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The first thing Wu Ming notices on waking is the pain. It burns him, drowns him, courses through every fiber of him so strongly that if he still needed to breath he would be gasping. As it is a small whimper still slips from between his lips.
“Wu Ming, are you awake?” The voice is his god’s, rough and hoarse and demanding an answer.
Wu Ming tries, he does, but he can't seem to speak past the pain or no, maybe it's not the pain that keeps him silent, maybe it's simply that speech is currently beyond him, that the energy, the power, that it takes to speak is no longer within his grasp. He can feel it now that he looks for it, the weakness beneath the pain, the demonic powers that it takes to maintain his body so frayed and burnt away that it's taking everything he has left in him simply to maintain a physical form. Doing anything with that form is utterly beyond him.
Unable to speak or open his eyes all Wu Ming can do is lie still and observe what he can through the pain. He's lying on something hard and cold, a stone floor probably, but his hand is resting on something else, some warm pillow of some sort, but he can't figure out what it might be, beyond that there is nothing, except the pain.
“Wu Ming?” His highness's voice comes again. “Wu Ming, can you hear me?”
Wu Ming so hates to fail is god. Focusing as best he can through the pain the ghost manages to nod slightly and is rewarded by the catching of his highness’s breath.
“Wu Ming? Are you in pain? Wu Ming? Wu…”
It's too much, the pain and the energy depleted by that single small motion, all too much, and as Wu Ming drops back into the darkness his last thought is the shocked realization that the roughness in Xie Lian’s voice isn't harshness but worry.
***
The next time Wu Ming wakes it's to the feeling of lying on something a bit softer, not soft, but softer, like a thin sleeping mat. Whatever warmth pillowed his head the last time is gone now, replaced by a wad of piled fabric (maybe a robe?). Yet while his surroundings may have changed the pain is the same, still burning through him in a way that feels as though it will never leave him and maybe it won't. He can feel that his spiritual power is not regenerating, it's lingering flicker far too weak to fight back against the pain.
He doesn't remember making any movement or sound but he must have because suddenly there's a warm hand against his cheek and an anxious voice beside his ear.
“Wu Ming? Are you awake again?”
“Your Highness?” Somehow he manages to force the words out this time, soft and hoarse and barely audible even to his own ears, but he manages it.
“Wu Ming! You're still with me!”
There's so much relief and pain in that voice that it steals the breath Wu Ming doesn't have and the ghost desperately wants to reply, to tell his god that, if it's up to him, he will never leave his side again, but to his dismay the ghost finds that not only can he not form the words, but that the two words he did get out seem to have drained him once again and now there's nothing for him except to fall back into the darkness.
As all sensation fades away again the last thing Wu Ming hears is his highness saying, “I'll save you. No matter what it takes I promise I'll find a way to save you!”
***
The third time Wu Ming wakes is different from the others, not a slow forming of consciousness out of pain but a sudden muzzy awareness of sensation, the feeling of his head being tipped back, something soft and warm pressing against his lips, guiding them open, and then the feel of something flowing into him. It's a liquid, sort of, a dark and painful current which burns his mouth and throat even as it passes through him. Instinctively he tries to twist away from it but arms hold him fast, refusing to let him escape, and he's forced to endure the burning.
A moment later whatever was pressed to his lips is removed and he reflexively takes several quick breaths that he doesn't need. His lips are stinging and tingling and his tongue feels strange, everything in his mouth feel strange. He makes to try and pull away again but before he can a soft voice speaks close beside his ear.
“Bear with me please, Wu Ming. I'm sorry, I know it must not feel good, but please, trust me.”
And Wu Ming might not understand what's happening and he might not be able to speak or open his eyes and his whole body might be throbbing and his lips and tongue might be burning but it would take far more than that for the ghost to mistrust his god, so this time, when whatever it is presses back against his lips guides his mouth open Wu Ming doesn't struggle. He just lies there, letting the thick burning substance flow into him until he sinks back into the darkness.
***
The fourth time Wu Ming wakes the first thing he notices is the easing of pain. It still there, still deep and burning and throbbing through him, an echo of the furious spirits which tried so hard to tear him from this world, but it's not as debilitating as it was before. Now his thoughts form properly and even his limbs feel as though they might respond to him now. Carefully, afraid that it will prove too much for him after all, he turns his attention to his eyes and finds that they open without resistance.
After blinking a few times to clear them he finds that he is in some sort of hut, abandoned probably judging by the gaps of the boards and the hole in the bit of roof he can see from his current position. He's lying on his side on, as he guessed, a worn-out bamboo sleeping mat, his head still pillowed on whatever fabric was under it before. This time however there's something warm behind him and wrapped around him, holding him in place.
Curious, Wu Ming’s eyes drop to his own chest and then his mind goes briefly blank because what he sees is… What he sees is hands, two of them, their accompanying arms wrapped tight around him from behind, and Wu Ming would know those hands anywhere.
“…Your Highness?” The words fall from the ghosts mouth before he can call them back, his voice a hoarse croak from however many days of disuse.
“Wu Ming?” There is a bleary muzzy sound to his god's voice, as though his call pulled the prince from sleep but to the ghost’s shock there is no shock in it, no shock at all at his highness finding himself wrapped so intimately around his servant.
Unable to hold himself back Wu Ming rolls to face Xie Lian and is briefly struck by how easy the motion is now, but that and every other thought is wiped from his mind as he comes face-to-face with his god. Xie Lian’s mask is gone, his face bare and eyes bleary with sleep. He blinks a couple of times, clearly disoriented, and then at last the world seems to snap into focus for him because he freezes, eyes widening and muscles tensing. Wu Ming can feel them because of how closely the prince is still holding him. For a long moment they just stare at each other and then, to Wu Ming’s utter shock, Xie Lian sags forward, buries his head in the ghost’s shoulder, and begins to cry.
Wu Ming’s eyes widen in shock and he's not sure what to do. He's not sure what exactly is causing his god distress but whatever it is he needs to make it stop or at least provide comfort. But is he allowed to touch? Will it make things worse? Better? For a moment he hesitates and then, slowly, he raises his arms and wraps them tentatively around his god. He keeps the embrace loose in case Xie Lian wants to shove him away but, miraculously, he doesn't.
“Your Highness?” Wu Ming asks the question tentatively then winces internally, waiting for the reprimand. Yet no reprimand comes, instead Xie Lian just raises his head and blinks at the ghost through tear blurred eyes.
“It worked. I was so scared it wouldn't work…”
For a moment it's hard for Wu Ming to think. Xie Lian is so close, his body half sprawled across Wu Ming’s within the circle of the ghost’s arms, his face is close so close that Wu Ming can feel the god’s breath on his jaw…
… Wait what!?
Horror washes through Wu Ming as he realizes suddenly what that feeling must mean, the only thing it can mean. His mask… The ghost freezes, body turning to ice and even as his dead heart pounds reflexively in panic. His highness is inches from his face in his face is… His face is bare, the horror of his cursed eye plane for his god to see. Still frozen by dread the ghost waits for that beautiful face to twist with revulsion, those perfect hands to shove him away.
He waits.
And waits.
And…
“Wu Ming, what’s wrong?” Xie Lian’s expression turns puzzled for a moment and then, then it does change, but it's not the disgust that he so feared that he sees there but … Pain, guilt, sorrow.
“Ah, forgive me.” Xie Lian looks away even as he begins to pull gently free of the ghost’s arms his tone, so full of relief only moments before is now devoid of all joy and Wu Ming aches to hear it. “I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now.” There’s a slight quiver in Xie Lian’s voice and the sound of it sends pain lancing through Wu Ming’s dead heart.
“Your highness is the only person I want to see.” The words leave the ghost’s mouth before he can call them back and Xie Lian stills in the process of pulling himself from the ghost’s arms.
Slowly Xie Lian turns his head back to stare at Wu Ming, eyes wide and startled and still glistening with tears. For a moment they just stare at each other then Xie Lian’s shoulders droop even as his expression softens. it's a strange combination and the ghost isn't sure whether it's a good thing or not.
“Ah forgive me for getting all emotional. You've only just woken up. You’re probably disoriented and confused.”
Wu Ming opens his mouth to declare that no he is no such thing but the words die on his lips as Xie Lian raises his hand to wipe the tears away and the ghost’s eyes narrow as they catch on the god’s palm.
“Your Highness, what's that?”
“What's what?”
Xie Lian blinks at him in bemusement.
“Your palm.”
“Oh that, it's nothing.” Xie Lian says it lightly but he closes his hands into loose fists as he does so, and Wu Ming… Wu Ming remembers screams muffled by a gag, a body writhing in its bonds, and an altar stained in sacred crimson.
His hand darts out, catching one of Xie Lian’s wrists and turning the god’s hand back toward himself. Even with the hand closed Wu Ming can see the discoloration of furious burns which run over every inch of palm and fingers, red and black and weeping and partially scabbed as though Xie Lian plunged his hands into the heart of an inferno, and yet not, for the backs of his hands look unblemished as ever.
“What happened?” Wu Ming here's the anger in his own voice as he asks the question, the threat to whoever did this, because he will find them, he will find them and he will burn them until every inch of them looks like this.
“Ah, it’s nothing.” Xie Lian’s voice in contrast is still tinged with that forced lightness. “It's just where I grabbed the sword, that's all.”
The sword?
For a moment Wu Ming just stares at his god, uncomprehending, and then memory rises in him, patchy and faint, distorted by agony and the sound of his own screaming, it drifts back to him. The feeling of a sword being wrenched from his fingers just as he was on the very verge of dissolving into nothingness, the sound of a scream not his own from just beside him, the scream of the one he loves most in all the world as that beloved person took the last few spirits into his own precious body.
Wu Ming’s eyes widened. “Your Highness, you saved me. You shouldn't have…”
You shouldn't have bled for me.
You shouldn't have hurt for me.
I never wanted your pain.
I never wanted you to hurt again.
I thought I was protecting you from it.
I thought I had succeeded.
I thought…
Now it’s Xie Lian’s turn for his eyes to widen.
“What? Why not?”
“I didn't want you to be hurt.”
“Why?” The question sounds almost like it’s ripped from Xie Lian’s throat, wild and raw and yet quiet as though the god isn't sure if he wants it heard.
For a moment Wu Ming just blinks at him, utterly thrown by the question and before he can gather himself to answer Xie Lian shakes his head and pulls gently away.
“No, don't worry about that now. Just rest. You still need to rest.”
This time Xie Lian really does pull away and as he sits up Wu Ming gets his first good look at his god’s upper body and his eyes widen again in horror as he takes in all of the small tares and the flecks of blood that are far too obvious on a white robe.
Instinctively he snaps into a sitting position only for his head to spin with the phantoms of past pain in his body to sway at the sudden motion. Quickly Xie Lian catches the side of the ghost’s upper arm to steady him.
“Try not to overdo it.”
Xie Lian’s eyes are concerned but Wu Ming only has eyes for the injuries to his god’s body.
“Your Highness, what happened? Who attacked you?”
If it was White No Face…if that monster was still following his god…
“Huh?” Xie Lian gives Wu Ming a look of blank confusion before he follows the ghost’s eyes down to his torso. Then he blinks, seeming to notice his own state for the first time. “Oh that, just some evil spirits, but I was the one who attacked them.”
Wu Ming’s eyes narrow. He knows /exactly/ how talented a swordsman his god is, so how could a few evil spirits ever hope to inflict any sort of wound on him? It doesn't make sense…
“If you attacked first then you must've had a good reason.” Wu Ming says it because it's true but also in an attempt to fish for information and is surprised when the god’s eyes fix intently on his face.
“I did.”
There’s something in that gaze, something pointed and too intent for Wu Ming to ignore, especially when Xie Lian was hurt because of it.
“Your highness, why did you attack them?”
“For their spiritual power. It was the only way I could think of to get some.”
Wu Ming frowns at that. Spiritual power tainted with demonic essence can’t be easy on human body, and for all his god is a god, his body is still human enough to suffer as one, Wu Ming knows that far too well. Yet Wu Ming also knows his god and he knows that Xie Lian would not take even the life of an evil spirit without good reason, especially now that he seems to have put aside his calamity’s mask. Wu Ming’s eyes narrow in thought as he studies Xie Lian, taking in the changes in him. There are new shadows in his eyes and even something about his mouth has a new set to it. No, Xie Lian is no longer the young carefree prince Wu Ming once new but neither is he the calamity, trapped and drowning deep in his pain with only anger to shield his shattered heart. How long has it taken for such a change to occur? How long has Wu Ming been unconscious?
…And why is he conscious now?
As soon as the question comes to him a horrible suspicion forms in Wu Ming’s mind.
“Highness, why /did/ you need the spiritual power?”
“I didn’t.” Xie Lian offers the ghost a small smile. “You did. You were so badly hurt that you weren’t regenerating enough spiritual energy to begin to heal and I don’t have any and I couldn’t think of any other way to help you…”
As Xie Lian’s voice trails away a memory comes to Wu Ming, swimming up out of the blackness and pain that had swallowed his mind. Liquid in his mouth that was not liquid but that burned and stung, a familiar voice telling him to bare the discomfort and trust, and something pressing against his mouth …Something soft and warm.
Slowly the fragmented memories piece themselves together within Wu Ming and his dead heart begins to pound as his eyes widen then drift downward to his god’s mouth. He has to think about it, has to concentrate, but when he does… When he does he can see the aura of evil like a dark stain against the soft pink of Xie Lian lips.
“Your highness….” The title leaves Wu Ming’s mouth in a gasp and it’s all he can do to stop himself from reaching up to brush his fingers over his own lips, lips that had… Lips that have… Lips that have tasted his god.
Seeing where Wu Ming is looking Xie Lian’s cheeks turn slightly pink and then he looks hastily away, but not fast enough for the ghost to miss the beauty of pink spreading across his god’s cheeks and his heart stutters at it. Fuck but Xie Lian is stunning like that. The need rises quick and hot in Wu Ming to see his god look like that again, to be the cause of his blushes again, but the ghost pushes the thought aside, reminding himself sternly that there are more important things to focus on, like Xie Lian’s many injuries …or the way the god won’t quite meet his eyes.
“Your highness?”
“Ah…” Xie Lian clears his throat awkwardly. “About how I gave it to you. I’m sorry about that but it was the only way I could think of to get you to swallow it while you were unconscious…”
“Your highness doesn’t need to apologize.” ‘Your highness has no idea how badly I want to kiss you.’ “I don’t mind.”
“Why?” The question leaves Xie Lian’s lips softly but there’s a rawness to it that surprises Wu Ming and his eyes flick toward the ghost then away again.
Wu Ming tenses. “Highness?”
Xie Lian shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” He takes a shuddering breath as though collecting himself then lets go of Wu Ming and turns away busying himself with something beside the sleeping mat. “You should have some more now actually and then rest again. I don’t want you to risk pushing your body too far just yet.”
“What about your highness?”
Xie Lian glances back at him in surprise. “What about me?”
“You’re also injured.”
“Hum?” Xie Lian looks down at himself again as though he’s already forgotten all of the cuts and the tears in his robes and the horrible scalding marks on his hands which must be agony every time he touches anything. “Oh it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” Wu Ming says it firmly, maybe even a little angrily. He tries to move toward Xie Lian but even that much motion has his whole body swaying as, for a blinding moment, the pain reasserts itself. The next thing he knows his god is there, arms wrapping around Wu Ming and guiding him back down onto the sleeping mat.
“Your highness…” He whispers the title, briefly over awed by the feeling of his gods warmth so close to him, caring for him. He really has been caring for him hasn’t he? Even risking his own safety to nurse Wu Ming back to health for all this time. Even… The ghosts eyes flick again in the direction of Xie Lian’s lips.
“Easy” Xie Lian rests Wu Ming’s head against the pillow and brushes the ghost’s hair back from his face and it’s such a gentle movement that the ghost’s heart aches with it. “Don’t try to do too much just yet.”
“Your highness, what happened in Yong’an? What about White No Face?” His mind is becoming hazy but if the monster is still a threat to his god he has to know.
A shadow crosses Xie Lian’s face briefly but then it’s gone again, his gaze softening once more. “Don’t worry about that for now. Just take this and get some rest.”
He wants to protest, he does, but then a bowl is pressed to his lips, containing what he now realizes is the melted remains of demonic spirits, and Wu Ming can do nothing but drink. The liquid burns against his lips and he shudders in discomfort at the taste and feel of it entering him but he needs to recover and become as strong as he can. How else is he going to protect his god? Besides Xie Lian was injured gathering this for him. He’s not going to waist a single drop.
With that thought firmly in his mind he drinks it all down and his last thought before the darkness claims him again is that once he recovers from this he will never allow Xie Lian to be hurt again.
***
Memories return to Wu Ming in snatches of dream and voices heard in the blackness.
The world is pain, pain so all-consuming that everything else is darkness. He wants to writhe with it but he’s too weak to move. Then there are arms around him, warm and clinging and even through the pain some part of Wu Ming still knows that no one before in all his life has ever clung to him this way, longingly, desperately, as though the one holding him never means to let him go again.
“Wu Ming! WU MING! WHY!? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!? I TOLD YOU TO GIVE ME THE SWORD! WHY WOULDN’T YOU LISTEN! WHY…” There’s a sob from above him and then farther away, cruel laughter.
“He can’t answer you, you know. Poor little ghost. It’s a miracle there’s anything left of it at all. It probably won’t last much longer.”
“I’ll save him! I’ll find a way!”
“Why?” The question is harsh and mocking. “You think he’ll thank you for it? You think it’ll be enough to make him stay with you?”
“I don’t care!” There are tears in the voice above him but it’s firm none the less. “I don’t care if he hates me! I don’t care if he blames me! I don’t care if he leaves me! I’ll save him! No matter what it takes I’ll save him!”
“How disappointing. I’m disappointed in you Xie Lian.”
“Fuck you! Who cares what you think!”
Thunder crackles loud enough to send another rush of pain through Wu Ming’s head and for a little while there is nothing but blackness. After that sensation returns in fits in starts, the sound of weapons clashing, the feeling of warm arms tight around him, dampness dripping onto his face as though from just above him, and then, sometime later, voices again.
“Xianle, congratulations. I can welcome you back now.”
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“There is something I still need to do.”
“Do you mean that ghost? You must know that he is more likely to fade away than to recover.”
“I know, but even so…”
“You would give up all of heaven for him?”
“I would.”
“Well, it seems that Xianle has grown up.”
***
When Wu Ming wakes again he is alone. Not only is his highness not in bed beside him but a quick glance around tells the ghost that he’s nowhere in the hut either. Alone with his thoughts Wu Ming just stares up at the sealing for a while, his mind reeling. In those first terrible waves of pain the bits of memory left to him from the time just after his encounter with the spirits alluded him but now… Now the dreams have brought it back to him, White No Face’s words, the words of a man Wu Ming guesses must be Jun Wu, and…
‘I don’t care if he hates me! I don’t care if he blames me! I don’t care if he leaves me! I’ll save him!’
‘You would give up all of heaven for him?’
All of heaven.
Ascension.
After everything he’s been through, every horrible painful thing, his god has chosen banishment and the pain of the mortal realm over ascension …For him.
A lump feels like it’s forming in Wu Ming’s throat. Can ghosts cry? He couldn’t as a ghost fire and it was horrible, not even being able to shed a tear for his god, but now? He’s not sure. He’s not prone to crying. He hasn’t been for a long time, crying just made his father beat him more, but now… The emotions twisting their way through him are too much, far too much.
He’s honestly not sure if he cries or not. His vison does blur for a while but he can’t really say if it’s from tears or from pure emotion causing him to lose track of his surroundings. Only when he brings his hand experimentally to his eyes and Wu Ming feels the dampness against it does he realize that, yes, he has been crying.
Quickly he wipes the tears from his eyes and sits up, relieved to find that he can do so without swaying this time. The pain is less now than it was before he slept too, having him absorb the bodies and essence of evil spirts really does seem to be working. If he concentrates he can feel their essence within him, a dark throbbing power separate from his own darkness. A lesser ghost might be effected by their power, drawn into dark acts and maybe even madness, but he is a wrath and his will is strong and they have no hold over him.
Wu Ming takes a shuddering breath. He doesn’t need it but it helps him get a grip and that he does need to do because he can’t serve his god while he’s a mess of foolish emotions can he? Incredible and overwhelming as it might be the reality is clear, Xie Lian, his prince, his god, really has turned aside heaven in favor of saving Wu Ming’s …Well not life but his existence. It’s… It’s wrong, all wrong, Wu Ming exists to be the stepping stone for his god, the sacrifice on his altar, the bridge he walks across. Dying for him once was his greatest honor and dying for him for a second time would have been his pleasure.
…And yet Wu Ming can’t help being glad to still be in the world, not because he places any value on his own existence, he never has, but because to die from the world would be to leave Xie Lian all alone. It is for this reason he clung to this world first as a ghost fire and then as a wrath and it is for this reason that he will cling to it still.
‘You think it’ll be enough to make him stay with you?’
White No Face’s words echo, cold and mocking, in Wu Ming’s ears and the ghost clenches his fists.
“I will stay.” He tells the empty hut. “I will stay and I will never leave him alone again and I will become more powerful until I’m worthy to stand at his highness’s side and I can make him his own personal heaven!”
Determination running through him Wu Ming pushes himself to his feet. His legs are shaky beneath him but he can manage, for his highness he can manage anything. He needs to figure out where they are, find out if they’re going to stay long, gather food and fire wood and bandages for Xie Lian, and if they are staying, patch the holes in the roof and walls and find his god a more comfortable sleeping mat. Before he can do any of that though he needs to find his mask. His highness has been kind enough to overlook his cursed appearance thus far but there’s no reason he should be subjected to the gaze of Wu Ming's demonic eye for a moment longer than necessary. It shouldn’t be hard to find. Besides the sleeping mat there isn’t much in the hut, only a hearth where a fire has burned nearly to ashes and an old pot, a bucket, a small pile of sad looking root vegetables, and a warn out looking pack. Walking still makes him feel unsteady but he manages the three steps it takes him to reach the pack before dropping back to his knees. He’s about to open it when there’s a clatter from behind him and Wu Ming whips around.
Xie Lian is standing in the doorway of the hut, the bundle of fire wood which he must have been carrying now laying in a pile at his feet.
“Wu Ming! You’re up!”
The ghost tries to jump to his feet so that he can go to his god and help with the fire wood but his mind wants him to move faster than his body will currently permit and before he knows it he’s back on his knees, Xie Lian at his side, one hand on his shoulder to catch and steady him.
“Careful.” His god’s voice is gentle and there’s worry in his beautiful golden eyes. “What were you looking for?”
“My mask.”
Xie Lian blinks in surprise. “Is it precious to you?”
Now it’s the ghost’s turn to give his god a couple of startled blinks then, remembering the bare state of his right eye, he quickly looks away.
“It’s nothing like that. Your highness should not have to look at something so monstrous.”
“Monstrous? What’s monstrous?”
Wu Ming chances a startled glance at Xie Lian but his god doesn’t seem to be mocking him. He looks every bit as confused as he sounds.
“Your highness is being kind, but there is no need. I know my face is cursed and not fit for your sight.”
“Cursed…” Xie Lian says the word slowly, as though baffled by it, and then his eyes widen.
“Wu Ming, when you said I shouldn’t have to look at something monstrous, were you talking about your face?”
The ghost nods then quickly turns his head away again but this time he’s stopped as Xie Lian’s free hand catches the ghost’s chin and turns it gently back toward him. Then he keeps going, turning the ghost’s head from side to side as though studying his face intently. After a few moments of doing this his hand stills with them facing each other and Xie Lian stares right at Wu Ming’s hated cursed eye as he says, “But Wu Ming, you’re beautiful.”
The ghost goes completely still, unable to speak, unable to even think past those words. Inside his dead chest his heart is pounding yet his mind is blank.
Xie Lian studies his reaction closely and he must see the shock in his eyes. “Do you really believe that you look monstrous?”
Wordlessly Wu Ming nods. Of course he does. Not even death has stripped the burning horror of his cursed eye from him.
Xie Lian’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing. “Who told you that?”
The ghost’s eyes flick away, unable to find an answer.
“Never mind, it doesn’t matter, they were liars every one of them.” For a moment the anger flicks to life in Xie Lian’s tone and in it Wu Ming can hear the ghost of the calamity who walked the Xianle battlefield. He starts slightly at it and yet in a way it doesn’t shock him. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since then but he doubts it can have been more than a week or two and healing takes time.
At that moment Xie Lian starts as well, as though hearing and recoiling from the sound of his own voice. He also seems to notice the firm grip he has on Wu Ming’s jaw and shoulder because he jerks back, hands falling away from the ghost.
“I’m sorry.” He turns away quickly, busying himself with redoing the fastenings of the pack Wu Ming had been opening, his tone quieter now, all anger gone from it. With his back to Wu Ming he adds, “I meant it though. You really are beautiful. I’m sure you’ll make your beloved very happy.”
“What?” Wu Ming stares at his god’s back, the change of topic completely throwing him.
“Your beloved. Once you’ve finished recovering you should go to them.” Xie Lian’s voice is deceptively light but Wu Ming can hear the slight shake in it.
‘You think it’ll be enough to make him stay with you?’
‘I don’t care if he hates me! I don’t care if he blames me! I don’t care if he leaves me!’
“Your highness,” Wu Ming reaches forward and gently places a hand on Xie Lian’s shoulder. The god stiffens briefly but it feels more like shock than like a rejection of the touch. “I’m not going to leave you.”
“Why!?” The word is ripped from Xie Lian’s throat as he spins back around to face the ghost, his eyes wide and wild. “Why would you stay with me!? Why would you help me!? Why would you try to save me even though it meant you wouldn’t get your revenge!?”
For a moment they just stare at each other and then Wu Ming begins to shift his position. Before, when Xie Lian was the calamity, wrapped in anger and grief and pain, he would never have done this, knowing that it would not have been welcome, but now, now perhaps this is something that his prince needs to hear. Instead of kneeling casually on both knees he shifts so that he’s down one knee. He catches on of Xie Lian’s hand in both of his own and bows his head over it.
“Because you are my god.”
There’s a soft gasp from above him followed by silence. At last Xie Lian speaks, his voice soft and shaky.
“The flower, that was you?”
Without raising his head Wu Ming nods.
There’s a choked sob from above him and when Wu Ming looks up he sees that Xie Lian’s face has gone white and that there are tears flowing down his cheeks.
“Your highness…”
“I’m sorry.” Xie Lian chokes out the words. “I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I was so cruel to you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t a better god. I’m sorry I…”
His words trail away in a startled gasp as Wu Ming straightens up and wraps his arms around his god, pulling Xie Lian into a tight embrace.
“You were never cruel.” Wu Ming speaks the words softly into his god’s hair as Xie Lian buries his head against the crook of the ghost’s neck. “You didn’t fail me and there is no better god then you. I would never follow another.”
Xie Lian gasps at that and Wu Ming is momentarily distracted by the feel of his god’s breath against the side of his neck.
“Wu Ming… Wu Ming did you really come to me to get revenge on Yong’an or was that a lie? Were you really…”
The memory of that dark battle field stirs to life behind Wu Ming’s eyes and he instinctively tightens his arms around Xie Lian as though to protect him from those memories.
“I wasn’t lying. I did want revenge but I would follow your highness anywhere.”
Another gasp and the feeling of Xie Lian’s arms tightening around Wu Ming as well.
“What about your beloved? Was that a lie or…?”
“No. That wasn’t a lie” Wu Ming speaks the words softly into Xie Lian’s hair. “I have a beloved who was hurt by Yong’an and who I would do anything for.”
At that Xie Lian’s arms go limp and he pulls slowly back. There are still tears in his eyes and beneath them a deeper sadness and when he speaks Wu Ming can tell it’s taking everything he has to keep his voice from wavering.
“Then you should go to them.”
Wu Ming stares at Xie Lian, at the pain in his god’s face, at the tears in his eyes and he hears White No Face’s words echo through his mind yet again and he knows, oh he knows. Xie Lian is convinced that Wu Ming won’t stay, that no one will stay for him, not now not ever. Wu Ming could prevaricate, he could offer half truths and distracting words, but no matter how skillfully he speaks, as long as Xie Lian believes that Wu Ming has a beloved somewhere in the world for him to go to he will never believe that the ghost will stay, in fact his noble heart will probably push Wu Ming to go to the one he loves, never knowing that the one the ghost loves his here, staring at him with heart break in his eyes. No, no matter how much Wu Ming may fear rejection and the breaking of his own heart, that will never matter more than Xie Lian, and so there is only one answer that he can give now, only the truth.
“I have.”
Xie Lian starts at that, his eyes widening in surprise rather than comprehension.
“Did they send you away?”
“I don’t know.” Wu Ming takes a shuddering breath, his dead heart pounding in his chest. “Are you?”
Xie Lian freezes, blank shock written across his features. After a moment he seems to try to speak but no sound comes. The prince licks his lips and tries again and the words come out, hoarse and shaking, but audible.
“Wu Ming are you… Do You mean…”
The ghost nods and when he speaks his own voice isn’t in much better shape. “I do but your highness has no need to answer me. As long as I can remain at your side that is enough for me.”
“But what if…” Xie Lian takes a shaky breath and then, so quietly that Wu Ming can barely hear him, “What if that’s not enough for me?”
“What-“ The word leaves Wu Ming’s lips as though it’s just been punched out of him. It doesn’t matter if he’s dead and no longer needs to breath, that doesn’t stop him from feeling completely winded, utterly breathless.
“What if…” Xie Lian’s voice is still quiet and it shakes slightly with nerves as though the prince still can’t believe that Wu Ming, that anyone, could ever feel that way for him. “What if I also feel… Also want…”
Wu Ming surges forward, closing the distance between them and catching his god’s lips in a kiss. Xie Lian’s mouth is just as warm and soft as he remembers, but now there’s no strange bitter burning liquid to distract him from the sensation of chapped lips and welcoming gentleness, the taste and perfection that could only ever be Xie Lian.
For an instant the god stiffens under his mouth but then he relaxes, melting into Wu Ming, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him back with a desperate longing beyond the ghost’s wildest dreams.
When at last they break apart Xie Lian looks up at Wu Ming, eyes wide and breath coming in quick gasps and asks, “Did you mean it? You really won’t leave me.”
“I swear.” Wu Ming tightens his arms around his god, around his beloved, and leans forward to whisper his oath against Xie Lian’s lips. “I will never leave you. Not in ten years. Not in a hundred. Not in a thousand. No matter what happens, as long as you allow me to be by your side, I will never leave you.”
Xie Lian’s arms tighten around Wu Ming as well, until they’re clinging to each other, utterly lost to every part of the world except for the world they make between them.
“Forever?”
There’s a desperate tentative quality to Xie Lian’s voice as though even now he can’t truly bring himself to believe that this can be real, that someone will really stay. Wu Ming knows that persuading him won’t be easy, that it may take months or years or even decades till the prince has recovered enough to truly let himself believe that he will never again be left alone, but Wu Ming will be patient and he’ll do everything he can to help Xie Lian get there, help him heal, because the ghost loves him and because he is never going to leave Xie Lian’s side again.
“Forever.” Wu Ming says and kisses his god again.