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Yue drifted amongst this new place; the home that was not a home. It was something else entirely. Without order, is what she felt in her bones. Her waking dreams had recurred, voices telling her not to trust the lands – but Yue silenced them with a deft hand. She had no time for such stories, especially not ones told by dreams.

Not when there was a land in chaos, needing of order and rule.

In the small amount of time between now and her recent awakening, the empress had, unbeknownst to her, had mirrored Princess Fen’s own activities. She sang and hummed under her breath and walked about. Then she watched the newness of this sunset, somehow different than all those that painted the sky before it.

She thought about what this meant for her, for Tianlong, for those who did not make the ethereal transition to this new land. Would they be okay, without their regents to steward them?

Then she laid awake beneath the moon, allowing her breath to stir the dirt between her paws, in repose but sleepless. She spent many nights like this, as her many duties oftentimes drained the lethargy from her bones. Her vivid dreams beckoned to her, but she did not answer. This night, she knew the remedy.

The Empress stole away along the edges of the river, wishing to see if either princess was awake. Eventually finding Fen, Yue smiled, her expression softening into something welcoming. If it was anyone she worried for during these times, it was Tianlong’s royal youth.

Fen, she greeted in a voice that was almost a whisper so as to not disturb any others nearby, but the joy of seeing the young girl for the first time since she had awoken was evident. I am so grateful that your Father has found you and your sister. This place is made better by your presence.

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There was something so lovely and comforting about being near Fen, that the Empress found herself expressing silent gratitude that it was specifically this princess she had happened upon in the dead of night. Even just the words that left Fen’s lips made the woman feel warm, as if she wanted to take the girl up in the embrace, and kiss her cheek just for existing.

She was not her child, but she was a royal child. A child of the dynasty was the Empress’s responsibility, and it was one that Yue upheld fiercely. She kept the princesses close. Saw potential in them. Yue was the mother that was not a mother,

and that was a hole that stewarding a nation could not fill.

Yue received her honors with a smile and a brief closing of her eyes. Then she opened them, unable to be anything but honest underneath the influence of the night, the lack of sleep, and the moon’s heavy weight on her shoulder. I would make a sorry Empress if recent events didn’t keep me up, she admitted, not certain Shenlei had been able to broach this (potentially negative) perspective with his young daughters yet.

He was strong in the face of all things, and she would never expect him to be anything but. She was here to deal with the finer workings.

Has your mother made the transition as well?

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Though the princesses were the closest thing Yue had to children, the Empress did find it something that could only ever fulfill her halfway. They were not the heirs to the dynasty, but they were Shenlei’s prides and joys – there were bonds between blooded family that Yue would never know. She couldn’t possibly understand. Her own clan, her own parents, had lived a thousand miles away once she had been married. Now, the empress supposed they were an entire universe away.

Yue hadn’t been a part of a nuclear family for a long time.

She made the best of things, and took her familial pleasures where she could. Sending night-walking younglings to bed was the responsibility of a true mother, so here, she had no such obligation. Yue smiled and sighed, allowing Fen’s affirmations to wash over her. It felt good, to feel as if everything in life was so secure, even if just for a moment.

It was the blessing of the youth, to be able to think in such a way.

Yue did not have the heart to tell the girl that her reality was due to shift entirely at least twice more in her life: when she became married, and when she produced offspring. It served no one to dwell on such things, especially not now, when reality was so subsumed with the vicissitudes of the times. Of course this was not the time, not when the girl’s mother was still missing.

Still, Yue smiled, inspired by Fen’s inner assuredness that Mei would arise from the darkness of the worlds before. The orchid herself desired very much for the woman to join them, as she suffered a great responsibility for Shenlei’s happiness. There was a small sliver of Yue’s consciousness that would find a way to survive should she not appear.

Yue smiled, certain the dark was obscuring her emotions. I see. Yue sighed. I do hope you see one another soon, the empress expressed, her voice the smallest prayer of hope for a different future; one where Fen did not have to mourn her mother, and where Shen did not have to pine away for a great love lost. He needed to stay strong, if he was to rebuild the dynasty. Yue could be his strength – but she had never seen him heartbroken before.

She didn’t know if she could survive that.

We will be moving soon, she then said, knowing this from the feel of winter’s oncoming frost on the tips of the wind, more than the Emperor’s own words. She began to wonder aloud. What could lie beyond this morass? The woman sat, then decided to lie on the earth in repose, her forelegs crossed quite elegantly, demonstrating that she was keen on staying a while. Is there anything you’ve ever hoped to see?

For two women whose future was predestined, this might be their only chance to see what lay beyond their own great walls.

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Listening to Fen was like listening to a dream itself. Yue herself was only two years older than Fen, but sometimes, the girl felt light years away. It was their biggest difference as well as one of the main reasons Yue held her close: it gave Yue a peek, a small window of opportunity, to experience life through the lens of one who allowed themselves passion and youth and fun – something Yue never had, not even when she was a young girl on the cusp of adulthood, as Fen was now.

The Empress allowed her own attention to follow the girl’s up to the heavens, but Yue did not have any recognition of constellations – that was what astronomers were for, and a good astronomer was worth its weight in gold. Yue’s heart yearned momentarily for the legion of professionals she had lost – and now had the task of replacing, lest she be forced to rule without their expert influence and insight.

The Princess’s light-hearted reaction to her question gave them a moment to breathe that (at least Yue) had needed. The sylph sat back on her slender haunches, listening to how Fen audibly pondered her question – and yet, at the same time, metaphor was present. Waterfalls. Wild adventure, more than the dynasty could provide. Breath taken straight from her lungs, in the best of ways.

Yes, you are quite adventurous. May the crystal dragon bless the future husband who must try to keep you.

Yue did not come from a progressive society; moreover, her own family prescribed more traditional Chinese gender roles than perhaps most did. It was what made her lineage desirable, if what her mother always told her – the fact that they looked like fine, carved ivory figurines. It was something Yue sought to change, and she was determined to give the role more meaning than simple, surface-level beauty and whatever benefits a marriage brought.

She considered herself to be a rather involved Empress, intent on leaving the world better than it was before her, but until the society around her changed entirely, the woman was more than conditioned to believe that her only opportunities lay down the path that her husband paved for her. There was no other choice for women in the matter.

With her undertone laughing and lilting, Yue nodded and waved her tail. I am inferring then that these streams do not take your breath away, the empress suggested. Neither do they take mine. If Yue were being truthful, she had never before experienced such a distasteful, frigid place. I think I might always mourn for the land we have lost. I know that we will soon gain what you desire. I desire it too; something new. I want the ancestors to surprise me.

Never before had Yue needed to consider where she would desire to live, or the things she wanted to see. These things had never been open to her decision-making, always puppeteered by those of the generation above her. She would deign to live where there was the greatest need, even if it meant staying in swamplands to do so. Hmm, Yue thought for a moment. I haven't thought about it much, the woman hedged truthfully.

Just as the Princess had, Yue would also give two answers. My easy answer is... I'd love to see a glacier, and she thought on the concept of a glacier briefly. Supposedly, it is as if the Great Wall were made of ice. The governess of some cousin once knew a guy who had seen a glacier, and the tale was told far and wide. The story had dazzled her ever since she had been a pup.

But my truth? Her voice fell hushed. I think i'd like most to see my mother's face again, just as you do.

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