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There is a man in the tree, Zhongli blinks in puzzlement.
The Crown prince is currently somewhere in Father’s office, engaging in some discussion of politics as the son of the Marquess’ old friend, yet there was a strange man with a hood and the audacity to climb the tree right outside her room in broad daylight.
His black cloak is caught in the branches, leaves nestled on his head, and he is staring straight into her eyes.
“Are you a knight?” She asks, bookmarking the novel in her hand.
Silence.
“Sir?” Zhongli calls with growing concern.
More silence.
She sighs. “Please wait over there.”
Finally, the knight flinches back to reality when she starts to slip out of bed. He almost goes tumbling off the tree, but catches himself with quick reflexes. “Wait, you- uh, my Lady. I can explain.”
“Please do,” Zhongli smoothly says. Her bedroom slippers slide on, the folding glass doors open quietly, and she’s touching the cool balustrade on the balcony. Noctilucous eyes stare back into her amber ones. “Hello.”
“Uh. Hi.” The knight says back awkwardly. Behind him, a dagger is embedded in the trunk, which he dislodges in one swift motion and hides behind his back like a child caught red-handed. He looks down momentarily as if contemplating escape and a broken leg, then shoots an uneasy grin at Zhongli. “Please don’t scream...?”
“I will not,” she assures. “I would simply like to know what an esteemed knight is doing in a tree of the Marquess’ manor.”
“My...knife was lost.” The knight looks away, seemingly aware of how absurd he sounds, even with evidence being the thin slit in the tree bark. “I was merely retrieving it.”
“And what was your knife doing in the tree?” Zhongli frowns faintly.
“Uh,” He hesitates, unable to spin a lie on the spot. There was no way it would’ve ended an inch deep in wood, two storeys above the ground even if he’d been juggling it. The knight must’ve thrown it.
And Zhongli knows this. He’s nicely dressed, likely a higher-ranked knight, but even so, he cannot afford to be complacent about safety.
“It’s dangerous to play with weapons in the estate, Sir knight,” she gently chides, like a mother scolding her child.
And when he realises that he’s been caught, he bows his head slightly. “Sorry, my Lady. The dumb midget was being nasty...” The knight trails off, uncaring of the crass language he’d just uttered in front of the Marquess’ daughter. But Zhongli lets it slide, only because she found his child-like mannerisms quite endearing, and because there are far more pressing matters right now.
Such as the creaking branch beneath the knight’s feet.
Ah. “Please look out,” Zhongli says, to the other’s confusion, “Huh?”
And that is the last thing he hears before a loud crack sends him into a free fall--”Oof!”--fortunately landing in a shrubbery. Zhongli peers over the edge, wincing, and after much debate, drops her handkerchief down to the poor knight.
“Pst. My Lady?” A voice softly calls from outside.
Zhongli stirs awake, shifting in bed. “Hm?”
“My Lady, it’s me,” the voice says, “The knight from this morning.”
“...It’s nine in the evening,” she mumbles, but sluggishly slides out of bed. The marble of the balcony is cool against her bare feet and it briefly shocks her awake. “Sir knight?”
“Call me Childe,” the young man says. A sheepish smile stretches his face, light pink dusts over his cheeks as he politely averts his eyes at the sight of a Lady in her nightdress. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Yes. What brings you back?” Zhongli asks. Her vision still blurs from drowsiness and she has yet to fully regain awareness, but knowing that the knight--Childe isn’t an intruder, she couldn’t chase him away.
“Ah. Well, I’m back to return the handkerchief…” He scratches his cheek nervously. “There was a tiny bit of blood involved, so I had to wash it first. In hindsight, climbing a tree wasn’t the smartest.”
Zhongli nods sagely, “Indeed, it is not.” And in a graceful manner that allowed her to rub her eyes without looking like an uneducated noble, she stares back at his hooded figure with much clearer eyes. “So what are you doing in my tree?”
Childe opens his mouth. Then closes it, looks down at the swaying branch losing its life to support his weight, and the short, splintered wood sticking out from the trunk to his right. The shrubbery around the tree is still quite ruined and Zhongli remembers the maids losing their minds over it. “Aha. About that.”
“About that...?” Zhongli prompts.
“I didn’t really have any way to contact you...other than the tree, that is,” Childe says, and the tree shakes harder. “I can’t exactly invite myself in through the front doors, you know?”
“That is true,” Zhongli hums in thought. Her father would go ballistic over a knight who didn’t know their place--he is always...quite arrogant. “However, you’ll hurt yourself sitting in that tree, Childe.”
“I would,” the knight agrees, and smiles at her with a curious look. “What would my Lady suggest I do?”
It’s not appropriate, and being caught would be a subject for rumors, but Zhongli would much rather not kill the fragile plants by subjecting them to Childe’s weight. Allowing the young man to fall from two storeys high isn’t an option either--he seemed to have emerged from their previous encounter mostly unscathed, and she doesn’t want to try Lady luck again.
So she reaches out to him, long, ruffled sleeve hanging off her slim, alabaster wrist. “Please step onto my balcony.”
Pause. Childe blinks.
He checks the area behind him, scans the surroundings and keeps an ear out for any sign of movement, as if just realising he isn’t meant to be trespassing into a young Lady’s space like this at night. Or casually speaking to her while she is improperly--scandalously dressed in her nightwear, which is just one or two layers shy of bare.
“I,” Childe chokes, suddenly finding great interest in the walls of the manor, “My Lady, I wouldn’t dare. This isn’t appropriate-”
“So is trespassing, as well as causing damage to the Marquess’ property,” Zhongli teases, eyes curving with silent laughter. Her palm remains open as she speaks again. “Take this as your punishment, I want you to step onto my balcony, safely.”
The knight chuckles lightly at her insistence. “Are you sure you should be inviting suspicious men onto your premises?”
“Had you meant any harm, I would not be standing here and conversing with you,” Zhongli points out.
A beat passes. The protest on Childe’s face slowly dies out with each second the tree wobbles, and the final blow to his resolve is the small, reassuring smile that Zhongli gives. Eyes darting between the balcony and his perch, he calculates the distance separating them, the estimated amount of power he needs to make the jump-
-and then nimbly leaps forward. He soars, cloak billowing in the wind, and his hood catches in the wind and slides off to reveal striking orange and noctilucous blue eyes.
Childe’s boots land on the balustrade like a feather, one following the other. His hand smoothly slides into Zhongli’s outstretched palm, and it captures her just as much as his playful smile does.
He hops down, sinks onto one knee and gently kisses the back of her hand.
“I’m in your care, my Lady.” The knight says.
Zhongli smiles, pulling him to his feet. “Come in.”
“Are you fond of literature, my Lady?”
“Ah,” Zhongli gasps quietly, hurrying over to clear the piles of history books and novels stacked like a fortress around her bed; nightstand, coffee table, carpet. Several of them were open and scattered across her duvet--including a couple more...obscene novels, which she quickly sweeps under the bed. Hopefully the knight has not seen, otherwise Zhongli would never be able to recover from this. “Yes, I read in my spare time. I apologise for the clutter…”
“No no no, it’s fine.” Childe waves his hands in assurance, curiously taking a peek around the place. He looks vaguely surprised at how empty her room is, no ornaments or glamour that would define a noble Lady’s pride. “I find it quite admirable. Most ladies prefer dress-up and tea parties over books and knowledge.”
“It’s not that I dislike it,” Zhongli says, inviting the knight over to a table. She disappears to the side, returning with a small tray of light treats, and elegantly starts to brew a cup of tea. “The idea of enjoying desserts alongside my friends greatly appeals to me. Unfortunately, I am...indisposed, as of now.”
A soothing fragrance wafts over. With a soft clink, Zhongli stirs a cube of sugar and some milk in and slides the teacup over. Childe nods, shooting her a grateful smile. For a second, he holds the blend under his nose, letting the aroma permeate his senses, then closes his eyes and slowly takes a sip.
“You are very skillful in brewing tea, my Lady.” His eyes fly open, and the knight takes a bigger taste. “The people of high society would be falling all over you.”
“Thank you. However, I don’t think they’d like to be near me,” Zhongli laughs. “I don’t usually leave my room, you see.”
“Oh.” Childe hums. “Is your seclusion perhaps because of your curse-”
The teaspoon in her hand slips, hitting the table. Childe promptly freezes, eyes wide with panic. “No, wait, I’m sorry, uh, I misspoke. What I meant was-”
“It’s alright, Childe,” Zhongli rushes to say, “I’m used to it-”
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay,” Childe breathes, and his teacup hits the saucer with a little more force than intended. “I’m sorry. What I meant to say was illness, but my stupid tongue slipped because of all the rumors circulating at the palace-” A knight under the Crown prince, Zhongli thinks, “-however, that’s still no excuse for my mistake.”
“Oh,” she says, faintly taken aback by the sincerity laced in his every word.
“There won’t be a second time, my Lady. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.”
The knight looks down, gaze coloured with guilt. Astonishment dusts her cheeks--then Zhongli laughs, light and mellow, a hand held over her lips. She looks at him, a lock of amber-dipped, raven hair sliding over her shoulder like a small waterfall.
“My illness,” Zhongli starts, “Is so rare that not even the greatest doctors are able to develop a cure.”
“My Lady...?” Childe glances up.
“Often, I seem to mysteriously grow faint, or experience nosebleeds, among other symptoms. All attempts to alleviate my pain had turned out futile, and because humans tend to fear the unknown, they called it a curse.”
She grips her teacup, hurt and indignance swirling in her gut, forming a lump in her throat. Over time, those sharp edges smoothed over like a dulled blade, but it still hurt. “When I kept to my room out of weakness, everyone took my retreat as confirmation of the rumors. Nasty things were said about me behind my back- ah, someone even poured hot tea all over my head, in the name of ‘purification’.”
“They dare-!” Childe lets out a low growl, but Zhongli laughs as if recalling a fond memory, earning a look of horror from the other side of the table. “How can you laugh?”
“I am laughing at you, Childe,” she says, and the knight blinks back in bewilderment. “No one has ever apologised or defended me, let alone a knight who barely knows me.”
A long silence fills the air as the orange-haired knight stares back at her lonely frame. Then to the books sitting on her bed, Zhongli’s only connection to the outside, and the odd stillness of the room which he previously mistook for tranquility.
Zhongli watches the moment when it clicks for him; the realisation that she was so careless in inviting a man into her room, because not even the servants were willing to approach the “cursed” Lady. She was confident that they would remain undiscovered.
Childe hums, deep in thought, then he stands up and pivots to head to the open balcony. “Sorry, don’t think I can return your handkerchief today, my Lady.”
“Childe?” Zhongli calls, following after him. A part of her worries that she has scared her only company in years away. “Is something the matter- Childe! That’s dangerous!”
Turning to face her, the knight skillfully balances on the edge of the balcony, and he does it so effortlessly that Zhongli wonders how he even fell off the tree in the first place.
“I don’t think the handkerchief is clean enough,” Childe says.
“I don’t mind, I can always remove the stains myself-”
“That’s why I’ll come back again to return it,” he grins, dull blue sparking with some hopeful light. “When that happens, will you welcome me again, my Lady?”
Zhongli stops a few paces away. “...You’re a very strange knight.”
“That’s not a no,” he laughs, “And you’re the first one bold enough to say that to me.”
Before she can ask him to clarify what he meant, Childe disappears off the balcony with the flutter of his cloak.
Left in the breeze, Zhongli watches the knight disappear from sight, dragging a hood over his head and slipping past structure by structure before leaping over the front gate--so much for stealth. But if anyone noticed him abseiling down the walls with nothing but his cloak, they didn’t snitch.
Not long after his dramatic exit, Zhongli allows herself to do something uncharacteristic and collapses onto her bed face-first, pulling her pillow into a tight squeeze.
All thoughts of Childe being “cool” were immediately purged the following day.
“Please get out of my tree,” Zhongli deadpans after catching sight of a familiar silhouette loitering outside her window. “The poor thing is dying.”
A delighted chuckle floats over, “Sorry, sorry. But I find the tree a much better option than scaling your walls- hup!” and Childe gracefully lands on the balcony, carefully pushing the glass doors open. His hood hangs over his shoulders, leaving his handsome features uncovered when he softly says, “I’m back, My Lady.”
Her lips curve into a smile. Zhongli immediately forgets the paragraph on rock formation she was reading about and steps over, unconsciously reaching to brush a stray leaf off his shoulder.
“Welcome back,” she says, then after a long pause, “So how many fights have you incited today?”
Childe’s head whips up so fast he could’ve broken his neck. “Wait. How did you...?”
“It was a guess based on my first impression of you,” Zhongli recalls the hole in her tree, caused by a certain ginger-head and his vertically-challenged friend, “As well as the scratches on your clothes and face. Anyone would be in a bad mood after getting into a brawl, but judging by the pleased expression you had when you entered, you seem to enjoy it. Ah, there’s blood…”
“Okay, you caught me…” Childe shoots her a sheepish smile. “But in my defence, those thieves were asking for it, mocking me for being a ‘pretty-boy young master’ and all that.”
“Is that so?” Zhongli hums, unconvinced, missing the flush on Childe’s cheeks when she presses the back of her sleeve to his forehead, soaking up the blood. “Wait- My Lady, It’s dirty.”
She ignores him. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Your sleeve will be stained,” he weakly tries to inch away.
“Nothing to fuss over,” and Zhongli closes the gap. “Will you stay? I’ll apply some ointment for you.”
The knight shakes his head. “It’s okay, I have to leave soon. I came here to give you something actually,” he says, earning a curious tilt of the head. Then he pokes his hand out to reveal an object that has been concealed under his cloak the whole time.
“This…!" Zhongli’s face heats up.
In Childe’s outstretched hand is a romance novel, paired with a rather racy cover, and it just so happens to be the last installment of a series she has been chasing for a long time. Its extreme popularity among the ladies of the empire always saw empty, sold-out shelves, and Archon knows how the knight managed to get his hands on a copy.
“Y-You saw?” She whispers in mortification, failing to keep her voice stable. Suddenly, the memory of several erotic novels hastily swept under her bed occurs to her, and Zhongli spends all her willpower to keep herself from covering her face and making her seem more guilty than she already is.
Picking up on her embarrassment, Childe’s expression turns teasing. “Of course I did. How could I ignore such a dirty, indecent title?”
“I, I thought I hid it well enough…”
“Not really. I could see a few of them from where I sat--so you’re into the ‘forcible prince’ type huh?” Childe grins with teeth.
“Please stop making fun of me,” Zhongli squeaks.
“Your reaction makes me want to tease you even more, though?” Childe laughs, then calms down when catches sight of almost-petulant tears of shame pricking at her eyes. “Ah, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I won’t laugh anymore, so just accept the gift, yeah?”
“It’s improper,” Zhongli says.
“But you like it.”
“I do not,” she denies with no success.
Childe raises an eyebrow, nudging it forward, and cheekily smirks when temptation wins Zhongli over.
“...Alright.”
So she takes the book with faux reluctance for the sake of the remnants of her shattered pride and quickly hurries to chuck it in one corner of her bookshelf. Childe’s amused gaze follows her around the room, but quickly disappears when she whips around to cut him with a glare.
It’s ineffective. It’s weak. Childe has to retreat to the balcony to stop himself from laughing any harder, much to her indignance. She quickly follows after him in case he attempts anything stupid, such as trying to ninja his way down two storeys like during his previous visit, then she emerges from behind the folded glass doors to see a single, silk flower.
“For you,” Childe grins, looking at her long, flowing hair. “May I?”
Zhongli nods. Then he reaches over and combs her ebony strands behind her ear, carefully fixing the flower in her hair. The knight’s calloused fingers brush against her lobe as it retreats, sending shivers down her spine.
“I’ll be back,” Childe says, and then he’s gone.
Zhongli belatedly realises that she’s forgotten to ask for her handkerchief.
So after that, the tree becomes their mode of contact, much to the exasperation of the Lady. The tree is, to them, what paper and pen is to others, and just the thought of it is so absurd that Zhongli demands Childe stop scaling the damned thing.
“At least come through the window,” she says, holding an inner-debate on whether to chop it down.
“Your walls will get dirty,” the knight points out.
“Not my walls--they are the Marquess’.”
“The footprints will give us away. Should I stay on the ground instead? I can talk to you from below the balcony.”
Zhongli cannot believe he is actually considering this. “I’d prefer it if I do not have to shout for you to hear me. We are not Romeo and Juliet, Childe.”
“Aw, but I thought they were pretty romantic.” He pouts, completely whizzing past the implications of his statement.
Zhongli stares. “Romeo and Juliet die, Childe.”
Zhongli watches the knight collapse in laughter for five long minutes.
There is no routine or pattern to his visits. Childe is a spirit as carefree as he looks, despite his position in the Royal Knights under the Crown prince. The insignia pinned to his lapel is enough evidence of his high rank. But even with his responsibilities, he somehow finds enough time to travel a distance of two hours from the Royal palace to visit her.
“You should go back to the palace soon,” Zhongli mentions as the sky starts to bleed orange. “It’s late.”
Childe pouts. “Are you chasing me away?”
“Not at all. But you cannot always play truant like this,” she sighs.
“Are you calling me a child?” Childe blinks.
“Are you not?” Zhongli smiles.
“No one has ever dared tease me like this before, you know. But I’ll let it slide just because it’s you, my Lady.” The knight laughs in amusement, and her heart oddly skips a beat. “If it’s me, I can do whatever I want. My boss doesn’t care.”
His boss, the Crown Prince, must be very generous. “What kind of person is the Crown prince?”
The person seated on her bedroom bench tenses. “Oh. Him? He’s nothing much.”
“Should you be saying that about your boss?” Zhongli chuckles. Her curiosity has peaked. “I don’t often leave my room, so I am unfamiliar with what he looks like. However, I find the tales of his valour and charming face quite fascinating.”
Childe looks up at that. “Charming? Is that what you think of him?”
“I am only quoting the rumors,” she says with interest. “But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”
The Crown prince is an elusive figure after all, barely appearing in public unless necessary. His presence at the manor a few days ago was a big surprise to many, including Zhongli herself. She never thought him to be the type for sentiment and friendships of old, or whatever the Marquess had invited him over for.
The knight presses his lips together, considering. Then he shifts around to face the Lady prim and properly seated on the bed, propping an elbow on the soft sheets to hold his chin. “I’ll tell you if you want to know.”
Zhongli leans closer. “Please do.”
“Well, as I said before, he’s nothing special. The reason why no one knows his face is because he wears a red mask all the time,” Childe whispers, the same way women would when spreading a juicy secret, eliciting a giggle out of her. “He’s scary when he fights. The knights often witness, and I quote, 'a maniacal grin on his face as he bathes in the blood of his opponents'. He’s still young, but he mercilessly ruins his opponents, so they call him a monster.”
“Will they not get punished for such discussions?” Zhongli asks.
Childe shrugs. “There are rules in the palace, like ‘don’t gossip about royalty’ and blah blah blah, but I don’t exactly bother keeping them in line, only because it’s kind of funny. The prince lets them say whatever they want because, well, he doesn’t really care. He rather worry about other things.”
“He sounds like you,” Zhongli laughs. Childe does seem like the type to be uncaring of his reputation.
“You think I’m scary? My Lady, you hurt my feelings.” Childe clutches his chest, dramatically gasping with mock offense. Zhongli’s smile stretches wider, gold eyes crinkling with laughter.
“Very. Especially when you try to sit in the tree like a newborn calf trying to walk, I think you are quite frightening.”
“H-Hey, the tree is thin and hard to climb, okay?”
"The tree is not meant to be climbed."
Unable to retort, Childe laughs. "You're mean, my Lady. I didn't think the esteemed daughter of the Marquess would bully a poor knight as such."
“Indeed,” Zhongli laughs, then after a thoughtful pause, “But only to you. I find that I'm able to comfortably be myself around you, Childe."
“Is that so,” Childe flushes, cheeks blooming with slightly less colour than the garnet crystal hanging from his left ear, but equally vibrant. “I’m glad.” Then he slaps a hand over his face and groans miserably, but it doesn’t stop the red from bleeding through. “Dammit, I’m way too happy about this…”
Zhongli laughs.
Zhongli is still frail, despite her dark, shining hair and bright, warm smile. Every now and then, coughs rack her frame, and sometimes she feels too light headed to stand. She cannot stay in the wind too long, nor can she handle the heat without passing out, so Childe makes it a point to invite himself inside so that Zhongli does not have to go out.
“There's no shame in being ill,” he says, carefully tucking her into bed. “Lie down. I'll be right here.”
The next time they talk, it’s for hours on end--the same after that. Without fail, Childe would leap off the balcony, catching Zhongli’s awed gaze with a wink before disappearing into the night like a dream. The next morning he’d brush her bangs off her sleeping face and let her wake to a knight combing silk flowers into her hair.
“The flowers belong in a vase,” she said, having prepared a nice glass one sitting on her coffee table.
“But you don’t mind it, do you?” Childe said. “I think they look prettier on my Lady.”
The vase was gone the next day.
“Say, what if I were to take you away from this place?”
“Where to?” She blinks in surprise.
Childe looks outside, points beyond the fountain at the entrance, at the road that disappears beyond a certain point. “The town festival.”
“A festival,” Zhongli murmured, then louder, “I’ve read about it.”
“Yeah?” Childe hums.
“It’s a period of celebration, specifically to celebrate the day the Goddess of Love, the Tsaritsa, fell in love herself.” She pauses. “I know that there’s a wide variety of street food and games to try. The books I’ve read spoke of song and dance, and a fireworks display at the end of the day. The illustrations painted a truly beautiful sight. Regrettably, I’ve never been able to see them for myself, only bursts of colour in the clouds every year.”
Zhongli’s wistful stare travels out the balcony. Beside her, Childe’s hand lingers over her palm.
“Do you want to go there?” he asks.
“I don’t think I could,” Zhongli replies with some hint of a resigned smile. “I fear that my illness may flare up. Even if I could, my father wouldn’t let me out.”
“Why not?”
“He,” she hesitates, but decides it would be alright to divulge if it’s Childe. “He dislikes losing face.”
Silence. It takes a second for the implications of her statement to sink in, but the next moment, the knight scoffs.
“Screw your father,” he spits, ignoring Zhongli’s look of shock. It’s the first time she’s seen him look so mad at something, quite unlike the sweet kindness he has always showered her in. After all, Childe is still a knight. “How dare he treat you like that?”
“It’s alright, he doesn’t speak to me anymore.”
He leaves her alone nowadays, no longer curses her late mother’s witchly womb nor turns a blind eye to the maids sweeping dust over her feet. He just lets her be, in the silence of the four walls of her room, and now it’s more of a reward and less of a punishment than it’s supposed to be. Once upon a time Zhongli would’ve yearned for his attention, but not anymore because she’s no longer lonely with her knight by her side.
When dusk descends in pretty orange and purple dust, Childe glows.
“I’ll definitely show you the fireworks,” he declares with an unwavering stare. “I’ll bring you anywhere you want to go.”
Secretly, Zhongli thinks she's found her knight in shining armour.
Her father bursts into her room unexpectedly. He marches in, uncaring of her state of undress as she fumbles to get out of bed and greet the Marquess.
Zhongli barely manages to curtsey. “Your Grace-”
“The Emperor and I have made an arrangement,” he says, eyes full of distaste. “You are to marry the Crown prince.”
And her knees hit the floor, a dull thud echoing in her ears. “What?”
“I will not repeat myself. The Emperor personally requested for your hand in marriage to his son--I don’t know what motives they have, risking marriage to a cursed child just for power, but I am in no position to reject. Honestly, I think it’s foolish.”
“Your Grace, when did this happen?” Zhongli finally rushes to say, breaking out of her daze. Marriage has never been a prospect for her since her illness came about. “This, it’s too sudden-”
“Shut up,” the Marquess snarls. “Stop complaining. All you have to do is sit and wait for your groom to take you away, who cares if it’s sudden?”
“I hardly know him, your Grace. I’ve never seen him once in my life,” Zhongli protests.
“Are you going to reject the Emperor, then?”
At her silence, the Marquess takes it as a sign of submission and turns to leave.
“No, F-Father, please wait. I-I can’t marry him,” Zhongli pleads, reaching out to grasp the hem of his trousers. She is only twenty-four, about to be married off to some stranger she doesn’t even know will treat her right, but Zhongli still has someone she wants to see.
“I already have someone I love,” she cries out, the memory of ginger hair, kind ocean eyes and warm calloused hands caressing her cheek lingering in her mind, like a fog settling. Childe cared for her, defended her, brought her flowers and made her laugh and promised to show her the fireworks at the festival. Childe stayed by her side when everyone else shunned her. What has the Crown prince ever done for her?
“I can’t marry him.” Because he is not Childe.
The Marquess looks back. He crosses the room in a few big strides, and before she knows it-
A loud smack, and her head snaps to the side.
“Pathetic,” her father sneers, palm red from the impact. Her vision spins, sprawled out on her limbs, then he leaves, slamming the door shut.
For a long time, Zhongli holds her swollen cheek in her hand and sobs, breathless coughs tumbling out her throat as she watches blood meld with tears on the floor.
“See this little lock of hair sticking up? That’s the ‘my Lady’ antenna. It senses whenever my Lady is feeling down and I’ll appear immediately right after,” Childe liked to say. It’s childish--but Zhongli couldn’t help but fall for it just a little. It’s hard not to, especially when the knight always manages to find her when she’s in need of a little cheering up.
Such as now, when three knocks originate from the folding glass doors, and Childe slides through. Zhongli quickly hides her bruise with loose hair.
“My Lady, I’m back.” He smiles, but instead of pulling out another flower or a joke, this time, he reaches for her hand.
“May I?”
Zhongli smoothly slides her hand into his palm, the pain in her jaw quickly pushed to the back of her mind. “Okay.”
He grins. It’s then that she realises the knight has the left part of his hair messily slicked back, orange bangs brushing his eyelashes on the right, and his usual mercenary-look has been swapped out for a more noble one. Now he looks every bit a General befitting the rank his insignia bestowed upon him.
“You’re formally dressed,” Zhongli points out, to the other’s delight.
“I have somewhere to show you,” he says, “As well as something to tell you.”
With that, Childe gently leads her into the open. The bruise on her cheek stings--but he handles her with so much care, as though Zhongli were a flower that could crumple under the slightest pressure. He pulls out a spare cloak, drapes it over her and pins it together with equally as much attentiveness, then he pulls her hood up and literally sweeps her off her feet.
“Childe!” Zhongli gasps when the knight places a foot upon the balustrade, the same way someone would do when they were going to jump off.
“Do you trust me?” Childe smiles reassuringly, and it’s like he knows she cannot reject him this way.
“Yes,” she finally says.
“If you’re scared, you can close your eyes. We’ll be there in a jiffy,” Childe says, then he throws himself off the balcony and Zhongli feels herself fall.
Instinctively, her eyes screw shut and she clutches onto his coat for dear life, but Childe holds her tight and secure against his chest, as if promising not to let go. Only then does some colour return to her knuckles.
“Hold still, my Lady.” A soothing voice says in her ear. The wind catches in her hair, brushing her cheeks and pulling out a few ebony strands from below the hood, but Zhongli keeps her face nuzzled into Childe’s lapels, and at the end of it-
“Open your eyes, my Lady. We’re here.”
-Zhongli opens her eyes to a thousand lights.
“The festival,” Zhongli gasps.
The street is much more marvelous than the pictures in books depicted it to be, a plethora of animal-shaped balloons and lanterns strung across the road above their heads, illuminating the street with a soft yet bright, yellow glow. Zhongli spins around in awe, playing with the way the light fell on her dress. “It’s beautiful.”
Childe smiles at her over the hubbub of people enjoying the festival. “Do you like it?”
“It’s stunning,” Zhongli laughs delightfully in that silken voice of hers. “I like it very much.”
“I’m glad you do,” the knight says. “Come, let me show you around. Hold my hand so you don’t get lost.”
For the next hour, Childe leads her around the place, indulging her every question of a dessert or custom she is unfamiliar with. He points out certain snacks that he thinks she’d enjoy; buys it for her without question just to let her have a taste, then buys about three more of each every smile she gives, to which Zhongli happily accepts.
But in some sort of vicious cycle, Zhongli would hover around various stalls with interesting merchandise, from painted fans to shiny rocks, then find her pockets empty when about to purchase, leaving the knight to pay for her things.
“It’s alright, I brought you out this time, so I’ll pay for it.”
“Thank you, Childe. Ah, is that an igneous-formed Cor Lapis rock?”
“This,” Childe holds up a stick of glassy red fruit, “Is Tanghulu, right? I only know because Liyue is the closest to the Imperial Palace. I always see some of these on the way to the mansion.”
“Yes,” Zhongli whispers, taking the candy with fascination. “Tanghulu is a popular candied fruit snack made of hawthorn berries filled with sweet red bean paste and served on a bamboo skewer. It is dipped in sugar syrup and left to solidify, forming a crunchy shell of clear sugar around the fruit. While it seems like a healthy snack, it is still high in calories, but rich in vitamin C, a vitamin that is good for the immune system. It first originated 6000 years ago during Rex Lapis’ reign over Liyue when it was still an independent harbour and remains popular till this day.”
“Wow,” Childe gapes, and Zhongli can practically see the gears in his head spinning to try and process that. “You’re very knowledgeable.”
“I just have a good memory,” Zhongli smiles, then faces the confectionery stall’s owner. “I’ll have one of these, ma’am.”
“That will be five hundred mora.”
“...Oh.”
Childe laughs at her helpless expression, then he pulls out a bag of mora from his pocket and places a random amount on the table. It’s much more than needed, judging by the owner’s bulging eyes, but before Zhongli can say anything she is ushered away by two hands nudging her back.
“Come on, we still have more to see.”
Eventually, they come to a stop in front of a stall, lined with soft toys and useless little trinkets that would be uninteresting to anyone but Zhongli. Sitting on the furthest shelf is a round, narwhal plushie, a red mask pinned to its head, two beady eyes oozing with cuteness.
“Would you like that narwhal, ma’am?” A young man, the stall owner, says. Zhongli nods fervently, and he laughs boisterously. “How bout a go at the darts?”
“Darts?”
He points behind him, where a large target hangs on the back of the stall in red and blue. “If you land on the inner ring, you’ll get a prize. A bullseye and you get to choose anything you’d like!”
“Ah…” Zhongli deflates, unconfident in her ability to aim her shots in a way that wouldn’t take out the eyes of the people around her, but she’s quickly saved by her companion. Childe lets out a soft chuckle, tossing a few coins to the owner who hands him three darts.
“My Lady, watch.”
He picks one up, points it forward, and swings-
“Bullseye! Young man, you sure have a knack for this.”
Immediately, the knight looks at her with an expression like an excited puppy fishing for praise. “My Lady, my Lady, did you see that?”
“I did,” Zhongli giggles fondly. “You were amazing, Childe.”
“Glad I didn’t embarrass myself in front of you.” Childe lights up, then points at the narwhal that caught her eye. “I want that one.”
“Here ya go,” the man passes the prize over as promised. Without sparing it a glance, Childe quickly offers it to Zhongli.
“For you.”
“Oh,” Zhongli softly says, touching its velvety soft fur with hesitance. It’s definitely not of low quality, and the type of stuffing used will not lump together over time. “Do you not like it?”
“I got it for my Lady,” Childe tells her. “Do you like it?”
His hand remains outstretched, and he gives the narwhal a little shake in her direction as if saying hi. Finally, Zhongli takes it, and the plushie quickly deforms in her tight embrace, adorably pressed against her cheek.
Beaming, she says, “Yes.”
Blue eyes soften at her smile. “That’s good.”
Meanwhile, the stall owner watches their exchange from the side. He briefly looks at them--the affectionate glances they share, the few centimetres of distance between their shoulders--and laughs.
“Quite the lovebirds, aren’t ya?”
The knight is the first to jump. “W-We aren’t like that,” He almost shouts, face so flaming red that Zhongli would’ve been concerned if not for the fact that her cheeks mirrored the colour on his.
“Ah,” is all she says, unable to form words.
“Don't be ashamed! Young love like yours is quite sweet.” The young man cackles, “Maybe I should give you guys a freebie or two. Like this anklet, it comes in a pair. It’s meant to be a lucky charm--see this colour? It’s for childbirth- eh?”
When he turns around, the knight has already taken Zhongli’s hand and fled, leaving behind puffs of dust in their wake.
They zip through the crowd with no particular destination. Fuelled by embarrassment, Childe leads Zhongli down the street, and he doesn’t realise how far they’ve gone until she taps him on the shoulder.
“Childe,” Zhongli calls.
“Oh. Sorry.” The knight drops her hand like he got burnt. A soft flush adorns his cheeks.
“It’s alright.” she smiles. A few coughs escape her, earning a look of concern from the other, to which she quickly dismisses. “I’m alright.
“My Lady, you look pale,” Childe points out. “Maybe we should sit down for a bit-”
“No, I’m fine,” Zhongli says, “I saw something interesting, actually.”
“What is it?” he asks.
“Over there.”
Behind them, where the street splits into the town square, fairy lights strung overhead light up the floor like a million fireflies. In the sea of lights are several people, arms tangled and spinning around like the world is theirs, bathing in the luminance of the decoration and singing their worries away. They dance, cheering with every little skip, and even the crowd at the side join in on the fun with enthusiastic claps to the beat.
“It’s so lively,” Zhongli says in awe, wonders how it’ll feel with light dusting her cheeks. “The energy that fills this place is wonderful. I’ve never witnessed such a sight before, having stayed home all my life.”
Childe peeks at her, eyes widening a fraction. “My Lady, you’re bleeding.”
“Huh?”
As he said, crimson red blood drips from her nose, blooming in the fabric of her sleeve.
“Ah, this...how troublesome.” Zhongli slides her hood off and swiftly takes out her handkerchief, pressing her nose into it. “It hasn’t happened for a long time.”
The knight’s expression is pained. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you around like this, knowing your condition…”
“My current predicament isn’t your fault.” Scornful eyes, the sting of a palm slamming into a cheek, the memory of coughing herself to sleep pricks the back of her mind. “I just-”
A hand grabs her wrist. Fingers, though rough, gently stroke the discolouration on her skin.
“Who did this?” Childe demands lowly. His expression is dark, dull eyes swimming with bloodlust so dense and heavy that Zhongli is abruptly reminded of the sword sheathed at his belt.
“I,” she replies hesitantly, “My father.”
“What? I’ll fucking kill him, that bastard-”
“Childe.” Zhongli firmly says, crushing the bloodied handkerchief in her grasp. “I want to go over there.”
Eyes darting between the town square and her quiet expression, he finally takes her hand in his gloved one.
“Let’s go,” he says, gently pulling her towards the crowd in silent agreement not to bring it up--and perhaps in some way, an apology. Zhongli trails behind him, staring at the back of his head.
“I don’t usually like things like these. I’ve attended dozens of banquets in my life, and all of them required me to dance and entertain strangers whose names I don’t know. Slowly, I came to hate dancing.”
They come to a stop in the centre of the crowd. Around them, the people glide around like waves washing around the shore, and Zhongli bashfully realises that no one is actually paying them any mind when Childe offers her his hand, bowing to meet her eyes.
“May I have this dance, my Lady?”
Her lips part. “I thought you disliked it?”
She doesn’t take his hand--instead, the knight takes the initiative, gently grasping her smaller hand in his bigger one, the same hand that has wielded a sword half his life yet is treating her with so much tenderness. The silver ring on his pinky is cool against her fingers when Childe leans down to press a kiss against her knuckles.
“If it’s for you, I’m fine with anything,” he says, and then raises her by her hips and spins her around like a bride on her wedding day.
“Your giggle,” Childe whispers, and if Zhongli were to be a little bold, she’d say he looks starstruck. “It’s beautiful.”
Zhongli twirls around, eyes curving into an enchanting smile. “Thank you.”
“You should laugh more often. I like hearing it.” He adds, “I like seeing you happy.”
“I am happy. Especially around you, Childe.”
And she beams, a smile showing teeth for the first time since her mother’s death, crinkled eyes and cheeks rosy with exhilaration as she grabs onto the knight’s hands and spins them around. Her flats hit the stone square in quick succession, carrying her across the place in light steps, plain white dress fluttering in the breeze as she moves-
“In fact, I have never felt this much joy in my life.”
Zhongli doesn’t know this, but to everyone who’d caught a glimpse, she looked like an angel just then. Amber tips spill out of her hood, soft pink lips stretching into a pretty grin all while she sways to the vibrant thrum of instruments, softly humming to the melody.
“Huh, I feel something wet in my hair…” Childe suddenly says, reaching up to touch his damp bangs before his eyes fly open, and he looks to the sky with panic. “Oh no.”
Zhongli looks down at her feet. Dark spots hit the floor, gradually growing in number, and before she knows it, Childe has yanked her hood over her head and is dragging her away. “We have to seek shelter. Looks like it’s going to rain.”
He’s right. The moment they step off the street and duck into a nearby alleyway, the rain starts to pour. Thankfully they’d found a tarp draped across two buildings to hide under.
“Shit, sorry. This is the best I could find.” Childe curses under his breath. Water pools in the tarp and cascade off the side of the buildings in mini-waterfalls, splashing at their ankles. Zhongli’s head is pressed into a warm embrace--Childe is shielding her from the rain as much as he could with his cloak protectively held over her like a curtain. “Dammit. What if you catch a cold?” he frets.
“The,” Zhongli murmurs, dazed. “The fireworks.”
“The display most likely got cancelled,” Childe answers. “...I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, Childe.” she assures. There’s nothing they could do about it, in the end. “You’ve done your best.”
“Still, I…”
“Today is already the best day of my life. I don’t think anything could ever make me forget it--missing the fireworks is but a small price to pay.” Her expression is content.
Beside her, the knight remains silent.
“Thank you, Childe.” Zhongli smiles, hoping that he’d stop beating himself over something that he couldn’t control.
“...As I thought, I can’t just leave it like this.”
“Childe?”
Quickly, he unbuttons his cloak and drapes it over her, “Wait here a little, my Lady. I’ll be right back!” and dashes into the open with nothing but his hand to shield him from the elements. Zhongli calls out for him, but he soon disappears around the corner.
It takes him ten minutes to return. Zhongli perks up at his presence, immediately pulling the cloak over his drenched frame.
“Now the one to catch a cold will be you. What were you thinking?” She chides, but his countenance remains smooth and unaffected. In fact, he looked a little happy.
“My Lady, look,” he says breathlessly--he must’ve ran the whole way to and fro. Childe takes out a long rectangular box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a handful of thin sticks.
He retrieves a lighter from his coat, fumbles with it for a bit, wet thumbs finally lifting the cap, then he hovers the flame over the thicker end of the stick and-
It blooms into orange sparkles.
Childe waves it at her. “I know it’s not the real deal, but this was the closest thing that came to mind.”
“I,” Zhongli gasps, orange glow swimming in her eyes. “It looks like handheld fireworks.”
“Right? And you can play with it like this,” Childe draws a star in the air, then a smiley face when the previous one fades, “Cool, right?”
“It’s so pretty,” she whispers, looking up at him when the fire dies out. “Can you light another one?”
“Of course.”
The sparkler crackles to life. Childe hands it to her, and Zhongli takes it with an awe-filled gaze. Shaking it around and drawing zig-zags in the air, she says, “What a fascinating design.”
“Isn’t it?” He agrees, and by then Zhongli is too absorbed in drawing shapes like a child first picking up the pen to notice the enamored smile shot her way.
“Thank you,” she says, after burning through almost half the box of sparklers. Childe lights another one up and Zhongli holds it between them like a prayer, the crackling of fire serving as their only heat source throughout the cold, wet rain. “I greatly enjoyed myself today.”
“I’m glad you’re happy.” The knight brushes away a wet lock of hair sticking to her cheek.
“If I could be honest,” Zhongli starts, “Meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me.” She blinks, so the bright glow of light doesn’t hurt her eyes. “From the moment I spoke to you, everything took a turn for the better.”
“Likewise,” Childe says. “I think my life has changed in more ways than I could imagine.”
“How so?” She asks.
“A couple months ago, I would be roaming the streets disguised as a commoner and stirring up any trouble I could find,” he says, eyes glazing over with some sort of nostalgia. “Now all I do is skip work to visit a woman and kidnap her to the places she wants to see.”
Zhongli laughs, silently urging him to continue.
“All my life, I’ve heard all kinds of honeyed words, as well as seen all the facades people wear to please me. I guess, after all this time,” Childe cracks a smile, “I just wanted to make the only person genuine towards me laugh happily.”
Having said that, he picks the sparkler out of her hand, and carefully draws a glimmering heart in the air between them. For a moment, it seemed to pulse, synched with Zhongli’s pounding heartbeat.
“I love you, my Lady.” Childe tenderly says, the noise of the pouring rain drowned out by his confession. His ears are tinged red.
“I,” Zhongli chokes, “I love you too.”
Her hands fly up to catch her tears. “I love you. I love you so much.”
“My Lady?” His voice wavers, throwing the sparkler into a pool of water. “What’s wrong?”
“I love you. I love you. I-I love you,” Zhongli cries. “I don’t want to get married. I want to be with you.”
“Married?” Childe frowns, still holding her shaking frame in his arms. Immediately, his voice drops an octave at the news, “What’s going on? Who are you getting married to?” the knight growls, “I’ll kill him.”
Zhongli shakes her head, the back of her hands pressed against her eyelids. “My father recently arranged my marriage.”
“Who?” Childe demands. “Whoever it is, I’ll pressure them with my power. There is no one I cannot get rid of in this Empire.”
But her future groom just had to be the one most untouchable figure in the Empire--Zhongli will be trapped in this loveless marriage forever, and confronted by this realisation, her tears start to fall faster. Not even the highest-ranked knight who won a thousand battles could steal the Crown prince’s bride-to-be.
Her future has already been set in stone.
“The Marquess said that the Emperor personally requested for my hand in marriage,” she whispers, “to the Crown prince.”
Silence, then a choke. “P-Pardon?”
“I’ll be wedded to him soon,” Zhongli repeats. Looking up, only to be met with his shocked expression, she quickly averts her gaze out of guilt. “I, I’m sorry.”
“No no no no no- don’t be sorry, uh,” Childe scrambles to wipe her tears. Two gloved hands cup her cheeks, lovingly swiping every drop away. “Do you know why the Emperor made such a request?”
“I daren’t guess the Emperor’s intentions,” Zhongli sniffles. Even if she did, nothing came to mind. It was simply inconceivable--her family is a powerful one, sure, but taking into mind the rumors surrounding her, it’s hard to imagine the Emperor asking for her, the cursed Lady, to be wedded to his most favoured son.
To this, Childe mutters under his breath, “Godammit, old man…”
“Sorry?” Zhongli blinks the blur in her vision away.
“You don’t have to worry about the marriage, unless you’re having second thoughts, but,” the knight starts, reaching into his back pocket to pull out-
Zhongli draws a sharp breath at the object in his hand.
“I am Tartaglia,” the man says, the Royal Insignia shimmering in his palm, “The Crown prince of the Empire, and the eleventh Emperor-to-be. So technically, you’re going to get married to me.” Tartaglia nervously laughs.
Immediately, Zhongli’s brain stutters to a halt.
“I,” she begins after a long pause, “You hid this from me.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to be treated like just a normal man. And I don’t think anyone would be able to stay calm if they knew the Crown prince was in their tree, talking to them.”
“Then, you knew about the marriage?”
“No, I just found out actually. But I think I know what was going on in my father’s head,” Childe grits his teeth, but the pink in his cheeks completely overwrites his fury. “You see, my family has been urging me to settle down for the longest time, especially since I will take the throne in a year or two…”
“And?” Zhongli prompts, balancing between curious and somewhat unamused.
“And I may have mentioned the existence of anetherealbeautythathadcapturedmyheart,” Childe finishes in one breath.
“Ah.” She says.
“You’re taking it better than I expected,” the kni--the prince points out, dabbing away at the tear stains clinging to her cheeks. “I even made you cry and everything. Aren’t you mad?”
“Not really,” Zhongli replies, relief washing over her like a tidal wave. In the end, she’s merely glad that she won’t be forced into a marriage she doesn’t want.
Looking him straight in the eye as if to remind him, “I love you, Childe.”
“Wuh- My Lady, you say these kind of things too easily...” The prince groans, but the heat in his cheeks and dopey smile gives it all away (he actually likes it very much). Inching closer, Childe gingerly holds her cheek--Zhongli nuzzles into his hand, giving a sigh of bliss, and the next moment they are so close that their breaths come out in cold puffs and meld together in the air, becoming one.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Childe softly declares, before leaning in and sealing their lips together completely. They don’t part for a long time, exchanging small, shy kisses, and whenever they do, they are immediately drawn back in with the desire for more.
“It’s warm,” Zhongli says, burying her face in his clavicle, but the warmth she feels isn’t that of body heat. “It’s really…”
“Feel free to hug me as you wish,” Childe chuckles, combing his fingers through her hair. “You’re quite endearing, you know that?”
“You’re the first to ever compliment me,” Zhongli murmurs, holding on tighter. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”
Childe laughs. "Why, am I your prince charming? Based on your novels, I thought you were more into the rough kind of men."
"Childe!" Zhongli squeaks.
“Haha, I wouldn’t mind marrying you too. In fact, I’d love to place you on the throne next to me,” Childe grins, then it twists into a smirk with a slightly dangerous edge. “I’ll have everyone that has ever insulted you prostrate themselves beneath your foot. How’s that?”
“Let bygones be bygones, Childe. I’m not particularly fond of such methods.”
“Aw…”
“The marriage,” he brings up, “It’s why the Marquess hit you, isn’t it?”
Sighing, Zhongli closes her book. “Yes. When I expressed my disapproval, he was enraged and slapped me on the face.”
“You should punish him,” Childe frowns, sliding into bed next to his fiancée. “I’m willing to bet that this isn’t the first time, be it physical or verbal abuse,” he says, leaving it open as a question, and Zhongli’s silence is telling enough. “Raising a hand against a member of the Imperial family is punishable by death.”
“That was before I was Crown princess,” she says. “And despite everything, he is still my one and only father.”
“He is a bitch.”
“Childe.”
“Zhongli. If you can’t bear to do it, I can do it for you. I’ll be your knife in any situation. Just give the word and it’ll be done. This way, you won’t have to dirty your hands.” The prince looks at her, almost pleadingly. “You’ll get away with it because my family and I love you, you know?”
“Life is a gift bestowed upon every human,” Zhongli gently scolds. “The moment one takes a life, one is no longer able to see the value of it.”
“I just don’t like it when you get hurt,” he pouts, shuffling closer like a giant puppy begging for comfort. “The moment someone even so much as makes you unhappy, I just want to warmly caress their fingers and break it.”
“You already did that once last week.”
“He was staring at you.”
“That ‘he’ in question was Captain Kaeya, your highness. He merely saw a bug in my hair.”
“Well, he got me in the shin so I guess we’re even,” he laughs at the cast on his leg. “Actually, I don't think I can walk back to my room. Can I sleepover tonight?”
Zhongli sighs in exasperation, but her eyes are fond.
“Also, I might’ve decked your father once.”
“What?”
Year XXXX
Crown prince Tartaglia ascends the throne as the 11th Emperor of the Teyvatian Empire, taking the daughter of the Marquess House Lapis as his Empress. Together, the Sun and the Moon ruled over Teyvat, balancing each other out with the Emperor’s aptitude for battle and political schemes, and the Empress’ warm benevolence as the mother of the nation.
Under the rule of Emperor Tartaglia and Empress Morax, Teyvat flourished, making great advancements in Science and technology--so much so that only three years after their coronation, a young alchemist by the name of Albedo Kreideprinz discovered a cure for the Empress’ illness, and was generously rewarded as well as granted a position in the Imperial Palace.
Shortly after her complete recovery, Empress Morax, previously too frail for childbirth, conceives and births three heirs for the Emperor, all of whom were showered in love and lavish gifts. The Empress gave birth to a prince and two princesses, Xiao, Ganyu, and Yanfei, in order of age, the first prince who will later be named as Crown prince Alatus for displaying great awareness of political affairs and talent in battle.
The next few decades were spent in peace as a result of the wisdom and capability of the Sun and Moon, who lived blissfully with their family.
Year XXXX
Crown prince Alatus ascends the throne as the 12th Emperor of the Teyvatian Empire. At his coronation, he laid his parents, the previous rulers of the nation, peacefully to rest.