Archive of Our Own

The one sitting in front of you boasts the Electro Archon’s appearance. She can enact the pinnacle of the Raiden Shogun’s skill — the Musou no Hitotachi — surely, no other being could mimic this if they tried. A bake-danuki could shift their body to resemble another, yet this would be an impossible feat for the cunning tricksters. Your ears tell you that her voice, though the intonations on certain words fall flatter than you remember, is the same too.

Is it her mannerisms, then? They are as concise as her blade work. Every movement exudes grace from start to finish. Perfectly calculated and executed, like a well-oiled machine.

She must be something beyond divine. You’ll have to make peace with the fact that the specifics, whatever that may be, will likely never be known to you.

“—This concludes my proposal.”

The Raiden Shogun sits still following this proclamation. Her back is squared, eyes unwavering, folded hands sitting pretty on her lap. If not for the breeze causing her long, violet hair to sway in the wind, you may have mistaken her for a statue.

Instead of immediately responding, as her insistent staring would encourage anyone else to do, you leisurely sip at your tea. The taste blooms on your tongue in delicate succession, shifting from herbal to sweet. The tea leaves that this was brewed with would cost a fortune even to the most affluent person. Finally, you place the yunomi down, unsurprised to see the Raiden Shogun hasn’t faltered in the slightest.

This gives you an important tidbit of information that should serve you well.

In some cases, when negotiating a paramount deal, drawing out the seconds between their proposal and your potential acceptance or denial could net you gains. If their nerves fail them, they might make hasty concessions to keep you on board. More trained individuals might express mild irritation with their body language at you playing such a clear ploy. It always helps to know what type of person you’re dealing with.

As for her…

She makes no attempts to renegotiate or call you out on your silence.

She waits and waits, as if someone whispered in her ear to remain frozen in time while you pretend to mull things over.

What a silly thought, you chide yourself. The Raiden Shogun answers to no one other than herself.

“I accept,” you finally relent, despite having arrived at an answer ages ago. “Our union would be a great benefit to us both. The people of Watatsumi and Inazuma’s mainland are far more interconnected than they’d ever care to admit… be it because of pride or ignorance. One cannot live without the other.”

She avoids the potential verbal pitfalls with elegance.

“The straightest path to eternity are those built by peace.”

This comment elicits the first flicker of familiarity inside you. Eternity this, eternity that; the Electro Archon was nothing short of obsessed with the elusive concept. It’s always been your opinion that she would sooner succeed in grabbing fog than find a way to obtain the eternity she’s never stopped pursuing.

Your lips curl into a smile at the thought, while hers remain straight as a line.

“Does something amuse you, [First]?” She presses, equipping intimidation for the first time in this meeting. A slap to the face would be more subtle. This is added to your mental profile of her as well.

You take another sip. “Many things, your Eternal Excellency.”

“Is this discussion relating to the future for both our people one of them?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what? Do not misunderstand my words. While peace might be the ideal path, there are other roads to take.”

Interesting, you muse. The closest you could get to a flare in emotion from her is when her ideals are challenged, no matter how insignificant said challenge is. It would be an exaggeration to describe this as an outburst. An outburst would require the opposing party to be righteously offended, and the more you scrutinize her actions beneath a magnifying glass, the less convinced you feel dubbing this incident as such.

She doesn’t raise her voice, clench her jaw, glower, or give any signs typically associated with offense. Curious, how painfully curious, like a kabuki actor reciting an entire script from memory upon a stage without emoting once. The dissonance she emits is so subtle you doubt few could pick up on it.

“I meant no offense, your Eternal Excellency.”

For this, she cannot call you a liar, because every word rings true.

“Then allow me to no longer take up your valuable time,” she stands up from behind the ornate chabudai, rising to her full height. You do the same in a far more languid manner. “I take it you’re confident that you’ll be able to talk the aggressors on Yashiori Island down?”

“Since my letters haven’t been convincing enough, I’ll pay them a personal visit. They’ll be gone before the sun makes another lap around the sky.”

“I have your word?”

“You have my word, your Eternal Excellency.”

This must be satisfactory enough, as she doesn’t press for details on how exactly you intend to carry this goal out. For once, you can appreciate the almost detached air she carries herself with, people digging their nose into your business is always a thorn in your side. The only promises you make are those you can keep.

She heads for the grand doors notoriously found inside Tenshukaku’s walls.

Before she can reach it, you speak up, a sudden gust of wind billowing in her direction as if wanting to carry your words inside them.

“If we are to be wed…” you trail off, and in the seconds that follow, her attention is yours again. “Must I always call you ‘your Eternal Excellency’? It’s quite the mouthful.”

Her response comes swift enough to rival the speed in which lightning strikes.

“Then allow yourself ample time to practice — I’m sure you’ll be needing to say it more from now on.”

ii.

Your wife is strange.

While you’ve always enjoyed a good puzzle, there’s nothing more frustrating than when you feel you’re on the precipice of a major discovery, only to realize there are more pieces scattered about. The corridors to understanding her — which would, in turn, better serve you in your own endeavors — are twisted and impossible to navigate. Impossible. How you loathe the word. In a world where cities can exist under the sea and citadels float in the sky, nothing should be impossible. In your arrogance, this was the conclusion you prematurely came to.

Worst of all, who can you lament to?

Certainly not your meek if not well-meaning handmaidens. They would simply nod their head to anything and everything you said, lest they risk upsetting a figure so revered in Watatsumi. Then there is the current Divine Priestess who would undoubtedly chew you out for complaining over such a nonissue. Those Sangonomiya Priestess’ always started out so sweet, then as they gained decades of experience under their belt, became far less affable to your whims.

Hence why you’ve come into the den of an unexpected if not fickle ally — Yae Miko.

“I’ve never seen her eat, drink, or sleep,” you relay to your captive audience. “All she does is work or think about work. Any attempt I make to know her on a more personal level is met with resistance or outright apathy.”

“That might not be such a bad idea on her part. If you had it your way, she’d be serving Watatsumi’s goals alone and forget her people ever existed in the first place,” Yae Miko hums. While it’s not the most pleasant thing to hear, you can’t say she doesn’t have a point. It’s inevitable that despite being joined in marriage before the gods, you both have your own agendas that take precedence above everything else.

Yae Miko doesn’t stop there. “While I never had the pleasure of meeting him directly, the god you served was much the same, am I correct? Of Orobashi’s many tales, indulgence never seemed to be a prevalent theme.”

This question would’ve been a sizable mountain to overcome had you not already posed it to yourself in the past.

“We live in different times, Miko,” you give her the same unsatisfactory conclusion you came to. “Back then, it made sense for gods to behave that way. For every threat they bested, two more would take its place.”

She smiles behind her hand. “Following that logic, would it not make sense for her to view you as a threat born from an opponent she bested? It’s difficult to relax around that, I’d wager.”

Yae Miko is renowned for her ability to rile up others. A few centuries ago, this comment may have done just that, but you’re secure in your position. It would be a dishonor on your fallen god’s legacy to pounce at every provocation. Besides, you’ve seen what Yae Miko is like when she’s actively trying to tear an enemy down. This is meant to make you reflect on areas you want to pretend don’t exist.

That doesn’t mean you need to roll over and surrender, however. Doing this so soon would bore Yae Miko and remove you from her good graces. No, if you ever hope to better understand the challenges before you, you must do better than that. Be better than that. Hence why you make your response every bit as sly as you can.

“I suppose I have no choice but to wait until her blade turns to me, then.”

She looks plenty amused. A good sign, you figure. Boring her is by far the worst thing you could do.

Her ears twitch before she reveals her response.

“Hm… The Raiden Shogun’s sword does like you, just not in that way.”

You can’t remember the last time you were at a loss for words, momentary as the affliction may be. Yae Miko is hinting at something — you know it. The Guuji does not speak if the words have no purpose in being said. That’s why you seek out her company, there are little jewels of wisdom hidden beneath the veneer of a typical conversation. She doesn’t tell you important details outright. If she had to, she wouldn’t think you worthy of knowing them.

That leaves a question that has you burning hotter than any magma bubbling inside a volcano.

What jewels has Yae Miko seen fit to reveal today?

iii.

Your wife may be a ruler, but first and foremost, she is a warrior.

You know this better than most. While the denizens of the Inazuma archipelago often whisper legends of the impossible to defend against move, the Musou no Hitotachi, your knowledge is far more intimate. The Raiden Shogun had the ability to slice your revered god — and the island he was on — clean in two. Her strength is unrivaled. Her prowess is acknowledged by practitioners across Teyvat.

That’s why many might view you a poor fool for asking to spar against her. Not while she was wielding her naginata, either; you insisted she uses her fabled tachi. The Musou Isshin.

While it’s not a duel to the death, it’d be a disservice to yourself to not take the session seriously. She could hit you with the shaft of her naginata to minimize damage, no such options exist when her tachi is in use. It thrums and radiates raw energy unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Being on the receiving end of its attacks is harrowing enough that you almost consider calling it a day and giving up.

Every strike you manage to deflect has your arms begging for reprieve. She’s fast, relentless, a step ahead of you at every turn.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you focus all your attention on the Musou Isshin within her grasp. What is it that you’re missing? The kitsune hinted at the sword’s importance, you’re just missing the bigger picture.

The Raiden Shogun ceases her onslaught of attacks. She’s giving you a moment to recollect yourself, you realize. This mock battle is rapidly reaching its conclusion. You have no idea of knowing if she’ll accept any other offers you make in the future. Efficiency is her primary function; training against a person below her skill level is a waste of time. Her accepting your invitation the first time was already a miracle.

Before you can continue your ruminations, your legs give out.

“Do you yield?” The Raiden Shogun demands.

Damn that kitsune for getting me into this, you grimace. This doesn’t matter. You hate to admit it, but the Divine Priestess’ who always chastise you are right. Your union led to peace between Watasumi and the rest of Inazuma when war looked to be stirring on the horizon. Embargos were lifted, families were reunited, and money flowed in abundance as people had renewed vigor for trade.

You did everything you set out to accomplish. So why is it that you’re left wanting more?

And what is it you want, anyway? Yae Miko tried to pry the answer from you, but you held it tight to your chest, refusing her a glimpse.

Following the slaying of Orobashi, you could never decide upon what you wanted. The being you followed up from the abyssal depths died, and with him, any direction you once had.

The dreams that rose from his bones were never meant to come true.

Regardless, you long for them all the same.

“I will not yield,” you force yourself to get back up, almost stumbling again in the process. “I won’t… not until I know you. The real you.”

There’s a strange fluctuation originating from her tachi. You barely pay it any heed, not in your borderline delirious state, your normally pristine appearance disheveled from head to toe. Undulating back and forth like the ocean, you give more of yourself than you intended. Giving pieces of yourself meant you would never get them back. That’s why you held onto them for so long.

“You’re not my god, I don’t know if you ever will be.”

You shouldn’t be saying this — you really shouldn’t be saying this. The buildup of energy surrounding her serves to tell you that. It isn’t a friendly spar or game anymore. What you’re playing with is dangerous, electric, and honed to potentially kill should you not tread lightly.

“Why should I care about eternity if I don’t even know why it matters to you? How can our goals ever align when I don’t know what yours truly are?”

The Raiden Shogun is imbuing electro into her next attack. The hairs on the back of your neck rise, the sensation haunting and peaceful all the same. You verbally disrespected her precious, untouchable eternity. What sort of punishment would this incursion earn you? The possibilities are endless, but they ultimately arrive at a single conclusion: divine punishment. Marital status must not be taken into consideration at an offense so unforgivable.

It would be suitable to have your life ended in the same fashion Orobashi’s was, you decide. An honor above all other honors.

Unflinchingly, she raises her blade—

Then the scenery around her shifts.

It’s as if in an instant, you were transported somewhere else, far away from reality. A land familiar enough for you to comprehend while simultaneously being disquieting. This is an unnatural realm where the sky appears as dark crimson dripping down from above, where torii gates pile over each other like fallen warriors along a battlefield, and a rather familiar figure floats in meditation at the center of it all. You blink in awe. Your senses scramble to make sense of the stimuli being presented to them, searching for conclusions that regular logic would never allow them to reach.

“Hm… The Raiden Shogun’s sword does like you, just not in that way.”

Yae Miko is every bit as sly as the rumors make her out to be. She all but handed you the key to your dilemma, gift wrapped and all.

“I’m inside the Musou Isshin, aren’t I?” You wonder aloud.

The figure in the middle, who has the exact likeness of the Raiden Shogun, nods.

“Why now?” You query, sensing she has no intention to harm you.

“The Shogun was about to kill you.”

She speaks as if the Raiden Shogun is an entity separate from herself, you note. There are thousands of questions on your tongue. Questions that, if you gave it more consideration, mattered more in the grand scheme of things than what you decided to voice. They fade away like pesky bugs buzzing by your ear so you can ask what’s most important to you.

“And you didn’t want that?”

“I did not,” her voice might be soft, but it carries far. “I’ll need to make modifications to her… she misinterpreted an initial order of mine as it relates to preserving eternity. Difference of opinion is, in this case, not a threat to eternity.”

This is the Electro Archon you remember speaking with many centuries ago. Your initial gut instinct was right — who (or what) you spoke to when negotiating your marriage was a different being altogether. Her true self must be embedded within this blade. You’ve heard of stories where people seal their consciousness into items, though you never expected an all powerful Archon to make that leap.

It would explain a lot. Aside from one matter.

You force your body to stand despite its protests. While making the trek, she stands, her purple eyes the most expressive you’ve ever seen them. When you speak, you’re but a few inches away from her.

“Why have I not seen you sooner?” You furrow your eyebrows together. She obviously had the power to invite you into this realm if she so chose. “Am I not worthy?”

“That…”

She chews at her bottom lip and averts her eyes. Then, as if realizing this did you a disservice, she forces herself to hold your unwavering gaze.

“That isn’t it,” she promises. “You would think less of me should you know the reason.”

Her sheer sincerity throws you off guard. Why would it matter what you think about her? She is the god here, one of the seven, a divine creation who you scarcely had the right to behold. The masses worship her. Even the people of your island offer her a certain level of reverence afforded to no one else.

“I doubt that’s the case, your Eternal Excellency.”

“What my wife asks, who am I to deny?” She muses. Then, a sigh. “I was afraid. The god you dedicated your existence to fell by my hand. You had every reason to hate me. Selfishly, I didn’t want your hate.”

You hardly hear her over your heart pounding in your chest.

How long has it been since you experienced this adoration for another? Stood in the presence of something greater than yourself, that beckoned you to come with them on a journey historians would scribe thousands of years from now?

Anything she were to ask of you, you would feel inclined to give.

“What is it you want then, your Eternal Excellency?”

For a moment too brief, her hand brushes over yours, testing the foreign sensation. You give her the time she needs to sort through her thoughts. She reaches for your hand again — the one you hold your sword in, you realize — taking it within hers gently. Warmth creeps up onto your face and scarlet dusts across hers. You’ve always thought your wife to be beautiful, if not a touch uncanny from how apathetic she could be. Her true self is a treasure that surpasses monetary value, soars past your wildest hopes and dreams.

When a god gazes at you as if you were the divine, it’s impossible for anything else to matter.

“To be your partner,” she arrives at her answer.

Your partner. Equals. Two independent forces coming together so that their goals might coalesce.

It doesn’t take you long to decide for yourself.

“Nothing… nothing would please me more.”

Indeed, there was no denying the favor bestowed upon you by the Raiden Shogun’s sword. It was rivaled only by your budding admiration for the occupant lying inside the blade.

“And [First]?”

“Hm?”

She smiles.

“Please, call me Ei.”