Chapter Text
Shen Qingqiu’s first morning in the Unseelie Court dawns drab, gray, and yet unspeakably overheated.
He lies in his bed for a time before groaning and mustering the energy to pull himself upright. There is so much to do to make himself presentable before any of the Unseelie can see him.
The first thing he does is check over his markings. The elaborate patterns decorating his face are part paint part magic, bestowed by Yue Qingyuan as a part of his disguise. For most fae, the markings are a natural extension of their magic, a representation of their season, their court, their ranking, and most of all their power. Right now, in the height of Summer, he knows that Qi Qingqi will be decorated with intricate white lines extending from her face down nearly to the tips of her fingers.
For a human like Shen Qingqiu, living with a borrowed power, the network of lines take a little more upkeep. Still, in a season like summer, when his power is waning, they’re easier to maintain. There’s nothing for him to touch up, not at this moment, so instead he focuses his attention on dressing himself and putting up his hair, and on ensuring that his collection of artifacts remains secure and hidden.
He’s just finished this when there comes a gentle knock. Shen Qingqiu settles in his seat. “Come in.”
“Good morning, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says. He’s balancing a tray with ease, despite the bowls covering it. Shen Qingqiu tries not to perk up, but the smells wafting towards him are both delicious and familiar.
“Binghe,” he says, as the tray is set down in front of him, “did you make this?”
Luo Binghe looks scandalized. “Of course I did,” he says.
Shen Qingqiu hesitates. It’s difficult to do, as his mouth is watering just looking at the food before him. Even plain congee looks delicious, the way Binghe makes it. “Surely you have more important things to attend to,” he says cautiously, “as Lord of the Unseelie.”
Luo Binghe waves a dismissive hand. “As the Lord of the Unseelie Court, you are my guest, and therefore my responsibility.”
It’s solid reasoning, and moreover reasoning that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want to argue with, if the result is him getting food like this. He nods, bows his head, and begins to eat.
-
And so it goes. Every day, Shen Qingqiu wakes to Luo Binghe bringing in a delicious meal. They eat it together, talking occasionally, and then Luo Binghe disappears to take care of his own Court, leaving Shen Qingqiu largely to his own devices.
It is… strange. Shen Qingqiu thought, somehow, that being brought to the Unseelie Court as a not-quite-prisoner would be more dangerous than this, but it is just as pleasant as his time in the Seelie Court, perhaps even more so. After all, he is under Luo Binghe’s protection. He hardly needs to worry about his own political maneuvering, though he does have to be wary of Luo Binghe’s own Lords and Ladies of the seasons.
There is of course Mobei-Jun, but fortunately for Shen Qingqiu, that Unseelie Lord seems to care little about him and his position in Court. They come across each other occasionally, but Mobei-Jun seems content to steer clear of Shen Qingqiu’s quarters, and to ignore him where possible.
Others are not so circumspect. Sha Hualing, in particular, seems to delight in picking at him, challenging him and taunting as she can. It’s never quite enough for Shen Qingqiu to have to call upon Luo Binghe, so he guards against the Unseelie Lady of Autumn as best he can, and strikes back where pride warrants it. Eventually, she loses enough times that her interest begins failing, or perhaps it is the onset of her own season that distracts her, for a time. In any case, Shen Qingqiu is grateful to reach a day where he doesn’t have to worry about potential poisoning.
He expects that Luo Binghe might begin to lose interest in him over time just as Sha Hualing does, but contrary to those expectations, Luo Binghe seeks him out more and more. Even more surprising, Shen Qingqiu finds himself welcoming the company. They spend time together in the evenings, now, drinking tea and watching the leaves fall, or the snow settle, or the moon rise.
It is one day in the depths of winter when Luo Binghe says, “I wish for you to participate in the Winter Solstice festival.”
Shen Qingqiu pauses in the midst of lifting his teacup. “Ah, but I am not a part of your Court,” he says.
Luo Binghe scoffs. “You are my guest in the Court, and furthermore, this is a duty you would be performing if you were in the Seelie Court, is it not?”
Shen Qingqiu gestures an affirmative. “Though it would be Liu Qingge’s task, primarily. It is, after all, not my season.”
Luo Binghe looks up at him, his expression surprisingly candid. “But, Shizun, what about the time when you were… I mean…”
He looks nervous, bringing up Yue Qingyuan, and Shen Qingqiu feels an odd writhing of guilt in his stomach. He looks back down at his tea. “This one will never perform those duties,” he says, which is as much of an admission as he can allow himself to make.
They fall silent for a while. Finally, Luo Binghe calls Shen Qingqiu’s attention back up to himself with a hand placed over his own. Binghe’s hands are warm, Shen Qingqiu thinks. Or maybe it’s just that he’s cold.
“Then you must come to this one,” Luo Binghe says again. This time, Shen Qingqiu nods.
And he does attend the Solstice. Not only that, he begins to attend other, more minor events among the Unseelie Court. There is some grumbling, of course, and some attempts to kill him, which are surprisingly familiar. Shen Qingqiu has enemies everywhere, he finds himself reminded. But they’re desultory attempts, stopped by his own precautions as well as Luo Binghe’s. They rarely do more than bring him a moment of surprise. It feels something like a vacation.
Furthermore, he hardly has to put on the mask of being a Fae Lord. After all, who knows anything of Shen Qingqiu, aside from stories of his intelligence? Well, stories of his ruthlessness seem to abound, but they are blown out of proportion by their time in the rumor mill, and furthermore Luo Binghe has told his own stories of the Seelie Lord of Spring. By the time the end of winter comes about, Shen Qingqiu is nearly as integrated into the Unseelie Court as he was into the Seelie.
Spring gives him and Luo Binghe another time of the day to spend together, in fact. With the gardens of his quarters now flourishing, despite the dim light of the Unseelie Court, they have taken to wandering the garden paths during the day.
It is no secret now, that Luo Binghe has made these gardens in the image of Shen Qingqiu’s Spring Court. Wandering the gardens, it becomes immediately obvious. The paths, the buildings, everything is laid out in a perfect imitation. There are a few places where Luo Binghe’s memory failed him, but every time Shen Qingqiu has remarked on them, they are immediately corrected. The resemblance becomes most obvious in the spring, when even the green, verdant foliage imitates the gentle flowers Shen Qingqiu preferred to represent his own season as Lord of the Seelie Court.
Somehow, Luo Binghe has taken the inhospitable atmosphere of the Unseelie Court and transformed it into something gentle and familiar. Shen Qingqiu wonders at this, but he also appreciates it.
He must also wonder what the Unseelie Lord or Lady of Spring thinks of this, but he has yet to meet them, or even hear whispers of their existence. This, too, makes him suspicious, but he is not yet ready to confront Luo Binghe on that fact.
Instead, he pauses by a bench that has become his favorite. The little glen is shaded, and offers a view of the beautiful fields of flowers. Shen Qingqiu sits, arranging his robes on the bench, and Luo Binghe steps obligingly to the side, to keep from blocking his view. “Binghe,” he murmurs. “What is it that you intend to do with this place, once I am gone?”
Even in profile, Shen Qingqiu can see the scowl spread across Luo Binghe’s face.
“It will be kept,” he says, eventually. “If Shizun should ever desire to return to the Unseelie Court… that is, should you ever visit…”
“I think Yue Qingyuan would have something to say about it.”
Shen Qingqiu means for it to be a reprimand, but the words come out wistful. He lifts his sleeve to his mouth, and holds it there until he is sure he can master his expression, and his voice. It is difficult. Perhaps it is the simplicity of being alone in the Unseelie Court that is the source of it, but Shen Qingqiu is lonely, though he has only just realized it. He has been lonely ever since he first accepted a fae bargain, and came to use another’s title and name. In the Seelie Court, he has made allies, but he has done so from behind a mask the entire time. Shen Qingqiu, Qi Qingqi, Shang Qinghua, even Mu Qingfang, what would they think about him if he were to face them as Shen Yuan?
It is an impossible question. He cannot be Shen Yuan anywhere in the fae realms. There are uncountable reasons why, of course, but there is also the simple truth: telling them his true name would give them all power over him.
He shakes his head, discarding the thought. Here is Luo Binghe, who may be the only fae he knows, who knows him for who he is, in personality if not in name, and does not intend to take advantage of that. He musters a smile. “If Luo Binghe intends to bring about peace between the two courts, this Lord will gladly offer support, and visit. I believe I will miss you.”
“Shizun…” Luo Binghe murmurs. Then, to his surprise, he kneels at Shen Qingqiu’s feet. His eyes are suspiciously shiny. “I must ask. As a child, in the Seelie court… when Shizun took this one to be his student and retainer…Did you know?”
Shen Qingqiu reaches out in reflex, patting the top of Luo Binghe’s head. His hair, sure enough, is just as fluffy as it had once been. Luo Binghe’s eyes slide slowly closed, and Shen Qingqiu has to take a moment to be sure that he can speak without his voice wavering.
“When I took you in, after becoming the Lord of Spring… I did have my suspicions,” he admits. He cards his fingers gently through Luo Binghe’s hair, and rubs his thumb along the ridge of one horn, marveling in the keratin texture of them.
“If Shizun suspected this one’s nature… why did you let me stay?”
Shen Qingqiu lifts Luo Binghe’s face by a finger to his chin. Binghe follows the motion, and their eyes meet. Binghe’s eyes are so strange now, the gentle red glow, the slit pupils, and yet Shen Qingqiu cannot help but find them familiar. These are the same eyes that looked at him with such adoration before, and do so again, in this garden that looks so much like his own Spring Court. It is impossible to keep his manner cold and aloof, when faced with those eyes.
“How could I cast you out when I saw a kindred spirit in you?”
Luo Binghe’s jaw drops. Shen Qingqiu cannot help but smile at the utterly shocked expression on such an intimidating Unseelie Lord’s face. “Some decorum, Binghe,” he teases gently. “Though I admit, at the time I thought you human, not Unseelie.”
“I…”
Luo Binghe’s jaw works. How, Shen Qingqiu wonders, could he ever have missed that this man is just as open of a book as he ever was when in the Seelie Court? Or perhaps, he thinks with a small spark of pleasure, it is only that Luo Binghe shows this vulnerability to him.
“No,” Binghe manages eventually. “This one knew something was strange, but never suspected… that.”
Then he blinks, and his pupils narrow, as he seems to catch himself. “Then… the Lord Yue Qingyuan… is married to a human?”
Shen Qingqiu’s face flushes. “The Lord Yue Qingyuan is married to his husband,” he says. He takes a breath, and considers his next words carefully. Will he trust Luo Binghe with everything?
Finding the answer is surprisingly easy. “This one is not… the lord Shen Qingqiu.”
Binghe’s eyes go wide again. This time, he jumps to his feet, and begins to pace, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. “Not— this all makes sense!” He mutters. “I had wondered— what is it that brought the Lord who so despised me to treat me so kindly in his exile—” He whirls on Shen Qingqiu. “What happened?”
Shen Qingqiu folds his hands in his lap, wary. “It is a long story,” he demurs.
“But this changes everything!” Luo Binghe shouts. He looks a bit wild, with the gleam growing in his eyes. “Shizun, the courts… humans are not bound to one or the other!”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu agrees, “but I am bound by obligation to the Lord Yue Qingyuan, and I value his good will too much to try and weasel my way out of the bargain. So too are you— and I would not have you try to escape a bargain that you began for my sake,” he says sternly, nipping the growing speculation he can see in Luo Binghe at the bud. “You made a promise to Yue Qingyuan in the faith that you would return his husband to him at the end of this time.”
Luo Binghe smiles. “Yes,” he crows, “but you are not his husband. Tell me, Shizun.” Then, when Shen Qingqiu hesitates again, his expression goes uncertain. “Unless… unless it is that Shizun does not like the Unseelie Court?”
“You have created a marvelous court,” Shen Qingqiu reassures him. “But it is more complicated than that.”
“It hardly is,” Luo Binghe says, his eyes growing dark and stormy. Shen Qingqiu can taste the growing power like the tang of iron on the back of his tongue. “Yue Qingyuan’s bargain was for me to return Shen Qingqiu to him by the time allotted. If you are not Shen Qingqiu, then I have no intention of handing you back over!”
“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “You will start a war!”
“Then so be it!” Luo Binghe growls.
“No!” Shen Qingqiu says, standing. He can feel his own markings beginning to glow, as he pulls out his fan and snaps it open, prepared to defend himself, or— if it comes to that— to attack. He has no illusions about his ability to defeat the Lord of the Unseelie, which is nonexistent, but if it takes the surprise of it to convince Luo Binghe of his sincerity, he will do it.
But to his surprise, Luo Binghe immediately stops, and bows his head when Shen Qingqiu lifts the fan.
“Shizun,” he says, sounding wretched. “I know you do not like it, but if that is the only way to get you away from there…”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu says, stiffly. He steps back, still holding the fan in his hand. “I will not have you causing war on my behalf, Binghe. Unless you can come up with another solution, do not come to me again.”
Shen Qingqiu turns and walks away down the path, Luo Binghe’s crumpling expression replaying over and over in his mind.
-
It is dark out, now. Shen Qingqiu has spent the day in his chambers, sitting disconsolately and trying and failing to distract himself.
The problem, he realizes, is that he does not want to leave, not if he has the option Luo Binghe has become the most important person in his life, somewhere along the line. He is Shen Qingqiu’s confidant, his constant companion, the only person he can trust. Who would want to give that up? Certainly not him!
And yet, he may have to. He is still bound in a promise to Yue Qingyuan, and if all the combined efforts of the Seelie Court have not yet found a solution to the true Shen Qingqiu’s problem, who might?
Shen Qingqiu is just about ready to give up and dress for bed—he does not expect to sleep— when he hears the quietest knock on his doorway. The servants are all dismissed, so he rises to answer it himself. He has an idea of who it might be.
And he is correct. In the dark, Shen Qingqiu can only just see the glow of Luo Binghe’s eyes and his facial marking.
“Come in,” he says, quietly. Luo Binghe bows his head, and enters. They both sit, remaining silent for some time.
“You know that Shen Qingqiu has many enemies,” he says quietly. Luo Binghe hums an agreement. “Of course. You helped defend me against many of them.”
“How was it that Shizun was able to fight them?”
Shen Qingqiu smiles into the darkness. “What tool does any mortal carry against a fae?”
“Iron,” Luo Binghe says promptly, sounding deeply offended by the thought.
Shen Qingqiu breathes out a laugh. “Ah, but if Shen Qingqiu is a fae, then he cannot be known to keep cold iron, can he?”
Luo Binghe frowns. “But, then…”
“It is true that I was given some gift of magic by Yue Qingyuan,” Shen Qingqiu answers, finally. “But on the whole, I was simply very, very careful.”
Luo Binghe scoffs. “That is the same as me saying that I have a little bit of influence, Shizun.”
Shen Qingqiu hums. “Nevertheless, it is the truth. I could not afford to have Shen Qingqiu’s enemies, and so I found ways around them.”
“Liu Qingge,” Luo Binghe says, in a tone of revelation. “When he taught me. I had always wondered.”
“Just so.”
They lapse into silence again for a while.
“But then, Shizun, what happened to him?To the Lord Yue Qingyuan’s husband.”
“It is not my story to tell, truly,” Shen Qingqiu says, but the expectant silence from Binghe has him sighing. “He is not dead, that much is all I can say for certain.”
“It must be told,” Luo Binghe says. “If he had been killed, Yue Qingyuan would merely have had to mourn him and seek vengeance on the one who did it. He would not have needed to drag you into all this.”
Binghe is beginning to sound petulant and resentful, so Shen Qingqiu clicks his tongue at him. “It is only because of all this that we met, Binghe.”
Luo Binghe mutters a contrite “of course, Shizun,” and leans forward. “What do you know?”
“All I know is that it must be some kind of poison,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Yue Qingyuan may be the only one who knows the specifics. Shall I ask him?”
“No,” Binghe says sullenly. “...No. Shizun need not worry about it.”
“On the contrary, I must indeed worry about it,” Shen Qingqiu says, “because it will directly affect me, come the summer. Does Binghe have some suspicion?”
Slowly, Luo Binghe nods. “If it is not solved by Seelie means… the poison and its cure may be Unseelie in nature,” he says.
Shen Qingqiu frowns. “It may not be,” he points out. “Surely if the attackers were Unseelie, there would have been some retaliation from the Seelie Court?”
“Perhaps,” Luo Binghe acknowledges. “But… Shizun, when I came to be Lord of the Unseelie, I stopped many plots for war against the Seelie Court.”
Shen Qingqiu goes still.
Luo Binghe nods. “So Shizun sees the implications,” he says. “It must be that Yue Qingyuan does not know who to suspect, or perhaps he believes those of the Seelie Court may have worked against his husband alongside the Unseelie. Whatever the case… he has not started a war himself. If I can find a cure, among the Unseelie realms…”
“Then the terms of our bargain would release me,” Shen Qingqiu breathes. He can feel the smile, but he does not hide it. To what end? Instead, he can see the faint outline of Luo Binghe’s own answering smile, hesitant but pure.
“If he must root out dissidents, he may do it on his own. But you would be safe,” Luo Binghe says. He rises, and strides forward. Leaning down, he kisses Shen Qingqiu on the brow, over the mark painted on his brow.
“Shizun, I must leave now, if I’m to find the appropriate cure. There is not much time. But I promise you, I will return in time for the exchange.”
“Stay safe,” Shen Qingqiu says, reaching up. His hand, fumbling in the dark, finds the curl of Luo Binghe’s horn, and he follows it to bury, briefly, in the springy curls of his hair. “Come back.”
With a nod, Luo Binghe disentangles himself. And then he is gone.
-
The exchange back to the fae lands is to happen at dawn, where before it happened at dusk— night giving way to the day, Unseelie giving back to Seelie, or so the magic and tradition seem to hold. Shen Qingqiu has dressed himself in his finest robes, the sets that Luo Binghe has had made for him, rather than those that he still has from the Seelie Court. This too, is symbolism, though a more personal sort.
Less personal is the contents of the pouch he holds in his hands, hidden beneath the drape of his sleeves. There is no way of telling until they have made the offer what Yue Qingyuan might do.
He keeps his head high and his expression even, as he waits at Luo Binghe’s side. The truth, of course, is that he could vibrate out of his skin with nerves, and that he cannot stop thinking of all the things that might go wrong. He does not doubt that Luo Binghe will get his—their—way, in one form or another, but the thought of bringing about a war between the two Courts, to the benefit of none, is not one that Shen Qingqiu particularly favors. But it would not do to look nervous in front of either court. He has a reputation to uphold, and it’s not only Shen Qingqiu’s. He also has his pride. He won’t let himself be reduced to simply hiding in Luo Binghe’s shadow! He has some face of his own to save, even if it’s only in the eyes of his betrothed!
At his side, Luo Binghe is standing tall and still, except for the fists at his side, clenching and unclenching. Shen Qingqiu hopes that it is not a sign of violence to come, but he holds his tongue. They have discussed this, and now is not the time to call Luo Binghe out on it, not when they have so much to hold together here. He will step in when violence threatens, but he will not undermine Luo Binghe in front of others, not with their entourage looking to their Unseelie leader for a show of strength, and Yue Qingyuan due to appear to them at any moment.
And sure enough, as the first sliver of sunlight comes over the horizon, the Lord of the Seelie and his entourage appear across the field, in a waver like a mirage.
Yue Qingyuan is not frowning, for such a gesture would surely be unbecoming of any fae, let alone one as high ranked as him, but Yue Qingyuan’s gaze does sweep across the party of the Unseelie court. When he catches sight of Shen Qingqiu, Yue Qingyuan lingers for a moment, just long enough to give a miniscule incline of his head.
It is exactly the sort of thing that makes Luo Binghe bristle— Shen Qingqiu does not need to glance in his direction to know that he has surely seen, and that he is offended by the glance.
Secretly, he is rather pleased by it! Propriety might hold Yue Qingyuan to try and get Shen Qingqiu back— demoted or not, he still holds the appearance of being his partner, and while circumstances may have forced Shen Qingqiu’s apparent demotion, he should still care for his partner. And yet, Shen Qingqiu is not that partner, only a changeling replacement. The same loophole used by Luo Binghe in this circumstance to deny Shen Qingqiu’s return to the Seelie court could also be used by Yue Qingyuan to accuse Luo Binghe of not holding up their bargain.
He could use it to begin a war, if he were so inclined. The realization that this fae feels at least some responsibility toward his well-being in one way or another is a welcome one, though he much prefers the attentions of the fae at his side.
Luo Binghe steps forward, and Shen Qingqiu takes a steady pace to stay at his side, as he moves to the center of the clearing.
Yue Qingyuan steps forward as well. “Lord of the Unseelie Court,” he says, with another subtle incline of his head.
Luo Binghe’s first reaction is simply to grunt, but he must sense the disapproving look that Shen Qingqiu shoots him out of the corner of his eye, because he coughs and bows his own head slightly. “Lord of the Seelie,” he says, hiding something of a growl. “I have come to see our agreement fulfilled.”
Yue Qingyuan bows his head. “I will be pleased to see the peaceful resolution of it,” he says. “Lord of Spring, are you ready to return?”
Well! Here goes nothing.
“I am not,” Shen Qingqiu says. He keeps his face, his shoulders, his eyes, all calm and untensed.
He can see the way the realization strikes Yue Qingyuan, can hear the shocked gasps and murmurs it sparks from the Seelie entourage.
“It was the agreement of these lords that you would be hosted among the Unseelie court as the Lord Luo Binghe’s guest for a year and a day, before returning to the Seelie Court.”
“No,” Shen Qingqiu says, keeping his voice gentle and his posture firm. “It was agreed that the Lord Luo Binghe would return your husband to you. This one made his own promise to Luo Binghe, in that bargain.”
There is the slightest of creases in Yue Qingyuan’s brow, as he looks between Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu. “And what promise would that be?”
“This one agreed to become Lord Luo Binghe’s betrothed for a year and a day. To become betrothed is to make the promise of marriage. As such, this one will follow through with that promise, after I have completed this final part of the agreement between myself, Lord Luo Binghe, and the Lord Yue Qingyuan.”
He can see the moment that Yue Qingyuan realizes precisely what their intentions are. His eyes twitch, and his lips press together thinly. To the entourage around him, it surely looks like displeasure. Sure enough, there is a susurration of muttering rising up from the ranks of the Seelie court, glances being cast between Yue Qingyuan, Shen Qingqiu, and Luo Binghe. Liu Qingge steps forward from the crowd, looking enraged. It is only the quick hands of Mu Qingfang and Qi Qingqi that keep their fellow Lord from drawing his blade. Shen Qingqiu glances in his direction, and shakes his head, the slightest amount. He sees confusion dawning on their faces, but he cannot spare any more attention to them. Instead, he looks back to Yue Qingyuan.
Shen Qingqiu cannot say that he has ever been particularly close to this fae. Certainly, he has been no kind of husband to him, no true partner, for all their play-acting. At best, they have been casual co-conspirators, nearly incidental allies. Shen Qingqiu is not a master of reading Yue Qingyuan. But in this moment, he feels no hesitation at calling the emotion in the fae’s eyes hope.
Still, Yue Qingyuan is a Lord of the fae, so he masters himself near-instantly. “Nevertheless,” he says coolly, a pleasant smile on his face that is all diplomacy. “I must insist that you accompany me to the palace, as doing so will be the only way to complete our bargain.”
“Certainly,” Shen Qingqiu agrees easily. The capitulation, far too easy, makes another round of whispers break out among the Seelie entourage. “Would you prefer that Lord Luo Binghe remain here?”
Yue Qingyuan’s eyes narrow. “Yes,” he says. “The balance is returned to our Courts— to invite him would undo the point of this entire agreement, would it not?”
“So it would,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Then he will stay here.”
Luo Binghe looks at Shen Qingqiu, clearly about to protest. Shen Qingqiu forestalls this with a hand on his arm.
“You need not worry,” he says, as quietly as he can. “I will return.”
“If you do not,” Luo Binghe says, his eyes narrowing, “I will raze the entire Court myself.”
Shen Qingqiu merely nods. He can hardly protest this— if he does not return, then it will mean that something has, in fact, gone wrong. It is only this promise that will convince Luo Binghe to let him walk to the other side of this field. So instead, he smiles, says “I will see you,” and steps away. He keeps his hands tucked into his sleeves, guarding his precious cargo.
Yue Qingyuan gives him a gentle smile as he approaches, and offers him an arm. “Shall we?” he says.
“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu agrees, laying his hand on Yue Qingyuan’s arm.
As the final sliver of the sun breaks the horizon and magic gathers around them, Shen Qingqiu turns one last time and looks behind him, to see Luo Binghe, standing there and waiting as he disappears.
-
The magic pulls them away, to what Shen Qingqiu recognizes as the forecourt of Yue Qingyuan’s personal wing. “Leave us,” he says, in a voice that is unusually stern. “Shen Qingqiu and I have things to discuss.”
Even Liu Qingge does not dare to resist such a direct order, though he hesitates a surprising amount. It is only when Shen Qingqiu meets his gaze and offers him a reassuring smile that he turns away and strides out of the courtyard, following in the wake of his fellow Lord and Lady of the Seasons. Within moments, the courtyard is empty, without even a fluttering sash to show where a dozen fae once were standing.
Shen Qingqiu draws himself up tall. It is still not quite enough to make him taller than Yue Qingyuan, beautiful willowy fae lord that he is, but it is enough to steady his nerves.
“You make bold claims, Lord of Spring,” Yue Qingyuan says, eyes narrowed. “That you and the Lord of the Unseelie will return my husband to me.”
“It is the bargain we made,” Shen Qingqiu agrees. “Furthermore, the eventual return of your husband will release me from the role we have agreed, leaving me to fulfill the bargains I have made. I have no reason to trick you here, do I?”
“That remains to be seen,” Yue Qingyuan says. “What do you bring here, with the claim that it will accomplish this?”
“Your husband lies in a slumber caused by poison,” Shen Qingqiu says. “None but you know of his condition, not even the servants. He is not dead, or you would have no reason for this charade. But neither does he require constant care, to keep him from death, or you would not be able to leave his chamber, lest he slip away in your absence. There is only one such poison known in this world that could cause such a reaction in a Seelie.”
Yue Qingyuan’s eyes narrow. “So it is,” he agrees. “But knowing the poison is not a cure.”
“No, it is not,” Shen Qingqiu says. His pulse is thrumming in his throat, a rabbit-fast beat that he hopes Yue Qingyuan cannot read. “But knowing the poison is the first step in the path to finding a cure. A cure that, incidentally, exists only in the lands of the Unseelie.”
Yue Qingyuan’s breath catches. He stares at Shen Qingqiu. “Then you have…”
Shen Qingqiu withdraws the box from his sleeve, just long enough for Yue Qingyuan to see it, then tucks it away again. Yue Qingyuan continues to stare toward his hands.
“I am prepared to administer the cure,” Shen Qingqiu says, “under the agreement that, once I have done so, I will be released from my obligations to the Seelie Court to act in Shen Qingqiu’s place, without the loss of the magical abilities and artifacts I have gained.”
“If the cure is successful,” Yue Qingyuan says, “I will release you from your obligations under those terms.”
It is the repartee that Shen Qingqiu had expected, and the fact that Yue Qingyuan takes it means that his bargaining has been… successful. Shen Qingqiu takes a breath. There’s nothing left for it. “Then take me to him,” he says.
Yue Qingyuan nods, and gestures for him to follow along. They walk together in silence through the opulent rooms claimed by Yue Qingyuan. Some of these Shen Qingqiu has been in before, during his time in the Court. One of the inner chambers is familiar as the first place Yue Qingyuan ever took him— the place where he tested Shen Qingqiu’s wiles by offering him food and trying to trick him with questions, before they came to the true reason for his summoning to the Fae Court and arranged their bargain. It is in this room that Yue Qingyuan pauses. He raises one hand and performs some sort of arcane gesture. Suddenly, there is a door on the wall of the room, where none was before.
“Follow me,” he says, and Shen Qingqiu does.
The interior of this room is far more opulent than any other in the already sumptuous apartments. Shen Qingqiu might even call it ostentatious, though he would never dare to do so to Yue Qingyuan’s face. For all the decoration, the room itself is rather small, and rather sparsely furnished. There is only a small table, and a large bed at the center.
Yue Qingyuan walks up to it, and Shen Qingqiu takes this as permission to follow. As he steps close enough to see past the gauzy curtains, he sees the figure lying pale and still on the bed. It’s him. Which is to say, it’s Shen Qingqiu, the true Shen Qingqiu, whose face he’s wearing.
He looks like a pale jade statue, his hair dark like ink and his facial markings green as new leaves. These are the features Shen Qingqiu has had to adjust to seeing on himself, but this sleeping fae wears them more assuredly than he ever has, even ill.
“What must be done?” Yue Qingyuan asks.
“I must give him this,” Shen Qingqiu says, pulling out the box and opening it to reveal the single waxy berry placed inside. “And, once that is done, you must whisper his true name into his ear. Once you have done that, he will awaken.”
Yue Qingyuan’s mouth presses together in a tight line, and for a moment, Shen Qingqiu is left to wonder if he has miscalculated— if Yue Qingyuan does not know the true name of his beloved husband. But, in the end, he only nods. “Then do it,” he says. He steps forward, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand laid over the sleeping fae’s.
Shen Qingqiu is careful to move slowly and gently, as he approaches the bed. He cradles the berry gently in his hand, before pressing it between the sleeping fae’s lips. It should feel a little more monumental to do this, he thinks. Instead it only feels… well. A little awkward.
Yue Qingyuan barely waits before ducking his head. Shen Qingqiu sits back— he does not hear what it is that Yue Qingyuan whispers, nor does he want to.
For a moment, it seems that nothing will happen. Shen Qingqiu’s breath catches in his throat. Yue Qingyuan does not seem capable of moving.
Then the still fae twitches, just a bit, and the world breathes again.
“He is waking,” Yue Qingyuan says, and his voice trembles. “I… thank you. Is there anything...”
Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “Only the conclusion of our bargain,” he says, then pauses. “And… that you return me to Luo Binghe’s side.”
“It is done,” Yue Qingyuan says, and raises a hand.
As the magic pulls Shen Yuan away, he sees Shen Qingqiu, in his husband’s arms, begin to open his eyes.
Then, abruptly, he is in the clearing. Shen Yuan staggers, caught off-guard by the sudden change in location. His hands go to his robes, and sure enough his artifacts rest in their rightful places. He snaps his fingers, and a breeze springs to life around him.
“Shen—”
The sound of a voice has him looking up. Luo Binghe is there, charging across the field. He draws to a halt in front of Shen Yuan, looking him over with wide eyes.
“This…” he says, quietly. “Is this how you really look?”
Shen Yuan looks down at himself. Oh, of course. He hadn’t thought— with the glamor of Shen Qingqiu removed, he must look like a mere human now, mustn’t he? Self-consciously, he raises his hand to his face, to his rounded ears and the skin where the markings once were, that must now lie bare. “Ah… Yes,” he stammers. “Does this— I mean, I hope it would not change…”
“Shizun is still Shizun, no matter what shape he takes,” Luo Binghe says. His eyes are wide. “But Shizun is most beautiful as himself.”
Shen Yuan lets out a shaky laugh. “In that case,” he says, “then you should take care to address him properly.”
“Properly?”
“Of course,” Shen Yuan says, smiling, and reaching for Luo Binghe’s face, where he can already see tears forming behind the bewildered smile. “As his husband.”
And the kiss they share then is the sweetest promise Shen Qingqiu has ever made.