Work Text:
You remember when you first met her.
In a storm of confidence and a loud laugh, she barreled into your world. Into your life. She held your hand and supported you as you stumbled, weak from the prolonged imprisonment. When you could stand, her hand did not leave your shoulder.
You had asked her name.
Fu Hua it was. Reborn on wings of reawakening, with a new look, new mindset, new view on the world.
It was harmless. You told yourself it was just a poor little girl, confused and scared and desperate for company, a mentor, someone to guide her through the shock of the sudden rush of memories.
You tried. Don’t deny it, you did. You tried your best. She was boisterous, rebellious, but…willing. At least towards you, she paid attention. She held her sword in that jaunty stance, so unlike yours, but she was restrained, at least. She wouldn’t tear open a chasm to kill a fly.
You remember the walk in the clouds, on the top of the world, just the two of you. She gesturing with her hand, pointing out things and sifting through your shared memories. You smiling softly, listening quietly and nodding when appropriate.
You remember her looking away quickly when you turned your head. Standing atop Mount Taixuan, on the top of the world, chill wind in your faces, whipping your robes into a frenzy. You reached out, touched her cheek hesitantly, turned her head to face you.
You remember her blush-dusted cheeks, the little look of coyness in her downcast eyes, a muttered excuse on her lips. You remember sighing and smiling, raising your hand to gently caress the top of her head.
And of course, her quickly shaking off your hand, huffing that she didn’t need comfort, that she was fine. And you caught her staring at you again, and this time she swept at imaginary dirt with her foot, hands behind her back.
You recall lifting her chin, staring into her eyes. We’re two halves of the same coin, you said, won’t you open yourself to me? She offering a little smile and then suddenly, without warning – throwing her arms around your neck and mumbling something about poor old timer.
You remember the memories, the two of you going hand in hand, taking one long trip down memory lane and reliving your past, the gaps filled in by her, of course. Everything that happened.
You remember watching her fight, exuding the air of an old, wise mentor brimming with quiet pride. If you were the calm, collected wind, she was the untamed blaze, flashy yet with precision and purpose in every movement, every strike, every backstep.
You remember the revelation, the two of you standing there, amidst the dust and smoke of the battlefield, old memories crumbled at your feet. She looking at her boots, shifting uneasily. You regarding her with a mix of fear and shock.
You didn’t dare approach her; who knew how she’d react?
Kiana and Bronya came, and she fought against them, imprisoning Bronya in an illusion and trying to convince Kiana that she was the real Fu Hua. Not you, but her.
Already you were forgetting your times together. Already you were convincing yourself that she must have put you under an illusion when you walked amidst the clouds. Already you were pushing her away, seeing her not as a friend, but as an enemy.
Kiana chose you, of course.
So be it, she said. And she revealed her true form before you and Kiana. A Herrscher, with sword and spear and chainwhip at the ready. She was ready to fight, and seething with rage. Utterly furious that she, of all people, was rejected.
You remember watching with quiet pride as Kiana unleashed the Edge of Taixuan’s Eminence. She burned away, screaming, and then you were back. Holding her essence in your hands, imprisoning her in feathers.
You bid farewell, and left.
You remember standing in the place in-between, in the middle where spirits haunt and the living thrive. She was there, clenching her fists so hard that her nails tore into her skin. Blood leaving little spots on the glasslike floor.
Why, she asked. Why did it have to be this way?
She was a Herrscher, fated to lose from the very beginning. Perhaps something broke inside you, or perhaps you couldn’t bear to see her like this.
You wanted to give her words of comfort, but you had only words of reproach. You wanted to pull her into your arms and hold her tightly, but you could only push her away. You wanted to tell her that everything would be alright but you had only curses for her.
You wanted to tell her that you loved her, but you could only hate.
She walked away into the light, to places unknown, leaving you with your body, to reunite with Kiana and Bronya. You were glad, and part of you was secretly relieved at her departure. But another part of you still missed her, even as you returned to familiar faces and was made welcome once again.
Alone at nights, you hugged your knees to your chest and let the waves of regret and guilt rock you gently. Had you been too harsh? She was, after all, just a scared little girl, thinking she was you, and naturally…rejection would vex her.
You still thought of her, nevertheless, wandering the world as a specter, laughing as she destroyed all who opposed her. You thought of the corrupting whispers gnawing at her every thought, but she brashly shaking it off, declaring that she’d never submit.
Time passed. And you found yourself face to face with her, again. It was a spring courtyard, and she was waiting, glaring at you with folded arms. There were Legion puppets at her feet, crumbled and broken into pieces.
Well, old timer, she asked, what the hell is happening?
You led her by the hand to the table, sat down, took a sip from the wine cup. A meaningless gesture of courtesy, but standing in front of her again…your heart began to ache again. Memories of your times together resurfacing once again.
You asked for her help, tried to make her see reason, but she was adamant. No help for you. She wanted you to fail, feel like the whole world was against her, just like how the world turned against her.
Your heart broke for her. Not because of her hurtful words, but because of the tears that ran down her cheeks. As much as she wanted to appear aloof, this choice was hurting her as well. Not because of Kiana, no, but because of you.
She was denying you.
Did you begin to tear up as well? There was a time once when you’d have thought it impossible to love a Herrscher, but look at what fate brings. Now she is standing close to you, gripping your shoulders and bowing her head.
Never, never, never. Don’t think I’d help you. Don’t think that just because we held hands for a while means I’ll let you take my power. Don’t think that I love you.
Simple words they are, yet they cut deeper than any blade. You close your eyes, feel the welled-up tears crest your eyelids. Then they fall, tracing icy rivers down your cheeks.
So be it, you say, forgive me for this. Then you pull her in close and plunge your hand into her chest. She screams.
Without looking back, you rip the power of Sentience from her heart and leave. Cut the puppet strings, sever the links to their human hosts. Whatever happened after, you know it well. Kiana harnessing your power, Bronya’s power, and inheriting the flame.
When you recover from your injuries you returned to the mindscape. Searching for her, calling her name, testing the broken links of the chain that binds your souls together.
Nothing.
And so you stand here, before a mirror.
The events of the past playing out, over and over again.
Her awakening.
Her revelation.
Her battle.
Her departure.
The reunion.
And your betrayal.
Did you really think that the two of you were ever meant to be together? No matter what, all that you cause her is hurt, and all she brings you is regret and guilt.
There was a time when you wanted to love her, and maybe she did too. There was a time when you wanted to drop everything – the mission, the war, the responsibility – and devote your life to her. To stay forever on Mount Taixuan, with her.
There was a time when you weren’t alone. You had friends, yes, and you cherished and loved them deeply. But they could never fully understand you, no matter how many noble attempts they made. But she, she did. She was your other half, and you thought that it could work out.
There was a time when you were young again. Feeling her arms around you, getting lost in the heady thoughts of a life together, breathing in her scent and going dizzy and gleeful. She grinning at you and pulling you closer.
But this is not that time. That time has passed, never to return again.
You were never meant to be together.
Her face comes into view once again. For all you know, she might be dead, or missing, or alive, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll never see her in the flesh, ever again. Deny it as much as you want, you know it deep in your heart.
The mirror, containing your memories of her, stands like a beacon in your mind. You remember her, but does she remember you? You pine for her, but has she moved on?
She loves you, she loves you not, she loves you, she loves you not, she loves you, she loves you not…
You scream. Curl your fingers into a fist and strike the mirror. Over and over again until your knuckles shatter, just like the glass on the mirror.
Her face splits into a hundred pieces as you give another scream and strike the mirror again and again and again.
Her smile is cracked now, unrecognizable. You stand over the fragments and watch as the smaller pieces begin to burn away.
This is for the best, you tell yourself, and you bow your head. In sorrow, in reflection, in grief, you do not know.
The fragments plummet, like fallen angels, into darkness.