Chapter Text
When Wen Ning woke up, he felt different.
It wasn't a bad sort of different, instead a kind that left him feeling lighter and freer, as though shackles he didn't realise he wore had been taken off. They had been replaced by something else that brought him a sense of warmth, of belonging, of home.
He felt as though he was wrapped in an everlasting hug, surrounded in a comfort he hadn’t truly felt since his mother had died.
It was a feeling he could never grow tired of.
—
Before awakening, Wen Ning had never paid that much attention to his spiritual qi aside from the fact that it was there, residing within his golden core in wait for whenever he chose to use it.
Now, though, even without much focus, he could feel it beneath his skin, seeming a bit restless, almost… eager.
He found his eyes closing of their own volition in meditation, seeking out the golden core that rested within his dantian. It was found, but he quickly realised it was different from how he remembered seeing it last.
There was little that he could see of its familiar gold, for it seemed to have been surrounded by something that he could only describe appearing like fog; said fog was indigo in colour, with swirls of blue and the familiar grey of his qi.
Drawing his consciousness nearer, he was able to catch large traces of orange intertwined within the gold of his core, what could only be called wisps of it brushing against the barrier surrounding - no, protecting - it.
Ours, Soft whispers full of what he could only call reverence echoed around him, Ours to love, to cherish, to protect.
Who ? He questioned in turn, watching as wisps of indigo-blue entangled themselves around his qi's grey.
Our place of belonging. As if in response to that claim, the orange he saw wrapped amongst his core flared , and Wen Ning felt further wrapped in a warmth familiar to that he felt outside, Our home. Our Sky.
—
Wen Ning came back to himself, his eyes blinking open to stare at the ceiling above.
His senses felt a bit dull, not unlike how he felt the first and last time he had drunk too much alcohol. Unlike the feeling back then, there was also an accompanying sense of euphoria. To him, it felt as though all things were right with the world, and nothing else mattered as long as he had his Sky.
Wen Ning dropped his gaze to catch sight of the ring that now adorned his finger and claimed him as being Wei Wuxian's as much as he now thought of the other as his.
His to love.
His to cherish.
Most important of all, his to protect.
Beneath his skin, both his qi and what he now knew were his flames hummed in agreement.
Wen Ning's resolve had been weakening - with or without his realization - the moment he first laid sight upon Wei Wuxian at the Burial Mounds. He had never cared for the Wen's desire for conquest, and he cared for it even less now that they would stand against his Sky.
He remembered the fragmented images he'd seen of another future, where Wei Wuxian wasn't a - his - Sky.
That future which wouldn't come to pass, of that he was certain.
For now, though, he needed to ensure Wei Wuxian fully recovered, and -
There came the sound of footsteps, ones he recognized as belonging to his elder sister.
"A'jie," Wen Ning breathed as his gaze fell upon the other, continuing before Wen Qing could open her mouth, "We need to talk."
-- * --
The months that passed had seemed longer than Lan Wangji remembered them being in the past.
So much had been accomplished within that time, victories far out-weighing the losses; and for him, wherever he participated there were no losses to be had and minimum casualties to those on their side.
He should be happier than he was, but he couldn't bring himself to be so.
His elder brother, for all intents and purposes, remained presumably dead - there was a part of him that resisted this idea, hanging onto the hope - slim as it was - that Lan Xichen was alive and would make his presence known when the time was right.
Then there was Wei Wuxian, of whom conflicting reports spoke of.
One encounter with Wen Chao had him mocking them with the other's death, before he was scared into fleeing as those around him began to fall.
Lan Wangji refused to believe in Wen Chao's words, unable to imagine his Wei Ying succumbing to such an inglorious end.
—
Lan Wangji was making his rounds around the small village he had decided to stay in, fingers curled around Bichen's hilt.
The village residents didn't seem apt to pay him much mind, huddled into groups of two or more to share the latest gossip while the morning was still young.
He wasn't attempting to eavesdrop, but still snatches of conversations reached his ear.
"– Yiling has been rather quiet –"
"– Burial Mounds – purified –"
"– flames – spirits –"
Lan Wangji stopped, his hold on Bichen tightening as the villagers' words seemed to stir something within him.
Something that made him think of his Wei Ying, and he knew.
He had to go to Yiling, somehow knowing that what - who - he sought would be there.