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Jade Without Blemish

Summary:

The Emperor and Empress of Liyue were known throughout Teyvat as a loving and powerful couple. But behind closed doors, it was all an act.
Needless to say, a certain Snezhnayan diplomat's trip to Liyue did not go as planned.

Chapter 1: An audience with the Emperor

Summary:

ganyu has seen some shit and tartaglia does not pass xiao’s vibe check.
work title is from Rex Incognito: "The jade without blemish is no jade at all."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The marriage of the Emperor to the Qixing Tianquan was the grandest event in Teyvat that year. It surpassed the Lantern Rite Festival in prestige, attracting tourists from all holds to witness the Imperial Union. Feasts lasted for eight days leading up to the wedding, and crowds gathered in the streets of Liyue to celebrate in song and dance. High-ranking diplomats from each major city were in attendance, and likewise, budding journalists arrived to cover the wedding.

The wedding itself: a lavish traditional ceremony with gifts piled high for the new pair. Flowers were thrown in the procession of the soon-to-be-Empress’s phoenix sedan chair.

Truly the wedding of the century, a wedding fit for royalty.

And at the center of all the festivities was the Imperial couple: Emperor Zhongli, in his red-and-gold robes, and Tianquan Ningguang, her red dress embroidered with images of dragon and phoenix. The couple made for an image out of a fairytale, as though they had descended from Celestia. The sticking point for many was the coronation ceremony of Tianquan Ningguang, wherein Imperial heirlooms were bestowed upon her, and she adopted her new title of Empress. Every guest left with a memory of Emperor and Empress, arms linked, waving to their people.

One aspiring journalist wrote: “Clear to all is that these two are Fated, and by the universe’s blessing, they have been brought together. Thousands of attendees are able to feel pure love radiating throughout the city. May the Emperor and new Empress find nothing but bright days ahead as they begin their lives together.”

 


 

Three years later

 

 

“Zhongli, please tell me you approved that bridge proposal in Dihua Marsh.”

Zhongli finished stamping his current paper and set it aside. “Of course, has the contract not made its way to you?”

Ningguang sighed. “It must have ended up with Ganyu first. Please fetch the construction order from Ganyu for me,” she directed the request at an attendant. “This bridge will open up many jobs for laborers.” Talking to herself like this, the Empress was obviously excited.

“It is also located on a major trade route, and Wangshu Inn,” Zhongli chimed in.

“That as well, of course. And speaking of trade routes, a Snezhnayan diplomat will be here tomorrow for an audience with you.” After seeing Zhongli’s expression, she said, “I know, but I can’t be there tomorrow because I have to deal with Inazuma’s restricted waters.”

“Then tomorrow will be a busy day for both of us.” Not that their days were typically uneventful, but activities had been picking up rapidly since Inazuma began opening its ports selectively. Zhongli did not know how he would manage if not for Ningguang taking on half the responsibility. 

He’d heard an attendant worry once that “With all this work, Their Majesties will resort to a loveless marriage.” But in truth, there was no less love now than at the start. 

That was to say, there was never any love.

The fabled “honeymoon phase” had never existed between them, and Zhongli always knew it would be so. Ningguang acted as a wonderful wife, but they would be fools to attempt any sort of feigned romance between them. 

Yes, this marriage worked wonders for the resolve of the people, and for Liyue’s economy.

A contract. The most resolute form of contract involved conditions by which both parties would benefit, and that was certainly the case here: With a genius of economic affairs like Ningguang in a position of power, Liyue’s economy had steadily expanded since their union. Meanwhile, Zhongli’s large-scale foreign policy plans were greatly aided by the extra hands and insight from Ningguang’s skilled entourage. 

As far as other mutual benefits such as pleasure or emotional stability, none of that could be found in this contract. 

Public appearances together were the closest the pair came to being romantic with each other. Outside of the public eye, however, Zhongli could go days without seeing his wife. They both preferred it this way, and had discussed their expectations in detail long before their marriage. 

Nevertheless, they certainly made a “power couple,” as Keqing called it.

Zhongli’s attendant Xiao entered the study, facing the Emperor and Empress lost in their work. “Your Majesties, it is getting late.”

“Ningguang, please get some rest,” Zhongli suggested, which of course she fired back at him. If not for Xiao and Ganyu, these two would work until morning. 

Eventually, they both conceded and walked together to their separate bedchambers. “Goodnight, my husband,” Ningguang said with a smirk.

“Goodnight, my wife.” It still felt funny on his tongue, even after three years. 

Zhongli often wondered how long they could continue like this, and it was these thoughts that kept him awake that night. Since the day of their wedding, there had been pressure to produce an heir. Zhongli had no desire to do so, and while Ningguang wanted a child eventually, she did not want to produce one with him. When would the pressure become too much? In the end, Zhongli’s greatest concern was that he would not be able to fulfill his end of the contract. 

 


 

In the mornings, Zhongli’s preferred routine involved enjoying a cup of tea while overlooking the city. Emperors could not easily walk amongst the people without causing great commotion; watching over his city from afar like this was the closest Zhongli could get. Someday he wished to experience what it was like to walk down the street, carefree, enjoying the bustle of people around him. 

“Your Majesty, the diplomat from Snezhnaya has arrived,” Xiao announced from the balcony entrance. Ah, and so began his duties. 

Zhongli readied himself in a meeting room, seated on a raised platform. Although it was not a proper throne, Zhongli still felt garish, his many silk robes spilling over the platform’s edge. 

He spoke: “Enter.” Two Millelith then ushered a man inside, immediately out of place with his ginger hair and red cloak.

As was customary, before introducing himself, the diplomat bowed and presented Zhongli with a gift. At least he had studied this much as to the local customs; many visitors did not make it this far without a cultural misstep. Zhongli briefly appraised the antique before passing it to Xiao, a small silver tray perfect for serving tea on. This had been forged from high-quality Snezhnayan silver, with intricate enamel details of flowers throughout. A gorgeous piece; whoever selected this had a fine eye for antiques.

“Your Imperial Highness, I come as a representative of Snezhnaya,” the man raised his head to look upon the Emperor, “My name is Tartaglia.”

Everyone knew that Snezhnaya operated in part due to organized crime. Their government had been corrupt for decades, and as a diplomat, this man was undoubtedly dangerous. 

As all dangerous things were, he was captivating. 

His eyes, as blue as the finest noctilucous jade. A boyish face, yet tall and strong in build. His confidence was most striking; most visitors shrunk in Zhongli’s presence, and yet this man commandeered the room just from an introduction. 

“Ambassador Tartaglia, it is a pleasure,” he held the man’s gaze, “You may sit. Why have you come?”

He began reciting his orders from Snezhnaya: “I am here on behalf of My Lady Tsaritsa. We wish to expand trade routes into Liyue for silver and local produce, and believe this will be mutually beneficial.”

This was all appealing, but very rehearsed. “And what is your opinion of this trade expansion?”

In his periphery, Zhongli could see Xiao stiffen, clearly wanting to interject.

Tartaglia blinked. “My opinion? I am an advocate for this. I am aware that the Chasm was recently closed off, so Snezhnaya is at the advantage when it comes to mining. Likewise, our climate prevents mass agriculture, so to prevent famine, we must rely on trade. Even having arrived yesterday, I already see there is much to anticipate of Liyue delicacies.”

Zhongli expected him to continue, but realized that was his own desire. His talk of mutual trade benefits were...engaging. And as not to be superficial, Zhongli understood the reality of Tartaglia’s words. A market expansion was a win on both sides—the ideal outcome of a contract. “I am intrigued. What are the conditions of your proposal?”

Tartaglia retrieved a paper and read out a list of conditions. Although young, he was a well-spoken and capable diplomat, more so than many older diplomats Zhongli had encountered. He possessed that salesman charm as well, which Zhongli did not allow himself to be fooled by.

With this kind of trade agreement, Zhongli proposed conditions of his own. This was what Zhongli did best: negotiate contracts. Xiao had sat through many similar meetings, but none were so coordinated as this. Every issue Zhongli raised, Tartaglia had already considered. They were on the same wavelength, with Zhongli caught up in the passion of what felt more like a conversation than a legal discussion. In less than an hour, the Emperor and diplomat had reached an agreement. A most efficient meeting. 

As Zhongli stamped the newly-drafted trade ordinance, he asked, “Will you be staying in Liyue for long, Ambassador Tartaglia?” 

Naturally, this question surprised the diplomat. “For two weeks, Your Majesty. Now is the coldest time of year in Snezhnaya, so I thought I’d make a vacation out of this trip.”

Zhongli laughed, which perhaps he had never done in an official meeting before. He could feel Xiao’s eyes on him. “Well, we’ve finished our meeting in no time at all. Would you care for a walk around the palace? There is plenty to see.”

For a moment Tartaglia hesitated, likely wondering if this invitation was truly okay to accept. Would he even feel comfortable declining? Nevertheless, Tartaglia answered, “I would be honored to.”

 


 

Liyue Harbor was a familiar sight for Ningguang, and she was a familiar figure there. Local fishermen saw more of the Empress than most people in the main part of town. The children who played at the Harbor all day also knew her, and would call to her excitedly whenever she was in the area. With all of these market stalls and incoming merchants, naturally the Harbor had become the center for commerce in Liyue (although the Commerce Guild would argue otherwise). There were times, though, when Ningguang walked the Harbor in the dead of night when no one was there, and her usual location was today’s current destination.

The Alcor was even more stunning during the daytime, red sails striking against the clear sky. Even from afar Captain Beidou’s figure was unmistakable. As Ningguang and Ganyu approached the Alcor, the captain smiled widely at them. “Good morning, Your Majesty! Here to bail me out of trouble?”

Ningguang missed her terribly. “It will not be the first time.”

Ganyu and Ningguang were escorted to Beidou’s study aboard the ship. As Beidou explained, she had been passing through Inazuma’s waters while one of their military ships pulled alongside the Crux Fleet, warning that they were trespassing and there would be consequences. However, Beidou assured them that these waters were not closed when her ship had set sail. Whether this was true or not, paying the fine would be easier than any legal trouble. Inazuma’s waters were already under many restrictions, but this seemed to be an exploitative loophole to rake in fines from unsuspecting sailors. 

“We must send out an alert to all sailors in Liyue. Ganyu, I will stay here to approve the fine. When you leave, please tell the Harbormaster of this matter. He may also prohibit Inazuman ships from docking here until further notice, but that is at his discretion.” 

Ganyu bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Ningguang leaned over Beidou’s desk, laying out the official documents from Inazuma. “Thank you, you may take your leave. Captain Beidou can accompany me back to the palace.”

At that, Ganyu wordlessly hurried out with reddened ears, making sure to shut the door firmly behind her. 

Both Ningguang and Beidou let out a breath. Finally, they were alone.

Beidou stood from her desk to embrace Ningguang. “I missed you,” she breathed into Ningguang’s hair, arms encircling her waist, “My bed has gone cold.”

Unlike Beidou, the Empress had never been good at verbalizing her emotions. The documents on the desk would take only a few minutes to go through—this woman in her arms was a higher priority. Ningguang cupped her face with gloved hands, kissed her without trying to be gentle. It had been a month. A month of desire building up, longing every day to be with Beidou again.

“I take it you missed me, too,” Beidou teased her, but immediately went back into the kiss. With no effort, she lifted Beidou onto the desk, tugged her close by the hips so Beidou could stand between her thighs. “You’re gorgeous.”

Ningguang chased her mouth, but Beidou had already moved to kiss her jaw, her neck. “Beidou, we don’t have much time.” She wanted nothing more than to stay here and properly reunite with her lover, but Ningguang had her duties at the palace. 

With one last kiss to her lips, Beidou sighed and simply held her. “I can visit you tonight.”

“You’re the one accompanying me back,” Ningguang pointed out, “Just stay after that until I finish my duties.”

Beidou’s grin was wicked, and she lifted Ningguang off of the desk and spun her around (which Ningguang had not expected, yelping at the sudden motion). “Then we have a palace to visit, my love!”

This woman had the Empress’s whole heart. 

Together they left the ship and walked back to the palace, children waving to them on the way. And for a moment, Ningguang could imagine them as any other couple at the Harbor, free from judgement and responsibilities.

 


 

Xiao’s distrust for Tartaglia was evident as the Emperor and diplomat began their tour around palace grounds. Zhongli would surely be chastised by his assistant for this later; enjoying a stroll with a guest, how unprofessional for an Emperor! Zhongli had proposed this walk to get a feel for Tartaglia outside of their previous formal setting. Now, Tartaglia spoke casually with him, rather than making small talk. “I’ll be staying in the guest quarters,” Tartaglia said, “Already a perfect room. The hospitality here has exceeded my expectations.”

Blue eyes caught gold ones. “Of course, you are a welcome guest here, so you shall be treated as such. Have you been to Liyue before?” Zhongli asked.

“Yes, I stayed at a nice Inn then,” Tartaglia thought for a moment, and said, “For your wedding, actually. I attended.”

Just how high was this man’s rank in Snezhnaya? He looked young, but was esteemed enough to be an honorary guest years ago. 

Surely, Zhongli would have remembered him if they’d met at the wedding. “Why is it that I do not remember seeing you there?”

“Three years ago was the beginning of my diplomatic duties,” Tartaglia explained, “I was on trial then, you could say. That was my first real event as a diplomat. Best wedding I’ve ever been to, still.”

Zhongli had mixed feelings about his wedding; any guest would have enjoyed it far more than he did. Being in the public eye came with the practiced art of dodging the subject: “In a few months, the Lantern Rite Festival will be taking place. I would recommend it if you plan to travel for the New Year.” Zhongli could sense the air chill behind him where Xiao walked. 

But next to him, Tartaglia’s smile was carefree. “Well, Liyue has impressed me. I’ll have to consider it!” He said that as if it were an honor, for something to impress him. 

The palace grounds alone were worth a trip—one few foreigners were able to experience. What better tour guide for Tartaglia than the Emperor himself? For Zhongli, this was no obligation. He enjoyed sharing bits of history about each building they passed. They ambled through a lush garden with a lotus pond, closed glaze lilies lining the path. If not for the stoic assistant glaring daggers into Tartaglia’s back the whole time, it would be the perfect walk. Soon, a familiar sight captured Tartaglia’s attention: “Over there, is that a sparring ground?”

So this diplomat had an interest in combat? There certainly was more to him than met the eye. “It is. Do you train?”

“Of course; I am a Vision holder.”

Ah. There wasn’t a person in Teyvat who hadn’t heard stories about Snezhnayan officials and their Visions. There were rumors, even, that the most high-ranking officials held two Visions. Looking at Tartaglia, he wore an almost devious expression, evidently confident in his skills. The professionalism he’d exhibited that morning apparently did not run so deep. Zhongli was eager to know more. Still, he was wary. No good ever came from trusting a stranger.

With the sparring grounds close to the palace gates, soon their impromptu tour concluded. A guard would escort Tartaglia back to his quarters, and Zhongli was not likely to see him again for the rest of his stay. If Xiao were not here, Zhongli would invite him for a dinner in the palace. 

“Please, enjoy all Liyue has to offer during your time here. And you must thank whoever selected that antique you brought,” Zhongli told him, “The quality is impeccable.”

Tartaglia’s brows raised in unfiltered surprise. “I selected that myself. My pleasure, Your Majesty. Silversmithing is a specialty of Snezhnaya. If you ever find yourself traveling there, someone of your tastes would definitely appreciate our local craft.”

There were few things a man could say to make Zhongli want to bed him on the spot, but that was one of them. 

“Of course. If I am in Snezhnaya, perhaps you can return the favor and be my guide.”

Tartaglia locked eyes with him. It was less than a meter between them, but the air within that space felt thicker than anywhere around them. “And I thank you, Your Imperial Highness, for showing me around today. A warm welcome, indeed.”

The subsequent pause involved the two men staring at each other, Zhongli dissecting Tartaglia’s subtle grin, until Xiao cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, we must return as Her Majesty has arrived. Ambassador Tartaglia, it has been a pleasure.” Xiao’s voice was grating, almost laughable in his struggle to address Tartaglia in a positive manner.

“Likewise.” And Tartaglia bowed to them before heading off with a Millelith. 

No sooner had the diplomat exited earshot than Xiao began, as Zhongli had expected: “Your Majesty, this man…”

“I know you disapprove of him,” Zhongli couldn’t help but chuckle, “Really Xiao, you could act a bit kinder toward our guests.”

Even after all the years that Xiao has served as his advisor, he is difficult to read. “I have a bad feeling about that man, Your Majesty.” What many would have interpreted as the warning of an advisor was truly the concern of a friend. 

“I will stay on my guard, of course,” Zhongli assured him. The Emperor did not voice it, but he, too, sensed something was not right. Although if Tartaglia intended to bring trouble, Zhongli planned to reciprocate. That was how Liyue operated, in reciprocity, and Tartaglia deserved an authentic experience.

Notes:

obligatory long first chapter notes:
hellooo welcome to my new fic ✌️ 2nd fic for genshin! i have the whole thing outlined and 1 chapter written in advance but no idea if i’ll update regularly or how long this will be… basically combining my 2 favorite pairs of this game into one fic :)) this will sound lame but like 5yrs ago i read a sasunaru fic vaguely like this concept and it stuck with me haha but this is ending up nothing like that.
this is historical fantasy—i’ve done research to make sure there’s some amount of accuracy, but i’m fine with sacrificing accuracy for a desired result. for example, zhongli was already emperor before marrying ningguang. in this case, only a coronation would be held for ningguang, but i wanted them to have a fancy wedding too 🤷 also there were imperial concubines, etc. which do not exist in my fantasy fic. so yes i know this fic is not 100% historically accurate, pls enjoy it for fun rather than realism :) fantasy element of course comes from the use of visions.
chapter title comes from a bizarre postmodern dance i watched for a class, called “audience with the pope”
i hope you all enjoy and please give feedback along the way, it will help me out as i continue writing !! and thank you all for the positive reception of my first genshin fic last month~
my twitter: @melecslol

Chapter 2: Electro-Charged

Summary:

PREVIOUS CHAPTER REFRESHER: Tartaglia arrives in Liyue as a Snezhnayan ambassador, hoping for a trade negotiation with Empress Ningguang. Instead, he meets with Emperor Zhongli, and the two become friendly. However, Ningguang and Zhongli’s relationship is strictly political; in fact, Ningguang has been in a relationship with Captain Beidou. Zhongli’s attendant, Xiao, is distrustful of Tartaglia’s presence and suspects an ulterior motive.

Notes:

rating's jumped up already! beigguang get steamy in the first part of the chapter, not super super explicit yet but it's there

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The Empress had endured plenty of long days recently, but this was painful. Beidou sat in her office and Ningguang could not so much as touch her until she finished all paperwork for the day. Her lover seemed to be enjoying herself, however, sipping wine and watching Ningguang intently, which made for quite a distraction. “The less you stare at me, the faster I can finish my work.”

The Captain shrugged, “I can’t help but stare at you.” 

Her distraction worsened when Zhongli entered the office. “Good evening, Ningguang. Oh, good evening Miss Beidou. You’ve returned from sea?”

Beidou made no effort to straighten her posture or stop drinking just because the Emperor had arrived. Over the years, Ningguang had found their interactions quite amusing. “I got back this morning. A smooth sail. A bit of trouble in Inazuma, but Lady Ningguang was kind enough to help with that.”

“Ah, so that is how the restrictions came about from the Harbor,” the Emperor mused.

Without looking up from her work, Ningguang asked, “And you? How did your meeting go about trade with Snezhnaya?”

Normally when Ningguang asked about his day, Zhongli would answer with all the logistics of whatever contract he signed. But today, the first thing he said was, “The meeting went well, and we quickly reached an agreement. That Snezhnayan diplomat is truly intriguing.”

Ningguang glanced over to Beidou, and they shared a look. “How so?”

Zhongli made an amused sound. “I couldn’t tell you. I shall keep an eye on him. He is young, but our meeting was effortless. Pleasant company as well.”

Out of everyone Ningguang had encountered in her life, Zhongli was the pickiest man she’d ever met. For him to give casual praise like this, that diplomat must have made quite the impression on him.

Ningguang decided she would meet him before he left Liyue. 

Soon the three of them were sitting in silence: Zhongli and Ningguang working at their desks, and Beidou drinking in the armchair. 

Just a few more minutes. Ningguang was itching to finish this, reading through her documents as fast as possible. And then finally, finally signed her last paper of the day. No sooner had her pen returned to its holder than Ningguang stood. “I have finished my work for the day,” she told Zhongli, but Beidou was the one who reacted strongly, leaving the armchair she’d been sucked into. 

Zhongli chuckled, “Have a good rest, My Lady.” He emphasized rest , knowing she would be doing anything but. For someone as formal as him, Zhongli never wasted a chance to tease her. 

Beidou apparently found him funny, following Ningguang out of the office with too much skip in her step. 

The walk to the Empress’s quarters felt farther than it was. If Ningguang looked back at Beidou now, she’d have to kiss her, and it would take longer. So Ningguang kept walking until at last, they reached her chambers.

Both women let out a breath. It had been too long. Too long since Beidou was last here, where Ningguang felt she was very much a fixture, too long since they could indulge in each other. Every hour since their reunion had been agonizing, and now it was time for relief.

Just like on the Alcor that morning, Beidou wasted no time in embracing her lover. But unlike that morning, there was no hurry now. And Ningguang kissed her, held her by the waist and shoulder, pressed tightly against the pirate’s strong frame. Their kisses were desperate but not lacking in affection; each one said I missed you, I love you, I’m so glad you’re here.

“Beidou,” she breathed as the captain trailed her mouth down Ningguang’s pristine neck. They both knew any obvious signs of an affair were prohibited, but oh, how Beidou wanted to bruise the Empress’s neck, put a claim on her. 

Beidou took her time undressing the Empress; it only felt right, after all this time away, to savor her now. It came with the status, but Ningguang always wore far too many layers. But Beidou had learned all the tricks by now, to unfasten Ningguang’s dress at the neck and waist, laughing every time Ningguang had to shimmy it over her head. When only her slip remained, Ningguang backed them up until she could lie on her bed. “Take yours off.”

“So bossy, Your Majesty. And efficient as always.” But Beidou eagerly did as she was told, her own clothes far easier to undo than Ningguang’s. Both women in their underclothes, Beidou joined the Empress by hovering over her.

Ningguang always felt this bed was too large, but with Beidou, she understood the bed had been built for two. And on this bed, Ningguang discarded her title, her duties, her worries, and let herself drown in Beidou’s devotion. Her grip was light in Beidou’s hair as the woman peeled off the top part of her slip, leaving the Empress bare. To Beidou, who had seen all the wonders of Teyvat in her travels, this was the most rewarding treasure: the Empress laid out bare for her, skin like unblemished porcelain, strict composure crumbling. “Are you just going to look?”

“Patience, Beautiful,” Beidou laid a kiss on her breast, then on her lips. Nobody else would ever see her like this. The smooth expanse just above her breasts, the dip of her waist—these were normally covered areas, where Beidou strategically staked her claim. Any traces of their last night together had long since faded in Beidou’s absence. She took her time now, kissing marks into Ningguang’s waist, delighting in the way she squirmed beneath her. 

“Beidou, I’m not a patient woman.” Oh, that she knew. Beidou simply grinned, spreading Ningguang’s thighs to lie comfortably in between. Beidou’s sternum felt all the warmth of Ningguang’s core, separated only by the slip where it still rode on her hips. She fully intended to tease the Empress a little longer, if not for Ningguang’s arm coming down to touch between her legs.

Beidou quickly stopped her hand. “I’m getting there, Gorgeous.”

“Get there faster.”

And who would Beidou be to deny her Empress of this? 

Ningguang shuddered as calloused fingers touched her in ways only Beidou knew. Tonight, Beidou was determined to make love to her Empress. It was so much and not enough—those damn fingers, Beidou’s mouth on her, Ningguang gripping brown hair and keening off the bed. For such a strict woman, Ningguang’s sensitivity had always been a welcome surprise. 

Ningguang chased every taste of white-hot pleasure with each curl of Beidou’s fingers. “Feels good?” Beidou breathed against her hip, and Ningguang nodded vigorously, hold tightening in her lover’s hair. The world melted away as Ningguang began to lose herself, closer, closer—and release overtook her, hips weak, incoherent moans from her lips. And Beidou worked her through it as always, delighting as Ningguang’s body jolted in sensitivity. 

There was nothing quite like reunion sex. Ningguang’s dazed brain finally came to its senses and she registered Beidou kissing her breasts, straddling Ningguang’s thigh. 

The Empress tried to flip their positions and Beidou got the message, gently rolling them so that Ningguang could lean over the pirate. And she kissed Beidou, caressed her strong body as one hand rubbed her the way Beidou liked best. “Please, just like that,” the captain pleaded, nearing completion on Ningguang’s hand. And as Ningguang kept her pace, within a few moments Beidou stuttered with release of her own. 

“Fuck, come here,” she pulled the Empress into her lap and they shared languid post-coital kisses, both utterly satisfied. Forgetting the reality of their situation was easy like this. But as the haze of pleasure faded, it was just as easily remembered.

The moon hung high at this hour, light filtering through the curtains of the bedroom’s sole window. Beidou would have to return to the Crux by midday tomorrow. Sleep seemed like a waste with her here, but Ningguang was tired. 

The women reluctantly left the bed to slip on thick, golden sleeping robes from Ningguang’s collection. And they lay down together again, arms around each other. “Nothing beats your bed,” Beidou sighed.

“So that’s why you’re with me,” came Ningguang’s drowsy voice, “For my bed.”

She felt a kiss to her hair. “I love you.”

No matter how many times Beidou said it, Ningguang could not bring herself to return those words. Saying it aloud would be an admission that she had failed in part of her duty, had violated her vow of marriage and would end the Imperial bloodline. Of course, these things were trivial to Ningguang—every contract existed with fine print and loopholes. And she had her husband’s blessing. But Liyue cared. Liyue was the one who would suffer. 

So Ningguang did not answer. Even in her silence, Beidou knew. 

 


 

Tartaglia had always been restless. Growing up in a hold as barren as Snezhnaya, there was no such thing as too much activity for him. That was why he enjoyed the traveling aspect of his position so much (as well as the fighting-and-killing aspect). But although traveling kept things interesting, acclimating to a new environment proved a challenge in itself. Tartaglia’s first visit to Liyue for the wedding had lasted three days. This time was an extended stay, and every night so far, Tartaglia had found difficulty sleeping. There was much to think about: his tasks here, his meeting with the Emperor…

The Emperor. Tartaglia had been told the Empress would be negotiating the trade agreement with him, so he was unpleasantly surprised when the Emperor had seen him instead. This was an unprecedented wrench in his plans. Oh, well—Tartaglia was a professional at adapting, if nothing else. Tsaritsa had sent him here with a goal, and he would fulfill it. 

He needed some fresh air. It would be dawn soon, and Tartaglia had only caught an hour or so of rest. He was hardly tired, though, and so he strapped on his boots and went outside in his sleeping robes.

Hardly anyone was out at this hour, save for the fishermen and some food vendors beginning early preparation. The sea appeared like tar in this light, and glaze lilies were still in bloom. Tartaglia had a location in mind, if he could remember where it was. After a few minutes of wandering, he reached his destination.

The sparring grounds were not as large as that of Snezhnaya’s barracks, but for one man in the early hours, it was more than enough. Straw dummies stood in a circle at the center of the sparring area, perfect for some target practice. Tattaglia summoned his bow, easily putting arrows in the heads of every dummy. Not fast enough. This was exactly the catharsis he needed, but a bow had never been his strong suit. The aiming aspect wasn’t immediate enough, or hands-on enough.

“You know those aren’t the archery targets, right?” A woman’s voice called out, properly startling him.

“You scared me—I could have shot my eye out,” Of course that would not happen, but Tartaglia felt he should have a bit of fun with this stranger. He turned to find a broad, dark-haired woman wearing a golden sleeping robe. In one hand was a large flask; Tartaglia immediately liked her. “Are you also feeling restless this morning?” he asked her.

“You could say so,” As she drew closer, Tartaglia saw she wore a blood-red eyepatch. “I haven’t seen you around here.”

She must have been from within the palace, although this woman looked far rougher than he would imagine for a ‘lady of the palace’. Tartaglia answered her, “I’m new in town, from Snezhnaya. Just got in yesterday.”

“Oh, you’re the one!” What had this woman heard about him? “Well if we’re both here to train, why not spar with me a bit? I’ll go easy on you.” Tartaglia never stepped down from a challenge. 

“It would be my pleasure, though I’ll be the one going easy on you.”

She set down her flask and summoned a greatsword. A challenge, indeed! “Let’s not hold back, then.”

A greatsword versus a bow was a bit of an uneven match, so Tartaglia switched to his Hydro daggers. The stranger’s surprise was evident, and with a flash of violet she revealed herself to be an Electro user. Hydro and Electro—this could be a dangerous combination for them both, if they were fighting for real rather than sparring. 

The woman attacked first, and even after a week of not being able to train, Tartaglia’s body moved like clockwork. He dodged with ease, dashing behind to catch her unaware. But she whipped around effortlessly with a swing of her sword. Tartaglia attempted a strike, which was blocked by a shield she’d summoned. As his water dagger made contact with the shield, Tartaglia felt a jolt of electricity surge through his body. He felt alive. 

This stranger was good. Tartaglia could tell she had no formal training; she’d learned through practical experience, through survival. As she jumped back to dodge another one of Tartaglia’s strikes, the edge of his water blade barely grazed her, wetting the side of the golden robe. They grinned at each other. And just as his opponent lifted her greatsword to swing it once again—

“Beidou.” The two fighters turned to the new voice, a woman approaching the training area, “I should have expected to find you here.”

At first, Tartaglia did not recognize this woman. She was certainly a rare beauty, however, with long white hair, delicate features, eyes like garnet. But he knew she looked familiar, and a famous image came to mind: the widespread official portrait of the Empress. 

The very woman he had been sent here to seduce.

Tartaglia immediately dropped to his knees. “Your Imperial Highness.”

Meanwhile the other woman, Beidou, stayed where she was, wiping sweat from her forehead, “My Lady cannot sleep, either?”

“I was just surprised when I awoke and…” The Empress trailed off as if cautious, eyes settling on Tartaglia. “You may rise. And who might you be?”

“Your Imperial Highness, I am an ambassador from Snezhnaya. I will be staying here to oversee a trade agreement.” This was not how he expected his first meeting with the Empress to be! Dawn had barely broken, and the three of them were standing in their sleeping robes amongst straw dummies. It felt wrong to even see the Empress like this, with no ornamentation, her golden robe the same as Beidou’s. 

The Empress’s smile was almost devious. He’d heard tales of her elaborate schemes, and hoped he did not end up on the receiving end of one. “Oh, my husband spoke highly of you.”

Her husband… Of course, Emperor Zhongli was her husband. Despite having attended their wedding, something about imagining the woman in front of him as the wife of the man he met yesterday felt odd. But the Emperor had spoken of him? 

Regardless of the Empress’s dressed-down appearance, this was the most powerful person in Liyue. Her husband was more in the public eye, of course, but since the Empress’s coronation, she’d taken full control over Liyue’s business ventures. The economy had done nothing but skyrocket since—which was exactly why Tsaritsa had sent him here.

He got out of his head, smiled politely at the Empress. “I am honored to be in the Emperor’s good graces, Your Majesty. And this—” Who was the woman he’d fought against? “—assistant of yours has given me a good fight.”

The greatsword user cackled. “Assistant! Well, I certainly do assist Her Majesty.”

“Beidou.” The Empress cut her a sharp look.

Tartaglia felt he was missing something, but before he could work it out, the strong woman extended her hand. “Captain Beidou of the Crux Fleet. A proper introduction is overdue.”

The Crux Fleet—a famous pirate captain stood before him. Then why was she staying in the palace, and why was the Empress so familiar with her? And what use would an Empress have for a pirate’s assistance? One thing was clear: the situation was far more complicated than Tartaglia had thought. No matter; whatever was going on here, Tartaglia had no problem using underhanded methods to reach his goals. 

So he shook the captain’s hand, repeated his introduction with a smile. 

“Now, if you will excuse us,” the Empress gave Captain Beidou a look that said You’re coming with me, “I am too underdressed to meet you properly. Although, I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

He replied, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

And they parted ways, the two women returning to their quarters and Tartaglia continuing to train for a while longer. 

He sunk into a rhythm of shooting and hitting the straw dummies, the pattern a sort of meditation to accompany his thoughts. 

Tartaglia considered his instructions from Tsaritsa:

  • Arrive in Liyue
  • Seduce the Empress
  • Make sure the news of this affair spread through the palace

To cause the collapse of the most powerful marriage in Teyvat… if the Empress was out, Snezhnaya would undoubtedly become a capital for commerce.

But after being in the presence of the Empress, Tartaglia knew innately that this original plan stood no chance. Something about her attitude… Tartaglia was confident in his abilities, but he felt he’d have a better chance seducing her husband!

Just as the thought came to him, it was immediately fixed in his mind. Tartaglia had spontaneously decided on his new plan.

And when Tartaglia set his mind to something, he pursued it until the end.

 


 

There was a time, about four years ago, when Zhongli had seen potential suitresses from all over Teyvat, with the hopes to find a wife. These meetings had been arranged by Xiao and Ganyu, who enjoyed playing matchmaker for the Emperor a bit too much; their arrangements caused some interesting noblewomen to pass through, perhaps for their amusement more than Zhongli’s peace of mind. Only the most eligible candidates were seen, and Zhongli felt pity for some of the kindest women who hoped to become Empress.

Out of his politeness, Zhongli did not know how to tell any of these suitresses that he had no interest in a wife.

Although Xiao had suggested a foreign alliance, it was Ganyu’s connection with the Qixing that produced the perfect candidate. In fact, Zhongli had met her many times before: the Qixing Tianquan was the only woman in Liyue esteemed enough to be a match for the Emperor. Tianquan Ningguang was already loved by the people, was a businesswoman like no other, and was trusted by Zhongli. Their initial courtship meeting had a different atmosphere, of course, as Zhongli wanted to keep their existing rapport whether they married or not. But Tianquan Ningguang had entered confidently as always, greeted him, and said, “Before we discuss further, you must know that I only favor women. Our marriage would be strictly political. But perhaps that is something you’re looking for as well?”

Zhongli had smiled at her, and for the first time, admitted aloud, “I have a similar inclination, Lady Ningguang. An arrangement between us may work very smoothly.” 

And just like that, their union was decided.

Ningguang often joked that their marriage was the happiest in Liyue, because to both parties it hardly felt like they were married. 

Shortly after they were wed, Ningguang made her unconventional relationship with Captain Beidou official. From the start, Zhongli had been nothing but supportive. After all, a contract must satisfy both parties; even though he and Ningguang were bound in word, Beidou was what she needed to find happiness. He had not expected the guilt. Guilt that he was inhibiting such a love, that Ningguang could not be true to herself while trapped in this contract with Zhongli. But if it were him in her position, Ningguang would do the same. She understood her duty, perhaps better than Zhongli.

Only Ganyu knew. As Ningguang’s primary attendant and advisor, there was no hiding such an affair from her (although Ningguang and Beidou had tried). The poor woman, shouldering the best-kept secret in Liyue alone. 

Around all other attendants including Xiao, Zhongli and Ningguang had long since been in the habit of playing house. Zhongli did not consider himself an actor any more than Ningguang, but they somehow had everyone believing they were deeply in love. Little did everyone know, the romantic gifts Ningguang often received were from Captain Beidou’s travels, and the couple’s concerns of the Empress’s potential infertility were nonexistent. How could they be concerned when they’d never tried for a child?

All of their chemistry came in a business sense. Lately, they’d been working with the Qixing to update labor laws. To Ningguang, it felt like she was back in her position as Tianquan, acting alongside the people of Liyue. The Yuheng of the Qixing, Keqing, was being trained to fill some of the responsibilities Ningguang had left after her coronation. She was capable, but still looked to Ningguang for guidance often.

When they took a break, attendants dispersed from the room, leaving the Imperial couple alone with tea and burning incense. 

“How has Captain Beidou been?” Zhongli asked, “That fine from Inazuma didn’t give her too much of a scare?”

“She is well,” A simple answer, but the softness in Ningguang’s eyes told a different story. “Of course, a small territorial issue isn’t enough to stop her. I learned the hard way many years ago that a fine is just a piece of paper to her. She’ll be in town for another few weeks before heading to Sumeru.”

“Hm, well on an unrelated note, I would be happy to take on any of your duties for the next few weeks, if needed,” Zhongli smiled. His wife was too hard on herself, always prioritizing work over her own desires. Considering how hard she worked, it was the least Zhongli could do.

The Empress refused to make eye contact, clearing her throat. It translated as: We are changing the subject, but I appreciate the offer

“By the way, I met your favorite ambassador this morning,” Ningguang casually sipped her tea. 

“You know I don’t play favorites,” Zhongli chuckled, subtly glancing around for attendants that might be nearby, “But you met Ambassador Tartaglia?”

From a first impression, Ningguang could not tell what about this diplomat was so compelling to her husband. Tartaglia was clearly an arrogant showoff, and Ningguang’s intuition told her he was up to no good. If one thing had been reliable throughout her life, it was Ningguang’s intuition. For someone as picky as Zhongli, she’d expected him to have better taste in men. “Yes, I found him fighting my mistress in a bed robe.”

The Emperor raised an eyebrow at that. “Not for real, I hope.”

“They were in the sparring area,” Ningguang explained, “Right after dawn broke. I’m sure you could find him there again,” her lips twitched into a smirk, “if you were looking for him.”

Zhongli did not need encouragement to seek out Tartaglia, although he did find it odd that Ningguang would enable such a thing. 

Their conversation continued, but within a few minutes the attendants and Yuheng Keqing returned. The switch in Zhongli’s brain flipped on and he was back to pretending. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed logistics so much: there was no pretending, no lying in his every motion. 

 


 

When light broke as a halo over the Sea of Clouds, that was when Zhongli began his day. Being an Emperor involved a great deal of routine, and since he was a child, Zhongli rose with the sun. Today, his tea was arranged on a certain platter of Snezhnayan silver. Usually, Zhongli would dress and meditate before his morning briefings, but this morning he had other plans. 

Zhongli donned a casual robe, although he’d have to change in just a few hours. Unlike his meeting attire, there was no decoration to him now—no hairpieces to show his status as if everyone didn’t know him already, no excessively long sleeves or flashy gold accessories. This was most comfortable, most efficient, and easiest for a stroll around the palace grounds. 

Zhongli made a straight path to the sparring area. Just as Ningguang had said, Tartaglia was there, already immersed in training. Not wanting to disturb him, Zhongli entered as quietly as he could, and found a seat not far off from Tartaglia’s space. He was an archer? When Zhongli had found out he trained, he’d imagined something sharper for Tartaglia, and his current archery form would not have passed inspection by the Liyue Company. Despite his technique being less than polished, Tartaglia was hitting every target. He missed only when pushing the speed of his shots, evidently trying to focus on that aspect. Zhongli couldn’t help but smile as Tartaglia got frustrated at one point and threw an arrow like a dart, hitting that target dead-on. 

Naturally, with someone so attuned to his surroundings as Tartaglia, Zhongli’s presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. After a few minutes of Zhongli watching him, Tartaglia took a water break and questioned aloud, “I have an audience?” The diplomat glanced around, and Zhongli could pinpoint the exact moment Tartaglia spotted him. The man was clearly surprised, but approached the Emperor all the same. “Your Majesty,” Tartaglia greeted him through heavy breaths, “Good morning. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

A few minutes ago, Tartaglia had been too far away to see the details of him. But now… Zhongli hoped his wife’s first impression had not been of this Tartaglia: bare from the hips up, sweating, hair tousled. Zhongli did not often see people like this, as everyone wanted to look their best when meeting the Emperor. So he briefly took in the sight of Tartaglia in only his uniform pants and boots. His skin was pale, freckled at the shoulders and arms. In addition to being toned, scars covered his entire torso as if they were tattoos to collect. Jagged scars, thin ones, elemental scars. Undoubtedly his back was the same. 

They were alone now, and Zhongli let his overly-proper speech slip away. “Good morning. You are taking it easy, I hope? That’s quite a number of scars you have.”

Tartaglia seemed to only now realize he was half-clothed. “Ha! Well, I’ve been in quite a number of fights. No such thing as taking it easy,” and then, tacking it on as a formality, “Your Majesty. Are you here to spar?”

A fight with Tartaglia—Zhongli didn’t need to see his full range of abilities to know that would be interesting. But today, he was more than content with just watching. “I shouldn’t before my meetings for the day. I hope you don’t mind me here, I happened to be passing by.”

“Not at all,” Tartaglia said easily, crouching so the Emperor could sit higher than him as they spoke. The gesture was oddly formal, recognizing their difference in positions. Tartaglia seemed to realize this as well, and stood once again to return to his training. 

Tartaglia fell into a pattern, landing every shot with ease. From the angle Zhongli was sitting, he could see the muscles of Tartaglia’s back and shoulders flex with each draw. “So you’re an archer?” Zhongli called out.

“Not usually,” Tartaglia replied, “I prefer something more… intimate.” Well. “But if I want to improve at archery, I have to practice.”

“Today’s practice wins tomorrow’s battle, as they say. In any case, your bow is well made,” Zhongli pointed out, “The filigree at the top is a product of expert craftsmanship. The elemental energy as well… There is a rich history behind this weapon, I can tell. Truly a rare find.”

Tartaglia seemed surprised that the Emperor would know this. “As expected, Your Majesty is adept in all areas,” The way his voice lilted, the way he smiled and dabbed the sweat from his collarbone—if Zhongli were delusional, he’d think he were being seduced. “What is Your Majesty’s weapon of choice, if I may ask?”

Tartaglia raked his hair back with gloved fingers. Surely… surely the Emperor’s imagination was getting away from him? 

He cleared his throat. “You may know that My Lady and I are both Geo Vision holders,” he said, “I prefer a polearm.”

“Geo… it suits you,” In Tartaglia’s mind, he thought, Sturdy, extremely dense

Whether it was a compliment or not, Zhongli had other things on his mind. Now Xiao was not here, nor Ganyu, nor anyone else. Outside the confines of palace meeting rooms,  Zhongli could act as he wanted toward the diplomat (though whether he should was a different matter). The sun peeking over palace walls told Zhongli it was almost time to return for his meetings. He waited a few more minutes, then rose. The Emperor took a final lingering look at Tartaglia before calling, “Ambassador Tartaglia, I will take my leave.” And Zhongli knew he shouldn’t ask, but when Tartaglia smiled at him breathlessly, he did: “Oh, and you are invited to dinner tonight at the palace. There will be a fine meal featuring Springvale boar. Feel free to join if you would like.”

The rhythm of Tartaglia’s shooting faltered, then stopped. “Of course, Your Majesty. I would love to.” Something in his grin felt like a challenge.

Zhongli was quite pleased with this outcome, however dinner itself would pan out. 

And Tartaglia found himself one step closer to his goal.

Notes:

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right now i'm at a rate of one chapter per two weeks, not bad! let's see if it keeps up haha. once again, feedback is appreciated! helps me as i write more, plus i love reading your thoughts so far :)

Chapter 3: Plans Change

Summary:

PREVIOUS CHAPTER REFRESHER: One morning, Tartaglia heads to the sparring grounds and encounters Captain Beidou. The two spar until they are interrupted by Empress Ningguang. It is then revealed that Tartaglia’s true mission in Liyue was to seduce the powerful Ningguang in order to make the people/Zhongli distrustful of her. He decides to change this plan and seduce Emperor Zhongli instead. Meanwhile, Zhongli is becoming attached to Tartaglia, and invites him to dinner at the palace.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

An invitation to dine at the palace was worth bragging about for years to come. Not only did it warrant some amount of prestige, but Liyue’s palace chefs were world-class. Large events were nothing short of a spectacle. But although the palace dining room could adapt to any occasion, it was where Ningguang and Zhongli ate normal meals every day. Xiao and Ganyu often joined them for dinner; although they worked for the palace, every night played out like a meal between friends. 

Tonight, however, Zhongli had hoped for some privacy during his meal with Ambassador Tartaglia. He’d subtly hinted to his wife that “I’m expecting the Ambassador for dinner tonight.” But Ningguang, nosy as ever, had said, “Perfect. Now I can officially meet him.” The next thing Zhongli knew, Captain Beidou had been invited as well. 

Zhongli had no choice but to grin and bear it as his duties wrapped up and the time for dinner drew closer. Soon he sat at his usual seat in the dining hall, along with everyone except the diplomat. He tried not to wince as he announced, “We’ll be having a guest for dinner tonight, I should let you all know.”

“Is it Miss Keqing?” Ganyu guessed.

Rather than answering her, he turned to Xiao. “No complaining, Xiao,” Zhongli offered him a smile.

Xiao squinted. “What would I complain about, Your Majesty?” And as if on cue, two Millelith escorted Ambassador Tartaglia inside. Xiao’s expression turned murderous.

Zhongli mentally pushed his attendant aside and gave his attention to Tartaglia. “Welcome, Ambassador,” He looked good (and far more clothed than Zhongli had last seen him), his grey uniform perfectly tailored, hair neater than usual. Oddly, Zhongli preferred the man’s more rugged appearance.

“Good evening, Your Imperial Highnesses. Captain Beidou. And attendants.” His manners as well—too formal for Zhongli’s liking. Perhaps after dinner he would be able to catch a glimpse of Tartaglia’s true colors once again.

The palace dining table was fit for banquets, able to seat both the Emperor and Empress at the head. This had not always been the case, but upon Ningguang’s coronation she’d commissioned a wider dining table. Tartaglia sat on the Emperor’s left-hand side, across from Captain Beidou. She must be a very esteemed guest, Tartaglia thought. And how informal, he thought, for Xiao and Ganyu to be in attendance. Fortunately, Ganyu who he’d never met was placed on Tartaglia’s left, rather than Xiao. 

This marked the first time Tartaglia had seen both Emperor and Empress in the same room. Seated beside each other like this, wearing coordinated gold and earth-toned silk, they appeared as the perfect couple. It was no wonder why these two were upheld across Teyvat as a model for all marriages, who every young couple wanted to become.

As dinner began, there was no formal address or introduction; in fact, it was closer to a family meal than a banquet. “Thank you for joining us, Ambassador Tartaglia,” the Emperor said as the first course and star of the meal was brought out, a roasted Springvale boar. 

“It is my pleasure. I should be thanking you for your hospitality.” Tartaglia had forgotten momentarily that he was in a room full of other people; he couldn’t get too cunning just yet. 

When the Emperor had invited him to dinner, naturally Tartaglia had expected the two of them would be dining alone. He should have anticipated the company, but it was another hurdle in his plans. But despite the small crowd, the meal was hardly awkward—Ganyu and Captain Beidou made enough conversation for the whole table, with Ganyu frequently inquiring into Tartaglia’s life. From Tartaglia’s years of attending socialite events, he was an expert at telling stories to make himself seem charming without revealing too much. Emperor Zhongli would chime in to the discussion every once in a while as well, to offer tidbits on cultural nuances and historical trivia. Tartaglia couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt; before arriving, he’d expected the Emperor to be nothing more than a figurehead with a pretty face. Clearly, his extreme intelligence matched his looks.

From this angle, while others were distracted with their meals, Tartaglia could gaze upon the Emperor as he pleased. He tried to be subtle about it, but soon became caught up in his thoughts. Seducing the Emperor wouldn’t be a bad gig at all—he was gorgeous. Long lashes, straight nose, strong brows, chiseled jaw. That first time Emperor Zhongli had looked upon him, Tartaglia had been struck by those amber eyes. 

Of course, he could not spend the entire meal staring at the Emperor, and when Tartaglia looked away, he found Xiao glaring daggers into him. Naturally, Tartaglia glared right back, telepathically communicating to Xiao: I’m going to corrupt your Emperor and there’s nothing you can do about it

Aside from Xiao, everyone else seemed to enjoy Tartaglia’s presence. Of course he only cared about one person’s opinion in particular, but getting on the good side of these other elites would only benefit him. However, he could not believe he ever thought he stood a chance with the Empress. Despite being so loved by her people, she kept everyone at a distance and only spoke of business. Captain Beidou would laugh at everything she said; clearly, she saw something in the Empress that Tartaglia did not.

After around an hour, the meal was finished. The remnants of many courses lined the table, evidence of a delicious feast. No sooner had the meal winded down than the Empress announced her leave: “I shall retire now. Please give the chefs my regards. And it was wonderful to formally meet you, Ambassador Tartaglia.”

Ganyu and Tartaglia bid the Empress good night. Then the Empress cleared her throat, which seemed to jog something in Captain Beidou’s brain. The woman stopped drinking immediately and got out of her relaxed posture. “Yes, I think I’ll retire as well. Goodnight, everyone.”

Ganyu and the Emperor laughed. “Goodnight, you two.” Tartaglia was beginning to think he was not privy to some large inside joke.

Not a few minutes had passed before Ganyu took her leave as well, making some business excuse for Xiao to leave with her. Did she know how much of a favor she was doing Tartaglia now? Because after Xiao’s final deadly look toward Tartaglia, the Emperor and diplomat were alone.

Perhaps it was Tartaglia’s imagination, but Emperor Zhongli seemed to relax slightly. He shrugged his coat off of his shoulders, folding it over the back of the dining chair. 

“Did you enjoy the meal, Ambassador?” 

Tartaglia leaned into the table, chin in his hand, “It was delicious. I’d expect nothing less from a meal approved by Your Majesty. And being able to share a meal with you was a bonus, of course.” He tried to make it flirty, but not overly so. Seducing the Emperor did not mean he wanted to come off as easy. 

“Your presence was a welcome addition,” the corner of Emperor Zhongli’s lips curved up. To Tartaglia’s surprise, he pushed back his chair a moment later. Panic swept over the diplomat, thinking the Emperor would abandon him, but that was not the case. “I’ll step out for some fresh air, if you’d care to join?” Emperor Zhongli suggested, and began walking toward the door at the back of the dining hall, which opened into a garden. With the Emperor’s coat draped over his chair, the view of him walking to the door left little to Tartaglia’s imagination: his body was… attractive. Broad shoulders, thin waist, and a well-endowed ass, to say the least. Thank Tsaritsa there was no one else in the room to catch Tartaglia shamefully ogling the Emperor’s ass in those tailored pants! 

He couldn’t help the rush of blood to his cheeks when the Emperor suddenly looked back as if to say, Are you coming? And Tartaglia did so, following the man outside.

The evening air was cool, refreshing. From here, an entire garden spanned in front of them, and the flowers in the early moonlight provided a romantic atmosphere. “Ah, the beauty of Liyue never ceases to amaze and inspire,” Tartaglia sighed.

“Indeed. This garden is one of my favorites,” the Emperor explained, “Our gardeners curated it with flowers from all regions. Together, they’re a striking sight. My Lady and I both wear perfumes sourced from this garden.”

As endearing as the Emperor’s passionate ramblings were, I was talking about your ass, Tartaglia thought. Although, he took note of the perfume comment. 

They stood in pleasant silence for a while, during which Tartaglia desperately wracked his brain for any way to progress the situation in his favor. Against the railing overlooking the garden, his hands were slick. Tartaglia had to admit that he was nervous, a rarity when it came to his duties for the Tsaritsa. He had to make a decision, fast—an opportunity like this wouldn’t come again. Before he could decide what to do, the Emperor spoke: “How much longer are you in Liyue, Ambassador Tartaglia?”

“It’s nearing a week left,” Tartaglia answered. Had it really been that long? He mentally scolded himself after doing the math; his window to complete his mission was closing.

Emperor Zhongli frowned, “One week is too short a time to experience all Liyue has to offer. Have you been to the opera yet?”

“I have not.” Tartaglia only needed to experience one thing in Liyue, and that was right here in front of him. But...

“Then I shall have my assistant reserve tickets for you. There is a showing in two days of a classic I feel you’d enjoy. Liyue’s theater is known across Teyvat, after all, for both straight plays and operas. It would be a shame for you to miss out.”

Tartaglia did enjoy a play once in a while, but more importantly: “Will you be there?”

The Emperor was obviously surprised, but no trace of negativity crossed his face. “Two evenings from now… I suppose I could attend, if you would like me there.”

“I would,” Was that too eager? “What’s the fun in attending the opera alone? Besides, you work so hard, you deserve to take a break now and then. Unwind a bit,” Carefully, Tartaglia reached out and placed his hand atop the Emperor’s forearm where he gripped the railing. Through his gloves and the high-quality linen of Emperor Zhongli’s shirt, his palm tingled.

Perhaps under different circumstances (maybe if Zhongli were someone else, or if they’d just met) now would be the moment for Tartaglia to lean in, claim the Emperor for himself. It would be so easy to kiss him right now, take him to some empty room in the palace and call the mission a success.

In combat, Tartaglia subscribed to the rule that hesitation could be one’s worst enemy. Hesitation could kill.

And now, he hesitated.

Unlike many similar missions in the past, Tartaglia was currently enjoying himself. He may have grown too comfortable during his stay here so far, but the self-indulgent side of Tartaglia would be satisfied if he could prolong his little game with the Emperor.

His brain was screaming Make a move. Now’s your chance to get this over with, but against all judgement, Tartaglia simply couldn’t. 

So instead, he decided to hatch Plan C.

Plan C involved not finishing his objective at all, but still reaping the benefits. In that respect, it was the lowest-effort plan yet. As long as he accomplished the end goal, Tartaglia’s loyalty to the Tsaritsa would remain unchallenged. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at his own intelligence. 

“What is it?” The Emperor’s voice brought Tartaglia out of his head.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just glad to be here,” Tartaglia caught his amber eyes and removed his hand from the Emperor’s arm. “And I’m looking forward to the opera. But now it’s getting late, Your Majesty.”

Emperor Zhongli glanced back into the dining room, toward the large wall clock. The other dinner guests had not left at random; it was now later than Zhongli usually stayed up. “Of course, do not feel obligated to stay. I shall have a Millelith escort you back.”

They returned to the dining room to retrieve their coats, earning Tartaglia another view of the Emperor from behind.

Yes, Plan C would do nicely. 

 


 

The Northland Bank was as close to home as Tartaglia could get out here. Established after Liyue’s alliance with Snezhnaya grew, the bank had since become popular with tourists. However, some Liyue locals were less than excited about having Snezhnayans manage their savings. 

Tartaglia knew many of the bank’s employees, whom he used to work with before they were transferred to the bank. He also knew that Northland Bank did much more than just manage money. An alliance did not make Tsaritsa automatically trust Liyue, after all.

“Master Tartaglia!” A friendly face if he’d ever seen one—Vlad greeted him at the door.

“Vlad! How have you been, Comrade?” he clapped his old friend on the back. 

“I’ve been well, and business has been booming here! People from Liyue are rich like you wouldn’t believe.”

Oh, he would believe. Tartaglia’s own savings account was nothing to scoff at, but he was consistently impressed by the luxury hidden in every corner of this city. “And that’s good news for us,” Tartaglia grinned, then lowered his voice, “Are you able to take a break now? I have some things I wish to discuss inside.”

Vlad did not hesitate before placing his “guard off-duty” sign at his station and leading Tartaglia into the bank. 

Entering Northland Bank again was a breath of fresh air for Tartaglia. Despite following Liyue architecture, the touches of Snezhnaya within were unmistakable. And at the front desk sat a familiar face: “Ekaterina!”

The secretary stood from her desk, eyes wide, “Master Tartaglia! I’d heard you were in Liyue but I could hardly believe it myself.”

“You heard correctly,” Tartaglia smiled at her, approaching the teller’s counter. 

“We have some matters to discuss,” Vlad explained, “How about we all go to the lounge?” 

And so Ekaterina led them through the teller’s counter and into the employee lounge, leaving a lesser employee to take care of things. Before getting down to business, the three of them did some catching up. Firstly, Ekaterina was surprised to see that Tartaglia had grown even taller since he was last in Liyue, which was untrue. Meanwhile, Tartaglia had one pressing concern upfront:

“How is Nadia?” Tartaglia nudged Vlad. Those two had been absolutely smitten when they worked in Snezhnaya, and when Vlad was dispatched to Liyue, he vowed: ‘If Nadia is also sent to Liyue, I will confess to her.’

“Well…” Vlad sat back while Ekaterina whistled. “As of last month, we’re engaged.”

Tartaglia gave his friend a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. “Engaged! I didn’t think you had it in you. And I’ll be invited to the wedding, I hope?”

The guard laughed, “Will I lose my job if you’re not?” It sounded like a half-joke. 

Before Tartaglia could make a witty jab at him, Ekaterina cut in: “Speaking of marriages, aren’t you trying to ruin one, Tartaglia? How are things with the Empress?” 

Tartaglia sighed, having fully expected this conversation to turn on him. “You mean the Emperor.”

Ekaterina blinked. “No, I mean the—Oh, Holy Tsaritsa, this is too good! How did this start?”

Both Vlad and Ekaterina were on the edge of their seats. Well, Tartaglia always enjoyed telling a good story: “Plans change. Firstly, the Empress wants nothing to do with me. The Emperor was the one I met with about the trade agreement.”

“And the Emperor does want something to do with you?” Vlad wiggled his brows like this was primary school. 

As nonchalantly as possible, Tartaglia said, “He at least wants to sleep with me. I’m positive.” 

His companions gasped. Of course, Tartaglia was exaggerating things in his favor, but what kind of storyteller would he be if not an entertaining one? “How the hell did you make that happen?” Ekaterina pressed him, “The Emperor is way out of your league.”

“Have you seen the Empress, too? They’re both out of my league!” Honestly, Tartaglia did not know what he’d done to warrant any kind of attention from the Emperor, but he reveled in it. Every glance, every smile from that man, Tartaglia soaked it up. “He is stupidly attractive.”

Ekaterina scoffed, “Stupidly attractive, or are you stupidly attracted to him?” 

The diplomat paid her no mind; naturally, anyone with eyes could see that Emperor Zhongli had a godlike appearance. “Anyway, I’m sure you could guess this is what I need your help with. Is Alexei in?”

Ekaterina shook her head, “Not now.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure either of you could take on this simple task,” Maybe asking the bank manager for help with this would be a bit too much anyway, “The Emperor’s playing hard to get, so I need one of you to start spreading a rumor that the Empress slept with a certain visiting diplomat from Snezhnaya.”

Ekaterina scrunched her nose. “Why should we do your dirty work for you? You’re not even going for the Empress.”

“But if everyone believes I did, then all the better for me. I could easily make a move on the Emperor, but what’s the satisfaction in instant gratification? I’m enjoying our little game too much.” That, and personal reasons which Tartaglia would never admit to his friends in a hundred years. “The Empress is the one we need out anyway.”

“I can’t believe this—you really enjoy ruining your public reputation over something that didn’t even happen!” Vlad had seen Tartaglia do many ridiculous things in his life, and yet, convincing people he seduced the Empress via word of mouth had to be toward the top of the list. 

“Part of the job description,” Tartaglia shrugged, “Not only am I good enough for the job, but I’m also foolish enough.”

“La Signora has never been half as ridiculous as you,” Ekaterina pointed out.

He smiled, “Then only time will tell which of us does the job better!”

The three discussed strategies for effectively spreading this rumor, eventually deciding on a uniform story. As their meeting concluded, the shutting of a door could be heard outside the lounge.

Ekaterina’s head tilted up, recognizing the familiar sound of someone entering the bank. Surely her temporary replacement could handle it, but out of curiosity, Ekaterina cracked open the lounge door and peered through. Standing in the middle of the bank was a young woman dressed in purple, including her hair. Judging by the gold applique on her dress, this girl was from the palace or Qixing. 

The conversation between the temporary teller and the woman drifts through the lounge door:

“Welcome, how may I help you today?”

“Actually, I’m just visiting. Thank you.”

As Northland Bank had earned a reputation as a tourist landmark, it would be unsurprising for a regular person to visit the bank without purpose. But those from the palace and Qixing have their accounts directly managed by their respective organizations. This woman had no reason to be here. 

“They’re onto you,” Ekaterina shut the door and whispered. 

Tartaglia simply smirked. “I’m surprised it took this long.”

Vlad left inconspicuously to return to his guard post, while Ekaterina kept watching through the crack in the door until the Qixing member was gone. “All clear. No more putting yourself out there, okay?” Ekaterina warned him, “You’ll draw suspicion for sure if you’re in the public eye too much.”

“Ever heard of hiding in plain sight? Don’t worry about me. Besides, I have plans at the opera tomorrow night, with the Emperor.” And Tartaglia would have his fun, Ekaterina be damned. A mission without a little action was far too dull.

 


 

The operatic adaptation of Legend of the Shattered Halberd was one Zhongli had seen a dozen times. A favorite of his, so he had no issue in seeing it once more with Ambassador Tartaglia. 

“Would you please have these delivered to the Ministry of Civic Affairs by sundown?” He placed a small stack of papers on treasurer Hu Tao’s desk. 

The girl nearly did a double-take. “Allocating your workload and saying please to me? You must be in a good mood today, Your Majesty!”

This child… she was often the source of the Emperor’s headaches. However, he supposed she was right.

A few hours later, the Emperor was graced once again by Ambassador Tartaglia’s presence. In Snezhnayan attire and with that crop of ginger hair, the man stuck out like a sore thumb, but Zhongli was drawn to him otherwise.

“Ah, good afternoon, Your Majesty. I’ve been excited for this since you invited me.”

Zhongli smiled at him, “I believe it was you who invited me.”

And Tartaglia returned his smile tenfold, “Even better that Your Majesty would take time out of your schedule at my request!”

Around them, guards shuffled awkwardly.

The pair were then escorted to Heyu Tea House, viewing the opera from the pavilion overlooking the open-air stage. 

The opera itself was nothing special, Tartaglia thought. Of course he enjoyed the theatrics and traditional flair of Liyue, but the stage combat in Snezhnayan theater was more to his liking. 

And what had he expected, inviting the Emperor to the opera with him? It wasn’t like they could talk during the performance; Tartaglia could hardly even see him in the dim light. 

Perhaps he’d just been too distracted to fully appreciate the show. Leaving Liyue soon was the least of his worries; Tartaglia had woken up mortified that morning after having a particularly… salacious dream the night before, starring himself and the Emperor. That had been a surprise. Completely harmless, of course, but perhaps he’d been in Liyue for too long.

“Did you enjoy the show, Ambassador?” came the Emperor’s voice.

Right. He couldn’t be thinking about his ridiculous dream when the subject was right in front of him. “Of course, I can always trust Your Majesty’s preferences!” The seating area had been completely cleared out to ensure the Emperor’s safety, and free from the watchful eye of guards, Tartaglia resolved to make a move on Emperor Zhongli that night. “I did expect more…” Violence. “Romance.”

“I should have taken you to see String of Pearls instead. I didn’t take you for a romantic, Ambassador,” his golden eyes shined.

“Snezhnaya is the nation of love, after all. I’m a natural romantic, Your Majesty.” Now if he could just bring himself to lay a hand on the Emperor, lean in, anything—

The twinkle in the Emperor’s eyes mounted into a spark as he chuckled, “Ah, yes, your monarch and I are acquainted. She once sent me some classic Snezhnayan literature, and I was struck by the philosophy of romance in your nation. In Liyuen literature…” He proceeded to passionately explain the history of some Liyuen tradition in relation to literature. All Tartaglia could do was hang on his every word, thoughts of making a move forgotten.

So he didn’t. Not that night, or the next day when The Emperor accompanied him to Liuli Pavilion (“You must try the famed local cuisine, Ambassador”), or the day after when the Emperor showed up to watch him train again (“You continue to impress, Ambassador”). Although Tartaglia was enjoying himself immensely, a rare feeling of uselessness and incompetence had set in. If he couldn’t bring himself to do something so simple as honeypot the Emperor, how could The Tsaritsa trust him to take on more complex missions?

On his final evening in Liyue, Tartaglia took a stroll through the gardens which he knew could be seen from Emperor Zhongli’s bed chamber. And sure enough, within minutes the Emperor found him among the flowers. “A lovely night, is it not, Ambassador?” the Emperor smiled at him. Ambassador. Every Ambassador in that low voice drove him more and more insane.

“Lovely, indeed,” he agreed. In the fading daylight in a black ensemble, Emperor Zhongli was a sight to behold.

They stood on the pavilion’s edge, watching fish dart between lotus leaves. The Emperor spoke: “Am I correct in remembering this is your last night here?”

“Just as everyone says, Your Majesty’s memory is second to none! I’ll be leaving in the morning.” He hadn’t meant to sound so sad.

This could have been his final chance to do anything remotely close to his original plan. But he’d kept thinking that, had kept having chance after chance fall into his lap, and had let all of them slip through his fingers. Tartaglia’s resolution had completely abandoned him, or he would have kissed Zhongli days ago.

“Am I really going to leave like this?” Tartaglia wondered aloud.

“Like what?” 

“Without…” Tartaglia halted his thought in favor of smiling at the Emperor. It was a warm smile, but rarely did a smile ever touch Tartaglia’s eyes. He then took the Emperor’s right hand in his own. For anyone else, such a sudden action toward the Emperor would be considered brazen, but Zhongli made no reaction. “I thank you for all the hospitality you’ve shown me until now. When we next meet, I hope it will be on such pleasant terms.” Carefully, reverently, he brought the Emperor’s gloved hand to his lips and placed a kiss upon the Imperial ring. 

Despite the display of respect, Zhongli felt something dark behind those words. “It has been a pleasure, Ambassador Tartaglia. I hope you have enjoyed your time here.” And he meant it.

This was perhaps the last time the Emperor would ever look at Tartaglia again, let alone with any sort of pleasure in those golden eyes. Once Tartaglia’s plan was executed and the Empress’s reputation had been ruined at Tartaglia’s hands… He would savor it now, that softness in the Emperor’s gaze, his undivided attention.

It was easy to imagine, if Zhongli were not in such a position, that they could be lovers. That in the morning, there would be a bittersweet parting, and a promise to see each other again. 

But Tartaglia’s ship left the next morning with none of this. His duty came first.

Meanwhile, watching ships come and go from a palace window, the Emperor’s ring burned around his glove.

Notes:

don’t worry, i haven’t forgotten this story!
seems like you guys expect this to be much shorter than it will be haha but nope we’re goin to snezhnaya for a bit 😎
i know many of you wanted the Seduction™ to happen this chapter but trust me ok i have the whole thing outlined 🙏i’ll be the first to admit this chapter is a bit slow but it has some important plot points. next one is shaping up to be longer and more entertaining imo. also there will be more beigguang next chapter for those of you looking forward to them!

Chapter 4: Letter From a Friend

Summary:

PREVIOUS CHAPTER REFRESHER: Tartaglia dines at the palace, and upon realizing he is physically attracted to Emperor Zhongli, he decides to change his plan once again. He goes to Northland Bank to organize this plan, in which bank employees will spread the rumor of Empress Ningguang’s infidelity. However, Tartaglia continues to have fun with the Emperor until he must depart for Snezhnaya.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

This time of year in Snezhnaya was especially brutal, men often walking around with their beards frozen and children on the street selling hot soup by open flames. Ice skates hung from the waists of many Snezhnayans, in case one encountered a river that would be easier to cross than a street. Ice fishers spent all day at the lakes. The sky never appeared blue, but a stark white, and nights were short. Rather than pushing against the cold, Snezhnaya embraced it.

To Tartaglia, this was home.

The land of ice, it was called, although a past trip to Dragonspine had shown Tartaglia that conditions could be harsher. Travel was fun, but there was no place like Snezhnaya. He’d missed the smell of the air, the crunch of snow under his boots. Tartaglia longed to head straight home and embrace his family, but he had business to attend to. 

Zapolyarny Palace rose in a grand display of Snezhnayan architecture, spires splitting the sky apart. And the Tsaritsa, a vision of grandeur as always in her throne room as Tartaglia knelt before his Tsaritsa: “Welcome back, Harbinger,” she addressed Tartaglia, “I trust you had a successful trip.”

“As always, Your Majesty.” He did not miss a beat.

“Excellent. I expect your mission report by the end of the week.” 

Tartaglia swallowed. He would have to break out his most flowery language to make it seem as though he’d accomplished his mission to the fullest. The thought of disappointing the Tsaritsa in the slightest was too much to bear. At least the trade negotiation had been successful. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

He expected her to dismiss him, but the Tsaritsa had one more item to add: “If this mission was truly a success as you say, we can proceed to Phase Two as soon as the current Empress is removed from the palace.”

This… he had not been informed of. “Phase Two, My Lady?” 

The Tsaritsa glowed with mirth as she explained, “Of course, Emperor Zhongli will soon be the most eligible bachelor in all of Teyvat once again. Who better to fill an empty position than one of our own?”

Tartaglia’s mind reeled; he immediately understood those words, but his brain refused to accept a possibility which he should have anticipated long ago: “La Signora?”

The Tsaritsa nodded. “And they say you aren’t clever. You are dismissed.”

Wordlessly, Tartaglia exited the throne room. How could La Signora possibly accept such an insane mission? A mission that would last the rest of her life… Shock was quickly replaced by deep-seated darkness in the pit of his heart. Tearing down the main hallway, he caught sight of familiar platinum hair. Speak of the devil. La Signora barely noticed him before Tartaglia seethed, “You bitch.”

A grin spread over La Signora’s red lips. “My, what did I do this time to be deserving of such a title? Welcome back, the peace was nice while it lasted.”

And because this Phase Two was the Tsaritsa’s idea, Tartaglia had no response. He simply stood there, expertly glaring daggers into La Signora until other Fatui interrupted them. The newcomers arrived with a barrage of requests for Tartaglia, who shot one final glare La Signora’s way. “We’ll talk. Later.” The onlooking Fatui members obviously had no experience in reading Tartaglia’s mood. Still, he accepted all the items they presented him and marched back to his office. 

La Signora, having known Tartaglia since he was fourteen, had seen him at his worst and his wildest. But thinking back to their earlier encounter, La Signora’s confusion had been apparent. He had to get a grip; Tartaglia wasn’t on vacation anymore. He sighed, resigning himself to the life of constant work once again. He set his anger at La Signora aside. Even worse, he didn’t know what had brought it on. 

Oh well; business was business. Tartaglia would never question the Tsaritsa’s motives, would never go against them. (But when it came to La Signora… the fantasies of ruining a second marriage already began.) 

 


 

While Xiao preferred to stay in his quarters when off-duty, Ganyu enjoyed mingling with locals. She was a regular at most restaurants (and secretly liked catching up on the town gossip).

Lately, Ganyu had so much time off that she hardly knew what to do. The Empress did not want her company, as she was normally off with Captain Beidou while the Emperor shouldered her workload. Of course, Ganyu would never complain about more free time. 

Today she headed to Xinyue kiosk, easily reserving a table (food perks were the best part of working for the Empress, in Ganyu’s opinion). As an upscale restaurant, this was a prime spot for people-watching. And listening—her soup had barely arrived, yet she’d already gotten a taste of all the latest gossip!

“Did you hear?” Ganyu’s ears pricked up as the table next to her switched topics (she was quite tired of hearing about the pedestrian who accidentally fell into the lotus pond), “You know the handsome diplomat who came in from Snezhnaya last week? Well, I heard he and the Empress had an affair!”

Ganyu nearly dropped her spoon. Aside from having dinner with the man, Ganyu had heard all about him ahead of time from the Empress herself. But not because of any attraction she harbored for him; rather, Her Majesty seemed to think the Emperor was attracted to him! So Ganyu immediately knew this rumor was not true. Her Majesty’s devotion to Captain Beidou would never be swayed in the first place. Still, if the public was to believe this about their beloved Empress, the consequences would be…

“No, you can’t expect me to believe that nonsense!” Another patron spoke, “The Imperial Couple’s love is unchallenged! Where did you hear this?” Yes, where indeed?

“I heard it from that merchant at Wanyou Boutique, and he heard it from another merchant, who heard it from a fisherman!”

Ganyu cradled her head in her hands. Who knew how this rumor could have started, and who knew how much its content had evolved from the start? More importantly, how many people had heard of this already?

Abandoning her plans for the rest of her day off, Ganyu paid her bill and headed back to the palace.

Of course, the Empress was not in her usual office. Ganyu walked instead to the larger office she sometimes worked in with Emperor Zhongli, but it was guarded by the Empress’s three secretaries. “Hello, Miss Ganyu,” they greeted her in unison.

“Hello, Baishi, Baiwen, Baixiao,” she tried not to seem too impatient, “Is Lady Ningguang in? I have a matter I must ask her about.”

“She’s been out since this morning,” Baixiao sighed, “We have no further tasks, so… it’s a bit boring, waiting around for her.”

These three were diligent workers, but were at a loss when they couldn’t hang on the Empress’s every word. “Is His Majesty in, at least?”

“Oh, yes, but he’s very busy,” Baishi replied, “I wouldn’t bother him if I were you.”

Ganyu smiled politely at them, all the while slipping past to enter the office. Sure enough, Emperor Zhongli sat at his desk, filtering through documents. “Ah, good afternoon, Miss Ganyu. Please sit.” Even when buried in work, he always kept a cool head and made time for everyone. “Is something the matter?” And as expected, he’d seen right through her.

“Hello, Your Majesty. I was looking for Her Majesty after I heard a rumor in town today…” she trailed off.

“Oh? What did you hear? Lady Ningguang is out with Captain Beidou, but my ears are open.” It was no secret that the Emperor reveled in gossip as well. Most of Ganyu’s conversations with him involved discussing all the strange goings-on of Liyue. Normally, she would catch up with him now, but the situation pressed on.

“Firstly, I know the rumor is not true. But I heard that,” Ganyu couldn’t help the flush of her ears, “that Her Majesty and the visiting diplomat from Snezhnaya had an affair.”

Emperor Zhongli’s initial reaction was to stay quiet in comprehension, followed by his chuckling. “Although this is highly amusing, a rumor like this could be troublesome if spread amongst the people. Though there is not much we can do until the Empress returns.”

Ganyu bit her lip, every possible outcome of this running through her mind. The Emperor spoke again: “You seem troubled, Miss Ganyu.”

Surely she could never bother the Emperor with her worries! But if he was asking… “I’m just wondering how this rumor came about. The first time Her Majesty met the diplomat was at the dinner we both attended…”

The Emperor gave a sorry smile, “I have a few ideas. Is Miss Keqing still on the property?”

“I can go search for her, Your Majesty.” 

Pushing her concerns aside, Ganyu hurried around the palace in search of the Qixing Yuheng. Sure enough, she found Keqing and other Qixing members in the meeting room they’d been frequenting lately. 

“Miss Keqing, the Emperor requests you.”

Keqing did not appear the least bit worried, but Ganyu knew better. They’d been acquainted since before the Imperial Union, and although Keqing objected to the monarchy, she secretly held great respect for the Emperor. On the way back to the Emperor’s office, Keqing asked, “What is this about?”

Ganyu did not know how much she could reveal, but part of her was bursting with the need to talk to someone about this. “There are rumors about Her Majesty lately. If you hear anything, don’t believe it.” That was enough for now.

But Keqing surprised her: “Oh, the rumor about her and that diplomat?”

Ganyu could only nod. If this news had reached the Qixing already, perhaps it was more serious than she’d thought.

The Emperor was still at his desk when they returned. “Oh, Miss Ganyu and Miss Keqing, welcome,” He set down his work.

“How may I help you, Your Majesty?” Keqing usually seemed unenthused about helping the Emperor, but now Ganyu could tell she was intrigued. 

“It appears Liyue has not been in the best company lately,” Emperor Zhongli pushed a paper toward Keqing, already stamped by himself at the bottom. A contract. “Please ensure the Qixing opens a private investigation into Ambassador Tartaglia of Snezhnaya.”

 


 

Although Snezhnaya was not considered a literary capital of Teyvat, the main library of the region harbored an extensive collection. Tartaglia often found himself there, digging through public records to learn more about his contracts. But since his return from Liyue, Tartaglia had frequented the international stacks. Every recent book published in Liyue, he had reserved and sent to his office. And with each spare moment, he combed through the books for any mention of Emperor Zhongli.

Although he’d ascended to the throne just like every monarch before him, Emperor Zhongli’s existence was shrouded in mystery. Some believed he was blessed by the gods (which Tartaglia would agree to, at least endowed by the gods). Some claimed he was a miracle child, while others claimed he’d been born from a column of stone unearthed from Guyun. He excelled in all areas, a patron of the arts and a formidable fighter. If Tartaglia had known this beforehand, he would’ve challenged the man to a duel. It would be an honor, to scratch up that pristine appearance, witnessing him in the heat of battle and…

Tartaglia continued reading.

Many of the books recounted the Great War. A decade ago, Liyue had been in a dark place following the war. But Emperor Zhongli, then a general, had led his nation through battle after battle, laying waste to any enemy seeking to invade Liyue. And after proving himself, a young Zhongli had ascended to the throne. Immediately, he revived Liyue’s traditional arts and protected its historical sites, generating great tourism for the nation. Never in history had Liyue seen a ruler so prolific as to rescue an entire nation from the ashes of war.

The makings of a fine Emperor (and Tartaglia knew this well from his Tsaritsa) were one’s ability to rule firmly rather than from the heart. Conquest, diplomacy, unchallenged power—such was the reputation of Emperor Zhongli and all who came before him. A reputation which preceded himself, which was why Tartaglia had expected someone not quite so...

Within a few hours of reading, Tartaglia had learned more about Liyue history and traditions than he would ever need to know. But the image of Emperor Zhongli in the books was so different from how Tartaglia remembered him. The books treated him like a god, like someone who could do no wrong, like a fictional character. And the more Tartaglia read, the more he wondered about Zhongli’s real character. 

Tartaglia quickly went down a rabbit hole and began reserving books on Imperial Liyue in general. The librarian clearly thought he was insane, but Tartaglia was a Harbinger, so he had an endless supply of books. “Emperors, on top of overseeing all affairs of Liyue,” Tartaglia skimmed the lines of his latest pick, “traditionally produce an heir shortly after marriage. The heir will be educated in all aspects, with the goal of continuing Liyue’s Imperial lineage for generations to come.”

He shut the book. Images filled Tartaglia’s mind, of La Signora raising Zhongli’s child. Just imagining it made his stomach churn. Empress Ningguang with Zhongli’s child would be less unsettling, but Tartaglia could not picture Zhongli rearing an heir no matter how hard he tried. It had been three years since the Imperial wedding, with no heir in sight. Based on Royal birth records, both Emperor and Empress were considered past the proper age to have children. What was Zhongli waiting for? 

Tartaglia left the library to clear his head in the crisp air. He had work to do; reading obsessively about the Emperor of Liyue was not part of his duty. And if Tartaglia understood one thing, it was duty. Carrying on the Imperial Line was Zhongli’s duty, one which had nothing to do with Tartaglia. 

After so many years as a Harbinger of the Tsaritsa, Tartaglia had believed he was good at letting things go.

 


 

The coming of a new season meant new winds, new ships setting sail from the harbor. At times like this, Ningguang felt helpless, like a woman waiting to send her lover off to war. Beidou only had a few days left before the Crux set sail once again, and they treasured every minute of it. Both women were past their youth; they couldn’t spend all day in bed together anymore (though they could certainly try). 

Sometimes Ningguang wondered how they got to this point. Four years ago, the mere sight of Captain Beidou would drive Ningguang out of a room. Her antics had been unbearable, with no respect for the law or Ningguang’s work. Still, with every legal bout, the two women were forced to interact. After all, Ningguang and her legal advisor Yanfei were the only two who could properly deal with Beidou or her crew. And Beidou was a shameless flirt, knowing just how to get under Ningguang’s skin.

Beidou being gorgeous only made her more infuriating. Physically, she was exactly Ningguang’s type, and she knew it. Eventually, Ningguang figured out how to use Beidou’s loose interpretation of the law to her advantage—the Qixing could never have enough people to do their dirty work. But once this collaboration began, the flirting became worsened, with Beidou lingering around Ningguang’s office more than she did the Alcor. Ningguang eventually challenged her to Liyue Millennial Chess, a game with dozens of rules made up by Ningguang herself. These challenges brought endless joy to Ningguang; Beidou may have been an expert at dodging the law, but she lost every game of chess to Ningguang.

That was, until the day Beidou won.

Nobody had ever won Millennial Chess against its inventor before—nobody had ever dared. But Beidou had just grinned, casually declaring checkmate. “Do you have a prize prepared for me, Tianquan Ningguang?”

They were alone, and Ningguang’s frustration with Beidou had reached its peak. She rushed into Beidou’s lap, knocking over chess pieces in her wake, their lips meeting before the captain could spout more nonsense.

The next four years passed in a blur of sex, drastic life changes, and (although Ningguang was reluctant to admit it) love. When Ningguang had made it as a businesswoman, she’d believed her whole life was figured out. Now, after becoming Beidou’s lover and Empress, the skies had parted for her and Ningguang was still trying to reach for more clouds. But she wholeheartedly knew that she wanted Beidou by her side throughout everything. This was her other half, as good as her wife.

And now, no matter how certain Ningguang’s heart was, she and Beidou had been thrust into uncertainty. 

The one who treated the rumor of the Empress’s infidelity most comically was none other than the woman’s lover herself. When Captain Beidou heard the news, her laughter continued for at least three minutes. “If the people are shocked about this, wait until they find out you’re a lesbian!”

Ningguang rolled her eyes, “You may be amused, but the public is not. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone could believe this—did you see the way the Ambassador looked at my husband that night at dinner?”

Beidou shook her head, “I only had eyes for you, My Lady. But if that’s the case, we can double-date.”

The Empress’s blush betrayed her second eye-roll, “Absolutely shameless, you and the Ambassador. All that food in front of him, yet… Let’s just say, neither of us had any interest in each other. But I suppose, when a rumor spreads to enough people, anyone will believe there’s some truth behind it.”

In truth, most citizens denied the rumors, and were simply engaging in discourse for the fun of gossiping. How could they believe that their beloved Empress would betray her sacred, perfect marriage? Little did they know...

The night before the Crux Fleet’s departure to Sumeru, Ningguang and Beidou spent every moment in each other’s arms. “It’s a shame, really,” the Captain mused while the Empress was two fingers’ deep inside her, “Neither of us will get love like this for another few months.”

Ningguang bit into her firm thigh, leaving a red lip mark behind. “You’d better not get any other love for the next few months.” 

Beidou’s laugh was cut off by a moan. “Well, it looks like you’re giving me something to remember you by.”

Her skin reddened as Ningguang continued to bite and suck. “I can’t have that one crewmate of yours getting too bold.”

“Who, Furong?” At the mention of the sailor’s name, Ningguang bit harder, “She’s harmless, Love. And what about that secretary of yours, Baishi? Next time she drools over you I should— Oh!” And like that, the two women were lost to pleasure once again. 

Long after they were exhausted, Ningguang could do nothing more than sink into Beidou’s embrace, enjoying the captain’s hand caressing her hair. Normally they would fall asleep like this, but tonight Ningguang did not want to sleep. Sleep would only burn away the hours they had left together. Of course, Beidou picked up that she was tired, “Get some rest.”

“If I fall asleep, will you be there when I wake up?” Ningguang asked in a small voice.

Beidou pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’ll wake you when I leave.”

So Ningguang slept.

It felt like she’d hardly closed her eyes before Beidou kissed her awake gently, with whisperings of, “It’s high tide, Love. I have to go.”

Instantly awake, Ningguang sat up to embrace the captain a final time. “Stay safe.”

“I always do,” Beidou grinned, laying a soft kiss on her lips, “I love you. I’ll miss you every day.” 

And just this once, Ningguang did not try to suppress how she felt. The words bubbled past her lips so naturally, having rolled around in her mind for the past four years: “I love you, too.”

With one last kiss and a promise to return soon, Beidou walked out into the early dawn.

Ningguang did not fall back asleep that night. Such was the pain of loving a sailor.

Beidou had always driven her crazy, since their first meeting when Beidou had tried to bribe her in order to keep her list of minor felonies (somewhat) clean. She’d been occupying Ningguang’s mind every day after. No matter how many times she left to the sea, it never got easier.

The one person Ningguang always confided in was her husband. Despite never taking a lover in all the years Ningguang had known him, Zhongli was a remarkable listener to Ningguang’s relationship woes. When the sun had fully risen after Beidou left, Ningguang made herself presentable and trudged to the Emperor’s bed chamber. She knocked twice, and Zhongli’s voice called out: “The door is unlocked.” 

At that, Ningguang flung open the door. “Really, Zhongli, if you ever get assassinated, it will be your own fault for leaving everything unlocked!”

Zhongli simply smiled at her. “Ah, good morning, My Lady. Tea?”

Although it was early, Zhongli had already dressed and made himself up. He sipped his tea, looking out at the city below. The tea platter was one she’d never seen before: a stunning silver, definitely not from Liyue. Ningguang joined her husband, sighing in relief at the first sip of tea. 

The Emperor looked on in sympathy. “Lady Beidou has left?”

She nodded. “Some hours ago.”

Zhongli could not understand how it felt for her love to set sail for a foreign land, but Ningguang knew he would support her. “She will be back before you realize.”

And Ningguang knew this, but she couldn’t calm her worries.

After finishing their tea, the Empress stood to leave, and Zhongli rose as well. Then, in a move that shocked Ningguang, Zhongli opened his arms and pulled her into a hug. They were married, yet they had never hugged before. Somehow, it was exactly what she needed.

The next moment, they were back to business. “Now, then,” Zhongli held her at arms’ length, “How about we devise a plan to expel those rumors of yours?”

She nearly groaned. “Please, that’s such a pain. That Ambassador you’re so fond of—he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

Zhongli laughed warmly and sat on the edge of his perfectly-made bed. It was an invitation for Ningguang to sit as well, and suddenly this impromptu meeting felt more like a slumber party. “He is quite fascinating all the same.” Zhongli only ever described rare artifacts or poetry as fascinating. “Unfortunately for him, I have an idea of how to remedy this situation.”

The two talked casually on the bed, running through every possible outcome of every possible plan, from straightforward to outlandish.

Eventually, the decided course of action was for Zhongli and Ningguang to take to the streets together in a series of public appearances, a statement of their unwavering union. 

Rarely did the two ever appear together in public, unless for formal events.

Naturally, these public appearances drew journalists of all publications out to ask the couple directly: “Your Imperial Highness, is it true that you became close with Diplomat Tartaglia?” “Will we be seeing an annulment in the future?” “Any comment on the rumors that Her Majesty is pregnant?” Clearly, these myths had gotten far too out of hand. 

For anyone to ask such questions to the Emperor and Empress was not only disrespectful, but made for a slanderous reputation. Ganyu, Xiao, and the Millelith present easily fended off these journalists (and in Xiao’s case, threatened them with a defamation suit).

Citizens, however, watched the couple’s procession in awe. Whispers floated amongst them: “I knew Their Majesties are nothing but loyal to each other!” “Wrench Wang owes me five hundred Mora.”

That evening, the palace released a formal address:

 

People of Liyue,

Recent fabrications against your Empress have caused great strain to Her Majesty’s spirit. Rest assured that I am by her side at this time, and we support each other just as we always have. 

Empress Ningguang is not only my lifetime companion, but also my most trusted confidant. I would take her word against all others. These rumors are groundless and defamatory, and are being dealt with swiftly. 

Please continue to cherish Her Majesty’s steadfast presence in our beloved city, just as she cherishes every citizen of Liyue. Together, Her Majesty and I will maintain our efforts to keep Liyue a wonderful and prosperous nation. 

 

Although this announcement was followed by Emperor Zhongli’s Imperial stamp, Ningguang had actually written much of it herself. 

Four days passed before talk died down of Ningguang’s rumors, and even then, they were not fully expelled. If she saw that Snezhnayan diplomat again, the Empress had a few words for him. No matter; Ningguang was just ready to have this inconvenience behind her.

Even if it was all a lie, at least the lie was intact.

 


 

The longest nights of the year passed, Lantern Rite came and went, and merchants rotated their wares. Ningguang was once again working full-steam, Zhongli’s saving grace. Such a bustling time always brought new changes to Liyue, causing everyone in the palace to work overtime. One day, amidst Zhongli’s higher-than-usual stack of papers to stamp, there was a welcome reprieve:

“Your Majesty,” a knock came from the door, and Zhongli gave the guest permission to enter. An assistant entered with envelope in hand, marked by the official Mondstadt seal. “A letter has arrived from Mond Castle.”

Zhongli’s face grew soft. It had been a while since he’d heard from the Prince. Mondstadt and Liyue’s alliance was a strong one due to their shared border and the Prince’s easy-going attitude. But more than that, Zhongli had found a bond with the other ruler, one of the few people in Teyvat he could consider “friend.”

Zhongli opened the letter delicately. Prince Venti was the kind of person who wrote only when something was the matter, so he had reason to be cautious.

 

Dear Emperor Zhongli,

Hello, my friend! How have you been? I haven’t seen you since last year’s Ludi Harpastum. I hope you and Lady Ningguang are well! 

My friend, this is the last time I will be writing to you as a leader. My vision for Mondstadt as a city of freedom cannot be realized as long as there is a monarch at its head. I have done my duty to the best of my ability, and I can do no better in the future. For this reason, I have decided to step down from my position and transfer power to the Knights of Favonius. I will be taking on a lesser role within the Knights so that I may continue overseeing my people. You will surely hear this news in the papers soon, but you heard it from me directly first! 

Of course, such an adjustment can’t be made overnight. I’ll be working directly with the Acting Grandmaster for a smooth transition. That being said, I hope to see you or Lady Ningguang soon at the Teyvat Leaders’ conference!

May the winds guide you,

Venti

 

The bottom of the page was stamped with Prince Venti’s official seal, the title of which he’d crossed out himself.

Zhongli read the letter once, then re-read it twice more, and then set it on his desk while he contemplated its contents. Only a few sentences, and yet, with these words came the weight of generations, of hundreds of people.

I’ve done my duty to the best of my ability…

Breaking from his work, Zhongli began writing a response straight away. 

As he wrote, Ningguang popped into the office. “Yanfei stopped by to deliver these,” she produced some legal documents and hovered over Zhongli’s shoulder. “That doesn’t look like paperwork.”

“My dear wife, you think I’m slacking off?” He teased her, “I received a letter from Mond Castle. Prince Venti is stepping down.”

“Stepping down…?” Skimming the letter for herself, she appeared just as shocked as he was, and a contemplative silence came over them. No more needed to be said.

Despite the important subject of the letter, a small detail jumped out to Zhongli: “The Teyvat Leaders’ conference… is it not held in Snezhnaya this year?”

“It is,” Ningguang confirmed, “Thank you for reminding me, yet another thing I have to prepare for.”

The gears began turning in Zhongli’s head. “Perhaps you will not have to prepare after all.”

Months ago, they’d agreed that Ningguang would be the one to attend the conference this year. She fared better in business situations than Zhongli, after all. But in the end, it truly did not matter which one of them attended. “Are you suggesting…?”

“I’m concerned for your wellbeing,” Zhongli began, “You have so much work coming up, and your public reputation could be in jeopardy again if you were to go to Snezhnaya now. People will talk.”

Ningguang’s expression was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Well, if you want to go so badly…”

“I am merely worried for you,” he responded casually. 

And thus, with just a look shared between them, a contract was formed: Zhongli would go to Snezhnaya in Ningguang’s stead. 

Some personal business was waiting for him there, after all.

Notes:

sorry for the delay in updating once again; i've been busy with finals and moving house. and now i got a new job so let's hope i have time to write at all coming up 😬 this has been one of my favorite chapters to write so far! as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts~
twitter: @melecslol

Chapter 5: The Fool

Summary:

PREVIOUS CHAPTER REFRESHER: In Snezhnaya, the Tsaritsa’s plan to arrange a marriage between Zhongli and La Signora does not make Tartaglia happy. Tartaglia’s rumors regarding Ningguang have spread throughout Liyue, but were calmed due to efforts of Zhongli and Ningguang, thereby thwarting the Tsaritsa’s plan of removing Ningguang from power. Later, Prince Venti sends a letter to Zhongli letting him know of his retirement, and Zhongli plans to go to Snezhnaya for the Teyvat Leaders' Conference.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Shortly after Tartaglia’s mission in Liyue ended, a letter arrived from Northland Bank. According to Ekaterina’s report, the rumors of Empress Ningguang’s scandal had spread like wildfire. Too easy, Tartaglia thought with delight. The Tsaritsa would be very pleased.

A week later, a second letter from Northland Bank arrived. Tartaglia opened it happily, but its contents quickly derailed his confidence. Enclosed was a copy of the Imperial Palace’s official notice, hand-stamped by the Emperor. Even in the face of suspected infidelity, the Imperial couple’s bond was this strong… Tartaglia knew he could be foolish at times, but for the first time in years, he felt like a fool. 

So the next morning when Tartaglia was summoned to the throne room, a sinking feeling had already set in.

The Tsaritsa’s presence was commanding as always, a cold beauty. Tartaglia bowed at the sight of her. “My Lady.” 

“Harbinger Tartaglia,” she addressed him, “I’m sure you are aware of the aftermath of your mission in Liyue.”

He winced internally. “I am, My Lady.”

The Tsaritsa’s eyes cast down to her nails, disinterested in her Harbinger, “When I read in your mission report that you were successful, I expected one hundred per-cent success. And now I discover that the Imperial marriage is alive and well?” Her tone was collected, but Tartaglia heard the sharpness at its core, “You have thrown our grand plan into question.”

Tartaglia could only hang his head. “I apologize, My Lady.”

“Well, we must move forward,” she neither accepted nor rejected his apology, “In one month, the Empress will be attending the leader’s conference here. That is your second chance. Do not fail me.”

And Tartaglia answered honestly: “I would never wish to.”

The third letter from Northland Bank to Zapolyarny Palace arrived shortly before the conference. When that weasel Il Dottore crawled out of his laboratory to ask Tartaglia about the letter, Tartaglia became suspicious. And later that day, the head kitchen staff asked him in passing: “Lord Harbinger, do you know the favorite meal of the Emperor of Liyue?”

Tartaglia thought for a moment, pleasantly recalling the meals they’d shared together, then answered, “I know he doesn’t like seafood. Why do you ask?”

“We must prepare for his arrival next week, for the Leaders’ Conference. We’ve just heard that the Emperor is attending in place of the Empress.”

Because Tartaglia liked this particular staff member (she had shared recipes with him on multiple occasions), he did not completely explode on her, nor put his fist through the wall next to her. He returned to his chambers to do so instead.

In the month that everyone in Zapolyarny Place had been preparing for the Leaders Conference, Tartaglia had been trying to forget Zhongli. And now, all those efforts had gone to waste. Soon Emperor Zhongli would be traipsing around Tartaglia’s home turf, rendezvousing with La Signora and ignoring him completely. And yet, Tartaglia found a part of him to be anticipating the Emperor’s arrival.

Of course, this change of plans sent the Tsaritsa into a brief panic (although she would never show it, Tartaglia could tell). She once again summoned her Eighth and Eleventh Harbingers to the throne room. Tartaglia did not want to be in a room with Signora for longer than necessary, and refused to glance her way.

“Harbinger Tartaglia,” Never before had the Tsaritsa addressed him so often in such a short period, “You are to step back from the task I assigned you previously.” He nodded—he would agree to anything his Tsaritsa asked of him. “Meanwhile, you, La Signora,” she turned her attention to the other woman, “You are now our main player. I trust that you will win the favor of Emperor Zhongli.” 

The underlying tone read as, You will succeed in your mission where Tartaglia failed. La Signora confirmed: “You have my word.”

And for the days leading up to the conference, La Signora wore a determined expression and tested out all her best perfumes.

By the day guests arrived, she was far more prepared than Tartaglia to see Emperor Zhongli again.

That day, the most powerful people in all of Teyvat gradually rolled into Zapolyarny Palace. Snezhnayan citizens crowded the surrounding blocks to witness a glimpse of a Royal. And at the palace, Tartaglia greeted every guest with his usual charm, as the most public Harbinger. The Queen of Fontaine, young Prince of Mondstadt who had recently abdicated… Most shocking was the appearance of Raiden Shogun, undoubtedly the subject of many grievances to be aired during the conference.

For Tartaglia, however, she was just another guest. Not until the procession bearing Liyue’s flags became visible in the distance did he stand at full attention.

The Emperor’s carriage pulled up to Zapolyarny Palace’s entrance, and all at once, Emperor Zhongli’s familiar profile was mere steps away from Tartaglia. 

An attendant Tartaglia had not seen before exited first, coming around to help the Emperor out of the carriage. Tartaglia would have pushed this girl out of the way to help the man himself, if she were not under Zhongli’s good graces. As soon as the Emperor’s feet were on the ground, Tartaglia greeted him: “Welcome, Your Majesty. It has been some time.” He couldn’t help the grin spreading across his lips.

“Ambassador Tartaglia, it is wonderful to see you again.” The bustling crowd continued around them, but for one moment, the Emperor’s full attention was on him. Those soft amber eyes opened Tartaglia up, drew him in. It was like a dream: the Emperor here in Snezhnaya, golden robes draped perfectly over his body, a powerful aura emanating from him. 

Oh, how Tartaglia had missed being called Ambassador. Still, “Your Majesty, in my homeland, I am not called ‘Ambassador.’” He was called the Eleventh Harbinger, Childe, the one with the Foul Legacy, the nation’s debt collector, the—

“Just Tartaglia, then,” the Emperor smiled back at him.

Glancing back and forth between them, the young lady was clearly at a loss. Tartaglia had forgotten about her already, but Zhongli noticed her inner turmoil: “Hu Tao, please prepare my belongings.”

“You got it, boss!” she exclaimed, and gladly rushed off. Interesting girl.

Now with one distraction out of the way, Tartaglia clapped his hands together. “Your Majesty must be tired from such a long journey. Please, right this way inside.” And he began to step toward the Palace doors, eyes never leaving the Emperor.

A newer Fatui recruit (who had not yet learned that Tartaglia’s motives should not be questioned) piped up: “Lord Harbinger, sir, we were told you would remain here for—”

Tartaglia stopped to give him a chilling smile that said Do not overstep. The recruit let the Harbinger continue on his way. 

As they entered the palace, Zhongli commented, “Your peers seem to respect you greatly.” Of course a general who had always treated his soldiers as equals would think this way, but for Tartaglia, these were his underlings.

“I am an extension of the Tsaritsa, after all.” Emperor Zhongli could likely move mountains in Liyue, but here in Snezhnaya, Tartaglia held more power than him. The thought brought another smile to the Harbinger’s lips.

He ushered Emperor Zhongli through Zapolyarny Palace, so much unsaid between them. Where should they even start? Perhaps the Emperor did not wish to talk at all, after such a long journey. The weather, the weather was safe. “I do hope the weather treats you well, Your Majesty,” Tartaglia kept a side-by-side pace with him, as they walked down maze-like corridors. With every culturally significant statue or mural they passed, Zhongli’s eyes lit up. “It is starting to warm up this time of year.”

“In such good hands, I am sure I will stay more than warm.” Did Emperor Zhongli listen to himself? Did he know what kind of images these words conjured in Tartaglia’s mind? Whether he was playing coy or not, Tartaglia already had more than enough material to visualize that night. 

Reaching the end of the corridor, Tartaglia swung open the conference room door, anticipating the one-on-one tour of Zapolyarny Palace to follow. His face fell when upon entering, La Signora was already awaiting their arrival. He pointedly ignored her presence, attention on Zhongli. “This is where the conference will be held, Your Majesty,” he gestured into the room, a grand court-like hall furnished with a long table. “Over the next few days, if you need anything, I am at your service.”

La Signora cut in, her voice tight: “Thank you, Tartaglia. I can show His Majesty around from here. Why don’t you return to greet the other guests?”

“Oh, nonsense! There was not a carriage in sight when I left the post. I was simply catching up with His Majesty.”

La Signora accepted that she couldn’t shake Tartaglia so easily, and decided to address the Emperor instead: “Emperor Zhongli, we meet again,” La Signora bowed her head respectfully.

And Emperor Zhongli smiled back at her, “Lady Harbinger, a pleasure.”

Tartaglia spluttered. “You’ve met before?”

“Ah, yes,” the Emperor seemed slightly embarrassed, an expression Tartaglia had never seen on him. “We had a courtship meeting years ago, before my marriage.”

Not for the first time in recent memory, Tartaglia was jealous of La Signora. How had she never mentioned this, when they’d attended the Imperial wedding together? There must have been a reason that they didn’t marry the first time, and now this overconfident woman thought it would suddenly work? Tartaglia should not harbor such a desire to curse out a lady, but…

Just then, that bubbly attendant Hu Tao entered and made her presence known: “Can I have a moment, Your Majesty?”

The Emperor smiled, “If you’ll excuse me.”

Tartaglia and La Signora bid him farewell with pleasant smiles of their own, but immediately after the door closed, the two Harbingers were at each other's throats. 

“Are you insane?” La Signora was known for silent rage in favor of raising her voice, but this was the loudest Tartaglia had ever heard her. “You fucked the Emperor of Liyue!”

Tartaglia’s jaw dropped. “Where the hell did you get that from?” If only!

“Did the Emperor fuck you, then?”

“No! There was no fucking!” Someone in the hall probably heard that, but Tartaglia had to match Signora’s tone.

Signora’s expression was a mix of disgust and exasperation. “I feel like it should be a crime to look upon an emperor the way you just did. Do I have to send Pulcinella or Capitano after you? Stay away from him for as long as he’s here—do not intercept my mission, and the door to his chambers is off-limits to you. You know he’s my target!”

“I didn’t know that when I—!”

“When you what?” she snapped. And Tartaglia couldn’t fill in the rest of his sentence.

Pressure mounted in Tartaglia’s forehead, dropping their conversation to a venomous whisper. “Please, I am following Her Majesty’s orders just as you are. But he’s a tough nut to crack. Believe me, I’ve already tried.” His tone alluded to more scandal than had ever occurred.

“Childe,” Using his noble title, that snarky good-for-nothing—“if a man wants you, I can already tell he’d be no good match for me. But as you said, we have our own responsibilities. So don’t get in my way.” The last sentence was seething.

At that moment, the Emperor re-entered, and the two Harbingers donned their civil faces once again. “I apologize,” Zhongli looked between his companions, “Now, where were we?”

“If everything is in order, I will show you to your room,” La Signora simultaneously beamed at Zhongli and sent Tartaglia a warning look, daring him to object. Tartaglia bit the inside of his cheek, hard.

The only positive was the view of Emperor Zhongli as he turned and left. 

 


 

Zhongli had not yet been in Snezhnaya for one hour before he had a headache. Hu Tao talking his ear off the entire carriage ride here was enough to form a migraine, but now another situation had arisen.

Ningguang often said that her husband was oblivious to social cues, but Zhongli was not stupid. He’d seen through La Signora’s flirtations the moment they began. La Signora was respectful (to those on her side), confident, and an incredible businesswoman. Years ago, Zhongli may well have taken her as Empress, had Ningguang not shown up at his door. But no matter how she approached him, Zhongli’s heart would never beat for her, and so he kept her at arms’ length.

That proved difficult, however, when she had looped her arm through his in a noble manner, escorting him to his temporary chambers. “I told the maids to lay out our warmest blankets for you, Your Majesty,” La Signora said. “Naturally, you’re put up in one of our finest rooms. Your suite overlooks all of Snezhnaya.” Indeed, when they arrived at Zhongli’s room, he was pleased by the lavish decor. 

“Now, allow me to finish showing you the palace,” La Signora re-linked her arm with Zhongli’s. She made for pleasant company, but in that smirk, Zhongli detected some ulterior motive. Just like someone else he knew... “This entire wing is lodgings, and this hallway to the right here connects back to the central hall.” 

The Harbinger continued, but Zhongli’s ears focused on something else. A familiar laugh, drawing closer. When he and La Signora rounded the next corner, an excited voice called out: “Yoo-hoo, Emperor Zhongli!”

Mere steps away were Prince Venti and his Knights. After abandoning his title, the boy seemed to be in full vacation mode, his usual regalia swapped for tailored shorts and a silken shirt. He completely overlooked La Signora at Zhongli’s side and kept talking, “It’s been a while! You’re looking well, I must say. We were just doing some exploring, how long have you been here?” 

Just as one headache subsided, another one arose; Zhongli had forgotten the amount of energy stored in the young prince. “Prince Venti, I am well. Perhaps you’ve met La Signora, she was kindly showing me to my quarters.”

“Oh, I’m not ‘Prince’ anymore, remember? Though, I will miss wearing that crown!” He giggled, and Zhongli caught the clench in La Signora’s jaw at his blatant ignorance of her. “Perfect timing. If you have already seen your chambers, then join me and we shall explore!”

Whatever La Signora’s desires may be, she was in no position to deny two Royals. “Of course, Your Majesties, I should return to help prepare for the conference.”

Confronted at this crossroads between a mischievous Prince and flirtatious Harbinger, Zhongli chose the lesser of two evils. “Thank you for your hospitality, Harbinger Signora. I’m sure we shall see each other again soon.” Whether I would like to or not, Zhongli thought. 

Great hesitation was present in La Signora’s eyes as she took her leave, but Zhongli let out a relieved breath. 

Venti continued as if she’d never been there: “I was told that we can request anything we need to our rooms, and I intend to make good on that!” Zhongli did not doubt him for one second. “I’ve been dying to get my hands on some authentic Snezhnayan Fire-Water. Kaeya here has, as well. You’ll have to join us later, old friend!”

Ah, yes, Prince Venti’s incorrigible drinking habit. He often drank wine at formal events, and had started sneaking it outside of events as well, even though he was underage. (“By Old Mondstadt’s rules, one is able to drink alcohol as early as sixteen,” Venti had argued, “and who better to represent Mondstadt’s past than its Prince?”) 

Nevertheless, Zhongli would have to treat him to some Fire-Water for being a scapegoat just then (with supervision, of course).

The Prince’s companions seemed displeased by this, but of course, the former Prince was not done talking just yet. “So, La Signora has taken quite a shine to you! I never much liked her.” Honest as ever. “It’s a good thing she wasn’t the one who let me in this morning. Instead, we got the Eleventh Harbinger, quite the audacious fellow, I can tell Jean was put-off by him.” A blond woman at Venti’s side blanched. “Really, are all of the Tsaritsa’s advisors such bold characters? Might need more of that Fire-Water after all if I am to last a week here!”

There were many facets of Venti’s ramblings to respond to, but Zhongli replied instinctively: “Tartaglia has his merits when you get to know him.”

Tartaglia…” Venti mulled the name over, “Is he not the one who—Huh.” To spend a day in Prince Venti’s head would be a wealth of information. “Well, forgive and forget, right? Let’s go explore! I’m on vacation for the rest of my life!”

One thing Zhongli and Venti could agree on: This would be a long week.

 


 

The Snezhnayan barracks put the sparring grounds of the Millelith to shame, but Zhongli held no desire to re-invest in military facilities now. Snezhnaya’s were a bit excessive, in fact: the training grounds were almost as large as the palace itself, a small amphitheater within. At dawn, soldiers of all factions were already up and training. Some faltered or stalled upon noticing the Emperor, whispering amongst themselves. But one man continued in total concentration. 

Tartaglia had been up for an hour, pretending this training dummy was La Signora. The Harbingers used their own private training area, but Tartaglia prefered the common grounds to brawl with his subordinates. After a particularly good combo, Tartaglia turned around to take a breather—only to find Emperor Zhongli sitting atop a short stone wall. “Your Majesty, what do they say in Fontaine? Dèja vu?” Tartaglia grinned at him.

“Forgive me, I just happened to be walking by,” This time, they both chuckled knowing it was no coincidence.

The Harbinger decided to have some fun, cocking his head toward the center of the sparring circle. “Care to join?” 

To his shock, the pristine emperor summoned a Geo spear and walked toward him. The shock quickly dissolved into pure glee as Tartaglia manifested his own Hydro daggers. 

By then, every Fatui soldier on the grounds that morning had gathered to watch the Harbinger and Emperor interact. Tartaglia shooed them away with one sharp glare and a flick of his hand. “Leave us!” And the area cleared within a minute. Good. He had dreamt of this moment and no voyeuristic soldier would ruin it for Tartaglia. Locking eyes with Zhongli, he proposed, “Shall we?”

Zhongli had been provided a Snezhnayan-style coat to combat the cold. This coat was now shrugged off and cast aside, revealing a lightweight robe. They would both be taking this seriously, then. Tartaglia could no longer contain himself—he slashed his Hydro blade toward the Emperor, and their spar began.

Tartaglia had doubted the validity of every book’s claim that Zhongli was once a ruthless general, unparalleled in battle. But fighting against him, the claim was undeniably true. Zhongli fought with such strength, such power—exactly what Tartaglia sought in an opponent, yet was so rare. 

The Emperor’s polearm moved as an extension of himself, every motion precise yet elegant. Paired against Tartaglia’s sharp and aggressive slashes, their spar made for quite a spectacle. Not once was Tartaglia able to get close to him, his Vision only managing to wet his opponent’s robes and hair (which backfired, proving quite a distraction to the Harbinger). 

When he had sparred against Captain Beidou, their Visions had clashed, sending Electro-charged shock waves through them both. But against a Geo Vision, Tartaglia could only form a shield. Producing his Hydro daggers also consumed an immense amount of energy, so although Tartaglia was having the time of his life, he quickly became exhausted. Across from him, the Emperor had hardly broken a sweat, continuing to dance with his weapon. What a sight. Perhaps he should have let the Fatui recruits stay and take notes on this masterful waltz between the least likely match.

After a few minutes (longer than most spars for Tartaglia) he came to learn Zhongli’s patterns. He would wait for the Emperor to charge his energy into a line of raining spears, then parry and rush back to land the decisive hit. But when this move next came around, the plan did not work in Tartaglia’s favor; In an instant, the tip of Zhongli’s polearm was suspended under Tartaglia’s chin, cool metal brushing his throat with every breath Zhongli took. Under any other condition, Tartaglia would be infuriated. But with Zhongli on the other end of the blade, Tartaglia’s whole body buzzed. “I underestimated you, Your Majesty.” Zhongli could kill him now, yet Tartaglia was smiling wide.

The Emperor’s eyes glinted. His gaze did not leave Tartaglia’s as he slowly lowered the weapon. They stood for a moment, one spear’s length apart. For Zhongli, every victory must be balanced with a reward. And the Emperor already had one in mind: “I believe you promised me a tour?”

In addition to his prowess in battle, the rumors of Emperor Zhongli’s impeccable memory were true; such a promise had been made on Tartaglia’s very first day in Liyue. And he would happily make good on it: “Give me fifteen minutes to freshen up and I’ll show you the whole city.”

Of course, the moment Tartaglia left the barracks he came upon a crowd of Fatui who had been spying on the skirmish. He singled one out, a ranked agent who often worked under Tartaglia. “If anyone questions you, you were on a mission with me for all of today. Understood?” 

All the men got the message, and the agent answered, “Yes, Lord Harbinger.”

Perfect. As Tartaglia hurried back to his chambers, the line of Fatui recruits stared after him. Let them stare, he thought. They’ll learn a thing or two, like who is truly in the Emperor’s favor.

 


 

The sea was where Beidou belonged. Since she’d learned how to walk, her legs had felt more sure on water than on land. No matter whose territory she sailed in, ask anyone in Teyvat and they would answer that Beidou was the queen of the seas. 

But not everyone felt so comfortable on the water, and thus, something was missing whenever Beidou was at sea. If Empress Ningguang could somehow live with the Crux forever, Beidou would never need to set foot on land again.

A trunk in Beidou’s quarters housed over one hundred letters addressed to the Empress. These letters told of the weather at sea, the funny happenings of her crew, and any remarkable adventures. None of these letters had been sent; Beidou did not need to, for just thinking of Ningguang as she wrote was enough to combat lonely nights. Every time her crew stumbled upon a bountiful treasure, Beidou always saved at least one precious jewel or gold accessory for her lady. 

Needless to say, stories of sailors missing their wives were as plentiful as fish in the sea, but none amounted to the ache in Beidou’s heart.

After three weeks in Sumeru, the Crux had been tipped off to a treasure buried in a cove near Natlan. Whether they needed to stock up on rations or not, Beidou had immediately suggested heading back to Liyue to unload their haul. This time, she definitely did not send a letter to let the Empress know. It would be a surprise.

The anchor had just landed in Liyue Harbor and the Captain was already bidding her crew farewell. Beidou glanced around for her most trusted crew member. “Kazuha, you’re in charge.” And no sooner had the samurai nodded than Beidou rushed off the ship, one objective in mind.

On her way to the palace, the children who played in the Harbor called out happily to Beidou: “Captain Beidou! Did you fight a sea monster this time? Come play a game of Pirates with us!”

And Beidou took Little Lulu up and spun her around. “Ah, no sea monsters this time, kids. Listen, I have somewhere important to be, okay? But when I come back, we can play Pirates together!”

“Yay!” the children cheered, and Little Meng spoke up, “Will you bring Miss Empress to play with us and give us candy?”

Beidou let out a hearty laugh. “No promises!” And she continued off to see her love once again.

She had not yet reached the palace gates before the silhouette of Lady Ningguang appeared in a flash of white and gold, running to meet Beidou halfway. The Millelith be damned, Beidou swept her Lady into an embrace. Oh, how she longed to kiss those red lips once more, if only they were not outdoors. “I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the Alcor in the distance,” the Empress whispered into her hair. “How are you here?”

“Well, I came by boat,” Beidou grinned.

At this, the Empress batted her arm. “I meant, you weren’t supposed to return for over a week. Did something happen?” She began walking, and Beidou blindly followed her back into the palace. 

“We’re changing course for Natlan. My crew is rotating supplies as we speak.”

The Empress walked with the urgency of a woman who hadn’t seen her lover in over a month. “And here I thought you had gotten yourself into trouble.”

“Aw, I know you’ll always bail me out! And about that, a fine might show up on your desk soon.” Unfortunately, Beidou was not joking.

Ningguang would be angry about that later. Now out of sight from any watchful eye, she pulled the captain in for an overdue kiss. 

And Beidou returned the kiss just as eagerly, the electric buzz beneath her skin not resulting from her Vision. This was coming home.

Never one to waste a moment, the Empress began towing Beidou to her chambers, eliciting a laugh from the privateer. “Woah, slow down, my dear. As much as I would love to continue, I promised the kids in the harbor a game of Pirates.” Disappointment briefly registered on Ningguang’s face, which Beidou mirrored. Fortunately, they would have plenty of time all to themselves, later. “And they’re expecting candy. Can Your Majesty spare a moment for this humble subject in your busy schedule?” she teased.

“Normally, I would be having tea with Zhongli right now,” Ningguang answered, “so I suppose I can squeeze you in.”

And Beidou looped her arm around the other woman’s waist as they began. “Ah, Her Majesty is so generous. And speaking of, has Zhongli arrived in Liyue yet? I hope he has as much fun there as we will here.”

Ningguang rolled her eyes. “He should have arrived by now. Believe me, I gave him my blessing before he left.”

(Truly, the conversation had gone as follows: 

“Permission to commit adultery, My Lady?”

“Zhongli, I have been cheating on you for our entire marriage. Do as you like.”)

Picturing such a work-oriented man as Zhongli letting loose with that bloodthirsty diplomat she’d fought against was enough to make Beidou laugh. It was always the strictest people… good for him.

Of course, Beidou could not keep herself attached to the Empress as they drew closer to the harbor. Citizens marveled at their Empress as she passed, and she greeted them in turn. All looked upon her in reverence, except the children in the Harbor. As soon as those kids caught sight of the two women, they cheered in excitement and tugged on Ningguang’s long sleeves. “Miss Empress is here! She really came!” Little Lulu’s eyes lit up. Out of all the children, she admired Ningguang the most, swearing that when she grew up, she would be either a pirate or an Empress.

Ningguang knelt, retrieving the promised candy. “Of course, I hear you’re ready for a game of Pirates.”

The children grinned. “Yes! You can be the damsel in distress, and Miss Captain Beidou can be the bad pirate who kidnapped you. And we’ll be the good pirates who come to rescue you!” Clearly, they had been planning this. 

The two women shared a fond look, and Beidou assumed her position on the boat behind them, owned by one of the children’s fathers. 

As the game of Pirates began, most passersby continued with their business, but some lingered to watch the Empress. From Beidou’s standpoint, Ningguang was an absolute ray of light among the wooden crates and tethered boats surrounding them. She played right along as the children ran up to her with cries of, “Pretty damsel! We’ll set you free from this evil pirate!”

“Oh thank you, brave pirates!” Ningguang’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, “Save me, that dirty evil pirate captain should be returning soon.”

Beidou looked on from the ship, warmth blooming in her heart. Even before they were officially together, when they had fallen into a sort of business-acquaintances-with-benefits arrangement, Beidou knew that this was it for her. She would live and die with Ningguang at the center of her thoughts. 

Resuming her role, Beidou shouted to them: “Hey, unhand my damsel! I captured her fair and square, and I’ll never let her go!”

The children screamed and ran about. Beidou tried to sweep Ningguang off her feet and steal her away, but the Empress quickly broke character to shoot Beidou an icy glare. Nevertheless, she returned to Beidou’s “ship” with her, and the children regrouped to plan their next move.

So quickly that no one else would notice, Beidou touched the Empress’s waist. “You would make an amazing mother,” the words left Beidou’s mouth with little thought.

“Oh, please,” Ningguang brushed it off, but her cheeks flushed all the same. “I’m too strict and overbearing.”

Beidou had thought about this before. “That’s why I’d be the fun mom.” They balanced each other like that, and Beidou had imagined countless times how life would be with a child between them.

“You? You want children?” She did not try to filter her shock.

And Beidou answered honestly: “What, is that so surprising? We both love kids.” She spoke as if it were obvious, simple.

“Beidou, you know we can’t…”

Always the rational one. “But I can still imagine it. I can still want it.”

The pair were brought out of their fantasy by the children, yelling and charging at Beidou with imaginary swords. Rising to the occasion, Beidou sprung past the Empress and attacked with an air-sword of her own. 

Looking back, she shared a moment with Ningguang. With so many watchful eyes on them, Beidou could never shout her love for this woman at the top of her lungs. For now, a simple glance conveyed everything Beidou had to say.

 


 

When Tartaglia first joined the Fatui, he would often sneak out of the Palace to visit his family, attend local festivals, or go fishing. The Tsaritsa would always find out about it, because Scaramouche would rat him out. But Scaramouche was not here now, and Tartaglia felt like he was fifteen again.

This time, sneaking himself and Emperor Zhongli past the Palace walls was hardly a challenge. “Could we not have exited from the front gates?” Of course, Zhongli already figured him out as they glided from a watchtower down over the palace walls. 

Tartaglia called to him above the wind: “A little adventure makes everything more exciting!”

And this way, there was no chance of La Signora finding out about their little tryst.

Soon, the two men had left the palace grounds and were headed toward the city center. “Your Majesty,” Tartaglia began, “I am honored that you would spend some of your day off with me. You didn’t have any other plans?”

“I have not had a day to relax as I please in some years,” the Emperor took a breath, as if savoring the crisp morning air. “Many of the conference attendees will want to enjoy Snezhnaya before it begins tomorrow. I’d considered taking my treasurer out to explore a bit, but I’m sure she’ll find a way to entertain herself.”

(Meanwhile, Hu Tao had just woken up and began searching everywhere for the Emperor in vain.)

Zhongli had given Tartaglia free rein over this tour, and the Harbinger planned to make it a damn good one. As Snezhnaya was the City of Love, most tourists came in pairs, expecting the perfect romantic outing with a loved one. 

Tartaglia never had that luxury. Everyone knew him in this city. He and Zhongli had barely entered the main pedestrian district when people began calling out to him in greeting (and likely out of fear).

“You are quite the celebrity,” Zhongli remarked next to him.

Tartaglia laughed, “If only they knew who I’m with right now!”

First, Tartaglia led the Emperor to the local silversmith. When he had first gifted Zhongli that silver tea tray from this shop, he’d imagined taking Zhongli here in person. Now that it was a reality, Tartaglia strode confidently into the smithy as if he owned the place. Upon entering, Zhongli’s eyes sparkled like a child’s at all the fine craftsmanship around them.

“Good morning, Lord Harbinger!” The owner came around to the entrance, “Have you come to pick up some items for Her Majesty?”

Tartaglia looked over to Zhongli, more than proud, “Not today, I’m just here for pleasure.”

At that point, the silversmith noticed Zhongli and exclaimed, “Oh, you’ve brought a friend!”

Could they call themselves friends? Tartaglia thought not, but Zhongli surprised him as always: “Harbinger Tartaglia is kind enough to show me around today. I am from Liyue.”

From Liyue’ was quite the understatement.

“Oh, do take a look around! I’ll be in the foundry if you need anything.”

Even for Tartaglia, who was a frequent customer here, the inventory was impressive. Shelves upon shelves were stocked full with shining silver cookware, glass cases lined with fine jewelry. Zhongli inspected every item as not to miss any detail, clearly overwhelmed. “The tray you gifted me was crafted here?”

“Of course, this is the finest workmanship in the region. I don’t expect you to use it—I’m sure you have a favorite tray already—but if you do, you’ll notice it never tarnishes or loses detail.”

Zhongli leaned in to view a set of spreading knives and casually admitted, “I have noticed. I use it every day.”

Unable to speak, Tartaglia stared absently at the reflection of silver in Zhongli’s eyes. 

Taking his time, Zhongli examined every product as if they had all day. And Tartaglia was more than happy to let him be, finding bizarre delight in the Emperor’s excitement. Eventually, Zhongli stalled in front of a jewelry case in interest. Tartaglia looked for himself; in a cluster of jewelry was a magnificent dangling earring. “That earring would suit you well,” he said without much thought.

Zhongli looked back at him with a small smile, not knowing how his next words would twist Tartaglia’s stomach: “You do have fine taste. But I am considering purchasing that brooch for my wife, as she could not be here.”

Right when Tartaglia forgot about the Empress for one moment, she popped back up again. “She is very lucky to have you as a husband,” he forced out. 

The owner came back out then, happily opening the case for his customers. “How much do I owe you?” Zhongli asked.

The owner smiled, “This brooch is one-of-a-kind,” Here he goes again with the salesman schtick, Tartaglia thought, “Very beautiful, your wife is sure to show her appreciation, you know what I mean?” Zhongli looked a bit put-off at that. “And you are a new customer, but Lord Harbinger has brought us good business for years. So consider this brooch a welcome gift, on the house!”

Tartaglia gaped. It was true that you could get anything with a pretty face! The next time he picked an order up for the Tsaritsa, Tartaglia would have to give this man a tip for making him look good. 

With Zhongli glowing from inside out like this, the day was already a success.

After exiting the silversmithy, the next order of business was to get some food. Normally if Tartaglia were trying to impress a client, he would take them to Snezhnaya’s finest restaurant or eat within the palace itself. But today, he took Zhongli to a local food stand that reminded Tartaglia of his mother’s cooking in Morepesok. 

“Welcome, Lord Harbinger!” The owners knew him here, and better than most. While most merchants were kind to Tartaglia out of fear, these humble owners often found themselves on the other side of Tartaglia’s generous tips. Thus, his arrival was treated like a god had just descended. 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Petrov,” Tartaglia flashed the old woman a smile, “Table for two, please.”

“Oh, my,” she came closer to examine Zhongli, “Where did you get such a handsome friend, young man? Or perhaps you aren’t here on business?” Mrs. Petrov winked at him and nudged his side, something few people could get away with. The flushing of Tartaglia’s cheeks said it all. “Oh, finally my favorite customer has brought someone special!”

“Please, Mrs. Petrov,” Tartaglia cleared his throat and did not dare to look Zhongli in the eye. Perhaps he should reveal Zhongli’s identity and see how she changed her tune!

The owner let up. “Alright, I’ll leave it to your mother to embarrass you! How is she, by the way? You know, the last time your mother came in here was when…” her teasing spiraled into a ramble, which Tartaglia was thankful for, and he and Zhongli soon sat at an isolated table. 

Naturally, Tartaglia ordered all the most delicious dishes on the menu, which quickly cluttered their table in an intimate feast. Fortunately, this time Tartaglia was able to avoid the embarrassment of being clumsy with chopsticks. While they ate, Zhongli noted, “The locals get along with you quite well. I did not expect someone of your caliber to support such small businesses.”

“I suppose so,” Tartaglia mused. He’d never thought about it. “The other Harbingers don’t get out much, so on top of all my other duties, I’m also an errand boy,” he laughed.

“You come here with your family?” Zhongli questioned.

Their knees touched under the table. “Yes, whenever they’re in town.”

“Tell me about them,” It was not a command, genuine curiosity in Zhongli’s tone. 

“Ah, not much to tell, really. I’m originally from Morepesok, it’s a fishing village not too far from here. My parents and younger siblings come to visit sometimes.” When had Tartaglia last told anyone about his family? “My older siblings are moved out by now, but we’re still close, too.” With all this food on the table, Tartaglia was reminded of sitting next to Zhongli at that dinner in Liyue. But this was different; this was unusually comfortable, like a casual dinner between two close friends (or lovers, he did not think). 

Tartaglia technically had a noble title, and had been trained for years on how to navigate over-the-top socialite events. This—sitting in a hole-in-the-wall and talking with Zhongli—he was not prepared for.

It was a learning curve that Tartaglia would eagerly attack, and he did so as Zhongli 

“Let me refill your drinks, boys!” Mrs. Petrov did so before either man could respond. “How is everything tasting?”

Zhongli spoke: “Everything is wonderful, Miss. The fowl is perfectly cooked and seasoned. You run a fine establishment.”

She pretended to swoon. “Not only is he handsome, but he’s polite, too! Just where did you find such a catch, Lord Harbinger?” 

That’s the Emperor of Liyue you’re speaking to! “Oh, you’d never believe!” He laughed as if it was a joke. “And Mrs. Petrov, the check goes to me, please.” 

Zhongli furrowed his brow, “Tartaglia, I am capable of paying for myself.” Mrs. Petrov slinked away from the quarrel, which she found to be quite romantic.

“I wasn’t implying otherwise. You are a guest! It’s my treat.”

Zhongli sighed and began combing through his pockets, “I assure you, I would be happy to split the cost. Perhaps this is customary in Snezhnaya, but—” 

Tartaglia waited for him to continue, but it did not come. “But…?”

“Ah. It appears as though I have become reliant on the assistance of my treasurer or Xiao. They typically carry a wallet for me. But without them, today I…”

He trailed off again, but Tartaglia caught his meaning. Was Liyue not known for their riches? Tartaglia nearly laughed at the Emperor! “So yes, the check is all mine?”

And Zhongli nodded reluctantly. 

“It’s good that you got that brooch for free earlier!” Without thinking, Tartaglia reached out and placed his hand lightly over Zhongli’s arm.

They looked at each other for a moment, something indecipherable in Zhongli’s eyes as he said, “Indeed.”

The sudden urge to get out of there crawled up Tartaglia’s body, and as soon as the check was brought out, he quickly dumped a sum of Mora on the table, with enough for a tip that made Zhongli do a double-take.

“Let me take you somewhere,” Tartaglia’s suggestion came with vigor in his eyes, and soon the two were back in the cold city air. 

In Liyue, the sun set when the day’s activities were done. But this far north in Snezhnaya, the early sunset meant the day was just starting for many; the night life opened a whole new city to explore. This hour was the perfect time to catch the sunset from one of Tartaglia’s favorite spots, a cliff overlooking the frozen sea. 

Zhongli followed close behind on the way there, his shoulder often bumping into Tartaglia’s. Even in this low temperature, he radiated warmth.

When the cliff came into view, golden light enveloped the mem. A wide view spanned in front of them, as if they could see the entire world from here. The tourists who came to Snezhnaya for romance did not know of this place. But if this cliff had not been a special spot for Tartaglia before, it certainly was now.

“Have you been enjoying yourself, Your Majesty?” 

A soft smile played at Zhongli’s lips. “Immensely. Snezhnayan hospitality is truly as they say.”

Zhongli always knew exactly the right line, exactly how to sate someone’s curiosity. Tartaglia wanted nothing more than to get under his skin, see what he was really thinking. “I am honored to be the one to show you my city. And I am pleased to meet you again after these months.”

“Likewise,” Zhongli looked directly into his eyes.

At this exchange, an unknown feeling washed over Tartaglia. He acted on instinct, reaching out for the Emperor’s gloved hand.

The Harbinger possessed a warrior’s body; his control and precision was second-to-none. And yet, now his own hand trembled slightly as he brought the Emperor’s up. Reverently, just as he had before leaving Liyue months ago, Tartaglia pressed his lips to the Emperor’s insignia ring. This time, his lips lingered as Tartaglia wondered how that soft skin would feel beneath the glove. He intended to release Zhongli’s hold, but became fixated on the proximity between them. At some point, the two had drifted past the courteous barrier always maintained between them, giving into the gravitational pull Tartaglia had resisted for so long. 

After leaving Liyue, Tartaglia had believed he would never see Zhongli again. And now, the man stood in front of him, so close that Tartaglia could smell his faint floral perfume. In this golden light, Tartaglia was wholly intoxicated. 

“Tartaglia,” Rather than offended or harsh, Zhongli’s voice came out in a gentle breath. The weight held in his own name sent a dizzy rush to Tartaglia’s head. Still holding Zhongli’s hand, Tartaglia’s other hand came to rest on the Emperor’s slim waist. And Zhongli responded in turn, gripping Tartaglia’s arm that held him.

Warm breath fanned across Tartaglia’s cheek, and amber eyes caught on the Harbinger’s parted lips. There was only a couple centimeters’ difference in height between them, in Tartaglia’s favor, and as he leaned in his nose brushed Zhongli’s cheek.

His soul screamed give in, be selfish, but resistance had been ingrained in Tartaglia for years. As his mind wrestled with itself, Zhongli stayed steady, thumb moving in circles against Tartaglia’s forearm. Zhongli was waiting for him. 

If Tartaglia were a normal man, he would have swept Zhongli up into dazed kisses. But a tugging at the back of his brain brought the Harbinger to reality once more: “Do not fail me.” “You know he’s my target!”

The women’s voices bounced to the forefront of Tartaglia’s thoughts, and like he’d been branded, he snapped out of the Emperor’s orbit. “Your Majesty,” his voice was hoarse, “Excuse my behavior. I never did learn the concept of boundaries.”

Zhongli cleared his throat, expression unreadable. After a moment, he spoke: “The sun will soon set. We should return to the palace.”

Although Tartaglia was the one who had turned away, Zhongli’s words came like a physical slap across his face. In his mind, Tartaglia had foolishly imagined watching the sunset together, walking around the night market, and sealing the night with a kiss. Such a plan was impossible from the start; no matter what direction his heart moved in, Tartaglia would force it to beat only for the Tsaritsa.

He swallowed, voice thick and professional. “Of course. Allow me to escort you back.”

Between the quiet walk back to Zapolyarny Palace and parting ways with the Emperor, Tartaglia had accepted that the swelling in his heart was there to stay. Of course. Of course it had to be the fucking Emperor of Liyue to weaken Tartaglia’s borders, to pry open a part of him that Tartaglia had never tapped into himself. Even the most steadfast restraint couldn’t prevent his heart from wavering. 

He did not walk Zhongli back to his quarters; after they’d snuck back in through the kitchen staff’s entrance, Tartaglia had bid the Emperor goodnight with a civil bow. He couldn’t even look Zhongli in the eye as the other man said goodnight to him as well. 

As Tartaglia was about to reach his own quarters, he heard the familiar click of heels behind him. “Childe.”

“La Signora,” he did not even have to turn around to know who had arrived. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She rolled her eyes, “I haven’t seen or heard of you all day, and now you’ve shown up later than usual…”

Of course she wouldn’t hide her suspicion. “What can I say, I had a debt to collect and it took longer than expected.”

“And you wouldn’t happen to know anything about Emperor Zhongli’s whereabouts?”

Tartaglia doubled down on his innocence. “Oh, he was out today, too? No doubt everyone is enjoying Snezhnaya before the conference starts.”

La Signora’s expression hardened. “If I find out you’re lying to me, there will be consequences.”

And he knew she wasn’t bluffing. “You can ask my men if you’d like.” Then, just to be an ass, “If you couldn’t find His Majesty all day, maybe he was avoiding you.”

La Signora dropped all formalities, snarling, “If you fell for him, you’re more stupid than I thought!”

Tartaglia simply laughed and opened the door to his room. “Have a good night, Signora.” He closed the door before she could get another word in.

In the privacy of his room, Tartaglia’s thoughts once again drifted to golden eyes, to how close they had been. 

Don't underestimate my stupidity.

Notes:

the longest chapter yet! lots of important things happening in this chapter, so i didn't cut it short :) this is mainly from tartaglia's pov, and next chapter is mainly from zhongli's! (with beigguang too ofc)
i may be saying this with every update, but sorry for the long-overdue update once again. since posting the last chapter i've started my new job, got a teaching cert, am trying to move back to japan, and my laptop officially breathed its last breath. because of that, this is the first time in all my years that i've ever uploaded a fic on mobile, so i hope everything looks normal 😖
as always, feedback is appreciated! i love hearing your theories in the comments hehe some of you are smart cookies 👀 also, are the "previous chapter refreshers" at the beginning helpful at all? thanks for reading mwah 😚
twt: @melecslol

Chapter 6: The Emperor's New Clothes

Summary:

PREVIOUS CHAPTER REFRESHER: Guests for the Leaders’ Conference begin arriving in Snezhnaya, with the Tsaritsa displeased that Tartaglia had failed to seduce Empress Ningguang. La Signora’s duty is now to seduce Zhongli instead. Despite being told to stay away, Tartaglia reunites with Zhongli and takes him around the city, unable to deny his attraction any longer. Meanwhile in Liyue, Beidou returns briefly and imagines a future family with Ningguang.

Notes:

rating went up this chapter! nsfw content ahead, and warning for a very brief past abuse mention.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Wakey-wakey!” 

Possibly the least pleasant wake-up call of Zhongli's life, Hu Tao stood over the previously-sleeping Emperor. She’d fashioned a thick paper sheet into a makeshift megaphone, and appeared quite pleased with Zhongli’s drowsy mannerisms. “Morning, Your Majesty! Wow, your hair is funny right now.”

The Emperor’s first coherent thought that morning was, “I should have brought Miss Yanfei instead.”

“Good morning, Hu Tao. Is there any particular reason why you are in my chambers?” How did she even get in?

“It’s almost time for the conference, of course! Besides, I haven’t seen you in a while. You were M.I.A yesterday, what happened? Fortunately, Prince Venti invited me to go ice skating with his knights.”

Zhongli’s sleep-addled brain struggled with the onslaught of information. Most worrying was the prospect that Venti and Hu Tao could possibly be friends now. In addition, the ever-reliable emperor had forgotten the most important leadership conference of the year. “Ah, apologies if you were looking for me yesterday. Harbinger Tartaglia was kind enough to take me around the city, and we lost track of time.”

Perhaps he should not have told the truth to his treasurer; the girl made a scandalized noise, grinning, “Your Majesty! I knew there was something going on right when he greeted you at the palace gates!”

Feeling restless, Zhongli sat up and took a sip of water from the nightstand. “Nonsense, Hu Tao. There is nothing between us.” Tartaglia had made that more than clear last night. As soon as he remembered this, emotions flooded back to Zhongli and his stomach twisted. They had been so close to getting what they both desperately needed, only to have it denied. Despite this, Zhongli was not angry with Tartaglia. “And did you forget I am married to your Empress?”

“Oh, please,” Hu Tao scoffed, “I have eyes! Her Majesty is so enamored with Captain Beidou it makes me sick. I only asked Miss Ganyu and her face confirmed it for me. That girl cannot lie.”

There was no use in denying it. Zhongli sighed. “Hu Tao, please leave me so that I may prepare for the conference.”

The girl winked, “Will do, Boss!”

At the top of the next hour, the Teyvat Leaders’ Conference began. Representatives from all nations lined the long conference table, with the Tsaritsa herself at its head. Reporters sat around the room, already scribbling down notes despite nothing happening. And with an opening address from the Tsaritsa, the first five hours of political discussion began.

The most pressing topic of conversation was the Chasm. As the Chasm bordered multiple nations, multiple leaders including Zhongli were responsible for its status. While Zhongli had previously voted in favor of closing the Chasm due to safety concerns, the number of jobs lost would change his vote this time. 

This matter alone would be enough for an entire day of discussion, but all were in agreement. The conference moved on thusly, expanding upon the trade agreement of Liyue and Snezhnaya to include more nations. In all topics, the Tsaritsa shined as a formidable negotiator. It was said that the Tsaritsa desired the most power in Teyvat, and Zhongli thought she could achieve it. 

Of course, the topic of trade brought the Raiden Shogun into question. As Inazuma’s leader, she had adamantly closed her borders in the past year and refused to open up. No one understood her motives. Many wondered why she bothered to attend this year’s conference at all. To everyone’s surprise, however, the Raiden Shogun targeted Zhongli:

“Emperor Zhongli, I have heard that the sailors and merchants of Liyue are interested in revitalizing trade with Inazuma. I am also interested in re-opening our borders to you for those who have the correct permits,” the Raiden Shogun answered calmly. And as expected, she knew that Zhongli wouldn’t settle for a one-sided deal. “In exchange, you are to put forward any citizens of Inazuma illegally seeking asylum in your nation.”

Zhongli clenched his jaw. There were two people this applied to, one of which Zhongli had been in contact with before. That young man was who the Raiden Shogun was targeting; not only had Kaedehara Kazuha fled to Liyue, but his head fetched a pretty price in Inazuma. 

Fortunately, Advisor Yanfei had briefed Zhongli on this very situation: “According to public record, a male citizen of Inazuma, one Kaedehara Kazuha, is no longer a citizen via official exile on your behalf. Furthermore, he has not sought asylum within Liyue, as his particular affiliation does not fall within our domain.” Captain Beidou dabbled in legally dubious business, but such ambiguity came in handy at times like these. “As for a female merchant from your nation named Atsuko, you will find that she has been actively continuing business within Inazuma under a license. Therefore, it is illogical to assume that she has sought asylum in Liyue.” This was also a loophole; the ‘Atsuko’ in Inazuma was the fabrication of a bake-danuki, while the real Atsuko resided safely in Liyue under a new license.

Maintaining her porcelain exterior, the Raiden Shogun did not let her frustration show. “My embassy takes matters of illegal emigration very seriously. Be assured that we will investigate this situation, and only then will we move forward with a trade negotiation.” And Zhongli did not doubt her for one moment. He’d known her for years; undoubtedly, the level-headed Shogun had her own motives, but perhaps the consequences would do more harm than good...

Although the Raiden Shogun may have been done with the discussion, the Queen of Fontaine was not. “If I may, Raiden Shogun—citizens of Fontaine who arrived in Inazuma before the borders were closed are now stuck there, and without proper documentation to leave your island of Ritou. Should those citizens of my nation not be allowed to return home?”

Other leaders chimed in, agreeing. Zhongli had heard this as well, tales of merchants stranded indefinitely on Ritou. Within a few minutes, it was every other leader against the Raiden Shogun. The Tsaritsa was marked as an exception, acting more as an overseer than a participant. Inazuma and Snezhnaya clearly had some sort of alliance, but its extent was unknown. The Shogun just bore the frustration of others, unmoving in her stance.

This went on for five hours. Every international dispute was debated, until even Zhongli had trouble keeping up. 

After the war ended (and with it, Zhongli’s duties as a general), Zhongli had devoted his life to diplomacy. He’d endured countless meetings such as this, and had attended this very conference for the past eight years. This time, Hu Tao’s presence proved to be his saving grace. Despite how irritating his treasurer could be, she was always prepared for a thorough discussion. 

And today, Zhongli was distracted.

While a couple of the Harbingers looked on from the raised seating around the table, Tartaglia was nowhere to be seen. His lacking presence picked at the back of Zhongli’s mind throughout the entire conference. His usual knack for politics was no duller, but Zhongli’s whole heart was not there. Then again, he’d never had someone on his mind before.

The first day of the conference wound down naturally, with some leaders lacking stamina to pay close attention for so long. (Namely, Prince Venti, although his knights seemed more than capable of taking over for him). Immediately after the Tsaritsa delivered some closing remarks, both Hu Tao and Venti dashed out of the room. Zhongli did not blame them; those two were much younger than he, and even Zhongli became restless at events like these. He began making his way out of the room as well, but was stopped: “Emperor Zhongli, good afternoon.”

Zhongli took a breath before facing the woman. “Ah, La Signora. How are you enjoying the conference so far?” She had been sitting among the journalists, and Zhongli had caught her staring more than once, but had paid her no mind. 

“Riveting.” He could not tell if she was being serious or not. “You carry yourself well, Your Majesty. I found myself hanging on every word.”

“Surely you exaggerate,” Zhongli chuckled.

“The opposite,” she wore a smirk on her red lips that he did not trust, “In fact, I would like to further discuss some matters with you. Care to join me in the courtyard?”

Out of his periphery, Zhongli saw other guests lingering still. Among them was the Tsaritsa, and her watchful eye on him and La Signora was no coincidence. “It would be my pleasure, Madame.”

As with his initial arrival in Snezhnaya, La Signora linked her arm through his and escorted him to the courtyard. “So, how did you spend yesterday? I hope you got to relax a bit before the conference.”

“Like many others here, I got out and explored Snezhnaya. What a lovely city, and such friendly people.”

The true nature of her question was then revealed: “I am glad to hear that. Did Harbinger Tartaglia happen to be with you?”

Something in her tone made him lie, “Harbinger Tartaglia? No, I was only with my treasurer. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” At this point, the two had reached the courtyard. Compared to Liyue’s gardens, the courtyard of Zapolyarny Palace was quite barren. Only winter-weather shrubs decorated the courtyard, with few flowers. A fountain lay in the middle, a famous gift from Fontaine. 

La Signora took a seat on a stone bench, and invited Zhongli to do the same. She cut right to the chase, a true subject of the Tsaritsa: “Today you witnessed Snezhnayan diplomacy in action,” she began, “How did you find our policies?”

“Snezhnaya has always shown its adeptness in the international playing field, and today was no exception, of course.” Anyone could say this and it would be true; Snezhnaya had earned its reputation over centuries, with no room for argument. 

 La Signora made a pleased noise. “What a compliment, coming from such a prolific leader. You and I see eye-to-eye on a number of fronts, I believe. We are both focused on the greater good.” Whether that was true or not, Zhongli was not sure that Snezhnaya’s “greater good” aligned with Liyue’s.

“I appreciate your interest in my politics,” Zhongli said, “Your Tsaritsa is also a fascinating guest at conferences such as these.” Especially with the cast of characters that were the Harbingers carrying out her every decree, the Tsaritsa had long been a figure to watch among other leaders. She had her hand in every pot at once, yet no-one knew her ultimate goal.

“As you may know,” La Signora said, “the Harbingers are quite an elusive group. Hardly anyone knows what we look like, even within Snezhnaya. But for you, Your Majesty, of course we want to work closely with you. I’d like to propose something.”

“I am listening.”

La Signora’s smile widened, but still did not touch her eyes. “I have spoken with My Lady the Tsaritsa. We agree that we would like to have a direct form of contact with you. And I would be honored to act as this connection. There can be regular correspondence between you and I. This would, of course, be beneficial to us both. The Harbingers have outlets in all seven nations, after all. If you and I are speaking regularly, you will know all international affairs as soon as I do myself.” She paused, likely trying to gauge Zhongli’s reaction. After a moment, she continued, “This would be a most sacred duty of mine. We would work well together, Your Majesty. Very well.”

She had slowly leaned into Zhongli’s space, drawing one metal-tipped nail down the thick fabric of his coat.

He knew of her past, and had known since their courtship meeting over three years ago. Before La Signora had become a Harbinger, she was a woman in love with a knight. At the height of her abilities as a mage, this knight had died. The once-gentle and good-hearted mage then hardened into the distant, dangerous woman she was today. In truth, Zhongli pitied her.

“I am very interested in your proposal, Lady Harbinger,” Then, leaving no room for misinterpretation, “When I return to Liyue, I shall consult with my wife.”

The woman’s jaw locked. “Very well. I look forward to working with you.” They both knew this conversation was over, yet La Signora attempted to revitalize it. “Now, do you have plans for the rest of the night? You are always welcome to attend the nightly dinners we host for our guests.”

Zhongli mustered his most polite smile. “I appreciate the offer. My treasurer and I are in search of local restaurants tonight, but perhaps another day. Until then, I shall enjoy some free time.” Perhaps Hu Tao would not take kindly to being used as a scapegoat, but Zhongli had no issue with this white lie. 

Her expression shifted into something almost sinister. “Oh, I just assumed… Childe will be there, Harbinger Tartaglia. You two seemed well-acquainted.”

“That we are.” The Emperor elaborated no more, becoming distracted by his own thoughts. Although, he was suspicious of La Signora mentioning Tartaglia yet again. “Well, Lady Harbinger, if there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.” And he stood. The way Zhongli carried himself, even his most dismissive actions would come off as polite and considerate.  

La Signora rose as well. “I would be happy to accompany you to your next destination.” Zhongli had to commend her last-ditch effort.

“That won’t be necessary,” Zhongli said, “for I do not know exactly where I am going.” 

As if the hallway would provide some fresh air, Zhongli moved swiftly, leaving La Signora alone in the courtyard. The careful royal persona that Zhongli always embodied was inexplicably blurred in his heart, his breathing heavier, footsteps rushed.

With his treasurer nowhere to be found and no pressing responsibilities looming over him, Zhongli was at a loss for what to do. Free time had not been part of his routine for many years, since before Zhongli became a general. Every spare moment could be used productively, through business meetings or reviewing grievances of his people. Ningguang, however, had taught Zhongli that leisure time could be quite enjoyable; he understood this with every moment she and Beidou were together. And this balance between work and leisure perhaps contributed to her abilities as a businesswoman. 

Yesterday, Zhongli had been absolutely spoiled with the free time that was handed to him. Now with a few hours left until dusk, a sudden desire possessed Zhongli, and he began searching. Maybe he had been searching since the moment he left the courtyard.

A few empty rooms yielded no results, but Zhongli continued. His search did not last long—Tartaglia stood in the main conference room, mulling over some papers. Other Fatui were rearranging furniture or clearing beverage trays, yet Tartaglia immediately caught the Emperor’s eye. Engrossed in his work, the Harbinger did not look up as Zhongli approached. Only when he addressed the man by name did he pay any attention: “Ambassador Tartaglia.” 

“Your Majesty!” Tartaglia startled, “You snuck up on me. How may I be of service?” 

From those few sentences alone, Zhongli could sense the change. Something was thicker between them, more stilted. It was like their first meeting all over again, yet when they’d last seen each other, Zhongli had nearly kissed the man. “I simply noticed you’ve been working hard,” Zhongli said, “Perhaps you’d like to join me for tea tonight?” There was nothing flowery about the offer, no lead-up. He did not pretend to have any motive besides propositioning the man; this was something he had to do in that moment.

Tartaglia’s eyes widened briefly, but he answered, “Yes, I’d like that,” like the offer would expire if he took too long.

“Perfect. Please come to my quarters at your earliest convenience, then.”

At that, Tartaglia hesitated. A silent battle waged itself in the Harbinger’s head that he could not conceal. After a long pause, he answered, “I’ll be there.”

 


 

Xiao had never much cared for Captain Beidou; his loyalty to the Emperor extended to the Empress by association, and Captain Beidou clearly did not respect the Empress’s wishes. For years, he’d watched those two bicker to a headache-inducing point. And each time, Ganyu would make up some excuse for her and Xiao to leave them be. This annoyed Xiao even more—shouldn’t he remain there to protect the Empress in case the captain crossed a line? But Ganyu always assured him, with a bashful expression, “Believe me, Her Majesty can take care of herself against Lady Beidou.”

Beidou, on the other hand, quite liked Xiao. His fierce loyalty was admirable, and his intense attitude made him a prime target to mess with. But damn, sometimes he really got in the way of Beidou’s fun. She couldn’t even speak to Ningguang without the vigilant attendant glaring daggers at her.

This time during Beidou’s stay in the palace, however, Zhongli was not there. His absence left Xiao in a funk, unsure of what to do with himself. Of course, there was nothing to worry about; Ningguang could easily run a country with her husband away at the Leaders’ Conference, even considering distractions from Beidou. But Xiao still felt out of place without his Emperor, and took to wandering around, thinking of ways to help Zhongli from afar.

Meaning: one less obstacle in Beidou’s sex life!

Yes, Ningguang had a mountain of work to do, but surely she deserved a reward for working so hard. She looked incredible surrounded by the gold and dark wood of her office, regal as she was. “Aren’t you done yet?” Beidou whined, despite knowing the answer.

Ningguang sighed. “Getting restless? I know you’re used to lounging around on a boat all day, but I have real responsibilities.”

The captain made a strangled noise at that. The people of Liyue would never know that their Empress had the sickest sense of humor. “Hey! I would offer to have some fun with you, but if you don’t want to…” She leaned forward in a way that accented her cleavage.

“Are you ever not horny?” Ningguang’s actions did not match her words as she carefully moved her stack of work to the side.

Beidou grinned, “I’m lucky you’re the same way.”

No more needed to be said—Beidou leaned across the lacquered desk to kiss her woman, who reciprocated eagerly. Within a minute, Beidou was the one perched in Ningguang’s desk chair. This desk was undoubtedly the finest craftsmanship, fit to standards of the Imperial Court, and it doubled as a comfortable spot to defile one’s Empress lover.

They’d gotten careless in the office like this dozens of times. The first time, before Ningguang and Beidou were even official, Beidou had asked, “Can’t someone just walk in right now?” (Although it hadn’t sounded like she’d cared.)

And Ningguang, in her newly-coronated-Empress sort of confidence, had answered: “I’m the Empress. Nobody would dare to enter unannounced.”

And in the three years since, that statement rang true; whenever Zhongli was out, the two women would often mess around in the office. Now was no different—Beidou reclined arrogantly in the Empress’s gilded chair while Ningguang straddled her lap. The Captain’s calloused fingers ran up pale thighs, tracing that tattoo she had memorized, while they kissed at Ningguang’s pace. And what an intense pace it was, her tongue mapping the insides of Beidou’s mouth as their hips moved against each other.

But for all the dozens of times these two had been careless, there was bound to come a day when they flew too close to the sun.

Neither woman noticed a third presence until a thin voice choked out, “Y-Your Majesty!”

Searing heat shot through Ningguang as she scrambled off of the captain’s lap, straightening her clothes out and forcing herself to meet Xiao’s eyes. The man stood petrified, eventually repeating, “Your Majesty, how could you?” It was the most emotion Ningguang had ever heard from him.

Xiao’s shock quickly melted into anger. How dare Lady Ningguang betray His Majesty’s trust? Betray the man who Xiao was most loyal to in this world, and with the rogue captain, no less? Would she rather be with a woman who defied her than a man who loved her unconditionally?

But Ningguang, for all her embarrassment, held no shame in her eyes. As Captain Beidou stood from the gilded chair, Ningguang spoke: “Xiao. Allow me to explain.”

“What is there to explain?” For the first time, Xiao interrupted his Empress, “You have betrayed His Majesty and committed an act of adultery! I believed there was no truth to those rumors about you, but now…”

“You misunderstand,” she cut in again, before Beidou could speak up as well and make things worse, “I do not love Zhongli, nor does he love me. Since before our wedding, we have agreed that our marriage would be strictly business. Beidou is the one I love, and Zhongli has supported us from the start.” 

Every word of her explanation was a mind-blowing puzzle for Xiao to work out. When he finally deciphered her meaning, rage was replaced by confusion and emptiness. He was unable to speak.

“She’s telling the truth,” the captain said. 

“How can I believe you?” Xiao snapped at the shameless mistress, “Moreover, you and Her Majesty do not get along.”

Captain Beidou’s serious tone slipped, “Oh, we get along just fine.”

The Empress jabbed Captain Beidou’s side. “Ask Ganyu. She is aware of the truth.”

Another string of questions set off in Xiao’s mind. Why would Ganyu know, and not him? Why would His Majesty not willingly share the truth? Weeks ago when the Emperor had initially planned to take Hu Tao with him to the conference, Xiao had wondered why His Majesty had chosen her over his attendant. Perhaps the deep trust Xiao held for him was one-sided.

The rational part within Xiao was unresponsive—he could not comprehend the reality. On instinct, Xiao bowed to both Empress and Captain. “I apologize, Your Majesty.” He was not sorry for confronting the Empress, but because for the first time, he did not believe her. 

Xiao turned on his heel to leave the room. Head reeling, he blindly hurried to the Qixing complex. Xiao had only been here for meetings and errands in the past, but Ganyu could often be found among these buildings where she previously worked. 

And predictably, upon entering the main building of the Qixing, the young woman’s familiar blue hair came into view. 

“Ganyu.”

The girl flinched. “Oh, it’s… Hello, Xiao.” To say Ganyu was surprised would be an understatement; Xiao never approached her outside of work responsibilities, and although they spent much time together, he was still a mystery to her. 

“Tell me,” Xiao began in his direct manner, “About Her Majesty and Captain Beidou.”

Ganyu’s expression faltered, yet she maintained her resolve: “What is there to tell?”

Xiao leveled her with a glare. “Her Majesty told me to ask you. If it is true that she and His Majesty are not…”

The woman took a deep breath. “Did you see something?”

He nodded solemnly. 

With a resigned breath, Ganyu admitted the truth: “Xiao… whatever Her Majesty told you was not a lie. She and Captain Beidou are together, and Their Majesties have no romantic connection. I found out in the same way that you did.”

She gave Xiao a moment to process, perhaps to respond, but he stared straight ahead, unmoving. 

“Xiao, don’t take it personally,” Ganyu reached out to comfort him, stopping when Xiao tensed. “This matter is between Their Majesties and Captain Beidou. Please, I am here if you want to talk about anything, but you must not tell anyone.” Her eyes were both pleading and sympathetic. 

Talk about anything… Xiao hardly knew where to start. The least he could do was offer Ganyu his word: “I will not.” 

Now with the truth confirmed, Xiao could take no more. He left once again, returning to his rarely-used private chamber.

Xiao had never experienced heartbreak in his life. The abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his previous ‘master’ had left him defeated, permanently changed, but not broken. Lending his service to the man who had rescued him from these conditions gave Xiao purpose. To discover that Emperor Zhongli had been untruthful to him… Xiao imagined that heartbreak would not feel too far off.

In the solitude of his room, Xiao was confronted by his thoughts and by reality. This incident had nothing to do with him, and yet his chest ached. If such a massive secret could be kept from him, then what else was hiding in plain sight?

His mind then flashed to that cunning red-haired diplomat who had graced Liyue several months ago. A new wave of displeasure hit Xiao as he recalled the glances that man shared with the Emperor, the soft smiles from his Majesty, the daring glare the ambassador had given Xiao at the dinner. And now both men were in Snezhnaya… Xiao became nauseous. All he could do was sit and wait for the Emperor’s return, sickeningly helpless. 

Although Xiao had been looked after and safe for many years now, he’d never quite learned to make peace. Peace with himself, with his perception of others, and oftentimes with the world. The knowledge he’d gained today was dangerous, scandalous, and other bad things rolled into one. Yet, Xiao had read of how love made people happy. He thought he had seen this joyous love in person as well, but perhaps not. 

Once his revelations were (mostly) sorted, Xiao sought out Ganyu for a second time.

“Xiao, hello,” She always seemed so pleased to see him. “How are you doing?” In fact, Ganyu seemed generally pleased with all aspects of life. She knew of the Empress’s affair, and yet she was also at ease with that.

“How did you accept it?” Xiao asked, and Ganyu understood.

She smiled at him, “Please, sit with me.” And they began to talk.

 


 

Alone, Zhongli took his first sip of tea. The guests’ dinner had already come and gone. He told himself he would give up when the pot grew cold. The sun descended outside, and still Zhongli waited for a knock on his door. It never came; instead, Zhongli was startled by the rattling of the window behind him. To his surprise, standing outside the window on a shallow landing was Harbinger Tartaglia himself. The Emperor rose from his seat to unlock the window, letting frosty air into the room along with his visitor. “Harbinger Tartaglia, you could have entered through the hallway.”

“I was told your door is off-limits to me,” Tartaglia explained, as if that would answer every question. Seeing that confident grin again felt like a reward. 

Zhongli couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Please, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“The Emperor of Liyue, making tea for a humble ambassador like me,” the man’s confident persona couldn’t hide his nerves.

The time Zhongli took to prepare Tartaglia’s cup was only a few seconds, but the silence between them stretched on.

“I spoke with La Signora today,” Zhongli began.

Tartaglia’s face was unreadable. “Oh. What did you talk about?”

“Business. She mentioned she would like to work together in the future.” Once again he tried to gauge Tartaglia’s reaction, to no avail. “I wanted to ask you for advice, since you know La Signora far better than I. Is there anything I should be concerned about when working with her?”

The other man chuckled as if some ironic fate had just struck him down. “Your Majesty… No, La Signora is a prolific businesswoman and is always true to her word. Many would jump at this chance.”

So this is how it will be… “Interesting. You sing her praises now, but I was under the impression that you two do not get along?”

Tartaglia’s response was that of a diplomat, a peerless socialite. “His Majesty is as observant as they say. That’s merely a difference in personality. I recognize that La Signora is one of the best ambassadors of this nation. Some even compare her to Empress Ningguang. Should you build a rapport with her, you will not be disappointed. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Zhongli mulled the response over, then confirmed, “So having La Signora as a close ally will only be beneficial to me?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you have no objections to me pursuing this allyship?”

“Why would I?” The Harbinger’s poker face remained intact, “Our priorities lie in the same place.”

The Emperor let silence sit between them, in case Tartaglia wanted to say anything else. But he did not budge. Finally, Zhongli asked, “Harbinger Tartaglia, aren’t you forgetting something rather important?”

Tartaglia cocked his head, expression faltering for an instant. “Oh? And what would that be?”

Locking eyes with the other man, Zhongli slowly leaned forward. “Rather than fixating on what should happen or what would be most beneficial,” his gloved hand reached out, palm coming to rest on Tartaglia’s thigh, “you must also consider what you want.” The Harbinger was still. “What I want.”

“That isn’t very diplomatic,” Tartaglia said, clearly nervous.

Zhongli continued to lean in, making no mistake of what he was about to do, what he’d longed to do for months now. 

Tartaglia’s breath fanned across his face as he drew closer, and Zhongli was brought back to the previous night. This time, however, they were in private. This time, Zhongli would not let his desire escape him.

“Tartaglia,” his voice was barely a whisper, almost able to taste the other man.

But just as their lips would finally meet, the magic was broken; Tartaglia once again jolted back, standing abruptly. Zhongli stood as well, but was blocked by an outstretched arm. “You are the Emperor! You’re married!” These were the moral conflicts anyone could recognize, but the Harbinger could not truly bring himself to care. Tartaglia had mentally repeated these to keep his desires at bay, but stating them aloud to Zhongli solidified the severity of the situation. “And I wasn’t born with noble blood, we may never see each other again, and everyone knows I’m insane! This cannot happen, and goes against my wishes.”

“Does it go against your wishes, or your orders?” Zhongli’s unconcern caught Tartaglia off-guard enough for the Emperor to reel him back in by the waist. “My Lady and I are bound by a marriage contract, yes, but have never been intimate. Lady Ningguang has had a companion in Captain Beidou for some years—”

That was as far as Zhongli made it before Tartaglia surged to meet his lips.

Zhongli had imagined that Tartaglia would kiss like he fought. But instead of frantic and aggressive, Tartaglia cradled his jaw, kissed him deep and slow. And Zhongli reciprocated with everything he had, arching into the other man’s hold.

This was not enough. The selfishness Zhongli had suppressed his entire life crept to the surface, and Tartaglia’s lips parted against his tongue. Illuminated by candles and moonlight, the two men indulged in each other.

Tender kisses soon mounted into hot meetings of teeth and tongue, Tartaglia’s hands dragging across Zhongli’s body. And Zhongli responded in turn, taking whatever he could reach in Tartaglia’s hair, his neck, his hips.

They shared heavy breaths upon separating, until Tartaglia’s mouth began exploring the column of the Emperor’s throat. “Don’t engage with La Signora,” he breathed against flushed skin.

“No? And who should I ‘engage with’ instead?” Zhongli tipped his head back, baring everything to his lover. 

In response, Tartaglia kissed him breathless. 

The back of Zhongli’s thigh brushed the bedframe, and he grinned before guiding both of them back to lie down. Tartaglia lay over him easily, a firm weight above Zhongli as their kisses continued. 

“Zhongli,” hearing his plain name from Tartaglia’s mouth sent a wave of warmth through him, “What do you want?”

They were both fully dressed, able to stop now and never speak of this again. But Zhongli had never been so certain, and Tartaglia’s heartbeat matched his. “I want all of you,” he resisted the urge to kiss Tartaglia again, “I do not know how many nights we may have together. Tonight I am yours, if you will have me.”

That was all the confirmation Tartaglia needed. The Harbinger began undressing with no hesitation, and immediately Zhongli reached out to touch the newly exposed skin. 

He had seen all of Tartaglia’s scars before, in the sparring grounds. But this was different; his skin was not slicked with sweat nor flushed with exertion, and at this proximity, Zhongli could appreciate every freckle and curve of muscle. 

Tartaglia did not grant him too much time to admire before he began tugging at the Emperor’s clothes. The Imperial robes were complex, and so Zhongli helped him, layers of silk fanning out beneath his body. Each layer discarded was like unwrapping a sweet, until Zhongli’s porcelain skin was revealed. Above him, Tartaglia held his breath, running a tentative glove down the expanse of Zhongli’s chest. His lips followed, lighting up every point of contact. A fire burned Zhongli from the inside out, and he ground his hips up on instinct. 

“Zhongli,” the other man’s lips brushed one of his nipples, “You’re driving me crazy.” And he could feel Tartaglia’s hardness as their hips collided.

The pristine persona of the Emperor of Liyue had all but dissolved. The night was young, and yet, Zhongli was impossibly excited. All manners had flown out the window as soft moans fell from his mouth. The leader known for his selflessness could not ignore the pressing desire thrumming through him, and he reached down to cup Tartaglia’s bulge.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” Tartaglia cursed, but reached to undo his trousers all the same.

“You seem to be welcoming death.”

Tartaglia grinned, wicked, and the next moment his pants were discarded, followed by his gloves and Harbingers’ signet ring.

Where Zhongli had not properly admired Tartaglia’s body before, he certainly took a moment to do so now; fully naked above him, Zhongli shamelessly drank in muscled thighs, a defined navel, cock hanging heavy between his legs. 

Of course, Tartaglia noticed when Zhongli licked his lips absently, the attention going to his head. “Enjoying yourself?”

Zhongli doubled down, “Immensely.”

While Tartaglia’s smile was usually arrogant and somewhat crazed, now there was a playful spark in his eye. “Your turn.”

And then his fingers were undoing Zhongli’s own trousers, hastily pulling them down. Now it was Tartaglia’s turn to appraise Zhongli’s body, who was not at all embarrassed. He’d never been so aroused, just from having Tartaglia’s eyes on him. 

Merely looking was not enough in that moment. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Zhongli’s fingers crept down to touch himself.

“Beautiful. Look at you, so impatient,” It seemed Tartaglia had a habit of talking during sex, and it made Zhongli light-headed. “Here.” Finally, his ungloved hand touched the Emperor’s skin for the first time, calloused palm blazing a path toward his cock.

Tartaglia watched his hand in awe, twisting his wrist and eliciting a gasp from the Emperor. And then as if an idea struck him, he urged, “Turn around for me?”

Zhongli did as requested. Although he could be considered at Tartaglia's mercy on his stomach like this, he was completely at ease. In fact, Zhongli felt as much in control as Tartaglia.

“Shit,” He could not see Tartaglia’s face, but heard the reverence in his tone, “I thought I’d seen all the best parts of Liyue,” his voice was rough, “But your ass is…”

“Yes?”

He ran an appreciative hand along its curve, “Yeah, it’s… yes.”

Even with the whole night before them, the shared adrenaline and pent-up lust made time a precious thing. Zhongli’s own hand joined the one caressing him, and he leaned back, dangerously close to Tartaglia’s cock.

“Holy— Zhongli ,” the lacking control in Tartaglia’s voice was matched by Zhongli’s actions.

“It has been far too long,” Zhongli admitted. “If you do not do something, I will do it myself.”

That night, Emperor Zhongli became the second person Harbinger Tartaglia took orders from. 

The Harbinger’s thumb brushed Zhongli’s entrance, followed by a slender finger pushing inside. The instant relief faded quickly; one was not enough. Tartaglia must have picked up on this, adding another the next moment. He diligently worked Zhongli open, a skillful curling of fingers. Zhongli’s sweet spot was discovered with ridiculous accuracy. Each curl of those long fingers left Zhongli’s head thrown back, breathing erratic, soft moans falling from his lips. 

The calloused palm stroked up and down Zhongli’s back, a calming pressure.

“Tartaglia, that is… sufficient.” He looked over his shoulder for a glimpse of Tartaglia’s face. 

The other man’s eyes were wild, and he let out a low laugh. “‘Sufficient?’ Still so polite, Your Majesty. You can’t say you want me to fuck you? Ruin you from the inside out?”

Yes . “No more stalling,” Zhongli groaned, “Please.”

Tartaglia did not need to be asked twice.

Slowly, slowly, Tartaglia slid inside him. Neither man could breathe, nor speak, overwhelmed by pleasure. After an eternity, Tartaglia’s navel was flush against him, fully situated. The fullness knocked the breath out of Zhongli, until the only sensations surrounding him were Tartaglia’s scent, his searing touch, his broken sigh.

Then Tartaglia’s hips moved, and Zhongli lost his mind all over again. 

“Have you been thinking about this?” Tartaglia’s question was punctuated by each roll of hips.

“Yes,” In his sex-induced haze, Zhongli could only tell the truth.

It seemed Tartaglia was under a similar spell: “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you.” Just then, his cock hit at such an angle that Zhongli saw stars. More, he needed more of that. 

Chasing the selfish urge inside of him, Zhongli pushed himself up so his back met Tartaglia’s chest. A strong arm caught him around the middle, and Tartaglia buried his face in the curve of Zhongli’s neck. The intimacy of the new position was both welcome and unsettling; for a moment, they felt like a longtime couple, a romance. and his hips grinded back to meet each deep thrust, setting the pace. 

He was going to come like this. In a guest suite in Snezhnaya, surrounded by Tartaglia, satisfied and at peace. 

Zhongli turned his head, seeking Tartaglia’s lips. “I’m close,” he breathed once they parted.

And Tartaglia helped him get there, stroking Zhongli steadily. A telltale tension built up in Zhongli’s groin and his hips bucked out of rhythm, spiraling toward the edge. He came with a groan, spasming around Tartaglia’s cock, white-hot pleasure rolling over his body in a wave. “So good,” Tartaglia nipped at his neck, “You feel incredible.”

He pulled out before the stimulation became too much for Zhongli, evidently close himself. Energy fading, Zhongli turned to face Tartaglia, jerking him while they kissed. 

The Harbinger quickly became uncoordinated. “Fuck, I’m coming, I—” Zhongli stroked him through it, white streaking both their bodies.

The high of their orgasms fading, Zhongli kissed Tartaglia once more, the seal on a contract. Regret never arrived as their heads began to clear. There was a desire to continue until dawn, but exhaustion won out. Reluctantly, Zhongli collapsed on the lavish pillows. And Tartaglia did not ask to stay; they settled in together, wordlessly, an embrace beneath plush blankets. Moonlight and warmth washed over their bed, their breaths evening out until sleep overtook them.

Notes:

the chapter title... i had to
FINALLY. hope you all enjoyed this one, especially hopeful that the conference discussion is not too boring haha. feedback appreciated as always!
twt: @melecslol

Chapter 7: Love in the Ice

Summary:

PREVIOUS CHAPTER REFRESHER: As the Teyvat Leaders’ Conference begins, Zhongli finds himself distracted. After La Signora tries to propose a close personal alliance with Zhongli, he seeks out Tartaglia, and the two finally act on their feelings. Back in Liyue, however, Xiao discovers the truth behind Ningguang and Beidou’s relationship.

Notes:

Warnings for this chapter: descriptions of sex (although not super explicit)
Underage drinking on Venti's part, supervised by Zhongli

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Dawn broke over Zapolyarny Palace, the same as every other morning. But for some palace residents, an unsettling feeling loomed overhead. Among the usual clamor of the palace barracks, the distinct sound of water ripping into fabric targets was absent. 

“I’ve been here for an hour already. Surely he could not have finished his training before me.”

“Don’t compare yourself to Lord Harbinger! Perhaps he overslept?”

“Lord Harbinger never oversleeps. You’ve seen him on missions—even a leaf falling from a tree would wake him!”

The Fatui agents gathered around the water fountain, having abandoned their morning training long ago. Why shouldn't they take it easy, without Harbinger Tartaglia there to supervise?

“Perhaps he went on a solo mission,” Agent Ivanov suggested. 

“Unlikely he’d leave before sunrise for that,” Agent Liev countered. “What if he’s with a lady?”

All agents laughed at that. “Are we talking about the same Harbinger?” Agent Aleksey doubled over. “What woman would be crazy enough to lie with him?

“Right,” Agent Liev rolled his eyes, “Well, he is rich… Listen, I don’t care what the reason is. I just know that Lord Harbinger is usually here to bust our asses by now, and today he’s not. I’m not questioning anything!”

The agents nodded in agreement and toasted their cups of cool water. Maybe some mysteries were better left unsolved. 

 


 

On the other side of the palace, in the guest wing, Tartaglia awoke. His internal clock had not disturbed him early, and he naturally woke as the room was bathed in morning light. This was not his bed. A stirring body at his side was enough to fully wake Tartaglia up. Every unforgettable second of the previous night flooded to the front of his thoughts as he gazed upon the sleeping emperor before him. He reached out a tentative hand, just to feel the other man’s skin once more. But Zhongli’s eyes began to open at that moment, and Tartaglia couldn’t play it off. 

“Morning,” Tartaglia’s voice was rough.

“Good morning.” The first thing Zhongli did upon waking was kiss Tartaglia lightly. “I’m assuming you have to leave?” The peck was enough to calm Tartaglia’s mind.

In the night, the two had shifted so that Tartaglia’s head rested on the Emperor’s shoulder, arm draped across his body. As nice as it was, Tartaglia untangled himself, stretching. “I will, soon.” Just looking at Zhongli’s lips flared up his new addiction, and he leaned back in for another kiss. Zhongli indulged him for longer than expected, morning breath and all. When they parted, Tartaglia said, “And to be clear, I’m not fooling around with this.”

“I know you aren’t. It’s the opposite of your best interest, isn’t it?” Zhongli traced the deepest scar on his bicep. “But after everything, you finally finished part of your mission.”

Time stopped. “Mission?”

Zhongli turned his head to look at Tartaglia with a tired smile, “What you went to Liyue for.” Tartaglia could not answer, and so he continued, “I did not know until after you left. I did not even know you were a Harbinger. The results of my investigation were unexpected, to say the least.”

“You knew…” Tartaglia whispered half to himself, face pale, “You knew, and you still slept with me!” He was unsure whether to laugh or cry.

“I did,” Zhongli confirmed, “Tartaglia, do you think you are the only one with regrets in life? With a dark past? I cannot explain my attraction to you. And let me be clear as well: I would not have pursued you were I not serious. The risks for me are perhaps greater than the risks for you.”

Tartaglia thought for a moment, then spoke plainly, “I’ve killed many people. Ask anyone here, they’ll tell you how dangerous I am.”

Zhongli huffed out a laugh, “Please, I’m not afraid of you. If it is any consolation, surely you are aware that I was a general. I have been responsible for countless lives. Such is the nature of war. But you cannot fool me—I know there is more to you than bloodshed.”

No matter what horrible anecdotes Tartaglia told Zhongli, the ruler had already made up his mind. And long ago, so had Tartaglia. He chuckled at the state of his life. “I am so fucking screwed.”

“Well, you put it very bluntly, but that makes two of us.”

With nothing more to say for now, Tartaglia settled back into Zhongli’s side, who laid his arm over Tartaglia’s chest. And they sat in contemplation, their heartbeats grounding them.

“Usually at this time, I’m training,” Tartaglia mused.

Zhongli did not sound sorry as he said, “I apologize for breaking your routine.”

“No apologies necessary, Your Majesty,” the title was almost mocking, “I got all my training in last night.”

“Oh?” The Emperor looked down at him, “In that case, I look forward to training with you again.”

“That morning in Liyue when you found me training, we should have fucked in the sparring area.” The tired man just voiced whatever came to mind. By now it was clear that Zhongli could expect much, much more from Tartaglia. 

A familiar feeling sparked in Tartaglia, one he’d experienced in full the night before. According to the ornate clock by the door, he had some time still. “How about now for training?” He nipped Zhongli’s jaw, “I couldn’t do everything I wanted in one night.”

“Ah, the vigor of youth,” Zhongli joked, and readjusted so he could kiss Tartaglia properly, “Go on, then.”

And with a devilish spark in his eye, Tartaglia’s mouth began trailing down the Emperor’s body. He savored each taste of soft skin, but was impatient for his goal below. Zhongli was already hard, and he keened as Tartaglia’s mouth took him, tongue teasing his length. He brushed the bangs out of Tartaglia’s face, and kept his hand there, tugging at a particularly devious bob of Tartaglia’s head. Obscene sounds soon filled the room, and who would guess that the fearsome Eleventh Harbinger was a vision with his mouth full?

There were still a few hours before the conference began anew. And Zhongli would happily invite this man between his legs into his morning routine.

That morning, Tartaglia arrived late to the daily Harbingers’ breakfast. 

 


 

“You seem different this morning, Your Majesty,” Hu Tao remarked as they headed to the conference room. 

Zhongli’s mouth twitched. “How so?”

The treasurer stopped their pace down the hall, swung around to fully examine her Emperor. She even grasped both his arms to hold him steady, which for anyone else would be a violation of the Emperor’s space. Fortunately for her, Zhongli had long given up on enforcing her manners. “Hm, can’t put my finger on it…” Hu Tao scrutinized him from all angles before concluding, “Your skin is more glowy? No, no—your posture is more relaxed! Or maybe your cologne is different?”

Feeling thoroughly examined, Zhongli stepped away from her grasp, not wanting his treasurer to make any realizations of his recent activities. “It must be the lighting, Miss Hu Tao. My diet has also changed since arriving in Snezhnaya, so perhaps that is a factor.”

Hu Tao eyed him suspiciously, and likely would have made a baseless comment if not for a loud voice behind them: “Yoo-hoo, what are you two doing, standing around?” The female knight by the ex-prince’s side grumbled a comment about how he shouldn’t address His Majesty in such a way

“Morning, Venti!” Hu Tao waved to the boy, and ah, yes, they were friends now at Zhongli’s expense. “Doesn’t His Majesty look extra lively today?”

Drawing closer, Venti also examined his friend. “Huh. Keep doing whatever you’re doing, friend!” I plan to, Zhongli thought. Meanwhile, the two knights with Venti tried desperately to avert their eyes, looking anywhere but upon the Emperor. “Old friend, I’d like to catch up with you later, by the way.”

Although Prince Venti could be a handful in group settings, one-on-one he was wise beyond his years. “One of these nights, it would be a pleasure to reminisce with you.” After all, he did owe Venti a drink. “But we must get through today’s conference first.”

The former prince groaned. “Don’t remind me!”

Despite his protests, his knights ushered him down the hall, with Zhongli and Hu Tao following behind.

Like the previous day, today’s conference began with much regality from the Tsaritsa, and much tension from the other leaders. 

A pressing issue of the day was the border policy between Mondstadt and Liyue regarding Dragonspine. Although this matter was between two nations, other leaders offered their thoughts. The least invested leader, in fact, was once again Prince Venti. The boy had cooperated initially, but soon voiced his real opinion: “Why does it matter whose ownership Dragonspine falls under? It was a wild land, as it is today. Nature has made it uninhabitable, so let’s allow Dragonspine some autonomy.”

Although unfeasible, Venti’s insights were always compelling. Zhongli was patient with him, “Dragonspine is indeed uninhabitable by humans, but scientists still venture into the territory for research. Imagine if a crime were committed there; where would it be prosecuted? Therefore, we must draw clear territorial lines.”

The look on Prince Venti’s face read as: “You’re right, but I can’t admit it as everyone here already thinks I’m a fool.” 

At moments when Zhongli’s input was not needed, he happily sat back. After all, this was the greatest meeting of minds in Teyvat. The undeniably impressive intellectual debate was also quite draining.

Today, Tartaglia was present in the audience. Every other Snezhnayan official paid utmost attention to the Tsaritsa. However, even when she spoke, Zhongli could feel the weight of Tartaglia’s gaze on him. The man sat relaxed in the stands, feet kicked back as if watching the most fascinating show. And Zhongli performed in his perfect posture, the column of his neck slightly angled toward his spectator, holding Tartaglia’s intense eyes. Promise lay in their shared glances, promise of later

“Your Majesty,” The whispered title and light touch from Hu Tao brought Zhongli out of his fantasy, “Are you okay? We’re moving onto the next topic.”

“My apologies, Miss Hu Tao.” He smiled at her, and with one final look at Tartaglia (for now), he returned to the matter at hand.

By day, Zhongli was the image of a perfect negotiator, a formidable leader. He made talk with the other leaders and interacted with budding journalists, who jumped at the chance to speak with the handsome and prodigal emperor.

At night, however, he was Childe’s.

Each evening, Zhongli would make the trek to Tartaglia’s quarters, or Tartaglia would climb through his window, and the two became lost in each other.

They would have five nights together in total. This was known by both parties, and yet neither mentioned it. They simply carried on as if every night were a passionate farewell. Every surface of both men’s rooms had been thoroughly debauched—their second night, Tartaglia had fucked the Emperor in the marble bathtub, and the next morning, Zhongli had returned the favor on the plush chaise lounge. A previously-unknown pleasure had been unlocked within Zhongli, and he’d become greedy for constant affection. Luckily, Tartaglia was happy to oblige. Anything Zhongli wanted to try, Tartaglia would give him.

Intimacy became an unexpected bonus to the pleasure. The Imperial lifestyle had never allowed Zhongli to be intimate with others; the last time anything resembling intimacy had occurred was during Zhongli’s days as General, and all those men were dead now. Just the contact of Tartaglia’s skin against his own was enough to light a fire within him, something Zhongli did not know he’d been craving.

Alongside gentle touches, Tartaglia’s violent tendencies made themselves known on the blank canvas of Zhongli’s skin. The Emperor’s conservative style of dress allowed Tartaglia to bite and suck without reservation, marking anywhere from his collarbone to his inner thighs.

It was quickly becoming an addiction: conversations into the night, the taste of Tartaglia on his tongue, the bruising press of Tartaglia’s fingers on his hips as he fucked him.

The ease of it startled him. Despite having Ningguang’s blessing, Zhongli still felt as though he were breaking their marriage contract. Then why was it so easy? After their first day as lovers, Zhongli would be happy to continue this indefinitely. And now, three days in, Zhongli dreaded its impending end.

For his age, Zhongli had already accomplished much and led an eventful life. Time, he’d learned, was something to cherish. Things of importance could pass by without warning, but their memory depended on how much attention had been paid. So for now, the sleeping Harbinger’s chest rising and falling rhythmically, Zhongli recounted the time they’d just spent together. Every night was more intense than the last as the two men learned each other’s bodies. Only two nights left. Zhongli held him closer.

 


 

Waking next to Zhongli was a privilege Tartaglia surely did not deserve. Never had he known companionship, and once he’d earned a sweet taste, it was with the enemy. The enemy who would leave in two days. Tartaglia had to laugh.

“What is amusing, so early in the morning?” Zhongli’s voice vibrated against his chest.

Tartaglia’s hand reached up to card through Zhongli’s soft hair. “Everything, really. About this situation.”

A low chuckle came from the Emperor. “You may imagine that my life is not as adventurous as yours. But this is… exciting.”

For some minutes, the two soaked up the atmosphere, until Zhongli broke the silence. “What was your motivation for joining the Fatui?”

What could be a personal question was answered easily by Tartaglia: “My family.” 

“Tell me about them.” It was not commanding, but curious. 

“What can I say, I’ve always been close with my family. But I was a crazy kid.” He smiled fondly at the memory, despite the darkness behind those childhood years, the tale he was not ready to share with anyone. “My father saw that aggression in me, and sent me to the city so the Fatui could knock me down a peg. I was fourteen then. Little did they expect, my pent-up energy was useful to the Fatui, and I had the skills in combat. I became a Harbinger shortly after.”

Zhongli mulled the story over. “And now?”

Yes, he could have left the Fatui after a year or so. But the benefits were undeniable. “Now, I send a portion of my checks back home. My job protects my family, and I’ve made them proud. My young siblings don’t know exactly what I do, but they look up to me all the same. Of course, I’m still here for personal reasons, too, but…” he trailed off. “And what about you?”

Zhongli had had his entire life to contemplate his role as Emperor, but had never discussed it aloud. “Being Emperor is in my bloodline, and my destiny,” he began. “But the people of Liyue are what maintain my tenacity, after all these years. Without my people and Lady Ningguang by my side, I would hardly be an Emperor.”

Previously at the mention of Zhongli’s wife, a twinge of something nasty would creep into Tartaglia’s chest. Now, he felt no animosity toward her.

“You have many fancy titles. ‘Rex Lapis’, ‘Morax’... Seems like most people just call you ‘Your Majesty’. The people adore you, clearly,” Tartaglia pointed out.

“You’ve been doing your research on me, I see.” Tartaglia almost flushed, recounting all the hours he’d spent in the library. Sheepishly, he shrugged. “It is true, my people hold me in high regard, and I them. We listen to each other, for that is the contract between us.”

The sentiment was lovely, but very formal. “Do you ever wish you weren’t the Emperor?”

The thought had never occurred to Zhongli; his status was as much a part of his identity as his name. In favor of thinking too much, he answered, “There has not been a day that I am not proud to lead my country.”

“I’ll bet.” Tartaglia’s warm hands absently ran up Zhongli’s chest, his neck, “Who knows, someday I could be the leader of Snezhnaya. Then we could have the affair of the century.”

Zhongli let out an amused sound, “I’ll be anticipating it.” And suddenly the two decided they had better things to do than talking, as Zhongli’s mouth pressed against Tartaglia’s skin.

How would life be, if Zhongli and Tartaglia were both average men with average lives? They would be friends, Tartaglia thought. 

Easy friends, true friends. Vlad and Ekaterina were the kind of friends he got along with and caught up with whenever they saw each other after months, but he wanted to spend every day with Zhongli. Wanted to be by his side no matter what. Even just lying in bed like this, Tartaglia enjoyed being with him. This connection between them was undeniable, and so strong that Tartaglia knew it would remain in his heart, no matter what transpired. But at the same time, if Tartaglia were not a Harbinger and Zhongli not an Emperor, they may never have met at all. 

Eventually, against both of their desires, the two men knew that they must part for the day. After exiting Tartaglia’s chambers, Zhongli became the Emperor of Liyue, and Tartaglia became the Eleventh Harbinger, and they carried on with their respective days until the night would unite them again.

Two of the Tsaritsa’s guards were surprised to find the Eleventh Harbinger approaching the doors to the throne room. “Lord Harbinger,” one of the guards began, nervously addressing his superior, “please state your business.”

“Good morning. I have arranged an appointment with Her Majesty,” his eyes betrayed his flippant attitude. 

The guards shuffled a bit, knowing that if there were consequences for this, they would be the victims. Still, the two men opened the heavy doors for Tartaglia. 

The Tsaritsa sat on her throne, as usual. Although she was prolific in business endeavors, the Tsaritsa preferred to get her work done from the regal comfort of her throne. “Harbinger Tartaglia, are you here to bear me good news?”

Tartaglia controlled his smile. “My Lady, I do not know whether this news is good or bad. I have received intelligence that could throw off the course of our plan regarding Liyue.”

She did not seem surprised. “In La Signora’s latest report, she mentioned that you were close to His Majesty, and worried that your connection may affect the success of our plan. If our plan has failed, I trust that you are not responsible?”

Of course that ass-kisser would throw me under the bus. “Not at all, Your Majesty,” he replied easily, “This development has long been in place.”

His Lady had grown tired of her Harbinger skirting around the issue: “Out with it.”

“The Emperor and Empress of Liyue are in a non-monogamous relationship.”

The Tsaritsa was completely unreadable, and after a few moments, prompted, “Elaborate.”

“As I mentioned, I do not know all the details. But they are both free to see other people. Quite a progressive couple. Anyway, because of this union, La Signora’s attempts at seducing His Majesty would never make her jealous enough or make him detached enough to separate. This is also why my initial attempt was unsuccessful.” So far, Tartaglia had not told a lie. 

Another pause permeated the room. “And did His Majesty share the details of his marriage with you himself?”

Tartaglia winced; the time had come to lie to his Lady. “No, Your Majesty. Just some gossip between my men and His Majesty’s armed guards.”

After all his years of serving in the Fatui, Tartaglia could not tell when Her Majesty was truly angry. But he could see her mind working, calculating every possible option before settling on a decision: “No matter. We will focus our efforts on the Northland Bank for now while we re-evaluate. I will inform La Signora.” She did not let Tartaglia get a word in before commanding, “You are dismissed.”

The moment Tartaglia was back in the hall, the heavy doors closed behind him, an unexpected relief settled in. He’d predicted guilt at the prospect of deceiving the Tsaritsa, but no guilt was found. 

“... Lord Harbinger?” A meek voice came from Tartaglia’s right–one of the Tsaritsa’s guards. Lost in his own head, Tartaglia had been standing outside the doors for a minute. “Is everything alright?”

Tartaglia smiled, a genuine one. “Yes, everything’s just peachy.” Then, talking to himself, “Ah, I think I’ll do some tidying up before dinner.” 

He left with a carefree walk, the guards staring after him. “Do you think Her Majesty handed Lord Harbinger’s ass to him?” One of the guards whispered. 

The other one shivered. “No, I think he’s… happy. That smile looked real.”

The first guard concluded what they were both thinking: “I don’t like it.”

 


 

Journalists of every publication would herald this year’s Teyvat Leaders’ Conference as one of great progress and revolutionary intellect. Sumerian academics published a brief journal after the last session adjourned, and Zhongli had to admit, listing every development of the conference made it appear very productive. His own experience of the conference had been clouded by something more important, but he held no regret. 

For this final night, the regular dinner provided to conference guests had been dressed up into a showy banquet in the ballroom. Snezhnayan cuisine and performances of traditional arts were on full display, leaving first-time visitors in awe. Something else drew Zhongli’s attention, of course—in his most formal, noble attire, Tartaglia was striking. Zhongli had found him handsome when they first met, but many months later, the attraction ran unbearably deep. Whether this attraction would be fatal or not, Zhongli did not care.

The seating arrangement could be no coincidence: Zhongli’s seat marked the transition between foreign leaders and Harbingers. Predictably, he had been seated next to La Signora, while Tartaglia was clear on the opposite side of the table. Despite the distance, the two men exchanged a knowing glance; later tonight, they would have a last hurrah of their own.

The third course had not yet begun before La Signora attempted conversation with him. This time, however, the flirtatious tone was dropped from her voice. “Your Majesty, I wanted to commend you on your performance this year. I also wanted to extend my apologies if—” She did not get far; by some divine intervention, Prince Venti was seated at his left, and promptly rescued Zhongli.

“Hey, old friend, we haven't had a chance to catch up yet!” The boy took a generous swig of his wine and wiped his mouth dramatically. In Zhongli’s periphery, La Signora rolled her eyes at Venti’s manners. The ridiculous display was enough for La Signora to turn away from Zhongli, but Venti was not done. He swiftly snatched the entire bottle of top-shelf wine from a passing waiter, drinking directly from it as other table-guests watched in horror. 

(Across the table, the Eleventh Harbinger bit his lip.)

“Ahh, this is the good stuff!” Venti began slurring, clearly putting on an act; the boy’s bragging about his alcohol tolerance wasn’t unfounded. “Come on, Zhongli, have some and loosen up a little!”

Two knights rushed over to the leaders’ table. The blond female knight began profusely apologizing, while the blue-haired male knight held in his amusement. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I will take care of him from here.” 

“Not to worry. I can escort Prince Venti to his chambers for the night. Please, enjoy the festivities.” Zhongli assured the knights, and he leaned Venti’s slight form against him. Many eyes were on the former Prince and Emperor as they half-stumbled out of the ballroom, undoubtedly gossiping about Venti’s behavior. Zhongli spared one last look at Tartaglia, whose eyes told him, “I will be with you soon.”

Perhaps it was rude to leave halfway through a banquet, but an Emperor could come and go as he pleased. The moment any guards had vanished from sight and the ballroom was long behind them, Venti stood properly and walked as if he hadn’t had a drop of wine. “Ah, it was getting stuffy in there! Damn, now everyone thinks I’m a lightweight.” Despite having made a scene, this was his biggest regret. 

Although Venti did not need any care, Zhongli still followed the boy back to his chambers. They had promised to catch up, after all, but all of Zhongli’s free time had been occupied by things Venti was too young to worry about.

“Make yourself at home!” Venti practiced what he preached—while Zhongli’s chambers were hardly lived in, and Tartaglia’s quarters were well-kept, Venti’s room was an absolute mess. In less than a week, he’d turned the place into a pigsty. Zhongli sat himself on a plush chair, Venti’s clothes draped over the back. “Hey, I think that Harbinger is thirsting after you,” Venti began, “Well, two of them. The Eleventh, though, he stared at you so intensely that it gave me the chills!”

Zhongli chuckled. “Actually, La Signora has been less forward lately. I can’t help but wonder what changed.”

A shiver ran through the young prince. “She’s scary. They’re all scary, in fact. I wouldn’t want any of them to be on my bad side or my good side. Anyway, I’m glad this is my last event as a leader.”

A gap seemed to appear between them then, between a world leader and a normal young man. “What are you planning to do when you return?”

And Venti shrugged. “Dunno. Isn’t that wonderful? I don’t have any obligations! I want to be on vacation for the rest of my life!” This boy was not yet eighteen, and already cherishing retirement.

While Zhongli had intended to catch up with his old friend, his curiosity could not be contained. “If I may ask… What made you give up your crown?”

“You know how it is. I was born into this role, just like you,” Venti showed no hesitation, having thought on this topic at length, “And the more I did princely things, the more I realized that times are changing. My country is at peace. We don’t need anyone to pick us up from the ashes. When I took the throne, all I wanted was for my people to be autonomous and free. But this goal was already accomplished long before I stepped in. Mondstadt belongs to her people, so how could one person rule over all others? And every time I thought about this, it just made me sad.” Venti’s usually aloof attitude always concealed his profound intelligence, and the immense stress he’s endured in his short life. “One day I thought to myself, ‘What if things were different? Wouldn’t it be nice if one person wasn’t the crux of this entire nation?’ And then I remembered, ‘I have the power to make that happen.’”

Was it that easy? As Zhongli began to pick apart his friend’s words in his mind, Venti continued, “My last gift to my people was their freedom from a history of warring clans and aristocracy. It’s a shame that not everyone can know this freedom, friend. You, for example. You have to produce an heir, right? Liyue and Mondstadt are different, and I can’t say what’s best for your people, but I know tradition is important.” Venti sighed as if a great tragedy had befallen Zhongli. “What a pity, I so wanted to share a drink with you as equals one day, or meet you as an average man. You shouldn’t even entertain me now. After all, you’re one of the most important people in Teyvat, while I don’t even know my official title anymore.”

Since birth, Zhongli had accepted his role in the universe. A few months ago, he would have been content to live out the rest of his life in a loveless marriage, eventually finding some way to produce a child who would embody the same fate as him. But now that Zhongli was consciously acting against his destiny, he couldn’t help but fantasize about an alternate future. 

A soft finger poked between Zhongli’s brows. “You’re thinking too hard.”

“A habit, I’ve been told,” Zhongli smiled sadly. 

“Then let’s think about something else!” the former prince declared, pouring two classes from a wine bottle on his windowsill. Zhongli did not want to know how he obtained it. 

The Emperor sighed. “As an adult, I will supervise you for tonight, but you must curb this drinking habit before it develops further.” He took a sip for himself. 

“You’re as bad as the Grandmaster! Come on, drink up!” 

This boy… now that he was out of the limelight, the Knights of Favonius surely had a problem on their hands. “I can’t drink too much, I have an obligation later.”

“Later? It’s after sunset already. What, you’re gonna visit your little admirer? I bet he’d like that.” To Venti it was a joke, but to Zhongli it was an accurate prediction.

The conversation meandered as two friends caught up with each other. By the time he left, Zhongli had made up his mind: If I must, then I will sire an heir.

 


 

While most of Zapolyarny Palace was asleep, Zhongli’s night was just starting. He’d never had a rebellious phase in his youth—the only one to keep him in check had been himself, after all. But he imagined it would feel like this, this giddiness at sneaking out to meet his lover in the night.

Arriving at Tartaglia’s door, he quickly rapped a series of three knocks that they’d agreed upon. However, no immediate response came, and Zhongli knew Tartaglia was not back yet from sending off certain guests.

“Are you lost, Your Majesty?” A familiar voice confronted him, and Zhongli winced internally. Foolish him, to believe he’d seen the last of La Signora for the night.

“Apologies, I seem to have taken a wrong turn. Usually my treasurer leads the way.” Zhongli’s smile was polite as always.

La Signora clearly did not believe a word he said. “I see, it is quite easy to get lost when every corridor looks the same. May I point you in the right direction?” Still, not an ounce of flirtation was found in her tone.

“If you would be so kind,” he kept up the charade.

“Make a left before you reach the upper ballroom doors,” she gestured down the hall behind Zhongli, “Or would you rather I walk you there myself?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Zhongli hastily assured her, “I’m sure a busy woman like yourself has plenty to do, even at this hour.”

La Signora granted him a cold smile, “And I’m sure you do as well, Your Majesty.”

With that mutual understanding established between them, Zhongli turned toward his own room, to which he did not need directions. Any concerns that La Signora held potential blackmail material against him were quelled by the anticipation of being with Tartaglia again.

As Zhongli hurried back to his chambers, he spotted the figure of Tartaglia down the corridor. The other man was evidently confused, but Zhongli kept walking. “Let’s go to mine,” he whispered as he passed the Harbinger, who blindly followed. Together they made the image of a dutiful Harbinger escorting a lost guest to his room, but inside, both men thrummed with excitement.

No one else was present in the guest wing, and Zhongli unlocked his door before that could change. Amusingly, this marked the first time Tartaglia had entered via the door.

Zhongli kissed him as soon as the door closed behind them. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Tartaglia sighed, and the feeling was mutual.

“La Signora caught me outside your room,” Zhongli explained.

His lover’s face fell. “And what did you tell her?”

“That I was lost. I don’t believe she bought it.” He wanted to erase the worry from Tartaglia’s face at any mention of the woman. But now Tartaglia seemed to forget her quickly, focusing on Zhongli instead.

There was no rush; tonight, their final night together, they would take their time. Zhongli would stay up all night if he had to, to get his fill of Tartaglia for the foreseeable future. “I’ve gotten used to this,” Zhongli admitted, “Yet tomorrow, I’ll be gone.” The sentiment of And we won’t see each other for a long time, was unsaid. Zhongli knew well that all things must come to an end, but being an Emperor, he was not used to uncertainty.

“Hmm, then we’ll have to enjoy ourselves even more tonight.” Somehow, Tartaglia did not seem bothered by their impending farewell. Each kiss he pressed to Zhongli’s skin was marked with a smile. Brimming with delight, Tartaglia had to drop his façade. “I received a letter today.” He swiped it from his pocket, presented it to Zhongli with a grin.

 

The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

Mr. Vlad Levin and Ms. Nadia Sokolov

Sunday, the Fifth of November, 17:00

At the Northland Bank, Liyue City

Reception to follow

 

The wedding would be in seven months. Seven months that Zhongli and Tartaglia would be apart, yet which promised their reunion. Mind already spinning with possibilities, Zhongli kissed Tartaglia soundly.

“I’ll make a trip out of it,” Tartaglia painted a picture, “I’ll stay for a week or so. I’ll attend the wedding, of course, but outside of that, I’m all yours.”

All mine. In the course of his time as a world leader, Zhongli did not consider much to be his . But he was more than pleased to claim the title, and wasted no time in doing so physically. 

Tartaglia returned his kiss with fervor, hastily tugging at the Imperial robes. “We have all night, but I’m still impatient.”

Perhaps being spoiled with Tartaglia had made Zhongli less patient, too. Despite both men’s eagerness, however, they took their time savoring each kiss, each touch.

Just for tonight, Zhongli let go of all responsibility, abandoning his title and discarding all thoughts except Tartaglia. Robes were cast off, baring everything to his lover. Whispered in his ear were words of filth, words of affection, words of devotion. 

Tartaglia filled him and it felt holy. A natural rhythm set in, an instinct. As Zhongli held the other man impossibly close, Tartaglia pressed kisses to the junction of Zhongli’s neck. This was a culmination of the last four nights together, of mapping each others’ bodies and feeding off of each others’ pleasure. This was making love.

Until both men were ridden with exhaustion, they took care of each other. Everything they’d come to enjoy, they repeated in one night. But as much as Zhongli savored the pleasure, the act of lying and resting next to his lover was just as enjoyable. Tartaglia’s breathing evened, face tucked into Zhongli’s neck. Sleeping would be the grand finale to their final night as lovers. “‘Night, Zhongli,” the man mumbled.

“Goodnight, Tartaglia.” Within minutes, Tartaglia was asleep next to him. The Harbinger looked his age like this, his features soft and boyish. And Zhongli could not bring himself to worry about what lay ahead; instead, he felt completely at ease. He concentrated on Tartaglia’s peaceful breathing and relaxed face until sleep also claimed him.

When dawn broke, Zapolyarny Palace was significantly emptier. Many of the leaders or journalists present at the conference had left the night before, but Zhongli had insisted that Liyue’s procession would leave in the morning. He was pushing his luck, but time had always been on Zhongli’s side.

“Tartaglia.” He nudged the man next to him as the red sun crested over distant mountains out the window.

The Harbinger stirred and immediately clung to Zhongli, dragging him back to lie down properly. “Mmm, baby, let’s sleep for a few more minutes.” 

The great Emperor of Liyue flushed like the leaves of a silk flower.

Relaxing in Tartaglia’s arms, he indeed drifted off to sleep again.

His mind had just settled when the door flew open. “Rise and shine, Boss, we’ve got a big journey ahead of—Holy shit!”

Shit, indeed. Both men were roused by the girl’s voice, displaying various reactions of embarrassment and guilt. Tartaglia groaned and curled in toward the wall, while Zhongli buried his face in his hands. “Hu Tao.”

“I knew it!” If anything, the treasurer’s voice only grew louder, “I totally knew it! I even asked you if something was going on, and you lied to me!”

Zhongli exhaled. If the best way to wake up was in Tartaglia’s arms, this was surely the worst way to wake up. “At that time, I’d told you the truth.”

“This is just too good. No offense, but who knew you had game, Your Majesty? Finally, I’ve got something to tease you about!” Zhongli could take no more of Hu Tao’s prattling; he pulled the covers off his bare torso, and Hu Tao let out a yelp: “No offense, Your Majesty, but I don’t want to see that!”

Zhongli huffed. “Nonsense, Hu Tao, I am wearing trousers.” And he fully climbed out of the bed to show that was true, beginning his morning routine.

Still facing the wall, the Harbinger grinned sheepishly. “Heh, I’ll just stay under here, then.”

Hu Tao retched, in her over-the-top fashion. “This is so weird for me. By the way,” she spoke directly to Tartaglia, “I don’t care if you’re a fancy Harbinger. If you hurt His Majesty, there will only be ten Harbingers!”

The man who feared no one but his Tsaritsa and his mother suddenly felt nervous.

“Hu Tao,” Zhongli massaged his temple, “Please, leave us. I will bathe, and then we can depart.”

The girl nodded. “I’ll let the Millelith know.” She got Zhongli’s message of Leave so I can say goodbye, and hurried out of the room, sending a wink to her Emperor.

“She’s a handful,” Tartaglia observed, and Zhongli could only nod in agreement. The Harbinger slid out of the bed (which had begun to feel like their bed), his nude body now a regular presence in Zhongli’s life. “You said you wanted to bathe?” Without hesitation, he headed to the ensuite and began drawing a bath for Zhongli. A private bath for each esteemed guest suite was perhaps the most genius part of Zapolyarny Palace’s design, and the two men had made the most of it this week.

They had done this on a few mornings, always with the intention of sex. But this morning, Zhongli simply savored Tartaglia’s company in their last moments before he would leave Snezhnaya. Tartaglia’s strong hands washed Zhongli’s body with care, Zhongli played with Tartaglia’s wet hair. They shared kisses, heady from the steaming bath, but still did not say goodbye. Once they were thoroughly clean, Tartaglia dried Zhongli’s hair and kissed him more as he did so. “I’ll miss you, Zhongli,” he admitted.

“And I, you,” Zhongli told him. He reached for Tartaglia’s hand, pressed his lips to his silver signet ring. “If I don’t receive letters from you, I’ll be most upset.”

Tartaglia laughed, and Zhongli tried to memorize its sound. “Oh, we wouldn’t want that!” 

A silence fell between them. How could all of these emotions be injected into a single “goodbye”? There was no proper way to put feeling into words. Tartaglia opened the door to his room quickly, scanned the hallway, and confirmed, “No one’s out there. Now’s my chance.”

Tearing the blade out would hurt less than slowly removing it. Zhongli took Tartaglia’s face in his hands and brought him in for one final kiss, long and filled with the passion of unspoken promises. “Seven months.”

“Seven months.” Tartaglia’s voice was soft. 

And before they could linger, Tartaglia tore the blade out, slipping into the hallway. He was gone. 

For the next hour, the Emperor and Harbinger went about their respective duties. 

 For Tartaglia, this meant tidying himself up as nicely as possible in his most noble attire. Just as he had done last night after dinner, Tartaglia would soon see off the departing convoys of visiting nations. He went through the motions of preparing himself for this event, if only to distract himself.

By noon, every remaining convoy was set to depart. Zapolyarny Palace guards and a few of the Harbingers stood outside the entrance, bidding farewell to processions from Natlan and Liyue. Tartaglia was among them, cheerfully thanking and shaking the hand of each guest who passed down the line of Harbingers. Hu Tao approached, and grasped Tartaglia’s hand with a vigorous shake. “Thank you, Mr. Tartaglia!”

“Thank you, Miss Hu.” Although he’d wanted to throttle her when they first met, a unique respect had formed between them.

With Hu Tao’s departure came the Emperor’s arrival. Just seeing him was enough to twist Tartaglia’s heart. Like with every other esteemed guest, Tartaglia shook the Emperor’s gloved hand. “Thank you for attending, Your Majesty.”

“And thank you, Harbinger Tartaglia.” It was an impersonal handshake between diplomat and Emperor. But the touch lingered, and so did Tartaglia’s gaze. Even as he bid farewell to the next guests, he was acutely aware of Zhongli’s every motion: the Emperor stepped inside the Imperial carriage, sensing glances of longing into Tartaglia’s heart.

Tartaglia stood at the gate, watching until the fluttering golden flags of Liyue vanished behind a distant hill.

Notes:

*long note warning*
happy new year! i planned to update this in december ‘21 because that marked the first anniv of this fic :)) but then i came down with covid and have since had no energy to write anything worth reading :(( better now tho. i still have tons of inspiration for this fic, don’t worry! even though i’m slow, i do write every day. beiguang will come back next chapter btw!
someone last chapter commented with a prediction that 1. tartaglia would not leave zhongli the morning after and 2. hu tao would walk in on them… and you were correct on both LOL i read that comment like…. omg… i love to hear everyone’s predictions!
on the notion of “time”, for the wedding invitation i thought “do they have our months in genshin universe?” since months are named after roman gods, rulers, etc (but then 2.4 released and this was alluded to in enkanomiya anyway)… a line from mona makes it sound like teyvat tells time based on the cycles of constellations, but then i remembered the characters’ birthdays are still listed in our modern month/day format so i just went with ‘november’ lol a tiny detail no one will care about but i really deliberated on the unimportant things as usual. this also happened with running water since i wanted tartali to take a bath together, just imagine it’s like the roman baths that connects to every guest suite haha
twt: @melecsao3
thank you for reading and for all the lovely comments lately! i'm sorry i don't respond often but i read everything :')

Chapter 8: A World Apart

Summary:

PREVIOUS CHAPTER REFRESHER: Zhongli and Tartaglia deal with the aftermath of their night together, deciding to continue their relationship. The conference continues as the two sneak around each night. Snezhnaya’s plan for Liyue is thrown into question thanks to Tartaglia, and Zhongli discusses Venti’s recent abdication with Venti. Everything culminates in a final night, after which Zhongli must leave his relationship with Tartaglia behind and return to Liyue.

Notes:

WARNINGS for this chapter: Violence right at the beginning (Treasure Hoarder gets killed)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Dear Tartaglia, 

No, I will not share Liyue’s latest international contracts with you, but I admire your boldness. 

About the mission you mentioned, please stay safe. I know such a request is not easy for you, but I do hope to see you in six months. So nothing too risky, please.

A new opera has just debuted, full of action. I would love to take you if it is still running when you visit. In fact, I shall create a loose itinerary for us, though I anticipate we will be doing much more than sightseeing together.

I have passed along your message to Lady Beidou, and her reply is as follows: “He isn’t the only one who’s been training. Next time we fight, I’ll kick his ass. He may have you (meaning myself) cheering for him, but I’ve got Ningguang.” Ever the fighting spirit, both of you. I look forward to witnessing you two spar. According to my wife, it was quite the spectacle last time.

Thinking of you,

Zhongli

 


 

When Tartaglia had first joined the Fatui at age fourteen, the bloodshed had been his least favorite part of the job. Given the time he’d spent in the Abyss—the brutal time in which he’d been forced to kill in order to survive, each kill taking a toll on his sanity—Tartaglia had slain many Abyssal creatures. But never humans. He’d valued life too preciously after his brush with death, not understanding at his young age how expendable people were in the grand scheme of things. 

He took his first life at fifteen, an unexpectedly calming act. 

Fighting was the best catharsis for him, enough to keep the Abyssal yearnings at bay when he was younger. Now, he had learned to control the creeping darkness, but nothing quite scratched his itch like some good old-fashioned violence. Sex, as he’d recently become well-acquainted with, expelled that same kind of energy. 

Perhaps too well; in the month since Zhongli left, Tartaglia had been so high-strung that multiple other Harbingers checked in on him. No amount of sparring or target practice could provide the same release as being between the Emperor’s legs. 

Every recent mission that came with the promise of beating someone up, Tartaglia took. His subordinates were quite pleased to be spending so much time with their Lord Harbinger, and jumped at his every command, hoping for a promotion. But Tartaglia hardly paid attention to what his men were doing, and was there for the thrill of the fight. 

Today, he’d taken on the bounty hunting of a Treasure Hoarder gang believed to be conspiring against the Fatui. Finding the group was easy; Tartaglia and his subordinates just had to ask around among other Treasure Hoarders who ratted the target out right away. 

This gang, like many others, attacked Fatui on sight, not realizing a Harbinger was present. Tartaglia could have let his men do the dirty work, but the battlefield did not recognize prestige. He fought right alongside his comrades, slashing and pummeling anything without a Fatui uniform. Within minutes, the gang’s hideout was torn to bits, the gang leader the only one left alive. 

As a Fatui agent held the leader at knifepoint, Tartaglia interrogated him. “It’s simple: you will tell us your group’s plans, or you will die. Your choice.”

“So merciful,” the man snarled, “You wouldn’t kill me! I have valuable information!”

Oh, the confidence of a fool. “We have time. We’ll stay like this until you feel like talking, then.”

When the leader swallowed, the knife at his throat broke the skin, a thread of blood trailing down his neck. “I don’t know everything , though, just my orders.”

“Orders from who?”

“As if I would tell you! The Big Boss left two days ago, you’ll never find him!”

Tartaglia shared a look with his men, who all seemed to have the same thought: This idiot… Due to the mountainous land around them, there were only so many directions the leader’s boss could have gone in. With a bit more intimidating of other gangs, tracking him down would be simple. 

Another Fatui agent brandished his blade, only to be stopped by Tartaglia. “Allow me to take care of this one myself.”

For every tender moment shared with Zhongli, an equal moment of rage existed within Tartaglia. This desire was impossible to control unless it was satisfied. The Harbinger unsheathed his blade.

With the glint of metal, in one slash, it was over.

Slowly, his mind cleared. Tartaglia dabbed the blood off his face and smiled at his agents. “Now, then, let’s track down that boss.”

As Tartaglia exited the cave with a spring in his step, the other Fatui stared at the corpse, still warm in their arms. Looking upon the carnage before them, the Fatui agents could not help but wonder: Who broke Lord Harbinger’s heart?

 


 

“Your Majesty, I have scheduled a meeting with the master of Feiyun Commerce Guild in two days’ time.” Xiao stood in the doorway of Zhongli’s office, hovering there but not entering. 

“Excellent, thank you.” Zhongli smiled, but it was forced. In all the years Xiao had served him, the young man could not be described as ‘expressive’ or ‘emotional’—quite the opposite. But Zhongli had recognized his behavior as different ever since he returned from Snezhnaya. The attendant was achingly formal, his every action like a machine.

If Xiao did not air his grievances soon, Zhongli would have to provoke him.

Fortunately, he would not need to wait long. “Your Majesty.” Instead of leaving, Xiao remained by the door.

“Yes, Xiao?” Zhongli gestured to a chair opposite his desk. “Please, sit.”

Reluctantly, Xiao did so. “I must be honest with you, Your Majesty.”

Zhongli had hardly known his father, the late Emperor, and therefore did not know what it meant to be a father. But since he’d taken the young man before him under his wing, Xiao had been like a son to him. He almost could not conceal his delight at Xiao speaking candidly with him. “Please, whatever you have to say, I will listen.”

Xiao took a breath, looking more nervous than Zhongli had ever seen him. “While you were in Snezhnaya, I discovered… some truths about your relationship with Her Majesty.”

The Emperor nodded. “I assumed as much. This is something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long while, Xiao.” Ningguang had already briefed Zhongli about the encounter, of course. But it was in Xiao’s nature to do things on his own time.

Although Xiao had had weeks to process his discovery, the Emperor’s confirmation made his stomach drop. “So it is true.” The remaining image of the past three years crumbled in his mind’s eye.

“Yes. We married each other knowing that it would be out of convenience. Xiao, you have witnessed me and Ningguang throughout our entire marriage. Just because we are not in love does not mean our relationship is any different from what you have seen. We support each other and tend to each other’s needs—none of that is fake.” While Xiao’s inner turmoil continued, Zhongli wore a patient smile.

At the risk of sacrificing some manners, Xiao asked, “Were you ever planning to tell me, Your Majesty?”

There was something almost sad in Zhongli's eyes. “If it were up to me, yes. However, it was agreed upon in our marriage contract that we would not admit the truth to anyone unless they discovered it themself.”

Xiao took his Emperor at his word, each bit of truth phasing through him, swirling around in his head. Then, a thought occurred to the young man. “May I ask you a question, Your Majesty?”

“Of course, Xiao. Ask whatever is on your mind.”

He struggled to ask, “That Snezhnayan diplomat, is he…?”

Despite Xiao’s mental peril, Zhongli had to laugh. “Astute as always, Xiao.” Evidently, this was not the answer Xiao had been hoping for. Zhongli rushed to reassure him, “I believe our feelings for each other are mutual, with no ulterior motives. I would not share this with you if I were not serious about him. Ah, there I go, speaking like a teenager again,” the Emperor chuckled to himself, “He will be visiting in November. Please, be kind to him.”

Because it meant something to his lord, Xiao would do so (with great difficulty). Even from their brief meeting months ago, Xiao had instantly recognized that diplomat’s intentions as less-than-pure. That, combined with His Majesty’s obvious interest in the man, had set off warning bells in Xiao’s head. Come to find out, they’d been sneaking around since who-knows-when… 

But if the Snezhnayan man truly was a good match for His Majesty, then Xiao would accept him just as he’d already accepted Captain Beidou.

The Empress had chosen a fearsome privateer who dabbled in black market trade, and the Emperor a violent Harbinger trying to hijack Liyue’s economy. Their tastes were eccentric, if not questionable. With everything else in life, the Emperor deliberated heavily to ensure the best possible outcome. Surely some of that consideration would be put into his relationships as well. And so, Xiao decided that the next time he saw the Harbinger, it would be in a new light. 

If that man made one wrong step, however…

 


 

This morning, Ningguang had won at chess. Beidou would claim that she’d let the other woman win, but Ningguang was Teyvat’s leading Millennial Chess player (and coincidentally, its inventor). 

She played chess like she governed her country, or perhaps vice versa: deliberately, efficiently. Ningguang needed her hand in every pot, down to the planning of festivals and events. The past few years, Lantern Rite festivities have been planned with help from the Yuheng, Keqing. Even with this extra help, Ningguang still spent hours every day meeting with vendors or ordering lanterns.

No corner of Liyue would go untouched by the warmth of Lantern Rite. The palace itself would throw a grand party, inviting diplomats and common people alike. The banquet hall would be set up to accommodate all the guests in a night of dancing and celebration. And throughout all of this planning, Captain Beidou had been dragged along as a second opinion.

“And across the entryway, imagine a large floral display that will act as the attachment point for many streams of lanterns, leading up to there,” Ningguang gestured animatedly around the room, painting a picture for Beidou. “And the largest lantern will be in the middle of the ceiling.”

“What kind of flowers?” Beidou made an effort to stay engaged, but Ningguang’s focus on the festival meant her focus was off of Beidou.

The Empress’s brow furrowed, “Silk flowers would be the obvious choice, but I think glaze lilies would add some contrast.”

“Anything you pick will be beautiful.” It was the truth, and also a transition into more important things: “You’ve been working so hard, why don’t you take a little break?” Her hand slipped easily to the other woman’s waist, making clear how she wanted this “break” to go.

The hand was promptly swatted away. “Lantern Rite is only six months out,” she said. Six months was more than enough time to plan anything in Beidou’s mind, but Ningguang’s foresight had always complemented Beidou’s spontaneity. “You will be attending, right?”

Since they’d known each other, the two had spent Lantern Rite together. Even the year they first met, when Ningguang couldn’t stand the sight of her, Beidou had sought her out to wish her a Happy Lantern Rite. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Beidou promised. The two then walked around the banquet hall in silence, imagining the festivities to come. “We’ve never been in here alone,” Beidou pointed out. They hadn’t defiled this room either (yet), but that was a prospect for another time. The banquet hall doubled as a ballroom, thanks to Ningguang’s stroke of inspiration after attending a ball in Fontaine. “Makes me want to dance with you.”

“Please, do you know how to dance?” She’d seen Beidou dance before, at some socialite event, but it hadn’t been a serious effort.

The Captain mocked offense. “What do you think my crew and I do at sea all day? We hold dancing classes, of course! Besides, I’ve been practicing so we can have the perfect first dance at our wedding.”

Her casual tone caught Ningguang off guard. “What wedding!”

“Don’t believe me? We can dance right now.” A challenge lay in her eyes. 

Not one to shy away from a chance like this, Ningguang tugged her close by the waist. 

“Oh, you’re leading?” Beidou was delighted, and began swaying with her lady to a tuneless rhythm. 

There was no need for words between them as Ningguang waltzed her love across the marble floor. Beidou could, in fact, dance. A thought briefly crept into the Empress’s mind, of how many women has she danced with in her travels? But it was driven away by Beidou spinning her.

“I thought I was leading,” Ningguang nearly tripped at the sudden spin, but recovered to dip Beidou. The captain laughed—until she became caught up in a kiss. 

Outside the ballroom doors, out of view of the couple, Ganyu and Xiao huddled close to the wall. They’d been returning from a late meeting with the Yuheng when the captain’s boisterous laugh caught their ears. Ganyu decided to secure the area; after all, if anyone were to catch Her Majesty and Captain Beidou like this, it should be Xiao or Ganyu. But Ganyu could not contain her smile. She spoke reverently, as if anyone could only dream of having what the Captain and Empress had. “I do love seeing Her Majesty like this,” she whispered, “She never laughs like this, only with Captain Beidou.”

And Xiao peered back into the room, took in the scene of the couple dancing. Truthfully, he had never seen Her Majesty in such high spirits. She would smile with Zhongli on occasion, but this felt different. Her frame was completely relaxed, no bite of regality in her voice. Xiao suddenly comprehended that this is how love looked on Her Majesty, and it was a sight to behold. The expressions that Xiao once read as love had meant nothing but appreciation for a friend. And Xiao briefly wondered how His Majesty’s love-tainted expression would look as well.

Xiao let out a huff, and with it, abandoned previous notions of Their Majesties. “Come, Ganyu,” he whispered, “Let’s leave them in peace.”

 


 

Dear Zhongli,

Next week, I’ll be visiting my family. I rarely see them, so it will be nice to spend time at home for a while. My family would love you. I want to tell them all about you, except the fact that you’re the Emperor. Well, and that you’re married. Formalities! My younger siblings would idolize you and would want to hear all your stories. And my parents would want you to stay forever.

Damn, now I want to take you home to my family. I can’t do anything the normal way, can I? Meet a nice girl from my village, settle down with her and live happily ever after… No, that’s overrated. I couldn’t be happier to have you instead.

Yours,

Tartaglia

 


 

The village of Morepesok could be easily missed by those not looking for it; the unassuming village was tucked between a main road and the shore, with only its fishing exports to offer. But on this day, a high-profile escort from the Palace arrived in the sleepy town. And Tartaglia breathed in the sea air, the same smell that coincided with his childhood years.

This was the village Tartaglia called home.

As he made his way through the village, residents called out to him like a local hero, gathering at the edges of the street just to catch a glimpse of the Harbinger. He waved to them not like a celebrity to his fans, but like old friends he hadn’t seen in years. Tartaglia did not recognize many of these faces, but some were his former neighbors or his parents’ friends. 

Whenever he visited this place, he couldn’t help but wonder how his life would be if he’d stayed in Morepesok. If he’d never fallen prey to the Abyss. Some of his childhood classmates were now humble fishermen in this village, living a quiet and honest life. 

He shook those thoughts away as his family home came into view. No use dwelling on what-ifs when he was here to see his family. 

Tartaglia did not even make it to the stone path of his home before the front door opened, three excited children running out to ambush him. “Ajax! Big brother!”

His birth name made him pause, but he opened his arms just in time to catch his siblings. “Oof! You three are too big to be doing this now!” But Tartaglia was a soldier, after all, and easily lifted Tonia into the air. 

“Children, give your brother room to breathe!” His mother’s voice came from the doorway, where both his parents stood. 

Still carrying Tonia, Tartaglia hurried to embrace his parents. “Mama, Papa!” 

“Oh, my son is home!” His mother kissed his cheek, delighted. “Have you grown even taller?” He’d stopped growing years ago. Perhaps his mother was shrinking. 

“Son!” His father clapped him on the back. “How has our Ajax been?”

The name felt foreign, detached from his being. He had not been “Ajax” for over a decade. But his father had proudly given him the name, and so Tartaglia smiled. “I’ve been well, Papa. Let’s head inside, before the whole neighborhood knows I’m here.”

Within a few minutes, Tartaglia’s entire family was sitting around their large wooden dining table. This home still smelled the same, the distinct and nostalgic scent of Tartaglia’s childhood. With Teucer on his lap, he told his siblings about his intense career as a “toy salesman”, much to the amusement of their parents. And in turn, his siblings caught him up on their stellar grades in school, and new hobbies like catching frogs or foraging. 

His family surrounded him until it was time for the children to sleep, an almost suffocating amount of affection. Not unpleasant, but something Tartaglia was unused to. As he read an action-packed bedtime story to the three, Anthon yawned and said, “Big brother, I’m so happy you’re home.” And that hit Tartaglia directly in the heart. It was so easy to forget in the turmoil of it all: this was what he fought for.

For an entire weekend, Tartaglia was coddled, treated the same as his siblings half his age. He cooked with his mother, took his siblings to the market, and helped his father with work around the house. For one weekend, he was Ajax again. 

He did not talk about work. His parents asked, but he brushed their questions off with vague answers. “Work is good. Mrs. Petrov says hello, by the way.” “I’m keeping busy, that’s for sure!” 

On the third and final day of his visit, Tartaglia prepared the fish he and his father had caught that morning. He and his mother gutted and fileted the fish expertly, working in a rhythm established many years ago. They happily chatted and gossipped about old family friends, laughing and teasing each other.

After enough fish had been prepared and the rest preserved, Tartaglia washed his hands clean of any scales. “What a workout!” He grinned at his mother.

“You should have more arm strength than I do, boy.” She patted his bicep roughly. “Now, hold out your hand,” she demanded.

“Why, Mama?”

“I’ve never seen you like this before. You think I wouldn’t notice when my own son is courting someone? So show me your hand—I want to see the ring!”

‘Horrified’ could be the only description of Tartaglia’s expression. “There’s no ring, Mama!”

“But there is a special someone?”

He let out a resigned sigh. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

His mother’s eyes lit up, and she clapped with glee. “Tell me all about her! Or him,” she winked.

When Tartaglia’s older siblings had run off and gotten married, his mother had badgered them for details as well. Back then, Tartaglia never thought it might be his turn someday…

“He’s from Liyue. So sorry, Mama, but no grandchildren from me!”

Even with news that many parents would despair over, his mother squealed in delight. She hopped onto the nearest chair and Tartaglia sat next to her. “Tell me about him. Is he handsome?”

Like a bubble had been popped, everything rolled off of Tartaglia's tongue at once. “Oh, Mama, the most handsome man I’ve ever met. He’d have all the old ladies in this village swooning, I swear. And he’s so intelligent, and funny even when he’s not trying.”

“And does he treat you well? I don’t have to find him and kick his ass?”

There was no hesitation as Tartaglia said, “No ass-kicking necessary. You would love him, Mama.” His five short days as Zhongli’s lover had passed in a blur, and Tartaglia's memory of those days was akin to a fairytale. It was nearly too good to be true; Zhongli was too good to be true. 

There was nobody in Tartaglia’s life who he could talk to like this, about romance. And so he told his mother everything he could, without revealing too much—about taking Zhongli to the Petrovs’ restaurant, about seeing the opera with him, about their first kiss (only because she’d asked). It felt wonderful, just to discuss this new part of his life with someone. 

After Tartaglia had his fill of rambling on about his man, his mother seemed thoroughly satisfied. “And? When are we going to meet him?”

What a scandal that would be: the youngest Harbinger bringing the married Emperor of Liyue home to meet his family! “That might be a bit complicated, Mama. His job is kind of high-profile, you see. He can’t travel very often because of it.” Still, the thought of bringing Zhongli home sent a thrill through him, and he admitted, “But I want to, Mama. I want to introduce him to you all as my…” ‘Boyfriend’ didn't feel right, “partner. He’d fit right in here.”

“Oh, Ajax!” His mother looked like she could cry, and gave her son a bone-crushing hug. “Despite your position, and all the struggles you’ve been through, I knew you would find the right person for you someday. You deserve that, with all the care in your heart, even if you don't show it.” She pulled away and looked her son over with another tearful glance. “I must tell your father! Let me go get him and you can share everything you told me.” She excitedly ran off to the yard, calling out, “Milyy! Your son is in love!”

And Tartaglia simply laughed at her antics, a genuine smile on his face. After all, there was nothing to deny.

 


 

“Dear Zhongli,

I have a few drinks in me, so excuse the contents of this letter in advance. I’ve decided not to read it in the morning and just send it.

Thank the gods we only have a month left until I go to Liyue. I’ve been thinking of all the wicked things I want to do to you, so brace yourself. My dick misses your ass so badly. Tartaglia Jr. wakes up every morning but I wish you were the one taking care of it. If I had a Kamera I would send you photos.

Remember that night when we were on the balcony and you —Ahahaha!”

Beidou could not get through the sentence. The one time she decided to snoop through His Majesty’s mail, a particularly filthy letter had arrived from Zapolyarny Palace. 

In fairness, Ningguang had warned her. The Empress was curled up next to her, mortified by the details of her husband’s sexcapades. “Please, never speak of this again.”

The Captain folded the letter back into its original envelope, and slipped it into Zhongli’s drawer exactly as she’d found it. “Oh, like we haven’t done worse. Poor Kazuha is still scarred from that one time—”

“I thought we were past that.” Ningguang felt a headache coming on. Because of Kazuha’s heightened sense of hearing, he discovered rather early on that he needed a bedroom on the opposite side of the Alcor from Beidou. Ningguang could hardly look him in the eye to this day. 

“We are, I just can’t let you live it down.” In truth, Kazuha was not as prudish and upstanding as the Empress assumed. He’d even joked about the affair to Beidou on a few occasions, holding it over her head. “Honestly, I’m happy for Zhongli. I’ve looked at that man many times and thought, ‘He needs to get laid.’”

“Can we stop talking about my husband like this?” Internally, however, Ningguang had to agree. Since his return from Snezhnaya, Zhongli’s mood had improved tenfold. Those who would walk on eggshells around him to avoid the infamous “wrath of the rock” now acted casually with no consequences. Zhongli was more laid-back, social, and generally happier. Whether Ningguang approved of his young rascal or not, she had to admit that he’d been good for Zhongli’s mentality.

Carefully, Beidou re-folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope just as she’d found it. “Alright, spoilsport. Will you write sexy love letters to me while I’m away at sea?” She faked a pout as she stowed the letter back in its drawer.

Ningguang and Zhongli did tell each other everything over late-night gossip sessions, but this invasion of privacy was one thing Ningguang would never admit to her husband. The content of the letters was just too mortifying. 

In her own living chamber, however, Ningguang had a stash of letters she’d written for Beidou over the years. Every time she missed her lover, Ningguang would draft a new one. The issue Ningguang had found was the speed at which the Crux traveled; no courier boat was fast enough to deliver anything before the fleet had sailed out of reach. Instead of telling Beidou this, she countered, “Perhaps, if you send me one as well.”

She did not know of the pile of letters Beidou had already drafted aboard her ship. The captain laughed and flashed her a grin. “Sure I will. But for now, I can just tell you all my wanton fantasies in person.”

The second before Beidou climbed into her lap, Ningguang rolled her eyes. This woman could transition any scenario into something dirty. Once Beidou’s body was pressed against hers, however, all complaints died on her lips.

 


 

My dear Tartaglia,

I am counting the days until we may see each other again. I understand that you have a reserved room at the Northland Bank; however, I am thinking of ways that you could stay with me in the palace instead.

Our conversations in person have been too short in the past. Granted, we were otherwise occupied, but I am especially looking forward to talking with you. There are many things we must discuss. Some pleasurable things, yes, but there is also a serious matter which I’m afraid I must involve you in. But there is no need to worry about that now, I am simply letting you know in advance. However serious, I believe this matter will be of interest to you.

I quite enjoyed the book you recommended in your last letter. I can tell why you are fond of it. Of course because of the fight sequences, but the protagonist also reminds me of you. Someone loyal, who cares for his family. On the back of this letter, I have compiled a small list of books I feel you would enjoy.

To answer your question, no, I am not “sick of you” yet. Really, Tartaglia, where did you get that impression? Every letter that arrives from you is the highlight of my day. Please, ease your mind. I am just as anxious to see you as you are me, but patience is a virtue. 

Fondly,

Zhongli

 


 

The glamorous, mysterious existence of the Harbingers boiled down to this: being a Harbinger was a job, and the Harbingers employees. The perks and responsibilities were unconventional, but it was work all the same. Just like in any other job, the dull moments were occupied with meetings around a long table that accommodated all eleven Harbingers, plus the Tsaritsa. These meetings were less of a meeting and more of a lecture, as nobody could get a word in. 

For the table to be fully occupied during these meetings was a rarity. Usually at least one Harbinger was far away on a special mission. But this time, everyone’s schedules happened to align.

Yes, even the Sixth Harbinger, Scaramouche, had arrived back in Snezhnaya after an extended time in Inazuma. With each absence, the man became more arrogant, even kicking his feet up on Her Majesty’s table! And while the Tsaritsa did shoot him a disapproving glance, she did not ask him to remove his feet. He always was one of her favorites.

“As you all know,” the Tsaritsa began the meeting, “This year has been one of our most successful internationally. Thanks to the efforts of our Balladeer, we are now the leading nation in trade with Inazuma.”

Nobody congratulated Scaramouche. Tartaglia couldn't help the scowl that formed on his lips. 

The Tsaritsa continued. “Mondstadt is now in a vulnerable state as well, due to their change in government. The Goth Grand Hotel’s collaboration with the Knights of Favonius will be crucial during this time of shifting power. In the coming weeks, I will be dispatching Pantalone to the region as our representative.”

One by one, the Tsaritsa went through every nation and summarized the major developments of the past year.

Eventually, the time to discuss Liyue had come. “Our long-term goal for Liyue was to marry La Signora to Liyue’s Emperor. But due to extenuating circumstances, we will no longer be pursuing this goal for the time being.” Across the table, Signora is looking straight ahead at the wall, eyes flaming. “Instead, our efforts will be focused on the Northland Bank. Tartaglia will be returning to Liyue in two weeks. The Fatui there are already preparing for his arrival. Tartaglia will assist the Northland Bank in employing new advertising methods to expand the bank’s clientele.” A simple strategy, but it would likely prove effective. Liyue was such a traditional nation, down to its preferred methods of storing money. The Northland Bank was viewed as unnecessary by many Liyuens, who instead stashed their savings in the various crevices of their homes. If more local Liyuens put their trust in the bank, Snezhnaya’s economic influence could increase tenfold.

Tartaglia had already received these orders, and was prepared to do his part. Yes, there was a major conflict of interest. A relationship with the Emperor of the country one was trying to manipulate was hardly ideal. But to Tartaglia, this was merely business.

After a long two hours, the Tsaritsa dismissed her Harbingers. All eleven of them left the room weary and with headaches. Tartaglia headed straight for the training grounds to release some steam, but he did not make it far before someone stopped him. “Childe.”

“Signora,” he addressed her through gritted teeth. “Is there anything you need?”

They had not spoken alone since the Leaders’ Conference–since she’d tried (and failed!) to make a grab at his man. “Cheer up, now,” her condescending tone made his skin crawl. “Most men would be very happy to see me. Unless, of course, their hearts are already taken?”

He laughed in her face. “As if I’d be attracted to you in a million years!”

“Hm, I know you wouldn’t be,” she mused, “Is the Emperor of Liyue that much prettier than I am?”

Tartaglia’s jaw locked. “You didn’t answer my question. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Any semblance of playfulness disappeared from the woman’s eyes. “I’ll cut the bullshit. Tartaglia, I say this not for my personal gain. This is simply my advice to you as your colleague: You are making a mistake.”

The audacity she had to confront him like this… Rage mounted quickly within Tartaglia, until he saw red. “Rosalyne,” A name that had not been spoken for years sat in the air between them, “I know your past. We are two different people. And you forget that I’m an adult—I can make my own choices.”

“You’re blinded by it right now,” she cut him off, “I was there once, too. But love ruined me.”

“Who said anything about love?” Tartaglia tried not to raise his voice, glancing around for any prying eyes. “Who would I be in love with?”

“Still playing dumb?” Both parties were seething, “Fine. You heard her Highness today; I’m not involved in this anymore. I’ll leave you alone and let you make your mistake. But when this ends in ruin, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The Eighth Harbinger made her exit, leaving a seething Tartaglia in her wake.

A short time later, Tartaglia tore into the dummy bodies with more rage than usual. The dummies would normally be replaced a few times a week, but all of them would have to be replaced after this one cathartic session. Because more than La Signora’s general attitude, it was her words which had bothered Tartaglia. He knew his feelings, however…The possibility that her warning could come true tugged at the back of his mind, and would do so until he went to sleep that night. 

He dreamt of Zhongli (which was not unusual as of late): holding him, kissing him, and then betraying him. And Tartaglia knew then that he would do anything to make sure that image stayed only in his nightmares.

 


 

The Crux Fleet was set to Embark this afternoon, but before then, Captain Beidou was summoned by the Emperor. Instead of sending a messenger to find her and meeting somewhere casual, Zhongli had sent out an official summons, requesting to meet in a conference room. 

“This is awfully official!” Beidou declared the moment she stepped foot in the conference room, only to see that Ningguang was also present. “Oh. Hi, darling, I didn’t know you’d be here!” She knelt to kiss Ningguang’s cheek. 

“I did not know either, until ten minutes ago when Zhongli dragged me in here.” Ah, right, the Emperor was here. He sat sipping some tea, and Beidou greeted him. “Really, Zhongli, what has caused you to be so formal? Are we having some sort of intervention?”

“Is this about the letters in your desk?” Beidou asked, effectively implicating herself. “Because I swear, I only read one.” A very spicy one, but…

“Lady Beidou,” Zhongli smiled in a way that made her shiver. “I was not aware of that, but thank you for the confession. No, this is an important matter which I have greatly deliberated over the past months.”

Beidou looked toward Ningguang, whose expression said that she was just as clueless as Beidou. “Surely it must be about your Tartaglia, then.” Ningguang guessed. “Has he been cruel to you?”

Zhongli immediately rebuked the claim with a shake of his head. “This does involve Tartaglia; however, I have not disclosed this matter to him. It is my own plan.”

The Emperor was nervous; Ningguang could see it in his furrowed brow, his hand unsteady around the teacup. He took a breath, preparing for the question ahead. “Ladies,” he looked both of them in the eye. “How would you like to have a child?”

Notes:

i say it every time, but once again, i am SO sorry it has taken me this long to post this chapter. i got a job offer unexpectedly so i quit my old job and now i've been busy preparing for my new one. excuses, excuses. but i have a couple weeks before my new job officially starts, and i've had tons of motivation for writing! this chapter is kind of a filler? but there's some important stuff in it and i enjoyed writing the comedic bits so i hope everyone enjoyed~
although i had this fic outlined since the beginning, i didn't know how long it would be until now. so i'm planning for two more chapters after this one, and maybe an epilogue. exciting!
as always i love reading everyone's comments (even if i don't respond bc i'm too lazy to log in), and i always appreciate feedback! and just because i'm curious: what has everyone's fav part of this fic been so far?
twt: melecs_ao3 (i changed my @)

Chapter 9: A Wedding in Liyue

Summary:

PREVIOUS CHAPTER REFRESHER: Since Zhongli returned to Liyue, he and Tartaglia have been corresponding through letters. Xiao works on coming to terms with the true nature of the Emperor and Empress' relationship. Meanwhile in Snezhnaya, Tartaglia visits his family and imagines his future with Zhongli. Finally, Zhongli offers Ningguang and Beidou a shocking proposal, involving the conception of a child for them.

Notes:

WARNINGS: nsfw content throughout this chapter. tartaglia also bottoms so you can skip that if you want, starting after tartaglia takes a bath
this is also twice as long as my normal chapters holy moly what happened

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

November brought to Liyue the yellowed Sandbearer leaves, and fronts of cool air. The prime fishing season was winding down, with many ships already covered at the docks until late spring. It was on a crisp November evening that a Snezhnayan passenger ship arrived in Liyue Harbor.

With the confidence of someone who had not previously attempted to cause an international scandal, the Eleventh Harbinger disembarked. His lackeys were not far behind, and the group headed directly to the Northland Bank.

The people of Liyue whispered in Harbinger Tartaglia’s wake, watching the diplomat in horror. “That man, is he back to steal the Empress away again?” “Heading to the Palace to spark up the affair once more?” 

The gossip was half-right.

Tartaglia was restless from being at sea for days, with nothing to fight or kill. He wanted nothing more than to run straight to the palace for a steamy reunion with Zhongli, but Andrei of the Northland Bank was expecting him.

Everyone in the bank could immediately tell Tartaglia was in a sour mood. The staff greeted him with a stiff, “Welcome, Lord Harbinger,” all of them nervous at his demeanor. 

Still, Tartaglia responded like the gentleman people believed him to be. “Good evening, everyone. Oh, hi, Ekaterina. I’m here to see Alexei.”

“Good to see you again, Harbinger,” Ekaterina opened the counter for her comrade and presented a key to him. “In advance, here’s the key to your room. Alexei’s in the lounge, right this way.”

Tartaglia would be in Liyue for an entire week, during which he would have plenty of chances to talk with Alexei. It was simply a formality that he should go straight to the bank upon arriving in the country.

Needless to say, Tartaglia was disinterested.

Alexei was oblivious to this, however, proudly chattering on about his surefire marketing strategies. For what felt like hours, Alexei produced sales diagrams, academic journals, and surveys. “We’ve been consulting with the best marketing experts Snezhnaya has to offer.”

“If you’re marketing to Liyue natives, shouldn’t you consult the best marketing experts Liyue has to offer?” Alexei had no response to that, and Tartaglia took this pause as an opportunity to end their meeting. “No matter. We have days to figure this out.” 

His tone gave Alexei the hint of I don’t want to be here right now . “Of course, Lord Harbinger. We can meet again tomorrow. You must be so tired from your journey. I can have Ekaterina show you to your room?”

“Thank you, Alexei, but I need to stretch my legs a bit first. I think I’ll take a walk around the city. Who knows when I’ll be back!”

Alexei nodded, knowing better than to question the Harbinger’s motives. “Certainly. Do enjoy yourself, Lord Harbinger.”

Tartaglia grinned as he sauntered out of the bank. “Oh, I will!”

 


 

In the library of Liyue Palace, the Emperor pored over some books. The books spanned subjects from war, to politics, to folklore. Three hours ago, Xiao had reported a Snezhnayan ship’s arrival. Since then, Zhongli’s reading had been interrupted by the thrum of anticipation that Tartaglia could walk through the door at any moment.

After reading the same page for the third time and not retaining anything from it, two Millelith knocked on the door. “Your Majesty,” one of them announced, “Diplomat Tartaglia of Snezhnaya is requesting an immediate audience with you.”

Every other time that someone had requested to meet the Emperor without an appointment, Zhongli had turned them away. This time, he said, “I will see him.”

Through the door, the guards’ hesitation was evident. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” After what felt like an eternity later, the library doors opened.

And the Eleventh Harbinger came barreling through the room. 

The Millelith were hot on his heels, trying to grab at Tartaglia, but his evasive prowess was strong. The flash of orange and grey only came to a stop as Tartaglia collapsed to the floor where Zhongli was. Unable to even attempt an act of professionalism, Tartaglia took Zhongli into his arms, breathing him in. He held his lover after seven months, face buried in the Emperor’s shoulder.

Behind the couple, the Millelith were in disarray. They could not remove this ruffian without touching His Majesty, and so they stayed back. “Unhand His Majesty this instant!”

Unhand him? Tartaglia thought, I’ve been waiting for this for half a year!

Zhongli let out a relieved sigh, clutching Tartaglia’s waist where the Millelith could not see. “It is quite alright. Please, leave us. You are all dismissed.”

The guards stood dumbfounded at His Majesty’s words and the softness of his voice. Reluctantly, they did as they were told. One of them wondered if the Emperor had finally taken a high-profile concubine after all this time.

The doors slid shut with a hollow wooden sound, and both men breathed out. Then, Tartaglia uttered his first words of greeting: “Today was so shitty.”

Zhongli chuckled, reaching up to stroke Tartaglia's hair. “And what made it so?”

The other man’s voice was muffled by the silken robes. “The ship ride. Meeting at the bank. Not being able to see you right away.”

“Oh, dear. Well, my day is wonderful. And that is because now, I have you here.”

Tartaglia detached his head from Zhongli's shoulder, sitting up to look at him properly. They stared at each other for some time, still loosely entwined. 

Zhongli ran his thumb comfortingly across Tartaglia's arm. “I must say, you gave my guards quite a shock.”

That finally earned a grin from Tartaglia. “What do you mean? I was on my best behavior. I’m done behaving now, though.” And he leaned in swiftly to capture the Emperor's lips.

Kissing Tartaglia again erased the clutter in Zhongli’s mind. All his worries faded away as he concentrated on the man in his arms. There was a saying about distance making the heart grow fonder, and it was true—both men had been anticipating this for months, and released all of this repressed emotion into their kiss. Tartaglia was here

In no time, the kisses turned deep, artless, simply trying to be as close as possible. Tartaglia shifted forward until he was seated on the Emperor’s lap, and Zhongli grabbed his hips in turn. “The Millelith are right outside the door,” Zhongli whispered.

“Hm, we’ll have to be quiet, then,” Tartaglia kissed his jaw.

“That is not possible,” Zhongli stated, for both their sakes. Not only was Tartaglia very vocal in bed, but Zhongli himself did not want their reunion to be inhibited by any factors like this. He kissed Tartaglia one last time before releasing him and standing, dragging the Harbinger up with him. “I’ve missed you greatly.”

“Me, too,” Tartaglia admitted, almost shy, “I missed you.” Although he’d said it countless times in his letters, telling him in person was different. “Oh!” He rummaged around in his coat pocket, presenting a small box to Zhongli. “What kind of guest would I be if I didn’t bring a gift for His Majesty?”

Zhongli opened it, and recognized the gift immediately. It was the earrings they’d looked at together in the silversmith shop. At that time, it would have been improper for Tartaglia to buy him anything, but they’d since abandoned notions of “proper”.

Tartaglia gauged his reaction, pleased when Zhongli put one on right away, switching out his current earring. “Thank you, Tartaglia.”

“I knew it,” the Harbinger mused, tucking Zhongli’s hair behind his ear to see the jewelry more clearly, “It looks beautiful on you.” And it did, the delicate silver bringing out the sparkle in his eyes.

Zhongli drew him in to kiss his cheek. “You know my tastes. The silver tea tray you gifted me is still my favorite. Now, then, are you expected back at the bank tonight?”

Tartaglia happily shook his head. “I already told the bank manager that I plan on going out tonight. So if I happen to sleep somewhere else, for example, I’m sure he won’t be concerned. Besides, no one in Liyue is an authority figure to me.”

Zhongli raised a brow at that. “Oh, really? So if, say, the Emperor asked you to spend the night with him, you could refuse?”

The other man pretended to think about that question. “Well, if this Emperor were to insist…”

They’d played around for long enough that even Zhongli was becoming impatient. “Would you?”

“All you had to do was ask. But, uh, I’ve been on that boat for a few days. I need a bath before anything.”

Zhongli chuckled. “The guest baths are still open. I shall meet you in the central courtyard afterward. But please, take your time. Now that you are here, there is no rush.”

And so the two men exited the library, past the stiff guards. And Tartaglia took his hot bath, careful to wash every inch of himself. He expelled the salt water from his skin, ridding himself of the journey and of his duties.

He found Zhongli again in a dark corner of the courtyard, not a guard in sight. The Emperor had evidently cleared them out. When he spotted Tartaglia in the dim light, the Emperor came forward to tousle his hair, still wet from the bath. “Come, let us go to my chambers.” He grasped Tartaglia’s hand, gingerly, and together they walked through the night. 

The Imperial Chambers were only a short distance away; still, Tartaglia could not contain himself on the way there. “I can’t wait, Zhongli,” he huddled close to whisper in the Emperor’s ear, “I touched myself in the bath.”

A shiver ran down Zhongli’s spine. “You didn’t come, I hope,” he whispered back.

Any time the upstanding Emperor talked so filthy, Tartaglia felt a rush. He’d missed this, crazed by the longing to be in Zhongli’s arms again. Every step was torture; they hadn’t done anything yet, and already, Tartaglia was buzzing.

After two agonizing minutes, they reached the elaborate doors of the Emperor’s chambers. Never before had Tartaglia been inside, and normally, he would stop to admire the interior, but now there was only one thing on his mind.

The moment the doors slid shut, Tartaglia kissed him. Deep, dirty kisses that could not capture Tartaglia's emotions by themselves. And Zhongli returned everything Tartaglia gave, and they fit together again with no awkwardness. This was muscle memory, the memories both men had revisited daily for months. 

“Your bed looks comfortable,” Tartaglia spoke against his lips, not looking at the bed.

“See for yourself.” In the next moment, the couple had transferred to the bed. It was indeed a comfortable bed, but that was the least of Tartaglia’s thoughts. There they exchanged languid kisses and dragging touches, taking their time together.

Just as Tartaglia became restless for something more, Zhongli “You must be tired from your journey. You could sleep right now, if you’d like…”

Tartaglia groaned. “Zhongli, don’t tease.”

The Emperor gave up the act immediately, just as eager to have Tartaglia again. He quickly disrobed, as did Tartaglia. Their previous foreplay had left the desire for relief in its wake. Zhongli took in the sight of his lover’s form, decorated with recently-healed scars. “You’ve been no more gentle on your body, I see.”

“Surprised?” He keened into Zhongli’s every touch. 

It was impossible not to notice how unusually pliant Tartaglia was tonight. Normally he took control, but tonight… Zhongli did not want to make assumptions, so he asked, “How do you want me?”

“How do you want me ?” Tartaglia whined.

His suspicions were confirmed. During their escapades in Snezhnaya, Zhongli had fucked Tartaglia twice. Which was not a problem; he usually preferred being on the receiving end, but sometimes Tartaglia got into a mood. This was one of those times—in his absence, the Harbinger had been so deprived of attention that only this could bring relief. And when he got like this, so sensitive and needy, Zhongli wanted nothing more than to indulge him.

He kissed Tartaglia’s navel. “What about all of that talk in your letters about how you planned to desecrate me?”

Tartaglia had no façade of dignity left. “I was bluffing, please. Please, I need you inside me. What do you think I did in the bath?”

Immediately, Zhongli’s fingers moved to his ass. Sure enough, there was no resistance. Zhongli’s other hand moved for the thin oil he’d kept nearby in preparation for this night. 

Two fingers easily slipped inside his lover.

All tension immediately released from Tartaglia’s body, now fully concentrated on his lover’s touch. Not much preparation was needed, of course, due to Tartaglia’s earlier escapades. In only a minute, Tartaglia deemed himself ready. “Zhongli, Zhongli, fuck me.”

The Emperor didn’t need to be told twice. He obediently pressed his swollen dick against his lover’s waiting hole and slowly pressed inside. Both men groaned at the feeling of being this close again, becoming one.

There was no learning curve; muscle memory was ingrained in both men like fighting, or breathing. Zhongli fucked him slowly, with the smooth rolling of his hips. And Tartaglia’s own hips responded to his thrusts, the rhythm of two waves meeting. Time, reality—all those unimportant rules of life dissolved between the two bodies. All the while, Tartaglia spoke in that beautiful broken voice of his: “Zhongli, oh, gods, you’re perfect inside me. Just like that, please, right there.” His dialogue became filthier and less coherent the longer Zhongli fucked into him. And Zhongli, when he wasn’t dragging kisses along Tartaglia's mouth, catching his lips every other moment, his mouth was moving against his lover’s throat.

“Bite me!” Tartaglia choked out, like he needed it. Needed some pain to satiate his desire. 

So Zhongli did, sinking his teeth in deep enough to leave an impression, but not to break the skin. He reached his hand down, too, providing relief to the younger man’s cock. 

Tartaglia’s release came shortly after. He clung tightly onto the body above him, grasping at any solid stretch of skin as his mind transcended. It felt like the haze of the Abyss, but this time, Zhongli was here to warm him, hold him. 

Zhongli did not last much longer, feeling his companion tighten around him. He whispered words of affection, and spilled inside, the way Tartaglia liked it. For many nights in the past six months, Zhongli had tried to recreate this ecstasy, but the real thing was heavenly. His mind had not yet cleared before he kissed Tartaglia, a thank-you and much more.

Heavy breathing filled the room, and the couple took their time to calm down. Zhongli had pulled out, collapsed atop his lover, who stroked his hair.

They’d needed this. The post-coital kisses and comforting touches conveyed a wealth of emotion. Finally, Zhongli moved to lie next to Tartaglia, who for once had nothing to say. “Talk to me, dear. Tell me everything about the last six months for you,” Zhongli prompted, and Tartaglia did. He told Zhongli of visiting his family, of his missions, of his new scars. And Zhongli told him of everyday life in Liyue, mundane things only someone who adored him would care to hear.

But something was clearly bothering Zhongli, which Tartaglia recognized from the furrow in his brow. “Zhongli, tell me what’s wrong. You can’t hide it from me.”

Rather than denying it, Zhongli confessed, as if he’d been waiting for Tartaglia to ask: “I must admit, with each passing year, I am growing less confident in my role as Emperor.” The younger man did not seem surprised by this, so he continued, “I often find myself wishing this were not my fate. Ningguang is far better suited for this position than I. When I ascended to the throne as a freshly-retired general, I craved power, but now I’ve… mellowed out, as Hu Tao says.”

Tartaglia, who held an innate desire for power, could not give him advice, only reassurance. “Hey. Your people love you. So obviously you’re doing something right. But if this is really weighing on you, then maybe it’s time to change things up a bit. That’s what I do when I get bored.” Which was nearly every day, but…

Zhongli hummed in contemplation, and fell silent for the moment. They were both tired, after all, and the Emperor settled into Tartaglia’s side, head resting on his shoulder.

An unknown amount of time later, Zhongli asked, “Must you go back before dawn?”

Tartaglia kissed him. “Like I said, where I sleep is no one’s business but my own.” (Well, the Emperor’s bed might be a public concern, but Zhongli did not question him.) 

“What I am hearing is, we can lie like this for a while longer.”

“We can do more than that.” And Tartaglia wasted no time in demonstrating his intentions. 

The next morning, Tartaglia showed up at the Northland Bank exhausted, but in high spirits. 

“Respectfully, Lord Harbinger,” Ekaterina remarked as she served him tea, “What is wrong with you?”

The blunt question did not sway Tartaglia at all; nothing could bring down his good mood. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Ekaterina! I’m just very happy to be back in Liyue.”

Ekaterina truly respected her superior, but she did not believe him.

Later, while working at her desk, Ekaterina heard the Harbinger whistling through the wall. 

Whatever had caused this change in him was a miracle, indeed. 

 


 

The Imperial Palace had been louder than usual this week. Captain Beidou’s booming voice was a regular occurrence as of late, but now there was the addition of a certain Harbinger’s boisterous laugh.

Every worker of the palace noticed how that man was attached to His Majesty’s hip. Over three days, every second Tartaglia was not at the Northland Bank, he was in the Emperor’s company. They spent hours chatting in the courtyard, in the grand antiques rooms, or dining together. When Zhongli was working, Tartaglia sat in his office like a puppy waiting to play with its master.

Ningguang and Beidou became bemused spectators to this song-and-dance the men had going. They watched from afar and made commentary, something Captain Beidou delighted in. “This is like a nature book, look. ‘The Emperor and his mate perform a courtship ritual.”

“Please, don’t talk about my husband like that.” Despite her words, Ningguang also welcomed the Harbinger’s presence. She did not support his business dealings, but since his arrival, Zhongli’s happiness was evident.

One early morning, Beidou hit the training grounds as usual. This time, Ningguang had woken up early enough to watch her practice. Her own Geo Vision created projectiles for Beidou to knock away, and she did so effortlessly. “If I do the next round in one swing, will you give me a kiss?” the Captain asked.

For a few crystal projectiles, one swing was easy work. Ningguang agreed, anyway.

Of course, Beidou slashed them with ease, and ran over to the Empress to claim her prize. She had just reached for Ningguang’s face when a cheerful voice called out, “Well, look who it is!”

A red-haired figure sauntered toward the couple. “My old rival.” The remark was directed toward Beidou, but soon Tartaglia noticed Ningguang as well. “Ah, Your Majesty. I did not mean to insinuate that you are my rival, I don’t think like that, I mean—”

Beidou’s laugh filled the training grounds. “I knew you were talking to me, friend. If Her Majesty thought otherwise, she’s full of it.” Ningguang kicked Beidou’s shin. The Captain didn’t even wince. “Getting some early-morning practice in?” she asked him.

“I was planning to go for an hour or so. Care for a rematch?”

Those were the magic words for Beidou, but the Empress intercepted her lover and her husband’s lover. “Before any kind of fighting starts, did you think I would not confront you eventually, Mister Tartaglia?”

The man in question went stiff as a rail. “Nothing of the sort, Your Majesty.”

She pointed to a stool across from her, where they would be eye-to-eye. “Won’t you sit?”

Tartaglia did.

“Now, I don’t remember you asking for my blessing before you started sleeping with my husband,” she began.

Although he’d been intimidated before, Tartaglia was imbued with a sudden brave streak. “Did your husband ask for your blessing?”

“In fact, he did.”

The Harbinger shut up at that, made bashful by how good a man his Zhongli was.

Ningguang continued, “I’ll admit I was wary of you at first, and I still do not agree with the underhanded dealings you Fatui are so fond of.”

“Yah, don’t be so hard on the poor kid!” Beidou commented from the sidelines.

“I’m not finished,” she turned back to Tartaglia, “I wanted to thank you,” Blue eyes widened, and she held his gaze. “For loving him as I could not in our marriage. For caring for him. He seems untouchable sometimes, but he deserves to be loved. You do love him, correct?”

“I do,” He answered immediately, but winced as he knew what question would be next:

“And you’ve told him, correct ?”

Tartaglia’s back straightened into a defensive posture. “He hasn’t told me, either.”

Beidou cackled, while Ningguang could only sigh. Hopeless, both of them . These men were truly a fated pair. “Let’s make sure that changes.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Her face softened slightly, almost a smile. “Please, call me Ningguang. We’ll be close to family soon enough.”

Tartaglia blinked. “What do you mean?”

Of course . Ningguang and Beidou shared a look. “It seems I’ll be having a talk with my husband. Now, I believe I interrupted you two earlier. I have a meeting soon anyway, if you’ll excuse me.”

She rose, and before she took her leave, Beidou brought her in for the quick kiss she’d promised. Their guest averted his eyes, but was secretly glad that the couple were comfortable enough with his presence.

“That was my good luck charm,” Beidou turned around toward Tartaglia, swinging her claymore arrogantly.

The Harbinger readied his own weapon. “Ha! You’ll need it.”

And the two of them struck simultaneously, the start of a thrilling morning spar.

 


 

The Northland Bank was a surprisingly suitable venue for a wedding. Andrei had hired a talented team of designers to transform the bank into a grand event space, with live traditional music and food catered from Liuli Pavilion.

 As Snezhnaya was the nation of love, it could be said that Snezhnayan weddings were the purest representation of marriage. Vlad and Nadia had decided on a fusion wedding; both of them were from Snezhnaya, but as Liyue had been their home for many years, they wanted to incorporate some Liyuen elements into the ceremony as well.

Tartaglia had been at the bank all day, and stalled his work to give Vlad some much-needed encouragement. The poor man had been trembling for hours, his nerves nearly comical. “It’s not like you haven’t seen her before!” Tartaglia laughed at him, clapping him on the back, “Even if you royally mess something up, Nadia will still marry you today. She adores you.”

“But I want this to be perfect for her,” Vlad despaired. After years of dancing around each other, dating, and being engaged, he was still shy as ever when it came to Nadia. But as amusing as it was, Tartaglia now understood how he felt.

A few hours later, the ceremony began. Nadia was indeed beautiful in her red gown, adorned with silver embroidery. Attendees would later say that this wedding was second to only the Imperial wedding (Tartaglia held no opinion on this, as he was unfairly biased toward Snezhnayan traditions and against Zhongli’s first marriage). A Snezhnayan priest blessed the couple, and read from holy texts. Crowns were then placed on the couples’ heads, rings exchanged. And a modern element: a kiss, during which Vlad looked like he wanted to pass out. Poor guy would be in the honeymoon phase until the day he died.

A great contrast to the traditional wedding, the reception—Snezhnayans knew how to throw a party. 

During this reception came Tartaglia’s favorite part of any wedding. It was tradition for the wedded couple to drink fire-water and then kiss, believing the sweetness of it would counteract the burning drink. However, this always devolved into an excuse for everyone at the wedding to drink themselves silly. Most guests here were familiar with Tartaglia on some level, so he had no qualms about throwing back shot after shot. This was a celebration!

Tartaglia was only two shots in, egging on Ekaterina to do her third, when the alcohol must have hit him. He must have been drunk to the point of hallucinating, because why else would the Emperor of Liyue be entering the bank?

Confused whispers tore through the crowd: “Is that really his Majesty?” “No, you must be seeing things.” “Did anyone hire an Emperor impersonator?”

Meanwhile, the Fatui gathering around the fire-water caught sight of the Emperor heading their way. This included a pleasantly surprised Tartaglia, who realized he was not so drunk after all. The man looked radiant as always, in formal robes but not so formal that others would immediately recognize him as Emperor. The sight of him warmed Tartaglia’s body more than the strongest fire-water could. “Zh-Your Majesty! What brings you here?”

The other Fatui stood slack-jawed, completely starstruck. Zhongli nodded to them all in turn. “As this is the first wedding in the Northland Bank, I felt it would only be courteous to give the newlyweds my blessing.”

All very dutiful, but there must be some other reason for his arrival. No matter! Tartaglia grabbed an extra shot of fire-water and extended it. “Well, perfect timing! Do a shot with me!”

Ekaterina’s eyes widened. “Lord Harbinger!” She nearly launched into a statement against Tartaglia’s behavior.

But Zhongli smiled, as Tartaglia knew he would. To the shock of everyone present, he accepted Tartaglia's glass and the two men tipped their heads back, downing the shots. The burn of the fire-water bit at Zhongli's throat. Really, he did not understand why Snezhnayans loved the stuff as they did.

As if he had not just done a shot with the Emperor, Tartaglia carried on. “Well then, let me introduce you to the happy couple!” He excused themselves from the small group of Fatui, all looking on slack-jawed.

Finding the couple was easy, Nadia’s ornate red-and-white dress standing out in the crowd. The crowd naturally parted for the Harbinger and his esteemed companion, until Tartaglia could clap Vlad on the back. “Vlad, my comrade! And his lovely lady! Congratulations!”

“Ah, Lord Harbinger! Thank you!” The groom turned around at his superior’s voice, only to stop short. “Is this…?” Nadia, too, went red in the face.

Zhongli stepped forward. “Allow me to introduce myself,” As if they didn’t know who he was. 

Before he could do so, however, both Nadia and Vlad dropped to the ground in a bow. “Your Majesty! It is an honor for you to join our celebration. Of course, we had sent an invitation to the palace, as is tradition, but we did not expect…” Zhongli was not aware of the invitation in question; he’d shown up for other reasons. “Anyway, please enjoy the reception, Your Majesty.”

Zhongli smiled. “Of course, and congratulations on your union.” They did not want to consume too much of the newlyweds’ time, and Tartaglia was about to move on when Zhongli did it for him: “Harbinger Tartaglia, may I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” 

Tartaglia led him to the familiar lounge behind the teller’s counter, which had now been converted into a storage room for wedding materials. The festivities could still be heard through the door. “Wanted some fresh air?” Tartaglia asked him.

“Hm, I would hardly consider this to be fresh air. But yes, I am unused to large crowds,” Zhongli admitted.

Tartaglia rubbed the other man’s arm, laughing at how his shoulders relaxed. “Really, I was shocked when you walked in. And if I was shocked, imagine the other guests!”

“I am not such a distant emperor that I shouldn’t mingle with my citizens. I am happy to be here. The reception is lovely.” He looked around the room, storing all the flowers and decorations that had been present during the ceremony. Then, Zhongli’s eyes fell on the two crowns, shining under the warm light. “Are these used during ceremonies?”

“Yes, one of many Snezhnayan wedding customs. The priest puts them on the couples’ heads at the beginning of the ceremony,” A devious thought occurred to Tartaglia, “like so.” And he picked up one crown, put it on his own head, and then placed the other on Zhongli’s head with unsteady hands.

Zhongli took in the sight of Tartaglia, and asked, “What is next?”

“Then, the couple drinks wine. Ah, we drank together earlier, didn’t we? Not wine, but…” What began as a crash course on Snezhnayan wedding customs had quickly become something more to the Harbinger: a fantasy of his and Zhongli’s marriage. He shook himself out of the thought. “Anyway, after that, rings are exchanged.”

The Emperor knew what to do, holding Tartaglia’s hand in both of his. Carefully, Zhongli slipped the Harbinger signet ring off of Tartaglia’s finger, and replaced it with the Imperial ring on his own hand. “Zhongli…” Tartaglia watched in wonder as the symbol he’d carried for many years slid onto Zhongli’s glove. There was no uneasiness; he was just as mesmerized by the Imperial ring which now shone brightly on his hand. He stared for a moment at the silver ring he’d worn for six years, there on Zhongli’s finger. In an instant, he was overcome with emotion he’d never known. He lifted his head, where Zhongli was already waiting for a kiss. The kiss was soft, sweet.

They’d barely parted before Tartaglia spoke against his lips: “I love you.”

Zhongli only faltered for a moment, but his response was no less sure. “And I love you.”

All Tartaglia could do was laugh. An unbridled laugh at the ridiculousness of this, the joy. “What should we do about that?”

Remaining eloquent despite his emotions, Zhongli spoke: “I would spend my life with you, if you will have me.”

Carefully, Tartaglia wrapped his arms around Zhongli’s form, rested his head on Zhongli’s shoulder. “Of course. I love you.” After saying it once, Tartaglia did not wish to stop. Once he’d had his fill of embracing Zhongli, Tartaglia pulled back and removed their crowns. “Okay. Okay, let’s get out of here. My subordinates probably think I’m torturing you in here. Actually, I’m sure no one would mind if I had to escort the Emperor back to the palace.” He grinned at Zhongli, and squeezed his hand before the two men re-emerged from the staff lounge.

Everyone was too wrapped up in dancing to notice them. Tartaglia weaved through the crowd with Zhongli close behind, as subtly as a Harbinger and Emperor could. He brushed past Ekaterina on the way out, speaking over the music, “Tell Vlad and Nadia goodnight for me. I’m taking His Majesty back.”

The bank teller, evidently drunk, nodded and kept dancing.

With the entire Snezhnayan population of Liyue dancing together in the bank and the fire-water flowing freely, even the two most high-profile men could escape unnoticed. Tartaglia was surprised if not mildly perturbed to find Xiao waiting outside the entrance, but the young attendant’s aura was far less hostile toward him now. “Leaving early, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, I believe it is time to retire for the night. And Tartaglia will be joining me.” No matter how Zhongli put it, anyone could figure out what that meant. But Xiao remained the pillar of professionalism. He led them to the palace, only a few minutes’ walk, but it felt like much longer with the thrum of anticipation between the couple. Tartaglia longed to rest his hand on Zhongli’s waist, just as Zhongli longed to entwine their fingers, but nothing could be done until there was privacy.

Eventually— finally —they crossed the palace threshold.

Xiao let them go almost immediately: “Goodnight, Your Majesty. Ambassador.” He nodded at both men, the latter of which was surprised to be acknowledged at all. And then the young man left without looking back, leaving the two men alone. 

Zhongli reached for his hand, feeling the smooth and familiar insignia on his ring. “I believe he is warming up to you.”

Tartaglia scoffed. “Ha! I doubt it. But let’s not talk about anyone else right now…” his other hand crept up Zhongli’s chest, and the Emperor quickly tugged his lover toward his private chambers.

Zhongli had slept in this room for over ten years. It had become a significant place in his life, a place to return to at the end of each day. And now, he would give himself to the man he loved upon his bed.

Of course, Zhongli and Ningguang had never consummated their marriage. They’d never had the perfect “wedding night” that so many couples look forward to. Their wedding night had been nothing more than a kiss on the cheek in front of the adoring public before the two parted ways, exhausted.

Needless to say, Zhongli was currently buzzing. 

Tartaglia peeled the Emperor’s robes off his body like it was a show, all while Zhongli led him in deep kisses. He played with the Harbinger’s tongue, nipping at his lower lip, and Tartaglia touched his skin, the silver Imperial ring leaving a cold trail. 

Tartaglia's ceremonial clothes were far more complicated, but Zhongli took his time, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. “I love you,” he whispered. He set both their rings and gloves on the nightstand, two silver spots glowing in dim light.

“Let me make you feel good,” Tartaglia pleaded, taking his lover's cock in his hand. 

And through the pleasure, Zhongli said, “I am all yours.”

The bed Tartaglia had slept in the past five nights had now become their marriage bed. With lush bedding and cushions surrounding them, Tartaglia prepared Zhongli deliberately, while Zhongli stroked his partner. These acts were just for pleasure, priming each other for the main event. When Zhongli felt the twitching of an impending orgasm, he lifted his hand. “Don't come yet.”

“Mmm, how should I come?” he squeezed the flesh of Zhongli's ass.

But he already knew the answer, they both did. One desperate minute later, Tartaglia was fucking him with Zhongli’s legs wrapped around his middle, exchanging fleeting kisses. Tartaglia set a quick pace, driving into his lover—husband?—the way he preferred. He nipped at Zhongli’s ear, tasting the silver of the gifted earring.

“Tartaglia,” Zhongli breathed, voice rough. 

Despite their vulgar actions, affection pooled within Tartaglia, and he saw no reason to contain it. “Call me Ajax,” he blurted out, “My birth name.”

The name caused a swell in Zhongli’s heart. He knew this name, of course; it had been in his background check by the Qixing, but to have permission over it was something else. “Ajax.”

And from Zhongli’s lips, the name had never sounded so right . “Ajax.” The Emperor’s hips bucked involuntarily, and Tartaglia grounded him through his orgasm, stroking his flushed cock.

“That’s it, I got you. Oh, Zhongli.” Zhongli tightened around him, and his legs unwound from Tartaglia's middle, signaling the other man to pull out. When he did, it was only a moment before Zhongli changed positions, lips fitting around Tartaglia’s cock. He licked up his length, and then took him fully. And Tartaglia held him by the hair, not too harshly but enough to tell Zhongli what he needed. 

“Oh, shit, Zhongli,” Zhongli made a noise around his cock that really did Tartaglia in. A few thrusts against Zhongli’s soft palate and he was coming. And Zhongli took it all, and he looked so messy and so beautiful that Tartaglia had to kiss him afterward. 

He cleaned both of them up like a ritual, the final act of their wedding night, and laid down with his partner.

As Tartaglia wound his arms around him, Zhongli spoke with a tired voice, “I must talk to you tomorrow.”

“Mm, after we sleep, anything you want. Love you,” he yawned.

The last thing Tartaglia heard before he fell asleep was, “I love you. Good night.”

 


 

The mind was at peace in the Abyss. Multi-toned vibrations thrummed through one’s brain, seeping through every crevasse, a dark siren’s call. All around him, the infinite expanse of galaxy. Beautiful. 

Ajax sat on a cliff, the warm boarskin coat his mother had sewn drawn around him. The grass here was an ultraviolet shade, an entire ecosystem between their blades, untouched by man. This patch of life was birthed from the final rays of light from the world above, the only foliage Ajax had seen here. He played with the luminescent bugs, made a whistle from the grass.

Below him lay hell.

Jagged stone spires cut through the nothingness below, a landscape forged from chaos. And the Abyssal beasts—horrible creatures beyond human imagination, but they were real

He would have to descend. The only way back up was to go down (or was it the other way around?), that was what Skirk had said. Where was she? The moment he dropped down there, those monsters would hear him, and he would die. He was too young, his family would never know their son, their brother was swallowed by the Abyss.

Slowly, he stretched his shaking, still-growing legs over the precipice, dangling them over nothing. And then, with a final breath, he jumped.

And fell.

Fell.

.

“Ajax.”

All at once the world was bright and warm. Tartaglia gasped for fresh air, heart racing. Gentle fingers caressed his hair, and a soft voice reassured him. Coming out of his post-sleep state, Tartaglia put together that the warm body holding him was Zhongli. “You’re awake, my love. It’s okay.”

Tartaglia relaxed in Zhongli’s embrace, and just sat there for a moment as his lover rubbed circles into his side. After a minute, he mumbled a “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Relief was laced in Zhongli’s tone, and he kissed Tartaglia’s head. “Nightmare?”

“Something like that.” For it was less of a nightmare and more of a memory. These visions of the Abyss had been a constant fixture in his life since he’d emerged as a hardened child. Not even the unconditional love he’d experienced the previous night could keep the Abyss at bay, for the experience had tainted his very soul. “Everyone knows I fell into the Abyss as a kid, it’s part of my reputation at this point. It’s been over ten years, and it never gets easier,” he explained. “The day I fell in was the day I lost my innocence. Not last night, sorry.”

The joke did not land, and Zhongli’s voice grew serious. “I will not ask you to recount your time spent down there. But know that I am here, in this reality.”

The younger man kissed his cheek. “You’re too good. How did a bad guy like me get a man as good as you?”

Zhongli readjusted them so that they could face each other. “Ajax. I view you as my husband. My equal.” Although he was lying down, the words made Tartaglia dizzy. “Never doubt that. Now, you leave for Snezhnaya tomorrow. I have something I wish to discuss with you. And I should have done so earlier, but I did not want to worry you during your trip.”

“So you’re worrying me right before I go home?” And what could possibly worry a Harbinger? But Tartaglia could tell he was serious, so he took Zhongli’s hand. “Hey. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Equals, you said so yourself.”

Zhongli kissed his forehead. “Know that, although I am asking for your help, this decision is entirely my own.” Tartaglia nodded. “I desire to lead a normal life. From next year, I will be transferring my duties to Ningguang.”

Tartaglia sat there in contemplative silence, then broke down the situation. “You can’t just leave , right?”

“Correct. As is tradition, I can only be relieved of power if I defer it to a biological heir, or if I pass.”

Once again, Tartaglia mulled the words over, then jerked upright. “Zhongli! You’re planning to fake your death?”

Clearly having thought about this in detail, Zhongli nodded. “I am. But not only that.”

As Zhongli had laid out only two options, the second part of his plan must mean… Despite his nerves, Tartaglia tried to make a joke. “ Zolotse , if you want to try for a baby that badly, I’m at your disposal.”

Zhongli remained serious. “I have spoken with Ningguang and Captain Beidou. They desire a child.” Tartaglia sat quietly, waiting for the full explanation. “According to the Imperial doctor, my sperm can be used to indirectly impregnate Ningguang. Biologically, the child will be our heir. However, Ningguang and Captain Beidou will raise it.”

For once, the young Harbinger sat speechless and slack-jawed.

Zhongli continued, “Of course, I will provide support when necessary. I implore you, please help us with this plan. It is the best situation for everyone involved, including you.”

Over the past minute, the blood had slowly drained from Tartaglia’s face, head spinning. He was still in his twenties, and wild at heart. Not until the past few months had he ever considered settling down. And here was this gamble of a plan that would change so many lives, fallen right into his lap. “After you… are no longer Emperor, where do you plan to go?”

He hoped to hear a specific answer, and Zhongli gave it to him: “With you. If you are amenable. I have denied myself an honest existence, and at this point, I will never have one. But I will be happy with a simple life, with you to come home to.”

This was not something Tartaglia needed to think over. A life like that with Zhongli was something he’d fantasized about. Now that it was a possibility, nothing could stop him from seizing it. 

“Yes,” he said earnestly, “More than ‘amenable,’ I want that. So whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”

Zhongli took his face in his hands, kissed him. “You cannot know how happy I am to hear that. Now,” he rose from the bed and stretched, giving Tartaglia a generous view of his backside, “whether you had agreed or not, I’d already arranged a meeting with everyone involved in this operation, scheduled in one hour.”

“You were that confident I’d say yes?” 

“Not at all,” Zhongli admitted, “But I’d hoped.”

 


 

Ningguang and Beidou sat in a familiar position—across from each other with a Millenium Chess board between them. They chatted while Ganyu, Keqing, and Hu Tao shuffled awkwardly in the corner. Hu Tao tried to make conversation, but the other girls were too anxious. Dr. Baizhu was present as well, observing the game. “If they don’t show up, we can keep playing until I win,” Ningguang remarked. 

“Ha! We will be continuing this game later, Your Highness, and it will end in my victory,” Beidou slammed her next piece down on the board, a move Ningguang had already predicted.

A few back-and-forth moves later, everyone’s heads snapped up at the door opening. Xiao accompanied The Emperor and Harbinger Tartaglia inside. “Sorry we’re late,” Tartaglia called out.

Beidou clapped her hands together and stood, careful not to disrupt the game pieces. “Well! Now that everyone’s accounted for, let’s get this party started!”

Ningguang followed her to a low table where they could all talk. Her captain had been ecstatic about this ever since Zhongli proposed his plan. It made Ningguang’s chest warm, to know Beidou wanted this future as much as she did.

Once the four of them and the doctor were seated, Ningguang wasted no time in getting to business. “Tartaglia, I presume you understand why you have been involved in this?”

The man in question nodded firmly. “I do.”

Ningguang continued to take the lead, all but lecturing him. “Despite your political affiliations, you are willing to do your part to the fullest?”

“Little things like that have never stopped me before. When I commit to something, I see my mission through until its end.”

To anyone else, spearheading international espionage plots would not be a “little thing”. The Harbingers’ reputation included violence and deception, but the Eleventh Harbinger was uniquely esteemed for his loyalty. And so, Ningguang believed him.

“Very well. All of us in this room are the only people who are privy to the truth of this matter. We have all signed non-disclosure contracts.” Sure enough, Keqing came forward and brandished another contract for the Harbinger to sign as well. He scribbled his signature without reading it, earning a look from every Liyuen in the room. As if he had a choice on whether to sign it or not!

Tartaglia then looked to Zhongli, who rubbed his hand along the younger man’s back appreciatively. Their eye contact spoke of trust, love, and assurance. Half of those present in the room had never seen the Emperor and Harbinger act as a couple before, and whispers were exchanged between Ganyu and Keqing.

Dr. Baizhu cleared his throat and smiled. “After my examination, I’ve determined that this time is a peak fertility period for Her Majesty. I am confident that there is a high chance of success. In order to confirm a pregnancy in time for Lantern Rite, we should get started as soon as possible.”

The young attendants all glanced around the room, faces red. The chess game would have to wait a few hours.

It was the Harbinger who spoke, in a mix of bewilderment and anticipation: “Right now?”

Notes:

hellooooo i'm so sorry it's been like half a year omg! for those who don't know, i moved back to japan and have been adjusting a lot/working super hard. but i'm enjoying life! also, every time i thought i was almost done with this chapter, i decided to add like 5 more scenes so that's why this is ridiculously long...
this was my favorite chapter to write, and also the most important chapter plot-wise in my opinion! most of these scenes, i've had planned since i started outlining this fic. the wedding scene was heavily inspired by one of the opening scenes of the classic bl film "a round trip to love" (which i would not recommend aside from the beginning and the ost).
since this chapter is so involved, i'm curious, what was your favorite part?
things are getting weird and i love it. as always, please let me know if there are any typos bc i don't have a beta
only one more chapter to go! (+ epilogue) and it's the second anniv of this fic this month, which means i'm too slow!
ily all mwah
twt @melecs_ao3 (i changed my @!)