Chapter Text
“I will be the one to do this,” Kaeya says, and Jean stares at him. “She called me out specifically, right?”
It is not unusual for Kaeya to volunteer himself for the more unsavory tasks. He’s well acquainted with getting his hands dirty for the sake of Mondstadt, hell, for the sake of just about anything he does. Short of actually getting mud on his hands, Kaeya’s fine with whatever’s required of him, and furthermore, this is a matter of royalty— or what would be royalty, if Mondstadt had any to speak of.
Snezhnaya’s Tsaritsa is the Archon of Love, and many nations are not keen on doing business with her. However, when a transaction is too good to be left off the table, she will rarely, occasionally cement the deal with an exchange of rings— one of her own, for one of their own. A bond, a pact, a promise of love. However, she is not the one offering her own ring— she is offering one of her own harbingers, for one of the Grand Master’s captains.
And it’s such a difficult thing for Jean to accept, because she is only the Acting Grand Master, but Varka has been notoriously difficult to get ahold of and even harder to get to hand down decisions for something as big as this. He’s off on adventure! Exploration! He’s off doing things while Mondstadt could really use his attention, and this little proposal has a timer on it. The Tsaritsa wants an answer within a week, but with it comes the promise that whatever Snezhnaya is doing, it will leave Mondstadt alone, having them as decent trading partners and nothing more. No plots, no ploys, no harbingers sneaking into their walls to abduct children or whatever the hell happens when they’re left unchecked.
In other words, room to breathe. Really breathe. Not like Mondstadt needs more air, but with Snezhnaya’s oppressive influence in every other country, it’d be nice.
“Kaeya, you don’t have to—”
“And you volunteer to marry the harbinger?” Kaeya hides his concern as a snide jest. “Please. I’m the one who can keep himself afloat in a court of wolves, so it’s best that I go.”
“It’s just a symbolic marriage,” Jean reassures him. “You’ll be able to come back. You’ll be able to keep your job, it’s just—”
So much for any other relationship— so much for a partner, family, kids, but Kaeya’s always kept people at arm’s length anyway, so that has never truly mattered so much or even been on the table. It isn’t like Kaeya Alberich is out here seeking love— if he wanted anyone on his arm, he’d have them. The fact that he doesn’t says everything.
“It’s not something that bothers me,” Kaeya says, eventually. “I haven’t spent my life craving a wedding, so if anyone should go, it should be me. Plus, I can keep an eye on them better than literally anyone else, you know that,” His smug smile is reassuring, intending to come off as confidence. Besides, wouldn’t this just get Diluc so pissed? He should be given the right for that alone.
Jean looks at him, trying to figure out if he’s hiding something— if this truly makes him uncomfortable, because— listen, he’s not the only one who can go, who can do this. She would shoulder the burden, were it not…
She frowns.
“Just go and meet whoever it is, okay? And if you can’t handle it, say you can’t,” Her voice is stern, considerate. She’s thinking of his wellbeing, and it shows. “Promise me you’ll say as much?”
“Captain’s honor,” Kaeya says with a voice that implies crossed fingers behind the back.
She seems to know this.
—
Tartaglia is a weapon, a tool, and no one knows this better than the man himself, but to say he’s disappointed is… an understatement.
There was always the thought in the back of his head— settling down, finding someone who understood him and understood him well. He doesn’t think a man from Mondstadt, a land so flighty and free that they make no demands of their archon to even appear, could ever understand him. They don’t sully their hands with blood in Mondstadt, they do things orderly, and he has never been fond of it.
It’s an order, though, and Tartaglia will follow it. He learns of the Cavalry Captain that will be his husband in short letters from the acting Grand Master, flicking through pages, a loveless marriage to what sounds like a piece of work. Snezhnaya’s spy network in Mondstadt can’t turn up anything concrete on Kaeya— just that he’s an equally flighty playboy who lies often for jokes, and once, played a prank of ordering millions of mora worth of food on the Fatuus staying in the Goth Grand. Maybe he has a sense of humor, Tartaglia thinks. That gives him a little hope.
He flicks to his kamera picture, and his breath hitches in his throat.
That’s… going to be his husband?
Well, okay. Calm down. That’s not a promise of marital bliss, that’s a pretty face. Maybe the prettiest face Tartaglia has ever seen, but still a man from a rival nation who’s to be his betrothed. He won’t try to wiggle his way out of this, push the burden on someone else, but he does want to know why he was selected. Was it a matter of age? They are of similar age, both young for their positions. He will ask his queen about it, bowing his head respectfully, but what she says raises more questions than answers.
“You are of similar gifts, similar talents, intertwined histories,” She says, aloofly, staring down at him. “It is a match I selected specifically with you in mind. Whether you can make my blessing work for you is up to you.”
Specifically… for him? Is there something about Kaeya that Tartaglia does not yet know? There will be a fancy party here, and he will be expected to meet him at least once before the wedding… he decides to honor the promise he’s given, and will at least see what Kaeya is all about before they’re to be wed.
A weapon is a weapon is a weapon. It does not get a say in the way its used.
A weapon marrying is unheard of, but…
Maybe it can work to his advantage.
—
Kaeya arrives at Zapolyarny Palace unaccompanied by anyone else, his transport disappearing behind him into the blustery, winter air.
He is dressed in his best, a suit of blue and white and gold, a fur cape on his shoulders; a gift from Lisa. He should look his best if he’s going to meet his husband for the first time, after all. It’s a little telling that Tartaglia does not meet him at the gates, but instead, he is escorted inside by some soldier. He wonders if it’s nerves, or if Tartaglia simply doesn’t care.
As far as Kaeya is concerned, this is a marriage where both parties will do their best to use one another— for political gain, for their own advantage, for the sake of their profit and for their own homeland. That means he has to be on edge the entire time, he needs to assess and move his chess pieces carefully, and furthermore, he cannot get attached— though giving the illusion that he is will serve him well. It would work out well for him, if Tartaglia wasn’t so accustomed to seeing through liars.
As he steps inside, the warmth of the palace surrounds him, though there’s still a bitter chill that hangs in the air. He glances around, to see who will receive him… a few harbingers are recognizable by their faces alone, but Tartaglia is nowhere to be seen, until he is.
He seems to be staring at Kaeya, and the first thing that Kaeya notices about him is that glassy stare. Thousand yard stare, whatever you want to call it, it’s so empty… but for a young adult like him who’s seen more bloodshed than Kaeya has ever even experienced, it’s to be expected. He has broad shoulders, a little bit of height on Kaeya, but not much. Kaeya approaches him slowly, quietly, and the urge to be bitter rises in his throat, to say something that will set the tone for their relationship for years to come.
He swallows the bile and instead grins.
“Cat got your tongue?”
Robotically, Tartaglia takes his hand and kisses his knuckles.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Kaeya Alberich,” He says.
“Dispense with the pleasantries. If you can’t even manage a smile, then it isn’t a pleasure, is it?” Kaeya smiles wryly.
“And for a man who’s smiling a little too much for it to be genuine, it must not be for you, either.”
“My,” Kaeya says, clicking his tongue. “Perceptive, aren’t we?”
“Neither of us want this, so I think we should be honest with one another.”
“Then why not refuse?” Kaeya says, leaning to the side to look at Pantalone, who’s some distance away. “I wouldn’t mind being the arm candy of the wealthiest man in Snezhnaya, for example, if you were to suggest someone to replace you.”
“Because…” Tartaglia takes his chin, and makes Kaeya look at him. “You were selected for me specifically by my queen. She believes we have something to offer to one another… so don’t make eyes at my coworkers.” Tartaglia smiles, it’s razor thin and his patience is tested. “I might get jealous.”
It’s a lie, he’s not jealous, he’s insulted.
“I was only playing word games…” Kaeya sighs, shrugging his shoulders. This one will be hard to get along with. “Pretending to be a gold digger as a joke, nothing more.”
“Not a funny joke to make to your future husband.”
“Were you expecting love at first sight…?” Kaeya leers, and Tartaglia can read him like the cover of a closed book; tightly bound shut, proudly displaying the words ‘do not open’. “We’re political rivals dancing between the lines of peace and war. Cracking jokes is what I do to break the ice. To make things a little more fun.”
“The ice doesn’t crack in Snezhnaya.”
Kaeya rolls his visible eye. “Are you being literal, or are you suggesting that things are so tense, so unmanageable, that it’s impossible to get along with you?”
Tartaglia merely turns, picking up the luggage that Kaeya brought with him. “I’ll show you to where you’re staying.”
As Kaeya follows him through the halls, he passes another harbinger— a soft chill rolling through his body as he does, though he does his best to ignore it.
—
Kaeya is affable with everyone, including the queen.
He is never left alone with her, never trusted so much, but in one of the rare moments he gets to speak with her and pay her the respect she deserves, her crystal crown twinkling in the pale light of the palace, he asks her what she’s selected him for— what set him apart from, say, Albedo? Lisa?
“The most important thing,” She says. He tilts his head, leaning forward.
“That is…?”
“As the archon of love, I am blessed with a unique sight— the twining of paths that lead forward, but only for individuals, not my own. Yours is so tightly interlocked, interwoven with Tartaglia’s that even if I did not interfere, you would cross paths with him eventually, and it would begin on its own.”
“… soulmates?” Kaeya asks, incredulous. “You’re saying I’m his soulmate?”
“I only want the best for him,” She says, looking at Kaeya with a stare that is neither judging nor benevolent. “Nobody loves him the way he deserves to be. I’m not saying you will, right away, either. He will not let you. However… all I ask, in exchange for the freedom and peace I am granting you and yours, is to let the fate you choose involve him in some way… after all…”
She walks away from him, a mysterious smile playing on her lips as her gown trails after her.
“I am not giving you a choice.”
—
Kaeya looks over the documents he is presented, with a Liyuan ambassador presiding over the contract he is given. This is his choice, from here on out. His decision. He no longer has Jean to consult on the matter. After reading them at least three times over, he forks over his signature, and the documents are passed to Tartaglia, who signs them without even glancing at the paper.
Puppet, Kaeya thinks, and it’s not charitably, either. I don’t know what she’s playing at, but I don’t think it’s for my own good.
They will be married in two days. Kaeya will wear the suit provided for him, and he will have no friends attend his wedding. Diluc, his brother, will be furious and fuming when he finds out what Jean allowed him to do, but he will be even angrier with Kaeya for accepting.
A few of the Harbingers offer Kaeya their congratulations. Arlecchino is stoic, dignified, though she warns him of Tartaglia’s troublemaking behavior. A few of them are playful, a few of them demean Kaeya for the crime of being from Mondstadt, a few of them are respectful. What Kaeya doesn’t expect from any of them, he gets from Capitano— he gets a warm ‘congratulations’.
“It’s hardly something to congratulate me for, choosing prosperity over my own happiness.”
“You are choosing both, if she selected him for you.”
Kaeya snickers, unable to hold himself back, but Capitano does not seem to react to the snide behavior.
“This is one matter I would not doubt her in,” is all he has to say to that, before turning and walking away.
—
Kaeya plays the role of the bride, his hair braided with white Snezhnayan snowblossoms and a bouquet of roses at his dressing room table in the bridal suite. A letter sits unopened at the desk, and he knows who it’s from and what it’s about without even glancing at it. He recognizes the handwriting far too well.
It’s an awful lot of formality and romance for a wedding based solely on a peace treaty. With this, many of the Fatui in Mondstadt’s walls will be sent back to Snezhnaya, with Tartaglia taking their place as the representative foreign dignitary. He wonders if they’re getting rid of Tartaglia in some way, by making him Mondstadt’s problem. He is chaotic, often throwing himself into trouble all over the world— perhaps leashing him to one corner of it to manage their forces is a way of ridding themselves of a problem they instated themselves.
And by extension, they’re making him Kaeya’s problem from now on.
Even so, as he stands up, picking up the bouquet and following the notes of the organ playing in the distance, the pews are filled with a scarce amount of people. The harbingers who were bothered to show up, along with a few members of Tartaglia’s family. He doesn’t want to look at their faces, knowing this couldn’t possibly be what they wanted for their son. However, in the first pew away from the altar sits none other than the Tsaritsa herself, dressed in her very best.
She would never miss a wedding she arranged herself.
Tartaglia, scars and all, looks good in the suit he was presented with— he matches Kaeya, today. Ordinarily, a wedding takes about as long as an hour, but there’s no love to be found in the vows, not yet, there is no exchange of the heart that is ready— these two are enemies at worst, and cooperative at best. Kaeya stands across from him with dry expression— Tartaglia’s formal uniform's collar is crooked, and though his hand itches to fix it, the gesture may be seen as affectionate, so he stubbornly refuses to.
The wedding vows are read to them, but to Kaeya, they almost feel like funeral rites in their phrasing. Until death do you part— only when Kaeya’s spirit shuffles off this mortal coil will he be free of Ajax, and just now, he’s learning his name is Ajax, and as a gesture of goodwill, Ajax will be taking his last name.
Kaeya’s hand comes up to cup his jaw, drawing him down for a kiss when their wedding vows are complete. He’s not sure if it’s necessary, but his kiss will seal the deal, and Ajax doesn’t deny him it— he leans down, pressing his lips to his, and nearly, very nearly, almost instinctively, Ajax almost parts them.
But he doesn’t.
Polite applause fills the room, including that of the Tsaritsa’s. The two separate, walking down the aisle as Kaeya’s hand finds the crook of his elbow, staring ahead of him somewhat blankly.
A soulmate, yet he feels nothing for the man beside him but the curious ire of inconvenience. He’s certain he feels the same.
They will be brought to Mondstadt soon enough, Ajax moving his things to a house that Pantalone generously bought them as a wedding gift; Kaeya will no longer live in the barracks. He will share a house with a stranger, and he will have to learn how to like it. As he glances up at Tartaglia— no, Ajax’s face, he tries to find any sort of emotion in it, but he stalwartly stares ahead of himself, just as flatly as Kaeya did moments prior. Perhaps he’s feeling anger of a future stolen from him— or perhaps he’s just fulfilling what has been asked of him.
A loyal dog, though Kaeya is also the type to sacrifice for what he loves. He reasons they both love their stations enough to do this, and that love will have to serve as the love they’ll share together in the meantime.
Soulmates…
Does Kaeya believe in such a thing?
Predestined fate has always been a part of his life, but for someone to outright point someone out to him, arguably the worst person for him to cross paths with and tell him ‘that’s him. That’s yours’, well…
Let’s just say he hopes the future, if neither peaceful or promising, is at least a show worth seeing.
