Even Gods Have Hearts

~01~

     "Forever?" My eyes meet his. The pads of our fingertips meet, our hands resting on the cotton sheets between us. He smiles.
      "Forever."
   If only he'd kept his promise. I haven't seen him in 500 years.
At the time, it had seemed that Morax was the perfect gentleman. He seemed to be chiseled of the very element he presided over, and always kept a calm and polished demeanor. He was filthy rich, too, but that was never the cause of my infatuation. Gods don't really need material things like mora.
I'm the god of the Moon. A lesser god, perhaps, but there are many things I have a hand in.
I've befriended the Hydro archon, and together we regulate Teyvat's tides. I assist the Dendro archon in carefully furling the leaves of plants at night, and the Anemo archon in ensuring the comfort of late-night travellers. I remind the god of harvest when it's time to ripen her crops, and I provide the mortals of this world with something mysterious, something they feel safe sharing secrets with.
What I'm trying to say is that I have connections. The geo archon was no different.
One night, I descended upon one of his mountains. This was nothing out of the ordinary; I was conducting an experiment of sorts.
I had raised a generation of Qingxin flowers on moonlight and special care. I was trying to create a flower that could give a mortal some of my power if consumed; something like a vision, perhaps. Sure, it sounds a bit selfish to want my own followers that I can bestow power upon, but sometimes I don't agree with how the archons dispatch visions. There are mortals out there that deserve one; they have good souls and sharp minds, and I know they would do nothing but good. Mortals like them don't always get visions, though, and that frustrates me to no end. It sometimes seems the archons give visions to those that amuse them, in a way.
That's what I told myself to forget just how much trouble I could get into for this kind of experimentation.
As per usual, I sat atop the mountain and began weaving moonlight into the very cells of these plants. Soon I would be ready to test my little experiment; on a mouse at first, to ensure that it was safe to use, and then on a worthy mortal.
Someone behind me cleared their throat and I jumped, scattering pearly droplets of lunar energy around. I turned to meet the gaze of this person, a cold stare ready in my eyes.
That cold stare dissipated immediately when I saw who it was.
"O- oh, ah... Mr. Morax, sir. How are you tonight?" I stammered, standing up. My robes rustled and fluttered in the gentle breeze.
"Miss y/n, a pleasure," he began. His head cocked, looking past me at my lunar creations. "Might I ask what someone like yourself is doing atop a terrestrial mountain this late at night?"
I bristled at his question. "Just, ah- tending to my flowers," I said. I rubbed the back of my neck nervously.
He raised an eyebrow, an unspoken question seeping into the air.
   "I can't grow anything on the moon, the soil is simply too fine. There isn't anything available for them to photosynthesize with, other than sunlight."
   He seemed satisfied with my answer and smiled, kneeling in front of one.
   "These are no normal Qingxin," he stated. My neck went hot.
   "Well, I-"
   "They're absolutely radiating with... not elemental energy, but..." he paused and looked up at me.
    I saw no point in lying to him when he'd already seen right through me. "Lunar energy. Moonlight, if you will. I consider them my little experiments."
   His eyes lit up with childlike wonder as he gently brushed a finger against a smooth petal and I felt a pang in my chest.
Cute...
   "You were able to create something this powerful from a flower so mundane?"
   "Mundane?" I questioned. "Qingxin can harbor lunar energy very well, far better than any other flower I've tried."
   He blinked.
   "They're beautiful," he said, meeting my gaze with a warm smile.
   That was all it took. Suddenly I found myself thinking about him on the daily, feeling all fluttery every time I saw him. For 358 years, we became closer. There was a mutual pining of sorts; my curiosity about mortal life and experimental whims seemed to captivate him just as his wit and charm held me.
   We became closer and closer, falling for one another even harder after every interaction. He soon realized I didn't want extravagant gifts (after multiple expensive gowns and furnishings) and would regularly bring me stones or shells he thought I'd like. He asked about my experiments and would meet me at night when I relieved the Sun of her shift. I would bring him flowers and successful experiments, appearing in his office in Celestia to help him with archon work and lift his spirits.
   Other gods soon noticed our closeness and voiced curiosity about geo-lunar children, much to our embarrassment.
   Life was good. Morax made the beautiful world seem a bit more vibrant, and I helped him appreciate the little things he might have had deemed unimportant in the past. We truly loved and took care of each other.
If only things could have stayed like that forever.
   I often used to descend upon the nation of Khaenri'ah under a mortal alibi. The people there fascinated me; their creations left me in awe at the brilliance of humanity and their independence was refreshing.
I made a few mortal friends; a young boy named Dainsleif whom I watched grow up and a woman named Imelda.
Dainsleif was part of Khaenri'ah's armed forces. He trained often and took his job very seriously; if I ever tried to visit him at his post while he was on guard duty, he would shoo me away and threaten to have me restrained. I only ever laughed, then went on my way.
Imelda was, for lack of a better word, a genius. She helped develop Field Tillers, a kind of weapon that seemed to have discipline. It aided in guarding the nation's borders. She built many other things, too. She invented dozens of gadgets, little things that made her life easier.
If I had the power to give visions, I would have given one to her.
I saw Dainsleif as a little brother and Imelda as a big sister; though I was generations older than either of them combined, I formed a close relationship with them. They never found out I was a god.
I would often tell Morax about my adventures with these mortals, excitedly recalling jokes and experiences I'd had. He would smile and listen intently, then share stories of mortals in his country of Liyue.
One night, I returned to the home Morax and I shared in Celestia. I hooked my bag up by the door carefully and, with trembling hands, lifted one of my Lunar Qingxin flowers out of the bag. I had deemed this one ready for use and would make a tea out of it.
"Morax?" I called, sighing when I realized he was likely in his office. What a workaholic.
I tiptoed into his office, holding the gently glowing flower in my hand. Morax looked up from his papers and grinned at me.
"Hello, my love," he greeted. He opened his arms, inviting me to sit in his lap. Something in his voice made me worry. He must be stressed, I thought. I peeked at his papers on the desk and shook my head as I took my seat.
Immediately his strong arms wrapped around me and he buried his face in my neck, inhaling my scent. I let out an amused hum and reached an arm up to play with his hair. He lifted his head after a moment and kissed my neck, then my jawline, then my cheek, my chin, and my cheek again until he finally reached my lips. A relaxed sigh escaped me.
"Rough day?" I asked. He sighed and nodded as I looped my arms around his neck.
"Better now with you here."
I put a hand on his face. "Cheesy old geezer," I joked. He just chuckled; we're not even two centuries apart in age.
"Guess what I brought?"
"Some tea?" He asked hopefully.
"It will be soon," I assured him. I produced the Lunar Qingxin in front of him and he stared in awe.
"It's ready?" He asked. I nodded excitedly and hopped out of his lap.
Ten minutes later, I had a pot of iridescent tea; it looked similar to jasmine tea, but had somewhat of a shimmering quality to it.
I poured the concoction into my favorite teacups (a pair that I purchased in Khaenri'ah) and filled a small dish with sugar. I put milk in another dish, along with two small spoons. All of that was set onto an ornate tray that I carried to Morax's office.
He looked up from his work once again. "Thank yo-"
"Only archons that take breaks-" I paused and stared at him pointedly for dramatic effect- "get my special-made moon tea. If you want any, you're gonna have to come out of that stuffy office and sit with me for a while."
Morax smiled at my teasing and pretended to be deep in thought. "Hmm... a difficult choice indeed," he mumbled as he stood up and put his quill away. I grinned.
"This way, good sir." I motioned to our casual sitting area and he sat down. I set down the tray.
"This smells wonderful," he remarked. "It smells like you, actually."
My face went hot as he took a sip, lifting his eyes to meet mine over the rim of his cup. I lifted an arm to my nose and sniffed it, earning another chuckle from the beautiful man across from me.
The tea had no effect on us, but we're gods. It wasn't expected to. That night when we went to bed, the troubled aura seeming to surround Morax was back. As we lay together under silken sheets, I turned to him and place a gentle hand on his cheek.
"What's troubling you, my love?" I asked, searching his tired eyes.
He placed a hand on top of mine. "Nothing you need worry yourself with."
He hesitated for a moment, but continued. "I- I won't be here when you wake up. There's... business I have to attend to early tomorrow."
His tone worried me. Instead of pursuing the topic further, I scooted closer to him and laced my fingers into his hair. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around me.