Chapter Text
Zhongli knew something was wrong before he even made it back to the glade.
The normally-untouched dirt path he often traversed to and from his home was now trampled with what looked like a horde of booted feet. Sensing the worst, he sped up the hill to the clearing to find his fears well founded.
His cottage lay in ruins—windows smashed, door ajar, and his garden in shambles.
But worst of all: no life.
He ran to the doorway in a panic.
“Ajax? Ajax!” He called out, but to no answer.
The interior of his home was in disarray—the inventory he spent so much time restoring was now destroyed once again—and his furniture was either smashed or displaced on the floor. The cellar door lay open, and he peered down to see drops of blood wetting the floorboards below.
He knelt down to touch it. It was not recently spilled, but it was not very old either.
He exited the cottage to view the village in the distance.
That must be where they took him, thought the mage.
He didn’t have much time.
Ajax awoke with a splitting headache. He groaned, lifting his head groggily and noticing a distinct inability in moving his arms and legs. After a few agonizing seconds of orientation, he realized he was tied down like an animal—his legs and arms bound together, and his head was pressed against a chopping block not unlike the one Zhongli saved him from over a month prior. He struggled against his bonds until a firm hand to his back stopped him.
“Quit moving, demon, unless you want to die early,” warned the executioner posted beside him.
Ajax could not understand the human’s words, but he felt his intent. He obeyed, then turned his attention to his surroundings. It was night. He was in the middle of the town square—one he knew well from his scouting days—and all around him were the humans he had watched over the years. Some were shouting, some crying, and some covering the eyes of their children. But all were assuredly afraid of him.
“What is it??” A woman cried out from the crowd.
“Will it kill us?” Another questioned, fearful.
“Where is the mage? He could tell us!” Asked another villager.
“The mage is either gone or dead,” responded a man—the village’s elder—standing steps away from Ajax. “This creature was hiding in his home. As you can tell, it is inhuman and a threat.”
“Good riddance!” Shouted an elderly woman.
The fox whined from behind his gag. The elder ignored his cries.
“Good people, this creature’s existence is proof enough that the mage is a danger to us all. Do not think that I’ve been blind to some of your appeals for his sinful magics,” accused the elder to the crowd. “This is the danger you invite to our homes! This is the evil you invite upon our children!”
Multiple people cried out in fear. Others raised their torches higher in concurrence.
“Let this creature’s death be an example of our faith! That magic is not welcome here!”
The people in the square shouted in agreement with the elder’s words.
“Burn it!” “Cut out its tongue!” “Return it to the hell from which it came!”
Ajax sensed the growing tension in the crowd and squirmed. Tears peeked in his eyes when he heard the sound of an axe being sharpened beside him.
“Zhongli!” He begged from behind the gag. “Zhongli! Help me! I don’t want to die!”
He wiggled and bucked until more men arrived to hold him down. The axe, sufficiently sharpened, was raised into the air to the resounding cheer of the crowd.
Ajax clenched his eyes closed and held his breath as he waited for it to fall.
Zhongli panted harshly as he finally approached the town square. A large crowd of people surrounded its center, shouting for punishment for some figure in the distance. The mage cast a spell to magnify his view and he gasped to see that it was Ajax.
He shoved villagers aside as he forced his way through them. He didn’t care if they were men, women, or children—this violence…it must stop! He barely escaped the throng when the executioner’s axe raised high into the air.
His eyes shot wide.
His breath caught in his throat.
He reached an arm forward.
A word left his lips.
Then everything fell silent.
Ajax shuddered in place, but the axe never fell. There were no voices. No sound. Nothing.
He finally mustered the courage to open his eyes, and he was surprised to see light. He blinked a few times to adjust to it, and noticed that everyone around him was frozen in time. The axe hung above him imposing but suspended, and the men on his back remained stationary like statues.
Then, a figure’s movement caught his attention. It came closer, and he saw that it was Zhongli.
Except he looked different.
This Zhongli wore long, flowing robes made of fabric so delicate it looked like it would fade away with a breath. His movements were smooth and gliding, like the ebb and flow of a river, and his hair laid unrestrained behind his back, glowing at the ends like dying embers. His eyes, too, glowed an ethereal gold and upon his head was a crown of golden antlers. A strange but warm light emanated from his presence, and to the humble little fox, he appeared a god.
“Ajax,” Zhongli finally addressed calmly. “Do not be afraid.”
But Ajax wasn’t. How could he, when Zhongli was to be his savior once again?
The mage removed the time-frozen axe from the executioner’s hand and easily pushed away the men restraining the fox to the chopping block. With a touch of his hand, the ropes binding him disintegrated, and the mage helped the fox to his feet.
Ajax opened his mouth to speak, but Zhongli pressed a finger to his lips.
“Ajax. Go home. I will meet you there. Do not stop for anything, and please, do not look back.”
The young fox nodded.
Then, he ran.
He ran past the frozen and silent crowd; he ran out the village gates; and he ran up the hill and into the forest towards the hidden glade. A white light flashed behind him, but he dared not look. Zhongli told him not to, so he wouldn’t. He ran and ran until his legs nearly gave out from under him as he finally made it to the familiar clearing.
He looked upon the sad state of Zhongli’s home. The garden was destroyed, each little blue flower trampled by the intruders, and the vegetables laid in pieces in the dirt. Ajax did his best to carry out the irrecoverable items of the home to a pile outside, and swept the floor of debris. He propped up the broken leg of the bed and put down fresh linens, setting it up for the mage’s return. Then, he sat himself on the porch to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And finally, Zhongli appeared in the distance, walking slowly up the hill. Ajax hopped from his seat to greet him, and when the mage welcomed his relieving hug, the fox felt the weakness in the other’s bones. Ajax looked the man up and down and noticed he no longer had his divine features—he looked like he should. Simple, quiet, and kind.
“Zhongli healthy?” The fox asked, head cocked to the side in concern.
The mage pulled Ajax close and squeezed him tighter in the hug.
“I am, but I’m afraid using my full powers has made me tired. I…promised myself I would never do so again, but given the situation, I felt I had no choice.” The mage paused before continuing. “I wiped the villagers’ memories, so that they will remember none of this. Not of you. Not of this glade. …And not of me.”
Ajax remained silent, nuzzling his head against Zhongli’s chest. The mage heaved a heavy sigh.
“I’m afraid that I will have to find a new place to live, like I have…for thousands of years. Maybe find a country where the people of that land will learn to trust me. Like you have.”
The fox pulled back when the mage sifted a hand through his hair and pressed a thumb to his forehead. His mind instantly fogged.
“Thank you, Ajax, for being my friend. I apologize for all the hurt I caused you and your mother.”
Ajax heard these words but they blended together, echoing in his mind as if he were in a cavern. He slurred out words of his own, but couldn’t hear his own voice. Then, he felt his body go limp and Zhongli carried him towards the cottage and onto the bed.
His vision was hazy as he observed Zhongli retreat, taking items out of his burlap pouch and brewing up some concoction in the cauldron.
Ajax blinked.
Zhongli was in front of him now, lifting his head to coax a warm cup up to his lips. He subconsciously fought it, mashing his lips closed and fighting back tears as he tried to resist the brew’s entry, but another press of Zhongli’s hand to his forehead made him compliant. He drank down the potion, and the last thing he heard was the kind man’s deep voice.
“I love you too, Aja—“
Ajax awoke to the morning sun shining in his eyes.
He uncurled his furry little body and stretched his limbs upon the dewy grass.
“Ah~~ What a long nap! I feel like I slept for a month,” the young fox yawned loudly.
Blue eyes blinked as he took in his surroundings.
Where is this place? He questioned, not recognizing this clearing. I don’t remember coming to this part of the forest.
He spun in place, noting the dirt path, lone well, and abandoned garden in the peaceful glade he found himself in. And he distinctly noted the deserted stone cottage—door ajar—in the middle. He hesitantly approached it, back hunched and with wary steps, and entered to find it completely bare. A cellar door lay open, its stores vacant, and a single bed sat cold beneath a window. Cupboards on the wall were agape and empty, and a large black cauldron stood lonely in the home’s center with a small stool by its side.
Ajax peered upon these furnishings with curiosity.
Who would live out here when there is a perfectly suitable village just down the hill? Asked the fox to himself.
He snorted into the dusty space, believing whoever did must have been a silly person.
He skipped out of the home, off the porch, and turned towards the direction of his family’s den.
Mama must wonder where I’ve been, he thought to himself. I better hurry back before she misses me.
He dashed towards the glade’s perimeter, about to toe the line between the warm grass and the dark thicket, when he felt a presence behind him. He paused, then turned to look towards the cottage, to find nothing changed.
And yet, his heart stung from something unknown.
He shook his head.
“Silly Ajax,” he scolded himself. “No one lives there. No one at all!”
The little fox bounded back into the forest to return to his mother.
He wouldn’t want to worry her, after all.
Fin.