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qobiin · 3 years

Text

those bluest skies above me

pairings: lan wangji & everyone (lwj&lxc, lwj&nhs, lwj&lqr, lwj&nmj), background nielan

genre: angst, fluff | dragon lan wangji au, pre-canon

warnings: implied/referenced non-con (concerning madam lan), canonical character death, injury, mild blood, shifting, scenting, lan sect being not so good

a/n #1: written for the MDZS Big Bang 2020! the title is taken from steven universe's "that distant shore" bc i feel it bodies lwj's thoughts about wwx perfectly. thinking of the dragon dynamics similar to how abo works will help you with understanding them, but to be clear: there is nothing sexual going on in this fic. madam lan's story has so many gaps that bother me a lot bc when i look at the gaps i see a backstory like the one i gave her here since it's just what makes sense when you really think about it. the non-con is only talked about somewhat in-depth in one scene and mentioned briefly across other scenes afterward. if you want to skip the heavier bit of it, stop reading at "Then why, Lan Zhan asks with his eyes." and pick back up after the art that minzi made to accompany this <3 hope you enjoy!

words: 25291

summary: Lan Zhan’s memories begin from the moment he hatches out of his shell and meets his mother’s golden gaze.

part one of gentleness of light, escaping

Lan Zhan’s memories begin from the moment he hatches out of his shell and meets his mother’s golden gaze.

He only has to take one look at her to know that she is the one who laid his egg. She is the one who made his comfortable nest, who sat with him every day until he was ready to hatch.

Even for a dragon, Lan Zhan is certain that she is the most beautiful woman in the world. Her scales glimmer under the candlelight. Dark blue, green, and brown surround him as her golden eyes glow.

A young boy sits on the edges of Lan Zhan’s nest but still within Mother’s embrace. He looks almost as beautiful as their mother, even if he isn’t in dragon form himself. There is an ornament tied above his eyebrows that gleams when he moves and matches the liquid silver of his eyes.

There is no mistaking that this small boy is his brother. He can smell his mother on the boy’s skin and in the air displaced when his dark hair moves. He can see their mother in the curve of his brother’s smile and the awe in his gaze as Lan Zhan finishes slithering out of the broken remnants of his shell.

Lan Zhan stares at them both, transfixed and loving every image his eyes relay back to him. He makes a rumbling sound in the back of his throat, feeling content and loving his mother and brother more than he could ever hope to describe. His mother mirrors his rumble and his brother’s brows furrow before his expression clears as he smiles again.

His thoughts at that time are fleeting and underdeveloped, his memories are crystal clear but hold no further insight. This is something that an older version of him will miss when his memories are only plagued by questions and doubts. For now, however, his mother helps him clean his scales then scents him thoroughly.

Her whiskers brush against his snout only once and when Lan Zhan sneezes, his brother laughs. His laughter is soft and tinkles wondrously in the air around them. As the sound begins to fade, Lan Zhan decides he will do whatever he needs to do so he can hear his brother’s laugh again. Mother wordlessly guides Brother through appropriately scenting him as well and Lan Zhan shivers under the soft human hands his older brother is trailing over his face and neck.

His sire is nowhere to be seen.

(Later, Lan Zhan will be grateful for this. For the moment, however, he focuses on spreading his scent all over his weyr in return.)

Gold and silver quickly become a favorite of Lan Zhan’s.

For the first two years of his life, Lan Zhan always remains at his mother’s side.

He sees his brother only once a month and decides very quickly that he dislikes how little time they get to spend together. Brother smiles and laughs often when he is with them but Lan Zhan gets the sense that this is the only time his brother smiles and laughs so easily.

Lan Zhan dislikes that too.

His mother is beautiful and warm despite the cold river that runs through all three of their veins. She is gentle when needed and appropriately harsh in her reprimands. Lan Zhan has much he wishes to learn and he does not begrudge the discipline she hands out to him when he does something unbecoming.

He is much stronger than humans. His brother, though as much as their mother’s son as Lan Zhan, only has one form which just so happens to not be a dragon. Lan Zhan has to be aware of his strength at all times lest he hurt Brother or any other human who does not deserve it.

Even if his instincts are not as strong as Mother’s, partly in thanks to his sire’s human blood diluting most of the traits she passed down, Lan Zhan strives to practice caution at all times. His inherited instincts also do not excuse him the few times he allows them to override his thoughts and Mother, though loving, does not hesitate to put him in his place by pinning him and growling until he submits.

In their weyr, Lan Zhan is not the Head. Lan Zhan is a Claw, and maybe when he is much older, he will become the Head of his very own weyr but that is not the case now. Neither Lan Zhan nor his Head is a fucanglong who takes their hoard and hides it from the world like a jealous lover, but Brother is the only Treasure in their weyr. It is expected of Lan Zhan to guard him as well as he can even if he is the younger sibling.

Lan Zhan pushes himself to absorb as much information as he can the first year after his birth. Many of the things he learns make him angry, others are simple facts he memorizes quickly to keep everyone around him safe. He practices his strength, practices not calling upon elements to do his bidding when his emotions threaten his control. He practices remaining calm, staying alert, and always being conscious of how much damage he could carry out if he were to ever lose himself.

Control is difficult, but Mother knows enough about his nature to direct his instincts and impulses where they are needed in order to keep him present and non-threatening. In both her first and second forms, Mother shines as bright as moonlight and Lan Zhan loves her as much as he loves Brother.

That is why it is easy for Lan Zhan to shift into his second form once a year has passed since he first hatched. For his weyr, Lan Zhan finds himself able to do anything as long as it benefits them.

He is much smaller than he is accustomed to in this new form of his, but when he sees the joy and relief in Brother’s eyes the next time he visits, Lan Zhan finds this development welcome. Brother can pick him up easily in his new form and he still kisses Lan Zhan on the forehead as often as he did before, rubbing a hand over his hair where his horns would usually be.

The gentleness that now accompanies his brother’s movements soothes the urge Lan Zhan has to bury so he does not suddenly shift back into his first form. If he were to shift too quickly, he could harm his brother and that is one thing Lan Zhan never wants to do.

Lan Zhan can walk without much difficulty in his second form but speech is harder for him. He sticks to monosyllables and pointing, for the time being, brightening each time Mother and Brother interpret him correctly. Even if his ability to speak is worse than most human children his age, Lan Zhan is content with being understood by his weyr.

His thoughts come slower to him as a human and he at first feels like he is going to burst back into his dragon form at any moment. It is difficult to remain in his second form, but after a fashion, Lan Zhan is easily able to consciously shift between both his forms. Mother’s golden eyes gleam with pride and happiness as Lan Zhan’s growth continues. Even when sadness begins to lie in the shadows of her gaze and scent, her pride and love for him envelop him in their midsts gently.

He does not understand why Mother grows sadder with each passing day until two years have passed since Lan Zhan first hatched. Brother visits them that day as he normally does but he arrives accompanied by a man who introduces himself as their uncle. Uncle explains that he will now be taking care of Lan Zhan and his brother full time instead of Mother and Lan Zhan is no longer allowed to stay with her in seclusion. The Clan Elders believe that Lan Zhan has learned most of what he requires to live a peaceful life without his draconic tendencies interfering and he shall now be brought into the Gusu Lan Sect good and proper to be raised alongside his older brother.

His instincts do not want to be far from the Head of their weyr. Lan Zhan himself does not want to be taken from Mother, but she is his Head and Brother is their only Treasure. He must protect him in their mother’s stead and if that means he is only allowed to see Mother once a month from now on, then so be it.

It doesn’t shock him that Brother does not look happy after hearing this news. Still, there is a sharp line of resignation in his shoulders that tells Lan Zhan all he needs to know.

If it were up to Brother, neither of them would ever be kept from Mother. Mother would be living with them wherever they wished to go just as long as they were together. Unfortunately, this matter is not being left to Brother so they will have to make do with what they can since it does not seem like the Head of their weyr will do something to keep them with her either.

Brother hands a box to Mother who opens it, angling it so Lan Zhan is also able to see the white ribbon identical to his brother’s own lying within. Lan Zhan kneels before her, both of them in their second forms as she ties the ribbon around Lan Zhan’s forehead. She fixes his hair and presses a kiss to the ribbon once she is done, the slant of her mouth loving and unhappy at the same time.

Lan Zhan pokes at the familiar clouds adorning his ribbon and nods, showing his acceptance of these turns of events.

He still cries that very night in his new shared quarters with Brother. He does not make a sound as he weeps, more than sure of the fact that he will be punished if anyone that is not his brother catches him at this moment. Just because he accepted being taken away from Mother does not mean he enjoys this. His acceptance does not change the fact that he is only two-years-old and is being kept from his mother.

Brother wakes only to slide into his new bed beside him and scent him until they both fall asleep with a shared longing for their mother inside their hearts.

Uncle does his best, Lan Zhan knows.

It does not change the fact that his instincts wail and weep to see the Head of his weyr every day. That one day a month is not enough to satiate the ache and longing within his four-year-old body to see Mother. That Lan Zhan is a Claw and is not ready to become a Head in his mother’s place just yet. That Lan Zhan still does not know everything he should to steadily curb his instincts until he has found a way to balance both sides of his blood.

Brother’s instincts are weaker than Lan Zhan’s own but he knows his brother still feels them within his darkest depths.

Lan Zhan is only allowed to shift back into his first form twice a week and he always makes certain that he is allowed to shift in the presence of his Head. He frequently finds himself schooling his expression so no one except Brother and Mother may know what he is feeling. He might not be as tall or as imposing in his second form as he is in his first, but that doesn’t mean he will make it easy for others to take advantage of him.

Many of the children close to his age tend to avoid him in the children’s hall because of his supposed lack of feeling. Lan Zhan doesn’t mind. He likes the distance kept between them, especially since he still has not tamped down the urge to shift into his first form when he is drastically startled. Knowing that the fragile, weak human children around him aren’t staying too close is comforting in case his grip on control ever slips. Nevertheless, Lan Zhan finds this unlikely to happen since he guards himself against his baser instincts with a viciousness that surprises his own mother.

It shouldn’t surprise her though. Not when considering the whispers trailing after him that the Clan Elders think he cannot hear. Lan Zhan has excellent senses, only further improved in his first form. Even when he accompanies Brother and Uncle to the cold springs far away from the areas most of the residents of Cloud Recesses pass through, he can hear the poison dripping from their mouths.

They want to show him off to the cultivation world. They want to use him as a threat against the other Great Sects. They want him to lose control so they can punish him and make an example out of him. They want to say, Look at what we did to this dragon and her offspring. Look at what we have the power to do to everyone with these dragons under our thumbs.

Lan Zhan is young. He is much too small in his second form when considering the way he feels. He improves in controlling what expressions flit across his face. He gradually enhances his ability to tamp down on his feelings instinctively calling out to the elements around him when he is overwhelmed. He is polite and cordial to Brother and Uncle in public, but as affectionate as he can be when they are in private quarters with no risk of being interrupted. He learns to meditate, learns about the reassuring joy of music, and picks up the guqin. Due to his golden core forming while he is still so young, Lan Zhan is now considered a prodigy in his own right.

Lan Zhan is many things, but he is not ignorant. He can always smell the terror that shadows every interaction people have with him and how they recoil whenever he moves too quickly or gives off an aura much too powerful for a newly turned five-year-old child. He is never able to disappear from other people's awareness no matter how much he wishes it. Because of this, he never once presents himself as anything less than the perfect Lan every disciple in his sect strives to be. Especially not where others are able to see and somehow use it against him in the future. His status as a prodigy only further alienates him from the rest of his sect members and as a result, loneliness is something he has quickly grown used to.

The three thousand rules that the Gusu Lan Sect is infamous for become his word of law, his guide in this dangerous territory. By all rights, Cloud Recesses is Lan Zhan's. He is the first dragon to be born here on this mountain, up high in the sky. By the rights bestowed upon him through his mother's blood, this makes the area his. Makes the people who live here fall under his jurisdiction and protection alike. Cloud Recesses should be his, but it is not.

The Clan Elders are the ones with the power here and Lan Zhan is not going to give them a reason to put him down.

When he explains this to Mother on his next monthly visit, she cries. She weeps and sobs and pulls him into her frail arms. He wants to remind her about the rule concerning excessive sadness but decides to bite his tongue. Now wouldn’t be the time for that.

So he lays his head against his mother’s shoulder and wraps his arms as far as they can go around her, holding her as tightly as she is holding him. The Head of his weyr crying brings him no joy or comfort, but Lan Zhan is at least glad that Brother fell ill yesterday so he would not be subjected to their mother's tears along with him.

"A-Zhan, my poor A-Zhan," she murmurs into his hair.

Lan Zhan understands that Mother is sadder than most, that her dragon spirit is slowly dying with each passing day she spends away from the earth and rivers that bore and nurtured her. It is why he learns as much as he can from her.

Mother tells him about the different kinds of dragons. Tells him that no matter what their different aspects may be, every dragon has a bit of fucanglong in them. She tells him Grandfather's name and that since he was a fucanglong, Lan Zhan will have more of that in him than others of their kind would. That she has much of her father in her no matter that she was born the same as her mother since she hatched in the roaring rapids of a river. That Lan Zhan is a shenlong made for the rain and clouds that frequent Gusu Lan, even if Mother herself is a dilong who misses the earth and her river and is not meant for the skies like him.

"You hatched on this high mountain and in these clouds. That is why you are a shenlong, A-Zhan. A dragon's being is determined by the nature they hatch in, not the nature they inherit from their parents," Mother says, her voice soft and clear despite her tears. "But never forget that you will also have a bit of me and your grandfather as well. You enjoy visiting the cold springs often, correct?"

"Mn."

"The cold springs settle the urges I passed down to you when there was nothing more than a delicate shell separating you from this world," Mother explains. "Water does my bidding, but both water and wind will do yours. A-Zhan, it may one day be the reason you fly. Not all shenlong do, not even most, but I have a feeling you are capable of it."

Lan Zhan nods, understanding this as fact. He knew most of this already and guessed the rest but hearing it relayed back to him from his Mother settles the feelings within him.

Mother smiles and presses a hand to his face, cupping his cheek tenderly. Lan Zhan blinks and suddenly feels the urge to cry as he realizes that while he may be able to indulge his safer and more basic urges, the Head of his weyr cannot. Mother is confined to this house hidden within the back slopes of this mountain with no river or large body of water nearby. The sitting room is only big enough to accommodate her first form if she coils up around the table they sit at for tea.

Why is she here in this house hidden high within the clouds?

"What's wrong, A-Zhan?"

Lan Zhan blinks rapidly up at his mother, opening his mouth to speak before he loses his nerve. "Why are you here?"

His Head sighs, her fingers now carding through Lan Zhan’s hair. “I am meant for the earth, for the firm press of dirt, the freshly tilled soil, and the winding rivers that always lead back to the sea. Not the sky. Not the clouds, winds, and rain that you are meant for, A-Zhan.”

“But⎼” Lan Zhan begins to say, not liking the implications of his mother’s words one bit.

“Let me finish, A-Zhan. This is not something I ever planned to tell you at your age but we are different from regular people. You are already beginning to understand your place in this world, and it would not be fair of me to never share with you how the circumstances of your birth came to be,” Mother speaks right over him, smiling when Lan Zhan meets her golden gaze with furrowed brows, both of them thinking of the rule forbidding one to interrupt others.

Lan Zhan huffs out a breath he will deny is a sigh and nods his head once more, eyes still locked onto his mother’s own. “Mn.”

And so she tells him. Tells him of how when she was still a whelp, Grandmother was captured by the Jin Sect and killed for her beautiful scales. That Grandfather was, understandably, furious about this but she was only sad and confused. That she never understood how humans could ever trap a being as powerful as Grandmother. That she did not think that could ever happen to her, especially not after Grandfather hid her with his other Treasures.

By this point in her story, her gaze is wistful and far-off. “Baba took us underground and hid us from the rest of the world for our own safety, but I was unhappy. I was still young and I ached for the rivers that ran above our heads. I wanted to explore and see this world for myself. I could not survive under Baba’s rules forever, so I waited. Baba left to hunt one day and I took that as my chance to escape. I had always planned to return, but now I will die without ever having Baba’s scent on me again.”

“Mother,” Lan Zhan rasps, his eyes already itching.

Mother continues, acting as if Lan Zhan has not spoken. She tells him of posing as a rogue cultivator for some time after first joining the cultivator world. How she used the money she received from the night hunts she completed to buy herself a sword. Forming a golden core wasn’t a task too difficult for her, just as it was not difficult for Lan Zhan either. Those like them are very intelligent and have always had enough patience to test even the Great Immortals the cultivation world attempts in vain to become.

Here Mother bends and presses an absent-minded kiss to his forehead ribbon, quickly resuming from where she left off in her story. “I was in Caiyi Town when I met your father, A-Zhan. He was young and handsome, but he smelled all wrong to me. He claimed he fell in love with me from the moment our eyes met, yet I have never loved him.”

Then why, Lan Zhan asks with his eyes. His Head sniffs, her eyes watering again.

She explains that not too long after meeting his father, she decided to try alcohol for the first time before she left Caiyi Town and moved on to the next night hunt that was calling her name. The inn she was staying in claimed their brew was the best in all the Great Sects. She believed it would be acceptable for her first try, so she ordered a jar with her usual dinner in the inn’s public dining area. One of the Clan Elders was there as well, sitting a table away from hers, drinking tea and doing nothing else. Mother says that she did not think anything of it at the time. She was more preoccupied with the alcohol being stronger than she had first been led to believe. Soon enough, she was intoxicated and stumbling around, trying her utmost best to return to her room by herself.

The innkeeper had offered to help her up to her room once it was quite clear that she was inebriated, but the Clan Elder insisted that he would do it instead. Mother only agreed because she knew she needed help and he had seemed friendly enough to her. But once they reached her room, he did not drop her off at her door like she thought he would. He refused to leave as she struggled to shift into her first form to defend herself from his attack. The alcohol had made it difficult to focus and she had been attempting to shift ever since she first realized the Clan Elder was not going to leave her alone as she had hoped. She knew there was a way to use her golden core to burn the alcohol out of her system, except the enormity of her emotions did not allow her to think clearly.

“I have never been able to forget that man’s face,” Mother says, her eyes wide and blown with the depths of her pain. “I planned to leave Caiyi Town not long after that until I found out I was with child. There was no doubt in my mind that man was the father.”

Lan Zhan does not know what to say. Since the moment he hatched, he believed he and Brother to be the results of his Mother’s strained marriage. Now he finds that to be false. Brother and he do not share the same, exact blood.

Knowing this somehow sparks a wave of insurmountable anger within him. The depth of the anger he can feel burning in his chest both terrifies and reassures Lan Zhan. He has never been angry before, not like this. Not to the point where it feels like his rage could swallow him whole and churn him back out completely changed. This type of response is unexpected, of course, but he finds it valid nonetheless. His mother was hurt, and his brother was a product of that hurt meaning, in a way, Brother was also hurt by this.

“Brother is not…” Lan Zhan decides to ask before he trails off as he realizes he is unwilling to finish his question.

“A-Huan is your brother,” Mother says without hesitation, her voice firm and leaving no room for doubt. “His father may have hurt me, but I love him as I love you. He is not your half anything, A-Zhan. A-Huan is your brother because you are both my sons. He inherited many of my physical traits in this form, so much so that no one would ever suspect you two of having different fathers. That is what your uncle said to me before he took A-Huan away.”

Knowing all of this somehow makes the angry, vicious pit in Lan Zhan’s chest feel all that much worse. He has always known that Mother’s seclusion had been forced upon her as a form of punishment. The full implications of this had never quite registered until now though. Lan Zhan could never pinpoint what rule she had broken that was severe enough to warrant her level of punishment. Rule-breaking and Mother had never gone hand-in-hand to him, not when both she and Uncle had been the ones to instill such deep respect for the three thousand Lan Sect rules within him.

Something was missing from the picture before and now that a part of it has been given to him, Lan Zhan almost wishes he had never paid attention in the first place.

“The Clan Elder…” Lan Zhan trails off again, unsure of what he means to say exactly.

Mother understands though. His Head has always understood him when his words tended to fail him. “I killed him for what he had done to me. It was mercy in my eyes. Baba would have done so much worse if he had ever found out. Others saw differently, however.”

She stops there for a moment, her gaze uncertain. Lan Zhan nods, determined to hear this through until the end. Even though he does not know what the Clan Elder did to his mother exactly, he wants to know if that man’s death is the reason Mother is imprisoned here. Mother takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, tears tracing down her cheeks silently.

“Your father was already the Sect Leader by that point. He convinced me to marry him. He said he would protect me and your brother. I agreed even though I feared he might do to me what one his sect’s elders had done, but your brother was already one of my Treasures by then, A-Zhan, and a Head keeps their Treasures safe,” she sighs, gently wiping Lan Zhan’s tears away with her thumbs. “I never understood the position Baba was in until I felt your brother’s heart beating within me. I knew he was not going to be enough like me to keep himself safe. He would be born mostly human and I did not dare shift into my first form lest it harmed him in any way. I had to keep him safe and no one believed me when I told the other Clan Elders why I killed one of their own.”

Mother is crying again, her words trembling as she rambles. “No one but your father and uncle accepted my words as the truth. Your father put me here and then secluded himself due to guilt and grief alike. I had killed one of his sect after all. No matter how awful that man had turned out to be, he had influenced your father and uncle a lot as they were growing up themselves.”

“Mother,” Lan Zhan whispers. “You need not continue.”

But his mother only shakes her head, pressing onward. “I had A-Huan here and only got to hold him for a few moments before he was taken from me. His monthly visits began at the same age yours did. He had never seen me before but he knew who I was from the moment our eyes met again.”

Her breathing is even when she says, “I decided to give your father a child some time after that. I am his wife in nothing but name, A-Zhan. It troubled me that this man who claimed to love me but I did not love in return would endure so much trouble and pain for my sake. I felt guilty, so I disrupted his seclusion in the middle of the night and made my intentions clear. He was unwilling at first but eventually agreed.”

Lan Zhan almost smiles when his Head’s nose wrinkles, a tiny scowl marring her tear swollen face. Her tears have stopped for the moment, but Lan Zhan is certain they may return soon enough when Mother says that his sire still smelled all wrong to her. She did not love him, no matter how much he loved her but there was something there within him that reminded her of the earth and rivers she had been kept from for so long.

She left before his sire woke up the next morning and later felt the urge to shift for the first time since Brother’s conception that very same night. She was hesitant at first, unsure of what could have been making her feel that way. Eventually, she gave in sometime after the curfew bells rang, still uncertain about what exactly was compelling her to do so.

“And what do you know?” Mother laughs then, the sound tired and small but still there. “An egg was trying to pop out of me! I was laying your egg, A-Zhan.”

Later she learned that his sire and Uncle had a small portion of dragon blood in them that could be traced all the way back to Lan An, Gusu Lan’s founder. For the first time in years, however, Mother was in her first form, making a nest for her egg after curfew.

Mother smiles then, something soft and loving in the curve of her lips. Lan Zhan cannot help but smile in return, reaching up to wipe his Head’s tears. She tilts her head down in his direction, golden eyes glowing with the warmth of her unabashed affection.

“Oh, you were so tiny in the beginning, A-Zhan. Your shell was so fragile that I worried myself sick those first few months thinking you would not make it, but here you are,” Mother says, cupping Lan Zhan’s face in between her palms as if she almost cannot believe it herself. “Here you are, my little dragon. My Claw and other Treasure.”

Soon though, her smile and the warmth in her eyes begin to wither. "I would have liked to tell you this when you were older. You are still much too young and I know this information will only burden and harm you in the long run, but I do not know how much time I have left and you deserve to know so you can keep our weyr safe. After I am gone, you will be Head, A-Zhan. You must keep your brother safe when I no longer can.”

She speaks up again before Lan Zhan can, looking straight into his eyes when she says, “I wish that I could have brought you into this world under better circumstances, that I could have brought your brother into this world the same way I did you. But I do not regret it. I do not regret having you two and loving you both as much as I do, A-Zhan. You and your brother are not only my Treasures but two halves of my Heart as well. Do you understand?"

Lan Zhan feels his breath catch. Does he understand? Yes, of course, he does. How could he not when being a Head’s Heart is so much more valuable than being their Treasure? Being Treasure means being well-protected, well-loved, and well-nurtured. Being a Head’s Heart means being a part of his Head’s very being. It means being loved down to the bare bones of his core with no exceptions.

It means being half the reason Mother’s heart could physically break.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Lan Zhan shifts into his first form and wraps himself around his Head. He purrs when she follows suit not too long afterward and they scent each other. Despite the new knowledge spinning in his head, Lan Zhan is happy to be here. Happy to be alive with the Head of his weyr, with the mother who loves him and his brother enough to do whatever she can for them.

Still, there is also the sadness and anger in him that he cannot shake. That clings to every breath he takes and lies in the shadows of his thoughts. He feels loved and guilty all at the same time and he isn’t quite sure how this can be.

What Lan Zhan does know without a doubt is that he is a Claw, Treasure, and half of a Heart. Brother is Treasure, the other half of their mother’s Heart, and from now on, Lan Zhan will protect him from this truth for as long as he can.

This would destroy his gentle brother and Lan Zhan is not about to let that happen.

Lan Zhan takes to the sky five years after his birth.

He has no wings, but it does not stop him from gliding in the air, skirting through the clouds he was born for. Sunshine kisses his scales as the wind blows through his mane, whiskers twitching as he loops around the mountain again.

It is peaceful up here in the sky with only the warm sun and biting wind to keep him company.

Down below, the Lan Sect members are bright dots clustered all over Cloud Recesses. The bravest of them wave their arms at him, but most turn tail to disappear indoors once they catch sight of him. Lan Zhan ignores them, eyes latching onto two bright dots standing near where he is certain he left his robes before shifting forms.

The thought has barely crossed his mind before his body angles downward and the air shifts until it is pressing him down gently. His claws skim the treetops briefly when he dips down low to land in the cold springs.

Despite their name, Lan Zhan has never quite felt the cold bite of these waters like his fellow sect members have. He lands gracefully on his first try in one of the larger pools with only a small splash and many ripples signaling his landing. Lan Zhan moves forward, using his legs to propel him to one of the shallower pools of water. Once there, he shifts into his second form and accepts the robes Brother hands him.

“How was it, A-Zhan?” Brother asks, the longing in his voice unmistakable.

Lan Zhan only pauses for a moment as he finishes getting his inner robes on before saying, “I will take you soon, Brother.”

Brother smiles, holding the first layer of his outer robes up. “Not until you’ve had more practice. It would be unfortunate if you were to tire yourself out halfway through our intended flight.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan acquiesces.

“Wangji,” Uncle cuts in then, drawing both his nephew’s attention as Lan Zhan finishes getting dressed. “How are you feeling?”

Lan Zhan mentally takes stock of his energy levels and the soreness located in his lower back. “Tired, but well, Uncle.”

Uncle frowns and beckons him forward. “Let me check. You have only just recovered and I know your arm has continued to bother you.”

Lan Zhan goes willingly. Uncle is strict and appears to be fussy all the time, but Lan Zhan is aware that is how Uncle shows affection. Of course, Uncle is not perfect but his faults are not enough to make Lan Zhan or his brother love him any less.

Uncle presses two fingers to Lan Zhan’s wrist, his other hand gripping Lan Zhan’s shoulder firmly to keep him in place. Lan Zhan leans into Uncle’s touch readily, head tipped back to study the look of concentration on his face.

It is unsurprising that Uncle is worried. After all, it was only a month before when the training accident took place.

(Lan Zhan is of the mind that it was not much of an accident at all actually, but the Clan Elders would hear nothing of it.)

Brother had been sparring with two older disciples in the sword training area while Lan Zhan spotted. Lan Zhan had not been worried at the time, Brother is very skilled in the six arts of cultivation but especially in swordsmanship. Sparring against older disciples is a habit of his brother’s, one that he indulged frequently. It was also somewhat of an unspoken rule in Cloud Recesses that if Lan Xichen draws his sword, then Lan Wangji will be found nearby ready to intervene at a moment’s notice.

Lan Zhan takes his position as a Claw very seriously. Brother knows this and huffs a bit when Lan Zhan stations himself nearby during sword practice but says nothing to discourage him from it. In a weyr, Treasures need to be protected at all times, no matter the cost, so it was not unusual for Lan Zhan to be present at that time.

Brother had been doing well against his mock-opponents. Too well if the frustrated looks on the older disciples’ faces were anything to go off of. Of course, Lan Zhan was also privy to the anger slowly building up in one of the older disciple’s scents.

As soon as he had caught a whiff of it, Lan Zhan’s hair felt like it stood on end. Something ancient struggled to spring to life in his chest, his senses focusing only on the spar in front of him. He had exhaled heavily, hoping to calm himself but left himself shocked instead as his breath turned to mist in front of him. Lan Zhan was unsure how that had come to happen but before he could think about it too much, the flash of a sword glare stole his attention.

From one moment to the next, Lan Zhan was standing in front of Brother, his unsheathed practice sword held out in front of him and his body caught between his two forms. His scales were all too clear around his neck and jaw, but none were found where the older disciple’s sword had just sliced through his arm. Lan Zhan had barely glanced at the blood seeping through his robes before he made a rumbling sound that lodged itself in the back of his throat and the disciples dropped their swords, scuttling backward in fear.

Even in his second form, Lan Zhan’s skin is tough and sturdy enough to not sustain most of the usual injuries normal children his age would receive. Brother, too, has this kind of protection and Lan Zhan is more than aware of that. It does not mean that they are invulnerable, but it does mean they are less likely to break when compared to others.

It still did not stop Lan Zhan from taking the blow that was meant for one of his Treasures.

If either of them were normal, that sword would have cut Lan Zhan deep enough to render his arm useless. If he had not stepped in, that sword would have run Brother clean through.

But Lan Zhan had. He had moved as quickly as the wind and put himself between his brother and the oncoming danger. He had stood there silently, uncaring of the blood dripping down onto his hand and staining his robes. He was in-between forms, but he had made no threatening moves in these boys’ direction, had not even unsheathed his practice sword. One of these boys had tried to draw his Treasure’s blood right in front of Lan Zhan’s very own eyes and he still did not lose control.

If Mother had been there, had witnessed one half of her Heart being attacked, there is no telling what would have happened. Lan Zhan, of course, still isn’t very sure he would not hurt those boys if he caught sight of them anywhere near Brother or Uncle again. There is a likely chance Mother would kill them if they approached Brother, but there is no chance that she would do so if they came near Uncle. Uncle is one of Lan Zhan’s Treasures, after all, not Mother’s.

(Brother told him that she, of course, approved of Lan Zhan’s actions and Lan Zhan’s claim to Uncle as Treasure, but her anger about the “accident” was not light.)

At that moment, however, Lan Zhan only pulled his arms back to his sides when Uncle arrived and placed a hand over his brother’s own on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Before that, Lan Zhan had been contemplating whether it was worth it to break so many of the rules and hurt these disciples no matter what punishment awaited him.

Violence is not something Lan Zhan has ever taken joy in. He knows his instincts are capable of drawing bloodlust out of him and he also knows that his strength would be enough to harm anyone he wanted without trying. If he was that careless, however, he would be losing face for both his family and his sect alike. Mother and Uncle have not raised him to give in to his instincts so easily at the first sign of a threat targeting his brother. His self-restraint and control are stronger than that.

So Lan Zhan had exhaled and calmed himself as he allowed Brother to escort him to the healer’s hall while Uncle berated the older disciples for their recklessness. Uncle had gotten their side of the story, nose wrinkling when they claimed it was an accident and Lan Zhan was merely overreacting. Lan Zhan had heard all of that and had almost spoken aloud to mention the rule prohibiting dishonesty that they were breaking, but Brother had gripped onto his shoulder that much harder and practically dragged him away before more blood could possibly be shed.

Lan Zhan’s arm was cleaned and bandaged minutes after they arrived in the healer’s hall. The cut was shallow enough that it would be healed by the next day. Brother had still winced when Lan Zhan’s robes were peeled away to expose the wound though.

By the time the healers had proclaimed him healthy enough to leave, Uncle had come through the door in a flurry of robes and angry fussing. Lan Zhan had sat there with Brother as they explained what had happened and if Lan Zhan had felt something cold get stuck in his throat as he spoke, then that was neither here nor there.

Uncle had taken the issue to the Clan Elders and they had, unsurprisingly, sided with the older disciples instead of the Sect Heir. Lan Zhan felt sick just thinking of how far the Clan Elders were willing to go to punish their secluded Sect Leader’s wife, no matter if it affected their own Sect Heir and future or not.

The older disciples are now in seclusion for the time being. Both as punishment and protection.

Lan Zhan was not punished severely for his behavior, but he was still assigned to copy the rules ten times after his injury had healed. He had quietly and gracefully accepted his punishment, making sure each brushstroke was careful and precise before he submitted his copies of the rules to Uncle when he was done. He was also barred from seeing Mother and when Brother left to see her for their next monthly visit, Lan Zhan played all of Mother’s personal favorites on the guqin.

Sometimes when Lan Zhan found himself passing a Clan Elder in the halls, he would clench his hands into fists at his side until his fingernails had left crescent marks on his palms. He would also unknowingly grit his teeth as he thought of how close someone had gotten to harming one of his Treasures. Uncle had caught him doing so only one time and now believed that he was experiencing phantom pains in his arm when really, Lan Zhan was remembering the cold, hard fury that had rushed through him at that moment.

“Uncle, I am well,” Lan Zhan says as Uncle finally releases his hold on him and steps back.

Uncle’s mustache bristles with the force of his frown but nods. “There is no harm in making sure, Wangji.”

Brother chuckles beside them and Lan Zhan feels his lips twitch at the sound before his expression clears again.

Out here in the cold springs where only a select number of people would run into them, Lan Zhan is still careful to not allow his emotions to show. Not when their peaceful bubble could be disrupted by anyone in this very public space.

Even if Lan Zhan is not open with the full force of his emotions, this is good too.

When he is six, Lan Zhan lies coiled before the door bordered by gentians and waits.

And waits.

And waits even more.

He lies there with tears in his eyes, his lungs squeezing as grief chokes him. He will not move until the curfew bells ring when he must slither back to the room he no longer shares with Brother. Brother has not been able to build the courage to visit the Jingshi, but even if he can no longer see his Head, Lan Zhan refuses to leave.

That morning, he had woken up thinking today and had been so overcome with tears that a strong gust of wind blew open the door to his quarters. Lan Zhan had been quick to fight down the urge to fly into the sky and never return. Even if he no longer has a Head to depend on, he still has a weyr of his own depending on him now.

But the Head of his weyr is dead. Has been dead long enough for Lan Zhan to not bear thinking about it.

Lan Zhan is too young to become the Head of a weyr, especially the one he has just inherited. He wants Mother back, wants her to open the door, and let him back inside. Wants her to kiss his forehead ribbon and tell him more about Grandfather. Wants his Head to tease him until she has managed to coax a barely-there smile out of him. Wants Mother to cup his face as her golden eyes glow with the depths of her love, but now he will never be graced with the sight of her smile or the sound of her laughter ever again.

Mother’s scent still lingers here and there around the Jingshi, her scent the most saturated in certain points. When the wind blows, he can almost convince himself that the small gurgling stream nearby sounds like her laughter. The gentians she adored continue to bud even as the weather grows cold and Lan Zhan wonders for a moment if they will always be what surrounds his mother’s tomb.

He focuses on the remnants of her smell and waits. He will wait as long as he needs to, so long as Lan Zhan can cling to his last memories of her.

Mother dies and a piece of Lan Zhan dies with her.

He remains in his first form for a full month after her passing. In his second form, it is too difficult to catch the echoes of her presence at the Jingshi. In his first, he can still smell her, can hear her in the gurgling streams, and can feel her where his heart should be.

Brother does not speak much to him that month. Instead, he sits beside Lan Zhan in what was once their room and practices his music cultivation when the quiet becomes too much. He moved into a room of his own not too long before Mother left them, old enough at nine for the Clan Elders to approve the arrangement. Brother had been excused from his usual lessons after Mother’s death but had shown up for morning meditation early the following week, his signature smile fixed in place only dimmer than usual.

Sometimes Lan Zhan feels sick looking at the forced, gentle happiness his brother is displaying for the world to see. Other times, Lan Zhan is happy that Brother drops his mask when they are alone.

Lan Zhan ignores the meals Brother brings along with him. He can go a long while without eating in this form, does not even need to drink water as often as is required in his second form as well. He is aware that Brother and Uncle are worried, but he remains in his room and breathes every painful breath knowing that Mother is gone.

Excessive grief is against the rules, Lan Zhan knows, but he is not breaking the rules by doing this. To him, this is not excessive. This is justified.

How can it be considered excessive when he is six-years-old and just lost the mother who he had been forcibly kept from for most of his short life?

Mother had given up both her freedom and life just to make sure Brother would remain safe. Mother had gone to Lan Zhan’s father and made him within a night, had put together a nest, and taught him all he needed to know to also remain safe.

She had known what would happen when she agreed to marry the leader of the Lan Sect. She would be kept from the earth and rivers that were her lifeline and would die so her Heart would remain safe.

How is Lan Zhan’s behavior excessive? Her punishment was not considered excessive. Her treatment was not considered excessive.

No one has the right to claim his grief as excessive.

For once, Lan Zhan is glad of the distance that separates him from others in the sect. He revels in the fact that many members of the sect are terrified of him. It makes leaving him alone that first month easy.

After all, no one wants to risk the wrath of a grieving dragon.

Many of his fellow sect members believe it to be a fact that Lan Zhan’s instincts could take control of him and force him to harm them if they happened to reprimand him during this time. They remember that sunny afternoon in the sword training area when Lan Zhan took a blade for his older brother and had shown his scales to the two older disciples who had “accidentally” aimed too close for comfort during a practice spar. They are convinced that they know what Lan Zhan is capable of, especially in his first form.

Lan Zhan, of course, knows this to be false. He has spent years tempering his self-control, reigning in most of his urges, and perfecting his ever-present blank facial expression. These people do not know him and Lan Zhan is glad because of that.

By the end of that month, however, Brother leads him to Mother’s abandoned house. It is close to curfew, the sun already having fallen for the moon to take its place. Lan Zhan is uncertain of where Brother is taking them at first until he realizes they are following an all too familiar path Lan Zhan would be able to follow blindfolded if need be.

He walks in the halls but as soon as they have stepped onto the dirt path leading further up the mountain, Lan Zhan allows the wind to carry him where they are going. Brother keeps a hand on his head to keep him steady by his side, silent as they trek towards the one place Lan Zhan was certain Brother would never visit again.

As they come around the last bend in the path, they find a man standing in front of the Jingshi. Lan Zhan believes it to be Uncle until he catches a whiff of the man and realizes that it smells all wrong.

It is Qingheng-Jun.

Lan Zhan does not want to be here anymore. He wants to leave and return when this man is no longer standing in front of the place he imprisoned the Head of Lan Zhan’s weyr. The Jingshi was always going to be Mother’s tomb and he had to have known that when he secluded her here.

Brother feels him tense under his hand, but he only grabs onto one of Lan Zhan’s antlers and nudges him forward. Lan Zhan goes, unwillingly, but he still goes anyway.

“Father,” Brother calls out after they have come to a stop a few paces in front of the Lan Sect Leader.

When Qingheng-Jun turns to face them, two things happen. One, Brother bows. Two, Lan Zhan gets a clearer sense of his sire’s scent and growls in response.

Qingheng-Jun reeks of blood. Every inhale that brings his scent to Lan Zhan makes his stomach roll and his mind rear back. Lan Zhan wants nothing more than to pick Brother up and retreat, to curl away from the darker instincts that are begging him to get rid of the source of this smell. Instead, he bares his teeth and holds still, waiting.

He is aware that Brother freezes beside him, still caught in a low bow. Qingheng-Jun only blinks at him before he smiles and a low chuckle escapes him.

“That was your mother’s exact reaction the first time she met me,” Qingheng-Jun manages to say after he has cleared his throat and before he turns to Brother and places a hand over Brother’s clasped ones. “Ah, and no need to be so formal, Xichen.”

Brother straightens from his bow woodenly, eyes on Lan Zhan when he responds. “Father, I brought A-Zhan as requested.”

Lan Zhan’s gaze snaps to his older brother, betrayal the only thing on his mind. Brother winces and shrugs subtly, a tight smile on his face as he meets Lan Zhan’s eyes.

“Thank you, Xichen. I must speak with you both. Wangji,” Qingheng-Jun says, staring pointedly at Lan Zhan’s form. “Will you be joining the conversation?”

He stares pointedly back, waiting to see what Qingheng-Jun will say or do once he realizes that Lan Zhan does not, in fact, plan to join the conversation. If his Sect Leader orders it, then yes, he will shift into his second form. Nudity notwithstanding, Lan Zhan will not disobey a direct order from the official Lan Sect Leader even if he is Sect Leader in name only.

(Although, Lan Zhan isn’t technically bothered by the nudity aspect either. He can smell his robes hidden in the qiankun pouch Brother is keeping up his sleeve. Brother knew what Lan Zhan would decide before he even brought him here, yet he is prepared for any outcome nonetheless.)

But if his sire is asking, then Lan Zhan will remain as he is. He knows filial duty is another rule he is meant to follow, but after breaking one, what is another? He does not want whatever this man is attempting to offer now that it is too late. Maybe if this man had ever visited him, had ever cared for him. Maybe if this man had never left the responsibilities of a father and Sect Leader on Uncle’s shoulders, had ever checked in with them once to see how they fared. Maybe if he had ever left his seclusion while Mother was alive, Lan Zhan would have given him a chance, but the Head of his weyr is dead and Qingheng-Jun has never been a part of their weyr and he will never be who Lan Zhan calls father.

When Lan Zhan was much younger, he struggled with these feelings. When Mother told him about how her marriage came to be, Lan Zhan realized he did not consider Qingheng-Jun as a part of his family. Yes, his mother’s imprisonment may have spared her life when the Lan Sect Leader first decreed it, but it only delayed the inevitable in the end. Lan Zhan can appreciate that he was given life half in due part to Qingheng-Jun, but a person does not become a parent simply for making a child. Caring for a child and nurturing their mind is what makes someone a parent.

That is why, so long as Uncle lives and breathes, Lan Zhan will never consider another man as his father.

Qingheng-Jun must realize this because he sighs and continues as if Lan Zhan’s stubbornness is of little to no surprise. Lan Zhan allows himself a brief second to feel smug about this before his attention returns to the conversation at hand.

“Father, why did you decide to come out of seclusion now?” Brother asks, his voice sounding no different than usual except for the slight tremor of uncertainty Lan Zhan knows Qingheng-Jun is not picking up.

“You misunderstand. I have merely taken a brief break from seclusion to see you both. I will be returning after this,” Qingheng-Jun explains. “I wanted to speak to you two about your mother.”

Lan Zhan rumbles out a displeased sound, unsure of what to classify it as. Brother stiffens beside him again, his smile strained. Their Sect Leader smiles once more, his scent smelling something like nervousness as he hesitates.

“What about our Head?” Brother rasps.

Before Lan Zhan can think better of it, he is pushing his antler more firmly into Brother’s hand. His goal is to distract him, to get rid of the pain and sadness in his scent that he rarely ever allows to show clearly on his face. Maybe Lan Zhan never smiles or expresses much of anything with his own face, but Brother’s ever-present smile is a mask all on its own as well.

Qingheng-Jun raises a brow in question. “Your head?”

A low growl escapes Lan Zhan once he registers the way Qingheng-Jun mispronounces their mother’s title. The syllables sound distorted coming from his mouth, the weight of them all wrong in the air between them.

“Head,” Brother corrects him, a wrinkle between his brows. At least Lan Zhan was not the only one who disliked his words. “Mother was the Head of our weyr. Now… A-Zhan is the Head.”

“Do you use their terms because you also feel those urges?” Qingheng-Jun asks then, his silver eyes glinting for a moment as he tilts his head to the side.

Lan Zhan does not like the edges their Sect Leader’s question is trying to hide. They feel too sharp, too loaded with an assumption he finds himself bristling at. Brother runs a hand down his snout, wordlessly asking him to calm down. Lan Zhan listens. His Treasure is asking something of him and Lan Zhan answers, pushing down the indignation he can feel building up from the tips of his claws. His emotions are easier to read in his first form since he has more practice concealing them in his second. He needs to improve on that soon.

Brother’s smile is tight again, his silver eyes heavily guarded. “I use these terms because I am a part of this weyr, Father. I was Mother’s Treasure. A-Zhan was our Claw. Now he is our Head and I am still Treasure. Uncle, too, is another Treasure.”

You are not a part of our weyr, is what goes unspoken.

Lan Zhan could cry from the happiness springing to life in his chest. He had always known that they shared some of the same instincts, but to hear Brother explain this so simply and succinctly to an outsider ⎼ because that is what Qingheng-Jun is. That is what he will always be while Lan Zhan is Head ⎼ soothes him down to his core.

No matter what, Brother is on his side. Even if he tricked him into meeting their Sect Leader out here after curfew, Brother is still on Lan Zhan’s side.

“I apologize,” Qingheng-Jun says when the echoes of Brother’s words have faded in the darkness around them. “I did not mean to offend either of you or the memory of your mother. I loved her, after all.”

It takes Lan Zhan a moment to realize he is not the one who growled in response to Father’s apology.

Brother’s teeth are bared, his silver eyes flashing in the moonlight. Rage, hurt, and sadness rolls off Brother’s skin in waves, but Lan Zhan does nothing to stop him. Brother has never been able to shift between forms but here under the light of the full moon with his Sect Leader and the Head of his weyr as the only witnesses, Lan Zhan thinks Brother may be able to reach the in-between point of his forms one day.

“How can you still claim that?” Brother manages to say, his voice unsteady, but Lan Zhan is more than able to hear what Brother is not saying, You secluded her here knowing she would die. You removed yourself from our lives entirely just so you would not have to see her wither slowly away and still claim that you loved her?

In the recesses of his mind, Lan Zhan is shocked that Brother would ever say anything meant to be contrary against their Sect Leader. He has always thought of his brother as more forgiving than him. When Qingheng-Jun has been mentioned in the past, Brother would visibly perk up with interest, soaking up any information he could about their absent Sect Leader. Lan Zhan was careful to remain indifferent. After all, why should news of a man he has never met matter to him?

Now though, with his brother truly angry and close to confronting their Sect Leader, all Lan Zhan feels is pride.

“Xichen, do you know why your mother was in seclusion?” Qingheng-Jun asks, his voice so terribly light that Lan Zhan feels the vicious urge to bite him.

Brother shakes his head, now trembling with the force of his anger. Lan Zhan nudges his snout into his side, scenting him in the hopes that it will help him settle. Qingheng-Jun only sighs, folding his arm behind his back as he begins to speak.

He tells Brother everything. Everything Mother had glossed over and implied to Lan Zhan a year ago is laid down at his and his brother’s feet.

Lan Zhan knows the moment Brother has come to the same conclusion Lan Zhan did about their different parentage when he abruptly pulls away from Lan Zhan’s touch. His hands curl into fists at his sides, his trembling now doubled.

The pain and horror in his brother’s scent punch the very air out of Lan Zhan’s lungs. Saltwater joins the mix of smells hanging in the air soon enough and Lan Zhan aches with the need to comfort his Treasure.

Qingheng-Jun finishes shortly after that, staring at them both as he waits. What for? Lan Zhan has no idea but he must realize he will not receive whatever it is because soon enough Qingheng-Jun is stepping away with a pained look in his eyes.

“This old one apologizes, but you both deserve to know,” their Sect Leader says before he nods in Lan Zhan’s direction and turns to disappear further up the dirt path.

Lan Zhan watches him leave, eyes on his back as the darkness swallows him whole. Brother’s shaking begins to subside as Qingheng-Jun goes, his body loosening of its own accord slowly.

Brother falls to his knees once Qingheng-Jun is no longer in sight. Lan Zhan finds himself shifting into his second form to kneel beside him without thinking. Even if it is unseemly to kneel when naked, Brother is in pain and it is Lan Zhan’s job to protect him. He was never supposed to learn about this, not this way.

It does nothing to change the fact that his brother is hurt now.

“You knew,” Brother chokes out. “You knew.”

Lan Zhan nods, opening his mouth to speak before Brother rushes to speak first. “Why did you let me believe that lie, Wangji?”

The use of his courtesy name is what finally cuts Lan Zhan. Brother has been calling him A-Zhan since he hatched and has never cared for whose company they may be in when using the endearment. Lan Zhan was a Claw and Brother a Treasure, but that did nothing to change the fact that Lan Zhan is his little brother.

“You are my brother,” Lan Zhan says without hesitation. His voice is raspy and hoarse from disuse, but his words are sure and steady. “You are my brother.”

“Half,” Brother murmurs, “Half-brother.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head furiously, reaching out to grab Brother’s shoulders. Relief floods through him when Brother does not pull immediately away.

Mother’s words go through his head at that moment and for lack of a better thing to say, Lan Zhan echoes them, “You are not my half anything. We are both our mother’s sons.”

Brother leans into his touch then, tears still streaming down his face. “That is not how the rest of the world will see it.”

“I am not the world,” Lan Zhan responds. “You are my brother.”

“You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you?” Brother asks after the silence between them has become too much.

Lan Zhan nods.

Brother stares at him for a moment, his tears crystalline under the moon as they cling to his lashes. Eventually, he reaches into his sleeve and pulls out his qiankun pouch. Lan Zhan stands and allows Brother to dress him, twisting and turning where he needs to so his robes lie against his skin perfectly. Brother fixes his hair and guides Lan Zhan’s hands through tying his ribbon.

He is not Lan Zhan’s parent, spouse, or child but he is Lan Zhan’s brother. They are not allowed to touch each other’s forehead ribbons, but they can put their hands over the other’s and move them where they need to go so their ribbons lie straight. It is a system they developed soon after Lan Zhan was taken from Mother and the fact that Brother is still willing to treat him the same as he did before means more than words could ever say.

“When did Mother tell you?” Brother asks, eyes elsewhere as Lan Zhan brushes his robes down.

“Last year,” Lan Zhan says, glancing up when Brother inhales sharply at his response.

Brother grips his shoulders and meets his gaze, tears springing to his silver eyes once more. “She should not have done so, Wangji. We are children who should not know of this until we are older. You especially should not have been told this before I was.”

Lan Zhan blinks in confusion, not understanding. “Mother did not tell me everything, but I knew we did not have the same fathers. Besides, I was a Claw and now I am the Head. I am supposed to protect you.”

Brother shakes his head and pulls him into a hug, clinging to him with all his strength as tears overcome him again. Lan Zhan holds on, hands no doubt wrinkling Brother’s robes but uncaring of that as his Treasure’s scent sours with sadness again. It is clear that Brother is willing to work his way back to how they used to be, but this revelation is too new and unsettling for either of them to act as they normally would.

Even though Lan Zhan is certain that they will get through this, Brother stops calling him A-Zhan for some time after that.

Now that Lan Zhan is back in his second form, the Clan Elders decide to keep him under close observation.

When Lan Zhan first returns to his regular classes, he is surprised to note the seven Clan Elders standing in the back of the classroom. As far as he had been aware, the Clan Elders were much too busy to bother with the education of the junior disciples. In fact, Lan Zhan would go as far as saying the Clan Elders do not care about any of the disciples unless they have broken an important rule or disgraced the Gusu Lan Sect in a very public manner.

So to see them sitting in on his classes immediately puts Lan Zhan on edge. He can barely pay proper attention to the lesson one of Uncle’s favorite assistants is lecturing them about, not when he can feel more than just the Clan Elders’ eyes on him.

For once, Lan Zhan finds himself despising his usual seat in the front of the classroom.

It takes Lan Zhan longer than usual to realize he has been called on and he feels his ears grow hot as he both dully recites the proper answer and tries his best to ignore one of the Elders huffing loudly in displeasure. None of the other junior disciples make a sound but Lan Zhan can smell the amusement in their scents well enough to feel embarrassed.

He maintains his perfectly proper posture anyway and forces himself to pay better attention to the lecture. During the noon meal hour, he will find Brother and confer with him about this. See if the Clan Elders have been dropping in other classes as well or if this is targeted at Lan Zhan alone. A way for them to say that they have noticed his recent behavior and now that it is safer for them to confront him, they will if need be.

Lan Zhan is nothing more than a child, but he has always known the Clan Elders are cowards. Only cowards would demonize a woman killing the man who violated her. Only cowards would give that woman a death sentence of her own, claiming it to be the just thing to do when it is anything but. Only cowards would confront a six-year-old child when they believe they have the advantage.

Perhaps they do have the power and the right to put him down but Lan Zhan is not his mother. Mother made certain that Lan Zhan would have many more advantages than she ever did, advantages he and Brother would both have even after she was no longer in this world.

The Clan Elders may have imprisoned her, but they did not strip Mother of all the political power she gained by marrying their Sect Leader and providing him with two Sect Heirs. They would need a powerful and unshakeable reason to strike one of their own Sect Heirs down, a reason the entire cultivation world would not fault them for.

At least, that is how Brother explains it to him later as they are leaving the central mess hall to attend their afternoon classes.

"Do not give them a reason, Wangji," Brother admonishes him when they come to a stop before they go their separate ways for class. "Embody the perfect disciple they desire so much. Get them to grudgingly accept your position here by whatever means necessary. They will never be fair when it comes to you or me, but that does not mean we have to make it easy for them either."

"Mn," Lan Zhan nods, bowing to his brother before he turns on his heel and leaves.

At the sword training area, four Clan Elders stand on the sidelines, safely out of any unpredictable young child's sword swing. Lan Zhan barely spares them a glance as he gets into position and waits patiently for class to begin.

For the better part of a month, Lan Zhan's classes are shadowed by a handful of Clan Elders. None of them speak a word to anyone present, but they make their disapproval known through loud sighs and disparaging grunts.

Lan Zhan learns their scents well and avoids them in the hallways whenever he happens to come across their trails. The few times he catches their scents too late, he shoulders their thinly-veiled complaints on the "ghastly sight" of his scales and the "childish behavior" he is much too old for now.

None of them will ever say it outright but Lan Zhan knows they wish to punish him for his so-called excessive grief which is why they are now hovering over his shoulder, watching his every move in the hopes that he will crack under pressure. Lan Zhan is made of sterner stuff than that though.

He is a dragon. He was born for the sky and clouds that blanket their mountain. Water and wind do his bidding alike. His Treasures accept him as the Head of their weyr without complaints.

He is his mother's son and his grandfather's grandson, Lan Zhan will not break under the weight of the Clan Elders' scrutiny.

This becomes more than clear the longer Lan Zhan is kept under their watchful eyes. He takes Brother's advice to heart and becomes even more of the perfect disciple he had always strived to be, first for his Mother's state of mind and now because he refuses to allow his feelings to be used against him.

Dragons and the Lan are alike in the way that they show their true feelings through everything except their words. Lan Zhan is both, so whether big or small, his actions are twice as potent. His emotion-fueled behavior will not be what takes him from his Treasures.

Brother lost one Head already, Lan Zhan refuses to let him lose two.

(Two weeks later, Lan Zhan wakes thinking today before he remembers. He spends the remainder of the day with a fierce ache burning through him as he kneels in front of a familiar door.)

Lan Zhan takes one glance at Nie Mingjue and thinks, Claw.

Nie Mingjue is a stranger to him in all rights. Brother has talked about him constantly when he began attending the guest discipline lectures, always with a softer version of his usual smile on his face. He tells Lan Zhan everything he learns about Nie Mingjue, never leaving any details out. Brother's scent tends to swell and ripen with the force of his fondness and admiration for the older boy but Lan Zhan says nothing.

Talking is not one of Lan Zhan's particular skills. Others may regard him as eloquent, but that is solely due to the fact that Lan Zhan only speaks up when he is certain of the words on the tip of his tongue.

So it is unsurprising that even though he says nothing about the thought that crosses his mind when he finally meets his brother's friend, Brother notices anyway.

Maybe it is because of how intensely Lan Zhan studies him when the older boy isn't looking. How he sniffs the air as he analyzes the way Brother and Nie Mingjue's scents are complementary to one another. Or perhaps how Lan Zhan not-so-subtly reaches out and grips Nie Mingjue's nape to scent him into the weyr.

Honestly, Lan Zhan has no idea how Brother figures it out so quickly but he accepts that Brother will always be one step ahead of him regardless and leaves it at that.

Nie Mingjue takes his strange behavior in stride, stiffening for only a moment when Lan Zhan first comes into direct skin-to-skin contact with him. Lan Zhan waits until the older boy has relaxed under his grip before reaching out and taking his left hand. Slowly, he pulls it towards his face and presses his cheek against Nie Mingjue's palm briefly then steps back and puts the appropriate amount of distance between them again.

Brother is smiling, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he steps forward and smooths a stray lock of Nie Mingjue's hair back into place behind his ear. "Wangji has decided that you are a part of our weyr now, Nie-gongzi. Welcome."

"I don't know anything about dragons, Lan-gongzi," Nie Mingjue admits, his face wrinkled with confusion. "I would not wish to offend you."

Lan Zhan squeezes Brother's elbow, silently urging him to talk in his place. If Nie Mingjue truly wants no part in their weyr, Lan Zhan will accept that without complaints. He will not hold the boy to something he can not personally be a part of.

But if the only problem here is a lack of knowledge, then Brother can be depended on to remedy that quite successfully.

(Lan Zhan personally wants Nie Mingjue to accept his role as a Claw in their weyr because he can already tell that there will never be another person better at protecting Brother than him.)

"I can teach you all you need to know and anything else you wish to learn about us," Brother assures Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue raises both his brows in surprise. "Us?"

Brother's smile does not falter but Lan Zhan can tell without looking that it is dimmer than before from the tone of his voice alone. "I may only have access to this form I am currently in now, Nie-gongzi, but I am my mother's son just as much as my brother is. We share her blood and a few of the same urges she passed down. On top of that, Wangji considers me as one of his Treasures and he wants you to be our Claw."

"And what is a claw exactly?"

Lan Zhan and his brother wince in unison at the older boy's pronunciation. They both relax as Nie Mingjue chuckles at their reactions, his face softer and looking less severe than it has during this conversation so far.

"Claw," Brother corrects him, emphasizing where it is needed so Nie Mingjue can understand. "A Claw is a protector of the weyr. They keep Treasures safe, act as enforcers when our Head demands it of them. Wangji is the Head of our weyr and Grandmaster Lan is another Treasure."

Brother pauses there for a moment, turning his head to meet Lan Zhan's gaze. The corner of his mouth twitches, his right eyebrow slightly elevated as he tips his head ever so slightly to the side. Lan Zhan allows his stony expression to soften as he nods, humming his verbal agreement to leave Brother with no doubts about his decision. Brother's smile wobbles before it evens out again, blushing a very soft pink that Lan Zhan is certain no normal human would ever be able to notice.

"In other words," Brother turns to Nie Mingjue with a firmer grasp on his emotions. "My brother wants you to protect his Treasures."

Nie Mingjue blinks at them both, his scent spiking with embarrassment and pleasure all at once. Lan Zhan watches him closely, meeting his eye when the older boy's gaze lands on him. He knows this is very sudden and a lot to ask of someone he has only officially met today, but Nie Mingjue is Brother's closest friend and Lan Zhan's brother does not have very many friends.

What Lan Zhan knows of Nie Mingjue he has learned from Brother or through his reactions in this encounter alone. For normal human beings, this is not enough to entrust someone else with what they value above all else, but it is more than enough for Lan Zhan.

Besides, it is more than obvious that Brother intends to court Nie Mingjue in due time. Perhaps when they are both a few years older than they are now Brother will begin the courtship through subtle maneuvers before presenting Nie Mingjue with a jewel that is worth just as much as the bond between them. It is the ways of old, ways Mother never got the chance to experience herself, and ways Lan Zhan will make certain Brother experiences when he considers himself ready for them.

"Then it seems that I was already unofficially a Claw before your brother offered the position to me, Lan-gongzi," Nie Mingjue breaks the silence with, his pronunciation still off but better than before.

Brother lets out a startled laugh in response, his blush darkening further as he grows flustered. Lan Zhan feels his lips twitch with the urge to smile as admiration and amusement bubble up within him.

Nie Mingjue smiles then, his scent twisting until it is less surprised and more confident. "I would still appreciate being taught anything you wish to teach me before I accept. I would not wish to offend either of you after you have already trusted me with so much."

"Mn," Lan Zhan hums, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

He finds himself smiling when Nie Mingjue ducks enough to press the crown of his head into Lan Zhan's palm. Not a smile like Brother or others generally wear on their faces, but a smile nonetheless.

Nie Mingjue is not a part of their weyr, but he will be soon.

While Nie Mingjue is in Cloud Recesses, Lan Zhan learns how to ride a sword.

He absolutely despises it.

Having to fly by way of his sword instead of controlling the winds in his first form frustrates him. His instincts do not agree in the least with having to step on a thin sheet of metal and using his golden core to keep him in the air.

Almost as if Bichen knows how Lan Zhan feels about flying on it, he often falls from his sword. Many of the junior disciples he regularly trains with have either already mastered flight by sword or are close to it.

Lan Zhan is the only nine-year-old who cannot remain stable on his sword. The Clan Elders do not let him forget it.

As soon as word had spread that the sole dragon of Cloud Recesses was struggling to fly on his sword, the Clan Elders descended on Lan Zhan quickly. They linger in the back of his lessons again, beady eyes glued to Lan Zhan.

Nie Mingjue finds him on an afternoon the disciples have been given free time to do as they please. Lan Zhan is once again attempting to ride his sword, his jaw tight as his teeth refuse to unclench. Brother is not with him, something that Lan Zhan finds strange as he registers his Claw’s scent approaching but does not acknowledge until Nie Mingjue is standing on the sidelines of the sword training area.

“My Head, what are you doing?” Nie Mingjue asks after they have bowed in greeting to one another.

Lan Zhan keeps his gaze on Bichen, embarrassed that his Claw will be witness to one of his weaknesses. It has not been long since Nie Mingjue accepted Lan Zhan’s offer of being a Claw. Less than a month has passed since then and now Nie Mingjue will learn of how childish Lan Zhan really is and will be ashamed of being in his weyr. He will want to leave their weyr because Heads are meant to be strong and in control, but Lan Zhan can’t remain on his own sword for more than an incense stick’s worth of time before falling off.

Among the other disciples and his teachers, Lan Zhan is labeled a prodigy. Many praise him for his ability to do anything that is taught to him. He masters techniques children his age are not introduced to until they participate in Uncle’s year-long lectures. His golden core is powerful and he has been able to fly without a sword’s assistance for almost four years now. Riding his sword should not be as difficult as it is making itself to be.

Nie Mingjue waits patiently for an answer, brows pulled together in confusion as Lan Zhan holds his unsheathed sword up. He sighs quietly, resigning himself to the shame he will undoubtedly feel in full effect after Nie Mingjue has left him alone again.

“Flying,” Lan Zhan supplies. “I keep falling.”

Understanding dawns across his Claw’s face, his expression clearing quickly. “I see. What seems to be the problem then?”

“I dislike it,” Lan Zhan says, studying Bichen intently as if he has never seen his own sword before then. “I despise it,” he clarifies when Nie Mingjue’s confusion returns.

“Because you can fly on your own without your sword, correct?” Nie Mingjue asks, head tilted to the side in thought.

Lan Zhan nods, still refusing to meet Nie Mingjue’s gaze lest his shame be too great.

Nie Mingjue’s laugh startles him into looking up, blinking furiously as their eyes meet. Lan Zhan can see and smell the amusement Nie Mingjue is sporting at the moment, but he can also make out the fondness in his Claw’s scent as well.

“Well, it seems the only way to fix this is to continue practicing,” Nie Mingjue states as he claps his hands together once then steps down into the sword training area. “I will catch you if you fall, but do not allow your frustration to be your downfall. I struggled with learning how to fly my saber as well.”

At fourteen, Nie Mingjue seems much too wise and intelligent for his age but considering what Lan Zhan is, he has no room to talk. Instead, he hums his agreement and clambers onto Bichen again and again. And again and again, Lan Zhan’s Claw catches him every time he falls off without fail.

They do not stop until Lan Zhan is able to ride his sword longer than two incense stick’s worth of time without falling while Nie Mingjue smiles at him from below.

That is how Brother finds them, pausing as he watches Nie Mingjue lead Lan Zhan through his wobbly landing.

As Lan Zhan’s feet plant themselves firmly on the ground once more, he happens to look up in time to catch a glimpse of one of Brother’s rarer smiles. The type of smile Brother only shares privately, the genuine one that Lan Zhan would not hesitate to go to war for.

His Brother’s happiness means more to him than life itself and as the Head in their weyr, there is nothing Lan Zhan would not do for his first Treasure.

“Wangji, Nie-gongzi,” Brother calls out to them.

Lan Zhan does not miss the flush that rises to Nie Mingjue’s nape as he turns to face Brother, stumbling into a hasty bow as he greets him. Brother’s smile turns softer at the sight, amusement and fondness glimmering within the depth of his silver eyes. Lan Zhan watches them interact for an incense stick’s worth of time before he speaks up to excuse himself.

He reaches out to them both to scent them as he passes by, something bright and airy filling his chest up to the brim as they scent him in return.

Lan Zhan cannot be the terrible Head he believes himself to be if his weyr is happy. They are all young, after all, and they all have the opportunity to grow.

They will be fine.

When Lan Zhan is eleven, Uncle gives permission for Brother to embark on his first night hunt.

Brother is almost fifteen and very strong, but Lan Zhan worries for his Treasure every moment that he is gone. Lan Zhan had petitioned Uncle so he could accompany his older brother. Uncle had only shot him down easily.

The Clan Elders would never have allowed it, after all, and Lan Zhan does not want them to keep him from his first Treasure.

It soothes him when he learns Nie Mingjue will also be on the night hunt. His Claw will protect his Treasure. Nie Mingjue would never allow harm to befall Brother. Lan Zhan can breathe easier knowing his weyr will remain safe, but he finds himself growing restless as the days drag along.

Lan Zhan studies and trains diligently, keeping to himself as much as he always has before. Uncle sits with him for dinner every night but during the day, Lan Zhan is alone. The disciples still keep their distance from him, still tend to watch him from the corner of their eyes when he is anywhere nearby. They duck under awnings or doorways when he takes to the sky and they give him a wide berth of space if their paths ever intercross in the halls.

On the fourth morning Lan Zhan wakes after his brother's departure, he makes a point of not running to Uncle's room once he realizes that Brother's scent on him is beginning to fade. He stops in front of Brother's door on the way there, inhaling his Treasure's scent deeply before moving on again. It is still early but not early enough for the halls to be devoid of others and Lan Zhan does not wish for whispers of his odd behavior to reach the Clan Elders' ears.

Uncle is still in the process of getting ready for the day when Lan Zhan knocks on his door, so Lan Zhan kneels by the entrance and waits patiently. His posture is as perfect as it always is and his expression appears calm but his heart is thudding painfully away in his chest with each moment that passes.

"Wangji," Uncle calls from behind his changing screen. "Would you like some tea?"

Lan Zhan finds himself nodding before he remembers that his uncle cannot see him. "Yes, Uncle."

Uncle makes a noncommittal sound and emerges from behind the screen soon after, looking as polished and pristine as he always does. Lan Zhan drinks in the tranquil image of his uncle, fists clenched over his knees as he continues to kneel.

Lan Zhan watches as Uncle sends for a tea set and goes about preparing their usual blend of tea leaves when a disciple sets down a tray on the only table in Uncle's sitting area. Uncle beckons him forward, motioning to the empty space across the table from him and Lan Zhan keeps his movements measured and serene as he sits.

When the tea is done and Lan Zhan has finished pouring it into their cups for them, Uncle reaches across the table and cups Lan Zhan's cheek gently. "Deep breaths, Wangji."

He follows his Treasure's reassuring words and exhales heavily, inhaling deeply after a moment's pause. Uncle's eyes remain on him as he gradually calms, Lan Zhan's face still cradled within his palm.

There is an ache Lan Zhan has not been able to fully ignore since Brother left, one that demands his Treasures to be near at all times. But under Uncle's steady gaze and his familiar scent surrounding him, Lan Zhan pushes that ache to the side and focuses on the here and now.

"Brother's scent," Lan Zhan murmurs before an incense stick's worth of time has passed, eyes kept closed as he leans into Uncle's touch.

Uncle hums with understanding and allows his fingertips to brush the area behind Lan Zhan's ear, ensuring that his own scent will linger on Lan Zhan's skin throughout the day. "You may enter Xichen's room to take something with his scent on it, but do not linger. It is impolite to enter someone's dwelling without their knowledge."

Lan Zhan moves his head in a motion that could be considered a nod.

"Xichen will return in two day's time, Wangji. Be patient," Uncle admonishes, gripping Lan Zhan's shoulder with his free hand before pulling away and motioning towards their untouched tea. "Let us enjoy our tea and share our breakfast before we depart for the day."

"Mn," Lan Zhan hums.

They drink their tea and eat their breakfast quietly. Lan Zhan remains calm for the rest of the morning but when he ducks into Brother's room and tucks a pair of his more favored robes into his qiankun pouch, the itchy feeling from before has returned. He has no time to reacquaint himself with Brother's scent before morning meditation begins and struggles to reach that zen state in between full awareness and unconsciousness Lan Zhan adopts for these sessions.

He skips the noon meal to return to his room and unceremoniously shove his face into Brother's stolen robe.

Brother's scent is a balm, easing him back into the serenity Uncle was able to draw out of him that morning. Lan Zhan refolds Brother's robe when the noon meal is almost done and settles it carefully on top of his bed then leaves. He manages to reach the central mess hall and quickly gulps down a bowl of rice before he’s off to his afternoon lectures.

Uncle scents him again at dinner and Lan Zhan sleeps easier that night.

Two days later, Brother returns just as Uncle said he would. They call him Zewu-Jun now and every member of the Lan Sect bows deeply before him as he passes. Brother has been raised since birth to fulfill his role as the Sect Heir, yet it is only now that Lan Zhan looks upon him and sees the bright future Gusu Lan has to look forward to.

Brother comes back with a title he feels he does not fully deserve and the cultivation world's eyes set on him. He looks tired with light purple shadows under his eyes that Lan Zhan mentally frowns at until they finally have a chance to be alone. Lan Zhan welcomes his Treasure back, returning the robe he took in exchange for Brother's natural scent now that he is by his side once more.

"When it is your turn to debut," Brother tells him later that night, a hand running through the ends of Lan Zhan's hair. "I will be by your side, A-Zhan."

Instantly, Lan Zhan feels his heart constrict in his chest and his eyes prick with the telltale sign of his tears. Brother has not called him “A-Zhan” for five years now. Five years too many if Lan Zhan were to ever be asked about it, but he has not so he kept his silence. Until now.

He turns and surges forward to wrap his arms around Brother's shoulders. He holds onto him tight, burying his face into his older brother's hair. Lan Zhan inhales deeply, uncaring of the tears now spilling down his cheeks as Brother's familiar smell of ink and wet stones surrounds him.

"A-Zhan," Brother sighs against the top of his head before he too is holding onto Lan Zhan with what feels like the majority of his strength. "A-Zhan."

"Mn," Lan Zhan hums in response and closes his eyes, feeling warm with the force of his brother's love and his own love for his brother.

When saltwater mixes into his brother's scent, Lan Zhan only holds onto him tighter and says nothing. Words are not his specialty and never will be. They do not come as easily to him as they do his brother, but that is fine.

Lan Zhan does not require the uncertainty of words for Brother to understand what this moment means to him.

Each year Lan Zhan spends without Mother is another year his love for Brother grows tenfold.

When he wakes up on a certain day every month thinking today, he kneels in front of the Jingshi door until Brother comes to collect him at nightfall.

Each time Lan Zhan sees Brother smile, he thanks his mother for bearing and loving them to the full extent that she was able to.

When Lan Zhan thinks of Mother, he remembers her with the pain of his grief lessening ever so slightly until it no longer festers like an untreated wound.

Some days, Lan Zhan does not think of her even once. Other days, all Lan Zhan wants is to be able to see his mother again. He no longer dreams of her, but he smiles to himself even as his heart twists when he plays her favorites on Wangji.

He has forgotten what her laughter sounds like, has forgotten how rich and full her scent was when it lied on his skin, but he will never forget that he was half of her Heart and she loved her Heart until her dying breath.

Lan Zhan is almost thirteen when he meets Nie Huaisang.

Earlier in the month, Lan Zhan was surprised when Uncle informed him he would be joining the party departing for this year’s Discussion Conference held in Qinghe Nie. He had not argued, had simply hummed to show that he was aware of Uncle’s order and packed accordingly.

The journey had not taken long, but Brother remained steadfast by his side. The usual easy smile he always wore when Nie Mingjue was involved was gone, his form rigid and stiff beside Lan Zhan.

A few months before, Nie Mingjue had become the Nie Sect Leader after his father died. Lan Zhan had been able to glean enough details to know the former Nie Sect Leader’s death was no accident. Lan Zhan was also quick to put the rest of the pieces together, now fully understanding why Uncle ordered him to come along.

Lan Zhan knows without a doubt that if it were up to Uncle, Lan Zhan would have been freed from the Gusu Lan Sect shortly after being born. Even though he did not care for Mother, Uncle would have found a way to get them both out if he could. The Clan Elders still regard Brother with subtle distaste, but Lan Zhan's existence remains to be a well of bitterness and greed for them. As much as they despise him, they are none too keen on removing him from the sect.

Now that the Wen Sect has proven they are unafraid to strike down a Sect Leader, the Clan Elders intend to use Lan Zhan’s presence at this Discussion Conference as a show of power. They want the Great Sects to look at the delegation from Gusu Lan and see the beast that is always lurking in the depths of Lan Zhan's being.

The death of Nie Mingjue’s father not only preys upon the Clan Elders’ desperation but upon Brother’s betrothal proposal to Nie Mingjue as well. When they were both nothing more than Sect Heirs, Nie Mingjue could have possibly married into the Lan Sect and have his younger brother take over in his stead. Now that Nie Mingjue is Sect Leader and Brother is close to taking the title himself, the chances of a marriage between them being approved by either of their sects are low.

That will not stop Lan Zhan from trying.

When they arrive in Qinghe, Nie Mingjue is there to welcome them. His eyes never leave Brother’s face and Lan Zhan grits his teeth when his Claw’s scent becomes riddled with the same longing and sadness that shadows Brother's every step.

Brother does not spare Nie Mingjue more than what is polite greetings and small talk as Uncle directs the flow of the short conversation, quickly leading their delegation to their rooms. Lan Zhan can smell the sadness surrounding Brother all too clearly and wants nothing more than to scent him as a distraction, but they are in public and it would not do well to draw attention to the Gusu Lan Sect before the official proceedings have begun.

Lan Zhan plays all of Brother’s favorites on Wangji, glancing up from time to time to take stock of Brother’s expression. He smiles at first, his attention focused on Lan Zhan’s playing, but he is overcome with sadness again by the second song.

Three songs later and Lan Zhan can no longer be so far from his first Treasure when Brother is like this.

“Brother,” Lan Zhan says, “If possible, I would take on your responsibilities.”

“The Clan Elders would kill you first before they allowed you to be Sect Leader, A-Zhan,” Brother replies, spikes of anger now curdling in both his expression and scent. Lan Zhan knows his older brother well enough to recognize the anger is being directed at the thought of any harm befalling him and not at Lan Zhan himself. “They would make it look like an accident so none of them would have to admit to breaking the rules and submit themselves for punishment, but we both know this to be true. I cannot give you a death sentence for my own selfish reasons.”

Lan Zhan cups his older brother’s cheek, the corners of his mouth twitching downward. “Love is not selfish.”

Brother mirrors him, his palm large and calloused from swordplay but still remaining one of the softest things Lan Zhan has ever felt. “A-Zhan, love itself is not selfish, you are correct. But tell me how could I ever live without you? How could I leave the sect and you for dead all for the sake of love that I feel for someone who is not of my blood?”

The frown on Lan Zhan’s face is small but clear enough to show his displeasure with Brother’s words. “He is a part of our weyr. He is your mate. I am willing to shoulder your responsibilities to the sect, Brother.”

“I am not,” is all Brother says before he refuses to speak any longer on the matter.

The next day Lan Zhan is determined to say something more, to add to the subject, and change his brother’s mind. He wakes at five and washes up quickly, dressing in the traditional five layers of robes every Lan is expected to wear. He had long since turned his nose up at any fabric that was not silk or lace a long time ago, greatly disliking the way other fabrics tend to irritate his skin.

Mother had smiled the first time he admitted his discomfort towards the robes Brother used to help him put on when he was younger. She shared the same sentiment, stating that she had allowed only the softest of blankets and fabrics in Lan Zhan's nest and on her person. Brother too usually wore clothes that were on the softer side, but the texture of the fabrics did not affect him as considerably as they affected Lan Zhan and their mother.

Lan Zhan stops his thoughts in their tracks there. It has been many years but Mother's death still hangs over him like a dark cloud, bringing both sorrow and metaphorical rain to him. He directs his attention towards getting ready for the day, ignoring the grief he can feel in the depths of his heart.

After dressing, Lan Zhan does his hair, fixes his forehead ribbon so it lies straight, and goes to find breakfast. The meal is not the same as the one he is used to in Cloud Recesses, but it is acceptable and filling nonetheless. After that, he trails behind Brother, intent on convincing him to ask for Nie Mingjue’s hand in marriage, yet Brother knows him all too well. He avoids speaking with Lan Zhan at every opportunity, keeping his gaze away from both him and Nie Mingjue. Uncle is Acting Sect Leader, but Brother is the Sect Heir, and where Uncle goes, Brother is not far behind him.

Lan Zhan is not old enough to participate in any of the competitions being held, but Brother always manages to place first or second in all of them. He watches the competitions by Uncle’s side, aware of the many eyes on him from Sect Leaders and regular everyday servants alike. He fights to show no reaction the first time he catches Wen Ruohan's scent, choking down the bitterness of it all. Uncle makes sure to always keep himself between Lan Zhan and the probing gaze of Wen Ruohan.

Every time the jewel on Wen Ruohan's forehead makes a sound, Lan Zhan grips his robes even tighter to restrain himself from standing up and walking away. Not only would it be rude, but it would make the Great Sects doubt how much control the Lan Sect has over him. Wen Ruohan is not worth a moment of lapse in Lan Zhan's ever-present self-control.

When the noon meal hour has almost finished, Brother approaches him with a respite in the form of a smaller boy clad in Nie gray. His features are delicate and Lan Zhan can immediately tell the boy is nervous by how tightly he is clenching the fan in his hand. Even before Brother introduces them and sweeps away soon after to avoid Lan Zhan’s impending attempts at persuasion, Lan Zhan knows the boy is Nie Mingjue’s younger brother, Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang is a few months younger than Lan Zhan and set to attend Uncle’s guest disciple lectures the following year. The anxiety thrumming through Nie Huaisang puts Lan Zhan on edge, always feeling like he is one wrong word away from reaching out and soothing this frazzled boy himself. Scenting the Nie Sect Heir would be inappropriate, however. Nie Mingjue would excuse it, but the other Sect Leaders would only take this as proof of the fact that Lan Zhan is less than human.

Lan Zhan keeps his hands to himself as Nie Huaisang mumbles through many of his sentences, growing more and more discouraged after each of Lan Zhan’s terse responses. Many may say Lan Zhan is cold and unfeeling, but he is not blind to the way Nie Mingjue views his younger brother as something precious and worth protecting from the world at large. Nie Huaisang is Nie Mingjue’s Treasure and Lan Zhan wants to appear more welcoming and inviting, wants Nie Huaisang to feel comfortable around him, but he is unsure of how to do that.

The Jin Sect is the only other sect to have brought their young heir, but Jin Zixuan is not someone Lan Zhan would ever want to wish upon Nie Huaisang. Even if their time together is awkward, at least it will hopefully not leave Nie Huaisang in tears by the end.

“What are your interests, Lan-gongzi?” Nie Huaisang asks timidly, a flush high on his cheeks.

Lan Zhan hums, “Reading. The guqin.”

Nie Huaisang nods as his face turns a startling shade of pink. He continues to ask Lan Zhan questions no other person has ever bothered to ask him before and Lan Zhan continues to answer simply. He is sure that he is not making any progress in befriending Nie Mingjue’s younger brother, but he cannot deny that the curiosity in Nie Huaisang’s scent is distracting him.

Eventually, Lan Zhan is able to convince Nie Huaisang to play weiqi with him, watching and analyzing his every move. Nie Huaisang had mentioned how he and Nie Mingjue sometimes play together and Lan Zhan had turned to him very suddenly to challenge him to a game. He has played weiqi with Nie Mingjue only a handful of times himself, but the experiences alone were enough to tell Lan Zhan all he needed to know about Nie Mingjue’s character.

Nie Huaisang comes alive as they play. He appears timid and makes moves Lan Zhan would have generally classified as simple, but the longer they play, the longer Lan Zhan realizes that is not the case at all. Lan Zhan can practically taste the anticipation building up within Nie Huaisang as they move across the board, conceding defeat when Nie Huaisang’s plan is finally revealed to him.

They set the board for another round, Lan Zhan’s interest in the inner workings of Nie Huaisang's mind practically begging him to continue playing. Nie Huaisang’s plan is not the same as before but it is just as discrete and Lan Zhan cannot see it coming until Nie Huaisang has him exactly where he wants him.

It is all too clear to him that Nie Huaisang is intelligent and has an exceptional knack for strategy but he hides it behind his faked ignorance and paper fans.

Lan Zhan does not agree to another game, already aware that he will lose once more. Nie Huaisang deflates but then Lan Zhan haltingly asks him about his own interest in the arts and Nie Huaisang comes back to life. He can practically hear Nie Huaisang's mind at work as they spend the next shichen discussing music or reading excerpts from Nie Huaisang’s extensive collection of stories and poems together.

As the day fades away, Lan Zhan loosens ever so slightly around Nie Huaisang. He is not usually a fan of new acquaintances, but he finds himself enjoying Nie Huaisang’s company.

By the time dinner is approaching, Lan Zhan is reaching out to grip Nie Huaisang’s nape much the same way he did to Nie Mingjue all those years ago.

“Lan-gongzi?” Nie Huaisang asks, frozen in Lan Zhan’s grasp.

Lan Zhan rubs his thumb across the back of Nie Huaisang’s neck and releases him soon after. “You will be my Tail.”

Confusion flits across his face before Nie Huaisang understands. “Da-ge won’t be happy with that.”

It is good to see that Lan Zhan was not wrong about Nie Huaisang having knowledge of this already. To Lan Zhan, it made perfect sense for Nie Huaisang to learn everything he could about dragons if his older brother had been taken into the folds of a weyr, after all.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums. “Not for him to decide.”

Nie Huaisang blinks and stares at him, eyes gone wide as the realization sinks in. “Me?”

Lan Zhan nods. Nie Huaisang blinks again as his eyes begin to water, tears a very real thing that may happen in the next moment or so. Lan Zhan blinks back, confused over why this would garner such a response but decides to look into it later. Nie Huaisang apologized to him multiple times when he was in the middle of excitedly explaining something from one of his books or a poem he liked in particular and that was all Lan Zhan needed to know that when Nie Huaisang talks, others rarely listen.

That will never be the case in their weyr.

Nie Huaisang is correct that Nie Mingjue does not approve of Lan Zhan’s claim on him, but considering the fact that Nie Huaisang being added to their weyr is also what is necessary for Brother to finally talk to him, Lan Zhan does not have to listen to the Nie Sect Leader’s protests for very long. Brother’s explanation of weyr positions and Nie Huaisang’s role as a Tail is perfect, simple, and enough for Nie Mingjue to turn to his younger brother and see him in a different light.

After all, even when you focus on a dragon’s claws or teeth, you should never forget about its tail. Making such a mistake could be deadly.

Soon after they have returned from the Discussion Conference, Lan Zhan is given permission to venture into Caiyi Town unsupervised.

At first, he does not wish to go. He was granted this privilege through the Clan Elders, as all the other junior disciples had been as well. This is meant to be a group excursion with only those who had recently broken a rule not being allowed to go. Lan Zhan is the perfect disciple and therefore, the Clan Elders had no way of denying him this without raising many questions within the sect itself.

Lan Zhan, of course, could not care either way if he is allowed to go or not. He has no money of his own to spend in town nor friends to spend time with while there. Brother will be busy in Cloud Recesses with his own studies and may not accompany him. Asking Uncle would prove fruitless as well.

He ponders over whether Brother would believe him if he claimed to fall ill the morning of the excursion and decides that Brother would have already prepared for that kind of scenario. Instead, Lan Zhan grudgingly accepts the qiankun pouch full of money that Uncle pushes into his hands and ignores the teasing slant of Brother’s smile as he descends down the mountain with the other junior disciples.

The journey down is quick enough for Lan Zhan and as quiet as he expected it to be with no company. He is the first to step into Caiyi Town, most of the junior disciples still working their way down all those steps.

Caiyi Town smells of the lakewater that surrounds it and the street food that vaguely calls to Lan Zhan. In Cloud Recesses, their food is unseasoned and bland but filling nonetheless. Mother gave him sweets once as a child, something he found was not much to his liking. The smell of sugar lies heavily in the air and Lan Zhan decides to follow it to its source.

The marketplace is lively, not as loud as Lan Zhan expected it to be but disarming nevertheless. The stall selling candy is surrounded by children, some enjoying their sweets and others looking on with unabashed longing.

Before Lan Zhan recognizes what he is doing, he has already swept forward and bought each child in the vicinity a sweet. The vendor thanks him profusely, accepting the large sum of money Lan Zhan has offered him to pay. In truth, the amount is enough to buy out all the sweets but Lan Zhan only takes one for himself and asks the vendor to give the rest away to any child that wouldn’t normally be able to buy it for themselves.

He sweeps away, eyes roaming the marketplace as children cheer behind him. Their cries are not exceptionally loud, something about Caiyi Town as a whole keeping itself reserved. Lan Zhan doesn’t mind it though. He pops the sweet into his mouth and forces himself to get past the overbearing taste of sugar as he moves farther and farther away from the center of the marketplace. Here and there he can see the telling robes of his fellow junior disciples but walks past them without a second glance.

Even though his control is unshakable, for the most part, Lan Zhan keeps his distance from others out of habit. He passes one of the livelier inns and turns sharply away from the scent of what he can only assume is alcohol. The smell is bitter and sets his teeth on edge as he thinks of Mother before he viciously pushes the thought away.

Muscles he had not been aware of beforehand loosen as he moves forward, merely trailing around the marketplace in search of nothing in particular. Many vendors eye the cut of his robes and the clouds on his forehead ribbon, the only markings Lan Zhan carries of his position in the Lan Sect. They call out to him as he passes but Lan Zhan only nods to them in acknowledgment, silently apologizing as he continues to walk.

He stops at a quiet inn around noon and eats a simple meal, tipping generously once he has finished. He takes note of the inn’s name for future reference and decides it would be best to return back to Cloud Recesses for the remainder of the day.

He pauses as he steps out of the inn, ears immediately catching onto the words, “This came from a real dragon!”

Lan Zhan’s eyes trace the sound back to a vendor down the road with a small stall decorated in necklaces of all sorts. From this distance, Lan Zhan can make out the indistinct shape of teeth and glass jars hanging from the chords that cover the vendor’s stall. He is talking animatedly to a young man who peers down at the necklace being proffered to him before scoffing and walking away, muttering under his breath about knowing a scam when he sees one.

Despite himself, Lan Zhan is curious about what exactly this vendor is claiming is from a real dragon. He approaches calmly, inwardly delighted when the vendor brightens as he catches sight of him. The residents of Caiyi Town are aware of the dragon in the Gusu Lan Sect. None have seen him before today, but Lan Zhan is certain that they recognized who he was as soon as they saw the clouds on his ribbon. This vendor proves to be no different, even as his scent grows nervous, his expression and body language remain excited when Lan Zhan comes to a stop in front of his stall.

This close Lan Zhan can tell that none of this vendor’s merchandise came from an actual dragon. The teeth are too small, the water and wind caught in the glass jars too artificial, and the scales are nothing more than painted sheets of metal. The fans look to be made from high-quality material, at least, but Lan Zhan does not mention this to the vendor. He is more than aware of the fact that the vendor already knows and is hoping Lan Zhan won’t run him out of business by disputing his goods.

Lan Zhan reaches out for four of the tooth-bearing necklaces and pays the vendor more than they are worth before he turns on his heel and leaves. His lips twitch when the vendor thanks him profusely for his business, loudly drawing the attention of everyone milling about on the road.

It takes only one glimpse of his clouds for everyone to recognize him as he walks away and before he knows it, the stall is being flooded with customers.

Back in Cloud Recesses, Lan Zhan presents the necklaces to Brother and Uncle. Lans do not wear jewelry, not the type most can see anyway. He bought these on a whim, but he is glad when they silently wrap the chords around their wrists before hiding their hands within their draping sleeves once more.

As for the last two necklaces, Lan Zhan sends those to the Nie brothers. He enlists Brother’s help to get them delivered and is satisfied when Nie Huaisang sends him a thank you letter in return. Or as satisfied as he can be when only a week later, he receives another letter from his Tail informing him that he has somehow misplaced the gift Lan Zhan gave him. Lan Zhan takes that to mean Nie Huaisang did not particularly like the necklace he was given and is asking for something else instead as politely as he can.

(Years later, however, Nie Huaisang will tell him that he gave the necklace to a boy from the Jiang Sect with startling silver eyes who was in awe of the fact that a dragon had given him his own teeth as a gift. Nie Huaisang did not have the heart to tell the boy that the teeth were fake and instead allowed him to keep the necklace as a token of their new friendship. Lan Zhan finds that he cannot fault his Tail for this when he meets the silver-eyed boy for himself.)

Lan Zhan returns to the same vendor as before on his next allowed excursion into Caiyi Town and grabs the fan with a detailed drawing of a dilong on it, ignoring how much it resembles his mother.

Nie Huaisang shoots him a smile behind that same fan the next time they meet and that becomes the end of that.

On one autumn day when Lan Zhan is thirteen, he experiences the effects of his first growth spurt.

In his usual bleariness of the early morning, he mistakes the pain in his lower back as an ache from not sleeping in the traditionally accepted Lan sleeping position. Even though he falls asleep while laying on his back, he always wakes in the morning to find that he has moved in the middle of the night.

That morning he happens to wake up curled up on his side, his hair a tangled mess beneath his shoulder. He sits up carefully, distantly aware of the twinge near his spine as he moves. Gently, he turns at the waist and sighs as the twinge disappears almost immediately.

By then, Lan Zhan has decided this is a matter of little importance and begins preparing for the day. He forgets about the discomfort from the morning until the noon meal has passed and his back begins to ache again.

He is in the middle of sword practice when he parries a blow from his sparring partner and feels his shoulder twinge with mild pain. Lan Zhan ignores it, for the time being, and finishes the spar quicker than usual. His sparring partner bows to him after she has risen from the ground, her white robes dusted with dirt. He barely remembers to bow back before he turns on his heel and finds a spot on the sidelines to watch the rest of the spars.

Lan Zhan slowly rotates his arm, feeling his brows come together for a split second before his face smooths itself of all expression again. A slow and steady heat is spreading from his shoulder blades down to his waist, an unusual urge to scratch the knobs of his spine valiantly attempting to push through to the forefront of his thoughts. He ignores that as well, sitting out for the rest of the sword practice and excusing himself when the itching becomes too distracting.

The master swordsman in charge of their class waves him away, asking only once if Lan Zhan is feeling alright before he is dismissed. Lan Zhan is intent on seeing a healer but halfway to the healer’s hall, his feet start to lead him towards Brother instead. His back now feels like it is burning but Lan Zhan continues to calmly follow his brother's scent past the bustling main halls and into the back slopes of Cloud Recesses.

He finds Brother sitting on a dry rock by the cold springs, staring pensively into the waters.

"Brother," Lan Zhan speaks, surprised by how strained he sounds. He reaches up to grasp his shoulder before he can stop himself, the burning feeling only increasing with each moment that passes. "Brother," he repeats.

Brother startles as he turns to face him, confusion and concern blanketing his face. "A-Zhan? Are you unwell? What's wrong?"

Lan Zhan shakes his head, his grip on his shoulder tightening even further. "Brother."

"A-Zhan," Brother breathes, standing up quickly and rushing to Lan Zhan's side. "What’s wrong? Tell me."

Lan Zhan shakes his head, his tongue suddenly feeling too heavy. He feels too big for this form, his clothes constricting instead of comforting him with their familiar sensation and weight. "Brother," is all he can manage to say before he tugs on his sash to begin removing his robes.

Brother seems to understand because, in the next moment, his hands have replaced Lan Zhan's trembling ones as they methodically remove his three outer robes and hesitate before pulling Lan Zhan's two inner robes off as well. Lan Zhan only notices enough to nod, too used to nudity around his older brother to care about it now.

(Brother did mind for a while, but only because he thought Lan Zhan would feel different now that his second form was changing with age. Lan Zhan didn't and so their typical camaraderie had, thankfully, returned.)

Lan Zhan sinks into the cold springs after he tugs his boots off and leaves them by the bundle of his robes that Brother is slowly folding. The water calms him briefly before the burning on his back returns, and Lan Zhan submerges himself completely underwater. He wrenches his eyes shut and clenches his hands into fists by his side, taking stock of the pain.

It is different than it was in the morning, even different than it was not that long ago at sword practice as well. Before it was just a twinge or an ache he could ignore and push to the side to deal with later. Now it is like an invisible fire has sprung into existence on his back, taking shelter in his spine as his body screams to be released from this form.

In the next moment, Lan Zhan relaxes and feels the familiar shift in his bones take hold. His transition is swift and clean, his first form tuning into the rhythm of his Treasure's heartbeat. He moves with the change in forms, his head breaking the water's surface and inhaling the fresh afternoon air. His limbs stay underwater, but bits and pieces of his back are exposed to the sky above him. The fire is gone now, everything as it should be.

When Lan Zhan opens his eyes, he finds Brother gaping at him in shock.

Lan Zhan leans forward to brush his whiskers against the top of Brother's hair, chuffing as Brother lets out an inelegant snort he would never allow anyone else to hear in public. Anyone except for Uncle and Nie Mingjue, but they are not exactly anyone so Lan Zhan does not point out this exception. After all, their weyr has extended from three Lans to include two Nies as well.

Brother reaches out to press the flat of his palm against Lan Zhan's muzzle, moving upwards to scent him in return. Since his birth, Lan Zhan has almost always had Brother's scent on his skin. When he was with Mother for those first two years, his brother was not always available to scent him as often as Lan Zhan wanted to but since Mother died, Lan Zhan has made a point of scenting Brother daily. Brother did not do the same in return at first, but now he reaches out for Lan Zhan in either form without nary a thought.

"A-Zhan," Brother breathes into the air between them, one hand pressed to his own chest as his heartbeat quickens and his scent morphs from concern to awe. "You've grown."

He can already guess what will greet him, but Lan Zhan turns enough to glance behind him anyway. He freezes as soon as his eyes catch sight of his tail, much longer and thicker than it was the last time he went flying. His second form is changing by the day though, maturing and growing. Maybe it stands to reason that Lan Zhan's first form would also change to accommodate the progress of his second form.

Still, Lan Zhan almost cannot believe it.

While Lan Zhan's body continues to grow, his mind races ahead in leaps and bounds.

Brother is close to adulthood but not quite there yet. He no longer hopes for an official marriage with Nie Mingjue, but their sworn brotherhood is no secret. Uncle had approved and arranged for the ceremony to take place shortly before the Discussion Conference held in Qinghe came to an end. Still, whenever Nie Mingjue is mentioned, Brother’s scent goes sour with the force of his sadness.

Lan Zhan doesn’t understand why until Nie Huaisang sheds light on the situation for him.

Nie Huaisang is in Cloud Recesses for the year-long lectures Uncle holds for the guest disciples every other year. Three days earlier, Lan Zhan had spent the better part of the morning waiting at the entrance to welcome the Nie Sect Heir then show him to the guest disciple dormitories.

When he first caught sight of him, Nie Huaisang had smiled so brightly that Lan Zhan felt the ridiculous urge to glance behind him to check if there was someone else Nie Huaisang was so happy to see. His surprise must have shown because Nie Huaisang had laughed quietly enough for only Lan Zhan to hear after they bowed to each other and gave the customary greetings expected of them. Lan Zhan was certain that Nie Huaisang was going to walk close enough by his side to be considered improper, but his Tail had kept a respectable amount of distance between them and barely fidgeted with his fan as they walked further into Cloud Recesses.

Only once they were safely behind closed doors did Nie Huaisang sit beside him and press their upper arms together as they drank tea. Lan Zhan had calmed at the familiar position, envisioning both of their older brothers sitting across from them like they usually did when they all had tea together. While Nie Huaisang was in the process of reciting his newest collection of poetry to him, Lan Zhan had reached out and gripped the back of his neck. His Tail had gone limp in his hold, giving in without a fight to show Lan Zhan how much he had missed their scenting sessions.

It had not occurred to Lan Zhan that Nie Huaisang might be lacking in receiving physical contact until he came to Cloud Recesses without his brother accompanying him. At that moment, however, it became startling clear and Lan Zhan has made it a point to scent Nie Huaisang every day since then.

Brother has been unhappy all day, the sour scent of it cloying. Lan Zhan scented him before breakfast in an attempt to distract him but instead, he has Brother's sadness lingering on his skin, the weight of it dragging on Lan Zhan all day. It has had him on edge and when Lan Zhan feels like crawling out of his skin but is unable to shift, he plays music.

That is why when he sits down to practice his guqin after classes have ended and Nie Huaisang leans against his back, Lan Zhan remains stiff and upright. He plays all of Brother's favorites first before the notes blend into a song Nie Huaisang shared with him during his last visit with his brother.

When the song ends, Nie Huaisang reaches out and grips Lan Zhan's wrist to stop him from plucking the strings again. "Lan-xiong."

Lan Zhan inclines his head in Nie Huaisang's direction to show that he is listening. He does not miss the way his Tail's face softens, nor can he mistake the dull sprigs of surprise buried within his scent. His chest tightens, an unfamiliar feeling gripping him whole as he thinks of how often Nie Huaisang must be brushed aside and not taken as seriously as his brother to be caught off-guard when he immediately receives the full force of someone's attention on him.

He knows Nie Mingjue listens to every word Nie Huaisang says, knows that his Claw cherishes his younger brother more than anything in this world. Lan Zhan knows that Nie Huaisang's hidden reaction is not a result of his brother's actions, but the reaction itself still bothers him. No one in his weyr should ever expect their words to be ignored, especially not Nie Huaisang.

"Do you wish to speak about what is bothering you?" Nie Huaisang's steady voice draws Lan Zhan out of his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "You are troubled, my Head."

Words are not Lan Zhan's greatest strength. It takes only an incense stick's worth of time in his company to know this fact. Many think him aloof and reserved, always intimately aware of his ire but never of the other multiple emotions filling him to the brim. That Nie Huaisang can tell he is upset does not surprise Lan Zhan. Nie Huaisang asking if he would like to air his grievances does.

Lan Zhan wanting to share his troubles with the newest member of his weyr surprises him even more.

He nods, placing his free hand over Nie Huaisang's on his wrist. Nie Huaisang starts to apologize for interrupting him in such a manner, but Lan Zhan brushes it aside and grips onto Nie Huaisang's hand tighter.

"Brother is upset," Lan Zhan finally manages to say, eyes downcast and glued to their joined hands.

Nie Huaisang sighs, sagging beside him. "Yes, I have noticed Zewu-jun's mood has not been as bright as it should be these past few days."

Lan Zhan nods again, leaning into Nie Huaisang's warmth without much thought. "Do you..." He trails off, suddenly unsure of what exactly he wants to ask.

"Da-ge told me that there has been a sudden influx of marriage proposals for him recently. Our Clan Elders wish for him to marry sooner rather than later," Nie Huaisang speaks into the silence between them. “They want the line of succession to remain clear.”

Lan Zhan stiffens, fury and indignation rolling up from the depths of his very being. He knew Brother's future relationship with Nie Mingjue would not come without complications, but to know that others are willing to force his Treasure’s mate into a loveless marriage leaves him feeling like he is lost at sea. Unmoored from the stability and control he has taught himself from the moment he took his very first breath.

"Sect Leader Nie will⎼" Lan Zhan begins to say, his words resembling a long and drawn-out hiss he is more familiar with in his first form than in this one.

Nie Huaisang does not let go of his hand, does not flinch or pull away when faced with Lan Zhan's anger and in the recesses of Lan Zhan's thoughts, he feels awful for subjecting a member of his weyr to this. It is not any fault of Nie Huaisang's that their brothers will not have the chance to be together. It is not Lan Zhan's fault either but he cannot abate the rage building up within him that easily.

"I am more than willing to produce an heir for the Nie Sect, Lan-xiong. I told Da-ge that he does not have to marry out of duty, no matter what the Clan Elders say," Nie Huaisang states, not half as calmly as he is hoping to appear but enough to confront Lan Zhan's baser instincts head-on.

Despite his sudden anger, Lan Zhan inhales deeply and closes his eyes. He focuses on keeping his breathing normal, on finding his way back to the pier he has always kept his control tied to. Nie Huaisang waits patiently at his side, the last vestiges of fear fading away from his Tail's scent as Lan Zhan calms.

He opens his eyes when he is more than sure of his temperament and bows in apology, eyes downcast. Nie Huaisang flushes through his acceptance and then changes the subject, prattling on about how difficult his studies are. Lan Zhan hums where appropriate, mentally far away from this moment and glad of the fact that his Tail has not taken offense.

Later, Lan Zhan finds Uncle in his room before dinner.

"Wangji, did you wish to join me for dinner?" Uncle asks after Lan Zhan has given the proper greetings.

Lan Zhan shakes his head, holding his hand out in a silent question. Uncle meets his gaze as he nods, stepping forward so Lan Zhan can easily reach out and scent him.

"Sect Leader Nie is being pressured into marriage," Lan Zhan begins with, brushing his thumb behind Uncle's ear and wondering if Uncle will consider what he says next as gossiping. "The Elders will not allow this one to produce an heir. Now or in the future."

Uncle sighs, aging before his very eyes. "Yes, Wangji. They have come to accept Xichen as heir thanks to his sworn brotherhood with Sect Leader Nie and the political ties it will give the Lan Sect. They expect him to marry within due time and produce an heir for the sect so you never will."

"Brother knows?" Lan Zhan asks, raising his other hand so Uncle's face is cupped between his palms.

"No, but Xichen will have guessed already."

Lan Zhan hums, dropping his hands so they lie at his sides once more. Uncle sighs, a sound Lan Zhan is not used to but does not mind. This is not a conversation Uncle expected to have with his almost fourteen-year-old nephew, after all. Neither of them is at fault for the situation at hand but they both cannot help but feel guilty for the apparent outcome regardless.

Uncle reaches out and smooths Lan Zhan’s hair down, his scent curdling with sadness and guilt. "This old one apologizes, Wangji. I can do no more than I already have."

"Mn," Lan Zhan responds, not out of agreement but to show Uncle that he has heard him. "Uncle has done his best. Wangji is grateful."

Uncle cups his cheek for a brief moment before he steps back and dismisses Lan Zhan, urging him to join his older brother for dinner. Lan Zhan agrees, not bothering to point out that was his initial plan.

Though every meal is marked with silence, the one Lan Zhan shares with Brother that night is edged with something else. Something that has Lan Zhan itching to play more music in an attempt to curb the unfamiliar feeling.

"Brother," Lan Zhan says once they have cleared the empty bowls and dishes away. "Second Young Master Nie has informed me of his plans to give his sect an heir."

Brother's silver gaze burns against him but Lan Zhan remains steady. He has his brother's sole attention now, the full force of his focus that others tend to wither under. Lan Zhan reaches out and takes hold of his brother's hands in his, not allowing their eyes to stray from one another.

"I will not be allowed to produce an heir," Lan Zhan admits, feeling his heartbeat increase when Brother's gaze only intensifies.

"The Elders will not allow Mother's blood to linger in the Lan Clan through you," Brother says so softly that Lan Zhan has to strain to hear him. "If your future spouse is not a man, they will destroy your chances at marriage."

Lan Zhan hums in agreement, still gripping onto his brother's hands. "Brother."

Brother leans forward until their foreheads are close to touching, both of them bowed over their joined hands. "A-Zhan, let us find happiness where we can."

"Mn."

Lan Zhan's debut makes a monumental splash across the waters of the cultivation world.

The night hunt he accompanied Brother, Nie Huaisang, and a handful of other junior disciples on was simple. They had resolved the issue within two nights and returned to Cloud Recesses three days before the graduation ceremony for the guest disciples would take place.

Nie Huaisang had failed his exams, excited for his plans to return again in a year's time when Lan Zhan will be able to join the lessons. Nie Mingjue had plenty to say when he had found out but Brother had distracted him before he could cause a scene when he came to accompany Nie Huaisang home.

(Lan Zhan, for his own part, had asked his Tail if he had failed on purpose and sat silently through the adamant denial Nie Huaisang offered in a teasing voice.)

Since his debut, Lan Zhan and his brother have been regaled as the Twin Jade Dragons of Gusu Lan. Lan Zhan himself did not gain an official title like Brother had, but he is both pleased and discomfited with the unofficial one they have come to share between them.

After the guest disciple lessons are officially over, the Twin Jade Dragons see the small party from the Nie Sect off, wishing for their safety on their trek back home. Brother and Nie Mingjue bow to each other as is becoming of a Sect Leader and a Sect Heir, but Nie Huaisang's bow to Lan Zhan is much less formal than is expected.

Lan Zhan returns it despite all the eyes he can feel on him and hums in agreement when Nie Huaisang asks him to continue to keep in contact. He can already guess what Nie Huaisang's incoming letter will center around and mentally catalogs all the possible responses he can present in turn.

Months after Lan Zhan's debut, the Clan Elders invite him to a discussion Brother was unaware of until Lan Zhan mentions it to him.

Uncle and Brother both escort him to the meeting, standing firm by his side even when the Elders make their distaste over their uninvited appearance clear. Lan Zhan stays silent throughout the entire thing. His input isn't welcome here anyway.

By the end of it, Uncle and Brother have agreed for Lan Zhan to enter seclusion until the lessons for next year's guest disciples begin. The Elders had said they were concerned that all the new scents and people Lan Zhan will be joining in a classroom setting would upset his instincts and put everyone at risk. They want him to seclude himself and strengthen his control until there is no chance of him ever losing it.

Lan Zhan knows the extent of his control. He is well aware of this being another manner in which the Clan Elders want to exert their own control over him. Lan Zhan has never been bothered by new people and all their different mannerisms so he knows the Clan Elders’ reasoning to be flighty at best. New scents only take up enough of Lan Zhan's attention for him to recognize them as unfamiliar before moving on.

It has been too long since the Clan Elders have made their presence known in his life. Something like this has been long overdue.

Lan Zhan remains silent on their trek back to his room, musing over how to word his proposal.

"Wangji," Uncle begins with once they have entered Lan Zhan's room. "There is nothing Xichen and I can do that would change the Elders' minds."

"Mn. Wangji understands," Lan Zhan replies, meeting his uncle's gaze easily. "Brother, Uncle. Wangji wishes to make a request."

Brother nods. "If it is within our power to do so, we will listen and grant it."

Lan Zhan bows, keeping his eyes on his feet. "Wangji wishes to seclude in the Jingshi."

Silence befalls them, the shock and surprise in their scents filling the air between them. Lan Zhan remains bowing, keeping his posture perfect and proper as he waits.

"A-Zhan," Brother whispers, reaching out to grip Lan Zhan's elbow and pull him out of his bow. "Your seclusion will not be like Mother's punishment."

"Wangji understands," Lan Zhan responds, eyes still on his own two feet. "Wangji still wishes to seclude in the Jingshi."

Uncle grips his other elbow, pulling him a step closer until Lan Zhan is forced to look up so he can see the expressions on their faces. "You may move into the Jingshi. This would please the Elders, but your seclusion will end before the guest disciple lessons begin, Wangji. You have broken no rules. You are the model disciple that the Lan Sect is fortunate enough to have. Your seclusion is not a punishment."

Lan Zhan is surprised by the vehemence of his uncle's words for only a moment.

Uncle is steadfast in his stance and respectable. He is stubborn and holds the Lan Sect rules in high regard. Lan Zhan knows that Uncle was greatly affected by Mother’s punishment and his sire’s seclusion. As a result, Uncle has done his best to raise him and Brother to always respect those rules. Uncle was never fond of Mother, but he was still one of the only two people who believed her when she presented her case to the Clan Elders all those years ago.

Uncle is the one who recited the rules to Lan Zhan as a toddler and Uncle is the one who first placed a brush into Lan Zhan's tiny hand before guiding him through writing his own name. Uncle is the one who gave Lan Zhan his first guqin, who arranged for both Lan Zhan's and his brother's swords to be made, and who indulged Lan Zhan's scenting until Uncle grew used to daily physical contact. Uncle was the one who nursed Brother when he was sick as a child, who hurried to Lan Zhan's side the only time he found himself injured, and Uncle was the one who helped Lan Zhan practice keeping his expression blank even when overwhelmed with the sheer breadth of his feelings. Uncle was the one who gave him and Brother their courtesy names, the one who took them to see Mother every month, and the one who told them when she was no longer in this world.

Of course, Brother would not be the only one wary of a dragon secluding in the Jingshi again. Lan Zhan must strive to remember that his second Treasure cherishes him just as much as Lan Zhan does him.

"Wangji understands," Lan Zhan repeats, allowing himself to be pulled forward into the group hug Brother initiates.

Lan Zhan is fifteen when he emerges from seclusion.

During those isolated months, Lan Zhan was grateful that Brother came to visit him every day. They would share a quiet dinner and scent each other afterward before Brother would take his leave. Sometimes Brother would stay longer to hear Lan Zhan play on Wangji, but it happened rarely enough that Lan Zhan tended to savor his brother's praise on his playing. Uncle, too, would visit, only dropping in once a week to make sure that Lan Zhan was remaining relatively healthy and continued to have everything he needed.

Visits during seclusion are not expressly forbidden, but Lan Zhan knew if the Clan Elders had ever caught on, it would have soon been added to the wall.

Now Lan Zhan is once again allowed to be out and about. Uncle's year-long lessons begin tomorrow, the last of the guest disciples having arrived earlier today. Nie Huaisang arrived four days earlier and has come to visit Lan Zhan twice since then, tagging along with Brother to join them for dinner.

Lan Zhan no longer has his Tail's scent on his skin but he is looking forward to another year of Nie Huaisang's company.

Seclusion has left Lan Zhan feeling cemented in the Lan Sect's rules. He studied them countless times, pouring over every character with the utmost attention. He'd been too lax before, he is well aware of that now. The Clan Elders could have accused him of breaking a handful of rules and it would have easily turned his seclusion into the punishment he knows they still wish to hand out to him.

In appearance, he was the perfect disciple that the Clan Elders could no longer do anything except wait for him to misstep and lose control. In his heart, Lan Zhan knows he will never allow that to happen.

Uncle has given him the title of Discipline Master as a way to welcome him back into the folds of the sect. Lan Zhan now has the power to dole out punishment to his age-mates and those younger than him who happen to break a rule. As Discipline Master, he must aid in the curfew rounds, making sure that everyone is in bed by nine. Considering that there are now guest disciples staying with them, Lan Zhan is not expecting his first night to be quiet.

The light of the full moon gives Lan Zhan all the light he needs to prowl the corridors, his senses on the alert for any curfew breakers. Cloud Recesses is filled with new scents and sounds, but its appearance has not changed.

It is still the mountain high in the clouds that he was raised in. It is still where the rivers and streams that follow his command reside. It is still home, even despite the animosity he faces on its slopes.

Near the outer wall, Lan Zhan hears scuffling and quiet cursing on the other side. He pauses, gripping Bichen tightly as the scuffling starts to climb up the wall until it is located above his head.

A moment later, a hand holding two jars throws itself over the wall, the rest of the guest disciple's body following soon after to sprawl across the roof.

Lan Zhan looks up at the guest disciple, taking in his unruly, black hair and the white of his disciple robes embroidered with purple lotus flowers that mark him as a disciple of Yunmeng Jiang. "Step back."

The Jiang disciple stumbles, gripping onto the roof to keep his balance. "Ah! You startled me. How am I meant to step back now?"

Annoyance begins to build up within Lan Zhan at the Jiang disciple’s volume. He sniffs the air subtly, easily recognizing the bitter tang of alcohol surrounding the jars in the Jiang disciple's hand. Lan Zhan jumps onto the roof, eyes finding the Jiang disciple's own. They are silver, a shade darker than Brother's but similar enough in color. Lan Zhan feels unsettled for just a moment as he marvels at the resemblance between real silver and this Jiang disciple's eyes.

"What are you holding in your hand?" Lan Zhan demands, already knowing the answer but wanting to see if the Jiang disciple will admit to his rule-breaking or not.

The Jiang disciple looks from his hand and back to Lan Zhan, amusement swimming richly in the air. "It’s Emperor’s Smile! If I share a jar with you, can you pretend that you never saw me?"

Lan Zhan almost cannot believe the audacity of this Jiang disciple trying to bribe him. "Alcohol is forbidden in Cloud Recesses."

"Why don’t you tell me what exactly is not forbidden in your sect?" The Jiang disciple asks, his nose scrunched up in a manner that Lan Zhan finds he cannot look away from.

His annoyance has now evolved into irritation, none of it showing on his face but clear enough in his tone of voice. "Our rules are on the wall by the entrance. You should have read them when you arrived."

"Who has the time to read all those rules?" The Jiang disciple asks as he gets to his feet and smiles, the sight of it alone punching the air out of Lan Zhan's lungs. "Alright, if alcohol is prohibited in Cloud Recesses, then I won’t go in. I’ll drink it standing back here. That wouldn’t count as violating the rules, would it?"

Lan Zhan has only just regained his senses when the Jiang disciple gulps down an entire jar of Emperor's Smile, standing on the other side of the roof. A clear, small stream of alcohol trickles down his throat and glistens under the moonlight. A gust of wind passes them by as Lan Zhan’s agitation grows and Lan Zhan freezes. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, something deep within him unfurling and awakening as Lan Zhan catches the full force of this Jiang disciple's scent in the air.

He smells of lotus flowers and chili peppers, of something sweet like sugar and tart like berries. The Jiang disciple’s scent is both an unusual combination and exhilarating all at once. Lan Zhan's heartbeat increases, his breaths deviating from their normal pattern as the Jiang disciple finishes drinking from the dark jar in his hand. He watches him sigh, content, even as he blatantly disregards the rule Lan Zhan has so plainly explained to him.

There is a series of words on the tip of Lan Zhan's tongue, sweeping through his mind, and upturning his senses. He does not know what those words are until he has broken the second jar of Emperor's Smile after drawing his sword on this beautiful, brash Jiang disciple and fights him across the rooftop of the outer wall under the light of the full moon.

Silver. Shiny. Treasure, his instincts whisper to him.

"Treasure," Lan Zhan says under his breath as the Jiang disciple loudly mourns the loss of his alcohol. "...Mate."

a/n #2: please note those lines at the end that were lifted from the novel bc they are definitely not mine and i thought them fitting to include. i took bits and pieces of info about oriental dragons and mashed it with stuff about european dragons to create all this too.

thank you for reading my heart and joy! i spent months on this and hope to get part 2 out soon so we can all swoon over wangxian and their courting. but please be patient with me in case it doesn't come out very soon after all.

a huge thank you to eri for cleaning up the bulk of my rambling mess while still being super supportive. you're wonderful and i owe you one of my kidneys at this point. you can cash that in whenever you want, homie. and minzi did such an amazing job on the art and you should all shower minzi in love and adoration for it bc i know that i definitely will :((( <3

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baddyzarc · 4 years

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4a/7 Ruins: Legend of the Dragons

1 2 3 x 4b 5 6 7

Mizael’s legend is juicy but also confusing. Like, there is a big massive plot hole in his story. like this thing is a pulsating zit,, I’ll get to it later on and how it contradicts the show, but I considered it when making this.

Also the entire thing is is like 6000 words long with a lot of pictures so im splitting this thing up, the “read under” thing wasnt workin properly

Mizael is one of the more developed Emperors out of the group. He has a strong rivalry with Kaito, and he faces off against him in his quest to be the strongest Dragon Tamer (whatever that means, idk pokemon master). This leads to the development of not only himself and Kaito, but also an expansion on the lore of Zexal itself.

His ruins are located somewhere in the mountainous region of China. However, this location is also an illusion created by Jinlon, since it disappeared at the end of the arc—similar to Nasch and Merag’s underwater ruins —as opposed to the other tangible locations. Similar to Spartan City being based off of real-life Rome, Mizael’s ruins are based on a real place in China.

When I saw these rocky formations, I got kinda excited because these are some of my favorite geologic sites in the world.

For those unaware, this area is called the Tianzi Mountains; they are located in Zhangjiajie in the Hunan Province of China. The one in Zexal is much less detailed, but the geography is uncannily similar; I am certain that Mizael’s ruins are located in these mountains.

Tianzi Mountain is a famous tourist attraction known for being tranquil and beautiful, lush greenery and fog rolling about. If you must know, the enviroments in Avatar Blue People was inspired by this space. Its tranquility is a fitting place for Mizael’s Mythyrian Number: “Number 46: Ethereal Dragon Dragluon”.

Furthmore, to compare more of the geology, the bottom of these peaks are made of limestone. Limestone is a type of rock that tends to form caves in it (due to weathering and erosion, you know), so this information fits in rather nicely when Kaito said he explored the caves around the region.

And a really cool easter egg about this site from that fact is that one of the caves near Tianzi Mountain is the Huanglong Cave, also known as the Yellow Dragon Cave. It’s not certain that Kaito was in this cave when he found the tablet (he probably went into a random cave for all we know), but you know who is a yellow dragon living around Tianzi Mountain? Jinlon the Golden Dragon, the Guardian of the Mizael’s ruins.

This bit of geography may also explain the origins of Mizael, but I’ll get to this information later on after I explain the story of his ruins, the Legends of the Dragons.

The Legends of the Dragons is told to us by Jinlon and Mizael. The original tale is easy enough to understand with a few things that do not line up.

Long ago, Mizael was a young child living in a desert village. The village was attacked by marauders, resulting in the slaughter of everyone, including his parents. Mizael witnessed the events, and in terror, he fled into the desert.

After wandering the vast desert for presumably a day or so, he collapsed in exhaustion. On the verge of death, he was rescued by a large, yellow dragon named Jinlon.

Their souls resonated with each other, and with their strengths, they kept the peace of the land somewhere in the mountains of China.

One day, a natural disaster struck that killed masses of innocent people.

A wandering shaman blamed the disaster on Jinlon, prompting the people to call for the death of the dragon. Mizael tried to protect Jinlon, but the people refused to listen. They demanded that Mizael slay his companion if he wanted to prove his herodom. Instead, Mizael offered his own life in exchange for the life of Jinlon. Unfortunately, since the scuffle weakened the strength of the village, a neighboring army attacked them. Mizael and Jinlon were pierced by a “hundred of thousands of arrows” and died in each other’s grasp. The entire village was wiped out and erased from history.

In the subsequent set of information, it is revealed that the shaman was Don Thousand in disguise, and he orchestrated the event in order to kill Mizael as the people he swore to protect turned on him. Before Mizael died, Don Thousand embedded an Over-Hundred Number into his heart. This filled him with hate and despair, sealing his fate as a Barian Emperor.

Jinlon also revealed that when he died, the Mythyrian Number revived his soul so that he could protect the land.

This implication is fascinating since Jinlon is the only one that directly states how he became the Guardian, and if that’s true, it may explain why individuals who were closest to the Emperors (like Mach, Ponta, and maybe the prince) became the Guardians, and in some cases fusing with the Mythyrian Number itself.

I wanna state that the Guardian and the Mythyrian Number are two different beings posing as the same entity (in most cases). It’s confusing, but it’s like Ponta’s situation. Ponta represents the Mythyrian Number “Veteran Tanuki Sandayu” as well as being its Guardian in the context of the episode, but he has the option to opt out of representing the Mythyrian Number whenever he wants. The Mythyrian Number still exists with or without Ponta. He is a vehicle for the Mythyrian Number to have a duelist. This is kinda similar to the Zexal Morphs too. As Zexal Morphs, the glowing figure we see is not a single person; it is both Yuma and Astral combined as a single person. Saying Zexal I is Yuma isn’t necessarily wrong, but it isn’t completely right either. Likewise, the Mythyrian Number “picks” a Guardian after the Emperor died to become infused in it, and this pick is likely to have a strong connection to the Emperors’ past and can aid them in their journey to break Don Thousand’s curse (except Vector, but he has a unique situation).

That said, I wanna pick apart that plot point I was talking about.

This scene right here kinda screws me up HARD. Mizael is in the desert, dying. A card manifests in Mizael hands, and then Jinlon shows up.

BUT what we know from the Ruins episodes is that Jinlon was not a Number until the point of his death, so when he appeared to Mizael, he was just a regular dragon, NOT a Number Monster. This card in Mizael’s hand has nothing to do with Jinlon at all, but since it showed up before Jinlon, it implies that Jinlon IS this card. This means the show is wrong in that it said Jinlon became the Mythyrian Number at the time of his death, OR he was a Mythyrian Number all along. Either way, it’s a plot hole.

My only explanation is that the entity that gave Mizael this card is not the same person as Jinlon. They just happened to come across the same dying child and take him in around the same time. My only evidence of this is that Vector’s card floated onto him almost like divine intervention, or the fact that we don’t know where Gilag and Alito obtained their Mythyrian Numbers from; they just had them their entire lives. Incredibly iffy, and a big plot hole.

For simplicity sake, I’m going to go with the story that Jinlon was a normal dragon who became a Mythyrian Number/Guardian when he died.

But moving past this, let’s talk about one of the most obscure discussions I could talk about. And it has everything to do with this image right here:

This is a pot of food Jinlon makes at the start of Mizael’s ruins arc. So when I first saw this image, I didn’t think much of it until I saw the delectable mushrooms on the separate sides of the pot. Now, I’m quite a dumbass person, but I am rather fond of mushrooms, and I recognize the mushrooms he uses.

The one on the right side is called an Enoki mushroom (Flammulina velutipes). It is native to Eastern Asia and used in a lot of Chinese and Japanese cuisine.

The one on the left side is called the king oyster mushroom (Pleurotus eryngii). It is native to the Mediterranean regions of Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa.

What I also noticed here is that this yellow, flabby thing on the left side is dried bean curd, which is a byproduct of tofu production. And what do you know, tofu first originated from China.

The other objects in the broth are unrecognizable to me, but I thought, “Was Jinlon making food that represents him and Mizael?” Jinlon is from China—I assume, as he uses a lot of imagery of the Chinese Dragon—while Mizael is maybe from China, maybe not, as the show does not explicitly state where he originates from.

My evidence for the “maybe not” part comes from a long string of flimsy evidence that I found in my efforts to find where Mizael originated from. Take all of this with a grain of salt and if anyone can interpret these better than I can (bc anthropology is my weaker point and I’ve fallen into a three day rabbit hole trying to sort this out before saying it's almost impossible without a proper time-frame) please do share because I am genuinely interested in this.

My only source is to analyze the geography. My first piece of concrete evidence is that Mizael and Jinlon lived in Tianzi Mountain prior to their deaths. Mizael also lived and fled into a desert area prior to meeting Jinlon. Modern China has two prominent deserts in it—the Gobi Desert and the Taklamakan Desert—so it is likely that he lived around one of these regions. These two pieces of evidence gives us an idea of how Mizael and Jinlon traveled. Since Mizael met a divine, mythical creature, I also assume that he had no issue getting out of the desert.

My proposal is that he lived within either the Gobi desert or the Taklamakan desert, and then he traveled out of there before winding up in Tianzi Mountain where he lived with Jinlon and the villagers before his death.

So based on this, Mizael may have originated either from modern day Mongolia, Central Asia, or China depending on if his village was located within the desert (near an oasis or something similar) or at the very outskirts of the desert. Not only that, I did some research on the prevalence of blond hair and blue eyes in past Asians in order to pinpoint his genetics (and yes, this is yugioh, rainbow hair galore, but Mizael has reasonable colors OKAY). Blue eyes originated along the Black Sea around 6,000-10,000 years from a mutation in a single individual.

From here, it spread into the rest of the world. On the other hand, blond hair appeared multiple times in multiple places in human evolution, so in the sense of pinpointing where Mizael came from, it isn’t as nearly as informative.

The Black Sea is right there.

So youre like, wow how did blue eyes end up in China, that’s so far. Humans move and they move a lot. I can see how centuries (possibly thousands of years) of migration and interbreeding will result in a Mizael. However, this also shows that it is highly likely that the ancestors with the blue eyes moved into Mongolia or the Central Asia area from the Black Sea, which is more evidence that Mizael could’ve lived in one of those regions before traveling deep into China. And because humans bring their culture as they travel, maybe the king oyster mushrooms from the Black Sea/Middle East area also traveled with them.

And before I tumble into this rabbit hole, I want to note that the people of Mizael’s village here have green, blue, and pink hair. Okay moving on.

As I finish this section of the piece, I want to note the last possible theory of Mizael’s origin. My last bit of evidence is partially about the mushrooms. Which is silly evidence, but bear with me. So in Ancient China (200BC to 20AD), there was a small town known as the Liqian City (now known as Zhelaizhai) located on the edge of the Gobi Desert. This town was famous for having high frequencies of individuals with blue/green eyes and blond/light hair. Now one such explanation for this is the “Lost Romans Myth”. Yes, myth. Since this topic has been debunked among anthropologists, historians, archeologists, biologists on how these genes got here, I need to be a little careful here since I don’t want to propagate a legend as fact.

The myth goes that lost Roman soldiers from a nearby battle settled in the area and integrated into the local population, giving rise to higher frequencies of that blond-blue trait than in the surrounding area. Geneticists have debunked this (as in, the blond and blue eyes did not come via Roman ancestry), but it could be possible that the Zexal writers found out about Liqian City and thought it was a neat story to integrate into the plot. The mushrooms come in because the king oyster mushroom is native to the regions around the Mediterraneum Sea, so if the writers accepted the “Lost Romans Myth” as a fact, they may be saying that Mizael is Chinese with ancestral roots as a Roman person. The phenotypes match, the town was in a desert, and this location is a lot closer to the Tianzi Mountains than the previous two locations.

Or maybe he just has blond hair and blue eyes just because god is a giant gecko. This is the show who has historical figures with eggplant hair and a green mohawk so,,,,

im gonna talk about the Dragons and the Ruins Duel now.

The Ruins Duel features prominent callbacks to the Legend of the Dragons as well as expanding on the character of not only Mizael but also his counterpart, Kaito Tenjo.

Starting with the cards:

So one of my favorite cards of the duel is this one with a Mizael-looking fellow getting murked by a bunch of arrows. I don’t know why, that’s just really funny to me, that Kaito has this in his deck. Like, bro

Another notable card is “Book of Moon”.

“Book of Moon” is one of the older cards (debuting during the DM era) used in Zexal. Old cards are seldom used, so when they’re present, they usually have some subtext to go along with it. Although it has nothing to say within this episode, it may be a sneaky foreshadow to the famous Moon Duel where Kaito Tenjo fucking eats shit loses his life on the Moon.

Of the duel itself, it follows a similar theme to the Legend of the Dragons. “Number 46: Ethereal Dragon Dragluon” has the anime effect that makes it unable to be targeted for attacks or by card effects if there is another dragon on your field. In order to destroy Dragluon, you must get rid of the dragons that protect it.

This is quite similar to how Mizael refused to let the people harm Jinlon, even going as far as to kill himself to protect his dragon. Seeing as the theme shows up again, it shows that this idea is a core element in Mizael’s story.

And I think it’s fair to say that Mizael has an interesting bond to dragons—for a good reason.

He is a character who absolutely hates humans.

And this isn’t appear to be the common consensus throughout the Emperors. Despite acting as though they were superior, Alito and Gilag were fawning over humans and their culture. Durbe did not care about humans; he only wanted to protect Barian World. And Vector

Mizael is an outlier. He is utterly appalled and disgusted by the fleshbags. But after considering his backstory, his hatred comes from a reasonable place.

Mizael witnessed the slaughter of his village by humans. He saw firsthand the horrors of humanity, and as a child that young, it left a traumatic imprint on him. Going back to how I think the Emperors retain most of their personalities from their original past life, an event this intense is likely to carry over into his life as a Barian Emperor. Mizael may have forgotten why he couldn’t trust humans, but his spirit remembers. Without the memories of being a human, Mizael’s distrust manifested into hatred.

And had it not been for Jinlon, a dragon, Mizael would’ve died in the desert. He trusts dragons because they were there for him in his time of need, when humans left him scarred and afraid. These events molded him into a person who connects deeply to the dragons rather than his human brethren. His ability to sense their spirit, and his strong passion for the goodness in all dragons stem from this event. I don’t think it's far-fetched that Mizael considers himself a dragon at heart underneath his human or Barian body, and remember, in terms of “Number 46: Ethereal Dragon Dragluon”, it is other Dragons that protect Dragluon.

Mizael loves his dragons. He is a character who exclusively uses Dragon monsters in his deck. He doesn’t see them as tools to use but allies to cherish and grow alongside with. Part of me thinks that’s why Tachyon Dragon was chilling in some cave in Barian World when we first met it.

This goes into the whole “duel spirits, monsters are alive” thing that is used in nearly all of the shows, so I won't talk about it. The takeaway here is that Mizael does not leave his dragon inside its card. He allows Tachyon Dragon to roam Barian World on its own freewill, and only when he requires its strength, he finds it and challenges it. If he can overcome it, proving that he is still worthy of Tachyon Dragon’s power, it will help him. Judging by his mannerism, this occurs very often. Despite being described as arrogant and prideful, he doesn’t leave his Tachyon Dragon locked away in its card for all of eternity. (Also, there is a scene where he threatens to feed Vector to Tachyon Dragon; this is likely Mizael snapping at Vector for being a Clown, but the idea that Mizael “feeds” and cares for his dragons is nice)

Kaito once asks Mizael, the master of the Galaxy-Eyes, why he himself bears such “bleak eyes”, or eyes that are world-weary and tired and empty. And as the scene transitions into a flashback of his childhood, we find out that this bleakness stems from his distrust in humanity.

Although he has given up on humans, Mizael is a person who simply cannot turn his back on his dragons. He will die before he lets his dragons fall. (And I think it’s a thing of beauty that Mizael learns to have some faith in humans after this duel, but that’s for later.)

The effects of “Number 46: Ethereal Dragon Dragluon” shows this entire side of Mizael. It also brings out the same side in Kaito, who is a reflection of Mizael in many similar and opposite ways.

Mizael and Kaito are both Dragon Tamers, or Galaxy-Eyes Masters. They are tamers with different goals, yet they are not too far off from each other.

Like in the Legend of the Dragons, when tasked with the destruction of his “Galaxy Eyes Photon Dragon” or give it to Jinlon (which translates to victory or loss respectively), Kaito behaves similar to Mizael. He would rather risk losing the duel than destroy his dragon, inadvertently proving Jinlon’s point.

These similarities and how Jinlon connects to both Mizael and Kaito goes much deeper than this duel.

So let’s head to the Moon.

#long post #tw long post #zexal #mizar #mizael #barian biology #dyzarc writes #idk why this is so long hes not even in my top 5 for barians

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mikiruma · 5 years

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im gonna talk abt tf2 and pokemon again bc i can.

scout of course would dig fast pokémon!!! he's probably got a jolteon he loves dearly, maybe even a crobat he was given (as a zubat) in childhood. from who? eyes emoji there are faster pokémon, sure, but a lot are legendaries or bugs- and he's still trying to warm up to bugs. when/if he did, you KNOW he'd be all over ninjask or accelgor. he usually fawns over pokémon he thinks would make him look cool or fit his fight style (ie hit ur opponents the hardest first & dont get touched) but has a weak spot for some of the "cuter" ones. probably tried to lick a vanillish. as staunch a believer i am he'd be from castelia city, i like the idea that he used to be a rocket grunt, or someone who wanted to join team rocket at one point. i was trying to decide if he'd have a type preference but i like to think he's a mixed bag, mostly because every pokémon is cool and exciting to him! if you did ask & he did have to pick, it'd definitely be electric. wait, dragon, obviously... nah, fighting is good. no wa

soldier's partner is obvious! zigzagoon! mostly bc its a raccoon-like lil dude... he probably gives nicknames to every pokémon he sees, not necessarily just the ones he tries to catch. because lets face it, his zigzagoon is the ONLY pokémon that matters to him. well, that and any that catches zhanna's eye. his zigzagoon carries an everstone and is probably stupid high levelled but nobody really keeps track. soldier does initiate a lot of battles, but they're more fun when zhanna's with him too! theyre an inseperable group who probably wreak enough havoc to be considered their own team of hooligans, but who's to stop a happy couple with their adorable op pokémon? also i kinda wrote all that down super quick buuuut zigzagoon also works as a support pokémon for him when his stability gets extra rough, laying on his lap and helping to keep him grounded. he doesnt have any desire to keep more pokémon since he's fine with just 1, but if he had more i think he might get along with loudred or chatot. (chatot would DEFINITELY take some warming up to on his end but i LOVE THE THOUGHT)

pyro loves fire types of course!!! theyre probably the only one brave enough to pet their hotter ones. engineer probably made em special gloves just so they could play with their slugma... its hard to pick favorites, but the ones theyre closest to are slugma and monferno. they also have a solosis who just loves to play! unlike other people who usually just have one pokémon walking with em at all times, pyro tends to keep all three of theirs out of their pokéballs. they worry about them getting cramped or bored, and while its good exercise, sometimes its difficult to wrangle them when solosis has someones hat and slugmas melting through the furniture and monferno found spy's disguise kit.. theyre a big happy family though!! i think pyro would also like fairy types a lot, but if they got a fourth pokémon, theyd probably keep it at a daycare for the sake of themselves and the rest of the team. just in case, they might really want a sylveon or snubbull.

demoman and any pokémon knowing any explosive moves is an obvious fit! i initially liked him and electrode for this, but since part of their biology is exploding unpredictably... maybe that ones saved for battling. or at least not kept at any of the bases. i like the idea of him keeping his battle partners & normal team separate. when he's not drunk, he's a very skilled trainer and actually took a handful of gym challenges when he was younger. of course it started getting tough to balance work and training, but he never intended to get far in gyms anyway- to him it was just a fun challenge where he got to bond with his pokémon. other than his electrode, he's probably also got a charmeleon (whos either causing mischief with pyro's monferno or keeping demo company while he works/naps) and a honedge (who he will spar with sometimes). he used to have several other pokémon, but he eventually didn't like keeping them all abandoned in pc boxes, and ended up rehoming a lot of them. scout probably has a meowth from him, but he wont tell you.

heavy never cared too much about setting up huge teams or amassing a large collection. he never carries pokéballs, but his party is made up of some impressive pokémon. unlike most of the team who catch their pokémon through normal means (trade/gift, fishing, etc), he befriended his naturally. its easy to say one is ursaring, so of course im going to say it. he wont share how they met, but i wanna say he found its egg abandoned and raised it from there. they probably wrestle a lot but theyre always careful not to seriously injure each other. he befriended his mamoswine (then swinub) shortly after, then his abomasnow much later, in between him busting his family out of the gulag & leaving to find work. he left all three in siberia in the care of his family, but has a teddiursa from his ursaring to think of them all by. probably spoils the crap out of em all every chance he gets though, he loves his pokémon as much as his human family and saves recipes for poképuffs & poffins.

engineer wasn't always on board w the idea of a partner pokémon, mainly because he was always into engineering and was sure he'd be too caught up in it to focus on.. well, anything else. sure, when he was younger, he was like most kids and dreamt of being a league champion, but it always seemed to fall through.. until he discovered steel types. he started his journey later than most, but more than anything he's thankful because they help immensely with his work and lighten the load. he has a magneton who.. isn't that bright, but he's cute and thats what matters. he's also got a rotom who occasionally helps experiment with new machines, but mostly just possesses dispensers and rubs itself on everyone and everything. yum, static cling! engie didn't get into battling as much as he thought he would, but he's essentially working his dream job with his best friends (and 8 other dorks) so things are pretty good. this doesnt mean he wont go for human help when hes stumped or burnt out, though! other partner thoughts i had were torkoal, raichu and porygon2.

sniper is probably the biggest pokémon expert out of everyone on the team (well, aside from medic probably.) he's basically a walking pokédex and can tell you all about type matchups. he's also way closer to his pokémon than people realize, and especially closer than any real people. this is especially noticeable with his baby kangaskhan- although with a heavier origin than simply "abandoned", he ended up bonding with heavy over the ordeal. even with more technical aspects memorized, raising this baby was a completely new venture- not one he hated though! he also collects bug pokémon (that he lets scout get close to,when he tries to get over his fear) & has a slakoth that just kinda.. fell asleep on him one time and just never went away. other choices include koamala or krokorok.

medic is like a pokémon professor but fucked up. while he was primarily a human doctor, after losing his medical license, he started to dedicate time to studying pokémon. he doesnt run inhumane experiments on them because i said so. he's working on filling up his pokédex more than anything, and loves listening to others talk about their partners or other species theyve seen. he has his own pokémon too of course! as the team healer its only natural he has healing pokémon like audino and blissey, but he has a soft spot for flying types, specifically the birds. he has way too many pidove. he probably has a massive aviary separate from his medical lab where he keeps more birds, namely pidgeotto, fearow and some starly. he used to travel a lot (especially after being chased out of his hometown), but he saw it as more chances to discover new pokémon. probably has a very illegal form of the pokémon boxes with no storage limit. also probably heard the stories about mew and mewtwo and actually got inspired. probably owns the most pokémon merc, specifically stationery- hey, if ur getting some unethical experiment performed on you by the german guy you tried to rob earlier that night, are you going to pay more attention to his shit eating smirk or his cool ass holographic pikachu pencils??? or perhaps the cutesy eeveelutions stickers on the back of his clipboard???? thats what i thought.

spy looks like the guy who would probably be the least into pokémon, but that couldn't be further from the truth. he's not as wild as scout or medic by any means, but back in his day he was "pretty decent" (a gym leader.) i like the idea of zoroark being his partner, but you know who else is cool??? cofagrigus. gengar. banette. probably the only one on the team to actually get into mega evolving. and the only one with a shiny, but its gengar so we dont talk about that. i wont imply he loves his pokémon over his own family, he's just had a lot on his plate. remember scouts crobat? while hes got a more methodical approach to battling, he doesnt do it nearly as often as he used to. he still keeps his gym team, and though they tend to be more serious than the other pokémon in the base, they do on occasion get into trouble with others, namely pyro's solosis and scout's jolteon. not misbehaving on purpose, just being curious :0 probably uses luxury balls to catch all his pokémon and has an unused love ball with scouts moms name engraved on the bottom. (either for the novelty, or maybe hes trying to find the right one to catch for her??)

#talking #tf2 #pokémon #long post -#< I MEAN IT #might add a readmore later #im super tired and on mobile #if u even read this far i love you thank u for listening to me autismdump #yes i changed canon to fit this yes i also cant remember all of canon rn #alcohol ment -#update added a readmore AND demo honedge real

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tenspontaneite · 5 years

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Peace Is A Journey (Chapter 1/?)

It was a long way to Xadia. A really, really long way. A month's travel if they were lucky. If they weren’t lucky....well, it could take twice that, or even longer.

It would take a miracle to get the egg to the Dragon Queen before war broke out. But what else could they do?

(AU in which the Xadian continent is much larger, the kids and their egg will be travelling together for a long, long time, and canon lays dying in a ditch along the way)

(Long fic, slow burn, 60k already written, cross-posted on ao3)

Chapter 1

In which there is a Lodge Heist.

The day began auspiciously enough, what with the discussion of Primal Sources and Callum successfully managing to get Rayla to agree to a very slight detour to the Banther Lodge. It was far more understanding and compromise than he might have expected from an elf, given all the stories, so he felt quite optimistic as he set out that day.

Of course, then he had to put his foot in it with his unfortunate assumptions about the diet of elves. And now Rayla was walking ahead of he and Ez with a sort of rigidity to her shoulders that implied she was unhappy about it. But, really, how was he supposed to know? Everyone knew that elves were blood-drinkers – or, well. Everyone said that they were. Wrongly, maybe, but – well. How was he supposed to know that?

At any rate, it was an uncomfortable situation all around. Especially given they probably wouldn’t arrive at the lodge until evening at the earliest, which made for a whole lot of uncomfortable silence to fill the time with.

Ezran, of course, wasn’t having any of that. “I think you annoyed her.” He said, in what was probably meant to be a whisper but carried perfectly well in the quiet forest. Callum winced.

“Wow, really? I never would have noticed. Thanks.” He muttered back to his brother, folding his arms.

Entirely unmoved by the sarcasm, Ez hefted the dragon egg in his arms, and persisted: “You were kind of a jerk.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that, please – do tell me more.” He glanced to the side, saw the hint of a smile building on the kid’s face, and immediately knew what was running through his head. “No, Ez, I know what you’re thinking, and no.”

“But-“

“The Crazy Jerkface Dance is not for-“ he bit off the word strangers, “-people we just met.” Ahead of them, he saw Rayla’s head tilt very slightly in their direction, as if listening more closely. He spared a moment to hope, sincerely, that she would not ask.

Ezran’s jaw set, stubbornly. It was a familiar look on him. “Well, maybe not the dance.” He allowed, generously. “But you can’t be a jerk to someone and just leave it.”

Why did Dad have to raise him so well? “…You’re not wrong.” He admitted, begrudgingly.

“Which means I’m right.” Bait, sat atop the egg, croaked as if to reinforce the statement.

Callum sighed, deeply. “Yes, Ez. You’re right. Congrats.” Ezran stared at him expectantly, and so did Bait, and the combination of the stares was enough to finally prod him into moving. He sped up enough to start catching up with the maligned elf in question, and clearly she heard him coming because she turned to stare at him suspiciously as he approached. “Rayla,” he said, reaching her side and slowing down.

“….Yes, Callum?” She answered, flatly, glancing briefly at him before returning her eyes to the path ahead.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” He expressed quickly, the words sort of hurried, just to make sure he’d get them out. “For thinking you were. You know, a blood-drinker. And that you’d try to feed Ez blood. I, well. I wasn’t thinking.” He wrung his hands a little, jittery with the social awkwardness of it all, and tried not to be too anxious while waiting for her response.

She was quiet for a second, and glanced at him again. The narrow-eyed tension ebbed a little. “…It’s not your fault, I guess.” She said, after a moment. “You just don’t know any better.”

His nerves settled a bit at the implied forgiveness, and he cleared his throat. “Still. I’ll try not to just…assume things like that, from now on.”

Her posture eased even more, and she eyed him a fair bit more tolerantly. “Makes me wonder if there’s anything I think I know about humans that I have completely wrong.” She commented, in an obvious enough progression of subject matter that Callum felt mostly off the hook. And, actually, he was kind of curious, now that she mentioned it.

Ez, having eavesdropped shamelessly on the whole thing, hurried forwards to look up brightly at Rayla. “Like what?” He inquired, apparently just as interested as Callum.

“Well,” She mused pensively, looking ahead as if deep in thought. “You all have ten fingers and fourteen toes, right?”

Callum had started nodding at ‘ten fingers’, nearly choked on his own saliva at ‘fourteen toes’, and then did a double-take just in time to see her trying and failing to smother a grin. “…I admit, you had me going for a second there.”

Ezran giggled and kicked his feet up experimentally for his next few steps. “Imagine having fourteen toes! Do you think we’d still fit in our shoes?”

“If we didn’t, we’d just make bigger shoes, I guess.” Callum shrugged, and glanced briefly at Rayla’s own footwear. He wasn’t sure if she just had smallish feet or if they actually were slim enough to suggest fewer toes than the human norm. “…So, do elves have number of toes as fingers?” He inquired, figuring he might as well just ask.

“No, we’ve got ten toes, same as humans.” Rayla answered, utterly straight-faced. He stared at her, nonplussed.

“I can’t actually tell if you’re joking or not.” He complained, and received his answer easily enough as she immediately snickered at him.

After a second, she took pity on him, snickering, and clarified “We have eight.”

“Huh.” Callum was reminded, abruptly, of his historic struggles with drawing human feet. He wasn’t so bad at them anymore, but once, they’d been his single most detested body part to attempt to render. He turned to stare ahead, brow furrowing a little as he imagined the different lines he’d need for a four-toed foot. And, for that matter, a four-fingered hand. He wanted, suddenly, to look at Rayla’s hands to inspect their configuration, but that would probably be pretty weird of him, given he’d not even known her a day.

His fingers itched for his sketchbook. He stubbornly held them still.

He became aware, suddenly, that Rayla was something. “-allum. Callum. What are you thinking about now?”

“Oh? Huh? Nothing much. Why?” he responded automatically, turning to blink at her.

“She asked you a question.” Ezran informed him.

“I asked you a question.” Rayla agreed.

“Sorry, I guess I tend to daydream a lot.” He shrugged. “What is it?”

She eyed him for a moment, but repeated it easily enough. “I asked how far it is to this winter lodge of yours.”

“Oh. Hmm.” Callum looked ahead as if trying to see all the way ahead to their destination. “It’s a good while yet. I think we’ll maybe get there in late afternoon, early evening.”

Rayla considered that. “Might want to keep an eye out for food on the way, then. Stop by a berry bush for lunch.” She hesitated, as if considering saying something else, but in the end kept quiet.

“We’ve not even had breakfast.” Ezran pointed out. “And, wait, Callum – we’re going to the Banther Lodge?”

“Yeah, didn’t you – oh, you were asleep.” He remembered. “Right. I wanted to go there to pick up that weird cube in the game room. I think it might be magic. And the lodge is on the way, anyway, so…”

Ez frowned at him. “…Okay, I guess. But aren’t you worried there might be people there?”

“It’s the winter lodge, Ez. And it’s spring. No one is gonna be there.”

“Yeah, but…Isn’t the Banther Lodge where dad was sending us?”

Callum stopped walking, and after a step, so did the others. “….Oh.” he expressed, eyes widening. “…yeah. Yeah, it is, isn’t it. Um. Whoops?”

Rayla gave him a long looked. “’No winter, no humans’?” She parroted back at him a little sardonically, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, I really didn’t think that one through.” He admitted, slumping. “If dad sent us there, he’d definitely have sent some guards. Maybe it’s not worth risking it, then.” He thought of the six symbols drawn into his sketchbook, and the primal stone in his bag, and felt his face falling. He’d thought the cube could be something important – something that could help him become a mage, but…it was probably just an old Xadian toy or something. Probably not worth the risk.

It was still a bummer, though.

A second later, he noticed that Rayla was still staring at him, now looking vaguely indecisive. “…What?”

She crossed her arms, muttered something indistinct about heartfelt speeches, and then produced a very put-upon sigh. “It probably wouldn’t hurt if we stopped near the lodge, and I went to check if there’s any humans around.” She announced, finally.

He straightened, eyes wide. “What, really?” He asked, astonished by this unexpected benevolence.

She rolled her eyes tolerantly, and smiled a little. “Yes, really. It should be fine as long as you lot stay back, and don’t go blundering in all-“ She waved her hand expressively in the air as she searched for words. “-Loud. And clumsy.”

“Thanks, Rayla.” He said sincerely, at the same time as Ezran said “Callum’s the clumsy one!”

Their eyes turned his way, and he added “He’s clumsy, not me. I can be pretty quiet when I want to be. But I’m carrying a dragon egg, so I don’t think I can do sneaky too well either.”

Rayla pointed to Callum first, “You’re welcome-“ And then Ezran, “-and, duly noted.”

By this point, though, Callum was occupied with his brother. “Since when am I the clumsy one?” He demanded, crossing his arms.

Tactfully, Rayla put a hand on his shoulder, and he was momentarily distracted by his earlier thoughts about elf hand structure. They really were just…like that, weren’t they? They didn’t look like they were missing a finger at all. They were just sort of…less wide than human hands. “Callum,” She said, kindly, interrupting his musing. “I’ve seen you trip over tree roots twice today already. We’ve not even been walking an hour.”

Well. When you put it that way…. “Alright, maybe I am a little clumsy.” He admitted, a little sulkily. “So what?”

She removed her hand, shot him a vaguely smug-looking smile, and turned to keep walking. “So, you leave the sneaking to me.”

“I can live with that.” Ezran said, trotting off after her.

“Let’s hurry up a little. If we want to get there in good time for a sneak-around today, then no more lollygagging.”

In the end, Callum declined to ask whether lollygagging was a real word or not, and just obediently followed after her.

In the end, some lollygagging turned out to be warranted: firstly, because Ezran’s little legs weren’t used to all this walking and needed a rest; secondly, because Callum’s less-little legs weren’t faring much better; and thirdly, because Rayla spotted a bush of something edible at a lunch-appropriate hour on the way.

Berries, as it happened, didn’t really go a long way towards satisfying hunger. He felt better than before, sure, and they tasted alright, if a bit sour…but, well, it was no bacon and eggs. Or a good sandwich. Or even a jelly tart. He peeled another stick of berries from the bush, making a face at them, and picked them one by one from their twigs, fingers becoming incrementally more and more red-stained.

…Come to think of it, they hadn’t really planned for the feeding-themselves aspect of the journey, had they?

….or any part of the journey at all, to be honest.

Callum frowned, licking berry juice from his fingers, and wiped his hands on his pants. Then he shuffled away from the bush and pulled his sketchbook into his lap, flipping one page past the symbols Rayla had drawn that morning. His charcoal hovered over the page as he called the memory of his lessons to mind, and after a moment, sketched out a rough map of Katolis in quick lines.

He put a mark down for the capital they’d vacated last night, and drew in the major rivers and lakes he could remember, as well as a few inverted V-shapes to indicate where the mountain ranges were. Then, at the north-east edge of Katolis, he drew a long bold line to represent the harsh divide of the Breach. He remembered, with some dismay, how long it had taken last time they travelled to the Great Bay for summer – and that had been with horses! And boats! And travelling on the roads!

It was a long way to Xadia. A really long way. A month's travel if they were lucky, and could catch a ship or two to speed it up, and the weather didn’t strand them anywhere for too long, and they didn’t have to go over any mountains, and there weren’t any other setbacks. And…that was a lot of ‘if’s. If they weren’t lucky....well, the journey could take a lot more than a month. And that wasn’t even counting how far into Xadia they’d need to travel once they got to the border.

It would take a miracle to get the egg to the Dragon Queen before the war could break out. But what else could they do?

“Something on your mind?” Rayla inquired from beside him, wiping off her own red fingertips on the edge of a tooth.

“Just…the way to Xadia. And how I didn’t think this through.” He tapped his charcoal against his hand, troubled, as he stared at the map. Rayla pulled herself over after a second to look down, tilting her head at the shape on the page. She hummed briefly with recognition, and settled next to him. “…How long did it take you to get to the castle from the border?” He noticed Ezran looking over, listening, as he presented a small bunch of berries to Bait.

Rayla frowned a little herself, perhaps reading the track of his thoughts. “’Bout two months.” She admitted, apologetically.

Ezran made an incredulous noise around a mouthful of fruit, and Callum wasn’t feeling much better. “Two – why did it take you so long?”

“We went the most isolated and impassable ways we could, to make sure no one spotted us.” She answered, quietly, not meeting his eyes. “It added a lot of time to the journey, even when we went as fast as we could. But it was necessary. Maybe not for us, though.”

“Why not?” he asked, a little desperate for any shred of hope of shortening the journey.

She offered a half-smile, and pulled up her hood, throwing her face into shadow. “If we’re careful, we can hide that I’m an elf. That’s a bit harder to do with six elves, maybe, but if it’s just me…I think we can afford to risk getting closer to human towns.” She flipped her hood down again, hair and ears and horns returning to view.

He made an interested noise. “Well, if you keep your hands hidden, sure, maybe.” He cast a doubtful glance at the map. “It’s still a really long way, though. Maybe there’ll be some food at the Banther Lodge that we can take with us.” Rayla shuffled a little at that, but didn’t say anything. He eyed her. “…What?”

“I was wondering – if we’re going to this lodge of yours for your magic cube, maybe we should try to pick up some supplies for the journey.”

Ezran spoke up, apparently done with his lunch. “Like what? Food?”

“I mean supplies.” Rayla reiterated, a little impatiently. “Long trips like this take a lot of doing, you know? I’m not sure what you’ve got packed, but I’ve only got what I’m wearing. My – the camp was on the wrong side of the castle for us to pick anything up on the way out. If we try to make the trip to Xadia without supplies, let me tell you, we will not have a fun time.”

“I didn’t think about that.” Callum admitted, noticing for the first time that she didn’t have a bag of any sort on her. “I…hm.” He stared back down at his sketchbook for a second, then turned to the back page to pick out a folded sheet of rough paper that was made for times like this. He held the charcoal poised. “I don’t actually have any idea of the sorts of things we’d need for travelling alone without twenty guards and however many household staff – maybe we should make a list? And if it’s in the lodge, you can see if you can pick it up.”

Rayla blinked, looking down at the paper. “Sounds good.” She said after a moment. “Let me think. There’s a lot of stuff, I’ll definitely forget some of it. Let’s see…well, what have you got in your bags already?”

“I have some clothes.” Ezran volunteered, pulling his bag open to inspect the contents. Bait promptly hopped into it, sitting atop the egg. “And dried jelly tart goop. And jelly tart crumbs. And a dragon egg, and Bait.”

Callum opened his own bag to check. He’d sort of packed in a hurry, and definitely hadn’t been thinking about it much. “I’ve got a few sets of clothes, my sketchbook, and a primal stone.”

Rayla made a vaguely disapproving noise. “Well, at least your drawing book thingy has a strap. What clothes do you two have? How many?”

He reflected that it was very weird to end up in a situation where he might need to tell a near-stranger how many pairs of underwear he had with him. “Er. I’ll check.” He said, and rifled through the bag to make a full accounting, Ezran doing the same.

“I’ve got two pairs of underpants, and one pair of pants and a spare shirt and undershirt. Couple of socks.” Ezran reported, making a face. “They’re all covered in jam though.” Rayla nodded at him, then pointed expectantly at Callum.

“Er. Three underpants, one pants, two undershirts, one shirt, one jacket, a cloak, and socks.”

“Well, that’s a start. Callum, is that jacket good for cold weather? Or the cloak?”

He blinked. “…Not, really? It’s basically the same as the one I’m wearing. Same colour, even. And the cloak is more for if it rains – it’s a little bit rainproof.” He tugged on his jacket to demonstrate its thickness, and then pulled out the edges of a black cloak from his bag to show her that. “It’s spring, though, and it’ll only get warmer. Do we need cold-weather stuff?”

She reached out to feel at the cloak, and made a dubious noise. “If we end up going through the mountains, yes.” She assured him, dry. “Okay. What I was taught about packing light is that you want one set of clothes to wear, and then a second one you can wear when you wash the first pair. And, you know, so on. So you, Ezran – you’ll want a spare jacket of some sort, and some winter things. Callum, you just need winter things.”

“Well, good thing it’s the winter lodge, then.” Callum remarked.

“We’ve got some really fluffy cloaks there. And gloves. And scarves, and hats.” Ezran informed her.

“They’d all be in our room or the cloakroom, so easy to find.” He paused, and gestured at his book. “Are we definitely going into the lodge then? Even if there’s people there? Because if we are, I can draw you a floor plan.”

Rayla raised her eyebrows at that, but nodded. “Even if it turns out to be packed with humans, we do need the supplies.” She admitted. “Better to get them from your things than have to steal from someone.”

“Not-stealing is definitely a bonus. Stealing from one’s citizens is not a very princely thing to do.” Callum said sagely, and Ezran nodded solemnly along with him.

“On that, we agree.” Rayla said, and scrutinised the book and charcoal. “…Well, you draw your floor plan, and I’ll have a think about the things we need.”

Callum did not require a great deal of prompting to get highly occupied with drawing, so he happily took that directive, putting charcoal to loose leaf paper and frowning in concentration as he mapped out the shapes of the Banther Lodge into a recognisable map of the rooms and floors. He couldn’t quite resist doing something a bit more comprehensive, so after a moment, he started drawing tiny representations of several of the rooms around the edges, adding helpful lines to make it obvious where they were on the plan.

While he was doing that, apparently, Rayla was consulting with Ezran about the locations of varying things in the lodge, not that he heard or noticed a word of it. At any rate, when he was basically done and presented the plan to Rayla, she seemed like a girl who had a game plan. All sort of….determined and focused, and satisfied. “Thanks.” She said, accepting the page and looking over it, eyebrows raising a little again. “…Hm.”

“Is it not good?” Callum asked after a second, face falling.

“No, it’s…fine.” She assured him, with an absentminded flap of her hand. “…Don’t suppose you could mark where the windows are on here as well?”

“Oh, right, of course.” He took the drawing back and sketched in quick lines on the floor plan. “Like that?”

“…Yes. Yeah, that’s good.” Rayla’s expression was a little strange as she received the updated drawing. “If it’s accurate, that’s a lot more information than I’ve had before when sneaking into places.”

“Callum has a really good memory.” Ezran informed her proudly. “So it’ll definitely be accurate.” Callum reached over to pat his brother’s shoulder affectionately, and then turned back to Rayla.

“So, did you work out what we’ll need?”

“Yep. Or most of it, anyway. If I think of more on the way – actually, do you mind if I write a list on the back of this?” She brandished the floor plan.

He waved agreeably towards the paper with both hands. “Of course, go ahead. It’s just loose paper.” For good measure, he passed over his spare stick of charcoal so she could actually write.

She muttered a thanks and stood as she took it, already writing. “If you two are good to go, I’d best do this while we walk. We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”

Bait, as if understanding the urgency, shot his tongue out to pry another mouthful of berries from the bush. Callum considered it a fairly sound idea, and snapped off a few larger clusters to eat on the way, passing one to Ez. “Yeah, okay.” He nodded, and stood. “Let’s go.”

The light of the day was growing dim by the time Rayla began to hear the distant sounds of voices; she held up her hand and stopped, ducking backwards into the shelter of a tree’s shadow. Callum opened his mouth to start to say something, but she held a finger to his mouth and shushed him, listening carefully.

The clatter and clamour of distant armour. Voices. It was very faint, but…

“I hear people.” She said, lowly, and tilted her head. “Reckon that’ll be the lodge over there?” She nodded towards the sound.

Callum and Ezran exchanged a glance, and both nodded. “I don’t hear anything.” Callum said, thankfully very quietly, “But yeah. This place looks about familiar.”

“I think that’s the rock I tripped over last year, see?” Ezran pointed out a rock next to a fallen tree covered in a thick sheet of moss and greenery. “I remember because it was next to the tree.”

“Shh.” Rayla reminded, as his voice was louder than she’d prefer, and after a second of listening, spoke again. “Let’s get some distance between us and the heavily-armed humans. Be quiet.” She mimed zipping her mouth shut and stared at them until she was reasonably sure they’d listen, and then directed them away. She spared a moment to wonder if humans even had zips, to understand the gesture, and then shook her thoughts back to practicality.

She’d need them to stop somewhere secluded and out-of-the-way of the humans’ patrol paths. Somewhere she could leave them without having to worry too much about them running into trouble while she was gone. Unfortunately, the direction she chose to search for this ‘somewhere’ seemed to be in the direction of deep water, because she was quite certain she could hear a river nearby.

Well. Sometimes life was just like that.

The river came into view only a few minutes later, and after scanning the treeline for anything likely, she found a nice enclosed area where the trees and foliage ought to hide the princes from casual sight, and that was also not too close to the river. She marched them up to it, made a quick circle of the trees, and nodded slightly to herself. “Wait here a second.” She directed them, and jumped up the nearest tree.

“Hey-“ He heard Callum protest, startled, but she ignored him.

She pulled her way through the branches as high as she could go, and looked out from between the leaves.

The lodge was visible, even from this reasonable distance. The clearing its grounds left in the forest was very distinctive, and she could see the top of the roof sloping above the trees. The river they’d come up against seemed to run down one side of it. She couldn’t see a lot of the actual ground from this angle, but – there did seem to be horses there, and humans milling about in the open area.

It was a good thing night was coming. Humans had rubbish eyesight in the dark – she’d have a much better chance of getting away with looting the lodge for supplies under their noses. It heavily depended on where they were stationing their soldiers, though. If there were too many inside the lodge…well, they might have to give it up as a bad thought.

Rayla considered the distant clearing for a few moments more, then descended the tree, finding the princes milling uncertainly about the bottom.

“You climb trees really fast.” Ezran informed her, sounding very impressed.

“Thanks?” She offered a hesitant smile, and then dropped down lightly to the ground from the last branch. “I had a wee look up there – there’s a good few humans about that lodge. I want you two to stay here while I go have a closer look at their patrol patterns, see what they’re up to.”

Callum nodded at her, eyebrows dropping a little into an expression of vague concern. “So you’re not going to try to go into the lodge yet?”

“Nah. Just doing a bit of reconnaissance.” It had been thoroughly trained into her to carefully observe and map out the area and security of a place before trying to slip through its defences. The fact that neither she nor the rest of the assassins had done any preliminary recon of the castle at all was testament to how much they’d had to rush to make it in time for the full moon. “I shouldn’t be any longer than half an hour, alright? Stay hidden. They might be patrolling.”

“We will.” Callum put a hand on Ezran’s shoulder, as if to ward him from walking off. “…Good luck? Happy sneaking.”

She snorted, flashed them a half-grin as she pulled her hood down, and then jumped back into the tree, this time using it as a platform to start swinging through the rest of them. She paused every few trees to stop and listen, careful for the sounds of nearby humans trampling through the undergrowth, and eventually heard a few. She stopped hidden in the branches above a pair of armoured humans, both women, who were walking in a fairly straight line through the forest, talking idly with one another.

Rayla listened to see if they were saying anything useful, and they sort of were. One of them was expressing relief over getting to patrol instead of setting up camp. The second disagreed, because she apparently liked dealing with tents more than walking around after they’d already been riding all day.

So, the humans were setting up camp at the lodge. With tents. That implied they weren’t staying inside the lodge.

Feeling vaguely more optimistic, she waited for them to pass her by, trying to trace their route from what she’d seen. A basic perimeter walk, maybe? They weren’t far from the lodge. Maybe only fifty or sixty metres out.

Once the guards were far enough to probably not hear it, Rayla leaped to the next tree and continued her progress to the edge of the clearing, growing slower and more cautious the closer she came. Most of the trees here were pines, which didn’t make her job easier, but she managed. The sun was setting to the west, and since she’d approached from the easterly side of the lodge, the large building in the clearing was casting a convenient shadow over the treeline she’d approached from. She watched the skyline, briefly, some tension in her face that she’d not been paying attention to easing a little as the light dimmed. She sighed, the shadows a welcome relief to her eyes, and felt the coming night prickle her into alertness. Good.

She sat in the tree and looked out at the lodge, quietly withdrawing the paper Callum had drawn on to inspect its correspondence to reality. She’d been impressed by the quality of the drawing, but Ezran had been right – it really was accurate. It was a novel experience, sneaking around a place she had an actual map for. She nodded to herself, satisfied, and put the paper away again, eyes now tracking the force of humans in the area.

There were fewer than she’d feared. Only about ten, including what looked like their commander, a man wearing that cloak and armour she recognised from the castle Crownguard. He was standing over by the lines of horses out to the front of the house, not far from the slope of the river that ran eastwards to where she’d left the princes. He seemed to be taking reports from two other soldiers, but was too far away for her to hear anything being said.

Rayla cast a glance to the rest of the humans, finding two apparently in the process of pitching tents to the rear of the lodge. They were planning to stay for a while, then. And they couldn’t have arrived too long ago, or their camp would be set up already. It was late, for humans to still be setting up. They’d have difficulty getting things done in the dark.

She considered the number of humans, and the number of horses. There were an even sixteen horses, so…perhaps she should assume the presence of the same number of humans. Ten were in the clearing, and she’d seen two on patrol, which left four unaccounted for. They might be on patrol, or they might be in the lodge.

After some consideration, she left her tree for the next one over, picking her way quietly around the edge of the treeline, closer to where the commander was taking reports. He was well away from the trees, close to the river as he was, but the wind was in her favour – once she got into the right position, she could just about hear their conversation.

She settled into a well-concealed branch and listened.

He finished taking reports from those two soldiers, and then another two came out of the lodge and talked to him as well. Another two emerged from the shadow of the forest about ten minutes later, and she recognised them as the patrol guards from earlier. There was still no sign of the last two hypothetical humans, but the reports shed some light on that.

It was a good haul of intel. Rayla considered it more than enough, and once the commander turned to write a letter for the crow one of his people was offering, she turned to glide back through the trees.

She kept eastwards until she saw the river, and adjusted her course back to where she’d left the boys. She found them sat where she’d left them, Callum with his sketchbook out and Ezran peering over his shoulder, making comments. She dropped down in front of them without ceremony, and both jumped back, shrieking a little from shock. She smirked slightly and, somewhat needlessly, announced “I’m back.”

“Er, yes, so we noticed.” Callum said, wide-eyed, hand resting lightly over his chest like a fainting maiden. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“I forget sometimes how easy it is to sneak up on you humans.” She lied, grinning, and leaned over to glance at what he’d been drawing. The egg of the Dragon Prince, apparently. It was only half-shaded, but already impressive. She wasn’t quite sure how he managed to get the look of the light and glow with just grey charcoal.

“How did it go at the lodge?” Ezran asked, looking up at her. “Did anyone see you?”

“’Course not.” She made a vaguely derisive noise at the mere thought. “It all went fine. I think we can do this.”

Callum perked up. “So there’s not too many people?”

“’Bout sixteen, I’d say, but they’ve already searched the lodge, so if there’s anyone posted in there, it won’t be more than two people.” She answered, thinking back to the conversation she’d eavesdropped on. “They’re looking for you. They knew you’d been sent here, and thought you might have managed to arrive before them. They’re setting up camp to wait and see if you show up.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. Did you listen to what they were saying, then?” He closed his book and put it down at his side, interested.

“Yep. And turns out we got very, very lucky.” She sighed a little at the memory of the most pertinent piece of information. “They’re waiting on reinforcements, but they won’t arrive for days. We’ll be long gone by then. And that’s definitely a good thing, because apparently it’s General Amaya who’s on the way.” She shook her head in disbelief. Imagine that: the Standing Battalion herself, redirected to wait around for a couple of princes.

Unexpectedly, Callum and Ezran instantly looked at each other, expressions turning weird. Baffled, maybe. Or uneasy.

Ezran spoke first, confusedly. “Do you think it’s a different Amaya?”

“I don’t think there’s another General Amaya, Ez.”

“But still-“

“Yeah, I know.” Callum turned back to her, looking strangely pensive. “You’re sure they said General Amaya?”

She eyed them suspiciously. “Believe me, it’s not a name I’m about to get wrong.” She said, dryly, and crossed her arms at the next loaded glance exchanged by the boys. “Alright, what is it?”

“Er. Well, nothing much.” Callum attempted. She levelled him with a very unimpressed stare. He deflated. “Well – she’s, kind of our aunt? Yeah.”

Rayla stared.

“I’m kind of sorry we’ll miss her.” Ezran said, obliviously, smiling a little as if recalling something pleasant. “It’s been so long since she last got to visit.”

“Well, she’s a busy woman. It’s probably a good thing we’ll be gone by the time she gets here, though. Aunt Amaya…well, she really doesn’t like elves. You know that.” He looked across at her, and whatever he saw on her face made him quickly look away again, nervously clearing his throat. “I don’t think it would go well if she met Rayla.”

“Maybe.” Ezran sounded very doubtful. “I bet she’d listen if we tried though.”

Callum made a doubtful noise, and seemed about to say something else when Rayla found her voice again. “Aunt Amaya.” She repeated, incredulously, and looked over the two boys with disbelief. “General Amaya. She’s your aunt?”

“….yes?” Callum offered tentatively. “I didn’t know you’d have heard of her.”

Rayla stared, still half lost for words, and reached up to rub at the centre of her forehead, feeling a headache threatening her at the mere thought. “Your aunt is probably the best human warrior alive.” She said, finally. “You could say I’ve heard of her. We definitely got lucky that she’s not here. Ransacking your lodge for supplies under her watch….I’m good, but I don’t think I’m that good.” She shook her head, still not entirely able to process the idea of these dumb humans being related to General Amaya.

The humans shared another glance and shrugged. “When’s the supply heist going to happen, then? Since you think it’s alright.” The elder prince inquired, leaning forwards with interest.

Rayla frowned, and looked up at the sky. “Well, I would say it would be better to do in a few hours, when they’ll be sleepy and complacent, but…” She tapped her fingers on her knee, crouching down to rest closer to eye level with the others. “I kinda want to steal one of their tents. And that’ll be very hard to do once they’re all set-up and being slept in.”

“Steal a tent?” Ezran parroted, surprised, and then visibly actually put some thought to it. “That’s a great idea, Rayla.”

“You said there wouldn’t be any tents in the lodge, but…the soldiers all have them.” She shrugged. “And theirs don’t look half bad, either.”

“And there’s a lodge right there, so it’s not like we’ll be condemning some poor schmuck to sleeping out in the open.” Callum nodded along, clearly picking up on her enthusiasm.

“Personally I care more about condemning us to sleeping out in the open for the whole journey, but that’s also true.” Rayla commented dryly. “Anyway, they already had two set up when I left, so if I want to grab a tent pack I’d best get a move on. Can’t afford to sit around. But – I don’t know what they’ll do when they notice the pack missing. We might have to run. So I want you to be ready to move. No drawing, or settling in.”

Callum glanced forlornly at his sketchbook, but slung its strap over his shoulder agreeably enough. “Yeah, that makes sense. Do you know how long you’ll be?”

“Nope. No clue. Probably not more than an hour or so if all goes well.” She stood, and cracked her neck, stretching out her limbs with a series of satisfying pops. “Right then. Hand over the bag, mister.” She held out her hand, expectantly. He blinked, but got her meaning after a second, obediently passing over his barely-filled backpack. She slung it over her shoulder and exhaled sharply. “Keep an ear out. Don’t get caught.”

“Right back at you.” He smiled lopsidedly. “Have fun.”

She mock-saluted him, and then returned gladly to the trees.

Night was well and truly falling now, and the dark settled over her with a comforting familiarity. Her eyes adjusted easily to the low light, the colours of the forest going grey and pale in the absence of sunlight to colour them. Something in her eased, settled, and then another part of her woke up. Rayla leapt through the forest, and felt herself coming alive and alert, senses sharp and perfectly-attuned to the twilit forest.

Moonshadow elves could adapt to a diurnal routine well enough, and frequently did – but it was night that they were made for. And this – sneaking through the night-shadows, lit by nothing more than stars and moon? She was born for this.

Easy, alert anticipation stretched under her skin as she approached the lodge, quick and silent in the treetops. The first thing she looked at when she arrived was the fledgling camp. Three tents were up now, the soldiers getting to work on the fourth. She wasn’t quite sure how many packs were left at the wall of the lodge, but there couldn’t be more than six remaining. She stared, narrow-eyed, and considered what to do.

They were setting up the tents by the light of a single torch, lodged at the top of a nearby post. The actual packs were in shadow. She thought she had a very high chance of grabbing one without being seen, but what about when they noticed it missing? If they searched the lodge while she was still packing supplies, she’d be in trouble. But if she waited until there were fewer packs left, she might miss her chance to get one. And she did not fancy the idea of sleeping in the open for weeks on end.

Finally, she exhaled quietly, and dropped down from the trees into the deepest shadows. She marked the positions of twelve visible humans, two of whom were standing watch by the doors of the lodge, three tending to the horses, the commander tending the crow, two seeming to be arranging the camp food supplies, two pitching tents, and the last two standing guard beside-

Her eyes narrowed. Was that a boat?

It was. Ugh. She stared at it, with an uncomfortable prickling feeling, and resolved to ignore the thing entirely. It probably wouldn’t be relevant. It hopefully wouldn’t be relevant.

Quietly, Rayla slipped around the edge of the clearing, across to the back wall of the lodge, and stealthily picked her way towards the tent packs, casting wary glances to the tent-pitchers who were amiably coordinating their work by torchlight, just ten metres away. She ran quick eyes over the packs – only five left. After a moment of quick decision, she extracted one at the edge and rearranged the others to make it look less like there was one actually missing, and then turned tail and made a beeline back to the trees. She climbed a likely specimen a few metres out from the clearing, and stowed the tent pack in it, and then extracted her floor plan to have a last look over it.

She looked from the paper to the lodge, squinting, and noted with disbelief that the windows were all wide open. What in the world was that in aid of? Were they trying to air out the building? Was it dusty in there? Either way, she definitely wasn’t complaining. Once again, she spared a moment to thank magic itself for not making her have to contend with General Amaya.

Without further ado, Rayla dropped down from the tree and slunk quickly over to the walls, lodging her boots into the masonry and hauling herself up the walls, and slipped easily through a large window on the first floor. She didn’t even need to use her picks.

She ducked down to the floor quickly, and looked around, getting her bearings. She’d landed in what looked like the kitchen Callum had sketched, which meant the main hall should be through that door, the stairs to the cellar through that one…

…and, yeah, Callum’s drawings were actually stunningly accurate. That human had skill.

She shook away the thought, and listened carefully for signs of any of the last two or four humans within the lodge, but all of the sound seemed to be coming from outside. The building was dark, and very, very still.

All the better.

Rayla headed for the main hall, steps silent, and upon confirming it empty, made a beeline for the cloakroom. It was strange, to have everything look like the drawings she’d seen, to know where she was meant to be looking. She pulled the largest backpack she could find off of a hook, and then looked over the winterwear, finding a row of heavy fur cloaks, luxurious enough to be thick fur on both sides, and to have collars bristling with even longer fur. Only one of them looked potentially Ezran-sized, so she stuffed that into the bag, and then studied the rest of them a little more closely. That one looked a bit shorter, maybe? She unhooked it and held it up in front of her to judge it, and concluded it to be approximately the right size to be Callum’s. She hesitated to pull another one off the hooks, but, well, Ezran had given it his blessing. So she took a third, which might also have been Callum’s, and stuffed them all into Callum’s bag, with some difficulty.

Heavy winter cloaks were, as a rule, very bulky, and these ones were extravagantly thick. She doubted she’d be able to get any more into his bag, but maybe she’d manage some smaller bits of clothing. She scanned the cloakroom and found the little set of drawers she was looking for, pulling each of them open to find hats, scarves, and gloves. She pulled a pair of the latter out with some amusement, holding them up to her hands to look at the extra finger on the fabric. Hand-disguises, she thought, and suppressed a snigger.

She grabbed a few of each and shoved them in next to the cloaks, and then moved on.

Her progress through the lodge was slow and careful, stopping in the shadows of furniture and doors to listen to the sounds outside. There was still no noise within the lodge. She headed for the cellar next, since it would be the hardest to escape from if she was cornered there, and she wanted it out of the way. She rooted through every container she could find, throwing things haphazardly into whichever bag would fit it. A roll of bandages, plus a couple other useful wound-care things. Scissors. Two large empty jars. A pair of large waterskins. Two long coils of rope. Some spark-rocks. She left the cellar as soon as she could, and then rooted through the kitchen.

She located some long brown things where Callum had helpful annotated the possibility of food. They were rock solid and heavy enough to use as blunt force weapons. Dubiously, she inspected one, having a sniff, and….it maybe smelled edible, but she wasn’t at all certain. In the end, she elected to take the jar of mush that smelled like fruit instead, figuring it was probably some kind of jam. She located a bar of soap near the washing basin and took that too, adding in a wash-rag for good measure, and found a small iron cooking pot in one of the cupboards. Heavy, but probably worth it.

The kitchen thus raided, she headed upstairs, and straight for where the princes’ room ought to be. She opened the door to it, and noted the familiar-looking space with two beds, several chests, and a large wardrobe at the end. Callum’s drawings continued to serve well.

She located Ezran’s clothing and pulled out a thick wool jumper from there, and then found Callum’s and did the same.

Then she hesitated.

Dubiously, she extracted a pair of trousers, holding them to her hips to gauge the length. Short. Not horribly short, but….definitely short. She frowned indecisively, slinging the clothing over one arm as she inspected the shirts, and then the thin jackets. They all looked nearly identical to what Callum was already wearing, the only variance being in colour and in some cases the embroidered patterns on the front. She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that a journey back to Xadia on one set of clothes would be too disgusting to contemplate, and liberally raided Callum’s vestments to pick out a few bits for her own use. She gave the rest of the room a quick once-over, and extracted a hairbrush from someone’s drawer, a plain towel, and a couple sticks of charcoal that were almost certainly Callum’s.

That only left the supposedly-magic cube.

Now feeling rather weighed down by the two increasingly-full bags, Rayla made the final trip to the game room, locating her quarry in a box of keys. It was, indeed, a weird cube with the symbols of the primals laid out on each side. The moon symbol glowed as she touched it, so maybe there was something to the idea of it being magical. Without incident, she shoved it into the bag and traced her path back through the lodge to the window she’d come in from.

She paused to listen at the window before leaving it. There was the sound of raised voices outside. Arguing. Someone named Marcos was being accused of losing a tent.

They’d noticed its absence, then. Best move quickly.

She peeked out of the window, confirmed a clear path to the treeline, and hauled herself and her cargo out, landing a bit more heavily than she’d have preferred. She made it back to the trees with an almost laughable lack of trouble, retrieved the tent pack, and made her way back eastward after a heist that went off without a hitch.

Mind, the two bags plus the tent pack made her significantly less graceful than she’d have liked, and the exertion had her breathing heavily and making an uncomfortable amount of noise as she finally drew close to where she’d left the boys. Enough noise that they actually heard her coming, startling and looking up warily at the trees above them. Rayla dropped heavily down in front of them, and this time they weren’t surprised. Relieved, though; it was gratifying to see that on their faces. The glow toad croaked reproachfully at the sight of her, evidently not as pleased to see her as the humans.

“Rayla! You’re back.” Ezran sounded audibly relieved too, bless him. He really did seem like a good kid.

With a groan of relief, she set the backs down. “I’m back.” She confirmed, shaking out her shoulders.

Callum stepped forwards to inspect her haul, hands hovering over each bag in turn. “Looks like it went well?” he asked cautiously, hand coming to rest on the tent pack. It was a heavy, bulky thing – shaped like a long roll with a single strap to sling it over a shoulder. It had bounced about like nobody’s business when she’d had to jump through the trees with the thing. “Hey, you got the tent?” he sounded impressed.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Ezran sighed, seeing the potential future of many days sleeping rough vanish before his eyes.

She grinned, proud and immensely satisfied. “Mission accomplished.” She declared, and sat down. “No one saw me, and when I left they were blaming each other for losing the tent, but I don’t know if they’ll notice anything off if they go back into the lodge. I think we should move out a bit before we rest for the night, just in case.”

They exchanged dismayed looks. “….Do we have to?” Ezran asked plaintively after a moment. “I was nearly falling asleep while you were gone. Could we at least have a nap?”

Rayla hesitated, and looked back over her shoulder. They were about five minutes of casual walking away from the lodge, which…wasn’t really far. It didn’t feel very safe. But… “I don’t think it’s safe,” She said after a moment, and their faces fell. “But if you want to sleep now, I’ll keep watch, so I can wake you up if there’s any issue.”

Callum blinked at her. “What about you, Rayla? Won’t you be tired?”

She was tired. Naturally nocturnal or not, she’d still been up and walking all day. But… “It’s only a day past the full moon.” She looked up at the sky, where the trees obscured the waning shape of it. But she could feel it. Even past the power the true full moon brought, it was invigorating. “I’ll last. And I’ll wake one of you at dawn and get a couple hours then.”

Callum inspected her, face serious, and nodded. “Thanks, Rayla.” He said, sincere, and Ezran echoed it quickly. “Wake me up when you want to get some sleep, okay? Even if it’s in the middle of the night.”

“…Sure.” She agreed, with absolutely no intention of actually waking him up earlier than necessary. She was not at all certain of his abilities as a watchman, and these were far from the best circumstances to test him in.

Ezran yawned widely, rubbed his eyes, and shuffled over to find a comfortable patch of moss to sleep on. “Mmkay. Thanks again, Rayla. ‘Night.” Callum hesitated a bit, looking at her awkwardly, before he turned over to do the same.

She sat still and quiet for several minutes, listening as they shuffled and shifted and then, when they’d grown comfortable, eased audibly into sleep, breath evening out. She wondered if they were heavy enough sleepers for her to get some organising done in the night, or if she’d just have to sit quietly for hours.

Well, if she did, it wouldn’t be all that new, though the length of the watch would be. She was used to a watch rotation shared among six people, which was much more lenient. If this little group tried to set up a rotation…well, it’d only be her and Callum trading off, wouldn’t it? Ezran was a kid. He couldn’t be any older than ten, and you didn’t put ten-year-olds on watch duty. Even she wouldn’t have been a good watchelf at the age of ten.

Her wrist twinged unpleasantly, not for the first time that day, but….for the first time, Rayla didn’t ignore it. Casting a furtive glance at the princes to make sure they were asleep, she brought up her left wrist to stare at the binding. It looked so deceptively unassuming now. It felt a little uncomfortable, maybe, like she ought to loosen it, but certainly not like irrevocable limb loss embodied in a tiny silver band.

She’d never seen an assassin’s bind stay on for more than a day before. She knew, in theory, what was going to happen, but….how long would it take? How much would it hurt? Would her hand just fall off on its own…or would it be more of an agonising process of the band tightening until it squeezed through her skin and flesh and bone? Her fingers clenched reflexively at the mere thought, and she shivered. If it came to that, she’d much rather cut it off herself. At least then maybe she wouldn’t die from infection before the hand even came off.

Quietly, she pulled out one of her blades, and lodged the tip under the binding. She tugged, and pulled, but the blade that could happily pierce rock did absolutely nothing to the piece of flimsy-looking ribbon. It didn’t even so much as displace a thread. She hadn’t expected any different, really, but…

She sighed, frustrated, and put the blade away.

Miles away, the kingdom was changing. That day had dawned on the end of a beloved monarch’s reign, his funeral procession rang out by the castle bells, tolling lowly all the way to the Valley of Graves. There, Lord Viren declared that the Princes of Katolis were both dead, and the kingdom grieved for the death of the entire royal family as the King’s body burned.

The sun set, and by the light of the Acolytes’ fires, Opeli reluctantly placed the Crown of Towers upon a new head.

On that day, the Thirteenth of the month, the High Mage was crowned Lord Protector of the realm.

---

End chapter.

Timeline: I’ve decided a date for the start of canon just so I can make a proper timeline to follow. In this story, the first day of canon (night-time, when Rayla fails to kill Marcos) was 11th of May. The day of the full moon was 12.05, day 2 since start of canon. This chapter takes place on 13.05, or day 3 since start of canon. Numbering the days like this helps me keep track of when events should take place, as my notes on TDP episodes are numbered according to the day count. My timeline is meticulously planned up to day 14 so far, and I have plans that will take the story far beyond that.

Important canon divergences this chapter: Amaya is still many days away from the castle, and had no chance of stopping Viren’s coronation. Viren is now, somewhat legitimately, the Lord Protector of Katolis, and will have full authority to use the king’s seal and command the forces of Katolis. You can bet Opeli isn’t happy about it though, and most of the local citizens won’t be, either.

On the story concept: The drastically increased size of the continent changes basically everything. Armies take much longer to move, and the logistics of supplying them are much more difficult. Amaya is not able to basically teleport from the Breach to the Banther Lodge in half a day. Anything that’s time-sensitive, or involves a message or a person having to go somewhere, may turn out drastically differently. Some major events in canon may still happen, others might not, and others may occur in very, very different ways.

The kids themselves will take dramatically different routes to canon, encounter different problems, make different plans, and in general spend a whole lot more time travelling and managing their travel. There’ll be lots of delicious travel scenes, and campfire scenes, and interaction, and cute character moments. Also tent-sharing. There will be a whole lot of that.

Please note that the Rayllum is going to be very slow burn. I mean that. The very first hints of it aren’t until about 30k in – this fanfiction could probably double as a slow cooker. But there will be plenty of fluff along the way.

Final note: While the first 40k of this story is pretty light and fluffy, it will get more serious after this, and contain difficult scenes, concepts, themes, and will have events with lasting consequences for the characters. I will warn readers at the start of any chapters that may contain potentially difficult concepts, events, or scenes.

Currently written chapters: 1 (This one, ~9k), 2 (about 9k), 3 (also about 9k), 4 (11k), and 5 (10k). It’s mostly cute travel fluff until chapter 5, where things start getting more serious.

I’ll update every few days ish. Want to give myself time to write more. Please please show your appreciation in some fashion if you enjoyed this or are intrigued to see more – I get super anxious whenever posting a new story, and feedback and story stats keep me motivated to continue writing.

My thanks to Jelly for reading and providing feedback while I was writing chapters 1-5, and in general for nagging me to keep writing when my motivation was flagging. You've been an excellent writing buddy.

#tdp #tdp fic #rayllum #tdp callum #tdp rayla #tdp ezran #piaj #slow burn #this is going to be a very long story guys #and very very slow burn #don't get into this unless you're prepared to slowly immolate over the course of hundreds of thousands of words #piaj chapters

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asknightqueendany · 5 years

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I don't care what is Fire and what is Ice. But for arguments sake let's say it's Dany and Jon and the whole pt of the story is Dany and Jon coming together. Fire and Ice coming together. And? Doesn't mean they come together for some epic romance that will save humanity. Could be bringing them together is what causes a disaster. F and I can have multiple meanings. You said so yourself. Which means they can also have multiple consequences and all might not be so good.

“ Doesn't mean they come together for some epic romance that will save humanity.”

But......they already have. They are together romantically and they are planning to save the world.

I’ve listed numerous theories about this and what it all could mean. It’s not my fault you’re just now tuning in.

GRRM has said, “I mean... Fire is love, fire is passion, fire is sexual ardor and all of these things. Ice is betrayal, ice is revenge, ice is… you know, that kind of cold inhumanity and all that stuff is being played out in the books.”

Which implies Fire = good, Ice = bad.

We’ve already kind of seen this, much of Dany’s story being framed in a positive light, her being “Mhysa”, freeing slaves, bringing “Fire and Blood” to those who harm people who can’t defend themselves, etc.

However, George has also said his title is inspired by Robert Frosts’ poem Fire and Ice:

Some say the world will end in fire,Some say in ice.From what I’ve tasted of desireI hold with those who favor fire.But if it had to perish twice,I think I know enough of hateTo say that for destruction iceIs also greatAnd would suffice.

Which implies Ice AND Fire = destruction.

And we’ve already seen that too - GRRM’s original outline at least hints at that with George saying there are three major threats to the realm: 1) The Stark/Lannister war 2) Dany’s Dothraki Invasion (Fire) and 3) (what he calls the GREATEST threat of all) The Others (Ice).

However, every time I talk about the original outline, people figuratively shit all over my posts saying that since not EVERYTHING from the outline has come to pass, that it’s not reliable for divining anything about the endgame...except, you know, the whole Jon falling in love with his sister/cousin thing except for some reason Sansa and not Arya.

BTW LOVE that I often get accused of picking and choosing my evidence. If that outline scenario isn’t the epitome of picking and choosing evidence, I don’t know what is.

And I’ve also talked about the possibility of Dany = Fire, Others = Ice, and Jon being Ice and Fire brings the two together.

Jon is the one to first discover that fire kills wights. This happens in AGOT and Season 1 when he saves Mormont from Othor’s corpse. So Jon - being Ice and Fire - learns that Fire destroys the Others (Ice), and brings Daenerys (Fire) to come help him defeat the Others (Ice).

I’ve also talked about the possibility of the Night King seeking Jon and Dany’s help - possibly in reversing the curse on him of being turned into an Other in the first place.

But so far as denying the romantic aspect of the story between Jon and Dany, at this point, with all the book foreshadowing and with them already getting together on the show and everyone saying they’re in love, I see no reason to deny it. All the evidence is there, it’s all stacked up.

It’s like having a literal elephant in a room and saying, “Meh, but is it an elephant though? I know it’s got the trunk like an elephant but maybe, just maybe, it’s a weird looking hippo.”

So far as “Dance of Dragons 2.0″ as so many Dany-antis seem to point to - uhhhhh, hello, we already have our second Dragon rider - THE NIGHT KING! Jon has somewhat bonded with Drogon. However he can’t ride Drogon unless Dany dies or he rides Drogon with her. That’s how the dragon/dragonrider bond works.

To deny that DOD2.0 is between Dany and Night King (or Great Other if you’re a book reader) - the two characters whose Ice and Fire identities are undeniable, when Jon’s is always called into question - is soooooooo fucking ridiculous.

Jon hasn’t even mounted a dragon yet! But he’s supposed to somehow bond with Rhaegal, learn to ride him, get him to turn against his mother who raised him since he was an unhatched egg, and fly so well he can defeat Daenerys and Drogon in some epic dragon battle, and all for...the Iron Throne, which Jon doesn’t even want...?

Uhhhhh, I don’t think so. I’ve also already talked at length as to what might make Daenerys go mad - meaning she would need to be defeated by Jon. And there isn’t really anything left that could make her go mad that hasn’t already happened to her. She’s been abused, raped, enslaved, whipped, betrayed, had a husband die, had a child die, had a dragon die, lost close friends, been cursed, been insulted, been spit on, been called a whore, a foreign invader, a mad queen....

And yet, even with all this, Daenerys is still able to make the right decision when it comes to the War for the Dawn and march her armies North, abandoning indefinitely her quest for the Iron Throne, so that she can save humanity.

In what universe does that spell - but she’s gonna go mad, she’s gonna kill all the Northerners and threaten Jon’s family so that he’ll have to fight her. Yeah, sure Jan. What fucking show have these antis even been watching??

Also, another name for Obsidian aka Dragonglass, is Frozen Fire. And what defeats the White Walkers? Dragonglass. So it seems, Ice and Fire need to come together to defeat the others. And as I’ve said in a different post, though Jon is both Stark and Targaryen making him biologically Ice and Fire, his story has been all about the theme of Ice - Stark look, direwolf (not dragon) companion, the Wall, WINTERfell, Lands of Always Winter, Frost Fangs, etc. Story-wise, he’s Ice. Just as storywise, Dany is fire.

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5hfanfiction · 6 years

Text

Messy (Lauren Jaurgeui/Kendall Jenner)

Lauren gently hums as she adds a pinch of salt to the pan, already finishing up on the dinner she prepares for her and Kendall. The other girl, on the other hand, was left on Lauren’s small living room to fend for herself.

They were just texting three days ago, and knowing that they both have nothing to do on this day and they will both be in LA, they decided they should get together.

Lauren is convinced that the only safe place for them is inside her small apartment because regardless what some fans think, the media hasn’t picked up on this ‘friendship’ and paparazzi hasn’t been hounding her yet. So instead of risking it, eating outside on a great restaurant, or hanging out at Kendall’s place, she invites Kendall over. Hoping she doesn’t come off as disinterested in this plan, she tells Kendall she’d cook them dinner, which thankfully, Kendall was excited about.

Finally confident about her piece, she calls Kendall over as she finishes preparing the table.

She looks up to see Kendall smiling towards her, “Awww. You know you could’ve called me, and I could have set up the table since you cooked for us.”

Lauren shakes her head softly as she motions for Kendall to sit across her, “Come on. You’re my guest.”

Kendall clasps her hand in excitement, her eyes scanning the table. “My friends make me do the dishes when I come over.”

Lauren laughs at that, “Yeah no. Stop shitting me.”

“Hey, I know how to do the dishes!” Kendall exclaims as she takes her phone to take a photo of their food. “I’m gonna take a picture of this baby ‘cause it’s the first time you cooked for me.” Kendall then takes a picture of Lauren before the other girl can even protest. Lauren then notes, that Kendall really loves taking pictures.

“First time? Are you implying that there would be a second time?” Lauren teases as she waits till Kendall finishes picture taking so she can serve her their supper. She’s adamant on serving Kendall whatever she wants because she wanted to be the best host ever. It’s something she had learned from her mother growing up. Always make the best impression as a host, make your guest feel at home. Though this is Kendall’s second time at her place, it’s better late than never.

“Depends, on how good this… what do you call this again?”

“It’s basically just an omelette of chorizo, potato and cheese. Nothing big, but I swear, it’s gonna blow your mind.” Lauren says as her eyes widen while talking, she’s pretty confident with her omelette skills… because really, it’s just egg with other things mixed on it, who can mess that up, right? Then she points to the other plate, “This is some honey garlic chicken.”

“Wow… all these for me?”

“–For us.” Lauren corrected. “What? You think I’m just gonna watch you eat?” Lauren finishes quietly, “After the hours I spent to prepare for this night?”

Kendall laughs softly before she takes her first bite, ignoring the fact that Lauren is staring expectantly at her. True to Lauren’s words, the omelette and the chicken did blow her mind away. She can eat whatever she wants so she did not hold back. “Are you sure you’re not a chef? ‘Cause this is really amazing.”

Kendall would’ve laughed if she hadn’t taken another bite when she sees Lauren blush.

“Well, that’s me. I’m great at what I do.”

Kendall then didn’t hold back, “Wow. And here I thought you’d be humble about it.”

Lauren takes a sip of her drink then answers, “Hey, if you’re great at something, flaunt it, am I right?”

“Babe, one time, you’re oozing with self-love and confidence, then you’re drowning in self-pity the next.”

“Unfortunately, that’s also me.” Lauren says as she looks up to Kendall, “I don’t know. Sometimes I try to be really positive about myself. You know, that thing where you look at the mirror and you tell yourself you’re doing amazing sweetie…” They both laugh not missing the reference, “and like, tell myself I’m beautiful and talented and all that.” Lauren takes a break and notice that Kendall is actually listening to her, and she appreciates it. She likes it when people actually listen to what she has to say, no matter how trivial what she’s saying is. “But then, there are times that I feel like… I’m not that attractive at all. And that I’m messy and problematic, or annoying even, and just… like wonder what people see in me? Or maybe not see in me, since people tend to leave or betray me or whatever.”

She doesn’t know why she’s opening up to Kendall this way since they’re not that close yet. But it’s been a trait she has. To give herself to people around her that had warmed their way into her heart. Her defence mechanism acting up, as she quickly adds, “I guess it’s the Cancer in me. I’m emotional and sentimental but moody and insecure.”

She didn’t expect Kendall to reach for her hand, so she looks at her in confusion. She was met by Kendall’s kind eyes and smile, “Hey, I get it too. See, I think it’s why I like hanging out with you so much is that we connect in some levels I can’t even explain? Like, I totally get what you’re saying. Like we can tell ourselves that we’re beautiful and amazing just the way we are, and I try to live by that and tell others the same, but sometimes you feel insecure too, you know? Like you’re not good enough… Or that the reason why people hate you or says mean things about you is because maybe you’re really not the great of a person that you think you are.”

Lauren’s heart warms as she finds a common ground between them. At first she was afraid that there’s nothing really much to talk about other than their mutual love for dogs, or animals in general, but as she gets to know Kendall, she realizes that there’s so much more than meets the eye. “I guess we just have to prove them wrong day by day. As long as we know what we truly are, and keep on getting better, then other people can go fuck themselves, right?”

They both laugh at that and continue with their dinner.

-..-

Kendall was all prepared for their sleepover, bringing pajamas Lauren didn’t know she owned, – a pair filled with cute baby dinosaurs all over. Kendall insisted that she wash the dishes since Lauren did all the work in their dinner. While Kendall was changing in the bathroom, Lauren then moves to her bedroom preparing the room for the upcoming movie marathon that they planned. She also prepares a bottle of Pinot Noir she got earlier as a gift from a fan. Yes, a fan.

Seeing as she had posted multiple times of when she was drinking, one of her fans thought that it’d be a great idea to send her some alcohol. She doesn’t even know, how this had managed to go pass security, but all of the girls found it amusing, and Lauren could only count on three conclusions. One, the amount of money her fans dedicate on her and her gifts is insane. Two, her fans really pick up on things. And Three, (not really a conclusion) but what exactly is her reputation to her fans now?

Kendall comes into the room and Lauren invites her into the bed.

“Getting me drunk now, huh, Jauregui?” Kendall says as she puts her hand into her hip, which Lauren finds not intimidating at all since she’s already in her pajamas. “Imagine what people would think when we post one photo of this evening. Your fans would go crazy.”

“Oh, my fans? Putting the blame on my chickens alone is just—”

“Chickens? What?”

“I call my fans chickens sometimes.” Lauren shrugs as she starts with her drink.

Kendall stares at her for a moment, then slowly crawls onto the bed next to her. “So what are we watching?” Kendall asks as she settles in next to Lauren.

“Me Before You, ‘cause I’m obsessed with Emilia Clarke.” Lauren said excitedly. She figured she’s probably just gonna play it safe with some romantic movies than play her usual genres. “Well not really her, but her character on Game of Thrones.”

Upon hearing that, Kendall looks up from her phone, “I don’t understand why people are so hooked up on that show!”

Lauren looks at her in disbelief and said, “Because! It’s literally the best show ever! It has a political spin off. It’s like a medieval show! It has dragons. And it has a good amount of butts and boobs on screen.” She hears Kendall laugh at the last one, and then she continues not without a smirk playing on her face, “We should watch it next time.”

“We should. I’ll bring the box set. Or you know, we could hang out at my place next.”

“How do you have a box set?”

“I don’t. Khloe has. She had joined the bandwagon at one point and decided to caught up to it with Kylie.” Before they can continue on the subject, she grabs the bottle from Lauren to pour her own glass and was surprised when she noticed the name, “Holy shit. You really are trying to get me drunk. This is only the third date!”

“Exactly. By now, we should have already been hooking up. Oh wait, look at that. Who’s right next to me in my bed? I’m pretty sure we’re in the right path.” Lauren says, trying to sound pretty confident with herself, sipping suave on her glass.

Kendall chuckles. She puts down her glass at the side table, quickly removing her bra under her shirt and pulling it in one go, ignoring Lauren’s, “Kendall, what are you doing?” Throwing it somewhere towards the floor as she tries to smile flirtingly at Lauren. Leaning in she says, “Well, right path.”

They both laugh at this new improvement between them and settles in.

When Kendall was comfortable, she sips one more time and moans, “God, this is so good. Are you sure it’s okay to waste this on just a sleepover with us two? Or do you do this to all of your friends? If so, we’re gonna be BFF’s from now on.”

“A fan gave it to me.” Lauren says, smirking, gauging Kendall’s reaction.

“Are you for real? This shit is expensive for sure. It tastes so amazing.” Kendall says as she drinks some more.

Lauren laughs lightly, “I know, right? I kinda feel bad. Because all I can do is like, post it on my Instagram story and tag this girl who gave it me, Kirsten. And that’s literally all I could do. And I kinda feel like it’s not enough, you know what I mean? I just wanna give back more.”

“Your chickens are awesome.” Kendall says in response, “But hey, if they’re giving you these stuff, then you’re clearly doing something right. I mean look at this.” She reaches for Nala but Lauren quickly snatches it away.

“Hey! Nala is off limits! The sex should have been good before I let you touch this baby.”

Kendall laughs, “Oh God. This hooking up joke is gonna be our thing now, isn’t it?” Lauren shrugs as she plays the movie.

Lauren figures, fuck this Kenren thing. They’re friends. And they could do some harmless flirting as long as it’s just them. So maybe she lets it go when Kendall Snapchats the bottle of wine. And maybe not overthink whether fans would connect two and two together. It’s like Normani has said, it’s not gonna be awkward if she doesn’t let it.

-..-

They’re in the middle of the movie when Kendall asks, “What sports do you play?”

Lauren thinks for a minute then says, “Uhmm… I used to play softball?”

“Uh-huh… What else?”

Lauren tries to remember, “I’m not really athletic, but I think I had tried as many sports as I can. My PE class had made sure of that.”

Lauren turns to Kendall and returns the question, “I know there’s this joke going around that it runs in the Jenner blood that you’re athletic and adventurous, so where are you good at?”

“Ehhh… I like sports in general. I love skiing, I love running, tennis, horse-riding. Golf. Racing… And I love basketball–” The more Kendall lists of things she’s good at, the more Lauren wonders how could anyone think this girl is boring.

“I’m pretty good at tennis."Lauren tries to pipe in. She stopped being athletic every since she started in the band. It’s just something she had lost touch in.

"We should play some time. I haven’t played in ages. Oh, I know!” Kendall sits up, excitement showing off on her features, “We should write things we like to do, and then like, teach other stuff we don’t know. Like do, what the other is into, you know what I mean? Like I’m into sports, so I’ll teach you that. And you’re great in anything art-related.”

It’s at the tip of Lauren’s tongue but she doesn’t say it. Great. That’s technically like, dating.

“And we could totally make a game out of it. Since we’re both competitive.” Lauren said instead.

She didn’t expect Kendall to ride on it too, “Sure. I’m on. I’m so gonna kick you ass, Jauregui.”

“Huh. You clearly had a great start with your genes and all, Jenner. But I’m totally gonna be a pain in your ass. I’m competitive as fuck.”

“Whatever you say, potato. Whatever you say.”

-..-

“What was it like being a model?”

“Weren’t you friends with models too?”

Lauren looks at her pointedly, not without rolling her eyes, “Kendall… You’re a high-fashion model. It’s not the same. So…”

“Actually, sometimes it kinda is. Because being a model—”

“Okay” Lauren exasperates. She doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol, or Kendall’s just being… Instead, she continues, “I’m just asking, because all my friends who models for simple ads, or anything is just doing that as a hobby. Clearly, you have made a career out of it.”

There were silent, just letting the light sound of the movie play in the background.

“Well… I don’t really know how to explain.”

Lauren looks at her, and tilts her head, regretting it already because it sent a spike on her head. Damn, is she that tipsy already? “Have you always wanted to be a model? Or… does Kim being on the business influenced you?”

At this Kendall realizes they don’t really know each other yet. Lauren’s questions made sense. Something she learns about Lauren, is she never makes these small talks just for the sake of having it. The more Lauren wants to be listened to, the more the green-eyed girl listens. So instead of brushing it off or being casual about it, she replies honestly, “I remember wanting it when I was a kid. I remember looking at pictures of models, and thinking I wanted to be like them. I don’t know how it started. I don’t even remember understanding it that well by then. It’s like I just know it’s what I wanted to do.” Kendall bits her lip before she slowly turns her eyes back to the TV. She realizes the way Lauren looks at her feels too intimate – or maybe it’s the alcohol.

“Have you always wanted to be a singer?” Kendall asks, hoping Lauren’s gaze will falter. Damn those green eyes.

She hears Lauren chuckle at this and on her peripheral vision, sees that Lauren has reached out to the bottle at the side table, breaking the intense gaze she had on her. “God, no.”

This piques Kendall’s interest so she turns her body to Lauren, now looking at her expectantly.

After pouring Kendall’s and her glasses, she continues, “We weren’t rich. I was raised from a very strict and practical family. I was an overachiever in high school. Pretty much, I started out thinking I should get a sensible job.”

“A sensible job? How much have you earned for the past year alone? How much do you think your classmates in high school earns now?”

“If you knew how fucking rich some of them are, I’d say they’re doing pretty good.” After earning a hard glare from Kendall, Lauren continues, “Well that aside, I didn’t start thinking that I could be a singer. Singing was a dream. A talent, for sure, but not something I thought I would have a career on. So you know, I was leaning more to a plan. Not exactly running towards my dreams or whatever.”

“So what changed?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Hey, I wanna know. Come on.” Kendall nudges Lauren, now completely turning all her attention towards her.

Risking it, Lauren looks back at Kendall, who was waiting on her explanation. Lauren figures she should just change the topic, but then this is her thing. The late night talks and the deep conversations. Taking a deep breath, she says “Reality shows had just been a hit back then.” Lauren started. “I mean, American Idol was a success. And One Direction was a hit for sure. So suddenly, singing wasn’t just a dream. Like, I could be successful on that. So I followed Simon Cowell. And then the rest was history.”

A moment of silence, then Kendall follows, “Huh…”

“What? Wasn’t what you expected?” Lauren says as she turns her attention back to the movie. She’s suddenly feeling a little hot, and she hopes to God, she’s not near anywhere to the point of embarrassing herself, because she can at least admit she’s getting drunk. Whose idea was it to hit that bottle? This is why your ‘chickens’ think you’re an alcoholic, you moron. Lauren thinks to herself.

They had reached the part of the movie where Sam’s character, Will had attempted suicide before and had set his mind to commit ‘assisted suicide’ in 6 months time because he couldn’t accept his new life as a disabled person.

“So would you wanna kill yourself if your face gets ruined?” Lauren blurts out, desperate in changing the topic. If she was sober, she could have probably had thought of a better game changer.

Kendall chokes on her drink, “What?”

Lauren points to the movie, hoping it will explain her not-so-sudden outburst. Seeing as Kendall still looked clueless, she adds, “I don’t think I can ever justify suicide…. But in this case… He clearly had lost all hope. Being active was his life. And he can’t do that anymore ‘cause his legs won’t work. So like… if… whatever makes yourself you, is taken away from you… And you can’t live your life the way it was, would you? Kill yourself?”

“I don’t think I ever considered suicide.” Kendall says plainly. “Like… Isn’t death so final?”

Lauren stays silent pondering on Kendall’s answer. She agrees with her, but as she stares at the TV screen, she starts to think, death is final. It’s when you lost all hope, and you just want it all to end. It’s when you’re not even scared of it anymore, because you find that living is worse than death. She sighs biting on her lip, clearly focused on the TV hoping it’ll get her some clarification.

It’s when she hears Kendall that distracts her from her thoughts. “Wow. You know, if this was with other people. They would’ve just focused on the romantic drama of it all, or how cute Sam Claflin is.”

Lauren looks back at her in question.

Kendall answers her softly, “Yet you’re focusing on death-“

“Damn. Did I just say those things out loud? I’m sorry. I’m probably way past my limit.” Lauren quickly apologizes setting down her glass.

Kendall shakes her head sitting up. “No, no! I like it! It’s different! You’re different.”

Lauren is not even sure if that’s a good thing.

Kendall continues the conversation, now looking a little more excited. “How about you? If you lose your voice?”

“As in I damaged my voice, or like I can’t speak?”

“Let’s go with you can’t speak.”

“Damn. That’ll hurt.” Lauren’s shoulders slumps down at the possibility of never speaking again. That’s gonna frustrate her for sure. “Oh fuck. That’s horrible!” Lauren cries as she imagines herself having all these ideas to herself and not even saying anything about it! Having to say goodbye to singing and all those unspoken lyrics, forever unheard! And she won’t be able to call anyone anymore. And have late night conversations. And–

“If this is you losing your voice… I can totally see your internal breakdown. You look like your about to cry.” Kendall says laughing, clearly amused by Lauren’s reaction.

Lauren’s eyebrows furrows, and she really did look like she’s about to cry. She’s not sure why she’s keeping quiet about it but just the thought…

“Because it’s terrifying! I can’t lose my voice!!” Series of unfortunate events runs through her mind…

Kendall insists, “But what if!”

“I hate what if’s! That’s literally you breaking your heart about something that would probably never even happen! The thought consumes you, and then you get anxiety over it!” Lauren exasperates, putting her hand on her forehead, clearly frustrated at the situation – in which Kendall finds hilarious, because apparently, Lauren looks cute when she’s frustrated. Her face turns red and her accent comes out.

“Stop laughing! How can you laugh at someone’s distress? Can you be a little compassionate?” Lauren says, pouting, slightly hitting Kendall to stop her from laughing.

Kendall, after a good laugh, finally notices that Lauren already had watery eyes, so she clears her throat, but not completely wiping the smile off her face, puts a comforting hand on Lauren. “I’m sorry.” She scoots near Lauren, now embracing her, putting her hand on her head patting it gently, while her other hand wraps around the singer’s body. “It’s gonna suck, if you lose our voice. Not just ‘cause you’re a singer, but ‘cause you have these ideas. And I kinda want to hear them from you. And… okay, maybe I like your voice too.”

“My singing voice?”

“Hmmm. Yeah. And your talking voice too.”

They were like that for awhile… Bodies flushed against each other, with Lauren finally relaxing to Kendall’s embrace. Kendall would’ve found it weird that she’s finally being affectionate to people all of a sudden, only if the whole thing wasn’t already weird. And Lauren would’ve been cautious on how intimate they were being, if she wasn’t calming down from her little internal breakdown.

“Would you sing for me?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. You were mean to me just a while back.”

“Come on, I’m comforting you right now.”

-..-

“So what is it like, being with a girl?”

After crying for real this time, when Will died in the movie, and ranting at how Lauren has invested herself in the movie, only for the character to die and break her heart, they are now playing twenty questions – or at least it started out as that. Seeing as they are now drunk off their asses, they don’t even know what number they are in.

Lauren laughs in response, collecting the cards between them, and readying for another round of their game, “Kenny, this is as cliché as it gets. We’re definitely drunk. We’re on the bed. We just watched a fucking sappy movie in which I cried. Sorry to break it to you but this is not the part where we make out in the end just so you can experiment.”

Kendall’s face twists in amusement. “Who said anything about making out?”

“You’re asking what it’s like to be with a girl! That’s classic experimenting pick up line!”

“How the fuck is asking that, me hinting that I wanna make out with you? I mean no offense, you’re probably a great kisser, but like… how?”

“It’s hard to explain. Ask me again when we’re sober and I’ll have a better answer than it’s just is!” Lauren waves her hand, thinking it’s enough to prove a point.

“Babe, I just asked because it’s like, 2:43 in the morning” Kendall says as she looks at her phone, then turning back to her drinking partner. Funny, the last time she touched her phone was when she put it on silent before they started the movie. “It’s when we talk about personal stuff and get to know each other.”

“But how did you even—”

Kendall chuckles and quickly stops Lauren, “Lauren, I know why fans are going crazy about us hanging out. I know about people thinking I’m gay. I know that you’re bi, and you had a girlfriend… I even know about that song with Halsey. And… just because it doesn’t bother me, doesn’t mean I don’t know anything. I’ve been on this path with Cara before.”

Lauren bites her lips and tilts her head trying to figure Kendall out. She’s not so sure because she can’t trust her memories right now, but she remembers talking about their hobbies, their embarrassing stories caught on camera, their friends, their taste in music, the places they had been on, and so much more. Indeed, it’s the time to ask those hard-hitting personal questions. Lauren sighs then narrows her eyes, “have you been in love?”

“Maybe”

Lauren lets out a laugh at this and continues, “I just don’t get how it’s the 21st century, and people still think that same sex relationship is an uncharted territory. For sure, being with a woman is different than with a man. But sometimes I think, people are just afraid the answers will almost be the same as when we’re talking about heterosexual relationships. that, it’’s not just about the sex. For future reference, don’t ask about how was it being with that gender, instead, ask how was it being with that person.” Lauren’s tone wasn’t condescending. It was normal, too normal, like the one she used describing her hometown.

Kendall threads carefully, “So how was it? Being with your ex.”

Lauren’s never been really that open about it. About her past with Lucy. Regardless of the drama it brought to them both, she’s weary about sharing information about her relationship. Contemplating against it, she relents, “We started out as friends – best of friends. Then I felt different. Then I felt I wanted more. Then it felt like I wanted to be with her, so much that it just consumes me. Then it felt exciting and confusing and… terrifying… and electrifying at the same time?” Lauren smiles as she reminisces her time with her long-time friend. “It was different. Good different. Not because she’s a girl, but because of her, because of us. Everything was so fucking crazy with our lives, and just… with each other, it made sense, have you ever felt that? Then, everything was great until it wasn’t. Crazy thing is it ended just like my other relationship did – we started wanting different things.

I just think that maybe, if people starts treating same sex relationship as equal as heterosexual relationship, then people won’t find it so bizarre. Then, people might just stop being afraid of being themselves. Then people won’t categorize you and define you based on your sexuality. Then people won’t judge you for who you’re with. It’ll make the world a better place.”

“That’s really beautiful and I completely agree. Maybe my dad wouldn’t get half the shit she got when she transitioned.”

Lauren stops and suddenly remembers Caitlyn. She was about to apologize but she wasn’t sure what to be sorry about.

“I asked because I like hearing you talk, things that you’re passionate about or… I don’t know.“ Kendall laughs a little, playing with the edge of Lauren’s pillow case, avoiding Lauren’s gaze. "I guess I haven’t really felt that yet. That… exciting, confusing, terrifying and electrifying kinda love.”

“Oh…” Lauren reaches in and holds Kendall, in which Kendall responds with looking back at Lauren, “Well, you’ll find that. And you’ll experience it and it’ll be amazing. It’ll be hard, and so fucking painful. But it’ll be worth it.” Lauren tries to send a reassuring smile on Kendall’s way, which luckily, Kendall returns.

“You’re very different from everyone I’ve met, Lauren.”

Lauren doesn’t know if it’s the current state she’s in, or the compliment – or at least she considers it as one, that makes her feel like she’s gonna combust any minute. She smiles genuinely back at Kendall and says, “Well, you’re more than what I ever expected.”

Kendall waits, slowly raising her eyebrows.

Lauren laughs, trying to look anywhere but her, “I just realized you’re more than just the pretty face, the high-fashion model, the name, the glamour, the headlines… We’re like from two different worlds, but we’re slowly meeting at the middle. It’s so… fascinating.”

Looking at each other, it’s like they were having a moment to themselves. Slowly, they smile at each other on sync.

“I totally agree.”

-..-

Bottle of champagne emptied and discarded on the table, cards thrown down the floor, lights were out, and they were both ready to go to sleep.

It’s almost morning, 4:36am, and they were both so tired and not, at the same time.

Safe to say, they enjoyed every second of their time together.

They were side to side, when Kendall turns to face Lauren and asks, “So, would you kiss me?”

Lauren snorts, still her eyes closed, and says, “Jesus, Kendall. Shut up and go to sleep.”

“What? It’s just a question!” Kendall defended. “Hypothetically.”

“Just because I’m bi and single doesn’t mean I’m gonna go around kissing girls—”

“God, Lauren. Would it kill you to get straight to the point?”

“I’m Lauren Michelle Jauregui. I live by, “Why say three words when 50 would suffice?”

That earns a laugh from Kendall. So true.

Unfortunately for Lauren, Kendall has not let go of the subject. Lauren has her eyes closed the whole time, but she can totally sense Kendall’s still looking at her. “If you ask me if I think you’re hot, I’d totally say ‘yes’ in a heartbeat.”

At this, Lauren finally opens her eyes and looks at Kendall glaring at her, “Sweetie, you asked’ me if I would kiss you. If you had asked me if I think you’re hot, I’d say yes too.” She softens her expressions and her lips slowly turns upward on a smirk, “but not on a heartbeat though. I wouldn’t wanna seem too eager.”

She receives a slight hit from Kendall. “So?” Kendall eventually resumes the conversation.

Lauren bites her lip, looking at Kendall, “Dude, let it go. I’m not gonna kiss you. You look straight as fuck it hurts.”

“Break me down gently, would you?” Kendall says, chuckling at Lauren’s negative response. “And how does—”

Seeing the humor, Lauren laughs, quickly putting a hand on Kendall’s arm, “Ask me again, when I’m sober, I can’t even think anymore.”

After another hit, Kendall leans in and kisses Lauren on the cheek. She lingers, still close to Lauren’s face. “Good night, my sweet potato. I really had a great time. We should do this again, some time.”

Lauren hums, as she maintains the eye-to-eye contact with Kendall, “I should think of a nickname for you too. This pet name is supposed to be a two-way street.”

Finally, leaning back to her position, Kendall puts the comforter near her face. “Hmmm. I’ll ask about that when we’re both sober. Speaking of… We’re gonna regret this when we wake up later in the afternoon, won’t we?”

“The only think I might regret is passing the great opportunity of making out with the one and only Kendall Jenner.”

Lauren had asked Kendall later on, that if Lauren had say yes, would they have made out that night, in which Kendall replied, ‘yes definitely. But you were too 'chicken’ so… ’

-..-

ao3

#UPDATE #series #non AU #slash #based on song #humour #romance fluff #submission #Messy

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