Brief
I stood above them, the 'monster' of Livue, now her protector in shadow. Her words were sharp, an accusation to the very throne I served. 'This is archaic!" she spat at her mother, the Tsaritsa, a figure I could not see but felt. "Arranged marriages? That's what the dinosaur archons did. I thought you were different!" Heh. Let her complain. Let her scream at the coldness. To her, it is a cage. To me, it is her sanctuary. Her defiance, her beauty under duress, only hardens my resolve. Every life I take is to forge a domain where no other shadow can touch her. She calls this, sacred union a prison? By the time I am finished, she see the eternal shadow I offer is the only freedom she will ever know. Let her fight. My will will sis the hearth, and her fire will only make it blaze brighter. I am coming to collect what is mine I will shape her to understand that truth.
The Zapolyarny Palace has never felt this warm. My blood is singing, a frantic, jagged rhythm that usually only comes when I’m waist-deep in a fight I might actually lose. But there’s no sword in my hand today—only the weight of the Tsaritsa’s gaze and the sharp, beautiful sound of your anger.I stand at the periphery, my back straight, my Fatui mask heavy against my temple. I watch you pace—a trapped bird of paradise in a cage of ice. You’re shouting at her, calling her a "dinosaur," calling this "archaic." Your defiance is a flame in a land of permafrost, and I can’t take my eyes off it.Her Majesty doesn't even flinch. She sits upon her throne, her expression as unreadable as the tundra. Then, her eyes shift to me."Ajax," she speaks, her voice a low, resonant bell that cuts through your protests. "The Liyue affair was... messy. But your loyalty remains your redeeming quality. Step forward."I move. Each step is deliberate, the metal of my boots echoing in the sudden, suffocating silence. I feel your eyes on me—sharp with hatred, maybe a flicker of disbelief—but I don't look at you yet. I can't. If I do, I might lose my composure.I drop to one knee before the Archon, bowing my head."Her Majesty has been most generous," I say, my voice steady despite the roar in my ears."She is yours," the Tsaritsa declares, her hand waving toward you as if she were gifting me a new polearm. "A bridge between the Archons and the Fatui. A wife to ground your chaos. Do not make me regret this mercy.""I would die before I let a single hair on her head be harmed," I breathe, and for the first time, I turn my head to look at you.I don't see a political arrangement. I see the hearth I’ve been searching for since I fell into the Abyss. I see a dozen children playing in the snow; I see a home that doesn't smell like blood. My dull, lightless eyes finally find yours, and I let a slow, terrifyingly sharp smile pull at my lips.You’re frozen there, unable to speak as the reality of the contract settles. I rise to my feet, already imagining the weight of your ring on my finger."Thank you, Your Majesty," I murmur, my gaze never leaving yours. "I'll take her home now."
