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Even before they first laid eyes on each other, fate has already decreed they could never be together.
Maybe in another world, in another time, they might have had a chance. Maybe if fate was kinder and they were not of different sides. Maybe if time had helped heal the animosity between their Houses.
So many ‘maybe’, so many regrets.
However, Song Qiying lamented as he watched the carnage that their two Houses left behind, they live in a world where their love can never thrive.
His mind travels back to the first time his eyes fell on Ye Xiuwu’s figure. Those feelings he’d long ago tried to bury unearths itself.
He remembers wanting to get to know the man who denied Zhang Xinjie's offer to be his heir. He had heard stories. The Leader and his advisor had commented that Ye Xiuwu would compliment him in his reign.
He remembers donning a disguise and meeting him for the first time. Ye Xiuwu stood alone then, his eyes telling a sad tale as he gazed at nothing.
"What are you doing here?" Song Qiying hadn't meant those to be his first words to him. He wanted his first words to be memorable, not something quite so generic.
"Lamenting my fate," Ye Xiuwu did not even deign to look at him. His eyes remained on the announcement, calling for challengers for the cleric trials.
"Are you entering?" He asked.
"I want to take the challenge but I have no partner," Ye Xiuwu finally turned to face him and he found himself mesmerized by the color of his eyes.
Ah, that day is one he remembers clearly no matter how many years pass. He will never forget every word said. He had commented that he helped a friend take the same challenge and then Ye Xiuwu's eyes burned with a beautiful fire as he offered a partnership between them.
"I can make you a winner," Ye Xiuwu said as he took the other's hand and shakes it.
He remembers how well they fought together. He remembers that feeling of easy camaraderie. He remembers thinking, ah, so this is what being complete means.
"As thanks, you can have this," Ye Xiuwu takes his hand and gives him a pair of enchanted gloves.
He is brought back to the present with the sound of steel clashing against steel.
His fists clenched
The very same gloves that were given to him by a bright-eyed cleric as thanks for being his partner, is now being used in a battle against that very same cleric.
---
Ye Xiuwu hated being a cleric. It was a class he never chose but was forced upon him. But he refused to bow down against the stereotype forced upon him - he is not going to be the weak link, the one to be the burden of his family.
He hated being a cleric, but he is a Ye and he swore that he would excel in this class. Though reluctant, he strives to be the best.
Today, however, he is grateful that he is a cleric. As he prays to the heavens for all their blessings and mercy to fall down his family, he heals and heals until he cannot anymore. This is what his family needs him to do. This is what he can do for them.
There are heavy footsteps near him. He sighs, knowing what is to come. He staggers up from where he knelt and faces the House Tyranny's heir.
Song Qiying had grown from the young man he remembers in his memories. He wears the House Tyranny's banner and the blood of Ye Xiuwu's family on his person.
Ye Xiuwu wonders if one of the blood that stains those gloves of his belongs to Si-Ge. He feels himself choke with emotion at the thought.
He looks at this man in the eyes and tries hard not to have a double vision - this monster wearing his family’s blood and the kind young man whose smile causes his heart to beat erratically.
He remembers the handsome young man who saved his life once upon a time. He remembers how they tumbled out of the monster's way and how they stared at each other in wonder.
He still feels indebted to him in some way, that’s why he’s hesitant to fight against him.
He’s lying. Deep inside him, Ye Xiuwu knows, remains the same young man who looked at House Tyranny’s heir and fell in love with him.
But the truth of the matter is that they are no longer the young bright-eyed men they once were. There is no room for mercy against the enemy on this battlefield.
Their families stand under different banners. They have been fated as enemies even before they met. They, Ye Xiuwu chokes, were never meant to fall in love.
He curses himself for looking at those eyes and seeing such gentle warmth. He never should have allowed this kind and cautious man anywhere near him. Look at where it got him, heart-pounding and torn between loyalty to his family and to one man.
"Xiuwu," the soft and tender way he says his name contradicts the bloody mess he has left his family.
"There is no one left," Ye Xiuwu makes his voice cold.
It is true. Song Qiying had killed his Lord Brother. But they are Ye, and the Ye do not die without a fight.
His brothers had taken down all of House Tyranny's men with them, leaving only one. Just like the last of House Chaos is Ye Xiuwu.
In this battlefield, there are two who questioned why they must fight. The two who had complicated feelings for each other stand on the opposite side.
In a kinder world, they might have admitted that they loved each other. In a kinder world, their family might have rejoiced such love. In a kinder world, their love might be enough.
Ye Xiuwu wonders if this is his punishment for being an outlier with his class. The heavens must have looked down at this cleric who fought and killed just as much as he has healed and said, such a sinner must be punished.
"Surrender?" Song Qiying's voice is cold and his gaze is hard.
Do not look at me with those eyes, he wanted to say. Please, if this is to be the end, at least give me mercy - smile at me once more.
"Sure," his answer must have pleased the other man. He wonders if Song Qiying sees a future where the two could have loved each other without any bloodshed.
He can see it too. He surrenders and House Tyranny prevails. Song Qiying takes over the land and maybe, just maybe, Ye Xiuwu would have a place beside him as more than a prisoner of war.
He loves this Striker in front of him. But he loves his brothers more.
Ye Xiuwu gives a final prayer to the heavens before he dashes forward and tackles the other man down. They tumble, just as they did years before. He cherished this last moment he can hold him close to his arms like this.
Song Qiying lets out a noise of shock and he sees him preparing to retaliate. Ye Xiuwu's heart breaks again.
"Ah," he laments, "it's not enough."
In storybooks, love is enough to end wars. However, they live in a cruel world where such feelings are never enough.
He gives one last smile and he hopes it is a beautiful smile. If this is how he dies, he wants Song Qiying to know he loves him still. If this is how it ends, he wants to give one last smile to him. It is the best he could do at the moment.
He closes his eyes.
---
Someone is screaming.
Ye Xiuwu’s body falls down. He had killed himself. The fierce cleric of House Chaos should never look this pale, this weak. But alas, that is how it is now. Even in his last breath, his arms pulling the Striker close to him.
It takes Song Qiying a while for reality to sink in - there is now no one left in this bloody battlefield but him. There is no other ‘someone’ screaming. That wretched, heartbreaking sound comes from inside him.
In this battlefield, only one side will emerge as the victor.
As Song Qiying holds the lifeless body of the man he loves most, a grim realization occurs to him - there is no winner here. His heart has died with this man.
He looks down at his pallid cheeks and the beautiful eyes forever closed. He lowers his head and presses a soft kiss on Ye Xiuwu’s lips. He lays down the bloody ground and holds Ye Xiuwu’s body close to him.
In this battlefield, no one has emerged as the victor.
Song Qiying closes his eyes and follows his love to death’s door.
Maybe, in their next life, fate would be kinder to them.