Chapter Text
It’s cold in Snezhnaya, much as Childe remembers, and it greets him in a welcoming, freezing embrace. With every breath he takes, the air bites at the back of his throat, though it is almost comforting, familiar. After all, he’s had to deal with Liyue’s salty breeze for a while too long now, and, as calming as the sea has been, Childe would lie if he said he hadn’t missed the wildness of a snowstorm. Even now, he couldn’t help smiling at the small flakes falling all around.
He inhales deeply, content; Ajax is finally home.
Someone salutes, addresses him directly by his title with a voice he doesn’t particularly recognize. Perhaps it is one of the new recruits, judging by his poor posture, the slight tremble of his hand—which Childe doesn’t miss—and even his unhealthily thin constitution. He curtly nods, giving a half-hearted greeting in return, then jumps off his horse.
They had decided to travel by land after reaching a port in Natlan, the waters having been too dangerous to venture farther through the waves. Their journey had extended by another couple of days that way, though Childe, driven by the Tsaritsa’s demands, only deemed it appropriate to choose the safer route to their destination.
Alongside him stop two other horses, and the diplomats take their superior’s previous move as a signal to get off their saddles as well. Childe hears Nadia sigh, perhaps just as relieved as himself to witness the sights of endless snow again.
Both her and Vlad had reached out to him multiple times before, asking to return home with the next boat. Back then, Childe had been rather apprehensive, mostly since he himself was stuck in Liyue with work, and there were few people he’d assign as the bank’s guards. Perhaps calling it trust was an overstatement, although he did find the two as most suitable for their job. So, he’d rejected their requests for the longest time.
Thankfully for the two, that time was no more.
“The winds carry the smell of a storm. What a warm welcome from the motherland…”
Childe glances behind with the ghost of a chuckle on his lips. “If you leave now, you should be able to make it to the headquarters before the weather worsens.”
“Are you sure? Will Master Childe be able to handle work here, then?” Vlad asks hesitantly. Although familiar with the Harbinger’s easygoing nature, he’s still surprised by the early dismissal. He receives a nod and the wave of a hand, then Childe passes by him without another word.
Nadia looks at him with a smile, and shrugs. “Let’s go,” and Vlad finds himself following behind like a confused, lost puppy.
As for Childe, he asks one of the agents on duty to take the horses back to the stables, exchanges greetings with familiar faces, and wraps his jacket more tightly around himself. His gaze drifts to a certain carriage at the back, from which the person he’d been escorting has already stepped out. A small smile makes its way on his face, and the Harbinger hurries in their direction.
“Welcome to Snezhnaya, Mister Zhongli!” The man in question turns his head at the call, and mirrors the gleeful grin. He is prompted to respond, voice his observations of the place as he’d seen out the carriage’s window, perhaps even ask Childe a couple of questions. He is silenced before any of his thoughts could be revealed, however. “Ah, you are underdressed for the weather here! You can take this until you’ll get proper clothing…”
Zhongli watches as Childe takes off his scarf and swiftly wraps it around the consultant’s shoulders. “I don’t see much of an issue with my current attire,” he can’t help a chuckle. “I don’t exactly tend to get cold.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Childe raises a brow. “Perhaps being a god had its perks in that regard, but I doubt having a mortal body would grant you the same privileges. Snezhnayan winters are harsh.”
Childe isn’t entirely wrong, Zhongli comes to realize. Despite not feeling cold per se, the wind does make goosebumps run up his arms and down his back, and his shoes sink uncomfortably in the snow. In front of him, Childe looks warm enough, having discarded his usual outfit for a fur-lined jacket and a matching fuzzy hat. His face is flushed and nose red, and Zhongli is quite certain he looks the same way if not, at least, similarly so. He lets out an amused sigh. “If you say so, I will keep it in mind.”
“I’m not joking, y’know?” Childe crosses his arms. “It’s also worse up in the mountains, so you’d better listen to me.”
“Yes, Childe.”
The Harbinger only rolls his eyes at the short reply, taking a few steps in the direction of the small town; Zhongli is quick to follow behind. “Luckily for you, I was expecting that you wouldn’t pack beforehand,” and by the looks of it, Zhongli, indeed, brought nothing but a small satchel of medicinal herbs and ointments. Childe hadn’t asked any further questions about it. “There should be clothes prepared for you at the hotel you’ll be staying in.”
Zhongli nods. “Where will you be staying?”
“Tonight I’ll probably have some matters to take care of, so I won’t be sleeping much.” Childe laughs sheepishly. “Though, theoretically, there’s a room for me at the hotel as well.”
“What matters do you have to solve? If you can share, of course.”
“Hmm, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. It’s just reports and other paperwork I need to write about my… mission in Liyue.” He turns his head to the side, averting Zhongli’s gaze. The entire ordeal still left a bitter taste in his mouth, and, although Zhongli has long made amends regarding the incident, Childe was clearly not fond of bringing up the topic in their conversations.
Thus, Zhongli decides to change the subject. “Well then, what have you planned for our stay here?” And he almost sighs in relief when Childe’s features light up, his shoulders slumping back with the released tension.
“My utmost priority is your safe arrival at Her Majesty’s palace, but your meeting with Her should not happen until tomorrow.” He looks at Zhongli almost to ask for a confirmation, even if he already knows the Tsaritsa’s plans. Part of him does still want to be let in on the details, on why would the Cryo Archon even ask for an audience with Zhongli, and why it was so necessary for Childe to escort him. But of course Zhongli only nods in approval and doesn’t elaborate.
As much as Childe has come to trust the man, he’s still tired of being left in the dark.
With a sigh, he glances ahead at the mountains that tower high above like giants. He notices how the wind has picked up as well. “The hotel is at the base of the mountain, on the outskirts of the city; we should probably make it there before the snowstorm catches up to us.”
Zhongli watches him with endearing wonder in his eyes. Back in Liyue, as the very creator of the land, he’d been able to feel even the slightest of changes deep within the earth. Snezhnaya is a foreign region, far from his own and so much more different, and yet Childe reads the smallest gush of wind with utmost precision. Perhaps one can feel their homeland’s every change down to the marrow of their bones, no matter whether mortal or deity.
For someone as old of a god as Rex Lapis, to reach such a conclusion was a marvel.
His eyes trail over Childe’s walking figure, from the boots trampling the snow, to where his hands hide in the pockets of his jacket, to the ginger locks sticking out from under the fuzzy hat. He doesn’t even realize how he’s been lagging behind, or that Childe had continued talking, until he meets those ocean-blue eyes again.
“Are you even listening, Mister Zhongli?” There’s an amused grin on the Harbinger’s face. Zhongli shakes his head, smiling back. “I was asking you if you’d like to stay some more after the… business part of your trip is over.”
“Certainly,” is Zhongli’s short answer. “You wish to show me all of the places you’ve been talking about.” He had meant it as a question, though it hardly sounded like one.
Childe pouts. “So were you, or were you not listening? That’s what I’ve been telling you about, yes. Also, could you walk faster? This is not the time for sightseeing.”
“I apologize, I didn’t mean to slow you down.” He couldn’t help it, though. Were it his decision to make, he’d turn this entire journey into a holiday, become a god on vacation, as Childe had jokingly called it. He’d discard all responsibilities, take hold of his beloved’s hand and tread onwards through the snow without a care. “It’s a beautiful land,” he begins almost mournfully when they walk side by side again. “Although it is saddening to witness this endless winter of the Tsaritsa’s heart.”
Childe only glances at him wordlessly, biting back a retort. He supposes Zhongli would know better, either way. The need to ask for more information arises in his mind again, though he holds back. “Once we’re done at the Zapolyarny Palace, I was meaning to return to Morepesok for a few days…” he starts before his mouth could voice any of his more troubling thoughts. “Would… would you like to join me?” My siblings are dying to meet you.
“I’ll gladly do so,” Zhongli gives him another small smile, while one of his hands reaches for the satchel. “I actually brought some herbs from Bubu Pharmacy for your father. I was going to give them to you and instruct you on how to extract their essence, but I could do it myself when we get there.”
Childe only stares at him for a while, before awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s very thoughtful of you… Tonia says your previous recommendations have done wonders for his cough and headache, so… thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do. How have they been holding up?”
“Ah, well, the little ones are as lively as ever, you can imagine. Mother says she’s doing well, but I’m sure it must be getting harder to take care of everything, especially with how the old man’s health has been lately… I was hoping to help them prepare for the upcoming winter. Tonia mentioned that they were running out of firewood as well…” He sighs heavily. “I wish Her Majesty wouldn’t deploy me so far away from home all the time. It’s fun until you realize that the distance takes a toll on you mentally, too.”
He would have continued—scarily enough—but a tight knot rose in his throat, and he stopped himself before his voice could break. This isn’t the time, damn it! And even though having Zhongli hear that wasn’t much of a concern, there were plenty others around, who clearly didn’t need to see Ajax’s swirling emotions. Zhongli’s voice is soft when he speaks. “That’s normal, Childe.” Somehow, using his codename felt wrong, but he knows Ajax would rather keep the familiarities in private. “Homesickness is a natural feeling to go through.”
Childe scoffs mockingly. “How ironic for you to lecture me on such humane topics…”
“With every passing day, I learn. And with every passing day, I try to reach closer to what mortals feel, to what you feel. Not even the oldest god can call himself all-knowing. And, along that, it is anyone’s duty to share a little piece of wisdom with the world; so, indeed, I may be lecturing you when fog clouds your vision.”
Zhongli’s words cut through the howling of the wind like blades, and he’s staring at Childe with that look the Harbinger absolutely loathes. He looks at him with pity. “Don’t give me that look, Mister Zhongli, I was joking with you. Although it is nice to see you acknowledging how being a god drained you of a whole bunch of common sense.” He lowers his voice when speaking the last part. Surprisingly, Zhongli laughs.
“And that is why I wish for you, also, to lecture me when my vision is clouded. Mutual learning can only lead to the proper upbringing for us both. As they say, walking a path alone can prove as a battle with one’s mind.”
Childe takes a deep breath, and the sudden coldness of the air seems to clear his mind. He doesn’t have much of a response, if any, though he sure as hell isn’t going to drop the conversation at that. “Speaking of battles,” he turns to Zhongli with a totally not strained grin. “You still owe me a duel!”
“And here I thought you would let go of such foolish desires.” Zhongli sounds almost disappointed, but there is no bite in his tone. “Very well, I suppose I could humour you on that at our earliest convenience.” Then, when he notices the glimmer in Childe’s eyes, he adds. “We’ll negotiate the terms of our contract when the time comes.” Much to his amusement and expectations, the other’s smile drops.
“There’s no need for a contract. We’ll go all out!”
“Need I remind you that neither of our purpose is slaughter? A contract would only lay out the healthy boundaries of our spar, if one could even call them healthy. Will the circumstances require for us to bring it to a halt, we would have had come to an agreement beforehand. Additionally, I will demand you respect some conditions. A contract would be only convenient for that, don’t you think?”
Zhongli already knows he’s lost Childe. “Conditions? What if I also have my conditions?” He crosses his arms.
“Then you will be free to voice them,” replies Zhongli.
“I’m not winning this, am I?” Childe sighs, deflating. “Fine, be it as you may; I’ll accept your stupid contract.” Zhongli can’t help a chuckle, which earns him a glare. “You’re having too much fun with this…”
“I am.”
“Mister Zhongli…!”
The rest of their walk isn’t silent by any means; not when Zhongli loudly reminisces of bygone days of the very land they have found themselves in. Ajax listens, intrigued like a child being told bedtime stories. His gaze drifts ahead, and, hadn’t Zhongli known better, he’d be certain the Harbinger isn’t paying much attention. It’s the occasional question and curious hum that convinces him otherwise, however.
Then, it’s Childe’s turn to ramble, sharing just the safe amount of memories of the place, speaking of traditions and people. He feels Zhongli’s intense stare on him the whole time, but that isn’t something he hasn’t got used to. Even when he doesn’t try, his gaze is petrifying, efficient in putting anyone in their place, Childe included. Though, their usual circumstances are of a different nature. Now, it feels almost tender, loving.
The receptionist smiles warmly at the two when they finally step into the hotel. Well, it doesn’t seem like that was her intended greeting, especially as she locked eyes with Childe and her entire demeanour changed. Now her back stood impossibly straight, she had an uncontrollable tremor in her hands and has stumbled over her words a few too many times. Thankfully, Childe gives her nothing more than an unimpressed stare that completely shuts her up.
“Is this a common occurrence within your underlings? She seemed rather… distressed,” asks Zhongli once they are out of earshot. They had walked up the cold stone stairs in complete silence and Childe was now by Zhongli’s side, playing with a key chain that was probably for his own room.
He merely shrugs. “Just the newbies. I can’t really blame them; training isn’t the friendliest, even if you don’t directly serve in the military. She isn’t an official diplomat either, just a receptionist, probably taking this as a part-time job.” Throughout the years, he’s met plenty of teenagers and young adults working for the Fatui in less administrative positions. Those were usually instructed to idolize their superiors, and fear was an expected expression to read on their faces.
“I saw you passing her a bag of Mora when the other agents weren’t looking.” Childe breathes out a laugh, somehow unsurprised that Zhongli would notice. He still makes a mental note to work on his stealth around the consultant.
“Yeah, well, who knows how little she gets paid anyway. I’ve seen her around the place before, though she was much younger then. Her mother suffered from some sort of lung disease, probably perished since.” He interrupts his speech with a faked cough. “In any case—”
“That is very thoughtful of you. I’m certain she appreciates it.” Zhongli holds back from reaching an arm forward to give the fuzzy hat an affectionate pat.
Ajax inhales and looks to the side, as if the wall was more worthy of his attention. “They’re barely worth a warmer jacket for the cold season,” he speaks as though Snezhnaya isn’t already seen as the wintery wonderland of Teyvat. “She’s just a couple of years older than Tonia, it’ll be enough for her. But ah, anyways, you should go on and rest. There’s a change of clothes in your room, like I said, so please wear them.”
Zhongli smiles. “Alright. Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a while longer?”
“Nah, I’ll be seeing to these,” Childe lifts some papers he had picked up from the reception. “Should you need anything tonight, I’ll be right here.” And he points towards the door across Zhongli’s room before taking a step back.
Zhongli would have insisted on remaining together for the night. It wouldn’t be the first time they shared the confinement of a room, nor the privacy of a bed. Although, considering how Childe had demanded discretion and secrecy, he supposes he has no choice but to comply. This is a hotel run by the Fatui after all, and, as an old Liyue saying goes, the walls have ears. “Very well. Do not overwork yourself.”
“’Night, Zhongli.” Childe chuckles, pushing open the door to his room and disappearing with a final wave.
Zhongli debates voicing his response to a now closed door, before sighing to himself. Something felt amiss, as he stood there in the middle of the corridor, with nothing but the rusty keys in his hand. Now that he was alone, the cold finally settled in his body, chilling him from the very marrow of his bones.
Not far from him was a window. It rattled violently as the wind picked up, and the glass was almost entirely frozen, painted white with a thick layer of snow and ice. The building wasn’t particularly old, not kept in good condition either, yet Ajax had mentioned before that there were hardly any funds allocated into revamping the place. Now Zhongli could see what he meant, exactly.
The night will be a cold one, he thinks, before finally opening the door and stepping inside. And never had Zhongli realized just how heavy loneliness could become, especially in the past few days when he was regarded as nothing but an esteemed guest. There weren’t any warm embraces or teasing squeezes of his hand, no chaste kisses on his cheek or lustful, yearning ones shared in the darkness of night. And he curses himself for falling so quickly into the customs of humans, after having lived in solitude for such a long while.
He’s grown soft, companions of before would tell him. And the Morax of then would scoff, stranger to the innocence of affection. But now it merely brings a bitter smile on his face, and makes him wonder just when did his ideals change so drastically.
. . .
He wakes in the dead of night with the screaming of wind to greet him. It’s dark save for the candle he has apparently forgotten to put out—a rather irresponsible mistake on his part—and arguably colder than he’d expected. The woolen blanket barely keeps any warmth, and the clothes he has begrudgingly put on, although comfortable, make his body feel cold. Sleep quickly vanishes after a few blinks and Zhongli sits up with a sigh.
It’s certainly been dark for a while now, the light snow of the previous evening having turned into a heavy storm, just as Ajax had predicted. Perhaps this mortal body really was more sensitive to temperature, especially with a climate so different from Liyue’s, and he makes a mental note to pay more attention to such changes.
Yet now, too widely awake and stiff from the uncomfortable mattress, Zhongli decides to take a walk.
It starts as pacing around the room with the candle in his hand. He’s made his bed, checked that his usual clothes were folded neatly, folded them again for good measure, then tried to look out a frosted window, only to frown at his own reflection in the dim candlelight.
The corridor is not any more welcoming when he steps out, nor any warmer. Here, other than the wind, he can hear distant steps—perhaps from a different floor—some idle, hushed chatting and the worsening weather outside. Though, Zhongli quickly loses focus on them when he looks ahead, catching a glimpse of light seeping from under the door. His legs take him towards Childe’s room before he can stop himself.
He really shouldn’t stand there and listen, the rational part of his brain tells him, but he also wishes the other is still awake, so he presses his ear to the door, hoping to hear the slightest hint of movement. And, surprisingly enough, there’s some paper shuffling and perhaps even a faint yawn, if his mind isn’t playing tricks on him.
Zhongli knocks lightly before freezing in place. There’s just silence that follows.
Convincing himself that Childe is likely asleep, he eventually steps away altogether, set on returning to his room and chasing sleep once more. Only that he barely manages a couple of steps before the door opens and the familiar mop of ginger hair peeks outside. They lock gazes.
“Ah, it’s just you, Zhongli. Is there something wrong?” Childe visibly relaxes and opens the door wider, letting more light into the hallway. Zhongli must look like a love-struck teenager with how he remains petrified on his spot, just staring. “Zhongli?” His voice is slightly raspy with exhaustion.
“You aren’t sleeping?” asks the consultant, clearing his throat when he notices a similar roughness in his own voice.
Childe shakes his head, smiling. “Told you I’m busy tonight.” That didn’t mean he hadn’t dozed off for a couple of hours, only to be jolted awake by the sound of steps just outside his room. But Zhongli did not need to know that. “Everything alright, or you just wanted to say hi? I thought you’d be sleeping, too.”
Zhongli himself isn’t sure of what to respond. Why, exactly, did he wish for Childe to be awake? A conversation was hardly enough, and they’ve either way spent too much time already just looking at one another. “I have been sleeping, actually. Though it got cold, and these do not really get the job done, in spite of your claims.” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt to emphasize his words.
“I’m sure you’d hate to be on the receiving end of an ‘I told you so,’ though I did tell you it will get cold.” Childe laughs, almost smugly. “Come inside, we can warm up together; I’m also a little cold.”
Soon after he steps to the side, Zhongli accepts the invitation, taking a quick glance at the room. As he expected, it isn’t much different from his own, only seemingly emptier and evidently untouched. It’s clear that all Childe did was throw his hat and gloves on a nearby chair, light up the lamp on his desk and work, because the bed’s covers were still neatly tucked in, with no dips in the mattress. On the wooden table were papers placed in separate piles, some pens and a cup of tea. By the looks of it, Childe barely drank anything, and it ended up going cold.
Only now does it dawn on Zhongli that he must have disturbed the Harbinger from his duties, and quickly turns to him, an apology on his lips. “I was almost finished with the reports anyway.” Childe beats him to it, as if reading his thoughts. He goes to sit on the bed and motions for Zhongli to follow. “Come. I missed you.”
Zhongli missed him too, and now he remembers why his mind has longed for Ajax’s presence so, why his legs walked him to his door and why his body no longer feels the cold. He smiles and sits down, close enough to the other that their thighs touch, and a hand seeks out for his own, to interlace their fingers. “How have you been?”
It feels odd to ask, because they’ve been in each other’s proximity for days, although they barely exchanged any words, and those that they did exchange were stiff and formal and professional, as though they hadn’t known each other outside of work. And, despite having talked about it beforehand, it did become difficult to act so indifferent. “Been better,” Ajax laughs, albeit quietly. “How about you? I bet you loved being treated like the Archon you are.”
Zhongli’s eyes darken at the jab, his gaze burning into Childe’s own with the silent shadow of a warning. And the Harbinger doesn’t back down, either. He stares back, challenging and determined, and the lamplight streaming in the room makes the azure hues of his eyes glow golden. It’s become clear to Zhongli: he’s meant each and every word he said, and that, even with the lightness in his tone, Childe was sour, bitter.
“Hit a nerve, did I?” Then he huffs another laugh. “If you’re worried, no, neither Vlad nor Nadia know of your identity; they just think you’re a very important guest of the Tsaritsa. Hence the over-exaggerated formalities.” His voice has evened out, and so has his gaze. Zhongli, however, stares him down just the same, with his pupils constricted and eyes unblinking.
“I’d choose my words carefully, were I in your place,” grumbles Zhongli, “Tartaglia.” It’s not the conveniently emotion-lacking ‘Childe,’ nor the intimate, affectionate ‘Ajax,’ but the call of a name that means close to nothing to them. At the very least, it doesn’t anymore, ever since the Harbinger was trustful enough—and naïve, he would add—to share the vulnerable side of his identity; to give out the part of himself that still bound him to mundane humanity.
Only his home knew him as Ajax; home and, now, Zhongli. And yet he chose not to use it, despite the hidden threat laced in his reply, but it’s enough to let Childe know that, indeed, Zhongli is pissed. “Or what?” He taunts, because he’d lie if he said the tension didn’t turn him on. His own body is aflame, blood rushing and mind buzzing with unintelligible thoughts. “I choose my words very carefully. Always.”
Zhongli doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t answer with anything more than a scoff, although a smile still tugs at his lips. “About that duel you so desperately yearn for,” he starts, and he knows he’s won all of Childe’s attention.
“Is this all it took? Never thought I’d bring the Morax out of you with a mere sentence.”
And he barely finishes speaking when the breath gets knocked out of him; his back hits the mattress with a heavy flop. Amber eyes glow above like stars in a night sky, and Zhongli’s position on top of him is almost comical, given how small the bed is. Still, he feels no defeat in being pinned like so; it’s a clear victory on his part. “There’s a contract to be made.”
Zhongli, too, is taken over by a fire that could melt even the largest ice blocks Snezhnaya hid in its depths. By the looks of Ajax’s face and the feel of heated skin against his, the last remains of cold dissipated from his body as well. “Is this how you’ve officiated all of your contracts? I’m not one for etiquette either, but this is rather unprofessional, don’t you think?” Zhongli raises a brow. “You haven’t even kissed me yet.”
Though, he doesn’t have to wait much longer for that. His lips are caught in battle soon after he speaks; and it’s messy, longing and passionate in the wildest of ways. It’s not so different from a fight, Childe would think, when his tongue is engaged in a dance with another, when his teeth bite on swollen, plump lips and his mouth is overtaken just the same in return. He gives as much as he takes, selfishly stealing breaths and selflessly offering gasps of his own.
Then Zhongli pulls away, and their eyes meet again, glazed with a different light from before. It’s heavy, the air harsh to take in with every sharp breath as they try to control the beating of their hearts. Ajax licks his lips slowly, smile never leaving his face. “That’s more like it. And since you have to talk me through all the boring demands of your contract, you’ll have to emphasize each point with a kiss.”
“Very well,” replies Zhongli, and settles himself more comfortably on the bed. His hands trap Ajax’s arms on each side of his head and one knee conveniently rests between his legs. “You are to obey the following demands,” though he doesn’t get to start as Ajax is already laughing.
“Obey is a strong word, Zhongli. I may not be able to abide by this contract of yours.”
The consultant leans down, presses his lips on Ajax’s earlobe in an open-mouthed kiss, then chuckles, lowly. “I’m certain you can be a good boy and indulge me, can you not?” He is almost able to feel the goosebumps running down Ajax’s skin, along the light tremble of his thighs against his leg.
It’s a shaky breath Ajax lets out, before he can speak again. “I… I could be persuaded. But you won’t have it easy.” His words are big, yet his voice small, and it’s nothing far from endearing to Zhongli, who places a tender, chaste kiss on his temple.
“I’ll have no choice but to keep up with you, then.” And he would. Because so many times did Childe run ahead, chase after thrills and pleasures that could only leave Zhongli watching. He’d stay behind, give his beloved the freedom of a wandering bird in unreachable heights of the sky. And when he’d look back, smiling with innocence that wasn’t truly there, Zhongli will finally catch up, walk on clouds and over waves if he needs to. And he’d bite back the remorse of misdeeds he knows will never be fully forgiven. He’s left his mark, deep, though he’s left wounds as well, hard to heal.
So he kisses Ajax again, hungry until both need to break away and breathe.
“I forbid you from using anything else other than your vision. Thus, no delusion or… abyssal tricks.” He sees the Harbinger’s eyes widening, but he gives him no choice to voice his protests. Unlike their previous kisses, this one was less sloppy, softer and almost chaste. One of Zhongli’s hands moves to cup Ajax’s face and run a thumb across the freckled cheek. “Any objections?”
Childe frowns, though his now free arm swings across Zhongli’s shoulders and his fingers thread through messy hair. He isn’t set on an answer, because an obvious refusal threatens to slip from his lips. But amber eyes intently stare into his own, so patient and yet so demanding, that he involuntarily catches himself shaking his head.
Zhongli smiles. “Good boy.” And Ajax feels butterflies blooming deep in his abdomen once again, almost burning. “Second of all, I’d rather we follow martial arts customs instead of using weapons. While we are both adept with every tool of the sort, I’m certain you’ll find that ridding of them makes the experience just as, if not more enjoyable.”
“I’m sorry, what?” This time he manages to respond, weighting the implication of the consultant’s words before he can be silenced again. “Mister Zhongli, if you wish to choke me you can just say so—” Though he doesn’t finish, when the gentle caress of before turns into a harsh, tight grip of his jaw, and he is forced to face Zhongli. He grins. “I knew it. You don’t really want to fight me, do you?”
“You asked for a duel, and although I had initially intended to humour you with a fight, I have changed my mind.”
“How cruel…” Ajax sighs dramatically. “And here I thought I could bring the wrath of Morax to the surface and see the Warrior God for myself… Also,” he adds with lowered voice, looking away, “the traveller said I’d be no match for you.” He’s been bitter and petty about the confidence in their tone ever since. After training enough to see some progress in himself, Childe just had to test Zhongli’s strength and come to a conclusion of his own.
But clearly Zhongli had other plans. He now laughs, genuinely and brightly like he seldom does, then he frees Ajax’s face from his hold. “I’d be tempted to believe the traveller was trying to tease you, and you eagerly took the bait. Perhaps hearing it from me will ease your mind.” And he pauses to smile down at a pouting Ajax. “I personally see you as a fitting match.”
“Then why won’t you fight me?”
At that, Zhongli sighs. “I am also aware of your tendency to show off, and how you give too much of yourself in battle. I do not wish for you to overstep your boundaries in a fight with me, therefore I’d rather avoid it.”
“You should also know that I will never pass on an opportunity to test my limits.” Counters Childe, propping himself on his elbows. “And I can only expand those boundaries you talked about by overstepping them. I’d be fine.”
“Yes, I’m certain of that. But your desire to grow so much in so little time is foolish.” Zhongli cannot deny the admiration he feels for it, however. He’s had centuries, millennia to perfect the Morax he had been, and yet Childe—young as he is—achieved more than he’d thought possible in a mortal. Yes, he thought it foolish, but he thought it charmingly human also. “You are strong, Ajax,” he speaks solemnly, “and you’re enough. Give yourself time. Don’t rush.”
Ajax stares at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape. “You don’t hold back on the praises, do you?”
“You like them.”
“Of course I do… when you say them like that. Anyway, no matter,” he shakes his head to push away wandering thoughts. “Does your contract cover anything else?”
Zhongli hums. “A safe word.”
“A safe word?” parrots Childe. “Like what?”
“The colour-coded terminology should suffice, though if you are keen on using a specific term, make sure it is something you wouldn’t normally say in such context; for example, Mora.” His words are met with laughter, as Ajax doesn’t even try to hold back. Zhongli eyes him, confused.
“Mora? Seriously? I didn’t think you’d have a sense of humour, consultant.”
Zhongli blinks. “I fail to understand the cause for your amusement, although I am happy to see you smile. In other words, I feel like Mora is an efficient term to use, as I am almost certain it wouldn’t gain any different meaning throughout the act. Therefore, it would bring no confusion.”
“Yes, I get it.” Ajax lifts himself higher, shifting in a sitting position. He’s trying to stop another laughing fit when he notices that Zhongli is as serious as before, face stoic and frown ever-so-present. “I just find it funny how Mora was the first thing that came to your mind. It’s ridiculous, we should definitely use it!”
“I am open to suggestions if you have any better ideas,” says Zhongli, while one of his hands trails up the other’s leg.
Ajax gives it some thought, but ends up merely shrugging in the end. “It’s fine. Worst case scenario, we’ll resort to colours.”
“Delightful.” And Zhongli leans in to plant chaste kisses on Ajax’s face; a first one on his right cheek, then on his left, moves aside the ginger bangs to press a smile on his forehead, then, lastly, on his nose. When he pulls back, Ajax keeps his eyes closed and lips slightly puckered, expectant. Only when he doesn’t feel the consultant’s warm breath against his face does he peek through his eyelashes, and pouts.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Zhongli’s eyes twinkle. “Am I? It must be something insignificant then… mind enlightening me?”
It’s all it takes for Ajax to let out an amused huff before invading Zhongli’s personal space. He clasps both hands on each side of Zhongli’s head, pushes himself as close against the other’s body as he can and moves his lips with fervour, as if trying to devour more than the kiss can offer him. He feels Zhongli smile, almost laughing even, and finds himself relishing in the low, guttural vibrations of his chuckle. Nevertheless, the consultant meets his pace with matching passion. “Does…” Ajax pants, “does your contract say anything else?”
“It’s more of a reminder,” starts Zhongli, catching his breath as well. “It is still the duel you have requested, so I shall comply to your ideals of a duel.”
“As I said, we go all out… I don’t mind anything as long as you give me the opportunity to test my limits.” There’s a mischievous sparkle in Childe’s eyes as he speaks.
Zhongli nods. “Then testing your limits we shall. But not now… there are matters to solve tomorrow, and it’s already late.” And he pulls back altogether, much to Ajax’s displeasure. “You should get some sleep.”
“Didn’t you say you were cold? Sleep here.” Ajax pats the sheets on the little space the bed leaves next to him.
“I’d love to, although it would be unbecoming of us to be witnessed in such a state once the morrow comes, as you have also said. It would most certainly stain both of our images for the purpose of this journey.”
Childe stares at him for a moment. “Are you afraid someone would walk in on us? Be certain they wouldn’t live to tell the story, if they do.” He laughs. “I know what I said but... Ease your mind, we’ll be fine. Come rest.”
In the end, Zhongli complies, squeezing in the remaining space on the bed and holding the Harbinger close. ‘It is just so you do not fall in your sleep,’ he had said, only for Ajax to laugh and playfully flick his forehead.
‘You don’t have to make up excuses, I want to hold you just as much as you do, y’know?’ And with that he snuggled closer, burying his face into the crook of Zhongli’s neck. After planting a kiss on the top of his head, Zhongli pulled the blanket tighter around them and welcomed the warmth that came with their embrace.
It’s the whispers of wind which lull them both to sleep.
The next day passes quickly. They wake up in a mess of tangled limbs and dumb smiles on their faces, briefly lay down the objectives of the day, then Zhongli returns to his room. It’s noticeably colder than before, certainly due to the previous storm—which had turned, thankfully, into a mild blizzard now—so Childe passes his hat to Zhongli, out of courteous intents, he clarifies.
Zhongli fights the urge to contradict him on his claims.
Fatui agents join them on the short way to the base of the mountain, and Zhongli makes small talk with one of them, curious of Snezhnayan customs. The conversation quickly dies down when said agent feels daggers staring into the back of his neck, and excuses himself due to ‘indirect orders having just come from an unnamed diplomat.’ Childe gleefully dismisses him.
The journey up the mountain doesn’t lack in hospitality, Zhongli is surprised to observe. Another carriage awaits them, alongside yet more companions that Childe had seemingly summoned to ensure topmost safety.
When Zhongli is ushered inside and asks for Childe to join, the latter promptly refuses, instead holding an entire speech on how his duty as main escort requires his constant surveillance of their surroundings. In response, the consultant returns the fuzzy hat on the Harbinger’s head, carefully pushing aside the hair that ended up messily covering Childe’s eyes. The other tries to act unaffected by the gesture.
“The carriage will keep the winds at bay, so I hardly need it as much as you do. Look, even your underlings are better dressed than you.”
Childe had to threaten the lives of five people for them not to ever speak of the unexplainable flush on his face after that. They still whisper amongst themselves when their superior doesn’t pay attention, however.
. . .
That is how their prolonged journey up the mountain begins. It’s quiet for Zhongli, which, in spite of the calmness it brings, sets unnervingly in his chest. The carriage is dark and so empty, and he tries to focus on the scenery, the muffled tapping of hooves and slight rattling of the car’s wheels to keep his mind occupied. Not many thoughts bother him anyway, though impatience had grown more prominent, and merely sitting around poses of little help.
He sees white for what seem to be hours on end, smells the humid yet biting chill of the air and leans numbly against the cushioned seat. At some point Childe shows up at the window, offers Zhongli a grin and a little wave, then returns to his position as the lead of the escort party.
With that, Zhongli is prompted into a lethargic moment that closely resembles sleep, though his guard is anything but down, and his senses remain as heightened as they can be. It’s enough to let him pass through the journey with little focus on the time.
It’s a feeling he’s tried to avoid for a while now, but he can never quite describe what he is mentally running away from. When asked, Ajax had easily given it a name. Boredom. Zhongli has never really felt boredom, or so he’d insist. It isn’t something that had affected him in those millennia of life, and he doubts it would come to him now, during his retirement.
There were no reasons for boredom; Liyue is always open for walks, as he takes his time to feel each gush of wind against his face, watches each crash of waves against the shore and takes in everything that Liyue is. Days are warm and long, work prosperous and fulfilling, food pleasantly aromatic and equally appetizing. His evenings and nights pass by quickly, just as heated as the warmest sun-kissed corners of the harbour. He especially cherishes those spent in Ajax’s company, who seldom misses eating dinner together.
They later end up tangled together at one of their places, with a few too many bottles of wine in their systems.
It’s anything and everything Zhongli would need to call his days meaningful, and never had he really considered getting bored of the tranquility of it all. Although, when giving it more thought, he finds he had lately caught himself mindlessly swirling the tea in his cup while staring into nothingness, wondering what else could fill the ticking minutes instead.
He looks at the sea and contemplates the whispers of a passing breeze, then wishes for a change in scenery.
He talks with scholars and grows tired of the conversation in mere moments.
He picks bits and pieces of his food, strangely expecting a different taste than that of his previous bite, then sighs hopelessly when it doesn’t change.
He listens to tales and legends of old, imagining a life that isn’t truly his, but of a god his people had made up over the years. Though, even that turns tedious when he’s learned each word by heart.
In fact, he’d place all the blame for his change in demeanour on Ajax. Unlike everything else, he rushes into his life like a storm, catches him off guard like rain from a lonely cloud in the sky. And he never truly knows what to expect, how far to let his thoughts wander or when the course of his day will take yet another turn.
The Harbinger speaks his heart out when prompted to, boisterous and lively and uncaring of the attention he draws on himself. He rushes ahead, laughs and jokes as though the universe itself is his listener. Sometimes he is quiet, sometimes he shows up with a darkened, somber look in his eyes, and sometimes he walks by Zhongli’s side in a lazy stroll, slow and heavy.
Whatever mood he brings with himself, Ajax never fails to leave puddles of colour in the dull of Zhongli’s day. And perhaps that vibrancy is what feeds the otherwise boredom the former archon believes has overtaken him. Monotony had its perks, though they mean little when faced with the new, unexpected buzz of youthfulness which Ajax carries. Indeed, in the end, he is the sole culprit of this horrendous feeling. Zhongli almost grows fond of the conclusion he’s reached.
“We’ve arrived, Mister Zhongli!” Childe’s voice calls from outside, and he steps out of the carriage to meet the freezing sights of Zapolyarny City, looked upon by the towering ice palace. “I will be showing you to Her Majesty’s throne room.” He nods, and that becomes their final exchange as they eventually step inside the main hall.
Tartaglia speaks loudly and solemnly when faced with the Tsaritsa’s questions and curiosities. His report is acknowledged, he is praised briefly for his service, then the flick of a hand dismisses him. He walks out after giving a military salute to both archons and Zhongli fights a grimace for the forced formality of it all. His attention is then fully casted on whom he’d once recognized as the Goddess of Love. She now regards him with scorching coldness, which he sourly reciprocates.
. . .
“Are you suuure you can’t tell me what you two talked about?” He meets Childe on his way out of the palace, and they continue the rest of the walk together. Although silent for the most part, the Harbinger couldn’t help the curious question once they stepped outside.
Zhongli shakes his head. “I’m afraid private matters must remain private.” He gives a sympathetic smile when the other pouts, silently apologizing for yet another matter he has to keep away from Childe. “Though, if it is of any help, I can assure you it is nothing that will personally concern you, and especially not without your prior acknowledgement and consent.”
Childe considers it, but still eyes Zhongli warily. “I suppose I can live with that thought. As long as whatever you discussed won’t come to bite me in the ass at some point in the future, it’s fine by me.” He laughs, but there’s barely any humour behind it. Zhongli pats his head lovingly. “In any case, would you like to stop somewhere and eat? It’s been quite the journey and I’d rather keep the leftover crisps and grilled tiger fish for the… well, other… long journey.”
“That would be delightful, yes.”
“Great! There’s a place just downtown that I know won’t be serving seafood, so we can go there. My treat, of course!” He laughs at Zhongli’s small sigh, before speaking again. “Also, I won’t be able to provide an official ride back to my village, so one of my sisters will be picking us up, if that is fine by you.” Then, he scratches the back of his head. “I mentioned before, but it will take us a while to get to the village, so it will get cold, and most likely dark by the time we arrive…”
“I certainly hope you don’t believe I will see that as a problem. Your sister is also very kind for providing us with transportation.”
Ajax chuckles. “I know she’s in the city to meet with someone, and it just so happened that her return would be on the same day as our arrival, so it isn’t much of a deal. But we should probably meet up with her before heading to eat.”
“Very well,” Zhongli nods, and Ajax’s smile widens. “Ah, does she… know, of my company? I don’t wish to disturb your reunion.”
“I did announce your visit in a letter, so she should know. But don’t worry too much, my family tends to be very… excited to meet new people.” He laughs sheepishly. “She’ll love you, and so will the others.”
Zhongli nods, suddenly turning serious. “I shall make a good, lasting first impression, regardless, since there can still be no room for unwanted mistakes. Although I am sure your words are genuine, it is also of my duty to– did I… say something wrong? Why are you laughing?”
“You’re thinking too much again!” Ajax manages between breaths. “There’s practically nothing you can do to mess things up. If anything, I’d probably end up being the disappointment.”
“I disagree,” counters Zhongli. “Unless being involved with those such as myself poses as potential disappointment, I doubt anything you will do could be considered as source of disapproval. Ease your mind.”
Ajax gives him a look. “Those such as yourse… What in the world are you even talking about? Zhongli, listen,” and he stops himself just in front of the other, smile dropping into a frown. “There’s absolutely nothing you need to get so worked up about. Just… be yourself!”
‘Just be yourself!’ An echo of the words ripple in Zhongli’s mind like a drying stream of water, spoken once by a voice long forgotten in the mist of time. He visibly considers Ajax’s advice—or, rather, demand—even placing a hand on his chin and humming in thought. He shakes other thoughts aside. “Very well. Ah, but I was meaning to ask—”
“AJAX!” The scream echoes painfully loud in the otherwise silence of the city. When they turn their heads towards its source, they are met with the running form of a woman. She frantically waves once catching their gaze, seemingly not minding the stares she gains from other passers-by. Before Zhongli can open his mouth to question the sudden commotion, Ajax takes off from his spot to meet the woman halfway.
The both of them end up toppling in the snow, laughing.
It’s gibberish, most of what Zhongli can make out between giggles and hugs and harmless banter, but he recognizes the Snezhnayan dialect, of which he can barely pick out any familiar words. It is true that the little Snezhnayan he’d known was archaic and certainly out of use at this point in time, though he feels almost grateful for it. This moment should be Ajax’s alone—he comes to realize when he recognizes the woman as the sister he’d been told about. Were he to understand their moment, it would defeat the purpose of familial intimacy; so he stands and watches, unlike the rest of the world that had resumed their walks and tasks once uninterested in the fuss.
It’s like he’s witnessing the battle of two children in the snow, barely able to move in the thickness of their coats, with faces flushed from the biting cold. And suddenly Morax feels old, much older than he should feel, and so frustratingly oblivious to the warmth that blooms in his chest. He coughs in his hand, successfully catching the attention of the two siblings.
Ajax’s eyes glisten slightly, and he makes no effort to hide the goofy grin on his face. Next to him, his sister eyes the consultant curiously, then leans towards Ajax’s ear to whisper something. Not that Zhongli would understand anyway, but from the way she pulled back smirking, followed by the other glaring at her with a flush spreading on his face—most likely not from the cold—he feels like he understands the main message of her words, or, at least, the teasing undertones of it.
Then Ajax rises to his feet, helping the other up. They’re approaching Zhongli, and he is suddenly stiff again, forcing a calm smile. The words that leave the woman’s mouth go heard yet not understood, and he instead glances at Ajax, unsure.
Ajax has the audacity to laugh. “I told her you wouldn’t understand, but she tried anyway. In any case, Mister Zhongli, this is my sister, Tatiana—”
“You can call me Tanya, like the rest, though,” the woman interrupts, extending her hand for a shake. Zhongli, however, gingerly holds it and brings it to his lips in a courteous greeting. He’s met with laughter and Tanya saying something in Snezhnayan. He thinks he picks up something about flattery, but pushes the thought aside.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Tanya,” Zhongli responds, and paints a small, polite smile, not nearly matching the delighted grins of the two siblings. He silently observes the striking similarities between the two, like the slight arch of their noses, their rich, bushy eyelashes and, clearly, the constellations of freckles spreading across their faces. Although faint, he also notices the childlike glimmer in Ajax’s eyes, as though this man alone hadn’t awakened an ancient god to wreak havoc upon his harbour just months ago.
Zhongli is enamoured.
With battling thoughts of adoration and the endless brotherly bantering accompanying him, Zhongli finds himself falling in pace on a walk down the city’s stone pavements. The three of them soon stop by a small family restaurant—perhaps the one Ajax had mentioned before—and dine. Conversations die quickly once the food arrives, some Snezhnayan local dishes and drinks which leave Zhongli pleasantly surprised. Although not nearly as rich in seasoning as Liyuen food, he finds the dumplings’ ground meat of exceptional flavour.
Ajax had mentioned of them before back in Liyue, ‘You have to try pelmeni when you come to Snezhnaya, consultant!’ He’d even got to taste the Harbinger’s own cooking during one of their outings, and, frankly, the ones he was eating now could hardly compare.
“So…” He casts a glance at Ajax, who had just gulped down his entire filling of Fire-Water in one go. Zhongli involuntarily grimaces when he pours himself another glass, but doesn’t comment on it. When Ajax speaks again, his attention is on his sister. “Tonia tells me you’ve been corresponding with someone from the Capital. Weren’t you going to tell your darling little brother about it?”
Tanya visibly stiffens before letting out a sigh. “Pass the Fire-Water.” Then she fills her own glass and unceremoniously takes a swig from the bottle. Across from her, Ajax snorts. “’Tis the heart-wrenching story of a maiden poisoned by love unrequited.” She starts with a strangely familiar Liyuen accent Zhongli’s only heard from the self-titled Iron Tongue Tian back at the Third-Round Knockout. “As stars above have cross’d and clash’d, so has the fate of a lowly dressmaker and her charming client…”
“That’s oddly poetic of you. Whoever dared to steal the heart of my dear sister?” Ajax easily falls in rhythm with her.
“Oh, Ajax, you should have seen her! Delicate as the very snowflakes falling about, yet tough and rough-spoken as the unsharpened edge of a knife… Oh, how Her Highness has blessed me to lay eyes upon such treasure!” She stops, dreamily stares ahead in a void, then places her head in the palms of her hands. “Today’s been our second fateful encounter, as I myself have sewn together the prettiest dress I could muster per her request. Ah, mother’s been giving me an earful…”
“Ah, so it’s her whom I’ve been told you were meeting at the Capital,” Ajax takes another sip of his drink and passes one of his pelmeni on Zhongli’s now empty plate. The consultant side-glances at him, but accepts it nonetheless.
“Is there anything Tonia hasn’t told you through letters? I swear, she’s been writing responses to you almost every other week. Speaking of,” she finishes her drink, “you hadn’t mentioned Mister Zhongli in a while, then suddenly you’re announcing your honeymoon all the way here, at home. Are there any news I get to hear of before everyone else?”
Ajax deliberately avoids Zhongli’s gaze now. “First of all—it’s not a honeymoon. Second of all, there was nothing of importance to say.” He doesn’t mention the break they’ve taken for a few months in complete ignorance of one another, or, most of it being Childe avoiding the consultant every time he caught a glimpse of him in the streets. He doesn’t speak of the utter betrayal in his heart or how he’s wished to erase Zhongli’s very existence from his previous letters. “But I did have to announce that I’m bringing guests, or mother would go in a frenzy.”
“Still, we received that letter a couple of days ago—maybe a week. Your little ‘silence’ stretched on months before.” At this point, Ajax would rather bury himself in one of the dumplings than have this conversation. If Zhongli understands the context, he doesn’t comment on it, just gives a low hum.
“I find it amusing how Ajax has announced about being accompanied when I was asked to join him only with our arrival in Snezhnaya.” Ajax chokes.
“Well,” he coughs a couple more times for good measure, “you see, I was rather expecting a positive answer. You seemed to be looking forward to your business trip, so I took the chance.”
“Business trip?” Tanya chimes in. “What sort of business do you deal with, Mister Zhongli? Other than putting up with my darling brother, which is a job in and of itself.” There’s matching glares sent to one another across the table.
“I have been sought for an audience by your Tsaritsa, however I’m afraid I cannot speak of more details than such. Although I am mostly certain Ajax here had already mentioned in one of his… numerous letters—” he plans on asking about those, later—“my main job in Liyue is that of a funeral consultant at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. From your previous words, I believe your line of work involves dressmaking?”
Ajax is grateful for the change of topic, and brushes his knee against Zhongli’s thigh in silent thanks. “Why yes indeed! It’s been my job ever since dear Ajax first left Snezhnaya with his work. It was just for the villagers back then, but this humble servant has reached the ears of those in the Capital. And now, look at me! In service of the most kindhearted blooming flower of Zapolyarny City!” She sighs dreamily. “But enough about me! How do you two plan on spending your little vacation here?”
Tanya is grinning suggestively. Both Ajax and Zhongli sigh in exasperation.
The conversation continues out of the restaurant, down the snowy path towards an old wooden caravan, and Tanya quickly claims her place at the reins of the horse, still asking questions much too inappropriate for her brother’s liking. Ajax suddenly hopes she had kept speaking in Snezhnayan so Zhongli was spared the awkwardness; even though the consultant’s had nothing but clever answers for each of her inquiries.
Ajax takes a look at the caravan. “I don’t remember this cart being so fancy. Did the little ones help with painting?” He looks at a particular doodle of Mister Cyclops.
“Yes, actually. Tasya’s darling came with the idea when they visited last, and you can imagine how much excitement there was for this project. There’s even an empty place left for you to paint something on, as per Teucer’s request—er, demand.”
“Wait, Anastasia was home?”
“Yes. We let her know of your visit, but, sadly, she won’t be able to make it home again any time soon; not with her little ones to care for, that is.”
Ajax nods, stepping back and taking a final look at the caravan. “I can rein the horse if you want, go sit inside,” his gaze lifts to the sky, “it’s gonna get cold.” But Tanya waves him off dismissively before he can even get close to her.
“And leave me to entertain Mister Zhongli? Each to his own, Ajax, I’ll be fine. Plus, you’ve been away from home for so long now, last thing we want is you catching some nasty cold. Don’t give me that look, you were as sickly as a newborn rabbit back in the day.”
At that, Ajax scoffs and turns his back to leave, but not without a final, “Stop nagging me!”
He, at last, hears a laugh. “You know mother will nag me if I don’t take care of you; Fatui or not, you’re still my little brother!” Then there’s a small, fond smile on Ajax’s face.
. . .
It’s late, past more than half of their journey, and Ajax stirs from his nap feeling the intense stare of something burning into his soul. He had told Zhongli he’d doze off for a while, in preparation for what would await him at home—which made Zhongli feel dread for the first time in a long while—then let himself slip to unconsciousness. Now, however, war drums seemed to be beating in his ears and he sensed danger.
Darkness meets him, along the faint sound of singing—and that’s probably his sister—so he blinks away the drowsiness off his lashes. Then he sees it; he sees them. Glowing in the dark, targeted on him much akin to a predator, two blazing, golden gems. Yet with the fog lifting off his mind he comes to realize that no, those aren’t gems, what the fuck?
“Zhongli, have you been watching me sleep?” Stupid question, he clearly was, but Ajax can’t help staring back, frozen, waiting for the gems to blink.
They don’t. “You’re awake. It mustn’t have been comfortable to sleep there; how’s your back?” Now that Childe gets to think about it, truly, falling asleep in a sitting position had been a terrible, terrible idea. He tries to move, only for his lower back and shoulders to almost burn in protest. His neck is stiff too and he’d fancy not having both legs numb and still very much asleep. A tired sigh escapes his lips.
“Not good, but that’s what I get, I suppose,” he laughs, then gives Zhongli a pointed look. “But if you were so concerned over my posture, why didn’t you wake me up or said something sooner?”
“I tried to,” starts Zhongli, unbothered, and Ajax still can’t quite make out his figure in the darkness. At least he knows where his eyes are. “I had tried to lay you down on the bench, and tighten your coat.” Perhaps Ajax can remember that, or at least the memory of a looming figure over his dozing body that had made him tingle all over. “You told me you’d throw me out the caravan if I tried to touch you.” That, Ajax doesn’t remember.
“What,” Ajax replies intelligently. It sounds less than a question and more like a statement, and Ajax sees something in the glowing amber before him shift. Zhongli’s grinning.
“Come here,” he’s told in response, and Ajax almost doesn’t, still waiting for an explanation that won’t come. Next, reluctantly, he’s wobbling on his still waking legs in front of where he thinks Zhongli is, bumping into his knees in the process. “You were likely deep in slumber, I figured as much,” Zhongli says and pulls him down by his thighs so he falls on the consultant’s lap. “Though, I wouldn’t have denied you the possibility of acting in defense, regardless.”
Ajax’s stiff body absolutely doesn’t appreciate the sudden movement. “So you left me to wake up as a literal vegetable. How generous of you, consultant.” Then, he glances around. “And in this darkness too, don’t we have at least a lantern or something?”
Zhongli seems genuinely surprised at that. “Ah… I hadn’t realized; I adapt particularly well to changes in lighting. My apologies.” He mimics the other’s movement of searching the caravan with his eyes, but, “There is no lantern from what I can see. It’s alright though, should you need anything, do let me know and I shall get it for you.”
Ajax laughs fondly. “I just wanted to see you better.” He feels a hand slither under his coat and towards the small of his back, pressing lightly. Right where it hurts. He melts against the touch before he even realizes it, and Zhongli lets out a pleased hum in return. “Mmm, there…”
The next thing Ajax knows is how he lets himself relax against the other’s body, wraps his arms around his shoulders and buries his face in the crook of his neck. The faint scent of glaze lilies welcomes him in the tight embrace, much like the smell of a home, of a place he’d always return to. With the way Zhongli holds him so tenderly while still massaging away the fatigue, Ajax is convinced he’d return as many times as Celestia allows him.
Zhongli cradles the Harbinger with almost parental protectiveness, allows the hug to pull him in the same tranquility and peace of a much restful life, of love unperturbed and thoughts unbothered. He sighs and lets his hands relieve pains of forever tense muscles, of a scarred body that seldom felt affection. And he smiles at the light nuzzle against his neck.
He’s content like this, in the safety of darkness and gentle lull of the carriage running over country roads. The thousands of years down his memory seem so far away, intangible and blurry, and Zhongli relishes feeling the present, in all of itself, of treasured moments and forgotten regrets. It’s the introspections that he’s come to have more and more often, realizing just how attached he’s becoming to time, to its flow and flight.
He fancies the thought of eternity.
“…you okay?” he hears faintly before a pair of lips presses against his jaw and he realizes he’d stilled in his caress, had tightened his grip on Ajax’s body and he’d been staring ahead, motionless. When he blinks again, oceans stare at him, and he sees waves swirling in concern. Zhongli huffs a laugh; he now understands the need of being poetic when looking at something so magnetic to his adoration.
“Yes, dearest.” He cups Ajax’s face and kisses his forehead. Ajax doesn’t seem convinced, however, so Zhongli repeats the action, then moves to his eyelids, presses smiles on his nose, the corner of his mouth, his ears and pecks his lips ever so slightly until Ajax can’t help but chuckle at him. “Everything is alright… why don’t you try sleeping some more?”
“I’ve been sleeping enough,” Ajax replies and takes his turn to bring both hands and cradle Zhongli’s face in them. Up close, he can finally see the crease of the consultant’s forehead as he smiles dumbly at him, and Ajax knows he’s in love. “You still have something on your mind, though. Is it one of your haunting memories? Wanna talk about it?”
It would hardly be the first time Ajax’s caught a glimpse of Zhongli’s sudden loss of contact with reality. They’re random, unexpected and the consultant ends up looking into nothingness with a frown and a trembling, clenched jaw. Every time, his answer is the same: ‘I was thinking.’ And Ajax doesn’t hesitate to call him on his bluff, not when he can help with it, even by merely lending an ear.
That is how he finds of gods long passed, of friendships lost to time and war, of betrayals and regrets. It’s with frightening accuracy how Zhongli recalls each event, each person, their portraits and personalities. Sometimes, in a stray, selfish thought, Ajax wonders, will he remember me the same?
But this time, Zhongli shakes his head. “I was thinking of you.” Ah. That’s sweet...
Wait, “what?” Ajax raises a brow and pulls back slightly.
Zhongli lets out a low chuckle and tilts his head. “I haven’t held you so closely since we were at the hotel, and even for longer before that. I couldn’t help missing you.”
Ajax had never responded to Zhongli’s words of affection with words of his own. Mostly because his voice would remain stuck at the back of his throat, anything beyond choked reactions and surprised yelps staying behind, a secret of his mind he knows isn’t unknown to the other. Instead, he’d lean in, close the space between them with the best of his abilities, and speak his own love with actions.
Even now, he gets lost in Zhongli’s eyes for a while too long before resuming his place right where he belongs. His arms are back embracing the other, he shifts so he’s sitting as close as he can, and he’s moving his lips against smiling ones slow and deep and loving. Zhongli’s hands are on his back and his leg, holding tight. It’s comforting, it’s warm and so, so safe to stay there, tied together and moving at a pace broken out from the rest of the world.
In the little caravan it’s just them, buried in the night and uncaring of anything else. And Zhongli’s thinking again. He’s thinking of the future, for a change, of how the night will pass, of how every kiss will become the last once they part and until they’ll bring themselves together again. And a stray thought wonders, when will be the last ‘last?’ When will it all be over, to become yet another memory? He’s wrapping both arms around Ajax, squeezing him close and deepens the kiss until he hears a breathless whimper vibrate between them. He then pulls away and remembers he needs to breathe, too.
If Ajax reads on his expression, he doesn’t know, because the Harbinger chuckles lightly and pats his shoulder reassuringly. His voice, however, holds nothing but mischief. “I advise you to keep your composure for a while longer, consultant. My sister hears everything.” Zhongli supposes that comes from experience. He doesn’t ask.
“My sincerest apologies, I seem to have got carried away.” He actually brings a hand to rub at his temple, and Ajax frowns.
“No, I… I was mostly joking—are you sure you’re okay?”
“Absolutely, yes—Ajax, come back here.” And for a moment Ajax thinks he’s going to be kissed again, and, by how firm Zhongli’s grip on him is, it would be one of those hungry, desperate ones that never stop just there. And yet he gets pulled in the warmest and most protective hug he’s felt in a while, and Zhongli practically tries to merge their bodies into one.
Ajax knows better than to question it, so he reciprocates the feeling. It lifts a weight off his heart when he hears Zhongli sighing in content close to his ear, now him having buried his head in the crook of Ajax’s neck. And they stay like that, for as long as it’s needed, and it’s silent, so blissfully silent.