The Cryo Archon of Snezhnaya was also known as the Goddess of Love. It was in her very nature to give it and receive it. But in the harsh isolation of her snowy palace, love was something that seldom crossed her mind anymore. It had been so long since she'd seen true and unadulterated love between two beings that she'd started to wonder if it even existed at all.
Nowadays, the Tsaritsa dismissed love as unattainable, or even if it wasn't, it was hardly worth the pain and suffering that came along with it. Her Eighth Harbinger knew this better than anyone. The Tsaritsa could tell by the broken red string tied sadly around her ankle.
Yes, although she had long abandoned love as one of her principles, that didn't mean the Tsaritsa didn't still possess some powers pertaining to it. Among these was her ability to view the red cords connecting certain people whom Celestia had supposedly destined to be together. They weren't scarce, but not every person had one, and most of those the Tsaritsa had seen were slack and dormant. They hung limply from their owners, dragging across the floor in a lifeless fashion. From what the Tsaritsa had observed, this meant the person in question had no desire to be with their soulmate. It was likely they had never even met.
However, when the string's owner did feel desire, the string responded. It would become taut, tugging on the person as their emotions pulled them towards their love. The more they wanted, the tighter the string became.
And when one of the pair died, of course, the string would snap.
A few of the Tsaritsa's Harbingers, her most trusted soldiers, had these red threads. She didn't pay them any mind, for they were all slack, and of course, La Signora's had long since been cut. Until the day came that the harbingers met their supposed soulmates, the strings were of no significance, and frankly, the Tsaritsa didn't care who they loved (perhaps she could even feel happy for them), so long as it didn't interfere with their loyalties. Most of the time, she simply didn't think about it.
But it became harder to ignore that damned string when one day, a harbinger returned from his mission, the string around his ankle taut for the first time.
The Tsaritsa stared at Tartaglia as he entered the throne room. Even from the opposite side of the long hall, she could clearly see the way it stretched out behind him, so tight it looked like it would yank the man off his feet any second.
She watched in silence as her vanguard approached. She could feel the nervousness radiating from him, and for a moment she could believe he knew about the string—but of course, that was impossible. He was probably thinking about the fact that his queen had tricked him.
Ah, yes, he must be upset about that. In her defense, the Tsaritsa hadn't deceived him for fun; it had been a necessary evil in order to procure the gnosis she sought. He wouldn't take it too hard, surely. Her youngest must be used to getting the short end of the stick from the other harbingers by now.
He'd arrived at the foot of her throne in the time she'd been thinking. Tartaglia lowered himself to one knee in a graceful bow, the pinnacle of respect as always, but the Tsaritsa didn't miss the hint of a quiver in his voice when he spoke. "Your Majesty."
"Tartaglia." Her tone, on the other hand, was as cold and smooth as the ice she commanded. "You took your time in returning to me."
She could almost hear the sharp intake of his breath; they both knew it was true. It had been several weeks now since Signora had returned to Snezhnaya with Morax's gnosis in hand and news of a successful contract on her lips. According to her, Tartaglia had said he'd "meet her at the palace," but he had not made good on those words until now.
"My apologies, Your Majesty." He wasn't stupid enough to give her excuses. Nevertheless, the Tsaritsa's curiosity tugged at her to pry.
"Why is this?" she asked. She could practically see Tartaglia's blood run cold, and that only interested her more. What explanation could be so bad?
"After Osial was released, Your Majesty," he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, "I was the prime suspect of the Liyue Qixing. They would not let me leave so easily."
"I understand there was legal work to be done." The Fatui had gotten multiple angry letters from the Tianquan demanding financial compensation for the damages Osial had done to the city. It was very annoying. "But there is no reason the time taken to complete it would add up to a month. What is the real reason you were delayed? I do not need to remind you it is unwise to lie to me."
"Forgive me, Your Highness." The harbinger's posture sagged ever so slightly. He knew defeat when faced with it. The Tsaritsa folded her arms, I'm waiting written all over her demeanor.
"My time in Liyue…" Tartaglia started, eyes glued to the floor, "introduced me to many people, and it would be a lie to say I have not grown a little bit fond of the place. I was reluctant to leave. But rest assured, Your Majesty, my loyalties will always lie with you," he added quickly.
The Tsaritsa's eyebrow quirked up. "Oh? You have been sent to other nations in the past. What is it about Liyue that is so special to you?"
He was silent for a moment. The Tsaritsa wondered if it was because he didn't know the answer, or if it was because he knew it was one his queen wouldn't like. Based on the cord pulling at his ankle, the Tsaritsa had a sneaking suspicion she'd already uncovered the reason for Tartaglia's belated return.
"The people there are very welcoming," Tartaglia said finally. "And the environment is beautiful. I made some friends there."
"Friends whose city you released an ancient god upon."
His head bowed lower. "…Yes, Your Majesty."
The Tsaritsa frowned. She knew it was human nature to get attached, so it wasn't all that surprising that Tartaglia had gotten caught up in the act, but it was one thing for him to have fallen in love with someone from Liyue. It was another thing for that person to love him back—to be his soulmate. Who in Liyue Harbor would continue to care about the foreign diplomat who tried to destroy them? It was puzzling.
"Tell me about these friends," she commanded.
Tartaglia did a bad job of hiding his surprise. The Tsaritsa understood—in what world would his queen care who he hung out with? Then, what little of his expression she could see morphed into horror. He probably thinks I'm going to threaten them.
"There is no one of importance," he said weakly, but the Tsaritsa was having none of that.
"That was an order."
Tartaglia bit his lip. "There's a girl who works as the head chef of her family's restaurant. She's called Xiangling, and I became friendly with her as I frequented her business a lot. She's passionate about her work, even when it's a little… unconventional." Was that a smile tugging at his lips? "And there's this kid named Qiqi—she's a zombie, actually, and she works at the local pharmacy. Poor girl couldn't remember what she had for breakfast if you asked her, but she's really sweet." The more he talked, the more softness began to slowly gather in his eyes. "There's a famous pirate crew around those parts called the Crux Fleet, and I met their captain, Beidou, a few times. She's so fun to spar with! Then there's the director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Hu Tao. She's a total prankster. I was on the receiving end of it a few times, but after that we became pretty close. Zhongli can't stand her sometimes."
Something seemed to shift in Tartaglia at that moment. The Tsartisa couldn't quite tell what it was, not at first, but speaking that name seemed to have invoked a different emotion in him. Zhongli… it sounded familiar somehow…
The Tsaritsa's eyes widened. The string around Tartaglia's ankle—it was tightening. Harder than ever, it pulled at the young harbinger, silently screaming at him to follow it. It… was responding to his desires. Tartaglia was missing his soulmate, meaning the person in question was undoubtedly the one called Zhongli.
"And who is this Zhongli?" she queried, doing her utmost to hide her emotions from her voice.
"…He works as a consultant at the funeral parlor, Your Majesty. And he… he's Rex Lapis. That's the name he uses in public."
The Tsaritsa always thought she had an icy, immovable heart, one unable to be swayed by shock and tragedy. Apparently she'd been wrong, for in that moment, it felt like it dropped straight out of her chest.
Now she remembered. Zhongli was the name Morax had decided to go by now that he was living incognito as a mortal. He'd also told her he would keep a close watch on Tartaglia by acting as his cultural consultant while in Liyue. The Tsaritsa herself had had a hand in securing the partnership between Wangsheng and the Fatui. But there was no way… they couldn't have gotten that close…
She'd always known Morax had a soulmate. Centuries had passed since they'd first met, and she'd watched his string remain dormant through all of it. The Lord of Geo had lived for thousands of years; the Tsaritsa thought it was rather cruel he'd had to wait so long to find that one special person.
The red strings didn't lie. She knew this. But why, why on Teyvat would fate bind two souls such as Morax and her harbinger?
It was taking every ounce of self-control in the Tsaritsa's body to keep her jaw from dropping. She couldn't decide if this was hilarious or if she absolutely hated it.
Maybe a little bit of both.
She'd responded to Tartaglia with silence, and she could feel his nervous energy growing. "…Your Majesty?" he said in a meek voice. "Is there a problem?"
Hmm. The next thing the Tsaritsa wanted to find out was just how far the two had gone with their courtship. Celestia, the thought of them kissing—what drugs was fate on?
"Do you consider yourself… friends with Morax?" she said slowly.
"Ah…" Tartaglia seemed embarrassed. "I suppose. Well, I would like to think we are."
"I see." The Tsaritsa drummed her fingertips on the armrest of her throne. This was going to be difficult. How to probe without being too obvious…?
"He requested that I deliver this to you," Tartaglia said suddenly, pulling an envelope from the folds of his cloak. Surprised, the Tsaritsa rose, closing the distance between herself and the harbinger to take it from him. She peered at it. It was sealed with the unmistakable design of a geo vision.
Morax hadn't contacted her since the completion of their contract. She had assumed he had nothing more to say to her. But it made sense to wait to send a letter with someone whom he knew could be trusted, who wouldn't sneak peeks at it or risk losing it. He really must have had a lot of faith in Tartaglia…
Perhaps it would be better to wait until Tartaglia had left to open the letter, but the Tsaritsa couldn't bring herself to care at that point. She tore through the envelope and unfolded the paper hidden inside, scanning the contents within with bated breath.
So our contract has been fulfilled. I will not bother you further after this, but there are still a few words I would like to share with you. I am compiling them here.
I will warn you again that challenging Celestia is a death sentence. I do not worship them any more than you do, but be prepared for the consequences, for they will be severe, and you will not be the only one who suffers.
I also advise you to remember that the power of the Fatui hinges on the willingness of its members to follow you. I can only imagine that they continue to worship you out of fear or respect, because it has become increasingly clear it is not out of affection. You do not bestow any onto them, so they have none left to give to you.
I understand that it is not my place to tell you how to rule your nation, but I suppose what I am trying to say is that it would serve you well to treat your people more kindly. They deserve it, especially those who have completely and utterly devoted themselves to you. I think you know who I am referencing here, for he should be the very person who delivered this letter for me. I will not say his loyalties have been shaken by this incident, but our deception hurt him more than you must realize. I have made amends with him through time and care, and I suggest you put in the effort to do the same.
That is all I have in terms of advice. I don't particularly care what you do with my gnosis, but I wish to make a selfish request. When you bring the wrath of Celestia down on your nation, see to it that the Eleventh Harbinger remains safe. He is a good man, and he does not deserve to die because of his archon's recklessness.
Take care.
The Tsaritsa stood there for a few minutes, rereading the letter and processing it in her mind. The notes about her rebellion against Celestia—she could complain about that to herself another day; she filed the words in the back of her mind for later. What astounded her more was Morax's absolute shamelessness in expressing his care for Tartaglia. It was obvious—it wasn't often an archon chose to single out a mortal and ask that their physical and mental well-being were protected. He really was in love, wasn't he? She fought the urge to bury her face in her hands.
Well, if he'd said this much, the Tsaritsa guessed he would have told her if he and Tartaglia were already in a relationship. Morax wasn't stupid; he would know it would only spell trouble to keep it hidden. So that could only mean one thing: they were yearning from afar. Dear Celestia, they were pining. The Tsaritsa had never wanted to groan so badly in her life.
She sucked in a long breath. She, the Cryo Archon, had always been one to fight fate. She viewed the divine with disdain, refusing to let it dictate her life or her mind. She knew this about herself very well and had no intention to ever change. But hating the tyrrancial beings of Celestia was a very different matter than trying to fight fate in the realm of love.
Was love so bad, really? The answer she'd deemed correct over her long life was "yes." Even now, while considering a relationship between Tartaglia and the Geo Archon, all she could think about was how mortals die. No matter how happy they might be, one day Tartaglia would be gone and Morax would only suffer for it. The Prime Adeptus had already experienced this kind of loss once before, long, long, ago, in the days of the Archon War. So why did he still choose to love?
Perhaps in the past, the Tsaritsa would have understood. And… as much as she hated herself for it, a small part of her wished she could understand once more.
Well… it wasn't as if she needed Tartaglia for anything at the moment… What difference would it make if he was posted back in Liyue? And Morax did say she should try to keep her soldiers happy…
Ah. What was she thinking? The Tsaritsa gathered herself and folded the letter back up. "You are dismissed," she told Tartaglia, who nodded respectfully and all but skittered out of the room. She could have sworn she saw one last tug from the string on his ankle before the door closed behind him.
There had been a postscript on Morax's letter.
Childe once told me he thinks you are a gentle soul. So gentle, in fact, that you had to harden yourself in order to face the world. I am surprised he is able to read you so well. But I ask you this: is it such a bad thing to soften yourself some of the time? Would you be happier? A prosperous archon makes for a prosperous nation.
The Tsaritsa drummed her fingers on her throne once again.
"You summoned me, Your Highness?"
Tartaglia was once again kneeled on the floor in front of her, exactly how he'd done just over a month ago upon his return. In the time since then, the Tsaritsa had noticed a few subtle changes in her harbinger.
For one thing, he got cold more easily. In the first few weeks, she'd noticed him shivering at a mean gust of wind or hugging his coat closer when it snowed. It was almost a bit amusing. Such a long time in Liyue would do that to a person, she supposed.
Additionally, though, Tartaglia seemed more subdued. His subordinates described him as friendly and chipper, the way he always was, but he'd dialed down some of that manic energy, and it seemed like something was on his mind. Sometimes, he'd be quiet for a moment, gazing into the distance with a faraway look on his face. At those times, the Tsaritsa would watch the red cord on his leg inevitably tighten.
It had all gotten to be a bit too much for the Tsaritsa. Against her better judgement, she'd started to feel bad for the young man. Sympathy was something she rarely allowed herself to feel, but Morax's words had been nagging in the back of her mind. They were incessant, and as much as she hated to admit it, they were affecting her. Regretting it every second, she'd started to deliberate over this decision, the one she'd called Tartaglia in to discuss. She knew she shouldn't, but… what harm was there in trying, really? She could simply call him back whenever she wanted.
The Tsaritsa took a deep breath. "You may rise, Tartaglia."
He did so, his neutral expression betrayed by the confusion in his eyes. The Tsaritsa took another breath and watched her soldier's face carefully as she spoke.
"I'm sending you back to Liyue."
Tartaglia's eyes widened. His expression started to lift, slowly at first, then all at once as an unbidden grin tugged his lips up and utter joy decorated his features. In that moment, Ajax looked every bit the sweet young man the world often forgot he was.
"Really?" he blurted, then instantly seemed to remember himself. He schooled his features sheepishly, a reddish tinge on his cheeks as he cleared his throat. "Uh, I mean… for what purpose, Your Majesty?"
The Tsaritsa bit back a smile. If she'd been having to do that more often these days, that was no one's business but hers. "I'd like you to oversee the Northland Bank again, as well as act as a diplomat between myself and the Qixing—for real this time. You will continue to carry out your Harbinger duties, such as initiating new recruits, and you will be in charge of all the forces stationed there. As you yourself told me, you have already made many connections in Liyue, so I deemed you the best choice for this job."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I won't disappoint you," Tartaglia promised, eyes shining and clearly struggling to hold back his smile. His soulmate thread, predictably, was going haywire.
"See that you don't," she said. "You leave in two weeks."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Perhaps Morax knew what he was talking about, the Tsaritsa considered as she studied him. Perhaps making her subjects happy could be rewarding. She could rest assured Tartaglia would be well looked after… all she needed to hope for was that he—and Morax—remembered what archon he belonged to.
"Oh, and when you go…" The Tsaritsa handed him a letter, which the harbinger took curiously. "Deliver this to Morax."
It may be a surprise to you to see that Tartaglia has returned. However, I have put some thought into what you said to me in your letter.
It is true that when my ambitions come to pass, many of my subordinates will be caught in the crossfire. You expressed concern for the Eleventh, so if you truly care so much about him, I'll leave it to you to look after him. I believe that arrangement will please both of you. In any case, I'm rather sick of watching that red string pull on his ankle all the time. I fear it will leave a rope burn if I don't return him to you soon.
Don't steal my Harbinger from me. But make him happy, if that's truly so important to you.
"Red… string?" Childe peered closer at the letter.
"Indeed," Zhongli nodded. "I did not want to overwhelm you, so I refrained from sharing this letter with you until now." He studied his lover carefully, but so far, Childe was doing a decent job of keeping his emotions in check. Of course, as they both knew all too well, that never lasted long. "Do you understand what this implies?"
There it was. Childe's ears went pink as he curled into himself slightly, and Zhongli had to stifle a smile at the sight. Adorable, as always.
"Well, yeah," Childe squeaked, "but wasn't this letter written back before I got here? That was months ago; we weren't even together yet! Seems like a bit of a jump for her to be making at that point!"
Zhongli laughed. "Childe, have you forgotten that the Tsaritsa is the Archon of Love?"
"Of course not," Childe said with a miffed toss of his head. "But even so, I didn't take her for a matchmaker. Especially between us, for Celestia's sake. Bringing up stupid sappy legends about soulmates…"
"Childe." Zhongli could no longer suppress his growing smile. "What the Tsaritsa is describing is no legend. Because she is the Goddess of Love, she is able to see the threads of fate. They are real, and she is not the type to joke about such things."
Childe frowned. He frowned some more. Something about the bedspread must have been quite interesting, because in his incredible concentration, he wouldn't take his eyes off it. Zhongli waited patiently, watching the gears turn in his head. Then, slowly, realization dawned on the harbinger's face, and he stared at Zhongli with a kind of disbelieving wonder as he sucked in a breath.
"So… that means…?"
"Yes." Zhongli threaded his fingers through his lover's and gave the scarred hands a soft squeeze, meeting Childe's wide-eyed gaze steadily.
"Are you serious?" Childe asked in a hushed tone.
Zhongli leaned in closer, the amused smile he'd donned now fond and reverent as he looked at his soulmate. The Geo Archon may not be too fond of Celestia, but oh, was he ever so grateful to them for giving him this moment. For giving him Childe. "I am. I am not the type to joke about these things either. We are bound together by fate, Ajax."
The breath rushed out of Childe's lungs all at once. He let out a soft, breathless laugh, falling against Zhongli so their foreheads gently knocked together. His eyes fluttered shut as a smile bloomed across his face.
"Good," he whispered, "that's… good."
He paused, rubbing small circles with his thumbs on Zhongli's hands. "So I'll be with you forever?"
"Forever," Zhongli confirmed. "Forever and always."
"And when I die? Doesn't… isn't the string supposed to snap?"
"I'll be with you nonetheless. I will always love you, and should you live again, I will find you. I'd follow you to the end of time, Ajax, whether fate is backing me up or not."
Childe buried his head into the crook of Zhongli's neck. The god held him closer, closing his eyes in turn.
"I love you, Zhongli. So, so much," Childe whispered.
"I love you too."
They stayed there for a good while longer, holding each other on the edge of Zhongli's bed, ankles bound by a single string of fate catching the rays of the setting sun. Thousands of miles away, the Tsaritsa's thoughts drifted to the subject of her young harbinger, and she wondered if her decision had made the boy happy.
She needn't have worried. In that moment, Ajax and Morax were the two happiest people in the world. The threads of fate never lied, and love truly was a beautiful thing.