Work Text:
Childe isn’t one for museums. There is nothing interesting about reliving the past, especially when nothing can be done to change it. Still, he finds himself outside the Liyue Natural History Museum, with a pamphlet in his hand.
It’s not like he had anything else planned today. There are no text messages from his trainer or from the rest of the Snezhnaya team meaning he is free to explore Liyue without a strict schedule restraining him. For once, he is free to go about his day and indulge on whatever whims struck him in the moment.
This is how he found himself climbing the elegant stone steps of the museum, drawn in by the beautiful stone statues of what the pamphlet called “adeptus”. Creatures of legend or something, though Childe heard from Chongyun that they were once real. He supposes that’s fair enough. Snezhnaya has its own share of legends and historical beings.
Childe pauses at the entrance, watching as people go by without so much as recognizing him. He accepts the small favors before going inside.
The intricate traditional decorations that adorn the entrance draw him further in before he realizes he is standing at the front desk. Everything seems almost paved in black and gold, that Childe forgets momentarily he is in a museum and not a palace. A polite cough reels him back to reality, making him nearly drop the pamphlet from surprise.
“Sorry, I did not mean to alarm you. I merely wanted to ask if you need assistance in purchasing a ticket or if you would like a guided tour?”
Childe looks up and gets a good look at the museum docent that is greeting him with a pleasant smile. He’s incredibly handsome, tall, with his chestnut hair tied back, and there is something about his aura that is ethereal - almost godlike. For once in his life, he can’t think of anything to say other than to stare with a dumbstruck expression. If Scaramouche was here, he would never hear the end of it.
“Oh, um, I’ve never been here before so yeah, not sure how this works,” Childe offers lamely, and he knows his accent is a dead giveaway he’s not Liyuen.
“That is quite alright, it is my job to help our visitors,” the man reassures him. “Since you are new to Liyue, may I offer a guided tour? Our museum offers displays of ancient relics from Liyue and other nations. Perhaps the Snezhnaya exhibit may interest you?”
Childe relaxes slightly then laughs. “What gave away I’m Snezhnayan?”
“Primarily the accent,” the man confesses. “Your jacket has the nation’s symbol pinned on it meaning you are here to compete in the games. It is an honor to have a contender come visit the museum.”
Okay, he is terrible at hiding his identity, but so far only the museum docent picked up on it. “You got me,” he says and raises his hands in defense. “There is another skier, his name is Chongyun, and sometimes he tells me and the others about Liyue. Guess I got curious enough to come find out more history.”
“Ah. I am familiar with him. The nation is quite proud to have such a young and skilled skier representing Liyue.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty good. Anyway, how much is it for a guided tour?” Childe asks as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve his wallet. He is paid enough that even museum tickets are trivial purchases.
The man shakes his head. “Please. As a champion, it would be an honor to give some insight into Liyue’s history and culture.”
Childe wants to protest, even insist that he at least make a small donation to the museum, but decides to accept the offer graciously. “Alright. So where do we start, uh, what’s your name?”
“Call me Zhongli.”
Zhongli walks with such grace and poise, it makes Childe straighten his back if anything to save himself some face. Pierro has drilled it into his head that he represents Snezhnaya, or whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. He quickens his pace to keep up with Zhongli’s gait as they explore the museum together.
“This bell?” Childe asks when he sees a bell carefully displayed in a glass case.
Cleansing Bell. Once used by Streetward Rambler.
Zhongli pauses for a moment then smiles slightly. “The Cleansing Bell once belonged to a powerful adeptus by the name of Streetward Rambler. As for her true name, I’m afraid it has been lost to the sands of time. Its uses varied depending on the situation though ringing it does give you a sense of purification.”
Childe inspects the bell closely, wondering what level of craftsmanship was able to create such a precious bell. It’s a shame to find such an important item locked away in a museum instead of being used in ceremonies. Another question lingers in his mind.
“Were adeptus real?”
Zhongli seems to consider the question before answering. “Yes, they once roamed the land of Liyue and served as its protectors. Timelines that can pinpoint the moment of their existence have been debated by many scholars over a millennia. As time went on, humans were able to demonstrate to the adeptus they were more than capable of protecting Liyue without their help and eventually they faded into history.”
Adeptus being real isn’t something Childe expected to hear, and it makes him curious to hear more about their prowess. “That kind of sucks. You know, fighting to keep their people safe but no one remembers them. Would Liyue be how it is now without them?”
Zhongli chuckles though there is a wistful look in those piercing eyes that renders Childe wanting to reach out to…he’s not actually sure why he wants to offer some form of comfort.
“Perhaps. Fate is a strange thing. Ultimately, the adeptus knew their time would eventually come to an end.”
Fate. Childe dislikes the word. He has paved his own path from his perseverance and determination to win gold every time he competes. Years ago, his father claimed fate had other plans for him in store when he broke his leg, but through his own stubbornness he pushed himself until he could ski once more. No legends, no gods, and fate could take his decisions from him.
Childe has nothing more to stay on the topic than give one final lingering gaze at the bell before he follows Zhongli to the display.
The museum itself is designed to detail the beginning of Liyue though most of it is fragmented from records being lost or destroyed to the point it is nearly impossible to decipher accurate timelines of events and names. Zhongli moves swiftly enough that Childe trusts him to guide him through the past as if he had been there himself.
At the center of the main room is a large jade statue of a man dressed in robes, gold adorns his arms and fingers, and his face is obscured by a hood over his head. He holds a floating cubic stone made of gold. He overlooks the entirety of the museum, standing at its heart, almost like a god ruling over its creations.
“What was his name?” Childe asks, his voice almost a whisper.
“He had many names. Rex Lapis. Morax. The Lord of Geo. The God of Gold. The God of Contracts. The Lord of Rock. The Groundbreaker. The Warrior God. Depending on who you ask, they may offer a different name, a different history. His true story is known only to himself.”
Childe immediately turns to face Zhongli in surprise. “He was Morax? The Archon of Liyue?” He tries to connect the pieces of history to those of Snezhnaya, but the Tsarita’s history is not as shrouded as the Geo Archon’s. “So, he was real huh. What happened to him?”
“Who can say. Liyuens have records that he decided to live the life of a mortal after living thousands of years. Others believe he still walks among us, watching over Liyue,” Zhongli explains as he crosses his arms. His amber eyes don’t match the smile on his face.
“I can’t imagine wanting to live alone for that long. Even Snezhnayan history tells how the Tsarita died after saving our country from a war. But they’re just stories. Magic. Visions. The Abyss. Those are things you tell kids, so they don’t wander off into the forest,” Childe protests, still surprised how the Liyuens hold legends close to their origins that they even created a museum of history to commemorate them.
“Well, stories change depending on who tells them. Memories become muddled through the passage of time.” Zhongli shrugs. “Whether you believe them or not is within your right. Sometimes it’s even better to forget…” He murmurs quietly while staring solemnly at the statue.
“What about you, Zhongli? Do you believe Morax is alive?” Childe asks, pressing the docent for more information, if anything to at least gauge what he’s thinking.
Zhongli laughs and shakes his head. “No. He is only a memory.”
Childe follows Zhongli as they navigate their way through the museum. Zhongli is ever patient in explaining Liyuen history to him and answering any questions Childe has. Some of them are meant as jokes, but Zhongli supplies him with a substantial answer while including his own input. For a docent, he is incredibly knowledgeable and beyond what Childe thinks a guide should know.
In the museums he has taken Teucer in Snezhnaya, the docents have a script they can follow that details the history of their nation. Most do not go off the script, others do try to make it livelier by cracking a few jokes here and there, but nothing comes close to how Zhongli presents history.
Zhongli paints the story of Liyue from the horrors inflicted by the gods to the amazing and beautiful creations Morax made for his people. Childe can almost envision Rex Lapis moving mountains, carving the land, and flooding Liyue with mora to shape it into a prosperous nation. He is moved by the adeptus who served their god with unwavering loyalty and vowed to protect Liyue in his stead.
Of the forlorn adeptus, Xiao, the most loyal of all adeptus who is said to continue to watch mortals from afar. Or Guizhong, a loyal friend of Rex Lapis, who perished and left a rift that could never be fixed.
Beyond the tragedies, there was hope and Rex Lapis felt his people no longer needed gods. But first he must test his people to ensure they had the strength and fortitude to defend themselves without his help. A test that he imposed from an opportunity given to him from the Tsarita and from a young man with a bloodlust that would be his undoing.
They stop at a display that leaves Childe completely puzzled. A pair of chopsticks adorned by flowers with a case that he suspects must be worth a fortune. He feels it again, that deep ache in his chest he can’t quite place.
“Chopsticks?” Childe manages to pose the question.
For once, Zhongli remains silent, his eyes lingering on Childe. There is nothing that betrays that composed demeanor. No visible tension, his lips are curved into that same pleasant smile, but his amber eyes burn with an indescribable emotion that has Childe feeling as if he is being set alight by the sun.
“A gift,” Zhongli begins, though he hesitates briefly before he continues. “Gods followed a set of principles imposed on them. Breaking any meant severe punishment by the Heavens. Gifts with romantic intentions are strictly forbidden between gods or with mortals.”
Childe’s gloved fingers gingerly gloss over the glass of the display case. Chopsticks being a threat to the gods is such a laughable offense that Childe can’t help but let out a snort. It’s not like he’s experienced in love enough to say whether the gods were right or not. People fall in love. Gods probably fall in love too.
“What happens when a god falls in love?”
Moments pass before Zhongli answers. “They are stripped of their divinity. Cursed, even. A tragedy always befalls the pair as punishment inflicted by the Heavens.”
Childe clicks his tongue in annoyance. “For all powerful gods, they have nothing better to do. Doesn’t seem fair to get involved in people’s lives that way.” He scrunches his face in disgust. If he had lived during the era of gods, he probably would have found some way to challenge them all for judging humanity and other gods so harshly.
Zhongli tilts his head slightly and his lips quirk into a smile. He’s pleased by the response, amused even given by the soft hum of approval he makes.
“No, you are right, the principles were far crueler than originally intended. Wars ravaged the land until the protection of the Heavens waned, but that is a story for another time. I’m sorry, I did not answer your question. Rex Lapis gifted the chopsticks to an outsider as a sign of an amicable relationship despite the misgivings between him and Tartaglia.”
There it is again. An unexplained ache settling at the core of his being. The restlessness from sensing there is more is starting to leave him on edge. Childe is impatient and impulsive. Just hearing the name Tartaglia has him reeling from how familiar it sounds.
“But you said the chopsticks were a romantic gesture. Was Rex Lapis in love with Tartaglia?” Childe is vying for at least something that can satisfy whatever invincible force is pulling him closer to Zhongli.
Zhongli’s expression softens with a warmth in those amber eyes that makes it impossible for Childe to look away. Pure adoration playing on the curve of his smile.
“A human who fought desperately against his own fate is admirable. Rex Lapis found himself to see if the young man could break from the destiny imposed on him by the Heavens. They formed a friendship while Rex Lapis took the guise of a mortal and eventually, he could not help courting the young man. Yes, he truly loved him.”
Childe’s eyes widen at the confession, body tensing from sensing the sincerity from Zhongli’s voice. He is unsure why his throat constricts or why his heart is racing. A powerful god fell in love with a mortal. A mortal he deemed worthy of his admiration. He lets out a shaky chuckle, running a hand nervously through his hair.
“Tartaglia was Snezhnayan…but our history has no records of him. What happened to him…to them?” Childe dares to ask even if every fiber of his being is warning him, he is going down a dangerous path. Was Snezhnayan ashamed of Tartaglia that they erased him from their own history?
Zhongli’s smile fades, his breath hitching ever so slightly that Childe nearly misses it. Grief. Everything around them stills, the voices from the other visitors fall on deaf ears, and Childe can sense a sweltering anger that has the earth rumbling beneath his feet.
“A fate crueler than death,” Zhongli finally answers tightly. He refrains from elaborating further, and instead walks past Childe to lure him deeper into the museum.
Childe follows, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he spares the chopsticks one last glance. He tries not to overthink about their significance or the way Zhongli’s smile left him breathless. Everything feels familiar. Right. And yet, there is a barrier preventing Childe from connecting it all together.
He nearly bumps right into Zhongli when the man comes to a halt at a new exhibit and display. There, a polearm carefully preserved though there are cracks and scratches that indicate it has seen hundreds of battles. The Ballad of the Fjords. Weapon of the legendary Ajax.
Ajax. Childe can feel his blood run cold. “This is so weird,” he says, voice quivering. “My actual name is Ajax. Childe is just a nickname that stuck after being the youngest competitor in the winter games. Didn’t think my dad named me after anyone this cool.” He tries to laugh it off as nothing more than a strange coincidence.
“Sharing a name with a hero of old is a great honor. Perhaps your father thought it appropriate to name his son after him as a blessing,” Zhongli quips calmly. “Ajax’s history is muddled. Some say he found an ancient city buried beneath icy waters, others say he died defending the person he loved in battle, and some say he slumbers in the depths waiting for another great battle. In every cycle there is an Ajax, such is true for fallen heroes who must continue the cycle of death and rebirth.”
“Zhongli.” Childe braces himself, dizzy from the overwhelming amount of information. “Cycle of rebirth? Listen, history can’t always be about legends.”
“History always tells stories of the past. The truth tends to get lost depending on who retells the story,” Zhongli answers.
“How do you know so much? The way you tell things is almost as if you were there.” Childe frowns, and in hindsight, he has no reason to be upset.
Zhongli is quiet, merely breathing evenly as he closes his eyes. “Childe, there is a time and place for answers, this is not one of them. I merely ask you to trust me. Do not squander the time we have left.”
Pain. Childe can’t remember the last time he felt pain. Breaking his legs doesn’t compare to how it feels being on the cusp of discovering something inherently his. Zhongli keeps him at bay again, tethering him, and yet he feels the man will disappear if he even blinks.
“Tartaglia’s punishment coincides with Ajax’s. The Heavens often give mortals with the highest potential to ascend, a destiny they cannot break free from. Tartaglia broke free and played a role in overturning the principles though it came at a cost. He gave his life to help a distant Traveler save this world from being overrun by the Abyss and…extended part of the power he gained to prevent Rex Lapis from corroding.”
Zhongli places a gloved hand on Childe’s shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Breathe. Gods no longer exist. Ajax is free of any punishment. He lives long life spans while meeting old friends throughout each cycle. Rex Lapis ensures that in each cycle Ajax is protected. Their meetings always align in some way or another.”
Childe slowly relaxes due to the warmth radiating from Zhongli’s hand. It feels nice. Safe. A sense of nostalgia renders him unable to form words for a moment. “Do Rex Lapis and Tartaglia reunite every time?”
Zhongli chuckles lightly, his form leaning closer to Childe. “Rex Lapis is a man of his word. He promised Tartaglia to find him in each cycle. The choice to reunite, however, is entirely his decision.”
Childes ducks his head and sighs softly. “I wasn’t expecting a sappy romance to be a part of Liyue’s history, but heroes do need happy endings. Teucer likes those kinds of stories.”
At the end, he supposes, he also likes the stories to have some form of happy ending. Endless tragedy doesn’t sit well with him, but he enjoys the thrills of danger that get his adrenaline pumping enough to feel alive. After skiing down perilous mountains, he feels a sense of relief to be home with his family - the kind of story splayed everywhere in Snezhnaya about a talented young athlete.
“It is integral to the history of Teyvat in more ways than one,” Zhongli agrees. He extends his hand to Childe. “Ajax, would you like to have some tea and dinner with me whenever you are free?”
Childe is given a choice. He isn’t bound by fate or destiny. Soulmates find one another and no gods can ever change the course of one seeking the other. In this cycle, Ajax takes Zhongli’s hand with a devilish smile taking the offer as a challenge to start their dance anew.
“Sure, sounds like fun. Maybe you can finally tell me your real name, Zhongli,” Childe teases.