hold strong, my heart,

for our love will not be shaken so easily.

――――

The first time they meet is in an era of war.

The young god has many rules to learn, even after so many centuries. She flits about, from one end of the country to the other, never settled. Never rested.

How can she rest with that burning desire for greatness nestled in her heart?

Natlan is a fiery place, one of heat that only the strongest may prevail to find the hidden paradises littered throughout. She judges each warrior, each artist, each human that seeks entry to this world, her world. It is hers, it is safe from the war that sparks ever present in her mind's eye, and she will protect it with the eternal flame that slips past her grin.

And so it is with a pounding heart and battle scarred hands that she greets the new (old, old, this figure has an air of eternity, he has watched many before her fall and will watch many after, and still stand unwavering) challenger.

He glances down at her form. (A young woman is plenty fine. They are hardy creatures, after all. She feels no need to present in such a grandiose way as the Hydro Archon does, though Fontaine appreciates age and wisdom over youthful power. She doesn't see the appeal.)

"I am here on business. Please, allow me passage so that I might speak with an old friend." His voice is smooth and filled with life, an oak tree that has stood against wind and storm alike. It does not match his young-old-in-the-middle face, in much the same way that it does.

She stands her ground. God or not, this stranger will not step foot on her land. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Not without the Murata's explicit permission." And she has not given this man (stone and dust, forever and eternity, this is time made immortal) permission. He turns his golden gaze past her, and something wilts inside of her as he looks away. "Unless, of course, you wish to try your hand at battle."

Something sparkles deep within his eyes. "Oh? Battle? I assure you, I would not take this lightly if I were to accept." He's merely amusing her, she can tell, they always do this, they just don't trust her, even after she built this nation with her own burning hands-

"I accept your terms, assuming that a victory shall grant me access?"

She grins, and it is a sharp, fierce thing that reflects in her claymore. "Then let's fight."

―

It is not a battle, so much as a suggestion that a fight may have taken place.

"Take pride in yourself," he says with a flick of his white coattails. "You fought well."

She spits into the earth beneath her, a muddy mixture of blood and dirt. A tooth has been lost, but a new one grows as the god speaks. "Your victory has been acknowledged. Speak, and the Murata shall hear." She can't help the flush that spreads along her cheeks at the look he gives her, because, well ...

... She's never lost before.

He raises an eyebrow at this, his clawed hands flexing as golden veins pulse against his blackened fingertips. "I have come with a proposal for them, as I have heard news of the recent development of this nation. I would seek counsel with the God of the Flame." He is restless, she knows, he holds himself in such a manner that she is familiar with. Brash, impulsive, moving from one battle to the next.

God of the Flame.

Ridiculous. What claim does that old fool (teacher, friend, falling ember) have to her accomplishments? With all of the power and dignity she can muster, she raises her chin and says, "The God of the Flame is no more. I am the creator of this nation, its ruler for now and eternity. As I said: speak, and I shall hear."

The god before her stands tall, looming over her in such a way that she can almost imagine branching horns and dragon's fangs curling within the shadow he casts. "I see." He smiles, and it is a dangerous thing that promises fractured stars and spilled ink. "Then I propose an alliance, sealing in the bonds of the contract. After all ..."

" ... It would be fortuitous to find favor in the God of War."

―

The contract is long and winding. The God of Contracts guides her through the process, yet it is still an arduous task that leaves her with cramped fingers and an aching spine.

For the first time in a thousand years, the God of War cries.

―

The second time they meet is in an era of peace.

Celestia is not as grand as she would have imagined, but the marble pillars and starshine lanterns are beautiful all the same. There are flowers spilling from the rafters and faint music notes floating around, violins and harps vibrating the air itself.

Her seat is much like the six others that line the large room. It is cold to the touch and just a bit uncomfortable, but that melts away when another god appears next to her.

"Is this seat taken?" they ask with a smirk. Before she can dignify that with a response, they all but throw themself into the Divine Seat of Celestia, legs hooking over the arm and head flinging back with a dramatic flair. "If I had known that all that fighting was over this little chair, I would have stopped trying ages ago."

She narrows her eyes at them. From the icy color of their fur-line cloak, to the blue hues creeping over their fingers like frostbite, this figure screams winter and storms of frost. "You are the Cryo Archon, are you not?"

"Ah, observant." They flash her a grin, but their green eyes remain cold and hard. "My people call me the Tsar. Tsaritsa. Can't seem to make up their minds."

"And what do you call yourself?"

They hum. "Before all of this?" They sigh, their ice-covered antlers tilting with their head. "My name was Miles." Something about their tone is bitter, regretful, as if they would rather be a mere mortal again than one of the most powerful creatures in existence.

Somehow, she understands, even while she doesn't. "I am the Murata of Natlan. But you may call me Chayse."

"Pyro, yes?"

She glances down at the red and orange hues of her armor and tunic. "Observant, are we?" They bark out a laugh that sounds like icicles breaking. Her lips twitch, and soon her own crackling flames are added.

Their laughter ceases when the Geo Archon settles into the seat across from them. From here, it looks less like an equal part of the circle and more like a throne.

"Morax," the Tsar- Miles clips out. "Or are you calling yourself 'Rex Lapis'? You do have so many names, it's difficult to keep track." There's hostility there, a line that runs deep and promises a story that she is not privy to hear. Not yet, anyway.

"Hast-"

"Don't call me that," Miles interrupts. "It's boring and frankly unpleasant sounding. Like mud after it rains."

Morax nods. "Tsar. How is Snezhnaya? I hear that your tundra produced more snow this year than last?"

They grin, though it is more of a sneer. "And more gemstones. Tell me, is that Chasm of yours going to survive the next century?"

She listens to them bicker, lets the words fade into the background. Her nerves still tingle with the memories of battler, her boots tap-tap-tap against the polished floors.

This is Celestia. This is everything she has poured her very soul into obtaining.

Somehow, this seems to fall flat.

Trivial. She will have an eternity to grow used to it.

―

Liyue is a land of beauty and wild elegance. Chayse can never quite catch her breath when she visits. She doesn't understand how the other Archons can brush it off so easily every time they gather.

The meeting is short, simple. This year's harvest has been bountiful, for every nation, and prospects are high for everyone.

Chayse excuses herself and finds her way to a secluded grove filled with flowers and blooming trees. Butterflies flutter across her fingertips, and the shallow pool of water in front of her glistens with amber sunlight.

"Is the company too much for you?" She turns, and finds Morax leaning against a tree. He's traded his battle-ready robes for something more formal, his dark hair pulled into a loose plait over his shoulder. He looks ... comfortable, in a way she's never seen. "The Cryo Archon seemed to miss you when I left. You seem to have made an impression on them."

She raises an eyebrow as he settles next to her. "Oh? Did you miss me too?" Chayse smiles at the glisten in his amber-gold eyes. "Yeah, the company is ... intense. I would prefer not to stand in a room with the seven greatest superpowers shoved together."

Morax hums, looking around. "Did you know, Murata, I built this grove for a colleague of mine?" When she shakes her head, he continues. "He was trapped in a rather dreadful situation, taken advantage of by a ruthless god. I happened to free him during the war. He needed somewhere quiet, somewhere he could think by his lonesome." A crystalfly floats down from the branches overhead and hovers in front of his outstretched hand.

"I think you did a good job. It really is peaceful here." She stretches, and stands. "You don't have to be so formal with me, you know. I like to think we're friends now. Call me Chayse." She holds out a hand.

He accepts the offer. "Ah, well, in the spirit of fairness, do not think that you must call me Morax."

Chayse smirks. "Rex Lapis?"

"Zhongli," he says, with a smile that reaches his eyes in a way that none of them have before.

(She likes this smile, much better than the other ones. Part of her vows then and there to keep it on his face forever.)

―

The world of Teyvat changes when she isn't looking.

Words are changing, little slips of the tongue in exchange for what used to be considered proper. Miles snickers behind a frostbit hand after she laments the prayers she hears through the campfires of the night.

"Maybe learn to talk like them, then?" they cackle. Their cloak is gone, replaced by thin clothing to combat the Natlan heat.

Friendship is something Chayse never expected upon claiming her Celestial seat, but the Cryo Archon is determined to continue their tradition of visiting each other annually.

Technology boggles her mind as well. She and Miles spend ample time watching the humans build things and tear them apart, only to start again and produce something better.

"Humans are obsessed with creation," Miles says one day, after a long bout of observation. "They want to be like us, of course."

Chayse doesn't quite understand that. Why would they want to be like her? Why would they want to give up love and fulfillment, for centuries that flicker like candle light?

Her body has not changed, still young and fit and healthy after thousands of years.

Her soul is almost weary.

―

"Would you like to see Liyue Harbor?" Zhongli asks. He looks different, more lifelike. Dressed like the humans she sometimes sees milling about.

She brushes a hand over the ram's horns that curl through her red-streaked hair. They fade in a crackle of embers as her armor melts into silken robes.

"Of course," Chayse answers, hooking her arm through his. "Show me the world you made."

―

She blinks, and finds that her people have begun to leave the boundaries of Natlan.

She lets them go without a fuss. Who is she to inhibit their natural desires for change, for something different? There will be those that stay, and those that leave.

Regardless, all who come from Natlan will be met again with open arms. No matter how long it takes to return.

―

Barbatos has too much to drink, this reunion, and launches into a ballad that only slightly resembles music.

Chayse finds Zhongli this time, the grove untouched by time. He's wearing the white cloak, the one he wore when they first met, over his formal attire. It pulls her back to memories of dust and scorched earth.

A branch snaps off to her left. She catches a glimpse of flowing sleeves and a carved mask before the shrouded figure disappears into the foliage.

"Ah, that was the colleague I told you about," Zhongli says, still kneeling over the pond. "He doesn't do well with newcomers."

Chayse hears laughter, filled with starlight and constellations, coming from the direction where the "colleague" ran off. "Looks like he has a friend to keep him company."

Zhongli smiles, and it's that soft one that only seems to appear in her presence. "Yes. The God of Night has taken to him quite well." She kneels next to him, and they sit in comfortable silence.

"Would you like to see Natlan?" Chayse hears herself ask, as the blood rushes to her brain and flames consume her heart.

His laughter is like wind traveling through a canyon. "Of course, Chayse. I would be honored."

―

"Chayse" begins to fade away.

"Dear" takes its place.

―

"You two are sickening. Seriously, being in the same room as you is torture. Torture, I say," Miles whines, throwing their arms over her shoulders and nearly pulling the clips from her brown hair.

She crosses her arms, cheeks puffing out. "You only say that 'cause you're, as the humans say, single."

They give her a look of betrayal and hurt, like a kitten that's just had its plate of milk stolen away. "I can't believe you just said that to me. In my own home."

"We're on a mountain, Miles."

"My own home!"

―

There is no proposal, no grand venue or gesture of undying love.

Instead there is a grove of flowers and trees, and a pond that reflects her own wide-eyed gaze as he asks her to stay by his side.

There is no wedding. No gowns of gold and lace, no feasts of plenty, no songs of worship in their names.

Instead there are hushed whispers throughout Liyue Harbor. They speak of a woman who walks with their beloved Archon, who carries herself so confidently that no one ever questions her. They speak of earthen eyes that hold so much fire, a sharp smile that softens for the right people. They speak of beauty and heart that meld so perfectly with strength and ambition.

The Murata is not well known in Liyue Harbor. Its people tend not to care for the gods of other nations. But the name Chayse strikes more than a few bells, and brings wistful smiles to the city's inhabitants.

One might find her in the Jueyun Karst, drinking tea with the adepti. Or perhaps, in the snowy peaks of Snezhnaya, where the frosty exterior of the Cryo Archon melts only for their old friend.

Most likely, one will find her in a forgotten grove, spirited away from the hustle and bustle of life. Relaxed, her flames flickering warmly, hand in hand with a being of chipped stone and stardust.

――――

there we go! pyro archon chayse x zhongli, my favorite canon couple <3

if you noticed certain phrases getting used multiple times, no you didn't

happy birthday chayse, i really hope you like it <33333 i know in your fic he says they met "during a dreadful business meeting" but my brain went "they fight and make a deal!" so here we are, and of course i had to have archon miles bc they're the second coolest

okay gn i love you all hope you're having a good summer!!!!!!