Drawing, Writing, & Music is My Life

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

After your shower, you make your way towards the dining room. You pass Semiu and give her a quick greeting before making your way onward. The smell of food makes its way through your nose as you enter the dining room. Not many people are there, making it easy to navigate your way to get your fill and find a table.

You find a spot near the entrance when you hear someone call your name in a high-pitched voice, "Come sit with us!" Looking over, you see Guita, Dear and Bro sitting at a table together. You smile softly and make your way over. Guita meets you halfway and throws her arms around your waist. You balance the tray of food in one hand and pat the top of her head with the other.

"Guita...." Bro groans at her display "At least let them sit down with their food first...."

You laugh softly and reassure them that it's okay, that you don't mind. "It's a good way to make sure you're fully awake." You said and sat down beside Dear. The boy gives you a side eye, eyeing you up and down before huffing out from his nose. He chews on his pacifier before taking it out and eating a bite of his food.

He's annoyed.

You smile at him, before reaching over and patting his head. Just like you did with Guita. "Good morning to you too." You speak gently to him. He gives you another once over before he closes his eyes and nods once. You chuckle quietly, and pick up your silverware before taking a bite of your food.

He just wanted to be acknowledged too.

Bro sighs at Dear's display and shakes his head in disappointment. "Sorry about that." He mumbles. You wave your hand, "Don't worry about it." Bro still seems a little embarrassed, but doesn't make anymore comments.

You all eat, Guita spouting about her favorite kaijus, as if she hasn't told you a million times before. But you listen intently, showing her the appropriate reactions to her wild gestures. Bro had to remind her multiple times to eat her food, but as soon as she would take a bite, she's up and jumping around, food and spit flying out.

You try to hide your disgust, showing it behind a closed eye smile, but Bro was having none of it, "Guita, chew and swallow before talking! How many times do I have to tell you!?" Dear wasn't doing any better. Bro was having to remind him as well to not put his pacifier back in after eating. "He's not as bad now as when he was a little younger." Bro tells you, and you laugh a little. "It's good that he's learning, but I also understand about trying to stop bad habits."

You look over at the clock and your eyes widen. "Oh shoot, I should probably start heading out." You say and quickly stand and gather your things.

"Aww you're leaving already?" Guita pouts and Dear's eyebrows furrow in disappointment. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but it's my day off and I wanna head into town early and do some browsing and hopefully stop by that bakery before they sell out." You give the kids one more head pat and give Bro a nod before setting your plate in the sink. "I'll be back later!" You call out and wave to them. Guita waves back eagerly, "See ya!!"

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

You hum a small tune as you approach the front entrance. Semiu is at her desk, flipping quickly through her magazine. "Heading out?" She asks without looking up. "Yeah, do you need anything?" You grab the jeep keys hanging on the wall.

"No thanks, I already asked Tamsy to grab what I need earlier." You turn your head towards the receptionist and blink once. "Tamsy? He's in town?" She nods her head, still not looking up. "Mhm. He's got today off too, so if you run into him, remind him to not forget that latest issue of LL." You shove the keys in your pocket and before nodding to her. "I gotcha, see ya in a few hours."

"Be careful." Is the last thing she says, before you make your way to the elevator. Pressing the button, you stand and listen to the sound of the creaking cables. The motor down below whirring like it needs WD-40. You aren't sure why you trust this thing, with the amount of times it's sounded like the cables could snap at any moment. Or how the doors would occasionally get stuck and you'd have to force them open.

You're pulled from your thoughts when the elevator chimes and the doors squeak open. You step in and press the button that leads to the garage. The doors creak close and you descend, feeling your stomach do a flip at the pull of the elevator. You grab the railing for stability.

It doesn't take you long to get to the garage. The doors open, slowly. Showing a bit of resistance, but eventually they open. You step out, your footsteps echoing throughout the garage.

Reaching the jeep, you take the keys out of your pocket to unlock the door. You slide in and close the door. Putting the keys in the ignition, you turn and the jeep roars to life. The engine rumbles, making the vehicle slightly vibrate. You throw your seat belt on, adjusting the rear view mirror, checking your side mirrors as well before adjusting your seat to your liking.

After double checking everything, you turn on the headlights, shift the gear into reverse and back up. Throwing it into drive, you speed off through the tunnel.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

You park somewhere outside the city, in a secluded spot, so the worry of anyone stealing it was low. Not impossible, but hopefully for you to have enough time to browse before someone can hot wire it. You take a deep breath of the poisoned air, walking through the entrance.

There were various shops open, ranging from jewelry, clothes, food, etc. You stopped at a shop that sold gloves. A lot of them were sewn back together. Some of them are silky and white. You take a look at the price of those. "Holy shit." You murmur.

"They come from the rich." The old lady running the shop tells you. Her voice sounded feeble and thin. She's hunched over, making her appear shorter than she actually is. Her face is wrinkly, making her eyes appear like she's always squinting.

You smile politely, "Really now? You mean from the Sphere, yes?" She nods her head. "Yep! My grandson came back with them when he was out in a No Man's Land." A frown appears on her, "Not after I gave him a good whippin' though!" She shakily raises her fist in the air. "I keep telling that dumbass not to go there, but he insists! He wants me to make a lot of money so I can retire soon." Her eyes turn glassy. "While that would be nice, I don't want him to risk his life for mine. He has more life in him than I do. I just wish he would focus on himself for a change. He's just like his mother." She shakes her head and sighs.

"Why not just raise the prices of the gloves you already have?" You ask and tilt your head. She laughs so hard, you think she might die right then and there. "My dear, I've tried that, but I lost so many valued customers, that I had no choice but to change it back. Besides, no one wants to pay for gloves that are found in the trash."

You hum and nod your head like you understand. "She has valued customers?" You think, before she leans in close. "So, are you interested in buying?" She eyes you up and down. A smile forms on your lips before you shake your head politely. "No ma'am, I only came to browse really, but thank you for the offer and the story."

She sneers at your decline. "Bah then get out of here! Wasting my time with you, when I could be making money!" You blink at her sudden change in personality. "Ah, I see." You think, "She was trying to make me feel bad about her and get me to buy something. How cruel." You turn and walk away, heading to another shop that sells bracelets.

As you're about to approach, a man passes by you. You only catch a glimpse, but you notice that his face is all bloodied and bruised. It's pretty normal for fights to break out here, considering you're on the Ground, so asking if he's alright might lead to another one.

As you're about to approach the bracelet shop, something else catches your eye. The bakery shop, the one you plan on stopping by last, comes into view. Or more like, the person standing in front of it.

Tamsy Caines.

His hair is a dead giveaway. You debate whether or not you should bother him. Since it's both of your days off and all. "He's got today off too, so if you run into him, remind him to not forget that latest issue of LL." Semiu's reminder echoes in your brain. Coming up with a decision, you begin to walk over to him.

As you approach, you notice he's wearing roller skates? "What the fuck?" You think to yourself. Tamsy's head turns at the sound of footsteps approaching behind him. He makes eye contact with you, making you smile softly. "Where'd you get those from?" You gestured towards the skates as you stopped in front of him. Tamsy turns his full body towards you, a little awkwardly though. "Ah, I got these at a shop a while back, I'd thought to try them out on my next day off." His voice is soft and melodic.

"Since you're here, I'm guessing it's your day off too?" He tilts his head to the side. "Yeah, I wanted to come and look around and hopefully get something sweet here at this bakery before they sell out." Tamsy hums, before readjusting the bag in his hand. You just noticed it, making you remember why you approached him in the first place. "Ah, Semiu wanted me to remind you about her magazine." He brings the bag up and shakes it a little. "Already got it. I was just about to get a slice of cake, would you like me to buy you one?"

You blink at him before narrowing your eyes. "What's the catch? You never give someone something for free." A pout forms on Tamsy's lips. "How cruel of you to think that, but yes you're right. All I want is for you to join me."

You blink once at his request. "Huh?" He chuckles at your reaction. "You heard me. Join me, on my day off. I would like some company." You ponder his words for a moment. "First he's buying me cake and he wants me to join him on his day off? He's got something up his sleeve."

Tamsy raises his brow at your lack of answer. "Well?" He asks, tilting his head. You shake your head before nodding, "Fine, I'll join you, but only because you offered to buy." He laughs before you both step inside the shop.

The smell of sugar and bread hits your nose, making you take a deep breath in. "I never get tired of this smell." You say as you breathe out. Tamsy hums in agreement. "It does smell nice." You both approach the counter where a bell sits with a note that says, "Please ring twice if no one is at the front." Tamsy reaches his hand out and rings the bell.

"Be right with you!" A deep baritone voice calls out from the back. You and Tamsy only wait for a few minutes before a chunky man steps out. He's covered in flour, the white contrasting against his dark skin. He approaches the counter and gives you both a big grin. "What can I get for ya today?"

"We're interested in buying two slices of the white, strawberry cake, like the one you have displayed outside." Tamsy speaks up, shoving his arms into his sleeves. The man nods his head. "That's a really popular choice! Just give me a few seconds alright?"

"Of course." Tamsy nods his head. The man walks back into the back, the kitchen you would presume, making you and Tamsy alone again. You take a look around the shop. A few images of different baked goods hang on the wall. On another wall, there are photos of people. "Must be his family." You think, staring at a small chubby kid in one photo. His smile matches the one the man has, so it's either him as a kid or his son.

Tamsy is staring at the display of sweets behind the glass counter. Some macaroons, cookies and cupcakes sit there, illuminated by the lights attached to the inside of the counter.

You consider buying some cookies, but you don't have much time to dwell on it, because the man returns with two slices of cake. They're wrapped up neatly, some of the frosting sticking to the parchment paper. A grin appears on your face, clearly unable to hide your excitement. Tamsy is watching you out of the corner of his eye, a smile appearing on his lips as well.

He pays for both slices and the two of you make your way out of the shop. He puts his slice in the bag, making you tilt your head in confusion. "You're not gonna eat it now?" You ask, staring at the bag where the cake sits. "Actually, I was hoping we could eat ours together at a cool spot I found." He gives you a sideways glance. "A cool spot huh?" You smirk, and set your cake in his bag as well. "Sure! Let's go."

Tamsy smiles and slowly skates his way forward, making you speed up your walking to keep up.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

This is not what you were expecting. When Tamsy said "a cool spot" you were expecting more like an abandoned carnival or a junkyard full of cars. Not a dungeon.

It smells like mildew and rust. There's dust and cobwebs everywhere, making you sneeze multiple times as you descend the stairs. Tamsy looks silly trying to go down, wobbling slightly from the skates. "Just take them off." You said when you watched him almost eat the ground for the 10th time. He just shakes his head, "I can't. I didn't bring any shoes with me. I planned on wearing these until I got back to HQ."

"I see." You murmur and hold out your hand to him. "Then at least let me help you before you lose your front teeth." Tamsy eyes your hand for a second before a small smile appears. He reaches out and grabs your hand. His fingers are cold against yours, as you both make your way slowly down the stairs.

You let go when he takes the last step, adjusting and checking the bag to make sure the cakes weren't messed up. While he's doing that, you take a quick look around. The walls are made of stone. Moss and mold run down the walls in some parts, while some were missing. Lanterns hang off the walls, providing a soft lighting effect. Where you guys are, the room is full of dirty crates and burlap sacks filled with something. You aren't too sure. "It's probably waaaayy too decomposed at this point." You think just as Tamsy finishes.

"Follow me, we aren't quite there yet." He motions and glides down a hallway where multiple lanterns hang. The walk there was mostly quiet, only the sounds of Tamsy's humming and both of your footsteps echo throughout the dungeon. You slow your walk to a complete stop when you notice a large, closed cell at the end of the hallway. "Is that it?" You nod your head towards the cell and Tamsy hums in confirmation. "Yep."

You turn your head towards Tamsy and give him a "you can't be serious" look. "That's it? That's the cool spot? What, we're gonna play Hell Guards and Robbers?" You jazz your hands. Tamsy narrows his eye at your attitude, lips forming a thin line. "Don't be rude. It's what it is that matters, more like who it is."

This piques your interest. "Who, as in, there's someone locked up there?" Your eyes widen. A smirk forms on his face, confirming your query. You run towards the cell, many theories filling your mind as to who it is. "Maybe it's some homeless lady who was looking for somewhere to sleep and she accidentally set off a trap in there, locking her in. Or a man who's running from his abuser and needs somewhere to hide. Or maybe its-"

The last thought gets cut off, but also proves who you were gonna think of as you approach the cell and grip the bars.

It's her....

Amo.

She's slumped over, chains hanging from her wrists. The only thing keeping her from falling. She looks awful. Her cheeks are hollowed in, lips are dry and cracked and her wrists have been rubbed raw from all of her weight being used to keep her up.

Her head is raised up, eyes wide open in fear at the sound of your approaching footsteps, but she relaxes as soon as she recognizes you. "Y-You were with Rudo and the others when you came to Amo's house." Her throat sounds hoarse, from either lack of use, screaming or both.

Your head drops and you grip the bars tighter. "Amo..." Your voice shakes, shoulders shaking as well. "Please help Amo. Amo is so scared." Tears well up in her eyes.

Your grip on the bars loosen, but you don't let go as you hear him approaching you both. You know who did this. It's obvious really. Raising up your head, you take a look at Tamsy and notice his hair is down. The clip that held it up was missing and parts of his hair hangs in his face. His eyes held no emotion or reaction at you finding him out.

You clench your fists on the bars again, and look at Tamsy with a calm expression. "Did you do this? Are you the one who kidnapped Amo and locked her in here?" Tamsy's eyes narrow and a sinister smile appears on his face. "Yes, it was me." He tilts his head, hair falling over his eyes.

Your head drops and you turn to look at Amo again. She looks up at you with a hopeful look, hoping you can get her out of this. "Please." She whimpers. You start shaking, your head dropping between your shoulders. But you aren't shaking from fear or anger.

You're laughing.

You let a giggle slip out and suddenly you can't control yourself. Your head lifts up, throwing your head back and letting out the loudest cackle you've ever done. Amo eyes widen in fear and confusion at your reaction. Why are you laughing? What's so funny about this?

Your sides start to hurt, as you clench them with your arms. Tamsy chuckles and approaches, putting a hand on your lower back. "Alright darling, that's enough. You're gonna give yourself a cramp from all that laughing."

Your laughter finally dies down a little and you look over to Tamsy. "How did I do? Was my acting any good?" You ask as you lean up against the wall. Tamsy laughs gently, "A 8/10. Would've loved to see her face if you said something like, 'I'm gonna get you out of here' or something like that." You nod your head in agreement. "Ah yeah, that would've been nice. I need to work on my improv skills." You put a hand to your chin.

Amo stares back and forth at you both. Confusion clearly written on her face. You giggle at her reaction, clearly enjoying this. "You don't seem to understand, so I'll explain it to you in simple terms: We tricked you." She blinks once and lowers her head. "I see, so you just came to hurt Amo."

Tamsy watches the scene and skates closer to the cell. He braces his hand against the wall, raising a leg up. "Oh man, it's not easy to walk in roller skates." You both laugh softly as he sits down carefully. "They don't let me do that up top."

Up top. The Sphere.

Your nose turns upwards at the mention, making a gagging noise. Tamsy looks at you from the corner of his eyes and huffs out a laugh. A sniffle is heard from the cell, making you both turn your heads.

"Tell what you want." Amo whispers out, voice cracking. "Hmm truth be told, right now I'm just keeping an eye on things. So you're gonna have to stay here a little bit longer."

Tamsy reaches into the bag, handing you your slice of cake. "I brought this as an apology." He says and reaches into the bag again. "This is what you wanted right? Cake." He holds out the other slice, making Amo perk up her head. She stares fondly at it, making you smirk at his next move. He brings it up to his mouth and takes a huge bite out of it. Eyes displayed in different directions. Almost comically.

You laugh cruelly at Amo's reaction. Her teeth clench in anger, rage of fire in her eyes. He makes a lot of chewing and slurping noises. Clearly to piss her off more. You also take your time eating your cake as well, not making the gross noises he is, but still wanna brag to Amo about what she can't have.

Tamsy has a sadistic smile on his face as he finishes the last bite, licking the frosting left on his thumb. "Mmm, this tastes amazing! I think I'll have some tomorrow, too." He throws the wrapper in front of the cell door.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The walk back to the jeep didn't take long. You were still high on adrenaline and Tamsy seemed to feel the same way. You both were laughing maniacally and bumping into each other's shoulders. As soon as you both reach the jeep, he pushes you up against it and immediately captures your lips into a kiss.

It was sloppy and messy. Drool running down the corners of your mouth. His clothed cock was pressed up against you, already hard and throbbing. Hands roam your body, finding somewhere to grip before they settle on your ass, squeezing hard. It makes you groan out as you fist his hair and pull just as hard, making him whimper in response.

"Mm'fuck." He mumbles against your lips and pulls away, panting heavily. His hair is disheveled, his eyes are lidded, making you smile sweetly and press a kiss to his lips. "We shouldn't do this here, someone might see." You press your hands to his chest and lightly push him away. He doesn't protest when you do, fixing his hair back up the way he had it, smoothing it out. You fix your clothes and pull out the keys, unlocking the door.

"You wanna ride together?" You ask as you slide into the seat. Tamsy shakes his head. "Nah, I want to enjoy skating a little bit longer. This is really fun." He says, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. You giggle and start the jeep, letting it warm up.

"Alright, alright. Go have your fun." You say and reach out to grab his hand. He lets you pull him towards you, and presses your lips together. The kiss, this time, is slow and sensual, making you both moan simultaneously. When you pull away, a flush is dusted across his cheeks. “See you when you get home, pretty boy.”

He turns away to leave, but you reach out and slap his ass, making him jump and almost fall over. He manages to grab onto the open door and turns over to narrow his eyes at you. "You're evil." He says, making you laugh loudly. "We both are darling. We both are."

••••••••••☆•••••••••

AN: Listen, I love Amo a lot. I feel bad for her and she didn't deserve any of that. But fuck do I love Tamsy "Motherfucking" Caines. He's so evil and a bastard, but he's got pretty hair and he needs his butt ate real bad. ANYWAY, Pls do not come at me in the comments about this. ALSO, the reader was playing dumb the entire time. Talking to the kids, Semiu, the shop keepers. Yeah it was supposed to trick you too!!

***

The year Izuku Midoriya stepped into his classroom, Shouta Aizawa’s patience slowly wore thin. Fights between him and Katsuki Bakugo drove their teacher up the damn wall, school break-ins had him tugging his hair out at night. The war. The war where he had to lead children into battle, into near certain death. He’s lost many things. Friends. Limbs. Sanity. 

“You don’t seem very keen to be here, Mr. Aizawa.” He’s staring at a shrink across a tiny coffee table. There’s a notepad in the guy’s hand, and two mugs of tea, untouched. Aizawa shifts uncomfortably on the couch, tucked into the corner he can see the door from. 

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” He doesn’t bother elaborating. He doesn’t need to give the man any more information to use against him, more shit to scribble in his notes. 

“And that’s important to you, is it? Having a choice?” He locks his gaze with the shrink. He already knows the answer to that question. Behind his glasses, he has a knowing look in his eyes, nod gently to himself then scrawls something down on the paper he’s got. It’s only the first session, Nezu forcing all the teachers into therapy after the war. Some others, Aizawa included, got physical therapy as well. 

“Is there a time where you felt like maybe you had every choice? Where you felt totally in control of your life?” If he thinks hard enough, yes. Before this school year, for starters. He had total freedom of movement so-to-speak. He chose who his class was made up of, helped choose who got accepted into UA, helped mold the heroes of tomorrow. He chose to teach, chose to be a hero, chose to remain underground and out of the scrutinizing gaze of the media.

“Have you felt, in the aftermath of recent events, that maybe you’ve had close to no choices. Do you feel you’ve been forced down a tunnel you’d much rather not be in?” He breaks eye contact. Yes. The notepad is closed, gently placed on the arm of his chair.

The shrink says Shouta has a problem with control, or rather, the lack thereof.

“I’m not a damn control freak.” 

“That’s not what I mean, Mr. Aizawa. From the last hour of our session, I’ve gathered that you feel your life is entirely out of your own control. Your decisions made for you, people or circumstances backing you into a proverbial or physical corner all the time. Correct me if I’m wrong, but these things distress you. Being out of control in your own life is not comfortable for many, especially pros.” It’s not the kind of revelation he’d been looking for. Begrudgingly, he accepts it as a revelation he may have needed. He’d been struggling to put into words how he felt as if he were missing something, all the time. Not just his leg, or his eye. Something that’s been slowly slipping away since the beginning of this school year.

He’s lost his sense of control in life. It’s something he’s taken almost for granted for a very long time. If he thinks hard enough, the last time he felt this out of control was…Oboro. 

“Mr. Aizawa, I’m going to give you the choice to return. Whatever Nezu has required, I’m willing to relay that you will no longer be needing these sessions should you choose not to take them. However I do think you could benefit from this, at least a little bit.” He’s definitely considering never coming back here. 

“I’ll give you a week to decide, your next appointment will be scheduled seven days from today. If you would rather not return, just send us an email and we’ll cancel your session.”

Seven days come and go. No email. He shows up to the office as scheduled. Every session ends with a similar offer, an offer to choose to return. That small kindness is what keeps him coming back. Evey session is a little deeper, a little heavier than the last. He finds himself opening up, more than he ever wanted to. He’s talking now, speaking his mind, answering questions.

“Mr. Aizawa, I’ve got someone I would like you to meet, should you choose to do so. I’d like for the three of us to share a session. Together. I think the two of you could help each other greatly.” 

The doctor has been right so far. He agrees. 

***

“You seem to have had a rough day. Care to share it with me?” Your eyelids are still swollen and puffy. He can see your nose, raw from tissues and paper towels. Your eyes dart around the room, taking everything in. There’s a tissue box on the coffee table, beside the tea you never touch even though it smells nice. It’s still hot. The doctor reaches down, pushing the tissue box toward you, then the tea.

“Take your time. Try the tea.” You do. Try the tea, that is. It’s good, not too bitter, floral. You hold onto the cup, letting the heat warm your shaking hands. 

“Well, there was an incident at work. With a customer.” You don’t really want to go into details. 

“I’m assuming they were upset with something or another? Something maybe out of your control?” You nod. Sip the tea.

“A new policy, implemented by the company. But I think they had more of a problem with me.”

“Why do you think that?” Your lip is tucked between your teeth, the loose skin being chewed off slowly.

“They, um,” breathe, “they went on a rant about me embarrassing them in front of everyone.”

“Who is ‘everyone’?” You think back to a few hours ago.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. There weren’t very many people nearby, and there was only one other person with them.” He nods, writes something down. 

“Continue, what happened next?” 

“They said I embarrassed them, and they said I was incredibly rude and off putting, and that I had no reason to take out my bad day on them.” The tears are beginning to burn, the anger and fear coming back. Your hands tremble around the mug.

“Take a breath. Have some more tea.” The liquid calms you, if only a little. You’re not there anymore. Relax. 

“Did you have a bad day?” You shake your head.

“No, I was actually having a really good day. Everything was going really well, for the most part.” He nods.

“Do you think you were rude at all?” 

“I hope not. Maybe I said something weird, but I can’t really remember. I have the script in my head and I don’t tend to deviate, but maybe I looked mad?” More writing.

“That didn’t answer my question, dear. I want to know if you perceived yourself to be rude in any way.” Oh. You blink, let your eyes wander as you think once again. 

“N-no, I don’t think I was.” 

“I see. Do you still feel the altercation was your fault? Even though you did nothing wrong?” Did you really do nothing wrong?

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m the one in charge. I should have been more aware of my tone, more aware of others. I’m supposed to be aware. I chose to approach them, I chose to be in a leadership position. Everyone’s relying on me and there’s so much pressure from all sides that every choice I make needs to be perfect.” There’s a lot of writing happening now, line after line of scribbled observation. He takes his glasses off, placing his notes on the arm of his chair.

“I believe this ties back into our previous conversations about your control. It’s more than you can handle, too many choices to make, everyone’s always counting on you to make the right one. You said a few weeks back that every decision you make always seems to be wrong, one way or another. Do you feel maybe you’d like to be out of control for once? Let someone else make the tough decisions so you’re not placed in the spotlight of scrutiny?” Timidly, you nod. You knew he knew you well, knew how to express your feelings into words, but hearing it all laid out has you feeling a bit exposed. 

“There’s someone I’d like for you to meet. Another patient of mine. Next week, I’d like the three of us to have a group session. How would you feel about that?” A group session? That’s new.

“Will it help me?”

“I believe it will help both of you greatly.” 

You nod. What’s the harm?

***

He’s earlier than he usually is. The session doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes, but his left leg is already bouncing from the nerves. He shouldn’t even be nervous, not for something like this, but something is making him sweat the longer he’s waiting. Maybe it’s because he has no information whatsoever on the other patient he’s supposed to meet. He doesn’t know what he’s walking into, or who he’s walking into it with. Footsteps snap him out of his thoughts, and he checks the clock. Five minutes. 

Then you walk around the corner. You seem normal, for the most part. Definitely not a pro, he’d have recognized you for sure. A civilian, probably. Your eyes are on him as you approach, then sit in the only other chair in the hallway in front of the office door. You’re nervous, jittery, you jump a little when he adjusts in the seat. You’re scratching at your knuckles, where they’re dry and cracking from whatever you must do for work. He thinks you shouldn’t be scratching so bad. He thinks you should probably stop.

“That’s not healthy.” He’s spoken before he can stop himself. You jolt, not having expected him to speak. Quickly, you rub the dry skin with your palms and tuck your hands beneath your thighs. 

“Sorry.” Interesting. 

“No need to apologize. I’m not the one affected by it, you are. You’re only going to make it worse if you scratch like that.” He doesn’t know why he cares. All he knows is that you stopped, with minimal prompting, and it made his stomach do something funny. He checks the clock. It’s time to go in. He’s up and at the door as per usual, but you’re still seated. Odd. 

“The group session today. That’s with you, is it not?” You nod sheepishly from your seat. He glances between you and the open door, his hand still on the knob. The doctor calls from inside, allowing him entrance, and he leaves you in the hallway while the door closes. Still, he’s confused. 

“Is she not joining us today?”

“She is.”

“She’s still sitting outside.”

“That’s right.”

“She should come in, then, should she not?” The doctor is amused, just slightly, where he sits with his notepad.

“She should.” Shouta blinks. What’s the point of all this? There’s got to be a point. He yanks the door open, swift enough there’s a change in air pressure, and he watches you jump in your seat.

“Come in. We’re starting.” It’s more clipped than he intended, but you leap out of your seat regardless. Happy to comply, it seems. His stomach does something odd again. He closes the door behind you and takes his usual seat. Far left seat cushion, tucked into the armrest, door in his direct line of sight. You take the opposite end, after standing awkwardly to the side for a few fleeting seconds. Your hands are in your lap, and the scratching starts up again. He doesn’t get the chance to remind you about the hallway, since you swiftly stop and sit on them again. Good girl. Shouta nearly jolts at the thought. He doesn’t even know you, what the hell is he praising you for?

“Welcome. I’ve asked the two of you here because I believe the two of you can be of great help to each other. Let’s start with introductions, and we’ll take it slow today.” He shares his name, but omits his hero status. You share your name, and only give more information with prompting from the doctor. Where you work, what you do in your free time, if you have any pets. You don’t, as much as you’d love to, your apartment doesn’t allow for pets. It’s all prompted, you never freely share information. And the prompting is odd, it’s not questions like he uses with Shouta. It’s almost a list of demands. ‘Tell Mr. Aizawa’ this, ‘Tell Mr. Aizawa’ that. It’s strange how differently everything is structured with you. 

“Now, Mr. Aizawa, is there anything you’re curious about?” Yeah, actually, there is. But he’s not going to voice them.

“I see.” He faces you.

“You recognize Mr. Aizawa, don’t you?” You nod.

“Eraserhead. You’ve been on the news a lot lately.” He should have known. Why didn’t you say anything earlier? The doctor speaks again.

“But that’s not the only place you know him from. Tell him how you recognize him.” He watches you swallow down the saliva in your mouth, sees your shoulders tense just a bit.

“You probably don’t remember, but a few years back you actually saved me. It was late at night, I was going home after work and someone had tried to do something. I can’t remember if it was a mugging or something worse. There was a knife, and a quirk involving water manipulation. I think I screamed, and my quirk sent up a stress beacon, then you were there, and it was all over in a flash. No knife, the guy wrapped up like a mummy.” He remembers that night.

“I remember the beacon. Red. Distress. It was only a flash but it was enough.” He can see the way your chest caves with your shudder. 

“You remember?” He nods.

“Maybe not your face, nor his. But the beacon, yes. A little beam of light, straight up into the sky, only for a second.” You seem happy when he says it. He doesn’t even remember you, but you’re happy he remembered the incident itself. The rest of the session is spent diving into that shared memory, dissecting motivations and decisions that led there. At the end of it, you’re let out first. With a wave goodbye, you’re out the door, and Shouta is left with the doctor. 

“Let me hear them. The questions.”

“Why doesn’t she just walk in? Like I do?”

“She needs to be prompted. Most people eventually pick up on the fact they can just walk in when scheduled, but she always waits for me to let her in.” Huh. 

“Why do you give her commands, instead of asking questions?”

“I asked her one question. She gave the logical answer, not the real answer.” Oh. He hadn’t noticed that. What does that even mean? He’s no psychologist, he has no idea why all of this even matters in the first place. The therapist clears his throat, then asks his own question.

“So, what happened outside in the hallway?” How does he know about the hallway? “Your attention was on her, with her nervous scratching habit. Then she stopped and sat on her hands, which is something she doesn’t do. Your attention was then back on me. Did you ask her to stop?”

“No. I told her it was unhealthy. She stopped all on her own.” The man tilts his head. 

“But you’d meant it as a prompt to stop. Were you pleased when she complied? And when it happened inside the office, were you satisfied?” Those are questions he’d much rather not answer. It seems like he knows already though, just like the first session. 

“That’s all for today, Mr. Aizawa. I’ll see the two of you next week.” 

***

“I’ve spoken with Principal Nezu, and an arrangement can be made, but we need both your permission for it to take effect.”

“For what to take effect, exactly?” Mr. Aizawa practically reads your mind. He’s probably just as confused as you are. From the edge in his voice, you’re sure he’s not happy about being in the dark. 

“After our first joint session, I made a judgement call. Nezu trusts my expertise, and UA has agreed to sponsor a cohabitation project.” Cohabitation? Wait, like–

“You want us to live together?” You swear your eyes nearly bug out of your head. That’s insane, right? You two are still strangers, really. Sure, he’d rescued you a while back, and you’ve become acquainted with each other, but living in the same space?

“I do. The agreement Nezu has come up with is that UA, as well as an anonymous donor, will cover rent and utilities for both your current apartments and one separate apartment that you two will live in, together, for three months.” Three months? 

“You expect us to just go along with it?” No, clearly he doesn’t since you both would need to agree to the terms. They can’t just force you to move in together. Not that you’re exactly against the whole idea. In the week since your last appointment, you’ve managed to curb your scratching habit for one reason and one reason alone: Shouta Aizawa told you it was unhealthy. That was somehow enough for you to latch onto, and every time you found yourself peeling at the skin on your knuckles you’d tuck your hands beneath your thighs or in your pockets and just breathe through the anxiety. 

“Not at all. Hence why nothing has been set in stone yet. Nothing has been decided, we’re waiting for the two of you to make the call.” Silence stretches on, and you sit on your hands. It’s tense. You’re waiting for Mr. Aizawa to decide if he wants to or not. You’ll hinge your answer on his. You could go either way, indecision making you passive. The ball is in his court.

“You’ve got nothing to say about this?” The question is directed at you, from Aizawa himself. He seems agitated, but not angry. Yet. You shrug.

“Not really. I trust Mr. Katen’s judgement, and I trust that this is in our best interest.” His one eye blinks at you, darts to the doctor and back to you. 

“You have a choice. You have a say in this, you’re going to be stuck living with a stranger for three months.” You can’t hold his gaze. He likes being able to choose. You fear it. Honestly, you aren’t sure how living together could help either of you. You seem to be near opposites. Another stretch of silence lingers on, until Aizawa slumps into the chair. 

“You said utilities and rent for both of our places, and also the shared apartment?” He confirms. “And if we say yes, how soon would we need to move in?” That’s actually a really good question.

“The first of this upcoming month.” Wait, that’s less than a week from today. That soon? Is that why he brought it up so suddenly, because the window for this…project…is closing? A low sigh catches your attention, and you eye Aizawa as he readjusts, leaning over to rest an elbow on the arm of the couch, pressing his fingers into his left temple. Shit. You hadn’t meant to stress him out so much. Another one of your choices, doing harm. Just great.

“You don’t have to.” His dark irises flicker over to you. Damage control. That’s what you’ve got to do now.

“Don’t worry about me, really. If you hate the idea just dismiss it.” His eyes drop to your hands, which are back in your lap, scratching again. That’s not healthy. Tuck them away, beneath your legs. Breathe. His hand drops from his temple, something like an epiphany swirling around in his eyes as you stare over at him.

“Fine. We’ll do it.”

***

You didn’t bring much with you. That’s what he notices, the first few days. It looks like you’ve brought what anyone would when they’re traveling. Clothing, toiletries, electronics, a book or two. The two of you had cleared out your respective fridges of anything that could spoil quickly, and sharing the fridge became easy. He always had his system, you seemed to pick it up well. Same with the cupboards as they fill out with shared cutlery.

That’s another thing he notices.

Where he's rigid and trained and callous, you’re softer, flexible, malleable. He also notices you’re stressed a great deal of the time. Not the normal levels of stress, either. Most nights when you come back from work, you’re somewhere else entirely. You can’t focus, can barely register the words he says to you when he finally decides to talk. It takes a few calls of your name to get any kind of response, but when you finally refocus he can see the exhaustion on your face.

“What do you do at work?” The way you blink owlishly up at him has something tugging at his heart. He doesn’t know if he likes it yet.

“Oh, um well I work in a small cafe. I usually close, that’s why I’m always back so late.” That’s not what he meant. Logical answer. Though, to be fair to you, his question was broad.

“I mean what do you do? What role do you play there?” There’s a flicker of understanding in your eyes.

“Oh! I’m a supervisor. I deal with the more daunting tasks, usually. Taking inventory, submitting machine malfunction tickets, helping whenever I’m needed out on the floor, dealing with people that want to speak to a manager. If I miss anything it’s…not great.” He watches your hands come together in front of you, but before you can start that nasty habit, you’ve shoved them into your pockets. Didn’t even start scratching. Good girl. He bites the thought down. You’re still standing there, waiting for something. 

“Sounds stressful.” Not really, not to him, not to a pro hero who’s looked death in the eyes. But he can see how you might find it difficult at times. You shrink in on yourself after the observation.

“I guess.” What does that mean? Are you downplaying your stress? Or maybe you’re thinking what he is, that a pro’s job is an entirely different ballpark. Comparison is not what he intended. He’ll have to find out, over time, he supposes.

Finding out comes sooner, rather than later.

It’s been two days since he’d asked about your occupation. Seven since the move-in. It’s late, he’s still making his way back after a night with all of his students. They meet every once in a while since the rest of the year’s classes have been cancelled, the whole class, to talk and just be. Sometimes it’s fun, sometimes they mourn together. Sometimes a little bit of both. He’s unlocking the door, but when he goes to push it open, it doesn’t budge. Then he hears a squeak, and the weight is gone, and you rip the door wide open. The state you’re in has his stomach sinking. Puffy eyes and lips, tears staining your cheeks, lips and nose raw. Your lip is bleeding, it looks like you’ve peeled the skin off, and when you wipe your tears away he can see your knuckles are in even worse shape. Bloody, like you’ve punched something, but he knows what actually happened.

“S-sorry Aizawa. I didn’t mean to block the door.” You’re fighting hiccups, backing away and letting him in. You aren’t usually even awake this late, you’ve been curled up at the door for at least a couple hours. When the door closes behind him, you’re already stepping away, probably going to disappear into your room. He can’t possibly leave you in this state, so he reaches out and gently grabs your wrist.

“Come here.” When he pulls, you follow, no objections, no fighting. Like a little lamb, herded by the shepherd. He ignores the tug in his belly. He seats you on the closed toilet lid, a soft ‘stay’ slipping out while he gathers the first aid kit. You’re dazed as he works, alcohol wipes making you flinch but you remain silent and still. You’re used to this. The thought has a tiny ember of anger lighting in his chest. Something so sweet and soft shouldn’t be accustomed to pain. That’s a thought he pushes deep down. Your hands aren’t as bad as they looked before, the blood having been spread more than anything, and you shouldn’t need the bandages for long.

“They’ll scab over by morning.” Your chest is still taking shuddering breaths, nothing full, you’re still fighting the tears and the sobs. He has half a mind to pull you into his chest so you can cry some more. But there’s still work to be done. 

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Your eyes are bloodshot, he can see the way you’re taking longer blinks. They probably sting with dryness. He hasn’t had much use for his eyedrops lately, but he takes them everywhere habitually. When he comes back he notices you’ve been crying again. New tears stain your shirt, and you roughly wipe them all away when he steps through the doorway. 

“Enough of that. You’re going to rub your cheeks raw.” You freeze for a moment, then nod. More tears, a barely-there silent hiccup. Precious. He tugs the cuff of his shirt and dabs at your face, gently, no rubbing. Your skin is already inflamed enough. 

“Chin up. Head back.” He ignores the fullness in his chest when you obey, almost mindlessly. He cradles your chin in one hand, bracing you, then hovers the bottle over your eyes. You don’t move, don’t even ask. You flinch when they fall, but when he’s done you shut your eyes and roll them around behind your lids. You’re used to that too. The bottle is abandoned, the first aid kit put away, everything returned to its place. You stay put, your breathing finally levelling out, your hands palm-up on your lap and your shoulders slumped forward. Exhaustion. You’ve tuckered yourself out. You’re still wound tight though, the crease in your brows and clench in your jaw giving you away. 

“Come on.” When he grabs your hand, you hold onto him, then let him tug you out to the small dining table and sit you down. 

“Have you eaten dinner?” You shake your head. There are leftovers in the fridge, and he heats up two portions, setting one before you along with a large glass of water. 

“Eat.” Your little nod is sweet, and you take small bites. Your appetite hasn’t returned to you. 

“Tell me what happened.” The way you curl in on yourself makes that little ember of rage glow hotter. 

“It was my boss. He’s just…awful. He isn’t usually there for closings, hasn’t shown up later than noon in months. Nothing I ever do is enough, or right, or satisfactory.” He waits for you to calm yourself, your breathing having picked up. You’re readying your body to remember the stress of it all.

“He wasn’t happy about our numbers. Not enough sales, not enough customers coming in. I guess tonight he just wanted to take it out on me, and when I’d told him I can’t just drag people in there, the screaming started. I couldn’t get a word in, he was all up in my face…and he just stormed off.” Intimidation. It works on most people, but especially women. He could be fired for harassment. 

“Does this happen often? The aggression?” You’re drying the tears that have fallen. Blotting them away with your sleeve, not rubbing. She listens well. You nod, and it makes his blood boil.

“Upper management does nothing. He got a slap on the wrist, not even a proper write-up. We’ve given up entirely.” You’ve stopped eating, your hands are under your thighs again.

After that, he keeps a closer eye on you. You’re anxious, and he’s seen the three different medications you take in the medicine cabinet. They’re kept separate from everything else. He’s seen you take them, too, when your phone alarm goes off as a reminder. It always makes you jump. 

***

You find yourself wanting to leave work more often, nowadays. The hours start to drag toward the end of the night, and you’re doing cleaning tasks earlier as the days go by. It’s been three weeks living with Aizawa, and you can’t say you’re friends. But you find yourself wanting to be in his presence more often than not. He’s steady, like an old river carving out the earth. He’s already curbed your scratching almost completely, and your stress tends to melt away at the door when you go back to the apartment. He’s always there, when you’re wearing your mind thin with anxiety and stress, there to gently push you through in a way only he seems to know how. After the night you’d collapsed at the door from a panic attack, he’s always behind you. Lingering in doorways, snapping you out of your head with a gentle call of your name. 

Coming back from work, unlocking the door, stepping inside, the stress falls off your shoulders like a heavy winter coat. 

“You’re back early.” That voice. That soothing, wonderful voice. You can’t help the grin on your face today, can’t help the way you want to melt down to the floor. He’s walking over to you, a softer expression than you’re used to seeing on his face. Strong hands take your bag and hang it on a hook, then a palm is warm at your back, guiding you to the dining table. Alway the dining table, always to eat.

“Have a good day?” You almost laugh. It’s been a long, grueling day at work. Your asshole boss made an appearance again. The only real consolation you have is the fact that you’re not the only target in his lineup. Every other supervisor gets chewed out by him just as often as you do, and you find the tiniest comfort in that fact. It’s not just you, it’s him, and it’s how you get through most shifts. That, and you don’t normally have to deal with him at night. It’s not as bad now, though, you don’t have the urge to curl up in a ball and want the world to swallow you up. Because Aizawa is back at the apartment, and if he’s not, he will be. There’s a certain comfort, knowing he’ll always be here.

“Not really. Bossy showed up again.” His reactions are always minimal, but whenever the asshole is mentioned you can see his grip tighten on whatever it is he’s holding, his shoulders tense just slightly. He hates the guy as much as you do. You find comfort in that.

“You seem happy today, though. Why is that?” Well that’s definitely one way to get your temperature rising. 

“Do I have to answer?” The embarrassment may just kill you. You knew he was observant, you just never expected him to be so attuned to your emotional state.

“That’s why I asked. I’d like an answer.” It’s not mean, but it’s stern. Technically, you don’t have to tell him anything. You know that.

“I like coming back here.” It’s simple, straightforward. Technically, that’s the answer. If he wants something else he’ll have to pry it from you. He hums, puts his chopsticks down, eyes you with an intensity you can’t place.

“What about this place makes you so happy? There’s nothing special here.”

“You’re here.” You can’t stop the words. They’re out before you can register them. You freeze, swallow down around the lump in your throat. That’s awkward. Damn it. You can’t look him in the eye, staring down at your food like it could tell you what to do next. He calls your name, and when you look back up at him he looks…satisfied. His features are soft, that permanent wrinkle between his eyebrows gone and his jaw is lax. He looks so calm.

“S-sorry. That was…that was weird to say, wasn’t it?” Damage control. 

“I’ll just…go, then. Goodnight.” You don’t even make it a single step away from your spot.

“Sit down.” The command leaves no room for argument, but you know you really don’t have to listen. You slowly sit back down.

“Good girl.” The breath is knocked from your lungs, heat crawling over every inch of your skin. You feel warm, cozy at the praise. 

“There’s no need to feel embarrassed. It wasn’t weird. You’re perfectly fine.” Oh. 

“Okay.”

***

 What on earth is he doing? It’s a question he asks himself a lot lately. After praising you out loud three weeks ago, he can’t seem to bottle it all back up inside him. It’s all spilling out like there’s a leak in a gasket somewhere he can’t seem to find. Every time you walk through that door he can see you relax, and when you notice he’s there he watches you light up like the sky at midnight on New Year’s, and it makes him warm from the inside out. He’s made it a point to always get back before you do, always be there when you return, just so he can see you beam and watch your layers of anxiety and stress peel away. Taking your purse from you is his job now, stripping you of your jacket too. He feeds you every night when you come back, whether it be leftovers or otherwise, and you always tell him about your days when he asks. He enjoys taking care of you, enjoys being a cornerstone for you to come back to. He wants to do more. He wants to nurture you, hold you close to his heart and squeeze until you melt into him.

It isn’t until one of his students mentions something that he begins to understand what the therapist was on about. 

“You’re different, you know.” The ash blonde is on his right, where they sit in the back corner of the classroom watching the rest have their bouts. Bakugo isn’t usually talkative, but he’s always alert. Always observant. The blonde rubs the scar on his right cheek, just below his eye. He’s still too young to have lived through a war. They all are. 

“Different how?” 

“You’re calm. A month and a half ago, you would jump at anything too loud. Anything moving too fast. You’d react out of instinct.” He remembers that, he supposes. A time when a sound made him yank Eri back and throw his body over hers. Or when something whizzed by him and his quirk activated automatically, his scarf already pulling the nearest students behind him on muscle memory. There’s a certain level of fear and anxiety that comes with living through a war. The therapist calls it PTSD. Aizawa calls it staying alive. 

“You used to snap at people a lot. Your patience is back. Like how you were before…before shit hit the fan.” 

The walk back to your shared space is spent thinking about Bakugo’s observations. His patience, his resolve, his anxious habits. They’re changing, slowly. It’s because of you. The damn shrink was right. You’ve given him back a semblance of control, a piece of his life he can pour his energy into and everything just goes right. Everything is always perfect, with you. You always give him what he wants, whether you both know it or not. 

You’re waiting for him when he comes back. There’s a tiny pit in his stomach when he realizes he wasn’t here waiting for you tonight, but it gets filled in immediately when you’re beaming up at him like that, rounding the corner to greet him like it was your favorite thing to do. You look too cute in that oversized sweater and sweatpants. Your ‘comfy clothes’ as you call them. They swallow you up like bubble wrap and you look so relaxed. Your hair is damp, skin fresh and he can smell the products you use.

“Hi! How was it tonight?” He shrugs, shedding his jacket and scarf. 

“It was fine. When did you get back?” It's cute when you have to think, too. The way your eyes unfocus and you have to try to remember something you didn’t think to notice, like the time when you’d returned from work. You’re probably doing some quick mental math, retracing your steps.

“Not that long ago. I think I’ve been home for maybe an hour.” Home. Huh. He’s never really thought about it as home. Maybe he should.

“Have you eaten yet?” The way you shake your head has his heart squeezing in his chest. Precious, as always. He reaches an arm out, and you slot yourself beside him, his hand at your back. It’s natural at this point, you’ve grown accustomed to the way he pushes and pulls you this way and that. It fills his lungs with cool, crisp air. Air that carries your scent, the scent of your shampoo, your body scrub, your face cream. It’s addicting. Usually you both eat before getting ready for bed, though.

“Why not? You usually eat when you come back.” You shrug as you sit in the chair. Your chair.

“We usually eat together. I was waiting for you.” Sweet girl. He falls into his routine, making something for you to share and waving you off when you stand and try to help. You always try to help.

“What have I told you, sweetheart?” You giggle, this time, the little chime in your voice making his head spin. It’s a sound he tucks away in his mind, safe from everything. 

“I know, I know. You can take care of it.” You’re happy tonight. Happier than ever. You hover around him as he works, a quick meal ready for the two of you and you’re bouncing off to your chair when he shoos you away for good. You spill about your work day as per usual, the good and the annoying. You’ve been having better days, he notices. You’re not as riled up about the smaller things, even your jackass manager can’t break you down anymore. You’re vibrant. Glowing. He hopes he has something to do with it, just as you have everything to do with his emotional changes. He hopes that the routine he’s molded out for you has helped you. 

All you needed was a little stability. He needed something to stabilize.

The damn shrink was right.

***

Two months. You’ve been living with Aizawa for two full months, and you can feel it. The stress doesn’t cling to you like a shadow anymore, the anxiety is only a small voice in the back of your head, instead of a roaring stampede you’re caught in the middle of. You’re steadfast now, when your boss comes to haggle, choosing to be unaffected by the things out of your control and standing by your decisions. Everything’s stopped falling apart. Your choices don’t all end up in a pit of dread and despair. 

Dr. Katen was right, you think. At the very least, you feel better about everything. Aizawa has helped you in ways you don’t think you quite understand, but are grateful for regardless. 

“Sweetheart?” Your whole body flushes hot at the pet name. You can’t even remember the first time he’d started using it, it just stuck.

“Yes?” What were you doing just now?

“The movie, love.” Oh, right. You were picking out a movie! It’s a first for the two of you, but you were really missing movie night. It’s been getting colder, winter setting her claws into the air and earth. You’d managed to drag Aizawa into it, piling pillows and blankets over the couch and a bowl of furikake popcorn sat on the coffee table. 

“Have you seen Rise of the Guardians?” You gasp when he shakes his head. 

“That’s criminal. Pull it up, that’s what we’re watching.” There’s a rumble from him, a deep chuckle that has you stunlocked. You’d never heard him laugh before. He looks so serene, a smile tugging at his mouth as he punches the title into the search bar. Handsome. It’s not a thought you’d ever put much energy into, but now that you’re really looking at him, he’s a very handsome man. The eyepatch is gone for the night, he tends to remove it not long after coming back home. The scarring doesn’t phase you. It never did. Even the milky white of his iris didn’t make you feel any less attracted to him. 

You jump when a rough hand is gently cradling your jaw, calloused thumb dragging across the apple of your cheek.

“Sorry Aizawa. Was I staring?” 

“A little. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Pretty. Your spine straightens. 

“You just looked so relaxed. And you laughed. I’ve never heard it before.” He hums, pulls his hand away and you feel your body leaning into it, wanting to chase the comfort of his hold on you. When he reaches for you, you shuffle close, tucking your body into his side. It feels right, feels natural, when his arm wraps tight around your waist and your head rests on his chest. 

“You can call me Shouta, love. Aizawa is too formal for us.” For us. Heat blooms in your chest as you nod, the sentiment not lost on you. Whatever you are, whatever ‘us’ is meant to be, you’re content. Here, curled into Shouta’s side, you’re happy.

***

There’s a tense air settling between you. He knows why. The three-month period is coming swiftly to an end. In seven days time, you’ll both be going back to your respective empty apartments. Alone. There were no therapy sessions during this three-month stint living together, individual or otherwise. Today is the first, and you both wait silently outside the office. You’re nervous. He hasn’t seen you nervous in a long time. Your hands are tucked safely beneath your thighs. He hasn’t seen that, either. The new habit, to replace the old scratching one.

“Hey.” You jump. Jittery. Like the first time you’d met in this hallway. You blink up at him, then smile, your shoulders relaxing, your leg not bouncing, your forehead no longer wrinkled up with stress. He holds his palm out, up, waiting. Your hand slips into his like puzzle pieces meeting. He laces your fingers between his, notices the skin on your hands is scarred, but not raw like they used to be. Your knuckles are healed over, no dryness, all soft and smooth save for the discoloring. 

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it. We’ll figure something out.” Your chest swells with your deep breath, and you nod.

“Okay.” It’s easy to lead you into the office, pulling you gently with your hands laced together. The door shuts and you both get comfortable, side by side, hand in hand, before the doctor.  He seems pleasantly surprised.

“I must say, I knew it was a possibility, but I never fully intended to play matchmaker.” He squeezes your hand, you squeeze right back. He supposes that yes, you two have been matched well. He does quite enjoy your company. 

The session is spent discussing the last three months. All of his observations are laid out thick, spread over the room like a map. You chime in when prompted, as always, but give longer, more detailed answers than you maybe would have before. Both of you have noticed each other mellowing out, relaxing more often. Both of you admit the doctor was correct when he believed you’d help each other. He shares the state of your hands, how they’ve healed completely, and you share how that was mostly thanks to him. It makes him swell with pride. 

“I’m very happy for both of you. As you know, in a week’s time the project will be reaching its end,” Shouta feels your grip tighten, “and I’m under the assumption that neither of you want to return to your separate lives after this.” When he turns to look down at you, and you peer up at him, it’s like time stops. No, he doesn’t want to part from you. And by the way you cling to him, you don’t want to part ways either.

“No. We don’t.” You wrap yourself around his arm, clinging to him like he could be ripped away at any moment. You’ve got a death grip on his hand. He can feel the way you’re shaking with how hard you’re squeezing.

“Well, the apartment you both are currently sharing will have been vacant, had you been alright going back to your separate apartments. If the two of you would like, you can go arrange to remain there with the landlord. Though, nothing would be covered by UA should you choose that. It would be up to the two of you from then on.” Shouta squeezes your hand back, and your entire body goes lax.

***

It’s a whole lot easier than you expected it to be. Moving out, that is. No loopholes, you got your deposit back, nothing went wrong at all. This was a choice you made, and everything went right. Moving in was easy, too. You already had most of your belongings here, all of your clothes and products and everything. 

The best part is that nothing changed. Not really.

You still come home to Shouta every night, press a kiss to his cheek, sit at the dining table and eat dinner together. You still babble on about your day, you still hold his hand and curl up with him on the couch. Cuddles were new, but nothing drastically different. Cuddles on the couch turned into cuddles in his bed, when he’d carry you from the couch after falling asleep. Your own bed is beginning to collect dust. There’s a natural progression the two of you follow. He leads you into everything new with a steady hand at your back, a calm voice in your ear that he’s got you. 

The newest development happens without you realizing it. It’s slow, steady like the tide pushing and pulling you against the shore. Like the changing of seasons. Like a river, changing the landscape to its shape. It doesn’t hit you until you’re staring up at Shouta while you take a shower together. The routine has changed, adjusted, just a bit. Come home to Shouta waiting for you, something already made and ready to eat. Share a kiss, be led to the dining table and talk about your respective days. Clean up the kitchen together, he only ever lets you help by drying the dishes. Get in the shower, spend time cleaning and basking in each other’s presence.

It’s domestic. Sweet. Has your heart bursting in your chest.

“I love you.” You both freeze. Shouta nearly jumps out of his skin. The water cascades over his shoulders as he stares down at you, in the middle of rinsing the last of the conditioner out. You’d insisted he needs it. Rough palms grab your hips, his head dipping down so your noses are touching.

“Say it again.” You loop your arms over his shoulders, press your body into his while his arms wrap around your waist.

“I love you, Shouta.” His shoulders jump, his eyes squeeze shut and you have half a mind to ask if something is wrong, but then there’s a broken sound coming from his throat. His face is buried in your neck and he just breathes in your scent. 

“I love you, sweet girl.” You feel his shoulders tremble again, feel his chest shudder. Is he–

“I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear that until just now.” It’s broken, his voice in shambles. He’s weeping into your skin, and you can’t help the way you cry into his. You’re so happy. Overjoyed. 

“I don’t know what made me say it. All I know is that I love you. I love you so much.” 

***

If you had asked Shouta Aizawa three years ago where he thought he’d be, he would have said he’d probably be six feet under, trying to save the kids he’d been forced to lead into a warzone.

Sitting pathetically on your floor in nothing but your undergarments, you hold your face in your hands and try to get your emotions and breathing under control. Nothing is helping and you feel like you’re properly starting to lose it. Have the years of neglect and secrets finally caught up to you?

Is this what despair feels like? 

There's a sound from out on your small balcony, but you don’t hear it over your sobs being muffled by your hands. You do hear your balcony door slam open though. It causes you to scream, ripping your face from your hands and looking over to the doors only to see a figure you can’t quite make out between your blurring tears and the pressure you had been pushing into your eyes only mere seconds ago. 

The person rushes forward, breath hitched as they drop to the floor in front of you like dead weight. Grabbing your wrists, they pull your arms and lean closer to inspect your face. You blink twice to clear away the tears. You can see them clearer and his shining golden eyes. 

Those eyes scan over your face racked with foul emotion, your body shivers from the air that drafts into the room with its chilly nighttime breeze. You tremble from both the changer in temperature and overabundance of emotions. 

“What’s happened?” Zhongli voice sounds so full of pain as he witnesses your own- painted awfully on your face. You choke. 

“You’re- it wasn’t-” you hiccup and want to re-cover your face to weep into your palms all over again. But Zhongli hold fast onto you as your eyes close and you start crying again. “I though”- you take a deep, painful breath in- “I thought it was a dream...!” You lament squeezing your eyes shut. You feel pathetically vulnerable from the fact you can’t seem to stop crying. You were stronger than this- you had to be. You had raised yourself to be steadfast and unyielding in the eyes of those who look at you with disdain so that no one can ever make you cry ever again. It was the only means of protection you had for yourself.

So, why do you keep crying when your soulmate is simply looking at you? 

Moving swiftly, Zhongli moves from your front to your back. Sliding behind you easily, he keeps hold of your wrists and with his arms, crosses them over your chest. He holds your arms to your body like he’s attempting to help you protect yourself. He squeezes his arms around you, lowering his head to your neck as he pushes his face against your skin with enough force you feel like if his legs weren't caging your sides, he would’ve pushed you to the floor from sheer force. 

“It’s okay,” he muffles into you. “It’s okay. I am here. You’re safe I promise. Please…” you don't know what he’s pleading for, but you wonder if the wetness on your neck that trickles down your exposed spine is from a cold sweat or the priceless tears of a dragon. 

Zhongli rubs his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his head, any part of him across the span of your neck and shoulders. His hands run up and down your bare arms as his legs move from your sides to under your legs as he’s lifted you to sit on his cross-legged lap. Once your sobbing devolves into shaking breaths you’re still getting under control, his arms lower to wrap protectively around your stomach, his lips resting on your pulse point as his nose pushes into your neck just beneath your jaw. 

You feel tired again. More than ever before. Your arms have fallen to your lap, and you stare dazed into nothing like your sobbing fit of panic-turned-emotional has knocked your sense of self away and you were waiting for it to find its way back home in your body. 

Leaning fully against the chest of your soulmate, Li, Morax the Emperor of Dragons, you don’t even feel stunned anymore. 

“I shouldn’t have left you by yourself,” he tells you out of nowhere now that your crying has ceased. “I thought perhaps a familiar area would be more comfortable for you upon waking, so I did not take you back to the third keep with me. That was an error.” His arms tighten around your midsection. “Forgive me. I won’t do it again.” 

You don’t refute or accept his apology or plead for forgiveness for being near inconsolable. Instead, you raise one of your limp hands and put it on his arms circling your body. 

“Are you real?” You ask quietly. Skeptically. 

You feel his chest press into your bare back as he pulls you tigher against himself. Your soulmarks lining up from your shoulder to his chest. Slotting together like puzzle pieces that have finally found their rightful spots. 

“Wholly and completely.” 

Your eyes feel misty again.

Gods, you’re pathetic. 

“Sorry,” you take a steadying breath. “I’m not usually such a crybaby.” 

“Cry as much as you’d like,” he soothes with his nose coming to nuzzle behind your ear and his face into your hair. “I don’t plan on letting you for the rest of your life. Getting it all out early isn’t so bad.” 

Despite having the permission to cry, you don’t think you physically can anymore. Your eyes are even more sore now than before and there's no doubt they’re so swollen your own reflection would scare you if you were to look. With one last deep breath, you finally feel composed enough to function despite the hour and circumstance. 

Zhongli senses this as well. 

“May I turn you around? I’d like to look at you.”

“I look hideous.” 

“Nonsense.” He denies. 

“With all that crying? There’s no doubt I-” your attempt at self-loathing is quickly silenced as Zhongli’s strength. Lifting you from his legs with ease, he twists you around as he wants. Your legs drag sideways with one crossing the span of his hips and the other trailing beside you like deadweight. Your position is quickly mended with the dragon snatching your leg across his midsection from under your knee and pulling it free to place it at his side. Slotting your rear in the hole of his cross legs, he pulls you towards him, chest to chest and his hands holding your hips down like fasteners to a hinge. 

He inspects your face closely and instead of fear or self-pity under his gaze, you simply feel small. Embarrassed. Your face scrunches as he presses his lips to your swollen eyes. Despite the breeze still billowing constantly into the room from the night air, you suddenly feel far too warm. 

When Zhongli pulls away, you can hear him chuckle and you crack your eyes open to see the smirk on his face. You feel flush as his hands slither to your back to rest there, clasping together to keep you close with no hope of wiggling away. 

“You’re simply divine,” he muses. You're not sure if it’s his wandering eyes, the strength of his affection or the strike of reality finally hitting your subconscious, but you finally remember that not that long ago, you shed yourself of your main article of clothing. Or maybe it was the breeze brushing your shoulders that sent that reminder of being mostly in the nude. 

Letting a small gasp out of your throat, your hands shoot up to push against his chest. Sensing your embarrassment coming, his hands clasp tighter behind your back and you feel his arms tense with resistance at your sides. His cheeky grin tells you all it needs to. 

“I just- let me get up- I need-” you can’t finish a sentence as you look around. Spotting your discarded uniform not too far away, you try and lean far enough in his embrace to snatch it back up. The plan was to at least get it between the both of you even if you couldn’t put it back on with the emperor clinging to you. It would be something.

You yelp when one of his arms caging you lifts and yanks you back up against him. Readjusting your position to be sitting face to face with him, refusing to let you venture too far. With your hands replaced against his chest, you almost have the thought to chew him out. Making eye contact with him only lasts one single moment before you shatter under the intensity of their golden hue and your eyes dart down. 

Then you finally see it. 

His mark. The match to yours.  The corners of the mark peek out from under your palm and as you spread your fingers, you can see the design that's tethered you to him for years between your digits. 

You slide your hand down completely until the whole mark of gold is revealed with only your fingertips brushing the bottom of it. Unlike yours, Li’s mark sits beautifully upon his skin unmarred with a burn scar. 

“If you’d like,” he starts and you can feel his voice rumble under your hand from his chest, “I could ask Yanfei to cast her pyro upon my chest.” Your head snaps up with an unpleasant face. 

“What?! No! Don’t do that!” You deny. “Why on earth would you even suggest-”

“To match.” You clamp your jaw shut and swallow. Despite you being visible to Li for a while now and even being held in his arms before you knew who he is- you have no knowledge of him knowing about your scar. Or maybe he simply saw it earlier during your fit of sobs when your back was pressed against him? Zhongli frowns at you like a dog sympathizing with his owner’s pain. “Lady Kokomi relayed the story to me.” 

“Ko…komi?” You speak slowly like you didn’t believe him for a moment. “You’ve met her?” 

“I have.” He nods. “When I did not meet you in the dreamscape all those days? I had sent her a letter through Xiao and had a long discussion with her. I am sorry for prying into your life without permission. Further for making your close friend relay your story without your knowledge.” He drops his eyes to your chin and you can feel his thumbs caress the dimples in your lower back. “I needed to know. I felt like I couldn’t breathe unless I did and I was too afraid to ask you directly. Please, don’t be angry.” 

This is the second time tonight he’s asked for your leniency. 

One of his hands slides up your back to your shoulder blade and his lips move to kiss your left shoulder. His hair curtains over his shoulder and against your chest with his head pushing into your jaw. From this position, his branched horns (that you just noticed he isn't concealing) are directly in front of your eyes. They’re lovely and his hair is soft and smells like its strands were bathed in sunlight. 

“I-I understand,” you tell him. 

“It’s beautiful.” You know he’s referring to your burned, imperfect skin. “Your mark. Your body. Your pain and struggles. Your strength and resolve. Your kindness and resilience. Our bond.” He lifts from your shoulder and places his head against yours. “It’s all beautifully precious to me.” 

You’ve never been beautiful your entire life. Beautiful was a word reserved for people like Maia and Kokomi. Regal and rich in looks and status. The symbol of a wealthy and lovingly upbringing. You were not beautiful because beauty wasn’t made for you. 

Now? Morax has gifted you the beauty that has always been yours.

He reached into your heart and took it from its hiding place only to offer it back to you in the form of words that healed wounds. Placing it in front of your eyes so you could do nothing but accept them. 

“Mmhnn,” you hum. Morax hums pleased at your acceptance of his praise. 

However, the emperor of dragons was a wise man. He knows full well that your pain won’t simply be healed by a night of words and affirmations. It would take time and actions. Both of which he is rich in. 

“May I kiss you?” He asks and for some reason, the idea of him wanting to do something so intimate with you despite the situation and position you’ve both been sitting in never crossed your mind. It didn’t seem like something that would ever be possible. Someone wanting to...

“Yes,” you tell him and he wastes no time. Capturing your lips with his own, his fangs nearly pinch your lips. A hand slips behind your head, snagging into your hair and holding you against his mouth as he pries your mouth open by denying you breath so you must seek it through him. 

Your tongue brushes his fangs in the novice kiss that is innocent and virgin, having never indulged in anything like this before. While Zhongli is your soulmate, before that Morax was simply a temperamental dragon with no master and a will of rock and gold.

It would be folly to expect him never to taste desire before- however none of that matters now. Not when your taste is finally imprinted on his tongue and lips and your breath mingles with his, inhaling your hot air into his lungs. 

Leaning your head back, you have to force yourself away for breath that isn’t damped from him. He understands you must breathe, but he needs you to understand that he isn’t finished. His lips ghost from your lips to your chin to your neck and down further still. Nipping at the exposed skin of your chest, you yelp and your fingers that rest on his chest curl. Trying to latch onto something for a tether of sanity, your nails curve into his chest, marking his skin with your crescent shapes and you feel his chest rumble under your fingertips. 

Arms cage behind your back again, squeezing so tightly your hips lift forward and your back bends so he can continue tasting the skin of your chest and collar bones. 

His horns brush against the sides of your head and bounce off your shoulders as he continues biting at you like he’s trying to see if your skin has different flavors. 

“Lord Morax, you should-” in an instant, your world is flipped. Your back is pressed against the hard floor of your room and your view is of the ceiling. A hand rests on the floor beside your waist while the other hooks under your opposite knee, lifting your leg up so it hovers over your waist with your foot suspended in the air. Looking down, you watch as the emperor of dragons' kisses at your knee and peers up with his golden eyes glowing with an intensity you weren’t expecting. 

“Do not-” he licks at your knee and you hiss at the sting- “call me that.” You must’ve truly broken the skin of your leg when you dropped to the ground before. The metal taste in his mouth when he crawled back up your chest to kiss you again was undeniably the taste of blood. 

“What do I call you?” You ask out of breath as you look at him hovering above you, his hair casting walls around you both like silken curtains. 

“My name. You’re name for me. Whichever you’d like. But I am not your superior.” 

“...What was Li short for?” You ask. 

“Zhongli.” 

“Zhongli,” you mimic. A rumble courses through his chest again. 

“You’ll come back with me, won’t you?” You wonder if he means his room in the castle’s third keep or back home to his country. Regardless of which, your answer is clear. 

Looping your arms around his neck, you tug him down and for the first time that night, you smile so wide your eyes threaten to close from how high your cheeks are raised. 

“Do you need to ask?” You giggle delightfully into his atmosphere. He chuckles back as he lifts you and himself from the floor. Keeping you in his arms as he stands to his feet, you expect him to let you down now that he's well and good upright. He does not. “May I please get my clothes?” Your response comes as a nip to your ear. You yelp when his fangs bite down gently. 

“There would be no point.” With a golden light eveloping from his feet and spiraling upwards to engulf his body and yours, the room in which has been your solace for years fades away. Replaced in an instant is a room furnished for royalty and a space fit for at least four people comfortably. The outside view is simply the sky and grey clouds of nighttime as the moonlight filters easily inside the glass windows. 

Zhongli’s method of transportation is much easier to adapt to than Xiao’s it seems. 

Marching towards his bed, Zhongli sits himself on the edge before laying on his back, holding you on his abdomen above him. “Now then,” Your hands push against his lower chest to counteract his actions of trying to pull you down on top of him, “shall we continue?” 

The sound of the morning bird song is familiar to you as you start to rouse from sleep. For the first briefest moments of consciousness, you tug the blankets further over your shoulders and curl further into the covers as a whole-body way of defying the waking hour you’ve been used to for so long. Then you start to notice that the familiar chirping outside is the only thing that's familiar. 

With eyes still closed, you scrunch them tighter in confusion at the feeling of the covers over your body. They're thick and much softer than you're used to. The mattress you're lying on is soft enough to cradle your body and all its dips, curves and bends instead of the worn thin cot you’ve been saddled with since forever. The pillows even feel different, fuller and not nearly as flat as it supports your head comfortably. 

Among the chirping of the birds and the sound of the breeze from outside, you hone in on the dull sound of murmuring. The murmuring of chatter from not too far away. 

“...still early… rest.”

“Yanfei… proper clothes…” 

You groan, rolling from your side to your back and then to your opposite side to face the edge. Dragging the blankets with you, you fist them in your hand and tug the fabric around yourself snuggly once again. The chatter stops before returning with even more hushed tones, then it stops again. The sound of a door clicking softly shut is followed by the padding of steps that shuffle their way towards you. 

The mattress in front of your stomach dips as someone takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Their hand lifts to rest delicately on your hip. You can feel the warmth of their palm even through your blanket and… 

You eyes snap open as you fling yourself to sit up. Your blood rushes to catch up with your actions, making your vision blur in dizziness before you open the smallest window from your cocoon of fabric to peer down at your chest. Met with nothing but skin, you continue to stare down into the covers of the blanket at your naked chest. 

“Dear-”

“AH-!” You yelp as if you weren’t already sem-aware someone else was with you. Directly in front of you in fact. You raise your hands- still covered by a blanket- to cover your mouth, which in turn hides the lower half of your face behind soft woven fabric. 

The man in front of you chuckles. Bringing his hand that didn’t rest on your lap now up, he brushes the back of his fingers from your cheek’s high point to your ear, slightly taming your bed hair. 

“Good morning,” Zhongli greets. You swallow and realize how thirsty you are. The dragon in front of you is dressed only in his dressing gown; golden threads and brown shades of fabric drape over his shoulders and tie at his front, exposing his chest and the glowing soulmark he’s always taken pride in. “I did not mean to startle you,” he amuses and you can’t help but think that the sunlight filtering into the room- that certainly is not yours- suits him far better than moonlight did. 

“You didn’t- I mean you did, but-” you fumble. Voice muffled from still being covered by the fabric that currently covers your body. Zhongli chuckles richly from his chest as he shifts. The hand that is on your lap shifts to rest against the mattress at your side, while his other slides down to do the same on your opposite. With both hands planted on either side of your hips, he leans forward into your space. 

“Won’t you show your face to me?” 

“I’m embarrassed.” You admit quietly. He chokes on a laugh for just a moment, the sound never escaping past his throat. You pout at him- not that he can see it. 

“There is no need for that,” he urges. You lower the blankets just enough so that it only uncovers your face. You keep them tucked tightly to your chest, but leaving your shoulders and back exposed brings you a chill. 

Zhongli quickly makes good on the real estate that is your body, coating your cheeks in morning pecks that bring more embarrassment to your mind. Your face feels hot and you have no doubt he feels it against his lips. 

Then, there's three very loud, very eager knocks on the door. Followed by the yelling of a voice far too familiar to you by how much you listened to it the other day. 

Zhongli separates from you as you both look towards the door that shakes with another round of rapping. He chuckles, shaking his head as you just blink towards the door through sheer drapes at sheer force of the pounds. The emperor cups under your elbows so delicately as if holding the outside of a flower and leans once more to place his lips on your body. Placing them on your left shoulder he slides his hands from you. 

“Wait here, Yanfei will help you dress.” His voice is as soft as the blanket keeping the morning chill away. When his back turns, you resist the urge to release one hand from the blanket and fan your face. Your shoulder feels hot. 

When the door to Zhongli’s temporary room is opened, Yanfei and her pink head of hair burst in with a small chest in hand. The handle itself looks like it’s been carved from a magnificent tree covered in white bark. Holding it so easily, you wonder if it’s lighter than it looks. Or if the girl is.

She looks at her emperor before peeking over his shoulder to see you, blanket covered and sitting up in bed, clearly ready to start the morning. Stars shine in her eyes, you think. Tapping her feet, she ushers her way inside, dropping the chest by the coffee table in the room. It makes a loud BANG as it hits the ground, and you guess it really is heavy after all.

Jumping into the bed on the side in which Zhongli had slept in through the night, she scooches up to sit as close as possible to you. She’s more than giddy for such an early hour. 

“Good morning!” She greets and you almost wince at how loud she was in comparison to Zhongli’s soft whispers not two minutes ago. Still, you relax your shoulders and smile at her. 

“Good morning to you.” The morning light and the genuine smile on your face coupled with that fact that you’ve finally connected to your soulmate sets something off in the youngling dragon girl. With excited giggling, she flings herself into your chest and crashes you back into the mattress. With her head snuggling into your cheek, you both devolve into a fit of friendly giggling. 

Zhongli watches as his subject acts far out of her station with someone who is technically on her way to being an empress. Still, he forgives it. This is the kind of interaction you deserve to have. Happiness in the morning. Loving arms encasing you and laughter with no fear of being reprimanded. Royal standing and rules can wait for as long as they need to. He's never been one to change traditions- change can be nice.

With his arms crossed loosely over his chest, he simply leans his shoulder against the wall watching over you. 

“She’s acting exactly as I thought she would,” comes Xiao’s voice at his side. While unsure where he came from or when, Morax can only agree. Regardless, nobody moves to break up Yanfei’s affection. 

When the girl finally composes herself, she bounces out of bed where she’s left you and, with her hands on her hips, puffs out her chest as she looks at the two men in the room with a pointed look. 

“Out.” She commands. To her nation’s top general and only (current) ruling monarch mind you.

With the two only sharing a look with each other, she huffs. Stamping her foot, she raises one hand and points to the still opened door. “Out!” She demands. “I need to get her ladyship up and ready and I refuse to do so with prying eyes!” You flounder at the addressing title and want to tell her she doesn’t need to call you anything special, but you can’t get the words to form. 

Morax almost opens his mouth to defy her commands to leave, after all he’s seen it all anyways. Still, with the steadfast look in Yanfei's eyes, he once again amuses her. He really is quite weak when it comes to the younglings and their tempers. Yanfei reminds him of another younger dragon back in his country, one quite older than her pink haired kin- but much meeker. 

The two men are effectively kicked out, with the door shut and locked tight behind them. Not that a lock could really stand against them if it really came down to it. Xiao sighs with a hand on his forehead as Zhongli simply makes the most of the atmosphere with a bittersweet chuckle. 

Inside, Yanfei finally gets to tending to her charge.

“You don’t have to call me anything special,” you tell her.

“Of course I do! You're the soulmate of the emperor after all. Now! Up and at ‘em, my lady!” 

Zhongli listens to you both banter and talk inside along with the shuffling of cloth and soft clicks and tinks of jewelry. Leaning the back of his head against the wall, he shuts his eyes. 

He could easily get used to this. Very easily. 

Xiao leaves the emperor in the halls to do his own thing, not seeing a need to stick around while you are subjected to Yanfei’s enthusiasm. Zhongli must’ve zoned out since he’s only aware of the passage of time when two knocks rap playfully on the side of the door he was previously kicked out of. The door opens a crack and out pops Yanfei’s gleeful head. 

“Apologies for the wait, Lord Morax. I had a hard time choosing something suitable for her to wear since she’s borrowing from my wardrobe for the time being. You can come back inside now!” She disappears from the crack in the door as the emperor unfolds his arms and lets them drop, using one to push against the door and step back into his room. 

Yanfei has bounded back to you, standing behind you with her hands on your shoulders, humming happily. “Ta-da!” She announces and you wonder if you imagine the flowers blooming proudly from her head. 

As the dragon girl shows you off like a prize, you wish you could hide behind the blanket she’s taken the liberty of remaking onto the bed again. She had taken the best dress she had brought with her to decorate you with. An off shoulder top wrap that covers your torso with loose fabric and an open back, exposing your skin to the air. Billowing sleeves that hang off the bodice and a skirt that flows like silken curtains down your legs. 

It so far removed from your shabby uniform you’ve mended, sewn, and put up with for years. It could compare to Maia’s clothes, albeit not as tight fitting. One thing the dragons, or at least these particular two, have in common is loose clothing. Yanfei readjusts the golden dainty chain that loops around your neck with a chain in the center bringing attention to your chest and further down as it disappears under the dress’s fabric. She’s even neatly arranged your hair, sliding a few pins and bobbles into it. 

“I’m not sure if this suits me,” you mumble, still feeling so out of place in something so beautiful. You lift the skirt slightly off your leg and discover the slit running up the skirt in the process as your thigh downward becomes exposed for just a moment. 

Yanfei is ready to battle your words but also acknowledge them since the dress is technically hers and made for her physical attributes. It would look the best on her after all- since it was tailored to be so. However, Morax gets the first words in. 

“It does.” You both look at him as he gazes at you. Eyes drooped softly as he scans from your exposed shoulders to the way the fabric hangs from your body, and how the colors bring out all the smallest things he adores about your visage. “It suits you.” Yanfei stays quiet but smiles widely in agreement. You still want to shrink under a rock, but more so from embarrassment and not being able to take a compliment when he makes it sound so extreme. 

Clearing her throat, Yanfei speaks up again.

“I took the liberty of taking her measurements as well. I’ll head into the castle town and find a shop to get you properly tailored clothes. What sort of style do you prefer?” You look at Yanfei with your mouth agape. Moving so you face towards the girl now, you try and offer her a way to not do that. 

“Oh, no I couldn’t. My normal clothes are enough-”

“Absolutely not!” She scolds, a finger pointed in your face that makes you almost go cross-eyed. “With all due respect, I cannot allow you to run around in those rags that were barely holding themselves together.” She’s very stern on her decision. 

Morax chuckles from his place as he steps closer to you. You feel his hand brush the bare skin of your back and jump when you twist and notice his closeness. 

“Arguing with a brick wall would be more rewarding than trying to win against this particular youngling.” His fingers mindless smooth around your back and you resist the urge to shiver and scamper away. “Just let her do as she pleases.” 

“But-” 

“Now!” Yanfei interrupts. At some point she’s whipped out a book and pen, ready to write down your preferences. “What kind of style do you prefer? And colors. I need to do that too. Oh- and do you wear jewelry often? Do rings bother you? What about necklaces?” 

You’re trapped in that room for over an hour as Zhongli does nothing to help you. In fact, at some point, he sidled over to Yanfei’s shoulder to look at all her notes so he could learn too. He even started asking questions himself! 

When she finally leaves, you’re all but exhausted as you slump onto the two person sofa. Morax sits next to you, placing his arm on the back of the sofa and lets his fingers hang to brush your shoulder. 

“She means well,” he humors. You know she does, you’re just not used to this. Just yesterday you were just a title-less, no-named castle servant. Detested by all and valued by none.

Now? 

Now you’re draped in a dress not made for you, and so beautiful it feels wrong on your body. Surrounded by people who seem to care about you so much you couldn’t place a value on their love. Yanfei and how she treats you so kindly. Xiao in how he’s protected you so fiercely since discovering who you are and never treating you disrespectfully. Then, Li, who within the last day, has treated you like someone he’s loved since the ground rose from the sea. 

You sigh and settle into the sofa’s cushions. Morax reaches with his resting hand and brushes your chin.

“Do I really deserve this?” You whisper as the wind snaking in from the cracked balcony window takes your words from your lips. Morax says nothing but uses his arm to pull you towards him. Your shoulder hits his chest and his arm loops around to your front, holding you protectively. His chin rests on your head as he hums; you feel it vibrate at your back. His thumb soothes your skin as he brushes it back and forth in comforting motions. 

“Undoubtedly. Make no mistake, this is what you’ve always deserved.”

“...Because I’m your soulmate?” 

“Because you’re simply you. You are you. Y/n. A princess by birthright. It’s only natural that you are given what you’re owed. I will see to it that you receive all that’s been stolen from you.” Pushing his cheek into the top of your head, he takes a deep breath. You can feel his chest lift and deflate against you. “I’ve been told I have the tendency to become… overbearing. I have difficulty letting certain things go without good reason. You’ll have to put up with that.” 

You chuckle, wondering if he meant that as a jest or if he was being serious. You have heard dragon’s can be territorial and protective, but you never really got that vibes from Li before. Then again, that was before you ever really met him. So maybe now that you’re within arms reach…

“I’ll do my best to brace myself,” you offer him jokingly. He breathes amused through his nose. You feel his chest rumble, like he’s humming; mulling something over in his mind as it escapes in the form of vibrations from his mind. 

“Would you mind terribly if I request you take a walk with me?” He asks. Without seeing your face, he knows the expression you must be wearing. Inhaling, you’re lifted just high enough so he can twist you and talk to your face without making you uncomfortable. Just as he thought, your face screams ‘unsure’ at his request. 

His index finger hooks gently beneath your jaw, lifting your face up so he can place his forehead just a hairs breath away from yours. His eyes look into yours in understanding- so soft and warm your shoulders ease. 

“We needn’t go far. Even pacing back and forth in the hall just outside the door will suffice.”

“That just sounds boring.”

“It won’t be. I cannot be so when you’re near.” 

“Has your tongue always been so silver?” You ask with a playfully soft smile. 

“I’m still learning on how to wield it truthfully.” You shake your head at him, smiling all the while as he pushes his lips to your cheek and shift so you can stand with him off the sofa. Offering you his arm, you hesitate but still wrap your hands around the limb that flows with more power than you can comprehend. You stare at his skin beneath your palms. 

His arm is power. With a wave he can command people. With the smallest bit of concentration he can summon magic that rivals earthquakes. In his palm he holds his people's lives and safety. Then you look to his shoulder. Then across his chest, then his mark. This aged, yet young, body shoulders much and bows to none. None except- 

“Shall we?” You look up to his eyes. The soft expression of a man smitten. 

“I would like to say hello to a few of the dragons. You know, to get to know them?” You ask. Zhongli smiles. He would love nothing more than you forging bonds with more of his people. With his family. 

You’re not sure what you were so afraid of to begin with. It’s been 5 days since Zhongli revealed himself and you to the small audience of servants, dragons, and your father and half-sister. Five days since he took you from your small little nook in the castle you called a room and placed you delicately into his own world. 

The first time Zhongli asked you to walk with him you did have a hard time getting far from the bedchamber door. Too filled with anxiety about who could be around the corner. Who could see you. Who would see you dressed in clothes that aren’t yours with a man who is but still didn’t feel like it. 

The second time, Yanfei had practically dragged you down one floor to visit a couple other dragons that had accompanied Zhongli as a group. Just a couple apart of the emperor’s protection squad to stop by and properly say hello to. They seemed just as awkward as you felt. Perhaps meeting a human was hard for them too (It wasn’t so much a human, but the woman who was connected to their ruler and thus ranked so high above them that made them nervous).

The third time you were with Zhongli again, clutching onto his arm and determined to try and get down to another floor of the keep or even outside just for a moment. You had run into Xiao that day. He was speaking to three soldiers you hadn’t met yet that also bare the insignia of dragons on their armor. You stop and say hello to them and ask if Xiao is too busy to walk with you and Li. He looks at his emperor before he looks back at you and nods. He acts more like a bodyguard than a friend along for a walk though. Still, his presence is nice to have. 

You don’t take a walk on the fourth day. Zhongli keeps you in the room all day. “You need to take a break or else you’ll wear yourself too thin.” That’s what he told you. You somewhat understand but you’re so used to working until you get it nonstop that stopping feels foreign. At least he let you pace around and fiddle with all the things in his room. He watched you flit around the room back and forth pretty much all day in his chair outside on the balcony. 

Now it's the fifth day. You’re dressed and ready for another walk. Yanfei had run into town one day after taking your measurements and purchased some readymade clothes from a local tailor to gift you some new and more appropriate apparel. Your wardrobe was modest but still befitting enough to instill you weren't uncomfortable. 

Despite being dressed in a skirt for a uniform for years, that’s what you were used to so that’s what you preferred wearing. Your dress wraps around your neck and covers your breast snuggly as the bodice covers your chest and hips before flowing down into satin flows of fabric. Cut lower in the back, the skirt exposes your knees and lower legs as the train kicks at your heels. Speaking of- Zhongli was adamant on your shoes starting out as lower heels because the last thing he wanted was you falling and injuring yourself just because you wanted to try and wear an aristocrat's shoe type. 

“If I had my way, I would dispose of shoes entirely,” he laments as he glares at the kingdom given pair of flat shoes he was offered when he first arrived. You’ve learned that he dislikes wearing shoes at all since he’s the most comfortable when he can feel the ground under his feet.  

You weren’t dressed in jewels or layers like Maia is on a daily basis. And you’re not decorated like a woman like Kokomi. But you were dressed proud as you always should have been. 

 As you gather your hair to finish brushing it, you look at your reflection and take empowering breaths. 

“You’re rearing to go this morning,” Zhongli chuckles as he steps into the mirror's reflection at your side. Taking the brush that lay in front of you, he stands at your back and takes over the chore for you. With his own long hair, he’s well versed on what and what not to do so your hair is in good hands- literally. 

“I want to try and walk outside today. I don’t think it’s as big of a deal as I’m making it out to be. I just need to get outside. That's it.” 

The bristles of the brush run softly from your scalp as the emperor is careful not to snag any painful knots from your night's rest. 

“I admire your drive, but there is no need to rush. It may seem small, but this is no small feat.” His words make you take a deep breath. He starts twisting a strand of hair around his finger before bringing it to his lips and placing his adoration with a kiss to it. “What you’ve done so far is already praiseworthy.” 

“You’re exaggerating.” 

“You have my word I am not,” he chuckles, sweeping your hair to the side and running his knuckles over your soulmark.

That was something Zhongli was very picky on. He almost always wanted your back exposed just so your soulmark was always within his sight. “You may ask any of the dragon’s here and they would tell you the same as I.” 

“That would be far too embarrassing.” 

“Then, shall I in your stead?”

“Absolutely not!” You shout, a heat to your cheeks. Zhongli chuckles as he sets the hairbrush back onto the wardrobe. Leaning down to kiss your shoulder, he eases when he sees that the uncertainty in your eyes has waned. As he intended. 

“If you so wish,” he tells you, stepping to your side and offering out his hand. “But do remember, if you so much as ask, no task is too much.”

You take his hand with a small pout. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” 

“Am I?” 

Your soulmate leads you out of the room and you take your time together to the end of the hall and then down the first set of stairs. Then once again taking slow, easy strides and greeting any dragon you find on the way before the second set is descended. The cycle repeats until your low-heeled foot touches the last step to the bottom floor. You let out a breath you weren’t sure when you in took. 

“See,” you whisper more to yourself than anyone else around who could hear, “was that so hard?” It was like you were scolding yourself for building it up to be this herculean task when all it was, was just a few steps and then some more after. Smiling at the top of your head, Zhongli steps in front of you and tugs on the hand he's been holding onto the entire trip and steps backward facing you. 

“Shall we step outside then?” 

It’s not far. The door that leads out of the castle keep is hardly 20 paces away. It isn’t locked, not blocked, nothing is holding you inside like a prisoner. You can go outside. 

You can go outside. 

You glance down at your feet in shoes you’re not used to and see your body covered in clothes you’re still getting used to. The hand holding yours is one you know and the warmth is comforting as you take a breath and look back at the door. 

“Okay,” you say, eyes still fixated on your exit. 

The steps are quick and Zhongli opens the door for you to step outside. The sun shines as it always does and warms your skin like he has before. It’s the same sun, the same air and the same castle you’ve been in nearly all your life. Yet it’s different than before. You’re looking at it differently. But it isn’t as scary as you imagined. 

It’s almost… normal? 

Maybe it was your clothes. Maybe it was the man of unquestionable power standing next to you. Maybe it was the dragon’s you know are watching over you right now for the sake of your own safety. Or maybe it was just you. 

But it was normal. This feels normal. 

You let out a quick breath like you're standing in front of something you expected to be monumental. Zhongli squeezes your hand and then pulls your arm up to wrap under his. 

“Let’s try and walk around the perimeter, shall we?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, “let’s do that.” You’re not aware of how tightly your arm has wound around Zhongli’s, but he doesn’t mention it. It doesn’t harm him and it brings you some sense of ease, so he has no reason to bring it up. 

You both walk, back and forth, along the covered outside corridors as the sun moves slowly across the sky and shifts the shadows. It feels mindless, but you both simply converse the whole time. Making the entire silly nature of going in circles meaningful. 

The sun’s moved to the middle of the sky and casts a cloudless barrage of light over the castle keep when between what feels like the hundredth back and forth lap, another person enters the scene. 

“Oh my,” your quick to twist at your waist, looking down the few steps that separate the keep’s entrance with the cobblestone path leading to it. “What a sight this is to see.” Your face splits into a slow spreading smile before your arm loosens from Zhongli’s and slips from his form entirely. With no need to worry about tripping over your uniform’s skirt that no longer catches at your shoes with loose string and holes, you quickly make your way to your longest standing friend. 

“Kokomi!” You cheer in a hushed excitement. Making it to her, you throw your arms around her shoulders as she holds behind your back delicately and warmly. You squeeze your body as close to the priestess as you can, nearly going tiptoed just to get as much affection into your embrace as you can. She returns the affection with just as much vigor. 

Emperor Morax watches from his perch up the stairs and only shakes his head with a smile on his face. Knowing that Kokomi loves you in much the same way as he, he does feel a small twinge of discomfort in his chest. But the fact that Kokomi was a respected woman who faced him head on and was your constant support when he couldn’t be?

Yeah, he’ll let this one slide. 

It does sting that the reason you were able to so easily breach past the outside corridor pillar wasn’t because of him though. Morax knows when he’s lost and this point goes easily to the victor: Kokomi. 

“It’s so good to see you,” you pull away from the woman and look her in the face for the first time with a smile the sun could barely rival. She’s never seen such life in your eyes. With one of her hands, she brings it up to your cheek, cupping it gently and smiles back to yours. 

“I’ve been so busy at the temple, I’m sorry I’ve been away so long. It seems I’ve missed much.” Her hand slips from your face as Zhongli makes his way towards the pair of you. 

Just because he’d allow it, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t include himself into the situation. 

The two share a knowing look before Zhongli shuts his eyes with an amused smile. Kokomi chuckles behind her hand. It’s like they’re having an entirely silent conversation and you want to know what their saying. 

The three of you fall into conversation that isn’t 100% comfortable, but it isn’t tense either. It’s playful and it almost feels like Zhongli and Kokomi are picking fights with each other at times, but then it just settles into the highest lady giggling in some sort of victorious manner. It may not be fully comfortable, but it was right. It was an air you weren’t use to but could get used to. 

The atmosphere was fine until Morax’s demeanor shifted. His eyes that had always been warm and soft, hardened like rock in an instant and he turns his head to the gates outside the fence surrounding the small courtyard of the third keep. 

The emperor moves so that he’s standing in front of your body, backing until his back is to your nose. Kokomi takes the back, sneaking to your shoulders and encasing her arms around you from behind. You reach up to touch your best friend’s arms and maybe even try to peak around Zhongli’s body to see what they’ve suddenly found a pact for. You needn’t see anything once you hear though. 

“You are not welcome here. I request that you leave at once.” Morax bites. 

“You have no authority here,” Maia’s cold and clipped voice fires back. Unlike the emperor of dragons, there is a sliver of fluctuation in her voice. “You are guests in my home and there is no place I am unwelcome.” 

From behind Zhongli, Maia could not see Kokomi and was not aware of her presence. You squeeze onto Kokomi’s arms that are around your shoulders. Behind you, she pushes her cheeks into your head and hushes you like a babe. 

“There is no need to fear her anymore,” she whispers. Easier said than done though. A lifetime of scorn and torment can’t be erased in five measly days. No matter how wonderful they were. 

Morax’s eye twitches as he opens and closes his hands behind his back to keep his patience in check. Oh how his distaste for the woman in front of him grows with each passing appearance. He can’t bring himself to speak for the sole reason being anything that could come out of his mouth is nothing you need to be hearing him say. 

“Maia,” Kokomi’s voice speaks. Maia’s shoulder stiffen as Morax turns, exposing you and Kokomi to the crown princess. Maia almost delights in the fear that she can still bring into your eyes, but that’s all she could find satisfaction in. 

The dress you wear does not befit you. You: a tainted woman who is no better than a commoner begging on the street corner. The shoes you wear, the dress that adorns you, the care in which your hair has been tended to, the protection your under: none of it should be yours. 

Yet, she cannot bring her tongue to move. For the reassurance your fear brings her, when she looks into the eyes of Lady Kokomi, she feels swamped. The cold depths of her ladyship's eyes are vast and deep like a lagoon of water you can’t see through. Thick enough to trap any who dare tread into its waters. 

Or perhaps.. she is not a lagoon. Kokomi is an ocean.

Wrath so deep with abhorrence so vast, all cloaked under the striking beauty of the sea’s surface that shimmers under the sun. 

The sun does not favor Maia. 

“Does your father know you're here?” Kokomi asks, wrapping her arms around you tighter and smiling just enough to show she means no good-will. Maia remains silent. Like a caught child. “I imagine not. I’ve heard that this entire keep was strictly off-limits to those unpermitted. Surely, he would not take kindly to his youngest child’s disobedience.” 

Maia finds her voice as she scowls at the highest standing lady in her kingdom. The only one who ever dares to defy her. 

“I am the daughter of the king! His only child-!”

“You are not,” Kokomi bites. Her soft tone disappears along with her smile. It startles you. You’ve never heard sweet Kokomi’s voice drop below a pitiful whisper. Now it strikes like a storm. Then her smile reappears, harsh and condescending. “You should treat your older sister with more respect, Maia.” 

Maia fumes. Zhongli watches in amusement, wondering if her body would soon be able to give off steam. With a hand cupped under his chin, he waits with bated breath for the possibility to arrive. 

The Crown Princess of Aislefield looks at you, little pathetic you, being held in the arms of the highest standing woman in the kingdom on par with the king and protected head-on by the emperor of the whole of dragon kind. Her fists ball. It isn’t fair. 

“If you’re displeased,” Zhongli says, Maia’s fierce glare shifting from Kokomi to him. Kokomi and you also look at the emperor as he sets his sights upward in thought, his hand still cupped under his chin. “Then perhaps we can come at the situation in the light of social status. That could make it quite a deal clearer.” Maia almost starts smiling but is far too on edge around the two people who clearly dislike her. “If we come at it from that angle, then you”- Zhongli lowers his gaze back to Maia- “should watch your words.” 

“Excuse me?!” She shreeches, red faced and in a tizzy. 

“You are a crown princess, therefore you are in a lower station to y/n. While not documented on paper, her bond to me is undeniable proof that everyone who is beneath me, is beneath her. She is the one woman who is to one day marry an emperor.” He says it, but even that is a partial lie because to Morax, not even he can count himself as above you. In his eyes, you are at the top of this metaphorical food chain and it’s indisputable. 

You look at Zhongli with your mouth open and your body from your shoulders to your neck and ears all feel hot. Kokomi must feel your skin heat up from her still hanging off of you. You couldn’t say anything before because just the sight of Maia petrified you. Now? 

Now you can’t say anything because how could he just say something like that? You’ve hardly ever been liked by anyone before. Now you have an emperor proposing to you in the most indirect way possible to your younger half-sisters face? For what? Because she has an attitude? 

…Maybe Maia did have it coming. If you weren’t so mortified, maybe you’d be stifling a chuckle right about now. 

Kokomi behind you pushes her cheek against your head again while you study the cracks in the cobblestone. 

It feels like there’s a flock of birds flapping their wings in your head. You wonder if there actually is since all you can hear is buzzing in your ears as your eyes that stay downcast blur and unfocus like you're going in and out of reality. You're only brought back when Kokomi slips out from behind you, her arms gliding over your shoulders softly like silk and Zhongli comes to your side, placing his hand on your back guidingly. Your eyes finally come up and you look back and forth and see no one else. Maia has gone- or was she really there? Did you hallucinate it all because you realized you were outside and the fear of seeing your half-sister again took root so deep into your subconscious that you made the image of her flustered, angry face up? You shake your head. 

No. You weren’t so delusional that you could do something like that. Kokomi and Zhongli were your anchors. Maia was here. She was. She just left- or was escorted away?- before you could properly register it. You must’ve just zoned out while it happened. 

“Would you like to go back inside?” Zhongli asks softly, his hand running up and down your spine soothingly. You take a breath- feeling a bit ridiculous. 

“I think that would be for the best,” you smile a bit bitterly at his offer. Despite feeling like a fool who can’t shake off the past, you also know that it isn’t simple. You allowed feel foolish like this and you’ll just have to learn to accept that. 

Zhongli guides you back inside the third keep with Kokomi in tow- he’s also invited her inside for some tea so she can spend the rest of the day with you as well. He isn’t cruel enough to place distance between the two of you. Morax is aware- he has already won; and so, there is no need to compete with her for you. 

The next week passes by almost without you noticing. You spent the day after Maia’s unplanned appearance in the confines of Zhongli’s room, too anxious to go outside. The next day you restarted your progress from door to hall, to stairs to hall, and so on until you were comfortable roaming the keep once again. 

On day 26 of Morax’s stay in the human kingdom, he was already awake and dressing when you awoke on the bed you’ve been sharing with him since he brought you here. 

He was slipping his arm through the sleeve of a robe made of fabric you can’t even begin to guess the price of as you sit up, rubbing the blurry, sleep vision from your eyes. Hearing the rustling of the blankets, he turns to see you waking up and smiles. 

“Good morning,” he greets. Trotting to your side of the bed, he traces the mattress’s edge with his fingers before sitting down, making sure not to accidentally sit on your legs that are hidden under the folds of thick fabric. Using the arm that isn’t anchoring him to the mattress, he reaches out and places his palm behind your head to lean your body towards him so he can place his lips against your head. You’ve gotten used to this behavior first thing in the morning after almost two weeks. 

“Where are you going so early?” You ask, speech still a bit slurred from your night's rest. He smiles more through his breath than his lips. The telltale signs that the answer isn’t one you probably want to hear. But you don’t repeat yourself or tell him to not answer, you simply wait. 

“I’ve made arrangements to meet with your father about your departure preparations.” At the mention of the king, your shoulder’s square from the slouching of rest put into them and the sleep was wiped from your mind like a gust of wind blowing through an orchard. Zhongli traces your jaw with his fingers and lifts your face with the top of his hand under your chin before giving you a reassuring look. “You need not join me.” 

Your hands squeeze the covers that pool around your hips and your toes curls in tandem with the tension squeezing your nerves. Zhongli’s hand slips from you as he stands, nearly ready to depart. He has no desire to put you into more terror by seeing the waste of life that is Auisle. Just thinking of your dazed and unfocused presence from encountering Maia before... no, he doesn’t want to risk it. 

Zhongli knows this isn’t a decision for him to make himself on your behalf. But it’s one that Morax has decided regardless. 

With his back turned and stepping away from the bed, he makes a few final adjustments to his person. Smooths out his clothes and gathers his hair behind his neck to tie together. He’s almost startled when you walk past him to the door, opening it and peeking out to one of the dragon guards assigned here recently. Not that Morax needed a doorman. 

“Could you get Yanfei for me?” You ask politely. The guard says nothing but lowers his head and moves down the hall, already on the look for her.  For a person it would take a long time to find a single person in the castle who could be anywhere. But for a dragon? Well, their sense of smell isn’t just for show. You shut the door again and put your back against it, looking towards Zhongli who has just finished with his hair. “I want to go.” 

He looks at you like you just threw something at him. You almost laugh at the shock on his face. 

“I mean it.”

“You don’t have to.” 

“You’re not making this decision for me.” Zhongli is torn between being proud you’re standing up to him- for yourself- and irritated that you’re putting yourself in a position that may make you uncomfortable in the presence of the father who’s rejected you your entire life. He crosses his arms, tapping his foot and wonders if his faux mockery of debate will make you back down.

It doesn’t. 

He sighs, dropping his arms and moving to the couch before placing himself onto it’s cushions. Fully defeated. 

“If he so much as makes you look at your feet, I’m having Xiao escort you out.” 

“My eyes won’t fall past his waist.” 

“Is that a promise?” You clear your throat and refuse to answer that one. 

The air between you and Zhongli as you pace back and forth in the room- which feels oddly small under his impatience- was awkward. The fact he wasn’t thrilled in the least with your decision would be very apparent even if he hadn’t voiced it prior. Waiting for Yanfei was a tough situation so early in the morn. 

As the chipper knocking echoes onto the wood, you feel a wave of relief as if you had just been saved. 

You smile and politely greet the pink haired dragon as she bounces her way inside like she belongs there. Her hands are full with cloth and you look down at the ribbons, tassels, cloth bundles and whatever else she has heaped in her arms. Knowing her, she was already aware that Zhongli was going to Auisle today and her summons via you meant that you were too. So, she came well prepped. 

“Hope you don’t mind, but you’ll be borrowing my clothes again!" Yanfei cheers. She sounds so absolute and you could barely bring yourself to argue against it as she begins to push you behind the changing screen. 

“But I-”

“Yes, yes. You do.” She interrupts, already gleaming some insight on what you wanted to say. “But they’re not dragon clothes.” 

Oh. 

As she helps you strip off your night clothes only to re-cover your body in the same foreign garbs she had dressed you in the beginning of all this, you understood. 

Yanfei was trying to make a statement. 

From his place lounging on the sofa, Zhongli tuts in approval. If you must follow him, best to rub into the king’s face just who it is behind you. 

Auisle’s sneers will be miniscule in comparison to the admiration and protection of Morax’s entire race. 

Serves the fool right. 

You spent the entire time from leaving the room, to the walk out of the keep and into the main palace and right through the throne room, past the thrones that belonged not to you and up to the door of the room Morax has had the misfortune of entering three times now, chanting to yourself that you could do this.

It was fine. Everything was going to be okay. You could do this. 

Bending your arm at the elbow, you reach up and curl the thick of Zhongli’s bicep into your hand. You have no idea if your nervous squeezing is uncomfortable for him, or if he even feels it. 

His hand moves to the door handle and yours tightens. When the door cracks open, he pushes and the small hope of Auisle not being present yet douts. At the far end of the room, next to the windows and staring out them as if he was the pinnacle of regality with his arms behind his back, was King Auisle of Aislefield; your father. 

You feel small. Stupid even. What were you thinking? You couldn’t do this. The emperor was right, Zhongli was right. You shouldn’t have come with him. Your lips twist and curl inwards before you relax your mouth again- wondering if you look as foolish as you feel. 

The king dismisses the idea of turning fully around, standing half-pivoted on his feet. Morax glares at him and the king stares back. The need for any imitated formality no longer exists. 

Glancing down at you with his eyes alone, Morax wonders if he shouldn’t call for Xiao this very moment and have you taken away. Surely Auisle seeing you dressed the way you are- a far cry from the past- is enough for you? Then, he thinks against it. 

No. It wasn’t enough. 

Emperor Morax steps past the threshold, dragging you along by his arm since your grip on it wouldn’t allow separation (not that he wanted it). The door clicks shut behind you both and despite it being soft and gentle, in your echoing mind it could’ve very well been as loud as thunder. 

Your eyes are fixated on the king’s chest. Tracing his embroidered clothes to the amulet he wears and back again. You can look up only to his chin, then you feel yourself recede and drop your gaze again to the fabric adorning him. How fine it was. How delicate it is- you imagine the quality of it as if you were running your fingers along it at this very moment. 

You can’t tell if your breathing so quickly you can’t keep track or not at all. Were you breathing? Surely if you weren’t Li would’ve done something- said something- by now. 

“Let’s keep this brief,” Morax’s voice booms out into the silence of the room and you almost jump at it. Like lightning striking through the sky. 

“We are of the same mind,” Auisles voice is the same as you’ve always experienced. Any sort of paternal instinct in him smashed into pieces while in your presence. All that energy was ever only directed towards Maia. Morax on the other hand, smirks. The tone is genuine and much more acceptable than the faux pleasantries he’s been succumbed to thus far. 

“I assure you we are not,” he jests in nothing but pure fun. Poking the proverbial bear now that he’s got certain… permissions. 

Zhongli moves his arm, the same you cling to and removes your grasp from his skin. With a panic, you open your mouth, whip your head towards his direction and twist your face. If you don’t have a tether, you might just throw up. 

“-Li..!” Your voice is so soft, it’s almost undistinguishable like a draft. Still, his ears can hear it. 

“Calm now,” he whispers as he loops his arm around your neck. His elbow bends inward and his palm moves to your chin. With his fingers, he supports your jaw and with just enough grip to be direct, he moves your face towards Auisle. Lifting your chin up, he doesn’t let your head dip and the moment you lock eyes with the king, you feel stuck.

If you look away, you’re being disrespectful. If you keep looking, you’re being offensive. 

There is no winning here. 

Morax shifts a step behind you, keeping his arm and hand on you in place. At your back, he leans forwards, his chin resting upon the back of your crown. 

You watch as Auisle’s face contours, his brows turning inward and his face growing in an emotion you weren’t familiar with. It was like a mixture of several and you couldn’t figure out which one was fronting the most. 

Fear. Anger. Disgust. Disdain. 

Cowardice. 

Unbeknown to you, at your back and out of sight, Morax slips into a more draconic state before Auisle’s eyes. His golden scales creep up his cheeks and down his neck. His horns like antlers grow and branch into a grander stature and his eyes hold a gold akin to that of the sun. You gasp when you feel something wrap around your leg over your skirt, but with his hand holding your face, you couldn’t look down to see what. 

“In four days, I’ll be departing your kingdom. I’ll be taking your daughter with me- I’m sure you’ll have few objections.” You don’t know if you feel his grinning against your head or hear it in his voice more. It almost makes you crack a smile yourself. 

Auisle says nothing and you feel… irritation? 

You understand that Zhongli is egging him on purpose- for his own amusement- but could the proud king of your kingdom really not offer any words while looking you in the face. Was it because he was looking you in the face? Is that it? 

Morax feels your jaw tense under his hold. There is no other living being on this planet that can understand you the way the emperor does, and the same is mirrored. He’s convinced when the day comes where you are no longer with him- for whatever means, distance or death- he will never again encounter someone else who can see into the very depths into his soul. Understand him on a level that shouldn’t be physically possible. 

It was like your will was embedded into the marrow of his draconic bones which have seen counter era’s pass by with golden eyes. 

His hand drops from your chin, just enough to allow you freedom from his grasp but close enough that if you falter, he will catch you until you are ready to try once more. 

“King Auisle,” you start. Your voice is steady- not very loud and your voice wavers just a moment when you first start. It finds footing somewhere speaking his cursed name. The look the king gives you is familiar and you find an odd comfort in it. “I believe I am owed a dowry.” 

“What did you just say?” He growls. Auisle’s speech lacks any form of decorum, much less manners. 

Maybe it was the dress you wear providing you with a sort of strength you have never known. Or maybe the man standing at your beck and call- willing to wait on you hand and foot- being one of the few most powerful beings alive. Just maybe it could be the large fact that your best friend is the single human being able to stand toe-to-toe to your father in your defense for little to nothing. Or maybe it was the dragons’ stationed with your protection and the two who have been beside you the whole time; one a general and the other a social halfling. 

Maybe it was everything all at once. 

Your arm stretches outward as your index finger extends lazily outwards towards the center of his chest. The amulet he wears is crafted with gold and gems of fiery red hue bouncing off the sunlight through the windows like sparks. 

“I believe I need not repeat myself,” you speak- mimicking the speaking patterns you’ve heard over the years. It came easier than you originally thought it would. It befits a once crown princess. “That amulet should do.” You demand. 

“You must’ve become delusional,” Auisle scoffs, reaching up to cover the amulet with his large, rough and aged hands. Were they always that old and wrinkled? They used to ignite such fear in you, so why not now? 

Behind you, Morax growls. “Insulting the empress consort is treading very dangerously close to a punishable transgression.” You say nothing at your lover's blatant threat. 

Neither does Auisle. He may be a foolish man in the eyes of the dragon who has seen many of his generations come and go- but he knows when to toe the line. Getting further on Morax’s bad side would cause trouble he wouldn’t be able to begin to solve. 

Flipping your hand, you extend all your fingers out with your palm facing the ceiling. The way you silently demand for the amulet once more has a chill running down his spine. A sensation that has him feeling shame. Shuttering at the mere sight of your eyes? Bending to your demands? 

The chain of his amulet pinches between Auisle’s fingers as he squeezes. He feels overwhelmed. 

Emperor Morax stands behind you with such an intense aura, it feels like the sun casting a shadow from inside the room. Blinding him and searing his skin under the gaze of a god. 

Then suddenly it was like there were millions of those same eyes all staring at him, scrutinizing him under superiority. 

His resolve is gone when his eyes meet yours one last time as you speak…

“We dragons are known to be greedy.” 

…Auisle swears he sees the moon in your eyes. 

a/n pt.2: YIPPEE ITS DONE AFTER 8 MONTHS AND THEN SOME, SHES COMPLETE

*ahem* thanks for reading this monster child of mine <: i will not promise i won't do it again bc im sure i will and it will not shock me if it is zhongli again hehe *sweats*

(also i already so badly want to write little excerpts of this couple specifically hnng)

t.list: @witheringblooddemon @arminsarlerts @kurinneko @kangyeonie @dawns-breath @nintendogeek2018 @mfreedomstuff2 @wraithisd3adinside @uniquecutie-puffs @pranabefall @nayukiyukihira @lioria @maiznamai @lilaclichh @blipblopblopblip @luciiannx @mama-m1na @mangetsuksiazek @phifalling @cringeycookies @seraphinariddle @silverfox579 @babygirl-panda19

“That was rude!” The girl he’s brought with him chides. “I simply had a question. You didn’t need to drag me away from what I was doing.” She continues to scold with her hands on her hips. 

Xiao disregards her complaints and looks at you. With a lazy wave of his hand in the girl's general direction at his side, he ‘introduces’ her. 

“This is my headache.” You have half a mind to tell him that was a rude thing to say, but don’t. The girl whose focus has solely been on giving Xiao a piece of her mind finally looks and registers your presence. Her eyes are a shade of green so pretty you wonder if they resemble gemstone. 

She looks at you for a moment before catching a familiar whiff off of you. Breaking out into a grin, she dismisses Xiao entirely and bounds over to you in a fit of excitement. 

“Oh!” Her excitement catches you by surprise. Gabbing your hands together in hers, she brings them up and clasps them together softly. Her hands are warm, like a comforting bonfire. “It’s you!” She cheers. Xiao behind her steps forward with his arms crossed. 

“She doesn’t know.” He speaks. The pink-haired girl nods as she rakes her eyes over your body. You do the same- only a bit less enthusiastically than her.

She’s pretty. She could sway anyone's eyes- a lot like Kokomi can with her beauty- but in a different way. Kokomi was beautiful and graceful, but this girl was pretty like a seashell. Pink and smooth and warm... like the sun is always shining on her. You don’t even have time to think about what Xiao means since you're so busy being overwhelmed. 

“That’s fine,” she waves him off dismissively. “I’m Yanfei,” she introduces. “An advisor and avid people watcher who came with Lord Morax to Aislefield!” You already figured she was a dragon both from her acquaintance with Xiao and the white horns growing downwards from her head. 

“Hello,” you greet nervously. Hands starting to feel sweaty. “My name's y/n. I work here in the castle.” 

Yanfei hums, nods and then smiles at you even brighter if that was possible. Letting go of your hands, she instead steps closer to your side before looping her arm with yours, linking you both together. With her free hand, she shoos in Xiao’s direction. 

“You can go away. I want to spend some time with y/n.” Xiao’s brow twitches. After calling his name over and over and over again to the point he had to bring her here just so he didn’t leave you alone again- this is what he gets? Dismissed by someone lower ranked than him? If Yanfei was around, he wouldn’t worry about your well-being nearly as much as if you were alone, but this was just plain rude. 

“Seriously?” Xiao scoffs. 

“Seriously.” Yanfei confirms. 

“You know, not all halflings can get away with treating their generals the way you do,” he huffs. Yanfei opens and closes her hand used to shoo him away in a mouth-mocking motion. 

“Yeah yeah, go on! All you have to do is tell him that I’m with her and there’s nothing to worry about!” 

Xiao pinches the bridge of his nose. He’d never hear the end of it from Yanfei if he stuck around. She would just continue to yap and annoy him until he gives in. So, fine. After several conditions of never leaving you by yourself and treating you respectfully, he finally leaves. You feel flush and embarrassed as he talks about you like a little kid needing babysitting instead of a grown woman who can take care of herself… more or less. 

Yanfei, pleased that she’s now alone with you, gleefully chuckles before setting a steady pace down the hall with you still on her arm. 

“Are you all finished with your chores?” She asks. 

“I am. I was returning to my room before Xiao went and… answered you?” You’re not sure how to explain his bringing her here without being rude to either party. She wasn’t annoying like Xiao was explaining and he wasn’t being rude by leaving you by yourself for not even a minute. 

“The general’s a good guy,” she laughs, “he’s just so fun to rile up sometimes. Trust me, his personality is in there somewhere.” You chuckle at her antics. There’s no moment of awkward silence before she’s prattling on again. “You work at the castle, yeah? How long?” 

“Ever since I was little,” you tell her. “When I was a baby, my mother left me here. I was raised by the housekeepers before I was old enough to care for myself.” You’ve told this story so many times it’s natural now. The taste the lie leaves on your tongue is bitter and gritty. Perhaps it's because you finally admitted the truth to Li so reverting back to the untruth sucks more than before; or maybe it’s because you’re lying to a dragon. 

Whatever the reason, you dislike it. 

“I bet you know all the good hiding places, huh?” Yanfei jokes. You smile at her though and she gasps. “You do! Ooh, I want to know!” You chuckle at her. She’s a dragon but she feels so human- like an old friend. Maybe it’s because Xiao called her a halfling? You’ll have to ask what that means later- if it isn’t offensive. She didn’t seem offended before when Xiao mentioned it, so maybe it’ll be okay? 

You show Yanfei around the castle she’s familiarized herself with the last week and she gawks at all the little nooks and crannies you point out. A blind spot behind a huge bust. A hollow wall behind a tapestry. A hidden room in the back of a storage closet. A crawl space behind a giant painting that swings off the wall on four sets of strong, aged hinges. 

It takes everything in the dragon girl not to whip out her book and write it all down. But that would look rude and that’s the last thing she wants to be. She’ll have to do it later and just do her best to remember it all so she doesn’t risk exposing all these secrets to those who might be around. 

As you both walk together, she stays close to you and speaks to you openly like she’s known you for years and this is just... normal for her. It feels strange, unusual, but not unwelcome. As opposed to the constant presence Xiao brings- which while friendly is not nearly as touchy- Yanfei is different. 

You feel appreciation for the dragons who have just shown up and continue to give you the sensation of being wanted. 

Yanfei wasn’t 100% certain that you were who she suspected but no one can smell that much like Morax and have Xiao following her around like a shadow. The more time she spends with you in the short afternoon to evening as she eventually walks you back to your room in lieu of Xiao, she’s never been happier that her lord’s soulmate is someone so pretty and kind. 

In front of your door, she grabs your hands and looks you dead in the eye. 

“Promise that if anything happens, you call the General.” She tells you. You nod. You’ve already promised Li and Xiao the same thing and now you’re doing it again for Yanfei. The dragons really were kind. 

“I know,” you nod and reassure her that you know what to do. She lets you go back into your room and when she hears the lock on your door securely fasten, she spins on her heels. She needs to go to Rex Lapis and express how important it is that the dragons cannot leave Aislefield without the empress with them at any cost. 

When night falls, Morax does not sleep. Lounging out on the balcony, he sits under the moon and is accompanied by the breeze. The occasional nighttime bird will stop by and land on the top of his balcony’s railing, but after a flap of their wing and twitch of their head, they take off to the sky once more, never staying long. 

His mind is too clouded and too restless. His leg bounces and his fingers tap against the arm of his outside chair in a rhythmic fashion. Morax most likely will not be sleeping tonight- too much to think about and he laments in the idea of missing a night with you. Regardless, he knows you’ll understand. 

Zhongli learned much today from that priestess. From the way this kingdom truly treats those who are soulmarked to the hidden truth of the royal family and you. 

Leaning his head back, the back of his head rests against the top of his chair as he watches the moon. The light is soft on his skin and wisps of clouds waft over it’s shining light in soft ways just enough to dampen the light but not smother it. 

His mind very briefly wanders back to Crown Princess Maia and how she’s known as the Star of Aislefield Kingdom dwelling in Salkire Castle. Morax scoffs. A tiny little thing like a star is nothing compared to himself. It’s a bit ironic seeing as Morax is also rumored to have a hidden past that very few are aware of that are steeped in mysterious origin. His connection to the sun being one such tale. 

There are avid followers of his rule that worship the ground he walks on and praise his every breath. They have even convinced themselves that Rex Lapis was the sun personified. Taking with him in his descent to land the golden light of the solar star that lights the planet and chases away darkness. 

An interesting theory and one that he’s never denied, nor confirmed. No one can tell if he simply stays quiet because it isn’t worth his time to correct or if he’s simply amused. Those closest to him know it's the latter. 

If one were to follow that line of thinking, then his soulmate would be his counterpart. Not a star, or another sun, but the moon who he casts light on to light up the darkness and bring comfort to those surrounded in it. Casting shadows that dance in the night and bringing peace to the silence. 

He closes his eyes and thinks back to the dreamscape he knows the layout of by heart. The darkness there is so bright and calming with the stars dotting the artificial sky and the moon far too close for it to be real, but beautiful all the same. And even if the light it shines is false, it still illuminates you so well he cannot wait to see the real visage. 

Zhongli’s eyes remain close, cutting off his sight of the moon in the sky and centers his thoughts back to the conversation he had with Kokomi. One that was long, deep rooted and necessary for him, you and her. 

The emperor of dragons had just invited the highest standing woman in the kingdom of Aislefield into his temporary quarters after she essentially chased off her crown princess- which the human-formed dragon was thankful for. The two sit adjacent from each other as Morax prepares tea for his guest. He isn’t known for his hospitality, but he knows when to mind his manners when it counts. 

Placing a cup and saucer set in front of the elegantly patient woman, the delicate cup is filled with a warm colored tea he doesn’t think he’s had before. Tea that humans brew can be weak in comparison to the leaves and flora that grow in his domain. Still, it isn’t unstomachable. 

Steam wafts over above the teacup made of finely crafted and painted glass and when Kokomi takes the small, curled handle between her fingers, it almost looks like it’s been waiting its whole existence just to be placed in her hands. She takes in the smell of the tea; pleased as she takes a small, tentative sip. She can be quite sensitive to hot liquids- you had told him that before. 

“This is lovely tea,” she comments. Morax lounges back against the cushion of the sofa- she’s been offered the single cushioned chair- and relaxes. 

“I’m pleased to hear. I did request higher quality tea leaves from this castle's kitchen.” Which is half true. In truth, you speak to him of your ‘best friend’ often, so bits of pieces of her preferences stuck with him despite never meeting Kokomi before this. Not that she needed to know that. “I’m sore to admit that brewing human teas is still a perplexity for me.” 

“You’ve done wonderfully for a dragon,” Kokomi humors. 

There’s a silence for a while, one that doesn’t linger in discomfort. Instead it gives Zhongli some time to think. There’s plenty he wants to know but it feels like so much he isn’t sure where to start. 

“You’re marked to y/n, yes?” Kokomi starts out of no where, her teacup nearly drained and Zhongli wonders if he should pour her some new. 

“I am.” 

“May I see it?” The priestess’s voice takes on a lithe that is unfamiliar to the emperor. It’s melancholic and saturated. It turns his brows downward, but he nods and acquiesces all the same. All the layers Yanfei had gone through the effort of forcing on him all feel in vain as he loosens the sash around his waist. Pulling and stretching the fabric from his shoulders and chest, he finally pulls open the lowest layer robe and exposes his chest. 

Clear as day there it is. A mark of gold etching that give the shape of a diamond despite not one line intersecting another. It glows faint with a shine of gold as the veins that run from his arms and towards the mark flow the same shade. 

Kokomi has half a mind to reachout and trace the marks with her fingertips just to solidified the idea that it’s real. The mark is real. Instead, she folds her hands over her lap, looks at the mark one more time, then closes her eyes. 

“That’s exactly like hers,” she says solemnly. “I’m sure there’s much you wish to know considering the letter you had urgently sent me through your attendant. Still, before I tell you everything I know- which you have my word I will- I would like to confess one thing to you. As person to person, not priestess to emperor.” 

Her transparency in words and actions was refreshing and her stature of being unoffensive. Morax nods, allowing her to do what she must as he continues to lean back in comfort, yet still reminding himself that he cannot be too comfortable or else he’ll look disrespectful. 

“Truthfully, I’m quite jealous of you. I have been for a very long time.” 

“Excuse me?” Morax didn’t expect her to say that. “You do not fall under the thumb of your royal family and have power near to the kings. What could a high standing woman have that I do not?”

“You have y/n.” Her answer is simple. It conveys a soft sense of envy from her throat. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” Kokomi chuckles, but it isn’t bitter nor is it a happy sound either. It is a sad amusement. “Despite knowing her circumstances and about her soulmate and how she obviously loves him from the deepest part of her soul, I still could not help but fall in love with her as well.” 

Zhongli’s shoulders tense up and his fists that have been resting on his legs clench for the briefest of moments. His eyes widen at her declaration of admiration, then he closes his eyes as well. He takes a deep breath from his mouth and out through his mouth. 

“I can sympathize with your feelings,” he starts carefully as if what he’s saying to acknowledge her might be the wrong thing. “If I were in your position, I would feel... bitter about being in front of the one who plans to take her away.” 

“A part of me is,” she breaths out with a much more eased out tone. “Although, it’s not as if this outcome is coming as a shock.” She shrugs and chuckles, genuinely this time. “Of course, I didn’t expect her to be bound to an emperor. It suits her.” She nods. That was it. Kokomi's stamp of approval. 

The two go back and forth for a while loosing the atmosphere. Kokomi will gush about you and the small things you do that make her love you so dearly. While Zhongli shares things he’s learned from the years of meeting you in the dreamscape. The two rulers of their respective realms bond quickly over their shared affection for the princess disguised as a maid. 

Then Kokomi begins to relay your origins. 

The kingdom was so happy back when the first queen to Auisle was expecting her newborn baby. When the time came, and that golden mark branded your back, it all fell apart. With no say of your own, your original purpose to be Aislefield’s first princess and adored by all was ripped away from your infant hands. 

In the dungeons, there was a single previous lady in waiting who had been caught stealing small trinkets from the queen's chambers. Instead of facing punishment, she was given a choice. Take the soulmarked baby and flee, only to raise her until she’s old enough to work then return her as a mere peasant instead; or suffer a trial of which she would not survive. She didn’t hesitate to take up the offer. 

Escaping the castle with a wrapped bundle still wailing for its mother, the lady who posed as your mother for the first 4 years of your life at least kept you alive. On your fifth birthday, she took your hand, lead you to the castle gates, and then disappeared from your sight forever. 

The first time you ever saw your father was when he announced that you would be working in the castle for the rest of your life. You were marked. A tainted child and had no purpose in the outside world. Being in the castle walls would be the best scenario for you- so he claims. 

You always believed that you were just some little girl who got sold off by her mother as a child because you were marked. For a while, you hated the soulmark on your shoulder because of it. If you didn't have it, your life wouldn’t have been this way. 

Your resentment towards those golden sigils grew when you fully learned the truth of your birth. 

The number of people who know what truly happened to the ‘still born’ first princess could be counted on one hand. The woman who had raised you had been killed in town after collecting payment so she wouldn’t blab to anyone what she has been doing for the last 5 years. The midwives of the late queen had all died from age or illness, save for one. And the queen herself had taken her life, the despair of giving life to a tainted child too great for her to bare. 

It was the lone midwife who was still alive and appointed nanny of Princess Maia that had exposed your past to your younger self. The royal family all knew- Auisle was your father, and he had told Maia in full confidence she would never say anything, and of course the queen who gave life to Maia knew seeing as she was the king’s second lover at the time of your birth. 

You once tried to talk to the king- your father- about it. Just once. That was it. Maybe you could still be loved? All you were met with was disgust, a harsh slap to your cheek that still hadn’t lost all it’s baby fat, and a broken heart. 

It was like the universe was out for your misery. Why could you not be happy? Was there truly something wrong with you? Was it because of this mark? Would something happen if you tried… burning it off? 

“Burn?” Zhongli’s voice was broken, breathy and sorrowful. 

“Clearly it didn’t work,” Kokomi speaks, “but the scar from the burn is still there.” 

Morax feels sick. 

A young child burdened by the world and the adults around her with not a single kind eye in her direction. All hating her for a reason that isn’t her fault and shunning her so deeply she wanted to burn her own flesh away? 

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep his composure. 

Kokomi relays how the first time she was told by her master, the previous temple priest about you she felt so sad. She wanted to meet you so badly and when she finally did and only saw the shell of a lost child, she wept. The first person to ever cry for you was a girl in a world vastly different from yours. One of clean sheets, pressed robes, and smiles. It set something off in your mind.

It recovered something. 

You were worth crying over. You were worth tears. You were worth something. 

Kokomi helped soothe your skin with her healing waters and soon the pain that had been inflicted on your skin and your heart all started mending. Bit by bit, all because you had her with you. You weren’t completely alone anymore. Then you met Li. 

Loving Kokomi and falling in love with Li. These were the key factors in your life today. 

The truth hit’s Morax harder than he expects. He knew it would be grim and disheartening and sickening, but he cannot shake the tremors that rack his mind and body. 

“I do believe I’ve said my peace,” Kokomi finaly finishes. The kettle is long empty and her throat will need more tea when she arrives back to the temple for all the talking she’s done. Standing, Zhongli follows suit. She take a step towards the glass doors to the balcony. Far beyond the landscape out of sight is the temple she resides and reigns over. “If you hadn’t shown up, I may have just taken y/n for myself and sheltered her in my temple.” 

“If you had taken that action,” Zhongli moves to stand beside her taking in the view, “I still would have come for her. Though, at least she would’ve been happy there waiting for me.” 

“Are all dragons this haughty?” 

“Typically.” 

Spinning gracefully on the ball of her foot, Kokomi straightens out her robes and hair that has become slightly tangled between her back and the chair cushion. Preening herself, she takes a deep breath in. 

“It’s getting late, and the temple will be worried if I return after the sun sets.” Morax watches her stride along the floor to the door as if floating across it entirely. Before she can fully touch the handle, he stops her. 

“A moment longer,” he requests. Following her, she does not face him. It doesn’t matter if she looks his way or not, he can only imagine the look on her face by now. 

Behind the priestess’s back, the emperor of dragon’s drops to his knee. Kneeling at her heels, he lowers his head and closes his eyes. His hand crosses over his chest to place over the mark on his chest. Over his heart. 

“I want to offer my sincere gratitude for taking care of y/n all these years.” His voice is filled with so many emotions it makes Kokomi’s lips curl. “This is difficult for you, I understand entirely, but I still plan on taking y/n back to wer zaneunisal di dragons- my kingdom of Liyue. High Priestess Kokomi of the holy temple of Aislefield Kingdom, thank you for loving and protecting y/n in my place when she needed it.” 

“I like to believe now that we’ve met, that I’m the only one able to be a rival to his Excellency. Who else would be able to give y/n anything she wanted besides us?” She jests. There’s silence. “That tea, y/n told you I liked it didn’t she?” 

“She did.” Morax’s head was still lowered, his knee still planted on the floor. He plans to remain there until Kokomi departs his room. “I took her words into consideration when inviting you here.” 

“Does she… speak of me often?” 

“Very. She adores you from the bottom of her heart.” 

“I see.” Kokomi pushes the handle of the door and crackles the wood open. “Then I’m glad. Good day, Morax.” Taking two steps out, the door shuts behind her and the sound of her heels echoing down the hall fades into silence. 

The emperor finally stands and moves back to his balcony doors, pushing them open and stepping out to peer over the railing. It’s still splinted from where he had gripped it so tightly his first day here when his gaze caught your form. 

Looking down, he watches the head of Kokomi with two attendants at her back flee from the third keep. Leaning down, his elbows rest on the barrier between safety and free-falling. He feels a pain in his chest, like he’s stolen something precious. And he has. He knows that. But he can’t do anything about it. 

Zhongli isn’t about to give you up because a woman who helped heal your heart loved you first. He's unyieldingly selfish.

Kokomi’s head raises and spots Zhongli watching her. They both know her retreat is her way of running away. The pressure and emotion after all the bottling up she's been doing for so long simply became too much. She waves elegantly up to him as the two attendants look up to see him and bow their heads. 

Soon, the high priestess is gone from sight and scent. 

Alone in her carriage back to the temple, Kokomi lets herself weep. Just like the day she first met you. It hurts, but it feels so relieving.  

“I’ll take care of her,” Zhongli promises to the wind, hoping it would carry his vow to your best friend whose heart he broke. 

It’s been ten days since the emperor of dragons arrived in Aislefield Kingdom. And it's been three nights since Li has been in the dreamscape. You’re not sure if he’s making the mental decision to not see you when going to sleep, or if he’s not sleeping at all. Perhaps he’s sleeping during the day? Is he sleeping well? Taking care of his health? 

…Does he want to see you? 

You shake your head in the middle of sweeping the overnight leaves and dirt and twigs off the marble veranda of the outside gardens. You can’t think like that- not when Li has never indicated not wanting to see you. He must be busy with official things; he did accompany the emperor after all. You’re sure that's it. It isn’t anything else. He’s simply too busy. 

Xiao isn’t far from you- as he hasn’t been ever since the morning after your first unofficial meeting with Li in the flesh. He was observant before, but now he hardly takes 10 paces away from you. He’s relented in some ways, like he’s agreed not to help with mundane chores like sweeping or dusting since you insist so strongly. He doesn’t however let you carry anything he thinks is over 10 pounds of weight. If you so much as grunt lifting anything- he's shooing you away and replacing your grip with his own.

You glance at him as the morning sun still rises. A cloud passes over it and enshrouds the scarcely occupied open gardens in a chilly shade. 

With a grip that cramps your fingers, you call to him. “Xiao.” 

His cross armed stance shifts, turning to face you. He’s also seemingly a bit more comfortable around you. Before, he would always stand so straight, never slouch, and always answer in words the best he could. Now he can shift his weight to one leg or cross his arms comfortably or even just hum towards you. It felt nice, this growing connection to the dragon who you once thought was sent to kill you on your balcony. 

“Do dragons have irregular sleep patterns?” His brow ticks up at your question. He already has half a thought on what this particular question could be pertained to, but his expression urges you to elaborate. “Like, is it necessary for dragons to sleep daily? Like a human does?” 

“It depends,” he answers. It doesn’t fill you with satisfaction. “If a dragon is young, then yes. Sleeping nightly will help their development. The same can be said for far older dragons- if their health is deteriorating then sleep will help preserve life force.” He looks at your face, your expression like you're expecting more. He sighs. “It also depends on if you're a mixed species. Yanfei for example. She requires rest every few days or so.” 

“So, grown, healthy dragons don’t need to sleep all the time?” 

“More or less.” 

“Do you sleep a lot?” 

“No.” 

Well, at least with that sort of information in your mind now, it might be safe to assume that Li’s health isn’t suffering if he isn’t sleeping. But then the curiosity on why he might not be gnaws on your mind. 

“Does that satisfy your question?” He prompts. 

You turn your shoulder, face turning away from him as you continue sweeping again. “Yes.” You lie. He can tell, but he doesn’t press further. 

Xiao can’t risk saying something he shouldn’t. 

As Xiao watches you go about your morning chores with an edge of anxiety about you, he knows that in the castle’s third keep, his lord is dressing once more for a meeting with the king- your father. 

Morax refuses aid this morning for dressing as opposed to last time with Yanfei’s assistance. Not only does the king not deserve his best like Kokomi did, but also, he fears he may bite at someone who touches him. His temper has been unsettled for the last few days. Too many things to think about; worry about. Too long without seeing you all because of those reasons has put a chip on his shoulder. 

It may have only been a few nights, even if it isn’t necessary for Morax to rest his body, but it feels like it’s been far too long since he has seen you. Perhaps bringing you to his chamber that night wasn’t a wise idea in the end because now all he wants to do is hold you. Touch you. Look at you in reality, not just in a dream where you cannot also look at him. 

He snarls at himself. Shaking his head of his thoughts and pulling the irritating high-neck shirt over his head so that it can cling uncomfortably to his chest. 

“Patience,” he preaches to himself through gnashed teeth. He was never once for acts of patience especially in his youth. Naturally, he’s grown since he was young and stupid. And his patience has admittingly grown, but that personal growth seems not to matter when you are the subject of his thoughts. 

Dressing rather lightly, with only that skintight shirt that completely covers his soulmark, and a pair of wide-open trousers that tie around his waist by a golden ribbon, he throws a simple translucent robe over his shoulders. The sheer fabric exposes his skin and the markings of his golden veins along with it. 

Morax is in a foul mood and while he may be disguised as a human man- hiding his horns, tail, and sharp claws- he must instill a reminder to any who dare look his way that he is a dragon. Further, he is the emperor; the one ruling above them all.

Gathering his hair behind his neck, he ties it together with a string the same shade of his hair and then adores the same string with a golden brooch. 

The emperor leaves his temporary room, striding down the halls and out of the keep. He follows the steps he’s taken once before back to the throne room where he will once again be meeting with the human king. A request for a meeting has already been sent and if Auisle has any sense about him, he’ll respond by attendance promptly.  

Zhongli has instructed Xiao to keep you away from this area for the time being so you do not run the risk of witnessing him. Still, you’re known to be stubborn at select times. If Xiao cannot perform his task- which is a slim chance- Zhongli knows your scent. He can easily hide if he smells you coming. 

Just as last time, Morax is the first to arrive in the chambers hidden behind thick curtains and unknown doors at the back of the throne room. He isn’t as irritated as last time, since even he understands that even a king as lowly as Auisle can be busy and an unprompted, last moment call to order will delay a man with business to attend to. 

Like before, the emperor strolls in and lands himself into the single sitting chair. Crossing his legs, he enterlaces his fingers and rests his palms on his highest knee. His eyes close as he takes deep breaths. 

His temper is settled for the moment. However, it will take a man of controlled emotion to make it through this meeting. In truth, Morax could easily go the rest of this diplomatic visit without seeing the man’s face again. 

Learning the full truth behind you, your birth, his neglect and subsequent abuse that flowed from him to his second child? Morax could tear him apart just thinking about it. No doubt seeing his face will want to set him off. But he must maintain a calm demeanor. 

Morax has plans. Plans that rely on him being calm- or at least putting on the face of a calm man. He takes breaths that don’t seem to help but continues to inhale and exhale regardless of their effects. 

The door to the small audience chamber clicks with the latch opening and the emperor is almost impressed that the king- who strolls inside with Roman at his back- has arrived much sooner than he anticipated. The small sliver of impressiveness is quickly overshadowed the moment both monarchs make eye contact. 

Morax was right. 

He wants to tear out Auisle's throat. 

His interlaced hands squeeze around his kneecap, and he fights the urge to bounce his leg. Instead, he closes his eyes to regain any waned mental fortitude. 

“My apologies for the delay,” Auisle excuses as he shuffles into the room to sit himself also in the same place he had before. Sitting adjacent to the emperor on the longer sofa. “I received your invitation to speak, but I unfortunately had a matter to finish before I could take a moment of leave.” 

“I can be a patient man,” he lies. “It is of no consequence.” There’s hardly any time for silence to settle or unnecessary pleasantries to spoil his ears. Readjusting the grip on his knees, but not letting go, Morax cracks open his eyes and swallows back the pure disdain for the human ruler as he looks into his eyes. 

Morax is fond of eye contact. It shows him a myriad of things. It can show respect, insolence, tolerance, strength, authority. However, it can also show him other things. Fear, anxiety, inferiority, hesitation. As he locks eyes with Auisle, he can see the emotions swimming around. 

Hesitation: at Morax’s steadfast connection. Anxiety: from their lack of warmth. Fear: from being unable to look away and from the consequences that could follow if he does. 

It almost makes the dragon smirk. Such a puny king under the gaze of an emperor. 

“I do not plan to dwell in your kingdom for much longer. The initial duration of a single month stands unwavering in my conditions. That being said, I feel I must make some things clear for the duration of my being here.” 

There’s hardly a beat of silence before the emperor decides that he won’t wait for the king to say a word between his. 

“I do not like you.” It feels nice saying it out loud, even if he wishes he could use a stronger vernacular. “That being said, I do not dislike your kingdom, so any worries about the dragon’s striking shall be put to rest.” Morax bites back the amusement threatening to escape his throat as a chuckle at Auisle’s contorting expressions. “I would like for you to set up a proper meeting with your daughter for me.” 

Auisle’s face lifts at the request. Maia had told him (complained more like) that she had gone to see him previously once. Only to be shooed away by the high priestess who had come by for an unannounced visit. Could the dragon emperor finally be showing interest in Maia now? Is the king’s passing, hopeful thought. 

Absolutely not. 

This is strategic as much as it is necessary. Zhongli would rather endure a full evening of seafood dining than be in the presence of the Crown Princess for more than a few minutes. However, he must push forward. 

“Of course! I’m sure Maia will be most thrilled to receive your invitation.” 

“Mmm.” Morax’s eyes shut gently- giving his retina’s respite from Auisle’s face. “She suddenly showed herself to my chambers on a whim just the other morning, so I had nothing to offer her whether that be my time or proper etiquette to receive her. That said, perhaps revisit proper steps on when and how to plan an audience with someone with her.” 

“I understand,” Aisle strains a nervous chuckle at the jab towards Maia's tendency to do as she likes when she likes. “She’s my only daughter you see, so I’ve spoiled her. She’ll learn as she grows up more.” 

Zhongli’s brow ticks. Only daughter. His hands squeeze tightly over his knees again. 

The conversation with the human king lasted not much longer. Morax’s only goal in this endeavor was to guarantee a meeting between him and Maia, nothing more. The proper introduction between the princess and emperor was to take place two days from now, giving him time to mentally steel his resolve and make preparations for his true end goal. 

The two rulers part ways on what seems to be much more relaxed terms, but it just goes to show even a man as old as the dragon emperor is still able to fake it until he makes it. 

When he’s out of sight of any humans, alone in the corridors back to his room, his gentle face drops to one of distaste as he wipes the hand he used to shake Auisle’s in pleasantries on his robes. 

The news takes no time at all to reach Maia’s ears and subsequently the rumor mill quickly latches onto the gossip and spreads it at mach speeds. 

The murmurs of the emperor asking for a private meeting with the princess. Or how the two are clearly star-crossed lovers since the king would never allow the Crown Princess- his sole heir- to leave the kingdom to wed. Or how Maia was already clawing at her roots at trying to pick the perfect gown to wear for the occasion. By the time it reaches your ears, you just glance at Xiao. He says nothing and you take it as a sign not to ask. 

Something about the idea of the emperor of dragons taking a romantic interest in Maia after barely leaving his castle keep felt awfully fabricated. Best not to trust the echoes of the servant’s quarters. 

Dwelling on it too long puts your stomach into knots for some reason. 

You go to bed that night, staring up at the dark ceiling of your room. Same old cot, same old blanket and same old sense of just another day ending. As you shut your eyes, you wonder if Li will show up, or if you’ll simply reawaken the next morning. With a deep sigh, you slip into unconsciousness. 

When you open your eyes, it isn’t the dreary ceiling, but the fabricated night sky of the dreamscape and you let out a sigh. With a small grunt, you push yourself to sit up in the patch of soft grass in which you woke up on. Staring out into a daze, you expect another lonely night with your thoughts, so when something touches your back, you yell in shock. 

Jumping, you twist and look at the figure of Li you know so well. His hand was placed delicately against your left shoulder and he kneels on the grass behind you. You didn’t hear or feel him arrive at all. Were you that spaced out? Or maybe he was already here and you didn't notice him. 

Placing a hand over your chest, you let out a breath. “You startled me.” 

“Apologies,” his voice sounds heavy. As if he’s under heavy burdens. Your brow furrows along with your dipped lips. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask cautiously. He lets out a breath from his nose. 

“It is. I’ve been busy with a handful of important and necessary tasks the last few nights. They’ve been… draining to deal with.” He sighs again and you tuck your legs under your behind, so you can twist your whole body to face his silhouette. His hand that rests on your back slides to cup your shoulder instead in lieu of you turning. Despite his racing emotions that can’t seem to settle, and the uneasiness looming in his mind, he smiles at you- not that you can tell. 

Your wounds from Maia’s outburst the other day are healing nicely and you don’t seem to be ill or unwell. Just… worried. He frowns again knowing that he most definitely constituted to your unease. 

“Have you been at least letting yourself rest between your tasks?” You ask quietly. Like you were afraid to ask. Or like that question wasn’t what you really wanted to say- but was the only thing you could think of. Li is a wise man- living many, many lifetimes can wisen a dragon. And he knows you- better than you realize. 

‘Did you think of me? Miss me?’ Are the real questions lingering in the back of your throat. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him. What if it made you sound too selfish? Or worse- weak? 

Li just shakes his head, his smile returning to his lips. You were quite adorable. 

“I feel my strength returning in waves now that I’ve finally gotten to see you again, my dear.” Your lips curl and eyes flutter into awkward, embarrassed blinks you know he can see. 

Quite adorable indeed. 

The night you spend with Li goes quietly. He doesn’t speak as much as usual- his main need was to simply be near you. Sitting you in front of him as he leaned against you for rest in the dreamscape. 

You kept your own speaking minimal to allow him rest and relaxation, despite him insisting your words sooth him greatly. You make sure to only speak softly and about nice things. The warm weather the early spring has granted, the lack of storms. The time you spend with Xiao and Yanfei. Nothing that could make him frown against your warmth. 

By the time you both wake up in the morning, it’s as if your sleep was doubled. 

It was what Zhongli needed most to get through the time leading up to the meeting with Maia. Just another day closer to bringing you home. 

The castle was bustling with the rumor of the dragon emperor meeting with the crown princess the last few days. And the rumor mill only ramped up the meeting with each day it came closer. Marriage prospects. Alliances. Secret eloping even spun around for a while. 

Part of you wants to bug Xiao about it, but his frown when anyone whispers about it in passing around you or him told you enough; he didn’t want to talk about or hear any more of it. You could probably ask Yanfei, but you fear the opposite of Xiao’s silence would happen. She’d tell you all about it and more than you’d like to know. The overflow of information you could get out of her was a bit too overwhelming to think about. 

In the dreamscape, Li never mentions anything about the emperor either. So, you imagine he’s on the same wavelength as Xiao- doesn’t want to talk about it. Besides, the dreamscape was your space. It wasn’t a place to bring the world into if there was no need. It was a special place for just the two of you. 

You frown in your thoughts. Why did it bother you so much anyway? Was it because it was concerning Maia- who’s never cared about the dragons before? Or was it because it was Maia and a dragon in general- one of the very same species as your soulmate? You couldn’t figure it out and as you toiled internally, Xiao watched over you. Keeping his face static but feeling the gnawing in his ribcage to just reassure you and tell you the truth. But he can’t. 

Three days after his request, the time for the appointed meeting between the princess and emperor arrived sooner than Morax had hoped. He wished it was already over and all he was doing was sitting at the arranged meeting place out in an isolated part of the gardens. He had specifically asked that only the princess and himself be allowed entry (which also lessened the chance of you stumbling upon them). 

Of course, the lovely Princess Maia was running fashionably late which did nothing to shock the emperor. Not that it matters. He’s already made a very strong mental time frame on when this little gathering will be over and if she chooses to be late? Then thats less time spent with her. He’ll just need to skip some of the pleasantries and get down to business. Then he can focus on more important things- like the next step of this long game. 

Luckily, the sun keeps Morax company. Sat cross legged in a cushioned, white-iron weaved chair, he relaxes under its warmth. The rays reach his stomach that's exposed from the window under his cropped off, high necked undershirt that is draped only with a robe. A robe adorned in golden, red, and awburn accents and hemming resting on the edges of his shoulders and tied comfortably at his hips. 

Yes, the sun did always seem to favor him. He smirks as he thinks back to his homeland and the titles he holds that are unknown to humans. 

As the clouds pass over, he hears the clacking of heels and his eyes crack open from relaxation. Peering around the shrubbery comes Maia in all her royal beauty. She smiles as if expecting her world to change from this point on as she approaches the table. 

The sun does not stand to greet her. 

“Pardon my delay,” Maia excuses as she folds the layers of her dress’s skirt under her to take a seat in the chair across the round table from Morax. 

“It matters not,” he deflects. 

Once again misinterpreting the meaning of his words, she flicks open a hand fan decorated in intricate paints for the outside warmth and covers the lower portion of her face. A way to show her shyness- if she truly had any. 

The first five minutes the table is filled with nothing but excuses of her tardiness as servants bring out a tea set for the couple to enjoy in the fresh air. The set is one not commonly used in the castle but seems to have taken inspiration from dragon culture. No doubt an attempt to earn a few brownie points during this little meeting. Not that it mattered. 

Regardless of the vessel, the way humans brew their tea will never be to his tongues liking. 

The small, handless, clay cups were set in front of each of them with a platter decorated with a teakettle, sugars, sweeteners, creams and milk with palatable sweets alongside it were placed in the center of the table. It was hardly an arm's length away with how small the table actually was. With Morax’s long, crossed legs, if he were to extend his rested leg, it could easily kick the young crown princess of Aislefield beneath the tabletop. 

They must’ve picked the smallest table they could find for this occasion. 

Once refreshments are placed and staff dismissed, the two are promptly left alone. Morax could see the anticipation rolling off Maia’s shoulders like she was a source of heat expelling heat waves from her core. 

Morax deemed it enough time to indulge in her fantasies just for a bit before delving into what he truly wanted to set up for. 

Casual conversation flowed easily from Maia, her cheeks red as she fans and smiles, hiding behind said fan when she isn’t flapping it towards her face at a near constant. Morax has been alive for tens of generations of humans- so he’s more than capable of putting on a farce. Playing along with her whims and letting her believe she’s ‘getting somewhere’ with him. Waiting on pins and needles for the apex of this requested one on one to occur. 

The time ticks by slowly- too slowly. Maia’s in the middle of ranting about something or another. A maid who is too slow to learn the palace rules. A chef who allowed her meal to be served with beets, her least favorite food. A hired seamstress who was supposed to meet with her for a new set of dresses showing up late with a poor excuse such as a sick child she needed to find aid for. 

All such meaningless, droll things Morax just ticks his brow at. Sitting in her presence was hard enough, much less pretending to listen along to her first-class woes and nodding along as if understanding her. 

He doesn’t and he never wishes too. 

All this does is remind him of the gap and distance in which you were so far removed from the life you should be living. Spoiled like her- but with a much purer heart. One of gold and soft light. Not dipped in poison and rotten like Maia’s. 

Even as Maia sits in front of him- despite hardly baring any resemblance to her as her half-sister- Zhongli imagines it’s you sitting across from him. Adorned in gorgeous gowns befitting your natural station and telling him about the most mundane of things. All of which he truly would listen to while hanging onto every single word. 

“Say, Lord Zhongli,” his name coming from Maia’s mouth yanks him from his daydream and he bites back a scowl. He lifts his teacup up to his mouth, his fingertips delicately cradling the bottom of the clay utensil. He hums, not having the motivation to offer her a proper syllable. “My father informed me that you personally requested this meeting with me. He said you wish to apologize for our first interaction at the third keep back when that woman interrupted us.” 

Morax’s brow twitched.

‘That woman’?

Surely Maia is not so uptight that she cannot even bring herself to say Kokomi’s name or at the very least her title? Was it because she was called on by Morax first? Or is it because Kokomi has the authority to stand up to Maia, who planted the smallest seed of inferiority in her otherwise crystalline palace? 

Or was it because Kokomi favored you? The proper first princess Maia loathes so. 

Whatever it was, the way she refers to Kokomi had his scales itching to expose. Even if Kokomi was a normal woman and not one of high standing and positing, that woman was one who looked Morax in the face and told him how it is. Held back none of her words and told him nothing but the truth. She was brave enough to love despite not being loved back and was strong enough to accept it even through her weariness in loving is so heavily. 

“May you perhaps be speaking of your kingdom’s High Priestess?” He asks, coaxing Maia to even attempt to speak her name. 

“I do!” She smiles, as if Zhongli reading between the lines was proof of something. He almost scowls again. 

“I’ve read much about your kingdom's history, so it seems as though Lady Kokomi and yourself should be rather close, no?” 

“Absolutely not,” Maia tuts. Crossing her arms over her chest, she fans by her neck as if to calm down her rising fury. “She works alongside my father, not me. I have no desire to aid that woman.” 

“When you take the throne, her continued support will be vital to the kingdom. You should do well to remember that.” He tries to keep his tone softer, keeping the biting tone at bay. “From one monarch to another,” he tacks on. 

“My heiress title won’t be a problem,” she muses and fans herself faster. The heat in her cheeks no longer comes from rage but from blissful daydreams. 

As she averts her gaze elsewhere to recollect herself, Morax glares when she cannot see him. 

Naive fool. 

Another set of time passes and Morax looks to the sky, watching the continuously cloudy sky slowly start to break through to the blue once more. 

“Your Highness,” Morax reclaims her attention and stops her mid-rant about another useless woe. She perks up however, despite being interrupted. “Are you quite familiar with tea etiquette?” 

“Pardon?” She quirks her brow and Morax does let his smirk slip this time. 

“For instance, the silent messages you can send to your company.” It was no doubt that Maia does know- or should- if she’s received proper lessons. Etiquette in wielded items instead of words can cut deeper than anything. An insult to the face is less impactful than a silent smile and disrespectful hands. 

After all, Princess Maia of Aislefield has been doing it this whole time with her fan. Waving her intentions and hopes in his face the entire time up until the last cup of tea was poured. 

“Due to my schedule, we have to cut this little meeting off here. Before I go, allow me to pour you one last cup of tea.” 

As he pours the final amount into a spare cup, he passes it across the table to Maia. All five of his fingers grip the top of the cup and sit it in front of her. She scowls as her fan snaps shut and she drops her hands into her lap. 

Leaning back, Morax, takes his own cup with one final sip sitting at the bottom into his hands. With his index finger, he taps the top of his cup before downing the liquid that he dislikes the taste of in a fluid motion. 

Returning the cup to the table, he stands. The sun breaks through the cloud coverage as if to personally give the emperor of dragons a transcendental spotlight. His gaze burns with golden light down at Maia as the clouds keep her in the shadows of daylight. 

“Excuse me.” He dismisses himself before stepping around the table and past Maia without any further words or glances. As he disappears further into the castle, Maia is left sitting frozen in anger. Shaking like a whirlwind, her grip threatens to snap her fan in two on her lap. It takes nothing but a breeze to blow wrong for her to act. Yelling in tantrum as she knocks the tea set off the table, shattering clay and ruining sweets for the ants and bugs to fend for. 

Morax hears her fit and smiles as he traverses further inside. 

Teaching children can be so cathartic. 

The buzz of anticipation that had been building between the emperor and crown princess completely flipped overnight. The rumors of Maia’s fits of temper about the alleged rudeness of Lord Morax was a hot topic the next morning. Apparently, she barely even slept- too angry to calm her mind and allow herself rest. Which led to yet another thing to whine about- her dark circles that were clearly Morax’s fault. 

When you tried to ask Xiao about it on the downlow, all you got from him was a choked chuckle which he cleared away with a cough into his fist and a segway into a different topic. 

So apparently the emperor did harbor an attitude towards her. 

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but curl back an amused grin. If you came across Maia now, she’d no doubt unload all her unpleasant feelings onto you through her hands, but still. You couldn’t help the wicked amusement in the situation. It wasn’t often Maia was put in her place- only Kokomi was really capable of it. 

It was almost refreshing to see an outlander hammer a nail into her readymade emotional coffin. 

However, it seems as if the emperor of dragons was not yet done with his small reign of demands of the Salkire Castle. Despite the king hearing of the mistreatment of his daughter, he had no choice but to let it slide. Going to reprimand the great emperor who has seen generations of kings at this point was a bad move. It would only strain the relationship Auisle is worried about enough. 

Under the conditions, Auisle had no choice but to adhere to another command of Emperor Morax. 

‘Gather all servants with these physical attributes to your throne room come past midday. And make sure yourself and your daughter are also present. I intend to announce something you all would do well not to miss.’ 

You blink at the messenger who comes seeking you out. Holding a case of cutlery you should have been transporting from storage to the kitchens, the servant of the king's circle instructs you to make your way to the throne room. 

Apparently, you had also met the required criteria demanded of the dragon. 

Your hands feel clammy and your throat dry. It was like you were being sentenced to something and it boggled the mind as to why you were being summoned among the group of people. 

The hand that pushes against your back grounds you as you turn over your shoulder to see Xiao. He has already taken the crate from you and handed it back to the messenger, telling him to do with it as he wants. With your now empty hands, the hand from your back moves to rest softly over your wrist. 

“Relax. There is nothing to be afraid of. My Lord is just and harbors no cruelty for you.” Blinking, you silently nod at him. 

Xiao escorts you to the throne room where a small group of other servants occupy with two guards keeping watch at the shut doors. He leaves you there by yourself, under the orders to accompany his lord inside. You nod to him again as he walks straight past the guards and slips in through the crack of the double doors he pushes open with one hand. The echo of the doors shutting again reverberate in your ribcage as your heart starts racing again. 

The messenger who sent for you, and most likely everyone else present, clears his throat to get the attention of the gaggle of alike servants. From behind him, Roman- the king’s right hand- makes himself present and begins addressing the masse. 

“Apologies for the short notice, but by order of His Majesty, King Auisle, it was my task to bring you all here. Inside, the Ruler of Dragons awaits. In lieu of His Excellency, I must relay his orders for this occasion to you in his stead.” 

You gulp as you wring your hands together in a clammy, sweaty suction. 

“Once these doors open, your heads are to be lowered, and you must not look up to witness the emperor. You may keep your eyes open to the floor only. Afterwards, you are to take 10 paces forward, then stop in line from the east to the west walls. Then, you are to take to the floors. Do you all understand that?” 

There's a small murmur of affirmation. A chorus of different emotions flood from the mouths of those summoned. Anxiety, excitement, awe, panic, glee. Then there’s you, who can’t even fathom a breath of grammar. Just nods and harsh, stuttered breaths. 

If you didn’t get it together, you could easily pass out right here. 

In through the nose, out the mouth. 

In, out. 

In. Out. 

“There is nothing to be afraid of.” Xiao’s attempt to calm you from before reassures you in your mind. He’s right of course. Your soulmate is a dragon. And the emperor knows that. Xiao knows that. So, even if this is a serious thing, you would surely be fine. Li wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. 

You trust in that. Believe in him and his dragon family. 

With a more stable and assured breath, you line up. Side-by-side with the other servants and once the two guards' position to open the doors, you all drop your chins, directing your line of sight to the floor. The doors creak open, and the light from the throne room spills out into the dim hallway like dawn's sun rays. 

You take your first pace in with the rest. The air feels stifling in here. You want to look around to see who else was in the room. Was the king? The princess? If they were…

...Are your father and Maia gnashing their teeth at the sight of your presence? 

You're glad the standing orders were to not lift your head. 

Ten paces pass without you tripping or stumbling and you pray silently to anything above that you were able to do that despite your racing heart. Taking to your knees alongside the other servants, you hold out your uniform skirt so that it is not trapped under your knees or feet. 

The ruffling of fabric and soft contact of knees to marble stops and soon the large throne room is silent. 

If Roman hadn’t announced that the Emperor Morax was indeed present at this very moment, you would think he just marched a group of people into an empty room. But then you also know that Xiao is in here somewhere. You did watch him walk inside. 

“Is this all your staff that bear the resemblance my Lord requested?” Xiao spoke up and his voice boomed in the large room devoid of movement. It made your shoulders jolt at the sudden break in silence. Like thunder in a clear sky.

“It is,” Roman confirms with a bite. You almost frown at the tone he decided to take with Xiao. Then you wonder where the pride of being able to show such emotion came from. 

For some reason, your left shoulder blade feels hot. 

“So be it.” That was not Xiao. That voice was deep and velveted. Soothing like caramel after being heated. It struck something familiar within you. 

There’s the sound of someone rising from a seat, their gems or trinkets or accessories or whatever they wear clinking around and the fabric of their clothes fluttering. The soft steps of their shoes shuffle along the polished floors and approach the group of down casted, kneeling servants. 

With each step, it felt like your shoulder got hotter and hotter. 

Despite you trying to calm yourself down, the flat, black shoes of who could only be the emperor stops under your line of sight. You swallow a ball of salvia in your throat as you stare in consternation. 

“Auisle,” the emperor calls to the king without any respecting titles as his gaze continues to look down at the top of your head. “Do you remember what we discussed last we met?” 

“Our discussion?” There’s silence as if the dragon is urging him to think for himself and come to his own conclusion. “I believe we discussed meeting with Maia, did we not?” His tone was wavering ever so slightly. It's nothing like you've heard from him before.

“I requested you to set up a meeting with your daughter on my behalf.” His eyes shut in half amusement. “Though it seems you could not follow through with that, so I took it upon myself to do the heavy lifting.” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

Morax ignores the words and confusion of the human ruler. 

One of his feet shuffles back so that in your downward line of sight, his knee joins his other foot. Having him now kneeling in front of you, you feel like you should beg him to please stand back up. But you dare not speak out of turn. Could you even speak if you wanted to? Your throat feels so hoarse you wonder.

Somewhere to your left you swear you hear Maia gasp and stomp her heel. So, she is in here. No doubt the king is trying to keep her under control despite his own lack of certainty. 

The emperor's hand lifts and is placed on your left shoulder, the very same shoulder that feels so hot. Like it was burning. Sliding his hand behind you, he rested his palm against your shoulder blade. 

You can’t move. You know this hand and this touch. You’ve felt it before, not just in a dream but in reality. You know you have at least once. The scent of the monarch kneeling in front of you is so familiar. Gently touching your shoulder, you shiver at the weight of his hand. 

His hand covering your soulmate’s mark. 

There’s no way. It isn’t possible. This cannot be right. 

It can’t be him. 

It’s not-

“Y/n,” his voice calling your name almost makes you choke. Your eyes are hot and your nose tingles with a prickling sensation. “I would like to make good on our promise.” His voice is so soft and gentle unlike moments ago when he was speaking to the king. “Lift your head.” 

You hesitate. If you do, this truly will be happening… wont it? You won’t wake up in your bed after some vivid hallucination? You won’t be faced with Maia’s wrath or the king’s negligence again? You won’t be alone? 

“Trust me.” 

You lift your head…

…and look directly into Li’s eyes. 

Your eyes blink as tears stream out of them. The heat from your soulmark simmers into a comfortable warmth from his palm; like he's smoothing a fire. One of your hands reaches up instinctively to latch onto his arm that rests on you. The other plants itself onto the floor to steady your kneeling body. 

You want to open your mouth and say something but can’t get the words to come out. There’re too many emotions clogging your voice. Instead, all you can do is stare into the eyes of your soulmate and let tears fall. Hiccupping as quietly as you can among the small wave of murmuring in the throne room. 

All Zhongli wants to do is hold you and keep you from crying. But, he still has things to reveal- plans to announce. As he soothes your back, he calls for someone at his back. 

“Yanfei.” The rapid steps of the pink haired dragon girl approaches before she’s on her knees beside you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you towards herself. Her warm, pyro body envelopes you as Morax gently takes your hand from his arm and places it safely with Yanfei. 

Staring baffled, Yanfei holds you delicately against her chest, one hand holding yours and the other on the top of your head. 

Morax stands and turns his back to you as he stares at the royal family of two. 

“I will not attempt to extend any conversation or debate about your royal lineage, Auisle, but you should be aware that I do know everything. The truth about your first daughter and queen. What happened to her, who she came to be, who you made her. I know about the abuse she’s suffered from your second daughter's hands alongside the cruelty of all your palace combined simply for being marked by the stars.” 

Morax speaks with contempt as you choke on the reality of the situation behind him in Yanfei’s arms. You had told him all that. You had told Li everything. 

You had told the Emperor Morax everything. 

“Shh,” Yanfei coaxes as she pushes her head against yours affectionately. “It will all be alright.” At this point, the group of servants had all abandoned their lowered heads and were watching with bated breath. Those closest to you have all scooted back at least three paces due to the glares they were getting. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” Maia screeches. Her heels clack in disdain on the marble floors. Her face twisted in an ugly emotion that countered her beauty and showed her real self. 

“Maia!” Auisle scolds, trying to salvage the situation. 

“The woman is a cursed child! She did not deserve to be taken back by the palace in the first place! Much less to live as a princess!” She continues to throw her tantrum as Auisle tries to calm her down, shut her up, and save the history he’s tried to cover up. All while Morax gleefully watches it all crumble. 

There was a reason he wanted an audience for this. He will rewrite history and he'll do it with your name on his tongue.

“As if throwing out your first child wasn’t bad enough, you had the gall to have her brought back and treated as a servant while dangling the truth of her birth above her head as a means to control her. Is being marked truly so sinful to your eyes?” Morax pushes. 

“It’s disgraceful!” Auisle snaps. Speaking his mind before his conscience could stop and redirect him. Gnawing on his lip, he hisses as he racks a hand through his hair. 

“Watch your tongue,” Xiao from his position on the sideline's reprimands. Morax then starts shuffling with his clothes. “If you truly believe being marked from the heavens is a disgrace of life, then you truly are a foolish species.” Slipping his arms free of his robe sleeves, the tie around Morax’s hips keep the fabric hanging at his sides. “You best prepare the most sincerest of apologies for my lord.” His hisses. 

The small sounds of murmuring shift to small gasps and chokes of shock as the emperor of dragons reveals the mark on the left side of his chest. 

The identical soulmark to yours that was given to his heart by the very same stars above. 

Auisle has a violent, cold chill run through his whole body as he curses under his breath. “This cannot be-” 

“Do not delude yourself to the situation, King Auisle of Aislefield.” Morax barks. “As of this moment, I implore you to release y/n from her contract of work if you’re any sort of a wise man. Furthermore, I will be directly responsible for her wellbeing from this point on.” 

Auisle couldn’t argue. Morax had shoved him into a corner and nailed his feet into the floor. Maia clings to her father, spouting curses and whines to implore him to try and fight back. But it was impossible. 

Under the weight of the raging sun, he was just a man. He was no king in the eyes of this dragon. 

“Xiao.” 

“My Lord?” 

“We’re done here. I am quite sick of all these people observing y/n with their foul eyes.” 

“Of course.” 

Xiao makes his way to his lord as Yanfei tries to coax you up to your feet. But it feels like your legs are locked and you have no control of them. Morax kneels in front of you once more and his hand comes to brush against your cheek, smearing the path of your tears as another races to remake the trail. 

“I know this is hard,” he soothes, and you almost feel like you don’t need to cry any more. “Can you get up?” 

“I-” That was the first sound you were able to make since you were out in the hall. You can’t finish though. So you just shake your head. ‘I don’t think so’, your thoughts say. Zhongli understands. Li always does. 

“Very well, excuse me then.” Delicately, Yanfei slips her hands away from you and passes you off to her lord, your soulmate, and he takes you into his arms. The heat from his body feels like a silken cloth that’s been bathed in sunlight. The warmth of his skin permeates yours and without shame, you turn your face against his neck under his chin, squeezing your eyes shut. 

You feel something rumble in his chest as the world buzzes around you. You were suddenly so exhausted. The steps of his even strides and the warmth of his body pull you into sleep.

A sleep where you no longer need to meet him in a dreamscape.

t.list: @witheringblooddemon @arminsarlerts @kurinneko @kangyeonie @dawns-breath @nintendogeek2018 @mfreedomstuff2 @wraithisd3adinside @uniquecutie-puffs @pranabefall @nayukiyukihira @lioria @maiznamai @lilaclichh @blipblopblopblip @luciiannx @mama-m1na @mangetsuksiazek @phifalling @cringeycookies @seraphinariddle @silverfox579

!!REMINDER!! if you wish to be removed from or added to the tag list- just let me know c:

The morning passes in a handful of hours and you miss the chance to see the sunrise- as you often do. The sun is quarterly in the sky and the morning chores among servants are bustling along with the small cliches of gossip about the visitors of dragons. It’s the morning of their first full day among humans in the palace, so some wonder if they’ll be fretting about mingling or if they’ll choose to stay reclusive in their own section of stay in the third keep. 

It would be a lie to say you weren’t also curious. Most were fascinated with the aspect of something new on the castle grounds and while you were also guilty of that slim excitement, you really just wanted to know more about Li’s species. Then you begin to think about that dragon boy from your balcony and sink into gloom again. 

With a deep sigh, no one bothers to ask what ails you as no one could stomach such sympathy. You make your way out to the annex of the second castle’s keep. There are items in there that you have been instructed to bring out for adorning the halls of the castle’s ballroom. According to word of mouth, there is rumor of a ball to be held in a month- just in time for a grand farewell for the visiting Dragons. You’d have to ask Li if they really were going to be held up in the castle for a month- it feels like an absurd amount of time. 

You make your way out of the annex awkwardly holding in your arms a wooden bust stand. The square shape makes it difficult to wrap your arms around and the corners dig into your biceps and wrists as you try and squeeze it to your body to avoid dropping it. Carrying it by the bottom would be easier, but it’s just tall enough that it would cover your entire face and you’d risk running into walls or even being tripped by stray items or other servants. And you could hardly think of dragging it- the polished marble floors would scratch so badly you could be flogged for such damage. 

As you slowly waddle your way towards the hall of which ballroom decor will be momentarily held, you stop to readjust the handle you have on the pedestal and feel a small tap on your shoulder. 

The halls are busy with traffic of servants and busybodies, but the shock of being touched so gently still makes you jump. If someone needed your attention it was much more common to shout a generalized ‘hey!’ before making demands. Or even a shove to get your attention. This action was soft and deliberately so. 

Looking over your shoulder, you almost drop the bust stand entirely as your jaw drops. Behind your shoulder and looking you straight in the face is the dragon boy from last night! 

“Oh-!” You yelp as you feel one of the corners of the stand slip from your palm. Teetering to your side, you sidestep awkwardly to try and save it. Leaning opposite from the way gravity was trying to steal the item, you groan. A small noise of scare leaves you when the bust is taken from your arms but hasn’t fallen. 

Standing with now free arms, the dragon stranger from the balcony has taken the stand from you and is easily hoisting it over his shoulder with one arm. The entire length of the stand is as wide as his head, and yet he carries it effortlessly along his shoulder. If he were to turn too briskly, he could risk knocking someone's head with it with how long it stretches behind and in front of him. Still, your aching arms thank him. 

“Um,” you clear your throat, “thank you. I almost lost it.” Almost is an understatement as you laugh sheepishly. Despite your attempts to overcorrect the slip, you almost surely would have dropped it without his taking it. 

“It’s nothing.” The boy’s voice comes out stern and with no annotations of kindness. You cringe under his tone. He must be upset about last night, you reason. “Where to.” His voice comes out hard again, and yet he looks you in the eye as he speaks. You become flustered since you don’t remember the last time someone did that aside from Kokomi. 

“Pardon?” 

“This,” the boy shrugs and the stand jumps on his shoulder before resettling. “Where.” He’s very short with you, but you somehow get the feeling he isn’t trying to be rude. 

“I can handle it,” you try and reach for the stand back to once more balance in your arms, yet he turns away from you. He even takes a step sideways to avoid hitting you with it by accident as he continues to elude your attempts to reclaim your charge. “May I please,” you strain as you once more try and politely pry and cage back the item he so easily carries around like a sack of laundry, “have that back?” 

The golden eyed dragon offers you no rejection or approval. Instead, he takes several steps back and then turns away from you, marching off down the hall. You gasp and give chase, telling him that he’s going the wrong way. Somehow, through his silent nature, you end up leading him to the waiting hall of the ballroom where the stand needed to be delivered. Just as easily as he snatched it from you, the teal-haired boy hoists it off his shoulder and gently onto the marble. He isn’t even breaking a sweat from carrying it. 

With his duty finished, you assume he’ll turn his back on you and leave. He doesn’t. Instead, he stands in front of you silently and you stare back at him just as quiet. You’re not sure what to say or to do. You feel frozen as you awkwardly breath in the air and feel the other servant’s eyes on you. Clearing your throat, you point behind your shoulder. 

“Thank you for your help,” you say, “but I have other duties to attend to. Please, excuse me.” Spinning on your heel, you make it half way down the hall and around the corner before you stop. The echoing footsteps you know are trailing behind you stop also. Peeking cautiously around your shoulder, you see the dragon following you. “Do you… need something?” You ask. 

You’re not sure why, but the dragon simply looks away. It was the most emotion you’ve seen on his face so far, but he almost looked nervous about something. 

“I apologize,” you say. The dragon boy looks at you stunned now. “About last night,” you say quietly so that no possible eavesdroppers hear you. “I had no idea you were sent by your emperor, and I didn’t let you explain yourself either. So, I’m sorry for shooing you away like that.” 

“I understand,” he tells you. “I am unaccustomed to humans. It was only natural that you were frightened.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t scared!” You speak louder than necessary to correct him. “Sure, I was startled, but I wasn’t scared.” You’ve been in situations where you were scared and terrified, but once you figured out he wasn’t on your balcony to do something like harm you- you weren’t scared of him. 

The dragon boy looks you over. Scanning from your face down to your toes. Inspecting your frame as if to try and memorize it and you fidget under his gaze. Was this also a dragon thing? You open your mouth to once again try and dismiss yourself to your work that was slowly dragging behind because of his sudden appearance halting your usual routine of work, work, work. 

“Xiao,” he speaks and you blink. 

“Pardon?” 

“That is my name.” 

“Oh!” You smile. Finally you can stop referring to him as ‘dragon boy’ or the ‘dragon stranger’ in your head. “I like it! Does it mean anything special?” 

“Mean anything?” He mimics. 

“I’ve heard before that dragons can have multiple names or their names have special meanings.” You explain. “Is that wrong?” You don’t worry about being incorrect, but if you are then who other than a dragon to correct you! Since you don’t actually know Li’s name, you’ve never asked him about draconic titles and namesakes before. So, all the miscellaneous knowledge you do have all comes from the few books you can find in the castle’s massive library. 

“No, you’re correct.” The tone of Xiao’s voice feels like he should be surprised, but his face remains stoic. “I do have many names. Xiao- means Mountain Demon.” 

“Mountain Demon,” you repeat under your breath. You wonder how it’s written. Even if you can’t read or speak draconic, you’d be interested to know. It just leads you to wonder how Li’s real name is said or its meaning. You hope soon you’ll be able to know. “Well, I like it.” You look back up to Xiao and give him an approving nod, not that it means much coming from a human he’s only met once very briefly. 

“I’ve been ord- asked- to, um, keep you company.” Xiao’s voice takes on an unsure modulation as he stands with you. You have a feeling that he was going to say he was ordered to but changed it to avoid making you feel pressured. He’s awkward about humans, but from your conversation with Li last night, you know he isn’t a bad dragon. 

“Are you sure? Your emperor may need you.” 

“It’s his request.” So the emperor ordered him to. “If he needs me, all he must do is speak my name.” 

“Is that how it works?” 

“It’s how mine does.” 

“This is all because I’m a dragon’s soulmate isn’t it?” Your tone shifts from mildly entertained to solemn. Xiao picks up on the air of negative emotions that seem to ripple off you in waves. “I know you were sent to me last night because he wanted to check on me, but no one even knows that I’m connected to a dragon, so could you keep this a secret between us?” He crushes his hand into a fist, trying not to get upset at the other humans on your behalf. 

“Your soulmate,” Xiao starts, “he worries about and cares for you more than you can understand. Right now, I’ve been instructed to accompany wherever you go as long as possible. If that is uncomfortable, I can do so while staying out of sight.” 

“You don’t have to do all that,” you relent. “I don’t mind. But, if you begin to become uncomfortable, please feel free to leave.” You offer him nothing else as you turn on your heel and leave. Your shoulders sag and your gait is more pathetic than before. 

Xiao watches you before he’s taking steps of his own to walk two paces behind you in your shadow. He casts glares at anyone who dares look down at his lord’s mate and makes sure to remember their faces. 

The next few days are followed by a new, unusual, yet comfortable routine.

Xiao would somehow always be outside your door, waiting in the hall for you to come out of your room to start your workday. He would always been leaning against the wall to the left side of your door, following behind your back when you head right down the hall to begin your day. He isn’t much of a conversationalist, often keeping to himself. He never opens conversations, but he does humor you when you speak to him. 

When you get him going on certain topics, he can be quite the talker. You’ve learned he’s been working under the dragon emperor for hundreds of years- ‘You’re that old?!’- you had shrieked in the hall that had him almost covering his pointed ears from the echoes. You still apologize for that. He isn’t fond of human foods, but the ones he can stomach are on the sweeter side- tofu and almonds happen to be a favorite of his. He’s the general of the emperor’s army and while in battle, his title is General Alatus. He used to have 4 other siblings just like him, but he lost them all in a war a long time ago. 

Apparently, while he’s away on this trip, back in his nation a woman named Shenhe is standing as his proxy. She’s apparently very skilled in combat and has honed her abilities since a very young age under the guidance of her adopted mother. Said mother also happens to be the next individual in power after the emperor himself and is currently overseeing official affairs in his absence. 

Xiao has been your shadow and it feels like he’s been keeping the other servants at bay. If someone comes too close or he feels even the hesitant thought of malicious intent, he’s stepping in to stop it before it can start. 

…Well, suppose he’s been less of a shadow and more of a bodyguard. It was awkward at first, the process of trying to explain to him that the constant hazing or hard glares you got was normal for you. But that just sent him into a tizzy- so you made sure not to do that again. Now, you just accepted when he’d scare off unwanted mistreatment. 

By the fourth day, it was almost natural to have him near. Despite his age being far, far older than yours, it almost felt like having a protective younger brother follow you around- if you could ignore the fact that nearly all this behavior was ordered of him by his ruler. 

On the fifth day of Xiao’s unofficial bodyguard gig, its the middle of the day when he stops walking mid-stride. Stopping short, you turn to him. He’s split a load of caring laundry with you, and you turn to face him with your own in your arms. You were on the way outside to hang them on lines so the high and warm noon sun can dry them quickly. 

“Xiao?” You call and his brow furrows. His eyes gleam with a torn frustration. It isn’t a face you’ve seen him pull yet- even though he was normally very stoic to begin with. “Is everything okay?” You ask slowly and carefully, unsure if he was experiencing some kind of discomfort you don’t know about or simply aren’t familiar with. His eyes flick up to yours and the same frustration you saw before doesn’t fade. 

“I’m being called.” He tells you and you open your mouth in understanding. You remember how you’ve been told twice- once by Li and then by Xiao himself- that if someone simply calls his name, he can hear and report to the summons at once (should he choose to). 

Setting your basket down, you step towards him and quickly take a hold of the one he’s been carrying. Xiao nearly lets go of the basket’s handles completely, feeling your hands next to his as they both hold on to them together. He’s not supposed to be this close to royalty, it feels too personal... and his space is being invaded. 

“You should go!” You usher. He almost denies it, saying that he should help you finish the task he’s promised first. Whoever is calling him would understand him prioritizing you- the emperor’s mate- over them.  Even the emperor himself.

You don’t give him an option however. Taking the basket from his slackened grip, you twist and place it firmly on top of your own. The basket slides awkwardly into yours and sits at a tilt on top of the linens it’s now flattening. With a heave, you bend and lift both into your arms. It’s a bit awkward to balance the stacked baskets together, but you’ve done it before and can do it again. 

Xiao’s arms are outstretched, clearly wanting to take back what was once in his hands, but you evade him. Ushering him to go once again and adding a lazy flick of your foot to shoo him off. 

“I can manage,” you tell him. Defeated, he sighs. Taking a step back, he hears his name again in the back of his head and closes his eyes. With a murmured apology, the dragon disappears in a wisp of black smoke. 

It took no time at all for the eyes that saw you no longer being ‘protected’ by that dragon to get word all the way up the food chain. To the ears of the kingdom’s one and only princess.

The very same who loathed you. 

Maia Salkry, the one and only beloved and arrogant Crown Princess of Aislefield.

Spoiled by her father and protected by her mother’s spirit, she was the gemstone of the kingdom. Many could and did overlook her snobbish attitudes towards certain things all because her face was one to behold as she inherited her mother’s good looks. Maia had the station and wealth to act as she pleased, but that doesn’t mean she is always insufferable.

Whereas she lacked overall good conscience, she more than made up for in pretending. Able to pull any face and attitude out of thin air and sell it- it was often that she placed people in the palm of her hand by acting one way or the other. 

With hair the color of raven’s feathers and eyes rivaling the hue of fresh moss, the princess is the spitting image of her late mother. Her skin has never seen a sunburn and any blemish is treated as a crisis and dealt with as soon as the warning signs appear. While not taking after her father- the king- in looks, she inherited his devious ways.

The kingdom need not helplessly fear should the king pass since when Maia inevitably inherits the throne, it shall be as if he never left it. 

Another thing the spoiled crown princess learned from her father was the absolute disdain for her older half-sister- the very same whose identity as a princess is known only to a very select few. Maia was more impressive, alluring and intelligent in every possible way in comparison to the would-be princess raised as a servant. The two could never be placed on the same level. That is how she’s been raised, and she believed it all without so much as a second thought. 

The last few days it came to Maia’s attention that you have been shadowed by a dragon. She thought it odd and annoying. The day after the emperor of dragon’s arrives, you suddenly have a new dragon friend?

The saying goes ‘freaks of a feather’ and all, but this was simply too much! He would apparently trail after you anytime the sun was out and help you with various, meaningly tasks for no apparent reason while carrying casual conversation. It was ludicrous and didn’t make a lick of sense. What was so special about you that required you to have someone like him following you around? You were a servant- no one special- just a simple girl who does as she’s told. You’re of no grandstanding to warrant such a person at your beck and call. 

Nothing like Maia. So why was she being snubbed like this? 

The moment word of your little dragon boy leaving you alone in the middle of the day reached her distorted, twisted ears, she suddenly had a very open schedule. 

Being trailed by her ladies in waiting, Maia marches proudly through her halls. Servants step aside and lower their heads in her wake as her polished, freshly shined heels she recently received from a suitor clack against the spotless floors. Her raven hair is half tied behind her head with a corded hair tie that complimented her lime eyes. Her squared-necked gown with its ridiculous layers of frills, volume and colored fabric weigh her down, but makes her that much more elegant to witness. 

Instead of making her way to your last known location in the castle, Maia detours and ventures out in the gardens. Servants are out pruning bushes and trimming hedges of any branches that dare breach their perfectly sculpted shape. Among a small cluster of tables sitting on the finely sought after cobblestone used for tea parties, Maia takes a seat at the center table- her table. 

Without so much as uttering a single command, the sun keeps Maia company as servants bring her fresh tea and a small platter of her favorite pastries that seem to always be prepared fresh from the kitchen. 

Maia settles nicely into her cushioned chair that is accustomed to her lounging. Sipping the bitter tea she’s fond of and elegantly eating her treats without dropping a single crumb. 

The princess’s fine China teacup settles into the matching saucer in her opposite hand before returning the set to the tabletop. Her ankles cross under the mass of fabric that rests from her hips down and her eyes that have been closed, taking in the bliss of simply being her, begin to reopen. It’s cloudy today and just as she opens her eyes, a cloud passes over the sun as if to shield them from its harsh rays.

Even the sun loves her. 

With a bemused smile, Maia opens her mouth. “Go fetch y/n,” her sickening-sweet tone hides not the wicked smile on her glossed lips. 

As the clouds pass over the sun and shroud the hall you sweep into shadows, you glance out the window and frown. A feeling washes over your consciousness, like an oncoming omen.

You suddenly long to see the sun again. 

When Xiao’s name was called by his lord, he did not show up immediately. Morax did not mind, in fact he was grateful his call was not deemed more important than leaving you on your own right then and there. When Xiao did materialize, he offered his apologies for the delay after explaining that he did indeed politely dismiss himself from you first.

Good. 

In all truth, Zhongli would rather Xiao stay by your side. Even though he seldom wanders around the castle after being given the permission to do so, he can't help but be anxious of running into you. He wishes his status wasn’t such a pain because of all the untoward, unkind, and downright vile rumors and words he hears spoken about you only makes him want to reveal himself all the sooner. 

Humans are cruel creatures, and he sneers at their injustice. 

“You need to accompany me to an audience with the king,” Morax instructs with an upturned brow to show his disinterest. A hand rubs across his forehead as if to try and soothe a headache that isn’t there yet. Xiao’s slight facial contortion is enough for the emperor to bitterly chuckle. “If the fool says anything to upset me, I trust only you to calm my temper.” Xiao’s face relaxes again. He understands and says nothing. 

Zhongli stands from the short sofa in which he’s been lounging in his temporary quarters. The robes he’s chosen to wear today differ from the white and bronze, hooded ensemble he had arrived in days prior. More comfortably, he’s changed into an earth-shaded set of clothing.

Wide, comfortable bottoms that wrap around his waist with a thin sash and a different, sleeveless shirt that clung to his torso. All coupled with a floor length robe embroidered with golden thread like that of the sun. Truthfully, he would’ve liked to bypass the skintight shirt, but he did not want to risk exposing his own soulmark that could expose you if he were to wear a loose-fitting top publicly. For your sake and safety, the full-frontal coverage is non-negotiable. 

Slipping the flat, easily taken off, black shoes provided to him by human servants, Morax leave’s his chambers and makes way out of the castle keep. Stepping outside to meet with the human servant who greeted him on his first day- Roman he believes?- Morax misses the feeling of the earth beneath his bare feet. Curse these shoes. 

The trip to the meeting room is brief. Zhongli was taken to the throne room before being led behind the deep red curtains that line the space behind the overly gaudy thrones of the king, late queen, and crown princess. Beyond the fabric barrier, is a small passage that is then connected to a door to the audience chamber only certain individuals are allowed in. The guards stationed there nearly stop Xiao from following his lord inside, but a harsh glare is all the smaller dragon needs to curb their plans. 

The chamber is quaint. Smaller than Morax's temporary room, yet not small enough to be unpleasant. It’s decorated as gaudy as other rooms with wallpaper similar to the printed fabric of the lounging furniture. The room is carpeted as opposed to tiled and the king is not yet present. Morax sneers. 

The human man summons him to have a discussion, yet fails to show up on time? 

The emperor of dragons' steps across the room and places himself on the single-cushioned chair to avoid any possibility of the king being overly familiar and sitting next to him should he have chosen the sofa. Leaning, his arm props up on the cushioned arm and bends at the elbow so his fist supports under his jaw. His knees fall apart and his stature is that of luxurious laze. Yet still somehow its suits him. 

Xiao negates sitting entirely, moving to stand behind his lord's right shoulder with his arms crossed across his chest. Morax's face is impassive, but Xiao’s scowl portrays the irritation of waiting. 

It isn’t entirely too long before the door opens once more and the king and Roman step inside to join their guests. 

“My apologies,” the king, who’s name Morax doesn’t even remember learning, laments falsely. He moves across the room as though he was more familiar with it than his land and sets himself in the sofa adjacent to the chair. “My daughter suddenly decided she was due for entertainment, so she made a small fuss that delayed me. Surely you can understand.” 

“I am not a father,” Morax tells him. Offering him nothing more to follow other than a dejecting, embarrassing silence. The king clears his throat before Roman finally settles behind the back of the couch to almost mirror Xiao. Though, Roman does not cross his arms, but places his hands behind his back elegantly. 

Morax had an inkling on what this little discussion with the king would be about. He has lived several human generations and was no fool. He knows how to lead, to grow, to adapt and to survive. His kingdom wasn’t built with peace. The whole reason the emperor came to the Kingdom of Aislefield was because of an unwritten diplomatic rule to maintain relations. A brief exchange of presence to ensure that neither kingdom would attack or declare harm to the other. Any other time Morax would deem this a pointless waste of time. 

This time was different. He was more inclined to put up with more for the sake of his soulmate. Having your constant presence always lingering in the back of his mind made any task easier to grind through. Even irritating ones like this. 

“I was hoping you’d entertain the idea of meeting my daughter,” the king- who had reintroduced himself as Auisle Salkry- finally encroaches on the crux of the topic Morax suspected this whole meeting was all about. Morax is aware the man continues to speak but refuses to acknowledge the words. With a deep sigh, he rubs his fingers into his temple from the same lounging position as earlier. 

Xiao glances down at the back of his lord's head briefly before resetting his gaze forward. He’s already begun thinking of various ways to calm him down should his temper flare. 

“You may not be aware,” Zhongli grunts, his breathing through the nose harsh, “I am currently with a mate.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Zhongli does have a mate, and he’s technically met you several times. Just not in reality. And you don’t actually know who he is. But, eh, semantics. 

Auisle is stunned silent for a moment at the admission from the emperor across from him. His face is puzzled as he curls a large hand over his mouth and chin as if in thought. No doubt trying to find a loophole to make it sound like he wasn’t trying to set the emperor up with his spoiled daughter. 

“I have heard no news of an empress across the borders,” Auisle muses. “Is this a newly established role?” Zhongli’s brow twitches. 

“That is none of your concern.” 

“I mean no disrespect!” Aisle heartily announces with a friendly-masked smile. “The news is simply unexpected. Can I assume your mate is currently acting in your place across the border?” The harmless sounding questions give away the idea that the king suspects the emperor wasn’t telling the whole truth. The digging disguised as prying had Morax's blood pressure rising. 

“She is not.” 

“I see, perhaps his lordship is simply too protective!” 

“Perhaps,” he hisses. His leg begins to bounce in irritation. An action that goes unnoticed by the human king and his retainer. Irritating. 

Behind him, Xiao begins to create a low sound from the back of his throat. It’s a sound that can only be detected by other dragon’s that have the enhanced hearing to pick up the frequency. It’s a discreet way to get the attention of other dragon’s nearby without being detected by other species. 

Zhongli’s gaze shifts to the right, seeing the shadow his aide casts in the room. 

Amidst the babbling coming from King Auisle and mindless nodding from Roman, Xiao speaks. “She was wearing a blue ribbon in her hair today.” The sentence is not spoken loudly to overcome the kings, nor was it said quietly as if to be a secret. Still, the statement itself brings all the ramblings Auisle has been doing to a halt and his face contorts. 

“Pardon?” As Auisle and Roman both direct their gaze to Xiao, the emperor’s shadow, Zhongli’s pupils dilate. Xiao says nothing more, leaving the humans in confusion as Zhongli’s hand shifts from his temple down to cover his mouth that grins under his palm. 

Blue would look lovely on you. 

Soon, but not soon enough, the king finally stops pestering Morax about Maia, the crown princess, and dismisses himself to his other tasks of ruling his kingdom. Morax is led out of the audience chamber and Xiao remains behind him for only a short while before he’s dismissed back to your side. 

The journey back to the third keep and up to his private room, Zhongli muses over thoughts of you. What shade of blue did you tie your hair back with? What style was it? A ribbon of silk, or perhaps satin? Was it corded fabric instead? Any would look lovely. 

Bringing Xiao with him was the correct course of action.

Night fell and Zhongli was eager to see you again. Not solely for the fact that he could now fully witness you, but simply because he just missed your presence. He wanted to ask about your day and how it went. Ask about that ribbon you wore today and if you wanted more in a selection of colors. Items as simple as hair strings and ribbons would be like finding shells on a beach for an emperor. 

He entered the dreamscape first, the first to fall asleep. The backdrop of artificial sky, moon and stars keep him company until he feels the air shift upon your arrival. Moving from his idle position with his hands cradled behind his back, he lets his arms fall to his sides as he turns.

You’re coming to greet him with your hand raised enthusiastically as usual, but something’s… wrong. 

“Li!” You still say his name endearingly but your voice sounds different. Maybe to others it wouldn’t sound any different than usual, but Zhongli isn't like other people. It sounds deluded, like someone has covered it in cloth. Muddled. Something is mixed in. 

When the false flames of the nearby fire that provides an illusion of warmth begins to illuminate your face, Morax gets his answer. 

His strides towards you start abruptly and approach fast. Not slowing his steps, you squeak when he invades your space. Feet planted neatly between yours; his hands come to rest delicately under your jaw and lifts your face up to fully look at his shadow, hidden eyes. 

“What happened.” The statement is not an inquiry. Morax is demanding an answer. You gulp then grab his hands to pull them out from under your jaw with a silent, tiny breath of tension. 

You were afraid of that. 

It seems as though your soul-dreamscape with Li apparently doesn’t just let you see what your partner looks like after simply witnessing them. It also takes in current appearances. How else could it be that Zhongli can see the swelling in your cheek and the irritation gnawing on the corner of your lip. 

In this instance, you’re grateful you still can’t see Li. You don’t want to know the sort of face he’s making as he analyses yours. 

“Li-” 

“What happened.” He repeats, cutting you off. He watches your face twist and it squeezes his heart. 

“It’s fine.” 

“It is not.” 

“It’s normal.”

“It shouldn’t be.” 

Zhongli is angry. Not at you; never at you. So, he takes a breath. Gently separating his hands from your hold, he cradles your cheek. He says nothing and neither do you. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and closes his eyes, taking another calming breath. It hardly works. His eyes reopen and your skin is still broken. Marred. Struck. 

He can’t. 

“Do not panic.” You blink and suddenly, Li’s silhouette is gone. Immediately, you forget his words and flit from right to left. Twirling behind yourself to look for his shadow anywhere. He’s just vanished.

What? Did he wake himself up? Did you do something? 

You have no time to steep in confusion or bitterness thinking you’ve made an error. You’re ripped from your dream no longer than a few minutes after. 

Waking with a start, your scream is muffled and cut off by a gentle hand over your mouth. You’re shushed by the shadow in your room, breathing heavily out of your nose. With sleep bleary eyes, you blink over and over again before you can finally see him. His hand lifts from your mouth and you take in a breath as you sit halfway up on your elbows. 

“Xiao?” You ask out of breath as your heart is still calming from the racing it’s been doing in your chest. “What are you-”

“I need you to trust me,” he tells you. Without waiting for an answer from you, the dragon reaches from behind him and brings out a thick, wide, ribbon. It’s looped around his hand twice and still has several inches hanging off into the open air in length. You look at it, then to him thoroughly confused. “I need to put this over your eyes.” 

“Excuse me?” You almost choke. Blindfold you? “W-what for?” 

“Just-” he sounds like he’s at his wits ends as he lets out a heavy breath through his nose. His one free hand ruffles his hair. He’s clearly agitated. Sitting up fully, you look at the blindfold hanging off his hand and do what you’ve been doing your whole life. Just accept the situation. 

“Okay.” Xiao’s gaze shots back up to you like you’ve said something crazy. Shifting, you slide off the edge of your bed and twist so one of your legs is hiked up on the mattress, hanging off by the knee. With your body turned, you look towards the door and shut your eyes. “Do what you have to.” 

It’s silent, but soon you feel Xiao invade your proximity. The fabric is soft as it falls onto your face and wraps around your head. The dragon is sure not to tie it tightly around your head and is mindful of not snagging your hair in the knot he ties. When you open your eyes again, you feel your lashes work against the fabric and are met with nothing but blackness. 

“Okay,” Xiao’s voice startles you. “Now stand up.” Without being able to see anything, you feel more clumsy than usual. Standing up feels unstable and your balance wobbles. Xiao helps stabilize you, but it does nothing but assure you if you do fall, you at least won’t hit the floor. “This is going to make you dizzy, but I promise, you’ll be fine. Just, keep holding onto me.” Xiao’s instructions are clear despite the situation being confusing.

For the briefest of moments, you feel a breeze envelope you. It feels like you’ve just fallen into a pit. For such a short moment, you feel suspended. Nothing beneath your feet, nothing above your head or around your body besides Xiao anchoring you to reality. You feel weightless, yet also are all too aware of your own body in the emptiness you experience. Then, as if it didn’t happen at all, your feet feel the floor again. 

You stumble like someone has pushed you and Xiao grasps delicately under your arms to keep you from careening straight down to the ground. You feel out of breath and dizzy- just as he had warned. 

Xiao eases you into the ground where you slump, catch your breath and clear your head. Being behind the blindfold doesn’t do you any favors since you have nothing to look at and focus on. So, instead, you feel the cold tile under your fingertips. The design etched into the floor feels different than the floor in your room. It's smooth under your touch and cold as it spreads onto your skin. You keep a grasp on one of Xiao’s wrists to constantly remind yourself that you’re not alone. 

You’re not sure where Xiao’s taken you, but you trust him. 

In the process of calming down, there’s the sound of a lock flicking open followed by the sound of a door opening. The nighttime breeze flutters into the room and traces along your back and past your shoulders. Wherever you were had access to outside- probably a door to a balcony of sorts. Not expecting the cool air, you shiver briefly at the contact it makes on your skin. 

Xiao’s grounding grasp on you finally slips away as he tells you that he’s going to be stepping away for a while. He won’t be far and promises you’ll be completely safe. “Keep the blindfold on,” he tells you before his presence is gone like a puff of smoke. 

It’s silent, but you know someone else is with you. Someone else is in this room you have no idea about and Xiao chose to leave you there with them. All things considered, you know it must be a dragon. One he knows and can trust since your safety has been ordered by his emperor at the behest of Li. You’re safe- you know you are- but you’re still anxious. 

The person you know is with you finally makes noise to indicate that they are indeed in the same space as you. It’s the sound of their shuffling feet that catches your attention and you jump at the soft noise. It was hardly loud, but you weren’t expecting it nonetheless. The lack of vision around you has made you jumpy it seems. 

Unsure on why this stranger with you refuses to speak, you finally sit up properly from your hunched position on the ground. You look around as if you can actually see the room you’re in, before moving to ‘look’ over your shoulder. The light behind your blindfold brightness just a bit- so you must be facing the moonlight. 

“Hello?” You speak into the air. It travels and unbeknownst to you, causes your additional company to shiver on their feet. 

Saying nothing still, the stranger shuffles around the room until you can feel their presence behind your back. Taking a step to your side, they kneel beside you. Moving your head to follow their sounds, you lower your chin as you listen to their ruffling clothes coming down to your level. In a different circumstance you would’ve gotten off the floor, but you don’t feel confident enough to stand up and not immediately fall back down. 

“Um,” you start with a clogged throat, “I mean nothing by this, but why aren’t you speaking?” The presence in front of you swallows then takes a breath in. 

“I suppose,” your eyes shoot open under your blindfold, “I’m nervous.” 

Maybe you’re still dreaming. You’ve heard this voice before so many times for so many years you’d be unable to mistake it for anyone else. Your shoulders start to tremble as your hands ball into fists between the folds and wrinkles of your nightgown. Your mouth opens to try and speak, but you can’t find the words. 

The deep, smooth voice within reaching distance chuckles softly at you. You jolt when his hands come to caress your cheek that isn’t nearly as sore as it was when you were struck earlier in the day. Not that it matters to you anymore right now. 

“Am I dreaming?” You ask so quietly the breeze could steal your words away and whisk them out the window. 

“I assure you, you are not.” 

You choke as your hands come to your mouth. Your blindfold becomes uncomfortably damp as his arms grasp your shoulders and ease you into his shoulder where you can cry freely and process the overwhelming emotions you must be feeling. 

It certainly wasn’t the ideal first way of meeting your soulmate in reality, but nonetheless you were almost relieved. It really cemented the fact that you had a soulmate. That your soulmate cared about you. That you weren’t alone. 

Your soulmate was real. Li was real. 

You’re not sure how long you spent on the ground weeping into Li’s chest, but when you finally calm down you feel hot faced and embarrassed. 

Li has made himself comfortable at your side. His legs have you encased around his body as if to keep you in one place with one propped up behind your back and the other laying on the ground in front of you. Your body between his legs and close to his chest as you seek him for physical comfort activates something in him he wasn’t even aware of. Seeing you outside the dreamscape is vastly different than he had expected and he feels a sense of unbelievable possessiveness over you. 

His arm that is propped up on the knee behind your back is close enough so his fingers can brush mindlessly through your hair. 

Morax wants to continue this peace and intimacy for much longer, but he cannot. The whole reason he even woke himself up and sent Xiao to wake you was to check on your condition and get the truth out of you. The whole truth. Then- of course- send you back to sleep so you are not completely exhausted tomorrow. 

His one free hand comes to your chin and tilts your face towards him. Zhongli wishes he could take your blindfold off and look into your eyes, but he knows he can’t. He can’t let you see him. Not yet. 

Glaring, those wounds on your face he had seen in the dreamscape are still there. He clicks his tongue and sees your throat constrict in a swallow. 

“I need you to be honest with me.” 

“I told you, it’s really nothing.” 

“Y/n.” Your lips curl inwards. It wasn’t often that Li says your name anymore. Typically he addresses you with endearments, or at the very least, your name is spoken softly; sacredly. This time? It’s a reprimand. 

“How much?” How much do you have to tell him? 

“Everything.” He answers. “Who hit you. Why.” 

With a deep breath, you lower your chin and he allows it. Dropping his hand from your face, he lets his arm rest across his lap instead, resisting the urge to be touching you constantly. 

“Princess Maia hit me.” Morax closes his eyes and takes an internal moment to calm down. He cannot lose his temper. “As for why,” you chuckle bitterly, “I guess simply because she can?” 

“That is not an answer.” 

“The Crown Princess isn’t fond of me.” 

“Does she strike others?” 

“Not usually.” 

“Why you?” 

“Li.” 

“Tell me.” 

You shake your head. Trying to worm your way out of this conversation. You don’t want to tell him- don’t want to admit it. You’ve said it in your head a thousand times since you were able to form thoughts. You know why and can accept it- have to accept it. Saying it out loud though? To Li? It feels like you're confessing to a crime. 

How is it a crime? What did you ever do wrong? It isn’t fair. 

“Y/n.” He says your name again. You wish he wouldn’t. 

“You won’t believe me.” 

“I will.” 

“Maia,” you speak her name without her honorable title and it surprises Zhongli. You feel weak as you slump against his chest again. His hand comes to rest on your shoulders, seeming to plaster you to him. “She’s my half-sister.” You grip onto the fabric hanging loosely off of Li’s frame until your hands cramp all the way down to your wrist. Admitting it out loud sucks as much as you thought it would.

You feel sick. 

Morax stares down at your head hidden against his body and freezes. “What?” He knows he didn’t mishear you. You spoke clearly enough, and it sounded like it took so much for you to say those four short words he couldn’t dare ask you to repeat yourself. Sitting there processing, you feel like crying again. 

Your head hurts. 

“Aislefield’s first princess was a silent infant,” Zhongli says, repeating the history of this generation of royals in the kingdom. You shake your head. “A lie?” You nod against him. As much as it pains him, Zhongli maneuvers you in a manner that moves you away from his chest. His hands come to enclose around your cheeks in a touch so soft his fingertips tremble against your skin. “You?” His voice cracks like he’s about to take the torch and weep in your stead. 

A dragon’s tears must be worth more than your measly ones. You nod in his palms and he only wants to rip that damn blindfold off more. He doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down with him to the floor. 

He can feel the cool tile on his back through the thin fabric of his night robe that exposes his chest and ties comfortably on his waist. He stares up at the ceiling he’s growing to detest and holds you prisoner on top of him. He wasn’t sure who he was placating by keeping you there- him or you. 

“I’m sorry,” he laments.

You don’t say anything more after the confession. Partially because you simply don’t want to talk anymore and largely because you end up falling asleep right on Li’s chest. When Zhongli realizes you’ve left your consciousness behind, he can’t help but be charmed despite the situation. 

He works slowly and softly to move and place you on the sofa he often lounges on in his solitude when he isn’t out on the balcony. He traces your body from your face to your shoulders and arms and hip and legs. Mapping everything he could before he has Xiao take you back to your room. 

Kneeling in front of the fancy, cushioned piece you rest on, Zhongli watches over you. Selfishly keep you in front of him for a moment longer. In your sleep, he slips off your blindfold to admire your sleeping face. As he once more witnesses the red, glaring split in the corner of your mouth, he’s forced to begin thinking again. 

More than anything right now, Morax needed to know the true history of his generation of Aislefield royals. Clearly history books and royal lineage records and registries would be nothing but lies. He’d need to find someone who knows the truth and would tell him such in full confidence. 

Glancing outside the balcony windows, he hums to himself. It takes no time at all for one such way of truth to find him. 

Morax wonders how difficult it would be to request a meeting with a high standing human priestess. 

“Xiao.” He summons. 

Xiao must have taken you back to your room after your meeting with Li. There really was no other explanation on how you ended up waking up in your bed after exhaustedly falling asleep on his chest. Your face is warm just recalling the night prior. Crying, admitting a truth you had hidden from him for years because deep down you were ashamed of it, passing out in a fit of emotional turmoil?

Yeah, not your best moment. 

When you leave your room that morning with a hanging sense of self dread, Xiao is once again waiting for you. His posture is pensive and tense like he’s waiting for some sort of reprimand. 

“Are you alright?” You ask him instead of your usual good morning. His lips curl inwards just for a moment before his eyes dart around the floor by your feet. Eventually, he settles on a desired course of action. Bending deeply at his waist he lowers his head in front of you, and you recoil at the display. “What are you doing?!” You hiss, face heating up again in a new flare of embarrassment. It feels like he’s groveling. 

“Apologizing,” he states. “I’m… sorry. For leaving you alone yesterday. I shouldn’t have.” You shake your head before grabbing his shoulders and straightening him back up. Smoothing down his bunched shirt fabric and hair like a mother hen. You dismiss him entirely. 

“Don’t apologize if something isn't your fault. You had other things you had to do and I understand that.” 

“But-” 

“No,” you shut him down with a fierce glare and a pointed finger. “No buts. Nothing is your fault and you did what you had to. End of story.” Xiao says nothing to refute and you place your hands on your hips with a tut of triumph.  “That’s better,” taking his silence as surrender. “Now, good morning, Xiao.” 

The dragon clears his throat. “Morning.” 

And another day finally begins. Xiao back to being your shadow and more alert than ever. 

Maia has just about had it. Despite having her fun yesterday, she’s already back to being in a sour mood. 

After having you called out into the courtyard where she sipped regally on her tea, she finally got to let out a sliver of frustrations she’s been harboring. Filling her teacup with fresh tea, before tossing the hot liquid over your uniform. Ordering you to kneel at her feet and slapping you around did make her feel quite a bit better. Especially after you have the nerve to parade around a dragon day in and day out recently. 

But hearing that the dragon is once again following your back even after witnessing the marks of your humiliation? It has her temper flaring again. Do dragons not care about pride? Would they willingly trail behind a mere serving girl- a maid- despite seeing her disgraceful demeanor firsthand? 

Scoffing in her room where she lounges with her lady in waiting standing silently nearby she glares outside into the beautiful day. Tapping her fingers mindlessly and irritatingly on her polished tea table, she slams her palm on it before forcing herself to stand. 

If you- her detestable half-sister who should’ve died a baby instead of being marked by the unknown- have the gall to have a dragon by your side, then she will as well! And she’ll aim higher. She’s the crown princess of Aislefield Kingdom. She can aim high and go higher. 

“Carol!” Maia announces the name of her lady in waiting. As if used to such behavior, the lady who is only a few years older than the princess directs her attention towards her employer. With a snide grin on her face and air of determination about her, Maia marches towards her bedroom door. “We’re going to the third keep!” 

Morax, enlisting the help of Yanfei, puts more effort into his attire this morning. After calling for Xiao last night, he sent him off to the temple in this kingdom with a single letter he penned shortly. He was to deliver it directly to the priestess you have described to him before. While in the human kingdom, he would like to keep to human customs. If the situation wasn’t what it was, he would’ve asked for her to meet him in a much more accepting fashion. That isn’t possible right now. 

Glancing at the letter that was sent back with Xiao that sits on the short coffee table in front of the sofa, he’s simply glad he wasn’t served a rejection. When the priestess arrives, he can offer his apologies then. 

Wearing layers of robes over his body, Yanfei goes to great lengths to describe why he must wear so many. A cream-colored under-kimono to cover his geo-golden skin. A deep, coffee colored robe to fashion over it embroidered with intricate golden embroidery along the seams and hems to bring out his golden eyes and auburn highlighted hair; an equally intricate sash bound around his waist holds it in place. A black haori to wear over his shoulders, not through the arms, with tassels hanging off the chest to accentuate his broad shoulders. Finally, a sash that hovered over his shoulders and around his back by his shoulders with a type of floating enchantment for a bit of flare. 

“May I at least tie my hair,” Morax grumbles. 

“Absolutely not!” Yanfei denies. Running a brush through his long tresses as he sits outside on his balcony, the wind picks up strands away from her delicate hands. He’s been her glorified, royal dress up doll all morning. “This is much more striking. Oh! And make sure to keep these pins in.” Sliding two black pins into his hairline behind his left ear, it keeps his long hair behind the appendage to show off the long tassel earring pierced into his lobe. 

“This is a diplomatic meeting,” he shoots the eager, energetic woman a look. “Why must we go through such lengths for a woman who is not my suitor?” He grumbles again. 

“Consider this practice!” Morax almost rolls his eyes. He’s far too lenient to his people sometimes. Especially to the younglings. 

As Yanfei fuses over the last few pieces of his attire for the day, knocking comes from the door to his temporary chambers. They're firm and authoritative. Yanfei looks into the room from the balcony with excited eyes, Morax glares instead. His sense of smell is nothing to scoff at. 

“Is that your visitor?” She glances towards the sun then back to the door. “It is not the appointed time. Did she arrive early?” 

“No,” Morax answers. “This is someone else.” Whoever is knocking on his door is not the priestess he has summoned. The scent he picked up from the letter telling him she would be arriving today despite his short notice is not the same as the one out in the hall. 

Standing from his chair outside, the elegantly dressed emperor of dragons crosses his room in four, large strides. The scent outside the door is one he can almost recognize. It’s familiar, but he can’t tell where he’s smelt it. 

Opening the door, Yanfei comes to stand behind his right shoulder so she could peek around his form to see who it was as well. 

Behind the door, is a well-dressed young lady in a dress gaudier than he’d ever seen in his kingdom along with another lady dressed more lavishly than other servants, but still just plain enough to establish she is a member of staff. Morax is no fool. He knows who this young lady with raven hair and prideful eyes is. He almost sneers at her mere presence. 

“Yanfei,” he addresses his young company. “Make yourself scarce.” His tone is sharp and on edge and Yanfei understands that he’s already becoming irritated. Yanfei has spent her time in the human castle soaking up any and all gossip and intel on human life in a royal palace like this she can get her hands on. Only a fool wouldn’t know that the woman disturbing her lord’s morning was the princess. If

Lord Morax truly did lose his temper Yanfei did not want to be the one to watch it unfold. 

“Of course!” Still as peppy as ever, she steps around her lord and straight past the kingdom’s crown princess. Not even offering Maia eye contact on her way out. 

Maia nearly scoffs at the absolute dismissal of her standing. Have dragons truly know no shame?! 

Watching the pink haired dragon-halfling prance down the hall until she disappears, Maia is slack jawed. She has half a mind to forget trying to get the emperor under her hand and foot and chase down the rude dragoness and tell her what for. Still, with an impeccable sense of resilience, Maia swallows and lets it go. For now. 

Putting a smile on her face, one she’s practiced time and time again to steal the hearts of men and women, she returns her attention to the man she came all this way for. 

She takes in the delicately woven robes he’s dressed in and how elegant he wears them. How broad his body is and how tall he is in comparison to her small, delicate frame. Lifting her eyes from his barely exposed collar to his neck and jaw, she finally meets his eyes. 

Maia’s blood turns cold. His eyes, while the most beautiful shade of gold she’s ever seen, are dangerous. Filled with nothing warm in them. Danger and hostility radiate off him in violent waves and it nearly has her stumbling in place just by holding eye contact. Looking down his nose at her, he refuses to dip his chin, snobbing her off as just a pest by saying not a single word. 

“Uh!” She chokes before she tries her best to compose herself. Taking a step back from the doorframe, Maia pinches the fabric of her dress and pulls it out to her sides as she curtsies with practiced perfection. “How do you do? I am the Crown Princess of Aislefield Kingdom. It’s One Star, Maia Salkry.” It wasn’t often that Maia got the pleasure of introducing herself as the kingdom’s star very often. It was a title given to her after birth she was told- since her half-sister ‘died’ at birth, hers was a miracle. Like the birth of a precious star. 

The woman behind her lowers her head also. Calmly following the princess’s lead. 

Morax says nothing. Maia swallows. 

Recovering from her greeting, she straightens her back as her teachers have taught her growing up and places her hands delicately in front of her. Putting on the air of a lovely princess who is beloved by all. 

It churns the stomach of the dragon emperor. 

“What business have you with me?” He spits. His sharp voice both has her swooning at the deep, velvet of it and shrinking away at the cold, harsh bite. 

Maia tries to keep eye contact with him but cannot stand the negative emotions that bore down at her. So, she shifts to stare at his nose instead. She’s often done this with those who don’t deserve her eye contact and they’re none the wiser. As far as they’ve known, she’s always been able to look everyone in the eye equally. 

“You’ve been residing in this keep for the last week and it occurred to me that I had not yet made your acquaintance. While I’m aware you’ve come officially to meet with my father- the king- for diplomatic talks between our kingdoms, I thought it would be rude of me to not introduce myself. I apologize for taking even this long to do so, it is unbecoming of this kingdom’s future queen.” 

It was all half truths that spill out of Maia’s mouth. It is true that the emperor was only here for the king and his boring talks of peace and such. But also, Maia was under the impression her father would have had them introduced by now! She was the princess- the only princess. She needed to be known too. If he truly takes the safety of his kingdom seriously and wishes to keep relations between it and her home peaceful- this Morax must be acquainted with the future ruler. 

“I would be more than happy to speak with you inside your quarters for a while. I believe we could have much to talk about!” Putting on an air of friendliness, she starts her charge. 

“I will have to decline.” Morax, as much as he wants to throw her out of the keep altogether, holds it together. “It would be inappropriate for a young maiden to be in the confines of an older man’s place of dwelling.” 

Maia’s face flushes at his considerate lip service. Unable to pick apart the real meaning of his words: ‘I would like nothing more for you to leave’, she interprets it as him looking out for her image. One of her hands comes to cover her mouth with her fingertips. 

“How gentlemanly of you!” She praises. It makes his skin crawl. “Then, why not join me for tea? I have a lovely place for such occasions out in the courtyard. The castle gardeners take their care for the greenery very seriously and I’m sure you’d enjoy it.” 

“Regretfully,” he grits out, “I will still have to refuse. My time is occupied today.” If Yanfei were still around, he’s sure she’d be hiding around the corner, covering her mouth and clutching her stomach to contain her snickers at his restraint. 

Being met with refusal twice has Maia’s brow twitching. Her facade of royal elegance and friendly nature cracks. But she fills those cracks with silver. 

“With all due respect,” her gaze turns a shade harder as if to challenge him. “There is none in this kingdom who can outclass me. Surely your prior company will understand a change in plans.” 

“I am inclined to disagree.” The voice who interjects the princess’s hasty decision in the emperor’s schedule is one of true grace.

Holding firm to her words, Zhongli’s true guest arrives. 

Taking long, fluid steps along the marble as if she were floating, High Priestess Kokomi makes her arrival. Walking right up to Maia, she does not coward back under the princess’s glare. Instead, she lowers herself into a rank appropriate greeting that she’s been taught since she was a child. 

“Greetings to the kingdom’s Star,” Kokomi fluidly greets. Straightening back up, she bites back a snarky grin and plasters a soft smile on her face instead. Seeing the young lady of the kingdom sneer at her always amused her. 

It was no great secret that Kokomi preferred you over Maia. Of course, the princess was unaware that Kokomi knows your real identity as the kingdom’s first princess. All she knew was that the temple, who holds no prejudice, is kind to even a useless, marked life such as yours. 

It was also common knowledge that Kokomi, who stands at the top of the temple, is the one and only woman in the kingdom to match the authority of not only the princess, but the king. The temple was independent from royal affairs and acts for the kingdom, not the royal family. They share the same stage, and Kokomi is in the spotlight with Auisle. Maia is still standing in the shadowed wings waiting for her lines. 

It is truly amusing to see the princess try and act her role. 

“I do apologize,” Kokomi starts, “but as the emperor has stated, we do have an arrangement today. It will require a significant amount of our shared time, so I’ll have to ask for her highness’s understanding on the issue.” 

Not having the ground to stand on, Maia has to relent. Balling her fist tightly, she hides it between the folds and ruffles of her dramatically royal dress skirt. 

“Of course,” she grits out with a smile much more forced. Her facade cracking more in foundation. She has to leave before it all shatters and her image in front of the dragon emperor is ruined. 

“I was under the impression that dragons were fond of people.” Maia tries to get one more word in, just to make herself feel better. “I’ve heard that one such dragon has been following a mere servant around lately. The action was so strange to me, I simply wished to learn more about it.” Maia wants to know what the hell’s so special about you. A cursed child. 

“That situation is entirely not yours to be involved in.” Morax barks. It’s the final straw for Maia as she finally admits defeat. 

“Many apologies. My curiosity simply got the best of me,” she excuses. With a curtsy, she bids the two of them farewell. 

When she’s well down the hall and around the corner, Kokomi finally lets her amusement out in the form of smothered chuckles behind her hand. Meanwhile, Zhongli finally allows his shoulder to relax with a deep breath. 

“It appears I should have arrived earlier than planned.” Kokomi bemuses as she finally looks at the emperor that has summoned her. “I do hope you did not put up with her for long.” The disdain the priestess uses when speaking of the princess has the emperor amused. 

“Fortunately, not.” Stepping aside and opening his door more, he invites Kokomi inside. “I have much to ask about. It would be best to do so privately.” 

“I agree. If we’ll be speaking about my darling y/n, it will require privacy, time and your full attention.” Stepping into the room, Morax offers her a seat first on the sofa, making sure to mind his manners for her who seems to be your one and only friend. Making himself comfortable on the adjacent chair, Kokomi is pleased at the tea set in front of her. She was parched and a soothing cup of tea would be exceptional. 

t.list: @witheringblooddemon @arminsarlerts @kurinneko @kangyeonie @dawns-breath @nintendogeek2018 @mfreedomstuff2 @wraithisd3adinside @uniquecutie-puffs @pranabefall @nayukiyukihira @lioria @maiznamai @lilaclichh @blipblopblopblip @luciiannx @mama-m1na @mangetsuksiazek

!!REMINDER!! if you wish to be removed from or added to the tag list- just let me know c:

The castle is rowdy. More than usual. Servants and staff run around from place to place, dusting anything with a surface, cleaning floors, replacing old furnishings with new and straightening them up into symmetrical perfection. The last time the royal halls were this chaotic was when the princess was born- or so you’ve heard. You were too young to remember, so it’s all hearsay. With how the king spoils his daughter though, it’s easy enough to believe. 

Speed walking through the halls, you weave through bodies of other workers with your hands full. Two very full, and not exactly light weighted, boxes are stacked in your hands. Chalk full of kitchen ware to be brought out only for exceptionally special occasions. No doubt covered in a thick layer of dust you- or someone else on staff- would have to scrub off without also chipping any paint. 

“Pardon me,” you quietly call as you squeeze your way through a group of people crowding around the kitchen’s entrance. None working mind you. All most likely gossiping about the sole reason why the palace was in such an uproar. You couldn’t blame them; if you had someone to talk to about it- you were sure you’d do the same. 

That isn’t the case, however. 

The kitchen staff are busy sorting through ingredients to see which are expired, which aren't and storing them accordingly. Right now, bundles of grass and tins of tea leaves lay scattered on the main island table. You haven’t the faintest idea what they’re for- at least the grasses (which you’re half certain are actually spices yet to be ground). The chef who is pretty much the head honcho in his domain see’s you first. 

“Set those over there,” he points to a free space on a nearby counter. He probably anticipated your arrival with wares and cleared a space for you so you wouldn't linger. He wasn’t a cruel man and has never said anything nasty to your face. But, his facial expressions don’t hide his feelings so well. You never say anything back though. Marching to the designated space, you slide the boxes into place and dust your hands off on your apron. 

Even though you work officially as a palace maid, your jobs vary. You could be pulling weeds one day and the next you would be climbing to dangerous heights to check on a chandelier that someone claims ‘swings too violently’; even if your assignment makes no sense and you have no experience in repairing such things. Still, you had no way to refuse orders. Being at the bottom of the barrel and all. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” you politely and quietly dismiss yourself and shuffle out of the kitchen before the sounds of knives chopping herbs into sections starts feeling personal. 

An unfortunate soul, sold by her prostitute mother as a baby for money and raised as a servant within the palace.

That is your story. 

The world you live in is an unjust one. One that has nearly jaded you time and time again, but you refuse to let it dilute who you are. You can work through your days in peace despite the obvious hazing and belittlement thrown your way. At the very end of the day, there’s always a chance you’ll enter a dream. A dream where you’re wanted and cared for. A dream that isn’t fully a dream. 

In this world, soulmates exist. There’s many kinds and many characters for each pair. No two pairs of souls are the same. 

Some have matching-mismatching eyes. Others lack the ability to lie to each other no matter the situation. You’ve heard of pairs who never know what colors look like until they laid eyes onto each other. Or perhaps the pair would have the other's name or first words written in ink that could only be delivered by the Gods on their skin. 

Or the soul pair could have matching soul marks: a defect imprinted on the body at birth. 

The wind blows cool air through the open corridors leading to the outside garden. From up above the courtyard, you see gardeners with sheers trimming hedges of the maze the king had created when the princess was a little girl when she expressed the slightest hint of intrigue. Old flowers were being replaced with new ones to fit the oncoming season and the several tables set up for tea parties are being lined with new linen tablecloths and cushions. You wonder briefly if they would repaint the tables as well. 

The breeze brings the scent of the flowers to your nose. You inhale deeply and for a single moment wish you could enjoy a spot under the sun with a cup of tea and pastries one day as well. Then the moment of wishful thinking ends and you remind yourself of your station. Shaking your head, you continue on your way. There’s still chores to be done and the day is hardly half over. 

Hours pass by and the sun moves to the center of the sky and even further still. Midday passes and afternoon arrives. The sun’s warm as you feel the rays filter through the windows. Currently sweeping up a mess of shattered glass from a vase a different servant knocked over a bit ago. You half wonder if they’re getting a scolding right now or if they’re hiding to avoid one. The thick glass pieces clink together as you sweep in small motions, collecting it all into a messy, sharp pile. 

“Y/n!” Your name causes your sweeping to halt before looking around your shoulder. You smile as your shoulders deflate at the familiar figure gracefully waltzing down the hall in your direction. The high priestess’s voice is soft as it echoes dully in the almost empty hall. This is the emptiest you’ve seen any part of the castle today honestly. Good. Your conversation with someone non-hostile won’t be interrupted this way. 

You turn your back to the pile of vase shards and give the high standing woman your attention. “Lady Kokomi,” the woman smiles softly at you calling her name in return, “good afternoon. Does the temple have business in the castle today?” 

“Of sorts,” she tells you. It never fails to amaze you just how beautiful the woman in front of you is. She’s older than you, so she claims since she never tells you her real age, and carries herself with such grace it’s near divine. Perhaps her standing as the kingdom’s highest priestess enables her to have some sort of training for walking. She holds herself with such refinement- you almost feel jealous. “I hear a special guest is arriving tomorrow, so I fear what I intended to discuss with His Majesty may be postponed. So, I came to check on you instead.” Her smile is soft and welcoming; you feel flush just looking at the beauty of it. 

“I’m flattered,” you bashfully reply. “I wish I had more time to give you, but you know how it is if I’m caught slacking.” 

Kokomi’s smile twitches before her smooth lips are drooping at the ends into a soft frown. Her brows upturn in a way that can only be interrupted as worry. “Are you still being mistreated?” She knows the answer, so when you don’t justify her with one, she simply takes a calming, deep breath inwards. “I understand.” Her voice is solemn, and you reach out to grasp her hand that hangs at her side. In normal circumstances, a lowly servant like you would not be permitted to touch someone in such high power without permission. 

Kokomi doesn’t treat you like that though. She squeezes your hand comfortingly. “You’d tell me if it got too bad, right? If you find yourself at a loss, or unable to take it, you would inform me?” 

“Of course,” you tell her. And you mean it. You would. This tall standing woman is the one person you could trust with anything among the palace, even if she’s of the temple and not a royal. Be it your well being, your personal woes, or even your very life. “I’m alright.” 

“The temple will always welcome you, y/n. Please, if you ever need a place to go-”

“I will. If I didn’t, I’m sure her Ladyship, Priestess Kokomi, would track me down and give me a stern talking to while swaddling me in furs and presenting me a warm meal.” 

“My,” Kokomi’s lips finally flip up into her smile that fits her face much more than a frown, “it’s like you're dancing around in my very head.” 

Kokomi stays just a bit longer in the hall with you, holding your hand tightly all the while. As soon as her ears pick up on the approaching sounds of footsteps, her posture straightens as she drops your hand, and her facial features shift just enough that she’s entered professional mode. You understand the cues and lower your head as she stands before you. 

“Thank you for your hard work.” She places her hand softly on your shoulder. 

“It’s my pleasure, my Lady.” Your eyes remain downwards and soon her hand slips off your shoulder affectionately and she’s twisting on her heel. Her fancy heels that you could only ever dream of affording, much less wearing, clack like bells against the polished floors. She offers a quick thanks to other servants who pass her before her presence disappears entirely. 

You quickly retake up your task of sweeping glass shards and discard them before moving to the next task you might come upon before being assigned one. As you dust off a light fixture you absentmindedly wonder when the next time you’ll see Kokomi will be. 

You’ll have to tell Li about the nice conversation you had with your good friend. He always seems to enjoy it when you tell him about your day. 

Night comes faster than you thought it would, with your hair still damp with a few droplets of water still dripping from the ends when you crawl into your bed. The cot you’ve been given as a servant residing in the castle is shotty as best. A well-worn mattress that has a dipped depression where you lay every night and have laid every one before this one. The blanket has mismatched patches scattered around it and the cotton stuffed into it is lumpy and uneven from your past attempts to make it thicker and warmer. At least your sheets are clean and pillow decent. 

In this small room, your private room, you have a little bit of peace and quiet. A single wardrobe with two opening doors split down the middle and three drawers under them. The wood was worn and metal handles corroded after years of use. Inside lay your uniform for work and the few casual clothing sets for the extremely rare day off. 

Beside the wardrobe is a small vanity you had been given by a past servant who was going to just throw it out. The mirror was cracked diagonally downwards but you didn’t mind. All you needed was to make sure your work clothes and hair were presentable for a hard day's work. The stool that came with it has a flat cushion, but you don't sit there for long periods anyway. 

There's one long shag rug running from the door to your room all the way to the middle of it- which is about five paces give or take. The best part of your room was the tall, glass door that leads out onto a small balcony with a waist high railing. You have a potted plant out there you tend to and there's just enough space to fit two people shoulder to shoulder on it along with the plant. 

Tucking yourself in, the moon casts shadows from your windowed doors onto the floor. The moon was full tonight and it was just cool enough that venturing outside would spark gooseflesh. Sleep finds you easily after a long day of different chores. 

Then your eyes open. 

You’ve never had a proper dream before. You’ve experienced nightmares on occasion, but a fabricated dream of fiction has never occurred to you subconscious. All simply because your dreams are connected to another. Someone who’s face you’ve never seen but still know so very well. 

You imagine this is what lucid dreaming would feel like if you had real dreams. The idea of knowing you're asleep while your mind is still in control of your thoughts and theoretical actions. You lift yourself off the grass you always ‘wake up’ on and make it to your feet. You dust off your back and legs as if you’re covered in dirt- you’re not but even if you were, Li would never be able to tell. 

Starting forward, it’s only a few paces before the scenery around changes with the whoosh of a gentle breeze. The open meadow changes to a dirt clearing with a single bonfire around it. It’s on the top of a cliff where the fabricated view of the artificial moon is always the loveliest. The moon was always full with an unnatural blue tint to it and it’s always surrounded by far too many stars. You’ve even taken to creating a few made up constellations with the stars you know don’t exist in reality. 

Your walking picks up when standing at the edge of the cliff is a shadow of a person. You know who it is, you’ve known him for years. 

“Li!” You call out, jogging up to his side. The stranger who isn’t a stranger turns and you can only assume he smiles at you. You can’t tell.

You can’t see him.

Coming to stand at his front his hand moves to brush against your cheek. He does this offer so he can ‘see’ what expression you're making. Today he runs his knuckles down the apple of your cheek and can feel your smile. 

“Good evening, my dear.” 

This is Li. Your soulmate. The soulmate you can’t even see. That’s how it works- at least for you both. 

You were born with a mark on your back. Golden lines that never touch and form the shape of a diamond imprinted on your left shoulder blade. It was because of this mark you were never loved by your father or your half-sister. 

Abandoned to be a mere servant of the palace as a maid and nothing more. You’ve never once acted the part of your kingdom’s first born princess; in fact, they don’t even know you exist. Sometimes, it feels like the only good thing you got out of being unrecognized is the fact you were allowed to carry your foster mother’s name and not the royal families. 

According to the rest of peoples in your kingdom, the first princess was still born and the mother mourned so deeply she took her own life. Thus the king remarried two years later and had a child with the late second-queen. 

Sometimes you wish you were accepted despite your ‘flaw’, yearning for familiar love. It never lingers because if you had been brought up any other way than this one, you wouldn’t be where you are now. You could have treated Li like a stranger you loathed. You don’t. You love this man whose face you have never seen. 

The way your soulmarks work is simple yet complicated. You both can meet in dreams just like this. The first time you both met was when you were 15 and to say you were beyond spooked is an understatement. You actually woke yourself up by screaming in pure shock. He snickered at you the second time you met in a dream. 

Li is simply a shadowed figure to your eyes. You appear the same to him, a simple shadow in the shape of a human. Neither one of you will know what the other looks like until you see one another. It’s almost cruel, since you’ll probably be trapped inside this castle until you're old and grey and when you finally die, you’ll be lucky to be buried in the cemetery. You may never know what he looks like or ever get to meet him. It's tragic. 

That doesn’t mean you know nothing about your soulmate. You know plenty. 

For starters, his name isn’t actually Li, but that’s what he’s asked you to call him. He says he can’t tell you his real name for reasons that are hard to explain. You understand though. He’s tall with long hair he usually ties low at the back of his head. 

He isn’t a human, but a dragon (when he told you that, you begged to touch his ears since you’ve heard they’re pointed- he let you). However, the horns you can make out the silhouette of that separate, branch off, and stretch above him you leave alone. 

He prefers drinking tea over liquor and he prefers it black- but he does fancy a particular wine that’s often made in his homeland. His kingdom has two names- one is pronounced in draconic tongue and the other is much easier for humans to articulate- Liyue. You still haven’t learned what is it in draconic though since he doesn’t often speak of home around you. 

He can’t stand seafood. 

Apparently he’s actually over 500 hundred years old and while he's had his soulmark his entire long life, it only began to glow with warmth on the day you spooked yourself awake for the first time at 15 years old. It’s been many years since then. 

You’ve traced his face with your fingers before, hoping to get a mental feel for how he appears. His features are defined and he feels handsome, but unfortunately for you- you still couldn’t create a whole image of him in your head. You don’t know if it’s arrogance, but he also claims that others say he is pleasing to look at. You choose to believe him. 

Li loves the smell of flowers. Where he lives in the kingdom of dragons there’s a special flower that grows spontaneously on cliffsides. The plant that blooms in three, purple stalks is called violetgrass and while every flower has its own uniqueness and beauty, he tends to favor the blue bell blooms that hang downwards. 

He was kind and patient with you. Li often speaks freely and listens attentively. Despite claiming to have a short temper some days, he’s never once lost it with you. He claims your presence has a calming effect on him, and should the day ever come when he raises his voice towards you, you are free to put him in his place. You can’t imagine either happening. 

While you are soulmates, Li has also taken time before to explain that additionally on his end, you are considered his draconic mate despite remaining human. He speaks of you as if you hold his very soul in your palms and it always makes you warm. 

“You’re a bit late to fall asleep tonight,” he points out. Taking your hand in his, he helps ease you onto the ground and let your legs dangle over the edge of the cliffside. He joins you once you’ve settled, never letting himself become comfortable first. 

“The castle is in uproar right now because a guest is arriving in the morning,” you explain. “I had more work to do than usual.” 

“You did not encounter any so-called bullying I hope.” His voice is stern. He had learned from you before that you’re often the butt of ‘jokes’, or the object of others' scrutiny or brashness. You told him you’ve grown more than used to it, but he simply got more upset because “that isn’t something you should be used to”, he told you. 

“It wasn’t bad. Everyone was too busy for me to be the object of attention,” you reassure. “I did get to have a brief conversation with Lady Kokomi though. She had come to the castle for business, but with all the commotion going on, she simply decided another day would be better.” 

You have no way of knowing that the longer you talk the wider the soft smile on his lips spreads. 

“That’s wonderful.” He places his hand on the top of your head and strokes downwards until he rests it delicately against your ear; his palm muffling the sound of your dream on only one side. “I’m glad you were able to enjoy a talk with such a dear friend. I hope one day I get a chance to speak with her as well since she’s so important to you.” 

You’re glad for a moment that he cannot see your features. You wonder if he’d frown at seeing your gleeful smile turn solemn. 

“I hope so too,” you murmur. Perking back up, you shift tones. “She’s the person in charge of the temple in my kingdom. Her power even rivals the king.” Explaining it really means nothing. Li does not live in your kingdom so unless he ever crosses his lands boards, he’ll never meet her. It isn’t often Kokomi leaves the kingdom since she uses her position to keep the king in check without him evening noticing.  

“Don’t grow upset,” Li soothes you. His thumb skating softly across the cheek he’ll one day get to view in all its beauty. “Someday, it will happen. I promise.” 

You nod at him, not having the heart to voice your doubts. Li is a dragon and will have a long life. Much longer than you will. What if the day comes when you do meet and you’re far past what the human race considers ‘their prime’? What if you’re not young? Would he still find you as lovely as he claims when you're old or wrinkled or gray with age? What if you end up dead before you can ever lay eyes on him? It hurts to imagine- so you try not to. 

Li lowers his hand from the side of your head down to your neck, curling his fingers under your skull behind your neck and gently tugs you forward. He places his lips gently on your forehead and you shut your eyes to linger in their warmth. He started doing so after your 20th birthday as a form of comfort. It works a charm because every time he does you do feel a little better. 

The rest of the night flows as they usually do. Small chit chat followed by silence and soon it’s simply you both basking in the dreamscape of night under the artificial moonlight while pointing out new, false constellations. Li cradles your hand the whole time.

When you crack open your eyes in the morning your hand feels colder than usual. 

“Lord Morax,” the golden dragon in humanoid form cracks his eyes open at the call of one of his many names. He’s been traveling in a human carriage drawn by horses since he first entered this human country. The carriage was stifling to his senses. He’s already shrunk his body down, concealed his horns considerably, and hidden his tail entirely to appear more human, but being in this clunking mode of transport was almost too much. If he could just blow a hole in the top for the air to come and go and feel the sun, it wouldn’t be as insufferable. 

His legs and arms are crossed over their own respective limb as only his eyes move to glance out the window to his left, his bangs bounce from the moving carriage and threaten to poke the golden hues. Outside, one of his closest attendants hangs off the sides of the carriage. Holding onto the railing along the edges at the top of the carriage with one leg hanging off the lip used to step out onto the ground, the wind of movement flutters his dark slated grey and cyan hair.  

“The human castle is beyond the horizon. Arrival will be short.” Also diminishing his draconic appearance, Xiao did not dwindle down to the same threshold as his leading king. His ears were still longer than a human and tipped at the end with his markings that spread across his left shoulder and bicep remaining visible and untainted. 

Morax heaves a sigh. 

“Very well.” With two short words, Xiao nods. Hopping gracefully off the side of the carriage to which he clung previously. No doubt he landed easily and with half a step was walking once more alongside the carriage. He should be on horseback but refuses to ride. He does not like how it feels when his feet are not on the ground- or so he’s argued. 

As promised, soon the outside scenery of trees sprouted by nature shrunk into trees of a much less scale. Dotting along the path until they were replaced with man-planted and maintained shrubbery until finally the greenery was simply clay potted plants that's neatly trimmed among a waist-high stone wall. They line the cobblestone path the horse-drawn carriage trots along with the emperor inside. 

Beyond the lined pathways, Morax’s golden eyes scan the front perimeter of the castle grounds. They differ greatly from his palace back home, but if he were a human- he would most definitely find charming. Green patches of open grass with the occasional bush of flowers and wildflowers respectively that hadn’t been weeded out yet. The occasional marble statue or bust of some random human he’s sure was once important. He can vaguely hear the sound of bubbling water behind the clopping of hooves and wooden wheels running over stone. 

The carriage soon pulls into a circular path that is used as a means of entrance to the front gates of the castle. He assumes this way avoids any unfortunate carriage accidents by maintaining order. The path circles an elegant fountain- the source of water he heard before. A grand marble statuette of a woman in a single clothed dress with her hands cupped above her head. Water drips from her hands as if she’s offering water to the heavens. At her feet, waterspouts from all four cardinal directions into the circular fountain below. 

Morax briefly wonders if this woman is of any significance to the kingdom, royal family, or if she was simply the product of the artist’s mind. 

His carriage halts and the emperor sighs in relief that the jostling has finally stopped.  Hearing the horses whinny and breathe out huffs of air from their nostrils, he expects that the creatures are just as tired as he- more so even. Peering out the carriage window, the dragon stays seated as he looks at the servants lining the steps into the royal castle. All in the same uniforms between male and female and all with dipped chins and closed eyes. 

The carriage door unlatches and opens letting the air outside in. Morax breathes it in deeply, enjoying the freshness after being cooped up with stagnant air for his whole journey past the border. The sound of water from the fountain is no longer muffled and is mixing with the sound of the birds and wind and flapping flags that hold the crest of the royal family. 

Uncrossing his legs and arms, one of his hands comes to the top of the open door frame as his bent legs take him a step and a half out onto the first set of metal framed steps leading out of the carriage car. When his feet hit the pavement, the stone under his bare skin is warm from the morning sun and he feels far more connected to the earth. 

Now outside, Morax is finally able to view the small-scale entourage he’s brought with him from his own nation. A small squad of soldiers from his palace security accompanied him by request and it seemed that all 8 of them cared even less about hiding their draconic features than Xiao did. Most of them- save one or two- all still had their horns visible and tails trailing after their heels. Scales could be seen spotting their skin under the sun where their armored uniforms don’t cover. Morax doesn’t mind. He finds it prideful. 

Aside from his defensive squad, the emperor brought along two close vassals. One being Xiao who was making his way up towards Morax’s right side. He stood shorter than his leader, but he is one of the emperor’s most formidable allies. His speed and agility were above any in his field and he’s the acting general of Morax’s military forces. In battles of war, Xiao goes by the title of General Alatus. His power over wind is second only to one other in Morax’s close circle.  

The other was making her way off of the front of the carriage where she had been reading and chatting with the human tasked with escorting the entire party to the castle. She was a chatty woman, curious of all things and practically begged to be taken along on this more or less diplomatic trip just to study human laws and practicalities. 

With pale pink hair that runs down to her chin, then cuts off into a separate longer section that reaches her mid back, the halfling between dragon and human lovers bounces over to the two other higher standing dragons. With horns like single split antlers angled down past her shoulders that are a beautiful cream color- the halfling known as Yanfei gleams excitedly at the new surroundings. 

Yanfei is a soul of justice. Her knowledge of laws of many walks of life is vast, and she continues to thirst for more knowledge so she can help those who need to be aided. Seeking to right wrongs and punish those who do wrong. The fire in which she commands helps her seek that justice. 

Morax suspects she won’t be seen much- too preoccupied with soaking up knowledge and talking to the humans around the castle. Being half human, Yanfei still mostly grew up in the dragon world. Her human parent past several years ago, so her dragon parent raised her on familiar soil. She’s no doubt curious about the other side of her identity- and she’s so thick skinned that any possible insult she may encounter won’t stop her burning path forward. 

Morax is rather fond of her. She’s the opposite of another dragon left back at his palace. A Qilin dragon that is much more introverted, but still just as devoted to her job as Yanfei. 

The emperor has a soft spot for the younglings of today’s age. 

With his party accounted for, Morax finally cranes his neck upwards and views the castle in all its massive, stone glory. 

“It’s so different from back home,” he hears Yanfei mutter excitedly. Carrying a small book around with her everywhere she goes, he can hear her already flipping it open to jot down notes of anything she wants to remember- which might be everything. He hopes she’s brought extra books with her less she runs out of pages to scribble in. 

“It’s gaudy,” Xiao decides to pitch his two cents in with two short words. The quirk in his brow and dip in his lips say more than his mouth does. 

Morax doesn’t agree nor denies either opinion. It was different, but that’s also because they were not human. They did not grow up in the human world- they grew up with dragons where things were going to be different by nature. 

The castle was large, much larger than the ones he’s seen in the past (then again, it’s been several, several years). The structure stands so tall you’d have to take several hundred paces back and still look up so far you’d bend you back to view it fully. Four grand marble columns dot the front of the castle, each column separating the long, tall, white outside walls. With each wall off of the front main entrance, each is pivoted back to make the entire thing appear curved. Windows dot the sections in modesty and above the highest point at the main gate is colored glass that shines in the sun. 

Morax knows that this castle has three other keeps within its tremendous grounds. If his research was still of date, one keep is for the old castle- the one that was originally built when the kingdom was first pitching its tent. As far as he knows, it's nearly abandoned. At one point it was used as a quarantine area when an epidemic broke up a century ago. 

A second keep was used to house servants' quarters and store yearly items that would be stored away when their season of use passes. There should also be working quarters and small work rooms for the staff that require it for their tasks. It’s the equivalent of a storage area combined with room and board. 

The third was the most recently built and is where a number of high-class guests converge for parties, meetings or garden viewings. Established beside the vast courtyard- he hears it’s quite the way to spend time if you’ve got the status. It will also be where Morax’s temporary chambers will be provided as well as his attending dragon-folks. Apparently, the entire upper floors of the third keep were cleaned, polished and set up for all of them for their own privacy. 

Part of him wonders if it also isn’t to keep them separated from the humans. They do have their prejudice, even if they hide it behind polished hospitality. 

Behind the main wall of the entrance onto castle grounds looms the castle itself. Standing tall and proud with white stone, marble and metal combined efforts of infrastructure. The walls surrounding as well as the main castle all share the same deep shade of blue that coats the respective roofs. The shade was darker than that of the sky, it was deep and rich capturing the essence of royalty. 

The towers on both the west and east directions were tall enough they could meet low hanging clouds with spires to pierce them. 

“You Imperial Majesty,” came an unfamiliar, human voice. Morax’s brow twitches as the calling. He strongly dislikes how humans address him like that. An emperor of dragons differs from a human emperor, but they- even after hundreds of generations- refuse to learn that difference. Xiao seems as displeased as his sire is with his stance going rigid. 

Morax lower’s his chin from its lifted gaze that has been examining the castle and brings it back to his eye level. Despite being in a human form, he still stands quite tall. The man who addressed him previously walks towards him and stops about two paces away. He offers his hand in greeting and Morax accepts it mindful to watch his grip and not crush his greeter’s hand. 

“We welcome you to Salkire Castle. Was the trip from the border too terrible?” 

It was insufferable. “No, we managed just fine.” Slipping his hand from the greeter’s grasp, he extended his arm to his left towards Xiao. “This is Xiao, he will be acting as my personal retainer for the duration of this visit.” Xiao offers not a head nod or a smile or even a twitch towards the human in front of him. Morax’s arm swivels in front of him to his opposite towards Yanfei next. “This is Yanfei. She’ll be wandering around your castle and associating with your people quite… freely.” 

The human had no reason to challenge such a claim about Yanfei being able to do as she pleased since it all boiled down to the king’s orders. He’d simply address it to the human ruler later and issue the pass- there was no other choice. 

“I am Roman. I serve under His Majesty the king. He’s currently tied up with work at the moment, so I was instructed to handle your greeting and show you to your temporary living quarters in his stead.” Morax did not know how much of that was factual or if the human king simply couldn’t be bothered. Still, it was no skin off his nose. 

“Very well.” 

“Then, if you would follow me Your Majesty-” 

“Before we proceed,” Morax interrupts with a strained smile. If he hears ‘your majesty’ one more time-, “while I am here, I will much prefer to be addressed by my human moniker. I’ve many names and titles, but I am not overly fond of some.” 

“Oh,” Roman seems taken aback like he couldn’t have ever done anything wrong, “my apologies.” 

“You may hear my dragons refer to me as Lord Morax from time to time, but to you humans you may address me as Zhongli.” 

“I see,” the attendant hums before nodding as if finding the name acceptable. “Lord Zhongli then.” 

With a nod from both parties, Zhongli is finally led inside with Xiao and Yanfei on either side and his squad of protection marching behind his back. 

Finally being led to his quarters in the third keep’s highest floor, Zhongli emptily thanks the attendant before Roman dismisses himself. Zhongli instructs that Xiao and Yanfei find their own rooms as well as take into account where the other 8 dragons will be before laying low for the day. He did not want his dragons kicking up any scenes or too much noise on his first day in a castle he isn’t overly keen on being in in the first place. Xiao has no issues with a small, one-day ‘house arrest’ order- Yanfei on the other hand whined quite heavily. 

Now alone in his room, he stands at the closed door that he has just connected the chain lock from the doorframe to the door for the most amount of privacy he could possibly get. Letting a sigh escape him, he allows his shoulders to sag and eyes to slip shut. 

Morax did not hate humans. They were irritating and annoying sometimes sure, but he had no animosity towards them as a whole. In history, humans have done horrible things to all sorts of species as they developed and advanced- dragons included. But, then again, dragons aren’t wiped of shame either. Before Morax took the throne, the generations and emperors before him were not innocent of crimes and misdeeds.

That’s just the way of the world. 

He views humans as neutral. Not all are evil, not all are good. Morax is not a cruel dragon. He has his temper and could act irrationally on rare occasions- but he is not cruel. So, he could not outright hate humanity for their misdeeds of the past, even if he wanted to. 

Humanity did give him one thing, however; one person he cherishes beyond words he could ever write or speak of weave into poems or hymns. 

Humans gave him his soulmate. 

Perhaps one would call him biased if they found out his soulmate was human and thus blame his indecisiveness about the entire race on that sole fact. Even if that were the case, it would do them no good. Morax was stubborn- nothing would ever change that. 

Reopening his golden eyes, he finally scans his room. He does not smell anything untoward inside nor does he sense anything amiss or potentially hostile. 

The room was rectangular in shape and ran longer than it did deep. The entrance to the room was a doorway split down the center creating two strong, thick doors of deep stained wood. They smelt like they were once part of a grand tree, but the word of weidling and painting and staining took away all that nature once was. The doors were on the far right side of his room as he stands at the entrance. 

In front of him was a resting area. A long couch that could easily fit three bodies stretches against the far-right wall. Caddy-corner from the opposite end of the couch across the room was a single-person chair that looked oddly plusher than the couch. In front of both pieces of furniture was a low, oval coffee table that stretched the length of the couch. Between the chair and couch’s open corner was a single potted plant. A plant that much resembled the one that’s directly next to the entry doors directly to his right. Behind the back of the lone chair was a single window letting in the midday sun with navy drapes that resemble the color of the castle roof. 

As if splitting the room itself in two, a dividing screen was placed just off center of the room. Beyond that screen on the left-hand side of his temporary quarters was the ‘bedroom’ he supposes. 

A large bed rests on the opposite wall from the sofa. He, Xiao and Yanfei could possibly all fit on it in their current forms but if he weren’t in his altered body- it could possibly hold his half-shifted form with his tail out. The bed had a thick blanket thrown over it neatly with three pillows resting against the headboard and one, single, long pillow in front of them. The corner bed posts all have cloth attached to them. A sheer deep blue cloth hangs from the canopy and covers the bed with a faux feeling of privacy. 

At the foot of the bed was a short, long piece of wood. Perhaps it was used to help one climb into the bed? Or maybe to help humans put on shoes without having to bend all the way over. Under the bed and foot-rest-climbing-aid, was a rug that matched the one that was also placed under the resting room furniture. 

To the left of the bed was another single window with matching blue drapes. And to the right was a tall wardrobe. Next to it was a shorter, longer dresser with three drawers down each of the three columns. 

Between the entry doors and the short dresser was a small, stone fireplace. It looked out of place in the room of marble, polished floors with equally polished furniture, but the stone build and ‘aged’ look allured him. The firepit was encased with black iron bars that stopped just short of the top and the small stone chimney to release smoke melded awkwardly with the wallpaper. Perhaps the only thing to match the fireplace in the room was the chandelier that hangs in in the center of the room, seeming like it was from a generation past. 

Zhongli walks into the room further, scoping it out until he loops it in no time at all before he’s standing at the other side of the room from the entry. Moving aside a pair of floor to ceiling drapes, he’s pleased to see a long balcony just off his room. Sliding open the glass set of doors, he steps out into the fresh air. With the third keep being quite high off the ground, the air above feels fresher than down below with the wind keeping him company.

His balcony came with yet another potted plant at the left of the doors. To the right was a small, circular metal table with a set of matching outdoor chairs.  

Peering down, he’s at a good height that his draconic eyes could watch without being considered a threat. He suspects he’ll be out on this small little balcony quite a bit. 

Taking a seat in one of the chairs at the round table, he leans to rest his arm on the balcony’s railing as he watches the workers of the castle move about. They’re small from this high up, but he could still make out certain features of their body and at the right angles, their faces. 

Morax is unsure how long he spends simply staring down at the humans below, but time hardly matters to him at the moment.

Then, something happens. 

While his eyes continue to scan, they stop short on one person. One individual catches his gaze so violently he springs from his chair that he has gotten accustomed to. He stands with such intensity that he could fling it backwards, instead it simply scoots obnoxiously against the outside stone flooring. Both of his hands are gripping the railing with such force he fears he could crack the foundation- yet he can’t lessen it. He leans forward slightly as if that could get him closer to the ground. 

It feels like his body is on fire. He does not harness the power of flames, yet it feels like he could breathe out a wildfire at this very instant. His eyes shine with a shade of gold that could rival the sun and despite his constant state to remain entirely in a human form, his scales grow onto the sides of his face and his horns branch from his skull upwards into multiple crowned antler-like spikes that twist at the top. 

One of his hands that clutch the railing releases itself to then grab at the left side of his chest. His palm rests where the mark of his elemental power lies, the same mark that gave him proof of his mate’s existence. The warmth blooming from his chest where that matching mark is can’t be a coincidence. 

His mate was human. He knows that. But surely it can’t be-

His eyes follow the human who has captured his eyes from so high above and as if fate was aiding him, a gust of wind blows whatever it was they were carrying out of their grasp. They look up, grab for it and sigh when it’s within their hold again. 

Zhongli watches until the human is out of his gaze and back inside the castle walls. His heart is pounding in his ears and his chest burns with a heat he has never experienced. 

Stepping back until his rear was landing in his outside chair once again, as his tail that has reemerged from his tailbone hangs over the arm of it. His taloned hands come to his face to cover the lower half of it as he breathes heat air into his palms. His skin is hot and his eyes dry from prolonged exposure without blinking. 

Zhongli has just seen his soulmate. He has seen you. 

That has to be it. There’s no other explanation that this entire situation could be. In the very depth of his soul he knows- that was you. 

“Y/n,” he breathes so quietly, so desperately. He wonders if the air he’s breathing is steamed from how he can’t get his body to cool down. Tilting his head back, he views the bright sky and grimaces. Why was it not night yet? He needs to go to sleep. He needs you to go to sleep. He needs you to dream. 

Zhongli needs to see you. 

“Xiao.” And he appears. 

Ever since the middle of your day when you were bringing in wares from past celebrations into the third keep of the castle, you’ve had this feeling of being watched. You’re not sure why- it seems that people always have their eye on you for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t a secret that you had a mark on your back that acts as a hidden stamp of invisible permission for others to ogle you like something inhuman. But this feels... different. 

The feeling lasts for a while before fading when evening begins setting in. You make it back to your quarters and shut the door, locking the door and moving to sit on your cot. Glancing out the windowed doors that lead out onto your small balcony, you wonder what the dragon emperor is like. 

He arrived today, you think to yourself. 

You’ve never met a dragon obviously. Even if they were frequent guests of the castle- which they have never been- there’d be no reason for you to meet one. It’s a stroke of luck that you were familiar and even close to Kokomi given her status. “I am no more important than you, and I am not any more powerful than you,” she had told you one day. Kokomi knows your secret, who you were supposed to be, and yet it’s like that does not matter to her. 

There is a light chill in the air coming from the small gap between the doors of your balcony and the room. You get to your feet and pull the drapes over the one side that has the draft and place your desk stool in front of the floor length fabric to keep it from moving about. It was hardly a fix, but there’s no way anyone would be willing to properly fill it. 

As you push your stool up against the wall the best you could to pen the drape against the window, there's a shadow looming outside. You notice it at first from a glance, probably just a late-night critter out on a stroll, but then you take in the sheer size of it. It’s not a night critter or a bird or even a larger animal. The shadow is a figure of a person. 

With a short scream, you jump away from your windowed outside doors and slap a hand over your mouth. The clouds cover the moon and the stranger's figure is obscured with darkness. 

Are they an assassin? You think briefly. Surely not.

No one but a select few in the whole of the kingdom know who you are- and there’s no way any of them would look at you now and see you as a threat. Was it the princess then? She’s always spoiled and doing whatever she wants. The king hardly tells her no, giving in to her demands and whims like they’re the easiest decisions in the world. The princess also does not like you. If she wanted to have you killed, it would be a simple chain of ask and you shall receive. 

Frozen in fear and astonishment, you keep staring at the stranger outside your window. If they are an assassin, they certainly aren’t very quick at their job. You could have very easily run out screaming and be halfway down the hall by now if you weren’t frozen in place with your hands still folded over your mouth. 

The clouds seem to sense your unease as they soon give way to the moon. The cool light from the waning celestial body shines down on the psychical body outside your doors and stands unmoving on your balcony. They’re smaller than your mind originally thought after being flooded with the idea of danger. They have no weapon- not visible anyway- and stand almost relaxed. 

It’s a man, one you’ve never seen before. He looks different than any person you’ve ever seen. Pointed ears, green tattoos that seem to glow under the moon, a shoulder plate with two horn-like spikes on his left shoulder and dark hair with light highlights. 

“A dragon,” you whisper to yourself. There’s no other explanation for this man’s appearance. He certainly wasn’t human, and the emperor of dragons did bring an entourage. He must be one of the select few who accompanied his king. 

The dragon-stranger finally seems to realize you’re coming to terms with his being there and raises a hand to knock gently on the windowpanes of your door. He knocks twice before lowering his hand back down to his side. 

Okay- so he isn’t here to kill you. Assassin’s don’t knock. 

Slowly approaching the balcony door, you come close to the glass and place your hand on the door handle. Unlatching the lock, you crack the door open and soon the chilled night air slithers in. You don’t open it more than a crack as you peek your head through it. The dragon-man keeps staring at you and you blink silently at him. The silent stare down continues until you finally open your mouth and speak. 

“Um,” you flounder, “do you… need something?” 

The stranger’s shoulder slacken as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulder. He steps closer to the door and you almost step back into the safety of your room at his approach. 

“May I come inside?” 

“What?” His question comes out of nowhere and you answer his question with your own astonishment. Could he- a stranger- come inside? Inside your room? A stranger?! “You can’t,” you tell him. If he’s upset with your choice, he doesn’t show it. 

“You’re y/n, right?” His next question catches you off guard. He knows your name? Your guard is up and you're half a second from slamming the balcony door, closing the drapes and ignoring him entirely. Or maybe you should run. You're curious as to why he knows your name though. He’s a dragon who has only just arrived today, but he knows you? “Your soulmate sent me,” he states. 

“My-” your thoughts halt at his words. Face scrunching up in distrust, you frown. “How do you know about that?” The dragon in front of you seems to see that his words were not the right ones to use. The first amount of emotion you’ve seen on his face, his shaky eyes convey a sense of nervousness. “Please, go away.” 

This must be some form of ridicule. You didn’t want to be distrustful of dragons for many reasons. They’ve never done anything personal to you and your soulmate was a dragon, so being on good terms with them felt like the natural course of action. But now? This dragon stranger showing up on your balcony claiming to be sent by the very same soulmate you’re so fond of? He has to be lying. Li’s never seen you before, he doesn’t know the specifics of you living in the castle. All he really knows is your name- and it wasn’t as if you were the only one with it. 

“I don’t care that you’re a dragon,” you start, “I don’t appreciate someone climbing outside of my room, standing on my balcony without saying or doing anything, and then lying to me. So, please leave.” You finalize before you’re shutting the door in his face and drawing the curtains like you had thought of doing earlier. 

You didn’t lock the balcony doors, so you hope he doesn’t try to come inside. 

Now alone in your room again, the moonlight muted and only casting dim shadows through the drapes, you step backwards until you're in the middle of the floor. You feel horrible. Sick to your stomach. Did the dragons already hear the murmurs and rumors of your sullied name because you were marked with a soulmate? But, according to Li, dragons don’t feel prejudice towards soulmates like humans do. Was that dragon hazing you out of no other reason than just that he could? 

You shake your head. There’s no use worrying about it. You don’t know if he’s still standing on your balcony like some sort of scarecrow, but you don’t go and check. Shambling to your bed, you throw the blanket back and crawl inside. Burying your face into the fabric, you curl into yourself and squeeze your eyes shut. 

Just go to sleep, you tell yourself. If you see Li in your dreams tonight, maybe you can ask him if dragon’s can be malicious about soulmates like humans or if that’s something unnatural.

You're the first one to show up in the dreamscape tonight. Sitting on the ground by the cliffside, there's a small bonfire beside you and you take in the artificial warmth from it. You’re completely zoned out for an amount of time you don’t keep track of. Eventually, beyond the crackling of the fire, you hear the sound of crunching ground under footsteps. Lifting your head, you let a small smile grace your face as the nasty feelings from when you were awake lifts like a spell for even a moment. 

Getting off the ground, the familiar silhouette of Li's shadow is seen marching up to you. It looks like his figure is more rushed than usual. His strides are long, quicker, and his arms pump out to aid in his fast pace. He doesn’t slow down as he approaches either and you let out a small squeak when he comes toe to toe with you. 

“Li-” you croak out as he raises his hands and brings them to cup your cheeks. You can’t see him under the dark shadow of his silhouette, but just the way he stands and the way he’s breathing so deeply, heavily, you wonder if he’s distressed about something. 

His thumbs brush under your eyes and his hands move so the tips of his fingers trace your ears. Cupping the back of your ear down to your earlobe only to trace down your jaw and resettle back with his palm on your cheek. He pushes his hands up to lift your cheeks up, smooshing them and pursing your lips in the process before letting them rest again. You blink up at him with a quirked brow. 

“Li,” you try again, bring your hands up to curl softly around his wrists that hang below your chin. “What’s wrong?” You wonder if he thinks you’re hurt or something? “I’m okay,” you tell him, just in case he was fretting about something. He hasn’t said a thing, only just holding your face his hands occasionally roaming only to return to your cheeks like they belong there. 

“You’re breathtaking,” he breathes in a hushed tone. Your hands on his wrists twitch as your eyes open wide and mouth falls gape. 

“What?” You barely breathe. If the dreamscape had kicked up a breeze, it would have taken your words away with it. You don’t know what to think and you try pulling away from him. Not to run, but to gather your thoughts. What? 

His hands that had found a home on your cheeks panic. One drops to your shoulder, keeping you planted down and the other slides under your ear to cup behind your head to keep you close. 

“Don’t,” he breathes desperately, “don’t go away.” He brings his head down to rest his forehead on your own as he takes in a deep breath through his nose and out. “Please, calm down.” 

“Li,” your voice feels clogged in your throat. “Can you-” 

“I see you,” he finishes for you. He doesn’t enjoy interrupting your sentences, he finds it rude, but he can’t help it right now. He wants to spill his guts. Wants to admit who he is, how he saw you, how he sees you… but he can’t. At least, he can’t tell you all of it. Not yet.

“Let me explain.” He’s met with silence and he swallows, pushing his forehead firmer against your own. “Please,” he pleads. You can’t say no. He lifts his head away and takes a breath. 

Where to start? 

Li knows he can’t tell you everything- he just can’t. If he did, there’d be too big of a risk given the time. He has to wait, so that means he still has to be vague. Being distruthful isn’t what he wants, but you possibly coming to harm is the last thing he wants. 

“The human castle you have told me about where you’re employed,” he starts choosing his words carefully, “I am also here.” He watches your face contort in emotions he’s dreamed only of seeing for years. 

“Did you accompany the emperor?” You ask softly, carefully as if you’re asking a taboo question he will never be able to answer. 

“Yes.” Zhongli feels terrible since it’s technically a lie seeing as he is the emperor. “When I saw you earlier,” it feels surreal saying that, “I was irrational. I asked that another attendant to Lord Morax check on you in my stead.” 

“You asked that?” You question. “Why not come yourself?” You frown and he feels a weight in his chest at the notion that he’s the very reason it’s there in the first place. His thumb traces under your eye. 

“I’m sure you tire of hearing so-” Zhongli sighs so heavily his shoulders slacken- “but, I cannot see you. Not yet. It’s-” 

“-Complicated. I know.” Your tone is not malicious nor is it expectant. Zhongli has come to learn several things about you over these last several years of meeting in the dreamscape. One such thing is that you keep expectations low- nearly at zero. If you expect nothing, then you cannot feel disappointed. So, you try and conform it into understanding instead. “Will I be able to meet you before the emperor leaves?” Your question is so fragile with hope he could weep. 

Sliding his hand up the back of your head, he brings you closer to him. With your forehead resting safely under his jaw, he rests his chin on your crown. Stroking the back of your head with his thumb, he takes in your scent. “I promise,” he vows. That’s all you need. You stand with him for an amount of time you’re unsure of, basking in his warmth and comfort. Before your eyes shoot open and you push yourself half and arm's length away from him. 

Blinking down at you with shock you cannot see, he looks at your widen eyes that peer up towards him. 

“Did you say that you asked another dragon to check on me?” Your voice shakes. With a side-tilted chin, he blinks. 

“I did,” he confirms. 

“Oh no,” you whine before filling him in on the dragon-stranger that lurked outside your balcony before you rudely shooed him away under the pretense of being hazed. Zhongli stifles a laugh and you feel as they tremble his entire body under your hands. Your face grows hot with fluster and finally being able to witness such an expression breaks the dragon. He laughs as you flounder in embarrassment.

Zhongli recalls the moment he spoke Xiao’s name after the desperate racing of his heart calmed for a moment. ‘Find the woman who I describe to you in the castle,’ he instructed before giving a more than detailed description of you. ‘She is my mate.’ Xiao took this information and objective seriously- as he does most things. So, the idea of him being rejected so blatantly is quite the amusing thought. There are few who could speak to him like that and get away with it. 

“He just stood there!” You shriek. “He didn’t say anything until I did- like is that a dragon thing?” You ask the questions seriously, obviously not knowing anything about draconic etiquette. Short answer was no; it isn’t a typical dragon mannerism. However, it is normal to not speak of someone of higher class first. Xiao isn’t always the type to fall in line with tradition, but even he knows that he isn’t supposed to speak to the emperor’s mate (and his possible future empress?) first. Not that he or his lord could explain that to you right now. 

In the morning, when Emperor Morax opens his eyes, he calls for Xiao once again. He’s expressionless, as usual, but Zhongli looks at him with amusement. 

“Please, refrain from any jests, my Lord,” Xiao requests. If Morax were a worse man, he’d laugh straight to his retainer's face. He doesn’t, but a low chuckle does escape him. 

“Continue to keep an eye on her,” Morax instructs. “Preferably in the daytime, when she can see you.” Xiao choses to overlook the tease he previously asked his lord to skip over purely out of respect. “Why not introduce yourself?” His suggestion and continued advice out of simple entertainment is vexing- but not completely unwelcome. 

t.list: @witheringblooddemon @arminsarlerts @kurinneko @kangyeonie @dawns-breath @nintendogeek2018 @mfreedomstuff2 @wraithisd3adinside @uniquecutie-puffs @pranabefall

!!REMINDER!! if you wish to be removed from or added to the tag list- just let me know c: