Chapter Text
“Your Grace, the deed and other paperwork from Sage Cottage were delivered this morning,” Xiao said by way of greeting. The clink of dishes and the soft squeaking of the door of his study being pushed open accompanied the words. Zhongli looked up from the stack of letters he’d been sifting through, eyebrow lifting and both question and rebuke for the formal address on his forked tongue.
Xiao was his valet, yes, and had been since Zhongli had found the sylph, wounded and near death on a battlefield some two hundred or so years ago, but he was more than that. They were beyond titles and, he had thought, a century past Xiao bringing him his morning tea and mail. Not that such tasks were beneath the sylph, Xiao would have been the first to say as much, but because there was a household and pack that needed running and that was where Xiao’s attention usually focused. More to the point they were his pack: the only two left from Zhongli’s original pack.
He understood why the formality was called for as soon as he got a good look at who was just behind Xiao and the breakfast cart. Zhongli stood, bowing slightly when the Duchess of Jade Chamber swept into his office, followed by a pair of unassuming ladies. Unassuming but formidable, Lady Keqing and Lady Ganyu were certainly not figures to be taken lightly.
Zhongli could have crushed them into dust as easily as yawning but that didn’t make them any less impressive for relatively young mortal creatures. Especially Ganyu, half human as she was; it was no small feat for her to rise to personal guard of the Duchess.
“Her Grace, The Duchess of Jade Chamber, and her attendants, Lady Cementarii and Lady Sinae Unicornis, have called upon you for a morning visit.”
About four hours earlier than he took callers and skirting all the rules of propriety by venturing into his home, and office, without leaving her card or giving Xiao a chance to see if he was taking visitors. The privileges of being Duchess and head of the Underground in action he supposed; few would dare to turn her away or let their tongues wag about her rudeness. None among his domestics would dare.
Ningguang looked beautiful as always, ash-white hair pinned up in cascading curls and looping braids, topped with a delicate diamond and cor lapis circlet. Her dress was no doubt the height of fashion, a stark white with an overlay of golden lace, cinched with a brown ribbon beneath her bosom and skimming so closely to her curves he was sure it would have been considered scandalous a generation ago. Long white gloves covered her from elbow to fingertip, complimenting the white and brown feathered fan looped around one wrist. A choker, more diamond and cor lapis, clung tightly to her throat, the only acknowledgement of her secondary designation, but a loud one in their society. She was the first omega to head the Underground, ever.
Her ‘attendants’ could have been mistaken for ladies in waiting, with their delicate blue gowns, made up faces, and ornamented hair and throats, but Zhongli had made note of the sword and bow they were hiding beneath their layers. He imagined the fans hanging from their wrists were sharp enough to slice flesh with but a flick, the pins in their hair made to kill, and the strings holding their gems sturdy enough to hold up to being used as a garrote. If their lips were coated in poison he would have scarcely been surprised by it. More than that, though, they were intelligent, observant, and as ruthless as a given situation demanded. Keqing, in particular, was a force behind the movement away from the old ways and those who upheld them.
Lovely girls in his opinion.
“Your Grace. This is an unexpected pleasure.” He said. He held out a hand, smiling faintly as she took it and allowed him to show her to a seat at the small table that sat in front of the balcony doors. He often took his breakfast there, alone, enjoying the morning sun. Diluc, with his lack of tact, liked to imply that Zhongli was ‘sunning himself’. A ridiculous suggestion; dragons didn’t ‘sun’. They were not common reptiles or, worse, felines who lazed about during the day. He merely enjoyed watching the sun rise and basking in the potential of a new day.
She smiled, polite and distant. Zhongli didn’t think anything of it, as the current figurehead of the Underground it was only natural that she would be reserved around him, the former head. That he’d stepped aside gladly for her and hadn’t been seen in public for over three decades leading up to the war meant little to a woman as shrewd as Ningguang. Creatures such as them were used to attaining power with teeth, claw, and the spill of blood, not with peaceful turnovers and well wishes. She would never not be somewhat on edge in his presence, her instincts would not allow it. His return to the public eye was a matter of concern for her, a matter that she clearly intended to address head on.
Her directness was part of what he admired about her. It would serve her well as she lead the Underground to a new era.
Xiao was quick to lay out a not inconsiderable array of food before them. If Zhongli hadn’t known better he would never be able to guess that their guest hadn’t been planned for, not with the selection of steaming bread, succulent meats, sliced fruits, and pickled vegetables floating through the air to land between them. Ningguang murmured her thanks but seemed disinclined to actually eat, understandable considering the hour. She did accept a steaming cup of dragon’s teeth tea, her favorite if his memory hadn’t yet failed him.
Zhongli sipped his own tea and contented himself with some particularly beautiful looking melon and sliced berries. After two years of slinking around frozen battlefields and wading hip deep in filth with nothing but stale, unappealing rations he had regained an appreciation for fresh, simple things. Ningguang would not be made to speak before she was ready and idle small talk and gossip to fill the silence was beneath both of them, so his time was better spent savoring each bite of juicy, sweet flesh.
The staff had outdone themselves as of late.
It didn’t take overly long, once she’d drained her tea and took a few deep pulls of her ever present pipe she finally fixed her slitted, red eyes upon him. She breathed out a trail of smoke as her inner eyelids blinked slowly. “I understand you intend to stay in the capital for a time.”
He nodded. “Yes. My pack is worn, after the war, and I felt some time in familiar settings and among a bustling community would do them well.”
In truth Baizhu had suggested a return to the country, or perhaps a tour of the coast, to settle nerves and heal their bodies but Zhongli had thought it best to set that aside. Isolation and quiet was not what the fractured creatures he’d gathered to himself needed. What they did need he couldn’t say but he was certain the best chance of finding it was here, in the capital. Among people, with activity and work to be done, not with mindless sedentary nothingness.
She smiled, pink painted lips pulling back to reveal wickedly sharp omega fangs and smaller, but no less sharp, rows of pointed teeth. “Wonderful. I’m sure the Ton, and Underground, will be thrilled to welcome the Duke of Lapis back. I look forward to working alongside you.”
He doubted that.
“I will have to disappoint them, much as I loathe to do so.” He smiled thinly, clawed fingers tapping against the delicate bone china tea cup. “The matter has already been discussed with Their Majesties and it has been agreed: I will be here only as a General in their Celestial Majesties’ army, a landlord, and concerned pack head. I remain Duke Lapis in name only.”
He still retained his title, land, and holdings, King Aether and King Lumine had made it clear that relinquishing his duties and position meant only that, but to the humans he was the eldest son of the duke who had passed tragically some thirty years before. Among the Underground he was a reclusive dragon who’d migrated to the country and languished among his hoard until war broke out and would be nothing more. He would be getting none of the powers and oversight back that he’d once had, and he was glad for it.
The time for an ancient, eternal dragon to oversee the people was over. Better to leave it to a mortal dragon who better understood the world as it was now.
Ningguang blinked again, lips pursed around the end of her pipe before inclining her head. “Unfortunate. I’m sure your guidance would have been appreciated in these times.”
He chuckled dryly. “I’m certain we are better under the rule of you and your people than we would be under an old, jaded, dragon. It’s a new age and I wish to see it for myself and take part where I may, not guide it.”
This age was best represented by a hybrid dragon in his opinion. Many of those in the Underground were mixed blood now, pure lineages were increasingly rare and more an indicator of inbreeding and the prejudice that had seen all Fae pitted against each other once upon a time. Ningguang was very much of this age, dragon, fairy, and a bit of human blood all running through her veins. Zhongli was a relic, at best.
An old sword, kept sharp and brought out in dire times because it was familiar and predictable, but little else. He’d sensed the turning of the tides a century ago and begun to plan accordingly.
She hummed, noncommittal, then cast a sidelong long at her girls, perched on a plush couch and speaking softly behind their fans. Quiet enough that even his ears didn’t pick up more than low murmurs. He could ask Xiao after, the winds would be listening for the spirit, but he found he had little interest. His days of spying and maneuvering others had been miserable; he had no desire to retread those times.
“You’ll be coming to the market tonight? We will finally be dealing with the prisoner.”
“Oh?” He asked, frowning slightly. “So soon?”
She laughed, short and bitter. “I’m not sure I would call it soon. Better that we had beheaded him as soon as he was in custody, rather than let one of Her agents breathe so deep in our capital for months. He is lucky Their Majesties stayed our hands.”
Zhongli's gaze flicked down to his teacup. “They are tired of death. Many of us are, on both sides. She is no exception.”
Dreadfully tired. He had fought often, delighted in his power and exalted in his many victories over the many centuries of his life, but the last war had left him…empty. So terribly empty and exhausted, more than he could have foreseen. There had been little joy to find fighting against the Tsaritsa’s forces, a mixture of hunters, witches, and ignorant humans, and spreading their blood among the frozen, muddy tundra of Her lands. It had been a long, miserable time, more challenging than any had expected, and it had…pushed him. Pushed the men and women he’d assembled around him. Changed them in ways that worried him.
Zhongli had, more than once, found himself wishing he hadn’t risen from his chosen exile.
There was little desire to see more death in the name of the Tsaritsa’s conquest of the Celestials, even if he agreed with her aims in theory and supported the tentative alliance being brokered. Even if he understood that her favored assassin had to be handled and that spilling his blood would go far to heal wounds.
“Convenient that the one who saw us butchered so eagerly should become ‘tired’ once her most troublesome warrior is in our grasp.” She said then, seemingly to realize what she was saying and to whom, added with haste: “But Our Kings are wise and I’m sure they see purpose in the judgment they have laid down. I imagine he’ll end up executed nonetheless; none of the breeders want an omega like him and I don’t know many who would be brave enough to buy his life just to see him mining or digging crops.”
Zhongli found he couldn’t argue. There were only so many outcomes in a prisoner auction, sold into slavery, sold into breeding, or killed. It was all…unpleasant, but then the crimes committed were not small ones. The near destruction of the capital itself and the attempted assassination of the Kings, to say nothing of all those who had fallen on the battlefield against him. If things had gone differently tens of thousands would have perished, submerged in the sea’s waters or torn asunder by the demon that slept in the depths of the bay. It was normal that so many would be calling for blood, even after two years of bloody, terrible fighting.
Yes, it was likely the one they called Tartaglia would find his head neatly removed from his shoulders.
“I’ll be at the night market.” He said. “Though I’m not sure I’ll remain for the auction. I have no stomach for such things these days.”
Ningguang smiled, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “Of course. Your presence will be missed, Your Grace.”
He smiled again, already seeing how it would play out. She would use it, spread word that he had grown soft and lost his bloodlust. She, sharp and willing to see all their nation’s enemies burn, would win a fair number of those still foolishly loyal to him over to her side.
She was welcome to them.
“Now,” Her expression changed, becoming sly and foxy; it reminded him very much of the hatchling she’d been when he’d chosen her to be his successor a century ago. “I should warn you, Madame Ping and the other aunties have been eagerly discussing the marriage market this year. You and your alphas are to be at the top of the eligible bachelor lists this season.”
He speared a meat wrapped melon ball with enough force to bend the tines of his fork. “The prospects must be dire indeed.”
He would almost rather be at war for the viciousness with which bored matrons managed the marriage mart could only be likened to a general presiding over a battle front, but with less mercy and more shrewdness. Ping, in particular, was a noted matchmaker and had seen many an alpha leg shackled before their time.
Zhongli had long been excused from such machinations, having a marriage under his belt and a chosen heir in Ningguang, but he doubted the rest of his pack would be so lucky. They were stubborn and prickly but that was unlikely to deter the Matrons or those hoping to push their omega children forward in an attempt to make an inroad into a duke’s pack.
Ningguang laughed, low and husky; smoke curled from between her lips. “We are to welcome members of Her court. Witches, exorcists, hunters and the like, rubbing elbows in the Underground, seeking alliances, with Their Majesties’ blessing no less. I would say it’s a dire situation for any who doesn’t wish to dirty their family line.”
He wondered idly if she saw the irony in condemning mixed bloodlines when a generation or two ago it was she who was looked down on by pure blooded dragons. Zhongli wouldn’t dare to liken a fairy and dragon mating to taking up with a human, and certainly not one with borrowed magic in their blood, there was still some humor to be seen.
He let it pass, seeing no reason to disrupt what may yet become a pleasant morning.
“Even the ones without blood on their hands are unlikely to be good company.” She added. “What would they even offer to a conversation, Your Grace? Their favorite methods of skinning a centaur? Tips and tricks for use of powdered fairy wings in potions? Perhaps insight on the best way to snuff out a dragon’s fire. How very droll. I confess I cannot imagine what is supposed to be achieved.”
He chuckled in spite of himself and the bleak imagery. “Yes, well. We shall see, we may yet find the season surprisingly engaging.”