Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Twins were cursed, it was whispered.

Two boys meant a year of frozen winter, while two girls meant a year of blazing drought. Both would still be cast out at the first opportunity, of course, but the village could surely make it through such crises.

A girl and a boy, on the other hand… well, those twins meant nothing less than calamity, nothing less than war and utter destruction. These, the village would revile from beginning to end.

And it is into such a village that Aether and Lumine are born.

The calamity they are meant to bring seems to follow them from their very first breaths. Their father dies before they are even strong enough to walk, fallen into the depths of a half-frozen lake, and the townsfolk begin to whisper.

Their mother works hard, moves them to a tiny hut of wood and straw far away from the center of town. She breaks her hip falling from the roof, loses two toes when the flickering fire logs suddenly pop and tumble from the hearth, but her children are growing up— wary, perhaps, but as healthy and strong as they can be. Then she leads them on their first hunt in the forest and is speared to death on the antlers of a fleeing deer. The townsfolk murmur.

Aether takes care of Lumine then, and Lumine takes care of Aether. Part of their house burns when an ember escapes the nearest neighbor’s chimney, and they do their best to repair it— but the townsfolk don’t even bother to cover their mouths when they talk, now.

When Lumine— and by extension, Aether— turns seventeen, she dares to enter herself in the town’s archery competition, and they cannot conjure a reason to turn her down in time to stop her. She fires five arrows, one of which splits the shaft of another, and she walks away with a satchel of gold as her prize, because none could come close enough to her score to excuse changing the victor. The muttering continues in earnest.

When Aether— and by extension, Lumine— turns nineteen, he finds the bound scraps of an old magick text in the marketplace, and brings it home, much to Lumine’s dismay. He has no wand, no staff, no catalyst, nor any inherent power, but he reads those scraps anyway, because if he stares at them long enough, sometimes he can imagine the magick glowing in the dusty air around him, see the creatures of legend walk through the cracks in the wall where the wind blows in. The townsfolk huddle and watch with suspicious eyes.

Aether and Lumine trek out into the woods near the end of a very long winter, hoping to fill their growling stomachs, and when they return, the town is in an uproar. For once the whispers are not about them, but the true news is no comfort: a dragon has come, they say. A golden dragon and his court, a creature of such power that not even a kingdom’s worth of knights could hope to defeat it. All they can do, the chief says, is placate the creature and hope it leaves them alone. Every eye turns to the bright-haired twins.

Lumine goes into the town to sell part of her and Aether’s latest catch, and she steps just a little too far into the path of the wrong man. Struck down, she is left crying and running as the fearful townsfolk throws rocks and threats at her retreating back. The whispering has turned to loud suggestion, now.

Aether kneels before Lumine where she sits on a tiny, wobbling stool in front of their house, and does his best to soothe her bruises and bandage the bloody scratches. They hold each other for a long time afterward. Even they know what the townsfolk are planning.

A letter arrives one coldly sunlit day, and the chief calls every ear to gather and listen.

“The dragon demands a bride!” He says.

There is no question of who will be sacrificed.

They choose Aether, in the end. Maybe it’s because Lumine’s face is still blooming with purples and blues and greens and Aether’s long hair and soft features are enough to present him as a woman. Maybe it’s because Lumine might be of some use to the village yet, with her skill as a hunter and her ability to bear children, while Aether is little more than a dreamer. Aether doesn’t really care, as long as he is the one being sacrificed instead of Lumine.

“Let him go, bastards!” Lumine screams, and it takes three guards to hold her back. “Take me instead— damn it, Aether. Come back!”

He can’t, and they all know it. He doesn’t look back.

A handful of people, all wearing gloves and long veils, come to drag Aether into the house where he assumes he’ll be prepared as an offering to the dragon. Lumine’s furious cries follow them until the heavy oak door slams shut behind them. Then all is silent.

None of Aether’s… attendants talk as they work, and are they really so afraid of the curse that they won’t even show him their faces? Aether’s eyes are smeared with gold and dark paint, his bare feet are shackled together by a shining chain, his clothes torn off and replaced by layers of fluttering silk and linen, the finest the village has to offer.

It’s the nicest thing he’s ever worn. If only it wasn’t also the last.

“Can I have some water? Please?” Aether croaks. Counting the time he and Lumine had spent imprisoned while the village council decided who to sacrifice, it’s been an entire day since he’s had something to drink. Food he can go without, even though his ribs already stand out beneath his skin, but water…

He receives no response, and once his attendants are finished transforming him bride worthy of a dragon, they lower a veil over his head and drag him into the next room to wait.

His steps land on polished wooden floors and the air smells like velvet and old paper. When they push him into a stiff chair, Aether stumbles over the chain that ties his feet, and the veil flutters away from his face. The letter— that terrible, fateful letter— is framed on the desk before him, and Aether catches a glimpse of the words inscribed in gold.

—searching for a mate. If any in your village are willing—

Willing? Aether almost snorts. As if anyone would want to become a dragon’s bed slave.

Distantly, he can hear voices and the clang of construction from outside. They must be finishing the grand platform from which Aether will be sacrificed.

When was the dragon supposed to arrive? Sunset? A little before? Aether has no idea what time it is, but he doesn’t want to risk lifting the veil to check when guards are watching him so intently.

What will the dragon do when it realizes Aether is not a bride after all? The charade of his face will only last until the dragon takes him back to the mountain on which it has settled and… does whatever it wishes to do with Aether. Maybe, if he’s lucky, it will just eat him in one bite. That sounds like a mostly painless way to go, really.

But then— he needs to stay alive somehow, so that the dragon won’t simply come back to the village and demand Lumine instead. That means Aether can’t run, can’t fight back. The only thing he’s allowed to do is survive, and that’s the worst thing he can imagine right now.

Aether has never had the inclination even to find a partner, let alone actually be with one. They say it hurts. He wonders what it will be like with a dragon.

The door slams open, then, and a rough hand grabs Aether’s shoulder to force him up.

“Move.” The chief’s voice barks, and Aether is pushed out of the building and into the pale sun.

He can hear Lumine’s yells again, mixed with the din of the crowd, but her voice is much more ragged now, worn with desperation. The time is drawing near.

Tripping his way up the steps of the platform he can’t see, hindered further by the chain and the long drape of his robes, Aether manages to reach the top, where he is promptly showered in flower petals and misted with perfume. It’s roses and lavender and mead, a cloying scent that’s probably meant to remind him of the town and home.

He doesn’t want it. This place has never been home anyway.

The chatter of the crowd dies down a little, and Aether waits, straining to hear Lumine’s voice— but either they’ve taken her away or she’s run out of cries to give.

What will she do when Aether is gone? They’ve never been parted, not even when their mother died, not even when their house burned and their winters grew lean. They hunt together, cook together, sleep side by side— will she just go back to their run-down hut and wait? Escape the village? Or will she try some desperate, stupid rescue? Aether hopes she doesn’t. Even as good with a bow as she is, it won’t be enough to go up against a dragon or a hundred angry townsfolk.

A sudden scream rises from the crowd, then another, and another. Aether can’t see what’s happening, but…

Far away, air thunders in steady beats, metal jangles, and the trumpeting of a beast drowns out the sounds of the villagers’ fear. The dragon has arrived.

Aether locks his muscles to stop from trembling when something crashes on the platform before him, heavy and solid and powerful. Around him land more taps and thumps— the creatures that must make up the dragon’s court, then.

“O mighty dragon!” The chief calls out, and his voice is surprisingly steady. Then again, he’s not the one being sacrificed to an immortal beast of legend. “We have received your letter and heard your demands— here! We offer this bride as a gift to you.”

Deathly silence falls as the dragon moves forward. Its breath huffs over Aether’s face, enough to flip up the fabric of the veil, and he has a split second to hope and fear that the dragon will discover the village’s deception now— and then he sees the teeth. And the brilliant scales. And the bottomless amber eyes and the tangled mane and the claws as long as Aether’s forearm and the size of the beast, a sinuous body on four powerful legs, crowned by magnificent horns. The creature is overwhelming, and if it had been described on the torn pages of his magick texts, Aether would have been in awe.

But it is not, so Aether is not.

There is no helping the trembling now. At the dragon’s left and right stand a huge bird with glimmering green feathers— a phoenix? And a fragile doe-like creature with a single horn— a qilin. Any one of these legends would be enough to send the entire country to its knees, Aether thinks almost hysterically. But all three, and probably even more waiting at the dragon’s court? It’s practically wasteful.

The dragon’s teeth draw closer to Aether’s face, and suddenly his attention really can’t stray at all.

Aether’s hair stirs as the dragon breathes deeply, eyes slipping shut as if— as if enjoying Aether’s scent. He shudders. Then the dragon’s muzzle bumps against his cheek with surprising gentleness, and Aether can’t stop a gasp as something sizzling and electric shoots through his body at the contact.

With a low rumble, the dragon pulls back, and without warning, tip his head up to give what can’t be mistaken as anything other than a thunderous, triumphant roar. Aether claps his hands over his ears as the phoenix extends its graceful neck to join in the cry, and the qilin stamps its hooves on the deck.

The dragon lifts a claw to its own chest, and, with a great flourish, plucks out a pearlescent scale— one that stands out completely from the mass of gold surrounding it— and presses it to the spot just beneath where Aether’s collarbones meet.

It burns.

Aether manages to stifle a cry, but that doesn’t stop him from falling when one of his legs gives out from under him. He’s heard of dragonfire before, legends of the deadliest and purest flame, but this— this might actually be it.

Heat sears through his veins, slowly at first, then faster and faster as his heart pounds and the poison— because in Aether’s body, what else could it be?— takes hold. He can’t see, can’t breathe, and maybe his lungs are full of fire too. It certainly feels like it. An insatiable itch begins high on his chest, and he scrabbles at the scale— only to find it fused with his skin. What has the dragon done to him?

Then something warm meets his forehead, like glazed ceramic left near the fireplace, and all at once, the agony vanishes— and Aether is instead left to thrash under the blind, desperate need to have more of that touch.

The dragon growls again, the sound nearly a croon, and Aether can feel it vibrate over his skin. He has no strength to follow when the dragon withdraws its touch and fire begins to creep over him again; no strength to resist when the dragon’s teeth sink into the collar of his robes to lift him up and onto its back. Again, the fire recedes, and Aether melts as the skin of his cheek and hands and feet meet the dragon’s scales. The shackles on his feet prevent him from straddling his unexpected mount, so Aether instead lies down and clings to the fur of the dragon’s mane, careful not to pull.

He barely notices when the dragon lifts into the air, but then the clamor of their audience is fading behind him, the wind is howling in his ears, and they are dizzyingly high off the ground. Aether’s veil is torn from his head, and he tries not to watch it fall.

Before them, the snowy mountain looms. Already, this dragon has painfully marked him and poured dragonfire into his veins, and who knows what else it will do in the days to come? But between Lumine and the dragon’s very visible claim, no matter what happens— Aether can’t go back.

Chapter Text

The dragon’s cave is… not as cold as Aether had been expecting. Nor as dark and forbidding. In fact, he would even go so far as to say that it’s luxurious.

A huge, gilded fireplace dominates one wall of the chamber, a nest of silks and pillows— bigger than the dragon itself— sprawls over the floor, soft rugs cover most of the exposed stone, and statues and strange engravings of surely immeasurable valuable decorate whatever space remains. The ceiling is high, dripping with gold-tipped stalactites, and several tunnels open off the main chamber to lead deeper into the mountain.

But Aether only gets a moment to wonder at it all before he is unceremoniously shaken from the dragon’s back and dropped in the mound of cloud-soft pillows that make up the nest. The dragon plunges in after him in an almost comical display of flying blankets and gracelessness, then quickly wraps the coil of his body around Aether’s huddled form.

It’s like being enclosed in a furnace, and Aether should probably be burning up by now, but somehow… it only feels pleasant; a simmering warmth that relaxes his tense muscles. Whatever the dragon had done to him must’ve included some resistance to heat.

Aether muffles a hysterical sob. Of course it had. What good would it do to have a bride that burned to death after a single touch?

The heat is only making him thirstier though, and Aether doesn’t dare ask the dragon for water. Hopelessly, he tries to lift himself up and— maybe climb over the dragon’s body?— but as expected, the dragon only closes the circle further and makes a displeased grumbling sound.

At least he’s not being eaten or— or ravaged. The longer he can stay alive, the longer the dragon will be occupied, and the longer Lumine will have to make some sort of escape.

Minutes pass, then hours. The dragon makes no move to do anything, and Aether would assume it was asleep, if not for the way it tugs him back into the nest every time he tries to leave. His panicked thoughts, left without any real fuel, die down to a greyish, dizzy haze, and Aether has nothing left to do but wonder.

Where had the rest of the dragon’s entourage gone? He can’t even remember seeing them enter the cave— but then, his attention had been all too focused on the dragon at the time. Maybe they had stayed outside?

From over the top of the dragon’s golden body, Aether can see the upper half of the cave’s entrance and out into the steel-gray skies and the flurries on the wind that indicate a soon-to-be heavy snowfall. Of course, there are no signs of qilins or phoenixes or anything else, really, and he turns his face away. By the time the moon rises, he’ll probably be trapped thrice over: by dragon, by unscalable heights, and by snowdrift.

After a moment spent staring at the ridges of the dragon’s scales just beyond his nose, Aether realizes he can… feel the dragon’s heartbeat. It’s much slower than a human’s— a sort of drum-like, echoing sound that has Aether breathing in time before he manages to stop himself— but a symbol of thriving life nonetheless.

A dragon. He’s curled up next to a dragon.

It’s stupid, honestly, but Aether had been a little too consumed by blind terror to really understand it earlier. One of the beasts from his magick texts has claimed him, carried him to live (or die) among a court made up of fables, and housed him in a palace of dreams. He should try to enjoy what he can before… well, before the dragon does whatever it’s planning to do.

Aether looks up. A great amber eye stares back.

With a yelp, he tries to leap up, stumbling over his chained feet and the uneven floor of the nest. Hunger and thirst leave him lightheaded too, so when the dragon’s claws reach out to pull him close again, Aether goes down with only a single thrash in protest.

A low, steady rumble— almost a purr— rises from the dragon’s chest, and its claws fold around Aether’s body with an exquisite gentleness. Heat from the dragon’s underbelly sears down the length of Aether’s back and legs, and it— it feels so good, like sinking into a hot bath or stepping out of the snow into a firelit home.

Aether hates it.

The dragon chirps, suddenly, a sound entirely incongruous with its huge body, and its jaw opens to reveal a tongue that lands, heavy and wet, upon Aether’s forehead. He tries to squirm away from the touch, but fear of the dragon’s razor claws keep him from any earnest escape.

He’s not being eaten, Aether desperately assures himself. All he has to do is endure this, and then— then something, anyway.

With great care, the dragon licks Aether’s bangs away from his face, then moves on to grooming his hair and leaving wet stripes over his ears and up his cheeks. Surprisingly, its tongue is soft, entirely unlike the sandpaper mouths of the mountain cats the village sometimes killed; and its saliva, though slick, is clear and smells faintly of wildflowers, or maybe nothing at all.

It’s still disgusting, but of all the things Aether had expected to endure here, this is far from the worst.

He stays very still until the dragon seems satisfied with its work— then it yawns, wide and toothy and horrifying, and lifts Aether to his feet. His vision blacks out for a moment once he’s upright, but he doesn’t fall, so as far as he’s concerned, it’s a success. The dragon uncoils its body, steps neatly out of the nest, and promptly hooks its well-furred tail around Aether’s back to guide him.

Wherever they’re headed, the dragon seems eager to get there, but Aether is slowed by his short steps and the fog in his head. He gets few impatient taps before the dragon seems to realize something else is wrong, and slows its pace so that Aether can properly keep up.

The dim stone tunnel they’d entered soon opens to a staggeringly huge cavern, and Aether stops to stare. Luminescent moss keeps the space thoroughly lit, steaming pools and falls of water spread out over the floor, and an eerie blue glow lights the water from beneath the surface. It’s a hot spring, easily the biggest Aether’s ever seen.

The dragon nudges Aether to the edge of one of the larger pools and bumps at his chest with its muzzle, clearly expectant.

Oh. Oh. The dragon wants him to undress.

It’s not as if Aether hasn’t been waiting for it, he supposes.

With trembling fingers, Aether undoes the ties of his robes, then pulls at the collar until the entire thing slithers down his body to pool at his feet. The air here is warm, but Aether only feels cold, cold, cold, and the dragon’s eyes are piercing— surely hungry— upon him. There will be no disguising that he is a man now.

The dragon chirps again, and the scales of his nose clack against the scale in Aether’s chest. Lightning shoots through his veins at the touch, and he can’t stop the gasp that follows.

Another nudge, and Aether is forced to step away from his fallen clothes, the chain clanking roughly over the stone as he moves. There’s no way the dragon hasn’t seen all of him by now, but it doesn’t seem to care that Aether is far from a bride. Is that good or bad? He doesn’t know.

All he can hope is that the dragon will be as gentle now as it has been so far.

Aether waits for another push to tell him where to go, but when a heavy stillness settles over the cavern instead, he looks up. The dragon’s amber gaze is fixed upon the chain around Aether’s ankles, its tail thrashing low over the floor as a growl rises in its throat. There is no mistaking fury, even in a species so different from Aether’s own.

Hastily, he tries to take a step back— and the dragon lunges.

Aether cries out as he falls, but the dragon’s huge claws scoop beneath him before his head can split open over unforgiving stone. He is lowered slowly to the ground, the dragon towering, immovable, over Aether’s fragile, naked body, and— is it better for him to try and run, risking the dragon’s wrath, or stay and hope he will still be alive when everything is over?

The decision is made for him when a claw curls over his torso to pin him in place, and the dragon’s head moves slowly down his body. Aether closes his eyes and braces for pain, but the dragon ignores his throat, then chest, then groin entirely and instead continues until it can sink its teeth into the metal of the chain. A horrible scraping, creaking sound reverberates throughout the cave, and then— the chain dissolves into dust, and… Aether is free.

The claw lifts, and he slowly sits up. Before him, the dragon has made itself small and crouched, almost at eye level with Aether— an impressive feat, considering its size. Its gaze, though still a blazing amber, seems to have softened with… regret? Compassion? Aether isn’t sure, but he can at least see the intelligence that he’d been too afraid to realize before.

The dragon whines quietly, then uses its absurdly large talon to snatch up Aether’s fallen robe and drape it over his hips and legs. It leans close, and this time— this time Aether chooses not to move, and sure enough, the dragon only flicks its tongue out over the scale on Aether’s chest. The dragonfire burn is momentarily soothed as a different heat flares, but the touch of it no longer makes Aether want to claw his own skin off just to escape the intensity.

“You…” Aether murmurs into the silence, but he can’t think of anything else to say, stunned as he still is. The dragon had broken the chain and covered Aether’s body, had touched him carefully and responded to Aether’s unspoken rejection by backing away. What does it mean?

A gentle breath whuffs over Aether’s hair, and the dragon turns away to slip into the hot spring, a shining ribbon beneath the water. It makes a few loops in the pool, all serpentine grace and power, and Aether’s breath catches a little just watching it. Somehow, he can’t bring himself to fear any of the terrible things he’d been ready to endure just a few minutes ago, and though he’s still wary, it’s not enough to stop him from finally noticing the dragon’s beauty.

Eventually, it comes to a stop, stretched out on an underwater ledge that curves along the edge of the spring, and its tail flips out of the water to land near Aether’s feet. Bubbles rise in a steady stream from its nose, an oddly soothing noise that echoes through the cave.

The dragonfire poison is returning in full force now, and Aether has experienced enough by now to know that the cure is to make sure his bare skin touches some part of the dragon. He could stand the pain for a little longer, maybe, but the dragon’s tail is right there, probably for this very purpose, and Aether finds himself just reassured enough by the dragon’s earlier actions to reach out on his own.

Hesitantly, he shuffles across the floor and dips his fingers in the golden tufts of the dragon’s tail. The appendage gives a shivering little twitch in response, and though the rest of its body doesn’t move, Aether somehow feels that it is delighted. Emboldened, he lays his other hand over the nearest exposed scales and tries not to groan as pure relief washes through him.

Cold flame is the best way he can think of to describe the sensation, and the touch of it is so natural that Aether wonders if he’ll be able to live without fire at all from now on. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

Absently, he rubs his thumb over one of the scales. It’s sleek, hard as diamond and tough as steel, and every scale seems to overlap neatly onto the next without gap or chink. Aether has no trouble imagining why even the kingdom’s greatest armies would be unable to defeat this creature. The heated gloss makes his skin tingle, and without really thinking about it, he flips his hand over to drag his knuckles down the golden armor.

A rumble from the water startles Aether, and when he looks up from his impromptu study, he finds the dragon watching him with a calm gaze. He yanks his hand back all the same.

“Sorry,” he whispers, and after a moment, the dragon lowers its head back to the shallows.

After a while, curiosity leads Aether to splash his fingers into the water, though he fully expects to be boiled alive with all the steam that’s rising from the surface. The pain never comes, so Aether graduates to submerging his entire hand. Could he maybe drink this? It doesn’t seem to be that hot, though whether that’s the real temperature of the pool or the result of whatever transformation the dragon had inflicted on him, he couldn’t say. Regardless, it means Aether can safely sink his legs into the water up to the calf and idly splash them back and forth.

At the very first movement, the dragon’s head pops back up, and it curves around with disconcerting speed to breathe a puff of bubbles over Aether’s toes. It tickles a little, and the gesture is so strangely innocent that a laugh slips, unbidden, from Aether’s throat.

Of course, that only makes the dragon rise from the water entirely, its gaze locked on Aether’s face as it sways. Another chirp, and the dragon slowly, ever so slowly, lowers its head until it rests on the edge of the pool right beside where Aether sits. It looks up, hope blatant in its huge eyes.

Aether suddenly, fervently, wishes he could somehow talk to the dragon, because it clearly both understands Aether’s feelings and has an agenda of its own. Hurting Aether seems to be fairly far down on the list though, and Aether is entirely willing to work with the dragon if it means he and Lumine will be safe, or at least mostly so.

Cautiously, he extends a finger to catch a water droplet falling from the dragon’s snout, and its tongue flickers out just long enough to meet Aether’s fingertip as he quickly retracts the touch. It’s slimy.

Then Aether stands— carefully, so he doesn’t black out this time— and the dragon promptly heaves itself out of the pool after him.

“Um… I don’t know if you can understand me,” Aether says, feeling foolish. “But if you can, is there some way you could… you could show what you want from me? I was told you wanted a bride, but you don’t seem to care that I’m a man, and then I thought that you’d try to eat me, but I guess you’re not interested in that either. You broke the chain… I don’t want to be afraid of you if I don’t have to.”

A warbling sound leaves the dragon’s mouth, and it tips its head back and forth a few times. It seems… troubled, maybe. Could it not understand Aether after all?

After a moment, it leans in close, and its maw opens wide right in front of Aether’s face. He feels perfectly justified in scrambling back.

The dragon withdraws, mouth closing with a soft click of teeth and its watchful gaze following Aether’s every movement.

“Are you… trying to do something?” Aether asks nervously, and the dragon gives an awkward bob of its head.

“…Alright. Alright.”

This time, Aether forces himself to stillness as the dragon’s fangs are again put on full display— but he can’t maintain that façade of calm when the dragon twists its head to place its jaws around Aether’s throat.

Again, the dragon withdraws, and again they watch each other, wary on one side and assessing on the other.

“What are you doing?” Aether asks shakily, but of course the dragon can’t give an answer.

How much does he trust this creature? Not at all, is his first, impulsive response, but Aether forces himself to slow down and give it the consideration it deserves.

The dragon had freed him from the chain, but it could have done that for any number of not-particularly-trustworthy reasons, and besides, it was the reason Aether had been chained in the first place. It had been careful with Aether when everyone had expected it to be rough— but again, while that’s nice, amazing, really, if the dragon hadn’t demanded a bride, such treatment wouldn’t have been a concern at all.

Really, the best reason Aether has to trust the dragon, he decides, is that it had stopped making advances on him the moment it realized Aether didn’t want them. For some reason, it cares that Aether is both alive and reasonably happy, and that seems entirely incompatible with it suddenly deciding to rip out Aether’s throat now.

Steeling himself, he closes his eyes and tips his head back so his entire throat is exposed. A startled chuff from the dragon almost makes Aether look, but then a muzzle taps against his chest in a starburst of heat, and a moment later, dozens of hot pinpricks are lined up over the sides of his throat.

Aether’s breath stills in his lungs and saliva pools his mouth, unswallowed. The dragon’s next rumble shakes every inch of his body, and please, please let it be done soon—

The teeth shift and sink in.

Aether’s gasp scrapes up his throat as tendrils of fire curl through his body. Every point from the soft flesh beneath his jaw to the hollow under his ears to just above his collarbones to where the rise of his shoulders meets his neck is under the dragon’s command, and Aether would never have thought it was even possible to feel this vulnerable.

Then the pressure lifts. And as thin trickles of what must be blood begin to well from the many punctures, the dragon’s tongue comes to lap gently over Aether’s marked skin, easing the pain and sending ever-more warmth into his bones.

”I’m sorry, beloved.” A low, sweet voice resounds in Aether’s mind. I had hoped we would not need this so soon. But please do not worry, I will heal the wounds entirely.”

Aether tries to voice his confusion, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

”Shh, beloved. You are safe here, I promise.”

Beloved… is that meant to be Aether? Moreover, is that the dragon’s voice that he can hear? Its mouth isn’t moving, but Aether supposes that doesn’t mean much when it comes to creature of legend.

The pain from the bite is gone by the time the dragon finishes its thorough licking, and Aether shakily lowers his chin to look it in the eyes.

“H-hello?” He whispers.

There is no response, until the dragon reaches out to wrap one of its claws just above where Aether had tied his shed robe around his waist. Then the voice comes.

“Hello, beloved.”

The words drizzle like honey over his senses, seeping into the cracks of his mind, and Aether finds that he can nearly taste the sounds. A shiver rattles down his spine, even in the heat of the cavern.

It’s as if he’s become the helpless needle of a compass, and the dragon, the inexorable north— and Aether fights the pull with everything he has. Unexpectedly kind as the dragon has been, he can’t let himself be lulled to complacency or trapped by powers he doesn’t understand.

“Tell me, what is your name?”

Will the dragon know if he lies? Better not to risk it if he doesn’t have to.

“I’m Aether.” He hesitates. “Do you have a name, um… Lord Dragon?”

The dragon makes a few chuffing noises that Aether takes for laughter.

”I have many names, but you should call me Zhongli.” The word hums with power, imprinting itself into Aether’s mind. ”As my mate, it is only right that you hold my true name.”

That… sounds important, but even though Aether knows true names are a link to a being’s soul, he has no idea how to actually make use of the one he’s just been given. Like most humans, he doesn’t even know his own true name.

Still, it’ll be good to call the dragon something.

“Zhongli.” Aether repeats carefully, and the dra— Zhongli’s tail flips. “Can I— can I ask why you brought me here?”

The glow of Zhongli’s eyes dims a little as he squints. “You are my fated mate, so of course we must stay together. Although”— and here an audible growl leaves his throat— ”It seems that it was far from your choice to meet me upon that platform. If you did not wish to become my mate, how did you come to be standing there?”

Aether blinks at him, and confusion loosens his tongue. “You sent a letter demanding a bride, and our town could not refuse. I was just the… most convenient offering they had.”

”…Convenient?” Zhongli hisses. ”A mate is a precious treasure meant to walk the earth and sky with their partner by their side. They are never mere convenience or sacrifice.”

“You must have heard wrong then, because here I am,” Aether says bitterly, recklessly.

Zhongli’s claw tightens over Aether’s torso, but the movement feels only tense, not threatening. ”You said you expected to be devoured or used for breeding. Is that also what the humans of your village offered you for?”

“More or less.” Unable to hold Zhongli’s piercing gaze any longer, Aether looks away. “I think they were hoping I would die here, really, so I wouldn’t curse the town any longer.”

”Curse? You are no curse,” Zhongli snarls. “You are a jewel under heaven, and I will not allow those who betrayed you touch you any longer. That they dared to sacrifice one of their own, dared to show such contempt for a dragon of gold by sending an unwilling mate… I laid my blessing upon this mountain, but they shall have it no longer.”

Aether almost cries his objection, because Lumine might still be in the village, and what will happen to her if it is no longer protected? But the air is so thick with Zhongli’s rage that Aether can barely breathe, and he doesn’t have anywhere near enough bravery or stupidity to argue with a dragon now.

“Then— then what will you do with me?” Aether manages to ask. After all, he hasn’t become any more willing of a… mate in the past few minutes. “Could you let me go?”

”…No.” Zhongli shakes his great head. ”Willing or not, we are mates now, and that cannot be undone. To part now, with only the first step of the bond complete, would be to kill us both.” He taps gently at the scale in Aether’s chest. ”But please, do not worry for your fate, beloved. I can promise that you will be cherished no matter what comes.”

Perhaps if the words had come from a lover, Aether’s heart might have fluttered, but now it only brings him dread. Possessiveness is always one of the first traits mentioned when it comes to tales of dragons. What will he do if Zhongli really keeps him imprisoned here forever, without even death as an escape?

Apparently oblivious to Aether’s turmoil, Zhongli moves on.

”If you do not feel safe bathing with me just yet, then… would you perhaps like to see our home? And you can choose something more comfortable to wear than that… unpleasant robe. What do you say?”

With the expectant gaze of a dragon upon him, can Aether do anything other than agree?

Chapter Text

Zhongli’s home, it turns out, is made up of only six huge caves connected by short tunnels.

The first two— the entrance cavern and the hot springs cavern— Aether has already seen, and the remaining four seem to be a combined kitchen and dining hall, a bedroom in which the bed covers the entire floor, an empty space with various spells circles etched into every available surface, and a treasure room piled high with more wealth than Aether can wrap his head around.

There are no doors, no barriers, no private spaces. Does Zhongli just share everything with his court? Aether could ask him, maybe, but getting an answer would mean touching Zhongli again, would mean hearing that addictive voice in his head and feeling syrupy heat pour into his veins. As long as the dragonfire burn is bearable, Aether will keep his hands firmly to himself.

In the treasure room, Zhongli stops to ply Aether with outfit after outfit— fabrics in every color, pattern, and texture, and delicate jewelry in a dozen glittering shades. Aether wears the first thing he’s given— a soft, cream-colored tunic with dark linen trousers and undershirt— then allows the rest of the clothing to pile up in his arms until he can barely see over the top to walk. If nothing else, it looks like he won’t be left wanting for things to wear here.

They backtrack to the bedroom cave, where Zhongli indicates a large basket for Aether to unload his armful of new treasures, then return to the entrance cavern. Outside, snow is whipping in earnest, the howl of the wind loud across the cave’s mouth, but inside, there is nothing but the flickering firelight and a steady, cozy warmth. Dragonfire is beginning to scratch away at Aether’s insides again, but he forces himself to ignore it as he shuffles over to the cave’s exit. A few icy gusts bite into his exposed skin, but they cut through the dripping heat Zhongli has been pouring into his body for the past day, so Aether welcomes the sensation.

…Now that he thinks about it, the slowly growing snowdrifts just a few steps away are starting to look awfully inviting to his parched throat, too.

Aether reaches out, intending to scoop up a handful— and that wonderful, terrible heat returns as the dragon’s muzzle hits the back of his neck, washing the dragonfire poison away in an instant.

“Aether, beloved, what are you doing?”

Aether jerks away before rationality can catch up with instinct, and Zhongli stares after him with a suddenly clouded gaze.

“Sorry,” Aether mutters, but he is neither apologetic nor afraid enough to actually return to Zhongli’s touch. “I just— needed something to drink.”

And he really can’t wait much longer before he’ll be too dehydrated and weak to keep his head or— defend himself, if need be.

Zhongli makes a warbling sound, and even though his face doesn’t change much— at least, not in any way Aether can discern— somehow he seems worried. A moment later, he’s weaving back through the cave toward the treasure room, and Aether watches him go, lightheaded with relief. It seems he’s still safe from the wrath of a dragon. For now, anyway.

Again, he reaches out into the cold and gathers a handful of snow. Without a cup, there’s no point in trying to warm it by the fire, so Aether just tips it into his mouth and winces at the pinpricks of ice that numb his tongue.

It a takes a moment to melt, but once it does— liquid, cool and sweet, trickles down Aether’s desert-dry throat, and he swallows as quickly as the flow allows. Thank the gods. Now if only he had some food to go with it…

He’s on his third mouthful of snow when the tap of surprisingly light footsteps alerts Aether to the dragon’s return. When he turns, it’s to meet Zhongli’s narrowed eyes and unhappy growl, and he takes a cautious step farther out of the cave before he notices the gold that glints between Zhongli’s teeth. Aether squints. It’s an honest-to-gods chalice, one embedded with tiny gemstones and engraved with scrolling patterns from stem to base.

Awkwardly, Zhongli lowers his massive head to the floor to set the chalice down, then gives it an insistent nudge toward Aether.

Is Zhongli… offering it to him?

The solid metal of the chalice is warm when Aether picks it up with wary hands, but before he can turn again to scoop up some more snow, Zhongli chirps sharply. Lost, Aether makes to put it down again— and a deep blue glow lights in the air. Between Zhongli’s lifted talons, a shifting sphere of water coalesces, clear and sparkling and perfect.

Magick.

Frozen, Aether can only watch as Zhongli twitches a claw to direct a stream of liquid into the chalice. He’s seen magick before, of course, performed by traveling sorcerers or as party tricks at the town festivals he and Lumine had snuck into. But this… such powerful elemental magick can only be used by nature spirits or those blessed by the gods. Or, apparently, dragons.

Aether had assumed Zhongli’s affinity was to pryo, given all the heat he constantly radiates, but maybe that’s just part of being a dragon? Because there’s no mistaking now that his element is hydro.

The remaining water disperses from Zhongli’s claws, and Aether looks down into the chalice in his own hands. There aren’t any odd colors or suspicious smells— but then, lots of poisons or magicks can be hidden without a trace. Aether takes a cautious sip. There’s no flavor either, which makes him feel marginally better. But even if there is something in there, as long as Zhongli is watching him, Aether has no choice but to drink.

He empties the chalice without incident, and, thirst mostly quenched, he wavers between handing it back to Zhongli or just setting it on the ground somewhere. Which would be more disrespectful?

“Thank you,” Aether says quietly, and a purr rumbles to life in Zhongli’s throat. He makes no move to take the cup from Aether’s hands.

They stare at each other for a long moment, and Aether squirms under the combined weight of Zhongli’s piercing gaze and the returning dragonfire burn. Still, though Zhongli makes a few pleading whines and chirps, and tiptoes (an odd movement for a dragon) a few steps closer, Aether doesn’t try to touch him. It’s probably a dangerous game, to test a dragon’s patience like this, but if he’s going to be living here for gods-only-know how long, then he needs to learn the rules.

Finally, Zhongli appears to give up, and he slowly turns to crawl into the nest in the middle of the room. His head props on the coil of his body to watch Aether from a distance.

It’s definitely not privacy, but if this is the best Aether will be able to get from now on, he’ll take it. Nervously, he turns his back to the room and again stares out into the pitch, blizzard night. There’s no way he could see the lights of the village like this, let alone the house he shares (shared?) with Lumine, but maybe if the sky clears in the morning…

Aether slumps to the ground, setting the chalice beside him and watching idly as snowflakes swirl in to melt over his bare feet. His toes and hands and face grow numb, but if it drags out time before he needs Zhongli to soothe the dragonfire poison again, he doesn’t really mind.

It would probably be safe to sleep, right? Zhongli doesn’t appear to be interested in doing anything particularly awful to Aether, at least not tonight. Slowly, Aether draws his knees up to his chest and lowers his chin on top. If he just rests for a minute…

-*-

Aether wakes to liquid heat singing in his veins, glazed ridges against his cheek, and a throb of a heartbeat in his ears.

He’s up in a moment, tripping over a tufted tail and scrambling backwards across an ocean of soft floor until his brain starts up again and he remembers where he is.

Right. Zhongli. The cave. Aether stares up at the ceiling, at the crisscross of golden threads and dim sparks of fire that cast the room in a warm, ethereal glow. He hadn’t really noticed them before, but it’s all he needs to see to know that Zhongli must have brought him to the bedroom. No other cavern would have lighting like this.

The heavy rise and fall of Zhongli’s body seems to indicate that he’s still asleep, so Aether delicately picks his way out of the cavern and into the chill of the hall beyond. He’s still wearing the clothes he’d put on yesterday, but his other things are still in the room, and he’d rather not change in front of Zhongli again if he doesn’t have to.

What should he do now? There isn’t much point in searching for a way to escape, and Zhongli hasn’t given him any other rules or instructions— though that might be Aether’s own fault, given his refusal to touch the dragon.

Maybe he should find something to fill his aching stomach.

The floor is practically icy under Aether’s bare feet, and he doesn’t waste any time in scuttling through the tunnels toward the kitchen. It’s dark inside without a fire in the massive stove, many of the cupboard handles around him are too high to reach, and the doors and shelves are made of heavy wood or stone. The longer he stands there, the more his reluctance grows. Even if he could get his hands on something edible it’s probably safer not to take anything until Zhongli specifically allows it.

Aether might be testing the rules of this house, but stealing a dragon’s food is a little too much risk for him.

With numb toes and goosebumps trailing up his arms, Aether hurries to the entrance hall— common room?— instead and huddles before one of the low-burning hearths. Cold drafts are swirling in from the cave’s mouth, and the snowdrifts outside are heaped too high for Aether to see over.

It’s been a while since he’s felt the burn of dragonfire, he realizes. Is it because of his night spent sleeping next to the dragon, time passed after the dragon’s initial… marking, or something else entirely? Whatever the case, it’s nice to not be in pain.

Aether slips a cautious hand under his collar, but touching the scale in his chest no longer makes his skin burn with sensitivity. Good. With any luck, touching the dragon won’t be so bad either.

He should probably do something with his newfound freedom, and maybe take advantage of the fact that Zhongli is— hopefully— not watching him too. Gritting his teeth against a shiver, Aether hurries to the mouth of the cave and begins digging out a makeshift path in the snow. It’s soft and powdery in his hands, so at least the work is quick.

With numb, prickling fingers, Aether drags himself up the snowbank and peers out over the mountain and forests far below. In the distance, tiny threads of smoke rise from the land, and— yes, that must be the town. From this high up, Aether feels as if he could see the entire kingdom of Teyvat, really.

Lumine must just be waking up now… if the townspeople had let her go back home untouched after the sacrifice. Vague nausea crawls in Aether’s stomach. What if they hadn’t? What if they’d decided this would be the perfect opportunity to make both cursed twins disappear? He hadn’t seen Lumine after the dragon had arrived, after all.

But no matter what the town has decided, there’s truly nothing Aether can do about it now.

Aether clenches his fists in the snow and lays his head down on top, mindless of the cold. He wants to go back. He can’t go back.

A panicked keening echoes from the cave behind him, and Aether lifts his head just in time to yelp as teeth sink into the back of his tunic and he is hauled back into the cave. Heat sears through him when he is pressed into the curve of the dragon’s body, and the contrast from the icy world outside is so great that Aether thrashes trying to escape. His skin is on fire, a more familiar pain than the dragonfire poison, and a thousand needles stab into his flesh as his fingers and toes rapidly warm.

”Shh, beloved. I am sorry for the pain, but I cannot let you freeze.”

Zhongli’s voice only turns Aether’s thoughts molten as well, and he can’t stop the strangled scream as his senses are assaulted inside and out.

“Aether, love,” Zhongli murmurs, syrup slow. ”Why were you laying out in the snow? Your body will not be able to endure such extreme temperatures before the transformation is complete.”

Transformation? Aether swallows back bile. Is the scale fused to his chest not enough?

A burst of hot breath wisps over his cheek, and he looks up through a blur of watery pain into the dragon’s face. The single amber eye Aether can see is hooded, dark with unmistakable turmoil. Is Zhongli angry with him?

”Rest, my love. I will take care of you.”

It’s astonishing, really, how little reassurance that is.

Now that both his panic and agony are dying down, Aether’s attention is fully drawn to the pulsing furnace at his core, the warmth that begs him to cling even closer to the dragon’s scales. He wrenches himself away in response, scrambling out from between the dragon’s claws and barely avoiding a meeting with the floor as he trips over his own feet.

The river of flame that connects them abruptly cuts off, and Aether can breathe again.

Zhongli makes a wounded noise and reaches for him again, and Aether squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t fight too much, he reminds himself. Already, he’s pushed his luck by stepping out into the snow and leaving the dragon’s grasp just now.

The burning touch he’s expecting never comes.

When Aether cracks an eyelid, it’s to see Zhongli studying him, body again curled into that strangely small, unthreatening position. It makes a tiny sliver of guilt prick at Aether’s heart.

“I’m— I’m warm now. Thank you.”

Zhongli’s tail thumps once over the stone, but his posture doesn’t otherwise change.

“I won’t go outside again, if you want.” Aether swallows hard. “I just… wanted to see my town.”

A thin growl rises from the dragon’s chest at the last words, but the sound doesn’t last long before he seems to shake himself out of it. Untucking himself, Zhongli takes a few steps deeper into the cave before looking back at Aether expectantly.

Does he want Aether to follow?

Cautiously, Aether trails Zhongli back through the common room, then into the tunnel to the kitchen, hope filling his aching stomach with every step.

Inside the dim cavern, Zhongli taps a single claw on the ground, and a number of sconces on the walls around them spring to fiery life. He follows up the display by breathing a gout of flame directly into the stove, and Aether is left reeling.

Hadn’t Zhongli been using hydro just the night before? But this is unmistakably pyro energy now. Not even Aether’s magick texts had mentioned the possibility of a creature with more than one elemental affinity.

After that, Aether is left to watch anxiously, uselessly, as Zhongli washes his claws in a basin of summoned water, withdraws a truly enormous slab of meat from what looks to be a cold storage, and kneads in spices with a surprising delicacy. The steak sizzles when it meets the stovetop, and Aether breathes in the rich scent. How long has it been since he’d last eaten? Three days now?

The golden chalice he’d drunk from the night before makes a reappearance, and Aether drinks greedily. When he empties it, Zhongli refills the cup without hesitation. Right. This dragon still seems to have no intention of hurting Aether— at least not in the usual ways— so as long as he can avoid touching Zhongli, it’ll probably be alright to trust him for most other things.

When the steak comes off the heat, Zhongli cuts it into thin strips with nothing but the edge of his claw, and Aether shudders to think that those blades had been wrapped around him so casually before.

A breathy rumble from Zhongli draws Aether to his side, and in lieu of a table, they both just settle on the floor, stone warming quickly in Zhongli’s presence. Aether holds out his hands, ready for Zhongli to pass over the platter, but instead— Zhongli neatly pinches a chunk of meat between his talons and lifts it straight to Aether’s lips.

Balking, Aether scans Zhongli’s face. It’s about as unreadable as usual, but there doesn’t seem to be anything hostile or mocking in his gaze… maybe this is just something a dragon would do for his mate? It seems harmless enough.

Leaning in, Aether takes the bite in his teeth, careful to keep his lips from touching Zhongli’s claw. The second he does so, a deep, steady purr erupts from Zhongli’s body, practically shaking the air around them, and doesn’t let up until Aether has eaten his fill. Even then, Zhongli’s tail continues to swish back and forth over the floor, apparently content to do nothing but watch as Aether recovers from the heavy meal.

It’s a little unsettling, but not so much that Aether feels the need to escape.

Zhongli makes short work of the food Aether hadn’t been able to finish, then unceremoniously dunks the platter into the nearby basin and pads out of the kitchen. He looks back every few steps, as if to make sure Aether is still following.

Of course Aether is.

Back in the common room, Zhongli fans the fireplaces back to a blaze, and bit by bit, the cold is chased away. His feet now comfortably warm, Aether takes to poking nervously around the room, studying the subtle carvings in stone and the trinkets over the mantles that hum with magick. Zhongli curls up in the nest in the middle of the cavern and makes no move to stop him, so Aether breathes a little easier.

It’s really not so bad here, he reminds himself. He’s not dead or eaten or left out in the cold, and so far, the dragon has been mostly kind. Who knows? Maybe one day he’ll even be allowed the chance to go out and make sure Lumine is still alive.

Chapter Text

Aether’s afternoon drags on, idle.

There are no books in this place, no games, no food he is allowed to eat, and no tasks for him to do, so after well-acquainting himself with the décor of the entrance cavern, against all odds… boredom sets in.

Huddling by the fireplace a safe distance away Zhongli and his nest, Aether stares into the dance of flames and wonders.

He’s been brought here to be the dragon’s bride— or mate, as Zhongli had insisted, Aether doesn’t see much of a difference— but he has yet to do anything that seems like a dragon bride’s duty. Zhongli seems uninterested in his body, mostly, nor does he seem to want Aether for physical labor, or fodder for magick, or as a meal, or— anything, really.

After the tortures he’d been expecting from the dragon, Aether should be relieved at his apparent good fortune, but he can’t quite shake the uneasiness from his bones. If he’s not being asked to do anything, then he’s useless to Zhongli, and if he’s useless… then what if Zhongli, despite his favor thus far, decides there’s no reason to continue keeping Aether alive and well?

Aether glances up, finds a great amber eye staring evenly back. Hastily, he returns his attention to the fire, but the damage has been done— with a rumble, Zhongli rises and starts toward him.

Don’t move, don’t move. Zhongli isn’t a threat right now, so Aether just needs to stay quiet and endure whatever he’s planning. It will be fine.

A questioning chirp reaches Aether’s ear, and he turns his stiff neck to look at Zhongli again. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean…”

Didn’t mean to meet his eyes? Didn’t mean to stare? Better to apologize for a sin not committed than remain silent and risk punishment.

Another soft sound, and Aether can’t help but flinch away from the searing breath on his cheek. Zhongli withdraws.

This time, however, he doesn’t return to his nest, instead settling down at the fireplace with Aether and radiating a low song of heat that tugs at Aether like a siren’s call. Carefully, Aether edges away, only for Zhongli to move with him.

He takes a deep, deep breath. “Did—did you need something from me, Zhongli?”

A moment later, Aether realizes his mistake— he won’t have an answer unless he touches Zhongli’s scales, the thing he’s been trying to avoid all this time. But maybe it will be worth it just to know Zhongli’s intentions.

Rather than immediately leaning in, though, Zhongli hesitates and shakes his head, a slow sway back and forth. No? But then, why is he here?

Another minute ticks by, or maybe it’s an hour. Zhongli stays by Aether’s side the entire time, fidgeting more and more as snowy shadows at the mouth of the cave steadily creep across the floor. Obviously, something is bothering him, but Aether can’t bring himself to ask more.

Thirst is beginning to scratch at his throat again, and the morning meal is fading to little more than a memory. Aether eyes the chalice he’d lain on a table closer to Zhongli’s nest. Will it be worth drawing Zhongli’s attention again just to go and fetch it?

…Maybe he can wait a little while longer.

Absently, Aether reaches up to pick at the scale in his chest. It isn’t particularly sensitive anymore, and the dragonfire poison hasn’t made a reappearance, but something still feels strange, as if there’s a tiny pocket of a hole just beneath his ribcage, begging to be filled. He can’t imagine why, when the dragon has already burned a piece of himself into Aether’s skin.

A sharp growl from Zhongli makes him freeze, and Aether slowly drops his hand again as Zhongli’s talons click restlessly over stone. The growl quickly shifts to a whine, and Zhongli shuffles back a step to coil himself into a limp heap. He looks… sad.

At least that means he probably isn’t planning to hurt Aether, right? Cautiously, Aether climbs to his feet and makes for the chalice, taking full advantage of new gap Zhongli has left between them. The metal chills his fingers when he picks it up, and when he turns back around, Zhongli’s head is already lifted expectantly toward him.

It seems strange that the dragon would go out of his way to use magick rather than just let Aether drink from the snow, but he doesn’t have the energy to contemplate it too deeply. Cautiously, he taps the rim of the chalice against Zhongli’s snout, and at the dragon’s soft exhale, it fills with water too pure and clear to have been born of anything other than the primordial elements.

Thirst quenched, Aether sits down again, ignoring the unhappy ache of his legs and hips. It’s one thing to explore at Zhongli’s invitation, and another thing entirely to disturb him by pointlessly wandering about.

His comfort can wait until he has learned the rules of this place.

-*-

By evening, Zhongli’s restlessness has turned to pacing and chuffing as he circles the room over and over, each time passing Aether with a pleading dip of his head. He never touches though, not when Aether leans away at his every attempt.

What could be making a dragon so nervous? Aether follows Zhongli with his gaze, no longer so wary that Zhongli’s agitation might turn to violence.

He should just let Zhongli touch him, should just endure the white-hot burn of Zhongli’s voice in his mind one more time so they can both have some peace. Aether grits his teeth and waits for Zhongli to pass him again— but abruptly, the click, click, click of Zhongli’s pacing stops.

Aether whips around to see Zhongli staring out the mouth of the cave into the steel-cold sky, one powerful leg paused midstep. The motion is strikingly like a cat who has just caught sight of some shiny new amusement, and Aether quickly shakes his head to purge the thought.

Then, with a rumble of a breath that shakes the entire cave, Zhongli gathers his limbs beneath himself and jumps— no, flies.

Aether scrambles to his feet, awe momentarily overpowering fear as Zhongli swiftly becomes little more than a golden ribbon in the sky. Snow tumbles into the cavern in his wake, and Aether limps over to meet the tiny avalanche, kneading at the sharp prickle of his long-crossed legs.

Well, there goes his plan of finding out what Zhongli wanted. And now he’s alone.

He’s alone.

Escape is the first thought to rise to the surface, but Aether already knows he can’t leave, not unless the dragon were to die, and that’s even less likely than Aether safely making it back to Lumine without food, tools, or winter clothes. Is there something else he could do while Zhongli is away?

He’s hungry, but there’s no food for him right now— at least, none that he’s willing to take. Water isn’t a problem should Zhongli happen to stay out for longer than a day, and he hasn’t needed to relieve himself in a while now, though whether the cause is the extent of his thirst and starvation or something the dragon had done, he isn’t sure. Aether could take a bath… but then, what if Zhongli comes back right away instead? Wavering, he glances at the sky again, but it remains dull and empty.

He may never have this kind of privacy again. Aether will take his chances.

Out of the common room and across the icy floors of the hall beyond, Aether finds his way to the hot spring and wastes no time dipping into the water. There is no soap, so he makes do with rinsing out his unpleasantly oily hair and scrubbing at his skin with his hands. For a moment, Aether allows himself to relax. It feels so good to be clean, to wash away the remnants of the village and the dragon’s touch.

If only he could stay like this, blissfully warm and far from his troubles… but his fate was decided long ago, and it is not so kind.

Hauling himself from the water in a frankly concerning burst of steam, Aether stands at the edge of the pool and does his best to shake off the drops and rivulets still streaming down his skin. Much of the water is evaporating on its own, misting off his body to add to the cloudy air. Again, Aether’s heart sinks at the reminder that he should be boiling alive right now, and yet… he’s not.

Hastily, he dresses again, then returns to Zhongli’s bedroom to pick out some clean clothes: loose-fitting pants and a dark undershirt to tuck into them, then a sky-blue overcoat and sash on top. They’re all very fine clothes, soft and sturdy, but Aether can’t fully enjoy them when there will surely be a price to pay for such luxury later.

Limbs suddenly heavy, he flops down on the ocean of blankets and cushions that make up the floor-size bed and stretches, relishing the freedom to do so without Zhongli’s suffocating gaze upon him. Judging by the distinct valley in the pillows, this is where the dragon normally curls up to sleep, and Aether idly traces down one of the dips. There’s a faint warmth still emanating from the blankets, and a shed scale resting just an arm’s length away. It glitters in the low ember light, and something in Aether’s chest flips—

Without thinking, he rolls over to snatch up the scale and press his face into warm silk; a deep breath filling his lungs with gentle fire that seeps into his blood and the hollow in his heart. In his hand, the scale seems to pulse, resonating in time with the pearlescent one in his chest, and— oh. How had he failed to notice just how gapingly empty he had been before? The fireplace and hot spring had been poor substitute for this all-consuming heat, this flame that coils around him, through him, as if Aether is some priceless treasure to be mended and cared for.

Yet even this is not enough, his chest still aching, his mind still crying out. What is it that he needs to feel whole?

A thunderous crash from down the hall jolts Aether back to his senses so quickly it leaves him nauseous, dizzy; and his heart pounds too loud in his ears, echoing through the void that his body has become. Impossible to ignore now that he’s realized it.

What— what had he just been doing? Aether stumbles to his feet, hunger only worsening his lightheaded struggle. Again. He’d been drawn in again by the pull of Zhongli’s dragonfire poison, the stranglehold of the scale pressed into his skin. It seems that even when Zhongli is gone, he is not safe.

A moment later, Zhongli comes scrabbling into the room, his eyes wide and searching. With nowhere to run, Aether simply stands and hunches into himself, praying to any gods who might be listening that Zhongli won’t be able to sense his shame.

An insistent purr rises in Zhongli’s throat as soon as his gaze lands on Aether, and he trots further in, dipping his head to Aether’s height. Aether bites his lip and carefully keeps his own stare fixed no higher than Zhongli’s mouth.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed by the entrance. I just…” He trails off as Zhongli frantically swings his head back and forth, an awkward movement for his body.

When Aether makes no move to meet the obvious demand for touch— any courage he’d mustered earlier now wiped away by his loss of control to the mere remnants of Zhongli’s presence— Zhongli bounds forward to curl himself in his usual place on the bed. His tail and legs are swept invitingly aside, leaving his paler underbelly exposed, but Aether— Aether can’t.

He’s already losing too much of himself, even when Zhongli does nothing at all.

Instead, he picks his way over to the farthest corner of the room, where the air is just cool enough to be called chilly and there’s no way he’ll be able to so much as brush against Zhongli in his sleep. Zhongli makes a wounded noise as Aether settles down, but as long as he’s not threatening Aether or the village’s, and thus Lumine’s safety over it, Aether won’t move.

Tugging the corner of a blanket over his legs, he closes his eyes, the void yawing ever wider in his chest. Maybe things will be better tomorrow.

-*-

Aether had been so very wrong. Today is worse.

Miserably, he opens his eyes, turns his lungs to ice with a breath, forces his body up as if breaking through the surface of a frozen lake, left dizzy and delirious even after escape. He is empty, empty, empty.

A string of growls and whines filters in, and Aether lifts a heavy head to find Zhongli clawing unhappily into the blankets barely a step away, his attention fixed on Aether with the weight of a burning sun.

The warmth he exudes is the only respite in Aether’s gray-streaked world.

“I’m fine,” Aether grits out. The words are undermined by the way he’s forced to brace himself against the wall as he stands. “I’m fine.”

Zhongli’s movements only grow more frantic, and— surely this means he’s worried about Aether, right? It’s a vaguely comforting thought, even though the dragon was the one to bring him to this state in the first place.

Now that Aether is upright, he actually does feel a little better, blood returning to his extremities and the void receding in Zhongli’s presence. His stomach gurgles, but he wills it to silence. He hadn’t been given anything to eat after yesterday’s morning meal— maybe as punishment for refusing to obey Zhongli’s requests?— but Aether won’t ask for anything unless he absolutely must.

A guttural cry echoes from down the hall, and Zhongli perks up even as Aether flinches at the unearthly sound. He takes a few steps forward, turns back to Aether, takes a few more. His tail flicks up, the narrowest point hovering at the perfect height for Aether to lean against it and walk. Aether doesn’t touch him, but he does follow as Zhongli brings him back to the entrance cavern—

Where the great phoenix from the day of the sacrifice is standing politely at the threshold.

From his place half-hidden behind Zhongli, Aether stares, momentarily distracted from the emptiness gnawing at his insides. The beast towers at perhaps twice Aether’s height, its feathers shimmering with midnight shadows and the fathomless green of still waters, and its tail spilling out behind it like a king’s cloak. Zhongli churrs something, and it warbles low in return.

The faintest brush of Zhongli’s tail nudges Aether forward, and he stumbles before the second divine beast.

“H-hello,” he whispers, feeling utterly inadequate as he meets the phoenix’s piercing yellow gaze. With far more grace than Aether, it bends its head, then extends a wing and sweeps it around until the feathers are within Aether’s reach.

Clearly, it wants him to touch, but…

Without really understanding why, Aether glances back at Zhongli, only to receive an eager nod in response. It could be a trap, to lure Aether back into the intoxicating warmth he’s not so sure he’ll be able to resist again— but then, Zhongli has been respecting Aether’s distance thus far, so perhaps this is just his attempt to communicate with Aether in a different way. And if Aether is wrong… well, he won’t know until he at least tries.

Hesitantly, Aether reaches for the phoenix’s wing, careful not to ruffle the feathers in the wrong direction. The sensation of a cool, forested dark washes over him, like ages endured and secrets kept, and the phoenix’s voice spills into his mind.

“Greetings, my Lord. I am called Xiao, and I serve as the vigilant guardian of these lands. Rex Lapis is my master, and as his mate, you shall now command me just as he does. Yesterday, I was told you were not yet ready for the wedding, as you and Lord Rex had not yet established sufficient communication. What is it that you need?” The indifference of his tone only reinforces Aether’s first impression— there is very little he could do to gain the phoenix’s respect.

Head spinning, he reminds himself to loosen his grasp on— on Xiao’s wing. Guardian? Rex Lapis? Wedding?

“Who is… Rex Lapis?” Aether asks uncertainly. It seems like the safest of his questions.

Behind him, Zhongli huffs, and Xiao is silent for a long moment, as if incredulous. “…Rex Lapis is your mate, my Lord. If you can speak to me in this way, it means you have shared half of the mind-bonding ceremony. Has Lord Rex not given you his name?”

So Zhongli is Rex Lapis? The more Aether considers it, the more obvious it becomes. Of course Zhongli— or should Aether be calling him Rex Lapis now?—would not simply give away his true name as a common title, even to his court.

“Mind-bonding ceremony? Is that…” Aether rubs at his neck, over the places where Rex Lapis’ teeth had drawn blood.

“By making oneself vulnerable and momentarily giving one’s life over to a mate’s control, it is possible to form a link between thoughts to speak through a mere touch.” Though Xiao’s answer is prompt, he again seems baffled. Obviously, this is something Aether was already supposed to know, and he can only hope Xiao won’t give up on his ignorance yet.

“Oh,” Aether says helplessly. “Then, you can speak to me this way because of— of Rex Lapis?”

With a sharp noise, Rex Lapis stomps a foot over the stone, almost petulant, and Xiao’s attention jolts toward him. When he turns back to Aether, it is slowly. Ever more disbelieving. “…Correct. As a part of Lord Rex’s court, I may share in many of his powers in order to most efficiently complete my duties. And…” Xiao hesitates. “Lord Rex wishes you to continue calling him by his true name.”

What can Aether do but nod, too overwhelmed for a proper response? He doesn’t meet Zhongli’s eyes.

After a moment of stilted silence, Zhongli chirps and turns deeper into the cave, away from the cold morning drafts and toward the comfort of his nest and hearth. Xiao follows him with regal steps, so of course Aether has to go too. He releases Xiao’s wing, then nearly trips over himself when the void resurges, all the worse for his brief, yet unnoticed reprieve.

Xiao twists back to look at him, the coldly fierce set of his face only made more intimidating by an elegant crest and sleek black feathers that highlight the glow of his eyes.

“I’m alright,” Aether gasps out, more a reassurance to himself than the phoenix, and with a short nod, Xiao returns to settling himself at Zhongli’s side in the nest. That leaves just Aether sitting outside before the hearth, and he shrinks under the combined weight of Zhongli’s pleading gaze and Xiao’s confusion.

When Xiao’s wing again extends toward him, farther now to bridge the gap between nest and fire, Aether clings onto it and dares to stroke a thumb down the silken vane of one of Xiao’s primaries.

Xiao’s voice trickles in to numb the hollow ache of Aether’s chest. “There is no need to force yourself, my Lord.”

And Aether stops at once, nearly pulling his entire hand away before remembering the rule of their communication. “Sorry,” he whispers. He spends an awful lot of time apologizing these days.

“Was there anything else you wished to ask, my Lord?”

Aether doesn’t really want to ask, but he needs to know— “What did you mean by— by wedding?”

Xiao regards him. “According to custom, you and Lord Rex would partake in the bonding ceremony on the second full sun after the marking, and the court would also formally recognize you as their master. However, I see that you are not…” He trills something to Zhongli, and Zhongli returns a long sigh.

Unable to join in their conversation, Aether tucks his knees up to his chest and lays his head on top, feeling unreasonably exhausted. Xiao’s wing flicks out of his grasp, but this time, at least, Aether is ready for the backlash.

He knows what would truly fill this emptiness. He hates that he does.

To his side, Xiao and Zhongli’s chatter grows louder, angrier. Xiao has reared back, away from Zhongli’s slumped form, and his gaze keeps shifting between the dragon and Aether, a different glint to his eye each time.

What must Zhongli be saying to him? Aether lets his eyelids drift shut, Xiao and Zhongli’s argument turning to white noise in his ears. All he wants now is to rest, really rest, and not have to wake up worrying about how he might fall prey to the dragon that claimed him.

A flap of powerful wings rustles his hair, and Aether shoots up to find Xiao barely an inch away, staring him dead in the eyes.

With a yelp, Aether tips over backwards in a futile attempt to escape, and Xiao catches him in a wing that, despite the soft feathers on the surface, is as unmoving as the ancient forest pines.

“Peace, Lord Aether,” Xiao says, and his voice has turned soothing, like ripples over placid water. It’s a far cry from his earlier indifference. “Forgive me for my lack of understanding,” he continues. “I had only assumed you were here of your own will. Neither I nor Lord Rex would dare to harm you in any way, so please do not worry for that.”

From the cradle of Xiao’s feathers, Aether wrestles back control of his gasping breaths. “That’s— I understand. You didn’t know.” He cringes at his own unrefined words beside Xiao’s elegance.

“Nevertheless.” Xiao props Aether back on his feet. “If you yet have questions, I will answer them now.”

Aether has more questions than there are stars in the northern sky, but most of them he certainly isn’t about to ask to Zhongli’s loyal guard. “You don’t have to do anything more for me, Lord Xiao. Thank you.”

Xiao clacks his beak. “I am not your Lord. Simply call me Xiao.”

Once again, it feels wrong to be calling a divine beast so casually, but… “Then—then you can call me Aether,” he blurts out. “I’m not here to be your master or anything like that.”

If a beak could frown, Aether is sure Xiao’s would be. “…Very well. If that is what you wish.”

Aether can’t think of a single thing to say after that, but thankfully, Zhongli breaks the silence with an insistent chirp.

“…Lord Rex wishes to know if there is anything you need,” Xiao translates.

Need? Aether needs food, needs to sleep, needs this pit in his chest to go away, needs to return home. Needs to keep Zhongli pacified. Needs, above all else, to make sure Lumine remains safe. “I’m alright,” he says quietly.

Zhongli makes a sound not entirely unlike a that of a stray dog being kicked down the street, and Aether gasps as the scale embedded in his skin suddenly pulses, searing.

“Why do you lie?” Xiao questions sharply. “You may not have chosen this, but Lord Rex is still your mate. He will provide anything you ask.”

The accusation sends an entirely unwelcome spike of a headache through Aether’s skull, compounding the burn over his chest and the void in his heart. So, both divine beasts are able to discern his lies. That’s just— fine. If he has to learn to twist his truths a little to survive here, so be it.

“I’m sorry,” Aether says carefully. “I only meant— there’s nothing dire right now.” There. That should be safe enough.

“And what of your other needs?” Xiao’s gaze stabs right thought him.

“They don’t matter much. I can take care of it.”

Zhongli rumbles, low and threatening.

“You should not want for anything here,” Xiao continues, his voice somehow carrying Zhongli’s tone. “Lord Rex wishes to hear even the pettiest of your desires.”

“I mean no offense, but I don’t think there’s anything that can be done about my troubles. You probably wouldn’t want to listen to me complain about them either—”

“You are not answering,” Xiao says flatly. “Is it so difficult to ease your mate’s concern?”

He doesn’t understand at all; Zhongli doesn’t understand at all. And Aether is so, so tired.

“Yes. It is.” He starts soft, controlled, but— “I don’t want to be here, but because of you, I don’t have a choice. My village made me your bride when you threatened them. You burned your mark into my skin, did something to me that hurts, all the time.” Aether digs his nails into his sternum like claws, maybe deep enough to bleed. He doesn’t care.

“Even if I could escape, I wouldn’t, because you’ll only go back for someone else, and I know exactly who my village will sacrifice next. I’m doing everything I can to avoid you, but I can’t make you angry, but I don’t want to be in pain. I don’t want to be yours, but you say this—” he wedges his fingertips beneath the scale and pulls, his eyes watering furiously through the pain and Zhongli’s responding howl, but gods, if he could just get rid of it— “is permanent. That I’m one of your creatures now.”

Aether takes a gasping breath and braces himself. He’s in too deep to stop now. “You say you would never hurt me, but I’ve been nothing but hurt from the start. Though I guess I am grateful you never forced me into your bed or clawed me apart,” he adds bitterly. “I can’t trust any of you. I can’t leave. I can’t defend myself. I can’t even die without risking others.”

Abruptly, his fury drains away— he’s arguing with a dragon. Even those who would plead with a landslide or try to fight a storm aren’t as foolish as Aether.

“I don’t— I don’t hate you. But please,” he finishes in a whisper, “if you’re not going to take anything from me, then just leave me alone. I promise won’t cause any trouble for you or use up any more of your supplies than I need to stay alive.”

And without looking up, without caring for the futility of it, Aether runs, out of the cave and into the deep snow beyond, blindly pushing his way forward. There’s a cliff somewhere, he knows, but so what if he falls? Surely it would be a kinder death than whatever Zhongli and Xiao have planned for him.

Then an alarm clangs loud in the back of his mind and— right. Lumine. He’s not allowed to die here. Still, he keeps moving, only now along the side of the mountain instead of directly into the open sky. It’s cold, bitterly so, and even at its chilliest, the cave had been nothing compared to this world of ice. Aether tugs his outer tunic a little tighter, folding it over the blood-damp fabric beneath.

A keening cry echoes through the air, and he doesn’t even need to turn to know the phoenix has found him. How quickly his time had run out.

He has no choice now but to accept whatever punishment will come.

Chapter Text

Aether doesn’t run when great wingbeats churn the air overhead, doesn’t fight when talons hook into the back of his collar, doesn’t flinch when he’s picked up and borne back across the mountainside and into Zhongli’s cave. When Xiao drops him onto the floor just past the entrance— with far more care Aether had been expecting— he doesn’t even bother to get up. Much easier to simply wait here at Xiao’s feet until his fate is decided.

A soft trill from above does startle him into looking up, and of course the first thing he finds is Xiao’s beautiful, piercing gaze. Slowly, Xiao bends his head to nudge at Aether’s back, lightly at first, then more firmly when Aether doesn’t respond.

What does Xiao want from him? Why isn’t he attacking or bringing Aether to Zhongli or— or something? Clenching his teeth against a shiver, Aether picks himself up and limps toward the fireplace at Xiao’s urging.

Now that he’s thinking about it— where is Zhongli? There’s no trace of him in the common room, and he’s not visible in any of the halls Aether can see from the entrance. Maybe he’s preparing a punishment elsewhere, or maybe he’s just left his unpleasant bride for Xiao to handle instead. Whatever the case, Aether is grateful for the respite.

Before the roaring fire, the snow stuck to Aether’s clothes begins to melt, and it’s— well, it’s better than frostbite, but the damp, chilly weight is still far from comfortable. Blankly, Aether watches as fat drops of water fall from the hem of his coat to sink into the rug below.

A splay of feathers dips into his field of vision, and he traces them back to where Xiao is patiently waiting, wing extended. Aether doesn’t have many reasons left to refuse, he supposes.

He reaches out.

“It seems you are still cold, Aether. Will you allow me to help you?”

…What?

“I’m alright. It’s just a little water,” Aether mutters. Is Xiao… worried? Why is he offering to warm Aether up?

“I do not doubt that you will survive, but I wish to erase your suffering entirely.” Xiao leans in, his sharp, sharp beak plucking almost gently at one of Aether’s wet sleeves. “Your dragon blood is still maturing, and will leave you vulnerable to these temperatures until your transformation is complete. It would be no burden upon me to keep you safe until that time.”

There it is again, the sinister dragon blood and transformation, but Aether can’t seem to stir up the same revulsion he’d felt when hearing it before. Instead, he finds himself more unsettled by Xiao’s sudden kindness and the way Zhongli still hasn’t appeared.

“Whatever you want, Lord Xiao.” It seems more appropriate to use the title.

Xiao’s feathers ruffle in a distinctly troubled motion. “What methods do you humans normally use to warm yourselves?”

“Huh? Oh…”

Aether gives up. If Xiao is still trying to help him, then maybe he and Zhongli are simply far more forgiving of Aether’s outburst than they should be. Maybe he can relax a little. “Usually, we keep dry where we can. Blankets are easy to layer, and sometimes you can huddle next to another person to share heat… and of course there’s fire or magick. I used to make soup for Lu— um, I used to make soup when there was food to put in it.”

Xiao makes a contemplative noise. “Those things can be arranged.”

And without any further warning, Xiao’s beak is sinking into the back of Aether’s collar to drag him beneath the downy warmth of his wing. Aether doesn’t even have time to scream— though his heart still thunders away in his chest as he sits frozen against the curve of Xiao’s body.

“W-what—?”

Xiao chirrups softly and shuffles forward a little, forcing Aether to move with him. Now they’re settled squarely on the plush rug of the hearth, the fire crackling away before them and Xiao’s wing half-shielding Aether from the wash of heat.

“Is this warm enough?”

“I— yes, but you— you don’t need to go this far for me, Lord Xiao,” Aether stumbles out. His fingers and toes are prickling as they rapidly warm, and even his damp clothes are beginning to dry.

“Simply call me Xiao.”

It’s the only response Aether gets.

What is he supposed to do now? Evidently, Xiao has no intent to punish him, and with that assurance in mind, Aether can no longer quite keep hold of his resigned terror. The ground beneath him is soft; the cave, quiet, and Xiao is both soothing warmth and relief from the emptiness that still haunts him. It seems impossible that Aether could end up sleepy while being nearly blanketed by a divine beast, and yet…. Still, he fights the heaviness of his own eyelids, blinking hard and pinching his arm in an attempt to stay awake.

The tap of claws over stone rings out from somewhere deeper in the cave, and the burst of fear that accompanies the sound is enough to force Aether back to high alert. Frantically, he pushes against Xiao’s wing, trying to sit up.

Too late. The claws come closer and closer, until Zhongli’s head appears over the rise of Xiao’s body and Aether can only shrink back under his searching gaze. Zhongli doesn’t seem angry, at least— though if there’s anything more beneath the surface of his unmoving face, Aether wouldn’t be able to tell.

Zhongli rumbles something, and Xiao returns a low note.

“Lord Rex has brought you dry clothes.”

Fabric swishes, and then Aether is left scrambling to catch the bundle of clothes Zhongli drops in his arms. It unfurls to a large robe and tunic to fit beneath, held together by a wide sash. Soft and easy to put on.

Aether lifts his head. “…Thank you, Zhongli,” he manages. Wrong, this all has to be wrong. Why is even Zhongli being so kind?

A purr rises from Zhongli’s chest, and he bends in closer, his great eyes hooded and strangely mellow. Aether tenses, but Zhongli makes no further move to touch, instead giving Xiao a nod and trotting right back out of the room.

“He will bring you food next,” Xiao says mildly— or at least, mildly enough for his rough voice and imposing form.

Running his fingers over the silk of the robe he’d just been given, Aether opens his mouth, ready for just about anything to come tumbling out—

“…Why aren’t you angry?”

—Anything but that. Gods, why can’t he even do his penance right?

Xiao’s gaze flicks over, sharp and considering. “Were you perhaps expecting us to be angry?”

“I-I mean… I yelled at you and your lord, and tried to run away, and I haven’t been able to do whatever a dragon’s bride should be doing— but I’m grateful that there isn’t a punishment! Please don’t misunderstand,” Aether says miserably.

“Punishment…” Xiao echoes. “You cannot be punished for things you did not and were never expected to know, nor for the choices others made for you.” His beak snaps shut, too loud in the stillness. “Unacceptable. You should have no reason to fear Lord Rex, and that you yet do is our failure. We have been waiting for you for hundreds of years, dragon’s beloved, and it seems it is my duty to guide you along the path you were never meant to walk blindly.”

Xiao’s words sink into the cracks of Aether’s mind, heavy with promise, and Aether can’t help a sudden shiver under their unmistakable power. It seems far too good to be true. But surely Xiao has no reason to lie to him, not about this.

“Then— then you won’t get rid of me to take someone else from the village?”

Xiao recoils. “We would not discard your life so easily, even if you were not so precious to Lord Rex’s court, nor would we have asked anything of your people at all if fate had not called Lord Rex to that place. Do all you humans view us as such mindless, violent beasts?”

“Well, not… not all…” Aether says weakly.

“…Perhaps it was inevitable. We have remained detached from humankind for many millennia now.” Xiao’s feathers rustle discontentedly. “You should change your wet clothing before Lord Rex returns."

Aether glances up at him, down at the robes in his hand, then back again. It doesn’t seem like Xiao is planning to leave any time soon. “Would you… look away for a bit? Please?”

“Hm? What for?”

Pausing, Aether swallows. Licks his dry lips. Does Xiao not understand… not wanting to be seen unclothed? Do divine beasts even need to concern themselves with modesty? It doesn’t seem like Xiao will much care whether or not Aether is naked, so maybe he should just grit his teeth and get it over with.

“I just… don’t like being watched. While I’m changing,” he mutters, already untying his sash.

“…Ah. You do not wish me to see your body,” Xiao says with an air of somewhat baffled realization. “Very well.” And he tucks his head around on the other side of his body, safely out of sight. His wing, too, lifts a fraction so Aether can use it as a shield against the rest of the cavern.

Surprised as he is, it takes Aether a moment to remember why Xiao had done both things in the first place, but he dresses as quickly as he can once his mind catches up. Better not to test Xiao’s goodwill.

He folds his wet clothes as carefully as he can, shuffling out into the open to place them on the stone floor instead of the rug, and Xiao’s head pops up again.

Of course Aether can’t hear anything without touching Xiao’s feathers, but the meaning of the soft trill that follows seems clear enough.

“I-I’m done now. Thank you…” Aether makes the mistake of meeting Xiao’s fathomless eyes, so akin to Zhongli’s, and suddenly finds that he can’t tear himself away, even when Xiao leans in with his beak half-open. Desperately, he tries to wrench his eyelids shut against the entrancing gaze, but he’s far too slow, and Xiao is already— already—

Dipping his beak gently into Aether’s hair. Nibbling carefully down the tangled strands. Preening him.

“You appear to be warm again,” Xiao says into Aether’s mind, an unintrusive whisper of a thought. “Come. I will groom you, and you may rest.”

Still frozen under Xiao’s unexpected touch, Aether numbly follows as Xiao tugs him back to the shelter of his wing. He’s warm and dry— flushed with heat, even— surrounded by plush fabric and feathers, safe when he had been expecting the very worst from his captors. He’s even being comforted by the soft stroke and tug of Xiao’s beak in his hair, so close to what Lumine had always done for him on bad days, and—

Gods it feels good, more than it probably should, but Aether doesn’t have the energy left to pull himself away. It seems as if Zhongli and his court will continue to care for Aether as long as he is… useful? Irreplaceable? But even if Aether fails that, if Xiao’s words can be trusted, then they still won’t return to the village for Lumine.

It’s all he can ask for, really.

Weakly, he presses his cheek into the fluffy down of Xiao’s side and makes a pathetic sound when Xiao croons at him in return. Illusion or not, it’s the first time he’s felt truly protected since arriving in this place.

Aether is beginning to drift in the fog of his own thoughts when Zhongli returns, and in his daze, he can almost imagine that the patter of claws is timid instead of threatening. Xiao’s beak lifts from his hair, presumably to look up, and Aether bites back a groan at the loss.

He’s so needy when he gets comfortable, and the ever-present gnawing of the void in his chest is only making things worse. Lumine would have resisted, would have watched and waited and planned, and maybe even made a real escape— but that’s exactly why Aether is glad he’s the one who was sacrificed. With her strength and skill, Lumine will have a future far beyond the suffocating confines of the village. And Aether… well, at least he can be a shield for her and the rest of the kingdom.

“Aether,” Xiao calls, and Aether slowly picks himself up, staring blearily up at Zhongli and… the huge bowl between his talons?

“Lord Rex wishes to know if you will eat…” Xiao chitters to himself. “Bone soup.”

“…Bone?” Aether repeats warily, and Zhongli sets the bowl down before him. As he perhaps should have expected, great chunks of bone are sunken in a richly golden-brown broth, along with scraps of floating meat and huge, misshapen chunks of what might be potato. Oh. He and Lumine would make this sometimes, when winters forced them to boil even the bare carcasses of animals they’d hunted in the fall. That broth had always been pale, though, and they’d certainly never had anything else to put in it.

“Are you unable to eat?” Xiao asks, and Aether remembers that he’s still staring blankly into the soup. Hastily, he reaches for the near pot-sized bowl, hunger growling above any fear that he might not have been meant to just take it.

“No, I— it looks delicious. Thank you,” he murmurs. There’s long piece of wood resting against the inside rim, less of a spoon and more of a stirring stick, but the flattened end is all Aether needs to start eating.

Salt bursts over his tongue, warm and savory, and he has to force himself to stop for a while between every bite so as not to make himself sick. Strange, how Zhongli chooses not to feed him for an entire day, but then still bothers to make something so luxurious when he finally does allow Aether to eat again.

A rapid thumping draws his attention to where Zhongli’s tail is whipping back and forth across the floor, stirring up tiny clouds of dust in its wake. The dragon is… happy. What is it about Aether eating that makes him so excited? And since it does seem to please him, why doesn’t he bring food more often?

It’s too exhausting to properly contemplate, so Aether focuses on finishing the soup instead— or at least eating what he can. After several days without any food from the village and only one meal from Zhongli, his body seems to have adapted to starvation conditions, so he can’t manage much.

“Are you unwell?” Xiao asks when Aether pushes the mostly-full bowl aside, already feeling a little nauseous with the weight in his stomach. “You have not eaten enough.”

…He’s not sure how much more he’ll be able to choke down before it all comes right back up again, but if Xiao wants him to eat more…. Reluctantly, Aether picks up the makeshift spoon again. After all, Xiao isn’t exactly wrong— if Aether were normal, he would be able to stomach more, would clean out the chunks of meat and potato first and leave the broth as remnants, would have a body without shadows of sunken flesh and fragile skin and jutting bones. He wouldn’t waste Xiao and Zhongli’s kindness.

Before he can put the spoon in his mouth though, Zhongli growls sharply and places a claw over the top of the bowl, tugging it from Aether’s grasp. Aether watches it slide away from his numb fingers, and he doesn’t dare look up. What has he done wrong now?

“Aether, you are in pain?” Xiao says more than asks, and Aether can only guess that Zhongli had said something to him.

“No, I’m fine, I—” He almost insists he can eat more as requested, but then—Zhongli had also snatched the bowl away, so maybe that’s not allowed anymore. His head spins.

Zhongli rumbles, low and obviously displeased.

“Lord Rex can sense your discomfort. He wishes to know why that is,” Xiao says after a moment.

Aether can’t lie to them. Will they take it as weakness if he tells the truth? “…I’m just full, is all. I wasn’t given anything to eat during my last few days in the village, so… you know.” There. At least they don’t have to know how fragile he is right now.

“Would that not cause you to eat more?” Xiao asks, eyes narrowed.

“Maybe— maybe for some? But I always have to eat smaller portions for a while.”

“For a while,” Xiao repeats. “How long?"

…Is he angry about that? But why, when it means Aether won’t even need to eat as much of their food? “Only ten or eleven days, but— I can go without for longer if you need me to,” he adds hastily.

For a long moment, Xiao is silent, until Zhongli shifts and growls a short note.

“How often are humans meant to eat?”

“I—I don’t need much, I promise!” What had Zhongli said? Why do they keep pressing Aether for answers when he has no idea what they want to hear? “I almost always end up eating every other day when the snows come, sometimes less if—”

“What will it take for your body to be strong?” Xiao cuts in, his head dipping close enough to stare Aether in the eyes. “How much do you need to eat to be satisfied? Answer.”

He can’t think up a half-truth fast enough. “…Normally, we eat a few times a day,” Aether says miserably. “But you really don’t need to—”

He startles at Zhongli’s sudden whine, and though he still doesn’t look up, he can see Zhongli curling his claws and tail in close, turning himself into a trembling ball of scales.

“Then you will eat that often.” Xiao’s tone allows no room for argument. “Now, tell us what else humans need to remain healthy, as it seems our understanding is incomplete. Are your clothes sufficient? The caverns warm enough? How do you sleep and what are your habits when you wake?”

Panic takes over before Aether can properly organize his answers. “Everything is fine! The clothes are lovely, and as long as I’m in the baths or in front of a fire or”— near one of you— “I’m warm enough. Zhongli’s bed is nicer than anything at home and I’ll do whatever you want me to do during the day, though I— I’m sorry, I still don’t know how to be a dragon’s bride…”

Xiao and Zhongli growl in time, and Aether flinches away.

“Unacceptable,” Xiao hisses. “That is not enough. Lord Rex is your mate, so you—" Abruptly, he silences himself, beak clacking, and when his voice returns it is far quieter. “Rest now, Aether. We will ensure things are as they should be soon.”

How ominous. But they can do whatever they want to him, so why waste the energy fighting it now?

Unable to stop the shaking of his own limbs— from fear or lingering weakness or maybe both, he doesn’t know— Aether shuffles back into place under the demanding nudges of Xiao’s wing and squeezes his eyes shut.

At least even the threat of two divine beasts hovering over him isn’t enough to keep his body from sheer exhaustion. And the world falls away much easier when he’s warm and well-fed.

Xiao and Zhongli’s soft chatter is the last thing Aether hears before darkness drags him under.

Chapter Text

The first thing Aether notices upon waking is that the hollow in his chest has grown exponentially, agonizingly wider, emptiness now tugging beneath his skin and in his throat and behind his eyes. Even the brush of Xiao’s feathers pressed against his skin don’t seem to be helping much anymore. Feeling as though his lungs might suddenly explode and collapse in on themselves at the same time, he takes a moment to breathe through the pain before daring to open his eyes.

Right away, it’s obvious that the light of the room has changed, and when Aether lifts his head from the niche of Xiao’s wing, he is met by a sea of shadows and dim firelight. Outside, thick flurries of snow whirl past the mouth of the cave as well, and— how long had he been asleep? And why had the divine beasts let him stay that way? Surely Xiao would have had better things to do than pointlessly wait at Aether’s side.

A damp, almost curious prodding at his forehead makes him jolt, and finally, Aether realizes that there’s also something floating near his head— a something that turns out to be a swirl of mist radiating unmistakable power.

“What…?” Aether tries to ask, his voice coming dry and cracked, and Xiao’s wing stirs over him.

“Good evening, Aether,” Xiao greets, the touch of his voice a shadowed cool over Aether’s confusion. “Are you rested now?”

“I… well enough.” At least he’s not hungry anymore, doesn’t feel like he’s fighting his own body to stay alert. Too bad it’s not a worthwhile trade for the all-consuming emptiness that now threatens to swallow him whole.

The mysterious, rainbow-tinted curl of mist taps insistently at his cheek, and Aether tries to look at it without making any obvious turn of his head.

“That is Tartaglia,” Xiao says with clear disdain. ”A leviathan who also serves in Lord Rex’s court.”

Aether blinks. A leviathan? But it’s so…

The mist spits a tiny jet of water into Xiao’s face as Aether looks on, horrified— but though Xiao snaps his beak at it in return, neither of them do anything more. Somehow, it’s… less violent than he’d been expecting.

“This insufferable creature will be collecting information about humans from the village where we found you,” Xiao explains dismissively, as if his words had not just sent a frozen spike through Aether’s chest. “He is here to first borrow your memories and a human appearance, as without a complete mating bond, Lord Rex cannot take on a form like yours to do the work himself.”

Take on a form like Aether’s? But no, what really matters right now is—

“My— my village?” Aether repeats, struggling to keep his voice steady as he pushes himself up on his hands. He can’t let them go back there, no matter how small the chance of them running into Lumine might be. Think. Think! “Um, if you want to know about human things, I can easily tell you about that— or if Zhongli needs something else from me, I promise won’t give him any more trouble. And if you’re planning to make a new demand of the village, another letter would be more than—"

“The visit is merely for the sake of understanding human habits so Lord Rex may treat you with the care you deserve as his mate.” Xiao interrupts bluntly. “It is clear you are afraid to answer us honestly, which you cannot be faulted for— however, this circumstance makes an outside source of knowledge necessary.”

Aether wants to scream. He can’t tell the truth, can’t lie, and now can’t even omit unnecessary details to evade the divine beasts’ questions and wrath? “I’ll tell the truth this time, I swear! There’s no need for any of you to— to bother going all the way down to the village.”

Xiao’s eyes narrow as he turns his head to face Aether directly. “There is little that any of Lord Rex’s court would not do for your sake, Aether, and Tartaglia will no doubt enjoy the chance to spread chaos into the human realm as well. There is no need to be concerned for us.”

Hah. If only he knew. But then again, all Aether cares about is making sure he never does. That none of them ever do. Because even if Xiao had promised they wouldn’t seek out another bride or start killing without reason, Lumine is unmistakably Aether’s twin, and he can’t be sure that the divine beasts wouldn’t simply decide to take her as well on a whim. They all seem disturbingly attached enough to Aether…

“I just don’t think a trip to the village would be very useful,” he tries weakly. “There’s not much to see there…”

To his dismay, Xiao promptly makes a disagreeing noise. “There are many humans in that place, and therefore many chances to observe their lives.” He pauses. “If it is the matter of Tartaglia that worries you, he will not take long either to transform or complete his task.”

“No, that’s not—” Aether bites at his lip. Now that Xiao’s said it, he is worried about whatever it is the leviathan— Tartaglia?— is planning to do, and if he can’t convince Xiao to stay away from the village, he might as well turn his fear to the next appropriate target.

Nervously, he glances at the wisp that’s now flitting around his shoulder. Despite how unassuming it looks now, he can’t forget that this is another divine beast, another being who can kill him the space of a breath if he makes too great a mistake in its presence.

“Tartaglia, make your greetings,” Xiao says impatiently, and after a little ripple of what Aether could almost call indignation, the curl of mist drifts in to touch his cheek.

“Well hello there, dragon’s beloved,” Tartaglia purrs into his mind, and Aether is momentarily overtaken by the image of sunlight glittering over a deep, endless sea. “After hundreds of years of waiting and enduring our lord’s pining… it is an honor to meet you at last. I am the Northern Leviathan, Tartaglia, one of the few beasts of Lord Rex’s court with the ability to freely shapeshift— which, incidentally, is why he called me here today.”

“Northern… Leviathan?” Aether echoes in disbelief. Though many tales of myth and magick are reserved for the tomes of academia and students of the elements, the most famous legends still thrive among the common folk— and the story of the four cardinal seas and their all-powerful guardians is one of them.

“Oh, so you have heard of me.” Tartaglia sounds pleased. “That makes things much easier.”

…Why is the great Northern Leviathan so small? Why is he doing anything for Aether at all, unwanted as the help may be? How can Xiao so casually insult and command him in the same breath? And what kind of power must Zhongli wield, to have so great a beast serving in his court? Aether’s head spins, and the miserable hollow beneath his skin does nothing to steady him.

“You’re a cute one,” Tartaglia says, a lilt to his voice that Aether can’t and doesn’t want to understand. “Pretty face, sturdy, positively bursting with magick— no wonder Fate paired you with our lord.”

Aether makes a fleeting attempt to process ’bursting with magick’ and ’paired by Fate’— before realizing he has far too many other, more important thoughts to cling onto and giving it up on the spot.

“Tartaglia,” Xiao hisses.

“Alright, alright. Lord Aether, may I formally have permission to copy your body and memories to create a suitable human form? You won’t be harmed or lose anything in the process, and I will, of course, treat you and anything you lend me with the utmost respect.” For all of Tartaglia’s earlier flippancy, the words now seem solemn.

Aether draws back a little to properly study the wisp that is Tartaglia, but in the end, no matter the leviathan’s intentions, Aether doesn’t have much choice but to agree. “What— what kind of memories do you need?” He asks in lieu of outright agreement, because if he still has a chance to protect Lumine from the eyes of his captors…

“Why, you have something to hide?” Tartaglia’s mirth rings in Aether’s head, but he continues without waiting for an answer. “I can only see what you show me, and all I’ll need are enough memories of different humans so I can stitch their features together into my own form. I could simply create an echo of your body, of course, but I’ve always preferred to become something more… unique when I’m asked to walk the human realm.”

Panicked heartbeat still slowing from Tartaglia’s first question, Aether suppresses a shudder. He can’t imagine how the townspeople, let alone Lumine, would react if “he” were to simply walk back in amongst them, unscathed and unmarked by the dragon. But Tartaglia doesn’t need to know any of that.

“A-alright. What do you need me to do?”

The wisp of Tartaglia does a little flip. “Just think nice and hard about a few healthy, preferably good-looking humans of your choice, and I’ll handle the rest.”

The instructions are uncomfortably ambiguous, but Aether closes his eyes and does his best to focus. Reaching back in the haze of his memory, he searches for those people who had stood out to him as the kindest or strongest or most enthralling— people who might not be an insult to a being like the Northern Leviathan. There had been a red-headed woman last spring who had performed a show of magick in town on her way to the capital… the sun-speckled farmer’s son who lived a few houses away from him and Lumine… a tall and slender traveling merchant who had never once taken off their mask as they passed through the village… the child with bright blue eyes and crooked teeth who had offered Aether a piece of candy before being dragged away by his fearful mother…

“Oh, you have such vivid memories. Excellent,” Tartaglia interrupts in a purr, and then the chill of his touch leaves Aether’s cheek as a terrible sound of ripping flesh and cracking bone begins in its place.

It’s over mercifully swiftly— before Aether can even properly secure his hands over his ears— and when he looks up from the shadow of Xiao’s wing, he finds a tall, almost lanky man with bright copper hair, pale skin liberally splashed with freckles, and surprisingly delicate features standing before him. Lashes flutter open to reveal ocean eyes, and the man that must be Tartaglia lifts his arms and turns over his hands, inspecting his bare body with interest.

”Not bad. My thanks, Lord Aether,” Tartaglia’s voice is cheerful, and perhaps even boyish as he gestures to his body. “As promised, I’ll take good care of it.”

Aether isn’t sure why that matters when the form Tartaglia chose has nothing to do with Aether’s own body at all, but he’s hardly going to question the leviathan about it. “I really don’t think it’s worth all the trouble of going, um, Lord Tartaglia… I swear I can just give you whatever information you need right now.” He has to try one last time.

Tartaglia only laughs. “It would be a shame to waste this body now. Besides I think I’m going to enjoy this little jaunt into the human realms. It’s been a very long time, after all.”

There’s a glint in his eye that Aether doesn’t like in the slightest, but there’s nothing he can do.

“Xiao, I don’t suppose you have any clothes for me?”

“Did you not think to prepare suitable clothing ahead of time, you useless leviathan?” Xiao hisses. ”Fine. There should be something of your size in Lord Rex’s chambers, but I will kill you if you touch anything else.”

“Delightful as always, aren’t you, Xiao?” Is all Tartaglia says before he skips away down the hall, shadows thankfully swallowing up his nakedness as he goes.

After a faintly dizzy moment, Aether settles back against Xiao’s side, that hellish sensation of emptiness rushing back in with a vengeance now that Tartaglia and all he represents isn’t there to distract him.

“I guess Zhongli isn’t here right now?” He mumbles, barely expecting an answer, but to his surprise, Xiao replies right away.

“Lord Rex is with the rest of the court, rearranging plans for the wedding, bonding ceremony, and celebratory feast that had been planned before we understood that you had not come here willingly. No doubt he is also sharing whatever information they will need to know about you, in order that they may do their part in helping you adapt to your new life as Lord Rex’s mate .” Xiao’s head snakes down to the side, yellow eyes piercing, but Aether is too numb to feel the fear he should. “If you feel any discomfort in his absence, inform me immediately. We have never before encountered a mate pair who did not complete the bond ceremony at the appointed time, but it would not be unexpected for the delay to eventually take a toll on your body.”

Great. So not only is Aether a sacrifice and failed bride, he’s also an unprecedented failure— and unless he’s sorely mistaken, he’s already been suffering from a lack of Zhongli for a while now. There’s no way he’s going to actually tell Xiao about that, though, not if he doesn’t have to. Not if the only cure would be to cling to Zhongli side like some pathetic, mindless leech.

“Alright,” he mumbles. “Thank you, Xiao.”

Xiao’s visible eye narrows, but his lifts his head up and away again without further comment. “Is there anything else you wish to know? If not, you may return to your rest.”

Forcing himself to focus, Aether digs one of his many questions up from the void that seems to have found itself a rather permanent home in his chest. “The… you said wedding and, um, bonding ceremony. Is there… a difference?”

“Hm. The wedding is symbolic, a tradition of unity that had, at least before I joined Lord Rex in hibernation, made its way to the human realms as well. The bonding ceremony requires far more time, and is where you and Lord Rex will truly be connected,” Xiao says simply. “You already have Lord Rex’s heart scale, and your body has begun to change in preparation for the transformation that will be finished at the ceremony. Lord Rex will give you the form of a dragon so you may rule the skies with him, and you will give him the form of a human so he may share the brush of mortality with you. Because humans are particularly fragile creatures—“

“Wait. Wait,” Aether interrupts helplessly. “I’m— I’m actually supposed to become a dragon?” Somehow, he finds himself more horrified than surprised, but even so…

“…How else did you expect to stand on equal ground with the Lord of Dragons?” Xiao sounds baffled, and Aether can only open and close his mouth in silence.

He might have expected a transformation of some kind, but he’s never thought of it as a chance to be… equal to Zhongli. The idea is laughable, really. Especially when Xiao had just called him—

“Lord— Lord of Dragons?” He asks tremulously.

“…Lord Rex was once the dragon emperor, Morax. It seems his name and legend were lost with the fall of the primordial age, but his power remains.”

Aether can feel his throat click as he swallows. The primordial age… the very first age of beasts and magick, a time even before that of the Northern Leviathan, and Zhongli had been one of its rulers? Aether can barely even comprehend the span of time he must have endured.

…Why is Zhongli bothering with a speck like Aether at all? Surely there are better options for a bride, no matter how “fated” Aether may be.

“…What if I don’t want to be turned into a dragon?” He asks hopelessly.

“Then you’d be straight out of luck, Lord Aether,” a voice says brightly, and Tartaglia pops into Aether’s field of view, grey and red tunic fluttering around him. “With that heart scale in your chest, your body will already be doing its best to complete the transformation on its own— but without Lord Rex’s power, I imagine that would be a particularly long and excruciating process.” He shrugs. “Who knows if it would ever be over?”

“…Oh.” It’s as if he keeps getting pushed off the edges of cliffs, finding bruised and jagged purchase lower down, only to be knocked off again, and again.

“Well, I’m off! If I’m not back by morning, make sure you come to rescue me, Xiao.” Tartaglia winks.

“I will leave you to rot,” Xiao growls and Tartaglia darts away, his laughter fading as he launches himself from the mouth of the cave.

“Insufferable.”

Aether opens his mouth for a moment, then quietly closes it again. Obviously, Xiao isn’t in any mood to talk, and even if his conflict with Tartaglia isn’t all that violent, Aether certainly isn’t important enough to be bothering him while he’s already annoyed.

At least he has the comfort of Xiao’s warmth to ward off a little of the emptiness. Even in the worst-case scenario, this one night’s worth of peace wouldn’t be too much to ask for, right?

Chapter Text

It’s only been a few hours by the flicker of the steadily dying fire when an earth-shaking, furious roar crashes through the cave and a colossal leviathan streams in on the heels of the sound. Aether has only a moment to take in the armored scales, yawing mouth, and storm-dark eyes before the beast collapses in on itself to reveal Tartaglia’s newly crafted from.

”Did you know!?" Tartaglia yells, almost screams, really, and Xiao rises in a rush of feathers and chilling calm. Aether is, of course, left to scramble gracelessly to the side, and—

Gods, he really should’ve expected it, given the circumstances, and what he’d already figured out— but the moment they part, the void that had been just barely restrained by Xiao’s presence resurges with a vengeance.

Swallows him whole.

Breath pulled from his lungs and thoughts erased from his mind, Aether crumples down, only just able to keep his head from smashing into the floor. His forearms throb where they’d absorbed the brunt of his fall.

This would be the absolute worst time to lose awareness, surrounded by threats and anger as he is, and he really should be trying to escape— but the world is spinning violently and his body has never felt quite so weak before. Whatever curse Zhongli had inflicted on him, its ability to keep Aether under control is flawless.

Xiao makes a noise— and his mind voice is no longer audible, of course, but the hiss that rises from his throat sounds like warning.

“Did you know?” Tartaglia growls again, quieter, a blur of menace. “Did you know what the humans thought of our dragon’s beloved? His sister? How they were treated? What they expected to happen when their people tossed him to Lord Rex’s jaws? Tell me, Xiao. Tell me you understand the kind of hell we’ve inflicted upon him, the hell he will never be able to escape, no matter what any of us do now.”

Ice joins the numbing hollowness of Aether’s blood at the mention of Lumine, but it seems even the realization of his worst nightmare isn’t quite enough to compete with the sea of nothing that now floods through him. What’s done is done, it seems, and it hadn’t been entirely unexpected either. Now if only he could properly think—

Xiao warbles something, and Tartaglia looks away, disgust splashed over his face. “That’s not enough. I’ve already called for Lord Rex, and when he gets here, I’ll show you both. Then he’ll have a decision to make. We all will, I suppose.”

Shivering, Aether crawls closer to the glowing hearth, desperate for any replacement for the divine warmth he’d lost. If he can at least ease whatever is causing this strain on his body, then things will be better. Maybe. Hopefully. They have to be better, because it’s already all he can do to keep his attention on Xiao and Tartaglia’s building rage and watch for their reactions.

He’d been trying to avoid being seen in this state— lest he become an even greater problem for his divine captors— but there’s no way he’ll be able to disguise his agony right now. All he can do is hope that the divine beasts won’t notice him; that their wrath won’t be directed his way.

Then a second roar shakes the cavern as Zhongli bursts into view, his towering, snow-blurred form splashed across the mouth of the cave, a great specter of terror. Under the weight of his presence, even Tartaglia and Xiao stumble, and they quickly step aside as Zhongli plunges into the cavern.

In towards Aether.

No, no, no. No matter how kind the dragon had been before while under the light of day and Xiao’s watchful eye, any past scraps of mercy will surely mean nothing in the face of his fury and power now. Whatever Zhongli wants, he will get. What could Aether do to stop him?

Zhongli approaches, regal and terrible, and something deep in Aether’s body— his gut or heart or maybe even soul— desperately cries out. It wants nothing more than the simmering warmth of Zhongli’s scales, the false sanctuary of his touch, the peace that would come if only Aether surrendered.

And oh, it would be so very easy to surrender— but he can’t. Not until he knows that Lumine is safe. Not until he’s certain that he will never have the chance to see her again.

So, mindless of the heat licking at his back, Aether cowers deeper into the hearth, struggling all the while to keep his eyes focused on the rows of Zhongli’s razor-edged teeth as they draw ever closer. Distantly, futilely, he hopes that his retreat might remind Zhongli of all the times he had restrained himself and let Aether go untouched— but it seems his luck has been long used up. With Zhongli’s next step in, Aether reaches back, his hand landing in a bank of hot embers—

He slips—

And his scream twines with Zhongli’s stone-shaking one as he gathers just enough strength to yank his burning, ash-scorched arm from the fire and bury it against his chest, uselessly gasping for air.

“Aether!” Comes Tartaglia’s yell, but Aether can barely hear him over the agony over his skin and ringing in his ears.

Zhongli roars again, surely enraged by Aether’s mistake— Xiao had said something about Zhongli being able feel his pain, right?— but whatever the dragon might have done, he is stopped by Tartaglia sweeping in to block his path.

“Morax, you need to stop.”

Zhongli snarls at him.

“No. Look, I know you want to heal him and stop the pain, but I sincerely doubt he trusts you anywhere near enough to make himself as vulnerable as he would need to be for that. He’s obviously terrified, Morax, and for good reason. Now back off and let me talk to him first.”

A moment of utter stillness.

Then Tartaglia stomps forward, lays both palms flat on Zhongli’s chest, and pushes him, hard. And Zhongli… goes.

There’s something heavy in the air, like the metallic tang of a lightning storm or the damp heat of midsummer— but though a low growl rises from his chest the entire time, Zhongli steps aside, and Tartaglia takes his place.

“That’s better,” Tartaglia says, quieter now, and he kneels down before Aether to bring them face-to-face. “I’m sorry, Lord Aether, for all that has happened to you. For all that we have done to you.”

Mutely, Aether stares up at him, unable to stop the hitching of his breaths; unable to give Tartaglia whatever answer he’s looking for.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but Lord Rex is the only one among us who can heal you, so if you’ll endure it for just a little while longer…” Tartaglia pauses, winces. “It’s not ideal. But I just need to explain a few things to him and Xiao first, and then I’ll be back to take care of you. That, I can promise.”

What can Aether do but nod? He sinks back into himself as Tartaglia walks away, letting the agony of his arm distract him from the endless nothingness that has hollowed out every other part of him.

It is an unusually exquisite form of torture, he thinks, to have the cure to his misery so tantalizingly close all the time. To know that giving in would feel good— at least in the moments before he lost himself.

A great crunching, grinding sound drags him up to the surface, and he opens drooping eyelids to see that Zhongli has clawed huge gouges into the stone floor, his body twisting restlessly (angrily?) as Tartaglia touches his small human head to Zhongli’s snout, communicating without sound. Beside them, Xiao is also ruffling his feathers in an equally unsettled display, and Aether distantly wonders what horrors Tartaglia must be showing them.

It’s only a moment more before Tartaglia withdraws, and then Zhongli is turning towards Aether again, only this time—

This time—

The amber of his eyes ripple, and Aether watches, dumbfounded, as huge, glittering tears drip down Zhongli’s scales to splash over the stone beneath.

Body low and small, Zhongli creeps a few steps closer, but he stops well outside of Aether’s reach before curling up into a strangely meek pile of golden scales and those still-silent tears. His half-lidded eyes still watch Aether steadily, but like this, he’s much less threatening and much more… human isn’t the right word for it, but Aether can’t think of anything else.

Farther away, Xiao makes a rough croaking noise, and, without warning, rises to his feet to smoothly launch himself out of the cave and into the night.

Aether’s heart sinks. One of his only mostly-allies in this place, gone.

“You can’t run away forever, Xiao!” Tartaglia yells after him, but there isn’t much heat in his voice.

He returns to the center of the cavern when Zhongli whines, low and pleading, his face twisting at whatever Zhongli had said.

“Lord Aether,” Tartaglia begins softly. “Lord Rex says you’ve been in pain for a while… and more than just from your injured arm. Will you tell us what’s wrong?”

Can’t lie. Can’t tell the truth. Can’t omit or mislead.

“…No,” Aether says, already resigned to whatever the consequence will be. At least then he’ll know what the price of refusal is in lieu of all other options.

Tartaglia pauses, apparently taken aback. “Why not?”

“Because— even if I tell, nothing’ll change.”

“…I have to ask why you think that.”

The pain is making it hard to breathe. “I already know how to make it stop, but— but I’m not going do it.” Focus. If he can just stay focused long enough to escape this interrogation…

Tartaglia lifts an eyebrow. “Well, I trust you have your reasons, but obviously I’d still rather not see you in pain if I don’t have to. Will you tell us what’s wrong anyway? Maybe there’s another way to fix the problem.”

…Fine. “I said it before, but whatever Zhongli did to me— the bond— it hurts when I’m not touching him.”

Zhongli whines again, and a deep frown scrawls its way over Tartaglia’s face. “So that means you don’t want to touch him… but why? Mates are supposed to feel good— really good— around each other… though I suppose you’re an unusual case.”

“…It feels like I’m being— erased, or drowned out. Like I wouldn’t be able to exist without him. And I hate it.” Aether adds, unable to keep the resentment from his voice.

Slowly, Tartaglia looks from him to Zhongli and back again. “That’s… is that even possible between mates? If anything, you should be feeling stronger. Safer. Is it just because you were forced into the connection with Lord Rex?”

Claws scrape over stone again as Zhongli curls further into himself.

Aether doesn’t know and doesn’t care; just wishes they would leave him alone until he can scrape himself back together enough handle whatever they decide to throw at him next, throbbing arm and hollow thoughts be damned. The situation he’s in now might be particularly bad, but he’s survived plenty of hardship before— what’s one more thing to endure?

“That does complicate things,” Tartaglia murmurs, almost as if to himself. “Lord Rex won’t be able to heal you without touch.”

Zhongli’s mouth opens to release an unsteady warble.

“…Can’t hurt to try, I suppose,” Tartaglia replies, eyes briefly slipping shut. “Lord Aether… I know this is a lot— a lot— to ask of you, but your injury is too severe to leave alone, and ol’ Morax here is being insufferable over the pain he feels from you.” The corner of his mouth twitches up, then falls solemn again. “As much as I, and Lord Rex as well, would love to free you now that we understand exactly why you were sent, what your own people did to you… until the transformation and bonding ceremony are complete, you and Lord Rex need to stay together or else risk death. I think you already know that.”

He takes a visible breath. “So what I’m trying to say is, will you give your bond mate a second chance, at least until you can safely leave again? I swear I’ll be right here to help you should things go wrong— if you can trust me at all, of course.”

Blankly, Aether stares at him.

“I know, I know,” Tartaglia sighs. “If you truly can’t stomach it, I’ll at least see what we can do about your burn with the supplies we have on hand, but I can’t emphasize enough how much I would rather avoid that.”

…It doesn’t seem like they plan to leave Aether alone any time soon.

His options now are pitifully few. Place his safety in the hands of the Northern Leviathan as he attempts to form a bond with the Lord of Dragons, suffer in silence and risk his health, arm, and the divine beasts’ displeasure, or…

Or nothing. Running would be futile, after all.

With a ragged breath, Aether drags himself upright against the side of the fireplace. “If this is some tactic to break me, you’re succeeding,” he says bitterly, and he holds out a hand he can’t stop from trembling.

Tartaglia bends his head, low enough that Aether can’t see his expression, and more tears well up in Zhongli’s great eyes, but neither of them speak further as Zhongli tiptoes forward.

His claws tuck beneath him in a mockery of harmlessness when he draws close enough to touch, and his neck extends out until the golden tip of his snout is hovering just over Aether’s fingers. Then he stops, as if waiting for Aether close the final distance on his own.

Is this “choice” intended as mercy or punishment? Aether can feel hot tears rising to his own eyes, and he wills them back even as he refuses to reach out any further. Zhongli no doubt already thinks he’s weak enough.

“Lord Rex,” Tartaglia says softly, and Zhongli keens.

Leans in.

Fire explodes behind Aether’s eyes, weaves through the slats of his ribs, flares with every throb of his heart. His fingers and toes wash hot, cold, hot again. His bones settle and sigh, his blood runs thick and languid, his muscles soften with the utter relief of the dragon’s touch. The dragon’s poison.

Under his back, he can feel hard stone and— oh, he must have fallen again— but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, because scales are whispering like silk over his skin and dragging every rational thought from Aether’s head as they go.

The searing touch against his hand moves upward, pressing into his arm, and Aether feels more than hears the pitiful sound that leaves his own throat. A wave of golden warmth crashes over him, an embrace that promises oblivion, and he’s so very tired… would Lumine forgive him if he were to simply let go now?

Hands tug at Aether’s shoulders, but their disruption can’t compete with the sweetness on the back of his tongue, the honey in his veins as he chases the touch that chains him, shamelessly, desperately begging for more.

“Aether, beloved,” an earth-shaking voice purrs, and Aether trembles endlessly as it washes through every crack and crevice of his being, wiping everything clean.

Clean, and perfectly empty.

Any distant fantasy he’d had of escaping Zhongli again vanishes like so many wisps of smoke, and he releases himself to the hearth-fire warmth of the divine beast who’d claimed him. Gods, it’s— it’s as if Aether had been tied up alone in the cold for a thousand years, then suddenly found himself surrounded by heaps of blankets and still-steaming meals; resting in the light of a roaring bonfire, a sun-warmed stone, a gentle touch.

It feels so good he can’t stand it.

His breath hitches once, twice, and all Aether knows is that it’s suddenly impossible to fill his lungs; that something hard and sharp, yet infinitely gentle, comes to stoke over his cheekbone and leave a streak of fire in its wake.

A voice chatters urgently over him, but there is no need for Aether to listen. He is full of the dragon who owns him. Why would he choose to empty himself ever again?

“Aether,” that perfect rumble calls again, sharper this time, but Aether is in no hurry.

The hands from earlier return to jostle him, and Aether sways mindlessly with their motion. Shimmering warmth still floods through him from the spot of pressure on his arm, and its presence is all Aether cares to worry about now. As long as he has the dragon, it doesn’t matter what anyone else does to him.

“Beloved, it is time to wake up. Are you there?”

Aether is and isn’t, but the question seems obvious enough that he doesn’t bother answering. Besides, the dragon really only needs his body, right?

“Aether, please come back to me.”

And Aether curls up, shivering, as the rasp of words swells and fades within him, their pitch rapidly changing with the dragon’s displeasure. Had— had he done something wrong? But he doesn’t need to, can’t “come back” to the dragon when he’s already right here, and surely the dragon won’t want any useless, idle chatter from Aether as a response instead.

“Please, love. Please.” Despite its strange words, the voice is overwhelming in its unhappiness now, and Aether can’t stop a cry when the river of power inside him flashes molten. The burn dies down quickly as the dragon makes a rough sound of its own, but Aether can recognize a warning when he feels it.

The dragon. He just has to do whatever the dragon wants.

More senseless conversation babbles overhead.

Then the touch over his arm lightens for a moment, and Aether scrambles at the thought of the dragon leaving him— but the warmth only moves up to his shoulder to scoop under his back, lifting him from the floor. Now the touch is only through Aether’s clothes, and though it’s not unbearable, he still struggles weakly after the clean, perfect heat he’d been allowed before. He should simply accept whatever the dragon wants to give him, but his body aches with the reminder of what things had been like without its touch, and it is difficult to remain still.

“I am sorry, love. This will be over soon, I swear it,” the dragon murmurs.

Aether doesn’t understand, but the dragon doesn’t seem to need that from him, so he simply sinks back down into what little warmth he’s been allowed and tries not to think at all.

Minutes pass— or perhaps they are hours, or even days. But slowly, almost too slowly to notice, a soft pulse begins deep in the fog of Aether’s mind. It turns golden and steady. Then brighter and stronger. The fog thins. Threads of warmth weave between his thoughts, anchoring them together. Consciousness flickers.

Aether finds himself breathing in time with the meditative pulse, then realizes he can count the rhythm, can focus enough to find the source of this new guide.

Tracing it back, he finds a trail of his memories being woven back together by the threads. Lumine. The village. The sacrifice. The Lord of Dragons. The qilin and sky phoenix and Northern Leviathan. Clarity is beginning to seep in, so he keeps following the path up and up until he reaches the surface, feels the stripes of dim warmth curled around his back, cradling him.

Talons. Zhongli.

Strangely, Aether finds he had no need to question this twist of fate as he pursues the final stretch of thread, imaginary hands closing over the end. A tingling rush hits his face, like a splash of water that drips beneath his skin, and his vision momentarily blurs. When it clears again, he finds that the tether of gold he’d been following now continues upwards through the air, stronger and thicker the closer it gets to Zhongli, and then—

Then Aether isn’t in his own mind at all anymore, but in the disjointed storm of power that must be— must be Zhongli’s. He shouldn’t be here, he thinks. It should be impossible to breach the consciousness of a dragon, and yet.

And yet.

Carefully, he reaches out. Zhongli almost seems to be slumbering, and there’s no response even when Aether drags mental fingers though the dizzying spirals of color and light and crackling energy that surround him. The impression of an enormous floating city flickers in and out of his vision, and he hastily yanks himself back.

Had that been… a memory?

With even more hesitance this time, Aether extends his hand again to brush across a passing streak of violet and is rewarded with the fleeting image of a great crowd of divine beasts spread across a field below him, all standing at attention. With it comes a sense of solemnity, or mourning, perhaps, and Aether wonders if the memory had been a gathering of war.

He still doesn’t understand why Zhongli is showing him this, has allowed him in at all— but neither is he so stupid as to not realize that this may be his only genuine chance at putting his trust in, or at least making peace with, Zhongli. The dragon to whom he is supposedly bound for life.

Aether reaches for the next memory.

A flash of yellow shows him a beast that must be Xiao, crumpled and bloodied on the grass instead of the magnificent phoenix Aether had met those few days ago. A golden light shines from his wounds as they heal.

Ribbons of silver provide cheerful flashes of a feast, all raucous laughter, the rich smells of food and wine, playful shoulder nudges and warm touches, and the sweetness of some unknown victory.

A royal blue brings no image, only a deep and aching sense of longing and uncertainty, as if for a desire that could never be obtained.

An ember-red shower of light speckles magick over Aether’s senses— the searing curl of pyro, the currents of hydro, the cool vibrance of dendro, the crackle of electro, the mistiness of cryo, the cavernous rumble of geo, the dance of anemo. For a moment, Aether is thrown back to his own memories of pouring over torn magick texts, wishing for a power far beyond himself and wondering what the glow of it would feel like beneath his fingertips. This may be the closest he’ll ever get to finding an answer, it seems.

From above, a smudge of bright amber pulls Aether’s attention away from the phantom magick, and he meets the color halfway.

Joy washes over him so strongly that he stumbles even in the mind space, his fragile human thoughts apparently unable to bear the weight of a dragon’s emotion. Other things rush in too— hope and wonder and the certainty of a vow, excitement, strange hunger, and tingling pleasure. In the middle of it all, Aether can see flashes of— of himself, golden and glowing, bathed in sunlight and the swish of colorful clothes, and nothing, nothing at all like reality.

Is… is this how Zhongli sees him? What he felt upon finding Aether on that execution block masquerading as a stage in the village? How a bondmate is supposed to feel?

A final memory approaches him, this one a soft, shimmering ebony, and Aether cups it in his hands, barely daring to breathe.

Another dragon and another human stand before him, one draped in jewels and the other in ancient robes that expose the bright blue scale settled beneath their collarbone. The dragon leans in, briefly closes its teeth around the bare throat the human offers to it. Then, the moment it lets go, the human takes out a short silver blade— inscribed with lines of what Aether recognizes as primordial text— and presses the keen point into the lone, scale-less patch on the dragon’s chest. Blood drips freely down from the human’s throat and the chink in the dragon’s armor, but neither of them seem to care as they step in close and lean their foreheads together, eyes closed in apparent bliss.

The memory ends, and Aether falls, falls away as he is gently shaken from Zhongli’s mind.

When he looks up, he finds Zhongli watching him with a soft, mournful gaze, and Tartaglia kneeling at his side, both hands reaching out for Aether. Still dazed and unsteady, Aether doesn’t dare to wonder how he has his mind back, and instead simply follows the instinct that tells him to place his uninjured hand into Tartaglia’s waiting ones.

Hydro blooms to life around his wrist and fingers, flashing silver as it envelops his hand and locks his outstretched fingers together, though not so fast or so tight as to make Aether panic. He stares blankly as the liquid edge stretches past his fingertips and sharpens to a keep point.

To a blade.

Blue scales and ancient silver, blood and weakness, mortal and immortal.

And Aether understands what to do.

The tiny gap in Zhongli’s scales lies just within reach of his position propped up by Zhongli’s claw, and slowly, Aether lays the point of his borrowed weapon upon the bare, leathery skin. Somehow, he knows he could kill Zhongli right now if he were to plunge the blade in, knows that Zhongli would allow him to do it. And that… that’s how it was intended to be, wasn’t it? Aether willingly baring his neck to Zhongli’s teeth, Zhongli willingly baring his heart to Aether’s sword.

But even after everything, Aether doesn’t want to kill Zhongli. Can’t stand the thought of stilling the breaths of a creature nearly as old as time itself; who is beloved, if not by Aether, then certainly by Xiao and Tartaglia and the multitudes of his court.

So when he presses the blade in, it is only enough to cut past the skin and into the well of blood beneath, and a deep, shuddering sigh vibrates through Zhongli’s chest as Aether withdraws.

For a moment, Aether feels nothing. Then the tip of a claw inches up his back, hooking just above his collar, meeting his skin in a flash of pure heat— and bringing with it a steady thrum of connection that settles deep within his chest. Only silence echoes across it now, but Zhongli is clearly there, watching and waiting, so perhaps…

“Zh-Zhongli?” Aether thinks into the void, fear tangling at the base of his throat.

“My beloved,” Zhongli rumbles back in a warm rush, and everything is stripped away again, only this time—

This time Aether can still breathe. Can still see the crinkle and glow of Zhongli’s eyes, feel the drum-like thud of his pulse, and drag his attention away long enough to see the beaming smile on Tartaglia’s face.

This time, his mind is still his own.

“How are you feeling, Aether?” Zhongli asks anxiously. His tone makes something in Aether’s chest twinge, just a fraction, and running on some unknown impulse, he lifts his uninjured, now bladeless hand to rest it lightly over Zhongli’s snout. Sparks of warmth scatter from his fingertips up into his arm, but though it’s still overwhelming, he no longer burns with dragonfire poison. With oblivion.

“I’m… I’m alright,” he breathes out loud, and maybe it’s even beginning to be true.

Zhongli dips his head in a faint nod, then drops it further and closes his eyes. “I am truly sorry, beloved, more than I could possibly express. Even a thousand years of atonement would not be sufficient recompense for what I have done to you.”

Fingers involuntarily curling against Zhongli’s scales, Aether allows his hand to slip away. “…It’s not as if it was all your fault. I saw what— what you felt. What you assumed, when you found me.”

“That is poor excuse for my blindness.”

Silence falls, interrupted only by the low crackle of the fire, howl of the wind outside, and Tartaglia’s shuffling about.

“…It’ll get better, right?” Aether whispers. “I’m— I’m so tired.” Of being afraid, he can’t quite bring himself to say.

Despite how obvious it must be, even that small admission now feels like weakness— but Zhongli only purrs, a comforting, yet sorrowful noise. “We will make it better.”

“Whatever it takes,” Tartaglia adds, and oh, of course he must be able to hear what Zhongli is saying. “Whatever you need.”

And finally, Aether even thinks he can believe it.

Chapter Text

It’s not too much longer before the throbbing of Aether’s arm recaptures his attention, the scarlet, faintly shiny burn all the more noticeable now that the overbearing ache of emptiness has been soothed away. Wincing, Aether tucks it against his stomach and exhales shakily as he leans back into Zhongli’s talon. It hurts, but it’s still a thousand times better than before.

The tip of one of Zhongli’s claws shifts to properly support his head, and Aether can’t hold back a shiver as a line of heat scratches over his scalp with it.

“Beloved… I can sense that you are still in pain. Will you allow me to heal you?”

Zhongli’s voice is a whisper-soft brush over his mind, and Aether wonders again if he’ll ever get used to it, even if the feeling no longer burns him from the inside out.

“…What would you need to do?” He asks a little warily, because he at least remembers how insistent Tartaglia had been upon Zhongli not healing Aether earlier. Then again, whatever was wrong with the mind bond before seems to be at least mostly repaired now, so maybe there’s no longer a need to hold back?

In response, Zhongli parts his massive jaws just enough for his tongue to loll out, and Aether stares at him. Follows a droplet of saliva as it stretches out from the tip and plips onto the floor.

Tartaglia clears his throat. “Dragons’ saliva has, ah, healing properties. Particularly for their mates.”

“…He’s going to lick me?”

“Well… just your arm?” Tartaglia offers, looking almost sheepish.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Zhongli asks, and he sounds genuinely confused. “The other human mates in our court seemed to enjoy it. Although I suppose that was many ages ago…”

“I’ve learned that the humans who chose to join your court were not particularly… normal members of their kind,” Tartaglia says wryly. Then his face darkens. “That Lord Aether was not given time and a proper choice like the others is unforgivable.”

“Indeed,” Zhongli murmurs. “I will keep these things in mind, then. My deepest apologies, beloved. Once you are healed, I will restrain myself from any similar behaviors unless you request otherwise.”

Aether really, sincerely doubts he’ll ever be the one asking to be licked all over or trapped in the coils of Zhongli’s body or whatever else dragons do to their mates, but he is at least grateful that Zhongli doesn’t seem inclined to inflict those things on him anymore. Just this once, though, being a little disgusted seems a small price to pay for healing.

Lifting his arm, Aether winces when it peels wetly off the fabric over his stomach and leaves a shred a skin behind. Zhongli chirps, a distinctly pained sound, and his tongue curls gently around the arm Aether holds up.

It hurts on the first stroke, but soon a soft tingle overtakes the pain, then a searing warmth, then a strange, aimless pleasure that leaves Aether squirming in Zhongli’s grasp. It hadn’t felt anything like this when Zhongli had licked his face all over on the first day— he certainly would’ve remembered that. Is it because the mind bond is now complete? But surely being able to talk to Zhongli in his mind wouldn’t lead to… this.

Thankfully, before things can grow any more uncomfortable, Zhongli finishes his task and kindly whisks away the remaining moisture on Aether’s arm with a huff of magick.

It really shouldn’t be a surprise by now to find that the Lord of Dragons can use anemo as well, but…

“I’ll grab you a change of clothes,” Tartaglia says, gesturing at the blood and ash that stains Aether’s tunic. “Lord Rex’s nest room, yeah?”

He trots off before Aether can actually answer him, and suddenly Aether is all alone with his… captor? Mate? Non-negotiable life partner? Nervously, he meets Zhongli’s burning gaze.

“Beloved,” Zhongli repeats, sounding distinctly warm and hazy. “Is the pain gone? Our bond is calmer now.”

“It is,” Aether says, aloud out of simple habit. Cautiously, he lays a hand over the talon curled around his stomach. “Thank you for healing me.”

“That is but the smallest of my duties as your mate,” Zhongli rumbles. “What else do you need right now? Tartaglia told us of what he saw in your village, but did not much further advise me on how to provide for you.”

“Oh… I really don’t think I need anything this time,” Aether hedges. “As long as I have something to eat… you’re already given me a place to sleep and bathe, and more clothes than I could ever wear. That’s enough for me.” He pauses, but morbid curiosity wins out. “If I’m allowed to ask, though… what did Lord Tartaglia see down there?”

The dissatisfied huff that had been leaving Zhongli’s nose suddenly turns to a growl, and Aether hastily withdraws his touch. But apparently, Zhongli’s ire is not for him.

“He told us they were burning a house. A small, broken house near the forests, surrounded by revelers and a feast as it went up in flames. When he asked why they were celebrating… they answered him.” Zhongli’s eyes turn dark, and even the firelight around them seems to dampen beneath his fury. “One twin sacrificed to a beast to save the village, the other vanished without a trace. They took great pleasure in describing all the terrible things those twins had brought down upon the village, I hear. And all the things they did to those twins in return.”

Even though Zhongli’s stare is not fixed directly upon him, Aether can feel his body trembling minutely, and he can do nothing to stop it.

Is Lumine gone from the village? If she had been thinking straight, surely she would’ve set out for somewhere far, far away where no one will know or care that she is a twin, and she’ll be safe. But what if she hadn’t? What if she’s simply hidden in the forest somewhere, creeping around the edges of the village to gather information and trying to save Aether? Or even worse, if ‘vanished’ means they locked her up and are just waiting for the world to forget her?

“I admit I am torn,” Zhongli continues, “as to whether or not I should destroy them as they so deserve for hurting not only my mate, but also innocent young lives they were meant to protect.”

Aether’s breath catches in his throat. “No!” Zhongli’s gaze cuts back to him, and he quails. “I mean… they didn’t all hurt us, and…” Lumine could still be there— “I’m not worth the effort. Please, please don’t.”

“You are.” Zhongli’s growl is terrifyingly soft. “You are worth every effort. But very well. I will refrain. For now.”

They fall into silence again, and it is fortunate that Zhongli’s grip around his torso keeps Aether from curling into himself more effectively than willpower ever could. Questions scuttle like centipedes around the edges of his thoughts, and for all that Zhongli’s touch had been a relief barely minutes ago, Aether suddenly wishes he could be somewhere safely tucked away, out of sight and reach.

Still, he must ask if he ever wants his position here to be better, and Zhongli doesn’t seem at all inclined to let him go.

“Zhongli?” he starts shakily.

“Yes, beloved?”

“Can you— would you tell me what you want from me?” Aether fumbles. “I mean, what my job is here? If I have one? Because I’m supposed to be a bride, but, well… you don’t seem to care for the kinds of things I thought I was supposed to be doing…”

“You are not a bride. You are my mate,” Zhongli says, his unoccupied foreclaw tapping ominously against the floor. “That is your job, if you must think of it that way. I hope you will be able to discard whatever ill-guided expectations your village placed upon you when you were… offered up to me.” The last words are said with a blatant air of disgust.

“Right. But.” Aether swallows hard. Swallows again. No matter how much Zhongli emphasizes it, as far as Aether is concerned, ‘mate’ and ‘bride’ are only a difference of shape, not nature— though he’s hardly about to say that to Zhongli’s face. “What does a mate do?”

“Do…” Zhongli echoes, apparently mystified. “I suppose if you must make a list of it, it might be expected that you care for me as much as you deem my care for you to be worth, rule the Liyue Court alongside me, and, I hope, find some enjoyment in your new position.”

There’s no way Aether has either the knowledge or arrogance needed to so much as presume to rule a court of divine beasts, and he wouldn’t know how to care for Zhongli even if he wanted to. And as for Zhongli’s last wish… well, Aether most definitely has not been enjoying himself so far.

“I—I don’t know if I can do any of that for you…” Aether dares. “Is there really nothing else you need me for?”

Light footsteps trot in and Tartaglia approaches, inclining his head to Aether before laying an armful of clothing on top of him with surprising gentleness.

“Not to assume too much about a conversation I didn’t hear from the beginning,” he says, “but if there’s something Lord Rex most definitely needs you for, it’s staying alive.” He adds an apologetic shrug. “Might sound obvious, but that means you’ll need to prepare to become a dragon. It means you need to master magick and your own body if you want to stand beside him as an equal. It means you should probably at least accept his gifts and affection, even if you never reciprocate— because you, Lord Aether, are now the crown jewel of his hoard, and that is something all the forces of Celestia couldn’t stop him from treasuring.”

Zhongli’s mind voice accompanies a warning growl. “Tartaglia.”

Tartaglia puts his hands up. “I’m just saying what he needs to hear, Lord Rex.”

And it is what Aether needs to hear, the kind of thing he needs to know if he’s going to survive in this place. “Lord Tartaglia, please— would you tell me more? Lord Xiao already mentioned I’m somehow going to turn into a dragon, but— magick? And surely Zhongli could’ve picked something else for his hoard. There’s no way I’m a— a crown jewel or anything like that.”

Zhongli makes a wordless sound somewhere between outraged and injured, and his claw tightens just a fraction around Aether’s torso. As if that wasn’t enough, Tartaglia also studies him for a long moment, a fathomlessness to his gaze that sets Aether’s heart to pounding.

“You really don’t understand any of this, do you,” Tartaglia murmurs. “No, that’s not your fault,” he adds when Aether flinches, “but I admit even I’m not quite sure how to help you.”

He appears to ponder it for a moment. “Here, let’s keep it as simple as possible, shall we? For the matter of you being the crown of Lord Rex’s hoard— millennia ago, near the end of the primordial age, Lord Rex was the last dragon without a mate, so a number of us gathered to scry it for him. What we saw was you, or at least an impression of you, in the village at the foot of this mountain at this moment in time. Obviously, thousands of years was a long time to wait, so Lord Rex decided to simply hibernate until the time was right. And you know the rest.”

Tartaglia shrugs. “In short, there is no ‘something else’. Dragons find one fated mate in their lifetimes, and that’s it. As I said, we’ve been waiting for you for a long time— though Lord Rex certainly could have been more careful when going about claiming his fate,” he adds with a little glare upward.

“For that, I can never apologize enough,” Zhongli agrees quietly. “I was blinded by my own desperation.”

“Dragons aren’t meant to live alone,” Tartaglia sighs. “But even so. Lord Rex, let him down, won’t you? Our Lord Aether shouldn’t have to wait there in bloodstained clothes.”

Zhongli’s talons unfold instantly, and Aether tumbles out, standing on unsteady legs and reeling at the mundane change of topic. So, when Xiao had said ‘fated’, he’d really meant fated. But even if Aether understands the immutability of the bond now, he still can’t fathom why. Surely the universe doesn’t think he’s fit to be a partner for a dragon emperor from ages past— even if he’d gone to Zhongli willingly, he still wouldn’t have been enough.

“If you change around the corner of the hall there, it should be decently private,” Tartaglia’s voice drags Aether from his own thoughts, and with a jerking bow to both him and Zhongli, Aether scuttles from the room and out of their sight.

He’s just stepping out of his trousers when Tartaglia’s voice drifts down the hall again.

“And speaking of the magick he’ll have to learn… you should teach him, Lord Rex. It’ll be a good bonding exercise and all that.”

A moment of silence follows, and Aether pauses in dragging on the sleeves of his new dove gray tunic, a flicker of excitement curling in his chest at the reminder. Magick. Will he really be allowed to try it?

Tartaglia continues after Zhongli’s apparent reply. “Well you see, I suggest you do at least two things here on out— give Aether an actual task of some kind, and for the love of Celestia, talk to him. Hiding the things you don’t want to tell him about aren’t going to make them go away.”

Aether folds the last of his old clothes and hesitates in the tunnel. He really shouldn’t be eavesdropping like this, but…

“Also, make sure he knows he has Xiao on his side, and maybe introduce him to Ganyu. I’m pretty sure he’s just about as scared of me as he is of you, but Xiao and Ganyu are as gentle and unthreatening as you can get around here— with the people they like, anyway.”

Xiao? Unthreatening? It’s true that Xiao doesn’t have the same hold over Aether that Zhongli does, but a divine beast is still a divine beast, no matter how nice they may appear.

“You alright back there, Lord Aether?” Tartaglia calls suddenly, and Aether trips his way back into the common room, hoping he doesn’t look as guilty as he feels.

Tartaglia gives him a toothy smile as he approaches. “Excellent, that looks much better. Just leave the old clothes on the table over there, someone will take care of them later.” He gestures accordingly. “Did you have any other questions, Lord Aether?”

And Aether always has questions, of course, but one in particular has bubbled to the surface. “I— am I really going to learn magick?” he blurts out. “Even if I don’t have any elemental affinity, is it possible?”

“Oh, you’ll have every elemental affinity when this is all over,” Tartaglia says, wry and cryptic. “But yes, Lord Rex will teach you, if you’re willing to learn from him.”

“Is that really okay?” Aether asks with a nervous glance at Zhongli. He receives a rapid head-bob in return. “Then… I’ll work hard.”

Zhongli chirps something, and whatever it was, Tartaglia snorts in response. “Whipped. Right then, I’m off to fetch Xiao for you. Lord Aether, you know you can ask Lord Rex for anything you need, yeah?”

“Um… yes.” Aether starts faintly. “But you don’t need to bother Lord Xiao like that. I already wasted enough of his time earlier.”

Tartaglia laughs. “Wasting his time? Lord Aether, he would die for you, and it’s only been a day. I’m impressed, honestly.”

“What? But that’s even—”

“In any case, I’ll be back soon!” And Tartaglia throws himself out the mouth of the cave at a run, a flash of silver scales and bladed tail disappearing below the only sign that he hadn’t simply plunged to his death.

“…worse.” Aether finishes at a mumble.

Zhongli makes another soft churring sound, and Aether turns to look up at him, feeling very small and twisted up inside.

“You… you really want me as your br— mate? Even though I…” Still would rather be just about anywhere else, he doesn’t say.

Slowly, Zhongli presses a claw against his bare forearm, and even though it doesn’t quite scald anymore, Aether still shivers at the touch. “You are everything I had dreamed of, beloved,” he says. “And you have every right to feel the opposite toward me. I will care for you regardless.”

Why?, Aether wonders. Why and why and why, but it’s not as if anyone would or perhaps even could answer him, so he just nods quietly.

“Shall we perhaps— go to bed?” Zhongli asks hesitantly. “It is late, and you have not been given the chance to properly rest. I will tell Xiao and Ganyu to wait for us until morning.”

Aether is exhausted, no doubt about that. But the thought of sleeping beside Zhongli is still a little…

No. It doesn’t matter, not when Zhongli could obviously have been making Aether obey his will this whole time and had chosen not to in the hope of winning over his “mate.”

“…Alright.” Aether says. “But there’s no need for Lord Xiao— or Lady Ganyu?— to come anymore, really. I’m fine now, so…”

Zhongli chuffs a little. “Please forgive my presumption, but you still seem far from fine, my beloved. It is my hope that Xiao will be able to comfort you where I cannot.” Picking himself up off the ground, he begins slowly weaving his way toward the bedroom, and Aether has to trot to keep up.

He’s not sure why Zhongli is talking about comfort— it’s not as if he’s in pain or even particularly distressed anymore— but maybe he thinks that Aether is somehow attached to Xiao beyond the fact that the phoenix had been fractionally less intimidating than a dragon?

“It’s alright,” he hurries to assure Zhongli. “I’m grateful for his help earlier, of course, but I don’t need to be— touching him anymore or anything like that. I don’t want to bother him again.”

Zhongli stills in his steady pace forward. “Do you not wish to see Xiao again?”

Stifling the spark of panic in his chest, Aether scrambles for a truthful answer. “It’s— it’s not that. Just, he’s a divine beast like you are, and I’m human. Even if I was allowed to ask this kind of favor from him, he’s a little… intimidating. I don’t think he’s bad though!” he hastily tacks on.

Zhongli tilts his head. “You are my mate, and Xiao is of our court. You may ask him for whatever favors you like. Whether he will grant them all is a different matter, of course, but that applies just as much to myself as it does to you.” He pauses. “But if you are truly afraid of him, I will tell him to wait.”

If Aether says yes please, then he’ll have effectively just commanded Xiao to stay away and defied Zhongli’s judgement in one fell swoop. If he says no, he’ll have to face the sky phoenix come morning. There’s no way out.

“No, it’s fine,” Aether says a little distantly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t interfere with your plans.”

Zhongli does not speak in response, but a flood of worry crashes into Aether’s mind with enough force to make him stumble as they cross the threshold into the sleep cavern. “Perhaps Tartaglia was wrong about companions…”

And now he’s somehow managed to make even Tartaglia look like a fool in the eyes of his master. How had he managed to lose control of the conversation so quickly? Just when he thought he’d achieved some semblance of getting along with Zhongli as well…

Could the universe have possibly made a bigger mistake in choosing him to be a dragon’s bride?

“Please don’t concern yourself with me, Zhongli,” he begs. “Lord Tartaglia wasn’t wrong. And I— I should meet the members of your court anyway, right?”

The ocean of divine worry on the other side of the bond does absolutely nothing to diminish, and in fact only looms larger at the edges of Aether’s senses. “They are of your court as well. Beloved, what must I do to convince you that you have a place here? That you are more than worthy of all our attention and concern?”

Aether gives it a moment of thought, but— even if Zhongli really, genuinely believes that, the fact of the matter is that Aether simply doesn’t belong here. The mess he’s made of this situation so far, his own uncooperative body, and his status as weak, poor, unmagical, and uneducated human are surely proof enough. Someone, somewhere has made a terrible mistake in putting them together, and until they can part ways as Tartaglia had promised, all Aether can do is keep his head down and try to stop repaying this court’s surprising kindness with trouble.

Zhongli doesn’t deserve a mate as useless as Aether, and Aether neither deserves nor wants the favor of a divine as powerful as Zhongli.

“I don’t know,” is all he can say, and Zhongli droops.

“…Well. You should at least get some rest, love.” And with that, he plunges into the mess of his nest, the shimmering curve of his underbelly once again left exposed to Aether in welcome.

Aether stares at him for a while, the gilded majesty of the greatest of divine creatures laid out peaceful and unguarded for Aether’s sake. Silently, he steps onto the bed and crawls in just far enough to reach the tufted end of Zhongli’s tail.

It’s fine. He can give in this much. Zhongli has promised he won’t do anything to Aether while he sleeps, and against all odds, Aether really does feel he can trust that promise. In a way, he almost wishes he couldn’t, because then he would have been free to keep unconditionally viewing Zhongli as a terrifying, unpredictable captor. But instead…

Trembling, from the cold lack of Zhongli’s touch or something else, he isn’t sure, Aether curls up against the soft and flourishing tangles of fur at the tip of Zhongli’s tail. He closes his eyes, forces his body still. Soothing heat melts through the clothes over his back, and Zhongli’s resulting purr is so strong, Aether can feel it vibrating in his own chest. A fragile bloom of Zhongli’s hope echoes down the bond, and it hurts even more now that Aether can feel it as well as see it.

Fate made a mistake in choosing him as Zhongli’s mate. But Aether should still be allowed to make the best of his things as long as he’s stuck here, right?

-*-

When Aether wakes a few hours later with the morning, his body unfailingly matched to the patterns of the sun despite the dark cave and lack of sleep the night before, Zhongli is gone. In his place, however, a large, warmth-soaked scale has been pressed into Aether’s hands and a blanket is tucked firmly around his body.

It’s a relief to be alone, and yet Aether still finds himself pressing his cheek against the scale, soaking up the dragonfire it holds to fill the cold hollows of his body. The void no longer hurts, but it seems Aether’s body is still loathe to be apart from its captor.

Fine. This is a small price to pay for his health, a peaceful relationship with Zhongli, and Lumine’s safety. Although, speaking of Lumine… is she safe? Had she really escaped the village? Aether aches to know, but there’s no way for him to find out, not unless he asks Zhongli or Tartaglia to investigate. And though he doesn’t fear their knowing of her now, it’s another matter entirely to deliberately point them in her direction.

Again, Aether runs his fingers over the glossy perfection of the scale, and it clinks against the scale embedded beneath his collarbone as he curls tighter around it. As much as he hates feeling so helplessly pulled to any trace of Zhongli’s touch, he can at least recognize that this, too, is Zhongli’s kindness. It is certainly better than enduring the agony of before.

After a few more minutes of wallowing, Aether kicks off the blanket and climbs to his feet— and there, another thought, one which has been lingering at the back of his mind for a day or two now, rises to the forefront. Even since he’d come to Zhongli’s cave, he hasn’t had to worry about relieving himself. At first he’d thought it was just his lack of food and water, and then, somehow, perhaps the stress on his body over the last few days. But now, it’s impossible to ignore the issue any longer.

What’s the most likely explanation? Zhongli, is the first and most obvious conclusion, given all the changes he’s so far inflicted on Aether’s body. There’s also the possibility of dragons’ food being different from human food, or that something about this cave is magical— but Aether feels safe enough in disregarding those options until he’s had the chance to somehow ply Zhongli for answers.

At the edge of the nest, Aether hesitates over the scale still clutched in his hands. He shouldn’t want it, and yet— if he leaves it behind, he’ll be cold until he can track down Zhongli. Unbearably cold.

Shame curling the pit of his stomach, Aether takes the scale with him out into the hall and worries at the edges with his fingertips as he creeps down toward the common room. When he rounds the corner into the cavern, it takes all his willpower not to immediately wheel back around and return to the relative safety of the bed cave.

He'd forgotten about the attendants Zhongli had said he would summon come morning.

Chapter Text

Xiao’s head snaps up the moment Aether steps into view, his great wings rising to flap once, then dip into something that looks almost like a bow. Beside him, the towering qilin from the day of the sacrifice bows as well, then tilts her head to watch Aether with an endlessly dark, liquid gaze.

A shiver flashes across Aether’s skin and his heartbeat suddenly picks up its pace with the attention of two divine beasts, one unknown, so unwaveringly fixed upon him.

“He-hello,” he says weakly, and a moment later, he remembers the scale he’s left blatantly pressed close to his chest. Too late, he lets it fall to his side, half out of view behind the folds of his tunic.

Xiao stalks forward, closer and closer, his feathers gleaming in the steely morning light outside and the dull embers of the fire. It’s not as threatening as it might once have been, now that Aether knows Xiao is more inclined to wrap him in downy warmth than peck out his eyes for his insolence. But still.

“Um. Good morning, Lord Xiao,” Aether whispers when great talons come to a halt on the patch of ground at which he is staring.

Feathers silently fan out within his reach, and with his free hand, Aether brushes his fingertips over the very edge of one of the silken vanes.

The cool, verdant dark envelops him, and Xiao speaks. “Greetings, dragon’s beloved. Your humble servant is pleased to see the swiftness of your recovery.”

Momentarily startled, Aether balks at the unsettling, uncharacteristic cadence of Xiao’s words. “Lord Xiao? Why are you— did something happen?”

Xiao bends his head. “I deserve no such title of honor from you, Lord Aether, and I beg that you dispense of it. To answer your question, however, I would not dare to so carelessly address you as I had earlier. I have disrespected and belittled you when I understood nothing, and I must unfortunately be grateful to the leviathan for illuminating my lack of understanding. From here on, should you require anything at all, I hope you will allow me to provide it.”

“I don’t—” Stomach flipping with dread, Aether draws his hand away as he desperately tries to figure out why Xiao is suddenly being so obsequious. Why they’re again doing this “lord” song and dance. “Please, you don’t need to talk like that. I’m really not your lord, I’m just— just living here for a while until Zhongli doesn’t need me anymore.”

Both Xiao and the qilin behind him make low sounds of displeasure at that, and Aether takes the largest step back he dares. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammers hastily, not even entirely sure what he’s apologizing for. Perhaps he’s not allowed to think about leaving Zhongli, even if the dragon will realize fate made a mistake in the end? “Um, I just mean you really don’t need to force yourself for my sake.”

Xiao’s feathers come to brush over the arm Aether had retracted. “…You are afraid. I apologize. That was not my intent.”

Marginally relaxing at the return to normal speech, Aether risks looking up to meet Xiao’s gaze. The phoenix looks back— and Aether’s breath stutters a little in his throat at the softness in those piercingly luminescent eyes.

“You prefer simply ‘Aether,’ yes?” Xiao asks in a strangely soothing lilt. “Although you are the one who commands me, please call me whatever brings you the most ease. I can wait.”

Xiao had been tolerant and kind before, but this…. Aether wavers in the face of guileless, divine affection— or at least, what seems to be affection. There’s no way it could be real though, right?

“I see you have completed the first stage of bonding with Lord Rex, and yet… I hope he will be able to explain why you remain so worn and fearful.”

Aether can’t stop his eyes from going wide as he rushes to correct Xiao. “No, Zhongli has been taking good care of me! See? I’m healed—" he holds up his arm to show Xiao the unmarked skin— “I was on my way to ask him for breakfast just now, and I even got plenty of sleep. It’s my fault for not being able to adapt to living here.”

“Lord Aether…” Xiao begins, his mind voice odd and strained; apparently unable to avoid using the title.

It is then that the qilin, who had quietly been hanging behind while Xiao spoke, steps forward until she, too, is within Aether’s reach. Her graceful head bows again, then slowly lifts toward Aether, a clear invitation to touch.

Aether only has one non-scale-occupied hand, so after a long moment of hesitation, he releases Xiao’s wing and allows a single fingertip to brush over the qilin’s velvet-soft nose.

The world flashes cold and prism-bright beneath his eyelids, unseen snow blanketing him inside and out and muffling the frantic chatter of thoughts that always race beneath the surface. The qilin speaks.

“My greetings to you, dragon’s beloved,” she says, her voice as clear and bright as the arctic touch of her power. “My name is Ganyu, and I am a fate-seeker and warrior of Lord Rex Lapis’s, and now your court. If you will pardon my forwardness… I understand now why Lord Rex was so miserable when he called for us.”

Already halfway through a bow in return, Aether stutters to a halt. Miserable? Had he really displeased Zhongli that much?

“Not at all,” Ganyu replies, and— right, they’re still touching. “He was horrified by how poorly he’d handled your fated meeting and requested that we help you where he cannot. Nowhere does the fault lie with you.”

Something about Ganyu’s swift and even answer reassures Aether of its truthfulness— or at least good intention— and he tries to release the tension in his shoulders. “Oh. That’s good. I mean— it’s nice to meet you, Lady Ganyu,” he says timidly.

Slowly, she extends her neck, and Aether holds still as she nuzzles her soft nose against his temple for a moment. “You are a gentle soul, Lord Aether. I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

If a qilin, a truth-teller and future-seer is saying it…. Aether bends his head with a mumbled thanks, parting from her touch in the process. When he looks up again, he glances nervously between her and Xiao, unsettled by the soft attentiveness in their gazes. “Um… I was about to look for Zhongli, but I can wait if you need to talk to him first.”

Xiao’s feathers whisper over his skin. “We are here for you, Aether, and so will follow your lead. Would you prefer us to accompany you to Lord Rex?”

“I…” Paralyzed, Aether returns his gaze to the floor. “I don’t— whatever you think is best.”

Ganyu chuffs softly, and Xiao speaks her reply. “Then for now, we will follow.”

So Aether tiptoes down the hall again, the two divine beasts trailing a step behind, and he’s proud of himself burying his nerves all the way down to the kitchen, where Zhongli is stirring a massive cauldron with one claw. The smell of cream and something fried swirls heavily through the air, enough that even Aether’s shriveled stomach wakes up to growl for it.

As they approach, Zhongli whisks his talons out of the pot, cleans them in a splash of hydro, and bounds over to meet Aether, his tail loudly thwack thwacking over the stone floor.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Aether holds out a hand, and Zhongli pushes his nose straight into it.

“Good morning, beloved,” Zhongli says eagerly, and the heat of his voice and touch still makes Aether shudder as his body involuntarily relaxes in the presence of the one who had bound him. “I’ve made some soup for you whenever you’d like to eat. Did you sleep well? Did you get my scale?”

“Oh, um. Yes, I did. And thank you,” Aether manages, fingers twitching over said scale. Then he wavers, his question at the tip of his tongue.

“Is there something else you need, love? I can get it for you right away,” Zhongli says after the silence drags on.

“I just had a… question,” Aether mutters, and he really hadn’t been expecting an audience for this. “Um…”

Closing his eyes, he concentrates on the point of contact between him and Zhongli. “It’s been days now, and I— I haven’t needed to relieve myself at all. Is there any chance you maybe know why?”

The thread of delighted surprise that had rippled through him when he’d started speaking into Zhongli’s mind fades, and Zhongli replies right away.

“Ah, yes, many of the mates in the wider dragon court also were once curious on this matter. Everything a dragon consumes is converted into the energy necessary for magick, and unlike many mortal creatures, there is no waste.” Zhongli sounds oddly excited. “Therefore, as your body prepares for transformation, it is storing all you eat as power for later.”

Then he wilts a little. “No doubt this is part of why you were suffering so greatly from lack of food. Your body will need much more strength than usual to complete the shift. I am sorry, beloved, that I did not understand this sooner.”

Aether nods, but he’d all but stopped listening after Zhongli’s comment about transformation. He’d known about it, obviously. Three different divine beasts have explained the process to him by now, and he’d paid attention every time. And yet—

How is it that the promised transformation has become so much more tangible now that he has real, spoken proof; more than just a little resistance to heat or the scale quietly humming away in his chest? New fear digs its claws into his hindbrain, and suddenly Aether finds his breaths coming short.

“Do I— do I have to?” he whispers.

“Hm?”

“The— the transformation. I know Lord Tartaglia said it would happen on its own, but… surely there’s some way of canceling it, right? Or at least halting it?”

Zhongli blinks at him slowly, and from behind, Xiao and Ganyu make strange, sharp noises.

“I have never seen a transformation halted before, but… beloved, do you not wish to claim your divine form?”

Frantically, Aether shakes his head. Now that he knows there’s a chance he’ll be able to go home once Zhongli tires of him and finds someone more suitable to keep him company— now that he believes Zhongli would really allow him to return instead of just disposing of him and being done with it—

Now that he has a hope of seeing Lumine again someday—

Forget the scale permanently fused to his skin, how much harder will it be to return to the village if Aether starts showing signs of being a dragon?

Zhongli looks deeply troubled, or at least as deeply troubled as a dragon’s face can be. Then his gaze shifts to look behind Aether where Xiao and Ganyu are still standing. A soft chirp spills from behind the jagged nightmare of his teeth, and Ganyu replies with an equally quiet whuffing sound. Xiao says nothing, his stare burning into Aether’s side.

“Beloved… I’m sorry, but even if I did place a seal of seven elements upon you, your body will remain mortal until the transformation is finished. You would suffer unendurable agony after only the second element, and your dragon blood would only find a new path to continue the change.” Zhongli says, small and pained.

“But— but I thought you were the most powerful divine beast left in Teyvat? Surely there’s some way around it,” Aether stumbles out, panicked.

“And your right as my mate is that of power equal to mine,” Zhongli murmurs. “I cannot bend you— your dragon— to my will.”

Aether sinks back, stunned and silent, and flinches as the soft click of talons and hooves come to flank him. What can he do? Zhongli had said his body was turning food into energy for the transformation, so maybe if he stops—?

But no, the divine beasts had just learned exactly how often Aether should be eating, and besides— he’s hungry. His stomach aches, he’s dizzy and exhausted, his body is weak and his limbs are thin and boney.

He doesn’t want to be starving anymore, not when there’s finally food to be had.

Perhaps he can ask Xiao or Ganyu or Tartaglia to try and stop the transformation instead? But no, they would never obey Aether over their lord, even if they do have some kind of power Zhongli can’t or won’t give.

Maybe… maybe it won’t be the worst thing in the world. It seems like Zhongli will genuinely take care of him, after all, and it was implied that they would both be able to switch back and forth between dragon and human… although how completely, Aether isn’t sure. Xiao had said his body would continue changing up until some ceremony at which the transformation would be complete for both him and Zhongli…

Whatever the case, he can endure it. He has to. But he’d gotten his hopes up after none of his worst fears about living here had come to fruition, so this revelation stings just that little bit more.

“How long will it take?” he asks dully.

Zhongli, now separated from Aether’s touch, whines plaintively, but it is Ganyu who answers, the tuft of her long, thin tail brushing over Aether’s ankle.

“Normally, the mind bonding ceremony is done between mates, perhaps with a few witnesses, on the evening of the first full day. Then, on the third day after the heart scale is given, we hold a wedding before the entire court. By that time, signs of the transformation should already be showing for the human mate, and they are ready for the final stage of bonding not long after that.”

“The mates exchange forms under the watch of their most trusted members of the court, and some additional time is then allowed for the pair to adapt to their new bodies,” Ganyu explains, a hint of caution in her voice. “It is a period of celebration, and in the past, humans would also be allowed to visit the court and stay with the human mate if necessary. Would you like us to bring such people here for you? Family, perhaps?”

“No!” Aether yelps, interrupting his own careful cataloguing of Ganyu’s words. “No, it’s fine. There’s no one who could come anyway.”

Xiao chatters something and Ganyu eyes Aether for a long while, but eventually, she simply says, “This is now the third full day after receiving Lord Rex’s heart scale, is that correct? And yet there is little to indicate that your dragon blood is moving.”

Great. Once again, Aether is the anomaly. The useless bride.

“You should eat, Aether. Eat well, learn to take hold of your magick, and stay close to Lord Rex when you can. The transformation should begin in earnest soon, and the sooner it happens, the sooner it will be over.”

Ganyu seems to think this is a reassurance, but all Aether hears is that he has only a day or two, perhaps even less, before he starts showing “signs of becoming a dragon”, whatever those may be.

“But I can go back to the village after that, right?” Aether asks without much enthusiasm.

“…Pardon?”

“After the transformation. Lord Tartaglia said Zhongli and I would be able to safely separate from each other after the ‘bonding ceremony’. There’s nothing more to do after that, right?”

“…If one considers only whether or not you and Lord Rex will physically be able to survive away from the other’s presence, that is true, but…” Ganyu’s already soft voice lowers even more. “Aether… do you really prefer that terrible place over Lord Rex’s home?”

Zhongli whines, long and low, and his snout bobs toward Aether’s hand. Retreats again when Xiao hisses.

…No. No, Aether doesn’t miss the village at all, is grateful that the dragon and his court have turned out to be so kind, but he needs to find Lumine. So, now that the opportunity is in sight, to the village he must return.

“Does it matter?” he challenges. “At least I’ll no longer be in your way. I can even help find you a new partner if you want,” he adds with a burst of inspiration, turning to Zhongli. “Maybe not in my village, but I’m sure there’s someone out there who would make a better bride than me. You could have an actual bride, too.”

Aether has barely finished speaking before Zhongli makes a terrible, panicked screech and bounds forward, head butting into Aether’s arm hard enough to make him stagger.

“Beloved, please! Do not say such things!” Aether reels back, but Zhongli only leans in to match, more careful now, but no less insistent. In the background, Aether can see Xiao with his beak in Zhongli’s mane, ineffectually tugging away. “You are my one and only mate, from the very first day to the end of time. Even if you do not want me, I will have no other. I did not seek you hoping for children or your body. You are not lacking. You are loved, not tolerated.”

Again, Aether staggers back a step; again, Zhongli follows. His skin is on fire, his head and heart burning with the power of Zhongli’s plea.

“What will it take to convince you to stay away from that cursed village, beloved? You need not stay with me once the bond is settled, but please, I cannot live and know you are again suffering at the hands of those who do not deserve to so much as bow in your presence! I myself do not deserve to be your mate after the harm I have caused, and yet I stay because I am selfish. Because I want to live. I want you to live. I want to share your presence, even if only for a little while.”

Zhongli crumples to the floor, then, head bending low. A single talon sneaks out and lands on the top of Aether’s foot to replace the lost touch at his arm. “I do not know how to stop the transformation. I do not know how to ease your suffering here, for it was only by affection and willing hearts that the mates of the past formed their bonds. Forgive me,” he begs.

Silence settles over them all, with only the soft crackle of the stove fire behind them to break the stillness.

Aether stares at the prostrate dragon before him, brought so low, and yet still almost at Aether’s eye level for the sheer size of his body.

“You can’t love me,” he forces out, barely a whisper. “You don’t know me. You don’t know me at all.”

More silence, as if the earth itself is holding its breath.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to go back to the village,” Aether says, and to his horror, his voice catches and cracks. “But— but I have to. If there’s any chance I can go back, then— then—"

A drop of liquid trickles its way down his face, and Aether furiously swipes it away. “I already told you I don’t hate you. But I— I’m scared, Zhongli.” He’s weak, so weak. “I’m scared of you and Lord Xiao and Lady Ganyu and Lord Tartaglia; I’m scared of this place and my own body. And if I turn into a dragon, then what if L— what if nobody in the human kingdoms ever accepts me again?” His words come in gasps now, and he can’t stop.

“I don’t belong here either— so I have nothing. I can’t rule your court with you. I can’t make you happy. You’re kind, Zhongli, and you never meant to hurt me, I really do believe that, but I don’t know if I can— if things can be fixed after—”

He makes one final attempt to blink away his watery vision. “You deserve more than… this,” he spits out the last word, but it’s too late now. Tears are streaming down his face, and Aether knows his skin must be a blotchy, ugly red, to accompany his blocked nose and constricted throat.

“I— I just—"

“Beloved— Aether,” Zhongli warbles, and somehow even his mind voice sounds near tears. “Please, may I touch you?”

Technically, he already is, but after a moment of hesitation, Aether nods anyway. Slowly, Zhongli picks himself up and slips behind Aether, aligning himself so that Aether can rest in the crook where jaw meets neck, and Zhongli’s claws can stretch forward to bracket him. Just as slowly, Aether sags against him, unable to stop his wet, hitching breaths. He drops the scale he’d still been holding, and instead sinks his hands into the thick fluff of the mane that encircles the back of Zhongli’s head, gold that hums with heat and life far greater than that of the shed scale.

A low purr rumbles from deep in Zhongli’s chest, and, after he ensures that Aether is settled, his great amber eyes— or at least the one Aether can see— slide shut. Outside the partial curve of Zhongli’s tail, Xiao and Ganyu lower themselves to the ground as well, relaxed, but watchful.

Then Aether closes his own eyes, more tears spilling over, and he hides his face in Zhongli’s mane, drinking in the flood of honeyed warmth even as he curses himself for how quickly he’s come to see it as calming rather than terrifying.

“It is true,” Zhongli says after a while. “I do not know you in the way you would know me. And perhaps I cannot yet love you in the way your people would expect. In this, I hope you will allow me to try. But it is also true that fate ties the right souls together, so I have known your character for thousands of years. Then, when my court scried for your appearance, we saw not just your form, but also your spirit. And in this, my love for you is well-rooted.”

Aether listens quietly, feeling strangely blank and worn as his sobs finally begin to die out of their own accord.

“You remain beloved to me, Aether, no matter what.”

The words sink in like trickles of a clear stream, and Aether lets them wash through him without a fight. Zhongli and the others have coaxed just about every secret out of him now, all of his weaknesses and fears and desires. Yet Zhongli still wants him, apparently; is still as affectionate as the day Aether had arrived, if not even more so.

Legs suddenly weak, he slides down Zhongli’s side until he sits on the well-warmed stone beneath. In response, Zhongli’s head turns inward to rest close to the claw beside him, and Aether absently reaches up to touch the scales of his cheek, mesmerized by their shine. Zhongli’s purr intensifies.

Xiao’s talons come clicking over, and Aether wearily looks up at him, wiping his miserable face on his sleeve. There’s an entire cast iron pot held in Xiao’s beak, ladle and all sticking out of the top, and Xiao makes a guttural noise as he sets the soup down in front of Aether.

”Will you eat?” Zhongli asks softly, and Aether better props himself up against Zhongli’s side. It’s some kind of creamy vegetable stew, and if the smell of it had been strong when it was high up on the stove, now Aether is salivating just looking at it. Picking up the huge ladle, he scoops out some of the contents and stares at the rough chunks of vegetable and spots of warm oil.

A strange tightness wells up from deep inside, and then— then he’s laughing, raspy and hysterical, and the divine beasts are all staring at him, but he can’t make himself stop. Even he doesn’t know why.

Maybe because this one pot of soup is more food in one sitting than he might’ve had in a whole week at home. Maybe because it was brought to him by a mighty sky phoenix who could be doing literally anything else, and yet has stayed to serve a mere human. Maybe because Aether is practically sitting in a dragon’s lap to eat, a dragon he’d willingly gone to for comfort— comfort that’s working. Maybe all those things and more.

Aether sips at the stew a little at a time, lifts the ladle with his own two hands, battles the ache in his side and throat from laughing so hard right after crying. When he offers a scoopful to Zhongli, he gets a swift thump of a tail in answer before Zhongli opens his mouth and waits patiently as Aether pours the soup out onto his tongue.

It’s nothing at all, and yet Aether somehow feels lighter than he has in years.

Chapter Text

They wander out of the kitchen some time after that, the divine beasts walking in a backwards-pointing triangle with Aether in the middle. It will never not be strange to be treated as if he is the leader, and yet he can’t muster up the fear he probably should. Mostly, he just feels wrung-out, relaxed by a bellyful of delicious soup, a good, long cry, and Zhongli’s determined words.

’I could teach you some magick today if you like,’ Zhongli had said as they ate, and if the thought of transformation is terrifying, the prospect of being able to try magick in exchange is exhilarating in equal measure. They end up in the middle of the common room, Zhongli having nudged Aether away from the cavern inscribed with runes and circles when he’d tried to turn there. Disappointing, but no doubt that room is not for him. After all, Aether has no elemental bloodline, so the most he’ll be able to master is magical theory and perhaps a few tricks with the help of a catalyst.

The day outside the cave is blinding, the sun finally out from behind the clouds and reflecting off the snow outside, and Aether stands in the beam of it.

“Right there will do,” Zhongli says, and Ganyu drags over a hearth rug for Aether to sit on in the middle of the cave. “Now… which element most catches your interest?”

“…Huh?” Does he just— get to choose? Is there not some kind of elemental affinity for Zhongli to determine first?

“It would be best to start with something you are excited to learn,” Zhongli says earnestly. “Since you will soon share my nature, every branch is open to you.”

Share Zhongli’s nature? Something catches in Aether’s next breath. A final loose piece falls into place in his mind. “…Dragons can use every element?”

“Golden dragons can, yes. Perhaps I did not explain this earlier?”

“And— and you’re a golden dragon,” Aether barrels on.

Zhongli blinks at him, slow. “Of course.”

“So that means— if I turn into something like you—”

“Every element shall be yours to command, yes.” Zhongli sounds baffled, but Aether is too caught up in his own epiphany to pay it much attention.

“That’s what you and Lady Ganyu and Lord Tartaglia meant? About me ‘mastering my magick’ and having all the elemental affinities?” Gods, it’s blindingly obvious now, but it had just seemed so impossible before that Aether had easily dismissed every mention of it.

“Beloved… have we failed you in this, too?”

“No, I just—” Aether stares down at his hands, at the small scars and undelicate calluses there. They are not a mage’s hands, and yet… if he goes through with this— becomes a dragon— what if he really has the chance to learn every magick? The magick he’d dreamed of while pouring over old scroll fragments of ancient text and fantastic illustrations. The magick that had brought him through the days when he wasn’t sure it was even worth it to go on.

Of course, it doesn’t seem like he has much of choice regarding the transformation regardless, but this way, he at least gets something out of it.

“Then— I’d like to try anemo,” Aether says breathlessly, and Xiao’s head pops up with a chirp.

“An excellent choice. You would make a lovely storm wyvern, if you were not my mate.”

Zhongli shifts his weight to hold out one claw, and Aether hesitantly moves his hand to the longest scythe of a nail.

“First I will teach you how to access that elemental pathway, then you may experiment with it as you wish.” Zhongli closes his eyes right away, something beginning to hum in the air, and Aether panics.

“Wait— don’t I need a catalyst or something? And I know you need to practice magical theory, but I, um, I couldn’t attend the Akademiya or get an apprenticeship, so I never learned it— most people haven’t.”

Zhongli tilts his great head. “A catalyst is only necessary for particularly powerful or dangerous works of magick, and as for magical theory… that is surely a human creation. I have never heard of a divine beast needing such a thing.”

“Oh. But I’m not a— a dragon yet, right?” Aether asks, barely able to believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

“You are a dragon,” Zhongli says confidently. “You are a dragon and you are a human, and magick is yours by right. There is no need to worry, beloved. I would not set you an impossible task.”

Aether wants to trust him, but… well, Zhongli so far hasn’t exactly been the most knowledgeable when it comes to how humans work. Still, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds tight to Zhongli’s claw, hoping it won’t hurt too much. He’s heard rumors of the brutal trials mages put themselves through at the Akademiya just to coax out the tiniest bit more power. What would a trial like that do to someone who has no magick at all?

A warm breath ruffles Aether’s hair, and then a tingling sensation begins to skitter behind his eyes and just beneath his skin. It’s gentle at first, but at the first spine-jolting pulse, Aether flinches.

“Relax, love,” Zhongli says, a susurration in Aether’s mind.

How does Zhongli expect Aether to relax at a moment like this? The pulsing just beneath his ribcage grows stronger and stronger, and Aether hunches over Zhongli’s claw, bracing for the pain that will surely follow. Distantly, he hears soft noises coming from Xiao and Ganyu, but he’s trembling too hard and his blood is rushing too fast in his ears for him to make any sense of what they might be trying to convey.

Whatever Zhongli is doing to him, it’s a different feeling from the dragonfire that had consumed him before completing the mind bond, but just as overwhelming. His whole body throbs, air turns thick in his lungs, and his limbs shudder uncontrollably as raw power scrapes through him. It can’t have been more than a minute in reality, but Aether feels as if he’s been standing there for an eternity.

Just when he begins to wonder if his body really will tear itself apart from the inside out, there’s a small pop!— and suddenly, Zhongli’s power disappears, the pulsing cuts off, and everything falls still and silent.

Very, very slowly, Aether unfolds from his hunch, though he drops Zhongli’s claw as fast as if it had burned him. Looking down at himself, he feels… fine. Whole. And also utterly unchanged.

The hopes he’d just built up so high come crashing down around him, but Aether smothers the disappointment immediately. From the very beginning, he had known that the chances of a powerless human like him gaining magick were slim at best. Zhongli must have based his hopes of teaching Aether magick on humans who already had some elemental ability in the past, and Aether can hardly fault him for that.

After all, what kind of universe would bind him to a human who couldn’t bring forth even a spark of what makes up a dragon’s very being?

A soft nudge at Aether’s shoulder makes him turn to see Ganyu standing right there, watching him with an unmistakably worried gaze.

“Oh. I’m alright,” Aether says blankly. “I was just— expecting something else, I guess.”

Zhongli’s claw appears before him again, and hesitantly, Aether presses a few fingertips to its glossy surface, unable to forget the waves of power that had just threatened to rip him apart at the core.

“It is done,” Zhongli says. “Are you hurt, beloved? It should not have hurt, and yet your reaction…”

Aether swallows. “No, I’m fine. I think your power was just too much for me to hold. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it.”

Tears abruptly spring to his eyes, and Aether blinks hard to force them back like the useless things they are. So what if he can’t wield magick? Zhongli has promised to care for Aether no matter what, so nothing about his circumstances has changed.

Zhongli makes an uncertain fluttering sound. “There is no need to apologize. I am the one who should have kept you from any discomfort.”

Another anomaly. Aether sighs.

“Still, your elemental pathway opened without trouble. Would you like to try using it?”

…What? Aether blinks, Zhongli’s words echoing in his mind, once, twice. “What do you mean?”

Zhongli’s expression twists into a dragon’s approximation of a frown. “That was the reason we attempted this, was it not? You should claim your magick.”

Aether stares at him. Then Ganyu. Then Xiao. The divine beasts all stare back at him, equally nonplussed. “But… it didn’t work?”

“…Your pathway is unsealed,” Zhongli says.

Either Zhongli’s “elemental pathway” is different from what Aether had been imagining, or else Aether has missed something staggeringly important.

“I don’t feel any different…” he says cautiously.

More frowning, more staring. Aether marvels to himself that he no longer fears that Zhongli’s displeasure will be aimed at him.

Settling back on his haunches, Zhongli chirps, and Xiao and Ganyu immediately move around to his side of the cavern, leaving Aether all the space of the entryway.

“There is no doubt that you are ready to use magick. Perhaps if you attempt to draw on the elements, their nature will become clearer to you.” Zhongli gestures forward with his head, and with nothing else to do, Aether releases him to creep out onto the blank expanse of floor. In the middle, he stops, feeling very small and exposed.

Aether has no reason to trust his own untrained senses over the insistence of divine beasts who live and breathe the elements every day, but still… even if he does have magick, how is he supposed to bring it out if he can’t feel it?

Closing his eyes, Aether thinks back to the spiraling dance of anemo he’d seen in Zhongli’s mind and tries to picture the same power being spun between his own fingers. Then he attempts the breathing pattern he’d taught himself from the magick text fragments, waiting for the elements to “fill his lungs.” Just the tiniest gust, that’s all he needs.

Nothing happens.

Again, Aether reaches; focuses on the pulse of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the center of strength just below his ribcage, the soft hollow of his gut. His body remains obstinately unresponsive, and Aether begins to panic, just a little.

Squeezing his eyes shut so tightly his face aches, he tries again and again and again— every method he can think of, every guiding gesture, every possible source of power. Aether even resorts to pain, holding his breath for too long and digging his nails sharply into his arm in the hope of sparking the desperation he needs to achieve what the divine beasts want. What he wants.

That seems to be the limit though, because suddenly there are feathers battering gently at his arms, forcing them apart, and Aether opens his eyes to see Xiao standing before him. In the next moment, he finds himself wrapped in down with a soft, throaty trill filling his ears. Feeling unreasonably exhausted, Aether simply sags into the hold.

“Please do not harm yourself, Lord Aether,” Xiao says, voice somehow wavering even in Aether’s mind. “The elements do not demand sacrifice.”

A whimper escapes Aether’s throat before he can stop it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, clinging to Xiao’s feathers. “I’m sorry. I just— I don’t think it’s possible for me to use magick. Please don’t be angry.”

Xiao slowly lowers himself to the ground, and Aether drops with him, too afraid to leave the safety of his shadow. “You bear a great deal of power in a small body, and your elemental channels are yet untrained. Perhaps it would be best to put you in a space where you need not fear losing control. Where you may unleash all your strength at once.”

A great deal of power…. Tartaglia had something like that at their first meeting too, hadn’t he? But more importantly—

“Wouldn’t that be even more dangerous?” Aether dares to contradict. “To use all my— all my strength, I mean.” If he can make anything happen in the first place, that is.

Xiao peers down at him. “Not for a dragon. You belong to the elements, and they to you in return.”

Unable to stop a twitch, Aether looks down at his decidedly human hands. It’s hard to believe that someday soon, he might have claws and scales instead. “Right,” he says dully. Claws and scales, but no magick. How utterly depressing.

Ruffling his feathers, Xiao stands again, then beckons for Aether to follow him out toward the snowdrift-laden cave entrance. Of course Aether does, but he risks a glance over his shoulder to see Zhongli straining toward him, eyes wide and watery, held back only by Ganyu’s teeth in his mane. Hastily, he looks away.

Even if Zhongli doesn’t scare him so much anymore, he still doesn’t know how to feel about the knowledge that the primordial Lord of Dragons wants him so desperately.

Xiao’s feathers brush over the back of Aether’s neck when they both come to a stop. “Watch.”

So Aether pays close attention as Xiao arches his wings to their full height, magick blatantly crackling over the tips— then he leaps back when Xiao brings those wings down in a powerful sweep that blasts back the snowdrifts and sends them exploding into the sky. Little chunks of ice and eddies of snow shower back down to the now-exposed stone of the mountain, and Aether stares in awe. Those had not been small snowdrifts.

“There are more drifts beyond the mouth of the cave,” Xiao says when he returns to Aether’s side.

“What?”

“For your turn.”

“I…” Aether stares out at the decimated snowdrifts, then back at Xiao. “You want me to do that?”

“Yes.”

Disbelief loosens Aether’s tongue. “You can’t be serious.”

Xiao’s visible eye narrows. “You did watch.”

“Of course, but— ah!”

With a painless, but unyielding push, Xiao forces Aether out of the cave and into the blinding mountain sun. As promised, there are more snowdrifts on the ledge to Aether’s left and right, but all Aether can see is the now-clear drop into open air just a few steps more before him.

“Xiao?” Aether calls, edging into panic. “I can’t—”

“You can, Lord Aether,” Xiao says, suddenly just as stern and cold as he had been the first time they’d met. Aether can hear a frantic noise from Zhongli inside the cave, but he’s entirely too occupied by the much-closer phoenix now looming over him. “The wind will follow your command.”

Again, Xiao’s wings sweep forward and send the snowdrifts to the left showering off the mountainside. Aether trembles. Xiao must just be giving a second demonstration, because there’s no way he would actually just toss Aether off the ledge right in front of his lord— and after all the effort he’s put into keeping Aether alive and safe thus far.

Still, Aether can’t help but think it looks very much like a warning as well.

“Strike, Lord Aether.”

So, with instinctive terror overtaking any shame he might have felt, Aether turns to the right and swings both arms forward and up, just like Xiao’s wings.

Instantly, a storm bursts to life in his chest, consumes his breath, travels down his limbs to coil around his fingertips— and as Aether’s knees give out from under him, the snowdrifts not only on the ledge, but on half the visible slope beyond are carved out and flung high into the air.

Gasping for breath, Aether stares stupidly out at the newly formed path and falling snow, and then the small avalanche that tumbles down the adjacent slope. Stares down at the verdant magick that crackles across his palms.

Feathers touch his collar, and Aether flinches.

“You were magnificent, Lord Aether,” Xiao warbles, his voice back to the kind, and now very small thing Aether remembers. “Even Lord Rex cannot hope to match the ease with which you call the elements. I will gladly accept any punishment you deem worthy of the fear I forced you to endure to this end. I apologize for deceiving you.”

Trembling hard enough that his teeth chatter— or is that the cold?— Aether twists around to look at Xiao’s bowed form, pressed almost flat against the ground at Aether’s feet. “You— you don’t need to do that, Lord Xiao.”

Somehow, Xiao’s head lowers even further. “No, I must. I may have acted for your sake and Lord Rex’s, but I was cruel in doing so. Without your forgiveness, I have no right to stand.”

“Oh… then I forgive you,” Aether says, despite how wrong it feels to be speaking down to a divine beast like this.

Xiao jolts up. “But you have not given a punishment yet! How could I—”

“I called the magick, Lord Xiao,” Aether interrupts, feeling strangely numb.

“…You did.”

“You helped me, even though it was supposed to be impossible.”

“That is not—”

“So it’s alright. I know it must be pathetic compared to the power you’re used to, but to me…”

“You are mistaken, Lord Aether!” Xiao sounds almost frantic now. Though you may not yet be able to see it, the way the elements move for you and through you is beautiful beyond compare. None in the Liyue Court will be able to resist.”

“But… aren’t you part of the court?” Distantly, Aether notices that one of his knees is bleeding where it had struck a bit of gravel on impact. He’s not thinking straight. He can’t be, if he’s questioning a divine beast’s words. Again.

“And I would do anything for you, Lord Aether.”

Aether frowns. Anything is far too much. “Zhongli is part of the court.”

“No doubt Lord Rex is most captivated of all. You are his beloved mate, and he admires strength of all types.”

“I’m not strong. I barely did anything.” Aether looks down at his hands again. The magick is starting to fade. “May I try again?”

Xiao’s beak, which had opened with the beginnings of a noise, clacks shut again, though he seems unhappy when he responds. “…You need permission from no one to use your magick, Lord Aether.”

Picking himself up on shaky legs, Aether looks around again. There are no more snowdrifts nearby, but the swift, icy winds of the mountain are curling around him like an affectionate stray cat, tugging at his hair and clothes. The great, open expanse beyond the ledge calls to the storm still roiling in his chest, and Aether walks all the way over the edge to stare down.

Magick. He has magick now. The fuzzy world around him resolves into something crystal clear.

Lifting a hand, Aether swings it across his body and out to the side, and the wind responds with a magick-tinged whirlwind that launches into the void. The tempest in his veins dances, rising eagerly to his fingers, and suddenly Aether realizes— he could do anything.

A long, powerful breath whisks the snow off the stone lip above the cave, and a twist of his hand captures the falling snow in little streams around him, as if Aether is the center of the one of those little glass bubbles filled with glitter that had sometimes been sold by passing traders. Feeling giddy, Aether then directs the gale to his own body, watching as his cold-reddened toes leave the ground. Even this is easy, the elements holding him steady and allowing him to control each and every movement. His face strains against a smile, but Aether can’t stop it, so he just gives up, a wild laugh leaving his throat when he successfully tumbles backwards midair.

A high, chirping, chattering sound is his only warning before Zhongli suddenly crashes to a halt beside him, gravel dislodging from the ledge with the force of his stop. Aether flinches back, feet skipping and stumbling over stone as he loses his grip on the magick— but then Zhongli, too, is pressing himself to the ground like Xiao. He stares up at Aether with shining eyes, eyes that scream of something important, and Aether reaches for his snout to know what.

The adoration that floods through Aether like an ocean of white-hot flame makes the answer quite clear.

Blinking away the spots in his vision from the effort of trying to behold the enormity of a dragon’s emotion, Aether hastily withdraws. Zhongli stays low, and for once, Aether can actually look down at his mate when the winds sweep him up into the air again. Then he realizes he’s trying to tower over the Lord of Dragons, and that’s probably bad— but if anything, Zhongli seems more excited, his tail lashing steadily over the stone behind him.

Aether could actually escape now, he thinks— not right this moment with Zhongli and Xiao watching him, of course, but later— and he might even be able to find Lumine with his powers. With flight, he no longer needs to fear the mountain, nor the lack of supplies, nor the cold, for his speed would bring him to some warm village before any danger could set in. From the outside, it must look as though he has freedom at his fingertips— but Aether already knows he’s not going anywhere.

“I’m going to fly,” he says to the open air, because he doesn’t want to think any longer about the looming transformation, or the danger Lumine might be in, or how guilty he would feel about leaving Zhongli now.

The sky tugs at his soul, and Aether allows himself to tip right off the side of the ledge.

Of course the winds catch him immediately, cradling him among the currents and scooping him back up toward the thin, wispy clouds that are the only ones to survive beyond the elevation of Zhongli’s home. Aether’s whole body is numb or stinging from the cold by now, but he can’t bring himself to care as he soars higher and higher. The wind snatches tears from his eyes as he squints into the gale.

A triumphant roar sounds from beneath him, and Aether spares a glance down to see Zhongli also launching himself into the sky, swimming up like a golden pennant over the pure snow beneath. Coming to a stop, Aether braces himself for whatever it is Zhongli might want— but all the dragon does is form a spiral around his body, radiating warmth and happiness like a furnace.

“Zhongli…” Aether says softly, his voice swept away by the perpetual gusts of the mountain. But Zhongli seems to hear him anyway, and he bounds around Aether as easily as if he were on solid ground, scales glinting with each twist and twirl. A questioning chirp beats the wind to Aether’s ears, and he follows Zhongli’s gaze up to the peak of the mountain.

“Yeah. Let’s—let’s do it.”

They arrow up together into the blue, and Zhongli is fast, impossibly fast, yet Aether can still keep pace. The winds shield him from the worst of their force, and so does Zhongli as he endlessly twines and dances around Aether’s straight path, as if too gleeful to keep still.

They go high enough that Aether’s breath is stolen away first by the dizzying drop below, then by how difficult it becomes to bring thin air into his lungs. It seems even magick is unable to compensate for the elevation of the mountain. So close and yet so far. Aether stares up at the snow-capped peak, chest heaving, before allowing Zhongli and all his worried rumbles and whines to push him back down toward the cave again.

In their descent, he finds himself finally relaxing a little, enough to free fall and try a few swoops and tricks of his own. Zhongli matches him movement for movement, and they end up doing something of a dance around each other. Aether never touches, too afraid of being overwhelmed and possibly losing hold of his magick, but it’s not so bad— playing with Zhongli. Is this how the dragons and their mates of the past had lived?

Once they’re well within sight of the cave again, Zhongli slows in his flight, curling around Aether like a tiny storm unto himself. When Aether curiously meets his eyes, Zhongli’s tail flicks, wide and overexaggerated, and suddenly Aether is tumbling back, buffeted by the column of wind Zhongli had launched his way. In shock, Aether lifts his arms to mount a defense, but…

Zhongli isn’t attacking again. Instead, he’s— he’s prancing in the air, twisting back and forth in what Aether can only read as playful taunt. More than that, Aether isn’t hurt at all, and warmth and comfort are still pouring off of Zhongli’s scales.

Does Zhongli want Aether to fight him?

Hesitantly, Aether gathers a little burst of wind of his own and sends it splashing over Zhongli’s side. Then he holds his breath, waiting for the Lord of Dragons’ reaction.

Zhongli roars, which is decidedly terrifying, but all he counters with is a swift updraft that tosses Aether high above his head. Prepared this time, Aether recovers and summons a few crescents of wind which Zhongli dodges with ease. A whirlwind sparks to life around him, but he punches through it instantly to plunge for Zhongli’s head.

It feels good to move and fly and test his limits— not that his body seems to have any yet— and Aether can’t stop the grin that takes over his face as he is swept aside by a wall of air. It’s the work of a moment to catch himself, then spin that wall into a vortex that will draw Zhongli in close again.

With each new clash, Aether moves faster, the magick coming easier, and Zhongli responds in kind. Aether swings and dodges, never able to land another strike on Zhongli, but making the dragon work harder for it each time. And he knows, of course he knows, that there’s no way he could beat a millennia-old divine beast of war in any form of combat, but the fire of a challenge has been fanned to life in his chest, so he keeps trying.

A wind blade shears past his hair, sending a few strands fluttering down, and Aether takes it as his chance to swoop in— only, Zhongli hasn’t lowered his guard at all, and Aether is tossed back on the breeze.

Frustration mixes with determination, and Aether yanks at the storm in his chest with both hands, flinging it out to encompass the sky—

His body shudders and he nearly falls from the air as dark clouds flood in overhead in a matter of seconds. The temperature plummets, and the mountain winds turn from brisk to howling. Aether is tossed like a leaf in the current as the anemo-touched blizzard he’d just conjured whites out his view of the land— but not before he notices that the clouds extend all the way out to the surrounding valleys and forests.

Claws snatch him up mid-tumble, and Aether goes limp in Zhongli’s hold, an ember of fear ready to light in his gut. Had he gone too far? Brought devastation to Zhongli’s domain that can’t be undone?

A jolt passes through him when Zhongli hits the ground— Aether still carefully held aloft— and bounds past a wide-eyed Xiao and Ganyu into the cave.

“Xiao, if you would,” Zhongli says, and Xiao immediately takes off into the sky, magick gathering at his command. Aether never gets the chance to see what he does, though.

Once he is carried inside, ensconced in the warmth and light of the fire, Zhongli pounces.

Chapter Text

“Zhongli? What— ugh!” Aether’s question is cut off by the breath leaving his lungs as he is tossed back against the pillows of Zhongli’s nest.

He tries to fight back and sit up, but any hope of doing so is instantly squashed by the huge talons that clamp down around his waist as Zhongli prowls toward him— on top of him—

“Zhongli— Zhongli, please—” Aether gasps, futilely pushing at the muscled column of leg that holds him in place. Sinuous and glowing in the firelight, Zhongli inexorably coils his body around Aether’s, then gazes down at him, eyes blazing and pupils hugely dilated.

Blind panic darkens the edges of Aether’s vision, but before he can make his next strike with magick, Zhongli’s muzzle touches his cheek, and Aether convulses in his grasp.

If he’d thought the inferno of Zhongli’s yearning for him had been strong before…

“Oh, beloved. My mate, my Aether,” Zhongli rambles, each word dripping heat into the cracks of Aether’s mind. His tongue laps out over Aether’s forehead, but only half a stroke before he apparently remembers himself. His promise.

“You are beauty itself, so strong and lovely. The power you bend to your will, the swiftness of your flight, the blaze in your eyes when you faced me— I would do anything—”

Aether shakes under the crashing waves of Zhongli’s passion, unable to move, let alone respond— out loud, at least. “Zhongli, please— please stop, you’re scaring me.”

The grip on his waist lessens, and Zhongli draws back a little, but he does not let go.

“I apologize, beloved.” Zhongli groans. “But I— I do not think I could bear to let you go in this moment. You are exquisite, and the elements themselves beheld and loved you. The storm you called… not even I, nor Xiao, nor Tartaglia could have summoned such all-consuming power so swiftly.”

Aether, able to use magick a dragon cannot? It seems impossible, and yet both Xiao and Zhongli have claimed it now. “I—”

“You are more than worthy to rule our court, love. Why do you doubt yourself so?” Zhongli pleads. “How I have earned the right to call you mate and lead you to your magick, I do not know, but every moment I thank the fates for their gift.”

Zhongli rubs his scales down Aether’s jaw, leaving behind a glassy streak of warmth. “Please, beloved. Would you allow me to show you your brilliance through my eyes?”

Is the adoration that still floods Aether’s body at their every point of contact not enough? Still, he manages a hard swallow and a nod, and Zhongli promptly nuzzles under Aether’s chin and down his neck, spreading a dizzying warmth beneath his skin. It feels so, so good, and Aether hadn’t even known he could be sensitive there… but here he is, gasping and shivering under a dragon’s touch.

Hot breath wafts over his skin, chasing away any cold that lingers from the outdoors, and Aether barely notices when Zhongli softly tugs open the collar of his tunic and releases the hold on his waist.

“Do not fear, love. I am well aware of what your village led you to believe I would claim you for, but neither I, nor anyone else in this court will touch you in that way unless you so desire it,” Zhongli murmurs, and Aether’s mind clears enough to realize that, as Zhongli says, he probably should be scared of this— yet for some reason, he isn’t.

Perhaps it’s because of the utter devotion Zhongli shows him, the sense of singular importance that pulses through him with every beat of Zhongli’s heart. The gentleness with which Zhongli tries— perhaps does not always succeed, but tries— to care for him at all times. Or maybe it’s just because Aether is feeling reckless, still flush with the victory of mastering magick and tired of fighting threats that never seem to exist.

Thoughtlessly, he wraps his arms around the nose currently pressed against his sternum, and Zhongli bursts into purrs loud enough to shake the whole nest.

“Beloved, you give me more than I deserve.”

Something golden flickers at the surface of Aether’s thoughts, like a dangling cord begging to be pulled, and he grabs hold. Without warning, the whole world tips and warps around him, and suddenly Aether is looking at himself, sprawled out loose and half-disrobed under Zhongli’s gaze. He flinches.

On the backdrop of luxurious cushions, he looks… he looks exactly like the dragon’s whore everyone had expected him to become. Yet Zhongli’s vision overlaps with his, and there, Aether wears an entirely different form.

Silvery trails of magick curl and twist in glorious patterns out of the air to flow into Aether’s body. Under his skin glow matching nodes of power— at the base of his neck, the scale between his collarbones, the left side of his chest, the center of his gut, and the small of his back. Then, further beyond, even the tops of his feet, his wrists, and his temples. Aether had never seen those in the diagrams from the magick texts before.

He is beautiful in Zhongli’s eyes— the tangle of his hair is silk to be brushed and treasured, the shameful expanse of his skin is simply a canvas to show his strength and the life he has lived, and the shadows under his eyes and thinness of his limbs are Zhongli’s failure, not Aether’s.

The dissonance between their minds is too much for Aether to contain, and he watches as his body shudders pitifully under Zhongli’s ministations.

“Shh, beloved. You need not believe it all at once, but I will prove my love for you no matter how long it takes.” Why does Zhongli sound so terribly, achingly sad?

The path to Aether’s own mind opens up again, but he doesn’t go back. There, he is overwhelmed, small and humiliated, perpetually terrified of the transformation and uncertainty in his future. Here, at least, he can pretend that he really is something worthy of a dragon’s adoration.

And Zhongli cradles him gently when Aether makes no move to leave, both in mind and body. He exhales searing breath over Aether’s throat and chest and stomach, delicately closes his teeth over Aether’s wrists, flicks his tongue out over Aether’s temples. From the safety of a different mind, Aether watches each touch set the lattice of power inside him to a dancing blaze as his body welcomes its… its mate.

He turns the word, the thought, the meaning over his mind. He was sent as a dragon’s bride. But somehow, if he must choose— he would rather be Zhongli’s mate instead. Perhaps there is a difference. The prospect no longer seems like the end of the world.

Letting go, Aether falls back along the trail to his own mind, though he almost regrets it when he is met by the near-agonizing euphoria left behind by Zhongli’s touches. He opens his mouth to speak, but the only thing that comes out is a high-pitched whine.

“I’m right here, beloved,” Zhongli purrs, his words a warm weight— then he dives into the nest, and Aether is left scrambling for purchase as he is scooped up and dropped onto the plane of Zhongli’s upturned underbelly.

“Zh-Zhongli?” Aether manages to prop himself up on his forearms and meet the crinkled amber eyes peering up at him. Zhongli chirps, then flops back down against the nest with a contented sigh.

Whatever had driven him to fixate on Aether before seems to have been satisfied, and though Aether is no worse for wear because of it, he is grateful for the respite.

In the storm-dim quiet with nothing else to do, Aether curls up on his new bed of scales and falls asleep.

-*-

Tartaglia makes a surprise reappearance just as Aether is settling down on the ledge outside the cave for a late lunch.

Xiao and Ganyu had cleared the blizzard he’d accidentally created, though it seems it had taken them the entire duration of his nap to do so. It’s that, of all things, that makes Aether begin to believe that his magick really could be strong enough to compete with that of a divine beast’s.

In any case, the sky is clear, the sun offers a hint of warmth amid the chill, and Aether had been brazen enough to simply pass by the divine beasts without asking for permission to eat beneath the open sky. All three had followed him without complaint though, so here they sit, entirely too much food before them and their backs to the cave to greet whatever the world might carry their way.

The world had not disappointed.

“Lord Aether!” Tartaglia calls cheerfully as he tumbles from the air, his leviathan body twisting and cracking into human form as he goes. “I see you’ve finally taken to your magick.”

Heart still pounding from the absolute terror of seeing a great sea serpent lunge up at him out of nowhere, Aether clings onto his stew-dipped flatbread with both hands and stares up at their visitor.

“Um— yes, Lord Tartaglia. Thank you for asking Zhongli to teach me.”

“Pfft. I didn’t do anything, you were guaranteed to have learned it anyway. That storm really was magnificent though.” Tartaglia raises both brows. “I was with most of the rest of the court at the time, and when I say I had trouble keeping them all from rushing off to meet our Lord’s mate immediately…”

“Oh. I… I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t know anyone else was watching.” What is Aether even supposed to do with the knowledge that Zhongli’s whole court apparently views him exactly the same way as Zhongli and Xiao do? “Thank you for— for protecting me?”

Tartaglia laughs, shaking his head. “A blizzard large enough to cover half the human kingdom, and he didn’t even mean to do it. It doesn’t get much better than this. Oh, and no need to thank me. I was just doing my duty as one of your loyal servants.” He effects an overexaggerated bow.

From his place as Aether’s backrest, Zhongli growls a little. “Has there been some trouble, Tartaglia?”

“Oh, no, no. I just had to come see the source of the storm and check up on our Lord Aether.” Tartaglia tilts his head. “Well, that, and I wanted to inform you that I went back to his old village one more time to see if I could learn anything else of use. Unfortunately, they seem to have settled back into life as usual— except for the sudden, unexplained well overflow that has flooded all the buildings around the main square. Truly bizarre.”

“Hmm. Misfortune comes to all, I suppose.”

“Indeed.” Tartaglia looks extremely pleased, and Aether weighs the value of asking him whether or not he’d been the one to bring the disaster, and if so, whether or not Tartaglia would stop it even if he pleaded.

Does Tartaglia see Aether as… well, Aether, or does he only see Aether as something that belongs to his master? It’s not worth the risk, he decides.

“Has our Lord Aether shown any signs yet?”

“None,” Zhongli says, his tone instantly shifting to worry, and Xiao and Ganyu make matching noises of agreement.

Aether nervously glances between them all. “Signs of what?”

“Transformation,” Zhongli says softly, apologetically.

“Oh.”

“Well, that’s quite the conundrum, isn’t it,” Tartaglia mutters, tapping his chin. “As I said, the court is getting impatient. And we can’t hold the final bonding ceremony until Lord Aether is ready.”

“They will wait as long as necessary,” Zhongli growls.

“Oh, of course they will,” Tartaglia backtracks. “I’m not saying we somehow try to rush Lord Aether into something he has precisely zero control over anyway. It’s just— I’ve never seen a delay this long before. Have you?”

Zhongli rumbles wordlessly.

Crouching on his toes before Aether, Tartaglia peers into his face— but for once, Aether only feels marginally like a bug pinned under glass beneath the divine beast’s stare. “I suppose as long as Lord Aether is healthy, it doesn’t matter. Is there any more of that stew?”

With that, Tartaglia trots off to the kitchen to collect his own meal, and Aether is left to the mire of his own thoughts.

He has his promised magick now, so of course it’s time to pay the price. Still, with every passing day— no, every passing hour— he feels the tiniest bit more settled. The tiniest bit safer in the knowledge that he’ll be under the care of Zhongli and Xiao and the others.

With the edge of his bread, he scoops up another bite of stew; savors it. The meals may be simple, but surprisingly, Zhongli is a very good cook— the gravy is salty and fragrant with herbs, the meat is soft, and the vegetables aren’t bitter at all. Aether still can’t eat much, limited by the confines of his stomach. But by the standards he and Lumine had lived with in the village, he might as well be gorging himself now.

Upon finishing, he sets aside his bowl and curls into Zhongli’s side, letting tiny whisps of wind dance between his fingers. He barely even has to think about his magick before it answers his call. Is it too arrogant to hope that Xiao and Zhongli are right in saying the elements love him?

--

The rest of the day is awash with the thrill of more magick. Zhongli opens Aether’s elemental channel for cryo, which he’d chosen partially because it seemed practical for this snowy mountain and partially because Ganyu had looked so pleased when he’d suggested it.

The process is nowhere near as overwhelming as it had been with the anemo channel, and soon Aether is entranced by the frost harmlessly kissing its way over his skin. Ganyu teaches him to whisk up the snow and carve little figurines— hers flawless, his crude— out of perfectly clear ice.

The four divine beasts stay crowded around him through it all, calling their own magicks to life to join Aether’s, and Aether is dizzy with the joy of finally feeling like he belongs. Even if it’s just this one little thing, he finally has a reason to stand tall beside Zhongli.

By evening, though, he’s thoroughly exhausted himself, and he almost has to resort to leaning on Zhongli’s side to make it to the bed cavern. As it is, he collapses the moment his feet sink into the pillows, and Zhongli gathers him up in gentle claws to bring him to the middle of the nest.

Aether has no reason to fight when he’s nestled against Zhongli’s belly, dragonfire curling through his body and making his thoughts slow to a trickle. He falls asleep.

--

The next day is much the same— Aether wakes, dresses, and eats with the divine beasts, goes to the common room to practice his newfound magick, spends some time idly basking in the warmth of the fireplace just because he can. Zhongli helps him access his pyro channel, which makes Tartaglia droop and mope for hours afterward, but Aether is mostly focused on what elements might be most useful if Zhongli for some reason decides this one should be his last.

Later, he eats again, takes a nap covered by the tufts of Zhongli’s tail— why is he so tired all the time?— and plays a drawn-out game of carefully freezing little formations of water that Tartaglia produces to try and preserve the intended shape. Neither of them are very good at it, but the misshapen statues make Zhongli whuff and watch them with warmly crinkled eyes, so Aether doesn’t mind. In the evening, he eats one last time, bathes, then goes to bed.

There are no signs that he might be becoming a dragon, other than the ones he’d already known about, anyway, and none of the divine beasts bring it up. Still, he doesn’t miss the way they all look at him, then exchange worried looks just before they all gather in the bed-nest for the night.

--

It’s on the third blissful day of a life with magick at his fingertips that everything comes crashing down.

Aether wakes as normal; eats as normal. It’s some kind of thick rice porridge today, sweet with a mountain of berries piled on top. He manages to eat perhaps half his serving before giving up and passing the leftovers to Tartaglia instead.

Then they all go to the common room, where Ganyu and Tartaglia announce that they’ll be making a trip back to the court to… keep the peace? Stop an unknown number of divine beasts from enthusiastically descending upon the cave? Aether isn’t quite sure, but he still waves timidly after them as they gallop off into the sky.

That leaves just him, Zhongli, and Xiao together, and it is then that he begins to feel strange.

At first, he dismisses it as a particularly persistent itch on his back and chest. Aether scratches at the spots few times, and the sensation ebbs and flows with his attempts, never quite disappearing, but never growing any worse, either. Aether receives the key to his hydro channel— a shame Tartaglia hadn’t been able to stay— then practices by dancing along with the water he sends spiraling through the air.

By the end, the itching has turned to a dull throb that Aether can ignore easily enough, and he runs outside to fly again, free in the knowledge that neither Zhongli nor Xiao will stop him from doing so. Xiao settles himself on the snowy ledge to watch, but he leaves Aether all the space of the sky, and Zhongli remains in his place by the fire.

It’s so easy to get lost in the magick; in the bliss of being able to leave his thoughts behind for a while, and Aether doesn’t realize just how much the throbbing has escalated until he finally touches down again, gravity settling back in. His body protests the movement so hard he almost collapses, and without the winds to catch him, he might have tumbled over the side.

Though he manages to save himself, Xiao still leaps up in a hurricane of concern.

“Aether!”— he’s back to using just Aether’s name again, even if Aether can’t quite bring himself to return the favor— “Are you feeling unwell?”

Aether breathes through the pain, finds that after the initial jolt has faded, it isn’t so bad. “I’m fine. I just— got dizzy for a moment. Too much time in the air, maybe.” That sounds believable, right?

Xiao narrows his eyes, and Aether remembers too late that of course, Xiao is generally able to tell when he’s lying.

“And I’m a little sore, I guess,” he hurries to add. “But it’s alright, I promise.”

For another agonizing moment, Xiao continues to eye him, but perhaps Aether’s second mostly-truth was enough, because he relents.

“Very well. But it would be best for you to cease your practice for today, if the elements put such strain upon your body.”

“…Alright,” Aether agrees reluctantly. He’d hoped to unlock one more element today, but there’s probably no way Zhongli will agree to it while Aether’s in any sort of pain.

Zhongli makes a worried-sounding rumble when they return to the cave, but Aether leaves Xiao to explain and simply continues on to the deeper passages. It’s late enough now to justify a good soak in the bath, and maybe the heat will help ease whatever tension has built up in his body. During a bath is also the only time Aether feels certain he’ll be alone, as Zhongli has always made a point of bathing separately from him after that first disastrous day.

After a quick stop to collect the softest robe he can find from the stash Zhongli had given him, Aether trots down to the hot spring, sheds his clothes, and sinks neck-deep into the water. He groans softly, relaxing back against the edge of the pool— that is, until something on his shoulder blade clicks against the stone behind him.

Aether freezes.

Dread crawling down his spine, he slowly sits up again and reaches for his back. For a fleeting second, his fingertips meet only normal skin, and Aether can believe the sound and feeling had been nothing more than his imagination. But then his nails scratch over a hard plate, slip against a small ridge, and Aether blankly lets his hand fall.

Scales. He has little patches of scales right over the spots where he’d been itching earlier.

Everything falls into place, and Aether is utterly, terribly unsurprised to find matching scales on his other shoulder blade, then a little bloom of them high on his collarbone around the large scale already pressed there. They’re high enough that he wouldn’t have noticed them normally while getting undressed.

By craning his head down, Aether can see that the scales he’d grown are small and flexible, nearly transparent— disturbingly so, when it means he can see the pink of raw flesh underneath them. Feeling a little nauseated, he climbs out of the water to inspect the rest of his body, but where there had been no itching, there are no scales. No new horrors make themselves known either, thank whatever gods may be left to gaze down upon him, and Aether huddles beside the hot spring, breathing in thick steam and trying to stay calm.

Maybe he should have seen it coming. Zhongli had insinuated that Aether’s poor physical condition might be part of the reason that no transformation seemed forthcoming, and Aether is now better fed and better rested than he has been in… maybe since he and Lumine had been left to survive on their own. He wouldn’t call himself healthy, exactly, it simply hasn’t been long enough for that, but Zhongli’s power apparently doesn’t care.

What is he supposed to do now? Tell Zhongli? Hide away in here and hope no one notices until it’s all over? Actually, when will it be over? Ganyu had said there was supposed to be a wedding some time after Zhongli claimed him, once the signs of transformation started showing— but Aether doesn’t know whether that period is dependent strictly on days passed or by his body’s… developments. Then there’s the fact that he’s apparently supposed to “exchange forms” with Zhongli some unknown stretch of time after the wedding-that-would’ve-been…

Aether could very well be stuck in this in-between state for days, maybe even weeks.

A strange pressure builds in his throat, and he might as well cry, even if only to ease his stress for a little while— but when Aether opens his mouth, what leaves is not a sob, but a decidedly inhuman mewl, high and plaintive. He bites down on his tongue instantly, the tang of copper seeping over his tastebuds, but it’s too late. Talons and heavy footsteps come pounding down the passageway, and Zhongli comes scrabbling into the cavern, Xiao close behind him.

Aether’s clothes are nowhere in reach, so all he can do is curl up against the divine beasts’ gazes and hope they can’t see the little scales splashed over his shoulders. It’s futile, of course.

A low purr rumbles to life behind him, purposeful and soothing, and then Xiao appears at Aether’s side to lay the clean tunic over his exposed body. Aether clutches the fabric tight around his shoulders and shakily turns enough to peer up at Zhongli.

His dragon-mate is crouched a short distance away, body curved into an invitingly open arc and still purring insistently. Aether meets huge, amber eyes, then slowly inches his way across the floor and into Zhongli’s grasp. How quickly his life has changed, for him to now see Zhongli as safety, rather than a threat.

The dull ache of his chest and back eases a little as now-familiar heat floods through him, and Aether rests stiffly against Zhongli’s side, vibrations shaking him from head to toe.

“Xiao, would you be so kind as to arrange things ahead for us?” Zhongli asks, and with a dip of his head, Xiao trots off immediately.

Pressure still lurks at the base of Aether’s throat, and he doesn’t dare try to speak, in case another one of those… sounds comes out. Still, he can at least lay his palms flat against Zhongli’s scales and push his fear across the tenuous mental bond they share.

At once, a quiet hum joins the purring, a curious two-tone lullaby, and Zhongli twists his head inward to nuzzle against Aether’s shoulder. “Everything will be alright, beloved, I swear it. Shall we get you something to eat? Then perhaps it would be best for you to sleep early tonight.”

Silently, Aether nods, then stumbles his way to the kitchen at Zhongli’s side. First, he’s fed a rich, mushroom-y soup with as much oil-dipped bread as he can cram down his gullet. Then, in the bed-cavern, Zhongli tucks him into the warmest, softest part of the nest, made even more luxurious by the many shed scales, elemental gems, and extra blankets someone— Xiao, no doubt— has piled around it.

Zhongli then curls up around the spot, close enough for Aether to touch if he so desired, and closes his eyes, still purring steadily.

--

Despite the soreness in his body, Aether starts to drift off in his little fortress of softness and treasure, lulled enough by Zhongli’s presence to push aside his own racing thoughts. The thing he’s been dreading for most of his stay here has finally arrived, and there’s no stopping it now.

The hazy world between consciousness and sleep has just claimed him when a sharp prickle drags down his spine and sets him to writhing in place. Body flashing hot and cold, and disoriented by the rude awakening, Aether rolls over to try and claw at his own back, as if he could dig out the needles of pain still crawling up and down it.

His movement wakes Zhongli too, it seems, and his hands are soon caught and pinned by exceedingly gentle talons.

Unable to hold it back anymore, another one of those disturbing, high-pitched cries leaves Aether’s throat, and Zhongli nuzzles almost frantically over Aether’s hair in response. “Beloved… does it hurt? I can feel…”

“Hurts,” Aether croaks around the pathetic noise still escaping him, and he presses further into the touch that eases some of the steadily increasing pain.

“The other human mates spoke of discomfort, but they never seemed to be suffering more than…” Zhongli frets, apparently to himself. “Something else must be wrong. Beloved, where are you in pain?”

Is turning into a dragon not supposed to hurt? Is Aether really just that special? “Back,” he groans. “Spine.”

Zhongli noses down to his collar, and just that slight touch along the line of his nape sends a pulse of fire radiating through his limbs. And not the pleasant kind of fire Zhongli can spark. Aether bites back a scream.

“I must remove your tunic, love. Please bear with me just a little while longer,” Zhongli pleads, and Aether limply complies with the touches that undo the ties on his clothes and slide them off his arms and away.

“Oh…” Zhongli says, a whisper in Aether’s mind, and Aether at least manages to turn the pitch of his whine to something questioning. “Your mane is growing in. Such a lovely color…”

Aether’s entire neck and half the length of his back are burning fiercely now, and he struggles against Zhongli’s hold, trying to free his hands so he can do… something. Rip his own skin off, maybe? That sounds nice. Zhongli must catch something about the violence of his thoughts though, because he blows a warm breath over Aether’s back and shifts his grip to more comfortably secure Aether against the pillows.

“Beloved, might I be allowed to lick you? I do not yet know what is wrong, but it should ease the pain.”

Small price to pay if Zhongli can stop his back from feeling like hundreds of razor ants are attacking it all at once, so Aether nods, and one wet noise later, Zhongli is softly lapping down the curve of his spine. Aether gasps at the relief of it; cool, velvet slick dampening the inferno under his skin.

Something along the ridge of his spine tugs back and forth as Zhongli licks across it— he’d mentioned a mane, right? So Aether must have some kind of— of fur there. His neck in particular seems buried in it, but if Aether’s form will be anything like Zhongli’s once all this is over, that only makes sense.

He whimpers quietly to himself. A few scales and tufts of hair, and he’s already in this much pain? His bones still need to break and grow, his limbs bend backward and shift, his muscles tear and rethread. Somehow it seems improbable that he’ll even be able to survive, let alone be of any use at the end.

Aether marinates in his fear as Zhongli licks most of the pain away. Once it’s back to something distant and manageable, they both lie down flat again, and Aether tries to sleep. He gets as far as slowing his breaths before his brain inexplicably decides to remind him that at some point, he’ll also have to endure the rending of his body to accommodate a tail and horns and giant claws.

Fresh panic overtakes him, and as if it had just been waiting for the realization, Aether’s back begins to throb with stabbing misery once more. His pitiful sob stirs Zhongli again, and no words are exchanged before Zhongli returns to lapping over Aether’s back, as patient and gentle as ever.

In the end, Aether never does get to sleep.

Chapter Text

By morning, Aether has found no more rest, and in his unending pain, had kept Zhongli from sleep as well.

The sting of his mane growing in had been somewhat dulled by Zhongli’s increasingly frantic ministrations, but in exchange, the burn of fresh scales piercing through his skin had spread all across his back and chest, down to his waist and up along his neck and jaw, and several spots just behind his hairline had begun to pulse insistently with every beat of his heart. And those are just the miseries Aether had been unable to hide.

Now, he stares into the dim glow of the cave, watching the fuzzy, scattered shadows and shapes around him without really seeing them, his eyes no longer able to focus through a strange iridescent haze. In his chest, his heart is throbbing slow and heavy, squeezing blood through Aether’s veins like pine resin dripping through bark. Every part of Aether’s body feels too small, too narrow. His back and hips and legs ache somewhere too deep to touch and too all-consuming to pinpoint. His skin flashes hot, then cold, then hot again, sweat dampening the blankets as he shivers.

Aether keeps his mouth shut about these pains, however. He doesn’t really know why. Maybe because it would feel cruel to once again shove in Zhongli’s face just broken and worthless he is as a mate. Maybe because he fears Zhongli’s impatience after so many sleepless hours without result— though Zhongli has been nothing but faithful in his care thus far.

Talons come clicking through the cavern entrance, followed by a dark-colored blob slipping into Aether’s field of vision. The feathers that brush against his arm announce Xiao’s return, but he can’t even muster the energy to grasp those feathers in greeting.

Through the touch on his arm, Aether can hear the words Xiao exchanges with Zhongli.

“Why is he yet in such pain?”

Zhongli whimpers out loud, the warm coil of his body tucking even closer against Aether’s back. “I do not understand it. No matter how much healing I pour into his body, it flows right though him. As if there is nothing to heal at all. Neither can I sense any instability of energy that would disrupt the transformation to this degree.”

“Impossible. How could there be a human whose nature was incompatible with their fated mate’s power?

For a moment, Zhongli is silent. “…Perhaps… perhaps I have misjudged my own instincts, somehow. Snatched a small human away from his home for no reason at all and trapped him in a place he never wanted to be with no hope of a better future. It would certainly explain how things have gone so terribly wrong at every turn.”

Aether goes cold. There’s a chance the divine beasts could have made a mistake? They’d sounded so sure Aether was Zhongli’s mate that even Aether had believed it without question, but what if…?

“Lord Rex, do not say such a thing. Every member of your court saw him in the scrying, and moreover, Lord Aether’s transformation has begun. Only the fated have that power.”

“…Yes, I suppose so. And I dare not blame fate for the endless mistakes I have inflicted upon him thus far.”

Something nudges ever so gently against the back of Aether’s head, and he can only assume Zhongli is nosing at his hair.

“Lord Aether,” Xiao says then. “I am at your disposal. If you wish for anything at all…”

All Aether wants is for the pain to stop. “Please… help,” he whispers in his mind, and Zhongli and Xiao keen almost in harmony.

“…Is there truly nothing that can be done?” Xiao asks, soft and hopeless.

“I can think of nothing myself,” Zhongli replies, sounding just as defeated. “But if the source of this strain is our bond, perhaps those in the Court will have answers. I cannot stand to see him suffer any longer.”

“I will search,” Xiao murmurs— and then he’s gone.

“Beloved,” Zhongli calls once all is silent once more. “Has the pain lessened at all? Could I perhaps bring you something to eat?”

Aether’s stomach promises swift and violent retribution if he tries to force anything inside it now, but even if he was hungry, he’s not sure the pain in his back and legs would allow him to walk, or even sit up. He shakes his head, which jostles his scalp, and by proxy, the wells of fire that surely mark budding horns. No part of him left unbranded by the horror of change.

Yet another cry tears from his unwilling throat, and Zhongli curls even tighter around him.

“Oh, beloved…”

Hot breath washes over his face and a blur passes before him, but Aether doesn’t understand what he’s seeing until that blur moves in to plap wetly against his cheek. Oh. It seems this is Zhongli’s way of seeking permission without words.

Desperate to quiet his agony, Aether leans into Zhongli’s tongue, closing useless eyes as Zhongli laves gently across his forehead and hair.

Abruptly, Aether recalls his first day in this cave, pinned between Zhongli’s coils as dripping stripes were licked up and down his face. He’d thought it disgusting then. Now… it just feels safe.

Time spins into the narrowest of threads, Aether’s tenuous hold upon the waking world liable to snap at any second.

Zhongli asks again if he wants to eat, but Aether’s can’t stand even the thought. More pain sears across his skin, digging into his soft underbelly and thighs as the bone-cracking ache of his legs finally reaches his feet as well. Though Zhongli doesn’t stop licking him this time, mercifully taking it upon himself to simply move whenever Aether writhes and tries to claw out a new patch of flesh, the efficacy of his touch seems to decrease with every passing moment.

Zhongli must be able to feel as much through the bond, if his increasingly desperate movements are anything to go by. But he doesn’t try anything new— or if he does, Aether can’t feel it at all.

Some interminable time later, Xiao returns, though there’s no sign his search had borne any fruit. His approach is all but silent, and without sight to make up for the weakness of his ears, Aether is caught off-guard by the sudden brush of feathers against his forehead.

He flinches, hard. Even though he knows Xiao’s feathers are soft, they scrape razor-sharp across his oversensitive skin now.

Zhongli reacts even faster than Aether can try to cringe away, his great tail sweeping up to force Xiao back and shield Aether from the world. Aether can hear Xiao’s talons stumbling away, then a wounded sort of croak.

“His pain has only worsened, so much so that even my touch is barely welcome now. Forgive my abruptness. I did not mean to keep him from you.”

Another cry, softer this time.

“No. He seems neither better nor worse for it. A simple lack of knowledge is not your fault, Xiao. You know this.”

Xiao must say something more, because Zhongli’s next breath shudders in a sigh.

“I see. Beloved, there are two from the Court here to try and find a solution for your pain. Are you willing to meet them?”

Aether hardly cares anymore. He must look awful right now, sweaty and spit-soaked, patchy with raw scales and fur, contorted by misery. If Zhongli’s court can fix him, let them all in.

“Very well.”

Light steps tell Aether that Xiao has left, and soon after, the rhythm of small wings beating against the air swoop in to take his place.

“Paradisaea, Vultur Volans,” Zhongli rumbles. “Thank you for coming. I hope I need not warn you to be careful.”

Whatever divine beasts have arrived, one of them warbles out a high melody, so different from Xiao’s short grumbles and chirps.

“He is transforming according to the bond… yet it is torture to him. Nothing I do seems to help for more than fleeting moments, if my efforts reach his pain at all. Magick does nothing.”

A rattling squawk of a much different pitch.

“That… you have heard the story from Tartaglia, I’m sure. He did not choose to come here, and thus it is only reasonable that he does not wish even to be my mate, let alone become a dragon.”

Two somethings thump down into the blankets in front of Aether. Distantly, he judges both to be of a size similar to the well-fed forest pigeons he could sometimes trap in the fall, but with some greater mass of feathers.

“Touch brings him pain. I cannot allow it.”

Silence, as Zhongli apparently listens. Aether blinks at the little shapes before him. It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but he thinks one is colorful, wrapped in bright reds and blues and greens, while the other is a mottled silver and black.

All the divine beasts are so pretty. Meanwhile, Aether has become a twisted abomination, neither human nor beast. How unfair.

“Only Paradisaea, then. And only for a moment.”

Those words are the only warning Aether gets before a fan of cold feathers splays over his fingers, and for a moment, his mind washes a vibrant red, thoughts cupped in the delicate petals of a flower.

The image is shortly after seared away by fresh pain.

“Hello, Lord Aether,” a new voice says, bright, yet strangely melancholy. “My name is Kaveh, and I’m an empath of the southern avians, if you have perhaps heard of our flock. Would you allow me into your mind? I’d like to ease your suffering, if I can.”

If even a great golden dragon of the Primordial Age can’t figure out what’s wrong, Aether doesn’t see how this small bird will. Even so, he nods.

A mistake, apparently, because though the feathers over his skin don’t shift at all, it suddenly feels as though a hand has wrapped tightly around his spine, nestled just below the curve of his skull. Unable to perform either fight or flight, all Aether can do is clench every aching muscle and hope it goes away.

The divine beast churrs unhappily. “I’m sorry, Lord Aether. I didn’t mean to scare you. Whatever my power feels like to you, I assure you, it is harmless.”

The formless hand squeezes gently, and Aether shudders. Harmless? No divine beast is harmless. If he is lucky, this one will be careful not to inflict violence, nothing more.

“The bond seems normal… it’s roughly the same as the one I share with Alhaitham, anyway…” the voice murmurs. “Ugh. His pain is so vivid.”

“Could you not ease it with empathy as well?” Zhongli sounds urgent.

The hand around Aether’s spine reaches higher, sinking into his skull. “Only if the source is—”

The pain stops.

“…entirely in his mind.”

Aether collapses lying down, every muscle falling limp, every thought wiped from his head. A cascade of boneless relief draws his body out of its cramped and crooked hunch, and he rolls back into Zhongli’s body, their scales scraping against each other. The depths of sleep tug at him almost instantly, ravenous after being so long denied.

“Oh.” All of a sudden, the voice sounds sad, and silken feathers brush painlessly over Aether’s cheek.

Blindly, Aether lifts a leaden arm to grasp at the touch, to somehow thank it for healing him, and his fingers meet a ball of plush down and long, sleek tail plumes. As gently as his clumsy hands can manage, he pulls it close against his chest, where it warbles a soft, mellifluous tune.

“Sweet little human,” the voice says, full of emotion. “That’s right, I’ll keep the pain away.”

Aether pets its luxurious feathers, and a moment later, he feels a different touch, this time to the back of his hand. A marble path lit by flickering mirrors and soft, forest-dappled sunshine unfurls in his mind.

“Greetings, Aether,” a somewhat deeper voice says.

Aether blinks heavily. Somehow, it’s been a while since anyone has called him so casually, and without any coaxing.

“Call me Alhaitham. I understand that the idea of becoming a divine beast may be objectionable to you, but why fight it now? You’re only painfully delaying the inevitable.”

“Alhaitham!” the first voice hisses. “You can’t just say that! And show some respect!”

“Al…haitham,” Aether rasps, drugged by the sheer relief of being unable to feel pain… or much of anything at all, really. “What… what do you mean?”

“I hear you have been rejecting your dragon blood.” Alhaitham says patiently. “And we believe that resistance is delaying the transformation and creating pain that should not exist. I recommend you accept your new form, preferably with open arms. Beyond ending your misery, being a divine beast is much more convenient. I would know.”

“Vultur, is this really necessary?” Zhongli growls.

“…If he is unable to answer, I will not press further.”

“You… you’re human?” Aether ventures, thoughts connecting syrup-slow.

“Not anymore. I accepted the transformation when I became Kaveh’s mate.”

Kaveh. The divine beast he inexplicably has clutched in his arms. Who apparently stole a human just the same as Zhongli. “You wanted to be a dragon?”

“I am not a dragon.” Alhaitham says, scaldingly neutral. “But yes, I chose to become an avian. Being a human was painful and dull, and I had reached the limits of what I could learn at the Academia. I also enjoy flight.”

“Oh.” Alhaitham… is happier as a divine beast? But then, he had been given a choice. Maybe he’d had nothing to lose as a human. “And you’re… it’s… you’re alright?”

He’s not even really sure what he’s trying to ask; not sure that Alhaitham’s answer will be of any use when he’s clearly comfortable in his chosen form. But Alhaitham rumbles, serious and thoughtful.

“More than. I may have lost my human body, but I had no desire to keep it. You will be both dragon and human, and have the freedom of both. I have greater power and perception as an avian than I could ever have hoped to achieve as a human. I have found both good health and agreeable companions. I have a place and purpose. And… I am loved.”

Against Aether’s chest, Kaveh makes a sound like a sigh.

“…Really?”

“What reason would I have to lie?”

Aether doesn’t know. It just seems far too good to be true, and he hates himself for wanting anyway. For being jealous of Alhaitham’s happiness. For wishing Zhongli could have come to him differently.

Unable to think of anything more to say, he reaches out to scoop Alhaitham up as well, nestling him beside Kaveh. They’re both soft, and warm, and too small to be scary, and they take his pain away. He wants them close.

Alhaitham grumbles a little, but does not fight Aether’s hold.

“I’m sorry, beloved, Zhongli says mournfully, and so softly that Aether wonders if he was meant to hear it at all. “That you had to suffer so much for my ignorance. When this is over, freedom will be yours. I swear it. You need not fear change, nor harm yourself attempting to reverse it.”

Aether wants to tell Zhongli he didn’t mean to. But what does it matter when he doesn’t know how to stop being terrified of losing his humanity?

Chapter Text

When Aether wakes, it’s to a grayish haze and a dull, mostly bearable pain radiating all throughout his body.

It’s hard to tell since he can’t see much of anything anymore, but the lighting seems different, and there’s a faint chill in the air. Had he been moved to the entrance cavern? Kaveh and Alhaitham are still tucked into his arms, and Zhongli is still a steady presence at his back.

He feels strange, though. As if his elbows are bent wrong, or his head is too heavy, despite resting on a mountain of cushions.

“Zhongli?” Aether calls hesitantly, and Zhongli’s presence springs into his mind at once. “What’s going on?”

“Paradisaea suggested that some light and fresh air might do you and your magick some good, so we moved the nest,” Zhongli explains. Then he hesitates. “…Your transformation progressed as you slept. It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

“…Oh.”

So, he no longer has any chance at all of returning to live a normal, human life Lumine now. Even if he can disguise himself as the divine beasts claim, there’s no way it would be so easy to just return to Teyvat without consequence— the fact that not a single divine beast besides Zhongli has made so much as an appearance within the kingdom seems proof enough of that. Aether tries to curl further into himself, away from Zhongli, but his body doesn’t respond the way he’d hoped. All he can manage is an ungainly twitch that seems to rattle along his limbs for far longer than should be humanly possible.

But of course it’s possible. He’s not human anymore.

Around him rise several soft, ill-content cries, and then the divine beasts in his arms are nuzzling their downy heads under his chin, a sharp beak is nibbling gently at his hair, and hands, human hands, are smoothing down his side from shoulder to hip in rhythmic strokes.

“Who—?” Aether tries to ask in a dazed moment of terror, but before he can try to sit up and look around, no matter how futilely, he gets his answer.

“It’s just me, Lord Aether.” Tartaglia says, oddly subdued. “Xiao is here too, in case you couldn’t tell. How are you feeling?”

“I—I don’t like this,” Aether mumbles uncertainly, only he says it in his mind, and all that comes out of his mouth is a horrible, strangled growl.

He cuts himself off and snaps his jaw shut so fast he bites his tongue with teeth that are far too sharp, and the blood that wells up tastes like— he doesn’t even know, but not the coppery tang it should be, and all he’s doing is making things worse, so he freezes in place, blood dripping from his mouth as he shakes like a leaf.

The pressure around the junction of his spine and skull abruptly intensifies.

If the divine beasts in the nest with him had been unhappy before, now they sound distressed.

“Beloved, Zhongli wails, and Aether catches a flash of intent, the image of Zhongli licking away the blood and closing his wounds, but— that’s a little too much, even after everything, so he turns away.

“Hey, shh, everything’s alright,” Tartaglia babbles, hand squeezing at Aether’s shoulder. It’s strange, though. Despite how tall the leviathan’s human form had been, his hand only seems to cover the very peak of Aether’s shoulder now. “It’s just— and I know you don’t want to hear this, but— it’s just the transformation. You’ll get used to moving soon.”

Aether whimpers. “I don’t— it feels—”

It’s Xiao who counters. “Your dragon blood has awoken, Lord Aether. That’s all. Nothing is wrong, I promise.”

Nothing is wrong? His body is a useless, throbbing mass of bone and flesh, twisted into a creature neither divine nor human could accept, and nothing is wrong?

“I hate to see you suffer,” Alhaitham says, and Aether can almost see him frowning. “Breathe, Aether. You won’t be able to solve anything while in the midst of transformation, nor while being crippled by Kaveh’s enchantment.”

…Kaveh’s enchantment?

“He is shielding you from your own pain, beloved,” Zhongli says, soft, almost delicate. “You… disliked the thought of transformation so deeply that you very nearly stopped it by willpower alone. But such change is not meant to be halted or reversed.”

“Lord Morax is right,” Kaveh chirps pleadingly. “The strength of your will is… astonishing, to say the least. But the longer I distract your mind, the more I dull it. I cannot keep you in this state forever.”

So that means Aether’s pain isn’t really gone at all, just… hidden? He knows his body has changed, dramatically so. If Kaveh were to withdraw his power now…

Aether wonders if the agony alone would kill him.

“This is no consolation,” Xiao murmurs. “But once you have gained your full dragon form… you will be in control. Free of the physical tether to Lord Rex. Powerful enough to go wherever you please. You will not lose your human form, even after transformation, Lord Aether. We will teach you how to regain it, then accompany you back to the human kingdoms personally, if that is what you desire. Already, we have taken so much from you, selfishly hoping to keep both you and Lord Rex alive; desperate for your presence in the Court. You will not be imprisoned any longer.”

They seem very certain that Aether will still be able to wear the mask of humanity, though Aether has done very little according to their expectations thus far. Still, if they really are right this time, he should at the very least have a chance of seeking Lumine out, if not living with her.

“Of course, we would be devastated to see you go. And I can already tell you will be the most magnificent of dragons,” Tartaglia says wistfully. “But it will be enough for us just to see you safe and strong and not in pain. Let the transformation happen, Lord Aether. It won’t be the end of the world.”

“…You will always be welcome here with me, beloved.” Zhongli’s words are quiet. “I will always want you. But I was the one who took you without listening to your wishes and forced you upon this path. I have no right to keep you from choosing your own from here on out.”

Aether feels numb. Tingly. They say he is wanted, even like this. No one has moved to throw him out, or seemed to consider for even a moment that Aether simply doesn’t belong with them.

“…What will I look like?” he whispers in his mind.

Instead of answering, Alhaitham and Xiao shuffle out of reach, though Kaveh doesn’t move from his arms, and Zhongli pulls a thin sheet off Aether’s apparently bare body. Then he rumbles something, and the fragile warmth of hand wraps over the top of one of Aether’s feet.

“Forgive me,” Tartaglia murmurs, not a trace of levity in his voice now— and then all the feeling in Aether’s body, which had been so dull before, comes to life under the pressure of his touch.

Aether has claws. Talons, with powerful toes and heavy nails. His ankles are thin and tendonous compared to his new feet, but the scale-armored legs Tartaglia massages up next are huge and sturdy. The joint he’d thought was his knee crooks in the wrong direction. His hips are deformed, holding his legs at an angle, but the reason for the change makes itself abundantly clear when Tartaglia runs his fingers down a long, tapered tail and combs through the fur that lines the top and curls abundantly at the tip. It feels as though his brain is flashing erratically, overwhelmed by responses from limbs that had not existed before.

His stomach is sensitive, it turns out, and covered in smaller scales than his back, which is itself heavy and lined with ridges as well as fur. His chest has expanded, barrel-like, and he can feel it pressing against Tartaglia’s palm with each too-slow beat of his heart. More iron-like scales run down his arms, which are now fixed at the shoulder and rippling with muscle. His neck is too long and too thick to be human, and his head— he must look like a monster, with his jaw stretching forward and his nose melting into his skull. Yet Tartaglia touches him just as gently there are everywhere else, letting Aether feel all the lines and contours of his new body.

Around his eyes, the scales shrink to tiny flakes, and Tartaglia pauses at Aether’s eyelids.

“Oh,” he says, and then his fingertips are pushing past Aether’s eyelids, an assault on his clouded vision— but Aether barely has time to flinch before something slips painlessly, and then Tartaglia is peeling thick white scales away from his eyes.

After so long trapped in darkness, Aether is ruined. The world cuts into his senses sharp and sudden and vibrant and blinding, and he slams his eyelids shut with a whimper.

Soon, Tartaglia’s hands return to trace his misshapen temples, tug through the thick tangle of his hair, and finally, stroke up the branching lines of Aether’s new horns, sending sparks down Aether’s spine with each movement.

All is silent when he finishes, and Aether slumps against the pillows. This is what he is now. A dragon. Zhongli’s mate. A creature these kind and terrible divine beasts still think is one of their own. But Aether is selfish enough to take advantage of their goodwill so long as it lasts. He probably can’t afford to leave them just yet anyway.

Abruptly, his body convulses, skin bubbling and bones warping as Kaveh is thrown from his grasp with a startled chirp. He is crushed— torn— wrenched inside out—

Then soothed. Held. Wrapped in scale and hand and feather, a strange golden comfort washing through his mind, and—

It’s over in an instant. The scream in Aether’s throat dies still unformed, his limbs settle, and even the lingering pain fades away.

“By the ancients…” Tartaglia murmurs, and soft sounds rise from the others as well.

Aether squints open eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed, and at first sees nothing but the silvery light streaming in from the mouth of the cave. A quiet snow flurries beyond, veiling his nest from the world outside. Everything is still too bright, but the scene is… familiar. Calming.

…His nest?

Aether struggles to gather himself, to lift his leaden head from the ground and contract the stiff cords of his neck. He feels like a butterfly just out of the cocoon, crumpled and limp and helpless.

A chirp, and he looks down, his field of vision warped and far too broad, to see a tiny, but gloriously colorful bird with a train of gold and red plumage.

“Hello,” Aether tries to say, his throat rattling violently with the sound.

“Lord Aether,” the bird responds, sounding breathless. “You’re beautiful.”

It’s Kaveh. But he’s a lot smaller than Aether remembers.

Footsteps thud quietly over stone, and suddenly they’re all standing in front of him, Kaveh and Xiao and Tartaglia and Alhaitham and Zhongli.

Zhongli.

Aether’s mate looks wrecked, trembling as his tail whacks against the ground and his claws scratch shards of stone up from the floor. His eyes are glimmering, stained an even darker amber than usual with some unspoken emotion.

Had something gone wrong? With a quiet sound he hadn’t meant to be so close to a whine, Aether tries and mostly fails to reach out— but instead of diving forward as Aether had expected, Zhongli merely tiptoes closer, steps slow and light. Terrified. Once he’s near enough, he presses his cheek against Aether’s just as cautiously, their scales clicking rhythmically as they drag over each other.

With a jolt, Aether realizes he’s roughly the same size as Zhongli now.

“Zhongli?” he asks shakily, and Zhongli makes an utterly broken sound, sob and sigh and plea all wrapped up in one. Dragonfire is searing through the pinpoint of Zhongli’s touch, curling through Aether’s veins so sweet and desperate, it feels more like the fervor of a worshipper to their god than anything else.

“Would you like to see yourself, Lord Aether?” Tartaglia asks deferentially, and Aether turns— swivels— a fraction to find him.

When Tartaglia waves a hand, water burbles up in response to his call, spilling across the ground. It isn’t allowed to go far though, and soon Aether is staring into the surface of a perfectly glassy puddle, which throws back at him his own face.

For a moment, he doesn’t even understand that he’s seeing himself. The dragon in the reflection is huge, but slender, with a long, blunt snout and trailing whiskers that flutter despite the still air. Its scales are glittering, a gold so pale it’s almost white, save for the deep luster of the plate in the center of its chest. Crystalline horns sprout from a softly shimmering mane and branch backwards. When Aether blinks, keen golden eyes lined in onyx blink back, and when he opens his mouth, the dragon reveals a neat row of daggers polished to shining. A trail of blood still drips from its tongue and down the side of its jaw. Still drips, because it’s the same wound Aether had inflicted on himself just minutes ago. Because this… this is him.

A second monumental struggle yields movement in his arms— no, legs— and the puddle splashes into ripples when Aether manages to plant one talon on the ground. Then another. Zhongli does not stop Aether from pulling away as he drags himself fully upright on his own power; his limbs, just like the butterfly’s, gaining strength with each passing moment.

It’s strange to be so… long. His muscles twitch in great cascades from the snap of his jaw to the flick of his tail, and it takes a long time to move. Aether gathers all his new senses. Some smells are stronger— smoke from the fireplaces, cold dripstone from the cave walls, and a mildly sweet and warming musk that lingers in Aether’s nostrils. Sounds aren’t exactly louder, but he can hear a distant rushing of water that must be from the falls in the bathing cavern. His sight… is sharper, colors just a little more vivid and his surroundings just a little more finely detailed than before, but the cave is too small to test if he can see any farther. More importantly, it feels as if he can see halfway behind himself now, even when looking straight forward, and even the tiniest shifts of movement catch his attention instantly.

He is deadly, now. A predator of predators.

Slowly, Aether creeps forward until he is out of the nest and away from the divine beasts entirely. The mouth of the cave arches before him, a shining portal to the human world. To reality.

He walks all the up to the line where snowdrifts pile against the warding heat of fires inside and sinks a foot into the powder. Only then does he look back, not quite sure what he hopes to find.

The divine beasts are all huddled around Zhongli by the nest Aether had left behind, silent and unreadable. Zhongli himself is curled up as small as his size will allow, gaze fixed unerringly upon Aether and tears dripping like pearls down his snout.

Aether dips his nose into the snow, marveling at the purity of its scent and how quickly it melts over his shiny new scales. It’s easy carve his way a few steps out onto the ledge by sheer force.

He turns back again. The divine beasts haven’t so much as twitched, it seems, though a thin whine is rising from Zhongli’s throat.

They had promised to Aether over and over that becoming a dragon would mean freedom, and that they would let him go once both he and Zhongli were safe. It’s not that Aether had thought they were lying, exactly, it’s just… he hadn’t expected it to be quite so easy.

After all the work they’d put into him, and all the trouble he’d caused them—Zhongli really cares about Aether’s happiness so much that he would give up his apparently long-awaited mate without any fight or resentment at all?

Slowly, Aether nestles down into the snowdrifts beyond the cave, puzzling out how to curl his tail around his own body and clench his talons into neat little pillows on which to rest his head. It’s… not as horrible as he’d expected, being a dragon. His new body feels strong and lithe, and maneuverable despite its size. He’s warm in his coat of scales, and although it may be vain to say… he’d liked his reflection in the puddle. It had been recognizable, somehow, despite his new shape.

He’d looked regal in a way the illustrations in his old book of magick and legends could never have hoped to match.

Closing his eyes, he begins taking deep, even breaths, testing the throb of his own heart, and finds that the effort somewhat banks the fire under his scales. The snowflakes landing on his back and head stop melting instantly, anyway. It’s peaceful. And this time, no one comes to drag him back inside.

Chapter Text

By the time the wind has calmed and snow has settled with the coming dusk, so have Aether’s thoughts. He’d been left alone in his icy haven, truly free to depart whenever he so wished, and in the end, it was that very freedom which had made him feel safe enough to stay.

More practically, however, it would have been the height of stupidity to take off without mastering his promised ability to turn back into a human. And more sentimentally, he’s pretty sure it would utterly break Zhongli’s heart if he left without so much as a goodbye.

The divine beasts are good, and just because Aether was hurt, doesn’t mean they deserve to be too. They’ve been kind to him as best they know how, and he is grateful. If it weren’t for the problem of Lumine, life here would be a hundred times better than in the village, if only because here, Aether is wanted.

Considering things from an outside perspective as well… although he’d been too terrified for his own life at the time, the arrival of a golden dragon in the kingdom after centuries of absence had most definitely been a momentous occasion. Aether has no doubt that news had been sent to the city, and that he had officially been recorded as a sacrifice sent to appease Zhongli’s supposed wrath. So even if he does return in his old body, who knows how he’ll be received by those aware of his fate.

Actually, the fact that there hasn’t been any message from the capital at all, either to flatter or threaten, is a little surprising. Hm.

Well, it’s the least of Aether’s concerns, unless such diplomacy creates an opportunity for him to ask after Lumine. But for now…

Slowly, he breathes in the chill air, enjoying the way it mingles with the warmth that wells from deep within his body. No wonder Zhongli and the others had been so panicked about Aether’s fragility in the face of the elements, if this is how impervious they are all the time.

Aether suddenly becomes aware of a faint trembling in the ground, and he tenses— but no, the vibrations are rhythmic, steadily growing stronger, and he realizes his new senses are picking up Xiao’s footsteps just moments before his ears confirm it.

“Lord Ae— Aether,” Xiao calls, uncharacteristically clumsy. “Lord Rex has made food, if you will eat.”

A clink of metal on stone reaches Aether through the muffling barrier of snow, and slowly, laboriously, he picks himself up.

He’s not really hungry— do dragons even need to eat?— but human habit tells him that it’s night, he hasn’t eaten anything for over a day, and therefore it’s time for dinner. At least whatever Xiao had brought smells good, now that Aether is actively following the scent.

Turning on wobbly feet, Aether finds Xiao standing beside a sizable kettle presumably full of the promised food. Their eyes meet for only a moment before Xiao bends low.

“I… am glad to see you well, Aether,” Xiao says quietly, almost shakily. “Pardon the intrusion. I will leave you your privacy.”

“Wait!”

Xiao pauses mid-step, and Aether struggles to cross the snowbank back into the warm light of the cave. His entrance is humiliatingly ungainly, confused as he is by all his new limbs— but at least he reaches his destination, even if he almost bowls Xiao and the pot over in the landing.

“Sorry,” he whispers as Xiao worries about his head, still the beautiful and terrifying and sharp-eyed beast he’s always been— but now so small compared to Aether’s bulk.

“There is no need to apologize, Lo— Aether.”

“I—I want to eat with everyone.”

Xiao blinks at him, and Aether falters.

“…Unless I’m the only one?”

A trill leaps from Xiao’s throat, and he appears to gather himself. “Not at all. The others are in the dining cavern.” A snap of his beak and the pot is collected.

They move slowly. Aether knows he must be trying Xiao’s patience, but the phoenix is kind enough not to say anything as Aether trips over his own claws and smacks his tail into the walls all the way down to the kitchen. Xiao even helps him along the way with small, powerful updrafts to keep Aether on his feet whenever one of his legs collapses under him.

He feels genuinely battered by the time they reach the others, and the damage only multiplies when he’s promptly targeted by four more piercing stares.

“Beloved,” Zhongli breathes, and then Xiao is stepping out of the way so he can bound over. Just as in the moments after Aether had finished his transformation, however, Zhongli’s touch, when it comes, is careful. Hesitant.

Aether holds still as Zhongli bends a little to press his head beneath Aether’s jaw, snout nuzzling gently over Aether’s throat. It tickles a little, but sends heady rivers of dragonfire streaming through Aether’s veins— so he leans into it, eyes fluttering shut of their own accord.

Kaveh squeaks, and Tartaglia, now in a shrunken version of his leviathan form, makes a choking sound.

“Lord Morax, the food,” Alhaitham says neutrally, and Zhongli pulls away.

“Ah, yes.”

Aether is left feeling strangely bereft, but soon finds himself distracted by the rich, meaty scent unleashed when Zhongli lifts the lid off an absolutely enormous cauldron on the fire. He is summarily torn from his reverie when Zhongli leans over the flames to stick his face directly into the soup and drink.

Of course he’d have to eat that way, given his distinct lack of opposable thumbs. But somehow, Aether can’t shake the image of the stray dogs in the village bending down to drink water from dirty puddles and stagnant gutters, nor the sinking feeling that comes with it.

“Hm. It would be best if simmered three days… but acceptable for now. Here, beloved.”

Zhongli drags the cauldron off the fire to place it conveniently under Aether’s nose, but— Aether can’t bring himself to move. It’s so stupid. Drinking this way is a natural thing. Obviously, more creatures in the world drink without hands than not, even, and it’s not as if Zhongli is making a mess in doing so. Still.

He'd never actually seen Zhongli eat the soups he’d made before, and he hadn’t quite realized what it would mean to live with talons, no matter how dexterous, instead of hands.

“I…” He can’t think of any alternative to Zhongli’s method, other than to look equally absurd by attempting to maneuver to the mouth of a dragon the same small dishes he’d used as a human. Of course Zhongli picks up on his unease right away.

“Beloved? What’s wrong?”

Steeling himself, Aether dips his face into the pot and quickly discovers that if he doesn’t want to submerge his nostrils, the only way to get the soup into his mouth is by lapping it up with his tongue. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough on its own, the lapping makes a quiet, but horribly damning sloshing sound, and his tongue burns where the bite from earlier apparently still hasn’t healed. He gives up after just a few mouthfuls.

Zhongli is watching him with huge, sad eyes. “Is it perhaps not to your liking? Forgive me. I will start something else right—”

“No! No,” Aether interrupts miserably. “It’s good.” Probably. He’d forgotten to actually taste the soup as he ate it, but it’s Zhongli’s cooking. It must be good. “I just… I’m not used to eating like this. It’s not your fault.”

Zhongli just looks confused, but Alhaitham makes a soft “hmph” sound as he leaves his place on the counter to glide down to the rim of the cauldron.

“Humans have such needlessly particular rules of eating, don’t they,” he murmurs, cocking his head at Aether.

“I’m sorry.” Aether curls up as small as he knows how, peering up just far enough to look at Alhaitham’s small, but sharply hooked talons.

“Don’t be,” Alhaitham says simply. He hops from his perch and plants himself firmly and unabashedly in Aether’s line of sight. The copper rings of his irises glint in a way that seems to dare Aether to disagree. “No one expects you to instantly forget all the customs we practiced and reinforced for years while living in human society. Even I found it strange when I first transformed.”

Aether concedes the first point, but…. “What about the soup?”

Alhaitham bobs in place, and though he has no shoulders, Aether distinctly reads it as a shrug. “You can eat it alone. Or if you don’t want to, we’ll finish it. No need to worry about waste.”

“…Then…” Hesitantly, he pushes the cauldron away with his nose, and Zhongli spirits the whole thing away almost faster than Aether can blink. No one seems angry or offended at all.

A satisfied little hum tugs Aether’s attention back down to Alhaitham, and instinct overtakes him. Bending his head, he gently licks down the silvery feathers of Alhaitham’s back, desperately grateful for his straightforwardness, no matter how blunt or irreverent.

Alhaitham ruffles up at once, while Kaveh’s chittering laughter rises from the countertop.

“Enough,” Alhaitham says, nudging Aether’s face away with a wing, but to the relief of some snarling thing deep in Aether’s chest, he doesn’t fly away.

“Lord Rex,” Xiao says then. “If I may be so bold… for Lord Aether’s sake, it would be best to proceed with the ceremony of exchange as soon as possible. His freedom is worth little without his human body, and perhaps the opportunity to bond with you in a more familiar form will bring him comfort.”

“Indeed. Thank you, Xiao. I will make the arrangements at once.” Zhongli turns. “Beloved, as we explained before, the ceremony in which I gain a human form is traditionally held after the wedding—though we have already split it by completing the mind bond before all else, and your transformation has been completed ahead of mine. Of course there will be no wedding, but would you perhaps be willing to indulge us with the smaller bonding ceremony? Only our most trusted would be allowed observe and join in the celebration.”

He looks so hopeful, it stills the immediate rejection waiting on the tip of Aether’s tongue.

“I… why?” he dares to ask instead.

“…I am told that this ceremony, far more than the wedding, is sacred. The moment in which two beings of vastly different origins share both mind and body, fully accepting the other to acheive true connection” Zhongli fidgets, but this time holds Aether’s gaze. “I had dreamed of that moment from the day I saw you in the scrying pool… but in the end, your needs come before my desire.”

“Oh.” Aether has never seen Zhongli quite so unashamedly keen before, even in the hours before he’d realized Aether had not become his mate willingly. Maybe this is something Aether will finally be able to right. Maybe he can make Zhongli happy at least once before he leaves. “Then I… I’ll do it.”

“Truly?” Zhongli breathes, and Aether bobs his head nervously.

“I will ensure everything is perfect, beloved. There will be nothing for you to regret.” Zhongli winds around Aether’s body until they’re standing side-by-side. “Who will you accept as witnesses?”

Aether looks around their small gathering. Four isn’t too many, right? And if he also considers Ganyu, who is clearly a member of Zhongli’s inner circle…

“Everyone here? And— and Lady Ganyu?” he offers.

But Zhongli doesn’t respond right away. “…I do not doubt your judgement, beloved,” he begins. “But Paradisea and Vultur Volans… forgive me,” he says, directing his next words at the two in question. “You have done us a greater favor than I know how to repay, yet I only continue to offend.”

“Not at all, Lord Morax,” Kaveh says softly. “None from such far-removed branches of the Court as us ever expected to be called upon outside of our oaths. It simply takes time to build trust.”

“You could repay us, though,” Alhaitham asserts to Kaveh’s hissed ’Alhaitham!’ “I don’t ask for much beyond your caution in how you treat my fellow Fated from now on.”

Zhongli stares at him, and for a long moment, Aether wonders if Alhaitham is about to be attacked for his audacity— then the pressure lifts, and Zhongli throws back his head and laughs.

“Very well! What would you consider appropriate recompense for your assistance and wisdom? Will the choice of any Founding Era artifact from my hoard do?”

Alhaitham’s eyes widen just a fraction. “I would not say no.”

“Excellent. And know that you will always be welcome in my home from here on— so long as my mate still agrees with your company.”

“Thank you, Lord Morax,” Kaveh says, hastily pushing in front of Alhaitham. “We’ll take our leave now, but if Lord Aether has any further need of our help, we’ll be nearby.”

They begin flapping out the door, and something tugs, sharp and possessive in Aether’s chest. “Kaveh! And Alhaitham! I—”

The two glide to a stop on the ground and Aether manages to stumble over.

“Thank you,” he whispers, bumping his nose as gently as he can against Kaveh’s small head. “I thought I was going to die before— before you came.”

“Oh, Lord Aether…” Kaveh murmurs, nuzzling him back. “You’re the sweetest creature I’ve ever met. Of course, I’m mated to Alhaitham, so my standards are no doubt low, but…”

Behind him, Alhaitham snorts.

“I would do anything for you,” Kaveh declares. “Don’t hesitate to call on us again if you need anything at all, Lord Aether. No matter what Lord Morax says.”

In his nervousness, Aether’s laugh thins to a mere whuff of air, but it’s enough. It’s enough.

“Thank you,” he says again, and with two little nods, the divine beasts fly off.

“So, Xiao, Ganyu, and Tartaglia,” Zhongli murmurs. “And we shall hold the ceremony here instead of at the court. Tartaglia, if you would send word to Ganyu? And Xiao, if you would begin the ceremonial preparations?”

“You have no wish to select the arrangements yourself?” Xiao demurs.

Zhongli shakes his head. “I trust your judgement. And more importantly, I believe it would be best if I focused all my attention upon caring for my mate first.”

“Imagine, our Lord Rex, shirking his duties,” Tartaglia says as he trots out the door. Xiao snaps at the spines on his back as he passes, and they both tumble away to a chorus of Tartaglia’s yelps.

“…Foolishness as always,” Zhongli says fondly as peace returns to the cavern. “The preparations should be done by morning. What would you prefer to do in the meantime, beloved? I would suggest sleep, but perhaps you are no longer tired.”

Something he wants to do? What would a dragon pastime even look like? The only example he has to follow is Zhongli, who has so far spent all his time just trying to do things for Aether. Then again, Aether only counts as a dragon from the outside, so that’s probably the wrong question to begin with.

Back in the village, his idea of leisure was a few stolen moments with the scraps of his magick texts, or maybe an extra hour of sleep. Here he’s had nothing but free time, but calling it fun would be…

Anyway. Something he most definitely needs to do is figure out how to maneuver this new body so he stops making a fool of himself with his newborn clumsiness.

“I think I want to walk for a little while,” Aether says timidly. “But I don’t want to stop you from going to bed.”

“Ah, of course.” Zhongli puffs up a little. “Allow me to join you. It is my duty as your mate to assist you in mastering the transformation.”

…His duty. Zhongli has a very strong sense of it. If he didn’t, would he have been able to see that Aether wasn’t a good match for him and find someone better?

Together, they proceed down the hall, and for all the puppyish excitement Zhongli normally exudes when Aether allows him close, he is a pillar now. Matching Aether’s wobbling pace, he makes for a solid place to lean whenever Aether misses a step or grows tired. And Aether falters often.

Clench muscles. Shift weight. Lift leg, but not too high, lest he fall when his balance is thrown off. Not too low either, because he tries to crawl out of his skin whenever his talons drag over slate and send screeching vibrations through his bones. Reach forward and plant foot firmly, all toes extended. But don’t move too fast, because the opposite back leg has to come up too if he wants to actually advance, and his tail needs to lash away from his shifting weight, and—

Zhongli is there when he topples over; not watching, not grabbing, just present. He’s warm, and Aether lingers scale-to-scale for several seconds longer than really necessary. Should he be feeling something more about the fact that he trusts Zhongli so completely? It’s unthinkable that his mate would let him fall.

Maybe he’s gone insane. Maybe he himself has become one of the oft-mocked princesses spirited away to their towers and beguiled by the monsters within. Maybe the monsters were kinder than humans could ever hope to be.

Aether tries again.

After gods-know how many laps up and down the corridor— a much shorter distance now that the space between his front and back legs alone covers eight or nine human paces— Aether is mostly steady on his feet, and thus mostly recovered from his despair.

His control is still far from perfect— even a small nudge from Zhongli had knocked him over— but at least he should be able to keep up with the divine beasts under normal conditions now.

He comes to a stop before the nest cavern, and of course Zhongli pauses with him, patient as always.

“You’re doing very well, beloved.” Again, Zhongli does that thing— ducks his head, fills the space beneath Aether’s jaw like a cat nestling into a sun-warmed basket. For some reason, seeing Zhongli tucked beneath him like that makes Aether feel all shivery inside.

Slowly, he lowers his own head, burying his chin in the fluff of Zhongli’s mane and inhaling deeply. Zhongli makes a noise Aether can only describe as feral.

“I’m tired now,” Aether mumbles, and Zhongli immediately shifts to Aether’s side, their tails looping together.

“Then let us rest.”

Chapter Text

The bed seems much smaller now that Aether takes up half its space, and the pillows are all piled into uncomfortable lumps. As Zhongli gets settled, Aether begins rooting through the layers of softness, smoothing out blankets and tossing cushions outward to make space for his own body. He’s getting the hang of using his mouth as an extra appendage, and manages to keep everything he moves unscathed. It’s incredible, really, how quickly he’s adjusted to being something inhuman.

Maybe it’s just because he’s surrounded by companions who hardly see it as a problem. Aether knows the people of Teyvat wouldn’t hesitate to hunt him down if he tried to step foot in any city, and the scholars of the Akademiya would surely have some horrible punishment in store for his use of forbidden transformation magick.

But he’s not in the kingdom— he’s here, in the court of the primordial dragon emperor. Beloved, however foolishly, and given more than he even knows how to accept. No human could touch him here.

It’s a strange feeling. Dropping a final pillow into place, Aether slumps down into his nest, his talons, knobbed and scaled and glinting with pearlescent edges, stretching out before him. He flexes them slowly, admiring their shine and the easy power of his grip.

Dragon. He’s a dragon, and it feels as natural as breathing. Had all fated mates embraced their transformation this way?

A slightly larger talon lands on his, and Aether looks up to see Zhongli watching him with eyes full of stars, sweet amusement flooding into Aether’s mind.

“Comfortable now, beloved?”

It’s only then that Aether realizes what he’s done—tear up Zhongli’s bed to suit his own purposes, then arbitrarily pile things in a circle just a like a hen scraping together a…a….

A nest.

“I’m sorry.” Aether buries his head into his new creation, inexplicably embarrassed. Zhongli hastens to console him.

“It is simply a dragon’s instinct, beloved. I had been looking forward to the day you made this nest you own— I did not intend to mock you.” Zhongli leans in, gently dragging his snout up one of Aether’s horns. A shiver leaps down Aether’s spine at the touch, fire sparking behind his eyes, along his neck, all the way down to his toes. He whines.

“So please, do not hide. You’ve woven a beautiful nest.”

Aether isn’t so sure about that, but it’s hard to be humiliated in the face of such sincere praise. Slowly, he inches closer to Zhongli’s exposed belly and lies down alongside, trying to match Zhongli coil for coil. It’s much less intimidating now that Aether is too big to be crushed in a single blow.

Zhongli chirps softly as Aether nuzzles in close, fresh dragonfire slipping past his scales.

He doesn’t want to leave Zhongli, he realizes. He wants to hoard this warm spot by his mate’s side, however little he deserves it. He wants to bring Lumine here to the safety of the cave; introduce her to Xiao and Ganyu and show her the wonders of Zhongli’s enormous pantry. He wants to keep the power that floods his new body— power that guarantees his freedom.

Not that Aether can actually say any of it. He has long since learned that the universe can’t crush hopes never spoken into existence in the first place, after all.

Zhongli must pick up on something of Aether’s despair, because he whines a question against Aether’s mane, searching and soothing. Aether hunkers down further. Why must Zhongli be so kind? Why must he be so determined to love Aether, whether he is loved in return or not? Why is he so patient, so safe, so earnest, so—

Aether doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

Tomorrow, he’ll make Zhongli happy, and, with any luck at all, finally, finally win back the freedom of a human body. Then, he’ll have to make a choice. The only question is whether or not it will be one without regrets.

-*-

Aether wakes to a cool, blissful stillness. Just by the way air flows through the room, he can already guess that Zhongli isn’t there, so he languidly rolls over, occupying all the space of the nest and stretching his tail, his talons, his neck. A few of his new joints give satisfying pops, and he melts back into the cushions, utterly relaxed.

The happy thrum in the back of his mind tells him Zhongli is still nearby, and apparently more than well, so there’s nothing to worry about. He must have gotten up early to work on the ceremony. Aether should probably join him.

A clatter of footsteps in the hall announces someone’s arrival, and Aether lifts a drowsy head.

“Good morning, Aether.”

“Oh… hello,” he says, feeling oddly small and caught by Xiao’s sharp gaze. His belly is exposed, his body soft and languid, and like this, Xiao stands taller than him again. Maybe he shouldn’t have slept in quite so much?

But Xiao has no such criticism. “It seems you had a restful sleep. I’m glad. Preparations for the ceremony are complete, whenever you are ready.” Xiao tilts his head and squints just so. Is it amusement or exasperation? Aether can’t tell. “You should also know that Lord Rex is rather… eagerly anticipating your arrival.”

And Aether wonders at the fact that he can imagine it; that the thought of Zhongli curled into a loaf, tail swishing back and forth and eyes bright, makes something in his chest rise and pop like sparkling bubbles. Zhongli is comfort, now. Aether can no longer bring himself to fear his adoration.

“I guess I shouldn’t make him wait, then?”

“You should do whatever you like,” Xiao says placidly, but Aether climbs to his feet anyway. He goes to Xiao first, his precious phoenix, and—

His precious phoenix? Where had that come from? Xiao isn’t his. Yet the thought doesn’t go away.

Oblivious to Aether’s sudden turmoil, Xiao closes the remaining distance between them and sweetly nibbles at Aether’s mane before falling into step beside him. It… doesn’t seem like Xiao is particularly troubled by the thought of being Aether’s company.

Still, that urge to possess and hoard lingers, a much stronger upwelling of the feeling that had consumed him as Kaveh and Alhaitham had departed the cave. This, too, must be a dragon’s instinct, though Aether isn’t sure he likes it. Even more reason to try and get his human body back as soon as possible.

Following the sounds of commotion leads Aether to the hot spring, which has apparently been hollowed out in the night to create an even bigger, deeper cave. Attractive golden lights are strewn across every surface, the water is sprinkled with leaves—herbs, if the warm scent in the room is anything to go by—and there’s another nest of fine white fabric in the corner.

Tartaglia is standing beside the far wall, apparently amusing himself with the creation of an elaborate waterfall, and Ganyu is folded neatly on the ground beside the nest, her head slowly nodding down. The centerpiece of the grand display, however, is unmistakably Zhongli, who is lazily drifting through the waters of the largest pool, his power apparent with every flick of his tail and glint of his scales.

The little lights burst and reform as Aether pads over them, and all the divine beasts immediately perk up at his entrance.

“Beloved!” Zhongli greets as usual, leaving the spring in one clean, very drenched leap to again press his snout beneath Aether’s jaw. Apparently, this is going to be a regular thing. Aether purrs back.

“I can’t watch this,” Tartaglia says from his place by the waterfall. He sounds strangely gleeful, though. “Are we going to have to leave the room after the exchange is finished?”

Aether tilts his head at him.

“They can do whatever they please,” Ganyu says primly. “It is their final bonding day, after all.”

Right. This isn’t just an unusually festive day at the baths.

“So… what do I have to do?” Aether asks hesitantly, pulling away from Zhongli to nose at the lights. They fizz over his scales.

“It is not a complicated ceremony,” Zhongli reassures him, calming a little. “The most important thing is to ensure you are comfortable.”

“The transformation is guided both by Lord Rex’s inherent traits and by your vision of his human form. All you need to do is guide him to the share the body you are most familiar with,” Xiao says.

“That means you can make him your type,” Tartaglia flashes over from the wall to appear by Aether’s shoulder, leering up at him.

“My type?”

“Hey, if you’re going to spend forever together, might as well pick something nice to look at, right?”

Aether reels back. “I wouldn’t do that to him. He already looks exactly how I imagined anyway.”

“…” Tartaglia blinks at him, mouth parted, before his head slowly turns toward Zhongli. “…I almost feel bad now. Sorry, Lord Aether. Forget I said anything. You just keep… being you.”

He backs off, leaving Aether to study the way Zhongli is vibrating in place so hard he looks in danger of exploding. Even Xiao seems concerned.

“…Zhongli?”

“Beloved,” Zhongli responds, breathless. “Do you… like your own form?”

“Right now?” Aether twists to look at himself. Still that luminescently pale gold with fur to match the color of his human hair. Stil powerful and elegant and keen. “I wasn’t expecting to, but… oh. Did you pick it for me?”

Zhongli shakes his head slowly. “Not with such intent, but I had already begun to imagine you as a dragon from the moment I laid eyes upon you. If… if you perhaps found it distasteful—

“No,” Aether interrupts, because this, at least is something he can confidently claim as good, despite the terrible trial before it. “I don’t mind how I look. It feels right.”

Zhongli makes a sound, but says nothing more, and that seems to be the final cue the divine beasts need. There’s no particular ceremonial stage or center to the room, but that apparently doesn’t matter as Xiao, Ganyu, and Tartaglia gather in a loose circle around the large pool. Around Aether and Zhongli.

Twisting himself into a coil on the ground, Zhongli nudges Aether invitingly, so Aether more hesitantly does the same, looping the tip of his tail around Zhongli’s. Dragonfire trickles in through the touch, and Aether’s body instinctually responds with calm.

“We bear witness to the fated,” Xiao murmurs before nodding to Ganyu, the next in the circle.

“We bestow blessings upon the union.”

“We welcome the dawn of joy.” Tartaglia is smiling broadly.

Silence falls, and Aether turns from them to meet Zhongli’s steady, imploring gaze.

“You have already stepped into the world of the primordial,” Zhongli says, low. “Now may I join you in the experience of all things mortal as well?”

It’s strange that any divine beast would want to, let alone the Dragon Lord of old. Yet… Zhongli had promised. Promised to love Aether in more than just the way of dragons. To learn Aether’s human needs.

What would Zhongli look like as a human, anyway? It’s hard to imagine him without his piercing amber gaze, and scales of gold so deep they’re almost bronze. His mane is a little too vivid to be natural, so perhaps his hair would instead be warm strands of brown with just enough gold to glimmer in sunlight. His dragon body is lithe and powerful, so of course his human form would be too, and well-kept talons would shrink to fine hands with slender fingers.

He would be like one of the kingdom’s traveling mages, almost otherworldly in their grace as they passed through the village. The kind of people Aether would watch from the window of his and Lumine’s tiny hut, unable to tear his eyes away. Only, that Zhongli would be his, and all the more captivating for it.

When he lifts his eyes, his vision is sprawled on the ground before him, long hair with rusted tips spilling over wet stone.

“Oh,” Zhongli says, voice deep and rasping, more melodious than the sound of his mind. He awkwardly pushes himself to sitting, and Aether is struck dumb.

Lean muscles ripple beneath almost translucently pale skin, a far cry from Aether’s, which has been long since scorched dark by years laboring outdoors. Matte scales finish melting away into tendonous wrists and ankles, though a strange patterning stubbornly clings to the corners of Zhongli’s eyes, and instead of hair trailing down to his groin, light scales cover delicate skin. Speaking of his groin… it makes Aether realize that Zhongli’s dragon form had never displayed certain bits of expected… equipment, but now that he is human, Aether is terrified. This is what the villagers had wanted to sacrifice him to?

The look of worshipful awe in Zhongli’s amber gaze is exactly the same as Aether remembers, though.

He bends down to meet the shaking hand raised toward him, rumbling softly as Zhongli strokes diamond scales with soft, human fingertips.

“Won’t you join me, beloved?” Zhongli murmurs cupping Aether’s jaw, and before Aether even realizes it, the world is warping as his dragon form melts away like snow. He lands on top of Zhongli’s legs, disoriented and still not entirely convinced he isn’t dreaming.

When he looks around, he finds that the other divine beasts are gone—mostly. Xiao is perched by the door, gaze heavy-lidded and unfocused, as if to pretend he’s hardly there at all.

“So this is a human body…” Zhongli muses, turning one forearm this way and that as if it’s a heavy weight. Aether instinctively grabs his wrist to stop him, then places his own arm beside Zhongli’s, flexing his fingers in demonstration. Turning his palm face-up as well, Zhongli begins to copy Aether’s motions.

They do not speak, but silent touches tell more than enough. Aether takes Zhongli’s beautiful, fine-boned fingers and teaches him how to bend each and every joint. Once he has mastered the art of thumbs, Zhongli holds Aether’s jaw, kneading over bone and muscle as Aether opens his mouth, then pressing down on his tongue to feel the smooth tip.

Placing Zhongli’s hand over his heart, Aether breathes, letting him trace ribs and all the soft spaces in between. As their chests rise and fall in tandem, Zhongli’s palm slides down to test the give of Aether’s stomach, lips curling with some private amusement when Aether relaxes hard-earned muscle to allow him to sink fingers into that vulnerable hollow.

Of course, as they move lower, Zhongli seems find Aether just as curious as Aether had found him. He brushes over the downward trail of hair lightly enough to tickle, and although he never touches Aether’s cock directly, the way he traces along the crease of Aether’s thigh calls shivers from deep within Aether’s belly. When Zhongli is done, he pulls Aether’s hand to his own pelvis, so Aether can feel how thin the scales are and the way his muscles jump at every touch. Aether tries not to linger, though, and hurriedly withdraws at the sight of Zhongli’s rising excitement.

Then Aether has to show Zhongli how to fold his knees in the right direction, and balance on just two legs instead of a steady four. His ankles are weak, but Aether is there for him to lean on, and soon enough, Zhongli is pacing evenly in and around the hot spring pools, strength growing with every step.

“That’s unfair,” Aether says from where he’s still sitting by the big pool, knees pulled up to his chest with head resting on top. “Why was it so much harder for me?”

Zhongli pauses in his wandering. “…Indeed, it was not fair to you at all. I have been waiting, longing for this moment for centuries, observing and practicing the way the humans of my court moved. I only wish you could have found the same desire before… well.”

“…Yeah.” If only they’d met the right way, whatever that would have been. If only Aether didn’t feel so inadequate next to Zhongli’s… everything.

Xiao had apparently made his exit as well during their preoccupation, so Aether finds himself entirely alone when Zhongli returns to him, bending carefully on one knee to take Aether by the shoulders. Maybe Aether should be afraid, but he isn’t. They’re on as equal ground as they possibly could be now, and on Zhongli’s human face, it’s all too easy to see the devotion softening every regal line. He really is just as lovely a human as he is a dragon.

When they stand, Aether finds himself at eye level with Zhongli’s chin, and that’s a little unfair too, considering how similar they are as dragons. But then again, maybe Aether had done this to himself, imagining a person larger than life.

“How do you feel, beloved?” Zhongli’s arms wrap clumsily around him, pulling them chest-to-chest.

Aether gazes up at him, still mesmerized by his absurdly beautiful face. Even at this low angle, he looks perfect. How is that possible? “I’m fine. Shouldn’t—shouldn’t I be asking you?”

Zhongli laughs, a gentle sound that fills the air in a way his mind voice never could. “I have the eyes of my mate fixed upon me as if there is nothing else to look at in the world, and can hold him with a body he does not fear. What more could I ask for?”

Had he really been staring that badly? Aether can feel hot shame creeping up his neck, no doubt completely visible in his bare state. “…I’m sorry.”

“I need no apology,” Zhongli says, fingers curling beneath Aether’s chin. “Far from it. I only hope I may be allowed to watch you the same in return.”

As far as Aether can tell, Zhongli has always looked at him as if he were the finest treasure in all the kingdom instead of just another ordinary human, so there’s really no reason to deny him. Besides… Zhongli’s gaze searing over his skin makes him feel wanted. Makes him imagine, just for a moment, that he truly does deserve his place at Zhongli’s side.

Zhongli’s fingers slip away from Aether’s jaw, so Aether turns his attention to other things, like the way the tendons stand out in Zhongli’s neck, and the smoothness of his utterly untouched skin.

“Aether, beloved… would you perhaps like to finish our bonding in the nest?”

A blood flush is rising through Zhongli’s chest, and Aether watches it with fascination.

“Is there something more to do?”

“Not at such. But…” Zhongli begins to lead Aether toward the nest in the corner. “If it is something you desire…”

Turning, he falls to the many cushions on his back, and his outstretched arm pulls Aether down right on top of him. On top of… oh. How had he not noticed it earlier? That looks uncomfortable.

Aether looks down at himself, still relaxed and uninterested. It’s rare that he isn’t. “I…”

Zhongli sees it too, of course. “Please, do not mind me. Whatever you want, the choice is entirely yours.”

“But— you want something, right?” Aether blurts out. “How long have you…” What is he saying? Just because Zhongli is careful and genuine and peerless in his restraint doesn’t mean that the villagers were wrong about the things a dragon would normally ask for. Just because Aether is cold, doesn’t mean Zhongli has to be too.

Despite the shifting heat of his body, Zhongli’s eyes are calm as he studies Aether from below. “I will not deny it. But if your touch is only curious, not hungry, I welcome that too. Born-dragons such as myself only enter into heat for the sake of a mate. But if you do not need that pleasure, then my desire will eventually fade to match.”

That… that sounds really depressing, somehow, despite it being everything Aether could possibly hope for. Going anywhere near Zhongli’s frankly oversized and strangely shaped cock sounds beyond unappealing, and now that the daze of the ceremony is over, Aether is becoming excruciatingly aware of his own bare skin, as well as the way Zhongli’s fingers restlessly flutter over his arms and waist and thighs. But surely there’s something he can do for the dragon he’s foolishly come to like?

Looking up and around, Aether spots a small pile of folded robes deeper in the nest, and he promptly scrambles over. One of the sets is from his own collection—the others are an array of sizes both larger and smaller, presumably in preparation for whatever Zhongli’s human form would be. Aether just grabs the biggest one. Zhongli is tall, and even if this is too much, it will suffice for now.

It’s a relief to be covered again, even if the divine beasts have proven themselves to be altogether unconcerned by nudity. After tying his own sash, Aether bundles the other robe over to a now-sitting Zhongli and hesitantly drapes it over his shoulders. Zhongli responds with outstretched arms and a hopeful look in his eyes. It’s strange to think of Zhongli as someone to be cared for, but now that his imposing size and miles of scales are gone, Aether’s human instincts are apparently taking over in a different way. Dragging the silk sleeves gently over Zhongli’s arms and adjusting the too-wide collar, Aether finds himself wanting to protect in a way he really hasn’t been able to since parting from Lumine.

By the time Aether is finished, Zhongli almost seems drunk, his slit pupils blown wide and posture unsteady. Does touch really affect him so strongly? Then again, this isn’t the first time he’s acted strangely after some arbitrary word or motion on Aether’s part— it was just harder to see on the face of a dragon.

“Sorry,” Aether whispers, tugging Zhongli back down, then toward the center of the nest. “Do you, um, need to do something about that…?” The fabric across Zhongli’s lap is most definitely not laying flat.

Despite his adulthood, Aether has been largely separated from the population of the village his entire life, living in a one-room cabin with Lumine and generally avoiding anything to do with pleasure, his own or otherwise. So to be so intimately invited to witness and touch, to know that Zhongli’s arousal is because of him, for him, and finally, to really and truly care that the person before him has been left unsatisfied….

Aether feels as if he has been given a pile of mysterious, glimmering seeds; previously undiscovered wonders that he must either water or starve. All he can do is turn each one over and over in his fingers, tracing the shapes and patterns in the hope that if he studies them with enough care, their hidden depths will eventually bloom.

“…I could.” There is caution, maybe even confusion in Zhongli’s gaze. “But for you, would that not…?”

Aether doesn’t know. But it’s not as if he needs to be nearby while Zhongli takes care of himself. Hopping to his feet, he makes to leave the cavern.

“Wait!” Zhongli cries from behind, and Aether is frozen mid-step by the desperation in his voice. “Please, beloved, don’t go. I will restrain myself. Whatever you need, just— please, do not leave me. Not yet.”

As Zhongli speaks, sensation filters in. Loneliness. Betrayal. Bitter resignation. And when Aether whips back around to see his mate’s face… Zhongli looks terrified.

Aether’s legs are already moving on their own, and he throws himself back into the nest to take Zhongli’s shaking, outstretched hand in both of his. Zhongli’s legs are tangled in the blankets and bent at awkward angles. He must have fallen, his human body unable to move freely.

In this moment, Aether realizes, their roles have been reversed entirely. Now Aether is the one with power, the one who holds comfortable command over both his forms and could walk away from Zhongli and this mountain entirely without very much trouble at all. Now, Zhongli is at his mercy.

It doesn’t feel anywhere near as good as Aether might once have imagined.

“I’m not leaving, I promise,” he whispers. Not now, anyway, he thinks, aching. “I just thought— for privacy…”

For a while, they sit in silence, Zhongli clinging to Aether’s hand as if it were the last log keeping him afloat after a storm. His problem doesn’t seem to be going down, however, and in fact only gets worse after Aether timidly begins to comb through his soft brown hair. A hungry, plaintive whine escapes his mouth, and the sound stirs something deep in Aether’s chest as well. Pulling Zhongli’s hand to his cheek, he rumbles soothingly, an entirely inhuman, yet somehow perfectly natural response.

“What if I only left the nest?” he ventures after a few minutes.

“…The nest?” Zhongli croaks. It feels wrong to see him so fragile.

Aether nods. “I could wait in the hot spring while you… um…”

Several long moments pass as Zhongli considers it. “I… perhaps that would be fine.”

“Then let’s do that.”

Zhongli gives his slightly wide-eyed agreement, and before Aether can overthink himself into cowardice, he squeezes his eyes shut, leans in, and brushes his lips over Zhongli’s temple. Then he runs from the nest, because he’s not quite that brave, and plunges into the hot spring without even bothering to take off his robes.

That should be just enough, right? Enough to convey his feelings without seeming desperate, enough to give comfort without making Zhongli hope for more? Never had he expected there would come a day when he’d have to worry about this kind of thing at all.

Aether mires in the steam for a while, but eventually his robes become too much of a waterlogged nuisance to keep floating in. Then, since his clothes are already off…

This time, dragon form rises eagerly to the surface the moment he calls, and the twisting of muscle and bone is freeing, rather than torturous. Once he’s all tail and mane and claws, Aether stretches out in the water to relax… only for his keen ears to pick up on the sound of sharp little pants coming from beyond the lip of the pool and the rustling of fabric in a steady rhythm.

He listens quietly, because it feels like the least he can do. Every now and then, soft, stifled moans interrupt the gasps, until finally, Zhongli breathes out a single word.

“Aether…”

Then all is silent.

Why, Aether wonders, had the universe deemed it so important for them to be mates that it would make Zhongli wait a thousand years and drag Aether through a life of misery just so he could be made a sacrifice? Why would it then threaten to tear them apart despite Zhongli’s pure love (because he has no doubt about that now), and Aether’s own impossibly sprouting feelings?

Now that he has power, freedom, and his human body back, Aether can leave at any time to search for Lumine. And maybe he’ll be able to return one day— but what if he can’t? What if he has to choose between his mate and his sister?

Slowly, Aether allows his head to sink beneath the water, a trail of bubbles streaming up from his nose. He’d made a promise to stay until the end of the bonding, so he will. There’s no point in breaking his own heart before he even says goodbye.

Chapter Text

Eventually, Zhongli comes to join Aether in the bath, his robe swirling around him as he tests his ability in the water. He seems… not embarrassed, no, but pensive. Uncertain. Aether’s dragon body, as it turns out, is inherently buoyant, so he has no trouble scooping his mate up on his tail so they may both drift comfortably amid the aromatic steam.

“You truly do not mind it, beloved?” Zhongli asks, tracing along the ridges of Aether’s scales with a fingertip. “My… attention?”

“No,” Aether says through the bond. He’d thought about it carefully, but he’d been perfectly fine just existing at the borders of Zhongli’s space. The sounds of Zhongli’s pleasure had been unfamiliar, of course, but not necessarily unwelcome.

“But neither do you wish to partake.”

“I… don’t know,” Aether says simply. “When I first came here, I didn’t think I would have a choice, and after I learned you were kind, I tried to forget about the possibility entirely. What I feel right now… isn’t much. But I don’t think I should say it’s impossible.”

“Beloved…” Zhongli sounds pained. “Every day I wonder that you ever stopped fearing us.”

Aether hums low, watching the vibration of it ripple through the water. Is it really such a miracle? How many could have continued to avoid Zhongli after learning just how sweet and sincere he really is?

“Well, whatever you discover in the end, I will happily follow your lead. We still have many more years together to search for the answer, after all.” Zhongli sounds pleased, but Aether has to suppress a wince. If everything goes according to plan, they may not even have a day.

Water proves itself to be an excellent new training ground for both Aether as a dragon and Zhongli as a human, but eventually they get tired of swimming and haul themselves out of the spring. Zhongli dries his clothes and Aether’s mane with an easy flick of his fingers, and with that, Aether takes it that the bonding ceremony is officially over.

Together, they meander down the hall back toward the common room, and now it is Aether’s turn to take small steps while Zhongli learns how to keep up on human feet. Out of the strange atmosphere of the hot spring cavern, however, Zhongli’s typical exuberance returns, and where Aether had been frustrated, he seems rather enamored by the challenge of walking.

“Despite my great power as a dragon emperor, shapeshifting was never among my talents,” he explains. “I have long envied those to whom it came naturally.”

“Like Tartaglia?”

“Indeed. Some days I wonder if the reason he originally agreed to join my court was purely to mock my weakness.” Zhongli doesn’t sound particularly upset about it, though.

When they turn the corner, it’s to roaring fires on the hearths and wan sunlight limping in through the cave entrance. There’s also…

“Lord Xiao?”

It shouldn’t make sense, and yet it does, certainty resonating in Aether’s chest. The man with powerful arms and a bright, feathery tattoo and short black hair with verdant streaks is Xiao, and the woman with a slender torso, soft water-blue hair and curved horns is Ganyu. Beside them stands the more familiar Tartaglia, who had apparently been teaching them how to walk.

The moment Aether and Zhongli enter the room, though, all three twist back into their divine forms and bow low. A shame. Aether is suddenly feeling that strange, possessive draw again, this time manifesting as the urge to study the curve of Xiao’s human back for longer.

“We weren’t expecting you so soon,” Xiao murmurs. “May we assume the bonding to be a success?”

“Entirely so,” Zhongli says. “And as Aether has already settled into his divine body, there was no need to sequester ourselves for days.”

“Unusual, but I’m hardly going to complain about at least one part of the bonding going smoothly!” Tartaglia trots forward as he speaks, only coming to a stop once he’s face-to-face with Aether. “My greetings to Lord Aether, beloved of the Emperor and chosen of the elements. To you I swear my eternal loyalty, counsel, and uhh… whatever else you need. Yeah.”

Xiao makes a disgusted sound. “Just once in your miserable life, could you treat the rites and Lord Aether with the respect they deserve?”

“You know he has never troubled himself with formality,” Ganyu says, although she also sounds rather disapproving. Butting Tartaglia out of the way, she bows to Aether next. “Blessings upon you, Lord Aether of realms intertwined. I swear to serve you faithfully as a keystone of your court from here on.”

“Wait. Wait,” Aether finally says, finding a break in the divine beasts’ rambling. “What are you all doing?”

“They are swearing their oaths to you, beloved,” Zhongli says, laying a hand on Aether’s flank. “Now that you have come fully into your power as my mate, all those who wish to serve you directly—not you through me—will make one.”

“Oh.” But that means…. Aether hastily turns back to Ganyu. “You don’t have to! You’re already part of Zhongli’s court, so I don’t want to make you—”

“Lord Aether,” Ganyu says, gentle, but longsuffering. “We are your court. We want to be yours. You may refuse our oaths if that is what you truly wish, but know that we are not bound by duty.”

“And not much would change, really,” Tartaglia offers. “You’ve seen the way we serve Lord Rex— it would be the same for you.”

“Perhaps such things are different in mortal kingdoms,” Xiao muses as he finally makes his approach. “But Primordial beings pursue both strength and peace. It is an honor to serve their embodiment.” Rather than bow, Xiao tips his head back to expose his long neck as he speaks his next words. “I swear upon the life restored to me to faithfully serve Lord Aether until the end of days. I hereby guard his freedom and hear his needs, and shall not fail again.”

Aether’s teeth are sinking in before he even realizes what he’s doing.

It’s Ganyu’s short gasp that wakes him, and he releases Xiao’s neck instantly, panic swelling as he registers the warmth of blood on his tongue. What—what had he just done? His mouthful had mostly been feathers, but what if vicious instinct had sought pain— death? He’d just wounded his precious phoenix. What if—

“Aether.”

Xiao’s beautiful wings arch high enough to cover Aether’s head, and he sinks down flat, trembling under Xiao’s touch.

“A claim…” Tartaglia says, faintly wondering. “He must really like you, Xiao.”

“Silence,” Xiao snaps out loud. Then he returns to crooning softly at Aether. “It is an honor to be chosen for your hoard, Aether. You have done nothing wrong.”

“But you’re hurt,” Aether keens.

“And the wounds are already healed. Even if they were not, I am in no pain. See?” Xiao’s feathers ripple, and he shrinks back down to his human form right before Aether’s eyes. When he tilts his head back, Aether can see that his neck is indeed whole and unmarked, save for the thin streaks of blood that must have been left by Aether’s dragging teeth.

Even if Xiao is too powerful to have really been affected by the bite, how could Aether have done that in the first place? Maybe he’d been feeling a little like snatching up something shiny to hide away in a safe place, but he never would have inflicted that on Xiao. Or so he’d thought. He can’t even trust his own mind, his own actions anymore. What if he somehow attacks Zhongli next?

“You are truly a dragon, beloved,” Zhongli murmurs, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near as concerned as he should be that Aether had just tried to kill one of his closest retainers. “A somewhat-unusual choice for collection… but I can think of no better First for your hoard.”

Xiao had said something like that too, and so had Tartaglia. And now that Aether thinks about it, the old magic texts he’d scraped together had also mentioned that dragons were known for amassing treasure. But this… “My hoard?”.

“Dragons are drawn to things of value,” Zhongli says simply. “You have already seen my hoard— mostly of weapons and armor, fine materials and elemental artifacts, as I was born into a time a war. However, your treasure seems to be life… or perhaps companionship? Either way, your hoard will surely be an interesting one.”

“But—but Lord Xiao isn’t a thing,” Aether yelps. “I can’t hoard him.”

“Why not?”

Aether looks at the divine beasts. They all look back at him, uncomprehending.

“Aren’t hoards… collections? I refuse to lock Lord Xiao up in a room somewhere for display.”

“Do you… believe there is a need for that?” Zhongli ventures.

“No!”

“Perhaps there is simply a misunderstanding. You like Xiao, so you have selected him for your hoard. He is under your favor. That is all.”

Maybe Aether’s the one who doesn’t understand. The rules for hoarding living beings instead of objects like armor must be different in a way that’s obvious to the divine beasts, but less so to an outsider. “So nothing has to change?”

“The dragons I knew all kept their hoards in varying ways,” Xiao says. “If you wish to keep me close, my duties can be redistributed. If you wish to refine beauty, there are many in the court skilled in the art of adornments. If the claim is all you desire, then I will serve as any other retainer.”

“That,” Aether says hastily. “You don’t have to change anything, Lord Xiao. I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself.”

Xiao sighs, and on his now-human face, it’s much easier to interpret the tense lines as frustration. But Aether doesn’t know how to fix his mood. Nervously, he dips his head a bit to nose at Xiao’s very soft hair.

“You with grow more comfortable with your instincts in time, beloved,” Zhongli says, but the worry in his voice is hardly reassuring. All signs point to this situation being somehow abnormal; Aether once again failing the basics of being a dragon’s mate. And here he’d thought things were finally looking up.

Maybe it really is for the best that he gets out of here as soon as possible— then he can test out his new body far away from anyone he could unwittingly hurt.

“How about a distraction?” Tartaglia suggests, his voice too loud in the silence. “I’ve been informed that there’s quite a crowd waiting at the foot of the mountain.”

“Ah, yes,” Zhongli says. “It’s little early, but… beloved, are you ready to meet the rest of the court?”

-*-

Aether hovers a half a pace back from Zhongli’s side, watching anxiously as dozens of spectacular divine beasts spill into the cave, or else gather outside the entrance to watch from the more spacious mountainside. There’s a pale-scaled xiezhi, a pair of snakes colored shimmering green and white, an earthen deer and cranes of varying sizes, a bounding lion-dog, any number of small birds and brightly colored lizards, a small, winged baize perched atop a frost-white ox, and so many more. More than Aether could ever hope to take in all at once.

They seem to have no problem staring at him, though, and Aether struggles not to cower any more than he already is under their attention. He can’t make Zhongli look bad in front of all his subjects. But he probably shouldn’t get too close, either, the fear of accidentally adding another divine east to his hoard still lingering under his skin.

Zhongli introduces Aether to the whole crowd, then shifts into his dragon form to press protectively against Aether’s side. “There will be no oaths today, as the bonding period is not yet over. But I wished to thank you all for your patience despite the disrupted traditions, and give my beloved the opportunity to meet you without court formalities. You have all been informed of the circumstances of our mating. Treat him with care.”

“Lord Morax!” The divine beasts all shout and stomp and cry in acknowledgement. With that, Zhongli steps forward to mingle, and Aether is left clinging to the back of the cavern as all the beasts of the Primordial age swirl around him. Aether is, by all appearances, one of them now, but he apparently hasn’t shaken off his fear of their absurdly great power as much as he’d thought. Maybe once he becomes as familiar with them as he is with Xiao and Ganyu and the others…

“Lord Aether,” a low, rasping voice says respectfully, and Aether peers down at another phoenix, smaller than Xiao, and golden instead of forest-dark. “It is an honor to meet you at last. I am Ningguang, Tianquan of the inner council.”

“Lady Ningguang,” Aether echoes clumsily. “It’s nice to meet you too?”

The phoenix laughs. “No need to be nervous, little one. Your arrival has been long-awaited, and your presence has clearly done Lord Morax much good.”

“It has?” Aether’s pretty sure he’s mostly just made Zhongli variously sad, confused, and hopeful when he shouldn’t be.

“Even in his long sleep he was restless, and after he woke, he was negligent in his duties, no doubt apathetic after centuries of nothing to look forward to and nothing new to hoard. I am pleased to see him so lively again.”

“Oh…” Zhongli had mentioned being lonely, but it’s different hearing about it from someone else. Someone who probably has less interest in softening unpleasant blows for Aether’s sake.

If the world had been that dull for him, Aether can understand why Zhongli might’ve moved too fast upon finding his mate.

Looking up past Ningguang, he spots Zhongli in deep conversation with the deer and one of the cranes, magick sparking between them as they evidently discuss the construction of some new… is that a whole mountain modeled in geo? Despite the ridiculous scale, Zhongli looks serious and dignified, the puppyish air he wears around Aether entirely erased by the competency of a true emperor. He looks like he belongs.

Ningguang had said his presence helped. But seeing Zhongli now, Aether can’t help but wonder if he isn’t just a hindrance in the wider view of Zhongli’s reign. It’s just as he had expected— dragon-shaped or not, a short-lived, uneducated human like Aether has no business even participating in the court, let alone ruling it.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you again soon, Lord Aether,” Ningguang says, evidently sensing his distraction, and she swishes away before Aether can come up with a proper goodbye.

There must be some kind of invisible queue among the divine beasts, though, because she is almost instantly replaced by the energetic lion-dog Aether had spotted earlier.

“Call me Gaming, Lord Aether!” he yips cheerfully. “I haven’t been in the court very long compared to the others, but I’ve heard a lot about your fated arrival. You’re a very beautiful dragon! Can I see your human form too?”

Gaming sounds young, maybe even the equivalent of Aether’s own age, if he had to guess. So why does Aether still feel like flinching back at each outpouring of words?

“Um—thank you for coming, Lord Gaming,” Aether says, uncertain how else to greet him. “And I don’t know… I don’t think everyone else would like that very much.”

“I’m not a lord,” Gaming laughs. “You are! And you don’t have to worry about that. Everyone knows Lord Morax’s fated started as a human, so we’ve all been looking forward to seeing you.”

Still, there’s a difference between others knowing that, and actually being a squishy little human among a whole swarm of unknown, unpredictable divine beasts like this. Wavering, Aether again glances over at Zhongli, who is now even farther across the cavern, apparently mediating some kind of argument between the green and white snakes, a flaming butterfly, and a small, rather gaunt-looking stoat with a talisman on its forehead. They cease their squabbling immediately when Zhongli speaks, and bow in acknowledgement of whatever verdict he had reached.

Clearly, he can’t rely on Zhongli’s help here, not anymore. Maybe this is Zhongli’s way of telling him to finally figure something out on his own.

Another furtive look reveals Xiao quietly following at Zhongli’s side, Ganyu speaking to a circle of cranes and birds of similar verdant colors, and Tartaglia mitigating—or perhaps exacerbating?—the next argument in line for Zhongli’s attention. None of them are in their human forms either.

“Maybe—maybe not now,” Aether whispers. “I’m sorry, Lo— Gaming.”

Gaming’s furry face scrunches up in apparent worry. “Are you alright, Lord Aether? Are we too loud, maybe? Or are you still tired from the bonding?”

That’s a much more convenient excuse than ‘I’m terrified of the realization that this is how life will be from now on, and the knowledge that I certainly don’t belong in it,’ so Aether just nods along. “I think you’re right.”

“You should get some rest, then! I’m sure we’ll see you again when Lord Morax brings you to the court proper. He should’ve told you more about us before just letting everyone in for a meeting,” Gaming says disapprovingly. “Though there have been a lot of things we’ve been waiting for his help to solve…”

Turning, Gaming also searches for Zhongli, and Aether takes the opportunity to slip backwards into the hall leading toward the much calmer cave depths. Zhongli will forgive him for this, right? It’s not like Aether could contribute much to the gathering besides some pitiful small talk, and he’d done his best to observe and memorize all the divine beasts who’d come to visit. They seem kind, and had even given him a lot of new information about Zhongli— maybe more than they’d intended.

But obviously, this meeting is much more for Zhongli and his court than Aether, which Aether doesn’t mind at all. It means he can slink into the shadows away from the crowd without too much guilt, waiting and watching as Zhongli almost glows with royal purpose.

At least he hadn’t tried to bite anybody else.

-*-

It doesn’t take too long for Aether’s absence to be noticed— first by Gaming, of course, then by the nearby Ganyu, then Xiao, then Zhongli. The general chattering lulls as Zhongli’s head begins to sweep back and forth, followed by a brief but mad scramble to hunt Aether down among the crowd.

Despite how much closer some of the other divine beasts are, it’s Xiao who reaches Aether first—apparently he has permission to walk beyond the boundaries of the common cave where the rest of the court does not.

“Is everything alright, Aether?” he asks softly, plucking at Aether’s fore-mane. His countenance darkens. “Did one of the court dare to speak against you?”

“No, no,” Aether says hastily. “I just—felt like I was in the way.”

Xiao blinks. “Why so?”

Before Aether can come up with a suitable answer, Zhongli makes it into the hall and almost bowls Aether over, his infatuated exuberance back in place as if it had never left at all.

“Beloved!”

“I’m fine, Zhongli,” Aether says in advance. And maybe he needs to pick a different excuse, lest Zhongli feel the need to pointlessly reassure him. “It was more tiring than I thought it’d be. That’s all.”

“We can return to the nest immediately,” Zhongli declares. “Xiao—”

“No, wait.” Aether knocks his shoulder into Zhongli’s side. “You still have a lot to do, right? I don’t mind resting here.” Inspiration strikes. “Maybe I can even learn how to navigate the court by watching what you do first.”

That seems to do the trick.

“Well…” Zhongli hesitates. “Are you certain, beloved? The bonding period is still in place, and the others know this meeting is an exception.”

Aether hums, curling up on the ground and laying his chin atop his talons. “I’m sure. Go and be emperor. I… I thought it was nice, seeing this new part of you.”

At that, Zhongli brightens, and Aether swallows down a moment of guilt for knowingly manipulating his mate.

“Call me back right away if you wish to leave.”

Zhongli returns to his subjects without a backward glance… but Xiao, it seems, is not quite so easily convinced. Aether wilts a little under his narrow-eyed gaze.

“Did you lie to him?”

“No! That wasn’t a lie. Just…” Aether can’t quite maintain his indignance. “Two things can be true at once.”

“Hm.”

Xiao settles himself into a feathery heap in the curve of Aether’s body. It’s unexpectedly reassuring, as if Aether had ensured hot embers were safely banked for the night, or confirmed that he and Lumine had enough food stocks to last the winter.

“Why does it feel so…” He hadn’t meant to project the thought, but of course Xiao is touching him now.

“You have chosen me for your hoard,” Xiao says easily. “Even those without draconic tendencies would be pleased to have their treasures kept close and safe, I think.”

“Oh. I’m still not used to it,” Aether mutters. “Acting like a dragon, I mean. You really don’t mind?”

In response, Xiao just nuzzles at the crook of Aether’s jaw.

They sit together for a long while just like that, watching from the shadows as Zhongli and Ganyu and Tartaglia bring order to the chaos of the common room. Zhongli stands tall and proud above all the others, a beacon than cannot be ignored. Again, he seems solemn, but not strict, observant, but not overreaching, and generous, but not naïve. Why does he act the way he does around Aether? Even if it had helped put Aether’s mind more at ease in the beginning, surely he must be tired of maintaining his sweet and indulgent manner by now.

“Has he always been like this?” Aether murmurs.

Xiao also considers the scene. “In the years before his long sleep… yes, I suppose Lord Rex was known as one of the greatest and wisest emperors of the age. Though I did not concern myself with governance until… much later.”

Of course. “But then, I really don’t understand why I was…” Maybe the fate thought Zhongli just needed a pretty decoration for a mate?—though even that is highly questionable. Ultimately, there’s nothing truly meaningful Aether can do for Zhongli. Not even the one thing brides or mates or lovers are usually expected to provide.

He could learn how to rule, maybe, if he really tried. But that puts him right back at the question of why a more capable person wasn’t chosen to begin with. If Aether leaves, he and Zhongli will be fine without each other. Sad, yes. Maybe even miserable for a while. But it won’t be the end of the world.

A melancholy daze overtakes him, and he sinks his head into Xiao’s downy side. His treasure chirrups in surprise, but does not hesitate in gathering Aether closer beneath his wing. They stay there until the court finally begins to disperse into the evening sky and Zhongli is at last free to return.

“What did you think of the court, beloved?” Zhongli asks as they migrate to the kitchen for a meal.

Aether thinks about it. “They were beautiful. You looked like you belonged.”

“And so did you,” Zhongli says, sounding unreasonably pleased.

They go to bed soon after, Aether gathering clothes and slipping to his human form as he sprawls out against Zhongli’s delightfully warm belly. It would be so easy to stay here, cozy and well-fed and safe and spoiled beyond measure as he is. But that has never been Aether’s life before, and if he’s going to leave, he should do it now, before he forgets how to sleep on an empty stomach and labor until his hands and feet bleed.

It doesn’t take long for Zhongli to drift off, and Xiao, who had settled himself near the entrance, also seems to be dreaming. Once he is certain they are asleep, Aether quietly picks himself up and begins to gather his very few things. A warm cloak. An extra set of clothes wrapped in a fine square of fabric. A few pieces of slightly burnt flatbread he’d smuggled out after dinner. A small, forgotten elemental gem he'd guiltily dug out from between from the folds of the nest. He’ll be able to sell it for quite a bit of mora if he ends up traveling to a larger town or city.

Bundle in hand, he finds himself just staring at Zhongli’s sleeping face for a while. He could tell Zhongli right now. Poke his dragon awake and beg for help in finding Lumine. Zhongli has long since proven himself trustworthy, and Aether has no doubt he would throw himself at the mission to find and possibly save Lumine if only Aether were to ask it of him.

But… that’s exactly why Aether doesn’t want to ask. Zhongli belongs here with his court. He shouldn’t have to waste time on a trip that will take who-knows-how-long just to make Aether happy, and Aether refuses to drag him away from his responsibilities any longer. Besides that, Aether will be able to move much faster and more stealthily alone, familiar with the human world as he is, and if—when—he does find Lumine… well, he has the sneaking suspicious he wouldn’t have any chance at all of hiding his newly inhuman nature if Zhongli were to come with him. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Lumine won’t care. Maybe she’ll welcome him with open arms and happily accompany him back to this cave to live sequestered away as the only fragile human amid a swarm of divine beasts.

But Lumine has always scorned magick and the wonders of elemental creatures in a way Aether never could. And the whole kingdom of Teyvat would probably fall before she’d willingly give up her freedom. Before Aether would willingly leave her behind.

The cave is dark and cold as Aether tiptoes his way to the exit, but those things are nothing to the dragon now sleeping beneath his skin. Ganyu is sleeping in the common room, but she does not wake at Aether’s passing, and Tartaglia had left earlier with the rest of the court. It’s laughably easy to make his escape— not that it feels like one anymore. More like a pitiful betrayal.

Best not to think about it. First, he’ll retrace his steps to the village and make sure Lumine isn’t just hiding somewhere nearby or being imprisoned by the villagers. He can figure the rest out from there.

The winds sing beneath Aether’s fingertips, and finally, he steps away from the warmth of Zhongli’s home and dives toward the forest below.

Chapter Text

Just in case, Aether keeps to his human form as he darts through the underbrush with astonishing ease, the elements lighting his way. At this rate, he should reach the village before dawn, which will give him plenty of time for an investigation. As he runs, he keeps a cursory eye out for any signs of other travelers or hunters, but this close to Zhongli’s mountain, the few tracks he finds look weeks old.

Closer to the village, of course, more remains of human activity begin to show, because for many, the forest is their livelihood, and even the threat of a dragon can’t compete with the omnipresence of hunger. But Aether sees no trace of Lumine’s hand-carved hunting arrows or path markers, even when he rounds their usual hunting grounds to the east of their old cabin.

If the forest is hiding any more secrets, Aether doesn’t have the know-how to reveal them, so he gives up on his broad search just as the sky is beginning to tint yellow and sneaks in close to the village outskirts.

From the stories brought by Tartaglia and conveyed by Zhongli, Aether already knows that his old hut had been burned down, so the pang of loss when he sees it gone is muted. What he hadn’t expected, however, is the way the land had been left barren, the charcoal husk of the walls surrounded by a barrier, salted and sealed away as if even the memory of Aether and Lumine might still bring misfortune.

For a fleeting moment, Aether feels the urge to call the elements, recreate their house in stone and lush greenery just to haunt the villagers, but— no, he never got the chance to train either geo or dendro back with Zhongli, and that’s not what he’s here for anyway.

Slipping back into the forest, Aether bides his time until true sunlight begins to peer over the eastern mountains and the village slowly stirs to life. Then he heads for the main path leading into the village center. If he’s going to do something this bold (and quite possibly stupid), he might as well make the most out of his dramatic appearance.

There’s a strange scent lingering in the air as he steps onto the packed earth, though, something days old that nevertheless clings to the inside of his nose like oil congealed after cooking. It’s vaguely familiar, rings faintly cold and metallic on the back of his tongue, and teases at his memory, just out of reach. Aether has the distinct feeling he wouldn’t have been able to sense it at all before his transformation.

A few quiet houses later, Aether has his first encounter with another person, one of the men who he knows deals in metalworks and runs a stand in the village center. The man’s first glance is dull and uncomprehending, but Aether catches him abruptly jerking back around for a second look before they can finish passing each other on the path.

Whatever the man makes of Aether’s appearance, he doesn’t say anything, but the next person Aether runs across certainly does.

“Y-You!” the man in a flour-dusted apron cries, staggering to his knees in front of his bakery. “That’s impossible!”

This, Aether recalls vaguely, is one of the people who had thrown rocks at Lumine, bruising her face and ensuring Aether would be chosen as the sacrifice for the dragon. Well, maybe he should be grateful for one of those things, at least.

Between Lumine and himself, Aether has never been the intimidating one, but he still gives the baker the coldest look he knows how before proceeding on down the street. The man screams and scrabbles his way inside, missing the door handle three times in his apparent terror.

His ruckus does, however, attract other watching eyes, and by the time Aether makes it to the home of the village head, what feels like half the village is surrounding him at a distance, trembling and whispering and gathering weapons. Hah. Let them be the ones to feel true fear, for once.

The thought comes cold, though.

Lifting a fist, Aether slams on the well-worn panels of the door a few times. In the strikes, he feels power he hadn’t quite realized before— there had been no need to exercise any kind of force back in Zhongli’s cave. But now, his bones feel solid as iron, his skin unyielding as scales, and his arm absorbs the recoil before it can ever shudder down where his feet are planted on the path. Aether is suddenly very certain that, if he so chose, he could tear this door from its hinges in a single blow.

Unfortunately, he never gets the chance to try—footsteps are already pounding across the floor inside, and a moment later, the huffing and puffing chief is framed in the doorway, indignance scrawled across his face. The expression doesn’t last long.

“No…”

“Good morning, chief,” Aether says, unmoved as the man slides limply down the doorframe. “Where is my sister?”

“No, no— that’s impossible. You should be dead!”

That’s all he has to say? Not, Aether allows, that the man is wrong for being surprised.

“This can’t be right,” the chief begins mumbling. “The twins are dead. We’re free of the curse. What are you?” His voice rises. “Begone from my village, monster!”

Aether slaps aside the chief’s trembling, pointing finger, ears still ringing with—

“What do you mean, ‘the twins are dead?’ What did you do to Lumine?”

“Drive it out!” the chief is screeching. “Everyone, gather your arms! We will not be fooled by the dark wiles of a dragon!”

A clank of metal and the slowly multiplying crunch of footsteps forces Aether to turn away from the cowardly chief in front of him. The crowds that had followed him earlier are much closer now, and bearing not just the wooden poles and hammers of their trades, but proper bows and hunting knives. Some have lit torches, which cast a flickering glow over the early dawn shadows. Faces are wide-eyed, pinched, twisted with disgust. A mother is dragging her children bodily out of sight. Here and there, hands are curled, white-knuckled, around sharp chunks of stone.

It's not fair. Even after all he’s been through and all the power he’s gained, Aether still has to clench every muscle in his body against the sting of fear. Today, there is no grand stage, ceremonial clothes, or cloying honey and mead… but the hatred roiling through the village casts him out all the same.

Something jagged and aching and altogether different from the fear begins to throb deep in Aether chest, sinking into his heart, and he swallows down a gasp. Suddenly, he feels empty. Abandoned. Desperate to return home.

Home?

Aether thinks of a charred ruin empty of life. An opulent cave too grand for him in every possible way. He has no home, not anymore. That’s why he’s here in the first place.

“I didn’t come to bring trouble,” Aether says through gritted teeth. “Just tell me what happened to Lumine.”

The chief begins scrambling backwards on his ass, and the throng closes in. Aether doesn’t want to be here anymore.

“TELL ME.”

His roar echoes through the air, and he doesn’t let go of the blazing hurricane suddenly swirling around his body even when the people begin to scream and the front wall of the chief’s house begins to blacken, then glimmer an ember red. He lashes out with a tendril of fire, scorching the wood right beside the chief’s head, and finally, finally, the man begins to speak.

“She’s gone. She’s gone!” he wails. “She went mad and attacked us after the dragon came, so we had no choice but to defend ourselves! With how many arrows she took, she probably bled out in the forest somewhere.”

Aether screams.

When he next comes to himself, he’s on the road leading out of the village with a towering blaze lighting his way from behind. Desperately, he traces the ephemeral remains of what he now knows to be the scent of Lumine’s blood. The trail turns sharply off the road as soon as all the houses of the village are behind him, and Aether is forced to tear furiously at the boundary between his human and dragon senses, his nose too weak to follow the vanishingly faint scent—

It isn’t until he catches sight of his fingertips curled into talons and finds his vision clouding with red that he realizes he might have gone too far. Maybe if he allowed the transformation take over as it should— but his dragon body won’t fit in the narrow spaces between these trees, and he’s still far too close to the village. No one can know about his monstrousness if he wants to guarantee his safety in a very human Teyvat, no matter how unlikely it is that the news will spread.

Hot droplets spill over and roll down Aether’s cheeks, and now the stench of his own blood is spattering over the earth, drowning out the final remnants of Lumine. Not even his dragon nose could help him now.

Slowly, Aether crumples to the ground, the crushing pressure of his half-transformed body releasing as despair sets in instead. Lumine had traveled far for someone bleeding as much as she must have been, and it might as well have been centuries since the day of sacrifice for how long she would have had to survive all alone.

If only Aether had fought back sooner. Tried harder to escape his fate in the first place, or thrown caution to the wind and begged Tartaglia to search for Lumine from his very first trip down to the village.

But he hadn’t, too small and cowardly to try. And now…

Heavy footsteps thud to a deliberate stop behind Aether, and he stiffens. Who would come to the woods now, and how had they gotten so close without him sensing anything at all? The weeping emptiness in his chest only yaws wider as he calls a serrated spear of ice to hand, ready to turn and do what he must to protect himself, but—

No attack comes. And when Aether looks up with stinging eyes, it’s to see an unfamiliar man with a leaf-green tunic folded loosely over a black undershirt, silvery hair that somehow makes him look dignified rather than old, and strange, piercing eyes of copper and tarnish. As Aether blinks at him, the man’s severe expression rapidly melts to… something else, and he gracefully bends to one knee.

“You will damage your vision if you let your small vessels bleed for long.”

Frozen, Aether can’t even reach for the man’s outstretched hand.

“…Alhaitham?”

“Hm.” With astonishing gentleness for his knife-sharp appearance, Alhaitham rubs his thumbs beneath Aether’s eyes, swiping away the blood.

“How…? I thought you said you couldn’t turn into… and why are you here?” Normally, Aether would feel stupid under Alhaitham’s keen gaze, but right now, his mind is a sea of fuzzy white, and all he can do is hope Alhaitham will take pity on him.

“Those in Lord Morax’s service may share many of his powers, and with the bonding ceremony complete, we, too, found ourselves with human bodies. In my case, I simply took back what I had once forfeited,” Alhaitham says, slow, but placid. “And I am here because a certain dragon’s beloved has fled his nest, leaving both mate and hoard in ruins behind.”

“Oh. I…” I’m sorry, Aether almost says, but how disingenuous would that be? He’d known what would happen to Zhongli and Xiao, and he has no real intention of going back now. All he can do is bear the guilt and pay the price. “Where—where’s Kaveh?”

Alhaitham wipes his bloody fingers on a dew-damp patch of moss as he draws back. “Still doing his best to calm our distraught lord, I’m sure. I left him a note.”

“…Are you here to bring me back?”

Alhaitham’s brow ticks up. “Of course not. You were promised freedom, so no one would dare stop you from taking it. But perhaps I found the sudden inferno consuming the village beside us to be of some concern.”

“Oh,” Aether says again. “Right.”

With a sigh, Alhaitham sinks into an easy crouch. “You seem unwell, Aether.” But there’s a question in his eyes.

“I… I can’t find Lumine. My sister,” Aether manages through his suddenly tight throat. It feels wrong to be saying it aloud. To be trusting a divine beast for help, even though logically, he no longer has any reason to fear. “They tried to kill her. I wasn’t there to stop them.”

Alhaitham takes that in silently, his gaze shifting up and to the side, where a fiery tint can still be seen in the sky over the treetops. But he doesn’t idle there for long. “May I touch you?” he asks quietly, one hand unfurling to show the soft palm.

Trembling more than he reasonably should be, Aether nods, and Alhaitham promptly reaches out, arms closing around Aether’s back as he pulls them together. Aether’s head lands against the bony rise of Alhaitham’s collarbone— but the discomfort is rendered inconsequential when that warm, solid embrace instantly begins to fill the hollow in Aether’s soul.

Aether can’t help the sob that escapes his throat, but Alhaitham remains unperturbed, broad hands guarding Aether’s fragile spine. It feels a bit like the magick Kaveh had used during his transformation, only safer.

“Calm down, Aether. I doubt the search is hopeless yet. You have been following your sister’s trail so far, correct? If you continue on in that direction, surely other signs will appear.”

That’s right. Smell isn’t Aether’s only sense— and in fact was probably the one he’s relied on least throughout his lifetime of tracking and hunting in the forest. If he can focus on the things he does know…

Slowly, Aether pulls away from Alhaitham, warm hands steadying him as he goes, and returns to the place he’d lost Lumine’s scent. Ignoring the splatters of his own blood, he looks around. There’s a bush with snapped branches just a few steps onward— signs of a light trampling. After that, the ground is clear for a while, but brushing aside new leaflitter reveals shallow divots in the soil in the shape of dragging footsteps. Then, back among the underbrush, there’s a rough wool thread caught and tangled in the bark of a tree.

With every new sign, Aether settles further into the familiar trance of hunting. Really, it couldn’t have been more than a few weeks since he’d done this last, but with everything that had happened and all the changes he’d endured, it might as well have been years. Alhaitham follows silently as Aether prowls along, offering neither criticism nor comment, but Aether still feels better for knowing there is someone to watch his back while he watches the ground.

Eventually, they begin looping back around toward the road, though somewhat farther along it, and when Aether spots an outcropping of rock and close-packed trees just as Lumine’s tracks change from walking to crawling, he knows without a doubt this was her final stop. After all, if he’d been the prey bleeding out his final drops of life, he would have done the same.

Bolting forward, he shoves between the trees and into a shadowy stone alcove, hands already reaching out toward—

Nothing.

Between a scattering of broken-off fletchings and the thick and nauseating scent of Lumine’s blood, there’s more than enough evidence that she had sheltered here— but other than the rusty puddle on the ground, nothing else remains. No supplies, no scraps of clothing, no bones, no traces of violence.

There is, however, a pair of wheel-ruts on the path that abruptly turn toward Lumine’s hiding spot before carrying on away from the village.

“She was taken,” Aether says blankly, staring down at the tracks. “Someone in a cart found her and took her.”

Alhaitham draws up beside him and lays a heavy hand on his shoulder. It keeps Aether pinned to the earth. “I cannot speak for every human, but if I found a body on the path in my travels, I certainly would not have picked them up if they were already dead.”

It’s days’ worth of travel to the next town over even by horse or cart, and taking a rotting body along in the heat would be unthinkable for most. But even if Lumine had been found alive, with what the villagers had described, and the amount she’d bled…

“I’m going to follow,” Aether declares shakily. “Until I know— until I can be completely sure that…"

“Very well.”

“Thank you, Alhaitham,” Aether manages, looking up at him. “You—you really helped a lot.”

“You did everything under your own power, Aether. Nothing from my years of learning at the Akademiya would have allowed me to assist with what you just did.” He must see something else in Aether’s expression, though, because his iron stoicism softens again as he faces Aether and bends to one knee. “But if you found my presence comforting, I am glad.”

Suddenly, Aether’s gums are aching, his nails are sharpening, and his muscles are cramping as he rages against the urge, the need to sink his teeth into Alhaitham’s neck. To make him belong. As it is, his mouth is open, drool spilling over as he holds himself frozen above Alhaitham’s shoulder.

How, why? Aether is human right now— this wasn’t supposed to happen. Claiming Xiao was bad enough, but at least he had already sworn an oath and would have lived near Aether and Zhongli anyway. Alhaitham is bonded to someone else, and by the sound of it, isn’t even a main member of Zhongli’s court!

Panting, Aether tries to drag himself back, and it feels like drawing a bowstring with only his little finger.

“Hm,” Alhaitham says. Aether needs him to be lashing out and running away, but he’s just kneeling there, faint intrigue in the tilt of his head. “Well, I suppose it’s no more troublesome than serving Lord Morax.” He lays a hand over his chest. “I swear my oath of loyalty to Lord Aether, my kin in fated meetings, and willingly accept a place in his hoard.”

Aether stares at him.

“Bite, Lord Aether.”

And all of Aether’s hard-won restraint crumbles into dust.

With Xiao, he’d been far too confused and dizzy with panic to recognize the effects of the bite, but now, with his head clear and permission acquired… Aether groans as his teeth dig into the warmth of Alhaitham’s flesh. He tries to be careful with his hands— bracing one over Alhaitham’s back and cupping the other behind his head, but Alhaitham still shudders beneath him. Aether squeezes his eyes shut and can do nothing but refuse to savor the weight of hunger sated, or the sweetness of powerful, willing blood on his tongue, or the golden thrum that blooms in his mind and crawls all along his skin, making Alhaitham a part of him.

Despite everything, the bite takes only moments, and then Aether is falling back with a gasp, already fixed on the expanse of Alhaitham’s skin to know just how deeply he has to apologize. The bite mark itself is… nowhere near as bad as it had felt under Aether’s teeth. There are a few smeared pinpricks of blood and clear indentations in a circle, but the flesh doesn’t even look that terribly bruised, and the wounds could probably be healed in just a day or two.

Alhaitham, however, looks dazed in a way Aether has never seen before.

“Fascinating…” he mumbles, apparently to himself.

Timidly, Aether reaches out with a curl of hydro to clean the remnants of blood and saliva from Alhaitham’s shoulder. Alhaitham doesn’t even twitch at the motion.

“I can understand why some fantasized about being chosen for a dragon’s hoard.”

“Is there something wrong?” Aether dares to ask.

“Hardly.” Finally, Alhaitham looks him in the eye again. “Your presence was warm before, but now I feel… safe. Just from the proximity. And rather relaxed as well.”

Is that… a good thing?

“As a changed member of the court, there were many customs I never bothered with, or else found somewhat foolish. This is new to me as well. No wonder Kaveh was so worked up when he heard you had already begun your own hoard.” Alhaitham returns to muttering again.

Aether, too, feels inexplicably settled with Alhaitham nearby, and the sharp emptiness in his heart, reminiscent of the pain he’d felt from his incomplete mind bond with Zhongli, is softened. Maybe if Althaitham agrees to come with him, his journey away from Zhongli won’t be so bad after all. Then again, Alhaitham had only descended the mountain because Aether had set fire to the village (oh gods, he’d set fire to the village), and he’ll probably want to go back to his… husband? mate? as soon as possible.

Creakily, he fixes the collar of Alhaitham’s robe again and straightens. His small bundle of supplies is dusty from lying on the road, but still perfectly intact, and there’s really nothing else to do but set out in the direction of the fading cart ruts.

“Are you alright going back alone?” he asks as Alhaitham also rises.

“Going back?” Alhaitham gives him a strange look. “I’m coming with you, Aether.”

“Oh. But—” Aether crushes down hope. Alhaitham hadn’t brought anything with him except the clothes on his back, so he can’t be ready for travel, and there’s always the chance that he’d just been sent by Zhongli to make sure Aether didn’t get into any trouble. Not, Aether realizes, that the thought disturbs him as much as it would have only days ago.

But when Aether makes those arguments, Alhaitham only shakes his head.

“Have you forgotten? We are divine beasts, and moreover, my power lies in dendro.” Alhaitham takes a few steps to lay a palm on the trunk of the nearest tree, and in a burst of light, flowers begin to ripen into fruit right before Aether’s eyes. “I can feed both of us so long as there are plants around.”

Aether watches in wonder as a vibrant sunsettia grows so heavy it falls right off its own branch and splatters into juice on the ground.

“And I came entirely of my own accord.” Alhaitham sounds a little disapproving. “Lord Morax swore to let you go after the bonding was complete. I would not help him break his oaths.”

Picking one of the fruits he’d just grown, Alhaitham hands it to Aether and steps back onto the road. “And if you’re worried about dragging me along, don’t be. It’s been a long time since I’ve returned to any human settlement. I’m sure it will be interesting to visit again.”

-*-

Since Aether’s other form isn’t exactly inconspicuous, they stick to human bodies as they travel. It’s not as much of an inconvenience as Aether would have expected, though. He never seems to get tired, or even particularly hungry, and they are able to make steady progress without rest all the way until nightfall. Sheltered under some bushes just off the path, Aether eats the flatbread he’d brought with him just so it doesn’t go to waste. Then they sleep, rise, wash themselves, and do it all over again.

Alhaitham is a quiet traveling companion, but not necessarily a cold one. He walks close by Aether’s side, allowing his knuckles to occasionally brush over Aether’s arm. When they pass spots of sun piercing through the forest canopy to dapple the ground, he tends to pause, tipping his face upward to bask in the light. Naturally, Aether stops with him, admiring the way his hoard shines golden. And at night, Alhaitham will slip into his bird form for convenience, nestling in Aether’s hair as they take turns keeping watch. Somehow, he can transform his clothes right along with his body, but when Aether demands to know the secret, all Alhaitham does is shrug and explain that “it would have been too annoying to carry a whole outfit around.”

So Aether resigns himself to the continual burden of clothes, and they carry on all the way to the town called Wolvendom.

As far as Aether knows, the town hasn’t seen any real wolves in decades, hunted to death as they all were. Of course, he and Lumine have only been here a few times before, on the rare occasions they had the spare time and money to make the trip, but it’s enough that he’s at least familiar with the place.

The town is also familiar with him, though, so Aether keeps his head down as he drags Alhaitham along the bustling streets lined with small, brightly painted shops until they reach the one and only inn.

Alhaitham has silently followed his lead up until now, but as Aether hems and haws around the entryway, waiting for the innkeeper at the counter to trade shifts with someone else, he finally speaks up.

“You seem nervous.”

Aether cuts him a glance. “I guess. That lady there— she’s the proprietor, and she hates me and my sister. Blames every bad thing in her life on the existence of twins, more than most. Lumine and I always had to find creative places to sleep when we traveled here.”

Alhaitham’s face immediately darkens with a frown. “Hm.”

“I’m just waiting to see if there are any other staff we can talk to. If a cart came through here and made any stops at all, either the inn or the market will know about it.”

“Then let me take care of it.”

Aether blinks. True. Unlike him, Alhaitham is an unfamiliar face here, and a handsome one too, so he should have a pretty good chance of getting information out of people. “Still, you’re probably going to need—”

Reaching into a pocket, Alhaitham leans in, close enough that Aether can hear the jingle of coins muffled by fabric. “I know.”

So saying, Alhaitham marches up to the counter and exchanges a few words with the innkeeper. The distance is just great enough, and the room just loud enough that Aether can’t make out what they’re saying, but after a moment, a simpering smile appears on the woman’s face. She squeezes Alhaitham’s forearm, and a few coins slide across the counter.

Sudden, inexplicable fury blazes to life in Aether’s chest. How dare she touch his hoard, and look at Alhaitham with those greedy eyes? Who would dare steal a dragon’s treasures right out from under—

“We’re leaving.”

Alhaitham’s hand catches around Aether’s wrist, and in the next moment, they’re stumbling out into the sunlight, the inn door banging shut behind them. The abrupt glare is already enough to shock Aether out of his fervor, but Alhaitham doesn’t stop pulling until they’ve rounded the building and found a quiet niche out of sight of the main thoroughfare.

“I’m here, Aether. Still yours.”

Then Alhaitham does something strange— ducking awkwardly around Aether, he bends down enough to lean against Aether’s chest and cover the top of his own head with Aether’s arm. And oh. That feels… a lot better.

Slowly, Aether exhales and curls his fingers into Alhaitham’s fine, silvery hair. Why had he been so angry in the first place? Of course Alhaitham wouldn’t leave his hoard without warning, and someone as weak as that innkeeper could never have taken him away by force.

“I’d suggest avoiding that establishment from now on,” Alhaitham says, muffled against Aether’s tunic. “You were transforming, Aether. And although I sympathize, I decided it would be best if you didn’t kill that woman purely on instinct.”

Oh. Aether looks at his hand, then tentatively feels over his hairline. Both are smoothly human, normal— or back to normal, apparently. “Thank you for— for stopping me. I didn’t even realize…”

Alhaitham hums, and carefully straightens when Aether finally feels settled enough to let him go. “…Normally, changed beasts such as ourselves stay close to our mates for several weeks or months even after the transformation so we may learn how to control our instincts.”

From anyone else, it would have been scathing condemnation, but from Alhaitham, it’s merely a dry statement of fact.

“You have a hard journey ahead of you.”

But what else was Aether supposed to do, then? If he’d stayed, his wild instincts would only have hurt Zhongli and the other divine beasts— though he’d somehow managed to do that anyway, with Alhaitham by his side. Is there nowhere he can escape his fate of unleashing himself upon unsuspecting innocents?

“The innkeeper said a party accompanied by an injured young woman had passed through here by cart about a week ago. They didn’t stay long, and were apparently bound for the capital. Shall we continue on?”

The capital. Mondstadt. By foot, that’s weeks away, and Aether has never been that far before. At least they’ve confirmed Lumine was alive and being cared for, but even if all else is well, how is he supposed to find her in a place as vast as a city?

“Alright,” he says, hoping he sounds a lot more confident than he feels. “I’m ready.”

Chapter Text

Zhongli knows he’s being a horrible nuisance to his court right now, and only days after he’d resumed his duties, but he just can’t help it.

His world has returned to ash-gray night ever since his beloved, his Aether, had left without a word— and shadows are only darker for the sunlight. Zhongli’s whole body is ceaselessly empty and aching, longing for its mate, and even the warm cavern of his home feels cold. It takes all his willpower just to climb out of his nest by day and return to it by night, to hold himself back from chasing after Aether, and to comfort his dear Xiao, who spends his days equally shattered and listless.

But Zhongli had promised his once terrified, weeping mate that their bond would not be a chain, nor their home a prison. To break the trust he’d earned in return for those words would be unthinkable.

From his place drooped over the ledge just outside of the cave, Zhongli has all the space in the world to observe the forest below— and thus a clear view of Tartaglia’s smaller, stealthier form swimming up through the air towards him. He lifts his head only when Tartaglia finally lands.

“It seems the humans have finished cleaning up the damage from the fires,” Tartaglia reports quietly, resentfully. “Only the center of the village really burned. Lord Aether should have struck harder.”

Zhongli had forbidden him from going down and bringing floods in the wake of Aether’s fire— though only because the last time they’d discussed it, Aether had begged them not to act. Privately, Zhongli would like nothing more than to destroy the village himself, because the Aether he knows would never have attacked unless the humans there had done something truly vile to him first.

“No sign of him otherwise?” Zhongli asks hopelessly.

“…I’m sorry, my lord.”

“What of Vultur Volans?”

Tartaglia’s head swings from side to side. “He’s still missing as well, and there’s no trace of his power in the destruction. It does seem likely that he found Lord Aether along the way and simply… chose to stay with him.”

Their only clue for that assumption comes from Xiao’s sense that Aether had added some unknown other to his hoard not too long after they had all woken to see the faraway village ablaze. But considering the chances that Aether had somehow encountered and grown attached to anyone else in such a short time…

“That would bring me great comfort if so.” Zhongli returns to gazing out over the landscape. “Paradisaea, however, is still quite distressed.”

“Not surprising. Turns out they’re pretty famous among the southern avians… none of the others in their clan have a changed mate, and apparently, you never used to see one without the other. Alhaitham completely abandoned his human life to bond with Kaveh.”

“Then what could have convinced Vultur to walk away as well?” Zhongli murmurs. He does not give voice to the other option— that something terrible had happened to Vultur, or Aether, or both, preventing them from returning. After all, Vultur’s note had said only:

Gone to investigate fire. Back when I feel like it.

Dragging footsteps from behind announce Xiao’s arrival. “Paradisaea is leaving.”

Zhongli should at least offer the courtesy of seeing him off, so he turns.

“That bastard is fine,” Paradisaea says roughly from his perch in Xiao’s human hands. “I felt him just now, messing with our bond. I bet if he really did add himself to Lord Aether’s hoard, something just happened to strengthen their connection. It changed how our bond sits between us.”

Should Zhongli be relieved, or even more anxious? This does seem like a promising sign that Aether and Vultur Volans are together and taking care of each other… but mate bonds are usually impossible to touch. It would take the power similar to that of a golden dragon like himself to interfere with one.

“Do you know where they are?” Seeing as he can’t feel Aether himself, however, it’s not unexpected when Paradisaea releases an unhappy sigh.

“Wherever he is, it’s too far away. For now, I— I plan to trust him and return to our clan. But if he doesn’t come back soon…”

After a few more obligatory farewells, Paradisaea soars off through the clouds, leaving Zhongli to continue his vigil, now with Xiao and Tartaglia tucked in at his side. Ever since they’d discovered Aether’s flight, Xiao has not left human form, as if Aether’s final fascination with it will be enough to lure him back home. Zhongli is far less sure about his own body, however. After all, Aether’s gaze had seemed entranced, but he had rejected the idea of mating; and though Zhongli had done his best to prepare an appearance Aether would enjoy, Aether had not clung to him, or asked to see it over his divine form. What if Zhongli had scared him again? What if Aether’s unruffled words had covered a deeper disgust?

Zhongli should have conveyed sooner, better that Aether had nothing to fear from him; that even if Aether were to depart for a while, he would always have a place back at home. Zhongli had been so certain their bond was healing, and that Aether was shyly beginning to return his affections. Expecting his beloved to give up on leaving entirely would have been the height of foolishness, but he had been ready for a grand sendoff or long journey at Aether’s side, not… abandonment. Even after all he’d done to try and mend things after their disastrous meeting and first days, it must not have been enough. Maybe it never could have been enough.

Some in the court are furious at Aether for his choice, or in disbelief that Zhongli had simply allowed him to leave. But what good is a mate in a cage? Love and loyalty mean nothing without freedom, and Zhongli has always abhorred obedience through fear.

Aether had been everything Zhongli could have hoped for—first for his shining spirit and warm touch, yes, then for his power with the elements, his gentleness with Xiao and Ganyu, and his resilience in the face of pain and change. But Zhongli wouldn’t feel quite so hollow and ruined now if it weren’t for the way Aether had patiently taught him how to move and master each part of his new body, or embraced Zhongli when they curled up in the nest, sharing heartfire, or begun to speak and act for himself and his own desires, rather than simply attempting to obey Zhongli’s every word.

He wonders if Aether can feel this agony of distance too.

He wonders if he can ever be forgiven for hoping the pain is not his alone.

Chapter Text

As Aether and Alhaitham continue on toward the capital, the mountains and dense forests begin to give way to hills and grassy plateaus, then short cliffs and meandering rivers. Largely confined to the village as he’d been, Aether has never seen such wide-open spaces before— but it’s hard to feel the wonder he knows he should when the cloud of Lumine’s uncertain fate continually looms overhead.

Strangely enough, it’s Alhaitham who encourages him to stop here and there to sprint across a field, lean into the wind, or splash through the lazy shallows of rivers that cross their path. And perhaps to avoid accusations of hypocrisy, Alhaitham faithfully joins Aether in doing each and every thing he suggests.

More than the beautiful views, it’s the sight of Alhaitham frolicking through tall grass with his mouth set in a brooding line that finally convinces laughter to again flutter through Aether’s chest. Even if it’s only for a moment. Because the aching of his body never lets up, growing ever stronger the farther he wanders from Zhongli. Aether understands now why all the divine beasts had been so horrified at the thought of letting them part too early. Has he inflicted this pain on Zhongli too? Knowing fate and her cruelties, the answer is yes, so Aether carries his burden in tight-lipped silence and leans on Alhaitham only when even standing becomes too difficult.

But despite the guilt of the day, Aether dreads nights far more— for when he sleeps, he dreams.

The visions had come slow at first, and fuzzy. Impressions of glinting gold and hot breath over his skin, or low-burning fires amid a wash of shadow. He’d woken from those dreams as if rising from deep water, calm, but drowning in his own longing for something forbidden. As they’d progressed, the haze had begun to clear, amber eyes piercing into Aether’s mind and fingertips tracing along his cheek, his sternum, his thighs. Zhongli’s serpentine form wove perpetually among his thoughts, and Aether would wake curled into himself, prepared for an embrace that would never come.

Now, at the end of each day with the ache all-consuming, Aether can hardly close his eyes before plunging straight into dreams drenched in honey and suffused in warmth. There, Zhongli sits beside him, eyes always fixed upon the distance. They no longer touch— Aether knows he doesn’t deserve it, and perhaps Zhongli is unwilling to reach out unless Aether is the one to move first. The thought only makes him feel worse. Blue sky arcs infinitely overhead, and Aether can always see a speck of a figure wheeling about in the distant air. Somehow, he knows it’s Xiao, and no one else ever seems to appear.

Aether stays with Zhongli forever, just breathing in his presence, no matter how illusory it may be, and each time he opens his eyes again, it becomes a little harder to convince himself to stay awake. Without Alhaitham there to coax him up every morning, his gaze somehow both damning and understanding, Aether isn’t sure he would have gotten even half as far as they had.

The closer they get to the capital, the more towns and settlements they find scattered along the way, and the more travelers they encounter on the road. Alhaitham frowns when he sees this— apparently, it’s unusual to see the roads so crowded, even during the late summer trading period they’re in now. Upon asking a fellow traveler along the way, all they get is a disgusted, “As if anyone is safe outside the capital these days,” so Aether can only assume it’s been a lean season, or maybe a particularly successful one for the wild animals. Such things had occasionally happened in his village as well.

He only has the opportunity to use the elements to speed up their journey once, soaring above a layer of clouds while Alhaitham flapped along below, searching for a safely unobserved place for him to land. Ultimately, the expected half a month of travel takes them just under two weeks— two weeks without news about Lumine, two weeks away from Zhongli, two weeks of keeping Alhaitham away from his love, two weeks all but wasted on endless walking.

Then, of course, they run into trouble the moment they try to pass through the main gates into the city.

According to Alhaitham, the walled part of the city makes up only half of Mondstadt in total, which Aether can observe for himself as they pass farms, outposts and small clusters of houses on the way to the lake. Crossing a great stone bridge leads them to the island in the middle of the water, the shores of which are packed with market stalls, warehouses, and docks. The city entrance is bustling, and for some reason, heavily guarded— so much so that Aether and Alhaitham are unable to melt into the crowd.

“Come for shelter?” one of the soldiers at the gate asks amicably as Aether tries to pass him by. “You look like you’re from out of town.”

“Um. Yeah,” Aether says, still a little stunned by the sheer vastness of everything here. His village could have fit into this place hundreds of times over. “Well, not… shelter? I came to find my sister.”

“Ah yes, we’ve gotten quite a few families separated in the rush.” The soldier waves Aether on, but at he does so, his gaze passes to Alhaitham, and he stops dead. “…Wait.”

Aether shares a glance with Alhaitham, but he seems uncomprehending.

“Step to the side here, please.” The soldier looks oddly shaky all of a sudden. “I’ll be right back.”

A little uncertain, Aether does as the man had commanded, and after a moment, Alhaitham follows suit, a crease between his brows.

“…We may want to just enter while we can.”

“What? But the guard already told us to wait. Won’t we be in trouble if we just… leave?”

“Undoubtedly. However—”

“…Alhaitham?” A rasping, trembling voice asks, and Aether turns to see a relatively short man in a fancier, less armored uniform standing next to the guard from before. He’s staring up at Alhaitham the same way Aether is sure he’d stared up at Zhongli during their first encounter.

“Ah. How unfortunate.”

“Alhaitham?” Aether whispers. “What’s going on?”

“I believe I mentioned I used to be a member of the Akademiya here in the city. Cyno was one of my peers.”

The guard captain, apparently Cyno, steps forward again, still looking highly unsteady on his feet. “I’m going to need you to come with me,” he says. “And your companion as well.”

Alhaitham sighs and lays a hand on Aether’s shoulder, a finger brushing Aether’s bare neck. “I was hoping to avoid this. When I left the Akademiya to become Kaveh’s mate, I didn’t inform anyone, so they presumably marked me as dead.”

And of course they’d have questions if an old friend casually showed up out of nowhere, alive and well.

Aether stays close to Alhaitham as they follow after Cyno, more guards slipping out from doors in the wall to silently march alongside them. He watches them nervously, but as long as Alhaitham seems unperturbed, he probably doesn’t have any reason to worry.

Eventually they are led into what looks like a guard post, then ushered by several guards each toward different rooms on opposite ends of a long hall.

“Wait,” Aether finally says, reaching out for Alhaitham as he is pulled away. “What—”

“Sorry, you’re not in any trouble, we just need to ask a few questions,” Cyno says, smiling broadly. “I imagine you’ll be free to go before I can even finish up with this man.”

Alhaitham only blinks quietly at Aether, and with nothing else to go on, Aether is left following his own guards without a fight. Something roils deep in his gut at the separation from his hoard, but Aether squashes it down. He doesn’t own Alhaitham, and his instincts will not control him again.

“Sorry about all that,” one of the heavier guards reiterates once the door is closed behind them. “Hexer Cyno is just worried, since that man hasn’t been seen around here in years. You were traveling companions, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Aether says slowly. “I, um, ran into him on the path after leaving my home village, and we agreed to just go together.”

“Might as well, right?” the guard says, nodding. “Did he tell you anything about himself or what he used to do here?”

Another man without armor sticks his head through the door in alongside a platter. “Brought the snacks.”

“Perfect timing.” Aether’s interrogator takes the food and bears it back down to where Aether is perched nervously at the edge of the only couch in the room. “Tea? Cookies?”

Aether accepts a steaming cupful with some trepidation. “I don’t have to pay for this, right?”

“Of course not,” the guard scoffs. “It’s just an apology for dragging you through the process. I won’t be the one to tarnish Mondstadt’s reputation for hospitality. Now, where was I… ah yes. Alhaitham’s story?”

“He told me he used to be part of the Akademiya, but that he hadn’t been back in a while… I don’t know. He was a good traveling companion, but we didn’t talk about ourselves much.” Aether takes a sip of the tea. It’s dandelion, with an oddly sharp aftertaste.

“Very wise. What did you come to the city for, if I may ask?”

“I heard my sister came here after leaving our village. Do you know of any way I could somehow start my search? She’s never been here before either, and I know she was injured and being brought here by cart… although I guess that was a few weeks ago now.”

“Hmm…” The guard rubs at his chin. “If you sister was injured when she arrived, there are dozens of healing wards throughout the city she could have visited. Or if she came here for work, she might have registered herself at one of the city’s guilds. There are also the public shelters for those who came to wait out the beast attacks.”

Aether has no idea how recovered Lumine might have been by the time she made it to the city, if she’d survived at all, but if she’d lived, there’s a good chance she would no longer have needed help from a healer. She definitely hadn’t come for work. And there’s no way she would’ve chosen to live packed in with others when Aether knows she’d be perfectly comfortable sleeping under the stars.

“I doubt it… but thanks anyway.”

“Well, best of luck. Incidentally, you’re free to go. Do you have any living arrangements in the city?”

Admittedly, Aether had been planning to just sell his elemental stone and hope for the best.

“Why don’t you stop by the Akademiya, then? If you’re only planning on staying a few days, they always have student and guest suites open for those with a pass, which I can get you righttt… now!” At the desk in the corner of the room, the guard signs a slip of paper with a flourish and hands it over to Aether. “Nothing fancy, but should help you get started.”

“…Thank you,” Aether says cautiously, taking the slip. “Um, about Alhaitham…”

The guard pauses. “…His questioning will take longer than yours, I imagine. Did you need to see him?”

“I—I guess not.” As comforting as it would have been to have Alhaitham as a guide in this overwhelming place. “Can you tell him where I’ll be staying, then?”

“Certainly.” The guard smiles with all his teeth as he waves Aether out the door.

-*-

Lost and aimless, Aether merges with the sweating, chattering flow of the street and simply follows along, trying not to gape too much at the sheer size and grandeur of the buildings, until he finds himself in a wide-open space reminiscent of a market. Cobbled paths wind in and out of neatly trimmed trees and patches of browning grass, most people seem well-dressed— Aether is ever more grateful for the luxury of the clothes he’d taken from Zhongli— and all the vendors have proper shops, rather than open tents or workshops with a few things for sale inside. There’s nowhere to haggle, and Aether already knows he’s out of his depth here.

Also, it’s surprisingly hard to focus when his whole body hurts without Alhaitham nearby, and a persistent headache has begun to throb at his temples.

Since the little green spaces in the street seem available to all, Aether finds a spot of shady grass and flops down into it, clutching the elemental stone in his pocket. How is he ever going to find Lumine? If she’d come here on her own two feet and of her own accord, Aether would have gone straight for a work center like the guard had suggested, somewhere that would have offered gold in exchange for skill in hunting. But the fact that she’d been brought by someone else complicates things.

Assuming the best, whoever had gone through the effort of picking her up and taking care of her would likely have continued to support her in the city. Combined with the soft, narrow wheel-ruts Aether had followed on the road, which suggest a cart made more for luxury than work, that means she’d been found by money. Although…. Aether looks around at the extravagantly wealthy-looking district he’s sitting in. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of people in the capital must have the kind of money Aether could only ever have dreamed of in the village.

“Are you alright? Not another case of sunfever, I hope.”

Aether looks up to see yet another man in a guard uniform, this one with long red hair, heavy brows, and a concerned look on his face.

“Oh. No, I’m alright. I’m sorry, I thought I could sit here, I was just taking a break…”

The man straightens, expression clearing. “No trouble at all, I apologize. With all the terrible weeks of heat we’ve been having, we’ve been instructed to err on the side of caution. Excuse me.” He turns to leave.

“Wait!” Aether scrambles to his feet. He doesn’t have any particular reason to trust this man, but at least it’s someone friendly to talk to. “I—what do you mean, the heat? This is my first day in the city, so…”

“Ah, you must be from one of the farther towns.” The man’s impressive brows pinch a little. “Well in that case, I suppose a welcome is in order, but things are a bit of a mess right now. Mondstadt is the city of the wind, but as you can see, we haven’t had any of that recently.” He looks up, and Aether follows his gaze to see a great windmill standing motionless above the rooftops. “Even the outskirts are scorching, and here within the walls, it’s an oven. No wind, no clouds, no rain. The Akademiya is working on a solution, but…” the man shakes his head.

“…That doesn’t sound good,” Aether offers. Now that he thinks about it, the weather is unusually hot, and has been for days, but his dragon blood must be preventing him from really feeling it. “Do they know why?”

The man pauses for a long moment. “…Probably elemental instability or something similar, what with the surge in beast appearances. We’re sending out an expedition to eliminate the source of the problem, so everything will be resolved soon, even if the Akademiya can’t help.” Somehow, he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than Aether.

“Have there been a lot of attacks this season? I’ve heard a few people talking about it now.”

“This season?” the man echoes. “Did you not come to escape the beasts?”

They look at each other, and Aether knows he’s missing something… he really should have tried to interrogate a few more travelers on the path. “No? I didn’t even see any on the road here.”

“Ah. Well, they’re not that common, but just one is threat enough. Mondstadt is the only safe place left, thanks to the Akademiya.” The man stares down into his own hands for a second. “We’ve had to stop a few attacks already. I almost…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to ramble. My name is Diluc Ragnvindr, by the way. Vice-captain of the guard.”

A last name? This man must have some status. Also, there’s no way people would be fleeing to a city for just one wild boar or panther, the threats that normally stalk fields and forests. But the only other “beasts” Aether can think of are….

“I’m Aether. Um, thank you for the explanation. I guess I shouldn’t keep you here any longer.”

Diluc waves the apology away. “This is all part of my duty. Is there anything else I can assist with?”

Aether hesitates, but without Alhaitham, he’s probably not going to get a much better opportunity than this. He tucks his questions away for another time and takes Diluc’s proffered hand. “Actually, I have this stone, and I was wondering if you know of any place I could sell it…”

--

Aether suspects he’d gotten a better deal on his elemental stone than he really should’ve, thanks to Diluc looming over his shoulder, but he’s hardly about to complain. It had also kept the dealer’s exclamatory comments to a minimum, though in exchange, Aether had had to endure a separate questioning from Diluc about where he’d gotten such a valuable thing. Apparently, Zhongli’s trash is considered an elemental treasure of the highest quality down in Mondstadt.

Five bags of mora, a few hastily crafted excuses about a family heirloom, and one escort to the Akademiya later, Aether can finally step into the quiet of a tiny one-person room and breathe. Setting down his small bag feels like setting down the weight of the world, and his ribs and spine creak as he sinks down onto the bed.

According to the nervous, mouse-like girl who had helped him to his room, there had been no word from or about Alhaitham, despite the late hour, and incidentally, no one fitting Lumine’s description living at the dorms. Aether is fortunate not to be hungry, but he is exhausted, and he had not been expecting to face a night entirely alone. If he sleeps now, and dreams, will he be able to get up again without help? If he forces himself to stay awake, will he be strong enough later to hold back any dragonish instincts that dare to rear their heads?

He should probably be doing more to puzzle out the things Diluc had told him as well, but… the need for sleep wins out in the end. He tucks himself into covers of dread, and slips into darkness.

--

Zhongli is there, shining and lonely beside him as always, but all Aether can hear is the mourning. A warbling bird, a wounded beast, a crying child— the voices echo as one across his dreaming sky, coming from everywhere, yet nowhere.

Aether yearns to reach them, to comfort and lift them from their misery, because they feel like him somehow, in a way he could never explain. He lifts his hand right alongside Zhongli’s, but they can’t leave their perch upon the stone ledge, just as the speck of Xiao in the distance, now joined by the smudge of Alhaitham, can never draw closer, and Aether can never lay down the guilt of leaving.

The mourning voices are not for him— he has Zhongli and his hoard to satisfy that hunger— but Aether is close to them; can almost feel their rumble beneath his feet. Therefore, it falls to him to help.

His head hurts.

When Aether wakes up, afternoon sunlight blazing in through the window, Alhaitham still isn’t there.

-*-

Without a guide, it takes Aether more than an hour to stumble his way through the maze of streets and back to the guard house at the front gate. Somehow, the city is even more crowded than before, and there seems to be something of a parade or celebration being prepared, if the cordoning of the road is any indication.

Now that Aether is paying attention, he can see the effects of the heat wave Diluc had described as well— passersby are red-faces and sweating, parasols are so numerous as to clack against each other on the path, greenery looks wilted, and the air shimmers where it meets paved streets and dark rooftops. The guards must be suffering in their heavy armor.

Except perhaps not, because when Aether arrives and frantically pushes his way into the guard post, he finds it almost empty, with just two people slouched at a table in the middle of the room. The gate, too, had been noticeably less guarded than the day before.

“Hey!” the man at the table barks. “This post is off-limits to civilians.”

“I’m sorry,” Aether says desperately. “But— I’m looking for my friend. Alhaitham? We were both brought here yesterday, but I haven’t seen him since a man called Hexer Cyno separated us.”

The two guards fall abruptly still.

“You were the one released?” the other guard, a woman, asks.

“Yes, but—”

“Huh. Looks like we didn’t even need the Akademiya to keep an eye on him,” she mutters. “Well, Hexer Cyno is busy with the march preparations, but I’m sure we can still sort this out.” Then, louder— “Follow me. I’ll take you to someone who can help.”

Aether really, really doesn’t like this, all his survival instincts screaming, but what other choice does he have? Even though he’d made Alhaitham part of his hoard, it’s not like he can feel his presence the same way he can with Zhongli. Short of turning into a dragon right here and now and tearing up every building in the city, there’s no way he’ll be able to find Alhaitham on his own.

And he needs to find Alhaitham, because that’s his hoard, his responsibility, and he’ll do anything to keep his treasures safe.

At least the people of the city probably won’t be able to hurt him if worst comes to absolute worst. Even if flying away means he’ll lose everything.

--

The woman takes Aether to a grand, columned building adorned by the shield symbol of the guards, then passes him off to a pair of men who cheerfully introduce themselves as intermediaries between the Ordo guards and the Akademiya. They inform him that the lobby is no place for a chat, before leading him downstairs to a cool, windowless room lit by low-burning spheres of fire. Aether is momentarily intrigued by the display of magick— then he hears the shick of a bolt sliding shut behind him, and in the next second, he’s coughing through a faceful of glittery blue powder.

“No, he’s human. Thought maybe they’d forgotten to add it to his tea.”

A rough grip yanks Aether’s arms behind his back, and he can feel the cold pinch of metal around his wrists as he struggles to regain his breath.

“Still, take him to the containment hall. Might as well find out what he knows.”

Shock keeps Aether from really fighting back as they proceed to wrap his head in a painfully tight blindfold. But as he is marched, stumbling, down a sloping path that seems to carry on forever, a strange sort of calm sets in.

Somehow, everything had spiraled out of control so fast, and Aether had done nothing— maybe could have done nothing?— to stop it. He’d come to Mondstadt looking for Lumine, but with the way things are now, that might not even be his greatest concern anymore.

First things first.

Cautiously, Aether puts some pressure on the shackles around his hands, and almost instantly, they give an ominous creak. Just like with the chief’s door back in the village, he can instinctively feel the measure of his own strength, and these flimsy chains have no chance of keeping Aether bound. So that’s step one of his escape plan secure, at least.

The path he’s being dragged down must be a tunnel far underground, if the thick, humid air and echoing sounds of their footsteps are any indication. The floor is relatively smooth and clear of blockage, so the tunnel must be being maintained, but if the occasional drops of water plipping into Aether’s hair are any indication, it’s not a very well-refined or publicly trafficked construction. So, for secretly moving guards… or prisoners.

The question is, where are they taking him? One of the guards had mentioned “containment,” and if they really are intermediaries to the Akademiya, perhaps the two buildings are connected as well. Would they put an exposed divine beast like Alhaitham in the same place as a human prisoner? How had they managed to subdue him in the first place?

Really, the foreboding signs had begun to show long before Alhaitham was detained. The traveler who’d declared the towns outside Monstadt unsafe, the gate guard who’d asked if they were looking for shelter, and the way Hexer Cyno had handled Aether and Alhaitham’s interrogations, all without any trace of disaster or trouble on the road—

Then, there are the things the divine beasts had told him what seems like so long ago now. Zhongli had woken up from a long sleep shortly before pursuing Aether, and his court had stirred with him. The divine beasts hadn’t really been sighted or involved in the human realms in centuries, only to return suddenly and without any understanding of how human society had changed with time. Aether’s ascension to Zhongli’s mate had sparked mass excitement.

Of course Aether’s village wouldn’t have been the only one to encounter divine beasts, even if they had been faced with arguably the most powerful.

But what does that have to do with the slew of problems in the city now? Aether has a hard time imagining any of the divine beasts under Zhongli’s rule showing up to attack humans at random. Most likely, people are fleeing just at the threat of their existence. That seems reasonable. But there must be some real reason for the urgency.

Sir Diluc had told him the heat wave over the city had been dragging on for weeks and weeks… about as long as Zhongli has supposedly been active again. And when Alhaitham had walked through the gates, there had already been a procedure in place to handle him. Have there been other divine beasts attempting to enter the city as humans? But how could the guards know…?

Aether hacks out a stray cough into the humid air, and— right. The blue powder. If Aether had to guess, it exposes the non-human. Maybe it hadn’t worked on him because… what had Zhongli said?

“You are a dragon, and you are a human, and magick is yours by right.”

Somehow, Aether is both at the same time, and that must have saved him.

So the city, the Akademiya, is holding at least one divine beast besides Alhaitham. And maybe that divine beast had summoned the endless heat wave in revenge. The guards hadn’t been given any reason to suspect Aether the first time, when he was just “Alhaitham’s incidental traveling companion,” but no acquaintance would have frantically stormed a guard house just to inquire about someone’s whereabouts. Aether might have accidentally made things a lot worse for himself there.

But what was with the event preparations he’d seen on the road over?

The guards come to a sudden stop, and Aether would have fallen flat on his face if it wasn’t for their hold. One of them knocks on something that echoes wooden, and the creak of hinges confirms their arrival at a door.

“He’s human, but knows something about the bird we caught yesterday,” the guard on Aether’s right grunts, and Aether grinds his teeth trying to keep another instinctive bout of fury suppressed. If they’d hurt Alhaitham, his precious hoard…

“Fuck,” says whoever had opened the door. “We’ll be out of cells by the end of the month at this rate. That crusade had better work.”

“They’re sending the Dandelion Knight, the Twilight Sword, and about half the Akademiya. How could they fail?” The guard sounds slightly more musing than confident, though.

Aether changes hands, the door slams shut, and he is shortly thereafter unblindfolded and shoved unceremoniously into a small cube of metal bars and shimmering magic. His jailer walks away even before the clang of the cage door can fade, disappearing around a corner at the end of a long hall and muttering to himself all the way.

Slowly, Aether pushes himself up on bound hands, wincing out of habit when his head hits the top of his prison. The metal bars surrounding him are closely packed and vaguely iridescent. They ring like glass when Aether taps one, and take a lot more effort than mere iron to stress with an experimental tug. Also, a crackle of lighting washes over his skin, but the elements apparently have no interest in harming him despite their intended purpose.

It would be harder, but Aether could still escape if he tried. Picking a gap in the bars, he then peers outside.

A huge, bird-like dragon covered in azure feathers and a mountain of chains stares back.

Chapter Text

“Oh…”

For a moment, Aether finds himself paralyzed, not by fear, but by the sheer wretchedness of the divine beast before him. Broad wings are clipped and weighted down by more chains. Their tail and pointed snout are bound so tightly, blood is sluggishly dripping from what must be terribly deep abrasions. Most of their feathers have been plucked, leaving only small and scraggly remains around their face and wings. Nails that must once have been beautiful talons are sawed off at the tips, and their singed legs are carefully tucked in away from the sides of their cage.

They look sick, exhausted, lifeless. Something in Aether’s chest seizes, and he keens softly.

The dragon’s head twitches, and though their mouth cannot move, a guttural whine makes it through.

“You are… of our blood?”

“I— enough,” Aether whispers, glancing furtively around them for any unwanted observers. There don’t seem to be any humans, but some of the cages within Aether’s narrow field of view are occupied. To his own left is curled a ball of black and green fur with a fox-like tail and very large ears. To his right, a pale gray cat with a droplet mark under one eye is quietly observing Aether back. The cage on the dragon’s left is empty, and the one on his right holds a divine beast that looks almost like a dog, but with bat ears and leathery wings that blend into soft pink fur. There’s no sign of Alhaitham, but who knows what the farther cages hide.

Aether swallows hard. This… there are a lot of divine beasts here, all trapped and wounded and miserable. Where had the people of Mondstadt gotten the power to defeat this many? And why had they gone so far?

The dragons speaks again. “How did you avoid the curse of my scales?”

“…Your scales?”

“I hear the humans are forcing us to reveal our forms through a mixture of my scales and warped magick. Did they not use it on you?”

A mixture of scales and magick… “That’s what the blue powder was?” Aether breathes, horrified.

The dragon regards him.

“They did use it, but I’m not— I mean, I’m also a human, so it didn’t work. I guess. I don’t really understand it.”

“Both human and divine,” the dragon murmurs. Then his flickering blue eyes grow wide. “Are you perhaps… Morax’s mate?”

Zhongli’s most formal name… but without the royal title.

“…Somehow, yes.” Aether twists his hands together. “Are you maybe part of his court?”

The dragon makes a sound that might be a laugh. “I would never serve that old blockhead. But he is the grand emperor, so I and my court are still under his protection… though something must have gone terribly wrong if we remain unrescued and his mate is imprisoned here.”

“I’m not sure Zhongli even knows this is happening,” Aether admits. “But wait—maybe I can help instead! It’ll take a little effort, but I’m pretty sure I’m strong enough to break everyone out of their cages, and there’s no way the guards will be able to stop us if we all leave at once.”

The dragon shakes his head. “Thank you, little lord. But as things are now, even if I were not bound by these chains, I would not be able to escape.”

“Why not?”

A door creaks open at the end of the hall, and they are both forced back into silence by the clamorous approach of many armored feet.

At the head of the incoming procession walk two guards, followed by a sneering man in fancy robes, followed by—

“Sir Diluc?” Aether breathes.

Diluc jerks about, eyes wild. “…You?”

A generally displeased sound rises from the people accompanying him.

“Another one, Ragnvindr?” the sneering man says. “I feel that perhaps our suspicions about you aren’t so unfounded after all, hm?”

“No,” Diluc almost shouts, wheeling back toward him. “My loyalty is to Mondstadt! I don’t know what kind of curse this is, but I swear I will never side with a beast over my own people.”

Aether flinches. So, here’s another person unwillingly caught up somehow in the arrival of the divine beasts. His words sting a little, but it’s not like Aether doesn’t know all too well how he feels.

“Even so. It would be prudent to at least remove him from the expedition, don’t you agree?” The sneering man ignores Diluc in favor of his other companions. “He’ll be more useful here keeping this monster under control.”

They all look over at the dragon.

“Please,” Diluc says. “I have my own squadron, I need to be there to march with them. I’m one of the strongest swordmages in the Ordo, Grandmaster Jean and Father are counting on me—!”

“I’ll discuss it with the council. But while one incident may be unfortunate, three indicates a liability.” The sneering man sneers even more and gestures at the dragon. “Well? The sooner we finish, the sooner this can all be straightened out.”

For a second, Aether wonders if Diluc is about to pull out his sword, but instead, he just snarls quietly, turns like a rusty gear, and stomps up to the cage. “We need more feathers,” he spits. “Pull the rest out for us, Venti.”

That’s a true name, Aether realizes with a jolt. Diluc has the dragon’s true name, and is hurting him with it. But how? Aether had only gotten Zhongli’s true name because they were mates. Bonded mates at that.

Had Diluc allowed the dragon to bite him already? Somehow, Aether doubts it.

In his cage, the dragon makes a pitiful sound even as he lifts ruined claw to ruined wing. “Please, Diluc. Don’t do this.” But it doesn’t seem like any of the humans can understand him.

“Stop!” Aether yells, because even so, how can everyone just stand there watching as the dragon tears his own beautiful feathers out? “Stop, you’re killing him!”

Some of the people flinch, but no one moves to intervene.

“Silence, monster,” the sneering man says without even turning around. “You have no power here.”

Aether most certainly does, and he could use it right this very moment, could kill this man and tear down the cages and fly— but he understands now. The dragon is not bound by the chains, but by Diluc, his mate. And if Diluc is using the dragon’s true name like this, then Aether has no doubt he’s also used it to command him to stay.

Had all the other divine beasts then been captured using more power stolen from the dragon? Or all they all part of his court, unwilling to leave their lord alone? Either way, Aether would have to convince Diluc to lift the command, and that probably won’t happen if he uses his own dragon strength to tear and intimidate his way out now.

So he watches in agony as the dragon rips out every last one of the remaining feathers out of his right wing and drops them by the bars of the cage where Diluc can reach. Fresh blood drips from the tears in his skin, and as soon as his task is done, he falls limp again, eyes slipping shut.

Tendons showing in his neck, Diluc stiffly gathers up the bloody feathers, and his attendants— or perhaps handlers?— march him back the way they’d come. He doesn’t so much as glance back at Aether or the dragon.

A garbled, wordless sound leaves Aether’s mouth once they are gone, and with a swift yank of his arms, he snaps the shackles tying them to grind the heels of his palms into his eyes. Why is he even here? What’s the point of becoming one of the most powerful divine beasts in the world if he can’t do anything with that power when it really matters?

He’d brought this on himself, he knows, trying to solve Alhaitham’s disappearance in such a messy way— no, even before that, when he’d left Zhongli without so much as a goodbye. Zhongli would know what to do, and probably have the skill to do it.

Aether, meanwhile, hasn’t managed to achieve even one single thing so far. He’d somehow made a mess both the mind bond and his transformation, forcing others to come solve the problem for him. He’s been a terrible mate for Zhongli, a terrible ruler for the court, a terrible keeper of his hoard. He’d lost his temper and burned the village. He’d failed to find Lumine, and run out of traces to follow. He’d allowed Alhaitham to be taken away right under his nose, and gotten himself captured trying to investigate. He can’t even save the divine beasts here or stop the humans and their cruelty— at least, not in any way that wouldn’t fan flames of some horrible new conflict as a result.

Really, he’d gotten off quite lightly for each failure, and he has no right to complain when he’s not the one chained and bleeding betrayal right now. But still. The universe is definitely mocking him from on high.

“Thank you for trying,” the gray cat says softly, now sitting on the side of the cage closest to Aether’s. “At least you have a voice they can hear.”

“I don’t—” Aether crushes back a sob. “I couldn’t actually do anything in the end. Even if I broke out, what’s the point if none of you can come with me?”

“We should have been able to,” the cat says sorrowfully. “I wasn’t originally part of Lord Barbatos’s court, you know. Neither was Tighnari on your other side, or Gorou on mine. Ah, but Dahlia was— that’s the grim beside Lord Barbatos.”

“Originally…?”

The cat sighs. “They used the curse they made from Lord Barbatos’s scales on all of us, whether we had human forms or not. I’ve been cut off from my own lord and her court— as if I had sworn an oath to Lord Barbatos instead, but without receiving any of his power in return. We’re all badly weakened right now, and I feel I cannot abandon my new lord, even if the bond was forced. I would need to enter another court that could overpower the hold of Lord Barbatos’s false claim to be free.”

“Of course,” Aether says, a little hysterically. Why would anything be easy for them? “I guess that means no one here can escape at all?”

“Oh, there was an attempt,” the cat murmurs. “Gorou tells me a basilisk who was part of Lord Barbatos’s court to begin with broke out of her cage and struck at the guards. But… perhaps it was just poor timing. It seems the human Diluc was nearby, and he forced Lord Barbatos to wield his power against her.” He flexes his claws, leaving thin scratches over the floor of the cage. “If you see black thorns somewhere along the wall… those are her only remains.”

“That’s—that’s possible?” Aether asks, nauseous. “To use a true name like that? I know my mate’s name, and I don’t feel like I ever could have…”

“He hates our lord,” a different voice answers, and Aether turns to look at the grim. “Truly hates him, heart and soul. I did not realize humans had so grown to fear our kind in our years of absence.”

“But I was also afraid of Zhongli, and I never had the power to make him do anything!”

“Did you hate him?” Dahlia asks. “Did you ever desire control so strongly you would have done anything? Fear alone is still malleable.”

No. No, Aether had never really been able to hate Zhongli. Ultimately, he’d just been snatched from one miserable life and dropped into another, without much to lose except Lumine. Then, Zhongli hadn’t been cruel at all, despite his mistakes. And once Aether had started growing comfortable in that cave… hate hadn’t even been an option anymore.

“…So Diluc keeps Lord Barbatos trapped, and Lord Barbatos keeps everyone else trapped,” Aether concludes quietly. “What if—what if I can change his mind?”

“…You may certainly try, dragon’s beloved,” is all Dahlia says.

-*-

Aether dreams in flashes of gray— the kind of deep, washed out color that blankets the world in the moments before dawn. Zhongli is there, of course. An ever-present fixture in his mind no matter how far apart they are.

Today, Aether curls up on the ledge at the border of the sky and weeps with the mourning voices he now knows belong to the azure dragon. The blood and broken feathers, the pain and hatred, the glorious divine beasts sealed beneath the earth and the humans who had not hesitated to put them there— Aether had arrived in time to bear witness to it all, but only as a helpless observer.

What else can he do but run? With his strength, he could escape alone, flying back to Zhongli with a dragon’s speed. Now that divine beasts are, it seems, no longer an unusual sight, he wouldn’t even have to bother hiding— and so what if any humans saw him transform? The only way Aether would return would be with Zhongli at his side and an army of earth-shakingly powerful divine beasts at his back. Surely the court could help him find Lumine as well, eliminate Diluc to free Lord Barbatos, and help deliver the weakened divine beasts back to their rightful homes. It probably wouldn’t even take a week.

But then what? Aether still perpetuates the cycle of fear between humans and divine beasts? He is probably torn from Lumine forever, because he will never be able to set foot in a human settlement again? He makes Lord Barbatos’s choice for him, condemning him to a life without his mate?

It sounds like the beginning of a far worse disaster, but Aether can’t think of any other solution to save the divine beasts in front of him now.

In his turmoil, when Zhongli reaches out, Aether no longer has the strength to resist.

None of this is real, really he knows, but Zhongli’s arms are so warm where they wrap around Aether’s shoulders and back, and he feels so steady under Aether’s grasping hands. It’s easy to make himself small and nestle into the hollow formed by Zhongli’s body, one now made of intriguing muscle and soft skin rather than scales. Above his head, Zhongli begins to hum, a lilting song Aether has never heard before, but which nevertheless reminds him of the lullabies his mother had once sung to him and Lumine. The vibrations of Zhongli’s throat sink into the top of Aether’s head.

Strange, how he can be sleepy in a dream. Aether sinks further into the cradle of Zhongli’s mind— he doesn’t think Zhongli is asleep with him, sharing this dream, but it seems their bond is always trying to shelter him. No matter how he badly neglects it.

Aether needs to do better. He likes Zhongli, and what kind of person would inflict on their gentle mate anything even close to the utter ruin of the bond between Diluc and Lord Barbatos?

Just as he’d feared, he regrets leaving the haven of Zhongli’s care and coming all this way just to find an insidious seed of cruelty and no Lumine at all. But maybe—

Just maybe—

If he can help fix this; free the other divine beasts and prove he’s actually worth something as the dragon emperor’s mate… at least when he returns, he’ll be able to do it without shame.

Zhongli, however, seems unaware of Aether’s churning thoughts. The deep purr that rumbles through his chest as he combs through Aether’s hair carries on just as steady as ever. And Aether clings to him.

-*-

Dim, underground light tells Aether nothing about the time outside, but he can guess at a morning hour when he is roused by sudden shouting. The sound is accompanied by clanking metal, the scrabble of footsteps drawing closer, and finally, the sight of Diluc being shoved into the hall of cages, yelling incomprehensibly and pounding on the door as it is locked behind him.

He's not wearing any armor today, only a finely embroidered tunic and trousers. His hair is tied low at his nape, and his sword is lying on the ground where it had been tossed in beside him.

After a moment, Diluc pauses in his struggles to press his ear against the door. And not long after that, he slides limply to the ground, dragging his knees up to his chest and dropping his head on top of them.

Aether picks himself up from the chilly floor of his cage and straightens his own clothes. That’s one way to be pulled from dreams back into reality.

Oddly enough, he feels calmer now after a night tucked in Zhongli’s arms— phantom memory though it may be. He hasn’t exhausted every option yet. Violence will be his last resort. And here Diluc is, alone and apparently locked in, just in time for Aether to follow through on his words to Dahlia.

He watches.

It takes some time, but eventually, Diluc picks himself up from the door and wanders, almost as if being dragged forward, down the hall to where Aether and Lord Barbatos are caged. He looks up at his mate for a long moment— then sinks back down to the ground, burying his face in his hands and screaming, a muffled, broken sound.

“Sir Diluc…” Aether murmurs, aching. His life has probably been very different from Diluc’s— but he knows the kind of pain that can make that sound.

Slowly, Diluc lifts his head again. “…So, you were a divine beast too?” he says emptily.

Aether could lie, but…

“Yes. And no,” he says. “That wasn’t why I was brought here. I… I’m the same as you. A human who was claimed by a divine beast.”

Diluc jolts. “You— you know?”

“Why else would you have been given his true name?” Aether says softly, lifting a hand toward Lord Barbatos, who is still limp in his cage.

A weak curse spills from Diluc’s lips. “No—no, it’s all lies. I don’t know why my men didn’t use the identifier on you, but I refuse to listen to your tricks. My loyalty is to Mondstadt.”

“What did—” Does Diluc even know Lord Barbatos’s title? “—this dragon do to make you hate him so badly?”

Jaw visibly clenching, Diluc turns away and refuses to say another word. Neither does he react to any of Aether’s other questions or look into any of the cages until a guard comes to collect him at what Aether can only assume to be nightfall.

--

No food is brought for Aether or any of the divine beasts, and he has to wonder— since they think he’s human, are they planning to starve him to death? Or had they forgotten about him entirely in the chaos?

Aether sleeps, and his body still aches to the bone. But now that he has Zhongli’s touch in his dreams, dragonfire warmth lingers to dull the pain. That new ease leads to waking in melancholy instead of misery, and so when he opens his eyes the next day, it doesn’t take him quite as long as it otherwise might’ve to realize—

“Alhaitham?!”

Scrambling clumsily to his feet, Aether forgets for a moment that he isn’t supposed to grab the bars of his cage, and winces through the cloud of lighting that surrounds him. “How— what—?”

Alhaitham, still in his silvery bird form, settles comfortably in the dirt before Aether’s prison. He looks… a little haggard, maybe, and slimmer, but otherwise unharmed.

“Imagine my surprise when, after risking my life to rejoin my wayward lord, I found that the trail led right back to where I started,” Alhaitham says.

Aether stares at him. “I’m… sorry? No, wait, how did you escape in the first place? Did you not get cut off from Zhongli? Or did they not use the, um, curse on you after all?”

“Oh, they did.” Alhaitham’s feathers puff up. “And I was. I’ll be glad never to feel that kind of pain again in my life. But although that abomination of magick tore me away my court, it was unable to touch any other bonds. I still have Kaveh. And,” Alhaitham says, sounding rather… darkly satisfied, “I have you.”

“Me…?”

“It seems the bond between hoard and keeper is just as effective at sharing power— it was simply impossible to feel before because you and Lord Morax wield the same abilities and strength.”

“…Being part of a hoard stops you from losing your powers?” Aether strains forward as far as he can without actually touching the sides of his cage. Sure, this wouldn’t solve all their problems, but wouldn’t it at least improve their chances of escape? Help all the wounded divine beasts heal?

And for Lord Barbatos… it would be much harder for him to kill one of his own again if they all had the strength to fight back.

“Will you add all of us to your hoard, Lord Aether?” Alhaitham says, eyes glinting in the low light. How does he decide when and when not to use Aether’s title?

“I… if everyone will let me.” Aether looks around. Dahlia and the gray cat whose name he somehow still hasn’t heard are watching him keenly, though Lord Barbatos and Tighnari remain slumped on the floor, unmoving.

“How intriguing,” the gray cat says. “A made dragon hoarding life, allowing strength to be shared… well, I won’t object to either the ends or the means.”

“I kept my powers, so I have no need of the hoard bond,” Dahlia muses. “But I expect many of the others would be better for it, especially those who were… punished, after dear Rosaria’s attempted escape. They all have yet to heal.”

“That’s how they were wounded?” Aether says slowly, turning to look at Tighnari. Tighnari, who hasn’t so much as twitched since Aether had been brought here yesterday.

“Some of the humans with magick were all too happy to use it.”

A sharp clatter and creaking of hinges at the end of the hall makes them all jump, and Aether reaches helplessly toward Alhaitham. “You need to hide!”

Alhaitham is already moving, fluttering up somewhere above the cages where Aether can’t see. He’ll just have to trust that Alhaitham is skilled enough to stay out of sight.

In a repeat of the day before, Diluc comes stumbling through the door and collapses once it closes behind him— only this time, he seems to have given up on protest. After several very long minutes, he eventually drags himself up and along the rows of cages, pausing to inspect each one. However, his motions seem rather listless, and once he makes it to Lord Barbatos’s prison, he stops entirely.

“Why?” he hisses up at the dragon. “Why did it have to be me?”

Did Lord Barbatos not explain the meaning of fated mates either? Clearly, the inability to understand why humans might be wary of a divine beast’s claim is not exclusive to Zhongli.

“What did he tell you?” Aether asks quietly when no response is forthcoming from Lord Barbatos.

Diluc turns his head a fraction. “It saw me when I was on patrol in the forest just outside the city and apparently decided it wanted a mate.”

“…He really didn’t explain anything.”

Diluc doesn’t respond. Aether sighs.

Some hours later, Diluc’s time trapped in the hall is up, and he is pulled back out the door. Aether hears mocking voices suggest Diluc had spent his shift doing something exceedingly crude with Lord Barbatos before the door slams shut and even his keen ears can offer no other information.

Diluc must have been forced into guard duty here while all the other knights and mages are off on their aforementioned “expedition.” That seems a little shortsighted, considering they’ve given Diluc hours and hours alone with the very dragon they’d seemed to think made Diluc a liability— but then again, maybe they don’t actually think Diluc would sympathize with a divine beast, and are instead just using it as an excuse to hurt him.

Aether had experienced that in the village as well. Twins made easy scapegoats for any and everything, after all.

Chapter Text

“Lord Rex, you should hear this.”

Zhongli straightens when Tartaglia sticks his head around the corner into the nest, and does his best not to wake Xiao, who is sleeping uneasily beside him. “What is it, Tartaglia?”

Tartaglia does not answer right away, and instead disappears back into the hall, where the news is presumably waiting. Very well.

At the entrance of the cave, Zhongli bends his head to greet the visiting black swan, one of Ningguang’s assistants— Baiwen, if memory serves.

“My apologies for interrupting your… rest, Lord Morax,” she says evenly. “I promise we do not do so lightly. But this matter urgently requires your attention.”

“Speak,” Zhongli prompts her. He trusts his court, both for their capabilities and discretion. If they say a problem cannot wait, then it is for him to respond without delay. Moreover, there has been an unsettled air among his kin as of late, which had begun when Paradisaea arrived in a panicked flurry to report that his mate was abruptly suffering some great agony, and only intensified when it was discovered that, although all of Zhongli’s inner court had appeared to greet Aether, some from the branch courts had not sent word, nor could they be contacted.

“We have reason to believe the humans are purposely attacking, and perhaps even slaughtering our kin.”

“…Humans are striking against us?” Zhongli repeats, lost. “Explain.”

“Yes, Lord Morax. As you know, upon your awakening several moons ago, we emerged from seclusion alongside. With your rule and protection in place once more, Lord Focalors and her court, as well as Lord Barbatos and his court began to venture forth from their havens. However, we have now received word that several from Lord Focalors’s court have vanished or been captured, while Lord Barbatos and his closest attendants set out to seek his mate, and have not been heard from since. All these incidents occurred in the human settlement known as Mondstadt, the center of their kingdom in this age.”

Barbatos, the guardian of the eastern sea, had been defeated by humans in such a way as to leave not even a trace? And the kin of Lord Focalors’s court are hardly known for weakness either. Then there is the matter of those missing from his own court…

“I have been far too complacent, it seems,” Zhongli says gravely. For all that his beloved’s absence claws at his very soul, crippling him in mind and body alike, that is no excuse for failing to see the suffering of his own kin right before his eyes. His court, all the divine beasts of this land, have put their faith in him as emperor. Even if his own mate deems him unworthy or the humans betray longstanding peace, Zhongli cannot put his own pain before theirs.

Baiwen bows her head. “One from Focalors’s court who returned from Mondstadt spoke of a strange, cursed magick intertwined with the essence of our kin. It severed her brother from his powers and allowed the humans to capture and carry him away. She describes entering the city without human form, ready to perform tricks in the street and allow the humans to recognize our return— but guards responded swiftly and violently. Though she escaped, she seemed afraid that her brother was not the first divine beast to be subdued in such a way.”

“Indeed, it sounds as if the humans were prepared.” Zhongli growls low in his throat.

“Additionally, others who traveled to human settlements, intending to introduce themselves to the new generation, faced fear and hostility, and it seems many humans are fleeing their small villages for the central city. With your permission, Lord Morax, we will assemble a contingent to investigate, and if necessary, fight back.”

Zhongli sinks back into a coil. Aether had spoken before of the fear he and others in his village held for divine beasts, but Zhongli had not expected that the humans would have so quickly forgotten and turned against the alliances they had shared before. After all, it has only been a few millennia since the last days of his rule, and other courts had not slumbered with him, even if they had retreated from the human realm somewhat. But right now, it does not matter why the humans hate divine beasts, only that they do, and those under Zhongli’s protection may be suffering for it.

He has not felt any distress from his bond with Aether… through at night, his dreams are often hazy with endless, lonely skies and a sinking melancholy that Zhongli does his best soothe away, even if they cannot truly touch. Paradisaea, however… Zhongli cannot be certain, of course, but what if Vultur Volans had somehow fallen afoul of the unknown threat in Mondstadt? And if Aether had been traveling at his side…

“Summon our best,” Zhongli commands. “And urge the utmost caution. If the threat in Mondstadt is powerful enough to have captured Barbatos, it is a danger to us all. I will send Tartaglia, Ganyu, and Xiao as well.”

But Baiwen hesitates. “If I may be so bold, it would be best to keep your attendants close, Lord Morax. Although I have not confirmed it with my own eyes… we have also begun receiving reports that a large number of humans have left their city and are now marching out toward this mountain. If they truly intend to harm our kin, then there would be no blow more crippling than against the emperor.” Her feathers rustle. “I have no doubt of your power, Lord Morax. But as you say, utmost caution is advised.”

Two threats, one in the human city and one marching swiftly toward Zhongli himself… what had happened to the humans in the years Zhongli was gone? If this is how they all act, no wonder Aether had known so little and been so very afraid, not just of Zhongli, but of all the divine beasts in his court.

Zhongli had clung to passivity so as not to hinder the freedom he had promised Aether. But if there is true danger, he will not hold back.

“I will heed your counsel,” he tells Baiwen. “There is the smallest chance that my mate is also in the city… and as such I believe it would be best for Xiao to join your contingent. Tartaglia…?”

“I will gladly remain here to protect you, my lord.” Tartaglia says at once.

“And Ganyu as well,” Zhongli decides. “I shall greet the army when they arrive. Please bring our kin home safely.”

“It shall be done, Lord Morax,” Baiwen murmurs, and without a moment’s delay, she turns and takes to the sky.

Time to rouse Xiao with the less-than-welcome news. But perhaps a mission will at least give him fresh purpose again.

Chapter Text

The next day, neither Alhaitham nor anyone else has much to say. The wounded divine beasts are miserable, but not dying, at least not right now, and those who are fine have gotten used to sitting in darkness and silence for days upon end. Aether does learn that the first divine beasts captured were Lord Barbatos, Dahlia, and Rosaria, seeing as they were all together when they approached Diluc. But it turns out that the next prisoner was actually Tighnari.

“He spoke very little even before he was tortured,” Dahlia says sadly. “As I understand, he is half human, with natural command over two forms— though differently from yourself, Lord Aether. He was born to the Valuka Shuna. I do not know how he came to be living in this city, but it seems he helped create the severing curse from Lord Barbatos’s scales— only to be exposed by it.”

So Tighnari had been a member of the Akademiya? Aether thinks back to the paranoia of Hexer Cyno and the guards, and the efficiency of their system for capturing divine beasts. Perhaps that’s where it had started— finding something not entirely human already deep within their own ranks.

After several days without any food at all, Aether discovers it’s possible to be hungry, even as a dragon, so Alhaitham swoops down from whatever hidden perch he’d found above to coax a pale cave plant with small berries out of the packed earth. The top grows through the bars into Aether’s cage, and he eats as many of the tangy fruits as he can reach.

Then Diluc comes again.

This time, he marches down the hall with great purpose, and stops, not in front of Lord Barbatos’s cell, but in front of Aether’s. They stare at each other for a moment.

“You said you were human.”

“…I still am,” Aether says cautiously. A second later, Diluc’s hand darts out to splash a vialful of blue dust straight into Aether’s face.

Spluttering, Aether ducks away from the cloud and scrapes the powder— the curse, the proof of Lord Barbatos’s suffering— out of his eyes. For all the pain it had caused the other divine beasts, Aether still doesn’t feel anything at all. When he manages to squint up again, Diluc is watching him with something like wonder.

“So it was true…”

Aether glares at him.

“…Sorry.” At least Diluc’s expression is approaching contrite. “Just— why else would we have locked you in here?”

“Do your people not tell you anything? Supposedly, I was brought here for questioning, but no one has come to do that yet. Except you, I guess.”

“Ever since that dragon appeared, I’ve been cut out from the inner circles of both the Ordo and the nobles,” Diluc says, face dipping into shadow. “I kept my normal duties thanks to my father and brother intervening, but… you saw that Lawrence noble the other day. Some people think I shouldn’t be allowed in Mondstadt at all.”

Finally, a name to put to the sneering man’s face. “But why? Even if Lor… this dragon approached you, you clearly still rejected him.”

Diluc scowls. “Because this isn’t the first time we’ve been attacked by these beasts. Are you sure you’re with them?”

“I… wasn’t always,” Aether says slowly. “And it’s not like I know everything. Tell me more.”

Suspicion simmers in Diluc’s gaze. “Mondstadt’s been under siege by monsters for years— decades, now. Beasts turned mad who spread their insanity… our people aren’t lured away often. But when they are, delusions of being claimed by the beasts destroy their minds, they no longer eat or drink, and eventually…” Silence weighs heavy in the air. “No one knows where the monsters come from, and somehow they always manage to appear inside the city, no matter how many guards we post.”

Divine beasts driven by insanity to attack humans? Aether has never heard of that before, not even in the village’s wildest rumors or the oldest scraps of text he could get his hands on. It doesn’t seem like something that could happen to creatures like Zhongli or Xiao… but what does he know?

“Of course, I haven’t been a Knight for long, but the others say the attacks have been getting stronger. The worst was just three years ago, when I joined my father on a trip to check on some vineyards. I’ll never forget the moment that drake dove from the sky.” Diluc shudders. “It was a— a skinless monstrosity of mismatched parts, dripping sludge. It almost killed my father. Even so, we are fortunate it only took his leg, and not his mind.”

Aether stares at him. “How… no, you said you don’t know where they’re coming from. But that doesn’t sound anything at all like a divine beast.”

“Then what else could it be?” Diluc demands. “Not just the drake, but strange deer and falcons and wolves— they’re all oversized beasts with too much power. And now, divine beasts from the past are appearing in our cities and villages; mimicking human forms and trying to destroy the Akademiya and Crown from the inside. I’ve heard that in some places, they’re even demanding sacrifices and snatching people away to their lairs! It's just as the Lawrence clan records predicted.”

…Demanding sacrifices and snatching people away? Hm. But more importantly—

“What are the Lawrence clan records?”

Diluc blinks. “Have you not…? Ah, right, you’re from one of the farther villages. The Lawrence clan is one those that think they deserve to rule Mondstadt just because they’re among the oldest… but they’re the only ones who still have full records of the divine beasts and primordial age. So when the divine beasts started appearing, we had no choice but to shift power to them so they could protect the city.” Diluc’s face has twisted with an impressive scowl. “But that should be over soon. Once we kill the ruler of the divine beasts, things will finally go back to the way they should be.”

“…What?”

A sudden clamor rises from the cages around them, even Tighnari and Lord Barbatos lifting their heads. Diluc flinches back into himself.

“Sir Diluc,” Aether says urgently, throwing a hand out toward the other divine beasts to beg for quiet. “What do you mean? Are you— you’re not actually planning to attack the emperor, right?”

Diluc’s expression is cold. “We already have. The records say this is the only time the ruler will have a weakness— the only chance us humans have to save ourselves. Supposedly, it has already snatched up one of our people to be a bride, and…” Diluc trails off, turning away. “Why am I even telling you this? You’re on their side. You’re already lost.”

Blood pounds heavy in Aether’s ears, fear jolting through his heart. For Zhongli, or for the humans daring to attack a golden dragon? Even he isn’t sure. “No, Sir Diluc, please, I’m not lost, I’m the—” A familiar voice shrieks from above, the sound echoing around the cavernous hall, and Aether chokes himself into silence.

Would it be so bad to tell Diluc the truth? But if Alhaitham thinks otherwise, Aether will heed his warning. “Look. I don’t know what’s going on in this city, but you’ve got it all wrong. I mean, the divine beasts are returning, and they’re definitely being more familiar with humans than they really should, but they’re not interested in overthrowing humanity at all. I swear. The first monsters, the ruined ones… those have to be something else. All the divine beasts here are innocent.”

Diluc doesn’t respond, still glancing around warily in the wake of Alhaitham’s cry, and backs slowly down the hall until he’s too far away for Aether to try and continue their conversation. He doesn’t move again until guards appear to drag him back out into the world above.

--

“Presuming to attack Emperor Morax…” the gray cat say softly once Diluc is gone. “The humans have forgotten most everything of the old days, it seems.”

“Yet they still managed to defeat and trap us all here,” Dahlia returns bleakly. “We all underestimated them. And who knows what other curses they have fed with our claws and fur and blood? As much as I wish to say the same, Lyney… perhaps even Lord Morax is not safe.”

The gray cat, apparently Lyney, does not argue. Instead— “What will you do, beloved of the emperor? You are the only one of us who still holds freedom. There’s still time for you to destroy this prison and fly to your mate, or perhaps slaughter the human armies yourself.”

Aether curls away from the burning gazes of the divine beasts around him and squeezes his eyes shut. The return of myths from the primordial age. Human fear that seems strangely disproportionate to the gentleness Aether has found in the divine beasts. The Eastern Dragon chained and the winds dead. Strange, corrupted animals that seem to appear only in the central city. The Lawrence clan and mysterious old records. Curses born from the suffering of divine beasts and nursed by the mages of the Akademiya. An attack (an army? An “expedition?”) launched against the glorious dragon emperor.

Every day, he learns so much more, yet understands less and less.

“I… I trust Zhongli,” Aether whispers into the waiting stillness. “He has his court, and Xiao and Ganyu and Tartaglia— they’ll see an attack coming. And even if they don’t, there’s no way a human army will be able to defeat all of them at once, no matter how many cursed weapons they have. Instead, while Mondstadt’s attention is on that… I want to do what I can here. If I go back now, I’ll probably just end up being one more thing for Zhongli to worry about anyway.” No matter how much he wishes he could just nestle against Zhongli’s scales, as safe as any creature could possibly be, without any need to concern himself with the world outside.

The divine beasts say nothing— and say nothing. Are they disappointed, or musing? Angry, or simply without any other ideas? Aether can’t tell, but the silence feels damning. They’ve probably given up on ever convincing Diluc to choose Lord Barbatos and let them go free. And now, even though they all know the humans are planning something terrible, almost sacrilegious— Aether is still sitting quietly in his cage, waiting for a result that might never come.

No wonder they don’t want to talk to him.

--

Aether’s own quiet sobs accompany the mourning of the winds, and the vaulted dream sky is cloudless, yet dark.

Zhongli holds him just as close as the night before, but something is strange. Different. Rather than simply cradling Aether in arms, his hands are grasping, guarding. His fingers dig into Aether’s flesh, spots of insistent pressure that keep Aether’s focus from straying, and he constantly shifts and settles Aether in his lap, as if he can’t hold him tightly enough.

Has Zhongli ever behaved quite like this before? Aether tries to soothe him, tracing fingertips over his chest and along his shoulders, but between the two of them, they are restless all night.

Aether gazes out across the shadowed sky as consciousness begins to tug at him. Is that speck of Xiao in the distance just a little closer than before?

--

Diluc arrives in the hall again just as Aether is finishing his furtive, Alhaitham-grown breakfast and marches straight down to the cages.

“…This dragon does seem different from the drake that attacked my father,” is the first thing he says, though rather as if it pains him. “But then, what do they want? Why are they suddenly invading our kingdom after thousands of years of silence, disguising themselves as humans or trying to seduce us away?”

Why? Because Morax, the great dragon emperor, had awoken, rousing all those who had been in seclusion with him. And why had he awoken?

“Oh.” Aether looks at his own hands. He probably still shouldn’t say anything about being Zhongli’s mate, though.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… most of them hid while their emperor slept. I think you know that already. But now that they’re all awake and moving again, they’re looking for their mates. That’s all.”

“…Like what happened to me.”

“And me.”

Aether meets Diluc’s gaze, and he seems… not even remotely happy, but at least a little contemplative.

“They have their own domains, I think, and just wanted to introduce themselves to us— the human kingdoms, I mean.”

Diluc scowls. “Even if they really don’t intend to overthrow us… why demand humans for mates? Wouldn’t a beast need another beast?”

“That…” True. Aether hadn’t bothered to question it in the beginning, because of course a sacrifice to a dragon would be a human. And later, Zhongli had already explained the whims of fate, and Aether was too concerned with why he was chosen to wonder at the fact that a human had been fated for a divine beast. “I don’t know.” He turns to the other cages while Diluc gapes at him. “Is there a reason? It does seem like it would be easier to just find a mate among your own kind…”

He expects Dahlia to answer, or even Lord Barbatos, but instead, a rasping and broken voice comes from his left.

“Do you only love those who are exactly like you?” Tighnari asks. “Divine beasts and humans are meant to exist as one. To grow through each other and embrace differences. My parents did just that, and I found my mate among humans as well. And yet…” His words end in a high keen, a sound so desperate and longing it resonates with the cold empty in Aether’s own chest.

“You have a mate here?” Aether whispers.

“Cyno…” Tighnari moans before lapsing back into silence.

Cyno? The mage who had captured Alhaitham? The one in charge of subduing divine beasts?

“Oh, no…” Aether breathes. What had Dahlia said? That Tighnari had been part of the Akademiya, working on the curse. And Diluc had mentioned divine beasts “trying to destroy the Akademiya…”

It’s not too hard to imagine exactly how Tighnari had ended up in this prison.

“What is it saying?” Diluc growls when Aether has apparently sat in silent horror for too long.

“He…” Aether swallows. “He says that divine beasts and humans are meant to live together, and of course the mating bonds are part of that. It’s nothing malicious. But… do you know of a mage named Cyno?”

“Huh? Cyno?” Diluc’s face scrunches. “Oh, Hexer Cyno? He’s one of the more famous members of the Akademiya, I guess. One of the Matra— the enforcers. I don’t know him personally. Why?”

Is it safe to tell Diluc about this, at least? “…It seems like he’s this divine beast’s mate.”

“Hexer Cyno too?” Unease is flickering across Diluc’s expression. “So the divine beasts are only interested in some humans.”

“Mostly, yes,” Aether says cautiously. “They called me a fated mate, and you’re probably one too. That means we’re the only ones our divine beasts—” ah, that’s an impressive scowl on Diluc’s face— “can or will ever take as mates. I only know for sure about dragons, though.”

“Dragons have the strictest fates,” Dahlia breaks in smoothly. “For most of the rest of us, there is not one partner alone. Perhaps a few will be compatible in every age.”

A few in every age? That still sounds pretty strict to Aether.

“Right.” He relays Dahlia’s explanation. “So… we’re special, I guess.” He smiles weakly.

Diluc just looks defeated. “Why did it have to be me?”

“I wonder the same thing all the time.”

Commiserating silence shrouds the hall, and Diluc gingerly settles in the dirt before Aether’s cage.

“Your… ‘mate.’ Are you alright? Did it make you… do anything?”

The thrill of Diluc’s genuine concern is almost instantly drowned out by the repulsive insinuation.

“No,” Aether almost shouts. “No, no, not even for a moment. My mate… there was a lot he didn’t understand about me, and humans, but he was always kind, and I never had to worry about being forced.” Well, except for his first moments in the cave. But unlike with Zhongli, Aether can actually speak to Diluc, so maybe he can erase that fear for him before it can even take root. “I haven’t had many chances to talk to your mate, but he seems the same. I would personally trust him the same, anyway.”

“But then, what do the beasts want mates for, if not that?” Diluc looks queasy.

“Well… why do humans look for partners?”

“You’re saying they— they love—"

“Yeah,” Aether says simply. “I know it’s strange. And in my experience, the way they think about it is a little different from us. But it’s real, once you start to know them in return.”

Diluc is quiet for a long, long time after that. But when he looks up into Lord Barbatos’s cage, his shoulders are no longer drawn up so tight around his ears.

-*-

The next day, Aether is woken from heavy, cloying sleep by screams.

He jolts up, slamming his head on the top of his cage in disorientation. There are dozens of heavily armored guards suddenly crowding the end of the hall, rapidly drawing closer as they drag… something in their midst. A man. A man with long blue hair snarled loosely around his shoulders and face, and blood dripping a steady trail in his wake. Except he must not be entirely human, because there are glimmering feathers mixed in with his hair, scaly patterns on his bare feet, and… is that a battered, plucked peacock’s tail sticking out from under his shirt?

The man is fighting his captors, but to no avail— every time he thrashes, there’s a fleshy crunch as an armored hand strikes his face. Still, he does not give up, even as the procession reaches the empty cage to Lord Barbatos’s left.

At the back of the line walks the sneering man from before, this time flanked by a nervous-looking woman who looks enough like him that Aether guesses she’s also of the Lawrence clan. On his other side is an elderly man with a monocle and goatee who breezes along as if there isn’t a man being tortured to screams right in front of him.

“The Gunnhildrs won’t take kindly to this,” the woman is saying.

“But what can they do about it? They need us to protect the city, their strongest heir is away leading the army, and besides, the Ragnvindrs were a dying clan anyway. Any leftover resistance we can crush easily enough,” the sneering man says dismissively.

“I suppose…”

“Still, this is a boon beyond even my wildest dreams. Imagine! A filthy beast harbored deep in the Ragnvindr house, exposed before the whole clan and city. That fool Crepus will never see the light of day again, and his cowardly son is nothing more than our pawn now.”

Aether huddles quietly in the shadows, drinking in the information the man apparently feels so free to share— little as he understands the details. So the man they’ve just dragged in is… part of Diluc’s clan? And they’ve used him as an excuse to put Diluc’s father in prison?

“Best not to stumble into overconfidence,” the older man says mildly. “The project is not over until we’ve made a divine beast of our own. And these creatures have been of less help than I had hoped.”

Made a divine beast of their own?

“Tch.” The sneering man gestures something at the guards, and they proceed to stuff the tortured man in the cage. It’s much too small for a human body. “Our patience is running out, Azar. It’s been decades, and yet you seem to have progressed little beyond the corrupted shadows of beasts.”

“Yes, indeed. Strength and instinct are injected easily enough, but intelligence…” the man strokes his beard. “Our creations still lack ‘divinity’. But fear not. Experimentation reveals all in the end.”

The sneering man finally moves forward himself to press a small object to the door of the cage. It clicks, then sparks to life with the same magickal lightning that surrounds Aether. So there’s a key. Of course there is. If Aether could get his hands on it, he’d finally be able to leave his cage and gather the others into his hoard without alerting all the humans as to their escape…

But it seems their only goal was to watch the peacock-feathered man’s suffering to the end. The whole procession quickly sweeps out of the hall again, and the final slam of the door echoes in the silence.

“Alhaitham,” Aether calls once he can no longer hear so much as a footstep in the distance. “Please, can you—?”

Alhaitham is already fluttering down from his hiding place to the newly occupied cage, and he carefully hops around it, inspecting as closely as he can without triggering the magick.

When he lifts his head and returns to Aether, his dark eyes are grave. “It seems they used the curse on him as well. But to end up like this… he must not be wholly divine beast. Whatever the case, he is weak, and badly wounded. Were we still part of the Akademiya, I suspect even the healers of the Bimarstan would only shake their heads.”

But the man had been struggling so desperately just a few moments ago! Then again, maybe that’s the very reason why he’s broken now

“You can’t heal him?” Aether pleads.

Alhaitham shakes his head slowly. “Even among divine beasts, I have found that skill to be rare.”

“I only know how to heal myself,” Lyney says mournfully when Aether looks around, and the others offer nothing but silence.

They all stare at the man in the cage as his breaths slow and begin to rattle. Even if Aether abandons his plan to remain caged until Diluc can be convinced to help them, will adding this man to his hoard do anything? Can Aether claim anyone not fully divine beast at all?

Still, he has to try something. He won’t let anyone trapped in this terrible place die if he can help it.

A sudden cacophony rings out at the end of the hall, and the door is again thrown open— this time to reveal a wild-eyed, gasping Diluc, his arms held on either side by guards, and a tall, regal-looking woman following shortly behind.

Diluc strains his way down the hall, the guards restricting his every step. One of them is laughing, his voice vaguely familiar from a few nights ago.

“That desperate to get back to your master? Or maybe you’re trying to whore yourself out to your brother too, now that he’s shown his true colors. Think he’s any good at taking it? Those feathers would make for a nice trophy—”

“Shut up, will you?” the other guard hisses. “They’re beasts. And we’re in front of Lady Eula—”

“What? I’m just telling it like I see it. You should probably have a turn with him too, finally relax a little.”

The other guard recoils, and the woman’s lip curls further. But they’ve finally made it to the well-paced spot before Aether’s cage, where Diluc, who had seemed deaf to the guard’s vile monologue, finally spots—

“Kaeya!”

“Ah, if only we could throw him in a cage right along with the rest of his pitiful clan,” the first guard sighs loudly. “A dog, a bitch, and a monster, how—"

“Leave.”

“—fitting. What?”

The tall woman steps up close to the guard and grabs him by the collar, lifting him in a choking grip. “Are you stupid as well as worthless? I said, leave.”

“But—”

“You were summoned to do your job as a knight of the Lawrence family, not defile our name and waste your breath on useless prattle. Get out of my sight. You, make sure he ends up before the captain. I can handle this by myself.” She shoves the first guard against the chest of the second, then bodily backs them down the hall again.

The guard with more restraint jerks into a bow before dragging his raging companion through the door and away. Aether’s gaze flicks back to the woman.

“Disgusting rats, all of them. I will have vengeance,” she scoffs under her breath. Then she moves to stand silently at Diluc’s back, arms crossed.

“Kaeya,” Diluc is still repeating. “Kaeya, please, no—” He falls to his knees, hands grasping just short of the crackling bars. “Why, why—?”

“Threats to Mondstadt’s safety will not be tolerated,” the woman says coldly. “Did you not also take such an oath when you joined the Ordo?”

“But he’s not a threat!” Diluc cries. “He’s never done anything to us, I’ve known him my whole life, and he’s only ever— he helped us kill the beasts that attacked the city.”

“Hmph. Well, this may be your final farewell, so I’ll allow it. Don’t make me come and fetch you when you’re done, Diluc.”

And with that, the woman stalks away, hands falling from her chest back to her sides— and something clinks to the ground, rolling along until it meets the base of Aether’s cage. She doesn’t turn around for noise, and soon, Aether and Diluc are once again alone in the hall.

Chapter Text

Diluc’s quiet, hitching sobs fracture the silence here and there as Aether desperately tries to peer straight down through the bars of his prison to the object below. The size, and the color— it looked just like the key that had locked Kaeya’s door. When he looks up to see Dahlia’s equally wide eyes, he knows he’s right.

The woman, Lady Eula— she’s given them a choice. A chance. And even though Aether doesn’t know why, he’s not going to waste it.

“Diluc,” Aether calls urgently. “Diluc, we can help you.”

Diluc doesn’t turn around, but his sobs do quiet for a moment.

“I can try and save that man— Kaeya. And if you need it, I can protect you too.”

Diluc makes a broken sound. “At what cost? I’m the one who put you all in here. I know better than to make deals with the enemy.”

Aether takes a careful breath. “That’s true. But I’m not interested in revenge on you. You’re just… the knife that cut, not the hand that swung it. And you’re Lord Barbatos’s mate. So all we want is freedom.”

“Freedom to attack the city?” Diluc asks bitterly.

“No,” Aether says, drawing on all the softness he knows how. “Lord Barbatos and his court have their own domain to return to. Others have their own lords, their own families. I… I have my mate. We have no reason to do anything other than go home. And nobody will force you to join us.”

Diluc’s head sags for a long moment. Then he rises, shoulders set and fists clenched. When he finally looks at Aether, his eyes are full of white-hot fire.

“Fine. You know what? I don’t even care if it’s a trap anymore. What more do I have to lose?” He crosses the hall to Aether’s cage. “Heal my brother, save my father… and help me get revenge on those traitorous Lawrences. For that, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“No need to promise that much,” Aether says quietly. “Just guide us to wherever we need to go.”

He points Diluc to the key on the ground, and Diluc picks it up with visibly shaking hands. “This… Eula would never have lost something so important.”

So perhaps they’re not entirely alone after all.

As Diluc sets the key to the lock, the magick fizzles out, and a single touch is all Aether needs to push the door open. Despite his bravado, Diluc flinches when Aether fully straightens for the first time in days, and they finally stand face-to-face. But Aether has no intention of betraying his trust.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, holding out a hand for the key. “Alhaitham?”

Alhaitham flaps down from the shadowy ceiling to land on Aether’s shoulder, and Diluc scrambles back.

“Wha—how—where did that come from?”

Alhaitham’s feather’s ruffle, and in a mind-bending twist of feathers and fabric, he’s suddenly standing at Aether’s side instead, in all his human glory.

“I’ll thank you to call me Alhaitham,” he says coolly. “And although Aether is forgiving, I assure you I have not forgotten the pain of the curse you pulled from your mate’s scales.”

Diluc is still gaping silently, so Aether moves on to Kaeya’s cage and hurries to unlock the door. Just as Alhaitham had said, the man isn’t looking good at all, his skin bloodless, yet at the same time, vibrant with bruises.

“I’m sorry,” Aether whispers, gathering Kaeya’s torso into his arms as gently as he can. There’s no hungry pull toward this man the way there had been for Alhaitham and Xiao, but surely Aether will be able to hoard him regardless? Only one way to find out.

He sets his teeth to Kaeya’s shoulder and bites.

At once, Kaeya seizes, and Aether’s vision momentarily flashes pure white as existence blooms in his mind and a fresh tether loops around his heart. Distantly, he can feel the ache of Kaeya’s injuries, the way every beat of his weakening heart prods at crushed organs and stabs through to his marrow. Somehow, he can feel that Kaeya has no court, not even a broken tie to one, and that the place where his divinity and humanity intertwine is strange and lopsided, heavily weighted toward his human side.

Then all the sensation fades, and Kaeya is breathing easier in Aether’s arms, still not awake, but drinking in power through his claim to the hoard.

When Aether turns, he finds Alhaitham passively holding a furious Diluc back.

“I didn’t hurt him!” Aether says hastily, heaving Kaeya out of the cage and around so Diluc can see him. “That’s just the only way I know how to heal. I’m sorry. I should have warned you first.”

Diluc droops in Alhaitham’s grip, but scrambles to his knees at Kaeya’s side as soon as he’s released. For all his haste, his fingers are creakingly hesitant where they bush over a patch of feathers of Kaeya’s cheek and cover the faint indentations of teeth on his shoulder. “…Why did you do that?”

“Even I wasn’t sure it would work,” Aether admits. “I… have a lot of power, but I don’t think any of it is for healing. So instead, I— in essence, I added him to my clan, and through that, I could give him extra energy to heal himself.”

Diluc tenses. “You’re taking him away?”

“No. I’ll cut off the connection as soon as he’s healed if he doesn’t want it anymore.” Though the thought sends an unexpected pang through Aether’s chest.

Carefully pressing Kaeya into Diluc’s arms, Aether stands again and turns his attention to the other cages. Lyney is freed first, bounding out with a yowl and a long stretch. Beside him, Gorou, who turns out to be a dog of white and gold with pointed ears and an upright, curled tail, emerges limping and slightly bloodstained. Right. He’d been there for whatever “punishment” had been inflicted after the divine beasts attempted to escape.

“Should I… bring you into my hoard?” Aether asks tentatively, but after a moment of consideration, Gorou shakes his head.

“I respectfully decline, dragon’s beloved. I am not so badly injured, and would prefer not to form any more bonds if I can help it. Don’t hesitate if it becomes necessary, however.”

There’s only an empty cage past Gorou’s, so Aether retraces his steps. Tighnari does not immediately move when his cage door is opened, and does not respond when Aether offers him a place in the hoard. Beside him, a pure white fox with five red-tipped tails gingerly squeezes out from the tiny space into which he had been crammed, and Aether rushes to catch him when his slender legs fail.

“Kaedehara Kazuha, my lord,” the fox whispers. “We have not spoken, but I have long been listening to your efforts to free us. Please, claim me as your own.”

“You’re sure?” Aether has to ask, because— well, that was fast…

But Kazuha just tries to sink into a deep, pleading bow, which he definitely should not be doing in his state, and looks up at Aether like seeing the sun after long winter. He’s far too thin, and one of his tails drags crooked behind him, so Aether gently noses past the soft fur of his neck to bite.

The sharp gnawing of starvation. An almost unbearable, tingling heat everywhere Aether’s hands touch. A court bond long since shattered and the ache of loneliness.

The feeling of Kazuha floods Aether’s mind, then washes away just as quickly. Strength appears to return to Kazuha’s limbs, and when he rises fully, his head reaches just below Aether’s shoulder. That head knocks insistently into Aether’s side, and he doesn’t stop Kazuha from following along as he moves to the next cage.

Which… is empty? What’s that oddly shaped lump of wood and silvery leaves in the corner?

“Ah,” Alhaitham says, appearing to lean over Aether’s shoulder. “Yes, those fools have never bothered to look twice at anything they consider below them. And a good thing, too. Even with dendro, I could not coax much to grow down here.”

“This is supposed to be you?” Aether squints at the leafy bundle. At a passing glance in the dim hall, he supposes it does look vaguely like a large, silver-feathered bird huddled on the ground. Sort of.

Alhaitham shrugs. “It deterred their suspicion, didn’t it?”

The cage across from Alhaitham’s long-abandoned one holds what Aether can only assume is an extraordinarily miserable kelpie. Their fish tail looks bone-dry, cracked and bleeding from between the scales, and they seem mostly unable to move.

“Hello,” Aether says softly when he opens the door. “Who are you?”

“Furina,” the kelpie wheezes. “Please, please, help me.” She sounds young.

“I’m here. I’m going you get you all out of this place.”

The kelpie’s front hooves scrape hopelessly over the floor of the cage as she tries and fails to get closer to Aether. “I was supposed to be able to back home by now. Lord Morax has risen and the divine beasts returned— so why hasn’t Focalors come for me? Have I done something wrong after all? Spent too long in the human world to be allowed back?” she mourns.

“I don’t know,” is all Aether can say, “but I’ll help you make it home so you can figure it out.”

It’s a bit harder figuring out where to bite her, but eventually Aether settles on the crest of her neck, near the end of her mane. He gets a fleeting impression of despair and a faded court bond before the hoard bond does its job, and Furina immediately uses the new power to shift from kelpie to a normal-looking speckled horse.

Once she seems to be moving comfortably enough on her own, Aether moves on.

There is another empty space beside Furina’s, though the floor of this cage is well-scratched and gouged enough that Aether can only assume it once held the ill-fated basilisk who had inadvertently added to the divine beast’s chains. After that, it’s Dahlia, who presses his nose to Aether’s hand with murmured thanks when he is freed. And on Lord Barbatos’s other side, besides Kaeya, Aether finds a strange, almost bird-like creature with tall feathers that look like ears and wings that wrap around them like a cape.

They introduce themselves plainly. “My name is Ororon, and I want to go home.”

This divine beast also sounds achingly young and innocent, despite the dried blood running down to his eyes from wounds among the delicate feathers of his face. Aether can’t help but gather Ororon into his arms— never mind that, like this, he’s barely half Ororon’s size.

Ororon makes a startled churring sound, but doesn’t fight the hold, and Aether brings him into the hoard with a careful bite over the joint of his wing.

Then all the cages but one stand empty, and Aether approaches the biggest and final prison. At one shoulder is his hoard— now Alhaitham, Kazuha, Furina, Ororon, and Kaeya in Diluc’s arms. At his other shoulder wait the others— Lyney, Dahlia, Gorou, and a still-listless Tighnari. For some reason, they’re all silent and patient, faces turned toward Aether as he lifts the key to the lock.

The door creaks open, and Lord Barbatos wearily lifts his head.

“I had given up all hope of freedom,” he says, beak meeting Aether’s hand. “What was it, Morax’s beloved? Luck or cunning?”

Aether doesn’t feel cunning in the slightest, so it must have been luck. And help from the others.

He hops into the cage himself, reaching for the chains that bind Lord Barbatos’s wings. They seem to be made of the same magick-infused metal of the cage bars, but the links are shoddily— perhaps hastily?— constructed, and they look brittle. Aether takes hold of a particularly uneven joint, maneuvering around the manacles still dangling from his own wrists, and pulls.

The metal shrieks under the tension, and Aether’s hands immediately begin to burn with the strain on his grip, but the link is giving, bending, and then— snapping with a clank and burst of shrapnel. The bits of iron sting against Aether’s face, but don’t seem able to cut, so he just brushes them off.

With a groan, Lord Barbatos flaps the newly freed wing and pulls it back against his body while Aether takes care of the chain on the other side. While he’s at it, he snaps the much less sturdy iron shackles off his own arms and kicks aside the giant links that no longer bind Lord Barbatos.

But even once the fetters are gone and Aether has stepped back, Lord Barbatos makes no move to leave his cage. He only scratches quietly at the floor and watches Diluc with a gaze sharp enough to pierce the soul.

“Do I have to… your name?” Diluc stammers.

Lord Barbatos waits.

“Then I guess— you don’t have to stay in that cage anymore, Venti. You’re free. Actually, you don’t have to listen to any of the orders I gave before.”

Power sparks in the air, Lord Barbatos surging forth the moment Diluc speaks his name. Despite his ragged, featherless state, there is still a certain glory to a dragon finally rising to its full height. But Aether doesn’t have time for the appropriate awe.

“Sir Diluc…”

“Yes,” Diluc acknowledges quietly, shuffling out of Lord Barbatos’s shadow.

“What will you do next?”

“I…” Diluc slowly takes in the crowd of divine beasts now standing tall and unfettered around him. Though he’s hardly the smallest one among them, he seems to have shrunken, the fire of rage in his eyes that had first freed Aether no longer burning quite so high. Instead, he looks… guilty. Afraid. “Is there nothing more I can do to help him?”

Aether follows his gaze up to Lord Barbatos, who is holding himself gingerly and still bleeding from torn, featherless skin.

“…I’m sure if you closed the mating bond it would help, but…”

“But?” Diluc demands.

Aether squints at him. “You were very much against joining us, weren’t you? And the mating bond would connect your minds. Change you into a divine beast. Force you to stay close to your mate’s side for a while. Or at least, that’s what it did to me. And as far as I can tell, it’s all permanent.”

Diluc flinches, but to Aether’s surprise, doesn’t immediately reject the possibility. “…Maybe it doesn’t matter now. It’s not like I have a place here in Mondstadt anymore.” He looks down at the half-changed man still in his arms. “It was really just me, Kaeya, and father anyway. And if even Kaeya belongs with you… perhaps fate has gotten tired of letting me pull against her strings.”

“Diluc…”

Lord Barbatos makes a terrible keening sound. “Please, Aether. Tell him I will care for him, and his brother, and his father. I love him. Even if he chooses to be with me only as long as it is not safe for him here, I will always welcome him.”

What kind of love is it, exactly, Aether wonders, that can survive the endless march of time? That seems untouched by torture and betrayal? That clings on through rejection? That does not care for faces or bodies or skills or worthiness, and instead simply hopes and waits with the curve of an underbelly exposed to offer warm shelter?

…The metaphor might have gotten away from him a little. Aether shakes himself and haltingly repeats Lord Barbatos’s words. “Still… I never had the chance, but I hope you can choose your mate for yourself, not just because there was no other option.”

Diluc sends him a sharp look, but thankfully does not seem inclined to prod at Aether’s own unhappy story just yet.

“You said you trusted this dragon?”

“I do. And I think he will make for a good mate.”

“Then…” Diluc’s eyes squeeze shut for a moment before he shakily creeps forward, passing Kaeya to Aether’s arms and facing Lord Barbatos straight on. “What do I have to do?”

Lord Barbatos trills wordlessly, frantically, bending low to meet him.

“The first thing is to complete a mind bond so you can talk to each other,” Aether explains hesitantly. Is this really alright? Is there any better choice? “And… simply put, you have to trust that he won’t kill you.”

“What?”

Diluc startles enough to jump when Lord Barbatos leans in to place the sharply hooked point of his beak against Diluc’s throat.

“Like that,” Aether says quietly. “My mate told me it’s about letting yourself be completely vulnerable for someone else. That’s how the mind bond connects. He’ll wound you a little, then heal you. And you’ll do the same in return.”

Lord Barbatos shakes his great head. “Half of the bond is already finished. One of the first scales he took from me was my heartscale… I allowed it in “trust”, though I was mistaken. But it is done. I have been suffering for it ever since.”

“Oh.” So, the pain of the unfinished bond can go both ways. Phantom memories of dragonfire, scorching instead of the soothing it should have been, lick beneath Aether’s skin, and he shudders. Never again. “Just you, then, Sir Diluc.”

Diluc looks vaguely nauseated as Lord Barbatos approaches his throat again. “You’re really, really sure about this, Aether?”

“Very. It’ll only take a moment.”

By the time Aether notices all the other divine beasts turning away or averting their eyes, it’s too late— Lord Barbatos has pressed his beak into Diluc’s skin and sliced down, leaving a bright crimson line that oozes in time with Diluc’s ragged breaths. In the next second, his tongue is out to lap up the blood, and Diluc crumples to his knees, arms wrapping around himself as he trembles.

“Diluc?” Lord Barbatos says hopefully, and Aether can tell the ritual has been a success when Diluc jolts in response.

A faint, impossible breeze begins to stir through the hall, and Lord Barbatos descends to curl himself all the way around Diluc’s body.

“Sir Diluc,” Aether calls, edging over to the tiny gap left in the circle of dragon. “Are you alright?” It doesn’t seem like anything had gone awry, but if there’s anyone familiar with breaking rituals that have apparently never been broken before…

“Fine,” Diluc rasps. “…You don’t have to call me that anymore. There’s no way the Order will let me keep my rank after all this, if they haven’t stripped it already.”

“Oh. Well. Diluc, then,” Aether says a little helplessly. How is he supposed to comfort Diluc through the loss of everything he knows and loves and has probably spent his whole life working toward?

“Is this normal?” Diluc asks with a weak gesture around him. Lord Barbatos’s tail has begun to swish, and a dove-like coo is echoing from his chest.

“As far as I know.” A hand settles lightly on his shoulder, and Aether turns to see Alhaitham, then all the other divine beasts, watching him solemnly.

“I hear movement from beyond this hall,” Alhaitham says. “Voices. If you want to act, I suspect we need to do so now.”

“Right.” Ten divine beasts, one of whom is still unresponsive, and one human besides himself. Two injured, without a hoard or mating bond to heal them. Aether has to get them all out safely, and without hurting any innocents in the city above their prison. “Diluc, do you know where your father is being held? We should go to him first— before anyone has the chance to gather soldiers and stop us.”

Diluc sucks in a sharp breath and stands, brazenly pushing his way out of Lord Barbatos’s protective hold. A pitiful sound rises from the dragon in his wake, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “You’re right. I think they took him to a dungeon under the central palace— that’s where criminals and traitors are usually kept, anyway. But it’s far. Halfway across the city and up the hill.” His gaze drifts away, presumably in the direction they’ll need to go.

“Not an obstacle with magick,” Aether says, and oh it feels good to finally know the solution to a problem, to feel power at his fingertips that comes as easily as breathing. “Is there a way to leave this place that doesn’t involve digging through the ceiling? You must have gotten Lord Barbatos in here somehow…”

“Ah.” Diluc peers above their heads into the darkness. “There’s a stone elevator that opens to the Ordo Favonius courtyard. But it needs an activation key.”

“No, I just needed to know if there was any path at all.” Aether never did have the chance to practice geo, but surely another element will do the trick if he’s creative enough.

“Allow me.” There’s new energy in Lord Barbatos’s steps as he presses past them and flicks one ruined wing. It’s just enough warning for Aether to brace himself before a massive column of wind leaps up to the ceiling, into the hollow of the elevator path, then out into the open sky above, the stone platform that had been sealing them in tossed aside like nothing more than a paper scrap.

Well. Aether helps a windblown Diluc back to his feet, checks to make sure Kaeya wasn’t somehow injured by the blast, and finally, nods to the small army of divine beasts behind him. He’d once thought that Zhongli, Xiao, and Ganyu alone made for an unfairly powerful front. Now, even though most of his divine beasts are weakened, that image is only multiplied. And Aether will take the bluff as far as he can.

“Let’s go.”