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Sun Quan rides into the camp below Red Cliff, sat straight in the saddle and with his golden-bronze cloak arranged to perfection over his horse's back. The men of Wu halt from their tasks to cheer him, calling blessings upon him amidst shouts for victory.
He smiles, acknowledging his men and their wishes. His knees tremble, and he presses them into his horse's belly. His mount hesitates, makes as if to spring forward, but Sun Quan checks it. He doesn't want to look foolish in front of his men. He doesn't want to seem incompetent before Liu Bei's battle-hardened troops. More than that, he doesn't want to make himself appear a lesser man in the eyes of Zhuge Liang.
He spears the camp with a sweeping glance. Zhou Yu waits for him, smiling, beside the haggard, stooped figure of Liu Bei. Gan Ning wears his habitual scowl as he stands in the shadow of a taller, broader man whose expression radiates total confidence. Sun Quan guesses this must be Zhao Yun, and his gaze skips on, over the assembled commanders, looking, searching—but there's no sign of Zhuge Liang. Sun Quan crushes his sense of disappointment and fixes a warm, expansive smile to his face.
Zhou Yu catches the bridle of the horse and holds the animal steady as Sun Quan dismounts. "Your journey was without incident, lord?"
"Thank you, yes." Sun Quan looks at him. He has too many questions and he's impatient, and though he knows he should give his attention to Liu Bei and the generals of Shu, Sun Quan can't help himself. "I do not see the strategist."
"He is here within." Zhou Yu nods towards the encampment. "Should I send for him?"
"No." The response is too hurried. Sun Quan tries for a calm he doesn't feel. "It makes no matter, brother. Tell me instead how things are progressing."
They spend the next half-hour in discussion with the men of Shu. Zhou Yu talks easily, addressing Liu Bei with respect and Zhao Yun with familiarity. Sun Quan envies his viceroy's charming nature. He finds himself lacking, and thinks of himself as prickly, aloof, and petulant. He fears these indications of character, traits assigned to him in childhood by his brother, traits he has not yet shaken off—and in fearing them, they become more pronounced. Sun Quan knows he has not the ready compassion of Liu Bei or the tutoring warmth of Zhao Yun, nor even the angry determination of Gan Ning or the pleasant optimism of Lu Su. He stands in the circle of allies and advisors and feels alone, and judged, and knows they must all find him wanting.
It's Liu Bei who notices his discomfort, Liu Bei who encourages him to take a rest and recover from the journey to Red Cliff. Sun Quan knows it's only polite concern, but he feels the words as a veiled insult. Liu Bei is old, yet he and his ragtag army have been on campaign for many months, marching from one place to another, suffering defeat after setback after defeat, and yet still morale is high and yet still Liu Bei shows no sign of exhaustion. Sun Quan has only travelled from his capital to Red Cliff, a journey accomplished at speed but without difficulty, and yet Liu Bei is telling him to take a rest. He feels like a child again, overlooked and robbed of the chance to speak, and Sun Quan turns away blindly, his pride smarting.
He brushes aside Zhou Yu, rejecting the offer to show him to the rooms set aside for his use, and strides into the wooden halls fortified with pointed palisades and shored up with masonry and rubble. He slows his pace once inside, investigating the space that's been divided into halls and council chambers and private rooms. It's like a palace in miniature, and at length Sun Quan asks a passing servant for directions. He feels foolish doing so, as if he should know everything about this kingdom of his, but the servant shows him the way with all courtesy, and by the time Sun Quan slides open the door to his quarters, he's feeling more in control of his emotions.
Zhuge Liang is waiting for him in the antechamber. He was sitting beside the window, but now he rises to his feet, clasps his hawk's wing fan with both hands, and bows low. "Your Highness."
Sun Quan stares, and believes he sees the trace of a blush on those high, sharp cheekbones. His self-control slips away and his voice fails him; he can't make even the smallest comment without revealing how he feels. He nods and walks past as if they were nothing to one another—just a duke and an allied strategist.
He goes to the window and gazes out at the quiet courtyard. Shouts and the clash of steel drift towards him on the breeze. When he draws in a breath, the air is not as sweet as it is in the palace. It's rich with silt and the rot of vegetation, a reminder that the Yangtze is greater than the armies gathered here. The river carved out the shape of Red Cliff; the river will one day wear away the poetry inscribed upon the rock and make a mockery of them all.
Sun Quan feels small, alone. Within the palace, the only battles he fought were against his squabbling ministers and the memories of his father and brother. Now, here, he's facing forces more dangerous, more destructive, than anything he'd imagined.
Zhuge Liang brought him to this. Zhuge Liang is the one who could, if he wished it, undo him completely.
Sun Quan hates the feeling of helplessness. Everyone treats him as if he's fragile; even Zhou Yu, even Shang Xiang. Zhuge Liang is the first person to look upon him with a care and respect born from more than duty and familial expectation. When Zhuge Liang looks at him, Sun Quan feels alive. He feels capable. But if Zhuge Liang were to look away, Sun Quan knows his self-belief, so tenuous, would collapse.
He reaches up and removes the pins from his headdress. He lifts it down, removing the symbol of rank as if he can shrug off his responsibilities so easily, and he turns.
"Kong Ming." He gazes at Zhuge Liang, remembering the touch of his body, the taste of his skin. Business, Zhuge Liang called this before he left to rejoin Liu Bei's forces. Sun Quan doesn't want it to be business, an alliance, between them. He wants more; he wants Zhuge Liang's peace, his sense of calm.
"Kong Ming," he says again, his voice low, husky. He studies the man so briefly his lover and focuses his gaze, not on the shine in Zhuge Liang's eyes or the shape of his mouth, but on the modest collection of ornaments hanging from his waist-sash.
Zhou Yu told him of Zhuge Liang's reaction to the jade dragon. The gift was welcomed, it seems, though Zhou Yu reported it had caused some confusion to its recipient. "He doesn't believe he is worthy of you," Zhou Yu had said, his expression carefully neutral.
Sun Quan knows differently. He knows he is unworthy of Zhuge Liang, but still he hopes, and hope fans his desire, and desire racks him with longing. He looks now for the pale green dragon amongst the tangle of other baubles. There's an ornament of polished brown-speckled stone in the shape of an inverted teardrop, and a plain piece of white jade worn smooth with age, and a darker grey stone shaped like an outspread fan—but no coiled, watchful dragon.
Zhuge Liang starts to fill the long silence with talk, summarising the training activities of the combined armies and the plans they've drawn up, as if Sun Quan knows nothing, as if Zhou Yu hasn't discussed such things with him already. At first, Sun Quan draws back inwardly, hurt by the businesslike monologue, but then he perceives that it's a front. Zhuge Liang, so cool and collected, is nervous.
He doesn't want to mention it, but it's on his mind, gnawing at him, and so Sun Quan interrupts. "The jade. Where is it?"
Zhuge Liang halts mid-sentence and stares at him. Wariness creeps into his expression; his lips part. He takes a steadying breath. "I dare not wear it."
"Why?" Sun Quan paces towards him, going close. "Is it not pleasing to you?"
"It is an honour." Zhuge Liang drops his gaze. He makes a meaningless gesture with one hand, then it comes to rest clasped around his hawk's wing fan. "The meaning of the gift... I am uncertain what you intend by it."
Sun Quan gasps, the sound scratching at his throat. "How can you doubt my intentions? Surely I made them clear to you?"
Zhuge Liang looks up at him, careful, cautious. "I know what you said. What I offered. But..."
It's almost a rejection. Clearly, Zhuge Liang has had second thoughts. The time they shared together was a pretty illusion. Anger rises, scalding and shameful. Sun Quan can't stop it. "But it meant nothing to you? Would you have me believe you gave yourself to me to ensure the alliance? Do you think I am that much of a fool, to be swayed by your charms?"
Zhuge Liang shows no fear or remorse in the face of his anger. He even smiles. "You are not a fool, Highness."
"I gave you the jade as a mark of respect. I enjoyed your company, Kong Ming. I enjoyed—"
He breaks off, confused, as Zhuge Liang comes closer, his eyes shining. It's the kindness in his expression that hurts so much, and Sun Quan can't look away when Zhuge Liang says, "Highness, what you want from me is impossible."
"How do you know what I want?"
"Your every emotion shows on your face." Zhuge Liang touches him, strokes the backs of his curled fingers over Sun Quan's cheek, along his jaw. "Every doubt, every desire. I see it all."
Feeling naked and exposed, Sun Quan pulls away. He summons his hauteur. "You are presumptuous."
Zhuge Liang bows. "Forgive me. Liu Bei encourages free speech amongst his followers."
Despair claws at Sun Quan. He closes his eyes. "You twist my words!"
"My lord, can we not put this business aside until we have defeated Cao Cao?"
"Is that what you want?" Sun Quan stares at him, struggling to regain control of this situation—not that he ever had control, not where this man is concerned. He knows he should let Zhuge Liang go. He should quash his desire and forget this foolishness.
Zhuge Liang doesn't look at him, keeps his gaze downcast as he speaks. "What I want is irrelevant. This is a war we must win. We cannot allow ourselves to be led astray by distractions."
"Irrelevant. Distractions." His temper sparks again, and Sun Quan takes a deep breath to calm his storm-tossed mood. "You are neither of these things. You brought me into this, Kong Ming. Having done so, you cannot abandon me now."
"Zhou Yu is your Viceroy. He is—"
"I do not feel for him the way I feel for you!"
Silence spins out, a sticky web of invitation waiting for one of them to break and fall. Zhuge Liang flips his fan, the gold-speckled feathers flicking as if in rejection. Keeping his voice free of any intonation, he says, "Your Highness will be tired after the ride here. You will require refreshments. Let me find someone..."
"Kong Ming!" Sun Quan has heard enough. He won't stand here and let Zhuge Liang deny him. His pride burns so hot he wants to order the strategist out of his sight, but instead of harsh words of dismissal, a tumble of desperation comes out. He grabs at Zhuge Liang, seizes his sleeves and grips tight, staring at him—and when Zhuge Liang meets his gaze, Sun Quan sees the barriers drop. He has the advantage now, and he pushes it: "If this truly means nothing to you—if I truly mean nothing—give me one word now and I promise I will not disturb you again."
Zhuge Liang wavers. His torn emotions chase across his face. He tries to pull free, but Sun Quan holds him still.
"I want you to keep the jade whatever your decision. I have such admiration for you. I have such..." Sun Quan stops, overcome. He can't put a name to what he feels. Poets may sing of it, but how can a duke? He forces himself to speak, and his voice is gruff with longing. "Tell me your feelings, so we may be free of one another."
A hesitation, and Zhuge Liang half turns before he whispers, "My lord, I never want to be free of you."
"Kong Ming..." Sun Quan pulls him close and kisses him. His fears melt away; his responsibilities are forgotten. No longer is he a duke; now he is just a man, and Zhuge Liang is not a clever trickster in an uneasy alliance but a beloved worthy of affection. Sun Quan changes his grip, releases Zhuge Liang's arms and folds him into an embrace, cupping the back of his head in case he should attempt an escape. But Zhuge Liang is content, it seems—content to be held and kissed, content to hear heated whispers of devotion against his mouth.
Zhuge Liang tastes familiar, even though this is only the fourth time they've kissed. Sun Quan has dozens of concubines, yet he can't recall the feel of their skin or the touch of their hands or the shape of their mouths. They please him, but not like this. Nothing is the same as this, and it terrifies him, and angers him, and it makes him feel like himself, the person he could be rather than the person others want him to be.
Their kisses are ferocious, frantic. Zhuge Liang does not flutter and fawn like a concubine. He is equally greedy now their deal has been struck, and it's Zhuge Liang who grasps Sun Quan's sleeve and draws him from the window into the bed chamber, closing the door behind them. Sun Quan barely notices the bed canopied with dark blue silk. He feels the tilt of their world as they drop onto the mattress. The quilt is green, embroidered with golden dragonflies. It smells of sunlight and spring flowers. Sun Quan pushes Zhuge Liang back onto the quilt and tears at his robes.
Zhuge Liang gasps, pulls Sun Quan down onto him. They kiss again, hands scrabbling over silk, over velvet and brocade and linen, and then Sun Quan moans as he touches bare skin. He has his hand inside the folds of Zhuge Liang's robes, fingers splayed across his chest, and something warm and hard presses into his palm.
Sun Quan lifts his head and looks down. There's a plain leather cord around Zhuge Liang's neck, and threaded onto the cord is the jade: pale green and perfect, a stone without flaw, carved into the shape of a curled, sleeping dragon.
"You're wearing it." Sun Quan stares, doubting what he sees in front of him. "I thought—"
"I dare not wear it openly," Zhuge Liang says, amending his earlier words. "How could I, when..." He doesn't finish the sentence.
"When...?" Sun Quan prompts.
Zhuge Liang shakes his head. "I dare not."
It's the only answer he'll give. Sun Quan accepts it for now, because now is a blazing moment full of passion and urgency, of kisses somehow more frantic than the moment before. They roll over on the bed, rucking up the dragonfly quilt, undressing one another in desperate haste—and then there comes a knock at the door.
They lie still and hold their breath.
"Highness," Zhou Yu calls out from behind the door, his voice clear and steady. "My lord, Liu Bei and his generals wish to speak with you again."
Sun Quan winces at the timing. "Not now, brother. Not now."
A pause, and then Zhou Yu says, a trace of amusement in his tone, "Now, Highness. And the same goes for Kong Ming."
Sun Quan and Zhuge Liang stare at each other in frozen astonishment, desire forgotten, and then they collapse into laughter.