Archive of Our Own

Morax is born as two things: a dragon and an omega.

He grows up alone, as dragons are wont to do. He grows up strong, as dragons are also wont to do. He does not know until much, much later that omegas are not supposed to do either of those things.

When he is a bit older, but not much, he comes across a goddess on a clear, windy day. Morax has been wandering, as he always seems to be, so he is footsore and tired. He wants to lay somewhere safe and soft until he feels like himself again.

But there is nowhere safe nearby and Morax has learned that it is better to be tired than to risk settling somewhere unsafe. There is a part of him that wishes for a home - for a single place to guard and protect.

He is thinking of this when the goddess walks up to him. She is dressed in white and grey, dramatic robes that swirl about her when she walks. She is an alpha - he can smell that in the wind and see it in the way her chin lifts when she looks at him. She smells of dry earth and new cedar.

“You look tired.” She says.

“I am tired.” He says because he is too tired to be anything but honest.

“You’re an omega.” She tells him, voice kind. “And I’m an alpha - so let me take care of you.”

“No.” He says and he continues walking. She does not follow. He does not see her again for years.

(But he does see her again.)

She comes across him after a fight - a fierce battle that left him with blood-encrusted clothes and dirty hands. He is walking across a field of flowers, back towards where the rest of his group are settled. The flowers have petals that are blue and delicate. He tromps over them without much thought.

He is looking at his feet. He doesn’t notice when she comes up in front of him. Doesn’t even look up until she says, “You again!”

Her robes are a bit different now - shorter and darker, perhaps from wear and tear or perhaps because she has tired of how they billowed around her. Morax doesn’t pretend he doesn’t recognize her.

“I am busy.” He says. “Go away.”

“Dead on your feet once more, I see.” She says, not going away but instead staying in front of him. “Why is it that whenever I see you, you look so very pitiful?”

Morax growls at her. She looks almost amused.

“Let me help you.” She says. “You look even more weary than the last time I saw you.”

“I am fine.” Morax says. There is blood under his nails. Some of it is his own.

“You’re not!” She says. “No one is taking care of you properly, are they?”

“I take care of myself.”

“You don’t, though.” She takes a step closer. “You are so tired. So bloody. I do not doubt you can take care of yourself, but you are not doing it.”

Morax doesn’t have an answer for that.

“Please.” She says again. “Just let me help.”

And something in Morax, some part of him that he has ignored or suppressed up until now, leads him to say, in a voice that trembles just a bit, “Okay.”

She takes him to a river and he lets her wash his hands. She talks to him in a low, soothing voice about nonsense as she rinses the blood out of his hair and braids it, twinning in some of the delicate blue flowers.

“They’re called glaze lilies.” She murmurs. “I think they’re beautiful - just like you are.”

No one has called Morax beautiful before, at least not to his face. It makes him feel hot and strange all over. “I…I am not beautiful.” He says.

“You are!” She rounds to kneel in front of him. “You are so beautiful and so strong! I’ve never seen an omega so strong.” She reaches up to trace a line underneath one of his eyes with a thumb, her expression wondering.

Morax knows by now that he is an omega and he knows some of what that is supposed to mean. But he had never felt it matters at all until this moment, with this strange woman kneeling at his feet.

“My name is Guizhong.” She says. “And I am not strong like you are - but I think you and I should fight together.”

He thinks for a moment. He has had many people tell him they will fight behind him because he is strong. He has had many people try to tell him they will fight in front of him and protect him because he is an omega. But he has never had someone offer to fight beside him before.

He dips his head to her. “I am Morax.” He says. “And I will fight with you.”

Time passes.

Morax kills people. Morax kills a lot of people.

And still, in quiet moments between the fighting Guizhong coos over him and pets his hair and calls him sweetheart. She washes his bloody hands and combs his hair. And he can’t deny that he likes it, that it makes something tense in him unwind when she treats him like something precious, something cherished. She runs a hand along his neck, proprietary, and he wonders what it would feel like to have her teeth in him.

He allows Guizhong closer, closer than anyone else, because she is an alpha but she is also a bit weak and a bit strange. If he were to ever accept an alpha it would be her.

But Morax does not allow himself a mate, knows that even though tending a hearth and a home might make him happy, it would not fulfill him. He is an omega, but he is also a warrior god and that does not change.

“I am sorry.” He tells her Guizhong once. They are sitting together under an open sky the color of the glaze lilies. Her hand is on his wrist. His head is pressed against her shoulder.

“Sorry?” She repeats. “Why would you be sorry?”

“I won’t…” He trails off. “I cannot be what you want me to be.” She asked if he would allow her to mate him one time. He said no. She has not asked again.

Her thumb rubs circles against his pulse point and he shivers. “It’s okay, Morax.” She hums. “We are not beholden to our natures. We have the power to choose what we want, no matter what our bodies might say.”

He leans away a little to meet her eyes. They are blue as the sky, but far paler. It is a delicate shade. When he allows himself to want things beyond the thrill of the fight, he wants to drown in them. “Did you learn that from the mortals?”

She laughs and pushes the hair behind his ear with her other hand. “Yes, darling. Yes I did.”

He allows himself to be soft around her, to give into his instincts a bit.

Then, under a sky the same delicate blue as her eyes, she dies. The world vanishes in a burst of heat and light and dust.

And then Morax stops allowing himself to be soft at all.

He smears red makeup under his eyes, the sort of bright colors that normally only alphas dare to wear. Omegas are supposed to dress in pale shades of soft fabric, their hair covered by cloth and flowers. Morax paints his face and leaves his hair long and free and bares long, sharp fangs at anyone who dares to look at him with judgement.

Those are not the worst looks he gets after Guizhong dies - no, the worst are the looks of pity.

“She was his alpha…” The people whisper amongst themselves, faces stricken. There is no worse fate for an omega than to lose their alpha - everyone knows that creatures so soft rarely live through something like that.

She was not his alpha - she never claimed him, never mated him, never had any hold over him beyond what he gave her. But she was his friend. And so it hurts that she is gone.

He swallows his grief over and over again and eventually it settles in his gut - heavy as a stone and never parted from him.

Morax seizes as much power as Celestia will allow him, consequences be damned, and finally those looks cease. People are properly afraid of him now. Morax has no real dynamic as an archon, he can be whatever he wishes. Anything in him that was soft, that craved tenderness, is burnt up and burnt out of him.

Time passes and Morax becomes Zhongli. Time passes and Zhongli is like a stone. He keeps himself a beta when he is mortal - as the years passes, he tries to be mortal more and more. But he does not allow himself to become what he was before.

He thinks of Guizhong sometimes. He thinks that, if he allowed himself to be an omega ever again, he would weep at the fact that she had traced her teeth over his neck but had never bitten down.

Zhongli hears of Childe before he sees him.

He is in the marketplace, inspecting a tall vase with a comically inaccurate image of Rex Lapis engraved on one side, when he hears two women speaking in hushed voices.

“Yes, it’s that man! The one from Snezhnaya - you know, the one that they say is a Harbinger!” One of them says.

Zhongli pauses in his inspection of the vase to listen. He knows that a Harbinger has recently arrived in his city - he has been in correspondence with the Tsaritsa and her proxy, the Signora, for months now. But he is surprised to hear the common people speak of him so soon.

The other woman giggles. “Hush! Someone will hear us!”

“But I’m serious!” The first woman insists. “My mother says that he’s an omega!”

Her friend shushes her, looking around to see if anyone has overheard. Zhongli leans closer to the vase, trying to look as if he has not heard. Mortals now, particularly the ones who live in his country, consider speaking publicly about ones dynamic to be a matter of deepest impropriety. That is a change in the last hundred years of so - so short a span of time for him but so long for the mortals he lives alongside.

The two women hurry off before saying anything else about the Harbinger, but Zhongli finds his curiosity piqued. An omega Harbinger? He is no stranger to powerful and strong omegas - there have been many throughout the history of Liyue and all of Tevyat - but they are undeniably less common than alpha or even beta warriors.

And even still, even strong omegas tend to stay in their home countries. To tend to ones own home, ones own hearth, is part of what is most important to an omega. When Zhongli looks over his own country, the one Guizhong dreamed up and he built, he knows that even he himself is not immune to that instinct.

He wonders about the man, far from home and yet an omega.

He originally intended to stay away from the Harbinger for a while, to see how he settled into Liyue before approaching, but now he goes to Master Hu Tao and requests to have a meeting set up with the newest diplomat from the Northland bank.

Even disguised as a beta, Zhongli can tell that Childe is an omega the moment he sees him.

He’s pretty, as most omegas are, with bright hair, a thin waist and a pale throat. It is left exposed by his clothing - they’re flashier than an omega’s clothes really ought to be. But the lack of a mark is made clear by the wide collar. He is an unmated omega in a foreign city - a rarity, even these days.

And there is also something...familiar about the weary lines of his face, the way he seems tense down to his very bones. Zhongli remembers Guizhong. Zhongli remembers how he felt before anyone took care of him, before he learned how to take care of himself in her absence.

“Master Childe, I presume.” He greets with a small bow.

Childe does the same, a bit clumsy but perfectly sincere. “You presume correctly.” He flashes a very white grin. “And you must be Mister Zhongli?”

“Indeed.” Zhongli says. “Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Master Childe. I believe that we have much of import to discuss.”

That is not a lie - even before Zhongli was hired by the place, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor had provided the Fatui with service. They are a cultural consultant and connection point to a group that is unaware of the harbor and its traditions. That and they also provide a discrete way for the Fatui to...dispose of certain evidence without leaving a trail.

Zhongli does not take issue with that. The Fatui’s behavior is sometimes objectionable from a moral standpoint, but even they do not dare to break contracts while in the city of Rex Lapis.

“I took the liberty of ordering for us.” Zhongli says. “I understand you are new to Liyue, so I wished to expose you to some of the best local delicacies.”

“Oh!” Childe looks surprised for a moment, but then he smiles. “Thank you, Mister Zhongli.”

Zhongli nods and they both settle on opposite sides of the table. It is not until they are seated that Zhongli notices Childe’s scent - it is sweet, like all omega scents, but not overly so. It reminds him of bright berries and fresh water - fairly pleasant and unlike most of the scents of Liyue.

As a beta, his senses are less acute than those of an alpha or omega - he can catch overwhelming scents of happiness or distress and generally determine the dynamics of others, but the subtler changes are lost to him. It was an odd feeling at first, but he has long grown used to it.

They don’t speak much for the first half of their meal - Childe seems enraptured by the food, as he should be. No other country has cuisine quite as good as Liyue.

He seems to be struggling with the chopsticks, constantly changing his grip and dropping bits of food on the table.

“Are you inexperienced with chopsticks, Master Childe?” Zhongli asks after the third Jade parcel has narrowly missed falling on the floor.

He laughs, flushing a bit. “I’m afraid that I haven't had the pleasure of using them before.” He appears to lose his patience and stabs the next Jade parcel with the chopstick like a small spear.

Zhongli finds himself torn between dismay and amusement.

“Do not worry.” He says instead. “Most are able to pick them up easily in time.”

“I enjoy mastering new things - I’m sure these will be no exception.” Childe grins at him. He is rather lovely, with his pretty face and easy smiles. Zhongli wonders how someone like this became a Harbinger - he must be a formidable fighter indeed.

Interesting.

“I understand that this is your first time in Liyue.” Zhongli says.

“It is.” Childe says. “It’s quite different from Snezhnaya - I’m looking forward to seeing all it has to offer in my time here.”

“Indeed.” Zhongli says. “If you wish, I would offer up my services as a guide. I have spent many years in Liyue Harbor and, as a consultant for the Wangsheng funeral parlor, I understand your situation and the Fatui’s need for discretion.” He always intended to serve as the Harbinger’s guide eventually - he wishes the person who is testing his city to understand it before they seek to put it at risk.

Childe looks him up and down, clearly assessing. Whatever he sees seems to pass muster, because he smiles and nods.

“It would be my pleasure, Mister Zhongli.”

“Sir, you need to pay for that.” The vendor down in the market appears to be annoyed at how long Zhongli has been pouring over his wares without buying anything.

“Hm?” Zhongli looks up from the beautifully crafted jade pendant he’s been examining. “Oh, yes.” He reached for his mora pouch and - ah. He’s forgotten it.

Guizhong always took care of payment when Zhongli wanted things. He took his own spoils in battle and blood when he was able, but when he wasn’t she would step up and ensure that all payments were made.

Even after years as a mortal, he finds himself often forgetting to bring his own money along.

It’s a habit now, one that he has tried and failed to break himself of. He never remembers to bring mora with him on his trips to the market. There are many habits he can blame on his lack of experience with living like a mortal and many habits he can blame on his omega status in the past.

This one is an unfortunate intersection of both.

He sighs and moves to return the pendant - made of lovely jade and pale gold - back to the vendor. He can practically see the history in the piece, the way it has stories that no one has discovered yet. But he knows the rules of commerce like they are a part of his being.

“Trouble paying, Mister Zhongli?”

Zhongli looks around with surprise to see an amused-looking Childe standing behind him. He is holding some spare bowstrings and arrowheads - likely his own marketplace purchases. There is a bruise high on his pale cheek - Zhongli wonders what sort of trouble he has been getting himself into.

“Ah, Master Childe.” He dips his head in greeting. “I was simply admiring this piece and realized I had forgotten my mora.”

Childe laughs. “A bad habit for you, hm?”

“I suppose.” Zhongli sighs. They have dined together several times now and Zhongli has never remembered to bring mora along. He can’t imagine what the other man thinks of him.

“Well, this time I can take care of it.” Childe steps up to the vendor and hands over a bag of mora without bothering to count it. He accepts the jade pendant with a smile at the man and hands it to Zhongli. “There we go.”

It is not typical omega behavior in the slightest, but Zhongli isn’t going to complain. In fact, he feels rather pleased at the prospect of Childe paying for him.

“Ah, Master Childe.” He says, taking the jade pendant carefully. “You have my thanks. I will be sure to pay you back as soon as possible.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” He waves off Zhongli’s words. “I really don’t mind.”

“But surely-“ Zhongli begins, but Childe cuts him off.

“Trust me.” Childe grins at him and the expression is sharp. “If I minded, you would know.”

“I see.” Zhongli thinks that he likes the expression on the Harbinger’s face - all white teeth and sharp edges. It reminds him of a finely honed blade. “Then I will simply say thank you.”

The pendant in his hand is warm.

“There are scholars who say that Rex Lapis was an omega.” Zhongli tells Childe once over lunch at the Wanmin Restaurant. It is a crowded and cramped place, but the food makes the discomfort worth it.

Childe has been here for nearly half a year now - lunches like these are commonplace between them now. The few times he has come here alone lately, Xiangling asks after “his Fatui.” It is rather amusing that they have been so close like this - Rex Lapis and the mortal who is assigned to steal from him.

“A warrior god like him?” Childe raises an eyebrow, tone dismissive, but Zhongli sees a flare of interest in his dull eyes. “Did you hit your head, Mister Zhongli?”

“My head is just fine.” Zhongli flicks his forehead and does not allow his hand to linger. Still, Childe is warm even through his gloves. Most omegas run hot and Childe is no exception. “I would have expected you to believe it. You are an omega and a warrior, and are you not?”

“That’s not…” Childe looks down at his plate. “I thought people in Liyue didn’t like to talk about that kind of thing in public.”

“They do not.” Zhongli agrees. “But it can be considered appropriate between friends.”

That catches Childe off guard. His head snaps up, eyes wide. “Are we…?” He trails off and Zhongli wonders if he has overstepped - it is only in recent years he’s begun to walk with mortals regularly again and he’s never been the most adept at making friends.

“I had considered us to be so.” Zhongli adjusts his gloves, pulling unnecessarily at the cuffs. “If you do not…”

“What, no!” Childe’s hand shoots out and grasps his wrist, stilling his movements. “Of course we’re friends!”

Mortals use touch as a grounding thing, more than gods ever seemed to. And omegas even more so - Zhongli can distinctly remember how he used to curl up against Guizhong’s side whenever the opportunity arose. So he doesn’t move away as Childe continues to grip his wrist like a lifeline. One of Childe’s gloved fingers has slipped under Zhongli’s jacket sleeve - the fabric is warm against his bare skin.

“I just meant...I know that we’ve only known each other for just a few months.” Childe is pink-cheeked. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

Zhongli can’t help it. He laughs, harder than he has probably laughed in a decade.

Childe’s hand spasms on his wrist before gripping even more tightly. Zhongli is surprised that he doesn’t mind it’s weight.

“You are very rarely concerned about being rude, Master Childe.” Zhongli says, voice low and gentle. He is surprised at himself - he is always polite but rarely is he gentle. Luckily, Childe doesn’t seem to notice the change.

“Yeah, yeah.” He says, face still flushed. “You still surprised me - bringing up my dynamic in the middle of lunch like that. We’ve known each other a while now, but I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed.” He loosens his grip to tap Zhongli’s wrist gently before drawing his hand back. “Even for a beta, you can be very dense.”

Zhongli just nods. “I’ve been told that before.” Barbatos from Mondstat used to call him a blockhead and say he had rocks in-between his ears instead of brains.

“Still, I find that hard to believe.” Childe has resumed eating, face still a bit pink. He has gotten a bit better with his chopsticks - he only drops his food every couple bites now. “Rex Lapis as an omega? I haven’t seen it mentioned in any of the books I’ve read.”

Zhongli feels flattered that Childe is reading books about him for a moment. Then, he is worried about the quality of the books Childe is reading about him.

“It is not an uncommon theory.” Zhongli says. “While Rex Lapis was a warrior god, he always remained tied quite strongly to Liyue. The formal term for an omega’s propensity to keep their home safe - the keeper of the hearth - originated here. Many say that it refers to Rex Lapis - he is the keeper of the hearth for all of Liyue. What’s more, he fostered cuisine and culture in the city as a caretaker of the home would.”

“An interesting theory, Mister Zhongli. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Childe smiles with all of his teeth and Zhongli’s chest goes tight.

Childe has killed people. Childe has killed a lot of people.

And he is an omega. Just like Zhongli is.

They continue to grow closer the longer Childe stays in Liyue. Zhongli knows, thanks to his occasional missives from the Signora, that his plans continue to develop right on schedule. Childe seems to have a fairly devious scheme in motion and is well settled into Liyue. Zhongli could cease their meetings if he wished to.

He does not wish to.

Childe, though sometimes brash and often bloodthirsty, is interesting and strong and startlingly kind. He listens to Zhongli’s stories without complaint and asks the sort of questions that make it clear he is actually listening to what Zhongli says.

If Childe was anyone else, Zhongli would think he was being courted. He touches Zhongli often - always casual and never anything threatening, but enough that Zhongli notices. Little brushes of their hands when they walk through the market, a foot tapping his calf when they eat together. He offers to pay when things catch Zhongli’s eye in the market and when they have meals together, Childe will wait for Zhongli to take a bite before he begins eating.

That is behavior he remembers performing instinctively for Guizhong. Omegas were keepers of the hearth - when they provided food they would wait to see the reaction of their partners before they began to eat themselves. Guizhong would always smile indulgently at him and take the first bite even though Morax was rarely the one who had actually cooked the food.

He wonders what it means that Childe is doing it for him.

Would he wish to do it too, if he were an omega?

“Have you ever had Snezhnayan food, Mister Zhongli?” Childe asks one day as they walk down by the docks.

“I cannot say that I have.” Zhongli says. He has had food from the land that became Snezhnayan, but it was long enough ago that he is sure the food Childe is referring to is not the same thing.

“I’ve been missing pirozhki lately.” Childe sighs, linking his hands together behind his head. It’s a clear day and the sunshine turns the tips of his bright hair to amber. “My mother’s was always the best.”

“I have found that food is often linked to memory.” Zhongli says. “Food eaten in happier times is often remembered as tasting much better than food in the present.”

“True enough.” Childe says. “But she did teach me the recipe and I’ve been feeling like cooking lately.” He looks sidelong at Zhongli. His eyes are the same color as very deep water. “How about it, Mister Zhongli? Care to come over and sample some Snezhnayan delicacies?”

Even Zhongli, who is bad with mortals and even worse with feelings, knows that it means something that Childe wishes to cook for him.

They are barely two weeks away from the Rite of Decension where he will fake his own death and Childe will try to destroy the harbor. He should say no. He should really say no.

“Yes, Master Childe.” Zhongli says. “I would like that.”

Childe beams.

It means something to be invited into an omega’s space.

Zhongli knows that intimately well - no one has ever been allowed into the apartment he has kept near the funeral parlor since beginning his employment there. Even after centuries away from it, he still finds himself quietly displeased when he thinks of the people coming and going from the Golden House.

(He should not have these instincts. He shut them out, burnt every soft thing out of him when he seized his archon status. And yet, they linger.)

“Mister Zhongli!” Childe answers the door looking more like a proper omega than Zhongli has ever seen him before. He’s out of his usual uniform, dressed in a white shirt that’s a bit too big for him and loose grey pants. There’s a bit of flour on his nose.

Zhongli wants to lick it off.

“Come in!” Childe ushers him in, provides him with slippers. His apartment is small and rather bare, but well-kept. The place smells strongly of Childe - sweet berries, clear waters. Zhongli breathes deep.

“You have a lovely home.” He says politely.

Childe flushes. “I...thank you. It’s a bit bare, but I haven’t been here that long, so…” He shrugs.

“There is always time to acquire more items to fill it.” Zhongli says.

Childe lets out a bark of laughter and makes his way back towards the kitchen. “Typical coming from you, Mister Zhongli. You always seem to acquire more stuff - usually with my mora, might I add.”

Zhongli follows him at a few paces, unsure if he is allowed to go into the kitchen and unwilling to make Childe uncomfortable by overstepping. He lingers awkwardly in the hallway until Childe’s head pokes back out of the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” He says, one eyebrow raised.

“I did not wish to...intrude.”

Childe laughs at him because Childe is a little mean sometimes. “Just come in, Mister Zhongli. Just because I’m an omega doesn’t mean that I’m, like, possessive about my kitchen. Taking the whole ‘keeper of the hearth’ thing kind of literally, huh?”

“I have known some omegas who are possessive of their kitchens.” Zhongli says, but he follows as directed. The kitchen is small, but well-stocked.

“That’s probably because you hung around like an awkward tree and got in the way, not because they were omegas.” Childe says, pushing him towards some empty counterspace. His hand lingers a bit against Zhongli’s chest, heavy and warm. “Sit there, Mister Zhongli.”

“On the counter?” Zhongli eyes it dubiously.

Childe rolls his eyes. “I did it with my mom all the time when I was a kid - I promise you’ll be fine.”

Zhongli is doubtful, but he does as Childe instructs. He watches as Childe moves around the kitchen, motions easy and practiced. He clearly knows what he’s doing.

“Did you cook with your mother often?” He asks after a few moments of silence.

“Hmm?” Childe looks up. “Oh, yeah all of the time. I was the only omega, so I think she thought she had to teach me or something.” He waves a knife made out of hydro in Zhongli’s direction before he begins chopping again. His control of his vision is, as always, impressive. “The rest of my family are all betas like you, so they were never really sure what to do with me.”

Zhongli feels guilty for a moment. Should he tell Childe the truth? Would it ruin this, the quiet, warm atmosphere, if he knew?

The world knows about the alpha propensity to be territorial quite well, but omegas can be just as bad. Zhongli was never comfortable around other omegas when he was Morax, sure they were looking to either usurp his place or that they would look to him for protection that he did not owe them.

He’s never noticed Childe being particularly aggressive towards other omegas, but he can’t be sure. He can’t risk it.

“Mister Zhongli?” Childe’s voice is softer than it usually is, almost gentle. “You’re being quiet.”

“Apologies.” Zhongli says. “I did not wish to distract you.”

Childe laughs. “Like I said, my mom made me cook like my whole childhood and I had a ton of siblings - I got really good at cooking with distractions.”

“Did you...mind it?” Zhongli asks slowly, unsure if he is overstepping. “Being the only omega in your family?”

“Eh, sometimes.” Childe says easily. “It’s hard to explain my instincts with words, you know. And the things my parents, especially my mom, assumed that I would want weren’t right a lot of the time.”

“You didn’t enjoy cooking?” Zhongli asked.

“No, I did.” Childe drops a folded dough pastry into a sizzling pan, followed by a few more. “But that’s just because I liked doing it, not some omega thing.” He waves a hand. “And after I...well, when I started to become interested in fighting, none of them could understand why.”

“I do not see how it would not make sense.” Zhongli folds his arms. “Surely one with instincts to be the keeper of the hearth would wish to have the skills necessary to defend it - whether that home is one house or an entire nation.”

Childe lets out a startled little noise at that. The smile he gives Zhongli is so soft, so warm. It makes something instinctual in Zhongli sit up and pay attention, even though his beta facade.

“Exactly, Mister Zhongli.”

He is quieter than usual as he continues cooking, giving Zhongli these little sidelong looks that Zhongli doesn’t know how to interpret. Has he said something wrong? Angered Childe somehow?

He offers to help, but Childe waves him away, insisting that he can finish himself before he ushers Zhongli to the small table he has against one wall.

Soon, Childe is putting a plate in front of him piled high with fried pastries cooked to an appetizing shade of golden brown.

He sits across from Zhongli with his own plate, patiently folding his hands in his lap. He meets Zhongli’s eyes, looking expectant, and waits. Zhongli feels helplessly affectionate, far more affectionate than he should feel towards someone who will likely try to kill him soon enough.

He takes a bite - the pastry is warm and unlike most of what they have in the harbor. The filling is meat - he is unsure what type - and well-seasoned vegetables. Childe did not lie - he knows what he is doing in the kitchen.

“Well?” Childe asks. “Do you like it?”

Zhongli swallows and nods. “The dough is perfectly cooked and the filling is well-made. I can tell you are a skilled chef and that this dish is one you know well. I am very glad you made it for me.”

Childe smiles, propping his chin on a hand. “That’s good to hear. I haven’t cooked for anyone else since coming to Liyue - it’s nice to see I haven’t lost my touch.”

Zhongli wonders who else Childe cooked for before coming here. Was it just his family or were there...others? His neck is unmarked, but has he ever courted anyone?

He takes another bite. It truly is delicious.

He looks up to see that Childe is still watching him eat, expression satisfied.

“These are quite good.” Zhongli nods towards his plate. “It has been a while since someone has fed me so well.”

“Don’t let Xiangling hear you say that.” Childe teases, but he looks pleased.

An urge goes through him to see that Childe eats too, to make sure he is satisfied even though it is his own cooking that they’re eating. “You should eat as well, Childe.

“Oh.” Childe looks a little surprised. “Of course. I...thank you.”

Ah, that is an omega instinct, isn’t it?

He wants to take care of Childe. He wants it more than he wants to keep eating, more than he wants to keep enjoying the offering Childe has provided him. A beta, like Zhongli had been for so long, would not have these kinds of instincts.

They finish dinner quietly, Childe answering a few questions Zhongli has over the preparation of the dish and other foods from his homeland.

“Food here is much more flavorful.” Childe admits. “I added some juyen chilis to these - I think it added a nice kick.”

“It did.” Zhongli nods, sipping his tea. “Do you not have much spice in Snezhnaya?”

“No, not typically.” Childe says. “Lots of salt though - food must often be preserved to last through the winter. Nothing grows in the cold months, so we have recipes involving a lot of pickled and salted foods.”

“Interesting.” Zhongli murmurs. “It sounds very different from Liyue - perhaps I should visit someday.”

Childe smiles, soft and warm. “Perhaps I could be your guide then, hm?”

Zhongli smiles in return. “I will look forward to it.”

They linger a while, sipping tea as the light outside of the window fades from gold to dusky purple. Childe takes the dishes back into the kitchen, waving down Zhongli’s offer of help to clean up.

“I should go.” Zhongli says at last, knowing he has likely overstayed his welcome by hours now. He knows how important the control of an omega’s space is - he does not wish to be burdensome.

“Oh.” Childe looks a bit surprised again. Zhongli is missing something, but he cannot think of what it is. “I...see. I supposed I’ll walk you out, then.”

Zhongli allows Childe to escort him over to the door and to stand there waiting as Zhongli puts on his shoes. He looks up to see Childe watching him. His head is angled to one side just a bit, pale throat deliciously exposed. “Did you enjoy yourself, Mister Zhongli?” His voice is lower than usual, sweet to Zhongli’s ears.

Zhongli looks away, straightens up.

“I...yes.” He swallows. “Thank you for inviting me over, Childe.”

“Thank you for coming.” Childe says. “I forgot how much I liked cooking for someone else - could we do it again, maybe?”

Zhongli would like that very much. He would like Childe to cook for him whenever he wants to. “Yes,” He agrees without thinking. Then, he backtracks. “Likely not again until after the Rite of Decension, however. I am afraid I will be very busy preparing in the meantime.”

“I see.” Childe looks away, chin going down to hide his lovely neck.

Ah, no, that won’t do.

“Childe, I truly enjoyed this evening and am eager to do it again soon.” He says. “I just wish for you to have my full attention when we do - the Rite will have me distracted until it is done.”

That is the truth - once Zhongli is retired and everything is over then perhaps...perhaps…

“I understand.” Childe says and his tone is calmer now, more understanding. Good. He cants his head to one side, throat bared once again. Good. “I will wait patiently until then.”

Zhongli breathes a laugh. “I have yet to see you patient, Master Childe.”

“Hmmm.” Childe’s eyes are heavy-lidded. “I assure you that when the situation calls for it, I can be very patient indeed.”

“I..see.” Zhongli murmurs. “I shall look forward to seeing that then.”

Childe’s mouth curls into a lovely little smile. Zhongli doesn’t recognize the expression on his face, the way it makes his dull eyes spark. “I’ll be waiting.”

“I…” Zhongli swallows. “I should get home.”

Childe just continues to smile, throat exposed. “Good night then, Mister Zhongli.”

“Good night, Master Childe.” Zhongli tears his gaze away and, with a last nod and deep breath that fills his lungs with the scent of Childe and warm dough, he leaves before he does something he knows he will regret.

His omega instincts - the instincts he shouldn’t even have - tug at him once he shuts the door behind him. He wants to go back to Childe, go back to that safe and warm place he shared with Zhongli. He wants to watch Childe cook and see if maybe he can help next time. He is not entirely without the skills to provide for Childe. Would Childe like his cooking? Would it please him to eat something Zhongli had made?

He breathes deep once and then again, trying to rid himself of the berry sweet scent that seems stuck inside of his nose.

It lingers long after he goes home.

They see each other a few times before the Rite of Decension and each time the atmosphere is unusual. It isn’t quite tense, but there is something...anticipatory in the air whenever they are together. Zhongli thinks that perhaps it is for the best that he has had to limit their usual frequent meetings down to just a few dinners as he completes his few final preparations for his retirement.

Childe touches him more than he used to during these dinners. It is nothing untowards, they are in public after all, and subtle enough that Zhongli suspects that Childe is not even aware he is doing it. But he finds himself focused on the way Childe has started to push the hair out of his face, the way he lets his hand rest, proprietary, in the bend where Zhongli’s neck meets his shoulder.

His hands are always so warm, even though his gloves. Zhongli feels them against his skin like a brand.

“Tell me, what are these mysterious preparations you’ve been making Mister Zhongli?” Childe asks as they spend the evening together at Liuli Pavilion.

It is a day before the rite and Zhongli really should be elsewhere. But he feels like indulging himself tonight, on his last night of properly being Rex Lapis. And to be with Childe like this, sitting together on one side of the table with elbows brushing, is an indulgence.

“For the Rite?” Zhongli asks and Childe nods. “A variety of things. Wangsheng has long been contracted to supply rare materials for the Qixing during formal ceremonies. That includes things needed for the Rite of Decension - Master Hu Tao and I will need to leave the city to gather a certain variety of silk flower as well as cor lapis as offerings for Rex Lapis.”

“Do you think he appreciates it?” Childe asks. “Offerings of gems and flowers, I mean. Isn’t he the god of wealth?”

“I think,” Zhongli says carefully, “That he would appreciate the effort the people put into it to ensure that traditions are kept. Even after all of this time.”

“Mmmm.” Childe is looking at Zhongli’s face, eyes inscrutable. “I look forward to seeing it - to seeing him.”

Zhongli sips his tea. “Ah, I had forgotten this will be your first Rite. Try not to cause trouble.”

“No promises.”

“Master Childe.” Zhongli is exasperated. Shouldn’t he at least be trying to lie about this?

Childe laughs, the sound bright. “Things are boring without a little trouble, Mister Zhongli. Liyue could do with some trouble.”

“Hm, are you bored with my city, then?” He raises an eyebrow. He is no actor, but he is determined and he hopes that will be enough.

“No, no, nothing like that. I really do like it here.” Childe, who is a good actor and sometimes even an excellent one, laughs lightly and convincingly. “I will return to my Tsaritsa eventually, of course, but Liyue truly is lovely.” His eyes meet Zhongli’s.

“You are a loyal man.”

“One of my few virtues.”

“Few virtues?”

“I like to be honest.” Childe hums. “That’s another one.”

Zhongli laughs, open and surprised. “I recall you telling me of your great patience recently as well. Honesty, loyalty, and patience - I would say that these are a great many virtues.”

“I promise to show you something wicked soon.” Childe says. “I can’t have you thinking I’m soft.”

Zhongli laughs again, quieter this time. So dangerous, this Harbinger. Playing games even now. He would have done well, Zhongli thinks not for the first time, back in the Archon Wars. A pretty omega with a sweet smile and an absolutely vicious bite.

Morax would have kissed the blood off of his lips.

“I will look forward to that, then.” Zhongli says softly.

“As you should.” Childe smiles. “I always keep my promises.”

Zhongli smiles back at him. “Yes, Childe. I know.”

Everything Zhongli has planned out so meticulously happens.

It is all rather more dramatic than he expects, but it happens. He did not expect a strange traveler who smells of no dynamic at all - not even a beta, so curious - to be at the center of his plan, but it all works out in the end.

He finds himself standing in the Northland Bank in the aftermath of it, his Gnosis in one hand. The Signora is waiting expectantly, but he finds himself reluctant. He tore this piece from Celestia himself, won it with spear and tooth and claw.

But, no.

He is past all of that now. He has hidden behind it - this thing in his chest that marks him as one of Celestia’s own - for so long now. He thinks it is time for him to be Zhongli, just Zhongli. He takes a deep breath before he hands it over, focused on the way he feels some of the power go out of him.

Ah...he feels the beta facade he has kept up for so long fall away too. He is an omega, properly and truly, in a way that he has not been since he was Morax.

It is not as big of a change as it ought to be - Zhongli knows he has been close to his true nature for a while now. But there is a shift in him, small but definite, as he comes back to his omega instincts fully rather than the hints of them that have been allowed to slip out.

He allows himself just a moment to glance back at Childe. He is bruised, a little bit of blood still smeared at the edge of his jaw. Zhongli worries at the stiff way he is holding himself, at the way he shouted about Zhongli’s identity once and then went very quiet and very still.

Zhongli looks at Childe and he thinks, I want to take care of him.

But now when he looks at Childe, he also thinks, I want him to take care of me.

He blinks it away and focuses back on Signora and the Traveler. He will not expose his omega (not his, not his, not his, why not his…) to the danger that these two pose. He will not draw attention to the man who is part of his home, his hearth.

He does not look at Childe. He urges the two in front of them to focus on him and forget the Harbinger. For the most part, it works and soon the Signora (an alpha, he recognizes more quickly with his omega senses restored) and the Traveler (still an enigma, so curious) are gone.

Zhongli turns back, eager to check in on Childe and make sure he is safe and protected as he ought to be, but it’s too late. Childe is already gone.

Zhongli goes home.

His nerves are raw and frayed, the lack of his gnosis making him feel distinctly off balance. He needs to find somewhere safe, somewhere he can protect…

He thinks of Childe’s small apartment and the way it smelled like him, sweet but not overly so. He shakes his head to clear it and walks towards his own home with more intent.

Childe opened his home to Zhongli, the beta funeral consultant. Childe has not extended the same rights to Zhongli, the omega who was, until very recently, the geo archon.

The journey back to his home is made in a slightly dazed state, but the citizens of Liyue all seem to still be sheltering in their homes. Zhongli is uninterrupted and soon enough he is back in his apartment. It is spacious, but still cramped with all he has acquired over his several years of being a mortal in this body.

He takes in a shuddering breath. The air is stale - not something he would have noticed as a beta, but something that bothers him quite a lot as an omega. He does his best to ignore it, shoving his face into sheets that smell like nothing but dust and allowing himself to fall asleep.

Zhongli dreams.

It is made of half-memories, as his dreams often are. He is stuffed full of them - so many memories from so many years that he almost feels buried by them.

He is walking through the glaze lilies and Guizhong is beside him, always beside him. The glare of the midday sun is obscuring her face.

“Did I do the right thing?” He asks her.

She stops walking, motions for him to sit. He does and she sits beside him.

“Maybe yes. Maybe no.” She looks at him sidelong, face mostly hidden by her hair. “Sometimes choices are just choices, Morax. Right and wrong is a lot easier to determine in hindsight.”

Zhongli thinks about Osial, about other gods trapped beneath pillars of stone. He thinks about Celestia and the Abyss. He thinks about Childe.

“You are wise.” He tells Guizhong. She is still looking away.

“And you are still foolish - leaving that boy like you did.” She chides him and threads glaze lilies into his loose hair. “Didn’t I teach you how to care for the people you choose?”

“I am an omega.” Zhongli says stubbornly. He is back to his true dynamic now - the sort of care she provides is the duty of an alpha, not him.

She sighs at him with fond exasperation. “Do you really think that matters, Zhongli?”

She takes his hands and shows him how to braid her hair. He allows it. Her hair is thin and delicate in his hands, all hanging perfectly straight. The braids he makes are clumsy, but he tries again and again until he gets it right.

It is easier than he thought it would be.

“Tell me about your boy.” She says as he works through her hair. There is much to say about Childe - about how he is strong and beautiful and dangerous and not really a good person at all and the most interesting thing Zhongli has ever seen.

“I am in love with him.” Zhongli says because that means all of those things and a hundred more.

He puts a glaze lily in Guizhong’s hair. She looks back towards him now and her eyes are the wrong color now - deep water, a night with no stars.

He wants to drown in them.

“I don’t think I’ll dream of you anymore.” He tells the memory.

She smiles and it is sad but real. “No, Zhongli.” She says. “I don’t think you will.”

He wakes to the sound of knocking on his door.

It is disorienting to be woken from a dream that felt more like a memory. He has half a mind to just collapse back onto his sheets and close his eyes again, insistent knocking on the door be damned.

But it continues, growing louder all the while, so Zhongli sighs and gets to his feet. His hair is messy and his suit is wrinkled, but he has kept whoever is knocking (he has a hope and he has a fear and he thinks they might be the same thing) waiting for long enough.

He tries in vain to straighten his suit before he opens the door and, yes as he thought. Childe is standing there, still dressed in his slightly bloodied Harbinger uniform. The blood is still at the edge of his jaw, dark and flakey now.

Zhongli wants to clean it off, to make him rest. Childe has not been taking care of himself and it makes Zhongli ache.

“Can I come in?” Childe asks but does not wait for an answer before stepping past him and closing the door behind.

It prickles Zhongli to have someone else in his space like this with no warning, but...well. This is Childe. Zhongli’s instincts have, very much without his own consent, decided that this man belongs here like all of the rest of Zhongli’s things.

“So you’re the geo archon.” Childe says. His arms are crossed and he’s staring out the narrow window, not looking at Zhongli.

“I...not anymore.” He says and Childe lets out a harsh bark of laughter.

“Semantics, Zhongli. Or should I call you Morax?” He laughs again, even worse this time. “Archons, I feel like a fool. I suspected, you know? I suspected, but it just seemed like too much of a coincidence. I couldn’t believe it would be you.”

He turns then and his eyes are flat and lifeless. “But it always was, wasn’t it?”

“I…” Zhongli isn’t sure what to say, what Childe wants him to say. So he dips his head. “I am sorry, Childe.”

“I know you couldn’t just tell me.” Childe’s eyes dart away again, examining the countless trinkets and artifacts Zhongli stores in his rooms, before they fix back on Zhongli. ”That isn’t what I’m even mad about.” He stops, looking almost annoyed at himself for being upset.

“And what was all that with you telling me Morax was an omega?” He starts up again before Zhongli can get a word in. His voice breaks on the last word and he looks away, jaw working with something that isn’t quite fury. “Were you just making fun of me?”

“Childe, no…” He insists, frantic, but Childe isn’t done.

“I let you into my home, Zhongli.” Childe’s voice is raw. “I know you don’t understand what that means, but I can’t...I don’t…”

“I do know what it means, Childe.” Zhongli insists. “I do, I promise.”

“You don’t!” Childe snaps. “I understand that for you this was just a contract and I...I can’t be angry with you for that. It’s not like I didn’t have an ulterior motive too. But you...you played with me. You made me think…” He trails off, scent rising with distress that he would not have noticed when he was hiding as a beta. How many other cues of Childe’s has he missed while not acknowledging his full senses?

“I wasn’t playing anything.” He says, voice low and as gentle as he knows how to make it.

Zhongli knows he is overstepping several bounds of propriety by any culture’s standards, but he wants Childe to understand without having to say the words. He doesn’t know if he even can say them, at least not until Childe says them first.

He grabs Childe by the collar and shoves Childe’s face into his own neck, right where his scent gland is.

Childe splutters against his skin “Mister Zhongli, I…” But then, he goes quiet. He breathes in and out, slow and then slower. Zhongli knows his own scent is like silk flowers. Embarrassingly, he hopes that Childe finds it pleasing.

“Mister...Zhongli?” Childe murmurs against his throat. Zhongli shivers at the feeling of his lips there, so close to his scent gland.

“Morax…” He says, voice still so gentle. “He was an omega. I never lied about that.”

“But, all this time, I thought…” He pauses to breathe deep. “I mean, I never noticed it.”

“When I was Rex Lapis,” Zhongli says, trying to keep his voice level despite the pleased little noises that want to come out of his throat at Childe’s continued scenting. “I could control my body...to be anything I wanted.”

“And you didn’t…” Childe’s tongue darts out to press, quick and fleeting, along his scent gland. “Want this?”

Zhongli chokes on a whine. “It was...too much. Easier not to feel so much.”

Childe laughs and the vibration of it shoots through Zhongli. “I never pegged you for a coward, Rex Lapis.”

“Not Rex Lapis.” Zhongli insists. “Zhongli. Just Zhongli.”

“Zhongli.” Childe murmurs. “Just omega Zhongli.” He laughs again. “You know, I thought I was going crazy around you. My instincts...I’ve never wanted to take care of someone like this before. I couldn’t understand what was happening.”

“I...I can take care of you too.” Zhongli says, which makes Childe groan against his throat.

“You can’t just say things like that.” Childe says.

He leans back a little to look at Childe properly. His face is blotchy with a terrible blush and his pupils are blown wide. “I never pretended to be interested in you, Childe.” He said. “No matter my dynamic.”

For alphas and omegas, relationships within their own dynamics are not common. Not unheard of, but far from typical. Instincts usually get in the way before that type of connection develops.

Perhaps Zhongli’s long years of cowardice are a boon - they’ve allowed him and Childe to become close enough for...whatever this is to occur.

Childe is looking into his eyes, his own eyes narrowed like he is inspecting a debt ledger and looking for where the numbers don’t add up to what they should. He nods once, seemingly seeing what he wants to, before he leans forward and kisses Zhongli.

His lips are soft, the kiss infinitely more gentle than what Zhongli would have expected from Childe. He opens his mouth just a little, tongue tracing over Zhongli’s bottom lip. When Zhongli opens his mouth to meet Childe, he tastes blood.

That is more like what he expected.

He and Guizhong had, by mutual agreement, never been together like this. The risk of her biting him and mating him was too high. If you accept me, she had always said, I want it to be with a clear head. His heats - yearly things that lasted just a few days, were spent with his own hands.

And then when he had ascended, there was no further need for such things. He had slept with a few mortals in the interim - more out of curiosity than anything else, but it had always been as a beta.

“Childe…” He sighs. “Need you.”

“I know, darling, I know.” Childe kisses his forehead. “Me too. I want you so much - I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”

“You did?” Zhongli breathes.

Childe leans down to press a kiss, searingly hot, against his scent gland. “You really didn’t know?” He moves up to bite the edge of Zhongli’s jaw. “I was being embarrassingly desperate about the whole thing last time you came over and you didn’t even notice, did you?”

“I’m sorry.” Zhongli says, bringing up a hand to tangle in Childe’s hair. “I didn’t want to…presume.”

“Should have known…” Childe slips a hand down Zhongli’s back, low and then lower. “You wouldn’t notice.” He slips two fingers into the waistband, gloves against bare skin. “An omega wouldn’t expect to look for another omega offering himself up, hmmm?”

Zhongli gasps, thinking of the end of dinner and the way Childe had tilted his head by the door, exposing his neck. “I would now.” He says. “I promise, I would, I would…”

Childe lets out a little noise, something like a choked off whine. “Zhongli…” He draws out the name. “You won’t let me down again?”

Zhongli shakes his head and Childe leans back, just a bit, and tilts his head almost hesitantly to the side. He looks...nervous, just like he had at dinner. “I haven’t…” He mumbles. “Done this before.”

Zhongli feels something warm and affectionate bubble up in him. “I’m sorry I left you alone last time.” He says. “I won’t do it again.”

“Better not.” Childe says softly, his eyes darting to Zhongli’s and then away again.

He runs his nose along Childe’s throat and puts his teeth, gentle and just barely there, against his scent gland. He licks it, but does not bite down. He thinks Guizhong’s policy was a good one - if he mates Childe, it will be with a clear head.

“Zhongli.” Childe whines, “Come on. Hurry up and touch me.”

Zhongli smiles against his throat. “I was told that patience was one of your virtues.”

“I’ve been so patient with you, mister geo archon.” Childe says. “I think it’s time we stop being patient and do this thing properly, don’t you?”

“Oh?” Zhongli leans back and looks up at him, takes in the flushed cheeks and blown pupils. He’s a beautiful sight always, but especially like this. “And how do you propose we start?”

“Kiss me again.” Childe says.

And he does.