shaken in my faith: master of illusion - part six
part next. enjoy (hopefully) :)
Shaken in My Faith: Master of Illusion - Part Six
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I’m finally home now
In my foreign land
-Alaska in Winter, Berlin
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The mountain air drinks thin and clean; his lungs gulp deep until his head aches dizzily with it. Above, heaven hones its sharpest blue, and below, dirt gives way to rutted roads and cursing fishermen by the lake, baskets full of glistening, gutted prize. The night the Far Eastern king was crowned, they floated lanterns in lotuses across these waters. He vividly recalls their profuse fragrance, drifting in the drapes of his bed, richer even than the oils of his bedmates.
Markets dripping in garnets and gold, in myrrh and marigolds. Jadeite’s face is covered as any crosser of the desert, but his blue eyes give him away, and soon the slyer merchants are chanting in his ear. His subjects know him well. Only in his kingdom six months of the year, he spends few of them shuttered in his fortress. Jadeite knows every back alley, every emptied sewer, every wall and every window. Wasn’t he born in a brothel, only three or four turns away?
On, then to paved avenues where women peer from velveted palanquins, jet eyes narrowed, and then widened at the sight of their golden king. The noon sun beats too hot for him to stay masked. If he really wished to disguise himself…well, Jadeite’s not above admitting he rather enjoys their lingering looks. As he observes, a twirl-mustached man - husband, likely - yanks a veil over his much younger wife’s admiring expression. The general’s smile widens.
This ancient city, this lodestone of the Far East. Claimed, he thinks, but never tamed.
It is home.
His reverie’s carried him straight into his own cool courtyard. There are no great gates, no sentries; it only appears unwatched and unguarded. Water trickles from an unseen fountain, and the few pages present gape at him openly without moving a muscle - they must be very new - as Jadeite hikes up his clothes to wash off the dust. Two women of middling age scuttle from the delicately chiseled archway, bare feet slapping on clear crystal.
“My lord king,” one gasps. “If we’d known - we had no idea of your return - ”
“Peace, Ramua,” Jadeite catches her by the shoulders as she drops before him. “I had no idea of it, either. Don’t worry yourself. I only just put down my belongings.”
She still fusses, but the other’s eyes crinkle in welcome. “Lord Zoisite’ll be happy to see you retake the reins. He, ah, talks so often of the gentler northern climes - ”
“Sounds about right,” the general rolls his eyes, and Ramua proffers a towel for his dripping toes. “I’ll keep the fine lady waiting no longer. Where is he, Cyrene?”
“In the blue tower.” Cyrene’s dry words bounce off the glass as he walks past her. “Speed your steps, my lord king. He’s waited long, and shows not your patience.”
…
Jadeite’s scarcely stepped into the room before the pungent smell of brine hits his nostrils, and he ducks as the wave makes for his head. Expecting to feel it splash behind him, he twists only to see an orb of seawater suspended innocuously there.
“My lord!” Thetis squeals, and launches herself at him in a blur of overlong teenaged limbs.
His arms swing her up with accustomed ease, but he notes awkwardly how she burrows right into his neck, clings to his shoulders too tight. “Your aim’s improved too much for my liking, princess.”
“And not enough for mine,” from behind her. Above Thetis’s head, he uncomfortably meets Zoisite’s glittering gaze; a faint flicker there, and the ocean orb evaporates in flame.
Jadeite sets the girl down quickly. “Look at you,” he laughs as he strides forward. “Tanned as a native, and bejeweled as a eunuch. The Far East agrees with you.”
“Bores me, more like. Is it a castle you keep or a cathouse? All of your servants women, down to a one?” he drawls. “Really, I thought the Far East a land of diversity.”
He’s hyperaware of the adoring eyes at his back. “I haven’t your taste for…variety, Zoi.”
The younger man finally relents, closes the distance and clasps him by the arms. There are newer freckles, and his coppery hair’s lightened almost as Jadeite’s, but the edged smile is the same. “And you. What, haven’t you seen daylight this month?”
“No. The sun on Mars is cold.”
“But the nights are hot, no doubt,” Zoisite replies under his breath, before straightening. “Thetis, your lord and I have much to discuss - ”
“All of it boring,” Jadeite tells her lightly where she waits, hands clasping and unclasping. “I’ve a present for you, princess. Ask Cyrene where my things are.”
Thetis looks about to argue, but the mention of a gift sways her. “Have it your way,” as she turns the handle. “But I want to hear all about Mars. Don’t start without me!”
Jadeite waits until she’s out of earshot before he moves toward the door, as well. “Before…the girl would’ve just gone. Your whining’s obviously a poor influence.”
“If she’s becoming wilful, just look to her parents,” the younger general sniffs, falling into step. “But she’s becoming stronger, too. I’m impressed with her progress. As for her face and form…you can have no complaints on that score, certainly.”
“I don’t rate either,” he responds flatly as they exit in the opposite direction. “And you’d do well to stop raising her hopes, calling me her lord. Nothing’s decided.”
“Your client kings are fat frauds, even if they coo all over their precious peacock emperor now. An heir would give you a little security, Jade.” Zoisite cuts off his rising protest. “And you, more than any of us, need some semblance of legitimacy. Surely,” he adds softly, “ - surely, this is the dynasty your father wanted for you.”
“How appealing you make it all sound - being Kunzite’s son-in-law.”
The druid king snickers. “Now, there, I wouldn’t envy you.”
The other man knows he’s lost this one; Jadeite hears it in his tone. “So,” he broaches the subject casually as they descend a soaring staircase. “What news from Mercury? Has the Prince congratulated the Speaker on her victory yet? It’s been a few days - ”
“Endymion has been in Elysion the past week, and Nephrite has gone there, as well.”
Unreachable, then, both of them. “Seems a bit lax on protocol - ” he cuts himself off. “Don’t tell me you spoke with her.” At the other’s cursory nod, Jadeite halts.
“What was it you said to me the other day? ‘Your faith in my judgment is inspiring’?” Zoisite mocks, not stopping in his stride, and after a few seconds, the Far Eastern king catches up. “Really, our conversation was so short, I hardly had time to offend.”
“Wouldn’t blame you if you did. You’ve more cause to bear a grudge than any.”
The other nods again, tightly. “Perhaps…it’s best I spoke with her, and none else. You remember the first delegation from Mercury I met?”
"After..." Jadeite swallows. “I remember.”
What's not spoken of is not forgotten. The envy he once felt, looking upon the most gifted mage he'd yet come across. Fire, flowers, ice; no spell seemed barred to the youngest of the Shitennou.
That was before the plagues ripped through the misted islands. He remembers how thousands of the ill had burned in Zoisite's waning flames to keep miasma from spreading. Dead and living alike, before the old Speaker finally deigned to meet with the failing lord of the north. To haggle over medicines that flowed on Mercury as water.
Jadeite could not say he envied what was left of the druid king after that, a mere shell of the man he'd met first.
Zoisite continues, after a beat. “She…she must remember too, for she was one of their party. A child then, maybe eleven or so. I remember thinking her presence peculiar…but then, I was half-dead and in no state to ask questions. But…now, I wonder if she came as a newly awakened Senshi. As a scout for her Sorceress, to laugh at our misfortunes.” He grimaces. “And today…she’s their elected Speaker.”
“It would make sense for the Sorceress to start with Mercury. Cut off the only real communication we have, outside Earth. So what did you and the Speaker discuss?”
“Nothing of interest. Butter wouldn’t melt in this one’s mouth.” They’ve reached the fortress’s innermost depths; unlike elsewhere, no rays of light penetrate here. His tone grows thoughtful. “In fact, that’s what makes me so sure the gossips are right. I think the Sorceress rigged the vote for her pet, because to be frank, I can’t think why else she’d win it. Not much to look at. The girl hardly seems a warrior out of legend.”
The Far Eastern king chuckles as the massive trapdoor swings open at Zoisite’s slightest touch. “Well. If we’re to be frank here…neither do you.”
The blaze in the younger man’s palm throws light on his smile, and the tang of blood fills Jadeite’s nose at the same time he sees it rusting over dank walls. “Very true.”
…
“I thought I told you to go easy,” the general comments, gazing down at the twelve or so burly men littering the soiled floor, not even chained and still cowering. He can’t miss how they shrink backward with every step the druid king takes forward.
“I did.”
Zoisite halts and leans back against a pillar, thumbs already twiddling. “Once I realized there were too many Martians in your kingdom to put in one place - we’ll talk about that, by the way - I took the liberty of choosing a select few for the comforts of your palace. These are the younger ones. I figured they’d crack.” He shrugs. “They didn’t.”
“But you said they told you of the Oracle’s beauty - ”
“Only in their prayers to her. In delirium. I put two and two together myself after talking with Nephrite. Of course. You would find a vow of chastity irresistible - ”
“Silence,” Jadeite orders. “Not here.”
He scans the dismal chamber, finding the youngest glowering up at him. Seventeen, he’d say, maybe less. Eyes scarcely visible under a matted fringe of hair, but they snap with hate, just like Phobos’s and Deimos’s had. “You. What’s your name, boy?”
The youth spits, and then spits blood when the back of Jadeite’s hand finds his jaw.
“Answer your king,” Zoisite advises quietly where he stands. “Or I will make you.”
“He’s not my king,” he snarls back, and the younger general jerks from the pillar.
“That won’t be necessary.” Jadeite crouches. “I’ve no wish to be your king, but it seems your queen has abandoned you to my care. I know something of Martian punishment, and believe me, we’ve made an exquisite art of it here in the Far East.”
He holds his mutinous silence, and the Far Eastern king continues, nonplussed.
“You have spirit, like all your brethren. Something I’ve always admired in your people. Here you are, banished from a planet that hates you to a planet you hate. How ironic, to be sent from the star of rebellion - because you were rebellious.”
The prisoner’s expression is all the confirmation he needs. “How - do you know - ?”
“Show me your back, boy.”
Too stupefied to fight, he lets the general shove his filthy head down and yank his shirt up. Behind, Zoisite lets out a gasp. “The dragon of the Far East - the very same - how - ”
In his usual impatience, he seizes a handful of Jadeite's tunic. He feels the blade of ice almost cold enough to burn, baring his shoulders to their view. Jadeite expects the sound before it starts, buzzing, sibilant; the prisoners’ murmurs grow and multiply.
The wings tattooed there are identical to the youth’s - to all of theirs.
“It’s exactly as she said,” he marvels to himself, rising slowly to his feet, letting his own shirt fall. “Exiles, Zoi, not spies. This is the mark of the Council’s banishment.”
“But - how is it that you wear the same mark?”
“My father waited all his life to speak with that cunt. He didn’t go from Mars quietly.” The stink of flesh under iron - the lucid certainty of children, certainty that he’d be the one screaming and thrashing next - Jadeite curses his own memory’s clarity. “But his punishment was mine. Before this dragon stamped all our standards…it branded my back.”
Comprehension dawns in the other’s eyes. “Your father made it your symbol.”
“He told me to wear it with pride. Now you know why I was shocked the old Oracle granted me an audience - and even more shocked to find a new Oracle in her place.”
The Far Eastern king turns away from a face gone chalky under its newly acquired tan. The youth stares at him, unreadable. “I’ll ask once more. What’s your name?”
He licks split lips. “Kumada.”
“Kumada," he repeats, tasting the familiar-unfamiliar dialect. "Listen well. Today - you and every Martian held in my borders are free to go where you will. I know what you all are. Convicts, ex-soldiers - aliens, but I really couldn’t care less what your Martian crimes were. Because tomorrow, if you commit them in my kingdom…” he claps his palm over the still reddened sear, and Kumada hisses. “I know how to find you. Consider this your first and last warning.”
“Are you mad?” Zoisite bursts hotly, and Jadeite can tell without looking; rarely static, the younger man is practically twitching now. “You can’t possibly loose all these convicts upon your lands, Jade, if that’s what the Oracle said they are. You don’t understand, there are thousands of them - ”
“I know all that and more,” he interrupts. “I know what they think of us, high up in their dusty dome, and now here, too. That we’re brutes without rhyme or reason. We will show them otherwise. That they’re the brutes, who kiss children with fire.”
Jadeite takes the prisoner by the arms and forcibly lifts him, clear blue melding with coal. “We will show them how Earth welcomes their outcasts - without being weak.”
…
In the cold north, he’s heard of men who consume the sins of others, that they might go to paradise unburdened. Sometimes he wonders if the Golden Kingdom’s most feared gaoler ever thinks - who would complete that ritual for him? Eat a crust of bread and drink a cup of wine over his corpse? Who does Zoisite whisper to, of his body of transgressions? Perhaps Jadeite will never know, but his own tale needs such an unflinching ear. Someone impartial. Someone who will not - cannot - judge.
“Didn’t anything happen when…” Zoisite pauses with unusual delicacy, searching the board before them for the words. “I mean, when her vow was…ah, broken?”
The general raises a blond eyebrow. “Were you expecting fireworks?”
“I can’t help a little curiosity, jealousy even,” the other smirks. “But really, the Fire didn’t…didn’t…?”
Jadeite takes a deep swallow of wine, and shifts a yellow gamepiece. “You would revere such magic, you statue worshipers. Personally, I’ve always thought this “wed to the Fire” bullshit just that - bullshit. Politics. The Council doesn’t want the Oracle to spawn - she’d wish for her own children to rule the red star. Her own influence.”
“She has influence enough. Senshi ruling both Mars and Mercury…” the younger man trails off. “We can’t ignore the implications, if it’s the truth. Sure, she says she knew nothing of these exiles, but maybe she’s lying, maybe these are the Moon’s orders - ”
“Dozens of times the Oracle saw the dragon on my back. If she were behind this, she’d give herself away in recognizing the mark of her dungeon. It’s not her nature to dissemble.” The general rolls the cowries, and his lips compress. “She’s not as powerful as she could be. As her predecessor. Said she’ll remedy the situation, but…the Council flouts her authority whenever she’s not on Mars, and…”
“You say she’s not powerful? From where I stand…” Zoisite pushes his green into a castle square. “Mars has mustered armies against you, dumped malcontents in your lands, and generally shat all over the Far East since you were a boy. And now you’re defending her, when you have grounds for war. From where I stand, Jade…” he lets out a low whistle, and drops the red gamepiece home. “She’s made you her bitch.”
“Say what you will,” he answers, folding his arms behind his head, studied. “So long as you respect my decision in this matter, I don’t give two shits for your scorn.”
Long fingers drum irritatingly, silver clinking with glass. “I respect that you’ve seen enough bloodshed in your life. That you don’t wish to spill more. But…I fear you’ll regret staying your hand in this affair. Kunzite will expect - ”
“He will not know,” the Far Eastern king cuts him off firmly. “This stays between us.”
Zoisite stills completely, hand suspended over the board. “Now I know you’re mad.”
“What business is it of his?” Jadeite asks with deceptive calm. “This concerns only my kingdom, my palace, and my bed.”
“If all you were doing was letting Mars humiliate the Far East, I might agree,” the druid king retorts. “But your sweetheart is a Senshi, so this is between Earth and the Moon as well. Your dealings with the Oracle must come to light, sooner or later - ”
“And so they will, in time,” he pacifies. “Come, now, you don’t report every rock that falls in your realm to our commander, do you? Let me manage this my way first - ”
“Damn you, and damn your secrets,” Zoisite cuts in softly. “I worry less for what you’ve brought back - more for what you’ve left behind.” He leans forward. “What hold has she on you, Jade? You really think he won’t see what writhes there, like always? There won’t be enough left of you to feed flies if Kunzite finds out - ”
“Finds out what?”
Thetis stops short in the doorway, a touch breathless. Jadeite immediately notices his casually purchased gift looping her neck, garnets crowding her small chest. His throat closes.
He should’ve picked anything else, lapis or even jade, for he can’t help but picture these stones on another, breaking from her skin like morning sun from white mist.
“Beautiful,” the other man echoes his thoughts into the lingering quiet, and with a jolt, he sees the dark head again, the rounded, childish face. “Already you look the part. The empress of the Far East.” Zoisite turns, face oddly impassive. “Don’t you think?”
The girl smiles self-consciously, fingering the heavy jewels. “Were you talking of the Ban, just now? Oh - ” her brow furrows. “So you think it will fall from Mars, too?”
“No,” the general finds his voice, and its hoarseness takes him aback. “No, it will not.”
The druid king beckons her close, and she perches gingerly on the table, scanning the board carefully. “But what would happen if it did? From all the other planets?”
Jadeite watches her move his gamepieces, yellow, then black, but his gaze rests upon a faraway board. “If the Ban closed around us…they could be doing anything behind its shield, and we’d never know it.”
“The Ban’s more for us than for them, anyway. To keep Earth from growing too strong,” Thetis continues, rattling off the cowries; probably rattling off her tutor’s lessons, as well. “But if we’re so strong, who cares? Couldn’t we just take them all over, anyway?”
A short, surprised laugh escapes Zoisite. “Aren’t we bloodthirsty. I don’t think we have to plot that far just yet. Other stars are unaccounted for. Jupiter…no one has ruled that madhouse for years, and...” he tosses his own hand, and curses. “…and I seriously doubt the crown princess of Venus is a Senshi. The lot of them mate their own brothers and sisters so often, she’s probably got all the wits of a box of hair.”
“But what lovely hair it must be,” the general teases. “And you’re jumping to conclusions, Zoi. They breed with each other to keep their bloodlines strong, their magic pure. And only the strongest takes the crown. Might be more spells in her pretty pinky finger than all the druids combined.”
A shudder goes through the younger man. “I’ll never understand such unnatural lust.” His eyes fly up, distaste locking with disquiet. “Speaking of,” he mutters indistinctly for Jadeite’s ears alone as he rises from his seat. “Your mother will be missing you, little one. I think it’s time we went back.”
She turns aquamarine eyes on the general. “Aren’t you coming, too?”
“I’ve too much business here in the capital, princess,” he deflects. “You know I’ve been gone almost a month.”
“At least let the Prince see your face, hm?” The younger general’s thin lips hook. “Who knows, if you’re especially lucky, Kunzite might have already returned, too.”
“I should’ve nailed you up on a wall when you were too puny to fight back.”
“Were we in my palace and not yours, that would sound very much like an invitation.” He watches amusedly as Jadeite drains both their cups. “But…it’s good to have you back, brother.”
He wipes his wet mouth with his knuckles. “Good to be back.”
And it is, the general thinks readily. Of course it is. He only needs to look out to the great capital winking torch by torch into twilit existence, purpling foothills beyond, and even further, untold sands hunting the horizon. All his. Could he have dreamed it?
The wicks sputter by the window, and the sun reddens in their smoke. As his eyes sting from the ash, only for a moment…all at once, the Far Eastern king can almost see bleeding sky above him, naked rock below him, and eyes burning inside him.
He’s there again, stepping onto that still land, where fire endures without wind.
But only for a moment.
…
The Moon’s long pearled the winding towers of the High Palace when they arrive. Thetis hadn’t woken even when they teleported; Jadeite shifts her weight a little over his shoulder, and feels her soft breath steady in his ear. Beside him, the druid king motions a few sleepy servants to hush, but it turns out to be unnecessary. A tall figure looms at the gate, bearing a bright lantern that illuminates all but its bearer.
The general starts immediately up the marble steps, avoiding the thorned brambles and roses on both sides. Zoisite tarries just a little longer. Any overuse of his power drains him, but they all tacitly ignore his fits of fatigue. At the top stair, Jadeite flings up a hand, blinking rapidly in sudden light, before strong arms pull Thetis from him. The younger general’s beside him now, and they incline their heads respectfully.
“Is this the state you bring my only child in?”
He manages a smile, despite his own exhaustion. “The journey must’ve tired her.”
“And us,” Zoisite’s already walking past. “So I beg you, spare us the interrogation until morning.”
Beryl laughs and tucks her daughter’s sleeping head under her chin, that their hair spills together like pooled ink. “The night is cold, and the Moon is waning. Come.”
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(just fyi, if you don't remember and are like "who the hell are these people", ramua and cyrene were both jadeite's youma. chosen at random for my amusement >_>)
Shaken in My Faith: Master of Illusion - Part Six
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…
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I’m finally home now
In my foreign land
-Alaska in Winter, Berlin
…
The mountain air drinks thin and clean; his lungs gulp deep until his head aches dizzily with it. Above, heaven hones its sharpest blue, and below, dirt gives way to rutted roads and cursing fishermen by the lake, baskets full of glistening, gutted prize. The night the Far Eastern king was crowned, they floated lanterns in lotuses across these waters. He vividly recalls their profuse fragrance, drifting in the drapes of his bed, richer even than the oils of his bedmates.
Markets dripping in garnets and gold, in myrrh and marigolds. Jadeite’s face is covered as any crosser of the desert, but his blue eyes give him away, and soon the slyer merchants are chanting in his ear. His subjects know him well. Only in his kingdom six months of the year, he spends few of them shuttered in his fortress. Jadeite knows every back alley, every emptied sewer, every wall and every window. Wasn’t he born in a brothel, only three or four turns away?
On, then to paved avenues where women peer from velveted palanquins, jet eyes narrowed, and then widened at the sight of their golden king. The noon sun beats too hot for him to stay masked. If he really wished to disguise himself…well, Jadeite’s not above admitting he rather enjoys their lingering looks. As he observes, a twirl-mustached man - husband, likely - yanks a veil over his much younger wife’s admiring expression. The general’s smile widens.
This ancient city, this lodestone of the Far East. Claimed, he thinks, but never tamed.
It is home.
His reverie’s carried him straight into his own cool courtyard. There are no great gates, no sentries; it only appears unwatched and unguarded. Water trickles from an unseen fountain, and the few pages present gape at him openly without moving a muscle - they must be very new - as Jadeite hikes up his clothes to wash off the dust. Two women of middling age scuttle from the delicately chiseled archway, bare feet slapping on clear crystal.
“My lord king,” one gasps. “If we’d known - we had no idea of your return - ”
“Peace, Ramua,” Jadeite catches her by the shoulders as she drops before him. “I had no idea of it, either. Don’t worry yourself. I only just put down my belongings.”
She still fusses, but the other’s eyes crinkle in welcome. “Lord Zoisite’ll be happy to see you retake the reins. He, ah, talks so often of the gentler northern climes - ”
“Sounds about right,” the general rolls his eyes, and Ramua proffers a towel for his dripping toes. “I’ll keep the fine lady waiting no longer. Where is he, Cyrene?”
“In the blue tower.” Cyrene’s dry words bounce off the glass as he walks past her. “Speed your steps, my lord king. He’s waited long, and shows not your patience.”
…
Jadeite’s scarcely stepped into the room before the pungent smell of brine hits his nostrils, and he ducks as the wave makes for his head. Expecting to feel it splash behind him, he twists only to see an orb of seawater suspended innocuously there.
“My lord!” Thetis squeals, and launches herself at him in a blur of overlong teenaged limbs.
His arms swing her up with accustomed ease, but he notes awkwardly how she burrows right into his neck, clings to his shoulders too tight. “Your aim’s improved too much for my liking, princess.”
“And not enough for mine,” from behind her. Above Thetis’s head, he uncomfortably meets Zoisite’s glittering gaze; a faint flicker there, and the ocean orb evaporates in flame.
Jadeite sets the girl down quickly. “Look at you,” he laughs as he strides forward. “Tanned as a native, and bejeweled as a eunuch. The Far East agrees with you.”
“Bores me, more like. Is it a castle you keep or a cathouse? All of your servants women, down to a one?” he drawls. “Really, I thought the Far East a land of diversity.”
He’s hyperaware of the adoring eyes at his back. “I haven’t your taste for…variety, Zoi.”
The younger man finally relents, closes the distance and clasps him by the arms. There are newer freckles, and his coppery hair’s lightened almost as Jadeite’s, but the edged smile is the same. “And you. What, haven’t you seen daylight this month?”
“No. The sun on Mars is cold.”
“But the nights are hot, no doubt,” Zoisite replies under his breath, before straightening. “Thetis, your lord and I have much to discuss - ”
“All of it boring,” Jadeite tells her lightly where she waits, hands clasping and unclasping. “I’ve a present for you, princess. Ask Cyrene where my things are.”
Thetis looks about to argue, but the mention of a gift sways her. “Have it your way,” as she turns the handle. “But I want to hear all about Mars. Don’t start without me!”
Jadeite waits until she’s out of earshot before he moves toward the door, as well. “Before…the girl would’ve just gone. Your whining’s obviously a poor influence.”
“If she’s becoming wilful, just look to her parents,” the younger general sniffs, falling into step. “But she’s becoming stronger, too. I’m impressed with her progress. As for her face and form…you can have no complaints on that score, certainly.”
“I don’t rate either,” he responds flatly as they exit in the opposite direction. “And you’d do well to stop raising her hopes, calling me her lord. Nothing’s decided.”
“Your client kings are fat frauds, even if they coo all over their precious peacock emperor now. An heir would give you a little security, Jade.” Zoisite cuts off his rising protest. “And you, more than any of us, need some semblance of legitimacy. Surely,” he adds softly, “ - surely, this is the dynasty your father wanted for you.”
“How appealing you make it all sound - being Kunzite’s son-in-law.”
The druid king snickers. “Now, there, I wouldn’t envy you.”
The other man knows he’s lost this one; Jadeite hears it in his tone. “So,” he broaches the subject casually as they descend a soaring staircase. “What news from Mercury? Has the Prince congratulated the Speaker on her victory yet? It’s been a few days - ”
“Endymion has been in Elysion the past week, and Nephrite has gone there, as well.”
Unreachable, then, both of them. “Seems a bit lax on protocol - ” he cuts himself off. “Don’t tell me you spoke with her.” At the other’s cursory nod, Jadeite halts.
“What was it you said to me the other day? ‘Your faith in my judgment is inspiring’?” Zoisite mocks, not stopping in his stride, and after a few seconds, the Far Eastern king catches up. “Really, our conversation was so short, I hardly had time to offend.”
“Wouldn’t blame you if you did. You’ve more cause to bear a grudge than any.”
The other nods again, tightly. “Perhaps…it’s best I spoke with her, and none else. You remember the first delegation from Mercury I met?”
"After..." Jadeite swallows. “I remember.”
What's not spoken of is not forgotten. The envy he once felt, looking upon the most gifted mage he'd yet come across. Fire, flowers, ice; no spell seemed barred to the youngest of the Shitennou.
That was before the plagues ripped through the misted islands. He remembers how thousands of the ill had burned in Zoisite's waning flames to keep miasma from spreading. Dead and living alike, before the old Speaker finally deigned to meet with the failing lord of the north. To haggle over medicines that flowed on Mercury as water.
Jadeite could not say he envied what was left of the druid king after that, a mere shell of the man he'd met first.
Zoisite continues, after a beat. “She…she must remember too, for she was one of their party. A child then, maybe eleven or so. I remember thinking her presence peculiar…but then, I was half-dead and in no state to ask questions. But…now, I wonder if she came as a newly awakened Senshi. As a scout for her Sorceress, to laugh at our misfortunes.” He grimaces. “And today…she’s their elected Speaker.”
“It would make sense for the Sorceress to start with Mercury. Cut off the only real communication we have, outside Earth. So what did you and the Speaker discuss?”
“Nothing of interest. Butter wouldn’t melt in this one’s mouth.” They’ve reached the fortress’s innermost depths; unlike elsewhere, no rays of light penetrate here. His tone grows thoughtful. “In fact, that’s what makes me so sure the gossips are right. I think the Sorceress rigged the vote for her pet, because to be frank, I can’t think why else she’d win it. Not much to look at. The girl hardly seems a warrior out of legend.”
The Far Eastern king chuckles as the massive trapdoor swings open at Zoisite’s slightest touch. “Well. If we’re to be frank here…neither do you.”
The blaze in the younger man’s palm throws light on his smile, and the tang of blood fills Jadeite’s nose at the same time he sees it rusting over dank walls. “Very true.”
…
“I thought I told you to go easy,” the general comments, gazing down at the twelve or so burly men littering the soiled floor, not even chained and still cowering. He can’t miss how they shrink backward with every step the druid king takes forward.
“I did.”
Zoisite halts and leans back against a pillar, thumbs already twiddling. “Once I realized there were too many Martians in your kingdom to put in one place - we’ll talk about that, by the way - I took the liberty of choosing a select few for the comforts of your palace. These are the younger ones. I figured they’d crack.” He shrugs. “They didn’t.”
“But you said they told you of the Oracle’s beauty - ”
“Only in their prayers to her. In delirium. I put two and two together myself after talking with Nephrite. Of course. You would find a vow of chastity irresistible - ”
“Silence,” Jadeite orders. “Not here.”
He scans the dismal chamber, finding the youngest glowering up at him. Seventeen, he’d say, maybe less. Eyes scarcely visible under a matted fringe of hair, but they snap with hate, just like Phobos’s and Deimos’s had. “You. What’s your name, boy?”
The youth spits, and then spits blood when the back of Jadeite’s hand finds his jaw.
“Answer your king,” Zoisite advises quietly where he stands. “Or I will make you.”
“He’s not my king,” he snarls back, and the younger general jerks from the pillar.
“That won’t be necessary.” Jadeite crouches. “I’ve no wish to be your king, but it seems your queen has abandoned you to my care. I know something of Martian punishment, and believe me, we’ve made an exquisite art of it here in the Far East.”
He holds his mutinous silence, and the Far Eastern king continues, nonplussed.
“You have spirit, like all your brethren. Something I’ve always admired in your people. Here you are, banished from a planet that hates you to a planet you hate. How ironic, to be sent from the star of rebellion - because you were rebellious.”
The prisoner’s expression is all the confirmation he needs. “How - do you know - ?”
“Show me your back, boy.”
Too stupefied to fight, he lets the general shove his filthy head down and yank his shirt up. Behind, Zoisite lets out a gasp. “The dragon of the Far East - the very same - how - ”
In his usual impatience, he seizes a handful of Jadeite's tunic. He feels the blade of ice almost cold enough to burn, baring his shoulders to their view. Jadeite expects the sound before it starts, buzzing, sibilant; the prisoners’ murmurs grow and multiply.
The wings tattooed there are identical to the youth’s - to all of theirs.
“It’s exactly as she said,” he marvels to himself, rising slowly to his feet, letting his own shirt fall. “Exiles, Zoi, not spies. This is the mark of the Council’s banishment.”
“But - how is it that you wear the same mark?”
“My father waited all his life to speak with that cunt. He didn’t go from Mars quietly.” The stink of flesh under iron - the lucid certainty of children, certainty that he’d be the one screaming and thrashing next - Jadeite curses his own memory’s clarity. “But his punishment was mine. Before this dragon stamped all our standards…it branded my back.”
Comprehension dawns in the other’s eyes. “Your father made it your symbol.”
“He told me to wear it with pride. Now you know why I was shocked the old Oracle granted me an audience - and even more shocked to find a new Oracle in her place.”
The Far Eastern king turns away from a face gone chalky under its newly acquired tan. The youth stares at him, unreadable. “I’ll ask once more. What’s your name?”
He licks split lips. “Kumada.”
“Kumada," he repeats, tasting the familiar-unfamiliar dialect. "Listen well. Today - you and every Martian held in my borders are free to go where you will. I know what you all are. Convicts, ex-soldiers - aliens, but I really couldn’t care less what your Martian crimes were. Because tomorrow, if you commit them in my kingdom…” he claps his palm over the still reddened sear, and Kumada hisses. “I know how to find you. Consider this your first and last warning.”
“Are you mad?” Zoisite bursts hotly, and Jadeite can tell without looking; rarely static, the younger man is practically twitching now. “You can’t possibly loose all these convicts upon your lands, Jade, if that’s what the Oracle said they are. You don’t understand, there are thousands of them - ”
“I know all that and more,” he interrupts. “I know what they think of us, high up in their dusty dome, and now here, too. That we’re brutes without rhyme or reason. We will show them otherwise. That they’re the brutes, who kiss children with fire.”
Jadeite takes the prisoner by the arms and forcibly lifts him, clear blue melding with coal. “We will show them how Earth welcomes their outcasts - without being weak.”
…
In the cold north, he’s heard of men who consume the sins of others, that they might go to paradise unburdened. Sometimes he wonders if the Golden Kingdom’s most feared gaoler ever thinks - who would complete that ritual for him? Eat a crust of bread and drink a cup of wine over his corpse? Who does Zoisite whisper to, of his body of transgressions? Perhaps Jadeite will never know, but his own tale needs such an unflinching ear. Someone impartial. Someone who will not - cannot - judge.
“Didn’t anything happen when…” Zoisite pauses with unusual delicacy, searching the board before them for the words. “I mean, when her vow was…ah, broken?”
The general raises a blond eyebrow. “Were you expecting fireworks?”
“I can’t help a little curiosity, jealousy even,” the other smirks. “But really, the Fire didn’t…didn’t…?”
Jadeite takes a deep swallow of wine, and shifts a yellow gamepiece. “You would revere such magic, you statue worshipers. Personally, I’ve always thought this “wed to the Fire” bullshit just that - bullshit. Politics. The Council doesn’t want the Oracle to spawn - she’d wish for her own children to rule the red star. Her own influence.”
“She has influence enough. Senshi ruling both Mars and Mercury…” the younger man trails off. “We can’t ignore the implications, if it’s the truth. Sure, she says she knew nothing of these exiles, but maybe she’s lying, maybe these are the Moon’s orders - ”
“Dozens of times the Oracle saw the dragon on my back. If she were behind this, she’d give herself away in recognizing the mark of her dungeon. It’s not her nature to dissemble.” The general rolls the cowries, and his lips compress. “She’s not as powerful as she could be. As her predecessor. Said she’ll remedy the situation, but…the Council flouts her authority whenever she’s not on Mars, and…”
“You say she’s not powerful? From where I stand…” Zoisite pushes his green into a castle square. “Mars has mustered armies against you, dumped malcontents in your lands, and generally shat all over the Far East since you were a boy. And now you’re defending her, when you have grounds for war. From where I stand, Jade…” he lets out a low whistle, and drops the red gamepiece home. “She’s made you her bitch.”
“Say what you will,” he answers, folding his arms behind his head, studied. “So long as you respect my decision in this matter, I don’t give two shits for your scorn.”
Long fingers drum irritatingly, silver clinking with glass. “I respect that you’ve seen enough bloodshed in your life. That you don’t wish to spill more. But…I fear you’ll regret staying your hand in this affair. Kunzite will expect - ”
“He will not know,” the Far Eastern king cuts him off firmly. “This stays between us.”
Zoisite stills completely, hand suspended over the board. “Now I know you’re mad.”
“What business is it of his?” Jadeite asks with deceptive calm. “This concerns only my kingdom, my palace, and my bed.”
“If all you were doing was letting Mars humiliate the Far East, I might agree,” the druid king retorts. “But your sweetheart is a Senshi, so this is between Earth and the Moon as well. Your dealings with the Oracle must come to light, sooner or later - ”
“And so they will, in time,” he pacifies. “Come, now, you don’t report every rock that falls in your realm to our commander, do you? Let me manage this my way first - ”
“Damn you, and damn your secrets,” Zoisite cuts in softly. “I worry less for what you’ve brought back - more for what you’ve left behind.” He leans forward. “What hold has she on you, Jade? You really think he won’t see what writhes there, like always? There won’t be enough left of you to feed flies if Kunzite finds out - ”
“Finds out what?”
Thetis stops short in the doorway, a touch breathless. Jadeite immediately notices his casually purchased gift looping her neck, garnets crowding her small chest. His throat closes.
He should’ve picked anything else, lapis or even jade, for he can’t help but picture these stones on another, breaking from her skin like morning sun from white mist.
“Beautiful,” the other man echoes his thoughts into the lingering quiet, and with a jolt, he sees the dark head again, the rounded, childish face. “Already you look the part. The empress of the Far East.” Zoisite turns, face oddly impassive. “Don’t you think?”
The girl smiles self-consciously, fingering the heavy jewels. “Were you talking of the Ban, just now? Oh - ” her brow furrows. “So you think it will fall from Mars, too?”
“No,” the general finds his voice, and its hoarseness takes him aback. “No, it will not.”
The druid king beckons her close, and she perches gingerly on the table, scanning the board carefully. “But what would happen if it did? From all the other planets?”
Jadeite watches her move his gamepieces, yellow, then black, but his gaze rests upon a faraway board. “If the Ban closed around us…they could be doing anything behind its shield, and we’d never know it.”
“The Ban’s more for us than for them, anyway. To keep Earth from growing too strong,” Thetis continues, rattling off the cowries; probably rattling off her tutor’s lessons, as well. “But if we’re so strong, who cares? Couldn’t we just take them all over, anyway?”
A short, surprised laugh escapes Zoisite. “Aren’t we bloodthirsty. I don’t think we have to plot that far just yet. Other stars are unaccounted for. Jupiter…no one has ruled that madhouse for years, and...” he tosses his own hand, and curses. “…and I seriously doubt the crown princess of Venus is a Senshi. The lot of them mate their own brothers and sisters so often, she’s probably got all the wits of a box of hair.”
“But what lovely hair it must be,” the general teases. “And you’re jumping to conclusions, Zoi. They breed with each other to keep their bloodlines strong, their magic pure. And only the strongest takes the crown. Might be more spells in her pretty pinky finger than all the druids combined.”
A shudder goes through the younger man. “I’ll never understand such unnatural lust.” His eyes fly up, distaste locking with disquiet. “Speaking of,” he mutters indistinctly for Jadeite’s ears alone as he rises from his seat. “Your mother will be missing you, little one. I think it’s time we went back.”
She turns aquamarine eyes on the general. “Aren’t you coming, too?”
“I’ve too much business here in the capital, princess,” he deflects. “You know I’ve been gone almost a month.”
“At least let the Prince see your face, hm?” The younger general’s thin lips hook. “Who knows, if you’re especially lucky, Kunzite might have already returned, too.”
“I should’ve nailed you up on a wall when you were too puny to fight back.”
“Were we in my palace and not yours, that would sound very much like an invitation.” He watches amusedly as Jadeite drains both their cups. “But…it’s good to have you back, brother.”
He wipes his wet mouth with his knuckles. “Good to be back.”
And it is, the general thinks readily. Of course it is. He only needs to look out to the great capital winking torch by torch into twilit existence, purpling foothills beyond, and even further, untold sands hunting the horizon. All his. Could he have dreamed it?
The wicks sputter by the window, and the sun reddens in their smoke. As his eyes sting from the ash, only for a moment…all at once, the Far Eastern king can almost see bleeding sky above him, naked rock below him, and eyes burning inside him.
He’s there again, stepping onto that still land, where fire endures without wind.
But only for a moment.
…
The Moon’s long pearled the winding towers of the High Palace when they arrive. Thetis hadn’t woken even when they teleported; Jadeite shifts her weight a little over his shoulder, and feels her soft breath steady in his ear. Beside him, the druid king motions a few sleepy servants to hush, but it turns out to be unnecessary. A tall figure looms at the gate, bearing a bright lantern that illuminates all but its bearer.
The general starts immediately up the marble steps, avoiding the thorned brambles and roses on both sides. Zoisite tarries just a little longer. Any overuse of his power drains him, but they all tacitly ignore his fits of fatigue. At the top stair, Jadeite flings up a hand, blinking rapidly in sudden light, before strong arms pull Thetis from him. The younger general’s beside him now, and they incline their heads respectfully.
“Is this the state you bring my only child in?”
He manages a smile, despite his own exhaustion. “The journey must’ve tired her.”
“And us,” Zoisite’s already walking past. “So I beg you, spare us the interrogation until morning.”
Beryl laughs and tucks her daughter’s sleeping head under her chin, that their hair spills together like pooled ink. “The night is cold, and the Moon is waning. Come.”
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(just fyi, if you don't remember and are like "who the hell are these people", ramua and cyrene were both jadeite's youma. chosen at random for my amusement >_>)