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Above the lands of Gusu, there rests a dragon...
Zewu-Jun’s muzzle tilts as he watches the mortal approach.
He has been watching since the little one approached his mountain, curious at the weight of human feet upon his lands drawing him from a deep and restful slumber. His great body winding through the hillside and beneath the trees, floating feather light where the clouds lingered across the greenery. Unseen by this boy who was struggling to grow into his shoulders. His legs too long and arms awkwardly raise a sword where Zewu-Jun’s head rests at the overhang of a crystal waterfall.
“Great Zewu-Jun! I’ve come for your heart!” The boy proclaims and sap-colored eyes hold the determination of the man this child was not quite yet to become.
“I’m afraid I am still using it.” Zewu-Jun answers, his voice catches the wind and projects from the trees of his territory. Brings the little mortal’s brows to tense.
“I’m sorry.” The child speaks clearly, his entire stature barely as tall as the length of Zewu-Jun’s leg. “But I will have your heart nonetheless.”
It has been a long time since men stepped foot upon his mountain, the old tale of the dragons dying out as so too did their kind. Something Zewu-Jun does not blame a child for, but feels the ache of kin never met just as plainly as if he were witness to their demise.
“I have no intention of battling you, for you will surely die and a mother will weep for such a sad outcome.” He moves his long serpent body of pale scales and cloud-like fins. Head rising from the waters which part and return undisturbed by his motion and the boy seems awed by his size…
But not deterred.
“There are beautiful things on this mountain, perhaps find joy in their existence instead of such a dangerous task.” The boy clutches his weapon, something he is not strong enough even to properly hold. Soon, Zewu-Jun thinks, but not yet. It brings a regretful sigh to slip between teeth - razor sharp and abundant things which part with steam and face the boy. “Are you certain this is your path?”
“Yes.” The boy stands before a dragon and does not shiver, something stubborn and sweetly determined. Zewu-Jun decides he respects this child more than many who have come before, seeking the same misguided treasure of a dragon trophy.
“So be it child, but please fight well. It does not please me to kill you.”
And so Zewu-Jun coils like the serpent he is, and strikes.
…
“You are very strong for one so young.” Lan Xichen smiles as he lifts the cloth from the child’s brow, watching eyes open, weary and bruised. “Though I am afraid I still own my heart at the end.”
The boy startles, but not at the figure of black hair and a gentle smile, but at the knowledge of his body still intact. More stunned that he is alive than anything else.
“Master Serpent,” The child blinks, deciding in a moment the man he sees could be no other and, while his cheeks were bruised, there was an undeniable pink seeping through beneath the tan and gold freckles. “You did not---eat me?” He questions with strain in his voice. The injuries of his body, though not life threatening, still took their toll.
Battling a dragon was no small feat, even if one was hardly a true threat.
“I felt it would be a waste.” Lan Xichen combs fingers pale as clouds through dark hair, recalling once when he would comb his own little brother’s scales and preen his mane after too long soaking in the waters. “You fought well, but will you please surrender your desire to carve out my heart?”
The boy looks conflicted, but settles once more into fierce resolve.
“I’m sorry Great Zewu-Jun, but I must accomplish this task.” Then the child winces when he moves too suddenly, trying to pull himself from the grass.
“This one will not eat you today, but if you return stronger I may eat you then.” He smiles and does not stop the boy from rising, though he feels guilty for it. “If you return to threaten my life, I will battle you again.”
“Stronger.” The child echoes. “I will return stronger, but please fight me without hesitation. It’s only right you defend yourself.”
Then the child bows respectfully and the very wind and river sings with laughter as Zewu-Jun is pleased by the small action.
“What is your name, little warrior, so I might know my challenger properly.”
The sun is setting when the child leaves. Surviving to challenge a dragon and promising to do so again despite the broken bones and bruised body. Yet against all logic the boy looks swollen with golden pride, resolute beyond compare.
“My name is Nie Mingjue, and I will return for your heart.”
Years pass and Zewu-Jun, the serpent upon the clouded mountain, does not think of the child afterwards for long. He has lived many years and forgotten many names - so it is only natural to forget a boy with too strong of eyes who called for his death.
Until one morning he is plucking fruit and Nie Mingjue, of freckled and stubborn frame, returns.
“I see you have grown.” Lan Xichen watches the young man approach, the wind catching his own pale robes as the morning breeze greets the mortal. Twisting the ponytail of thick hair, pulled high with a bronze crown, to tangle behind broad shoulders and deep green robes. “Have you gotten stronger?”
The young one will be a fine man one day. Beginning to grow into his height, very nearly as tall as this form of Lan Xichen. His face has lost the soft curve of youth but those eyes are the same, framed in dark lashes and catching light with stars of gold. Headstrong but polite as he never once touches the great blade as he approaches. Arms before him and bowing respectfully in greeting to the dragon.
“Grand Cloud Serpent I have returned as promised.” He announces himself, Nie Mingjue’s voice on the cusp of deep if it did not crack at the edges.
“And you still desire to lay claim to my heart?” Lan Xichen asks, his own fingers trailing at the cross of his robes where beneath lay this young man’s prize. “Even though you limped down the mountain in retreat last time?”
“I’m stronger now!” He defends, childish still and looks mortified for his temper. Lan Xichen can only chuckle and the forest sighs with joy in return. “With respect, I will take your heart and return to my home victorious. I’ve trained tirelessly to fight y--”
Nie Mingjue lets out a noise of surprise when Lan Xichen tosses him a dark-colored fruit without warning. His chuckle picking up at the teenager’s perplexed and wrinkled expression.
“They are special pears.” Lan Xichen explains, turning one in his own hand in examination. “Kings once lay siege to this territory for their promise of added power and spiritual strength.”
Nie Mingjue’s thumb swipes across the pear’s flesh, curious and in wonder.
“Is that true Master Serpent?”
“Not at all!” Lan Xichen laughs sweetly and even more when the young man frowns with pink staining his cheeks. “But they taste delicious, please have one before our battle. It may be your last meal after all.”
Most men, when reminded of their mortality, should glare or return with hostility. Yet this teenager only seems to be empowered by the promise of a fight, looking quite strong in the face of the end. That same severe gleam in his eyes and the handsome face hardens with resolve.
“If that is your request, Great Zewu-Jun.” He answers, strict posture falling awkward when the dragon sweeps pale robes and sits upon the grass. Patting the space beside him, urging the mortal to join. Whether it is naivety or honor which commands the young man to agree, he does. Hesitant but obedient as he settles besides Lan Xichen and bites into the fruit without thought of tricks or poison.
Mortals like this are rare, Xichen thinks, watching with golden eyes as the young man seems to have noticed his surroundings for the first time. Gaze falling gentle towards the forest of brilliant greens and the cutting river of crystal and mist - producing its own clouds which hover cool and dense across the almost blue grass of the mountainside.
“It’s beautiful here.” Lan Xichen speaks on Nie Mingjue’s behalf. “Are you certain you wish to fight? I would let you explore this mountain instead. No mortal has walked these lands in many years, isn’t that a trophy worth taking home?”
“My apologies, Master Dragon.” Nie Mingjue frowns, lowering the half eaten fruit from his lips and keeps his gaze bowed respectfully. “But I must, and I will, and I shall be certain to give you an honorable death if I can.”
“Ah,” Lan Xichen sighs, a smile still drawn across his face as he knows this will not end for stubborn Nie Mingjue as the youth hopes. “Then I suppose, young master, we should begin.”
“Yes my lord.” Nie Mingjue agrees but takes a moment looking into the dragon’s face.
“Something the matter?”
At this Nie Mingjue flusters shyly, turning his gaze back and towards the river - brows tensing and untensing with embarrassment.
“Maybe another moment longer?” He asks. “I haven’t, um, finished my pear.” He takes a large bite to emphasize his point and almost chokes on the mouthful for his troubles.
Lan Xichen’s hand meets the broad back with gentle pats, unable to stop the amused bells of laughter at Nie Mingjue’s expense. Still a child no matter how tall it seems.
“A moment longer then.” Lan Xichen agrees with pleasure and watches the young man take smaller and smaller bites of the pear as they sit in peaceful silence.
…
“You have grown much stronger.” Zewu-Jun curls his body in a loose coil around the bandaged and defeated warrior. Listening to the fluttering heartbeat of the half conscious Nie Minjue as the pitiful groans are battled by desperate whines.
This time, unlike the last, it took effort to defeat Nie Mingjue. Not enough to cause worry, but so that the young man’s blade had managed to scrape his scales and even cut his paw as they battled. A feat any mortal should be proud of - but he finds Nie Mingjue weeps in his half-slumber. The pain of a battered body - bandaged and soothed with the waters of deep chilling caves - pained by his loss. But the pride seemed more aggrieved than anything. Zewu-Jun did not want to die, but he did watch with sadness as this young man cried in such a state. His voice weak as he rasped “ I have to be stronger. I have to be stronger.” again and again until the dragon’s muzzle pressed to the man’s shoulder. Hushing him with a hum and Lan Xichen cards fingers through bloodied hair as he did once when Nie Mingjue was a mere child.
“You will be.” He soothes, letting the young man’s weight fall to his lap, letting blood stain his white robes and tracing the frown from a youthful face with cold fingertips. “One day you will be an admirable warrior, one day your men will follow and your people will adore you.”
Pained sounds rise sharply and a dragon’s magic is precious and unfit for mortals - but still he wishes he could share it with this young soldier. Ease away the hurt with even a meager scrap of himself.
“But you must stop trying to kill me, or you will not live to see such a wonderful day.” Lan Xichen wishes his words were law, wishes he could press the order into this young mortal’s head and end the obsession with this dragon’s heart.
“I can’t.” Nie Mingjue strains through his words. Tears fall without shame down a freckled cheek like the celestial heavens yet still he manages to smile through the hurt. “You’re the only dragon. There are no more.”
Lan Xichen lets those words be the last spoken between them for now, stroking through dark hair and down where blood has stained Nie Mingjue’s throat. Wiping tears with his sleeves and feeling for the first time in many years - a sense of remorse.
“I will not enjoy hurting you.” He whispers to the sleeping man, fingers tracing a jaw that will grow sharper in the years to come. Petting thick brows that will only straighten and look fine against the handsome face.
The young man flinches in his sleep and calls out a name with worry. A nightmare? Perhaps. Lan Xichen summons the trees to sing this man a song to sleep - to ease his feverish spirit and dismisses any selfish thoughts.
…
This time Nie Mingjue does not leave by evening. His injuries great and he spends three days sleeping, the cave waters healing a mortal better than any human doctor, and Lan Xichen stays at his side - or curled around him through the worst.
When this man walks again Lan Xichen almost feels sorry for it - his mountain beautiful but lonely and it had been nice to recall what the sound of another’s sleeping breath was like.
“Great Zewu-Jun, once again you’ve spared my life.” He bows and Zewu-Jun’s maw produces a deep noise of concern at the pain he sees flutter across the mortal’s face.
“You are not healed.” He speaks, his voice encircles the young man and Nie Mingjue smiles with regret. “You should remain here until you are fit to return home.”
“There is someone waiting for me.” Nie Mingjue says, a tilt in his voice where there is happiness at the thought of this person.
A dragon feels envy for such a thing.
“Then go - and should you return -”
“I will have your heart, Zewu-Jun.” Nie Mingjue proclaims without arrogance or anger in his words. “There is no other way.”
A great dragon nods as he stands twisting through the mountains, watching a mortal, and feels a strange pull against his heart as he goes.
Nie Mingjue returns every few years for battle.
Each visit he is stronger, older, more handsome than last.
He is first invited to share a meal with the dragon of the clouded mountain, and he always accepts. The years gave him more confidence, engaging in conversation with the guardian of these hills and rivers. Bringing food from his home to share with his host, and stories to give as well.
Each year Lan Xichen finds his thoughts consumed with a mortal’s voice and the gold in a mortal’s eyes more often than not. Even his deep slumbers give no reprieve as he imagines Nie Mingjue, the growing warrior, stepping through the trees and casting aside his foolish mission…
As the years grow, so too does Nie Mingjue who is noble and refined in ways similar to his intricate saber. He stands taller than Lan Xichen one day and though his true form is great - the dragon leans into the mortal’s shadow and delights in the way he can always draw the shy flush from the man’s face.
Nie Mingjue tells of Qinghe, of the steel forge of his ancestors, of the soldiers under his command and...after years...of a little brother. Adored. Cherished. Lan Xichen knows that feeling, forever missing his brother who has taken to wandering this plane beyond Xichen’s reach.
“Is your little brother like you?” He asks, fixing the bandages across Nie Mingjue’s chest which are now scarred with Zewu-Jun’s teeth and claws over these years. The sight feels like a claim.
“No.” The man says with tension, and Lan Xichen finds he is unable to stop himself from holding the mortal’s shoulder in comfort. Wondering what it might be like to rest his cheek against Nie Mingjue’s back. “I will never let him be like me.”
Sometimes, Zewu-Jun stands at the mossy arches of his territory where the fog is dense and the forest quiet. Digs claws into the stone beneath and waits for this man to return. For days, for months. Finding few greater joys than the mornings where there are footsteps on his mountain again. The weight of man both tall and broad and gleaming gold in his regal stance. A face which smiles muted and forever awkward as the boy who climbed the mountain to battle a dragon. Letting the sunlight catch his face and ignite freckles and eyes a brilliant bronze in Lan Xichen’s gaze.
But it never lasts.
This fleeting joy smolders when they battle - his Nie Mingjue having grown strong. Powerful. Beginning to almost feel a challenge to Zewu-Jun who only harms the man enough to render him useless in healing for days. Bent but not broken - so that he might stay longer in recovery before eventually leaving.
This precious time where Lan Xichen can rest Nie Mingjue’s head in his lap and play him music from an ebony flute. Bring songs to still a restless mind...feeling an urge growing in the darkest crevice of his nature. Something ancient and long-since swallowed down with a swell of fear many years ago.
“You could stay here.”
“No, I cannot.”
“You will always be welcome in these lands.”
“...and I will always return to you.” (to battle to kill to fight for a heart ) These moments constantly pluck the strings of a desire of his kind, to keep . To hoard.
Zewu-Jun considers this, that Nie Mingjue would be immortal here on his mountains. He would never age, never grow sick, and never want for anything…
Yet every time Lan Xichen lets Nie Mingjue leave him on their lonely mountain, with no other joy than to wait for his return.
“I do not want to kill you.” Lan Xichen stands before his warrior many years after their first battle. There is rain like tears a dragon cannot shed and the storm soaks through only Nie Mingjue. His mortal king, his bronze and green warrior who returns year after year only to leave once taking more than a dragon thought they should give. “Please, do not make me hurt you anymore.”
He begs because it’s killing him to break this man, to smile in the mornings and bite in the evenings. To hold him only in battle and never with gentle hands when the damage is over and a dragon must try and undo the violence he’s done.
Lan Xichen does not want to die.
But he will not stop Nie Mingjue from trying to kill him.
“Is my death such a trophy? Can’t you take anything else?”
For the first time there is hesitation in this warrior’s stance, a fracture in the way Nie Mingjue holds his saber like the very weapon scorches his touch.
“Zewu-Jun, you don’t understand.” Nie Mingjue’s voice is so deep now it feels like it was molded from the earth - this very man feels like he was carved from stone and sunlight and meant to belong to Lan Xichen.
“There is no other way ?” He finishes the words, having heard them many times and never once understanding their meaning. Perhaps a rite of passage, a task given? He does not know, only that Nie Mingjue will not tell him more.
“My heart will be broken before you have a chance to cut it from me.” Dragons cannot cry but the storm does it’s part to drip rain down his cheeks as he approaches. Nie Mingjue overshadows him, taller now and fully grown and Lan Xichen cannot douse the pride he feels looking at this man. Beautiful, strong, His , regardless of their paths.
“Lord Serpent,” He tries but his voice is struck silent as Lan Xichen shakes his head and dares to touch the heavy wrist. Fingers light as they trail the seams of gauntlets. Finding familiar scars against a warm hand clutching a hungry blade.
“So then cut it from me before it breaks.” He smiles as he did when they first met, as he did when they kept meeting and as he does because Nie Mingjues face only brings him happiness. Joy to know this man exists in this world and that Lan Xichen was able to know him. “If it will make you happy - take it. I won’t fight.”
“Zewu-Jun!”
“Please,” Lan Xichen holds his chin high and thinks the rain is not the only one crying. “Let me do this for you.”
Lan Xichen does not want to die.
But he will if it means he no longer has to hurt this man.
Mortal lips are rough and warm as Nie Mingjue kisses him.
The saber is dropped to the ancient grass with a dull sound. Hands bitten with scars and calluses cradles Lan Xichen’s face and there is a moment where a dragon is lost for thought. So many years alive, and not one moment of his time has served to prepare him for this feeling - this brittle chill which bursts into sparks across his chest and leaves him faltering at the touch of a mortal’s lips.
“I can’t.” Nie Mingjue says, his voice sounding broken while hands shake against Lan Xinchen’s jaw. Tender for a swordsman, for one who has threatened to kill Lan Xichen from the day they met. “I can’t hurt you…”
“You don’t have to.” He answers, a smile curling against Nie Mingjue’s lips where they still remain close. The tears which spill from the other’s eyes are silver in the storm and Lan Xichen swipes at them with his thumb as he kisses Nie Mingjue in return.
…
When Nie Mingjue must leave it is with a dragon’s struggle against the desire to never let him go.
But Lan Xichen does, peppering the man in kisses and holding him close as if the days spent together were not enough. Never satisfied now that he is able to claim what he’s desired for so long. Pleased at the weight of Nie Mingjue’s hands at his waist, the man’s dry mouth against his own as they struggle to part.
He promises to return and Lan Xichen believes him.
“My brother needs me.” His warrior explained, almost desperate one night. “ I can’t be away too long, there’s something I must do first.”
“You are always welcome in these lands.”
“And I will return to them, to you.” His mortal vowed then - kissing him through the night and holding him through the days they had left.
Lan Xichen understands, though it hurts, and Nie Mingjue’s touch falls from his hand as they finally part. Leaving fingertips extended in empty air as the other walks away with a promise to return as soon as he can.
“I love you.” Nie Mingjue called back suddenly, looking resolute and determined as he did the first day they met. A small thing facing an impossible force as he yells again. “ I love you!”
And Lan Xichen will gladly wait to hear that voice again.
Two months are not easy to wait, but he does.
Seven months is worse.
A year feels wrong.
Two is unbearable.
Yet he waits.
Digs claws into the earth and stands guard for his beloved mortal.
Five years is no time for a dragon.
Zewu-Jun has slept for longer, he has swam rivers of his mountain for longer and five years should be nothing for him to wait.
But five years are agonizing as he stands at the peak of his territory, waiting for the sound of a man’s steps upon his lands. For a voice to call through the trees and return Nie Mingjue to him.
It takes five years before mortal steps brush the edges of his mountain and Zewu-Jun sinks into the mossy stones of his lands, knowing those steps do not belong to his beloved.
“Great Zewu-Jun.” This young man has the same dark hair, the same golden freckled eyes and cheeks of Nie Mingjue. Though his features are curved in youth and softness that his brother shed years before - this young Nie sibling bows with the same respect. The same reverence to the dragon as claws the color of ivory falls lax against brutal stone.
“He is not returning to me.” The dragon knows before the young man can say. Seeing the red tear stains imprinted on this mortal’s cheeks and a haunted look of losing the one you love.
“Our family is cursed, Master Serpent.” The shivering boy speaks with elegance straining to conceal heartbreak. “Our ancestors wove their hearts to terrible things, and it consumes us in the end. Our father died when I was very young and passed the curse onto my elder brother.”
Zewu-Jun thinks of a determined child climbing a mountain of clouds to battle a dragon, unshakeable in the face of peril.
“We were told a dragon’s heart could heal our bloodline, and da ge…tried for many years to defeat you for this purpose and this purpose alone.” The young Nie son bows again, shoulders shaking at his words.
“He never-” Lan Xichen’s knees sink into the grass, hands pale and cold clutching at robes of silk and fridge cloud as his heart is torn apart. “How did he--”
“He returned five years ago determined to find another way - but the curse took him faster the more he fought to seek a cure.” Tears drip from eyes so similar to Nie Mingjue’s and Lan xichen suffers from the sight.
“I did not know.” Dragons cannot cry but Lan Xichen would strip himself of every scale, of the sky swimming through his veins, for the chance to weep. “I did not know, I would have-” Died? Yes. Lan Xichen would have died to save him.
“He wouldn’t want to have you die out of pity.” The little Nie’s voice breaks at this truth. “Da ge was stubborn and prideful, but he would not want that most of all! He spoke so fondly of you and--” The young brother is crying now, freely and scrubbing a fine sleeve at his tears. (he weeps like Nie Mingjue, without shame.) The hurt shared, the loss unbearable, and a dragon rests his hands on the mortal’s shoulders. Looking at this child whom Nie Mingjue adored - who Nie Mingjue did all in his power to try and save. “We will not bother you again! This curse will die with me, I am sorry my Lord.”
Lan Xichen’s lips touch the boy’s brow and he feels the mortal tense and fall silent under his touch.
“My heart was already his.” He speaks against the boy’s hair, to comfort Nie Mingjue’s brother as that is what his beloved would want him to do.
“Zewu-Jun?”
“And I shall give it to you on his behalf.”
“Lord Serpent!”
Lan Xichen hushes the young man, presses a palm to his freckled cheek still damp with tears, and he wears a smile because dragons cannot cry - but they can make choices for those they might weep for.
He reaches in and pulls out his heart from his chest, a material of smooth, pale jade and chilling touch. Veins of bronze have crept their way in and Lan Xichen chuckles at the sight. Dreaming of gold in the sunlight of Nie Mingjue’s eyes as he presses the heart into the cradle of this young man’s palms, thinking of his own little brother somewhere in the world. Knowing he would do the same to protect him…
Lan Xichen holds the boy until he stops crying, petting through his hand as he once did for Nie Mingjue, wiping tears from his cheeks and smiling for him with a promise that this is what he wants.
“When it is spent, please bury it where Nie Mingjue rests.” He speaks as the Nie brother sets to return home, a quiver in his tone as his mountain feels the change and the wind sings a mournful song through their ancient trees. “I would like to be reunited with him someday.”
“I promise.” Nie Huaisang says, moving down the very path his brother took when last Lan Xichen saw him. Nie Mingue, his brilliant face turned back, renewed with purpose and adoration as his beloved yelled I love you as a promise the dragon did not comprehend until now.
“I love you.” Lan Xichen speaks to the wind, wishing he’d said it before when he had the man in his arms.
I love you , the last words of the Great Zewu-Jun.
Above the lands of Qinghe Nie, there flies a dragon.
A great and fearsome beast who soars above the territories, or slips unseen through the treacherous mountain passes. Some say it was summoned there as the great sect lord freed itself from a malignant curse, others claim it is the return of a former ruler. A noble leader who won the respect of a dragon as his last great deed - and as such the people of the ancient territory protect this creature as sacred to their lands.
The Beast of Qinghe Nie.
Who waits for the return of one made from clouds and wind-song.
Eager to return a heart given years before.
And to share his own.