Work Text:
It’s only an excuse.
There is no cure to His Majesty’s illness – his ending has been set in stone. And still, she has been venturing into all nooks and crannies, all tall ranges and deep valleys of Great Yuan and even further, for this recluse physician that the common people whisper among them, that supposedly can tame the wicked in the Son of Heaven’s body.
All with her master by her side.
The winds are strong, but not so unrelenting as they gallop side by side through the long dirt roads. He only has his eyes on the boundless path ahead, and with every clip-clop of the horse, his auburn strands fly, turning shades lighter under the mild spring sun.
He feels her eyes on him, and turns to look. Her gaze steers back onto the road.
Can you read me, now?
As the first watch of the night nears, they stop at the home of the retired Minister of Revenue. The thatched house almost leans against the mountains behind, and while its interior is far from the luxuries of the Palace, it is far richer in what it can offer.
It has been three years since the official requested to retire, and he is only one among many. With what El Temür and Bayan caused, even now, long after their deaths, the court remains a battered ship, drifting on tumultuous waters. It makes sense, and perhaps, is praiseworthy, that some are determined to maintain their integrity from the confusion.
Tal Tal stands on the porch of the house and takes in the peaceful scenery. For a long while, he is quiet.
Are you, too, going to leave?
The former Minister treats them to dinner, but he does not stay for long afterwards – not when an acquaintance of his passes by, with the news that his oldest brother has fallen ill. And so, with profuse apologies to the Empress and the Grand Councillor, and a sincere invitation for them to stay as long as they please, he leaves at once.
They are alone again.
Tal Tal returns to the porch, simply enjoying the sounds of the woods in the evening. The few hoots of the owls, the rustles of leaves as winds blow, and the faint, distant murmurs of streams cascading over rocks and pebbles.
She walks up to him from behind, until she is by his side. He turns to look, and this time, she doesn’t steer her gaze elsewhere.
When Yang tilts her head and kisses him, it’s just a simple peck. He doesn’t shift away, and as she pulls back, she sees the glint in his eyes – oh, his eyes – so clear and bright.
One, two, then three heartbeats. His hands come up, now cradling her jaw, and Yang holds back her breath.
They meet again, lips on lips.
As he kisses her, without hunger and without haste, she doesn’t hear crackling fireworks, doesn’t feel a thousand butterflies. Instead, it’s like the sun before the first night watch, so easily yielding to the moon and welcoming its rise on the firmament. Instead, it’s like a river at its mouth, effortlessly blending with the ocean waves until all is one and unseparated.
It feels simple, and it feels right.
Yang smiles into their kiss, just the softest tug of her lips.