Chapter Text
It must have been many years since you stepped foot into the capital, then you were still a young princess carrying out orders from the late Empress, your mother. Then it had been a calculating princess working against her sisters to stand out, in her return she was the still newly ascended Empress here to enjoy The First Bloom Festival in public as a testament to her ascension. The First Bloom was a grand one meant to celebrate the return of spring, in the past you had only taken part in planning the Summer celebrations on orders of your mother, much to your displeasure.
Gracing the festival with your appearance in the year of your ascension would be a good move, you had thought. Normally there were separate celebrations for those in the Imperial Palace for your family but this would possibly be the one time in a while where you would celebrate it outside instead, for the praise of the people you suppose.
Dressed in ceremonial robes of deep violet and gold, you stood upon an elevated pavilion overlooking the central square. Fireworks cracked against the night sky, illuminating the swirling dancers below. The dancers and their silk ribbons flashed like rivers of light, twisting and curling to the music. You rarely appeared before her people, having spent most of her youth in the palace’s secluded halls but tonight, you allowed herself this indulgence, even if it was for your own benefit of seeming humble to your people to spend a holiday with them, it was nice to witness the joy of your empire firsthand.
Among you sat the council of the current mayor, your concubines were encouraged to go off and perform charity in the festival's events, therefore you were surrounded by mostly government officials who gathered to spend the evening with you. You blamed your dizzy state on them however, you really did make great attempts to spend your company with those of high birth but you would no doubt enjoy yourself more if they did not.. pester you the entire time on stupid things in order to grow friendly with you.
“Ah, it seems even the heavens will celebrate the return of spring with new life,” the man’s voice murmured, when you looked up you saw a blond, a beauty in fact, his eyes reminded her of emeralds and his hair fell below his shoulders. You noticed his eyes flicking toward your stomach and you raised your brow at his boldness.
You turned your head, raising a brow. The speaker was one of the mayor’s male companions- a courtesan, perhaps, or a favored attendant. You recalled seeing his face next to the mayor’s earlier today. He was certainly handsome enough for the role, though his attire did not quite match that of a typical servant. Bold too, too bold.
You chose not to take offense considering the light heartedness of the holiday and instead you replied to him, “I think you're too pretty to make bold assumptions like that, much less think about them.”
He only smiled at you and nodded, “As your majesty says.” And paid his attention back to the mayor, walking over to her.
The exchange was brief, barely a ripple in the night’s festivities. You naturally didn't think much of him for the rest of the evening.
.
.
.
By dawn, you were on your knees, emptying the contents of your stomach into a porcelain basin. The queasiness in your stomach had worsened since you went to bed last night, and when you rose, the world spun around you. A physician was summoned immediately. The verdict did not take long.
“Your Majesty,” the elderly doctor had said earlier after his examination, bowing low. “You are with child, it should be two months along now.”
The chamber fell into stunned silence. Then, murmurs rippled through your attendants. A pregnancy? So soon after your ascension? It had only been months since. The news would send shockwaves through the court.
Wiping the contents from your lips with a silk handkerchief and exhaling slowly, you only said, “Bring me the man from last night.”
The attendants hesitated. It was assumed that he had gravely offended the Empress with his comment. Was she going to punish him?
When the man was finally brought into your presence, he was composed, hands folded in quiet obedience. If he was afraid, he did not show it. You studied him for a long moment before allowing a rare smile to curl your lips.
“Tell me,” you mused, tilting your head, “how did you know before even I did?”
The man met your gaze, neither meek nor defiant, merely certain.
“A flower knows when spring has come,” he said simply.
The man did not waver under your gaze, nor did he shrink away like most would before an Empress. If anything, there was a glimmer of amusement in his expression, as though he had been expecting this exchange.
You, for all your regal composure, found yourself intrigued. Men in this empire were raised to be demure, their words measured, their presence delicate. Yet here he stood, unflinching, speaking as if they were equals.
Your lips curled. “And where, I wonder, did you find such charm? To speak so openly before a woman, even seemingly comparing yourself to a flower, before your Empress?”
The man’s smile was slight, almost teasing. “Perhaps I was simply raised without the sense to know fear.”
A soft hum of amusement left you. “Is that so?” You let your fingers lazily trail along the embroidery of your sleeve, gaze sharp despite the casual gesture. “Then I wonder… would the mayor like to see one of her men charming her Empress so boldly?”
“I am nothing to the mayor, Your Majesty,” he said smoothly. “Only a passing healer. She was unwell some time ago, and this is merely my payment—a place to rest until I set off again.”
You raised a brow. A healer? That certainly explained a few things. The confidence, the observant gaze, the way he had spoken of your pregnancy as though it were an obvious truth.
A healer, then. Not a courtesan. Not some foolish servant who had spoken out of turn.
And he was charming.
You took a slow step forward, amusement flickering in your eyes. “A healer, yet one who diagnoses ailments before the patient even notices them,” you mused. “How fortunate.”
Your smirk deepened, and with a flick of your fingers, you turned to one of your attendants. “Inform the mayor that I am borrowing his guest for the rest of the day.”
Then, with a glance back at the man, you added smoothly, “Since you seem to be such a seasoned doctor, it would be a shame not to keep you around a little longer, wouldn’t it?”
He said nothing for the moment. And then, he smiled, as though he had expected this all along.
. . . . . . . . .
Silken curtains fluttered as a cool breeze swept through the open balcony, carrying with it the faint sounds of the imperial garden beyond. Water trickling from the carved inner fountains, the rustle of wind through flowering nearby trees, the distant sound of attendants’ feet. The scent of pleasant burning coal paired with a beautiful man, it was all you needed for the night.
Seated atop a divan accompanied with fine brocade, you idly traced the rim of your jade wine cup, your gaze resting on the blond man standing before you.
Or rather, lounging before you on his own divan, utterly relaxed in the presence of the most powerful woman in the empire.
It was still an amusing thought, even now. When you had first met him during the Spring Festival, he had been nothing more than a passing healer, a man who had dared to speak freely in your presence. And yet here he was, standing in your palace, not as a physician, not as a mere guest, but as yours.
“You’re rather comfortable for someone who should be offering his Empress proper greetings,” you mused, sipping from your cup, watching him over the rim.
He exhaled a quiet laugh, stepping forward, but he did not kneel as tradition dictated. He never did. “Would it please Your Majesty if I performed the ritual properly?” His voice carried that same knowing lilt, teasing yet respectful–just enough to keep his head on his shoulders.
You sighed, setting your cup down. “No. It would bore me.”
He chuckled again, stopping just before you, hands clasped neatly behind his back. He was dressed as befitted a favored concubine; robes of deep indigo and silver, his long hair bound with a golden clasp gifted by your own hand. It is not that he did not look the part of an Imperial Concubine, more rather the way he wore it as if he still had freedom. Composed but never restrained.
“I heard you made quite the impression today.”
“You ought to make the load heavier on servants if rumors reach your ears this fast.” His reply was instant. Not a trace of humility or shame.
“You do not deny it?”
“This depends.”
You exhaled, feeling equally exasperated and entertained. This wasn't the only thing he did then.
“The High Twelfth Princess’ Consort-” you stopped then narrowed your eyes at him, not sharp enough to be malice, “My younger sister’s consort almost fainted when you grabbed his wrist so suddenly-”
“Pulse reading is normal.”
You raised your brow at his arrogant reply, towards you of all people, “-which caused the poor man to become frightened as you approached him so suddenly.”
Luocha tilted his head, “I am wounded.” He approached you closer and knelt to you, laying his hands on your lap then placing his head on top of said hands, his eyes gazed up at you, “I cannot be blamed for not knowing he was so fragile beforehand, yes?”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips curled. He was a menace, truly. When you had first taken him into the palace, you had wondered if he would wilt under the weight of gilded captivity.
But no, he had thrived.
“Shameless,” you muttered.
He grinned. “Only in service to my Empress."
A laugh escaped you. You reached for your wine cup, sipping slowly before saying, “Perhaps I should keep you locked away after all. My ministers would be relieved if their husbands weren’t at risk of fainting in your presence.” Your smile widened before you could feel it, “Better yet, I should have your hands removed to make their assurance grounded.”
He pushed himself further on your lap. Too close and too bold but he had already crossed that line a long time ago. The best path was forward.
“Would that not be a tragedy?” he murmured. “To cripple such a talented physician, when his skills could be put to better use?”
You set your cup aside, eyes gleaming. “Better use, you say?”
“Mm.” He leaned in just slightly, enough for you to catch the faint trace of fragrant herbal oils lingering on his skin.
His voice then became low, “Surely Your Majesty finds my hands most useful?”