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They mistook her silence for compliance.
A veiled woman undoes her hair with touches so light Xiao Lanhua barely feels it, exchanging her delicate styling for the more utilitarian ties that would properly hold the crown. Everyone has forgotten the face of the last woman that had the crescent rising behind her head, only a name to be found in books and records her successor never had time to read.
Grief kept the Xilan goddess’ head bowed for two centuries.
There's something to be said about image and presentation. In the palace’s square there's a monument to the tribe's founder, an enormous basalt sculpture of a faceless woman draped in familiar, flowing robes. There’s a phoenix brooch at her breast and she’s shrouded in stone fire, wearing a crescent moon crown in her hair.
Without shame, Xiao Lanhua lets herself be stripped and redressed in heavy velvet and, at her attendant's insistence, spider silk. Twilight faces her in the mirror, someone she never met before.
There were no warnings, no signs she could have noticed. No unrest, at Xishan’s borders or in the regular letters she received. One day, simply, a man tripped into her halls without announcement and collapsed at her feet, a call for the Moon Queen fading at his lips just as his life did.
She thought every last bit of her innocence had been scrapped clean years before.
The first attacks came on the shores, several quick strikes by powerful immortals that flattened villages before anyone had time to do anything. Entire families vanquished with such excess that the only proof they existed was the well kept houses and the rusty stains.
Xunfeng is a competent leader when he doesn’t need to spend most of his time carving his life with tooth and nail. Xiao Lanhua is grateful that he never stopped being willing to ask for help, but is also ashamed to arrive at the Silent Moon Palace and find him bowed down to the ground, half a plea and half a demand gritted between his teeth.
She was grateful for the burning rage too.
Cangyan Sea is tired. Of war, of death, of defending their right to live and avenging the first betrayal of their people. Xiao Lanhua is tired of sadness and fear, of watching their struggles.
She bows low to the army, back bent deeply and eyes on the floor, and asks them to rely on her one last time. It's a testament to their despair that they do, that the same people that wouldn't trust her as a mere wife now put their fates in her hands as a leader.
The throne room is empty and full of distant echoes when she lowers her head in front of the man that hates her the most and lets him fasten the crown onto her hair.
Xiao Lanhua can't know less about war, but she knows her brother-in-law, and her guard, and Shuiyuntian’s lands. The immortals don't expect them to slide in from the Xishan border, in small groups instead of battalions, and strike just as viciously as they suffered.
The fairy army destroys everything it touches. The goddess of Xishan dismantles . When her children leave, there are no floors to be stained.
Cold settles inside her long before guilt has the chance. For many years she thought she had forgotten what warmth felt like, but now her skin, her soul, drains the heat even from the small piece of mutton-fat jade resting against her chest. Harshly pushed over the threshold of despair, she weighs the importance of morals in the face of such betrayal.
So much more makes sense now. She should not have fought Dongfang Qingcang so hard about it.
What does mercy mean, when the enemy chooses filth at every step of the way? When they take an offered hand of peace, only to pull the helper into damnation? Does Shuiyuntian know anything other than betrayal? Other than punishment, fear? With such light skies, one would expect hearts to be bright and clear.
Such concepts slip away from her heart as the blade slips over her wrist. Knowing such deceit drains her empty as much as the blood she pours into little sturdy flasks and uses to pull entire battalions of souls back into their vessels. She never made the promise, she cannot feel guilty. To heal is both the gift and duty of the goddess.
There’s rarely a need for Xiao Lanhua to walk the battlefield - the slaughter is left in the skilled, well accustomed hands of her family. Her raging, hurt, ashamed family. Instead, Xiao Lanhua walks the shadowed halls of Haishi’s pavilions, meditates in the memory-tainted sunrises with dispassionate care. It's a wonder how the heavens enjoy overlooking those who they consider inferior, how this city thrives under their noses just because they think its citizens are tainted .
After so long, after everything, they should know better than to trust a faceless ruler.
Xunfeng had dropped the keys and maps and servants into her hands with the same frantic relief one gets rid of a bad lover’s belongings. It might have been the last time she smiled out of pure amusement.
The Moon Tribe strikes quickly and silently. Their borders are closed off, impenetrable, as if the sea itself had risen to seclude them. Nobody behind those borders should have to see what happens on the other side.
Xiao Lanhua knows the power of imagery, of stories and superstition. Thereis nobody she loved more than the villain of Shuiyuntian's worst tales. The demons of the world are her family of hurt and vengeful people. They had hated her once, too. Still hate her, for depriving them of their true savior, for being such a weak shadow in his place. For abandoning them for so long.
It doesn't matter, when her spirit powers the arrays protecting their country, the almost extinct seal of Xilan burning bright for all to see. It doesn't matter, when her blood trickles down their throats and keeps their hearts beating.
Xunfeng spent most of his life either on the battlefield or in war camps. He joined the army too young, got a commanding position before he was ready, learned to rule with hounds at his heels. His brother hadn’t cared enough to protect him from anything, and then Xunfeng failed to protect him in turn.
He’s smarter now, more experienced. Infinitely more jaded. He keeps his head up in front of the Xishan goddess not out of defiance, but because he knows someone needs to. There’s some respect there, instinctive for her power and earned for her tenacity.
No affection, though he knows she sees him as her only remaining family.
“We are keeping the survivors in a camp close to the border.” He points at the exact spot on the large map hanging on one of the walls. “What do you want to do with them? Bring them here? To Xishan? The mines?”
The fairy - she will always be a fairy - examines the map with the empty expression Xunfeng got used to seeing in her face after his brother was gone. She’s just as jaded as he is, just with less blood on her hands. Less blood in her body, overall. The purposefully low light of Liufang Pavilion makes her look ghostly, washed out - the only spot of brightness being the crown in her hair.
“Do whatever you think is best,” she tells him, moving back to the stone fish bowl she had been watching when he arrived. She moves like a shadow these days, flimsy. “No need to bring these matters to me. I’ll see the injured soon. Thank you.”
The water casts rainbows on her face. She looks better like this, in Xunfeng’s opinion. White and gold don’t suit her well as the midnight blue of her royal garments, the polished silver of the crown.
They match well now. They’ll rule well, together.
“Ridiculous,” Lord Yunzhong shouts from his throne, a heavy hand landing a muffled strike on the cushioned arm.
At the platform below, a pair of soldiers doesn't dare to lift their eyes. Their report is unwelcome but necessary and they have been sent here by a superior too scared to face the wrath of their leader. Their campaign had gone smoothly as planned for a long while, easily restoring order to the mines and ash-valley towns after too many years of rebelliousness.
Until communications stopped coming from the garrisons stationed by the margins of the Oblivion River, then from the ones spread over the sea shore.
Then the runners showed up, with tales of undead fighters and moving forests, of villages vanished overnight as if swallowed by the earth. Of the mountains and hills from the abandoned lands being alive, and soldiers falling as if they exhaled life along with the air from their lungs.
“What kind of sinister magic that pest managed to invoke this time?” Yunzhong asks more calmly but somehow sounding even more frustrated. “Hasn't he learned his place after being pushed down for thirty thousand years?”
The simple soldiers on the floor shiver under the thrum of their leader’s barely restrained, angry magic.
“It is not…” The bravest one starts, then stops to breathe and swallow. “It is not Xunfeng, my lord.” That catches the attention of everyone and the young fairy tries not to flinch. “The few scouts that managed to find camps heard the demons speak of a woman as their leader.”
Yunzhong scoffs in derisive humor, but doesn’t seem any less angry. Possibly more.
“Did you at least manage to get the name of this woman?”
The soldier shakes his head.
“They only refer to her by title, my lord. The queen, the widow, mother… Each person calls her something different, we are not able to link it to any specific woman of the tribe.” It was very weird to hear the reports. Some of the demon soldiers seemed to refer to this woman as a creature as old as time and just as powerful, some as a child who deserved little to no respect. The younger called her mother, the elders called her by much less respectful epithets.
“You said the Moon Tribe soldiers don’t die ?” Lord Changheng asks, from where he’s standing at the edge of the ice platform, incongruously both unarmored and battle weary. The armies have not seen him since he renounced his role as god of war, and there's nothing martial about the man anymore.
“They have some sort of potion,” the second soldier explains. “From what we heard, as soon as one of them falls, another gives them this potion and they rise again. Their army seems to be mostly these undead creatures by now.”
Lord Changheng looks stricken for a moment, bringing a hand to the fold of his robes as if to pick up something before turning to his brother with a hard, suddenly impassioned expression.
“You are a fool,” he accuses, fearless. “Hold back the army, I will try to talk to Lady Xiyun.”
Xiao Lanhua is sitting at the low table, carefully closing the small warded vials, when the fairy lord is dragged in and more or less thrown at her. The guard doesn't say anything and leaves them alone, well used to the goddess' idiosyncrasies. She'll meet anyone who asks. She's strong enough to deal with them alone.
“Xiao Lanhua, what are you doing?” Changheng's loud bewilderment doesn't move her. He looks frazzled, probably harassed by both wards and guards, but mostly unharmed. “They are saying you invaded Shuiyuntian. They are calling you the Moon Queen.”
She looks up only when the little bottles are closed and clean. The dirty rag is already turning rusty. Blood decays surprisingly fast.
“I neglected my duty for too long.” She explains, calm as usual. “For Shuiyuntian promises might be no more than suggestions, but my vows were sealed on the proper date. Though the battlefield was not where I expected to bleed.” Her voice sounds clear of even the small drip of humor that’s in her mind. Not a skill Xiao Lanhua ever expected to perfect, but it came naturally now.
“How can you turn on the people who raised…?” Changheng sounds hurt but also bites off the end of the sentence, clearly realizing the misstep.
Completely unfazed by how he towers over her, Xiao Lanhua stays seated to look at his face.
“What is your suggestion, Lord Changheng? That I deliver the keys to my people’s homes into your brother’s hands? Should we give ourselves as slaves to keep Shuiyuntian’s wealth?” She blinks at him, taking a moment to trace every detail of this man’s face, every line that she obsessed over in her youth. There’s a prickle of pain about it. Changheng was her only friend for many years, the only one who understood what she had lost. “Changheng… You are free to defend your homeland, your family. I will not judge you.”
“But you won’t stop.”
“Why should I? I tried to stop this fight twice. Died trying, once.” Turning back to her task, she starts putting the little vials into separate pouches. “Clearly, there’s no stopping fate.”
“All you did, all your life, was defy fate.” Changheng sounds like he wants to cry. Angry, a little desperate. Xiao Lanhua wishes she could soothe him. “You were good. This isn’t the woman I love.”
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” She feels herself smile a little, unused muscles pulling skin in a funny way. “To lose someone you love and have to endure the disrespect?”
Not even ash is left behind. After the army leaves, Xiao Lanhua goes to each battle ground to sit and wait. It doesn’t take long for half sentient sprites and shy yao to approach. She is life, afterall, they cannot help being attracted to her energy.
Together they give the dead back to the earth. Every immortal being is made of energy so they would dissipate soon enough, but there’s no reason to leave their souls to wander and suffer. Then they sit, every inhuman creature surrounding their goddess, and it takes barely any of her energy to reset the land. To make forests thrive again, to wash out the corruption until it isn’t any different from her home in Xishan.
She takes care that each soul is let go clean, ready to restart the cycle. A new chance to learn that every living being is the same, ready to let go of generations of festering hurt and be better for it.
It is conquest, she will not pretend otherwise, but it needs to be done. It’s her duty as a goddess, to keep the world healthy and clean of resentment. It’s her duty as the queen of the Moon Tribe to make sure her people can live in peace. She tried other means, but all she can do now is minimize the damage by standing with her people, keeping them alive and focusing their wrath more productively. Be a figure to rally behind.
The world must be pure and at peace so she can safely cultivate the little sliver of her beloved’s soul and bring him back. It must be better for when he arrives.
The jade laying against her chest grows colder everyday as winter approaches.
Danyin cannot even discern where she is anymore. She joined the army too recently to have any position worth receiving information - all she learns comes from mouth to mouth of foot soldiers, with no timeline or confirmation. At first, the word was that the Moon Tribe randomly started attacking border settlements, then later a rumor started that Shuiyuntian had actually been the first aggressor.
It wasn’t hard to sneak a peek at this regiment’s lieutenant's maps, see the spreading marks coming from the mountains, not the sea. From the opposite border from the Cangyan Sea.
Now she’s running through the thicket, the sounds of death around her quiet in comparison to the deafening roars in the sky. Everytime the shadow sweeps down, half a dozen fairies are taken away by it. Retreat had been the only option, but it meant nothing if the forest melted and shifted around them.
They said the armies were led by an unseen queen. Danyin wanted to laugh. Shuiyuntian nobility never learned, never changed. Nobody’s patience is eternal.
The dragon doesn’t touch the trees, carefully picking his victims everytime the landscape shifts. Too fast for such a massive beast. There is no way Danyin will be recognized before being crushed.
Next time she trips someone catches her arm in a tight grip and pulls her backwards, throwing her against a tree with such force she gasps and buckles, chest suddenly too tight under the armor and shoulder sliding at a weird angle. She steadies her feet, only to be pushed back again and choke on the pain of bruised ribs.
“Oh… you’re quite prettier up close.” Danyin doesn’t recognize the man right away, pain blurred sight only catching the glimmer of his armor. “Better than the other one, for sure.”
Only when he leans closer, analyzing her with narrow eyes, she places the face, the driftwood crown. Before she can speak, the prince of Cangyan Sea carelessly throws her over his shoulder and she cannot draw breath anymore.
Every hundred years, the moon lines up perfectly with the mountain where the Silent Moon Palace was built.
It’s a beautiful sight, though Xiao Lanhua’s memory is tainted by fear and pain. The next event is quite a few centuries away, but she doesn’t expect to be able to enjoy it either. Trips to the capital are rare - she’s still too traumatized, too scared to leave her garden and the little bit of Dongfang Qingcang’s spirit that she nursed there.
This time she’s visiting just to make sure the wards are secure, that the arrays are still carved as they should and unobstructed. The palace runs itself smoothly, more than used to not having a master present.
It’s impossible to avoid the private rooms, though her heart tears itself apart at the sight of it.
The maids have kept everything in place, every pillow fluffed and every surface dusted. The covers are stretched properly and a watery silk sleep robe is still hanging over the changing screen, just waiting for the end of the day. A small pair of peach-pink slippers is still perched on the footstool, as if Xiao Lanhua sat there just that morning. The only addition is a large cedar chest near the wardrobe.
Curious and half annoyed at the intrusion, Xiao Lanhua kneels before it and opens the heavy lid.
She’s sure this mistake will follow her for the rest of her life as soon as the bright color meets her eyes and her fingers touch the heavy, shimmery brocade of the clothes inside. Every piece she pulls away sits heavily in her chest, surrounds her in a river of red and gold, until she feels nailed to the ground.
For the first time in two hundred years she has a body. For the first time, she’s here. Heavy and in pain, but the urge to cry gets stuck in her throat amidst all the little pieces of her broken heart.
Waking up on a soft, warm bed isn’t what Danyin expected. Breathing still hurts and her clothes have dried sticking to her limbs with blood, but she’s alive. There are people talking somewhere in the distance, beyond the paper doors. The light is dim, but enough for her to catch the shape of someone across the room.
“You are a very, very lucky girl.”
Danyin tries not to cringe when the man approaches her. A brief attempt at sitting up steals her breath away - the armor holding her broken ribs in place has been removed at some point, so she endures staying laid down while the ruler of the Moon Tribe stands by the bed and looks down on her. His clothes almost meld with the dark walls when he leans in and grabs her chin, moving her face this way and that with a mildly interested expression.
“You’ll live, for now. As long as you are obedient and well behaved, my dear sister says it is alright to keep you.” He lets go of her face and smiles, a thin, dangerous thing. “Are you going to be nice?”
The impulse to bite and trash and flee is strong, but she’s injured, the broken ribs restricting her breathing enough that it comes in shallow pants timed to her racing heart. Her wide eyed silence must be enough of an answer, though, because he leaves without any other comment.
The windows are boarded, but in the brief moment the door is open she can hear the bustle outside. Wherever she is, the place is full. No chance to flee unnoticed. Even laying here in the dim light of one or two lanterns, she feels watched.
Reaching within herself, Danyin tries to pull at her cultivation to heal her injuries, only to feel each meridian precisely blocked by some foreign energy.
The door opens again, and this time her visitor rushes in a silent whirl of colorful fabric.
“Sister,” Jieli half cries, half whispers, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I’ll take you to the palace. Just stay quiet, alright? Then you can stay with us.”
They must have brought her to wherever the Moon Tribe is based. There's a lot of people outside. It's a good opportunity to gather information, if she can keep her head down for a while. She never learned to do that.
“Just put me with the others.” She tries to sound at least somewhat dignified, despite the lacking breath. “If I am to be a prisoner, I don't need special treatment.”
Jieli chews on her lip for a second, holding Danyin's hand tight.
“We don’t keep prisoners.”
When the armies inevitably clash, Xiao Lanhua watches from a distance. There's no need for her to be in the thick of it and she's very aware that her battle skills are more than lacking. She still finds it necessary to watch, whenever possible - it’s important to be aware of the cost of her work, so she doesn’t become desensitized. Life is what she wields, afterall.
It doesn’t make a difference where she stands, however: the hills listen to her, as do the shores. Be it beaches or forests, Shuiyuntian itself turns on the corruption that infests its lands. The power of her bloodline thrumming in her soul tells the world who she is, making it impossible to deny the heritage of Xilan in this body cultivated from the earth a second time.
Sometime since the crown was woven into her hair, her eyes had gained a constant, bright green shimmer.
This is the last of the fairy garrisons guarding the region. From the mountains of Xishan to the deserts, the Moon Tribe soldiers had swept white-and-silver armies, pushing them into brush that entangled them or water that moved like a living creature. Some had fled, the smarter ones. Regretfully, the only way to run was to the sweltering, glowing cliffs of their enemies’ homeland.
It’s a quick fight. Xiao Lanhua watches the lava for a long time after, basking in the nostalgic warmth she doesn’t need anymore, and thinks about a flower shaped brasier.
The fires are eternal and bright enough to purify even the most polluted of souls, with flames that lap up high enough that the heat silences the screams before the fall does.
The stairwell at the entrance of the Arbiter's Hall is as familiar to Xiao Lanhua as her own hands. She climbed every step more times than she can count and lived in perfect replicas even after leaving. And yet, standing beside the bell at the entrance, she’s tempted to ring it. Half out of curiosity, half because of a deep sense of otherness.
Yunzhong most likely never assigned someone else to the job. Who would be willing to live in isolation? What fairy could be trusted with the fates of every being, if not an oblivious, stunted one? Now Xiao Lanhua knows that her master lives, lost somewhere beyond space and still caring for each life-thread. It's only a little disheartening to know her own hard work barely accounted for anything - but in retrospect it is quite obvious.
“Huh…it is pretty similar.” Xunfeng doesn't have the same conflicting thoughts, sweeping past her and up the first flight of stairs. The hall above is bright with sunlight and his armor shines beautifully. No one has ever looked more out of place.
Dongfang Qingcang was as far from a fairy as an immortal can be, but he was always warm. From his temperament to his clothes, everything fit so perfectly in her home. They should have never left. Never stepped outside.
Where the older brother was sturdy wood, the younger is all sharp crystal. So pale he’s almost shiny under Shuiyuntian's bright skies, examining everything with unconcealed disdain. Xiao Lanhua follows him inside, cataloging the slight disrepair from two hundred years of abandonment. Mostly dust - nothing created by the Arbiter's magic would break down without excessive force.
Xiao Lanhua's room was clearly searched and nobody cared to put it back to rights, but she can account for everything she remembers, except the little flower shaped brasier. Of course such treasure as an eternal flame wouldn't be left to burn in an abandoned house. She wonders whose bedroom it warms now, or if it's kept as a trophy in some hall.
During the time Dongfang Qingcang lived here she hardly ever entered the room he occupied, too worried about propriety. When she sent him off, she had packed any belongings he acquired that she could find and sent them with him. Now she can see what she missed, the little things. A comb left by the bedside table, a marked book on the chair.
“The replica is indeed identical.” Xunfeng comments, sounding both impressed and amused as he enters the room and comes to stand beside her at the wide windows. After a long silence, he decides. “The Silent Moon Palace is much more suitable.”
He has that glint in his eyes that she associates with near manic possessiveness. The similarities with idolatry would worry her, if his hatred did not run so much deeper. Their visit had a purpose, so she shuts the windows and turns around.
“Hush. This was my home.” She scolds. “I shouldn't be abandoned.”
Sitting at the low work table, Xiao Lanhua tries not to drown in the memories. She wonders if her beloved would agree that those were sweet and peaceful days despite the turmoil she now knows he had been going through. To her, the memories are so sweet that they make her teeth hurt and burn at the back of her throat.
As a rare indulgence, she drinks her old master's wine as she waits.
Fairy Danyin looks confused and more than a little angry when she's more or less pushed to kneeling on the other side of the table.
“Gentle,” Xiao Lanhua warns her brother-in-law, without looking away from the brittle orange leaves of the fate tree. His answer is a petulant huff that earns an unimpressed stare before she turns her attention to the fairy. “Hello, Danyin.”
“Why did you bring me here?”
Having heard that Danyin was injured at some skirmish or another, Xiao Lanhua intended on asking about that. Try to establish some sort of connection, gain cooperation through amiability. Somehow, she forgot how straightforward Fairy Danyin tended to be - her love and hate worn on her sleeve. It's extremely convenient.
“You once activated the Tianji Mirror, do you remember?” Xiao Lanhua serves her a cup of the fine liquor too, though it probably won’t help with making Danyin any less angry. After the fairy warily nods, she continues. “Certainly, you understand how such an artifact should not be under a tyrant’s control.”
“Aren’t you a tyrant?” Danyin’s defiance is so familiar it almost makes Xiao Lanhua smile. It’s surprisingly comforting to see that haughty expression again. It was a good decision to keep her alive - for as much as Xiao Lanhua’s rage burns, she still misses home.
“Shangque wanted to take you home, and he did. The Moon Tribe armies at best look down on me, but most actively wish me dead.” She takes a long sip from her cup, pushing down the memories from the last time she drank this wine. “I am both the cause of their disgrace and the one that must resolve it, and they are not afraid to remind me of that.”
They did, often. Xunfeng was particularly attached to his derision, which by now mostly brought Xiao Lanhua comfort. The world would really be at its end if that man gave up on looking down at her - even if he willingly placed the crown on her head and called her Queen and sister .
“If you leave today, can you go back to Yujing? Will you be safe, if they know about how I cherish your family?”
That makes Danyin lean back despite still glaring and having her teeth clenched so tight her jaw bones stand out on such a thin face. She knows she’s only managed to stay safe by the grace of her friendship with Changheng and by staying mostly hidden within the lower ranks of the army. By staying quiet and being convenient leverage against her father as needed, since the fairy court could never reach her sister under the large wings of her lover.
Xiao Lanhua reaches over the table, extending an open hand, and tries her best to smile.
“Stay here. Take care of the hall and the fate tree. Jieli can come and go as she pleases. The only thing I want you to do is help me keep the destiny books off Lord Yunzhong’s hands.” After a while, when Danyin doesn’t relax at all, she gives up and stands. “I will give you some time to think.”
“And if I refuse?”
With a sigh, Xiao Lanhua looks down on her with what she hopes is a neutral expression. Ignoring the way she flinches, Xiao Lanhua lays an open hand between Danyin’s shoulder blades and clears out the blockages keeping her spirit locked down.
“I cannot really force you, can I? You’re free to come and go, just think carefully about who will offer you shelter when you need it.”
It’s almost as if she can feel the chill under her boots.
Xiao Lanhua’s memories of the last time she crossed this bridge are fuzzy from pain, tinted red and bright blue. Back then she was warm, unbelievably warm, even in the constant cold breeze from the waters flowing into the pearl above the palace. She was torn and bloody and held tight, her bruised cheek resting against rich silk. She had no fear then.
She has no fear now.
The Water Pavilion stands impossibly tall at the other end of the square, but the awe it inspired melted away from Xiao Lanhua’s mind when she watched it over Dongfang Qingcang’s shoulder. It’s only a glistening building now, without even the honor of being the last hiding place - it’s only where the most powerful can stand and pretend their fight is righteous. These people might be too arrogant to even flee, but there are still fairies in Shuiyuntian, fighting and running, hiding in less known places.
The ones smart enough to flee to Haishi might even make it, when the barrier into Cangyan Sea is lifted. The lack of prejudice might be enough to buy them safety, if the city's lord doesn’t catch them first.
Xiao Lanhua wonders if the immortal court trembles as their troops did as they hear the rumbling of the dragon circling the palace. If they are filled with the same dread as their subjects while listening to the cut-off screams of the guards outside.
There’s nothing living here. Now she understands why it was always uncomfortable to visit this place.
Shangque is kind enough to leave her path clear, each guard being swept away before she can reach them. Her husband would have enjoyed the sight - his loyal friend winding around the translucent bridge without restraint, breaking beautiful statues and fairies alike, just as furious as she is. It is quite impressive, and Xiao Lanhua stands at the start of the bridge for a long moment just to watch.
A sudden gust of wind curls around her with enough force to make her cloak clap like a whip as Xunfeng appears at her side.
“Finally.” He sounds happier than she’s ever heard. It is unsettling. With a respectful motion that somehow is still clearly sarcastic, he ushers. “You first, my Queen .”
The loudest sound in the room comes from the heavy brocade of Xiao Lanhua’s dress, which she finds a little amusing. The galleries are full, but every single courtier seems to be holding their breath from the moment she crosses the shimmery portal into the pavilion. Or maybe they are silent to honor the dead outside.
She doubts it.
Her posture is proper, calm and well trained, even if not the most graceful of fairies, just as the last time she walked in here. The heavy sword strapped to her back helps with it - both its weight and its memories are good supports to her pride, in addition to the satisfaction of watching the way blood drains from faces as people recognize Hellfire. Even dormant it strikes fear. It was a good idea to carry it - nobody needs to know that the sword is cold or that Xiao Lanhua’s arms can barely bear its weight.
Stopping in the middle of the platform she bows lightly in the way she’s been taught all her life. Thinking back on it, she was never truly a fairy and only got used to the word being thrown at her as both respectful title and insult. Xiao Lanhua was an orchid spirit, an unwed widow, the goddess of a dead land. Never truly a fairy, by Shuiyuntian’s standards. Maybe it is improper to bow like that. If so, she’s not opposed to the mockery.
Xunfeng scoffs from where he stayed beside the entrance - half his attention on her, half on the muffled clash outside, as if he can’t decide what he would rather watch. Always unhappy.
“Lady Xiyun.”
“Xiao Lanhua.”
The voices of Lord Yunzhong and Changheng sound at the same time, pulling Xiao Lanhua’s attention in two directions. It’s a little surprising to see Changheng here - she would have expected him to be on the ground with the other soldiers even if he abdicated his role as their commander many decades ago. She keeps her gaze on the man she came here for, uncaring about having to look up at the hazy figure of the immortal emperor.
“Lord Yunzhong. I imagine you have been expecting me.”
It’s so, so easy to keep her voice steady. Even if the fog makes the heavy silk of her clothes stick to her skin like the blood did with the translucent voile of her dress when they decided she was not worth the time of a trial.
She was not of the Moon Tribe, back then. Not until the Moon Tribe decided she was.
“Have you gone insane?” Yunzhong still speaks in that low, dragging tone. It doesn’t grate on her, but Xiao Lanhua still raises a hand to the side, very aware of her brother-in-law’s much shorter temper.
“Why would you think that?” She is genuinely curious.
On the first tier below the throne dais Changheng calls her name again, his voice shamefully breaking at the edges, pleading. Pretending not to hear, Xiao Lanhua holds the emperor’s incensed gaze in silence for a long moment, until it’s clear he’s unwilling to entertain her question.
“It was never a secret, Lord Yunzhong. I was the Moon Tribe’s queen before I died, everyone knew that.” A sigh works its way out of her almost by surprise, dragging with it a rush of cold across her chest. “How is it insanity, to do my duty and protect my people?”
“The Xilan tribe swore to not get involved in matters between Shuiyuntian and Cangyan Sea.” Golden light gathers at Yunzhong’s fingertips. Xiao Lanhua doesn't think he even notices, his gaze is so focused on her.
“As you swore to keep peace?”
Xiao Lanhua’s voice is level and only loud enough to be heard across the room, but she might as well have shouted by the way the court recoils. Anger bubbles up at the accusation, but she seems unmoved. Changheng wasn't present back then, but he imagines Dongfang Qingcang caused more or less the same reaction at his declaration of war.
He moves, hoping against reason that this time she’ll listen even if she never, ever did. Hoping there’s still something of the kind hearted girl he knows behind the shroud of grief that covers this bitter woman.
“Xiao Lanhua, please…”
In half a step he’s gone from the dais and onto the icy platform below, only to be immediately swept off his feet by a short gesture of Xiao Lanhua’s hand. Changheng crumples, feeling something be violently pulled and then steadily leak out from the deepest of his soul but unable to recognize any injury. It’s a gentle sort of weakness that overtakes him and the next time he tries to call his beloved’s name it’s only a sigh that escapes his lips.
She not once glances his way.
For the first time, the cockroach-in-chief seems to waver, gaze focused where his witless brother breathes his last at the Moon Queen’s feet. It’s much too late for brotherly love - Xunfeng is well versed in postponing that type of affection until it fades within the waters of oblivion. It’s the last mistake Yunzhong will make.
The crowd’s stunned spell lasts longer than expected until the first brave yet brainless fairy official aims their filthy magic at the Queen while she’s distracted. Xunfeng only waits for them to watch the attack fizzle around her before his own sword flies to find their chest. It serves as enough of a warning. The surrounding officials quickly seem to be studying the best way of melting into the mist.
The Queen has given no orders, and indeed does not even seem to notice the hall-full of enemies that aren’t her mark, but Xunfeng isn’t really inclined to chase coward fairies if it means leaving her to enjoy their final target alone.
“The Moon Tribe did not want me for the longest time, and gracefully left me to my mourning.”
In a single step, Xiao Lanhua is standing beside the throne. Xunfeng watches, hand gripping tightly the broad hilt of his sword, whole body coiled with barely restrained delight. This moment was a part of his dreams all his life and he’s not a proud man, nor overly ambitious - his sword has been proven inferior again and again against Shuiyuntian’s shield and he has no shame in using borrowed hands to complete a task.
“You were the one that made my children desperate enough to call for my help.” The shimmery green of the Queen’s power gathers at her fingertips and she looks up steadily to meet Yunzhong’s eyes when he rises. “Please understand, the world cannot flourish while you are setting it on fire.”
When Yunzhong raises a hand to strike, Xiao Lanhua catches his wrist in one delicate hand. No matter how many times Xunfeng watches it, it’s never less unsettling to see how color drains from her victims’ faces, the light from their eyes dimming like cooling embers. Life is her domain and it obeys her, be it to rise or retreat.
The fairy emperor’s soul is not an exception.
He falls on his throne quite elegantly, in the end, quiet and a little underwhelming. The court is still stunned as the portal flares and the soldiers from outside pour in, silence ringing a second too long before proper chaos breaks.
Xunfeng stands at the center of the Water Pavilion, chest both full and light. That girl will never stop being an annoying fairy in his eyes, never be less guilty of destroying his brother, but from this angle… In the haze and still holding his dead enemy, when her bright eyes meet his, he can see why some call her a goddess.
“Do as you see fit,” she says, then flickers away.
The highest point in Shuiyuntian is still the same, not even the flowerbeds truly changed. The seasons are mostly the same here, the skies almost always bright. She’s too late for the sunrise, the sun is already over the Water Pearl, but she still watches the horizon.
All clouds, from beneath her feet into the end of the world.
The railing is hard under her tightening fingers, though she fancies that if it was possible to direct all the feelings clogging her chest into her fingertips the stone would surely crack. It’s suddenly all too much and too little. Too empty.
Xiao Lanhua cannot hear what is going on inside the pavilion. Honestly, it wouldn’t be surprising if the pearl cracked and the four rivers came crashing down over them. She would like to think Xunfeng is a little smarter than that but cannot be completely sure. Grief and rage do funny things to people.
The silence is enough that she can crouch with her forehead resting on the cold stone railing and breathe in the rhythm of the sky whales’ song. Inhaling as long as one call, exhaling in the silence between.
It’s over and she just wants to go home, lay in her garden until time means nothing. Whatever comes next, there are people more qualified to deal with it. Wrapping a hand around the little moon of jade hanging from her neck she pulls the string until it cuts at the back of her neck.
The work is done, she thinks.
I think you would like this world we made.
You should come and see.