Work Text:
This was how it worked:
Jun Wu wouldn’t have to be in pain; he wasn’t to be tortured, contrary to the opinion of a majority of heaven. But the emperor's old vassal had pleaded for him, as did Xian Le: unbearable, maddening pain was no way to hold someone down, or to teach a lesson.
The irony of the situation didn’t escape Jun Wu. Of course, Xian Le would know the right way to do things, if only because he knew to avoid the wrong way. Jun Wu had taught him, but in the end, he couldn’t even derive satisfaction from it.
Because his way had been wrong.
Bitterly, Jun Wu swallowed down the knowledge. He paced around the space he was allotted in the now-enlarged kiln. It was dark in here, and too hot. But there was no pain: his primordial spirit had been bound to the heart of Tonglu, so it would only hurt if he attempted escape. These shackles were not visible, but they did suppress his powers. An ingenious mechanism: this prison stole all his energy and used it to subdue the volcano in turn. Two monsters wrestled with one another--two fewer nuisances for heaven to deal with.
Pacing about his cell, Jun Wu wondered sometimes what he would have done if he had thought of such a thing back before Wuyong fell. But then, there were too many things that depended on him before the heaven-crossing bridge collapsed.
Back then, there were too many things he hadn’t yet lost.
Jun Wu wondered about a lot of things, nowadays. There wasn’t much else to do, unless he particularly relished inflicting pain on himself.
Light entered his chamber, and Jun Wu ceased his pacing. His heart lifted; he subdued it quickly.
Mei Nianqing’s visits were not regular, but Jun Wu didn’t ask about it, let alone make a request. Sometimes, he didn’t say anything at all to the other man.
(Although, he had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with cards; maybe a visit after he won a round, given the infrequency of the visits. Or, maybe just a visit when he was tired of losing.)
Mei Nianqing lowered himself to Jun Wu’s cell, bringing with him a stream of the cool mountain air above. He puzzled at the other man’s strange expression.
“Your highness?” he probed, tilting his head slightly.
Jun Wu took a step toward him, looking back and forth between the other man’s face and the patch of sunlight at his feet. Seeming to understand, Mei Nianqing backed up, giving Jun Wu room to enjoy the sun.
Jun Wu swallowed, then paced slowly forward and tilted his head up, closing his eyes to shield him from the brightness. Truly, he had been weakened to such an extent--once he had been thought of as sunlight incarnate; now, he could no longer even look directly at the light. He stayed like that until the sun passed to the other side of the kiln’s opening. It occurred to him then that Mei Nianqing must have chosen this window of time to visit today.
He opened his eyes and looked up at the other man. He had to look up at him now, just like he did in the Wuyong days, before he had augmented his frame to stand at a height befitting an emperor.
Mei Nianqing returned his gaze. Jun Wu’s eyes seemed to plead for him, and so he took a step forward. Jun Wu took the next step, and then Mei Nianqing closed the distance. Exhaling, Jun Wu wrapped his arms loosely around the other man. Mei Nianqing pressed his forehead to his and cupped his face. They swayed together for a time, breathing each other’s air.
A curious intimacy, this ritual of theirs. Neither dared utter a word about it. Mei Nianqing embraced him, all sunlight and cool mountain air wrapped into one. Sometimes he kissed his prisoner, on the forehead, or cheeks, or eyelids.
Selfish, Jun Wu clung to this moment, and this man who won out in the end.
“Mei Nianqing,” he said slowly, realizing in that moment how long it had been since he spoke, and how hoarse his voice had become.
“Yes?” Mei Nianqing replied into his hair.
“The same time tomorrow… Could you…?”
Mei Nianqing exhaled warmly and smiled, then kissed Jun Wu’s forehead. “Yes, your highness. My apologies for not having thought of it before.”
Jun Wu didn’t answer that. Or, rather, he did answer, by draping his already-precarious right hand ever lower down Mei Nianqing’s hip.
Mei Nianqing inhaled sharply. Jun Wu snorted, then looked up at the other man, lifting his hand back up to the side of his waist. He wore an insolent smirk.
Mei Nianqing stole it from him.
And, amidst the dark heat and Mei Nianqing’s thieving tongue, Jun Wu found something old and strong within him, a light he had long thought lost.