Chapter Text
The sky is so small. Just a blue dome above the land and sea, stretching from horizon to horizon. Aether looks up apprehensively, blinking and squinting in the light of the small, round ball of white fire that is this world’s sun. The single sun and moon seem to rise and set more quickly here, than in other worlds he’s been to. Celestia has no moon or sun, at all, needing no external light source to sustain the heavenly order, of which natural death has no part, and in which decay is unheard of.
Celestial bodies are like human bodies in shape and general makeup, and they may be destroyed as human bodies may, but they do not age naturally past the prime of adulthood, and they do not suffer illness, nor fail due to wear and the passage of time. Celestial childhood is much longer than it is in humans, as well, and though he has lived more years than the eldest of Teyvat's greybeards, Prince Aether is not yet in the prime of adulthood. He has come of age, however, and his father’s contract with the Dragon King specified his coming of age as the time he would be delivered to his betrothed.
He can feel the eyes of all the gathered dignitaries from this land on him, inspecting him, assessing him, silently demanding to know what gives this skinny, blonde, outlander child the right to be wed to their god, when they have so many beautiful and graceful daughters and sons to offer him. Aether is habituated to public scrutiny, but he seems to feel it more keenly, here. How will he be received by his betrothed’s people? Will they reject and despise him, and make his life a misery to him? For the hundredth time since they arrived on this world two days ago, he feels sick and wants to go home.
The assembly are gathered on a colossal, circular, stone platform, hanging high up in the sky above Liyue Harbor. Upon this disc of gravity-defying stone stands the Jade Palace. This massive and spectacular floating fortress is the home of his betrothed, who he has never set eyes upon. He knows that Rex Lapis is the god of this nation and the high king of this world. And that he is a dragon. But will he appear as a dragon, or in his human form? What does his human form even look like? One of his father’s agents, who are standing behind him, taps his arm and tells him in an undertone to stop fidgeting and at least attempt to appear princely and dignified.
Just then, a gust of wind blows his shaggy, wheat-blonde hair into his face, and whips and tugs the wing-shaped ivory cloak about his neck. He gives a start and looks up, as the brilliant midday sun suddenly goes dim. Directly above the Jade Palace, far up in the stratosphere, a massive vortex is opening, like a portal to the Abyss. Aether’s breath catches in his throat as he sees the creature emerge, flying without wings, as if it is swimming downward in the air.
All the nobles and dignitaries from Liyue bow their heads in reverence, and Aether's Celestial retinue do the same, but he cannot make himself do it. Try as he might, he cannot tear his eyes away from the dragon, as it snakes down through the sky, with strangely captivating gracefulness. It has an amber-colored mane like a qilin, but otherwise it looks more like the paintings and drawings of dragons he’s seen. Its huge, pitch-black body is long and serpentine and lithe, and its head bears what look from this distance to be golden horns.
Aether is fearless in combat and full of spirit and native pride, but his hands tremble and his stomach turns. He has known his entire life that he would one day be sent to be wed to this creature. He was promised to it as an infant, days after his birth. But now, finally seeing it in person like this, his heart quails, and he has to call upon all of his princely bearing to stop himself running away. He knows his father’s agents have permission to forcibly detain him, should such a mad endeavor actually occur to him, but his honor would restrain him before they ever laid a hand on him. Reminding himself who he is, the Celestial Prince draws himself up and stands his ground, tall (for him) and proud, prepared to be sacrificed to the dragon.
After what seems like hours, the ancient beast alights gently in the broad, open area that has been kept clear of people, and which Aether now understands is a sort of landing pad for the deity. He blinks against the hair blowing in his eyes, and all at once the thing has vanished in a shower of fiery, amber-gold sparks. In its place, there stands a man. He is very tall, as men go, but not nearly so gigantic as the the dragon. He is dressed in a long, white, religious-looking garment like a monk’s cassock, with a loose hood, which is pulled up over his head. It is close-fitted across the chest and midsection, displaying a well made, broad shouldered torso, with a very flat stomach and trim waist, about which hangs a belt of gold. His feet are bare and his black trousers are worn in the style of this land, loose and billowy about the leg, but fitted tightly at the ankle.
As he approaches, Aether realizes that he is not wearing long sleeves. These are his arms. As black as the dragon’s hide at the shoulder, graduating into glowing, amber-gold at the hands, with long lines of gold forming geometric patterns along their length. He has not seen his face yet, as it is obscured by the hood, and he does not get the chance. His father’s agent swats the back of his arm, and he hastily bows his head low, as he should already have done, in the presence of a monarch and deity of this world. For an excruciatingly long moment, nothing happens. He hears only the wind and the roar of the sea. Then the Dragon King’s bare feet stop before him. His lack of shoes strikes Aether as an immensely odd thing, which he realizes is a ridiculous thought, considering this man was a dragon two minutes ago.
“Prince Aether,” a smooth, sonorous, male voice says, using Liyue’s tongue, in which Aether is fluent. “We meet at last.”
“My Lord High King, Rex Lapis,” Aether murmurs in reply, as he has been instructed, keeping his eyes on the ground.
There is a long pause. “Will you take my hand?”
Aether glances up to see that one of the golden hands is extended to him. His ears burn with embarrassment, and he reaches out clumsily to take the proffered hand. It is iron-hard and he immediately feels its tremendous strength, but it closes gently around his, as if he is a fragile and valuable relic. He spends all his energy now in forcing himself not to tremble, as his betrothed leads him toward the archway leading into the inner courtyard, where the marriage will be sworn and witnessed.
The assembled people follow, and stand around the perimeter of what looks like a sort of altar surrounded by a moat full of water lilies. There is no authority present to conduct the ceremony, since there is no higher authority than the God of Contracts, for which Aether had been prepared. Some formal words must now be spoken for the sake of tradition and the benefit of the witnesses. Aether says his memorized lines at the appropriate times, but he is hardly aware of any of it. His hands are shaking so hard, he can barely write his name on the thick, gold-toned parchment. The name of Rex Lapis appears in fiery letters beside his. Then it is over. He is married. And he has not even looked his husband full in the face yet.
The sudden effusion of joyous congratulation from the people about them startles and disorients him. Rex Lapis takes his hand again, and as they walk the gauntlet of applauding nobles and wealthy merchants into the palace, his low, calm voice speaks in his ear, explaining what they are doing, where they are going next, and very briefly who all these people are. Through the bewildering chaos, his husband’s steady hand does not falter from his, even for a second, and Aether finds himself holding onto it like a rock in a stormy sea. Then guards open a pair of double doors and slide them shut behind them. He is alone with the Dragon King.
“We will be left to ourselves now, until sundown,” Rex Lapis explains, in his even, unhurried manner. “This is the tradition of my people. When the sun sets, we will descend into the city to appear at the feast and celebration. I will give my blessing and benediction to the people there. You will not be expected to speak, but they will wish to look at you, so we must remain long enough to satisfy their curiosity. But I expect that you are accustomed to this manner of public appearance, being the crown prince.”
“Yes, my lord king,” Aether murmurs to the glossy marble floor, still too afraid to look at him.
“Come with me. I wish to show you something.”
He follows the king to the end of the spacious chamber, where there is a gigantic open window, overlooking the harbor and the city. Out across a broad expanse of jade-green sea, there is an archipelago of islands, formed from tall, oddly fang-like formations of basalt columns. The sea breeze is balmy and refreshing, and the tidy, brightly-colored little city glitters and shines like a pile of gems below them.
“This is my city,” Rex Lapis says. “The beating heart of gold at the epicenter of my realm. I raised its walls and laid its foundations with my own hands, and for millennia, I have protected and nurtured it the same way. I hope that in time, you will come to love it as I do.”
“It’s beautiful,” Aether says under his breath, leaning over the sill to look out the window, in an unconsciously childlike manner.
He glances up and finds Rex Lapis looking at him. Aether stares back up at him for a beat. His heart pounds in his chest and his stomach suddenly flips and flutters. His husband has cast his hood back, and his hair is jet-black, fading into an amber color at the shaggy, tapered ends. His face is youthful and his pale skin is smooth, and his features are fine and symmetrical. His eyes are long and almond shaped, and almost feminine in their beauty, but there is a primal wildness to them, as if he is some kind of powerful natural predator. Which should have been obvious, because he’s a dragon. Aether catches himself and quickly casts his eyes back down at the city, his cheeks flushing crimson.
“You must be hungry and fatigued,” Rex Lapis says, stepping away from the window. “I will call for refreshment, and leave you to rest.”
As anxious as he is in the king’s presence, Aether’s heart sinks at the idea of being left alone in this strange place, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. He turns from the window and faces his husband.
“I am not fatigued, my lord king,” he says, as boldly as he dares.
The Dragon King turns back to look at him. Aether’s mouth goes dry and his pulse pounds in his ears again. This man is absolutely the most beautiful and terrifying creature he has ever faced. He didn’t know Teyvat even produced any creatures as graceful and noble as this. His impressions of its population came only from illustrations in encyclopedias and field studies. Those people were short, squat, and meagerly clothed, living in straw and mud huts and toiling in fields. Of course, Rex Lapis is not human, he is a god. But is he a man who looks like a dragon sometimes? Or is he a dragon wearing a man’s form now? Or something else entirely?
“Perhaps we will take our tea together,” the king replies slowly, with a thoughtful expression. “That will give me an opportunity to briefly answer any questions you may have, regarding your duties or the laws and customs of this land. You will be instructed at greater length, of course. I will not neglect your education in that respect. But that will be for another day.”
So saying, the king opens the door and speaks to someone outside, then the two seat themselves at the tea table, which means they sit on cushions on the floor. Aether was aware of this custom of Liyue, but hasn’t sat this way since he was a small child. His father would have been furious to find him in such an undignified posture. He is intensely curious about his beautiful, ancient, dragon husband, and disappointed when he immediately launches into a dry recounting of the important political factions and financial interests in Liyue. Before he has wound it up, the tea service arrives.
In preparation for his future marriage, Aether was rigorously trained in many things, not the least of which was this domestic ritual that is so important to the people of Liyue. He was drilled constantly, in fact, till he could do it with his eyes closed. Eager to put this skill to its intended use at long last, he rocks up on his knees and takes charge of the tea things, without being asked.
Rex Lapis observes, while with skilled and steady hands, the boy performs the intricate dance, without a single flaw or beat of hesitation. He sets a perfectly prepared cup of tea before his new husband, who takes it and closes his eyes, breathing in the wafting steam and savoring the gentle, floral aromas. Aether watches breathlessly as he lifts it to his lips and sips it. He almost imagines he sees a smile slightly lift the corner of his mouth.
“It is a very fine first effort,” Rex Lapis says tranquilly, lowering his cup. “You will do better next time.”
Had the man struck him physically, it would have been a less devastating blow. Aether is crushed. His first unsteady steps into domesticity, and he has already had a painful tumble. The eager light leaves his hazel-gold eyes and it is all he can do to dip his head politely and not burst into tears as he sips his—ugh, he really could have done better, why is this tea so mediocre? He is frowning distastefully into his cup, when his husband provides the answer to the riddle.
“Teyvat’s native flora differ in their chemical composition from those of Celestia. Even herbs that look and taste nearly the same must be prepared differently, to achieve the desired effect. This blend of Osmanthus and tisane leaves requires two more minutes to steep than would a similar blend of herbs in your home world. It is my fault for overlooking this detail. I have paid the price for my inattention, which is to drink weak tea.”
Aether doesn’t know him yet, and can’t tell if that last remark was meant as a joke or a real object lesson. Maybe both? He watches his husband as he sips his tea, but the man’s expression betrays nothing that is passing in his mind. Aether gets the sudden impression that this face is a stone mask, stern and serene, and impenetrable unless he wishes it to be.
“I promised you an opportunity to ask questions,” he says, after a moment. “What would you like to know?”
Of course, Aether has a thousand questions, but everything he is really curious about, he is afraid will either offend his husband, or strike him as stupid and trivial. Thus, he can’t bring himself to ask about anything but the most mundane things, and the time passes tediously. After an hour, he is beginning to visibly droop. Rex Lapis insists that he try to rest, and this time, Aether assents readily, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn.
When his husband has gone, he strips and lies down, but as exhausted as he is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep much in this strange new place, on this dense, thick mat that lies on a very low wood platform a couple of inches from the floor instead of on a tall, canopied frame. He has just closed his eyes, when there is a tap at the door, and he opens them again. To his confusion, he discovers the light has changed and the shadows have grown long across the floor. He sits bolt-upright with a jolt. The sun is already low on the horizon, and he hadn’t even been aware he’d fallen asleep.
The tap at the door is repeated, then it slides open to admit one of his father’s agents, who tells him rather curtly to get his clothes on and be ready to receive the king in ten minutes. She departs, and Aether hurries to bathroom, splashes water on his face and rakes his fingers through his hair, before hastily dressing himself. He has just pulled his boots on, when there is another knock. A household attendant opens the door and announces the king, and Aether bows his head and waits to be addressed.
“You are ready. Excellent,” Rex Lapis says, by way of greeting. “Before we go down to the banquet, I have a gift for you.”
Aether looks up timidly as his husband asks for his left hand, which he takes in his own, and slides a ring onto the third finger. It fits him as if it was made for him, but it is cold and heavy, unfamiliar on his finger. It is made of gold, which Aether is not in the habit of wearing, and the stone is an amber cabochon. By some manner of jeweler's trick, a thin, gold filament has been set inside the stone itself, bent into the shape of a trefoil, which is the symbol he has seen on this land’s currency. The ring is rather ugly, to Aether’s mind, but he is better trained in the social arts than to betray a modicum of distaste for his lord’s gift. He masks any hint of that reaction with real embarrassment.
“But, my lord king…I have no gift to give you,” he falters. “I was not aware of this custom.”
“It is no custom of my people to exchange gifts at this time,” Rex Lapis answers, unconcernedy. “It is merely an indulgence of my own fancy. I would like to see you wearing this ring. That is all.”
“If it pleases my lord the king, it will never leave my hand,” Aether says sincerely, looking boldly up at him. For the briefest moment, he thinks he detects something like pain in those inhuman amber eyes, with their illuminated, diamond-shaped pupils. But whatever it was, it passes away instantly without a trace.
The crowd of important people from the ceremony have gone, and the palace seems cavernous and empty now, despite attendants and guards being posted at nearly every corner. Aether’s father’s agents have gone ahead with the rest, and thus he and his husband step alone onto the plaustrite platform, to descend into the city. Rex Lapis puts a steadying hand on Aether’s shoulder, as the disk of glowing rock plummets smoothly from the sky. Their destination is a wide courtyard in the uppermost tier of the city, which adjoins the tall building in which the Qixing conduct their operation of the city’s civil government.
The city streets are packed with people, all the way up the walkways to the edge of the courtyard. The banquet area itself is roped off and the millelith keep order, seeing that the throng don’t pass the barriers. The crowd cheers and chants, as their god descends with his newly acquired spouse, and the two walk hand in hand to the seats of honor, in the center of the main banquet table. They stop behind their seats, and Aether looks up at his husband and smiles adoringly, as he is expected to do. The cheers grow louder and more insistent.
“May I kiss you?” Rex Lapis asks, smiling down at him for the benefit of the spectators. “I apologize for the forwardness, but they will not be satisfied otherwise.”
“As my lord wishes,” Aether answers breathlessly.
His heart runs ragged as the king cups his chin in his glowing, golden hand and leans down. His eyes flutter closed. His husband’s lips are pressed gently to his for a beat, two beats, and then drawn away. The people lose their collective minds with roaring applause, as the royal couple take their seats, signaling the commencement of the marriage feast.
Feast seems an inadequate word for it. The tables practically groan under the weight of food and drink, as what Aether can only imagine constitutes every delicacy in Liyue is spread out before them and the fifty or so strangers who are their invited guests. His stomach is in knots, but he makes enough of a show of eating to offer appropriate compliment to the chefs and cooks, whose labor has provided the food he does not taste as he swallows it.
Despite his personal discomfort, the prince is accustomed to such appearances, and knows his part well. He speaks only when spoken to, keeps his eyes mostly on his husband, and looks pleased and cheerful, though his head is a hot and muddled whirl, and what he most wants to do is cry in his own bed at home. But that bed lies in a palace far away, in a different world. This is his home, now. His world. His bed is here, in the Jade Palace.
This thought brings rushing to his mind the fact that this is also his wedding night, which subject fully occupies his attention after that. All his life, Aether’s companions have been strictly managed and his activities carefully monitored, to ensure the preservation of his virtue for his future husband, though Rex Lapis made no such request or stipulation in the contract. He has been instructed thoroughly in the theory and mechanics of sex, but he is a virgin, as innocent of a man’s touch as the newborn lamb. His husband’s lips were the very first to kiss his.
He is drawn from these meditations, as at long last, the king rises to give his blessing and benediction to the people. It is mercifully brief, and then he leads his newly wedded spouse away, amid the uproariously voiced adulation of his subjects and devotees. As they ascend again together, Aether’s heart pounds with mingled terror and exhilaration. The wedding night is the consummation of the contract, when his husband will take his body and make him his own. He has been warned that it will be painful. That he will bleed. And that he must accept these things and give himself willingly to his husband, in despite of that.
His instructors, priestesses of the temple of Eros, had never tutored a male child before, but his father commanded that the prince be given the same education that royal girl children receive from them, since he was to be wed to a man. The program had to be modified, of course, but the sisters undertook the king’s commission with zeal and determination, and dedicated themselves to making this awkward male child into a proficient practitioner of the sacred sexual arts.
On the first day, he was presented with a mahogany box, containing a set of beautifully crafted and polished quartz cocks, in sizes increasing from small to frightening. Despite the teenaged prince’s undisguised mirth at the absurdity of the things, he was eventually made to use them all, in the presence of his strict and humorless female tutors, who would correct and criticize his technique, and offer advice and further instruction, while he sucked or fucked himself on a fake cock.
In order to ensure that the practitioner’s sexual responses seem natural and spontaneous, the sacred training involves as much mental conditioning as physical, with the goal of fine-tuning the body’s automatic responses with a view to giving maximum pleasure to a partner, while requiring minimum conscious concentration on the part of the practitioner. Thus, though he is technically as pure as the driven snow, Aether has been conditioned to sex in the same manner as any ordained priestess of the order of Eros. He knows this, and yet he trembles with fear at the thought of his husband’s touch. But…is it fear? It almost feels like something else.
“I will call for you tomorrow and we will speak more of your duties as prince consort,” Rex Lapis says, as they arrive at Aether’s quarters, and a servant opens the door.
“Tomorrow, my lord?” Aether asks, suddenly uncertain what is happening.
“Yes. Some time after the hour of noon,” the king replies tranquilly, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Good night, Prince Aether. May you rest well and be blessed with pleasant dreams.”
“Good—goodnight, my lord king.”
With that, Rex Lapis departs, leaving his young husband standing stricken in the hall, staring after him, until the servant attending the door clears his throat. Stunned and humiliated by this cool rejection, Aether walks dazedly into his vast and lonely suite of apartments and stands staring at the floor. The door slides shut behind him, echoing in his mind like the heavy door of a crypt. He has been as long as he can remember in preparation for this marriage. Every day has been spent being educated and trained to belong to this man. This is their wedding night—the culmination of his hopes and fears; the labor of his life up till now—and he is to spend it alone. His husband does not want him.
This is the final straw laid on the young man’s battered and exhausted heart. He curls up on his futon without bothering to undress, and abandons himself to the deep, visceral sobs, that burst upon him like breakers on the shore, shaking and racking his small body. He has never felt so lost and alone. He misses his home and his tutors and instructors, and even his father’s lackeys and attendants. Most of all, his heart cries out for his beloved twin sister, who was his only friend and confidante, before she was abducted and slain by the Lord of the Abyss. It is her face in his mind and her name on his lips, until his bitter weeping finally wears him out, and he sinks into the merciful blackness of sleep.