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hiraeth-sonder · 4 months

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Long Once More - 再贪欢

Yan! OC x Reader

OC x Reader

You will always have him, no matter your vice, he will always be there

TW: Incest, manipulative and toxic behaviour, really badly written sex

//This isn't historically accurate at all and I have no idea what I wrote. If anyone has read the prequel on AO3 or Quotev, this is just a continuation. You don't have to read one or the other to get the whole plot but I can't tell you what to do sooo

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————春芯王—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

The role of Lord of Chunxin is not an easy one, perhaps made especially so by your being a woman. Times have been hectic in the recent year and with nosy officials poking in to question your marital status, you have taken it upon yourself to solve this issue.

The time has once again come for a myriad of eligible young lords and ladies to express their intention of courting, whether for reasons political or not, it is ultimately inevitable for you to receive some offers. Your suitors, of course, would have to remain in your estate and care until you came to a decision on their status. It is by no means a paltry position, for many acquiring Chunxin would mean enjoying the wealth of a merchant and trade hub as well as the strategic location that aided with its peace. No matter the fact that you are a young woman of comely features and skill to run a whole commandery on your own, there was bound to be some fool of a noble willing to try his hand at courting you.

To marry a man would mean that Chunxin would very likely be absorbed into whatever territory they ruled over, or perhaps worse still, they would deem themself more worthy to rule. It is very well said that their arrogance may cast the careful tranquillity you have crafted into the abyss, and as you have dedicated 8 years of your life into this commandery you call home, you would quite prefer for your hard work to not go to waste.

This period of receiving has a long time to end, yet you were keen to complete this phase of your life as soon as possible. To pick a suitable husband never has been such an arduous task.

Beneath the warm sunlight streaming through verdant leaves, a soft sigh escapes you as your older brother sits opposite with a tea set between the two of you. His eyes are closed, expression placid as he takes in a breath. The wind is gentle and brings about the fragrance of blooming flowers, the start of spring has arrived and it only seems fitting for the start of your toil to coincide with such a prosperous symbol.

Your attendant A’yan approaches you and hands over a bundle of letters, three in total and each more solemn than the last. She holds a hand to her chest as she bows, she affirms, “My lord, here are the offers we have received.”

Heavy in your hands, you flip through each scroll to take cursory glances, eyes scanning over surnames and territories. It mattered not their age, so long as it did not go above thirty five, you had no qualms. Though perhaps your focus was more on their date of arrivals, and knowing some of the families that have sent their responses, punctuality is to be expected and not suggested.

“How convenient that they should not arrive all at the same time, at the very least I may spend more time getting to know them,” Letting out an amused huff, your eyes look upon a certain family’s especially early arrival.

Your older brother picks up another of the scrolls, phoenix eyes narrowing in vexation for a moment before they return to his usual placidity. His voice is low, serene and sonorous, “How convenient indeed.”

As though sensing the ensuing conversation to be shared between family, A’yan excuses herself and moves to watch over the two of you from a distance. At this, you send him a knowing look as you put down the scroll in your hand.

“Will you promise to behave when they come around?”

Zhou Chen only cocks his head, long auburn hair bound loosely framing his alluring apertures along with the movement. He raises a brow and hums, “You make it sound as if I am cruel enough to burden others.” Amber eyes bearing a kind of aggrievedness as those long lashes flutter, akin to emphasising his hurt, “Meimei, do you truly think so low of me?”

You laugh at such a display, mirth pulling at your lips as you smile, “You always find something to gripe about whenever someone shows interest, am I wrong?”

His hand, slender with well-defined joints, reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the contact gentle and familiar as the cold touch of jade and gold press against your skin. You lean into his touch ever so slightly, more a sign on your accruing stress than anything else. A soft sigh escapes you, and for a moment your eyes meet.

“My dearest meimei is far too good for any person, it is only right that as your brother, I weed them out for you,” He murmurs, amity all but spilling from his words.

You breathe out, voice discordant and scraping out your throat, “Promise me, please.”

Your dearest brother, your only bastion of assuage before the chaos that is soon to emerge, whenever he speaks to you as such, it feels as though everything in this world shall resolve itself favourably.

“Anything for you.”

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————宋曦渊—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

Lord Song Ze, courtesy name Xiyuan, of Ningshan is a face you did not expect to see at your door first thing in the morning. Or rather you did not actually expect to see him at all.

The Song family were the descendents of a particularly pious monk, following more along the path of immortals than those of mortality. You could perhaps recount the last time you have seen a member of this family from your childhood of living among celestial beings, though you are not sure you have ever seen Xiyuan before.

The name is one that bears a kind of distance, one that has been cultivated through his almost ethereal appearance and deeds. When one thinks of benevolence, the image that is conjured is that of white robes and sweeping sleeves. Though the Song family has notoriously been above many of the conflicts that plague other commanderies and territories, so it is of course a surprise that they not only sent an offer, but also that the head of the family himself would so magnanimously offer himself. Their response was vague, promising only that a favourable member had taken it upon himself to make the journey to Chunxin and try his hand upon the sixth day of the month.

So you must be excused for the clear and evident shock on your face when a carriage pulls up in front of your estate only for a tall and slender immortal with a smile on his face to emerge.

“Lord Song, it is a pleasure to have you in our humble lands,” You bow as your eyes subtly shift to look for another that may indicate his being as political, as a figure to ascertain negotiations for another. Yet when no other steps down from the carriage, you take in a soft breath. “I believe this is our first time meeting.”

For a moment, you think you see a complicated emotion flash across aureate eyes, though it is quick to disappear as he urges you from your formality, “Please, no need for such courtesy, we are to get to know one another soon.”

“Of course. Then, would you be keen for some tea?”

Xiyuan nods, an elegant move that barely disturbs the strands of hair that drape upon his broad shoulders. He is so much taller than you, he must tip his head just to perceive you fully and you must raise yours, the stark difference only makes you feel small. Though you gesture for him to go ahead, when the rest of your servants come to take his luggage, he is quick to thank them, a sunny smile pulling across thin lips. His voice is light and gentle, if you must compare it then it should be to the first rays of light in the morning. Perhaps what you do not expect is that when they struggle to carry it, he reaches out and with inordinate ease, lifts what may be a few catties and instead offers to bring it to his room himself.

Throughout this entire process, you could only watch in awe as he does not show even a sign of struggle, maintaining the elegant gait as he accompanies you to your drawing room. It was almost horrifying to see, though you have little time to ponder the reason behind such ability when he has settled in his seat and is looking to you with an expectant gaze.

With a slight quirk of your lips, you inquire the reasoning behind his being here, “I am truly honoured that you have made the journey to Chunxin, though may I ask, why exactly did you choose to court me?”

Xiyuan takes a moment to answer, his expression tranquil as he gathers his thoughts. Then, he speaks, clear and true.

“You are a woman of repute, it is undeniable even in Ningshan that your ability and your generosity is rare among commandery lords.” His eyes persist firmly on yours, unwavering and stalwart. He takes a breath, and his eyes crinkle in slight mirth as that smile of his, clement as a spring’s day, remains upon his lips, “There is little I do not admire about you, and when time came around, I believed it a chance to speak with you.”

Your chest tightens, and though you respond, it comes out weak and gawky, not at all the refined lord you attempted to convey, “Well, it is very kind of you to say so. Before I may continue asking, do you have any concerns you wish to be addressed?”

He merely shakes his head, and gestures for you to resume your pseudo-interrogation, a notion you readily accept.

“I have a duty to Chunxin and so I worry that should we get married, my presence would be required most in Ningshan.”

Though Ningshan was only a journey taken by a few days, you wished not for an event where you would be forced to watch your people suffer from afar. You may be unsure of the manner in which the Song family treats spouses, however there is one thing that you are certain and that is, becoming the wife of a person as important as the Lord of Ningshan would mean dedicating your prowess and time to it, leaving Chunxin.

You would not take it, you had made that clear in your soul the moment you had to send that announcement to the world. In your heart, you already knew the answer you would receive, you merely wished that you would be proven wrong.

“I understand, and I must apologise but as my wife, you would be required to remain by my side,” Xiyuan’s response is as you expected, a slight mournful glint in his eyes.

Yet still, he is swift to reassure you, “However, I can promise that Chunxin will remain entirely under your dominion, we have no intention of absorbing or conquering your lands.”

At that, you can only let out a soft sigh, “That is a relief, I will admit.”

Though your words said so, internally you have likewise expected such a concept. The Song family would not engage in conflict unnecessarily, even if it should benefit them. You do not have much else to ask him if you had to be honest, your main worry out of the way, so you merely hold your teacup to your lips, sipping in slow practised bouts as you attempt to think of conversation.

“Do you have siblings?” Hesitantly, you broach the silence that befell the two of you.

He responds, another smile upon his lips, “A younger brother, I believe he should be around your age.”

“That’s nice, I should like to meet him one day.”

Just as stiff as it started, it ends. Truly, it was difficult to find something to talk about when you knew little of each other, made especially inconvenient by the strict courtesy that bound the two of you. Taking another sip of your tea, the floral liquid tinging your tongue. As his arrival had been so early in the morning, you had yet to break your fast and so in an admittedly, utterly embarrassing moment, your stomach grumbles. The sound is like a knife through the air, horrifically obvious with no method to hide its journey.

Though your thin face attempts to retain some of your dignity, your eye twitches just the slightest. Yet just from a minute glance, Xiyuan does not seem to scorn your break of propriety. Rather, that smile of his softens, melting into something much fonder, as though looking upon a beloved.

“I must ask, do you enjoy pastries?”

“Yes, I…” You are not sure how best to put together your response. There are a myriad of reasons yet the one you decide to share, as well as the one bearing some truth, was one that seemed to imply unwell. Admitting to an odd shyness, you let a smile creep up in an attempt to lighten the mood, “They help me with my energy throughout the day.”

He appears pleased at this response, and though you wondered the reason for such for a moment, it is quickly dispersed when he retrieves a small box wrapped in fabric. You recognise the manner of wrapping, the colour and the very wood of the container. How could you not? Whether by pure coincidence or scheme, he has managed to purchase pastries from your favourite shop.

“Well, if I am not overstepping, I have brought some for you.” He offers the gift to you, the vessel almost dwarfed in his hands.

You have little choice but to accept, taking it into your hands and ignoring the slight brush of contact you share. “Thank you.”

You had fully intended to partake of them later, however by his gesture and anticipating look, you decide to abide so, if only to fulfil his request and your insolent stomach. Unwrapping the fabric with careful fingers, you open the box to reveal delicate spheres dusted with flour, glutinous rice flour encasing a sesame peanut filling. Once again, your favourite. As elegantly as you can, you pinch the ball between your fingers and take a bite, sweet yet tastefully salty, it more than satisfies your stomach when a soft hum escapes you.

Now fully aware of the sound you made, your eyes shift to Xiyuan only to find him gazing upon you, almond eyes all but seeping his solicitous amusement. With his shoulders squared and his posture ramrod perfect, it almost made a quaint sight, that a person could truly be so kind.

Just as you place the rest of the pastry down and open your mouth to speak, you are interrupted by the door sliding open, a familiar figure blocking the sunlight that enters as he stands tall.

“Lord Song,” Your brother’s voice is placid, unlilting and impregnable of emotion.

The man in question merely smiles, not a shred of vexation or annoyance present, “Lieutenant General Zhou, I had not expected that you would be here.”

“Lord Zhou is my sister, I naturally came to check on her,” He answers. The sentiment behind his placidity perhaps enhanced by the natural monotone of his accent.

Though he says as such, he merely takes a glance at you before keeping his attention on Xiyuan. In his hands are a bundle of official documents rather than his beloved qin, so you can only assume that he fully intended to camp the rest of the day in your office either asleep or actually doing work. This quick stop of his must have been impulsive rather than any well-thought out scheme.

Before he may take his leave, Xiyuan invites him in with a lilting hum, “Do come in, I would like to get to know you better as well, your reputation precedes you.”

Your brother only glances at you, and when you send him a minute nod, he obliges. With an elegant gait marred only by the weariness of work, he takes the seat opposite of your guest’s, regarding him with a cool gaze as he speaks slow and practised.

“Yours as well, I hope that should my meimei decide to let you court her, you will not mind my presence.”

“I would not dare. Oftentimes, a brother is as good as a father,” ever the kindly soul, he reassures him.

A small huff escapes you, this good brother of yours may very well be the only male relative you had left. He who was raised by your mother, and you who was whisked away by immortals, neither of you even knew what happened to your father let alone whether he would be as obliging as Zhou Chen. Still, you keep your expression pleasant as your brother seems to think of some matter to discuss.

“I have heard that you are exceptionally talented in playing the xiao, though I am more interested in your supposed ability with the qin. It is quite prodigious to master both,” He hums, long lashes lowered as his gaze sweeps to the man’s side.

“You flatter me, surely my ability could not match up to yours,” Xiyuan deflects the compliment, instead gesturing towards your brother with a kind smile. As naturally as breathing, more praise seems to tumble out, “Is it not true that you can hear a wrong note even in a symphony of instruments?”

Just like that, you may very well be effectively barred from understanding the rest of the conversation. Terms far too technical for you to hope to understand and spoken with enthusiasm far more vigorous than you have ever seen from your serene brother, you could only hide behind your tea and pastries, hoping that this conversation will not drag too far into the future.

Lying beneath your covers as your head rests upon your ceramic pillow, you find that you have been very rudely awakened from meagre sleep due to reasons unknown. Though you have attempted to wrestle your conscious back to restful slumber, your body appears to resist any and all attempts, merely maintaining that sore strain that seems to plague your form upon awakening.

The sun has yet to peek its head from above the morning mist, the birds yet to sing and with little to do, you force yourself to rise. A breeze of cool wind caresses your skin, and it takes everything within you to not retreat back to warmth, instead dressing yourself as respectfully and warmly as possible. As you step out of your room, careful to not make much noise, you let your feet carry you to wherever it desires, eventually stopping outside the a courtyard of youthful pinks and picturesque reds, the plum blossom tree that stands tall acting as a canopy for an unexpected visitor. Though servants milled about to catch glimpses of him, he still appeared a lonely pillar.

“The morning dew has yet to drip and yet you have already awakened.”

He turns to you, a kind of wistfulness in his eyes that returns to the depths of his sunlit eyes as you approach him. There is nothing to deter you, so you come to his side as the two of you remain beneath the tree’s grace. The silence that had once been stiff and stilted, has become more tranquil in such a setting, a context that requires no conversation of grace but rather cherished the fleeting moment of respite.

“Had you remained awake throughout the night?” He inquires, gentle yet concerned.

You only shake your head, your voice still hoarse from disuse, “I could not return to sleep, and you?”

A tightlipped smile appears across his face, though it did not detract from his visage, he nods.

“May I ask what you are doing here?”

“This tree merely reminds me of old memories, when I was younger and more naive.”

There is that smile once more, bearing a kind of emotion distantly related to that gleam just a day ago. You have yet to clue in on what exactly his intentions truly are, to offer himself on a platter when he must surely have options much more willing to be Madam Song than you. Your attendants could find not hide nor hair of intent, nothing to leverage and nothing to use. Song Xiyuan is a man you could not understand at this very moment.

Why did he look at you so? For what reason did he descend if only to make connections with your paltry Chunxin?

“I had this tree grown here in honour of my master, I am unable to visit him as often so knowing there is some part of him I can pay homage to is…” Your gaze averts towards the ground, and even you are not sure what, who, you are trying to avoid looking at. Still, you manage to whisper out, “Comforting.”

“The immortal Xu Yuanzhen, yes?”

His reveal of information, a detail that only your most intimate knew of you takes you more than just off guard. Turning to him, it is unease that pumps through your veins and rushes to your head. For him to have acquired such an aspect about you, there was little explanation for retrieval.

“You would be right,” You breathe out, your eyes wide and your chest tight.

Still, you manage to continue, “How do you know that?”

He glances away for only a moment, only a second before they redirect to you. His hands clasp together in a mock of nerve as he took in a breath. When he speaks, finally speaks and removes you from your disquiet, it is quiet.

“I fear that I may have been keeping some matters secret from you, but I suppose it is only right I tell you.”

In an attempt to maintain your composure, you meet his gaze. He starts his story, speaking with a soothing cadence as he recalls a time long gone, “When I was younger, my uncle took me to a conference and it was there that I met this girl. She was younger than me and was holding the hand of a man with pale apertures and garbed in white robes.”

“She cared not for my status as the Song family heir, and though she was shy at first, it took little for us to start talking.” A kind of mirth tinges his words upon this reveal, fondness practically overfilled.

“I had little contact with other children, and the time I spent with her was exhilarating. When we had to leave, she gave me the string bracelet she had around her wrist and made me promise to play with her again.”

From his wide sleeves and many layers, you see it. The thin little string of dull yellow peeking from behind robes of white, tightly entwined around his wrist and pulling memories from a time you thought lost to you.

“I never saw her again, not when her master rarely descended nor my family’s preference for isolation. I was ready to spend the rest of my life unbound, if only because she had taken my heart with her all those years ago,” He admits with a kind of sardonic irony, one made only more wry by the soft smile on his lips.

“When the news came of Chunxin’s incident, I had an inkling that it could have been you.”

He turns to face you fully, that wistful gleam now one you recognise as sentiment. It is now that you may behold him, the ethereal Lord Song deemed a man too kindly to be mortal, is only so, so very human. Peach blossom eyes that have beared weariness unknown to so many, the subtle wrinkles upon thin lips, the unevenness of his lashes. Human, so wonderfully human and so horrifyingly adoring of you.

“Xiyuan…” Your voice seems to betray you, breathless and stupefied.

For a moment, his hands move as though they sought to hold yours within them, yet even that is suppressed. He pleads softly, anymore and he would have been begging, “Please, just call me Song Ze.”

“I have waited for you for 17 years,” His confession is quiet, as every part of his longing has been yet still contained an ardour that finally breached the surface of the abyss called time. “I do not know how much longer I can wait now that I know you have always been so close.”

“I will ask your brother for permission, if not I will wait outside Lianyue Pavilion for your master’s.”

Under the falling leaves of the perennial plum blossom tree, Xiyuan’s eyes of sunlit gleam. You step closer towards him, allowing yourself to bask in his presence as the sheer attention he gives you, so freely offers to you, almost makes you scared. That though his very presence, a bubble of allaying sandalwood and incense, should bring about some kind of solace, your head only squeezes in ache.

“You barely know anything about me, you would find me appalling if you knew what I have done.”

He shakes his head, and when he finally takes your hands in his, you find that they are extraordinarily warm, like sunlight shining upon your skin. He only smiles, “But it is still you, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life learning everything about you, if you will only let me.”

A part of you wonders why exactly your heart tightens at the sight of his paradisiacal vulnerability.

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————陈伯裕—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

By the fourth day, it seems the entirety of Hedong has arrived at your estate. Stuffed into a singular carriage, the whole Chen family had been all but ecstatic, rushing out of the little vessel to swarm you and your brother. Perhaps if this was another noble family, you would have been more inclined to accept the affection, however, every single one of them just had to be freakishly robust.

Before you can be questioned by the lord and lady, you greet their three children with a small bow and light smile, “Boyu, Zhongyuan, Jiaxiang.”

It is just as you finish your pleasantries that Madam Chen scoops you into her embrace as she wraps her arms around you, leaving you so breathless that you can only manage a breathy and wheezing, “Lord Chen, Madam Chen.”

“Have you lost weight? Oh look at you, it must have been so hard handling everything on your own,” She notes, her voice tinged with concerned as she pulls away, soft hands placed on your face as she scans over you

Lord Chen, an older man with smile lines and crow's feet decorating his face, only enhances those features when he points out their gifts, “Not to worry, we brought some pastries just for that.”

“Oh, and we just couldn’t help bringing some extra things, just a little bit though.”

While you are all but smothered by the two, practically engulfed if you will, you notice your brother likewise receiving the same treatment by the three Chen children. Wrapped up in a hug by the eldest son and the youngest daughter, the middle son was the only one who abided by the rules of propriety and greeted him as usual.

“Yijin!” The sound of a boyishly charming voice rings through your ears, his words enhanced through the natural draw of his youth.

Another one sounds, a young girl’s playful tone ringing through the air as clear as bird song, “Zhou-ge!”

“Shifu.” The last is controlled, a young man’s calm lilt among the chaos.

Equally helpless to the vigour that is the Chen family, the two of you can only let yourselves be asked of everything under the sun and have your ears rambled off. Still, you take it all with a pleasant gleam in your eyes and liveliness befitting such people. When the revelry dies down just the slightest, you have one of your attendants, Xue’er, show the family to their rooms while A’yan settles their bountiful luggage. Lord and Madam Chen drag your brother off at the first notice, asking of this and that while their younger children bicker and tease.

Though, there seems to be one exception to your arrangements. As the carriage departs and the dust settles, you are left completely and utterly alone with the little tyrant of the south, boyish Chen Boyu. Illuminated by bright sunlight, you must look up to meet his gaze, soft brown peach blossoms eyes bearing joy and gaiety, the corners of his lips deep with a smile.

When you look upon him, it is hard to determine the emotions you feel. Though there is one that you can accurately pin down in that labyrinth you may call a head.

An emotion distantly related to playfulness tinges your voice as you hum, “I see you’ve decided to try again.”

“I won’t be giving up anytime soon,” He responds, equally spirited as his voice takes on a pitch just the slightest higher.

At this, you let out an amused snort. With mock aggrieve, you roll your eyes as you whack him, the back of your hand being met with the musculature of his arm.

“You certainly have more noteworthy competition this year.”

Boyu, ever the dramatic, puts a hand to his chest as an offended expression takes form onto his face. Deep eyebrows raised in shock and eyes wide, there is still a smile on his lips despite this, a cheeky lilt to his words, “But compared to them, surely I’m much better?”

“If you want to compete with Lord Song and Qiugu’s general, go ahead,” You bite back, the corners of your lips tugging upwards.

“They don’t have what we have though,” With his musing, he turns away from you. Though it is one that is brief, a moment of drama for an otherwise playful moment. “A bond.”

On instinct, you only shake your head and let out a soft sigh, your eyes squeezed in amusement as you walk ahead of him, at least not before turning back to direct him to his room.

“Go rest up, we still have time before dinner.”

Your relationship with Boyu is not one you say you dislike, nor one you absolutely adore. While you are appreciative for the aid and protection that allying with Hedong has given you, given that you had very little armed forces, there has been a profuse shame welling within your very form since the day you met.

You have never been unaware of his feelings for you, the adoration that seemed to spring from his very being the moment he laid his eyes upon yours. One look and he had suddenly turned from the confident young warlord to a stuttering blushing mess, it was illogical and irrational. Six years of collaboration and his attempts to court you, spend more time with you and get to know you, it granted a relationship akin to bosom friends yet that was only your perception.

You bore no possibility for affection, no room in your heart for him and for all your cruelty, you could not break such news that you could not see him as such. A political marriage may very well be an option but you knew he desired affection, some kind of companionship you could not give. It is because of that very fact that you worry what may come of this moment.

When you return to your office, you find your brother waiting for you, his pipe in hand as languid tendrils of smoke escape his rosy lips. His eyes are closed, but when he hears your steps upon the wooden floors, he directs his gaze to you. There is a weariness to his features, dark circles beneath his eyes and yet that did not detract from his beauty. Approaching his seating by your desk, you pour yourself a cup of herbal tea.

“Why do you look so tired, hm?” You ask, sending him a side glance from the corner of your eye.

He only hums, voice low and steady, “I was up late finishing official documents.”

As you place down your cup, you raise a brow as a concern tinges your voice. From outside and through the window, you see Jiaxiang and Xue’er chatting away, the rest of the family very clearly not resting and rather seemingly, having managed to drag Xiyuan into conversation. Though you are unable to hear exactly what is being said, you can hear snippets of praise being exchanged.

“Do you want to take a nap? We have about two shichen before dinner.”

“No,” He sighs, closing his eyes as he takes another inhale from his pipe. The sweet smell of tobacco fills the room, broad shoulders rolling back before his long lashes flutter open, a detached gleam in his eyes as he looks out to the busy courtyard. He only notes with steady lilt, “They won’t let me anyways.”

Your heart does not quite ache for your brother, but more so tightens. You have seen the kind of work he must do, to the point that he had apparently brought it with him when helping a friend at a matchmaking session. Rest did not come to him easily, not even when in your estate. Your brows raise in helplessness, shutting the window before rising to shut your office doors.

“Sleep. If I say I won’t take guests, they won’t push it,” Humming, you take his hand in yours.

Zhou Chen only lets out a soft breath, though he is quick to lean his head against your shoulder, his chest rising and descending in rhythmic pattern before eventually, the only thing that fills your ears is your brother’s exhales.

Dinner is at present, an event hosting the Chen family, you and your brother. Small tables arranged in perfectly linear fashion, evenly spaced and in fine wood. Atop each and every single one were seasonal dishes as prepared by the kitchens, planned ahead of time down to the very presentation. Though you have yet to partake in the meal,

“This really is quite generous of you to give so many things, I cannot possibly return your favour.”

“It's nothing, we aren’t lacking anything!” The older woman is quick to dismiss your excessive humility, though it is as if a new thought springs to her mind as she brings up a sleeve and a knowing gleam glints in her tawny eyes, “Although maybe we are lacking a daughter in law.”

Quicker still, she corrects her previous statement, “Even if you don’t marry our Boyu, it's still nice to see you.”

“Mooomm, don’t say that!” Jiaxiang whines with clear mock aggrievedness.

Lord Chen only sighs with the kind of resigned fondness every father has for his daughter, “She has such good options, don’t pressure her.”

Your gaze shifts between all of them, briefly lingering to make contact with each member before it eventually lands upon a pair of brown eyes, even still filled with fondness that uneases you. You still do not know how you will tell him, whether you will tell him. You turn away, bringing your tea up to drink as your sleeve conceals your expression. He does not look away, but does so when the conversation turns to focus on your brother.

“Yijin, how have you been?”

Zhou Chen hums, his voice less severe and softer, yet still that gentle smile upon his lips bore a distance unknown by others, “Good, I’ve been busy with work.”

“With the way you keep coming over here, we thought you abandoned us,” Lord Chen laughs, a hearty sound that comes from his lungs.

Lowering his eyes, there appears to be a contrition in his next words, his Adam's apple bobbing as he speaks.

“Forgive me, my sister has little confidants.”

His admittance has a few eyes turning to you, that burning feeling of pity brought upon your form as you vaguely hear Madam Chen’s sympathies fall from her lips. You do not quite understand why he has to mention your lack of advisers, though you suppose there was no other reasonable explanation for a lieutenant general to maintain such costly travels. Still, though you move to say something, you are interrupted by a condoling voice.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Boyu is all but swift to prevent your rueful formalities, bringing up a hand as a blithe smile appears across his lips, “If I could, I would have rushed over to help.”

“How could we? Ai, we all heard about the incident and yet look at the town, everything’s back to normal,” Lord Chen notes, and though you had not wished to say it, that pride he has in his voice, it would make one believe you were his daughter.

With a tender-hearted quirk of her lips and her gentle tone, Madam Chen is the last and yet the most salient of the three to speak, “You must have worked very hard.”

“So don’t worry about taking Yijin for a month or two, we still have the others.”

A kind of excessive sentiment seems to fill your chest, an emotion you are only most familiar with another. It was quite common for your brother to throw all caution to the wind and come to Chunxin for long periods of time, extending discussions that usually lasted a few days to weeks, dragging diplomatic visits from weeks to months. As if he had no obligations to fulfil back in Hedong, though you have always worried and though he has always reassured you, hearing such comfort from them was perhaps more than you needed.

Nodding, you thank them and thankfully, dinner passes without much issue. Albeit, perhaps that is a statement only applicable to the unique situation of the Chen Family. For instead of having to replace four low desks and multiple candleholders, only one has been smashed in the ensuing mayhem that is sure to happen with them. You can only thank the gods that your brother did not bring his qin, lest you find yourself comforting him on his deescalation methods.

With the moonlight shining upon your courtyard and the cool spring wind blowing, the family has since retired to their quarters in preparation for slumber. Your attendants likewise have been dismissed, sent to rest early while you take a walk around the estate. Your footsteps are light, the only sound that came from your movement coming from long robes fluttering along. Each room that surrounded the courtyard dimmed, low candlelight illuminating from within before eventually being snuffed. There is only one room that remains at the very end, your office, doors shut and candles flame put out yet at the very front are a pair of conversing figures.

The two are of similar heights, the one just slightly taller bearing more visible musculature while the shorter of the two bore a more regal physique, no less stalwart than one or the other. They speak in low tones, and from your admittedly distant position, you are scarce to hear only bits and pieces of their conversation. Boyu speaks, posture much tenser than you have ever seen as your brother pulls his pipe away from his lips.

Low in your ears and bearing a vulnerability so easily come to him, the young heir entreats his closest friend, “Will you grant me your blessing to court your sister?”

Clouds of smoke leave his flushed lips, his eyes closed as he takes a breath. His lord waits expectantly, to no avail, for your brother remains steadfast in his notions of your suitors, no matter their identity and no matter their abilities.

“No.”

Zhou Chen turns to him, those eyes that once bore amity glazes over, freezing to a cool mirror as he speaks. His voice maintains his usual monotone lilt, and it is such that you can tell that this was a decision he has made long ago.

“You excel in war and combat, yet when asked to settle civil matters you are unable to be discrete nor courteous.”

“Have you not noticed how every discussion in the household always turns to a screaming match or violence?” He raises a brow, ignoring the way Boyu attempts to stammer out a response. He continues, “Will you bring my sister into such a place?”

His next inquiry is further still loaded, the dulcet tones of his voice growing ever agitated at the edges of his words, “Though Chunxin has remained safe from invading territories despite the raging war of succession due to our intervention, what happens when you must aid my sister with laws and merchantry?”

“Will you come to me, your lieutenant generals?”

He takes another drag of his pipe, the weariness he has been burdened with now all the more visible under such a situation. His shoulders rise and fall, descending to forcibly calm himself lest he acts impromptu. His friend does not interrupt him, yet still his figure that had been hopeful now has slumped ever so slightly with each new dig your brother brings up.

“There will come a day where she will face public contention, when the time comes, will you defend her?” Your brother asks, the question nonplussed yet seemingly targeted. For this is the inquiry that has his eyes, beautiful amber which reveal nothing of the internal tempest that must rage within him seep just the hint of it.

Quick to answer, such a request is nothing short of obvious to the young man, “Of course I would!”

“Even above the threat of Hedong’s collapse?”

Yet, this last query is the one that stumps Boyu, and to no wonder. For someone who grew up in the rivers and towns of Hedong, to protect the place that loves him or to protect the woman he adores, it becomes the ultimatum only your brother would think to spring upon him. It is cruel, yes, but for men who rule, it is necessary.

When he does not respond, Zhou Chen only places a hand on his shoulder and tips his head, long brindle hair falling to act as a curtain, concealing his delicate apertures from your gaze. Though you still manage to hear his last words to his lord.

“You are a good general, but I will not let my sister marry a man who cannot devote his very being to her. Good night, Chen Fu.”

At this, he glides away from the man, paced and even steps that bring his form to you. His eyes soften and he pats your head with a gentle hand before he pulls away, disappearing into the estate with nothing but a glance. Your friend seems to notice your presence then, his eyes lightening up and his posture straightening just the slightest. Yet, he kept that defeat with him. You approach him, despite everything you find yourself unsure on how to comfort him. Stood so close, you can smell just the hint of his scent, fresh and clean, it hurts your head.

You keep your voice soft, calling for him with a tone hushed as your brows raise in concern, “Boyu.”

“Do you think he hates me?” He asks, just as quietly if not more so. It is as if any more and he would have been tried for public disturbance.

Shaking your head, a soft sigh only escapes you, “You know he doesn’t.”

“I just don’t…” For once, genuine and actual forlorn stains his very being. His usually squared shoulders almost hunched in dismay and his voice soft, so much softer than you were used to. Thick brows furrowed in worry, the hint of a glassy quality seems to form over his bronze eyes, the plump of his cheeks rosy from the wind and emotion. His voice loses that usual higher pitch, “Understand why he’s never approved of me.”

A strained expression comes across your visage, your hand resting on his forearm as you make a comparison, “See it this way, if he tried to court Jiaxiang for so long without success, you’d be a little iffy too, right?”

His face twists into dismay, then disgust before finally landing on exaggerated understanding. He nods yet it does little to actually lighten his mood. Boyu’s desire for your brother’s acknowledgement is understandable, yet it is his consistency and persistence that worries you. Though you have never actually expressed it, he picks up on your palatable concern.

“You’re right, it's just that he’s important to you, and he’s your older brother. So I want to be doing this right,” Confessing, a helpless smile tugs at his lips.

A reticence falls upon the two of you, and in the distance you hear the soothing melody of a xiao, humming a gentle tune that merely appeared sonorous in such a moment. Though you have turned away from each other, and though you had intended to leave the conversation in fear of buried sentiments being brought up, he once again takes the opportunity to make you face your unspoken regrets.

“Will you be honest with me?” That boyish voice has long lost its higher pitch, and you wonder when exactly you started missing it.

“In our six years of knowing each other, have you ever thought of me romantically?”

You should have seen this moment coming, you should have known that you would have to eventually tell him. To lie to him that you have and yet to turn around and deny his affections would be far crueller than to tell him the truth, and yet still the truth was but a stone in your throat, lodged within and scraping to vomit out. Meeting his gaze with a glance you are not sure is kindly or forthcoming, you let yourself speak.

“You are dear to me, but to call it love is…” Your voice trails off into the night wind, doing everything in your power to keep your throat from closing up and to maintain the composure you tried so hard to display. Yet when you look at him, look at those wide brown eyes so filled with youthful ardour, you are just unable to. “I’m sorry, maybe I’m the problem here.”

“For all the years we’ve known one another, I’ve always felt this gnawing guilt,” You admit though a cracking voice, the weight of such a burden finally lifted yet it was not a relief that flooded, but rather more contrition that had no rational reason to exist within you.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It's okay,” Boyu insists, he shakes his head as his eyes, wide and just the slightest teary, seem to bear the determination he has always had. “You don’t have to love me back.”

“You never had to love me back.”

He pleads, desperate and all too willing, far too willing, “If you’ll just let me stay by your side, I’m okay with that too.”

“As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.”

Staring at him, the truth of your relationship has finally come to light, yet it is his devotion that remains steadfast. For how much of it is true, you do not know and you only fear that it is far more truthful than any facade you have played.

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————蔡奉汐—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

The third and last suitor arrives late into the seventh day, there is no rumble of carriage wheels that announces his arrival, no thumping of luggage against wood, the only sign of life is the howling wind.

You are resting in your room, eyes scanning over the last remains of the pile of documents once amassed in your office. The skillful plucking of a qin fills your ears, low notes strum to perfection from just a few footsteps away. Zhou Chen plays with a languidity, almost lazy despite the dulcet melody that he plucked. Your eyes, which yearn for rest yet remain awake in accordance to the brain, flutter between open and close. Words of ink seemingly meld together into a blurry mess, yet you continue.

There is a knock at your door, a crisp interruptance that has your head snapping towards it. The tune stops just as abruptly, and A’yan shifts the door open just the slightest, enough for you to acknowledge her presence and for her voice to travel in.

General Cai Fengxi, The Devourer of Qiugu has arrived.

Garbed in dark robes and holding the reins of an even darker horse, this man that stood before you bore nothing else beyond a small pouch and the cloak around his shoulders. With not even the moonlight to illuminate his apertures, the sharp and almost gaunt features you could make out had almost sent a chill down your spine. The general’s eyes almost seemed to glow, a deep gold set in pale skin and peeking from behind pin-straight hair, still as dead waters as A’yan guides the horse towards the stables.

“General Cai, it is an honour to have you here,” Your welcome is stilted and stiff as though to pair with your rigid bow. You notice how needly his fingers are, skin stretched taut over the bones. When you rise to meet his eyes, you find that he has yet to move, expression forbidding. Still, you gesture for his entrance, “Your room has already been prepared, please let me show you to your quarters.”

It is only then that he shows some signs of response, following your steps as his footfalls land inaudibly. You would dare say it appeared more so as gliding than walking. His very presence loomed from behind you, intimately feeling the heavy burden of his severe regard upon your form. In an attempt to spurn such a notion from your mind, you open your mouth to speak.

“Was the journey from Qiugu difficult?”

“It was fine,” He responds, curt and low. A deep bass that seems to rumble from within his chest, though quiet you could distinctly feel it in your bones.

You send him a polite smile, “That is good.”

There is no additional effort made to continue such a stiff conversation, not when even your own eyelids have been threatening to shut down against your wishes, let alone what the general must be feeling after making the lone journey. When you arrive to his room, you take it upon yourself to open the door for him, yet he merely looks upon you. You do not know how best to respond, yet it is by instinct that you continue.

“Have a good rest, I shall come visit you in the morning,” You smile once more, bowing before taking your leave.

Scarce to notice his entrance, your return to your room is swiftly granted and one that is very much preferred. A sigh escapes you, and your brother, kindly as he is, remains in his languid seat. As though one with a slug, you slump over and make your way to his side, resting your head on his lap facefirst as you close your eyes.

“I assume the general has arrived,” He hums, voice soft as his fingers remove the pins and stick from your hair.

Through mumbled words and fabric, you are surprised he still managed to discern your sentences. “Might as well have not arrived at all, he only said two words to me.”

“And here I thought men these days would have basic manners at the very least..”

You turn your head to face him, shifting your body so you could behold that face which women envy and men covet. Fine apertures still placid with that hint of fond aggrievedness, your brother’s attempt at cool tranquillity surely did not disguise the snide undertones.

“What are you implying?” Your brow raises as your voice takes on a derisive tinge.

Zhou Chen responds, speaking as though his answer was the most natural concept to humanity, “That men are merely beings of simple lusts, and that my meimei deserves better than that.”

Letting out a yawn, you squeeze out a stray tear as your voice fights to remain audible. It is hard to, especially when one wishes for nothing more than to slumber after a long day and a guest as startling as the general. Still, you think you catch your brother’s sweet laugh when you manage a response.

“If you keep this up, the only person you’ll ever approve of is yourself.”

When morning comes, you are informed that the general has yet to awaken, and that no matter what is done, he will not rise. This news does not surprise you, the ride from Qiugu to Chunxin is approximately 15 days worth of travel, and based on his appearance, he must have rode ceaselessly and through the nights. Waving off their concerns, you assure them of his well being and instead have them call to inform you when he does.

Your brother and his student, Zhongyuan, have been promptly kidnapped by Jiaxiang since his awakening, which leaves you to entertain your three suitors. Dressed in lighter robes for the day, half your hair is bound in a bun and put together with a simple hairstick, suitable for a casual outing that you may hopefully partake in today. You plan to bring the general out to see the town, perhaps try to spark some conversation that will not start and end dreadfully.

As you make your way to the guests’ quarters, you notice Xiyuan and Boyu talking, discussing some matter of thing that even you are not sure pertains to what. Bearing similar heights, you find that the two of them bear an uncanny likeness. Not in visage but rather in bearing, the kind of people who attract admiration effortlessly. They walk into a room and immediately the only kind of attention they receive is kindly.

With a princely gait and visage to match such a form, you have found yourself wondering how exactly Lord Song has yet to marry despite his supposed devotion to you. Likewise with Boyu, boyishly handsome and well-to-do, there was little to dislike. Their very presence in the courtyard brings people to them, passing servants taking their time to stare and talk, with poorly hidden smiles and flushed ears. You only wonder what virtues you may be able to extract from the general.

Approaching the pair, you greet them with a slight bow of your head, “Boyu, Xiyuan, good morning.”

“Good morning to you as well,” Xiyuan greets in response, his voice forbearing with the lilts of his sentence.

In contrast, Boyu only chirps, “Morning!”

You inform the two of them of your upcoming schedule for the third suitor, a tad more occupied as compared to theirs due to discussions of military provisions and arrangements. With a regretful tone, you squeeze out a strained smile as you could only apologise for the inconvenience.

“No worries, we’ll see each other for dinner, right?” The younger man asks, with hopeful eyes as even his companion appears to join in the invite.

“Yeah,” You smile, a huff of breath escaping you when his eyes light up. Keeping your tone fairly cordial despite your amusement, you reassure them, “If we venture out, I’ll come visit when I return.”

Shaking his head, Xiyuan merely responds, “Do not force yourself, you must take care of yourself.”

“Of course.”

It is then that you finally notice a figure looming from behind you, a shadow cast above your vision, and perhaps it is also by Boyu’s slight adjustment of his eyes that has you realising exactly who it is that was behind. Your feet swivel around to face the general, his form still severe as last night. Under the sunlight, you could make out the harsh contours and angles of his face, tall nose and sharp willow eyes. You met his eyes for just a moment, looking down upon you yet the very burden it placed was momentous, a sinner in the oceanic depths.

Ever kindly, Xiyuan greets him with a bow and a pleasant expression, sunny eyes squeezed and hands put together, “General Cai, it is good to see you awake.”

“If you didn’t get up, I think we would’ve just taken her out ourselves,” Boyu jokes, his puerile tone making it only all the more light-hearted.

“Ah…” A breath escapes you, perhaps a sign of your hesitance. Yet, the general does not move, remaining perfectly still as he awaits your input. Involuntarily, you feel that maladroit laugh appear on your lips, “General, could this one perhaps–”

“Fengxi.”

You had not heard wrong last night, what you thought was possibly too low, too harsh for human voice, reaches your ears once more. He speaks as though biting, words escaping from abyssal maws to behold for mortal perception.

When you do not react, he speaks once more, “Call me Fengxi.”

“Of course, Fengxi, would you like to join me for a trip around town?” Quickly recovering from the blunder, you finally make your offer with an outstretched arm and open hand, an invitation.

Yet rather than actually responding, he merely takes your hand, cold bony fingers wrapping around yours. The mere action sends a million warning bells to your head, yet you can only smile and carry on, bringing him towards the carriage that is soon to be prepared.

Left behind in the remnants of confrontation, Xiyuan and Boyu can only look to each other, a kind of disoriented confusion filling them. While Xiyuan had never interacted with the general before, let alone been so up close, he had not realised that there was such a heavy truth to the rumours. Boyu likewise had never seen him as such, only having seen him in the battlefield, looming and quiet, cold dead eyes as the general commanded an army of the dead. At least, that is what they call it.

“Can he actually speak? Or is he just going to be standing there when she talks to him?” He asks the young lord, his head tilted in slight confusion.

Xiyuan looks at him, his voice almost nearing a reprimand if not for the strained smile on his lips, “Boyu.”

“I’m just asking. Besides, I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t have done that.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“The general is likely not as well-versed in noble etiquette, you can’t blame him.”

Rather, ever full of vigour, he crosses his arms and asserts, “No, I can and I will. He should know better.”

Xiyuan can only sigh at that response, a helpless gleam in his eyes. He shakes his head, the people of Hedong are certainly intriguing.

It is while this conversation is happening that you are left with the ever envious task of collecting some errands and messages to be sent to some townsfolk by your servants. A few are easy enough, visiting merchants to pass along lists or merely to send word of their well-being, that being said there was one establishment you would have to visit and you could only hope that the general would not mind.

At the very least, you hoped he would at least voice out his rejection. The carriage ride towards town might as well have been for the dead, for he stared into your form as though you had committed a great crime upon the heavens and he were the jade emperor. You could not describe the situation as anything less than maladroit, any lesser person would wish to crawl into a cave and die when faced with such an individual.

Still, you remained strong and kept a serene expression, maintaining such that even when you broached the idea of your plans, he merely responded with a hum and a gesture. The general does not speak even when you bring him to sellers and farmers offering their wares, remains silent when you visit families and receive baskets, speaks not a word even as he now has realised that the building ahead of you is one of debauchery.

The women of Yunliang House, upon seeing your face rush from within to greet you, their painted lips quirked into smiles as their eyes squeezed in mirth. One of the women grabs you by the hands as she squeals with excitement.

“My lord, it's been so long since you’ve come!”

Another woman leans in closer to your visage, eyes scanning over with objective precision. The scowl on her face is not one that bears good news, “Ahh, look at you, your skin has gotten so dull. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Ai, ladies, our lord doesn’t have the time we do,” A voice comes from behind the crowd, a basket in her arms and a natural sway to her steps. Boxes of rouge and pins, bolts of fabric and assortments of fruits and pastries lay in the basket’s wooden cradle. She turns to the general and hefts it over to him, not before making the same old excuse, “Come, some idiot gave us too many gifts again.”

“I’ll make sure to pass it to them back in the estate,” You laugh, made especially all the more obvious when the ladies fuss over him to ensure nothing falls from the basket.

That same woman only huffs and crosses her arms, rolling her eyes as she remarks, “One of these days you’re going to have to accept these from us.”

“That day shall come when it comes, thank you.”

With that last bow, you are waved goodbye by the ladies and set to return to the carriage. Surrounded by a sea of people all milling about the marketplace, the sounds of haggling and advertising fills your ears, grilled meat and rich spices wafting through the air as even children weave between your forms. When a young child, no older than six years old, takes a small tumble and falls into you, you are quick to help her up. She looks up to you with wide and shaky eyes, yet tears do not fall, instead she thanks you rather loudly than scurries off, her laughter continuing to reach you.

Fengxi decides to speak, and though you believed the very surroundings too much, too loud for his voice, again you are proved wrong. “You treat your people well, it is undeniable that they hold affection for you.”

“Many thanks but I am merely doing for them what I should,” You shake your head, a huff of amusement escaping you.

“You would be surprised.”

As though lost in thought, the general finally moves his gaze away from your form, that heavy weight placed upon your shoulders lifted. His lashes accompany the slow blink he takes, cocking his head ever subtly as sleek pin-straight hair follows along the movement. He does not slow in his pace, the overflowing basket of gifts likely weighing nothing to him, and yet there appears an odd melancholy to him. You do not know what there is to ponder, what exactly has captured that enigmatic mind that a pensiveness should take over. It is when the crowd amasses to that of mountains and seas that he decides to open his mouth once more.

He hums, eyes still looking off into the far distance, “Chunxin is kindly, with clement weather and conditions.” Then, Fengxi redirects that heavy focus back upon you, a dark thin brow raised in jest. “It is no wonder my lord has received such warm suitors.”

“And have you not as well?” You remark, cocking your head as you send him a glance.

For the first time, actual amusement is visible on his face, lips pulling back to reveal pearly teeth as he barks in laughter, “Not many women are keen on becoming the wife of a Qiugu general.”

You notice how sharp his teeth are, perhaps no different than a normal person’s upon first glance, but the narrower tips had sent an odd feeling down your spine. The Devourer, a title earned from war-torn savagery, soldiers tearing through enemy ranks without care of life nor death, and their general who not so much as leads but lunges into battle as eager as his soldiers, ravenous beasts who tear into the throats of men with claw and teeth.

You do not understand him. He is 34 years of age, and has previously held no interest in any sex. There have been rumours that those who have tried, those who have attempted such underhanded tactics would find themselves spurned at best, and in pieces at worst. He says such words, and yet he will ride ceaselessly from Qiugu just to arrive at the soonest possible moment. Why even bother with the effort if he will only act as such?

“Yet you sent an offer to me?”

He does not respond, and the crowd seems to have noticed this gap in conversation, for it grows so congested that you must pull the two of you into an empty alley to prevent either of you from being swept up. In such a constrained space, you keep your voice soft and ask him once more, meeting those severe eyes as a tinge of trepidation grips onto your tendons. Unlike Boyu or Xiyuan who provide warmth upon close contact, there is no heat that radiates off of him, only frigid cool.

“Fengxi, did you send an offer because of some reason unpolitical? Or is this an excuse to soon discuss offers of grain and iron?” Your murmur is gentle, yet he hears it all. A gleam of mirth glints within those eyes.

The general meets your gaze, lowering himself so that he may be eye level with you. “At the start, I did wish to court you out of reasons purely detached, yet...” His words trail off yet it is not out of hesitance but ponderance.

“When I saw you, there was something within you that sparked an interest,” His breath is warm, fanning across your neck. It takes everything within you to not flinch away, look away from those eyes which bear abyssal depths. Rumbling from within his chest with gravelly quality, he hums, “The way you treat your servants, the rest of your suitors, and your townspeople.”

“There is something about you that I cannot put my finger on, yet there is something oddly reminiscent of your very being.”

“It is as though we have known each other for a time yet I doubt it is so.”

You manage a response, your voice even and unlilting despite your unease, breathing, “Perhaps in a past life.”

You do not like the way he looks at you, the way he sizes you up like something to be eaten, peering over every pore on your face, every wrinkle and every curve. His words only confuse you, there is no feeling of familiarity when you think of him, no interest, no knowledge. You do not understand that abyss in human skin, and you hate it. It hurts your head, the sheer inability to understand, you hate it. You hate this feeling of being unable to get under his skin, you hate not knowing what makes him tick.

“Perhaps so.”

“I wonder what it is,” He hums, voice low and rumbling from within that chest of his. Though his face displayed no sign of amusement, that flash of teeth, Fengxi seemed almost all too pleased by your tense shoulders and quickened breath, “Shall we find out together?”

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————春芯王—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

As A’yan and Xue’er comb through your hair, removing pins and hair sticks that relieve the tension on your head, an almost audible sigh of relief escapes you. Another long day of entertaining and appeasing, you had certainly thought yourself capable of an act as simple as talking yet you always find yourself beyond exhausted when night falls. It is as though your bones have liquified and your head squeezed tight with a circlet, so these little moments between you and your attendants have been nothing but a consolation for your troubles.

Xue’er, her smaller hands slick with fragrant oil, parts portions of your hair to reveal scalp, rubbing it into the skin with the heel of her palm. The force she places into each action is perfect, not quite practised but rather habitual. While she is doing so, she puts up a query, her mellow voice soft in your ears.

“My lord, Yongjie has been recovering well. Do you want to visit her tomorrow?”

Meeting her gaze through the bronze mirror, you hum, “I think I may be able to, how is her condition?”

“She can hold conversation, A’yan-jie talks to her when she can,” She notes, glancing towards A’yan who has busied herself with putting away your current pins and preparing tomorrow’s.

Upon this referral, your dearest attendant averts her gaze, speaking low and gentle, “She asks about you, whether you’re taking care of yourself and whether you’ve started a great scandal yet.”

You can only laugh at this. Yongjie would certainly have your head if she knew the kinds of impiety that you have committed. Yet though she has always placed your reputation and image above all else, her query for your wellbeing likewise tugs at your heartstrings.

“Well, she will know when I come to see her. General Cai will understand.”

Xue’er’s expression immediately sours when she hears you mention him, the shift instantaneous. The manner in which she rubs the oil into your head changes as well, a tad more forceful than before.

She sneers, “I don’t like him, he’s weird and he always just stares at me when I have to do things.”

“Xue-er,” A’yan warns.

“My lord, please tell me you'll marry Lord Song,” Her voice is filled with hope, her wide eyes of ivory all but begging you. Almost reminiscent of a puppy, she cites her rather reputable evidence, “At least he always helps us when we need it.”

“A’yan-jie, who do you think our lord should marry?”

Turning her attention towards the stalwart woman, she waits with earnest for her opinion. A’yan approaches your seated form, brushing your oiled hair to one side. Through the fabric of your thin robes, you feel the callouses that litter her hands.

She merely answers, her voice is clear, “Whoever she deems best, no matter who it is, we should support her.”

“You’re right, but still…”

A tired sigh escapes you as a smile that reeks of exasperation tugs at your lips, “Ai, let’s not talk about marriage now. It’s all I’ve had to think about for the past two weeks.”

The two women only snort, but do not press the topic any further, continuing with their respective task until eventually, as all things must do, they finish and rather eagerly take their leave. In fact, Xue’er does not even wait to leave the premises before she is rambling into A’yan’s ear about how much she finds General Cai offputting and how marrying Lord Song or First Master Chen would be far better for you. Perhaps the ongoing betting pool you have caught wind of has likewise found conversation for Xue’er.

You can only let out an overfond huff as your finger plays with the gold band around your finger. It is a wonder that none of them have mentioned the obvious signs of courtship upon your very being, jade bangles, gold hairpins, delicate necklaces and the gold ring wrapped around your finger. They seem to believe the other responsible for such gifts, friendly and courteous with one another yet too prideful to ask.

To be a young woman in today’s society is to have a metaphorical clock above one’s head, ticking away at every shichen she exists without a husband. 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24. As each year passes, the demands grow louder and louder. Though you rule among men, you are still seen as a woman, above all you are a woman.

Yet when the one person you desire most remains forever unavailable to you, so close yet just out of reach, there is little choice on what action to take, little choice to discourage the masses that call for your betrothal.

Though you despised deception, it is necessary.

It has always been a necessary cruelty.

Perhaps it is more cruel of you to admit it so easily, but you have not come to your station by being soft-hearted, not bearing the title Lord of Chunxin by disclosing personal affections.

They are decent men, just not ones you can see sharing your treacherous life with.

So you decided that if you were to remain unwed, you would make it so that no other man that breathes upon this earth would deem you desirable. Invite them into your home and lead them on a little game, let them fall into your hands and into the deception called ‘love’. Then, you would simply rebuff each and every single one of them. The more visible the better, Lord Song, the Chen family heir, the general of Qiugu, a selection that may eventually find their dreams shattered. They shall call you fickle and cruel, a woman undeserving and undesirable.

No matter the notion that these men spoke their flowery words, spilling their heart out as you return those heartfelt gazes with a gleam only distantly related to fondness, let them take your hands in theirs as they swear and swear it can be only you, there was nothing but the yawning abyss within that chest of yours. It mattered not of how much they could attempt to satisfy that avidity, it would not be so unless it was with him.

Yet that did not mean you would not regret hurting them

A yearning that shall go unfulfilled,desires born of spring-time affection that shall be spurned in favour of another far more profound.

Song Xiyuan shall find that his desire to learn all you have to offer, all that you are and all that you have been, snubbed. Ningshan takes but 7 days to travel on lone horseback, and to become Madam Song would therefore mean a partial absorption of Chunxin into Ningshan’s authority. This directly contradicts your terms, and though you enjoyed his presence, his company, you would not allow yourself to separate from your dearest home.

Chen Boyu will see another year of failure, another year of shame to be hung with the previous years. Though he wishes for nothing more than your company, nothing more than to stay by your side, you could not give him what he truly wants. You know him as much as he knows himself, you are after all, most bosom friends. Perhaps you shall offer a sworn oath of siblinghood, and he will accept it, because he is nothing if not adoring.

Cai Fengxi shall return to Qiugu with not marriage but an offer of alliance. He and his army shall swear to serve you and Chunxin, yet remain stationed in Qiugu. A general and his lord, he may discover the truth behind his fascination without tying himself to a title that holds no weight. His loyalty, steadfast and undying, will be useful. To the devourer who has no rival, you can only hope his interest remains so.

And your brother? Your brother will get what he has always wanted.

It is as he desires, always as his desires. Because they are as much his, as they are yours. It is only a question of whose is so iniquitous that it should deem you eternally lay in the land of tenderness.

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————周羿瑾—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

There is something about your brother that you wonder whether is as visible to an outside eye as it is to you.

To outsiders, your brother bears a kind of beauty that men desire and women envy, a kind of appeal that men covet and women long for. After all, with a face such as his, alluring phoenix eyes of warm amber with lashes long enough to kiss the apples of his cheeks, his tall nose and thin rosy lips upon jade white countenance, it is hard to not admire him. When he speaks, it is low and steady, a tune with no discerning cadence. Of course, one could not deny the appeal of his form, garbed in long robes that trail along his path, a tasteful yet scandalous peek of his chest that only enticed the observer for more.

Slender fingers capable of playing the most euphonious melodies and a mind that can memorise a tune with just a single listen, he has always had that talent for musicality. Three rounds of drinks in and he may still pick out a wrong note in a piece. Yet beyond his physical allure, there is perhaps one description you have heard of him that has remained most prominent in your mind. ‘Being with Zhou Yijin is like drinking the finest of wines, you get carried away and before you know it, you’ve become utterly drunk.’

It is a rather apt sentence. Though your brother very often does not enjoy unnecessary ramble, there was a charm to him, an undeniable magnetism to his intellect and mannerisms. Your servants find his visage enticing, so perpetually irresistible that they shall grasp any situation to look at him. Your attendants adore his doting nature, that your vanity be filled with gifts and your desk occupied with pastries at all times. It would explain why Xiyuan has become so enraptured in conversation with him, why Boyu would continue to be with him despite his harsh words, why even Fengxi may engage in drink with him.

Your brother is the perfect image of a noble character. And the perfect brother.

Beyond his surface niceties and nobility, your brother is the person who knows you best. He is the one who understands your heart and stomach, that every blood vessel and bone in your body is known completely and utterly to him. To others, he maintains societal chivalry, but to you he is gentle. With warm hands that seem to be able to hold the world and an adoration in his every action, there is no other man like him.

Since the day you reunited, since the incident, since the day you almost lost him, you have never desired for another to accompany you. Entertaining men you have no interest in courting, no desire to know beyond exchanges of grain and iron for military might, when the day ends and you must retire, it is his embrace you return to.

Within the candle-lit room is your brother and your three suitors, indubitably intoxicated beyond relief, or perhaps more accurately, your three suitors are so drunk that when you open the door, you are greeted with a rather loud greeting and utter chaos. A table has been shoved aside and the floor is littered with empty jars of wine, the sweet yet wheat-like aroma wafting from the room, under the warm lighting, perhaps one might mistake your hall as a cheap brothel than a room in a lord’s estate. You are only surprised that there is nothing more broken than the cheap qin you keep, entirely smashed in as courtesy of a certain someone’s impulse issues.

In the very corner, Fengxi had apparently gotten so inebriated that he is now face first onto the low table, his cup still in hand as his chest rises and descends in slow rhythmic pace. Boyu has since grasped onto your brother’s sleeve, fat tears rolling down his pink cheeks as he begs for something. Xiyuan, the one who called for you with that joyous ring of your name, is flushed from his neck to his ears. Excitedly waving you over, even the wide sleeves of his robes seem to adopt that exuberant aura, his smile wide and unabashed.

In the middle of it all is your brother, his cup still full as his once frigid eyes soften when you approach them. As though a bodhisattva among mortals, he maintains his flawless complexion and upright form, even if he is attempting to console Boyu, who is rather preoccupied with sobbing into his leg. Sitting by Zhou Chen’s side, you cup the young master’s face into your hand as you smile upon the way his watery eyes light up at your presence. He immediately switches to clinging to you, strong arms wrapping around your waist while he looks up to you.

“Boyu, go rest,” You coo, your thumb rubbing his cheek in assuage.

He merely hums, nodding his head as he falls limp into your lap. Your brother clicks his tongue at such a display, and with a quick look to the crowd of help outside, a few rush in to carry Boyu back to his room, at least not without some kind of struggle. With the rather obvious issue out of the way, Zhou Chen rises and offers a hand for you to take, one you accept but it is soon that you realise that another has come to grasp the ends of your long robes, tugging on the ends of it the same manner a child does to his mother.

Xiyuan, his sunlit eyes you are so accustomed to seeing squeezed in mirth, has widened to liken him to a puppy pleading to be let onto the bed. His voice loses the drunken enthusiasm yet retains that same vulnerability, imploring, “Stay a while longer, please?”

“I shall see you tomorrow, alright? It is late now and I would rather you be well rested.” Your hand comes to rest atop his head, an innocent brief pet that he chases after when you pull away.

The lord manages to grasp that hand of yours despite the drunken coordination he has adopted, holding it as he once again pleads, “Promise?”

“Promise,” You smile, a huff of amusement escaping you when he beams as your response. When he has loosened his guard, you are quick to retract your hand, a notion your brother clearly approves of when he pulls you closer towards him, practically encased in his presence.

“Please have them escorted to their rooms,” You turn to your attendants and servants, a few of which wince when they realise that they must soon heft the unconscious general to his room. Still, you muster a smile and bow to them, “Thank you.”

At this, they get to work with swift action, one of the perhaps luckier ones rushing over to the still giggly Lord Song to help to his chambers. You are not sure of what else occurs, for your brother is even swifter to bring the two of you back to your bed chambers, a notion that thankfully has remained innocuous to your people.

His hand rests on your waist, and though the journey back passes by in but a blink of an eye, every moment away from his touch, away from having his sole focus on you is torturous. Only ever in the privacy of your room, tucked away in your office, in spaces that you may never be perceived as Lord Zhou of Chunxin, only then will you be merely you, your older brother’s dearest meimei.

Kept at the farthest end of the estate and in its own little paradise, your bed chambers are lit up by candles emitting their gentle light. Despite your simple attire, you have yet many tasks to settle at your vanity, sitting atop the sandalwood stool as you free your hair from its binds, thick and flowing past your shoulders. Just as your hand places your hairpin down, a larger one comes atop it, far cooler in body temperature.

You say nothing to this. Instead, keeping your voice low, a huff escapes you as you raise a brow in suspicion, “How convenient that you’ve gotten them all so drunk.”

“Have I done something wrong?” His voice is stolid, he tips his head to face you, a hint of amusement along the corners of his eyes.

Zhou Chen maintains his guileless demeanour, letting you fuss over him instead as you urge for him. He places himself between your legs, kneeling obediently as you remove his own hairpin and jade hair-beads that provide his blithe comeliness. Your hand reaches to brush his hair back, remaining atop his head as he looks to you with those warm eyes.

“How did you even manage to get them to drink that much?” You mutter, your eyes lingering on his soft lips.

He hums with not a hint of his usual snide, “They’re eager to impress.”

“Even Fengxi?”

The sudden change of reference, the new intimacy as he perceives it, is not as all welcomed. He furrows his brows as a wronged expression appears on his handsome face. It would be almost cute, such a noble man showing an emotion oft relegated to neglected concubines or petulant children, you cannot help the scrunch of delight that manifests.

“Calling him by his name now, hm?” He huffs with narrowed eyes.

No matter how much mirth you feel from his misplaced discontent, a soft breath escapes you. Watching him ascend from his position, you likewise rise, your footfalls rushing towards him despite his clear stay. When faced with him, you could only sigh, “I know you don’t like me spending so much time with them but I have to.”

Zhou Chen’s expression mellows, returning to that visage of tender concern as he pulls you into a loose clutch, staunch arms enveloping your form. The familiar smell of sweet and spiced tobacco clings to his skin, a creamier note of sandalwood urges you to press your nose against the crook of his neck and doze off. It springs that welling sentiment of assurance, reliance on him.

“I thought we said you’d spend your days with them, not your nights as well yet…”

Twisted with disquieted aggrieve, his voice is soft among the night wind, “...We’ve been having less and less time for each other now.”

“It's only for a few more days,” You sigh, brows furrowed as he rests his hands on your hips, his rings digging ever so slightly into the fat of your flesh. An aggrieved lilt tinges your words, “Can’t you hold on until then?”

He merely raises a brow, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against one another. “Don’t you know how hard it is for your brother? Watching you run around with simpletons, watching you give them that smile of yours so easily, watching you touch them without care for propriety.”

His lowered lashes flutter as he lowers his head, murmuring against your lips, “It makes me want to smash their heads open.”

“Childish,” You scoff, yet with not a single shred of actual vexation could be found in even a blood vessel of your form.

“Do you like them that much?”

“Of course not,” You mutter against his lips, voice soft. It is not hard to tell him your wants, not hard to spill every amorous thought you have of him, not when it is for him, never when it is for him. “The only person I need is you.”

Your brother’s lips are warm when they capture yours, so unlike the rest of his body. He cups the side of your face as though your skin were delicate porcelain, as though any more and you would shatter before his very eyes. And though you have griped over his subtleties, you have missed him more than anything that this world could possibly offer atop a golden platter.

It comes as no shock when you press against his lips harder, and your brother, your perfect brother who always knows how best to hold you, pushing past your lips with his tongue, starved of a hedonism so often indulged. You let him take and take, seizing everything you have until there is nothing but bleary fog in your head.

“You’re so needy, have I been neglecting you?” The raspy quality of his voice only seems all the more sensual so close to your ear, warm breath brushing against the tender shell that it may straighten your tendons.

At this moment, you could only playfully hum, a coy lilt to your voice, “Then, gege will take good care of me, right?”

He smiles, he obliges.

Through moonlit rays and candlelight warmth, you are the sole beholder to the beauty that lies beneath heavy robes. Hidden from prying eyes, an active life campaigning alongside a warlord has allowed him a nearly perfect toned figure. Well-defined collar bones and long lean limbs, broad shoulders and a slim waist, it is difficult to not admire him.

Yet perhaps most surprisingly, your brother’s length is equally beautiful as he is, as though carved from the highest quality of mutton fat jade, the slight flush to the head only made it as alluring as the rest of him. Each protruding vein is almost perfectly placed, that so every time you see it, you cannot help but think that it would be without peer if not for the excessive thickness and length.

How you yearn to revere him as he always does you, always you.

“Gege–” You moan, drunk off need and pure adoration. Glancing down at the way you are stretched for him, letting him in, so intimately intertwined that it seemed almost seamless, the turbid wet mess that now stained your bodies only elicited another tight squeeze.

Hips flush against yours and your legs splayed widely around them, it rips another shameless, ragged sound from your throat. He has already pushed himself into the depths of your body, filled so much of you that you could only heave and beg in choked sobs, beg for more, beg for him. Because you have only ever yearned for him, that his insistence to shallowly rock into you is nothing but torturous. Your swollen bud aching for some attention yet left completely and utterly alone, it hurts despite his very proximity.

Your brother sighs, his usually steady voice thick with desire, “Such a lustful body, how can anyone else satisfy you, hm?”

He pulls out entirely, leaving only the very tip. In instinctual desperation, you can feel yourself squeezing once more, confusedly trying to pull him in. With a coquettish whine, you spread your legs ever wider, his large hand gripping onto the soft plush of your thigh, devoid of the jade and gold that usually decorate his slender fingers.

“Only you…” Softly sighing, you reach for him with what little energy you can muster, eyes watery and begging. He does not oblige you. “Gege… it can only be gege…”

Only then does he react, bending further to press a light kiss to your lips. Yet perhaps what contrasts such a tender action is the harsh buck of his hips, the pace he sets desperate and frenzied, the precision he has always had over your form does not falter, repeatedly hitting that spot as his hand squeezes hard into your skin.

“So good, hah–” He praises, his other hand slipping to grasp onto yours, holding onto you tight as his form presses against yours.

“You’re always so good for me, meimei.”

Under overwhelming pleasure borne of hours of being played and toyed with, your thoughts have been reduced to bear nothing but him and the feeling of him, your brother’s harsh thrusts only pushes broken, needy moans and tears to fall from your eyes. Yet, he is still your perfect brother, kissing your tears away as he tells you how well you are doing, how you are clamping on him so tightly, how much he adores you, how you’ll always be together no matter what happens. No matter, you rely purely on instincts to twist your form to cater to his desires, a mindless smile pulling on your lips.

And then it hits you, far too sudden and hard you barely realise you have reached that peak of pleasure again. How many he must have plucked from you that even now you could care less about the obscene noises that leave your lips. Your toes instinctively curl, yet it is only briefly before your legs hang uselessly in the air.

He does not stall, rubbing against you in that merciless pace before he is smearing hot and messy kisses against your jaw. He pushes his hips flush against yours in one final, gentle thrust as you arch into him, the remnants of your pleasure still searing through your body now only intensified by the thick streams that spill out between the gaps of your legs. Zhou Chen remains within you, pulling back to look at you with a soft sentiment within those amber depths.

Cuddled next to each other, your brother places another kiss to your lips, brushing away the tousled hair from your face with his slender fingers, again chaste yet so filled with the very reverence the two of you work so hard to keep hidden. Wrapped into his embrace and pressed close to his chest, you can hear how his heart beats, thumping in slow rhythmic pace. It beats only for you, He lives only for you.

“Promise me you’ll never leave me,” He mutters beneath his breath, amber eyes peering into yours.

Just as quiet as he had once done so himself, you respond with what little voice you have left, “Promise.”

Zhou Chen holds you closer, as though wrapped in the embrace of a mother you never got to have, you feel the ghost of his lips atop your head, pressing a kiss filled with exaltation true and raw.

You wonder whether an outside eye can truly see the depths of your brother’s affection for you, whether they can see how unfailingly and adoringly he loves you with every fibre of his being. You wonder whether they have realised those eyes that never leave your form, hands that have wrought tragedies and a mind that has long foreseen every possibility. Composing this world with fingers of jade-white excellence, this shall be one that bears only the two of you, one that shall forever ensure your happiness, one that shall never end.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #oc x reader #x reader #original writing

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bioluminescencia · 1 month

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Date night at La Commanderie

Paris, France

more of my travel photos here @bioluminescencia

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darkdevasofdestruction · 1 year

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My Most Cherished Friend - Lu Bu Fengxian x Reader

Life in the Wu Commandery was a tough one, especially for frail women, but the people of the village were united and kind, like the members of one big family, protective over their own, especially the younger generation - The children. Though, even the little ones had to grow up fast and pull their weight in any way they could, be it seaming clothes, carrying fire wood, help with the buildings and maybe hunting also.

Y/N had the privilege of being born in a happy, loving family, and though none were rich, they were content with each other and the kindness they spread around. There was one boy who wasn't as fortunate however, though Y/N couldn't understand why -

Lu Shang, the kindest man in the province, the protector of all children, had adopted a child born under the blood moon - A demon child, as they say. Y/N asked her parents why the village shuns a child, he did nothing wrong! Even the other children strayed away from him, in case they'd also get afflicted with his unfortunate curse.

"Papa, why are they so mean to Lu Bu?" Y/N asked one evening, during dinner. "He just wants to play. He always looks so sad." "Well, darling, what do you want to do?" her father smiled kindly. "I... I want to be his friend!" the two parents looked at each other proudly, before patting her hair. "Then do as you wish." Y/N looked up at her mum and dad before dashing out of their little hut, all the way to Lu Shang's home. She smiled widely at the two surprised residents of that tent. "Do you two want to join us for dinner?" her brilliant smile full of tenderness and kindness shocked the young boy, but more than that, made the father throw his arms around the girl and hug her tightly, thanking her for being his child's only friend.

Y/N guided the two back to her cottage where the adults had a merry time, and the two children, well - Y/N tried to make conversation, hoping to ease Lu Bu into their fresh new friendship. Thankfully, by the end of the night, Y/N spotted the cutest, smallest smile on his face, and the faintest of blushes on his cheeks.

He is so cute.

Since then, Y/N accepted the rejection of her other so-called friends, and the whole village, just to spend time in Lu Bu's company. Somehow, despite being so quiet and supposedly dangerous, he was a far better friend than any other one she had before.

Y/N would cook for the two men, and would tailor them clothes of all kinds - But what Y/N loved the most was to play with Lu Bu's gorgeous hair, though somehow, no matter how much she tried to brush it or braid it in all sorts of ways, it would break any tie, and would get spiked up like a porcupine or a hedgehog.

He really was so adorable.

Y/N was fawning over him shamelessly, complimenting him, kissing him, hugging him - Lu Bu almost felt the need to pull away from her, as she's behaving just like his father - But somehow, he also... Liked it?

"You have such beautiful eyes, Lu Bu! They always look so tender and kind - But also so sad and lonely." she would cup his face and kiss his forehead dearly. "I know I may never be able to erase your sadness, but I want you to know that no matter what happens, I will always be here for you, okay? You will always be my most precious and dearest friend." Lu Bu looked at her, his eyes gleaming with surprise and sparkles of hope. He offered a toothy grin and pulled the girl in a strong embrace. "My precious friend."

Every time Lu Bu would go out to hunt and get large game, he would share it with Y/N's family also, and every time he'd see her being bullied by the other kids, he would stand in front of her, defending her. He needn't actually do anything - They all feared his mere presence, let alone even try to confront him. Weaklings. They were all weaklings. How come a small and frail girl like Y/N can brave him, but grown up adults cannot? Ha. Ridiculous playthings.

Y/N continued being his best friend through all of his sadness and hardships, being his only friend and supporting him and his dad. Funny enough, their parents kept talking weird shit about marrying one day and what not - How strange, how peculiar. He didn't need any of that. Y/N was his precious person and he never wanted to part from her. He needn't some silly marriage pact to define their bond - They were inseparable, in life and death, and he was going to protect her at the cost of his life - Though he doubts there's ever going to be anyone to best him in combat. He was born a warrior, will live as a warrior, and will die as the strongest warrior that China ever had and ever will.

Though the years passed, Y/N's misfortunes began to grow - Once, with the death of her mother, due to an unknown disease, and later on, with father's death, out of sheer grief. Y/N was all alone, refusing to exit her tent and crying the day and night out, starving to death.

"Where is Y/N? I haven't seen her in a few days." Lu Bu asked his father, who offered a sad smile. "I think she is in dire need of a friend." Lu Shang explained, patting his head. "What do you mean?" he asked, confused. "Am I not her friend anymore?" the boy gasped, fearing the worst. "Does she not like me anymore?!" "No, no - Nothing of the sort. It's just... She lost both her mum and dad in a short amount of time. I bet she feels alone and scared right now." the father-figure watched the gears of his son's mind rotating. "But she's not alone - She has us, right?" the innocent boy answered quickly. "Sometimes, when stricken with grief, we tend to forget that we have people to rely on." the father explained, patting the boy's head. "We just need a gentle reminder that we have someone out there, still caring for us, even if life feels heavy on our shoulders and we can't see the light of hope through the thick darkness."

Lu Bu was a little confused, but had a good idea on what to do. He rushed out of his tent and into the forest, where he got a bunch of pretty flowers and made a flower crown for Y/N. She always loved flowers, and liked braiding them in his hair - But he wasn't good at braiding her hair, so he settled for a pretty crown. Hopefully, she'll like it.

With afternoon coming quickly, Lu Bu ran into the silent tent of Y/N and watched as she kept herself into a little ball, continuing to weep even after a few days since her father's funeral. She was outright distraught... And so alone.

"H-Hey, Y/N?" she hadn't answered. The boy stepped by her side, placing the crown on her head. "I-... Uh... I'm your friend!" he boldly declared as he wrapped his arms around the girl. "So, uh... So I want to see you smile again."

Y/N looked up at him - For Lu Bu, she was still so pretty, even with her face pale from her unhealthy habits, the dark bags under her eyes from lack of sleep, and the puffy pink face from excessive crying. She looked at him, deeply shocked that he did all this, just for her. Suddenly, the boy picked her up in his arms and ran outside, and to the flower field on the edge of a cliff. "You can put flowers in my hair if you want!" he declared with a large smile on his face. It seemed that such simple gestures brought some pink hues in her cheeks, and she even had the faintest smile.

They didn't really speak the entire time, instead, Y/N found comfort and peace simply from his presence next to her. Together, they watched the Sun go down, painting the sky in numerous gorgeous colours, before it got dark and the stars started twinkling. "Do you think they are up there? Sparkling brightly and watching over me?" Lu Bu looked at the girl, before looking up - A star was shining very brightly, right in front of them - He smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah, I think so. I think they are right there. Happy." he pointed at that star. Y/N smiled. "That's reassuring." she said as she threw her arm around his body. "Thank you. Friend." Lu Bu said no words - Instead, he mimicked a gesture she'd often do for him. He kissed her forehead.

When Fengxian was around nine years old, he experienced sickness - Or rather, his father's, and nothing that Y/N did, nor even the elder medics, could save him without the aid of expensive medicine that wasn't available within their district.

"All of this is the country magistrate, Li Tang's, fault!" Lu Bu heard Y/N's grandfather mumble as he tried to care of Lu Shang. "It's become nothing but heavy tax and tributes since that fucker came." he growled lowly. "Did you hear that he wants young girls as tributes now? What if he wants our sweet Y/N next?" her grandmother was evidently in distress. "That fucker is ruling as if he's the king of the country. He doesn't even consider us humans. At this rate, he'll make us commit suicide. We have no choice but to leave these lands soon, if it continues this way." Lu Bu and Y/N remained by Lu Shang's side as he rested, never once moving, though the worries of the adults weren't ignored by him. "Don't worry, Fengxian." despite his delirious and weakened state, Lu Shang mustered the strength to ruffle his boy's hair. "If I get some sleep... I'll get better." they both knew he wouldn't. But that's a parent's duty, isn't it? To care for his children and their happiness?

That night, Lu Bu went to the magistrate's mansion to 'ask' for some medicine - Y/N knew he was going to get in trouble, so she followed stealthily behind him. She watched as he easily killed the guards and forced his way within the mansion, taking just about all the important medicine in a huge sack. Silly boy. With such a noticeable bounty, he was bound to get noticed.

Before she left, Y/N left a handmade jewellery, evidently a girly one, and left it at the crime scene, as evidence. The guards will surely blame her instead. And so it happened, though the massacre and destruction was far larger than she ever anticipated. Li Tang's guards burnt the village to the ground, captured Lu Shang and all the children while all the other adults had to watch as they cut off the man's entire arm. They were surrounded by the magistrate's army, but the only happiness Y/N and Lu Shang had was that Fengxian wasn't there - They didn't want him to get killed because of his kindness.

A tall man garbed in regal armor and a sun-like mask walked in front of them, wearing a nasty grin. "I am the magistrate of the Han Empire. There is a child who committed robbery in my mansion, and apparently, she is a child of this village. Her name is Y/N." the disgusting man held up the tassel in his hand. "If the girl steps forward willingly, I may have a little mercy on these filthy slaves."

The elder of the village stepped forward and kowtowed to the ground, his forehead glued onto the ground. "Master Li Tang, we offer you the criminal Y/N without hesitation. These children don't deserve punishment for anything. I beg you... I beg you...! Please spare their lives!" the elder got stepped on harshly with the heel of his boot, getting kicked and hit by the flickering magistrate. "There's NOTHING you can say - Why I would need to punish some dirty nomads - I will give them a painful death, one that you all will find unforgettable! If you keep provoking me, I'll spill their filthy nomad blood everywhere!" "It was me." Y/N stepped forward, her head held high and with the dignity of an Empress. "You gave us no choice. We are people also, and have every right to live. If you are going to oppress us, then we must retort to crimes to survive." she spoke bravely, allowing the elder to return to his people. "I don't regret raiding your expensive house for medicine to save a worthy man." The magistrate looked down at the small girl, a sadistic grin twisting his face. "A little whore like you dares speak so bravely?" he took out a huge scissors-like weapon, and slashed at her, ripping at her clothes and slicing her skin. You could see blood pouring through the ripped material. "I will give you an easy death, if you kneel to the ground and lick my boots - Repeat this phrase - You will say - We, Nomads, are the whores of Li Tang, the county magistrate in Jiuyuan district of the Han Empire." he opened the blunt-edged scissors, taller than her, and pointed the tip to her nether regions. "I'm going to fuck you with it if you don't obey." "I will not soil the name of my people for a cruel imbecile like yourself!" Y/N pride was met with a demonic expression from the magistrate, who rose his arms up in the air. "Kill them all." he growled like a rabid dog as his army rose their bows up to aim.

Quickly, Y/N extended her arms to the side and stood tall in front of the kneeling Lu Shang, ready to protect him with her life. But death never came.

Instead, Lu Shang, with his remaining arm, grabbed Y/N by the back of her outfit and pulled her down to safety as he tanked all the many arrows, shielding the children of the village.

"Are all of you okay?" Lu Shang asked the children, barely standing up from the over twenty arrows stuck in his body. "No! Why did you do this?! I was supposed to protect you! When Fengxian finds out you died, he's going to go crazy!" Y/N yelled at the man, sobbing as she fell to her knees in front of him. "Why...?" he smiled gently as he fell to the ground. "Protecting the smiles of children is the duty of an adult." "THEN WHO WILL PROTECT FENGXIAN'S SMILE?!" Y/N cried out at him, desperate and frustrated with him. "You."

A psychopathic laugh, followed by the magistrate grabbing Lu Shang by the hair, and pinning Y/N on the ground, strangling her with a single hand, sent terror through everyone's heart. "It's useless - Useless! From the very beginning, I decided to massacre all the nomads." "LET HIM GO, YOU SICK FUCK!" Y/N tried to claw at his hand and struggle away, only to get a punch in the diaphragm, knocking her breath away.

A sea of gasps and curses attracted the attention of the nomads, as Lu Bu appeared out of nowhere. "Fengxian..." Lu Shang felt tears in his eyes as his own child had to witness such a horrific sight. "FENGXIAN, RUN! HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU!" Y/N yelled at him - The Magistrate quickly realised the demon child wasn't important only to his father, but to this wench also. To taunt Lu Bu, Li Tang threw the father away before grabbing the little girl, his perverted hands crawling all over her skin, despite her futile struggling.

The poor child watched the decrepit state of his father - His arm cut off and still bleeding, his body torn apart by countless arrows buried deep inside his flesh. His only friend was bruised and bloody, her clothes ripped to shreds and body defiled in front of him. Lu Bu felt like crying from a myriad of emotions overwhelming him to the core. He was ready to rip everyone to shreds.

"Ahh, what a scary face! Lu Bu, was it? I was playing with your father and girlfriend because you were taking so long!" the whole army surrounded the feral child. "Kill him! It's your turn to be punished!" "REMOVE YOUR HAND!!!" Lu Bu screamed loudly, his voice echoing through the entire plains.

Everyone watched with awe and wonder as a mere child of nine massacred an entire army, weaponless, right in front of their eyes. Lu Bu Fengxian was truly a monster demon child. Seeing his useless soldiers getting killed, Li Tang threw the girl away and readied his famous weapon to kill the child - But it was futile. Lu Bu needn't a weapon to defeat trash. In a single punch, the magistrate was mauled. "You, who brings misfortune, is a child of evil." were his last words before his head was kicked off his body.

With the fight over, Lu Bu watched as Y/N dragged his father to lean back on a tree, his arrows already taken off, but the bleeding was insane. Her outfit was ripped to shreds in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding - But with such injuries... Not even the Gods could save him.

"N-No... No, you can't! Can't we stop the bleeding in some way?!" the poor boy panicked wildly, only for his face to be cupped tenderly by the man's remaining hand. "Fengxian... Fengxian... S-Show me a good face... Please..." his father looked the boy in the eyes, encouraging him to go search far and wide for the man whose strength will rival his - A man he would be able to call a friend. "Just don't forget... Myself and Y/N will always be with you. You are not alone." Lu Shang touched his forehead to that of his child. "Y-Yes... Yes... I-I understand...D-Dad..." it was the first time Lu Shang got called 'dad' by his child. He was the happiest he's ever been in his life. "It's the first time... You've called me that. Haha... I am the luckiest man..." he smiled gently. "Fengxian. You are my proudest treasure." he died in his child's embrace, with an accomplished, content smile on his face.

It was the first and only time when Lu Bu would wail to the skies, his heart broken irreversibly from grief and mourning - A cry resounding through heavens, as if it were coming from a dragon.

Throughout the day, Lu Bu wailed, and as the Sun began to set, he had to bury his father. "Fengxian..." Y/N held him the whole day, hoping to ease his pain in some way, though she was well aware that there was nothing to mend a shattered heart.

Everyone mourned, but Lu Bu was the most stricken with grief - He wore his black outfit, unable to look away from the grave. Behind him, he heard the villagers mention a future attack of retaliation from the empire, and how they needed to start fighting. They asked for guidance from Lu Bu, to teach them how to fight like him.

Instead, the boy ate away his own mourning and whistled for his mount, a large warg, jumping on it. "I don't need weaklings. I will devour all the troops." he said, his determination infinite. He was going to find that friend his father spoke of. "Afterwards, I will go west. If the Han army comes, pass that on to them." "Fengxian, wait!" Y/N ran to him, looking up into his empty eyes. "I don't want to lose you." He gave a small smile, offering his hand to her. "Come with me, then." he said. Y/N grinned, not hesitating as she slapped her hand over his own, letting him drag her up on his mount, right in front of him as to not fall over from the speed. "I will follow you to the ends of the world, Fengxian. In life, and in death. How's that sound?" "Sounds fun." he smirked.

Following that, believing in the words of his father, the boy continued to travel decisively, all to find someone worth his time.

Years passed, and Lu Bu never knew the taste of defeat. Him and Y/N would grow together, with him protecting her from anything that might threaten her, whilst Y/N would take care of him - Only he knew, he never did bother changing his clothes, cooking anything tasty or caring for his hair. He was a man, after all. A traveler, a warrior - Why should he care about trivial things? That's how women are, always worrying over little things - Though he couldn't deny, he was enjoying her care over him, to the point that he was purposely getting himself in situations to earn her spoiling treatment, like a sly little cat seeking affection.

He relished in her sweet kisses, loving the feel of her lips all over his face - The most beautiful woman in China was his best friend, his companion, his lover, his family, his most trusted and cherished person. Y/N was his everything. She was the only being he ever loved - And through that, he allowed her to abuse his love for her - Whenever she wanted to kiss, he would kiss her. Whenever he wanted his embrace, he would let her sleep cuddle in his arms. Whenever she wanted his love, he would give it.

For as long as this life keeps him, he will seek strong men to fight, a friend to understand him, and keep Y/N happy.

One day, in Luoyang, they brought one of the Three Jewels of China, the strongest horse to ever exist - Red Hare - The most sinister horse in history, that could run 500 km in one single day. A horse that was never ridden before.

Y/N tugged on Lu Bu's hand as he was munching on a carrot, as she excitedly wanted to see the fierce mount. Without any fear, she walked ignorantly past all the screaming people, and the mangled merchant, and stepped in front of the horse. "Hello, beautiful!" she smiled sweetly, raising her hand up to caress his snout. "You truly are China's most treasured jewel. Red Hare. You are fantastic." the woman's gentle compassion seemed to calm the steed's ferocious hostility. "I have brought you a friend. I am sure you will get along well."

In that moment, human caught the attention of the monstrous horse - It instantly turned to the human because of his odor, the smell of someone strong. "Wanna go?" Lu Bu smirked as he challenged the horse to a race. For the first time in a million years, mankind witnessed a race between a horse and a human. "I'll wait you here, darling!" Y/N cheerfully waved to her childish darling as she went to have her meal at some restaurant.

The man and the horse just kept running as far as they could, until they ran into the merchant and his army who arrowed the animal down - Still, he wasn't about to fall down so easily, and he trampled over the evil man a second time to continue his race, followed by Lu Bu who slapped the man dead to get out of his way.

Fengxian watched with sad eyes as the animal was unable to keep standing anymore. "You can't run anymore, Red Hare?" he picked the large steed on his back, walking him back home, for Y/N to treat. "Let's go home together. Y/N's gonna get worried if we don't return for dinner." seeing the human walking, carrying him on his back; with his body completely exhausted, Red Hare observed his own defeat. "Hey. Can I ride you till your death?" and so, he got his war partner, running together for life. Red Hare's back is made for Lu Bu Fengxian.

Over the course of time, Lu Bu would kill all the people standing in his way, claiming the title of the Strongest Man in China - He destroyed Dong Zhou, and the Seven Grails of Uruk who protected him, and massacred so many who dared attempt to cross him at Hulao Pass, only for Sun Jian Wentai to defeat him by forcing him to cross the self-imposed line he made in the sand.

And so, Lu Bu had found an admirer who looked very similar to his father - And they continued to fight together throughout his life. He simply asked for a friend who could understand him.

The God of War, the Strongest Man in China, the Raging Dragon, the Flying General Lu Bu Fengxian was entirely undefeated.

His greatest distress of all times. Eventually, nothing would stand before him any longer, and in exchange, the number of those following him gradually increased - And so, after 30 years of life, Lu Bu had come to his journey's end; In that moment he realised that under all heavens, there was no longer anything stronger than he.

"I'm done with life." Lu Bu told Y/N one night as they sat by the edge of a cliff. "I can't take it any longer. Disappointment after disappointment. There is no one left to fight. I have reached the pinnacle of strength." "Then, you wish for death in hopes of finding a worthy foe amongst the Gods?" Y/N hummed, looking up at the stars. "Yes. I will let Cao Cao capture me." he spoke bluntly. "Will you let me follow you?" Lu Bu looked down at the calm woman dangling her feet from the edge. "I haven't forgotten your promise to me - But you are still young. Are you sure you wish to forsake your life, just to be with me in heavens?" his voice was as gruff as always. Y/N looked up at him with a sweet smile. "Of course. What's the meaning of life without the one you cherish?" Fengxian let out an amused huff. "I have a single request from you, though." "What is it?" "I want you to be the one to take my life and deliver me into the next." Lu Bu rose a questioning eyebrow. "I don't want to end up as Cao Cao's slave or plaything. They won't just kill me. That's the life of a woman... So - Will you offer me this kindness? Will you let me wait for you in the skies? I promise I'll tell Lu Shang you've been a good boy." she giggled sweetly. The man huffed, looking up at the sky with a smile. "I won't let you wait too long. Take care of Red Hare until I come." "Of course I will."

Fengxian got up to leave for a few minutes, only to return with a beautiful flower crown, which he placed on her head. "As beautiful as always." he knelt down in front of her, pulling her into a strong embrace. "Forgive me, Y/N. For everything." he whispered in her ear. "There is nothing to forgive, my darling." her sweet voice shattered his heart. "I love you, Fengxian." "I love you, Y/N."

Lu Bu pulled her into a deep kiss, keeping her mind away as he drove the dagger into her heart, and he deepened the bittersweet kiss tainted by the metallic taste of blood as she died in his arms with a smile on her face. Just like his dad. "Wait for me, Y/N. I'll be there soon." he cried once again, for the second time in his life, as he buried his dearest friend at the base of a flowering magnolia tree.

Thus, Lu Bu allowed himself to get captures, and as he looked at the noose, he yawned loudly. "Oi, just hurry up and end it, will ya? What's takin' so long? You're borin' me to death here. Y/N's waiting for me."

As promised, Y/N was there, waiting for Lu Bu to come to her, followed by Gong Chen and his faithful army. For a while, the afterlife was an eternal peace - A boring one - Until a woman called Brunhilde came over with a most exciting proposal - Fight a God, for the sake of humanity. Of course, Fengxian couldn't care less about mankind's fate - He cared only about fighting a most fearsome opponent like he experienced nowhere else on earth.

And thus, he became the first human to fight the Mighty Thor, using the spear made from a Valkyrie's body and soul morphing into the soulbound weapon.

For the first time in his entire life, Lu Bu was truly happy, excited, thrilled even, to be fighting a man equal in strength, or perhaps even stronger than him. A God of War, just like himself. He was beyond a shadow of doubt so enthusiastic to fight Thor at his strongest, without his gloves on, and with that large hammer pulsating with life - Thor considered him a worthy foe, a friend even. He wasn't just a 'human' anymore in his eyes. He was Lu Bu, Thor's friend and his mightiest opponent he's ever faced, with both of them smiling truly for the first time, facing each other.

In this battle, Thor would display his finest smile, and Lu Bu would meet it with his worst.

Though he would manage to injure Thor himself, he blocked his strongest hit yet - At the cost of his own tibia bones breaking, causing him to fall on the ground. Whilst Gong Chen and his army were weeping loudly, Y/N ran to the stables where Red Hare was being kept, and rode him into the arena. She smiled down at him, extending her hand to him.

"My dearest friend, we vowed to live and die together, didn't we? Red Hare and I haven't changed our hearts about you. So - Will you allow us to accompany you for the last time?"

With incredibly strength, Lu Bu used his halberd to get back up and slapped his hand over Y/N's much smaller one as she helped him get up on Red Hare's back.

"Y/N. Red Hare. In this moment, I ask you - Would you entrust your life to me?" the man asked, readying his weapon, happy to be allowed to use his most perfected technique against a worthy foe - The Sky Eater. After thousands of years, Lu Bu finally met the man who could take the brunt of this strike. "Always."

Lu Bu instinctively knew that the next swing would be the strongest in his entire life - And indeed, Thor also felt the exact same way. Thor's Hammer against Sky Eater.

In this exchange, Fengxian's left arm was ripped off, while the left was half torn. "Fengxian." Y/N called out as the man bit off his dangling arm. "Red Hare became your legs. Allow me to become your arms." Y/N said, holding the halberd clumsily. "Silly woman, you never held a weapon in your entire life." the man grinned widely at her. "About time, huh?" she said. "Are you happy, my love?" "I gave it everything I had. This... This right here - This is what true joy is, huh?" he chuckled lightly, kicking Red Hare's side. "What would I know? My joy is seeing you happy for the first time."

As Thor struck his hammer, both Y/N and Fengxian were killed at the exact same time, their bodies destroyed and toppling over to the ground in a pool of blood.

Thor looked down at his opponent, smiling - Those 16 minutes of their fight were the happiest he's ever been in his long existence. What a worthy man - Truly the strongest humanity ever had.

The Gods celebrated their victory, while the humans toasted in honor of the greatest general to ever live - But Red Hare and Gong Chen were griefing. "Red Hare, I feel your pain. Heaven or Earth, a land without Milord already holds no value to us. We shall follow him!" Lu Bu's entire army was right behind the strategist and the Jewel Steed. "We're coming, Milord!" the soldiers wept as they rushed into their last, honorary battle. "We are the army of Lu Bu! We follow our general, no matter how many deaths we face! Prepare thyself!" the army attacked, knowing very well the outcome. Thor smiled, his heart trembling with emotion and thrill. "Very well. I'll send you as offerings in his name - To Lu Bu." "To hear Milord's name resonating alongside Thunder...!" Gong Chen, Red Hare, and everyone else experienced the greatest honour of their life, following Lu Bu and Y/N in death, forever, with smiles on their faces.

Though their souls were shattered and reduced to dust in the vacuum of space, unable to return to the cycle of reincarnation, none regretted their actions. Their greatest joy finally appeared in front of them - Seeing their most beloved person truly happy.

For Fengxian and Y/N death was not a cruel end, but the happiest outcome that could befall them. With smiles on their faces and hearts filled with love and bliss - Together, forever, be it life, death, samsara or nothingness - No matter what form their bodies take, or even if their souls are no more - Somehow, Fengxian and Y/N's happiness rang eternal over all realms, like a gentle, warm breeze in Spring.

The strong bond of a most cherished friend.

#record of ragnarok imagine #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok lu bu #lu bu fengxian #ror #ror lu bu #lu bu ror #lu bu x reader #lu bu imagine

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rlyehtaxidermist · 1 month

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western fascists: the existence of long term stable dynasties in china proves that the asian cultures are more naturally obedient

actual imperial china: it is thanks to the gracious wisdom of the son of heaven that i am now able to murder you and your family in order to seize 30 square feet of your commandery to construct a dam that an itinerant wizard told me would improve my barley yields. which i will use to commit tax fraud

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whencyclopedia · 6 months

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Ancient Korean & Japanese Relations

Ancient East Asia was dominated by the three states known today as China, Japan, and Korea. These kingdoms traded raw materials and high-quality manufactured goods, exchanged cultural ideas and practices, and fought each other in equal measure throughout the centuries. The complex chain of successive kingdoms in all three states has created a rich web of events that historians have sometimes found difficult to disentangle; a situation not helped by modern nationalist claims and ideals superimposed on antiquity from all three parties. As the historian Kim Won-Yong put it, "Korea acted as a cultural bridge between China and Japan" (Portal, 20). Historians continue to discuss whether that bridge was one-way or two-way traffic and, if the former, which direction, but suffice to say that there was such a bridge, and its consequences in art, politics, and history in both countries still resonate today.

First Trade Relations

It is likely that there was contact between the Japanese islands and the Korean peninsula in the Neolithic period (6,000-1,000 BCE), especially considering the lower sea-level at that time and so closer geographical proximity of the two land masses. However, the first recorded ties between Japan, specifically the island of Kyushu, which the Koreans called Wae (and the Chinese Wa), occurred in the period known as the Proto-Three Kingdoms period between the 1st and 3rd centuries CE. The fragmented territories in the south of the peninsula were not yet centralised states, but international relations were developed by the Chinese commanderies which occupied the north of Korea at this time, especially Lelang. Envoys and tribute were sent by the Wa, now a confederation of small states in southern and western Japan, the most important of which was Yamato. These missions are recorded in 57, 107, 238, and 248 CE.

#History #AncientJapan #AsukaPeriod #Baekje #WHE #[#]

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maddyaddy · 3 months

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Palatine Amity, Immram Commandery, Order of Our Martyred Lady

#Sisters of Battle #40k #adepta sororitas #miniature painting #miniature wargaming #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000

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philoursmars · 2 years

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Nouveau retour à mon projet de présenter la plupart de mes 55500 photos (et des brouettes). Plus trop loin du présent....

Marseille :

- les 5 premières : le Fort Saint-Jean avec sa chapelle et la Place de la Commanderie

- L’église Saint-Laurent et le “Montreur d’Oursons”

- la rue de la Cathédrale, dans le Panier

- la Cathédrale de la Major, pavoisée

#souvenirs #marseille #fort saint-jean #art roman #roman provençal #église saint-laurent #le montreur d'oursons #montreur d'oursons #rue de la cathédrale #le panier #cathédrale de la major #la major #drapeau #place de la commanderie #chapelle #agave könyvek

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norellenilia · 2 months

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En fait quand on y pense, la disparition d'Eldarya a été provoquée par la potion de l'épisode 13 de The Origins !

On apprend dans l'épisode 18 de A New Era que c'est la commanderie de Papounet qui a trop déchiré l'espace-temps avec ses balades de la Terre à Eldarya, du coup le tissu entre les mondes tenait plus et le maana s'est engouffré dans les failles, faisant disparaître Eldarya à jamais.

Sauf que si on en est arrivés là, c'est parce que la commanderie a été réanimée par Papounet et son flouze ! Et s'il a trouvé la commanderie, c'est parce qu'il a trouvé des infos sur l'Ordre du Jardin des Anciens, en cherchant pourquoi personne à part lui ne se souvenait d'Erika ! Et s'il était le seul à se souvenir d'elle, c'était à cause de la potion d'oubli bue par Erika ! CQFD !! :D

(Je sais que plein d'autres trucs auraient pu provoquer la catastrophe, y'aurait pu y avoir un autre méchant, d'autres circonstances, etc, mais là avouez que c'est un lien plutôt direct mdr)

Ce qui signifie aussi que Leiftan, en suggérant cette potion à Miiko, a fini par atteindre le but que lui et Lance visaient en saison 1, à savoir la destruction d'Eldarya :') Avec 8 ans de retard et un retournement de veste, mais quand même !

P't'être que c'était ça, sa vraie utilité en saison 2, être l'instigateur plus ou moins involontaire de la fin du monde :')

#eldarya #eldarya a new era #eldarya the origins #je relisais tous mes anciens avis et j'ai eu des illuminations #ça m'a donné envie d'écrire un ultime avis sur le livre d'or sauvez-moi #je me suis fait plein de réflexions sur les différences entre les saisons 1 et 2 #et de fil en aiguille j'ai repensé à d'autres trucs #dont ce genre de trucs mdr #c'est plutôt marrant en vrai #comme on dit c'est cocasse

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kallie-den · 8 months

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Rebellious Mind

Karteya Vall, a general plotting to overthrow the usurper to the Imperial Throne, submits to a ceremony to prove her loyalty. A simple, traditional - and above all, completely normal - ceremony…

This story was chosen by my patrons via a poll, and features some delicious, highly-ceremonial, unaware mind control~

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon! For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - along with exclusive stories and the ability to vote on what I write next. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated

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“General Karteya Vall! Warden of the Northern Commandery! Master of the Imperial Chariots! Conqueror over the Barbarians! Custodian of the Fifth Wall!”

The herald’s voice is clear and strong, but that doesn’t stop it from sounding small as it echoes around the cavernous space. The innermost sanctum of the Imperial Palace had been built a thousand years ago, by men who were determined to make a building that matched the magnitude of all their worldly ambitions. A thousand years later it’s still an unmatched architectural wonder, but the glory of the empire has far outstripped even their vision. Whoever rules here, rules over an unimaginable vastness of humanity and geography. It hosts diplomats and tributaries from lands its architects could not have imagined, and it’s decorated with treasures they would have considered impossible miracles. Our empire is the greatest power this world has ever known.

This place is the beating heart of it all. Decisions made here touched countless lives and had the power to reshape seas and mountains. It is the center of the world. The pillar that holds up Heaven. It is also the embodiment of the empire and order I have devoted twenty hard years of soldiering to serving.

Once, it would have brought me immeasurable pride to hear my titles and my achievements announced here by the herald. As a girl, I was raised on dreams of being permitted to set foot in these hallowed halls, even as the lowliest servant. Once, but no longer - just as the jade carvings and scarlet silks of the palace had once been beautiful to me, but now seem like an affront. This regal beauty no longer belongs here. It’s a remnant. A lie. For a spider has spun this place into Her web.

All the same, I rise from my seat and stand tall and proud as I answer:

“I am here!”

I was summoned, and so I am here. I may be one of the most powerful women in the empire, but that doesn’t mean I can ignore a summons from the palace. And She does so love issuing summons. Her appetite for prostration and ceremony is that of a tyrant, not a true ruler.

“Your request for an audience has been granted! Approach the Lion Door!”

My request. This charade grates on me to no end. But I keep my face serene and approach the colossal door that bars the way to the throne.

“Halt!”

I do. This is expected.

“You must relinquish your blade in the presence of the empress!”

The demand chafes. I’m a soldier. My sword is my arm. But it’s just as well. If I was allowed to carry it into the throne room, I’m not sure any force under Heaven could restrain my fury.

An unsheathing. A few sprinted steps. A single stroke. She has guards, of course. But it could be done.

When the usurper first seized the throne I was a thousand leagues distant, at my post on the frontier. The first I heard of the vile coup was news of its success, along with Her demand to come and bend the knee. I tore the scroll to pieces in my hands. My oath to the imperial dynasty was not some reed bending in the current. In the span of a heart heartbeat, I had decided to turn my armies inward and revenge myself upon the throne-stealer.

Only the calm heads of my advisors had saved the land from civil war. Though no less faithful than I, they had persuaded me that there was no undoing what had already been done. I had armies, but together the other generals had more, and they had already pledged new loyalties. If I raised my banner against the usurper, my vengeance would never find satisfaction.

Instead, they suggested, I could be a snake who hides her fangs. I could feign obedience and bide my time, and make my move only once every preparation had been made. Then, I could be successful - and all it would cost me is that I would have to go before Her and bow and scrape as She demanded, for a little while.

A bitter price. But one I had resolved to pay - although I might have decided differently if I’d known the usurper would call me back, time and time again, insisting on fresh oaths of loyalty.

Well. No matter. A thousand oaths couldn’t stop me from avenging the dynasty I’d been sworn to.

All I need to do is bide my time and wait.

“Here.” With the ease of long practice, I draw my sword and hand it to the perfumed servant who approaches. The way its weight surprises him makes me sneer. “If there’s a single nick on this bronze,” I warn him, “it will take your head.”

He pales. As well he should.

The herald nods as I turn back to him. “You may enter.”

With his words, the Lion Door begins to yawn open. Those carved gates are taller than any tree I’ve ever seen, and they move like twin glaciers. All the better to be awed by the space beyond. The throne room is even grander; taller, wider, more lavish. An impossible space. A humbling space. Once the gates come to a halt I begin to march, paraded on both sides by guards - an honor, supposedly, not a threat. The walk to the throne is long enough to make the legs of idle noblemen ache but I’m well used to worse, and I can spend the time contemplating the object of my loathing.

The usurper. Our empress.

The Pearl Throne is well-named. A tall, looming thing, its white-rainbow iridescence is said to represent the labor of ten thousand divers’ lifetimes. It’s meant to humble and devour even the anointed demigod who sits upon it. The cold, hard edges allow for no comfort and the severe, flat surfaces admit no luxury. The proportions are wrong; inhuman, such that a man full-grown sitting the throne looks somehow less and more. Towering, yes, but like a child rather than a king. Even the emperor is a child under Heaven.

The usurper makes it look like a reclining couch.

It must be the supreme ease with which She lies across the throne. It’s like it’s nothing to Her; like the empire that rests on Her shoulder has no more than a feather’s weight. There is no respect in Her. None at all. Not a single drop. She’s draped across the throne with the arrogance of a girl-queen who’s been there all Her life. You would never imagine that She’s been empress for mere months.

Oh, Her figure is regal enough. Bounteous. Like She’s tasted every pleasure under Heaven and taken them as Her birthright. She’s proud of Her fullness, and Her fulsome curves are so admired they have shifted trends among her courtiers. Her imperial silks are cut close to Her body. Too close, as a courtesan’s might be. But they’re layered, too, rather than thin, and unfathomably rich. She likes to display Herself. To be like the sun. And yes, She is remarkably beautiful.

How I hate Her.

By the time I reach the base of the throne, I’m trembling with loathing. But She can’t see it. I can make myself almost still, and for all Her inexplicable success in seizing the throne, She’s too much of an arrogant fool to see the viper She’s invited into Her bosom.

“My general, Karteya,” Empress announces. She takes pleasure in the music of my name under Her tongue. “Kneel.”

I do, of course. What choice is there? Though my limbs rebel against the gesture of submission, I place a foot forward and drop to one knee before the throne, an arm resting squarely across my body.

Empress is relaxed to be sure, but Her eyes are singularly focused on me. On the way I sink before Her. The rich, swelling pleasure in Her gaze is yet another challenge to my inhibitions. It’s like She’s daring me to cast Her down. There’s something piercing in Her gaze, too; it’s tempting to succumb to my bleak humors and imagine that She knows something of my designs. She doesn’t, of course. Empress outstretches one arm toward me and lets it hang off the throne.

“You may kiss my ring,” She says languidly.

Indignity after indignity. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

I reach out and take Her hand to guide it to my lips. On Her finger is a ring that has, I gather, produced endless discussion amongst the ladies of the imperial court. Into it is set a gem of unknown providence, so large as to be vulgar. The gem came into the usurper’s possession when she was just a beggar, so it’s said, and the poets love to wax lyrical about how there’s none other like it in any treasury in the world. Those courtly ladies whisper that sometimes it glows with strange, shimmering lights, like those that can be seen in the skies above the great northern snows, and that it can even ensnare the souls of men.

Ridiculous. It’s just a ring.

I bring it to my lips and kiss its surface, pointedly ignoring the garish way the light glints from within its depths.

“Good.” Empress nods and retracts Her hand. Her approval tastes like bile. “You have come to swear your loyalty and obedience.”

It’s not a question. “As my empress commands.”

“As I command.” Her voice dances with a cruel laugh. “Proceed, my general.”

I brace myself. I have to, or else I may choke on my words. The oath I swear to the throne is old indeed, the words dictated by proud tradition, but saying them to Her makes them sour. My honor revolts in my belly at the thought of pledging myself insincerely - but it must be done.

To tolerate it, I have to tell myself: they are just words. Just air. They mean as little as Empress’s throne. They’re empty, and any honor I lose by speaking them will be won back when I finally make my move. When I make Her pay. Until then, all I have to do is play the role of the simpering, obedient servant.

All I need to do is bide my time and wait.

But it’s strange. Over and over again, She commands my presence and my oath. I alone am subject to these incessant demands. The pleasure She takes in forcing me to pledge myself over and over again is evident. Why? It’s almost as if She knows. As if She can sense my inner hatred. As if She knows what I’m planning.

Those are my weak nerves talking and nothing more, I decide. She has no idea. She couldn’t possibly. My performance is perfect. All I need to do is stay the course. I part my lips and begin to recite the vow that has been sworn in this place since time immemorial.

“I, Karteya Vall, pledge my eternal faith, loyalty, and obedience to the Pearl Throne and She who sits upon it. On my honor, I offer Her my fealty and service to Empress, from this day until my dying day. I vow to take up my sword in Her service, to defend Her rule and Her realm, to make Her enemies my own, and to keep faith with Her descendants and Her dynasty forevermore.”

I keep my voice slow and measured. The words deserve respect, even if She doesn’t. The vow is long and exacting - as it should be - and immutable. The words have never changed, even as centuries and dynasties have gone and gone. It’s comforting that some things don’t change. Not in a thousand years.

“I vow to obey Her in all things, without limit, without question. I offer Her my faith and my skills, so that I may be Her sword. I offer Her my very soul, to twist, to spend, to debase, to profane as She wishes. I offer Her my mind, to twist and change. I offer Her my body, for Her delight and Her pleasure.”

I hate the way She's smiling as I speak. Almost grinning, really. It’s like She’s about to burst out laughing. Has She no sense of solemnity? Of respect? These words are ancient. It’s tradition.

“I offer Her my tongue, though I may be unworthy to lick Her pussy or kiss Her feet. I offer Her my tits, for Her to display or ogle however She wishes. I offer Her my lewd, fuckable cunt, should it bring any comfort to Her faithful soldiers. I offer Her my untrained ass, for I am nothing but a worthless hole for Her to enjoy. I offer Her my orgasms, whether She wishes to withhold them forever, or make me cum like a stupid mutt in heat in front of my own men. And I offer Her what little dignity I have left, as a stupid bitch who thinks she knows better than her Empress.”

I’m surprised it amuses Her so much. She seems like the type to find tradition boring, although She clearly never tires of making me recite the oath for Her. I know it off by heart, of course. Every good soldier does.

“Thank you, general,” Empress snickers. “I’m very moved by your fidelity.”

She’s mocking me, obviously. I just can’t quite figure out how. After all, She has no idea I’m plotting against Her.

“You may disrobe,” She says.

“Thank you.”

This is the next part of the ceremony, every bit as traditional and timeworn as the vow. I rise to my feet and begin to remove everything that I’m wearing. My dress armor is first - I wear it everywhere, as a general should. It takes a little time to manage all the clasps and fastenings.

“Tell me, Karteya,” Empress comments suddenly. She’s watching me with lurid interest in Her eyes. “Do you know why I summon you here to swear your faith, time and time again?”

I grit my teeth and focus on the task at hand. “It is your right, my Empress, to demand my vow as many times as it pleases you.”

“True, true!” Her laugh is musical. “But that doesn’t explain why. No; the reason is that every single time, I’m wondering if some part of you will notice what’s really going on. It seems almost too good to be true that even a powerful, strong-willed, oh-so-dignified woman like you could be so completely and totally unaware. But you really are, aren’t you?” She lifts Her hand. “I truly love this ring!”

More nonsense. She’s taunting me, no doubt, though I can’t fathom what She means. Better not to guess. I set my breastplate down and start unstrapping my vambraces.

“It’s such a rush that I can tell you, straight to your face, and it simply doesn’t matter,” Empress boasts. That stupid, high-handed grin on Her face just keeps getting wider. “I’m manipulating your thoughts, Karteya, and making you completely unable to tell. Because of me, you think that ridiculous, vulgar tirade I fed to you on a whim is some ancient, sacred vow. You think taking your clothes off now is just part of the ceremony. It isn’t.”

I decide to ignore Her. It’s better for my humors if I focus simply on getting through the ceremony. With all my armor removed, I begin to slip out of the long, hard, green robe I wear underneath.

“You think you’re plotting to overthrow me, but that isn’t true either,” Empress goes on. “Not really. I already have everyone you trust wrapped around my fingers in exactly the same way. Most of the time you think you’ve spent planning, you’ve actually spent plunging your sword hilt in and out of your cunt until you pass out from the orgasms. You will never have your revenge, General. You will never even make a move.”

Next, my smallclothes. I remove them and feel all the small hairs on my body stiffen from the cool palace air on my naked skin. That’s not all, though. The ceremony also requires that I present myself appropriately. I begin carefully folding and stacking my clothes along with my armor, presenting them as a soldier would for an inspection in their barracks.

“I could stop you altogether, obviously,” Empress muses. “I could make you as obedient as a dog, just like everyone else I used as a tool when I took the throne. I could even make you love me. But I think this is much, much more entertaining. I can even get into your head and make you think of me as ‘Empress’, make your thoughts tremble with reverence and worship for me, and you will never once notice.”

With all my clothing and belongings neatly folded and presented before the throne, I sink back down to my knees in front of the usurper.

“You can keep thinking of me as ‘the usurper’, though,” She adds. “Every time you do, it makes me laugh.”

I place both hands in front of me, palms down, and then bend forward slowly, lowering my head as I do until my forehead is pressed to the ground in a gesture of absolute, unmistakable submission.

It’s just part of the ceremony.

Now that I’ve finished undressing, Empress shuts up. It’s just as well. I’ve become skilled at tuning out Her senseless prattling, but Her voice still grates on me after a time. Silence is preferable, even when it stretches on for so long that my knees and back start to ache. The usurper must be enjoying looking down at me. I can feel Her gaze on me, even if I can’t raise my head to look. It would be an unspeakable breach of etiquette to break this pose without Her permission.

She doesn’t deserve the respect. But my pride is at stake, and it certainly does.

I remind myself again. All I need to do is bide my time and wait.

Empress stands. I can hear Her clothes shifting as She moves, and Her footsteps as She descends the throne. She stops just inches away from me. The usurper is barefoot, of course. The Daughter of Heaven need never touch the filthy ground outside of the palace, and the ground here is kept fastidiously clean. She lifts one foot. I brace myself.

Empress brings Her foot down and stamps on the back of my head.

Not hard, but certainly hard enough to force my face down into the ground. She takes pleasure in it, I can tell. In grinding my face into the floor as I simply kneel and accept it. With the usurper, this part of the ceremony is particularly distasteful. The lowest part of Her body atop the highest part of mine, as I struggle to force out the right words.

“Empress,” I manage, although my voice is clearly strained and distorted by the way She’s stepping on me and smearing my lips against the ground. “Please accept this stupid, impudent cunt’s humble apology for daring to imagine I could ever deceive or outsmart you.”

It’s just another part of the ceremony. It’s tradition.

“Hmm.” Once She’s had Her fill, She steps back. “Apology accepted.”

I sigh. Being done with that is a relief, but the ceremony isn’t over yet. Empress raises a hand and snaps Her fingers, and a servant springs into motion. She hurries to Empress’s side and kneels, holding out a large, golden tray. On it are two objects. One is a bubbling cauldron of molten wax, lit from beneath by a small flame. The other is a large, metal seal.

“Prepare yourself, General,” She tells me.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

My body is grateful for the permission to move, but only briefly. The next position I must hold is even less comfortable. I raise my torso and then bend it backward, extending my legs ahead of me to form a bridge with my hands behind me, as I arch my spine and present my body upward towards Her.

I painstakingly removed all of my body hair this morning. Yet more tradition.

“Stay still,” Empress chides, as She lifts the cauldron of wax, positions it above my body, and tips.

The wax falls on my skin perfectly; on my lower abdomen, directly above my womb. It cools in the air, but only a little, and the scalding pain makes me grunt. I do stay still, though. It’s a matter of pride. She can chide all She likes, as if I’m a child who doesn’t know proper etiquette. I’ll show Her. I won’t give Her the pleasure of watching me humiliate myself. She can’t take away my dignity.

Once enough molten wax has pooled on my skin, Empress sets down the cauldron and lifts the seal. She bends down over me and presses it to my skin in the same spot, imprinting the reverse of its shape on the wax. The cold metal is a salving balm. The pain recedes, and I’m able to breathe normally again.

Empress lifts the seal. I can’t help but crane my neck to look. Sure enough, it’s there. Her symbol. Her personal mark, raised on my skin like a brand. It’ll only last a day or two, which I take to be a mercy, even if it gives Her an excuse to summon me back and apply the wax anew.

“Very impressive,” She says, staring down at me. “I’m glad you’re a soldier, General Karteya. You’re so very good at taking whatever I give you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” If She thinks a few sincere compliments here and there will engender any love for Her, She’s sorely mistaken.

“Let’s see if you can make it through the next part this time,” She comments and snaps Her fingers again.

The servant bearing the tray retreats. Another appears in her place, and she’s holding another of the ceremonial relics: a large phallus, shaped lovingly out of bronze. Meanwhile, I’m trying to puzzle out Her words. This time? I would never display improper form during the ceremony. She’s mistaken, clearly.

It is challenging, though. My muscles are screaming complaints at me, and it’s an active effort to keep them from shaking and spasming. My entire body is covered in a sheen of sweat from the exertion. And the worst is yet to come. I need to save my strength.

“Enjoy, General,” Empress says with a sneer, as She takes the metal cock from Her servant and rams it all the way into my pussy.

The sound that forces its way out of my lips is something between a scream and a moan. She is not gentle, and having something so hard and cold forced inside me hurts. But I cannot help the other half of how my body reacts, with treasonous shocks of pleasure radiating from between my legs as I begin to drip eager wetness onto the ground.

A lesser woman could easily have collapsed. I won’t. I hold firm. I can be proud of that.

“My!” Empress raises an eyebrow, Her lips curled with amusement. “You really are getting better at this.”

More nonsense. I can reply only with a grunt. I’m reaching my limits.

“You may go ahead and stand up,” She adds when She notices how much I’m struggling. “You’ve earned it.”

I have indeed. Somehow, I manage to fold my body forward without collapsing and rise to my feet - and crucially, I keep the muscles in the core of my body engaged the entire time, so the bronze cock inside me doesn’t slip free. It wouldn’t do to make a spectacle of myself by dropping it. Not here, at the very end of the ceremony.

“I suppose we’re done here,” Empress says, sighing theatrically as if dismayed. Then the smirk returns. “For this time, at least. You put your clothes back-“

She pauses. Something’s occurred to Her, clearly, although I can’t imagine what. All that’s left is for me to dress myself and leave. But the malevolent, gleeful grin that suddenly splits Her face from ear to ear is truly unsettling.

“Actually,” Empress tells me as She climbs back onto the Pearl Throne. “Leave them. You can walk out of here naked.”

“What?” I say sharply. I didn’t know She still had the power to shock me - but clearly, She does. There are some traditions even an empress can’t alter. She doesn’t have the right to dictate these things on a whim. They’re older than Her by many centuries, and if She tries, the people will surely turn against Her. She’s gifted me a perfect opportunity, and my anger is righteous. “How dare you? That is not… n-not…”

Somehow, at that moment, Her ring catches my eye. The light glints off it in a way that seems impossible, and I am briefly captivated. Before I know it, my eyes have unfocused completely. The whole world is a blur. I have to struggle to recenter myself. It’s like I’m a dancer who has stumbled and lost the rhythm. What was I saying?

“That’s not…” I continue uncertainly. Not what? I was… arguing with Her? Suddenly, the context comes flooding back, and it brings with it a sense of complete and total humiliation. My cheeks are tinted red with shame. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I must have forgotten.”

How? How had I forgotten? I pride myself on my respect for tradition, and this is an error only an unruly schoolchild could make. All the court will be laughing at me. What had come over me?

Leaving naked is simply part of the ceremony.

“It’s been a long day, I’m sure,” Empress says. Her eyes glint with amusement, and I inwardly scold myself for providing Her with it. “We can overlook a small indiscretion. You’re dismissed, General.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty!”

To make up for my grievous error, I offer Her the crispest salute I possibly can. Then, as She nods, I turn and begin to walk - leaving all my belongings set neatly before Her, as is only proper. The walk back to the Lion Door is long, and feels longer still thanks to the awkward, bandy-legged gait I’m forced to use to keep the ceremonial bronze cock inside my cunt.

But that’s fine. The long, difficult walk is simply an opportunity to contemplate the depths of my loathing for Her, and the satisfaction that my revenge will bring.

The preparations are being made. All my plans will come together - and the best part is that She will never see it coming. She has no idea.

All I need to do is bide my time and wait.

---

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