, but she had waved off your gratitude. 

Normally, Ningguang pressed every advantage she could, but when you had been called into her office to greet your benefactor, she had asked for only one form of repayment - for you to live a good life. You had done your best to live up to that by her side, watching her. Every gamble she took paid off, every venture multiplied itself. To you, there had been nothing she couldn’t handle. 

But here she was. 

Her face is too pale. She should’ve gone to a healer first, she’s losing so much blood, but she came to you. “You have to help him,” she gasps out. “It has to be you.” It’s a rainy night, and the water drops pelt the flowering wisteria vines until purple petals scatter in the wind. Her hair is slicked back to her head, and in a flash of lightning, you see how bad the situation really is. You can’t tell where the wound ends and undamaged flesh begins, dark, viscous blood dripping everywhere. 

Talking comes later. Right now, you need to get her to Dr. Baizhu. 

“No,” she says, when you lift her uninjured arm over your shoulder. “You have to go to him! Zhongli is fighting Osial-” The words disrupt in a fit of hacking coughs. A trail of blood runs into her eyes from a wound on her head. As tenderly as possible when you’re trying to move at a pace that’s too fast for her injured body, you wipe it away. Her skin is cold to the touch. 

You want to go so desperately, but there’s nothing you can do. Ningguang needs you. She can’t make it to Bubu Pharmacy on her own. You like Dr. Baizhu, but you don’t trust him. It’s hard to trust most merchants in Liyue, to be honest, but you have a contract - he always takes care of the Qixing when they’re injured. You can trust that. Besides, he’s too smart to attempt anything in the heart of Liyue, knowing you’ll be back soon.

You promise yourself that you will even as you flee in the direction Ningguang pointed you towards. You’ll be back for her. 

It’s a short journey thanks to the waypoints scattered throughout the land, but you still have time for your mind to wander. There are so many questions. How was Osial back? Would Zhongli be able to take him on if he was no longer a god? How could you help? 

Drowning, you find, hurts a little more than falling and about the same as burning. You would know, you’ve experienced both on the battlefield. There’s water rushing over your head, something like seaweed pulling you down, and you’ve always loved the beach, a place where Ningguang took you on vacations, the site of popsicles shared with Ganyu and splash fights with Keqing but the air is burning in your lungs and you can’t hold on for much longer -

Until you see a lifeline. You can’t see the rest of him, only his outstretched hand, but that’s enough. You grab on to the black fabric, relishing the feeling of the rough leather against your skin. It’s tactile in the way water isn’t, and he hauls you up. Zhongli kneels next to you, hands all over you, frantically checking your vitals. You shove him to the side so hard he nearly falls over, then pull yourself up and throw up seawater where he was formerly sitting. 

Come to think of it, you’re surprised Osial hasn’t launched an attack in this weakened state of yours, a liability to yourself and Zhongli. You can’t feel the rain on your face. When you look, the golden glow of a shield suffuses your body with warmth, driving off the worst of the cold. 

“Making puny mortals fight your battles for you now, Rex Lapis? My, how the mighty have fallen.” Nowhere in the texts did it say Osial was capable of speech, but perhaps not everything was recorded back then. 

“What are you doing here?” Zhongli asks you, his face drawn in displeasure. It’s a question you’re asking yourself - what are you doing here? Ningguang had said he was in trouble and you had come running, but you hadn’t planned a course of action. There was no way you’d be of any use to him - if anything, you’d only hold him back. 

You were strong. Ningguang had once asked if you’d be willing to deal with the eleventh Fatui harbinger, if he caused trouble on his diplomatic mission in Liyue, but you weren’t sure if you were able to take on a god. Even worse, you no longer had the Jade Chamber and Ningguang on your side. 

“The Jade Chamber,” you gasp, remembering. “Zhongli, I thought-” 

“You thought such a small rock could defeat me?” Osial’s voice is echoing around you, coming from all directions at once as if he surrounds you entirely. You feel like a pebble in the sea - completely outclassed and out of your element, but Zhongli holds firm. It’s moments like these that you remember you’re not hanging out with Zhongli, your close friend and purveyor of obscure facts. He’s a god. 

He was a god.  

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he rains meteors down on Osial’s head. The overlord of the vortex is strong enough to withstand a hailstorm of fiery rocks, but you wince at every impact, a meaty thump that shakes the earth. “Zhongli,” his voice wails, and his claws scrape at the golden dome protecting the two of you from the elements, sparks flying from it. “Zhongli, Zhongli, you traitor!” 

It’s like a song, almost, the wail of his name. You clutch your vision. Would it even be worth fighting a god with a gift you’ve received from another one? Would your talents even be applicable here? 

Zhongli’s hands fold over your own, pressing your vision back to your side. You hadn’t even realized he had noticed what you were doing. He shakes his head, indicating a lack of need, and smiles at you. “It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the wind - or was that Osial screaming? “I'll keep us safe.” 

That’s when Osial breaks through the shield and, with one swipe of his claws, knocks Zhongli into the air, four straight lines dug into his side where the ivory nails had clipped him. He lands on his feet, but drops to one knee almost immediately, hand going to the sticky blood matted on his side. You rush to him immediately, bracing him with your own body. When you bring your hand to your face, you realize, with a start, there’s a tiny gash in your cheek where a falling piece of stone had nicked you. 

The heavens open up. Golden spears start raining down. You realize that this is the first time you’ve seen Zhongli angry. 

It’s a hard fight, harder than it would have to be if Zhongli still had his gnosis, but he doesn’t, so the two of you make do. In the end, the Jade Chamber wasn’t sacrificed for nothing - Osial was still weak. He should’ve bided his time, but rage made him blind, and he had come to seek revenge immediately. If he had waited, he could have returned at full strength, but in the current situation, Zhongli was capable of  re-sealing him. 

He looks like the warrior god he is, the rouge around his eyes smeared with rain, and rust colored blood clotted in his wounds. At some point, he had lost one of his gloves, and his visible hand glows with geo energy, a tattoo only able to be seen in times like this. Every inch of his body hums with divine power. 

You’re almost afraid to interrupt him, but you have to, kneeling at Osial’s side. Zhongli turns to you, eyes ferocious. You almost flinch back when you meet his sight, but the glow dims down into a quieter hum when he sees you. Osial scoffs at your feet. 

“Osial,” you say. “Make a contract with me.” You’re not Ningguang or Yanfei, but you think you can manage this. You’ve studied his legends for so long. You know what he wants. Even gods, it seems, are subject to mortal struggles. You might be wrong, but the man standing at your side is living proof of divinity that came to envy humans. Years of fighting have turned Osial bitter, but from the beginning, he’s only wanted one thing, and it’s why he holds a grudge against Zhongli in particular. 

“This is a conversation for gods,” he says, oozing condescension even while he’s trapped beneath Zhongli’s boots. “What could you have to offer me?” 

You’re not sure where his ears are, given his hydra head, but when you lean towards your closest approximation and whisper in it, he stills. This is why Ningguang asked you to go - not because you were strong enough to take down a god, but because you were wily enough to coerce it to your side. 

He tries to put a strong front, already he’s crumbling. You were sure you would too, if you had your heart’s desire, one that you’ve kept carefully tucked away for hundreds of years, exposed and dangled in front of you. 

“It’s not possible,” he says. 

“It’s not? Many politicians have managed over the years, why can’t you?” 

“Liyue would never accept me. I’m surprised you are.” 

“Well, isn’t it a stroke of luck you’ve always been stopped before you could cause any lasting harm? Osial. Come when I call, and fight for Liyue. Do this, and I will make you a god. I will see that shrines are erected in your name, and that children pray to you on a day of honor. Guard the harbor from our enemies. Disobey me, and I will return you to the depths.” 

“Don’t you hate me?” 

“I have no need for hatred. I serve Liyue’s best interests, and personal grudges come second.” 

He closes his eyes, smiling. “A yes, then. How noble of you, just like him.” He slants a gaze at Zhongli. “Jiyao mishu of the Tianquan, I accept your terms.” 

Your god is a merciful one. When the contract is completed, Osial melts into the sea, the storm fading with him. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

“I’m sorry, my lord.” 

He frowns harder. 

“Zhongli,” you correct. 

“I am no longer your god,” he says, but you know better. It didn’t matter what he called himself - Zhongli or Morax or Rex Lapis. He was Liyue, the living embodiment of the city you had dedicated yourself to, and you would serve him until you could no longer. 

How could he ask you to pretend otherwise? He was everything to you: mother, father, king and god. If he asked you to kill in his name or lay at his feet like a tamed wolf, you would. Such was the nature of Liyue’s loyalty to their god. You were content to live and fight for him, as he saw fit. He was Zhongli, but after what you had just witnessed - was it possible to just see him as any other mortal man? 

The pain in his eyes hurts you, but you can’t forget what he looked like then. Everytime you turn to him, to crack a joke, or share a cup of tea, Rex Lapis’ face will overlap with Zhongli. Thankfully, he changes the subject. “Will you do me a favor?” 

In all your months of partnership, Zhongli has never asked you for anything. He must know that you would jump through hoops for him, but you’re curious. Just what could he be asking for?

“There is an old friend who can be found at Wangshu Inn. He has sacrificed a great deal for me and presently still lives in pain. I would like you to deliver this to him, if possible.” 

You know who he’s talking about. The adeptus Xiao, Ganyu’s mentor, and the last remaining of the five foremost Yaksha. A lonely existence. 

“Of course, my lord.” 

“Zhongli,” he corrects, softly, his eyes filled with something you can’t describe. “I am Zhongli, now.” 

Wangshu Inn is, as always, welcoming to you. You both share a denominating characteristic that makes it impossible for the inn to ever become an unfriendly environment - pet projects of the Tianquan, after all, have to stick together. 

As Ningguang’s jiyao mishu, you’re well aware of what goes on behind the scenes. The inn is nothing more than a front to aid the last Yaksha, Xiao, in his quest to rid the world of evil. 

“He likes almond tofu,” Ningguang had remarked to you once. She liked to keep tabs on him, though you were sure this attention probably went unnoticed. 

As such, you had carefully prepared homemade almond tofu with Ganyu’s family recipe in an attempt to lure him out, sprinkled with the powdered herbal medicine Zhongli had given you. 

As soon as the adeptus appears before you, he demands that you leave. 

“This is for you, my lord.” 

He wrinkles his nose in displeasure - at the title or the food, you can’t tell. You’ve never been told that you were a bad cook, but then again, you rarely feed other people. 

“I will not ask again. This is no place for-“ 

“This is a gift from Zhongli. If you send me back, he’ll be worried.” 

Xiao looks, for a moment, like he’ll send you careening off the side of the inn, but Zhongli has already informed you how this works. He’ll bluster and try to scare you off, but in the end, he has dedicated his life to the protection of mortals. He would not harm you unnecessarily. 

This, of course, does not mean he is pleased when you sit beside him to watch him eat his almond tofu. 

“How is the life of an adeptus?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“The adepti do not live,” Xiao says. “They endure. You would know that if you weren’t an ignorant mortal.” It doesn’t sting, though the words can be taken as cruel. Xiao is not the cruel sort. He speaks the plain truth. 

“Do you know what Zhongli was like as a god?” Xiao looks like he is genuinely contemplating throwing you off the balcony of the inn. 

“Did you bring me food to waste? I cannot eat when I talk,” he complains. He takes another bite - but you already know him, just from years of second hand information. He cannot resist talking about Zhongli. Like you, he has dedicated his life to his savior. 

“Strong. Kind.” He shrugs. “Much like he is now - infinitely forgiving of the mistakes of mortals.” The last part is very clearly directed at you. 

“Tired,” he says, his eyes dimming. “He was always tired.” 

This is not different from his current incarnation. It seems that no matter what form Zhongli took, the sadness he carried would follow him. 

As Xiao finishes his meal, you collect his plate, hoping that it will stave off some of the pain of his karmic punishment. He looks better already, though that might just be hope talking. 

As standoffish as he is, you have always had a soft spot for the protectors of Liyue, those who were as dedicated as you were. And he is beloved of Zhongli. So it is not a conscious decision, when you tell him that you’ll come visit. 

“Don’t bother.” 

Ningguang is never truly excited. She keeps all her emotions in her hand like a deck of cards, showing one when it suits her purposes, hiding them when it would not benefit her. Still, she looks pleased to hear about Xiao when you report back to her, and brushes off your concern of the previous night, though you can see the bandages wrapping her entire side through the sheer gold mesh of her dress. 

“I’m the Tianquan,” she says dismissively. “Something like this couldn’t keep me down. Qiqi and Dr. Baizhu did a fabulous job of tending to me - would you send them a little gift of appreciation?” You have a hard time believing her, because she’s stiff when she walks and she’s always hidden her injuries from you. 

“Ah.” She sets down her teacup with a strange sort of smile on her face. “I forgot.”

“I don’t mind, my lady, even if I’m no longer your secretary.”

She raises a hand, almost as if she’s about to stroke your hair, then changes her mind and drops it. “No, don’t bother. Have I ever told you I’m proud of the woman you’ve become? I knew you were the right choice for this.”

“To work with Zhongli?”

“That too,” she says, smiling secretively. “Now, I think you have something to attend to?”

It’s a dismissal if you’ve ever heard one, but you don’t mind. Ningguang always has a reason for doing the things she does, and you’re her right hand. All will be revealed in time, if you’re patient. 

The Yuhai Pavilion will never be the Jade Chamber, but the people are the same. As you pass them, you greet them by name: Baiwen, Baishi, Baixiao, and others, each of whom you are intimately familiar with. Yunyu, Ningguang’s personal maid pulls you into an abandoned stairwell to catch up and gossip. 

“I haven’t seen you in forever! I swear, I thought you had disappeared off to some reconnaissance mission in Snezhnaya and forgotten to tell me about it. I was already preparing to scold you, but I’ll be generous this time. I’ll forgive you everything if you tell me about that beautiful man who won’t leave you alone.”

“Who, Zhongli? He’s a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. He’s just helping me with Qixing work to help fill the absence of Rex Lapis in Liyue.”

“Oh,” she says. Her smile dims. “I thought it was more exciting.” 

Jiaying, the head maid of the Yuhai Pavilion, pulls you and Yunyu out of your little alcove. “How dare you! Sneaking off without us - I know you’re trying to keep her all to yourself. Who’s that-“ 

“Don’t bother,” Yunyu sighed. “I already asked. It’s about Rex Lapis.” 

Jiaying stifles her laughter. “To be honest, what did you expect? I’ve never seen her look at any man besides those statues of Rex Lapis. But while you’re here, would you mind looking at these documents for me? There’s no one like you to check for silly errors. You absolutely must hurry back to us!” 

Before long, there’s a small circle of people around you. “You’re back! Oh, I missed you!” Huilang whined, arms draped around your shoulders and chin resting on your head. Really, that girl had to be taking some kind of growth supplements. What could her family possibly be feeding her? 

“This place is in shambles without you,” Yunyu shakes her head with a fond smile. For the first time in a while, you feel relaxed. Jade Chamber or Yuhai Pavilion, this is home. There are the people you’ve grown up with, who have bound your wounds and kissed away your tears - and sometimes, in the case of Yunyu, stolen the snacks Ningguang made sure you received during lunch breaks. 

“Excuse me, ladies. I’m sorry, but I need to steal her away for a moment.” You still can’t get used to the sight of Zhongli in the Yuhai Pavilion, but everyone else seems already accustomed to it. 

Yunyu sighs dreamily. She really is enamoured with him, but she is with all pretty men. It was the Millelith’s four star general before him, and who knows who it will be next? Whoever it is, the one true love of all the women of the Yuhai Pavilion is Ningguang. No man can compare. 

“It’s alright if it’s you, Zhongli-xiansheng,” Yunyu says, then her expression turns fierce. “But you better treat her right!” 

“Of course, of course,” he says, playing along with his most pacifying tone. “I wouldn’t dream of it otherwise. In fact, that’s what I’m doing right now.” He offers you his arm, and you have to fight to ignore the noises that come out of the crowd of women behind you. Rumors fly around the Yuhai Pavilion faster than Keqing can teleport, but soon, it becomes easy to ignore the staff because Zhongli’s attention is far worse.

His gaze on you is a thousand prickles on the back of your neck. Clearly he’s expecting something, but you’re not sure what. He stills in the middle of a hallway and turns on you - “May I?” 

You’re not sure what he’s asking for, but nod almost on reflex. Everything you have is his. Everything you are his. Rex Lapis, is the foundation of everything, master and father and king all in one. You’d obey him without a second thought. Zhongli is something other that you haven’t quite managed to fit into your puzzle yet, but they overlap, somewhat. 

You’d give him anything of yours you could offer, and he didn’t even have to ask. That is the way it should be, between a god and a god’s chosen, but the guilt is unbearable. You can’t stop yourself from wanting more, wanting the impossible. It sickens you, this mortal weakness. You’ve always been greedy. You rose from the streets of Liyue to a seat among the Qixing. How much further could you advance? Ningguang had commanded you to keep that spirit alive, the longing always, for more than you had. As quickly as you held something in your grasp, you wanted more. 

Desire for food became desire for a warm home. Desire for a warm home became desire for mora. Desire for mora became a desire for power. As quickly as you gained your wishes, they multiplied, transmuting. And now that hungry beast inside of you that has driven you down this path wants the most unattainable, greatest thing you could possibly own. 

You want Zhongli with such a heady, feverish yearning it makes your hands tremble with the force of it. You barely have a grip on it these days, the need to touch, and hold, and claim. And you refuse to let yourself, because it would be the highest dishonor. 

You’ve come far, but you still know exactly how much is above your station. 

Zhongli is waiting patiently, with an amused face as you slowly peel yourself away from your innermost thoughts. Embarrassed, you look away from his eyes as you ask him to repeat himself. 

“May I?” He says. You nod, confused, but willing to give whatever he’s asking for - a dark part of you trembles under his attention, glad to be the one he’s asking. 

With tender hands, he gently rubs your shoulders. “You work too hard,” he says. “You’re all tense.”

“I-” You can’t think. Your head is spinning under all of his attention, and by the mischievous smile gracing his features, perhaps this is what he means to do. He must know the effect he has on you, and he’s playing you like a fiddle. His warm hands, the way he’s standing so close you can smell the ever present fragrance of Glaze Lilies on him - it’s all too much. If you don’t stop now, you’ll never be able to hold yourself back. Already, you want him far too much, enough to keep him away from everyone else. A god, all for yourself. 

You turn away. “Zhongli-xiansheng,” 

His hand grips your chin and forces you to look back at him. For only the second time in the months you’ve known him, he looks seriously displeased. Angry. He grabs your hand and stalks off, forcing you to keep up with his brutal pace. 

You think he’s leading you back home, or perhaps to a teahouse, as has become tradition for the two of you after a long day’s work. Instead, he guides you to a dark, secluded storage closet, barely used, and shuts the door behind you. 

“Zhongli?” 

“You promised,” he said. 

Those two words put you on guard instantly. A promise is a serious thing to a Liyuen, even more so to a member of the Qixing. Between the jiyao mishu of the Tianquan and the God of Contracts, it can only be something out of the stuff of legends. But the problem is - you can’t remember any promise you’ve made him that could be so serious. 

Sometimes, at the market, you’d drag him off for a snack break and promise to return for whichever ancient artifact he’d been eyeing, or you’d promise to take a nap as soon as you completed this last document, but you had always carried out your end of the bargain. Even such measly contracts were important to Liyuens, but as hard as you rack your brain, you can’t remember what he could be talking about. He takes pity on you, your dumbfounded look clearly conveying how little you know of what he’s talking about. 

“You said you’d help me become human. How can I learn if my teacher doesn’t even believe it possible? I’m not a god anymore,” he says. “I’m just Zhongli.” 

Ah. The very first agreement you’ve ever made with him - you hadn’t even considered it. He shifts, and it’s a very inappropriate time for such inappropriate thoughts, but you can’t help thinking that he’s too close. It’s a very small closet and you can only fit by being pressed together. He doesn’t even have room to stand up fully, instead, he leans over you, his chest barely a breath away from your face. He smells like a man, not a god, like amber and musk and something sweeter, a floral undertone. 

Zhongli steps away from you, hurt flashing across his face. “Is that a no?” 

Of course it’s not a no. Even if you weren’t willing, you had made a promise. Lurching forward - too close, squeaks a voice in your head - you collide with him in your frenzied attempt to deny his words. Ever the gentlemen, when the two of you go sprawling to the floor, his hand comes up to protect your head. 

Blinking stars out of your eyes, you have no time to assess your compromising position, propped up on your hands and knees over him. He’s holding his side, face white in pain, and you remember the fight with Osial was just recent, but the words that are spilling out your mouth have no time to be held back. 

“Of course not! I’m sorry I was being selfish, I, I,” you can’t think straight, you just know you need to set him right. You’ve never been at a loss for words before, not even when Ningguang was running late for a meeting and you’d been a newly inducted member of the Qixing, stalling for time in front of some of the biggest names in business, but Zhongli had that effect on you. 

“I know you’re not a god. I know. It’s just hard sometimes, to reconcile Zhongli and Rex Lapis, your abdication with my faith, but I know. And I’ll do better.” Frankly, you didn’t care what you felt right now. You’d do anything if he would stop looking like that, even if you had to force your own feelings into submission. 

You look into his eyes and say with all the conviction you can muster, so he can feel how much you care, so he knows you’re not abandoning him. So he knows you’re friends, if nothing else. “Between Rex Lapis and Zhongli, I’d choose you, a hundred times over - even if it means no one else in Liyue can have their god anymore.” 

He sits up, forcing you to adjust for him until you’re basically hovering over his lap, though you’re sure he has no idea what he’s doing. 

“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and it’s all worth it. The disconnect between the god he is and the man he is now, your grief at the loss of the presence that meant everything to you, even the turbulence now sweeping it’s way through Liyue in the power vacuum he left behind - it all pales in the presence of that smile, the crinkled corners of his eyes. He’s so beautiful. You want to make him happy forever, if he’ll keep smiling like that. 

Just then, a bright light fills the dim interior of the closet. Even squinting, your eyes need time to adjust, but then the brightness fades into something more bearable. Yunyu, and what appears to be half of the staff of the Yuhai Pavilion behind her, stands with her arms crossed in front of the open door. 

“Treating her right, huh?” Yunyu drawls. “Very cliche, Zhongli-xiansheng.” 

Having tea with public enemy #1 of Liyue was not on your agenda today, but as always, Zhongli threw a wrench in your plans. It was meant to be a relaxing night alone, until you had spotted an acquaintance. Normally, you’d join them immediately, but this time, some instinct stopped you, and for good reason. Across the floor of the tea house, a wanted criminal playfully begs Zhongli to feed him, citing ‘lack of competence with chopsticks’ as an excuse. 

“Zhongli, what is the meaning of this?” 

He flinches when he sees you. You’ve never seen him falter for the right words before, but he is now. “I- ah, this is-”

“I know who he is,” you snap. “I’m asking what you’re doing with him.”

The ginger man grins up at you. “Ooh, feisty. I like that.” Zhongli shoots him a look. 

“Zhongli, can I speak with you? Privately?” You ask, but Childe, as he introduces himself - you want to scrub the name out of your brain - is the most annoying person you’ve ever met. 

“What? Anything you need to say to him, surely you can say in my presence.” 

No, you absolutely cannot, because you are a government servant, keeper of various state secrets, and this is the man who nearly flooded your entire city. This all, you convey through your eyes, and he completely ignores you, batting his eyelashes like that will convince you that he’s both trustworthy and friendly. It does nothing but set you off. 

“Zhongli,” you hiss. “I cannot believe you’re willing to see him. He summoned Osial! It’s because of him that Ningguang lost the Jade Chamber - can you imagine the destruction that would have occurred if he had succeeded? Having him here is an affront to-“ 

“I tricked him,” Zhongli states simply, “so we’re even. And I’ve already spoken to him about this matter.” 

You don’t believe that’s how it works. 

Childe nods aggressively. “Yeah, girlie! Zhongli says it’s fine, so it’s fine. Here I thought the people of Liyue were known for their graciousness. What’s with the grudge? I was stopped before anything serious could happen.” 

“You nearly flooded my entire city,” you say incredulously. 

“That’s all water under the bridge now - oh, literally,” he says with a laugh. “Besides, I’m off the clock right now! I make it a rule not to talk business after hours unless I’m getting paid extra.”

“Ugh,” Childe makes a face as he takes a sip of his drink. “Liyue wine can’t compare to Snezhnayan fire whiskey. Hey, waiter! Don’t you have anything stronger?” 

“Be respectful,” you say, pushing his hand down and smiling politely at the waiter, Ruohan. Of course you know him, as you’ve made it your mission to know most of the people in this part of Liyue. After all, you govern them - it’s only fair to remember their names and be able to recount their troubles with them. 

He turns away, a light flush covering his cheeks. Zhongli coughs. 

Childe’s eyes narrow. “That go down the wrong pipe, buddy?”

Zhongli holds up a hand to wave off his worry. “Enough. I would like the two of you to get along-“ 

“As if!” You say. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem!” Childe grins. 

Of Zhongli’s acquaintances, you greatly prefer Xiao to Childe. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the adeptus, so you head off for the inn he usually calls home. After all, you had promised you would visit, and a Qixing never breaks a promise, though Xiao probably wouldn’t have minded if you did. Preferred it, even, but you made good on your debts, regardless of anyone’s opinions. 

“Leave this place immediately,” he says as soon as he sees you, like always, but now you take it as his version of hello. Perhaps it would work on some less thick skinned mortals, but you were Qixing. You had dealt with far more harsh language in your career, and you weren’t about to let Xiao chase you away - especially not knowing how much pain he was in. 

“How are you feeling? I brought more almond tofu.” 

“There’s no need,” he snaps, but he holds his hand out for your offering anyway. “You should stop visiting. This is no place for mortals like you. And tell Morax he no longer needs to provide me with the medicine.” 

“He prefers Zhongli,” you say mildly, inching closer like he’s a cat you might scare off. When he doesn’t flee, you grab him by the wrist, whip-quick, and pull him down next to you. As expected of an adeptus, he reacts in record time, pulling away from your grip, but you’re strong, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

“What are you doing?” His words come out like a hiss, but you ignore him, placing the bowl of almond tofu, dusted with a variety of herbs carefully selected and powdered by Zhongli, in front of him. 

“Eat. You’ll feel better.”

And while he begrudgingly takes spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, his tattoos begin to glow, black ink receding down his arms in favor of green. A physical change comes over him. Xiao’s always been strong, but the way he looks without the burden of karmic debt is completely different, as if, even with the face of a young man, he’s lost several years of aging. The lines of his face, drawn taut in my pain, have disappeared, and his mouth is no longer set in a severe frown. He could almost pass for friendly, when he’s not in constant pain. 

Sometimes, not often, Xiao reminds you of Little Meng, the child who always begged you to play pirates with him in Liyue Harbor. Of course, you were sure he would be offended if you told him he reminded you of a role-playing toddler, but there was a similarity. Both Little Meng and Xiao were stoic sufferers, unwilling to let other people see their pain, or attempt to relieve it. And both were loyal to a fault. 

“Zhongli makes you medicine because he cares. If you stopped taking it, you’d hurt him.” 

“I am his vassal,” Xiao said. “It’s not right for him to tend to me.” 

“I think Zhongli stopped considering you anything of his besides a friend a long time ago.” 

To your surprise, Xiao actually listens to you, or as close as the grumpy adeptus can get - he doesn’t make an attempt to argue. “I suppose you would know what he thinks now,” he says slowly, and you have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. 

He’s always overworking himself. Ningguang’s people told you as soon as you stepped in the inn. The adeptus doesn’t rest, doesn’t stop for anything in his merciless hunt for monsters. You have experience taking care of people like him. 

Ningguang, Keqing, and even, admittedly, yourself - the best way to deal with such headstrong people is to just let them tire themselves out, then slowly guide them where you want them to be. 

You snatch his spear away as soon as he reaches for it, already intent on jumping off the balcony to go find some more monsters to devour. The offended look on his face makes you gulp, but you soldier on. After all, you’ve already gotten away with manhandling him once today. Perhaps that has made you bold - too bold - enough so to grab an adeptus and place his head in your lap so you can stroke his green-black hair, the fringe falling in his eyes. 

“You protect everyone. Let us protect you. Xiao, go to sleep.” 

He fights the effects of the medicine, but it’s no use. His eyes are closing, and he falls swiftly into what must be his first peaceful rest in a long, long time. 

Zhongli is waiting by the entrance to your apartment by the time you finally arrive home, when the waning moon is high in the sky. You stayed with Xiao as long as you could, watching his breathing even out, giving him the human contact he must have gone without for years. Even when you reluctantly had to leave, you entrusted him to the care of the innkeepers. 

“Jiyao mishu,” he starts. 

You remember how hurt he had looked when you had called him Zhongli-xiansheng. These titles between the two of you are useless formalities that only remind him of past sources of pain. You must be tired, because that’s the only excuse for how you’re suddenly blurting out, “You can call me by my name.” 

Your smile freezes on your face as you hurry to add, “Because you let me call you Zhongli.” 

“Of course,” he says, ever elegant, ever capable at steering past the awkwardness in a conversation. “May I come in?” 

If you had spoken to yourself even just a year ago and said that the god of contracts would be sitting in your home, drinking your tea you would’ve gotten slapped for being a liar. 

And yet, here you were, with Zhongli himself sitting on your couch. He’s apologizing for staying so late. “I had just meant to stop by in the afternoon to offer you tea I had made from the Glaze Lilies you bought me, but when the hours stretched into night and you hadn’t returned, I found myself a little worried. Forgive me my foolishness, I should’ve known you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.” 

“You were waiting out there for so long?” 

He lifts one shoulder, and even that gesture too, is transformed into the elegance of a perfectly executed curtsey because of the man who makes it. “It is not such a big deal. May I ask where you were?”

“With Xiao.” You’re still too stunned by his admission to offer anything beyond the simplest answer to his question, your brain still stuck on how he waited for you, in the blistering heat of Liyue summer, all afternoon, to make sure you got home safe. 

“With Xiao?” 

“You said he was ill, and I was worried.” 

Behind his teacup, his lips quirk into a smile. “I see. And you looked after him. Truly, you are something else.” 

It is at that moment that you realize you have something inside your house you don’t want Zhongli to see, and at that same moment he turns around and looks directly at it, because the god you always pray to is no longer answering messages, having retired. 

“Is that my coat?” 

It is. From the first day you met, you had forgotten to return it over and over. Eventually, it had simply found a permanent place hanging on your coat rack, welcoming you whenever you came home. Even more humiliating, the tail of your keychain is very clearly sticking out of the pocket. He gives you a cheeky smile that says more than if he had just made fun of you. 

“You can keep it,” he says, “if you do me a favor.” At this point, you’re willing to do almost anything, if he would just move past the topic at hand. 

Gently, he takes your wrist into his hand, and with the lightest touch, carefully claps a gold chain around your wrist. It’s glowing, and gold flecks shimmer and emerge into the air around it, only to fade away - imbued with Geo energy. 

“This is a gift,” he says, his head bent so low over your hand the end of his bands brush your fingers. You can feel his cool breath against your skin. “Keep it on you, and be safe always.” 

It’s a thoughtful present, and one that admittedly makes your heart race every time you catch a glimpse of it for the next week, but unfortunately, your coworkers also can’t get enough of your new jewelry. 

“That’s basically a proposal,” Baizhu says. “How romantic!” 

You never put much stock into Baizhu’s antics, but even Ningguang has joined in the teasing, and you’re desperate to escape the Yuhai Pavilion. When you check your to-do list, there’s a task you’ve been meaning to do for a while anyways, and it’s the perfect escape. 

Ningguang had saved the city from Osial’s destruction, but water damage and flying hunks of stone weren’t the only things that could damage Liyue. As much as you were ashamed of being unable to provide a better solution at the moment, the city of wealth also had citizens with little to their name. The Qixing, knowing that legislation, while important, took time to pass and direct action was often needed, had set up a kitchenette in the heart of Liyue to provide meals. They were free of charge to those who were in need. 

And today, that was where you had decided to spend your time. After all, you had once been among those waiting in line. 

As you pass her a bowl of steaming hot soup with a side of glazed vegetables, a woman clasps your hand and bends over it in prayer. “May Rex Lapis look after you,” she says. 

Then, she looks at your companion curiously. After all, what is a member of the Qixing doing next to the most hated man in Liyue? 

“Hey, girlie!” 

You ignore him. 

“I know you can hear me!” He gets closer to your face. “You want to spar? Zhongli won’t play with me right now, and you’re the only other friend I have in this city.” 

You desperately remind yourself that if you tried to drown him in the soup, no one else would get fed today, so you must restrain yourself. 

“Hey! Hey, I know you can hear me.” He waves his hand in front of your face. “You’re so cold! Friends shouldn’t treat each other this way.” 

“I’m not your friend,” you grit out. 

“No? I guess it makes sense,” he says, stroking his chin. “After all, I did almost flood your city. But come on, it’s not even like that’s a particularly bad crime, if you think about it. Shouldn’t you be grateful since I -uh!” 

You’re rather proud of the squeak he makes when you grab him by the shirt and shove him against the wall. “What did you say you wanted to do? You wanted to spar? I’ll give you a fight if that’s what you want so badly, but first, shut up and,” you shove a ladle into his hands, “work for it.” 

He looks at the ladle, then shrugs. “Not much different from being the greatest toy salesman in Snezhnaya.” 

“You are so weird.” 

As much as you hate to admit it, Childe is a decent fighter. More than a decent fighter - he’s keeping you on your toes, and you trained with the rest of the Qixing, including Ningguang, regularly. 

The worst part is the way he’s trying to advise you, calling out tips. 

“Got you there,” he pants, lunging. You barely dodge in time. 

“Oho, well done! You need to relax though, you’re too tense.” 

“I’m going to kill you,” you roar, bringing your sword down on his head. He blocks it with his own blade, though his wrist twists back at an awkward angle. He doesn’t even flinch.

“See, that’s exactly what I mean! You need to find the thrill in the battle, or you’ll never be able to beat me.” 

That’s when you take out his leg, sweeping it from under him. You jump on his weakness immediately, forcing your blade under his chin and crushing his wrist under your boot. 

“What was that?” 

He’s laughing. You have him pinned, sword at his throat, and he’s laughing like the whole situation is hilarious. And it must be for him, because he played you like a fool. You’re thrown back by a wave of lighting as a purple mist envelops his body, and then a monster appears, 12 feet tall and covered in purple armor, wearing Childe’s mask. 

You’re left gaping. 

“You’re talented,” Childe says admiringly. “But not talented enough. This must be a habit of yours, overlooking things when it suits your purposes.” 

“Get out of my face. You can’t talk to me like that!” 

“You must know yourself to know your enemy - no wonder you can’t beat me. You have no idea what’s going on in your own life.” 

You’re sick of this. You’re sick of him, and his stupid, roundabout ways of disclosing only the smallest tidbits of information, and even then, only when it’s convenient to him. You’re going to take him down in his Foul Legacy transformation, once and for all, and then you’re going to kick him and his stupid armor all the way back to Snezhnaya. 

He swings at you, and you leap onto his blade, using the force when he pulls back to propel yourself forward towards his mask, intent on tearing it off. 

He stumbles back, giving you an opening to attack. You swing your blade with all your might - barely recognizing yourself in the reflection you catch in his mirrored mask. There’s so much force behind the blow that even when he catches it with his armored shoulder, small cracks shiver across the purple material, the hairline fracture of shattered glass. You might actually be trying to kill him, and you don’t feel sorry at all. 

“You know, Zhongli used to write me letters about how you called him Rex Lapis even when he had given up that title. He was so sad, you know. No wonder he prefers me. I might even take him to Snezhnaya if you- fuck,” he grunts. “Oh, you’re good.” 

You can’t keep this up forever. Childe is the eleventh harbinger for a reason, but you’re one of Liyue’s best defenders. It’s a war of attrition, and you’re not quite sure which one of you would go down first in a real fight, but this is your home turf. You turn, and flee, leaving Childe spluttering behind you as he gives chase. 

There’s a quiet corner of this training arena, hidden by the shadows. The first time you ever used it, Ganyu had disappeared in the middle of your fight and forced you to find her. By the time you discovered it, she had flipped your positions and forced you into it, limiting your range of movement. It’s the same tactic you’re planning to use on Childe, but you miscalculated one thing. 

He’s several feet taller than you were back then. 

“There you are,” he says, booted feet skidding to a stop. “Did I scare you? I won’t kill you, don’t worry. I didn’t mean to. Are you hurt?” 

Is he serious? 

You feign holding your shoulder in pain, and you can’t tell behind his mask, but judging by his voice, he’s panicking. 

“Aw, I didn’t mean to actually hurt you. I just wanted to rough you up a little, have some friendly fun! Come here and I’ll patch you up.”

“What reason do I have to trust you?” 

He drops his weapon to the ground, fully trusting, and you pull not your sword, but your vision from behind your back, and blast him with Geo energy so hard he flips into the air and lands hard on his back. He doesn’t move. 

A chill goes down your spine. He’s annoying and everything about him is hateful, but somehow, you can’t bring yourself to kill him. You rush to his side, and his hand shoots out to grab your boot, pulling you down. 

“Now,” he says, looming over you, all the creepier for his mask, half broken and hanging off his face. “I’m really mad. I was being nice before, you know?” 

His tone is conversational, friendly even, but his full weight is bearing down on you. “I was giving you advice as a friend. Zhongli likes it when you treat him like a man, not a god, and I know you like it too, I’ve seen you together. But somehow you always slip up. How many times do I have to tell you? He’s no longer a god.” 

“Stop sticking your nose in what’s not your business,” you snap, shoving him off you, your arms fortified with Geo. “Zhongli and I don’t need you to be our therapist.” 

“No? You’re doing a shitty job of trying to help learn to be human, though.” 

You freeze. “How do you know about that?”

Foul Legacy detransforms, and Childe appears, once again, his red-orange hair tousled. “He’s my friend,” he says. “So I suggest you take me seriously.” 

“You’re not-“ 

He grabs you by the shoulders. “And we’re friends too.” 

“Why are you looking out for me?” You don’t trust a Fatui agent, much less a harbinger, as far as you can throw him. You have no idea why Childe is putting this much effort into helping you with Zhongli. 

“Mm, maybe it’s because you remind me of my brother?”

You vaguely remember him mentioning this to you once before, at the dinner with Zhongli. 

“…How old is your brother?” 

“Five!”

Before you can launch yourself at him with renewed vigor, a hand forces Childe’s blade down. 

“What exactly is going on here?” Zhongli’s voice is colder than the crackling ice of Snezhnayan winter.

Childe frowns. “I didn’t think you’d be such a disloyal friend, Zhongli-xiansheng. I’ve known you for longer, but you’re asking about her injuries before mine!” 

“It seems you forgot that I was the god of war, once. I suggest you do not test me.” 

Childe blinks. Looks at you. And then his lips curve into a sly smirk. He’s definitely getting the wrong idea. “Oh,” he chirps. “I see what’s going on here.”  

“My lady!” A Millelith soldier cuts in. “It’s happening again!”

Both you and Zhongli turn on Childe with an accusatory look, but he spreads his hands in wide-eyed innocence and mouths, ‘Not me.’

“No, seriously, this time! Go have a look yourselves, if you’re not convinced,” he huffs. “Not everything’s my fault, you know?”

The situation is abysmal by the time you get there, Keqing barely holding down the front lines. You’ve heard that some adepti are humans, or beasts, or a little bit of both. If you didn’t know better, you would say Keqing has a little bit of adepti blood in her, based on her appearance at the moment. Or maybe this was just a transformation that gradually overtook all of Liyue’s protectors, a slow shift into a beast. 

If so, you wondered what creature you would look like. It wasn’t like you hadn’t suffered worse for Liyue - a transformation into a mindless animal seemed a small price to pay in exchange for the safety of your city. 

It was one you were willing to pay right now, hearing your men groan in pain, seeing them rushed on stretchers past you as your healers worked overtime to save mangled arms, severed legs. Keqing’s face was smeared with a combination of blood and battle paint. 

When she sees you, she rushes over to brief you on the situation. “Ningguang’s at the West, Ganyu’s holding down the East, I’ve got South-” 

And that leaves North for you, the city gates you slaughtered the huli jing at. You wouldn’t be surprised if this was Ningguang’s doing - she always had a knack for boosting morale. 

Before you can go, Keqing grabs your arm. “Wait,” she snarls, then looks shocked at herself, slipping into a more decorous tone. “We’ve sent the bulk of our men with Ningguang because she’s injured. All the North has left is scraps. Be careful.” 

“I can handle it,” you reply, because you have no choice. There’s nothing to do but make this awful situation work for you.

You need all the men you can get, so you don’t even protest when Zhongli comes with you. It’s a bloodbath over there, but your men still cheer when they catch sight of you. It makes you feel worse, not better, because they expect you to save them, and you know you can’t. Not all of them will make it home tonight to their families, and you will remember every single one of them that falls today. 

There’s no time to feel guilt when you’re on the battlefield though, especially not as body after body falls to your trained hands and elemental abilities. All around you, ice, fire, stone, wind, and lightning clash along with the holders of their visions. With one flick of your wrist, the earth opens up and swallows the enemies whole, a gorge with a thirst for human flesh that cannot be quenched, only controlled by you. 

Monster, the whisper rolls through the enemy ranks, but it pleases you, sending a thrill through your blood. If a monster is what you have to be for Liyue, then so be it. You had already decided you would be anything the city needed, a long time ago. 

Again and again, you use your vision, cleaving the enemy forces in half and disorienting them. It makes it easier for your men to cut through their ranks. Still, there’s so many on the opposing side, and you don’t even know who it is yet.

Somehow, you want to believe Childe, that it’s not the Fatui, but you know no matter how much he like you and Zhongli, the Tsarita comes first. You just have to hope he was being honest this time. It can’t be true, but you feel like you’re wading through bodies up to your waist. The stench of blood seems permanent, like it will never leave you. 

Then, you hear the screams. It’s one of your lieutenants. He’s bathed in orange fire, the work of a Pyro Vision holder, and you can barely make out what he’s saying, even as you fight your way across the field to him. 

There’s only one legible phrase - he’s begging. Rex Lapis, save me. 

Zhongli hears the man call for Rex Lapis and whirls around, his face full of righteous fury and justice, and you’re breathless. He’s glowing golden, the highlights in his hair and his warm eyes shining with a light that’s suffused throughout his entire body, a beacon on the battlefield. 

This is it, you think, your god is about to appear, just like the fight with Osial. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little excited, even if you’ve come to terms with the fact that Rex Lapis is gone, and all that’s left is Zhongli. He flings his hand out and you wait for something to happen, for a pillar of rock to appear and crush the offenders who attack Liyue. 

Nothing happens, and oh. 

Oh, Zhongli’s not a god anymore. All he has is this mortal vessel, and mortals, Xiao echoes in your head, are weak. He’s not invincible. The fight with Osial took a lot out of him, and he’s bleeding from a wound that’s reopened in his side. He’s stiff on his right, and his reaction time is too slow. All you can do is watch as a claymore goes straight through his shoulder, and he crumples to his knees, revealing your lieutenant still behind him, burning alive like a holy martyr from Mondstadt. 

When you look down, your hands are stained with blood. You’re standing on top of a pile of bodies, too high to count, and your city is besieged behind you. Zhongli and your soldiers are small and easily breakable beneath you, like ants. Is this what Rex Lapis felt like? Had he also feared that his strength was too much for his people, that the same strike that would crush their enemies would also leave his people bleeding? You go to pray, but remember that all that remains of Rex Lapis is below you. 

There are so many enemies, and you’re strong, but you’re only one. You could call for Osial, but the ocean is so far away, back at the West Gates. He can’t reach you here. There’s just you, and you already feel like half the monster they say you are. The air around you is misted with blood from your kills. 

Then, your vision clears, the red cloud fading away. The wind smells like almond blossoms, and instinctively, you jump, trusting it to carry you where you need to be. Zhongli has one arm and a half his broken polearm up, the last of his defense against his attacker. 

The last sparks of Geo energy flutter helplessly around him. Once a god, he’s reduced to barely fending off a mortal man. A fist flies at your face as you rush to Zhongli’s side, distracted, the kind of punch you would lose teeth trying to take. You throw your arm out, summoning stone to your side instead of attempting to slice his arm off because you don’t have time for this - and something pops on your wrist, a delicate link snapping in half. Gold pours off your wrist in a liquid waterfall. When it hits the ground, steady pulses of Geo emanate out from the focus point, throwing everyone off their feet. 

Your entire body feels extra light, and yet, extra strong at the same time. When you look down at your hand, curling it experimentally, there’s a shimmering light overlaid on top of you like a second skin. It crackles and shifts, looking like cracked stone. You’ve heard of stories like this - the traveler had experienced something similar in the battle against Osial. It’s the blessing of an adeptus.

You make eye contact with the man who was standing over Zhongli, now thrown back onto his ass, making a dumb founded expression. Then you bring your sword down on his head, all your fury unleashes on his poor soul. 

Steam fills the air as water pours over your lieutenant. Another monster has found his place on the battlefield - Childe grumbles, “I told you it wasn’t me.” 

“What are you doing?” You ask, stunned. He’s Fatui. This isn’t a Fatui plot, you don’t think, so he’s not technically working against his country, but you can’t imagine his Tsarita would be happy to hear he’s performed free labor for an opposing country. 

“I’m off the clock right now,” he says, grinning wildly as he launches himself at the treasure hoarders. “I can do whatever I want, and what I want is to fight.”

“Hmph,” Xiao says, the ever present breeze he carries with him stirring your hair. “Isn’t this the human that summoned Osial? Shall I crush him?”

Childe laughs. “They won’t let you hurt me. We’re friends!” 

You let your silence stretch on for just a bit longer, enough to make Childe nervous, pay him back for all he’s done, then you lay your hand on Xiao’s arm. “He’s on our side, for now. I’ll let you strike him down if he ever turns against us.” 

Childe rolls his eyes. Overhead, you see the distinct shape of a crane larger than mountains heading west, and other adepti following him. 

“For the other Qixing,” Xiao says. “We did promise we’d work together.” 

With the aid of an adeptus and a harbinger, you and your men fight with renewed spirit. You push the intruders out of your city gates and give chase until even the last one has been captured. It’s only after that you start to feel the exhaustion, the multitude of cuts on your arms and legs bleeding sluggishly, but you can’t stop. You need to check on your men.

Of course, there’s the matter of Zhongli. 

When you stagger back into the city limits, carrying one of your fallen men on your back, a familiar face is waiting for you: Yanfei, her pink hair tipped in grime and gore. You rush for her, depositing your soldier with his nearest compatriot, and checking the woman for injuries. You curse yourself for not having finished the fight sooner, for letting her get hurt, but she gently pushes you away. “It’s alright,” she says. “I’m not hurt. I can take it from here.” 

“I-”

“Need to rest,” she says firmly. “I’ve got it.” 

A wave of utter relief washes over you. Childe, and Xiao, even Yanfei. How long has it been since you last let someone take care of you? You hadn’t admitted it to yourself, but you missed the days when you would go home to Ningguang’s cooking, when Ganyu would tell councilmen off for you. 

You don’t register how you get back to your home, but by the time you get there, Zhongli is waiting on your couch as if he was always there, as if that is his place, where he should be. The glow has faded, but he still captures your attention. At your entrance, his head snaps up, and to your horror, he falls to his knees in front of you. He flinches at the way it jars his injured arm, but forces himself to kneel anyways - to you. 

A small part of you rebels at the sight of a god kneeling to you. It’s sacrilege, hisses your instincts, it’s unbearable. The feeling roots your feet to the ground for a moment, and then you’re moving, because the other, larger part of you, the one that always wins in the end, isn’t offended because it’s blasphemous. It’s because you care about him. You always have, and you can’t let him bow to you like this. Already, you’re reaching out with consoling hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you beg him to stop, because he hasn’t stopped asking for your forgiveness since you came home. 

“I thought you wouldn’t be home for a while,” he says dumbly, which is absolutely ridiculous because this is your house. “I wanted more time to plan my apology.” 

“I’ve been benched. Yanfei won’t let me work. Zhongli, get up,” you hiss, trying to pull him to his feet, instantly stopping at the noise of pain he makes when your efforts jostle his injured side. 

“I couldn’t protect you,” he says, his voice soft and low and barely able to be heard. “You needed me and I couldn’t come to you.” 

“Zhongli, stop-“ You shove at his shoulder, trying to force him to move, anything to get him to stop doing this. It’s a hideous sight, you can’t stand watching him kneel to you, suffering under the weight of his guilt for a crime he hasn’t committed. “It’s fine!”

“You don’t need me,” he says, and he couldn’t be more wrong. You’ve never been happier than strolling through the streets of Liyue’s marketplaces with him, listening to the stories he tells you over tea, letting him take you to dinner in a magical night. “You need a god. You were right, Liyue still needs me. I was wrong to-”

“Zhongli,” you say, grabbing his face and pulling his chin up so he’s forced to look directly in your eyes. The whispers of blasphemy and insolence in your head, voices of the long dead, are easy to ignore when he looks like this - not exactly weak, but frantic, like a bird beating it’s wings against glass. “Stop talking for me. When did I say I needed a god? I know I’ve done wrong by you before, but I promise you that now, when I say I prefer Zhongli to Rex Lapis, I mean it.” 

“I failed you. I failed all of Liyue.” 

Looking at the way he’s still speaking down, towards the ground, as if he’s not even worthy to look into your eyes, there’s only one thing you can think to say. 

“Zhongli, would you like to have tea with me?”

This is not your first time meeting Zhongli, but you take the chance to scrutinize him as you wish you had been able to back then. Warm, amber eyes, pale, creamy skin, hands encased in black silk - he’s a thing of beauty. There’s a legend Ganyu told you once, about a man who carved his partner from harsh, unyielding stone, and breathed life into her with love. You’re not sure how Archons are made, but perhaps that’s how Zhongli was created. 

How else could he look the way he does? Master sculptors in Liyue have carved the likeness of silk, out of rock. It’s one of the major tourist destinations of the city, to see the stone that looks buttery soft to the touch. It’s the only way to describe Zhongli’s appearance - merciless and sweet all at once, a tender God of War, a father, a hero, a warrior. 

Thousands of years of existence, and he still looks like he’s in his twenties, until you look into his eyes. Even without wrinkles, it’s impossible to mistake for anything less than what he was. This was a god who had died for Liyue, been resurrected for Liyue, and was willing to die again for this city. Like you, he had given all of him, and now there was little left for himself. 

“You have no obligation to Liyue anymore.” Once, you thought speaking these words aloud would tear your heart to pieces. At the Rite of Ascension, when Ningguang had sealed all the exits and demanded the Exuvia be brought to the Golden House, you had simply stared in shock, feeling so, so cold. Your entire life, you had depended on Rex Lapis to be your pillar, as all of Liyue had. You prayed to him before breakfast, asked him to guide your hand over work, waited for his dreams at night. There was not a single aspect of your life that hadn’t been brushed with his Midas touch, and when he was gone, you weren’t ready to accept it. 

When Zhongli had arrived, you had thought it was redemption. Of course your god was too powerful to be killed, of course he was unable to abandon his city. All of your confusing emotions dissipated, the regret and bitterness, the way you had held his retirement against him because it felt like a betrayal. You were willing to have him in any way you could, even if he was no longer what you had always thought he was. 

It hadn’t been the way you expected, but now, you couldn’t ask for anything else. You didn’t want the favor of a god in the heavens, watching over his people, if you could have Zhongli here, with you. 

“I don’t deserve your love,” he says. “Why do you worship me so?” 

“You saved me.” You place your Geo vision in his hands, and then your hands over his. “I was nothing, more than nothing, before you and Ningguang brought me out of the darkness. I was a dirty street rat begging for scraps, but I prayed and you gave me a vision. You came to me as a dragon in a dream and held me.” 

You still remember how safe it had felt, sleeping next to those claws that could have torn open your little body without a second thought. Your god had come to you when you called. Liyue had seemed like the city of miracles to you back then. 

“You gave me the strength I needed to become what I am.” 

As a child, you had been blessed with dreams of Rex Lapis - it was what had enabled you to survive the streets, with the knowledge he imparted to you, and the strength that he lent you. Everything, you owed to Rex Lapis. You sought that same comfort in the man you had walked the streets of Liyue with, searching for signs of divinity, but they weren’t there. 

Zhongli was hopeless on his own, but had the presence that made others comfortable in his presence. It wasn’t the protective embrace Rex Lapis extended, but more of a familiarity, a common understanding between him and whoever he shared his name with. 

The more time you spent with him, the more you felt torn. It was as if your god was slowly dying in front of your eyes, burning away as Zhongli grew more and more human, but you couldn’t stop yourself from seeing him, even as you knew Rex Lapis was disappearing. Eventually, he had turned to you, and you were unable to see even the faintest vestiges of your god in his rouged eyes, just a man with a love for knowledge and passion for tea. 

And that had been enough for you. 

“But you’re no longer my god, and the Rex Lapis I worshipped is gone. Your duty is done. Liyue no longer needs you to defend us.” 

Zhongli had guided the city through an age where the people had been few and afraid, scurrying like cockroaches amongst the feet of gods. He had nurtured them with tender hands, sacrificed friends and honor for their sake, changed the shape of the land with a touch to satisfy their wishes. He had done more for Liyue than could be asked of him and still he offered up his services, but like a child that grown too old to stay home, Liyue was already rushing into it’s own era, one with no need for divine guidance. 

Perhaps it was not fear for his city that drove him, but fear that it was leaving him behind, when he wasn’t quite ready to give it up, though the city had prospered as he had dreamed of. 

It was the curse of the guardian - to watch over his subject until it outgrew him, but remain unable to move on as it had so easily. He gave everything to his city, and was willing to do it over and over again, until there was nothing left of him to give, but he hadn’t predicted the other outcome, where they both survived. When there was nothing left for him to defend, he found that there was also no purpose left for him. 

Your heart aches for him and the confusion in his eyes. He’s a ghost, not quite dead, not quite living. There's a theory you came up with when you were studying Liyuen funeral rites. In all of Liyue’s history, ghosts were imprints of people chained to their cursed existence by strong emotion, but you thought there might be another explanation. Ghosts were people trapped in loops, walking the same, long-trodden path, unable to break the cycle they were used to. Even in death, Zhongli has spent so many years looking after the people he had loved until it became a habit he couldn’t break, and wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

“Zhongli, we don’t need you anymore.” He flinches. “But we want you, even if you’re not Rex Lapis.” 

You wrap your arms around him. “It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to want something for yourself. You’re not abandoning us by choosing to live your own life.” 

And with your permission, he finally curls inwards towards your embrace, letting the years of exhaustion slide off of him and into your waiting arms. He’s not a god, just a man, and he’s tired. 

EPILOGUE - to become human.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask, running your hands through his lustrous amber hair. 

“It’s just hair,” he says softly. “I trust you.” 

Standing at one of the many rivers that run through Liyue, Zhongli holds his ponytail over the waters. With his other hand, he feels the back of his head, the locks cut shorter by your capable hands. 

“Does it feel strange?”

“Yes, but I don’t mind. It feels lighter.” When he drops it into the waters, he lets the chains of his pasts go with it, as if his regrets are also floating away from him. Hair, and the ritual cutting of it, has a long history in Liyue. In this gesture, Zhongli is experiencing the true death of Rex Lapis. Though the entire city has bid him their goodbyes long ago, it is here, standing in the shallow waters with your hand in his, that he is finally able to be reborn. 

It’s only a simple change, but already he looks less like Morax, God of Contracts, Liyue, and Geo, and more like Zhongli, funeral home consultant and consort of the new Kaiyang, courtesy of your promotion into the Seven. Rather than giving up on Liyue, he’s grown into it, as part of the city. Locals know where they can find the consultant - in the Yuhai Pavilion, assisting you with your documents, drinking tea with Madame Ping on the terrace, browsing the shops with a pouch of mora, always kept full by you. Even without his guidance, the city continues to flourish, growing around him. 

It’s a new beginning, and there’s no one he’d rather share it with than you. 

[lilxberry]

That’s My Girl - Scott Lang

Requested by: @bnhaxreaderquotes​

Could I have a Scott Lang x longterm girlfriend fic?? Where she’s like super strong but super dumb?? Like she’s Thor but human and female XD bonus if she lifts Thor’s hammer to get to something and everyone’s like 👀 and she’s like ??? And scots like 🥰 “that’s my gf”

I loved this idea, I just really didn’t want to use the word stupid so much lmao I mostly referred to reader as “slow” I believe but like, this whole thing is kinda cute asf so I’m happy with it. I hope you’re happy with it too

Warnings: Like, a singular swear. Sweet ass Scott. Upset!Reader? IDEK ANYMORE.

Words: 1,645

Pairings: Scott Lang x Reader (female reader) (super strong reader?)

Unplanned sequel; That’s My Wife

_______________

There’re many words to describe you.

Sweet? Yes. Kind? Yep. Selfless? Definitely. Beautiful? 100%. Strong? No doubt.

Stupid?

No, just…slow.

It’s not that you lacked intelligence, just, your brain worked at a different pace to that of others. Your fellow teammates could tell you that. Especially your partner Scott.

Scott, the sweetie pie that he is, certainly tries his best to help you catch up, to understand things that hadn’t really made sense to you at first. He’s no stranger to defending you either, no matter who or what it’s against.

Including your teammates.

“So, like C-3P0?”

Your head was tilted in confusion and your face was scrunched up as you tried desperately to understand what Tony was talking about.

You had walked into the lab finding all of the Avengers surrounding Tony rambling on about his newest creation, engineering some crazy new robotic tech. The others that had been subjected to his showcasing had explained to you that he’d called them in, forced them to watch the unveiling of Frankenstarks newest monster.

When you had asked why you hadn’t been called in, you’d missed the way Tony and the others tensed up. They knew that you wouldn’t understand a word Stark was speaking, as if the man were speaking some foreign language to you, but they didn’t want to explain that it was because you were ‘dense’.

The heaven-sent that is Scott stepped forward, a big, bright smile on his face as he entwined his fingers with your own as he came up with an excuse for the billionaire, saving Starks’ skin and sparing your feelings.

“He thought you’d find it boring. We all do to be honest honey but only so many of us are lucky enough to have an out,” was the sugar-coated explanation he conjured up on the spot.

You bought it easily, nodding in understanding with the sweetest of smiles before reaching up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. The others visibly relaxed, though you were oblivious as you stared up at Scott with a love-sick expression.

You had then gone on to ask what exactly it was that Tony had been working on which had led to a longwinded explanation with wild gestures and a heap of words you certainly didn’t understand whatsoever. Truth be told, he’d lost you within the first sentence.

Tony heaved a sigh. “No, not like C-3P0. The design is completely different and the level of A.I. being used it higher than that of C-3P0,” he spoke exasperatedly, a mocking tone taking over his tone near the end.

Feeling even more confused that what you had originally felt, you tried once more to understand.

“So…like Vision?”

Sam snorted as majority of the others smirked or tried to supress their smiles, Vision unsurprisingly seemed stoic as ever. Tony, on the other hand, had a look of genuine surprise. Almost looking proud.

“Uh, yeah, actually. You worked that out a lot faster than I thought you would honestly,” Tony said as an off-handed comment causing the others to still and Scott to tense slightly beside you while your brows furrowed.

“What’d you mean?”

Scott once again interjected to save the day, dragging your attention to him instead. “None of us really got it, that’s all. I’m pretty sure Thor still doesn’t, honestly.” He whispered the last part as he pointed his thumb towards the towering, blonde Asgardian.

Although your heart fluttered at the thought of Scott trying to be so sweet and kind to you, you couldn’t help the hurt that spread through you. You knew how the others viewed you, how they thought you were stupid, how you don’t understand anything.

Rather than show it affected you, you forced a smile on to your face and a tiny giggle to pass your lips.

Glancing at the others before allowing your eyes to fall back on to your boyfriend, you kept the feigned smile on your lips as you spoke. “I just remembered I gotta load of stuff to do. I’ll see you guys later.”

Scott flashed you his pearly whites in a wide smile before pecking your forehead and giving you a quiet “Sure babe.”

Walking backwards, you called out loudly to the group before exiting the room. “Have fun with Vision 2.0.”

Usually, when the team unintentionally commented on you in such a way, it would never really affect in such a negative way but today, it was just a series of failure after failure, your day all-round being bad.

From the comment in the lab, to the accidental breaking of a trainee’s arm due to you forgetting the strength you held over others, to Steve and Bucky taking the last of the coffee in the pot of the coffee machine which you had no idea how to work.

You had even bumped into someone in the hallway, the file you had been carrying falling to the ground and the papers inside scattering across the floor in disarray, leaving you to try reorganising the lot, taking a whole hour and a half.

It’s unfortunate that the person to be at the end of your disgruntled mood would be someone who you strongly considered a friend.

The Avengers who were currently residing at the compound were all scattered within the main living area and the open kitchen when you walked in, looking dishevelled as you frantically searched for a package that you had been notified had been delivered.

Walking through, you looked to see if the damn thing was atop any table you passed. Hell, you even lifted one of the chairs slightly to see if someone was cruel enough to hide the thing under it.

Although everyone had opted to watch you curiously, it was your sweet Scott to break the silence.

“Hey honey, whatcha’ doing there?” he asked curiously.

You grumbled out your answer, honestly ready for the day to be over with. “I’m looking for my delivery.”

Sam snorted before pointing towards the island in the centre of the kitchen. “You mean that massive package right there?”

Low and behold, there sat your package on top of the cool, marble surface, just with an added feature. You scowled, storming over towards the thing. You turned your fiery gaze to Thor, who was overall minding his own business chowing down on the entire contents of a Pop Tart box.

“WHY DID YOU PUT YOUR HAMMER ON MY FUCKING DELIVERY?!” You roared out, everyone’s eyes widened in complete and utter shock, Thor even jumped at the sudden loud booming. As he opened and reclosed his mouth repeatedly in a pathetic attempt to say something, anything, you continued.

“There could’ve been something really important in there! Or-or super fragile or something! What if you broke it?!”

During your explosion at the poor Asgardian, you happened to grasp the handle of Mjölnir and lift it with ease, causing everyone’s eyes to widen further and even a few mouths to drop open, gaping at the sight in front of them, Tony choking on his drink that he had been taking a sip of. Although Scott was just as shocked as those around him, he more so looked like a small child who’s completely wonder-struck, a twinkle in his eye.

“Never, and I mean NEVER, put your hammer on my damn things again. GOT IT?!” You shoved the hammer into Thors’ chest harshly, causing him to fumble to get a hold of it.

Once certain he had a tight grasp on the thing, you released your hold and spun on the spot, now becoming witness to everyone’s flabbergasted expressions. “WHAT?” you asked in exasperation and confusion, today completely tiring you out mentally and emotionally.

A pregnant silence befell you all before Scott suddenly jumped out of his seat, face ecstatic, arms raised high into the air above his head, hands balled up into fists, a loud and excited shout escaping him.

“YES!”

“You-you’re worthy?” Thor asked quietly to no one in particular.

Your brows furrowed deeply, now entirely confused and ever so slightly self-conscious. “What?”

“You’re worthy babe! Hell yeah! Up top!” he had made his way over towards you, now one arm raised with his hand now relaxed, waiting on you to give him a high five.

“I’m not following…”

“Only Thor could lift the hammer ‘cause he was the only one who’s worthy or whatever. It’s like impossible for anyone else to lift it,” Clint started to explain before being cut off by Natasha.

“Until you, that is. You’re the only other one whose been able to lift it.”

“Oh,” was all you said before shrugging your shoulders and waddling your way past Scott and towards your package on the kitchen island, picking it up and beginning to walk away.

Before you left though, you thought this to be the perfect opportunity to finally boast about something that you had been able to do that the others couldn’t. “Well, I may be stupid but at least I don’t put my back out by trying to lift a little hammer.”

You smirked as you continued to walk away, your destination being your room, package what would be heavy to most in your arms. Scott laughed loudly, something you could hear as you continued to retreat to your bedroom.

Meanwhile…

“HELL YEAH! THAT’S MY GIRL! WOO!” Scott began to follow after you, still shouting out every single word he spoke. “HONEY! THAT WAS LIKE THE COOLEST THING EVER! DID YOU SEE THEIR FACES?! Oh man, I can’t wait to tell Cass. SHE’S GONNA FREAK!”

The Avengers were still suck in their retrieves of shock, all unmoving, all trying to process the newfound information that you could lift the hammer.

Thor seemed to be taking it the worst, looking ever so slightly frightened, gulping loudly.

“I believe I have new matters to discuss with my father...”

_______________

.

.

.

.

.

I love any Paul Rudd character just as much as him

I even have a t-shirt with his beautiful ass face on lmao

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

_______________

Marvel taglist:

@thanossexual

[toestalucia]

Walfrid: I'll be frank. He tried his best to prevent a singularity from appearing. Orologia: My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you. You're the mortal who has gained god's favor yet stands in his way, and your child is destined to become the singularity.

things that makes me unwell. the logia line is from a simulation, but i refuse to believe that dad doesnt actually know regardless (we met above edgelands like cmoooonnnnnn)

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 2: Into the Deep // Ch. 10

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 3,500+

⚠️ Warning ⚠️: Mature Content

Masterlist

————————

“This is Triton’s schedule!?” You can’t help but shout out as you are handed the schedule from the butler. Astronomy, Literature, Human History, Mythology, Business, Sword Fighting, Seahorse Riding, The list seemed to go on and on. How could the boy think or even breathe with all of this on his mind?

“Thank you. That’s all for now.” You tell the butler with a sigh as you put the sheet down on the desk, right next to the other stacks of paperwork you had yet to deal with.

It’s been 3 weeks, 3 long and grueling weeks, since your meeting with Scylla. During that time, you have been busy. Not only from etiquette classes and paperwork but also with managing your survival plan.

Yes, a survival plan. You, at first, didn’t want a survival plan—it just didn’t seem that useful—But, after meeting Scylla and learning more, you decided one was absolutely crucial. After all, even in your protected manor, Amphitrite was still a huge threat. Not only just to you either.

With the butler now long gone, you reach down to the last draw of your desk and pull out a couple of sheets of paper. Pieces of paper that laid a simple rough draft of the plan.

So far, you had a Plan A and a Plan B.

Plan A seemed simple. It was to get Amphitrite kicked out of the palace but that was far from as simple it seemed. You thought Poseidon would be rushing to divorce the woman, He hated her after all, But he wasn’t. Working at snail pace was more like it.

“…It seems he needs some sort of push to get her out…” You mumble to yourself as you update a couple of things on the paper. It seemed you would have to come back to this plan later. “…Perhaps I should learn more about Poseidon….”

You quickly shake that idea out of your head. Not a chance. You felt bad for the guy but you weren’t about to become all buddy buddy with him just yet.

“Now as for Plan B…”

Plan B was a lot harder. Plan B was to get Poseidon and Triton to actually have a decent father-son relationship. You, at first, tried having Triton’s schedule free for the past three weeks in hopes Poseidon would stop by. Perhaps to check up on the child now that Amphitrite is gone. But, that was again a wrong guess on your part.

“What to do… I have to at least put one of these plans in soon. It’s not like I can continue ignoring the elephant in the room.” You groan to yourself as you lean back in the chair. On top of your survival plans not working, you had recently discovered that Hermes—who was stopping by a lot—was secretly relaying information to Zeus and the other gods. It seemed they were checking in to see how your progress with seducing Poseidon was going. “I have to kick out Amphitrite sooooon if I want to save myself from facing Zeus’ wrath or, much worse, getting married to Poseidon.”

As you whine to yourself at your bad luck, you miss the door opening as someone sneakily slips in.

“What to do… what to do…” You whine to yourself as you massage your temples, “I have to figure this out soon or—“

Instantaneously, you are cut off as something comes jumping up onto your stomach. Almost knocking you off your chair.

“Huh?” You choke out as you see the familiar head of gold leaning against your chest. His body is smooshed against you as he sits on your lap. Seeming to try to get as close as possible to you, “T-Triton?”

At your call, Triton’s head lifts up to look at you.

“Hello mom!” He says with a smile. A smile that seemed to instantly brighten up the room and your mood. Your depressing thoughts now long forgotten.

However, like everything in the world, things can’t last forever.

“Whatcha looking at mom?” Triton asks as he leans towards the desk to take a look, bringing you back to reality. Casually, well to the best of your ability, you grab a couple of papers and cover them just enough so that Triton couldn’t read them.

“Oh, just paperwork, Triton.”

Surprisingly, Triton seems to perk up at that, “Like what? I bet I can help. Is it finances? Party planning? Invitations? Wages? Fa—“

Quickly, you cut the boy off. “It’s fine, Triton. I don’t need help. Why don’t you go play instead? It looks like a nice day out.”

You are surprised at how Triton lets out a loud huff. Seeming displeased with your suggestion. Unsure of what to do, you sit there frozen. Was it something you said?

“It’s…” Triton mumbles under his breath, the rest of the sentence he mumbles you can’t hear, and you are forced to ask him to repeat. He seems to pause for a moment, seeming hesitant to repeat before finally doing so, “It’s not the same without you….”

“Oh, Triton…” You cood out as you rub the boy’s head, trying to console the boy. A pit of guilt settled in your stomach as you remember that you haven’t spent a lot of time with the boy recently. Especially with being busy and all. “Well…”

You pause as you take a look at the giant stack of paperwork. Could you even leave in the first place with all these things that still need to be done?

If only there was a way to spend time with Triton and get some of the work done at the same time…

As you scan the desk and room for ideas, it suddenly hits you.

“Well. How about you and I pick out your lesson plans?” You suggest to the boy as you reach across the desk and pick up the schedule. The giant scroll-like paper slightly unravels as you loosely hold it in a singular hand.

“Lesson plans?” Triton asks confused as he tilts his head slightly to the side. “Wouldn’t it just be the same as it was before?”

“Not a chance!” You accidentally shout out before catching yourself. Shit, you didn’t mean to raise your voice like that. “This is too much for a boy your age, even if you are god. We need to pick out a balanced schedule that gives you lessons to learn AND enough time to play or relax.”

“So I get to choose…?”

“Pretty much. I mean you would still need to take some classes that you wouldn’t like as some are needed to help you learn as a god. But, if there’s any unneeded classes we will just scrap it.”

.

..

…

“Aren't they all needed…?”

At Triton’s confusion, you can’t help but let out a sigh. Looks like there’s still a lot of work to go with helping this boy act and be happy like a kid his age.

“Not exactly. Here.” You grab onto Triton and lift the boy with you as you stand. “It's better to show you what I mean. Let’s go to each of the classes and pick them off one by one.”

“Ok!” Triton exclaims. His eyes wide and sparkly as he holds onto you, just happy to spend some time with you. Precious boy…

As you walk towards the door to leave, you can’t help but note that Triton felt lighter than usual. Had he possibly lost weight since he arrived? You did notice Triton had smaller portions of food compared to you at meal times. That wasn’t good for a growing boy…

“Seems like I’ll have to pay the chef and cooking staff a visit later…”

—.—.—.—.—

What a nice day, you can’t help but note as you stare up into the sea. Sea turtles and rays swimming high above as they make their way to their destinations.

You were currently standing in the empty grass field between the three manors. The same place you met Poseidon on the night you snuck out to find Triton.

Quickly, as the memory comes to mind, you shake it out of your head. That wasn’t important to you right now and that was because of one simple fact.

Today was Triton’s first day back at lessons. It had taken a lot of work and negotiation but you got the boy a healthy and balanced schedule. You honestly gave yourself a pat on the back once you were finished.

Though, on top of the schedule, you also pulled off another impossible stunt for yourself.

“Mom!”

You spin around as Triton comes sprinting over, books in his hands from his History lesson that just completed. You should tell the boy to slow down but you can’t find it in you to do so. Instead, kneeling down and opening your arms for the boy to jump into.

“Oof—“ You squeak out as you catch Triton, accidentally falling over on your back as you do so. You let out a loud laugh, too happy to even care that you embarrassingly fell over in front of some of the servants that travelled from manor to manor.

Triton didn’t seem to care either as his books were astrew all over the sea grass.

“I was so excited for our first lesson today, mom! It was so hard sitting still in the other classes.” Triton shouts out excitedly as he finally lifts himself off of you, allowing you to sit up.

That’s right. The impossible feat you did. You got your own taught class to be placed into Triton’s Schedule.

You called it “Humanity 101” but, in reality…

“Could we try playing kickball today? I saw a lot of human kids playing it down the street when I stayed at your place.” Triton asks excitedly as he looks through the bag of goodies you brought out.

…It was honestly just an excuse for you and Triton to spend time together with your ever so busy schedule.

“Of course we can play!”

Kickball… Soccer.. Board games… The days seem to fly by as you and Triton do your “classes” and before you know it a week has already gone by. Life is brighter during these days to the point that even the ever so plentiful paperwork doesn’t bother you. But, as you’ve learned in your time staying here many, many times, nothing is forever.

“S-Shit…” You mumble out anxiously under your breath as you attempt to distract yourself with the kickball in your hands. You were in the field yet again waiting for Triton to get out of class. The boy had mentioned yesterday as you walked him to sword practice that he wanted to play a simple game of catch for class the next day. But…

What in the world was this guy doing here?

Hesitantly, you shift your gaze over to Poseidon who stood a couple of feet away on the sidewalk. At first when you saw the male, you thought nothing of it. After all, he seemed to be passing through the area with a group of his attendees.

So, why did he stop? You can’t help but think as you quickly shift your gaze away from the male and back down towards the ground. You just didn’t understand why he dismissed his attendees and chose to stand there and watch you.

Well, he technically wasn’t watching you—His gaze was up to the sky—But, there was no doubt in your mind the guy stayed back for you. Could he perhaps be stalkin—

“Mom!”

Just in time.

You let out a sigh of relief as Triton came running over, just getting out of class. He seems to pick up on Poseidon’s presence, staring at his father for a little bit as he walks over, but chooses not to pay it too much attention. Instead, continuing to run up to you.

“Hello Triton—“ You freeze for a second as a shiver goes up your spine. What the hell? What was this nasty feeling… It felt like you had just been thrown in some sort of ice bath.

As you spin around to see what was causing you to feel this way, you almost instantly figure out why. Poseidon was now staring down at his phone, seeming to have gotten a text message or something, and you could tell he wasn’t in the brightest mood from it either. You could practically feel the blood lust from where you were standing.

“You better not take it out on me…” You grumble underneath your breath, instantly regretting it as Poseidon’s gaze shifts up to glare at you. He couldn’t have heard you… right?

However, you weren’t take any chances this time and turned your attention to Triton. Trying to make it seem that Poseidon accidentally heard something.

“Now. Why don’t we get started? I’ll stand about a few feet away and you—“ Your voice trails off at the end as you stare down at your hands. Your empty hands. Where did the kickball go? You just had it— “Ack!”

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you looked, a gasp, at the kickball that was held… in Poseidon’s hands. How did that fucker…

Actually, never mind, you should have realized before that Poseidon was clearly fast as he was not only a god but also, right in front of you, leaped a large distance to stop that jellyfish that tried to kill you.

“Mom, Are we going to play?” Triton blinks innocently up at you, pure puppy eyes that awaited the game of catch that he wanted to play. Shit, you can’t just allow Poseidon to keep the ball now.

“I-I’ll be right back.” You anxiously tell the Triton as you leave his side. Making your way over to Poseidon. You honestly felt like you were the sacrificial lamb approaching the big bad bully of the playground. Except this time, Poseidon wasn’t just a bully picking on you but an all powerful god that could literally snap you in half with his pinky if he so pleased.

“H-He—“ You don’t even get past the greeting to Poseidon before he grabs the back of your head. Holding you still with one hand and the Kickball in the other, Poseidon started to practically curse you out with god knows what. Honestly, it was just a spew of curses along with your name and other things.

However, across the field, what seemed terrifying to you was way different to someone else.

As Triton observes the scene in front of him, he gets even more confused. In Triton’s point of view, he didn’t pick up on your nervous clammy hands or anxious shifting as being something from Poseidon’s glare. He honestly didn’t even pick up on the fact his father was glaring, he just thought that it was his usual stare.

To him, it looked like you two were chatting as his father held the back of your head. Seeming to tease you as he held the stolen kickball away in his other. But… his father doesn’t tease. He doesn’t even joke around. So, what was going on?

Staring… Clammy Hands… Nervousness… Physical Touch…

Triton lets out a small gasp as a thought hits him. It can’t be true, Triton couldn’t believe it.

His mom and father…

were in love.

He didn’t want to believe it but the evidence was all there. If watching any of those cheesy romance movies taught him anything, it was to identify the signs of falling in love.

At any minute, they look like they could possibly ki…

Triton’s face blushes up at the thought. He just couldn’t believe it. Does this mean mom is now his real real mom?

Triton perks up at the thought. That would be awesome.

“I’ll help you, mom…” Triton mumbles underneath his breath as he looks determined up at you two. He will help you two just like how Uncle Zeus was helping you. Like….What do humans call it…? A wingman. Yeah, he would be your wingman.

“Father! Mom!” At Triton’s shout, it was then that Poseidon finally stopped his heavy train of insults. Oh, Thank goodness for Triton…

“I realized I have to go see one of my teachers for something. Why don’t you guys go play instead?”

You feel yourself choke at Triton’s words. What was he saying?! However, before you can even ask the boy, He was long gone. Leaving you and Poseidon alone, with a grip still on the back of your head.

This was a nightmare for you. Poseidon still looks like he wants to kill you at any moment.

“What a pain.” Poseidon grumbles out under his breath, sending shivers up your spine. You know what… Screw Plan A and B. You now have Plan C, worrying about Poseidon’s constant mood changes so he doesn’t kill you in a fit of rage.

“Hey… why don’t we talk thiS— Eep!” You are cut off as Poseidon picks you up. Instead of his usual hold, he throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You just wished Poseidon knew you could keep up with him perfectly fine so he didn’t have to keep picking you up like this. “Where…Where are we going?”

Silence.

Well, at least he wasn’t angry at you anymore, you think with a sigh as you relax into Poseidon’s hold. Accepting your fate as there was no way to possibly escape from him.

Gods… any of them except Poseidon. Please… help…

—.—.—.—.—

“Oooo…” Triton lets out as he peeps from around the corner. His gaze trained to his father back as he left carrying you.

“I didn’t know father could be so romantic.”

“…Hmm? Triton?”

Triton feels himself jump slightly at the voice behind him. Spinning around, he expected to be caught by some sort of maid or teacher but instead, it was someone else.

“Uncle Zeus? Hermes? And…” Triton’s gaze trails over the third person, “Aunty Aphrodite?”

“Hello dear Triton. It’s been a while~” Aphrodite coos out at the boy in front of her. Slightly leaning down to fondle his cheeks. “Goodness me…Look at how much you’ve grown.”

“T-Thank you.” Triton chokes out with a blush, “I-Uh. W-What are you all doing here?”

Zeus can’t help but chuckle out at the nervous attitude of his nephew. Still ever so shy in front of women it seemed. “I apologize for the surprise visit but we are here to see (y/n).”

“See mom…?” Triton questions out as he looks back and forth between the three. He could understand why Zeus or perhaps Hermes was here to see you but, why Aphrodite?

“Ohh~, I’ve brought a couple of gifts for your mother.” Aphrodite explains with a coy smile as she shows Triton a lidded box.

“Really? What sort of—“ Hermes instantly grabs onto Triton as he attempts to check under the lid of the box. “Huh? Hermes?”

“It’s…It’s specifically for Lady (Y/n), Master Triton.” Hermes answers vaguely as Aphrodite and Zeus laugh at the funny moment that just occurred. That was a close one.

“Specifically for mom?”

Calming herself down, Aphrodite explains more clearly, “It’s women's clothes for your mother. Ones that…Oh Goodness, your father can only see.”

“Ohhhh… Ok.” Triton answers, even if he still doesn’t understand. “Well, Mom just left with dad.”

At this Zeus chokes and Aphrodite almost drops the box, Seemingly shocked at what Triton just said. Even Hermes was startled but he still, somehow, keeps a cool head and quickly hides his reaction.

“What do you mean by that Master Triton?” Hermes asks for an alaberation as the other two nod. Thinking they were simply misunderstanding something like Poseidon giving paperwork to you compared to you two actually hanging out.

“Well, Dad stole the ball from mom to tease her.” Hermes and the others feel themselves freeze at Triton’s words. Poseidon…Teasing a human? “So, mom walked over and they started talking… No, flirting with each other.”

“Flirting?” Zeus asks, surprised as he strokes his beard. He would usually take others' words with a grain of salt as they could perhaps be lying but, this was Triton. The boy has probably never even lied in his entire life.

“Yeah, so I decided to leave to give them some space and after I’m gone, I was actually hiding around the corner here, Father picks mom and throws her over his shoulder. They walked that way so… I think they are heading to father’s manor.”

“Oh, Isn’t Amphitrite out today…?” Zeus chuckles out, a nasty thought filtering into his brain. Could they possibly be going to do…

“A-Aunty Aphrodite?” Triton chokes out cautiously, catching Zeus’ attention.

“Oh ho ho. Be careful, Aphrodite. You are scaring the boy.” Zeus says, not exactly meaning his words as he reprimands the woman. Knowing that from how she was crushing the box in her hands and how hard she was biting her lip that she was too lost in her nasty thoughts to even listen.

“H-How Scandalous!” Aphrodite squeals out as she clutches the box to her chest, seeming to grow faint from all her excitement, “Zeus, I need your opinion on this. Could they possibly be—“

Triton’s hearing is instantly blocked off by Hermes as Aphrodite and Zeus continue to talk. The younger boy looks up at his cousin in confusion but doesn’t say anything. The only thought running in his mind being.

Why was Hermes' face turning so red?

Author Note: very Quick author note before I forget. Hahah this was kind of a messy funny chapter so I hope people still enjoyed this one. I wanted a fun moment of misunderstanding to help join into the next chapter thursday. Where Chapter 11 will pick up back with Poseidon and Reader. Also R.I.P Triton. Feel bad for putting my baby through meeting Aphrodite.

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127 @fortuna-stella @icy-spicy

[twh-news]

How Loki Shapeshifted From Nordic Folklore to a Marvel Icon

by Sara Durn

There are more than 800 years between the stories of Viking god Loki first being written down and his arrival (in the superb Tom Hiddleston) in the Marvel cinematic universe in 2011’s Thor. The new Disney+ series Loki, set to be released on June 9, is primed to explore more antics of Thor’s trickster brother as he attempts to fix the timeline he helped break in Avengers: Endgame. Among his many talents, Loki has cheated death a few times in the MCU, but that amounts to child’s play for this god.

In Norse mythology, Loki causes just as much confusion as his Marvel iteration. Though there aren’t any stories of him outwitting death, there are plenty of myths where he shapeshifts, swaps genders, or tricks gods into killing other gods. In the Marvel universe, he’s quite prone to allegiance swapping. Let’s dig into this troublemaker’s journey.

What is Loki’s origin?

The legends surrounding the Norse god are first documented in writing around the 13th century, primarily in Iceland. There are two versions of these legends that enter the historical record around the same time—the Poetic Edda and the Prose Edda. The Poetic Edda is an anonymous collection of Old Norse poems that are mainly pulled from an Icelandic medieval manuscript known as the Codex Regius (some of the poems date back to 800 CE). The Prose Edda is an Old Norse textbook for composing poetry that was written by a single author, Snorri Sturluson, a colorful Icelandic historian, scholar, and lawspeaker.

“Within the myths, you can see Loki moving from being just mischievous to being absolutely evil. If you think of him as only being mischievous, he’s actually a creative force and often ends up getting the gods much of their magical possessions, like Thor’s Hammer, through his cunning.”

“Pretty much everything we know about Loki came from Snorri Sturluson,” Viking scholar Nancy Marie Brown, author of Song of the Vikings: Snorri and the Making of Norse Myths, told io9. Brown says this was very appropriate given that “Snorri was quite a trickster figure himself.” While calling him the “Homer of the North,” Brown also acknowledges that Snorri spent a lifetime “double-crossing friends and family… scheming and plotting, blustering and fleeing”— a life that eventually led to his unheroic demise in a nightshirt where his (supposed) final words were “don’t strike!” In both Eddas, Loki is always portrayed as a cunning trickster. In the Prose Edda, Snorri describes Loki as “pleasing and handsome in appearance, evil in character, very capricious in behavior. He possessed to a greater degree than other [gods] the kind of learning that is called cunning.”

Besides appearances, Loki is always getting the gods into trouble and then cleverly extricating them from the mess he’s made. He fathers the Midgard Serpent destined to bring about Ragnarök, the end of the world in Norse mythology. He convinces the blind god Hodr to kill the beautiful and favored god Baldur. He kidnaps the goddess Idun to save his own hide from a furious giant. The mythological character is constantly switching sides—sometimes supporting the gods and sometimes their enemies, the giants. In the MCU, Loki is both hero and villain—in The Avengers he opened a wormhole in New York City releasing alien monsters and in Thor: Ragnarok he helped Thor save the Asgardians from Hela’s wrath.

Thorwald’s Cross, a fragmented runestone depicting Odin being consumed. Image: Public Domain

Loki might have begun as a Norse god of fire—fitting considering how fire can be both “helpful and destructive,” said Brown. Fire can both burn down your house and cook you dinner. It’s tricky that way—like Loki. As Brown puts it, “You can see his two sides there [reflected in fire].” Brown also explains that there was likely a transformation in Loki over the centuries. “Within the myths, you can see Loki moving from being just mischievous to being absolutely evil. If you think of him as only being mischievous, he’s actually a creative force and often ends up getting the gods much of their magical possessions, like Thor’s Hammer, through his cunning.” Again, it’s just like Marvel’s Loki, who sometimes helps the other gods out, like when he teamed up with Thor to escape the Grandmaster in Thor: Ragnarok.

What is Loki’s relationship with the Devil?

In the long, slow conversion of the Vikings to Christianity that took place between the 9th and 12th centuries, Loki became a parallel to the Christian Devil. The creative, positive elements of him fell away leaving only the god favored by the Father (Odin/God) before getting cast out. (It does sound a bit like Lucifer, right?) Christianity paints a world that is far more black and white, good vs. evil than the Norse pagan religion—here’s little room for a grey, ambiguous figure like Loki. As Brown puts it, “The Christian religion insists that you’re either with us or against us. Whereas in what we understand of the pagan Viking religion, there were a lot of shades of grey. There was a spectrum on which you could move back and forth. You weren’t all one thing or all the other. You weren’t all female or all male. You weren’t all good or all evil. It was more human.”

Loki always moved fluidly between those two polarities—helping Thor in one story, causing an overthrow of the gods in another. In one tale, Loki shapeshifts into a mare, becoming the mother of Odin’s great 8-legged horse, Sleipnir. In another, he fathers the wolf Fenrir. The Church couldn’t really handle all that grey area Loki liked to inhabit, and so it eventually cast him as the devil himself. “[Monks] had to sort the gods into saints and devils, and Loki by being sexually ambiguous and also morally ambiguous falls into the devil [category],” explained Brown. Though Marvel’s Loki certainly channels a bit of the devil at times, we’ve luckily yet to see him become both mother and father to world-ending, multi-legged monsters in the Marvel Universe. But, there’s still time, especially with the new Disney+ series hitting the small screen.

When was Loki’s Revival?

After the Viking conversion, the Norse myths started to fade, and Loki with them—until the 1600s, when medieval manuscripts like those containing the Prose and Poetic Edda began to be translated. “The reason [these myths] became popular was because of nationalism,” Brown told us. “In the mid to late 1800s, there was the idea that what distinguished one nation from another was its cultural heritage.” This spurred Jacob Ludwig Karl Grimm and Wilhelm Carl Grimm—known to many simply as the Brothers Grimm—to go “collect the stories of the local people to prove that Germany was a nation, not a collection of states. You had the same thing happening in Ireland to prove that they were different from the English and you have the same thing happening in Iceland, Norway, Sweden, and Denmark.” This eventually gave rise to the Nazis appropriating Norse myths in their twisted pursuit of alleging Aryan supremacy.

Following the Civil War, the United States also looked to the Middle Ages to redefine the country’s fractured identity. As Chris Bishop, author of Medievalist Comics and the American Century, explained to io9, “[the Middle Ages] offered an aesthetic that was individualistic (think: the knight errant, Robin Hood, etc.), given to interpretations of exceptionalism (Camelot, the once and future king), venerable (where old equalled established and respectable), and (unlike Classicism) Christian.” The Middle Ages, or more accurately the remixing of the Middle Ages known in academia as “medievalisms,” appealed to many Americans obsessed with ideas of American exceptionalism and singularity in the 19th century. Eventually the U.S.’s obsession with the Middle Ages made its way into comic books starting with Prince Valiant in 1937, a comic strip created by Hal Foster set in and around the legends of King Arthur. Other medievalist comics followed eventually leading to the inclusion of Norse gods like Loki, Thor, and Odin.

First appearance of Loki in the 1949 Venus comics. Image: Wikicommons

When was Marvel Comics’ Loki introduced?

While Loki first appeared in the 1949 comic book Venus styled after (you guessed it) the devil, the modern-age Loki didn’t hit the comic book scene until co-writers and brothers Stan Lee and Larry Lieber adapted him in 1962’s Journey into Mystery #85. It’s in that issue where Loki “becomes Thor’s enemy/ally/brother/adopted brother/etc,” said Bishop. The mischievous personality of the Norse god remains largely the same in the Loki of the comic books and films and even retains the ability to swap genders at times.

In the comics, Loki is raised as Thor’s brother in Asgard—somewhere the Marvel stories diverge from the Norse mythology. It’s Loki and Odin who are sworn brothers in the Norse myths, not Loki and Thor. As Brown explains, “Loki and Odin are blood brothers, which means they are even closer than real brothers.” In the Viking world, two people who swore a blood oath to one another formed a bond that went beyond kin, and so went the Norse Loki and Odin’s relationship. As Bishop points out, the Loki/Thor dynamic of the comics and movies is a “classic, formulaic archetype.” Thor is the “big, hunky, handsome (but slightly dumb) hero” and Loki is “his slight, quirky but super-smart frenemy. Loki is the dark, misunderstood, vulnerable shadow that audiences can relate to, reach out to, care for. Thor is that dumb jock who everyone looked up to at school, but Loki was that cool, quiet kid who went on to found a tech-empire.”

Why is Loki called a Trickster?

What does remain consistent with Loki is that he always plays the trickster. He is the manifestation of psychologist Carl Jung’s archetype: The trickster disrupts the individual and/or society causing either growth or destruction. Social scientist Helena Bassil-Morozow points out that when it comes to Loki, “despite the fact that the narrative details between the medieval Loki stories and their contemporary versions vary, the main idea remains the same—the trickster mercilessly attacks those in power and nearly causes the end of the world.” Both in the Norse myths and in Marvel, the world needs saving from Loki. He acts as the catalyst for a whole lot of upheaval—upheaval that in the Norse myths causes Ragnarök.

Loki “functions as a locus of salvation (literally, a prodigal son).” Loki just might be a savior. He’s someone audiences can look at and think “if Loki can be redeemed, so too might I.”

Perhaps that’s where the two narratives differ the most. In the Norse tales, the end of the world at Ragnarök is inevitable. Odin and Thor will die. Everything will change. Vikings lived with the knowledge that their world would end. In the MCU, we don’t know how the story ends, plus Ragnarök took place already and yet the Asgardians live on. There’s still hope that Loki will prove to be good and that the other superheroes will save the world from whatever mayhem he’s caused, or so we can hope in the upcoming Disney+ series. As Bishop puts it, Loki “functions as a locus of salvation (literally, a prodigal son).” Loki just might be a savior. He’s someone audiences can look at and think “if Loki can be redeemed, so too might I,” explains Bishop.

While the Vikings’ Loki caused the end of the world, today’s Loki might just save it. Or maybe not. And, perhaps that’s the fun of the trickster—you never quite know what they’ll get up to.

[aureliobooks]

WIP INTRO — WAYFARER [ WIP PAGE | TAG ]

DESIGNATION: Standalone

GENRE: Sci-fi; Fantasy

SETTING: The planet Alcea

POV: Third Person Limited; alternates between Sha’ro Sivv and Kali Kestra

CONTENT WARNINGS: grief, death & loss, fantasy violence, more to be added

SYNOPSIS:

The people of Alcea were forged in the fires of dichotomy. They were, at their core, always destined to be opposites; the Solari, who rotated the sun with their magic and kept it from falling to the ground, ruled the day, and the Lunari, who did the same for the moon, ruled the night. They had butted heads from the beginning of time, one always wanting what the other had, ever coveting the light of the sun or the shadows of the moon. 

It was fitting, then, that the two meant to save Alcea were balanced on the back of a dichotomy of their own.

To an outsider, the only comparisons to be drawn between Sha’ro Sivv and Kali Kestra were in their duties; both served as the sworn shield of the ruler of their nation, along with being members of their respective Guards, doing their part to keep the celestial bodies they worshipped on their tracks.  

It was there that the similarities ended. Sha’ro was a member of the Lunar Guard, Kali of the Solar Guard; that fact alone was enough to ensure that if anyone had told them that they would be forced to trust one another with their lives, untangle a mile-long thread of conspiracies, prevent the fall of their people, and survive the assassinations of their rulers—all while standing beside one another—both would have laughed outright. 

But destiny doesn’t often care about the toes she steps on while weaving her tapestry. 

Drawn to one another inexplicably following the assassination of the Solar Empress, Sha’ro and Kali are forced into an uneasy partnership that soon finds them with a war mounting between their people, the creeping chill that comes with the guarantee of mutually assured destruction, and the addition of a new charge for both shields to guard: Sha’ro’s apprentice, Kes Dara, who happens to be the unknowing son of the Lunar Emperor—and may just be the key to solving everything.

THE SHORT VERSION:

Wayfarer is a story about found family, hope, finding balance where there is none, remembering how to trust and how to love, coming to terms with change, cool looking weapons, nice hair, a thread of humor through darkness, trying to make sure the sun & moon don’t fall out of the sky—and yes, enemies to allies to...maybe something more.

CHARACTERS:

Sha’ro Sivv; a legate of the Lunar Guard and shield of the emperor, Sha’ro is a powerful figure in more ways than one. Serving not only as one of the members of the emperor’s high council but as a mentor to Kes, Sha’ro’s unmistakable skill and black-and-white way of thinking make him a formidable opponent—especially when Kes’ safety is involved.

Kali Kestra val Astra; orphaned as a child and taken in by a clan of warriors, Kali is known for his immense talent as a duelist and his years as a bounty hunter before he became the empress’ shield. He is passionate and driven, but often finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, something that may just earn him a death sentence.

Kes Dara; as Sha’ro’s apprentice and the son of the Lunar Emperor, Kes is already fit to make a name for himself—though at the moment, by order of his father, Kes’ heritage lies dormant beneath years of life under the assumption that his parents were peasants. With no idea who he truly is and a war barreling towards him, Kes may have to grow up faster than anyone had hoped.

EXCERPT:

Kali was silent for a long while before he said, “you and your people seem rather keen on helping me.”

“Well, of course.” Sha’ro wasn’t sure why Kali was having such a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that they were truly there to help; to some degree he understood, but he also knew that helping Kali was right, plain and simple. It wasn’t anything deeper than that, at the end of the day. 

“I know you to be innocent. Before I could even ask Aya to investigate, Rishe was already begging her to do so. You have people on your side, you know. We may not be many, but we exist.”

Kali didn’t respond. He had turned his face toward the passenger window, and Sha’ro could see his reflection in the glass, distant and withdrawn. He had shut off his end of the bond, so Sha’ro was left completely in the dark. Kes had started messaging someone on his wrist-bound holopad at the mention of Rishe, and he seemed consumed by a singular focus, one that made the silence all the more charged.

So Sha’ro turned his attention back to the road, and tried to settle his mind. He kept his end of the bond open to Kali, an invitation that he hoped would become more enticing the calmer his own energy signature grew. 

He was driving without a destination. No one in the shuttle was unfamiliar with that feeling. Kali’s bounty hunting had taken him from job to job with nothing determining where he’d sleep next other than the wind and his own whims. Sha’ro, orphaned and left on the guard’s doorstep, had walked without allegiance or purpose for many years, though he had always maintained his central compass.

Kes...well. Kes had been drifting from the moment he was born, though he did not yet know it. His heritage, hidden from him piece by piece over the years, was certainly a destination, though it was one he could not see and may never discover.

Regardless of their pasts, they certainly seemed to share a future—one that Sha’ro prayed would not be as grim as the past week had suggested.

[florencwrites]

bleeding grounds 〚technoblade〛

in which undefined love does not always persevere over the perils of war

based on this tiktok

(!) violence, war, mentions of trauma, death, blood (!)

He had always been praised for his nimble feet, his astonishing agile movements. The way he could prance around a field with a dozen armed men and have none of them so much as unsheathe their sword. He was savvy and skilled, one of the most talented knights of the realm, and he knew it so damn well.

She, on the contrary, was blunt and stubborn. She knew how to stand her ground, and God, she would not fucking move. She had always let her foes prance their way to her, allowing them to perceive her as a damsel, as a woman too afraid to move her feet. Nothing was less true, she was bold and fiercely untrained, but for some reason, she always managed to create a pile of seeping corpses to mark off her perimeter.

He had trouble understanding her tactics, he believed them to be foolish and terribly perilous. Not only to her and her enemies, but to himself as well. She was stuck, nailed down, to one singular spot. Naturally, so were his eyes. As he swung around his sword, pushing arrows through hearts left and right, his eyes were never on his own target.

Constantly his mind would be preoccupied with her and her moronic antics, he would dance around her boundaries, trying his very best to keep any rival as far from the edge of her bounds as he could.

She did not see it that way. She saw an arrogant man in heavy armor slaying her corpses right in front of her face, she saw another one of those stupid smug knights believing her not to be worthy of her own battles. And God, she despised him for it. Pushing her to the sidelines of her own wars, pushing his own inferiority complex onto her.

So, naturally, she gave in eventually. She gave in and stepped into the line of fire, ducking under sweeping blades and leaping over soaring arrows; ones that would have never reached her would she have stayed put.

His eyebrows furrowed deeper at every shot that got a little too close to her for his liking, abandoning his own opponent, to instead focus solely on hers. Without a second thought, he curved underneath another overdrawn saber, immediately lifting himself back to his feet, his back pressed to hers as a crowd formed around them. A threatening circle of sharpened blades enclosing on them as they desperately tried fighting them off, one by one.

"I told you to stay put." He hissed through gritted teeth, his sword loudly clanking against his towering opponent.

"You're not my dad, Techno, duck." She ordered in response, immediately pulling his body down with hers as another arrow raced past their heads. He murmured a soft 'thank you' before grunting loudly as someone swung their axe into his side, thankfully protected by his excessively heavy chest plate. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," A heavy pant, "You?"

"Fantastic." Another broad sweep as she slung her sword into some guy's neck, immediately taking the opportunity to exit their deathly little arena, roaming further into the emptying battlefield. She let her eyes wander the lands, seeing several of her friends still fighting off either undead or almost-dead.

He kept in her vicinity, fighting outrageously hastily, trying to free himself from his foes. He followed her traces, killing off as many men as he could while keeping her close. "Stop trying to get yourself killed." Annoyance laced his voice as she pulled into a jog towards her King, George, who was fighting a mere zombified child. He let his head fall over his shoulder to follow her disappearing figure, groaning in utmost agitation as another soldier tried his luck with him.

"Stop trying to protect me." She yelled loudly, however, not in a joking matter, unfortunately. He knew she hated his absolute guts, she always trailed around his compagnons instead. She wanted nothing to do with him, while he wanted everything to do with her. Obviously, he was too arrogant to ever admit this to her, so he stayed quiet. Silently sweating daily to just keep her safe. Techno was not a man destined for love, he was not meant to care for another person as deeply as for himself. However, anytime his eyes laid upon hers, a meek voice in the back of his head would assure him,

"If you can fight your own enemies this easy, sure you could do hers as well."

Slowly but surely, as the sun started setting, the clanking of swords become more and more.. intermittent. Gradually, the silence of the night started taking over as enemy blood seeped into the ground. However, as his kill numbers started to quiet down, the voices in the back of his mind started growing louder. Louder. Louder. Telling him to keep going, to leave no man alive.

But she was no man, she was the one being in this entire realm not even the ghosts in his mind would dare to speak ill of. The one creature even his insanity wouldn't as much as attempt to threaten. His heavy boots carried him to the rest of their meek group, their feeble effort of their twenty-something-men-army. "You're bleeding."

"Not my blood," She spat back at him, utter venom laced through her spaces. "Mind your business."

However, before he could retaliate, Dream spoke up, "If you want to see her tits, you can just ask, Techno."

"And I'd say no," She giggled at her brother's insinuation, and he, in all honesty, had to count to ten in order not to let the voices win. Murder him. Slit his throat.

"Let's go home." George piped up, scrubbing a filthy rag over the blade of his sword. He sheathed his sword with an ear-piercing ring, "They have prepared rooms at the castle, we pull out again at dawn."

The voices echoed again, entirely preparing him for new sacrifices as soon as the first light hit the grounds. Murder everyone. Keep her safe.

-

The emptied hallways of the castle sounded even more deserted with the echoes of his padded feet pacing through them every few minutes. He roamed the corridors in a fruitless attempt to quiet the voices, to quiet his worrying mind. She had slipped from his eye the second the group had set foot on safe lands, as soon as she carried her slightly limping body through the threshold of the enormous empire. And though he had never been a fan of the kingdom as a whole, it was an ease to his mind, knowing she was safely guarded by hundreds of men and towering walls.

He passed her room for the umpteenth time of the evening, his steps subconsciously slowing as his ears perked at the sound of a whimper. A tiny, soft one, but his animalistic ears had picked it up nonetheless. It was almost muffled like she was trying her utter best not to let out a singular peep.

Her door was cracked open, not more than an inch, but he could not help himself but peek inside. His eyes roamed over the left side of her room, a fauteuil and a dresser, a desk and a mirror and her. She stood in front of the tall mirror, staring at her reflection in complete focus. She was shedding her shirt ever so slowly, which immediately prompted him to avert his gaze and pull back from the door.

However, another hiss sounded. Not necessarily a hiss, more of a sharp breath, loud. His hand slowly found the door handle, slowly pushing the door open a little further, just enough so that she could see his figure standing in the doorway.

Her shirt was pulled up until right below her bra, her delicate fingers tracing a gaping wound on her side; entirely smudged with blood that had, in fact, been hers. Instantly, his mind started playing tricks on him again, whispering malicious words into his ears. You should've known. She's going to die. The door creaked faintly as he pushed himself to stand a little deeper into the room, her eyes on his as she lowered her shirt. "What happened?"

"It's nothing, Techno, go to bed." She barked back immediately, desperately trying to cover the pain that was roaming her tone. He let his hand fall from the handle as she turned to face him entirely, still from the other side of the room. She stood still, awaiting his response, "What did they do to you?"

"It's my own fault." She admitted, embarrassment clear in the way she stood silently, fumbling her fingers. She couldn't help but let out a mocking chuckle, though, "You can tell me 'I told you so'."

"There's no use in telling you that now," He let his lips curl up for but a split second, before remembering the gaping gash in her skin.

She nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks as he made her way towards her. "Can I?"

"Go ahead," His fingers held the hem of her shirt, gently pulling it up her side to reveal the wound. It was large, but not too deep. He crouched down to his knees, his eyes burning a path on her bruised skin. He let his finger carefully trace the side of the gash, trying to assess whether or not stitches would be necessary. Her skin rose at the contact, slight goosebumps emerging from his feeble touch. She blushed even harder as a shiver ran up her spine, completely oblivious that his body was doing the exact same thing.

She looked down at him through the mirror, her reflection staring down at his face. She let her eyes trace his features, his soft pink skin and white scars, his sharpened teeth, and the blood-stained hair that laid ruffled on his head. It had grown significantly longer in the several days they had spent on the field, the days she had grown to slowly but surely appreciate his, secretly, caring nature. Obviously, though, she did not realize his caring nature only extended to her, that his watchful gaze really only ever allowed itself to cherish her form. "I don't think you should come with us tomorrow."

"Unfortunately, that's not up to you," A soft sigh escaped her lips, her fingers trembling in the slightest where they held up her shirt. He returned a skeptical breath, shooting his eyes to meet hers in their reflection as he spoke, "I'm serious."

She pulled her shirt down over her hips with an annoyed huff, slightly louder as she attempted to hide the underlying hiss. He noticed, of course, she knew he did. He pulled his hands from her body, instantly missing the feeling of her warm skin under his. "Who is it up to then?"

"Anyone but you, really." He rose to his feet, shaking his head in the faintest as his gaze met his feet. Softly clearing his throat, while she added, "Don't tell Dream."

"I will tell Dream." He assured her, to her irritation, "You're hurt."

They stood side-to-side, the front of his arm brushing against her shoulder, as they stared at their reflection. They shared a breath before she broke the silence, "Fine, tell him, I don't care."

"Now, please leave." A spiritless order at best, but an order nonetheless.

-

"George, if she dies tomorrow, her blood will be on your hands." Disbelief covered his entire face, his tone as monotone and harsh as ever, trying so very hard to mask any remaining emotions he had over her.

"She won't, she said she's fine, right?" He replied with annoyance hinting in his tone, "If she wants to fight, she can fight."

He averted his gaze to meet Dream's, surely he would agree with him. Was he not his sister's keeper?

"She's tougher than she lets on, Techno." The blonde spoke mumbling, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the dimmed fireplace. George was sat on the side of his bed, his elbows leaning on his knees. He met his eyes, a slow nod as if to say 'told you so'.

"You cannot be serious?" His voice roughened as the concern started inevitably seeping through. "Dream, she will die tomorrow."

The masked man shoved himself from the rough stones of the hearth, immediately stalking towards him. Alarmingly close to his face, chests almost touching, his voice dangerously low, "Then that will be on her."

George also rose to his feet minutely, watching the situation in front of him devolve in a threatening pace, "If she wants to fight, she will fight."

-

And so she did, fight. His words ringing through her head with every step she took out of her normally safe line. She hovered around her own body, careful not to disturb her surroundings. She hissed at any movement she made, anytime she was forced to lift her sword from beside her, an acute flash of searing-white pain overtook her every sense.

And so, she did die.

Ultimately, she would pass out from her seeping wound, fall right into enemy hands. She would fall over and pierce herself on their unsheathed sword. She never had a chance.

She fell to the ground, not with an agonizing shout, but more so a ceasing sigh. She fell to her own ground, the trampled floor of where she had fought the entirety of the, nearly defeated, battle. The blood-soaked dirt she had not allowed herself to leave, constantly replaying his words in her mind, 'Stay put', 'I told you to stay put', 'stay put'.

Agonizing screams did come from the zone of combat, nonetheless, even if they had not been hers. Shouts of terror and anguish as her body fell limp to the earth.

The blood that soaked the fields that day were paid with a price, paid with a price no man had ever paid before.

-

He had never been the same, not since that day. No longer was the image of her an image that would shield him from his own psychotic phantoms, no longer would he yield from the idea of death.

The blood that soaked the earth that day was no atonement of any sorts, the blood that soaked the earth that day had been in utter and complete vain. It had not been just hers that seeped through the roots of evil underneath the soil, it would end with her brother's as well, but not her brother's alone.

The King would die and the empire, and any that would follow it, would inevitably fall to his hands.

-

Blood for the blood god.

[ughseoks]

i love you. | knj

— pairing; namjoon x reader / slice of life!au

— genre/rating; fluff / PG

— word count; 1.8k

— warnings; periods (joon buys tampons & brief mention of blood), allusions to pregnancy

— summary; a series of important moments in your life alongside namjoon.

this is a birthday gift for my wonderful, amazing, perfect friend @interludemoonchild​! since it’s her special day, i wanted to write something i knew she’d like. that’s why i compiled all of the joonie drabble prompts she sent me a month or two ago into one singular story! i hope you enjoy, tay :) ilysm!

「 masterlist 」

going on a date with namjoon to an art gallery

On your first date with Namjoon, he took you to an art gallery.

At first, you’d been a little surprised-- art galleries weren’t the most common destinations for first dates. But any apprehension you’d previously felt had melted away almost immediately when Namjoon picked you up, his calm and caring nature immediately feeling like home.

As you perused the gallery, you didn’t share many of your thoughts, the silence of the building settling over the two of you like a blanket. Instead, you moved between the works alongside the taller man one by one quietly, spending more time staring at him than the art itself.

Something about him enraptured you. From the adorable dimples that appeared when he smiled to the way his boots clicked against the wooden floors, you were caught-- hook, line, and sinker. But more than anything, you were awestruck by the way he appreciated the art.

If you were being totally honest with yourself, you could never really appreciate art galleries the way others could. The art was undeniably beautiful, but you’d never had the special reaction that people often talked about-- the one that Namjoon was having. Every so often, he would stop in front of a piece, his eyes growing wide and his breath catching in his throat. He’d stare at it with stars in his eyes, mouth slightly open as the world faded around him, the world reduced to just himself and the work of art.

Without fail, he would look at you a minute later with a sharp turn of his head, apologizing with a shy smile every time it happened. You’d reassure him that you didn’t mind, and you weren’t lying. It was fascinating to watch, and something about the behaviour tugged at your heartstrings.

He’d taken you out for dinner later that night, ears turning red when he accidentally knocked his silverware off the edge of the table with a clang. You’d simply giggled, his clumsiness warming your heart just a little bit more.

When the night was over and the two of you were standing on your front porch, he’d awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red as he looked anywhere but you.

“I-- I had a really nice time tonight,” he’d admitted, finally making eye contact with you, “Maybe we could, uh, do this again sometime?”

A huge smile had crossed your lips at that, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, giggling when his face flushed completely red. “I’d love that, Namjoon.”

--

sending namjoon to the story to buy things and he’s a wreck, but gets through it with your help

You loved Namjoon. You really did. It’d been about six months since your first date, and you’d never been this happy in your life. Really.

But for someone so smart, he could be very, very stupid.

When you’d woken up that morning to terrible cramps and an almost empty stash of tampons, you’d sent him out on an errand. The task was simple: buy a box of tampons from the convenience store a few blocks away.

It really shouldn't have taken that long, but Namjoon was Namjoon, and he’d apparently never bought tampons before. So, there you were, practically on the brink of death as you texted your boyfriend instructions.

When he finally got home, you’d nearly cried in relief, heart bursting when you realized that he hadn’t only bought tampons-- he’d also bought a pack of Tim Horton’s kcups and a family sized box of honey bunches of oats.

“I knew these were your comfort foods, so I got some,” he’d commented, holding up the grocery bag in one hand with a nervous smile on his face. “I’m sorry it took me so long, I just wanted to make sure everything was right--”

He was cut off with an oomph when you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his torso in a bear hug. Tears were flowing down your cheeks, the fabric of his shirt becoming soaked with the salty drops.

“I love you,” you’d cried into his chest, your heart a few seconds away from exploding because of how much love you felt for the man in your arms, “I love you so, so much.”

He’d immediately dropped the bag and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a gentle squeeze as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too, _____.”

--

helping namjoon cook because he’s a mess

“I have a movie request for tonight.”

“If it’s Wall-E, I’m revoking your movie suggesting privileges. We’ve watched it twice just this month.”

“I no longer have a movie request for tonight.”

Namjoon laughed at the pout on your face, reaching over to ruffle your hair playfully before turning back to the stovetop. It was your second anniversary, and Namjoon had insisted on making you a romantic dinner from home.

At first, you’d protested-- after all, neither of you were very skilled in the cooking department. Your microwaved ramen incident had definitely proven that. But Joon reassured you that he wouldn’t burn the house down in the process, along with a promise to order takeout if his endeavors failed.

The dish of the night was simple, but classic: pasta. All he had to do was boil the water, wait for the noodles to cook, and let the sauce heat on the stove. There was almost nothing he could mess up if he simply followed the instructions word by word.

But alas, he was only Kim Namjoon, and thirty minutes later, you were watching Namjoon dip his fries in his shake, giving him a judgemental glare. If he noticed your distaste for his food combination choice, he didn’t comment, opting to press a salty kiss to your pouting lips instead.

--

playing in the rain with namjoon because he loves it

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

You lifted your gaze from the book in your hands, making direct eye contact with Namjoon as raindrops began to patter against the roof of your shared home. They grew louder and louder as the seconds passed, and just moments later, Namjoon grabbed your hand to drag you off of the couch.

Once you were outside, the raindrops kissed your hair and cheeks as you spun around, a childlike giggle falling from your smiling lips. Water splashed up against your red rain boots, the shiny rubber squeaking with each one of your twirls.

Normally, by this point, Namjoon would have already grabbed you around the waist, spinning you around before pressing a kiss to your rain-soaked hair. But after a few moments, you were still spinning alone, and the familiar giggle of your boyfriend nowhere to be heard.

Slowly coming to a stop, you turned your head in search of the familiar mop of brown hair, only to let out a small noise of confusion when you saw him kneeling before you. His baggy jeans were soaked where they pressed into the concrete, wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

He looked ethereal.

“Joonie?” you half-whispered, realization dawning on you as he pulled a small black box out of his drenched pocket. Tears began to mix with the raindrops slipping down your cheeks, your lower lip trembling as you tried to contain your sobs of happiness.

“____,” he exhaled, words barely audible over the downpour surrounding you. He tilted his head up to meet your gaze, peering up through his wet bangs to give you the most loving smile you’d ever seen. “I love the way you insist that pizza is pie. I love the way your eyes sparkle while gazing at nighttime cityscapes. I love the way you listen to salsa music until all of the songs begin to blend together. I love how you take care of me; how you pick up the broken pieces of glass without getting annoyed when I accidentally break something. I love you. You are my everything, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You couldn’t control your sobs anymore, shoulders shaking as he opened the box to reveal a beautiful engagement ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you settled for nodding enthusiastically, a grin spreading across Namjoon’s face in response. He immediately stood up from his spot on the ground, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a crushing hug.

Both of you were soaked from head to toe, but you couldn’t be happier when he slid the ring onto your finger, rain kissed lips moving against yours when you captured them in a tearful kiss.

--

namjoon being nervous about having his first kid thinking he's gonna hurt the poor baby but when he sees child his worries are gone

“Joonie,” you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Something’s bothering you. Talk to me.”

Your husband let out a long sigh before wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you onto his lap, nuzzling his head into your neck before mumbling. “Do you think I’m gonna be a good dad?”

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation, bringing a hand up and carding it through his soft brown locks.

“But I’m so clumsy,” he whispered. You could feel drops of liquid hitting your neck, your heart breaking when you realized he was crying. “What if I drop her? What if I assemble the crib wrong and she gets hurt? I’m just an accident waiting to happen. How can I possibly be responsible for another person? I can barely go a day without breaking something, _____. I’m destined to fail her.”

“Woah, woah,” you hushed softly, pulling back so you could wipe away the tears staining his cheeks, “Joonie, you’re psyching yourself out. You have nothing to worry about, baby. You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

“But--”

“Joon,” you pleaded, taking one of his hands and moving it so it was resting on your baby bump, “I have never believed in anything more than I believe in you. I know it’s scary-- even I’m nervous that I’ll fall short-- but you can’t give up before we’ve even tried. Once she’s here, everything will fall into place. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

--

“Hey sweetheart,” Namjoon exhaled, extending his hand out for his daughter to grab. She was beautiful, just like her mom.

Her little finger wrapped around his larger one, tears threatening to spill over as a huge smile spread across his face. Suddenly, all of his worries were gone, any trace of nervousness or fear replaced by an all-consuming love; the kind that felt like it might swallow you whole in the best way possible.

With you and your daughter by his side, he could do anything. He would do anything.

“It’s me. Dad.”

「 masterlist 」

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[minijenn]

Keys to the Kingdom Preview

In which Sora realizes you need money to exchange for goods and services and also realizes that he’s got none of that bc the Duck and Dog Dads never let him carry any of their cash around. Also the child is starving. Fun!

***

The third night is the first he goes to sleep hungry. 

Sora leaves that first world not long into the next day, largely for one very simple, yet very important reason. He can’t find a single source of water anywhere, something that soon starts to become a problem when, after only a few hours of wandering under the relentless sun, his rising thirst slowly starts to turn into the first signs of dehydration. He’s already feeling weak and lightheaded when he caves to summon a dark corridor; and, as he’s quickly starting to get used to, he feels even worse after he crosses through it. 

He still doesn’t know how to control where his dark portals lead to, not that the destination really matters as long as it's as far away from either the lights or the Organization as possible. Fortunately, the first thing he sees as soon as he collapses out of the corridor is a river, rushing clear and cool just a few feet away from him. He nearly falls into it, desperately swallowing several mouthfuls of water until he ends up inevitably choking on it. His stomach settles rather quickly this time around, but he’s left with a lingering headache from the short trip through the shadows. He does what he can to ignore it as he splashes some river water onto his face, washing off the thin layer of dust and dirt he hadn’t even realized accumulated on it back in the canyon. 

Upon taking a cursory glance at the rest of his surroundings, he finds the river is bordered by dense trees on either side of it, woods that are more comparable to a jungle than a forest. The air is hot here, but different than it had been in the last world, much more humid and bearable as a symphony of wild sounds sing out from the surrounding trees. But what catches Sora’s attention the most is something he can see from his spot on the riverbank, resting downstream just a short distance away: a village. 

It’s a relatively tiny town, composed of a collection of simple huts and houses that are by most accounts, largely primitive. Still, Sora heads straight for it as soon as he sees it, knowing that where there’s a town, there’s bound to be something else he’s in need of if his rumbling stomach is anything to go off of: food. 

Despite its small size, the village is quite populous, filled with midday hustle and bustle of its humbly-dressed residents going about their usual business. Most of them barely notice Sora as he unceremoniously walks into town, though a few do spare him odd or curious glances as they pass him by. To not arouse any unwanted suspicion or alarm, he keeps his hands tucked into his pockets, his claws out of sight and his head down as he strolls into what appears to be an open air market of sorts. Several stalls have set up shop, pedaling a variety of goods and foods, from fruit to meat to herbs and more. Out of all this, the appetizing scent of freshly baked bread is what draws Sora over to one certain stall, one selling all sorts of loafs, biscuits, and even a handful of cakes. He eyes the impressive display hungrily before picking out a few delectable-looking rolls, as well as a few small, fruit-topped tarts for good measure. He’s still going through the stall’s stock, however, when its owner finally speaks up from her spot on the other side of it. 

“Your eyes certainly seem to be overloading your stomach, boy,” the older woman remarks, her face and tone both quite grouchy and detached. “That doesn’t matter much to me though, as long as you can pay for that stash you’re piling up there. You can afford all that, can’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Sora nods, shifting his potential purchases to rest on one arm. He searches his pockets, checking his jacket first and then his pants, only to quickly reach a very startling discovery: he doesn’t have any money on him to speak of. 

 Before, he’d never really needed to carry money on him. Between the three of them, that had usually been Donald’s job, a job he’d taken away from Sora relatively on into their first adventure together, claiming that he wasn’t “responsible” enough to handle their funds. Sora had playfully brushed the comment off at the time, and over the years, had largely gotten used to either Donald or Goofy keeping track of any money they obtained and what supplies they spent it on in his stead. Only now that he’s on his own without a single cent to his name that he wishes the pair had trusted him just a bit more, at least enough to carry a little of their money around, just in case. 

“Um… so… this is pretty funny, I’m sure you’ll get a good laugh out of it,” he begins, throwing on the most charming, pleading smile he can manage. “But... I don’t really have any money…” he hesitantly tells the shop owner, looking between her and the bread in his arms. “You… don’t happen to give out free samples, do you?” The shopkeeper only responds to his small, hopeful smile with a cross, deadpan look, one that gives Sora an answer that’s every bit as clear as words would have been. “Right…” he sighs in defeat, putting every piece of food right back where he found it. “Didn’t think so…”

He sullenly stuffs his hands back into his pockets as he walks away, trying not to steal a glance at any of the other surrounding food stalls, lest his unsatisfied hunger only continue to rise. He nearly makes it out of the market altogether before spots something he’s hard pressed to pass up: a stall selling several different types of fruit. Among them is his favorite by far, a treat he’d always enjoyed snacking on back on the islands: mangoes. The stall doesn’t carry many of them, in fact its entire stock seems to be rather small and largely unimpressive, but one is really all Sora wants right now. After all, something, even if it's something as small as a simple mango, is bound to suffice after three days of eating basically nothing at all. 

It’d be easy enough to just take one too. The stall’s owner has their back turned, preoccupied with going through the rest of what they have to put out. All he’d have to do is swiftly pass by, pick one up, and shove it into his pocket without anyone seeing. He’s not very keen on the idea of stealing, especially after how much trouble the unsavory act had gotten him into back in Agrabah. But there, he’d stolen a priceless, magical treasure; here, the only thing he intends on making off with is a single, largely inconsequential piece of fruit. And given just how hungry he’s starting to get, how bad could taking just one really be?

He nearly moves in to do exactly that, though stops short only a few feet away from the stall as a small child, no older than 6, suddenly runs out from behind it. “Papa! Papa!” the boy calls, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the edge of the stall. “Can I have one of the mangos? Please?”

The shopkeeper turns, a kindly-looking man, though his eyes are tired as he looks down at his young child. “Oh, I’m sorry, son,” he frowns, shaking his head. “But those are the last few we have. You know the harvest wasn’t good this year, and if we don’t sell those, we won’t have enough to get the materials your Mama needs to make you new clothes.” The shopkeeper smiles a bit as he steps out to hoist his son up into his arms, affectionately ruffling his hair. “You’re growing so fast that it’s getting hard for us to keep up with you.”

The child laughs as his father carries him back behind the stall, his former request for food all but forgotten by now. Neither of them notice that their warm exchange had been watched from afar, and as soon as it's over, Sora instantly feels guilty for even considering the thought of stealing from them. Of taking something from a family that clearly needs it to survive, simply for his own selfish, singular needs. He hangs his head in shame as he briskly walks past the stall, not even sparing it a second thought as he starkly leaves the village behind entirely. 

He finds a place to sleep not too far outside of town, in a well-shaded nook at the near edge of the jungle. It rains that night, and he largely doesn’t sleep, even though he manages to stay relatively dry thanks to the thick canopy of trees overhead. Because the entire night, the most he can really do is lie there, his arms wrapped around his empty, aching stomach, silently pleading for some kind of relief from the starvation he doesn’t know how to stop. Eventually, he somehow falls asleep, dreaming of all of the delicious dishes his mother used to masterfully make for him back home, from freshly steamed salmon, to sweet pineapple cake, to savory vegetable soup. Only to wake up the next morning, still longing for food, longing for his mother, longing for home. 

All while knowing painfully well that he won’t get to see any of those things any time soon. 

[kob131]

Okay, now we’re doing Mordred.

Personal statement: I’m a little miffed when it comes to the fandom and the character of Mordred. The fandom tends to portray her as a generic rambuncious tomboy or generic tsundere at best and a trans stereotype at worst. While the former is true and the latter could be true depending on what the creators’ say- there’s a LOT more to Mordred than ‘badass’, ‘tsundere’ and ‘tomboy.’

Let’s try the beginning for now. To begin with, Mordred isn’t human. She’s actually a homunculus made to be a clone of her father Arturia. This was done to her by her mother, Morgan Le Fay, as a part of a revenge plot against the king. Because of this, Mordred aged a lot faster than a normal person. As in, despite looking like a teenager, Mordred can’t be older than 9, likely a few years younger. She also likely...didn’t have a good childhood. Truth be told, little is known about Mordred’s time before the Round Table. All we do know is that however her mother raised her, it led Mordred to believe that mothers in general don’t care about their kids.

Sometime later, she joins the Round Table after being recommended by Morgan. All of this being a ploy to get her close to the king and usurp the throne for her. Slight problem there-despite being raised to hate Arturia, Mordred ended up idolizing her because of the king’s perceived inhumanity and her benevolence. She stays on the Round Table not as a spy for Morgan but rather as a genuine knight serving the king. Despite this, she still listens to her mother’s order to keep her helmet on at all times.

Near the end of Camelot, Morgan and Mordred meet up once again, with the former rather agitated that Mordred hadn’t fulfilled her purpose yet. In this exchange, Morgan lets slip just who her father was. Finding that out, Mordred went off to confront Arturia about this, hoping to be her heir. ... She got shot down. Things went...badly, oh so badly afterward. Mordred’s admiration turned to hatred for her father and drove her to commit the infamous rebellion that destroyed Camelot, betrayed her father’s trust and ultimately killed them both.

Moving on to her tenure as a Servant, she’s summoned by Kairi Shisigou in the Great Holy Grail War as the Saber of Red. Despite her dislike of magus, she and Kairi get along extraordinarily well, becoming a highly effective combo that tended to win even against highly powerful enemies. Ironically, Mordred ends up being one of the most loyal Servants in the war. This culminating in her final moments in the war. After fighting and defeating the Assassin of Red Semiriamis at the cost of her Master being mortally injured, she doesn’t attempt to ally herself with one of the Servantless Masters and instead decides to die by his side.

Later, she’s summoned in both the London and Camelot Singularities. Here we see a rather stark contrast. In London, she acts as Chaldea’s strongest ally in the Singularity, to the point she helps Mash develop as a Servant and goes out of her way to help them. In Camelot, she’s allied with the villain of the Singularity, a godly version of her father called the Lion King, and works as a brute enforcer destined to die. She also appears in the third Lostbelt...but mostly as a comparison to Spartacus so I’ll skip the details there.

So, if I had to give a word to describe Mordred, ‘Paradoxical’ would be a good one. She hates being referred to as a female but also hates being referred to as a male. She tries to act aloof but craves affection from people. Her legend is based around her betrayal and yet she’s steadfast loyal in all her appearances. She’s rough and strong but shockingly fragile at times. And while she claims to hate her father...well...

Everything traces back to her past in Camelot. Again, Mordred is actually a lot younger than she appears to be. Arturia’s reign only lasted ten years and Mordred was born during this time, meaning she’s likely well below double digits in terms of chronological age. This means Mordred is around the age when children are still highly sensitive and emotional, unable to properly control their emotions. While this is partially due to how developed their brains are, a great part of this is also life experience which Mordred severely lacks. 

Then we have her upbringing. Mordred has never directly spoken about her childhood but the one indication we get from her second Interlude (the line about mothers not caring about their kids) implies Mordred was treated rather poorly by her mother. A child around her chronological age has poor emotional maturity even if they have good parents. Remove one parent and have the other treat her poorly and you have what is an abused child stuck in the body of a teenager. The series isn’t even subtle with Mordred effectively being a kid, her attitude is constantly portrayed as immature, hyperactive and all around childish.

This is also why she took Arturia’s rejection so hard. While she asked to be Arturia’s heir, her actions and talk as a Servant seem to indicate she conflated being family to her with being her heir. So when she was rejected, it wasn’t that she was told she couldn’t be king- to her, Mordred thought she was rejected as family. To say nothing of her own insecurities about being Morgan’s child.

A few of you more familiar with the Round Table, Fate version or real, are probably thinking ‘Well, not like she was completely isolated. She must have friends within the Round Table. Hell, she has other family members, the Orkney siblings are all Morgan’s children too!’ Problem there is that she was ordered by her mother to not remove her helmet around others. You can’t really bond with someone if you have to keep your guard up at all times. As for her other family members, their interactions (like Mordred brushing off Gawain and Gareth being somewhat distant with her, not even knowing her actual gender) indicate both parties were unaware of their connection. So she had no friends or family to make up for her warped upbringing. It isn’t a concidence that once she finds an accepting father figure in Kairi, she starts to develop out of her worse traits.

Moving on, Mordred also has serious issues regarding her identity. This most obviously manifests as her contradictory stance in regards to her gender. She hates being called a woman due to the negative connotations her time period had about women and how it would disqualify her from being Arturia’s heir...but she can’t be treated as a man either, as that denies who she is. This continues on into her legend as well: at first she sounds proud of her rebellion and her betrayal...but other more personal times she indicates she regrets what she did and hates herself for it. She claims to have surpassed her father as a knight in one breath then calls herself third-rate and a poor knight in the next. She supposedly embraces her legend as a traitor...yet refuses to betray her allies and stays loyal. She tries to act like she’s some big bad villain who doesn’t care but she tries to uphold her knight’s honor as any member of the Round Table would.

All in all, she comes across as someone trying to look and seem strong...because she’s been wounded one too many times.

This is especially notable with her feelings towards her father. On the surface, she talks big about hating her father. And superficially, it seems to add up as she constantly challenges and fights against Arturia. And yet, her wish on the Holy Grail is to pull the sword Caliburn from the stone, trying to prove herself to her father. She actually hates it when someone insults her father, she still tries to act as a knight under her father. And in Apocrypha, in her final fight, it turns out there’s a specific reason WHY she’s trying to prove herself by drawing Caliburn and not, say, beating her father in a fight or surviving Camalann: She wants to draw Caliburn so her father doesn’t. Because being king caused untold pain and suffering for Arturia and deep down, Mordred wanted her to be happy.

In the end, Mordred comes off as a deeply flawed, deeply damaged person. Someone who was robbed of any kind of choice or chance at a good life, trying her best to make the most of her mistakes. And yet, she tries her best to care for the people she loves, even the person who seemed to hurt her the most. And through the chances others give her, she becomes a better and better person.

She’s just a child who needs what all children need: love and guidance.