He could not intuit the fine individual threads of the Empress's loneliness. But he had listened to gossip amongst the crowds, and seen enough of nations, of people, to make broad-stroked sense of the colourful tapestry woven from those glimmering fibers.

Barren Mercy blessed with heirs divine!

And Tianlong did not invite the masses here to celebrate that momentous accomplishment, no. All this was for the taking of another wife. It was for the claiming of Mongolia's future, circuses parading to sweeten the bitterness of defeat on other un-yoked shores.

Mortals had such short memories. Perhaps you were required to, when time moved in a straight line.

Rivers wondered if the Empress didn't rather feel her own long-sought victory had been stolen from her. For what accomplishment could a wife be allowed to have, if she might outshine her husband with the feat? In Rivers' chest, a pang.

It was the way of Westerly folk to talk about things without talking about them at all. He nodded, Ah. Some would say the peach tree in winter is an unsightly thing. All barren an' wounded.

Rivers glanced about for watching eyes, and then leaned over to murmur a romantic's answer in her ear,  But come better days, she's the most beautiful t'bloom, draped in all her long awaited glory. An' 'er fruit? Nothin' so sweet.

Pulling back, Rivers pretended to let the combat below reclaim his attention. I figure if she's worth somethin' in spring, then she's worth somethin' in all seasons. What's ugliness but beauty waitin' fer it's proper time?