Chapter Text
Tartaglia couldn’t help but feel sad for the Duke of Meropide. He knew what Wriothesley was going through. The Chief Justice had been gone for months, stuck in a foreign form, somewhere in the Fontainian wilderness. Tartaglia knew the feeling. He had once been in a nearly identical scenario.
Zhongli had given Tartaglia very specific instructions. Find out what had happened to the Chief Justice, tell him that Zhongli sent his regards, and report back to Liyue, preferably without landing himself in the Fortress of Meropide again. It couldn’t be that hard, right?
Wriothesley had said that he would be going to check on Neuvillette the next day, so Tartaglia would have to wait a bit longer to find out what exactly the situation was.
Tartaglia returned to the hotel where he was staying, going upstairs to his small room. He probably could have stayed at Fontaine’s branch of the Northland Bank, but Tartaglia didn’t feel like running into any other members of the Fatui. He was technically on vacation, but that wouldn’t stop people from asking things of him.
Besides, this hotel was very fancy, and suited Tartaglia’s tastes. His room wasn’t large, but he didn’t need that much space. If Zhongli had been with him, they may have stayed in a larger room, with a huge bed and lots of space, but Zhongli had refused to step foot in Fontaine. He had seen Tartaglia off at Yilong Wharf, declining to go any farther.
That was fine, though. Tartaglia had gone on several missions to other nations before, and he was used to having to leave Zhongli for long periods of time. After the events that had happened a bit more than a year ago, however, Tartaglia had promised that he would never be gone for that long again.
Settling down on the small bed with a sigh, Tartaglia began drafting a letter to Zhongli. He had also promised frequent updates, especially when he had found new information. He tried to focus, but he kept getting distracted. He couldn’t stop thinking about Duke Wriothesley.
It was mostly empathy, understanding of Wriothesley’s feelings. But it was also suspicion. Wriothesley wasn’t human. That much was obvious. The only thing that he knew was that the Duke was not a vampire, he had made that very clear, but that left hundreds of other possibilities open.
Tartaglia wasn’t very familiar with Fontainian folklore, but he could probably rule out the possibility of Wriothesley being some kind of oceanid or hydro creature. He had a cryo vision, after all, and it didn’t seem like he could use any powers related to the sea.
He probably wasn’t an adeptus from Liyue, or a youkai from Inazuma. And he wasn’t a vampire. What was it that the Duke had said? You couldn’t be further from the truth, kid. Whatever Wriothesley was, it was something very different from a vampire.
Tartaglia leaned back in the bed with a sigh, putting the letter to the side, for now. He was SO BORED. He had so many questions circling his mind, and it definitely wasn’t helping that he had nothing to do to distract himself. He wished Zhongli was here.
Talking with Wriothesley had brought back memories of the time that Tartaglia had thought that he had lost Zhongli. The day had started out perfectly fine. If only he’d known that he would be dashing to Jueyun Karst like his life depended on it before the day was over.
“Hu Tao, have you seen Zhongli?” Tartaglia waltzed into the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, running a hand over the ornate coffins that were on display.
“Aiya, have you misplaced my consultant? He should have gone home by now. He said he wasn’t feeling well, poor soul.” Hu Tao grinned eerily. “If anything were to happen, though, I can give you half-off on all of our services.”
Tartaglia sighed. Hu Tao’s sense of humor could be a bit dark at times, even for his standards. “Hu Tao, he’s not going to die.”
“Well, you never know~” Hu tao said in a sing-song tone.
“Ugh, whatever. You said he went home?”
“As far as I know, yes.” Hu Tao tilted her head to the side, frowning. “He was complaining of a dreadful headache, and I noticed that he seemed pretty foggy today. More than usual, anyway. I told him that it would be best for him to rest up. I really wouldn’t want my favorite consultant becoming one of my esteemed clients.”
Tartaglia turned to the door. “Thanks, Hu Tao. I’ll check back home.”
“Have a nice rest of your day, Tartaglia! Oh, and tell Zhongli that I say hi!”
Tartaglia hurried back home, soon arriving at the house where he and Zhongli lived. The door was unlocked, which was very strange. Zhongli had a habit of locking the door, so the fact that he had forgotten only added to Tartaglia’s worry.
“Zhongli? I’m home!” Tartaglia scanned the main room of the house, partially a living room, and partially a dining room, which was connected to the large kitchen. The house seemed mostly empty, the only sign that Zhongli had made it home being his coat, which hung by the door.
Tartaglia went to the bedroom. If Zhongli wasn’t in the main room of the house, there was really only one other room where he could be, save for Tartaglia’s office, which he rarely entered. If he had been feeling sick, Zhongli would have likely gone to the bedroom to rest.
But…he wasn’t there. The bed was empty, although the blankets were disorganized, some having fallen to the floor.
“Zhongli?” Tartaglia called into the seemingly empty room, but got no reply. He walked over to the bed, bending down to pick up the blankets that had fallen to the floor. He noticed the corner of the quilt that usually covered the bed sticking out from underneath it. Tartaglia tried to pull it out from under the bed, but was met with a strong force that rendered the quilt stationary.
He tried again, this time being met with a grumble from under the bed, which made him jump. He quickly stepped away from the bed, and whatever was making the growling noise. Tartaglia crouched low to the ground, carefully peering under the bed. He caught a flash of something small huddled in the quilt, hiding under the bed. The creature stared back at him, its eyes the color of cor lapis.
“Hey there, little guy. Have you seen Zhongli?” Tartaglia reached out a hand, but the creature only shrank away from it, backing up against the wall.
Tartaglia stood, turning on the lights in the room so that he could see the creature better. He leaned down again, looking under the bed.
The creature looked very familiar. Tartaglia had seen something similar to this before. This creature looked like a very small–and very fluffy–version of Rex Lapis’s Exuvia. Wait…
“Zhongli?! Is that you?” The creature–no, this was Zhongli–didn’t seem to recognize his name. In fact, he almost seemed afraid of Tartaglia, as if he didn’t remember him at all.
Tartaglia reached for the tiny dragon, which only backed away farther.
“Zhongli, come here. I just want to help you.” Tartaglia’s voice broke as he said this, unable to bear the sight of his beloved so frightened. And the thing that Zhongli was afraid of…he was afraid of Tartaglia.
Tartaglia got up with a sigh, quietly leaving the room. He went to the kitchen, finding some leftover food from dinner the night before. Zhongli loved Tartaglia’s cooking, as long as it wasn’t seafood. Hopefully this would bring the tiny dragon some comfort.
He placed small amounts of food on the floor, making a trail from the living room to the bedroom. He went back to the living room, sitting down on the couch with the rest of the plate of food. He waited a moment, a smile spreading across his face when he heard a shuffling from inside the bedroom.
A moment later, the small dragon emerged from the room, following the trail of food. He was only a bit bigger than a large cat, and he walked across the room on small paws. Tartaglia’s heart nearly melted as he watched the dragon nibble at the food that he had left on the floor, before bounding over to the next snack, following the trail that Tartaglia had placed.
The dragon reached the last bit of food, looking around for more, grumbling sadly.
Tartaglia carefully set the plate down in front of Zhongli, making sure to move slowly, not wanting to startle the small dragon. He stepped away from the plate, letting the dragon approach.
He waited for the dragon to finish his meal, before holding out a hand. Zhongli approached cautiously, sniffing the air to make sure that it was safe. Deeming Tartaglia trustworthy, he came forward, placing his small draconic head in Tartaglia’s hand.
“Aww! You’re so cute!” Tartaglia sat down on the floor, letting Zhongli clamber up onto his lap. “What happened, Zhongli?”
The dragon looked up at him with a confused expression in his cor lapis eyes.
That’s when the truth of the matter finally set in. Zhongli didn’t remember him.
Panicking, Tartaglia scooped up the dragon in his arms, rushing out of the house without bothering to grab his coat. The dragon protested, tiny claws digging into Tartaglia’s skin.
“Hang on, Zhongli. I’m going to get help.”
Tartaglia barreled through the doors of the Wangsheng Funeral parlor, nearly crashing into Hu Tao’s desk that sat at the end of the long hall.
“Hu Tao! Have you seen Zhongli?”
“I already told you, he went home,” Hu Tao said, not looking up from her desk.
“No, have you seen him? Look!” Tartaglia held out the dragon, which tried desperately to be released from his arms. “I don’t know what happened!”
Hu Tao looked up with a gasp. “Aiya, I knew it! Zhongli is an adeptus, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, but he’s stuck like this! I don’t know what to do!”
“Ok, let’s start by putting him down. It doesn’t seem like he likes being held.” Hu Tao cleared a spot on her desk, taking the dragon from Tartaglia and setting him down on the table.
Zhongli relaxed slightly, but he still seemed shaken.
“Hey there, Zhongli,” Hu Tao whispered, carefully reaching a hand out. “Aiya, what happened to you?”
Zhongli stared up at her, cautiously approaching her outstretched hand.
“Hmm. It seems as if he’s not really himself.” Hu Tao thought for a moment. “You should bring him to Jueyun Karst. The other adepti might know what to do.”
“Ok. Uh, I think I know where that is.”
And thus began the race to the mountains northwest of Liyue Harbor. The journey usually took hours, and Tartaglia was slowed by the small dragon that grumbled unhappily in his arms. It was nearly morning by the time Tartaglia made it to the adepti abodes in the mountains, calling out for their help.
That night, and the many days that followed, had been some of the most stressful times of Tartaglia's life. The adepti begrudgingly allowed him to stay, if only for the sake of Rex Lapis. He woke up every morning, praying that he would find Zhongli back to normal, but his hopes began to dim the longer he stayed there.
Many adepti stopped by to pay a visit to their former archon, including a young boy that Tartaglia had often seen around Wangshu Inn. They brought food that they knew had always been Zhongli’s favorites, and told stories of times they remembered. One adeptus even brought a bottle of osmanthus wine.
They never did tell Tartaglia what exactly had caused Zhongli to revert to this form, only saying that he needed to rest, and that Tartaglia must be patient.
So he was. He waited. He waited days, possibly even weeks. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but finally, Zhongli began to return to normal. Tartaglia first noticed that Zhongli was starting to respond to his name again, and answering human speech with happy trills, as if he could understand what was being said to him.
One day, after Tartaglia had just gotten back from a walk in the surrounding wilderness, Zhongli came bounding up to him, sitting patiently at his feet. Tartaglia reached down to pick him up, settling the small dragon against his chest.
“What’s up, Zhongli?” Tartaglia walked back to the place where they had been staying, a quaint cottage by a small pond. He sat down in the sand by the pond, placing Zhongli in his lap.
Tartaglia laid back in the sand, looking up at the sky. At some point he must have fallen asleep, because when he awoke, he felt a crushing weight on his chest, looking up to find Zhongli–once again human–resting on top of him.
Tartaglia had nearly started crying as he nudged Zhongli awake, so happy to finally see his face. Zhongli had been dazed and very confused for a while after, but he was back, and that was all that mattered.
That had been the first time. The second time, Tartaglia would have liked to say that he had handled the situation much better, but he had panicked again, and returned to Jueyun Karst to seek out the help of the adepti once more. The third time, the adepti had sent both Tartaglia and the tiny dragon back to Liyue Harbor, having had enough of Tartaglia’s worried ramblings. Things sorted themselves out in the end.
So, yes. Tartaglia could say with utmost certainty that he knew what Duke Wriothesley was going through.