[Drabblet] Until the Plum Blossoms of the Heaven and Earth Bloom (i-v)
Title: Until the Plum Blossoms of the Heaven and Earth Bloom
Pairing(s): Jaebum/Jinyoung
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: Period drama AU where Jaebum (Zai Fan) is a general and Jinyoung (Zhen Rong) is a prince.
A/N: what happens when I have post-瑯琊棒 emo for the longest time.....
i.
Zhen Rong first sees Zai Fan when he was eight. It's in the midst of the bustle of drums, dance and song that he first spots the other boy standing on the side. The raven haired male doesn't look that much older than him but the way he holds himself (upright--clad in armour, sword in hand) seems all too mature for his age. It’s a stark contrast to himself; fidgeting in his seat, legs numb after sitting for so long.
Zhen Rong frowns, pulling at the fabric of his robes. It feels suffocating, layers and layers of silk weighing down his small frame. His mother lays a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head slightly as she readjusts the collar of his robes. Sighing, Zhen Rong sits back, fixing his posture as he glances over to the boy from before. Zhen Rong is eight when he forms his first coherent thought about Zai Fan--”too stoic, too still.” And when he recalls the older boy later that night, he likens him to a statue. “He doesn’t seem real.” He comments, “What kid would stay still for so long? He didn’t even smile once!” Eunuch Song only shakes his head, “You shouldn't say such things, Young Prince. That’s General Lin’s son.”
He hums a response perfunctorily, slipping under the silk blankets.
ii.
The second time that Zhen Rong meets Zai Fan is much more quiet than the first, soft winds billowing as the first snow of the year slowly falls. It’s been too long since he’s last seen the other male, time fading the memories in his mind. But he still manages to recognize him, manages to remember the distinct marks above the other’s eyelids--the cold aura that envelops the raven haired male. Zhen Rong catches a glimpse of the older male as he returns to his own palace from his mother’s. Black cloak shielding him from the winter air, Zhen Rong moves closer to the pavilion. The other male is still as quiet as he was six years ago, standing without movement as he looks at the plum trees in the palace garden.
“They’re blooming quite late this year,” Zhen Rong says, soft voice breaking the silence. Zai Fan turns abruptly, coming to his knees as he greets the prince. Zhen Rong waves his hand, dismissing the greeting. “It’s too cold for formalities.” He says.
“We should still abide by the rules,” Zai Fan responds without any variation in his tone. His voice, Zhen Rong thinks, is just as cold as he looks. “There are too many rules in this palace.” He mutters lowly, though the words still make their way to Zai Fan’s ears.
“But, rules are still rules.” The young general states, voice amiable but firm. Zhen Rong huffs, straightening the sleeves of his robes. “There’s no use arguing with a rock.” He mutters, as he turns around, silk fabric fluttering slightly behind him as he makes his way back. Zhen Rong doesn’t turn back, and neither does he catch the glimpse of confusion that clouds Zai Fan’s eyes.
The bare branches of the plum blossom tree casts soft shadows on the snow ridden grounds. The buds of winter have yet to open--their fate has yet to blossom.
iii.
“Prince Zheng, I’m here to escort you back.”
“...”
“The sedan is waiting for you outside.” Zai Fan says, gesturing to the door. Zhen Rong frowns, gathering the miscellaneous objects he’s bought and making his way out the inn. “You sure know how to follow rules,” he says harshly. It doesn’t faze Zai Fan though, as the other only lowers his head and follows him out. “You secretly left the palace for so long, Consort Yue was getting worried.”
The mention of his mother slightly dissolves his frustration and Zhen Rong only sighs softly, “I...just wanted to see what life was like beyond the palace walls.”
“Once you’re of age, I’m sure the Emperor would allow you to establish your own residence.” The older male replies, parting the curtain of the sedan so that Zhen Rong could enter. It's then that Zhen Rong thinks that Zai Fan isn’t akin to a stone at all--but more like jade. Cold, noble and when forged--it becomes sharp enough to pierce through skin.
Once he’s of age, he thinks, he’ll be able to leave the palace. It’s only natural, when his mother is only a consort (though still better than the Dame she once was) and he’s only a prince (not even a princep). He thinks about the Queen and her two sons, the Noble Consorts in the harem and their sons. It’s only natural, he reckons, that the role of the Crown Prince won’t be taken up by him.
The road back to the Palace is shaky and unstable, as with the thoughts in his mind--the thuds of his heart.
iv.
Zai Fan is appointed Imperial Guard at age twenty six. Zhen Rong is twenty five--still only a prince, and finally living past the palace walls. “Isn’t it ironic?” He asks Zai Fan one day, after he leaves the Royal Court, walking in sync with the other as the older male makes his rounds.
“Ironic?”
“That when I finally leave this place, it’s you who comes in?” Zhen Rong clarifies.
“I guess it is then,” Zai Fan smiles softly, voice gentle like the spring winds. Zhen Rong stops suddenly to face the older male, “When did you learn how to smile?” He questions.
“I...didn’t smile before?” He asks back, as if everything was reasonable.
“Did you smile before?” Zhen Rong muses, taking another step forward down the palace grounds. “Do you think stones can smile?"
And the grains of sand reverse, flowing upwards as Zai Fan looks at the sight of Zhen Rong walking in front of him. It’s the second time, he remembers, that the younger prince had called him such a name and left him to ponder over the thought.
v.
“Has your highness ever thought about being King?” Zai Fan asks him on a rainy night, the sound of raindrops softly sound from the porcelain roof tiles above. There’s something seemingly odd with the older male today, but Zhen Rong doesn’t exactly know how to pinpoint it. Perhaps it’s the way that Zai Fan refuses to look at him, eyes fixated on the skies above, that dislodges something within his chest. It’s the first time in so many years that the other male has looked so lonely (so vulnerable) to him.
If it had been any other moment, Zhen Rong would have simply dismissed the matter--for even talking about the matter was a heinous act. But right now, this very moment, Zhen Rong doesn’t find the energy to walk his way around words. “Who doesn’t want to be King?” He responds, “But Father has already appointed Fourth Brother as the Crown Prince, hasn’t he?”
“Until the last minute, no one really knows how things will end.”
“Weren’t you the one who said ‘rules are rules’? I’m simply Prince Zheng, even if the Crown Prince doesn’t inherit the throne,” Zhen Rong sighs, “there are still so many Princeps waiting in line before me.”
Zai Fan doesn’t respond, gazing at the distant moon. “It’s not in my fate,” Zhen Rong states, though he isn’t sure he’s comforting himself or the other male. It’s a while before the older speaks, long enough that Zhen Rong supposes the other won’t respond at all. Zai Fan’s voice is soft in a way that reminds Zhen Rong of the silk cloak surrounding his frame, and he leans in closer to the young general as he listens to him say; “Then I guess we can only listen to the heavens.
(vi-x)
A/N: A little drablet fic....I swear I'll write the second part..so o n
Pairing(s): Jaebum/Jinyoung
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: Period drama AU where Jaebum (Zai Fan) is a general and Jinyoung (Zhen Rong) is a prince.
A/N: what happens when I have post-瑯琊棒 emo for the longest time.....
i.
Zhen Rong first sees Zai Fan when he was eight. It's in the midst of the bustle of drums, dance and song that he first spots the other boy standing on the side. The raven haired male doesn't look that much older than him but the way he holds himself (upright--clad in armour, sword in hand) seems all too mature for his age. It’s a stark contrast to himself; fidgeting in his seat, legs numb after sitting for so long.
Zhen Rong frowns, pulling at the fabric of his robes. It feels suffocating, layers and layers of silk weighing down his small frame. His mother lays a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head slightly as she readjusts the collar of his robes. Sighing, Zhen Rong sits back, fixing his posture as he glances over to the boy from before. Zhen Rong is eight when he forms his first coherent thought about Zai Fan--”too stoic, too still.” And when he recalls the older boy later that night, he likens him to a statue. “He doesn’t seem real.” He comments, “What kid would stay still for so long? He didn’t even smile once!” Eunuch Song only shakes his head, “You shouldn't say such things, Young Prince. That’s General Lin’s son.”
He hums a response perfunctorily, slipping under the silk blankets.
ii.
The second time that Zhen Rong meets Zai Fan is much more quiet than the first, soft winds billowing as the first snow of the year slowly falls. It’s been too long since he’s last seen the other male, time fading the memories in his mind. But he still manages to recognize him, manages to remember the distinct marks above the other’s eyelids--the cold aura that envelops the raven haired male. Zhen Rong catches a glimpse of the older male as he returns to his own palace from his mother’s. Black cloak shielding him from the winter air, Zhen Rong moves closer to the pavilion. The other male is still as quiet as he was six years ago, standing without movement as he looks at the plum trees in the palace garden.
“They’re blooming quite late this year,” Zhen Rong says, soft voice breaking the silence. Zai Fan turns abruptly, coming to his knees as he greets the prince. Zhen Rong waves his hand, dismissing the greeting. “It’s too cold for formalities.” He says.
“We should still abide by the rules,” Zai Fan responds without any variation in his tone. His voice, Zhen Rong thinks, is just as cold as he looks. “There are too many rules in this palace.” He mutters lowly, though the words still make their way to Zai Fan’s ears.
“But, rules are still rules.” The young general states, voice amiable but firm. Zhen Rong huffs, straightening the sleeves of his robes. “There’s no use arguing with a rock.” He mutters, as he turns around, silk fabric fluttering slightly behind him as he makes his way back. Zhen Rong doesn’t turn back, and neither does he catch the glimpse of confusion that clouds Zai Fan’s eyes.
The bare branches of the plum blossom tree casts soft shadows on the snow ridden grounds. The buds of winter have yet to open--their fate has yet to blossom.
iii.
“Prince Zheng, I’m here to escort you back.”
“...”
“The sedan is waiting for you outside.” Zai Fan says, gesturing to the door. Zhen Rong frowns, gathering the miscellaneous objects he’s bought and making his way out the inn. “You sure know how to follow rules,” he says harshly. It doesn’t faze Zai Fan though, as the other only lowers his head and follows him out. “You secretly left the palace for so long, Consort Yue was getting worried.”
The mention of his mother slightly dissolves his frustration and Zhen Rong only sighs softly, “I...just wanted to see what life was like beyond the palace walls.”
“Once you’re of age, I’m sure the Emperor would allow you to establish your own residence.” The older male replies, parting the curtain of the sedan so that Zhen Rong could enter. It's then that Zhen Rong thinks that Zai Fan isn’t akin to a stone at all--but more like jade. Cold, noble and when forged--it becomes sharp enough to pierce through skin.
Once he’s of age, he thinks, he’ll be able to leave the palace. It’s only natural, when his mother is only a consort (though still better than the Dame she once was) and he’s only a prince (not even a princep). He thinks about the Queen and her two sons, the Noble Consorts in the harem and their sons. It’s only natural, he reckons, that the role of the Crown Prince won’t be taken up by him.
The road back to the Palace is shaky and unstable, as with the thoughts in his mind--the thuds of his heart.
iv.
Zai Fan is appointed Imperial Guard at age twenty six. Zhen Rong is twenty five--still only a prince, and finally living past the palace walls. “Isn’t it ironic?” He asks Zai Fan one day, after he leaves the Royal Court, walking in sync with the other as the older male makes his rounds.
“Ironic?”
“That when I finally leave this place, it’s you who comes in?” Zhen Rong clarifies.
“I guess it is then,” Zai Fan smiles softly, voice gentle like the spring winds. Zhen Rong stops suddenly to face the older male, “When did you learn how to smile?” He questions.
“I...didn’t smile before?” He asks back, as if everything was reasonable.
“Did you smile before?” Zhen Rong muses, taking another step forward down the palace grounds. “Do you think stones can smile?"
And the grains of sand reverse, flowing upwards as Zai Fan looks at the sight of Zhen Rong walking in front of him. It’s the second time, he remembers, that the younger prince had called him such a name and left him to ponder over the thought.
v.
“Has your highness ever thought about being King?” Zai Fan asks him on a rainy night, the sound of raindrops softly sound from the porcelain roof tiles above. There’s something seemingly odd with the older male today, but Zhen Rong doesn’t exactly know how to pinpoint it. Perhaps it’s the way that Zai Fan refuses to look at him, eyes fixated on the skies above, that dislodges something within his chest. It’s the first time in so many years that the other male has looked so lonely (so vulnerable) to him.
If it had been any other moment, Zhen Rong would have simply dismissed the matter--for even talking about the matter was a heinous act. But right now, this very moment, Zhen Rong doesn’t find the energy to walk his way around words. “Who doesn’t want to be King?” He responds, “But Father has already appointed Fourth Brother as the Crown Prince, hasn’t he?”
“Until the last minute, no one really knows how things will end.”
“Weren’t you the one who said ‘rules are rules’? I’m simply Prince Zheng, even if the Crown Prince doesn’t inherit the throne,” Zhen Rong sighs, “there are still so many Princeps waiting in line before me.”
Zai Fan doesn’t respond, gazing at the distant moon. “It’s not in my fate,” Zhen Rong states, though he isn’t sure he’s comforting himself or the other male. It’s a while before the older speaks, long enough that Zhen Rong supposes the other won’t respond at all. Zai Fan’s voice is soft in a way that reminds Zhen Rong of the silk cloak surrounding his frame, and he leans in closer to the young general as he listens to him say; “Then I guess we can only listen to the heavens.
(vi-x)
A/N: A little drablet fic....I swear I'll write the second part..so o n