you are fourteen when your blade first learns of the golden ichor spilled by the gods.
somedays, you think to warn him away lest a tragic fate befalls him. zhongli, clumsy as he is in all manner’s mortal, holds a place in your heart you dare not name. for you know better than most the tragedy in the making.
you are sixteen when aether warns you of the dangers of love.
(you never do learn your lesson.)
you are sixteen when you first taste the summer sun on his tongue, and you are sixteen when you learn the bitter taste of envy and heartbreak.
betrayal is nothing new. still, it stings. the embarrassment. the shame. the rage.
“and what was the lesson to be learned here, rex lapis?”
you hiss like a scalded cat, and signora laughs as the men stare.
“oh, there it is.” she coos. “and here i was, thinking you were just another spineless bitch yipping at the heels of your betters.”
her words mean nothing. she means nothing. all that matters is the rising heat in your chest as you think of broken bodies floating in the sea, and the man, the god, responsible for their deaths.
“men died for your test. good men. men with lives they will never return too.”
for the first time in the six months since you’ve known him, zhongli flinches; a crack in his flawless façade of control. you feel no satisfaction at the sight.
with a straight spine, and a fragile heart, you leave.
you are twelve when your father dies; his constellation fading with his final breath. the conservator is no more, and your mother descends into madness.
he finds you that night atop mount tianheng. his hair is slick with sweat while his coattails sport an impressive number of burrs. your shimmering fury rises to a fierce boil when he goes to open his mouth.
“not. a. word.” you spit. regretfully, he listens.
or so you think.
“i apologize.”
the grass crunches beneath his boots, and you shoot up with a tongue full of sharp, cruel words.
“i said—”
“my actions caused a shameful waste of human life.” he kneels before you, and your mouth falls shut with a painful clack of teeth. “it is a habit i cannot seem to break; paying a price without thinking of its true worth.” his hands are warm when they cup your face. “i do not regret my contract with the tsaritsa; i have no desire for godhood anymore. but you are right. i lead those men to their deaths. i was cruel to think of them as pawns in my game with the qixing and adepti.” he brushes a thumb across the curve of your cheek. “for what is liyue without its people? and how can i say to have any care for its future if i throw its very heart to the wolves?”
you swallow, unsure how to respond as his lips brush the shell of your ear.
“yet, crueler still, it was not the shame of their deaths that spurred me here.” your hands find their way to his wrists; nails digging into the soft skin as he continues to whisper. “for i cannot bear the thought of you thinking anything less of me. and to imagine you, an ocean away, with your memories of me marred by such a selfish, cruel act? no. i could not allow that to happen.”
you are thirteen when your brother steals you away from the prison you once called home. your cheek still throbs from the force of your mother’s palm.
“so please,” he draws back, and his eyes are so beautiful, “forgive me?”