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Sometimes, Xie Lian doubts the world is real.
He walks in it with his head in the fog and his feet heavy, a mist screen setting his mind and reality apart. In those moments, everything looks, sounds, tastes and feels dull and muted, as if Xie Lian was watching war unfold from hundreds of miles underwater, a spectator instead of an actor thrown in the middle of conflict. Time becomes an inaccessible concept, either slugging its immaterial body and stretching out minutes in infinity or rushing through the day without waiting for Xie Lian to catch up. Friends and strangers alike tries to attract his attention, and it's so hard to gather the emotional strength to care.
The one thing that remains untouched by the smog: scent. Xie Lian grew up in a cocoon of soft odors, from luxurious food to flowers, from his mother's perfume to sword oils, from incense to fresh grass. And naturally, in Heaven, unpleasant smells barely existed at all.
Perhaps that's the change Xie Lian struggles the most to get used to. Violence, he had seen and heard before, but what did a spoilt prince know of rotting flesh, foul water and festering wounds? Nothing.
War stinks, and so do the places where the tired children playing it try to survive. Army camps stink of blood, disease, piss, shit and crass. They stink of grief too, of broken dreams, hatred and suspicion. Xie Lian can feel it crawl over him, the growing loathing, the weariness and exhaustion, the imprint that betrayed faith leaves behind when it dies.
People are starting to lose faith in him, and he can hardly blame them. At least they don't stink of too sweet flowers, unwanted lust and ugly depravity the way the Land of Tender did.
"Your Highness," a captain Xie Lian forgot the name of finds the nerve to interrupt his prince's hazy search. "How may we assist you?"
Xie Lian stills, blinks confusedly, tries to remember how communication works, tries to put words on an urge he doesn't quite understand himself. He's so so tired even basic sentences escape his grasp. "I'm looking for…"
The soldier waits. For every second that passes unanswered, Xie Lian feels failure weighs him down further. "A boy. Soldier," he manages to say, tongue heavy and mind numb. "Scrawny, with bandages on his head."
Stubborn, he doesn't say. Fierce and reckless, an angry little creature with more courage than common sense, his hand made for the saber.
The captain seems to understand who Xie Lian is describing at the mention of bandages, to their collective relief. "What has that brat done again... " he mumbles angrily under his breath. "I'll find him immediately, Your Highness. Please rest in the meantime."
Is Xie Lian to be treated like an invalid now? Has everyone heard about his humiliation with those cursed demons? He prays not. Fortunately, he doesn't have to wait for long under the curious, awed or poisonous glares of the men crawling on the path Xie Lian pointed. Soon, the captain comes back, dragging a feral creature behind him.
"Don't fight in front of His Highness, you lunatic!" the captain snarls.
"His Highness?" the tiny soldier freezes as he looks in Xie Lian's direction. His visible eye turns comically wide, and he falls on his knees.
Xie Lian straightens, half amused, half horrified by the spectacle. Poor thing is covered in bruises, his dirty bandages failing to hide the marks hatred left on his skin. To think he got a lot of those protecting Xie Lian… What a shame it was, to use a child as his shield. Though what a shield he was. Despite the malnourishment and exhaustion, he was so skilled already.
"Is that what you were looking for, Your Highness?" The captain asks as he glares at the prostrated soldier.
"Yes," Xie Lian says. The little soldier tremble at the sound of his voice. Is he scared? So little seemed to faze him, not the enemies from Yong An, not the demonesses growing from the ground, not Xie Lian's insane howls.
"What's his punishment?"
"Punishment?" Xie Lian repeats, dumbfold. When did he mention such a thing? "No, I'm here to promote him to my service."
There is no such thing as true silence among thousands of hot-blooded men, yet Xie Lian hears it fall over them like snow in summer. Xie Lian sways in the middle of it with a pained smile. He made things awkward again, without meaning to, without understanding why. It's a recurring issue with him.
"Is there a problem with it?" He wonders.
"Your Highness, if I may," the captain takes upon himself to explain. "Far be it for me to question Your Highness' decision, but this brat is very unruly and disobedient, perhaps someone else would be more appropriate…"
That's enough incentive to get said brat to sit up and speak for himself. "I would never disboy His Highness!" He yells as he glares up at his superior.
"You did though," Xie Lian points out factually. The little soldier's cheeks turn red with embarrassment, whatever is visible of it under the bandages at least. "Ah, no matter. What is your name?"
A mouth opens, and tiny sounds gather by the edge, clinging to the corners of chapped lips, like morning dew to accommodating leaves. Xie Lian is patient. He lets time roll around and run its course, fluttering fingers settle and knotted throats unravel. He lets gravity win over the resistance of tight hearts.
Eventually, a pearl of water falls in his open palm. "S-San Lang."
"San Lang." Xie Lian makes the child of a sound rolls over his teeth. "Would you like to become my attendant?"
Feng Xin and Mu Qing won't like that, especially Mu Qing. "He's just a child!" Mu Qing's eyes narrowed, as if Xie Lian didn't know already. "He shouldn't be in a war."
He shouldn't be, but war is everywhere in Xian Le. Children aren't spared either. At least by Xie Lian's side, San Lang will be looked after. Though he can't deny a non negligeable part of him just wants to see how San Lang and his ferocious battle thirst will grow.
"You can say no," he adds truthfully. If he does, Xie Lian will have to make sure San Lang is being kept out of battlefields as much as possible in the middle of the war until he's tall enough to reach Xie Lian's chin.
"Serving Your Highness is my greatest honor!"
The boy sounds very sincere. Eagerness sparkles in his black eye, and devotion slips through his mouth. It's both heart-warming and terrifying. Don't trust me, Xie Lian wants to scream. I have no idea what I'm doing!
He cannot say that. No matter how tired, no matter how depressed he is, he must always get back on his feet and smile. Because that's what gods do and people are counting on him to stay constant while everything else crumble around them.
"Raise." San Lang obeys, his too skinny flesh unfolding over brittle bones. Where does he even find all this energy to fight? "Follow me then."
They stop by the pitiful tent that is San Lang's bed. Two minutes are enough for the soldier to gather the things he wants to take with him. When Xie Lian asks, he refuses to stay to say goodbye to anyone.
It's sad. Children should have things to play with and people to talk to. Anyone should have things to play with and people to talk to. Xie Lian assumes it's up to him to solve the issue from now on. At least it's not that hard to sort out, unlike 'when should we attack' or 'how are we going to feed an army'.
"Ready?" Xie Lian asks one last time as they hover by the end of the camp.
"Yes, Your Highness! I apologize for the delay!" San Lang bows frantically.
Which delay, ah? He freezes mid-bow when Xie Lian puts his hand over his bony shoulder. "Let's go then," Xie Lian says, gathering the few pebbles of cheerfulness he has left.
They walk toward the palace at a ridiculously slow pace. The closer they get to 'home', the more Xie Lian feels himself drift away back into the fog. If San Lang notices the oddity of his god's behavior, he says no word of it. Instead, he huddles close to Xie Lian and glares threateningly at everyone looking strangely at them. Cute. He's cute. Grounding, too.
"Ah, your sword." Xie Lian's attention focuses on the poor crafted weapon hanging by San Lang's side.
"I couldn't find a saber," San Lang says mournfully.
Xie Lian laughs. He's the first surprised at the sound. "That's okay, I wasn't expecting you to! If you like, I can give you one of mine. I'm more of a sword person myself but I have several sabers in my collection."
He can already hear Mu Qing's judgemental sigh. "Grooming the kid to become your personal sparring partner, aren't you?" That's unfair, San Lang likes fighting, he really does. Plus, it's not like San Lang would like it if Xie Lian gifted his old toys instead.
"Thank you Your Highness! I'll honor it even if I have to die to do so!"
"Ah, don't speak of dying so easily." Xie Lian shakes his head. Perhaps Mu Qing does have a point after all. He usually does. It's very impressive, very reliable, and very annoying, especially for Feng Xin. "Don't die for me."
Xie Lian is not worth the sacrifice.
"I should live for His Highness instead," San Lang agrees.
That's. That's not definitely not what Xie Lian meant. Though the words are disturbingly familiar, like a song Xie Lian heard before. Like a song Xie Lian hummedbefore.
Xie Lian grabs San Lang's hand. The boy allowed himself to be manhandled out of nowhere, a blush coloring his cheeks. His fingers are long and agile, the pads hardened with callouses.
It feels real.
"Live for you."
He keeps San Lang's thin fingers between his own.