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acoraxia · 9 months

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Chained Memories AU

(Day 1 of Monkie Destiny Challenge Prompt Month Oct. 2023)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary: Baigujing, in her final moments, remembers what was lost to her.

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She’s tired.

She has no true name to her body, she has no real way of identifying herself when placed side by side with a decaying corpse—she’d call herself a phantom, nothing more, nothing less, and then with a shake of the head she’d change her mind and go for a more regal name. One fit for a person destined for greatness. For a world without pain or suffering, for one where the Heavens would be made anew and the Kings of the Underworld would carry on with helping the souls pass on in peace.

She called herself Baigujing.

Baigujing feels nothing to her soul. She has witnessed all the suffering of mortals and yao, the pain and heartache mothers and sons went through. It was loss upon loss, the feeling of stitches being pulled apart, a heart cut open and never allowed to heal itself. Yet, she felt nothing but a single pang across her chest before it dissolved into a breath of frost upon her lips. She felt nothing. She feels nothing and has come to terms that that’s how it would be for all her life.

Up until Sun Wukong.

Sun Wukong is not meant to exist: he was born by chance, a single rock that was flicked off its pedestal by the wind, and everything that’s happened after his birth has been a hindrance to her plans. He’s found cradled in her arms, only a few years old with no true wisdom or knowledge yet, and she stares at him with eyes devoid of light and warmth. I’ll make you proud, Wukong tells her, I’ll show you I’ll be the greatest hero this world has ever seen, and she witnesses it first hand.

Baigujing wants to regret having taken the Great Sage Equal to Heaven under her wing, but she can’t. She falls in love with the hope Sun Wukong shouts to the Heavens, the brilliance of light that pushes him to be on top of the world, letting himself fall back down into her arms because he knows she’ll catch him. He’s an enigma, he’s not meant to exist—and yet she smiles despite herself, listening to him go off about how his name is no longer Shi Hou and it’s now Mei Houwang. How certain words are banned from his kingdom, how he looks at her with gleaming eyes of gold and light and asks, “Am I the greatest king you’ve met?”

And she answers, “Yes.”

Even when he swears death to her name, screams that he’ll kill her himself—she finds herself proud of everything he’s accomplished. She’s withered and weak, a mere memory of the terror she used to be a thousand years ago. She was meant to bring the world to its knees—she was meant to rebuild it all, make it perfect for everyone to thrive in. Make it perfect for them. And he shatters that ideal, brings it to pieces right in front of her, even though he cries and screams and weeps; he causes her heartache in one fell strike, he brings her to tears and causes her to break apart.

She remembers a time when he doubted himself. Doubted his place as a rightful king and great sage.

“Is it true? Am I not worthy of calling myself Qitian Dasheng?” Sun Wukong says when they gaze upon an empty banquet. The monkeys have all gone to sleep, the yao and creatures that accompanied them for wine and fruit and fresh cut meat sprawled on the floor of the cave. The youngest monkeys shiver and hiccup, huddling onto each other for warmth, though Wukong keeps his feet planted where they are. “The Jade Emperor—his people aren’t what I expected. I thought they’d welcome me. Am I not worthy of being respected for my achievements?”

Perhaps raising a child had changed her.

Wukong frowns, clenching his fists. “Azure was right. I’ll never be anything else than a weak-willed—” “Do not speak ill of the Handsome Monkey King, young man,” comes the quiet remark, and she takes in the way he startles and looks at her. “I’ve watched him grow from a young monkey into a wise scholar and, when his kingdom was in danger, he became a warrior for them. A soldier. A protector. And I will not have you sully his name because some nameless celestials gave you a bad day.”

Baigujing crosses the cave’s path, beginning to make her way towards the mansion that was found behind the walls of the waterfall. She waits for the sound of footsteps following her, but when they don’t come she stops and sighs.

“There will never be a time where you are unworthy of your name, Sun Wukong. You were gifted that name for a reason,” she says quietly, beckoning him closer with an extended hand. He hesitates, stepping over sleeping leopards and qilin, his steps a quiet crunch of stone against soft sand. She takes his hand once he’s closer and holds it. She knows she’s cold, she knows she cannot provide the same warmth he gives to his children and subjects—yet she speaks quietly and softly.

“Please understand, Sun Wukong, that though you are nothing the world asked for, you are everything the people need.” You are a weapon, you are a savior, you are many things, and I know you won’t fail me.

He always appears more human than she expects him to be. So he brings his body to hers, wraps his arms around her, and presses his cheek to her shoulder. It’s meant to be comforting. He’s meant to seek comfort from a mother made of cloth and paper, cold and unable to feed him, uncomfortable with all her sharp edges and hollow eyes. Yet he stays there all night, murmuring how he’ll show the gods that he is worth the title of a sage. That he’s going to be the most extraordinary being the Heavens have ever seen.

And she, with all her demon qualities, cannot bring herself to control him anymore. She cannot do this when she’s sure it would make him suffer. It would make him bleed and weep real tears of anguish.

He could be loyal.

Chained and leashed for her to use as her own.

She knows how easy it would be to manipulate him; she knows to what length a child will go to make their mothers happy.

So she leaves him.

She kisses the brow where his crown will rest on, tells him to sleep alongside his grandchildren and little suns, and stays with him until she’s certain he won’t wake when she moves. “Goodbye,” she whispers against his ear, breaking the silence of the cave. It’s safer this way. She cannot sacrifice her plans for him. She cannot change her destiny. She cannot make him change for her.

Sun Wukong deserved to keep his freedom.

And it breaks her heart to know he gave it all up for the ones who hated him the most. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“I’m tired,” she says with a shaky breath on her final day of life.

Or in other words, her last day of running from Sun Wukong.

Baigujing sees him from the corner of her eye. He’s gotten taller, brighter, and yet he looks battered and broken all the same. She left him in the hands of destiny, the sweet whispers that promised her justice and righteousness—and he looks so tired that it breaks her to pieces all over again. She pulls herself up, trying to sit more properly, but Wukong stops her. His hands are on her shoulders, eyes scanning her face, and he helps her sit against the wall. There’s cracks along the edges and her blood on stone.

It has not yet dried.

Wukong makes sure to rest her head carefully against the wall.

She’s not sure how she winds up sitting next to Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the very same soul she abandoned when he was only a boy to pursue a path that… led to nothing. Nothing at all. Only pain.

“Do you hate me?” she asks quietly. Her voice quivers and she doesn’t know why. Wukong won’t look at her.

“No,” he says.

“I did everything right,” Baigujing murmurs against the air. It’s as if the very essence of her soul is trying to get away from her. Abandon her. Leave her for dead. Her vision’s blurring and her cheek feels wet.

Though she doesn’t know why.

She says, “I found myself a champion. I made my army. I challenged Heaven. I tried to remake the world into something perfect and yet—” She takes in a sharp breath, unsure of herself. Her visions. Her calling. They’re replaced with the faint memory of tiny fingers running through her black hair, forming shapes of flowers and carefully decorated river streams. She sees herself holding a young infant, happy and waiting to see the sunrise, holding her hand as tight as possible, and breaks into pieces, mouth open to release a silent wail of regret.

She never got to see him grow.

She promised the world to him.

She swore she’d make storm clouds cry for him.

She made him clothes and carved pathways for him to choose what he wanted to do.

She watched him run with eager steps to a master who could teach him all the things she couldn’t and embraced him with open arms when he returned a scholar, a proper name to his unique soul, and kissed his head with glee over his proud achievements.

And she left him to die.

In all her selfish desires—Sun Wukong did not fit into her ideals. He was too powerful, too impulsive, too imperfect, too human for her to take him with her to destroy everything that was impure in her eyes. She wanted to start anew and forgot the faint fingerprints of tiny hands against her wrists that carried her through the years. So she cries now, because she cannot find the proper way to say she’s sorry.

“I lost Flower Fruit Mountain to a fire,” he says quietly. He doesn’t look at her either. Something soft brushes against her wrist. A flower.

It’s an illusion made of gold and ichor—yet she feels its warmth.

“The Samadhi Fire?” she rasps, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. As though something’s lodged in her throat. She gasps quietly, gulps down the little air she can muster, and tries to stay awake to hear her son’s tale.

“No. My—there was this Huntsman. Erlang Shen. He burnt down my mountain out of anger and,” Wukong breathes in sharply, exhaling that burst of air with a quiet sigh, “he made me his sworn brother. I’ve been with him in Heaven. I only left because…”

“Xiaotian.”

“Xiaotian,” he murmurs.

“His birth… I don’t know why I took him. I don’t know why I did it.” She closes her eyes, feels herself growing weaker. “I thought… if it were someone else. If it were someone that was made by Heaven’s wretched blood, I wouldn’t feel guilt. But he is so much like you, Wukong.” She thinks of bright smiles and golden-brown eyes staring at her, waiting for the words of appraisal. She thinks of tiny fingerprints against her arm, finding comfort to her side. “I hurt you both so much.”

“That’s not right,” Wukong croaks. She tries to open her eyes—but she can’t. She can’t see his expression, can’t tell what he’s thinking. She can only hear how his voice breaks right in front of her. And she can’t even hold him anymore. She’s too weak. “You left… and ruined a young boy’s life. You made him—me—us think we were only good for one thing. I searched for you. I missed you. I was found by someone who was too flawed to notice my suffering, I was dragged away by a soldier who would not hesitate to seal me away again—you left me.”

“I’m sorry.”

The world is quiet.

Her vision is white.

And then, she can open her eyes again.

It’s an empty void. It’s only them, standing opposite to each other, Wukong’s armor and red-eyes gone, the traces of the Samadhi Fire nowhere to be found on his body. Baigujing breathes. Her clothes are the ones she wore when she found him. White with traces of blue and lilac. Her hair is down, black rivers that have no end, the feeling of herself fading away strong with breath she takes.

She sighs, closing her eyes to savor the taste of life one more time, and says, “I told Xiaotian the road he’s chosen can only lead to one thing.” Baigujing looks at Sun Wukong. His eyes are filled with tears, hands and arms and body covered in scars that have not yet healed. His clothes are tattered, covered in smoke, and his fur burns with fire that could not be described by any words she knows. “Pain,” she breathes out, stepping closer to the boy she abandoned all those years ago.

She touches his cheek. Ice washes over him as he leans into her palm, eyes closed and tense, the fire fading away and turning into short, tiny tufts of light brown fur. He gets shorter, forces her to descend to her knees, and when he opens his eyes again, they’re a light shade of gold. Not yet made of a sun’s glow. She holds his face, bringing her other hand to touch it, and smiles shakily for the first time in years.

“But you can change that,” she sobs, smile widening when Wukong places his hands over hers. “Please, Wukong, take care of him before he thinks he’s undeserving of love.”

Wukong says nothing.

He steps forward, tiny hands coming to touch her face. He squishes her cheeks, curious yet firm, and, in the tiniest voice, says, “Goodbye mama.”

Baigujing smiles.

She brings him to a hug, squeezing him tightly, and with her final breath says, “Goodbye.”

#writers note #sun wukong #lmk lady bone demon #lmk sun wukong #Monkie Kid Chained Memories AU #my writing #UHM #ANYWAYS #POSES #chained memories au #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid au #THIS IS UH THE PROLOGUE YKNOW.... so we'll be going backwards #poses elegantly #alas #Monkie Destiny Challenge #❄️🌸#lady bone demon #this was supposed to be silly and yet here i am yknow idk im just sitting here guys

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