For Yuè ! Sorry about the delay </3

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Rivers found many mortal diversions fascinating, not least of which was dueling. There was the Howff's version of it, certainly. Chaotic affairs borne from passions and pride to delight onlookers.

Tianlong had found a way to regiment this into something formal and, apparently, stately. Ever did nations seek to justify their base instincts as the precipice of enlightenment! After sizing up a few of the brutes who'd submitted themselves for the honour, Rivers had decided he misliked his odds without magic to beckon, and settled in from a higher vantage to watch the matches proceed.

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The wedding had left Yue feeling suspended in time.

She had been wholly raised within the cultural ideas of a harem, and educated to lead one when she had come of age. The Empress would say that she thrived within the confines of cumulative female strength, and she did so here and now, but her stomach maintained its uneasiness.

She had watched Ye Lanyi and her husband leave to celebrate their wedding, arm-in-arm. Her own children had been formally presented and were now known to the world. Shenlei was known to have his heir, and Tianlong had its peaceful successor. Factions gathered from far and wide to witness the splendor of a dynasty.

and no one seemed to need the Empress.

Yue was not one who relished the spotlight. She wore it well, but Heaven’s Mercy had always seen the attention of many as a price to pay for her position, not an end-goal of it all. She used these moments to observe, and to be still, in a way that she had not been able to since before Satriya’s own wedding.

Even before then, the woman hadn’t truly known rest and obscurity, as she had fought tooth and nail to bring Tianlong back to life, and then after the healer’s song which had bestowed her coat with a glittering luminescence, but had also spirited the princesses so far away.

She settled herself high above, as a spectator, wrapped in the sarlag. In many indescribable ways, it still smelled of Batu, even though his presence at her side had faded.

Another reason her mouth set itself into a small, mousy line at the tip of her pale muzzle.

She noticed a man watching with a similar thousand-yard stare and thought for a moment that his pelt was an interesting hue. The orchid recognized him as the guard sent by Lyra, to steward Fen and her cohort in the last leg of their journey.

The Empress smiled towards him, tipped the edge of her metaphorical hat, and then turned to the match below.

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Truth be told, where Rivers was concerned a beautiful woman would always be more interesting than a feat of strength. And the Empress, all aglow like a fairy queen herself, had beauty to spare.

Even the weight of new life wrought upon her frame could not diminish her. In fact, he found it rather an enhancement. Mortals had their own kind of magic, a power of creation some fae were bitterly jealous of. Luckily, Rivers had never been the jealous type.

Have ye got a particular favourite to win, Your Majesty? He asked, blue eyes parting from her lovely visage only long enough to assess the match, before pulling reverently back to her face.

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Her eyes, for the momentary glance she spared to the ring, bounced from eager face to eager face. Each one hoping to prove themselves before the eye of many, and desiring to capture the hearts of those who spectated and cheered. Then, she spread her awareness amongst the gathered crowd, who hoped much the same as the wrestlers in the ring.

In turn, she could feel his eyes on her. It was a skill she had curated over years; by seeking an answer to the question: when all looked upon the Emperor, who looked upon her? Not from a desire for flattery, but to better know those who surrounded her. Who, exactly, were the fish that swam against the current?

Therein lay the only path forward. or, at least the path to somewhere.

This gaze was followed by a question about the match that had initiated, which finally drew her own pale gaze back over her shoulder, towards him. She smiled, soft and smooth. The Empress appreciated being addressed, and realized with a small amount of glee that she had not heard her honorific in some time.

Her children did not call her Your Majesty. The darkness whelping den did not care who was Heaven’s Mercy. So many present at the wedding did not know exactly who Teng Yuè was, if she did not present herself to them as such.

This was not her wedding.
and she was not her glorious children.

It made things simpler, did it not? She was allowed to enjoy frivolities, such as the visual feast laid before her in both competition and companion. The Empress laughed, a simple and singular sound, and parted her lips to speak – then, she took pause, as if to think about her words – and a mere moment later, she nodded to herself and summoned her common tongue,

“I know with certainty that Tianlong’s wrestlers cannot be bested,” the silver-blonde woman surmised, as they both knew this was the answer she was beholden to. Her attention followed his in a momentary foray to the ring, and Yuè perused the warriors on the bench.

“If I were you, I would place my bet on… him,” the eastern Empress noted, nodding her chin towards Yuèzhuō , who sat so patiently, waiting for his turn to be called. For as many times as she had sent the midnight dragon off to war, she had never actually seen him in battle, and was delighted to do so when the stakes were, in comparison, quite low.

At that moment, she realized she had never learned the name of Fen's orange-azure steward. “Remind me your name, sir?” She had entered her confinement almost immediately after returning from the tour, and had scarcely left before yesterday. The details of the past month, including names, were apparently lost to her.

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Dear lady of Argyll, he thought to himself, suppressing the amusement save for a warming smile. He had no particular interest in the trappings of royalty, the false niceties of court. Fae could mislead with words, and it was considered a great skill worth honing, perhaps out of necessity. But among mortals, an outright lie would do to maintain the illusion of conformity. To preside over such a court, she must be very good at both.

So he saw the Queen. He had not yet seen the woman, which was certain to be far more interesting. Rivers, if it please ye. He dipped his head. Blue eyes fell upon her named champion, but true attention stayed plainly fixed upon her.

Patience was not a typical virtue of the fae. For Rivers it remained a hard-won and somewhat poorly leashed skill. Particularly when his curiosity piqued. So. If you were me, eh? Who say's I'm a bettin' man?

And what if you were you? (Oh, if only!)

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As she looked over the game field, the side of her face burned with the intensity of his attention. The Empress found herself drawing out the moment, pursing her lips in apparent thought, wondering if the man would waver.

He did not, and when she turned back, all she saw was a warm smile and a mouth made for questioning. The Empress raised a brow, now fully bought into the conversation at hand. On almost every occasion, the Empress would choose to navigate interpersonal intricacies rather than delight in shows of egoic pride.

“Who says that Rivers, the associate of Lyra, is a betting man?” she returned, her lips pressed together to suppress a smile, “perhaps no one, other than me.”

He was, wasn’t he? After all, he had bet that his accompaniment of Fen would be taken positively.  In this, he had been correct – but it was perhaps his association with the Howff’s proprietor that had put Yuè at ease, initially. The man had been a mere figment, up until now.

Another risk had been taken, here and now, hedging a bet that it was appropriate to speak to the Empress at all. She had been utterly retired from public life in every way, until the night before. She was raw, soft and new;  scarcely fit to be amongst a grandiose fete.

“Thought, I do await the truth of my arbitration–” the crowd roared, and the Empress slid a pace closer to be heard over the sudden din. She didn't think she was wrong, but she was open to the possibility. "Are you?”

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Associate! That pulled a musical laugh out of him. Perhaps you are unique in that aspect, Ma'am. Brow raised, just faintly, Among others.

Oh, how Captain might have seethed, to have compatriot spirit presumed between her and a fae of his ilk. She was more likely to find accord with Will-o'-Wisp than Gancanagh.

But it remained a one-sided rivalry. She had a heavy wheel strapped to her, he wanted to help break it. He found the tetchy pirate endearing.

Just as he found the Empress of Tianlong fascinating, and wished to know everything and more about her.

So though she had all but certainly intuited the answer already, he leaned toward her approach and affirmed, When a lady of such uncommon grace an' beauty assures me, it's hardly betting atall, is it? I'd be inclined to put me very heart an' soul up fer such fine odds.

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Unique. Uncommon. Grace. Beauty. Heart. Soul.

Yuè wished these many compliments did not land so acutely as they did – but they nestled into the folds of her ears like so many adorations and prayers.

Softened like butter, his laugh easily elicited one of her own, though she could not place exactly what was so funny. Perhaps it was just the high of the moment; whatever it was, it didn’t matter, because Yuè’s entire countenance had visibly lightened when held in the edifying current of Rivers's energy.

Normally, she wasn’t so susceptible to flattery, but Yuè was a woman whose foundation had been previously cracked wide open. Not only because she was now a mother – a mother of princes, whereas she had once been adrift in her grief – but the unfortunate reality was that every one of her gains came with significant loss.

Shenlei had lost his claim on the Volcanic Island, and had since been focused on his new bride. Yuezhuo, as glorious as he was on the bench below, was all but ignoring her. She hadn’t known with certainty if she would see him again, and she celebrated their reunion alone. During the tour, she had believed that, once returned, he would not leave her side...

How silly of her.

Batu’s disappearance hurt perhaps most keenly of all. He had forsaken his oath, without a word – and though the Empress had to admit that was a very characteristic thing to do for the Mongol, she found a deep well of regret that she had not tried harder to make him stay and feel valued.

However, it was hard to be a player in the game from the dark depths of a whelping den. The world was moving on, quickly, and Yuè felt herself being left behind.

So, maybe she entertained River’s gaze because it distracted her; or because it felt nice to laugh; or because his fur was spectacular and his energy, magnetic; or because she was the Empress and she deserved to be fawned over, even at her most vulnerable.

The last notes of her laughter became a sincere murmuring. Seeing no reason not to close the rest of the distance between them, the silver orchid moved to sit abreast. “Do you always place your belief in beautiful things?” The woman leaned in close to share in a susurrus whisper, as if sharing a secret, “What of the ugliness in life?”

“There is no light without darkness. No projection without shadow.”

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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?

”

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The Empress listened to his soliloquy, held in equal parts of suspense and awe. Her eyes were a dancing frenzy watching the match below, but the sight of one man throwing another out of the ring paled in comparison to the images that danced in her mind; of sweet ripe peaches, and the sweet-sugaryness of their blossoms.

“Yes, well, I agree,” she murmured while he spoke, “a peach is worth waiting for.” Any euphemism or allegory was acknowledged indirectly, with a curious lift of her brow, but the woman allowed herself the indulgent thought of just that – a succulent peach, dripping ripe in the midst of summer.

Did Heaven’s Mercy believe her accomplishments to be glossed over? She once might have considered this wedding an affront; but she could not find it within her, as much as the appreciation of stone fruit eventually yielded to another seasonal delicacy.

“I used to have one, ” she commented casually of her favored fruit tree, allowing herself an enigmatic snort as one wrestler was bested and thrown out of the ring, “in the garden of the old palace.” She had an incredible orchard. “It had been a gift.” The entire garden had been conferred upon her as a wedding gift from the Emperor. Within it, many, many fruit trees.

but only one bore peaches.

In truth, the Empress was grateful the public eye turned to Ye Lanyi. The vanity of it did not suit Yuè! She now had other worries that felt far more supreme – the health and safety of her children being paramount. She had borne the heir to the kingdom, and enough princes to fill the roll three times over, and such prolific birthright meant they were at risk.

It was best not to draw more attention to them than necessary.

“In the jungle, she would have failed to thrive. We have other fruits to savor.” she sighed audibly, tossing her gaze dramatically upwards and then over her shoulder at the dusky man beside her. “Does it make me terrible, that I do not miss my peaches and plums? Those that are native to the jungle bloom year-round, and do not require the toil of a dreary winter.”

The thought had occupied her often, and sometimes kept her awake at night. Was this new Tianlong better than its previous iterations? If the answer was no, by what possible means could she turn it into yes?

“One could taste the sunshine, year-round.”

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