set before the BWP finale

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The night settled heavily, but it was not quiet, at least not to Yuèzhuō. His ears filled with sounds of his breathing, his steady pulse, the sound of his legs rustling the dead foliage of the forest. But, above all, his mind was screaming. It was what led him to the patch of berry bushes, the fruit overripe and fermented. It was rare for the midnight dragon to indulge, though tonight it seemed fitting.

He had nothing left to do, aside from waiting for the beck and call of his trial.

Tonight, his steel forged discipline was softening. The fermented fruit had been enjoyed at least an hour ago, now the slightly-intoxicated detainee roamed the secured grounds he was caged within. The alcohol sat in his veins, warm and dense, warping the edges of his perception as his senses blurred. It wasn’t enough to make Yuèzhuō stumble or slur his words, simply enough to dull the sharpened blade of awareness he wielded so fiercely.

Enough to let things slip through his grasp or escape the cage of his psyche.

An exhale puffed out, a mist of breath fogging near his lips. Roman-blue eyes looked up, spotting nothing more than a layer of clouds with a faint glow behind them. The full moon. How long has it been since seeing the moon…? Yuèzhuō sat himself, head angled upward, envisioning its beauty to the best of his ability. One day… he would love the moon…  more than the sun.

The moon. He missed it. So very much.

Months without it. Was this what it was like? When he died, did it feel like the moon had fallen from the sky? Or maybe—

…a year, he whispered, voice low and rough compared to its usual grace. A full year. The thoughts circled his mind repeatedly. Rìhé lived. She breathed. Walked. Ate. Slept. Spoken. Maybe even smiled.

Without him.

Yuèzhuō’s jaw flexed, his head tipping down to be level once more. Of course she lived without him. She was meant to no matter what. The world never stopped for the loss of something lesser. It moved on. It adapted. It thrived. Yuèzhuō had died and Rìhé survived. And now—

Here he was. Awaiting a trial that would result in a second death or exile. He’d done nothing beyond causing harm to his sister. To his empress. To the dynasty. They were better off without him, weren’t they? His return resulted in ruin and conflict. Yuèzhuō felt his shoulders slightly slump, a mixture of the fruit’s effects and the self deprecating thoughts. I should have remeianed dead. it was not a dramatic, self-pity induced claim. It felt like a fact to him. If balance existed without him, then that meant he was not needed.

A shadow of a tremor rolled through him—not enough to be seen, but enough to be felt. Fear flickered across his face for a moment as a familiar thought managed to take center stage. Was he going to become his father? If he lived, would he be nothing more than one who causes harm and chaos? He’d already sworn off marriage and children. Perhaps it was best to remove all possible relationships for the sake of the ones he cared for.

Yuèzhuō’s memory flooded with images of his mother: broken, sad, hurt, weeping. He felt his body stiffen as every muscle grew taut. He wouldn’t ever allow another to be put into such a position. He would do anything, even if it meant requesting execution.

He was a weapon. A soldier. A tool meant for battle and nothing more. Connections, love, bonds—surely would harm them all. He was already harming them.

What would he offer?

What could he offer?

A man that wakes with violence in his blood. A man that trembles only when alone. A man that runs from tears. A man that offers his own life despite the pleas of others. A man controlled by the memory of a ghost. A man that does not know how to hold something fragile without fearing he would snap it in two.

Pathetic. Him. He was pathetic. Because somewhere—buried deep within himself, beneath layers of denial and discipline—there was a part of him that wanted it.

Something small. Something weak. Something that watched others and would curiously wonder—a quiet, aching wonder—at how to exist with something so delicate without breaking it.

I’m not meant for it. a quiet acceptance.

Yuèzhuō lifted his gaze to the sky once more, a final attempt to see something. Searching for a sign that maybe he had misunderstood before. Maybe he was not cursed. Any indication that he could learn how to hold something carefully with dedication.

But there was nothing there. Only grey clouds and silence. My place was decided long ago, a path that was quiet and solitary.

As he watched the slowly moving clouds, Yuèzhuō softly hummed a lullaby* his mother used to sing to him when he was young.

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*Sleep now, little moon,
The night has come too soon.
Hush now, as the willows sway,
The stars will guard you till the day.
The river hums beyond the reeds,
The heavens bend to hear your dreams.
No blade may touch, no storms may roll,
Not while the night protects your soul.
Sleep now, while the moon glows bright,
Sleep now, and feel no fright
For your dreams are filled with love,
And I am here, like the moon above.

It was another day in the desert when something stirred in the shadows of a cactus. One ear went up. Swiveled. The other followed, before flopping over on itself. Overlarge paws flapped against the sand, clawing upward out of the cooler spot beneath the sunnier, looser grains. A small nose poked out, snorted sand, and then a tiny body shook itself free from the crater.

It was cooler by evening, Ahpa knew. It’s why she hid so good. Laying in the sand meant she could stay cool and hidden while mama did what she had to do. But, when she looked left, and then right, there was no mama. That was okay. Maybe mama was late. Sometimes mamas could be late. It just meant more biting of toes in greeting. She huffed a short, puppyish huff and rocked back to sit on her pudgy haunches. Ahpa was very good at waiting.

Very, very good.

So good.

MAMA!

Maybe not the greatest. Mama had to be somewhere, right? Somewhere nearby? Silly mama, not waiting right beside Ahpa. Silly silly mama.