Chapter Text
You would think that perhaps attempting to steal a god’s corpse, trashing the money factory said corpse was stored in, then unleashing the unholy wrath of the corrupted-gods-turned-eldritch-abominations sealed within the ocean’s depths in a bid to destroy the world? Would at least get you banned from just about every establishment in the city. If not, then already cheerfully expelled from it with a bounty calling for your head on a bloody silver platter, all semblance of diplomacy be damned.
And that’s not even mentioning all the garish rumours that had sprung like mushrooms after the rain, pinning all sorts of other troubles on your head — most notably, the murder of Liyue’s beloved patron deity.
(The Great Rex Lapis? Failing a heavenly tribulation?
Psh, as if anyone would believe that load of hogwash.
Which thus made it a rather ingenious cover story to help successfully plant the seeds of doubt in the general populace about their kindly Snezhnayan associates. They’ll nod and accept the Millelith’s statement with grace, only to vehemently reject it once their backs are turned. People were far more inclined to trust their own deductions after all, and with a bit of nudging here and a whisper or two there?
Their convictions were soon set in stone.)
For all the Qixing’s might and iron-fisted command of Liyue, however, there is still one thing in the world that speaks louder.
Mora.
Ah, the perks of being a filthy rich evil overlord.
“Man, I’m stuffed!” Tartaglia stretches his arms, leaning back against his plush chair. “A good meal after a big battle never fails to put me in a good mood. I’ll be sure to miss the taste of that distinctive Liutian flair once I get back to Snezhnaya.” He peers down with regret at the empty dishes strewn all over the table; all too mournful that they’ve already been consumed.
Beside him, Zhongli hums and takes a sip of his remaining tea.
“If you’d like, I can always give you their recipes so you may have Liyue cuisine at your disposal wherever you may go,” He says casually — as if it were normal to offer the man that almost destroyed your city highly secretive, highly coveted gourmet recipes like they were breadcrumbs being thrown in a duck pond.
But Tartaglia is already shaking his head.
“Nah, as much as I like cooking, I doubt it’d be easy for me to whip out freshly preserved Liutian ingredients when I’m hunkered down in the wild on long assignments. I've yet to pry those methods out of Aether's grubby hands. Besides,” Tartaglia quirks a brow at his companion, a teasing grin on his face. “This way, I have an excuse to keep coming back here with you.”
Zhongli’s — bright, beautiful, mesmerising, like finely cut cor lapis — eyes soften at his words.
Ah. Tartaglia’s heart skips a beat at the sight. Yeah, he’s really gonna miss this once he's put back into active duty.
He'd been about to lift up a hand to brush against Zhongli's cheek, so he could breathlessly whisper something dumb and cheesy like 'You’ve got a bit of rice stuck on your face, let me get it for you' as an excuse to swoop in for a kiss when suddenly-
Aether demands, “Really guys? Right in front of my salad?” which Paimon follows up with a confused “But you already ate the salad...?”
Tartaglia levels a look at him. Not just any look, but one of his most effective and well-practised ones: The Disapproving Onii-chan Look™. “Are you ever going to explain what the hell that means? Because it sounds insulting when you say it.”
The Traveler points his chopsticks at him menacingly. “I’ll explain it once you stop inviting me to third wheel on all your stupid dates!” He swats away an aghast Paimon, who hisses at him to stop insulting the man paying for their very expensive lunch.
“Stupid...?” Zhongli echoes with a frown, setting his ceramic teacup down. “Are we not all enjoying ourselves when we dine together, though?”
“Well, I- yes,” Aether says. “But personally, I enjoy meals a lot better when they don’t feel like a prerequisite to murder via fake archer bludgeoning me in the head with a rusty bow.”
“Now now, comrade, why would I do that? If I really wanted to kill you, there are far more satisfying ways than simply using brute force.” Tartaglia spreads his arms. There is a cold light in his dead fish eyes juxtaposing the smile stretched upon his face.
Paimon squawks in alarm. “That is definitely not helping your case, Mr. Fatui Harbinger!”
Zhongli coughs softly into a gloved fist, causing Tartaglia to switch back to an easygoing attitude. “Ah, right, no blood on the dinner table. Sorry, xiansheng.” He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck with a grin.
The Wangsheng Consultant doesn’t say a word, merely looks at him with upturned lips. At last, the tension in Tartaglia’s shoulders fully eases as he reaches out to thread his fingers with Zhongli’s free hand.
“Damn, you guys are so married it hurts. Must you continue to drown me in dog food like this?” Aether complains half-heartedly, but internally coos at how oddly sweet the pair seem what with their seamless tacit understanding.
Really makes you forget that one of them is a 6000-year-old former war god while the other is a 20-something trained spy-slash-killer-slash-general of Snezhnaya’s armed forces.
Truly, they were a match made in the 7th circle of hell.
“Dog food?” The two chorus, one looking incredibly perturbed while the other looks unbearably amused, as if he knows something everyone else doesn't. Aether flushes and waves a hand.
“I’ve been, uh, picking up modern Liyuese slang from the books Xingqiu’s been recommending to me. It’s a term used to refer to public displays of affection,” He explains when the scrunched up look of confusion didn’t leave Tartaglia’s face.
Paimon lets out an ‘ehe’ and backflips midair. “They were all romance novels disguised as martial arts novels~” She gleefully exposes him and waggles her eyebrows. “Really saucy ones, too~”
Aether facepalms, the bright red of his face contrasting against his dark gloves.
“Yeah, I really need to have a word with him about that.” He mutters.
‘Give me titles of books you’d think I’d like!’ he had said. ‘I’m sure you’re great at analysing people’s preferences!’ he had said. And then promptly regretted it. Damn rich kids and their twisted sense of humour. Aether is never trusting them again.
“Hmm.” The archon-turned-man still looks lost in thought. Somewhat uncertain. “So you are saying we act... like a married couple?”
Tartaglia pretends to clear his throat at Zhongli’s words, a light blush dusting his cheeks. A tiny, pleased smile curls at the corner of his lips. Married to Zhongli, huh. Now that’s an idea he could get used to. Maybe when all the fuss dies down and the world is in the Tsaritsa’s hands, one day he could...
"Well, duh!” Paimon rolls her eyes. “The flirting, the handholding, the weird silent conversations with your eyes-! Paimon has read alllllll about it in Xingqiu’s novels!”
“Unless,” Aether teases, lowering his hands from his face. “The mighty Rex Lapis finds marriage too formidable a foe to conquer?”
Zhongli opens his mouth to speak then. Closes it. He averts his eyes from the group’s wide curious gaze.
“Archons above, Aether, now look what you’ve done! You’re going to make my man develop commitment issues at this rate.” Tartaglia jokes. Despite his jovial tone, the look in his eyes tells Aether to change the subject or else unspeakable violence will occur. Aether sweatdrops, but hurriedly rifles through his memories for a random topic to talk about when-
“I disagree.” Zhongli says, suddenly finding his voice. He is still refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “I’ve always been a perfectly respectable marriage partner in the past. I believe my spouses have never found fault in me.”
An awkward silence permeates the room like a particularly loud and obnoxious fart.
Everyone gapes.
“Wait, what.” Tartaglia straightens in his seat, the smile slipping off his face.
“You’ve been married?” Paimon screeches. “Paimon has never heard of this being written in Rex Incognito or in the Legend of the Geo Archon series!”
Aether covers his mouth with his hand, silent and wide-eyed.
Suddenly, memories of the entire Liyue chapter play in his head like an old movie reel, from the moment he met Zhongli till now: the luxurious tastes, that overly grandiose manner of speaking, the complete and utter disregard for overly inflated price tags like someone who has never once found themselves wanting, and most of all, the complete ease of which he asks Tartaglia for money...
At first, he’d thought Zhongli was some former rich second generation wastrel not unlike what Tartaglia had first construed him as. 'You could say he couldn’t imagine himself ever lacking for money,' The Harbinger had mused back then. Then his true identity came to light, and Aether had since assumed it was all just the whimsy of the god of mora who was used to having the world at his fingertips (or, er, claws). One who would be fussed over the moment his followers perceive even the tiniest sneezes of discomfort.
Logically speaking however, 6000 years was a very, very long time to not pick up and master any life skills whatsoever. Unless...
A wild, terrible idea begins to form in his brain.
Aether has met the adepti, in all their otherworldly arrogance and scorn over puny human lifespans.
Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper are too prideful to wait on anyone, so there is no way it could’ve been them.
Xiao is probably allergic to affection; Aether doubts he could last being in close contact with anyone longer than 5 milliseconds without spontaneously combusting or whipping out his jade spear.
Moon Carver, though...
If he recalls correctly, there was a stone tablet on Qingyun Peak that says Moon Carver is a disciple of Rex Lapis? ‘The kindest adeptus amongst all,’ it had read, and if those martial arts novels Xingqiu had been sending his way held any water, then that means the bond between a master and their disciple was no different to that of a parent and child. Aether could still hear the echoes of rage and grief in the other's words when he had told the immortal of Rex Lapis' passing.
They were definitely close, but. Seeing how Moon Carver is content to seclude himself on that mountain, while Zhongli languishes about in Liyue Harbour?
And how it took Osial for him to even step into the city?
Using Zhongli as a frame of reference, Aether seriously doubts that Moon Carver would've been able to help the man navigate Liyue's markets any better than how he is currently faring. A big red X for the giant immortal reindeer, then.
What about Ganyu, then?
She’d been the nicest out of all of them during their first meeting, if a tad scatterbrained. She also has that whole loyal secretary schtick going for her, working for the Qixing and all. Out of all the adepti, there's no doubt that Ganyu is the best integrated into human society (though Aether supposes being half-human probably helps a ton). The conviction in her voice when she speaks of honouring her contract with Rex Lapis and her heartfelt sorrow at the thought of his passing has Aether thoroughly convinced of her reverence for the Geo Archon.
But he also thinks of the way Ganyu hadn’t seemed to have even recognised Zhongli in his current mortal form, so he tentatively crosses off the possibility that their relationship may have been deep enough for Zhongli to develop such habits. In this era, at least.
So that could only mean... There was a mortal. Or several mortals.
Or even archons who’ve long passed.
Who may or may not have been spoiling Zhongli on and off for the last 6000 years.
“Zhongli-xiansheng...” Aether says slowly. “Did you…” He racks his brain for the politest way to phrase his question, in consideration for the distraught Harbinger to his side who is beginning to bubble with vinegar upon learning there may or may not be multiple green hats on his head.
“Did you... marry people to sponsor you?” He cringes as the words leave his mouth due to the way Tartaglia’s eyes instantly darken. Crap.
The guilty pause says it all.
“...when you say 'sponsor', can you be more specific about that?” Zhongli inquires smoothly as if he weren't stalling from answering, completely ignoring the way his partner tightens the grip on his hand and eyes him up and down in a rather predatory manner — like he was considering how to best hide him away to keep for eternity.
Paimon slams her tiny fists on the table. “We need to know! Did you or did you not seduce people for money?! Paimon would like to know your methods in the most excruciating detail for... reasons... eheh...” Her eyes begin to shine like two large primogems, a trail of drool on the corner of her mouth.
Oh, think of all the food she could eat...!
“You? You can’t seduce anyone,” Aether looks at her skeptically. Who the hell would want to date emergency food?
“Hey! Paimon is absolutely stunning, I’ll have you know!” She scowls, then brightens.
“Obviously, I’m doing it for you. If you could pick up on even the tiniest sliver of Rex Lapis’ charm, then we wouldn’t be stuck grilling poor squirrels over burning hilichurl corpses every night! Ooooh, and have actual beds and baths!” Paimon performs a few flips midair, completely immersed in her fantasy.
Zhongli and Tartaglia sweatdrop at the sight. The Traveler and his fairy friend sure had it rough, huh.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, my friends, but to be frank, I’m not quite sure how it happened either,” Zhongli admits. His ears turn a fascinating shade of red.
Everyone gapes. Is that... a confession?!
Had they not already finished their meal, Aether is sure he would’ve done a spittake. He settles for being as embarrassing as possible instead. "Oh my Archons, Rex Lapis is a professional sugar baby...!" He dramatically clutches at the emblem on his chest.
Paimon grabs his free arm, shaking it. "Aether, put this in your journal stat! We need to figure out how he does it, and Paimon wants you to follow him around until we do." She vows, a fire in her eyes. There was mora on the line here, people!
“What I want to know is why ‘spouses’ is plural.” Tartaglia gently smiles. It does not reach his eyes. If you look hard enough, maybe squint and turn your head 15 degrees to the side, you could almost see 'JEALOUSY' stamped on his forehead in bright red lettering the size of one of Zhongli's monoliths.
Aether and Paimon freeze and scoot away to avoid the Harbinger’s threatening aura. They trade uneasy glances.
One can only wonder how many people had met their end after seeing that smile.
“Ah,” Zhongli finally registers the intensity of his partner’s gaze and clears his throat with a cough, adjusting his tie against his clavicle. A trail of nervous sweat trickles down the side of his forehead. Slowly, he withdraws his hand from Tartaglia’s steel grip.
“Perhaps this is a tale best left off for some... other time…” He trails off with an awfully constipated smile. “My, is that the waiter here with the bill? Thank you for the meal but I’m afraid I have some urgent matters to attendtogoodbye.”
Tartaglia and Aether watch in varying degrees of dismay and disbelief as the ex-archon moves past a stunned waiter in a sprint, exiting Liuli Pavilion with a speed that could only have been achieved with aid from Barbatos himself.
The waiter swallows, holding the bill to his chest. “M-my apologies, was this a bad time?”
Tartaglia groans and buries his face in his hands, to the waiter’s alarm. “No, it’s. It’s fine, please bill it to Northland Bank under ‘Gongzi’, they’ll know what to do.” He says in muffled Liutian.
Hey, he's been in this country for months, why wouldn't he pick up the basics of the language when it made snooping on private conversations and wooing beautiful and awfully traditional Geo Archons into his arms so much easier? Except now he's just found out that his awful-gorgeous-beautiful-oh-so-painfully-traditional Geo Archon lover had a not so traditional love life and oh, whoop, he's spiralling again.
Aether leans in and whispers conspiratorially to the waiter: “He just discovered he’s been wearing a green hat.” The waiter’s eyes go wide and he tuts sympathetically. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Good sirs, would you like to peruse our dessert menu? We take orders to-go,” he suggests none too hopefully.
Wait, is he seriously trying to profit off of the Harbinger’s misery? Damn capitalists. Aether is almost impressed, but is about to decline when-
Hook, line, and sinker.
“Heck yeah, hand it here!” Paimon crows and snatches it out of the waiter’s offered hands before Tartaglia or Aether could say a word in protest. Aether mulls over it, then shrugs. Ah, well, it's not his money. He heads over to peer past Paimon's shoulder to look at the choices.
And thus Tartaglia, who is far too used to this behaviour, ends up paying for it without a word.
Oops.
The three soon find themselves standing outside with an iced treat in hand. Aether breaks his in half and gives one to Paimon. “Huh, I didn’t know they had popsicles in this world,” Aether muses and licks at it. Mm, cherry.
"Ehhh? Of course we do, haven't you seen Chongyun always licking that blue popsicle before?" Paimon says.
"Well, yeah, but I always just thought he was licking his own ice or something." Aether scratches the back of his head with his free hand.
Paimon stares at him judgementally. She chooses to not respond to the statement and focuses on consuming her iced sugary delight.
Meanwhile, Tartaglia stares blankly at his sea salt popsicle as if it holds all the secrets in the world.
It starts to melt in response.
Paimon peers up at him hopefully, the remains of her share smudged all over her mouth. “You gonna eat that?”
“Hey, dude, you okay?” Aether thumps his back in concern, having already finished his and tossed the stick into his interdimensional storage space. “You’re taking this real hard.”
“Y- yeah, I’m fine,” His voice cracks embarrassingly. The taller man shakes his head vigorously. It seems to help him recover a bit and he wordlessly hands his popsicle to Paimon, who squeals in delight.
“It’s just... He never told me.” Tartaglia says lamely. He is not pouting. Childe Tartaglia the 11th (and deadliest) Fatui Harbinger is not sulking in the middle of the street in uptown Liyue Harbour because he just found out his lover is actually married. Had been married. Several times. What the fuck.
“He usually tells me everything, you know — even the colours of the socks he picks out that morning. Which is always white, by the way, he’s boring like that.” He helpfully adds.
“Did you even ask?” Aether raises an eyebrow in doubt.
“Well... No.” At the Traveler’s pointed look, he amends, “I knew he’s been with others before! That’s fine. That’s normal! Even I wasn’t a virgin when we first got together. Honestly, I can’t imagine anyone remaining a virgin throughout the span of a human lifetime, much less over 6000 years.”
“So... what’s your problem exactly?” Aether crosses his legs. They had migrated over to sit on a nearby bench during their conversation slash impromptu relationship counselling session. Aether idly wonders if he should start charging for each session. The other man could more than afford it, after all.
“It’s- He’s- Marriage.” Tartaglia gestures wildly as if that explains absolutely anything about his odd behaviour.
The Traveler and his floaty companion stare at him blankly.
“Oookay... I’m starting to think the one with commitment issues in this relationship is you.” Aether says slowly.
“They’re not issues, it’s- okay, look, y’know how Rex Lapis is the god of contracts, right? And Barbatos is the god of freedom?” Tartaglia runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Yes, I’m aware of how paganism works but go off.” Aether prompts.
“Yeah, well. Our Tsaritsa, the current Cryo Archon, has long been revered as the god of love,” Tartaglia explains. “We take marriage very seriously back in Snezhnaya. Very, very seriously.”
His deep blue eyes are solemn with steadfast belief in the values he'd been raised with. “We believe that family is everything, and getting married involves the process of joining families together. It is, ah, how do you say it? Let’s just say there is a very strong ‘us versus them’ mentality. Whoever is your family is someone you are to protect and care for throughout your life.”
“Ahhhhh, so it’s a cultural thing. Got it.” Aether nods in understanding, pounding a fist into an open palm.
“That’s simplifying it, yes.” Tartaglia says dryly.
Paimon squints in confusion. “But if marriage is so serious, then are you allowed to divorce?” She wonders.
The Harbinger scoffs. “We’re not animals! We don’t mate for life, of course divorce is legal. It’s only frowned upon because of how much drama and violence tends to brew afterwards, especially in small towns. Family feuds last generations, you know?”
Aether tilts his head. “Huh, that’s actually... pretty similar to Liyue’s own family values, too. Filial piety, and all that. Except...” He pauses, glancing up to gauge the Harbinger’s reactions. “Liyue... has a history of polygamous marriages.” He finishes.
Tartaglia blinks. “Ah.” He says, looking like someone had just walked up to him to crack an egg on his forehead. There was shock. Confusion. Bewilderment. Maybe even a bit of despair. You get the point.
Aether really wants to laugh at how the thought of a younger Zhongli in a threesome seems to have broken Tartaglia's brain. Not for the first time, he marvels over how odd it is to be on such pleasant terms with someone who is, for all intents and purposes, an enemy to be having this conversation with him about relationship drama.
He and Tartaglia have settled into a casual frenemy relationship over the past few weeks ever since he babysat the Harbinger’s baby brother, so Aether thinks it would probably be prudent of him to help out with the man’s romantic affairs before it escalates into him trying to challenge the Qixing to duel in his underwear out of sheer stress. He is not looking forward to becoming Public Enemy Number #1 again by association because of this dweeb. Again.
“Do you think he doesn’t trust me enough? Is that why he didn’t want to tell me?” He knits his eyebrows together, lower lip jutting out petulantly. Aether internally rolls his eyes; this must be where Teucer had picked it up from.
“Now you’re just being silly,” the Traveler snorts and shakes his head. “You said it yourself, xiansheng tells you everything. If he had any such expectations in your relationship, surely he’d have been more upfront about it?”
“That being said, Paimon thinks it’s super suspicious how fast he ran!” The white haired sprite pipes up, randomly popping into existence inches before their eyes. "Though, you definitely didn't help at all!"
“What the fu-” Tartaglia swears loudly, materialising his bow into his hands only to get them smacked by Aether. “Down, boy,” The Traveler chastises him like the overly paranoid attack dog he is.
“Hey!” Paimon scolds, hands on her hips. “We talked about this! Stop being so trigger happy all the time! Meanie ginger beanpole with an ugly mask!”
“Stop trying to give me a heart attack then!” Tartaglia retorts, his rusty bow disappearing into golden sparks.
“Did you throw away the popsicle sticks in the bin?” Aether says, ignoring the daggers they keep shooting at each other with their eyes. Best to let them get it out of their system while they can.
The two have been at odds ever since Osial’s revival and for all of Paimon’s urgings to let go of his grievances so as to keep taking advantage of Tartaglia’s wallet, she doesn’t seem to think it applies to herself. Granted, there isn’t really any harm in her tauntings — Aether knows the other man would never hurt her but he seems to derive amusement in freaking her out sometimes as well.
Probably that innate sadism all elder siblings had. Aether wishes her luck.
“Un!” Paimon bobs her head in affirmative. “Paimon threw yours, too.”
“Thank you.” Aether smiles. “Anyway, as we were saying-” Paimon butts in.
“Paimon thinks xiansheng is keeping a dirty secret about those- those marriages!” She puffs her cheeks and shakes a fist in mid air. “No one runs that fast unless they’re guilty about something! Though uhh, Childe also really didn’t help with his reaction, either...”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Tartaglia drawls, suddenly looking rather coy. Man, this guy’s mood swings were on a whole other level. “You two sure were running really fast from the Millelith back then, what do you have to say about that?” He teases, completely ignoring Paimon’s pointed barbs.
“You were half to blame for my predicament. Your boyfriend was responsible for the other half.” Aether deadpans, crossing his arms. He is still incredibly salty about that stupid pebble that interrupted his great escape, dammit.
“Fair ‘nuff.” The man shrugs. “So... What now?”
“I say we go look for that ‘rock for brains’ ex-archon and interrogate him!” Paimon fist pumps into the air.
“He seemed really embarrassed about it, though. I doubt we’d be able to find him anytime soon.” Aether rubs his chin. “Buuut, I do have an idea.”
“I’m all ears,” Tartaglia sighs. Not like he has anything else to do with his lover avoiding the whole lot of them right now.
In hindsight, Tartaglia is uncomfortably aware that they wouldn’t have to do this if he’d just reined in his emotions. If he’d just been patient and waited for Zhongli to finish what he had been struggling to say, after finally summoning the courage to do so. But Zhongli is the one person in the world he’d always feel so comfortable around, who doesn’t mind the outbursts and the moodswings and the long missions away due to his oath of fealty to another archon.
Who is there for him, always, despite the lies and the masks (literal and figurative) and the way he lets violence define him.
Zhongli has never complained or questioned it. Zhongli has never asked him to change. Zhongli sees the ugliest parts of him and welcomes it, so what is Tartaglia to do but love him in the way he knows best?
(For he is the foolish Tartaglia, who is avarice personified, who wants and takes and devours — and Zhongli is the one who will let him. For Zhongli to dangle another tantalising part of his mysterious long-lived past in front of him, and to pull away so coquettishly at the very last moment? Well, Tartaglia has never been one to let his prey escape and like hell would he let Zhongli be the first.)
A mischievous smile spreads across Aether’s face. Time to see if any of his theories were right. “We currently can’t get info straight from the man himself so... what say you that we go and ask other people who were actually there?”
Realisation dawns on Paimon and Tartaglia’s faces. “You don’t mean-”
“The adepti!” Paimon cheers, twirling upwards. “Those guys would definitely know how Rex Lapis keeps marrying into money! Let’s go, let’s go! Our future depends on it, Aether!”
Tartaglia perks up. “Do I get to fight-”
“NO.”