fic, 12K, "The Song of Everlasting Joy"
In which the Han contingent do what they do best. Many thanks to pengiesama for emergency sanity check.
Warnings: not safe for work, see also NOT APPROPRIATE
* * *
The Song of Everlasting Joy
"'The king's mighty weapon thrust between ready curves of flesh, unerring in its plunge toward the rosy chrysanthemum bud. Overcome with heat as he felt his lord storming the Forbidden Gate, the slender young kokki arched backward to hasten the sweet invasion. A cry like that of a dove flushed from the grass escaped his trembling lips. His entire body, nay, his entire being throbbed with divine ecstasy as he and his master were at last joined into one'--is what I have so far, but it's still a work in progress." Risetsu lowered her writing brush and surveyed the page with a critical air. "Is it too florid? I should hate to be guilty of purple prose."
"Purple is a lovely color, my dear," said Ranjou. "It sets off your eyes."
She made a darling little moue. "Please, do be honest! How else am I to improve?"
"Very well," Ranjou said briskly, "I shall be brutal. 'Rosy' and 'chrysanthemum' one after another is too much. One begins to think the poor thing has a garden growing in his derrière. You must choose one flower or the other."
"Oh! Of course you're right. How silly of me." She dipped her brush in ink and crossed out one of the two.
"And 'divine ecstasy'--is that not perhaps excessive for a first breach of the Forbidden Gate?"
"Poetic license," declared Risetsu. "And it would be divine, in any case--after all, he is a kirin."
"Touché." Smiling, Ranjou took up another document and applied his royal seal to it with impeccable flair. The tedium of the task would have been dire without Risetsu and her clever diversions. But he was hardly finished yet. "There was one other thing."
She waited, bright and expectant. He plucked the brush from her hands, struck out the name of the king she had written obliquely at the head of the page, and wrote his own in its place.
Risetsu shrieked.
"You don't think it's an improvement? Never mind, then. How dreadful of me, my hand must have slipped."
Her cheeks were flaming red. Ranjou was pleased to think he could still scandalize her after all these years. "Your Majesty would never!" she exclaimed.
"Of course not, silly creature, he's far too docile for my taste." Never mind all the other reasons it was impossible. He returned the brush to Risetsu's keeping and resumed his chore. "Boys are charming, and he is a charming boy, but for the sort of tableau in that tale of yours one wants a man."
Risetsu's expression turned canny. She raised her brush as if it were the ultimate weapon of feminine wiles. "Perhaps I should compose a different idyll? One with Your Majesty in the leading role?"
How innovative, Ranjou thought. How dashing--but when was she not? "Perhaps you should," he agreed, "but you mustn't abandon this one. I insist on hearing the rest."
*
"I have made revisions," she announced, as they settled down some days later for another documentary rendezvous. "After consultation with my ladies-in-waiting."
Amused, Ranjou folded back his sleeves. It took a moment before he was satisfied with the adjusted draping. "And what was their advice?"
"They were keen to hear more of what the king in question looked like--which of course is only natural, considering they've never seen him, but I hadn't thought of it because I have seen him, and I'd given only the barest sketch."
"So I take it you've 'fleshed out' your portrayal?"
"Oh yes." She tittered. "If I may?"
"By all means." Ranjou brandished his seal, pressed it in ink, and prepared to stamp.
"This is from a bit earlier in the scene. Ahem. 'As he entered the bedchamber the king cast off his black-and-crimson robes of state, letting them fall where they might across the floor. Long winters of hardship and the struggle to retake his throne from a usurper's foul clutches had honed his body to lean but luscious muscular perfection. The scars that adorned it were but paeans to his fierceness and his triumphs in battles past. Pale hair streamed about his shoulders, as unbound as his anticipation of the night to come. Already his august manhood stood rampant, flushed and roused to its full height, as proud and noble of bearing as the general he once had been. His incarnadine eyes flared with the fires of rising ardor as he reached to draw open the curtains of the royal bed.'"
She paused for a sip of orange blossom tea.
"Exquisite," said Ranjou. "But I expected no less. You declaim with such conviction, Risetsu, I begin to think you must have observed that portion of his personage, too."
"Is it convincing? I did hope so!"
"Entirely. I am quite distracted." He set down the seal, drew out his fan, and began to wave it as if to cool himself. "Isn't it warm in here?"
She laughed with delight.
*
The next week, when Risetsu appeared with a scroll clutched to her breast as though it were the new crown jewel of Han, Ranjou abandoned all pretense of desk work. She pranced to his side.
"Your Majesty will never guess what I have," she said radiantly, "so I shan't make you."
With a flourish she unrolled the scroll across the table before him. It was a scene from the "Song of Everlasting Joy" (as she called her chef-d'œuvre), now illustrated.
Illustrated in vivid detail.
"Gracious," said Ranjou. "Now that is art."
"It's all their doing--my ladies-in-waiting--they quite took it upon themselves! Two of them are brilliant painters, and the rest did the calligraphy, and it was all done in secret to surprise me--I hadn't the least idea!" She braced a hand against her cheek, overcome. "They are really too good."
"They are just as good as they should be," Ranjou corrected, "for adoring you." Impressive as the illustrations were, it was the lines of text beside them that caught his eye. The passage was unfamiliar, an excerpt from her latest draft. He read:
The young kirin felt his master's presence surround him, felt the king's essence fill the deepest hollows of his body and heal the aching wounds of his soul. It was what he had always yearned for, what the cruel years of their separation had long denied him. Heaven had destined them for one another, but the whirlwind storms of fate had torn them apart. Now at last they were truly united. His tears soaked the pillow until the king asked in a low whisper: My heart, what is this sorrow? The kirin gasped in answer: It is not sorrow, my lord, but--
"Your Majesty?"
She was blinking at him with her great lovely eyes, wondering at his silence. He reached to clasp her hand between his own; it was the nearest he could come, alas, to blessed union. "Your eloquence leaves me speechless, my dear," he said.
She preened and dimpled. They gazed down at the outrageous scroll together.
"What do you think," he asked her at last. "Shall we commission your ladies to paint the rest?"
* * *
Warnings: not safe for work, see also NOT APPROPRIATE
* * *
The Song of Everlasting Joy
"'The king's mighty weapon thrust between ready curves of flesh, unerring in its plunge toward the rosy chrysanthemum bud. Overcome with heat as he felt his lord storming the Forbidden Gate, the slender young kokki arched backward to hasten the sweet invasion. A cry like that of a dove flushed from the grass escaped his trembling lips. His entire body, nay, his entire being throbbed with divine ecstasy as he and his master were at last joined into one'--is what I have so far, but it's still a work in progress." Risetsu lowered her writing brush and surveyed the page with a critical air. "Is it too florid? I should hate to be guilty of purple prose."
"Purple is a lovely color, my dear," said Ranjou. "It sets off your eyes."
She made a darling little moue. "Please, do be honest! How else am I to improve?"
"Very well," Ranjou said briskly, "I shall be brutal. 'Rosy' and 'chrysanthemum' one after another is too much. One begins to think the poor thing has a garden growing in his derrière. You must choose one flower or the other."
"Oh! Of course you're right. How silly of me." She dipped her brush in ink and crossed out one of the two.
"And 'divine ecstasy'--is that not perhaps excessive for a first breach of the Forbidden Gate?"
"Poetic license," declared Risetsu. "And it would be divine, in any case--after all, he is a kirin."
"Touché." Smiling, Ranjou took up another document and applied his royal seal to it with impeccable flair. The tedium of the task would have been dire without Risetsu and her clever diversions. But he was hardly finished yet. "There was one other thing."
She waited, bright and expectant. He plucked the brush from her hands, struck out the name of the king she had written obliquely at the head of the page, and wrote his own in its place.
Risetsu shrieked.
"You don't think it's an improvement? Never mind, then. How dreadful of me, my hand must have slipped."
Her cheeks were flaming red. Ranjou was pleased to think he could still scandalize her after all these years. "Your Majesty would never!" she exclaimed.
"Of course not, silly creature, he's far too docile for my taste." Never mind all the other reasons it was impossible. He returned the brush to Risetsu's keeping and resumed his chore. "Boys are charming, and he is a charming boy, but for the sort of tableau in that tale of yours one wants a man."
Risetsu's expression turned canny. She raised her brush as if it were the ultimate weapon of feminine wiles. "Perhaps I should compose a different idyll? One with Your Majesty in the leading role?"
How innovative, Ranjou thought. How dashing--but when was she not? "Perhaps you should," he agreed, "but you mustn't abandon this one. I insist on hearing the rest."
*
"I have made revisions," she announced, as they settled down some days later for another documentary rendezvous. "After consultation with my ladies-in-waiting."
Amused, Ranjou folded back his sleeves. It took a moment before he was satisfied with the adjusted draping. "And what was their advice?"
"They were keen to hear more of what the king in question looked like--which of course is only natural, considering they've never seen him, but I hadn't thought of it because I have seen him, and I'd given only the barest sketch."
"So I take it you've 'fleshed out' your portrayal?"
"Oh yes." She tittered. "If I may?"
"By all means." Ranjou brandished his seal, pressed it in ink, and prepared to stamp.
"This is from a bit earlier in the scene. Ahem. 'As he entered the bedchamber the king cast off his black-and-crimson robes of state, letting them fall where they might across the floor. Long winters of hardship and the struggle to retake his throne from a usurper's foul clutches had honed his body to lean but luscious muscular perfection. The scars that adorned it were but paeans to his fierceness and his triumphs in battles past. Pale hair streamed about his shoulders, as unbound as his anticipation of the night to come. Already his august manhood stood rampant, flushed and roused to its full height, as proud and noble of bearing as the general he once had been. His incarnadine eyes flared with the fires of rising ardor as he reached to draw open the curtains of the royal bed.'"
She paused for a sip of orange blossom tea.
"Exquisite," said Ranjou. "But I expected no less. You declaim with such conviction, Risetsu, I begin to think you must have observed that portion of his personage, too."
"Is it convincing? I did hope so!"
"Entirely. I am quite distracted." He set down the seal, drew out his fan, and began to wave it as if to cool himself. "Isn't it warm in here?"
She laughed with delight.
*
The next week, when Risetsu appeared with a scroll clutched to her breast as though it were the new crown jewel of Han, Ranjou abandoned all pretense of desk work. She pranced to his side.
"Your Majesty will never guess what I have," she said radiantly, "so I shan't make you."
With a flourish she unrolled the scroll across the table before him. It was a scene from the "Song of Everlasting Joy" (as she called her chef-d'œuvre), now illustrated.
Illustrated in vivid detail.
"Gracious," said Ranjou. "Now that is art."
"It's all their doing--my ladies-in-waiting--they quite took it upon themselves! Two of them are brilliant painters, and the rest did the calligraphy, and it was all done in secret to surprise me--I hadn't the least idea!" She braced a hand against her cheek, overcome. "They are really too good."
"They are just as good as they should be," Ranjou corrected, "for adoring you." Impressive as the illustrations were, it was the lines of text beside them that caught his eye. The passage was unfamiliar, an excerpt from her latest draft. He read:
The young kirin felt his master's presence surround him, felt the king's essence fill the deepest hollows of his body and heal the aching wounds of his soul. It was what he had always yearned for, what the cruel years of their separation had long denied him. Heaven had destined them for one another, but the whirlwind storms of fate had torn them apart. Now at last they were truly united. His tears soaked the pillow until the king asked in a low whisper: My heart, what is this sorrow? The kirin gasped in answer: It is not sorrow, my lord, but--
"Your Majesty?"
She was blinking at him with her great lovely eyes, wondering at his silence. He reached to clasp her hand between his own; it was the nearest he could come, alas, to blessed union. "Your eloquence leaves me speechless, my dear," he said.
She preened and dimpled. They gazed down at the outrageous scroll together.
"What do you think," he asked her at last. "Shall we commission your ladies to paint the rest?"
* * *