Prompt 1: Along with forming a golden core most cultivators gain the ability to shapeshift. What they shift into depends on the cultivator, but there are certain tendencies in bloodlines. Jiang Cheng has shifted exactly once in absolute privacy. He didn't stay shifted after finding scales and claws instead of feathers and wings, some sort of reptile from the Yu bloodline. He's since been pretending not to be able to shift at all, but you can only deny your nature for so long.
ao3
The children of Jiang sect were supposed to be birds.
It was part and parcel of everything they were, everything they stood for, the history of their sect reaching back for generations. Their ancestors had bid their descendants to attempt the impossible, and their filial descendants lived up to their command – they spread their wings and flew freely in the air, unstoppable. They lived as freely as they flew, living according to their own inclinations and wishes, and in so doing thrived in all respects.
Naturally, living so close to the water, the most common type of bird for a Jiang sect disciple to shift into once they were old enough to form their golden cores was a duck. It was so common so as to be a joke in the cultivation world: how are the Jiang temperaments so good? It’s because they treat everything like water off a duck’s back!
But you didn’t have to be a duck, of course; there were plenty of other types of bird. You could be a falcon with sharp talons, like Wei Wuxian – who wasn’t even a real Jiang! – or a beautiful songbird, like Jiang Yanli, or any type of bird from the many that were Jiang Cheng’s shidi, from the humble pigeon to the brilliant parrot and back. You could even be a peacock, if you just so happened to have some Jin sect blood in you – there was a reason Jiang Yanli’s match with the Jin sect heir was so popular with everyone in the sect, even putting aside the political benefits of it. All the old women were sighing all day over what beautiful children they’d have one day, with such lovely plumage.
No, in the Jiang sect, you could be anything…as long as it could fly.
The Yu sect weren’t birds.
That was how Jiang Cheng’s father had been able to resist marriage with his mother for so long – the Yu sect were grounds-people, powerful and admirable in all respects but not quite to the taste of the Jiang sect. They were snakes and scorpions, spiders and serpents. The Violent Spider lived up to her name, turning into a small creature that was both flashy and deadly, filled with venom, beautiful in its own way…but that way was not the Jiang sect’s way.
It wasn’t a complete rule, of course, or else Jiang Cheng’s parents wouldn’t have gotten married at all. Plenty of people in the Jiang sect, following their hearts freely, married people who weren’t birds, choosing to carry their loved ones with them in their hearts as they flew – after all, weren’t they all cultivators? Even if you couldn’t fly in your shifted form, you could soar on a sword.
But it was better to be able to fly naturally.
If you could fly on your own, shifted, then that meant you had the Jiang sect heart. It meant you didn’t need to rely on anyone else to fly for you…it meant you didn’t have to be in anyone’s heart to reach the sky.
(Jiang Cheng’s mother was called Madame Yu, even when she ought to be Madame Jiang. Wasn’t that because everyone, including her, knew that she didn’t live in the heart of her husband the sect leader whenever he took to the air?)
Jiang Cheng had dreamt of flight ever since he was a child. He didn’t care what type of bird he’d be, whether sharp or soft, big or small, as long as he could get into the air. When he first learned how to fly on his sword, he barely spent any time on the ground, always wasting his spiritual energy puttering around enthusiastically.
And then he’d gotten old enough to hear the whispers.
His temperament is like his mother’s. Always sharp and scolding! Always thinking too much! How can he fly free like a Jiang? He has too many cares, tying him down to the ground. It’s good to be responsible, but not to the point where you no longer follow the sect’s path. He’s just too much.
I bet he’s not even a bird at all.
Wei Wuxian had never paid any mind to any of them and told Jiang Cheng to do the same, but it was easy for him to say, the genius that understood the Jiang sect motto down to his bones. The very same day he formed his golden core he turned himself into a falcon and dashed into the air, free and proud, faster than all the rest of them. Not like Jiang Cheng.
Not at all like Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng, who waited until he was all alone to try to shift, not telling anyone, and who recoiled in horror when he saw the flash of scale instead of feather that appeared on his skin – he didn’t even bother completing the full shift, fleeing back to the safety of human flesh. There wasn’t any point in finishing the shift. After all, if he wasn’t able to fly, could he even call himself a Jiang?
He pretended instead that he was just indifferent to the shift. Who needed it, anyway? It was so frivolous! He could fly just as well on a sword, and work on his cultivation in the meantime. Shifting was just a waste of time. If his father was disappointed, or more disappointed than usual, he didn’t say it; his mother, who had previously expressed some interest in his shift, dropped the subject so gracefully that he didn’t even realize it for months and months. Only Wei Wuxian still pestered him, and him Jiang Cheng already knew how to refute.
He didn’t shift. He didn’t see the point.
He didn’t shift at the Cloud Recesses.
He didn’t shift when he came home.
He didn’t –
“You’ll have to go in your animal forms,” his mother said as the Lotus Pier burned behind them. Her face was stern as anything, looking down at the two of them in that horrible boat she’d forced them on, Zidian binding and compelling them. “It’s the only way for you to escape notice.”
“No – no –” Jiang Cheng cried, resisting, even as Wei Wuxian’s resistance collapsed and he turned into that falcon again, unwillingly soaring into the sky with a collar of purple lightning around his neck dragging him as if by a chain. “Mother…!”
“Go!”
Jiang Cheng shifted.
Just like the first time, the scales came first, and he lowered his head, not wanting to see his mother’s disappointed expression – he knew, and she knew, and he knew that she knew, but knowing was one thing and seeing was another. He didn’t want to see her expression when it was confirmed that he was her son in truth, and in so being, was no true Jiang.
After the scales came, his body began to lengthen, his arms shrinking, and he assumed he would fall to the ground and shrink the way Wei Wuxian did – except he didn’t.
He got bigger.
His arms got smaller, but they didn’t disappear. His mouth spread across his face, but his teeth grew larger, curling out from his jaw, and from his brow he could feel horns appearing.
What in the world…?
“Oh, my son,” his mother whispered, and when Jiang Cheng looked up at her in surprise, he found that her always-steely eyes were suddenly wet. “Thank you for letting me see you fly.”
Jiang Cheng felt his body uncurl, Zidian compelling him, and he leapt into the sky, body flowing behind him like a ribbon in the breeze – he was his mother’s son, scales and all, but he was a Jiang, too.
The Jiang sect were supposed to be birds.
Jiang Cheng had been disappointed in himself when he wasn’t, but he’d forgotten that he’d never much cared about being a bird.
He’d only wanted to fly.
The dragon in the air above the Jiang sect, purple lightning dragging him away, threw his head back and roared, promising vengeance when he returned.
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