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kafkasmeow · 1 year ago

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GI. ꗃ For the Tsaritsa (I)

part 1 part 2 part 3 etc

3.1 k words ─ reaction! ─ wriothesley x reader ─ second pov! reader ─ angst and fluff ─ reader wears heels and a corset but that’s it ─ cryo / dendro ─ i usually don’t write toxic relationships but it made sense this time around

summary ─ their reaction to their partner being a fatui harbinger - including diluc, zhongli, xiao, kazuha, wriothesley ─ reaction, headcanon ─ vision and delusion wielder reader ─ use of unconventional weapons ─ gn reader (with small hiccups in editing)

disclaimer ─ this is a reaction headcanon, with strong mentions of death, injuries, blood and violence and profanities. some of the fics do not have happy endings and the reader is depicted as a villain, unreliable and is not meant to be liked. some of the imagines can be brutal, caution is adviced.

wriothesley

You and the fortress’ warden had met trough simple ways, much like he meets any other person that arrives there. As an inmate.

You arrived early one morning, dried blood still on your cheeks and clothes, with a dead stare in your eyes, one he knew far too well. Your presence alone prompted rumours over rumours, inmates fighting to get a glance as the guards paraded you trough the halls on your journey to your cell, and the shouts coaxed Wriothesley out of his study with a sleep-drunk expression on his face.

“Serial killer.” The guards explained quickly when he got close enough to see what the attraction was. “The Chief Justice didn’t even wish to have a trial. Sentenced to life the second he saw them.” But no one knew any more information to help him out, and while he rarely searched for reason in the Fortress of Meropide, he itched for answers.

He watched you carefully that day, as you were guided forward by the most skilled guards, with chains on your hands and head pushed down, as if your gaze alone would be deadly. You were barely any taller than half of him, standing on week knees that trembled with every step you took, and if it wasn’t for your dead eyes or the blood all over you, he would have wondered if you were really capable of harm.

No one wanted to talk more about the situation behind your imprisonment, at least not for long. They all gritted their teeth and shook their heads when he asked, like even thinking about you would be a death sentence to them, and when he summoned for all records of your actions, he found only a bunch of redacted documents. All he could gather, trough bits and pieces, is that your presence here needed to be kept under wraps for a reason or another, and the scene the police stumbled upon your arrest.

“It was a bloodbath, your grace.” Clorinde told him once as she came to him for an errand from the Iudex. She seemed off, even her emotionless eyes were filled with some degree of fear in them. “I’m no stranger to death but this,” She cleared her throat and chose to cut their chat short, settling on a warning. Something smelled fishy, he would conclude, but this was not his first rodeo with difficult cases, and yours didn’t take long to crack.

“Keep an eye on them.” And he did, but perhaps not in a way she would approve of. Wriothesley found himself colliding with you every single step he took outside of his study then on, and never under intentional circumstances.

The first time it happened, you were simply eating at the canteen when chaos broke loose. He had barely exited his office, just in time to see one of the inmates throw his plate at you in challenge. “You filthy rat! How dare you-” The warden watched bewildered as guards jumped from their place, taking the man away and you simply sat there, like nothing happened. Food dripped down your clothes and face, but you simply brought your spoon to your mouth and ate quietly without complaining. All the while dark and hostile eyes watched you from every corner of the hall, and your own where chaining Wriothesley’s feet to the ground he stood on with something akin fear.

The second time you met was in the infirmary. Sigewinne had your bloody knuckles in her tiny hands with bandages cradled in her lap and alcohol stained cotton agains your open cuts. The first thing Wriothesley noticed then was the bruised corner of your lips, your bleeding nose and the open cuts on your cheeks. His heart stopped beating for a second, a disbelieving puff leaving his nose. You were so much trouble already, just by your existence in his prison, and now you were causing problems yourself?

His nurse, however, had pity in her eyes. She tutted. “I can’t stand having to bandage you up every single day. They keep trying to snuff them up, your grace! This poor soul.” She protested, and that was the first time he ever heard your voice. “It’s quite alright, miss.” Your face stayed cold, but there was kindness in your eyes, and your voice was far softer than he thought it’d be. And he couldn’t help but sit with the two of you, pushing Sigewinne’s buttons until he had every single name of the ones that tried to “snuff” you out.

It was much later that he found out what had happened exactly, and why people were so, so hostile towards you. After a couple of weeks of sitting with you and Sigewinne in the infirmary, he couldn’t handle the stress any longer.

Wriothesley had you sitting in his office with a calming rose tea settled on the table in front. The sweet smell made your shoulders ease and you begun wondering if he would have really done so much for you if you were called in for some troubles you caused. His soft eyes, however, reassured you, and you took the delicate mug to your lips. Wriothesley didn’t say much afterwards. He simply called you in the morning and had you sit with him, giving you a book to read or a pile of paper to sort trough, and never talked to you a word more. He was protecting you, you realised. From the other prisoners, who were still hungry for blood, even as you left your chamber straight thing in the morning and returned late night.

Little did the ice duke know, it was the inmates he was doing a favour to.

With each day passing, more and more eyes stared you down. More and more rumours surfaced. More and more and more and more and you were suffocating upon their vicious presences, fingers itching for something you could not allow yourself to give into.

“Do you have a family out there?” The warden asked all of a sudden one day. You snapped from your trance, a soft “huh?” Getting past your lips. “Do you have a family on the surface? I don’t know, a lover? Parents? Someone?” Your fingers tightened on the book you were skimming and gave him a weak nod after weighting your words. “I have a red fox with a clipped tail. He usually bares his teeth when he sees me, or any other pet around my home. And a Black Widow,” Wriothesley gave you an unsure stare, and his curiosity coaxed you to speak again. “That counts as family, does it not?”

Question over question followed the days following. Favourite place in Fontaine? Favourite book? At first it was trivial questions, easy for you to mumble one worded answers, until they were not, and you found you didn’t wish to speak one word at a time any longer. His presence became comforting, and after work, you’d come straight to his office to share the latest idea you thought of. He would sit down and listen, laugh and smile to you, and for once, you didn’t feel the weight of your duty crush your shoulders any longer. So how could you not crack when his fingers reached for a loose strand of your hair and how could he not let his ice-cold palm rest against your burning skin.

“What happened to you?” He asked softly. “How did you get here?” And how could you not indulge him.

Pulling away, you sat in the couch next to him, and he placed his coat over your shoulders as you brought a freshly brewed tea cup in your lap. “I was part of a sick joke.” You muttered trough gritted teeth and tightly pressed lips. To your surprise, he didn’t notice the way your reflection did the complete opposite in the shaky tea surface, smiling like an expecting devil. So you told him pretty lies, weaved together by a fraying string of truth. You couldn’t tell him that you killed a whole ballroom of nobles at the command of a frigid queen, so you told him you were part of the goods they were betting on. You couldn’t tell him that you were doing it for your own selfish reasons, especially as you watched your siblings bleed to death, so you told him you snapped in anger when an old man called you his personal toy. Lies and lies until his eyes were wide in horror and hands trembling on anger. You forced tears to run down your cheeks, and abstained from smiling when he brought you in a shaky hug. You had him under your fingertips, and the praise you’d receive when returning home with his head on a pedestal made your toes curl.

But something changed. You never felt guilty for lying and twisting people to your own pleasures but somehow, when you looked into Wriothesley’s eyes and he watched back with such a sweet stare, your knees would shake with shame. He lived trough this, you realised in horror. He lived your story once before, and your shame would deepen the more he opened up to you. Each moment when his longing kisses would caress your cheeks, a piece of you lost itself into a puddle of unfamiliar guilt.

You knew the little love you built on a foundation of lies would crumble soon. You had a bargain with a certain mistress, and her patience was thinning as seconds passed.

Then that day came, not that long after the chaos wrecked by a certain red fox with a clipped tail and three little rascals you had no name for. He told you specifically not to come to his chambers at that time. He had a guest, someone dangerous, and he wished to keep you away from their grasps. Little did you know, her presence was there for none other than yourself. You ran out of time, and now you had no way of ever coming clean to him.

The room around him felt suffocating, as though it was closing in and getting smaller and smaller until he couldn’t handle the claustrophobic sensation anymore. Wriothesley tugged at his tie, clearing his throat with an awkward pang in his voice. He sat at his desk, a place he usually associated with comfort. Under any usual circumstances, it would be comforting, really. A mellow feeling would settle in his chest at the though of afternoon tea with a plume in his hands, paperwork in piles at his desk. He couldn’t help it, the routine comforted him more than anything, almost more than your sweet voice did.

Across from him, with her hands on her crossed knees, was Father herself. She sat with her back straight, like a noble who grew with manners rooted into her very being. She knew something he didn’t, her very presence in his office proving as such, yet eyes reminded him of the status he would never have, of the scum his very being meant to her, and he couldn’t stand it. He sighed, trying to mirror her indifference and his nails dug crescent shapes into his palms, knuckles white against the seat’s armrests.

“I deeply apologise for the inconvenience my children have caused you.” Father finally spoke, feigning a deeply annoyed expression. Her fingers massaged the bridge of her nose, and she rolled her shoulders. Wriothesley wished to scoff, answer that “inconvenience” was a small word for the chaos that her “children” brought upon the poor warden, but he only nodded deeply. “But that is not all there is, is it?” He chimed in. She only nodded.

“As much as I quite enjoy idle chatting, there is a request I have to you.” How arrogant, he thought to himself. First they use his fortress as a hub for their shady plans, and now they want a favour. He had it in himself to refuse without even hearing her out, but his lips pressed against each other in curiosity.

“Is it about that ginger harbinger of yours?” At his words, her eyebrows raised, only for a second, and before he could take pride in her confusion, her face was back to the same unreadable expression. “No, not quite. I am not very interested in the business of my fellow harbingers, you see.” She let her elbow rest on her knee, and her chin in her palm. Her stare was unchanging. “Usually.” She added suddenly.

Unbeknownst to the warden, at the very same moment he was serving tea with his guest, you were being helped into thick furs and expensive silks by one of Arlecchino’s children. The cat girl remained quiet as she laced your corset and draped the fur coat around your shoulders. An uniform that grew unfamiliar to you with the months you’ve spent in cheap jail clothing.

“Then, if it’s not about the ginger, what are you here for, Father?” Wriothesley pressed harder, his annoyance beginning to reflect in the way he spoke. The woman smiled and nodded her head before she spoke again, a new fire burning in her eyes. “You see, I made a bargain with one of my colleagues. Naturally, when they failed to show up with their payment, I began to fret.” He listened, unsure of how her story tied to the fortress or him at all. The man puffed. “Imagine my surprise when I found out they’d been arrested and sent to the most guarded jail in all of Teyvat!” The Father’s hands flew, palms upwards as if she demanded answers from him, and he stilled at her words.

Your heels clicked agains the floor of the fortress, and you felt their eyes prickle at your back just like they did your first day here. Lynette and Lyney followed behind you with confidence in each of their step, like they lived for the attention, and you felt your body slip back into old habits as you walk straighter, taller, prouder.

Back in the office, Wriothesley pushed himself up from his desk and took cautious steps to the sofa, where you’d always seat with a pleasant smile on your lips. “And pray tell, who really is this colleague of yours?” Arlecchino only shrugged. “They should be joining us soon, really soon.” And the second her threatening words left her lips, the copper door to his chambers twisted.

No one spoke as a dangerous clicking of heels took to the stairs, followed by the much softer steps of the two children. When you reached the study, you were met with the sturdy back of your so called lover, and the bemused face of Father, who barked a laugh when you nodded your head her way. “You look pathetic. Like you haven’t seen sun in months.” The warden didn’t dare turn around, already feeling the edge of betrayal, a blade that danced around his neck right in this moment. But you refused to cower before someone like Arlecchino, ranked underneath you yet cocky enough to mock you.

“Because I have not.” You said dangerously, and the man between you two snapped his head back to look at you with wild eyes. He took you in with fury and disbelief in his gaze, watching how your expensive clothes hugged your body and how the traditional Snezhnayan accessories fit you, like they were part of your very existence. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even as Arlecchino threw you a jewel he refuse to acknowledge the very existence of. Wriothesley searched for your eyes, hoping for you to half turn around and act as though you had no idea what was happening, but you stood tall and braved his gaze back. As though you never shared any kisses, any nights or any ‘I love you’s with him.

You carefully pinned the cryo delusion next to the dendro vision on your coat’s collar, and it fell in place as though it was always meant to stay there, like a piece of the puzzle that was you had finally snapped into place, and he saw the truth he knew crumble before his own grasps. “Let me properly introduce myself, then.” You spoke to your lover. “My name is [Y/n], the Third Harbinger under her majesty, the Tsaritsa. I would say it has been a pleasure to stay in the Fortress of Meropide, but I’m afraid I would lie.”

To say he was betrayed was an understatement. Wriothesley would hate you before you even told him the whole truth, and he would wait for no answers before trying to take you down himself.

He would fail, of course, and once his face would meet the cold floor, he would break with silent tears. In the same time, the poison you slipped in his goblet the day before would begin to kick in. It was not enough to kill him, you assured, just enough to make him sleepy. It would keep him obedient for the travels, after all, he was your newest pet. Before he could make out what your words even meant, his eyes would close and he would find himself in a deep slumber.

Arlecchino took payment in favours, you learned, drawing patterns between her previous bargains and the one she would strike with you that day in the Duke’s study. But you couldn’t complain, not even when she left you to deal with a prison full of violent inmates. “Don’t kill them all.” She called while taking her children and leaving you alone in the study.

When Wriothesley opened up his eyes, he was no longer in his chambers, but under thick layers of fur, and when his eyes gazed upon the window next to the bed he laid in, in horror, he realised he was no longer in Fontaine either.

It would take you a long time to convince him to even listen to your explanation, but he never attempted to leave your side when he followed you from Snezhnaya to Fontaine and back. Not even when he simply refused to speak to you all together. The Tsaritsa would laugh with a full chest at how foolish his love for you was, and you couldn’t help but agree.

But he stayed. No matter how mad, he stayed by your side. And when you’d come back drained in blood and death, he would simply take your fur mantle off and kiss your skin as he’d rid you of your guilt.

In the end, he’d never really trust you again like before, but you were willing to sit by his side and learn to love him truly, safe to say more than an owner would love a guard dog, while he would learn to trust you again. He’d forgive you, but never forget the betrayal.

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kafkasmeow · 1 year ago

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1 ꗃ A FAMILIAR TUNE

imagine! 7.2k words worth of slow-burn ─ dan heng x reader ─ second pov fem! reader ─ angst and fluff ─ father! jing yuan (strictly platonic) ─ i treated the reader more as an oc, i do apologise for that.

summery ─ leaving home was one of the hardest choices you’ve ever had to make, yet how could you stay when the life you lived could only ever bring you sadness and superficiality?

aka dan heng x reader with mommy and daddy issues

disclaimer ─ this story may hold sensitive subjects such as mentioned death, neglect and the baggage that comes with it, mental illness, violence, harassment and talks of infertility. it has a very long introduction (my bad lol), a rather steamy end and takes inspiration from the original story line so be careful of spoilers and it was inspired by head-canons written here by @lyomeii , please go show some love. remember that this is a work of fiction and any names and characters written are my imagination alone. enjoy <3

taglist ─ @can-i-go-to-sleep-please ─ @can-i-stay-awake

There was a time when things felt easier, when the sun seemed to shine brighter despite the overwhelming shadow that was always cast on your family. You used to love the deep smell of green tea that enveloped the parlour each time the two of you took residence in it, and the wind that would swirl it around the whole of the office all while you laughed without a single care at the way it tugged your translucent shawl and hair.

Jing Yuan adored that sound more than anything, it filled his heart with the warmest of contents yet the cruelest of longings. He would sip quietly on the tea you’d brewed for him and pretend to enjoy the frivolous moment with his eyes closed, but you both knew that when you looked away, another story would be told completely.

Perhaps in reality, the sun never shined brighter than it seemed to and it was never easier to stomach. You were just too naive, too young to notice the thin cords bringing you and your father closer, and too ignorant to see the way they were slowly beginning to rip under the pressure.

To the public eye, your father loved you more than anything in the world, that was no news to anyone atop the Xianzhou Luofu. You’ve always worn the most expensive silks to have ever been created, with the richest of accessories and jewels. Whenever a new Hanfu dress would reach your hands, he would parade you on the busiest streets himself, making sure everyone and their mothers would talk about it by noon the next day.

He made sure you always had the most able and knowledgeable professors at your call, and if you ever needed anything, all you’d have to do is ask to whomever was closest to you at the very moment, and it would be fulfilled within seconds. Sometimes you didn’t know if the servants did it out of admiration for your father or obligation.

Jing Yuan made sure you never needed or wanted for more. Materially, that is.

And things were bound to change as you grew, especially as he cruelly presented you to the scrutiny of high society.

You quickly grew to understand that it was his way of apologising, like a crow that would chip away at your skin then bring you trinkets of appreciation. When you sat and listened to some woman criticise that your dress was too frivolous for the event, too out of fashion for society and that none of your jewels matched, he did not do much but smile and pat your shoulder.

“Little [Y/n] will learn from your kind advice.” He assured her, but you barely held in a snort of frustration. When the other women joined in, when they begun pulling at your hair to adjust it, when they hit your hands with their fans as you purred tea for not angling your elbows right, when they shamed you as the hall hollered with laughter, he watched and smiled, so you took a deep breath and smiled back to everyone around you too.

Later that very evening he found you with tears running on your cheeks, a box of red and gold velvet in his hands. Your father did not speak, nor did he show much emotion on his face and it angered you. You wished to yell, to protest for the fact that he had not jumped to your defence, but as you opened the box, all protests died on your lips and the tears stilled, hands shaking at the most beautiful jade hair pin you’ve ever seen.

But his gifts stopped making up for his emotional absence around the third time it happened.

And you knew they all watched you like a hawk. Every move you’d make before the higher ups would be analysed on a scale of “good enough” or “weak” by none other than your father’s so called friends, while every single gesture before the public was like pulling needles off your skin. Yesterday you wore your Hanfu scandalously low on your cleavage, today you didn’t say thank you when the guard accompanying you opened up your parasol, tomorrow you won’t hold your tea cup quite right and so on.

Usually it was easy to ignore.

But that was before the daughters of the noblest of houses would begin to alienate you for shallow reasons, and before the sons of each commissioner would size you up as nothing but easy stock to win over, an easy marriage in the pocket, or so they thought.

It was easy for them to have the audacity to criticise you to your face or try to win you over, after all, you were nothing but a spoiled brat who’s never heard no for as long as she’s lived. Surely, you’ve never faced a single hardship, so the public felt righteous enough to scold you into it while for those within you were noting but a charity case.

So you tried to learn all you could, so you’d never feel as less in front of others ever again. Since the very evening of your debut, you insisted on having a book under your arm, a needle in your hand, a sword at your hip, or a qin in your lap while tea cups simmered on a table. It felt easier to overlook the loneliness when you did. You found that after a certain age, it felt comforting even to worry about making it in time to granny Hua’s qin lessons while leaving the swordplay hall behind, rather than sit pretty in a room and wait all day for your father to finish his duties as a general. There was no more room at social events for rude interventions, and no more room in your mid for uncomfortable questions to ask while doing so, really.

But you couldn’t avoid them for an eternity, that was for sure. And neither could Jing Yuan, for even in tranquil moments when peace had the taste of green tea and the smell of fresh air after rain, your twinkling eyes were still a carbon copy of how hers were.

In the better of these days, your father would pretend to laugh at a joke you made, while you pretended to be satisfied with his reaction. You’d move a piece on the xiangqi board with elegant hands and chatted about the latest passage you read in a philosophy book, and he hummed in agreement while placing his own piece down. A cleverly crafted strategy to his own defeat, one that you felt content with following despite the fragile shame that came with it.

It was a play you both excelled at most, after all.

At the worst of it all, you can’t understand his harsh voice as he yells “That is enough, [Y/n]!” while slamming his tea cup on the table. The whole room would shake at his warning, but your hunger for answers was much stronger than any fear, so you really can’t understand his fury when you yell back “Father! It is not!” He look at you with sorrow in his heart and his eyes were twisted by a pain you’d never understand, as he could only see her in you.

“I will not have this conversation with you!” He’d warn again, but you took it as an invitation to push even further. “I don’t know the first thing about my mother, Jing Yuan! Her name? Never heard of it. Her face? Never seen it. Do you not think it is cruel, father?” Hot tears streamed on your perfect porcelain cheeks, smearing the red eyeliner you had painted on. “No one ever speaks about her to me, everyone refuses to. But they all look at me like I’m some kind of…” Your voice trailed off with hard puffs and sobs. “Like I’m some kind of…”

His own chest puffed and the sight of you felt like a stab to his heart. You couldn’t get your words out, you didn’t need to really. People constantly looked at you in one of two ways, no matter how perfectly you’ve learned to craft your smiles, or how good your tea brewing had became, you were either a charity case they’d pity, or a spoiled brat that knew none of what the real world would offer.

But despite all of his anger, he was still your father, and as much as he loved to punish himself trough you, he still held back the need of snapping the heads off all of their shoulders. He would reach for the back of your neck with his hand, bringing you into his chest in a half hug. “You are enough. Never forget that.” He’d kiss the crown of your head and inhale the floral smell of your hair. It grounded him, even as you screamed into his chest and pushed him away, his grip stayed firm until you’d shed your last tear and you cried your last sob.

Because despite of how much you hated to admit it, you were living and breathing for his approval, which you seemed to never ever gain.

Unbeknownst to you, everything about you was just like her. Your face, your hair, even the way you wore your Hanfu a little out of place with the shawl falling all over the floor when you walked, or your mannerism as you spoke with a tiny accent on your tongue, it was all her and nothing of his except the mole under your left eye. You’ve never met her, he tried to reason. You’ve never seen her or heard of her deeds. Your mother has been an enigma to you ever since you could remember things, and yet the world punished him with her perfect copy in you when he tried to push her memory away the most.

It felt bittersweet. To the outside eye, general Jing Yuan adored his daughter more than anything else in the world. But underneath the jewellery, there were unaddressed feelings, each pearl you wore for people on the Central Starskiff Heaven to see was a tear unshed, each new dress was a silent apology they’d never hear, each loving promenade you’d have with your father was there to hide for the public a question you asked when the cord was too tensed. One of these days it would snap in half, you were sure of it.

So who could blame you when it all overflowed? When you could no longer smile in the face of those who envied you and when your father’s emotional absence felt like a hallow painting of what should have really been? When the dresses and the jewels weren’t smothering the pain any longer?

You felt it daily, building up, pressing down, tugging at your smiles until they became frowns and empty stares, and your ever growing depression was evident for anyone that roamed the gardens outside your window at night, as your qin carried into the world the saddest tune your heart feared to voice. And this time, not even a Hanfu made out of golden thread would ease your pain.

“So, say you, general,”

Your father hummed back to the woman before him as he placed his piece down on the board. Another noble nodded in agreement with his choice behind him. You saw them all from where you were sitting, fingers strumming the qin in a delicate tune for the whole room to enjoy, while gin purred from flasks and laughter echoed somewhere in the back. It wasn’t like you to agree partaking in parties like these, but how could you turn Jing Yuan down when he asked you to serenade him at the event?

“I would say you’d want to keep your daughter closest to you, am I not right?” The wicked tone in the noble’s voice made you shiver underneath the silver shawl that draped off your shoulders. “Quite so I fear, why is that?”

“Well, I hoped to reach you when I first heard the news, but I was quite busy, yous see?” The woman, an esteemed elder of the Artisanship Commission, hid her face behind what was possibly the most obnoxious fan you’ve ever seen, and your fingers became stiff on the metal strings of your trusted instrument. “Pardon me?” The general stilled his movements on the xiangqi pieces while the chattering went quiet. Nothing but your trembling notes filled the air.

“You know, I wished to give you my deepest condolences the moment I heard. For your daughter’s… unfortunate situation, that is.” Confused, Jing Yuan tilts his head to where you stood, only to be met with the same questions on your face that you desperately tried to drown as you played your melody. He chuckled awkwardly, then, and returned his attention on the game. “I fear I don’t know what you’re going on about, ma’am.”

“Ah… You know, the fact that your daughter is unable to bear children has quite saddened us all. I was looking forward to sending my son as a potential suitor!”

If eyes could kill, you would be sure that the place where the woman stood would have become scorched dust. An involuntary scoff left your lips loud enough to draw attention, but you pretended to be engrossed with tuning your qin before beginning to play another piece for the hall.

“And where have you heard such news, I wonder?” But she held no fear in her eyes.

“Well, for one, everyone in high society talks about it! You see, your daughter is already past the age of accepting suitors yet has never even been seen with a man, so people assume. That being said I personally was told so by a doctor that works under you, your grace.”

‘Lies’, you told yourself, but it was not enough to cool the blush you had on your cheeks from embarrassment, no matter how much you have been shamed by the public eye, nothing could compare to this very moment now.

“Is that so,” Your father trailed off, then placed his piece on the xiangqi board. “Well, from what I know, your son is welcome to send in his suitor application, for my daughter is more than healthy and cared for. In fact, now that I think about it,” But you didn’t wish to hear any more.

With a sudden move, you jumped from your seat to your feet and rushed to gather the qin underneath its silk cloth. The commotion drew attention to you, and so murmurs begun filling your ears which only fed your ever growing shame. “Please excuse me.” You voiced as you bowed deeply to the room of lords and nobles, then picked up your instrument and hurried to the exit with a strained “Please enjoy the rest of your evening.”

And you hoped that would be the last you’ve heard of it all, but as fate wanted it, that was far from how things would play.

“Father! This is ridiculous!” You protested. For all reason and purposes, it really was.

Not even a full day after what happened, he invited you to serve tea with him in the parlour. You found it odd, as he never requested your presence on Tuesday afternoons, but did not complain as you stepped into the room with haste.

He took his time finding the courage to face you, and when he understood he would not be able to deliver the news to you with a straight face, he pushed a stack of paper to you without even meeting your eyes. There, in red ink, was your fate sealed by a simple signature. An agreement that had been made without your knowledge or permission, and a wound that would become the reason for the demise of cord that held your family together.

Marriage certificate.

No one knows what was truly discussed that night in the evening, but what was known was that you’ve fled with tears in your eyes and anger on your face. And for better or for worse, that would become the last time anyone on the Xianzhou Luofu had seen you under the identity of the general’s daughter, for you found no more room in your heart for the pain that followed with it.

“You know, when you put it like that, I do think that green works best with coral!” March eagerly nodded her head, while Dan Heng took his time analysing Himeko’s theory. You and welt only listened to the conversation with one ear, while the other was being filled with questions over questions from Stelle.

“I don’t believe that’s a wise move.” You chirped as Welt placed the piece down, and you followed with a quick movement that gained you his general. He groaned and pushed his glasses up away while massaging the bridge of his nose. Stelle wowed and wood at your victory, and March leaned from her seat across the express’ parlour with a “really?” look in her eyes.

“You lost again, M. Yang?”

“I swear I’m good at this game.” And you chuckled while placing the pieces back into their pouch. “Used is a keyword.” March continued to tease while everyone watched your movements, which, weirdly, felt more calming than before your time on the express. In truth, it was because they never snickered underneath their palms and never cherry picked your posture until you’d get it wrong.

That being said, you could only care for one person’s eyes alone, and his stare felt like electricity on the back of your neck.

“How did you learn to play like this, anyways? You’re like a mad genius at these.” Stelle intervened, and you couldn’t help but shiver as your father’s knowing eyes came into your mind. “Ah…” was all that escaped your lips, before you cured your pained expression in a calm and lovely smile. “My father taught me how to play. He always made it so I would win, though. Therefore, for the longest time I believed I was quite bad at it too.”

Your voice felt like crystal in the quiet room, so quiet and soft to the ear that it was more akin to a melody than a spoken sentence. You never truly talked about your home, never about your family of your past, which is exactly why your friends turned to you with a cocktail of shocked expressions. Despite how polite and proper you always were, whenever someone asked about it, you would have the coldest glare thrown their way, sure, involuntarily, but scary nonetheless, and with time the crew learned to not ask about a past you so much wished to hide.

Despite that, they never judged you for any of it, not even when your friendship has been tried over and over by your cold heart. You were never outright rude per se, but distant hit the nail in the head best. When Himeko would extend an invitation to a “coffee party” for the crew as an example, you refused with a polite smile that felt ripped out of etiquette teaching picture books, saying you prefer tea instead.

She feared you’d be left out, you feared being the centre of attention.

“I believe I’ll head in for the day.” You spoke after finishing to arrange the xiangqi pieces on the board. March left out an “Oh…” and you could hear the sad face in her voice. Amongst the others, she was the saddest when you chose to sit the Xianzhou Luofu out, as ever since your addition to the crew, you never turned down an adventure. You explained that your bones hurt from the cold of Jarilo-VI and that you needed a rest, and with Stelle at their side, you were sure they would have no problems getting trough this one trail-blazing adventure. Sure, it was a bit of a shock for Himeko and Welt, but to March? It was a tragedy. Her new bestie leaving her behind? She swore the world would end.

“Please, have a safe journey and a swift return.”

You nodded your head their way before picking up the xiangqi game and reaching for the door. Your fingers grazed the digital pad just in time to hear Dan Heng’s voice behind you. “I will do the same, didn’t quite finish storing the data bank after Jarilo-VI.”

And so you ended up side by side, walking trough the corridors of the Express. However, as you stepped past his make-shift room, you found his steps synced with yours still and, confused, you turned to face him and painted one of your signature smiles. Fake but pretty all the same.

“Can I help you, Dan Heng?”

It was exactly that cold yet perfect, more-like-a-painting-than-an-actual-human attitude that made Dan Heng distrust you from the moment you stepped on the Express. You left everything to speculation in a way in which even your clothes were a mass of black and colourless, without any culture behind or any story at all to tell. Always in a bland attire with no accessories at all. March made fun of you for being so tasteless, but he saw past the appearance. He saw past the way you acted and into the way you wilded your swords like cranes flying in the wind, the way you prepared and steeped tea, and the way you handled xiangqi and go pieces like a native only could.

He peered into your eyes in a way that made you unravel before him without a single word, and he knew it was to hide a side of you that you’ve hidden deeply to the rest. But not quite to him.

And while he was trying to get over a sense of danger in you, fed by your secrecy, you found peace in his presence. Unbeknownst to him, he was the one thing that reminded you of home and the good in it despite it all. If your memories were filled with torment and loneliness, he was the smell of freshly baked red bean sticky rice cakes in the market, or the sound of wind chimes in the summer rain. He was all of the little things you wanted to push away but found comfort in, and you didn’t know if you loved it or hated him for it.

“Yes, actually.” He nodded. “I find I can’t sleep as of late and I wanted to try one of your calming brews.” You frowned at his words but gave in without asking much, which he greatly appreciated. “Very well, please join me for some tea tonight, then.” And silence settled between you two as you lead him to your cabin with unease rolling off your shoulders.

Your room was much like your clothes. Simple and colourless besides the coffer next to your bed, which was unmistakably made with the mastery of a Xianzhou artisanship. But if he noticed it, he didn’t speak on it at all, nor about the low table in the middle of the room that was in the same style, or… well really about anything. You appreciated that most. Even when you settled on the table a traditional set of cups, a clear tea spreading the most enchanting and calming aroma from them, he did not speak a single word.

As he drank, his eyes rested on your covered qin that sat atop your bed, and he did not need to speak for you to understand his intentions. You sat down quietly on the covers, revealing the simple instrument like a truth you’d usually hide from. And he couldn’t help but watch you with sadness in his heart as you tuned the strings with shaky hands ‘till crystal clear notes echoed trough the room.

You took a heavy inhale and looked upon the dark ebony wood as if greeting an old friend before propping it on your lap, but couldn’t handle to meet Dan Heng’s eyes. At least not when he stared at you as if he knew every single secret you feared to tell.

As you raised your hands in the air, getting ready to pull at the string, his own palm engulfed your exposed skin in an unspoken plea, and you couldn’t help but give into his warmth. He pulled gently until your face was buried into his shoulder and his other arm was in your hair, and you didn’t even notice it when silent tears begun to stain the fabric of his coat. He didn’t protest nor ever addressed it, and you preferred the feeling of his body against yours to the coldness of his eyes on a normal day.

As such, you spent the evening together afterwords. Him silently sipping on the calming tea as the sorrowful yet comforting sound of the qin filled your bedroom, until there were no more tears to shed and the pot on the table had gone cold.

No one wanted to admit it, but it had to be said. Something changed between you and Dan Heng from then on and the first one to notice it was none other than March.

They were getting ready to leave the express when she stated it for the whole crew to hear.

“Is it me or are the two of you like, in love or something now?” She arched one of her eyebrows while her lips rested in a scowl. Now, don’t get her wrong she was more than happy for you two if it was the case, but what she could not stand for was the two of you ditching the adventure to enjoy a date over tea and qin music again.

“March, what kind of nonsense are you onto again?” You huffed with cherry red ears, while Dan Heng choked on the water he was previously drinking. All she could do was wave her hand while saying “yeah yeah,” over and over with a bored face before they set out on their way, but not before Welt pinned the two of you down with a knowing look.

The express stilled with their absence, reinforced by Pom-Pom who claimed to have some cleaning to do somewhere in the Express and Himeko who had some paperwork to finish. The parlour felt almost empty, despite Dan Heng’s presence right next to you. He still held his fist over his mouth as if preparing to cough, cheeks dusted pink and eyes on the starry sky before you, but he didn’t say a word about what happened. And something in you told you to follow his lead.

You ate quietly at the sticky rice cake you tried your hand baking, and although the taste was very different from what you remembered, it was still as good as ever. With a tissue all crumpled up in your hand, you resulted to watching the sky along side your new friend, eyeing the stars one by one as they passed by. Yet you found your eyes sliding lower and lower from the window to the man before you, who you found already watching you with wide eyes. As if caught in headlights, he stammered out an incoherent string of words but did not move his gaze, not even as his body leaned to yours until his hand grazed your chin.

You shuddered at his icy touch, but did not dare to move, not even as his fingertips reached for your lips. He gently wiped your lips then brought his thumb to his own mouth, licking off the excess red bean cream from the cake, and you were absolutely sure your face would explode from how hot it get in that very moment. “You had a bit,” He started, but his mouth closed shut when he noticed the dazed stare in your eyes. “Oh aeons, I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” His voice shook and his own ears turned scarlet red, only now realising what he has done. You shook your head, head turning so you could focus on the floor as if the tiles below your feet were now the best sight you have ever seen. “Ah, not at all! I was just surprised, ‘tis all.” Your sweaty palm gripped the tissue tighter. “Would you like some?” And Dan Heng looked at the half eaten cake you extended to him with an expression you’ve ever seen him give March or Stelle. He stared at the cake in his hands with a wholehearted fondness. “Yeah.” Was all he could manage to whisper back.

And somewhere in the back, you swore you heard Himeko giggle to herself.

The same evening, you would hear three soft knocks on your door in the dead of night. There, in the hallway, with a sweat filled forehead and uneasy complexion, stood Dan Heng, and you would be a fool not to extend a hand to him when he begged for help with his tired eyes.

“Quit hiding!” The criminal’s voice rang trough your head like a broken mantra. “Your true form… reveal it!” Dan Heng did his best to dodge the maniac attacks, all while you and Yanqing stood in an awkward stalemate in the middle of the platform.

Your blade screeched against Yanqing’s, but it was like fighting fire with fire, simply useless. No matter how lowkey you’ve been upon reaching the Xianzhou, he needed one singular look to know exactly who you were, even underneath the mask that covered the lower half of your face.

“You, little..” You trailed off with effort. Despite his usual sense of justice, that you’ve always commanded, his attacks felt awfully biased as he strikes your blade repeatedly with his icy ones. His technique felt as familiar as home did, her teaching seeping in his bones trough and trough, but so did your father’s into yours, which you’ve had much more time to perfect than the little lapdog did.

“Move, you idiot!” And with one harsh push of your blade, the young boy was off his feet, giving you enough time to reach Blade before he could get any damage done on Dan Heng. You yelled with each strike you struggled to par, until his crazy red eyes widened in glee and his sword flew from his hands and right by your chin. The sound of your friend’s cry in agony and the blade tearing trough skin and bone made you pause, and horror struck you as you refused to turn around and to even acknowledge what had happened. “You!” Was all you could let out, sword still pointed straight to Blade’s neck.

“I have news for you.” He laughed, and you took a step back. You would lie if you said your insides didn’t churn with fear, even as he was left completely disarmed before you.

“Behind you… Is none other,” The sound of water engulfed your ears as your head snapped back. “Than the traitor of the Xianzhou. A criminal, forever banished!” Your eyes widened as the barrier around Dan Heng rippled, leaving a water-made dragon to escape with rage all over its face. It roared and turned in the air, coiling until it fell right back to where it came from, and when light and wind filled the platform, you couldn’t help but shield your form with your arms.

“The High Elder of the Vidyadhara… Imbibitor Lunae.”

The hold on your sword weakened. You shuddered as the man you grew so attached to revealed himself before you in a form you’ve recognised from your father’s tales. Long silky hair and cold green eyes, horns and tail and lotus flowers and everything that made the Vidyadhara so revered. You could hardly believe your eyes. With a weak step forward, you pulled at the mask to reveal your strained expression, sword falling to your side numbly.

“You really believed that the Stellaron Hunters were the only ones to infiltrate the Xianzhou?”

Cold air begun pulling at your hair, and you shook off your stupor when Yanqing begun summoning his ice swords. Your body acted before your mind did at the new threat and your sword was back up within seconds, posture ready for a clash.

“A wanted criminal, a banished person and a deserter. In this case, I will bring all three of you to justice!”

The fight ended before it could even begin properly. Yanqing was strong, but Jingliu’s teaching could only get him so far against the three of you. Blade begun striking without mercy, taunting you and Dan Heng for holding back. “What’s wrong, your grace? Scared to harm the boy?” The criminal laughed as you sent only one out of the spirit swords you summoned towards Yanqing. Flashes of electricity begun shining trough your hair with anger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do more. Not even when Dan Heng delivered the final strike with a silent apology.

Yanqing’s knees begun to buckle just as Kafka yelled “All of you, listen to me - stop!”

You couldn’t help but stumble back, swords falling out of existence as Dan Heng’s feet stepped back on the floor and Blade’s weapon vanished before your eyes. “Well, Bladie? Are you satisfied?” She mused and he only hummed in response.

“…What did you do?” Dan Heng called after a moment of silence. “Just clearing the stage for the grand entrance. Can’t have the four of you misbehaving in front of the Luofu’s hotshot general.” Your shoulders stiffened as a familiar laughter filled the platform. All heads turned towards the sight, yet you stayed rooted on your feet, back turned and head shaking in denial. ��No, not like this.” You whispered.

“Jing Yuan,” Blade huffed. “General!” Yanqing followed.

The man stared at the sighed before him with a knowing smile just as you got the courage to turn and face him. If he felt anything upon the sight of you, he did not show it. “Many years have passed since the three of you have departed the Xianzhou, and yet the circumstances of your return appear to be equally unhappy. If you still thought of me as a friend,” His eyes went straight to yours, unspoken words weighting you down as you found it harder and harder to breathe. ‘As family’ was what he wished to say, yet he held back. “You should’ve forewarned me.”

“My task is complete.” Was all the blade said. “Mhm. That it is.” Your father laughed in return. “Thank you for assisting the Xianzhou in this small matter. Take this person away, I will pretend I didn’t see anything this time.” He stated harshly despite Yanqing’s protest. Jing Yuan then stared at Dan Heng as the two Stellaron Hunters made their way to the boat at the edge of the platform. “It has been a long time, old friend.” But your friend answered harshly. “I’m not him.”

“Mh. I’m sorry. You cannot leave yet, however. Your astral express friends are still waiting for you in Scalegorge Waterscape. Shall we go and see them together? And you…” The moment you have been trying to prepare yourself for most had arrived, and your father’s smile died on his lips as his eyes analysed your face.

“I missed you terribly, my sweet flower.” Dan Heng stiffened next to you, but his hand fingertips grazed yours in protectiveness, to which you could only respond by accepting his palm into yours. The familiar nickname brought tears into your eyes, and despite the coldness of his face, your father’s voice felt like a familiar little tune you new by heart. Like a warm hug when you needed it most. How you wished you could’ve just forgotten it all and jumped into his chest, just like how you did when you were nothing but a sprout on two legs.

“That being said, we will continue this conversation later. I’m afraid your friends might be in trouble, you see.”

You didn’t know how time had passed so fast, more like a blur than anything, truthfully. Your eyes were opened wide on the platform between the Xianzhou and Scalegorge Waterscape, blade in hand and senses aware as you parred each of the attacks your way. Then you blinked, and when you reopened them, a familiar sight greeted you.

Three cups of steaming green tea on a low rise table, a board of xiangqi and pieces of go scattered all over the table. A sacred silence engulfed the room, besides the occasional sound of the chess pieces falling into place, and none of you could bring yourselves to shatter it just yet.

Dan Heng watched you play with patience while occasionally bringing the cup to his lips, now back into the form you grew so familiar with. You hated to admit it, but his presence comforted you. It gave you the strength to hold yourself together in a situation in which you would have certainly shattered if alone, and your father’s keen eye did not glass over that fact.

You sighed peacefully when your chariot was finally occupied in the middle of the palace, on your father’s side, in a perfect centroid checkmate. The man before you leaned back and sighed, a puzzled expression on his face. “You just had to go and get better than me at this game, did you not?” But you didn’t answer. You still didn’t know what to say, really. Were you feeling guilty for deserting your spot as a cloud knight? For leaving your father behind? Or for bailing on your responsibilities as his daughter? Well, no not quite, so apologising for it felt…strained and forced. But one thing felt real as your eyes met his and Dan Heng’s hand reached for yours across the table. You missed him terribly just as much.

“Every single day that passes shapes you more and more like her.” He added. “I wish you could’ve been by my side for them all.”

“Jing Yuan…” You whispered back, but he didn’t let you finish. “If your mother was here with us today, I assure you, my sweet flower, that things would have been so different.” For a moment, you could hear nothing but your heart beating against your chest.

“You are just like her. And I truly mean it. Your face, your personality, darn it all even the way you speak. And, as your father, I wish I could’ve offered you a better life.”

“You did all you could.” Funny how even now, you were the one to reach with a warm heart, how you were the one to comfort and forgive, even when his heart couldn’t yield.

“Not quite. I was foolish and believed that a firm hand would prepare you for the cruelty of the world. I failed to see, no. I failed to change when I saw that it was harming you more than anything.” You let out a sigh you’ve held in for a very long time and closed your eyes, a last attempt at holding in the tears you wished so disparately to shed.

“I love you, father. Nothing will ever change that. However,” Despite how your hand shook in Dan Heng’s, your voice stood firm, and as you opened your eyes, both men shivered at their determination. “An apology, no matter how needed, will never make up for what has been. If this is your way of asking me to stay, I fear I’ve made my choice.”

But his ever knowing smile was back on his lips, and his laughter caught you off guard. Your fingers tightened on Dan Heng’s fingertips, who had stayed quiet as you and your father voiced what both of you ever feared to before.

“You see, that was not my intention. That being said, if you ever did wish to return, there will always be room for you into my arms, my darling flower.” And you only nodded back, lips slightly parted in surprise.

“We should head out.” Dan Heng whispered to you after the tea had been finished and the conversation ended. He tapped the skin of your palm with gentle fingers, a quiet way of asking for your attention. His eyes were stricken with tiredness, and you doubted that yours were any better, excusing the puffiness brought by your tears.

“Ah yes, I forgot!” The general mused. “There is no need to return to that hotel for the night. I asked for your room to be prepared, for you and your lover here. So you could rest comfortably before leaving.” The moment could be best described by a broken record being pulled abruptly from its recorder and screeching in your head. You eyed Dan Heng who refused to meet your gaze and who’s ears became scarlet red once more. “Father!” You protested. “He- He’s not-”

“Save it, [Y/n]. At least invite me if you do ever get married.”

“Dad!” Shame engulfed you as you pushed Dan Heng out of the room all while the sound of Jing Yuan’s laughter taunted you from behind the doors of the seat of Devine Foresight. You couldn’t help but whisper muffled apologies into your hand that tried to shield your burning face from anyone that would watch, which in truth was as effective as searching for a needle in a haystack.

What you didn’t expect was for Dan Heng’s hand to find yours and move it away, revealing cherry red cheeks that matched his own. He cleared his voice before leaning in just enough for his breath to fan over your ear as your back met the closed doors behind you. “I would not mind if I was.” He whispered before his velvet soft lips rested against the exposed skin of the back of your palm. You were sure your knees would’ve given in if it wasn’t for his arm that hooked around your waist, bringing you so close to him you shuddered.

“I really would not mind it.”

Later that evening, as his teeth grazed your exposed skin before kissing it with sweet words of praise, as your hands intertwined and your bodies became one under the silk sheets of your bed, you could tell that your heart began singing a familiar tune. With each kiss from Dan Heng’s, a new feeling invaded your senses. You were home. Here with him, in this very moment. You were home in his arms.

And you wouldn’t changed it for anything else.

Yes, not even as March yells “I fucking knew it!” the next morning, for the whole of Xianzhou Luofu to hear, upon seeing your neck caked in love marks you had no means of hiding and your hand held tightly by Dan Heng, who only smiled back to everyone as you buried your face into his chest with shame.

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