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It's not a secret that Beidou's first love is the sea, and that the grass is green, and that Ningguang only wears gold-colored things because it makes her feel lavish. It’s not a secret what Beidou likes and what Beidou wears. Ningguang knows then, that Beidou cares little for jewellery. Ningguang is the one who appreciates these things. She likes the finery of dot-sized noctilucous jade meticulously hand-sewn into an evening gown, and the intricate, carefully painted lines of a Xigu teacup.
Ningguang likes these things. Fine jewellery. She’s the one who got it made, pulled Beidou aside just to put it on her.
"What is this?"
The stone is warm, and simple. Teardrop-sized with wings spread out on the point, a firefly ready to take flight. Ningguang fastens the tiny clasp on the back of Beidou's neck, and her fingers brush bare skin.
Beidou cannot suppress the shiver even if she wants to.
"A necklace," Ningguang says, combing Beidou's hair back so that they fall where they're supposed to be. She ties Beidou’s sash around her head gently, careful not to aggravate Beidou’s bad eye too much. The barely-there strokes of her fingers are maddening. Beidou would rather she pull on the fabric.
"It's cor lapis," Ningguang explains.
"I'm aware."
"The petals are made out of crystalfly wings," Ningguang goes on, shifting away from Beidou. She closes her jewellery box noisily behind them. Beidou sees it often, the black one with red flowers licking at the sides. It's where Ningguang keeps her very first diamond, and the old, worn out comb her mother gave her. "It's enchanted, so it won't fall off."
Beidou fingers the stone, clutches and uncluthes it with her fist. She can't find it in her to turn around and face Ningguang properly. So she stays where she is, sitting in front of Ningguang on a small step. It makes her feel not unlike a little girl, being fitted with golden earrings she would inherit once she comes of age.
None of that, now. Nothing like that for Beidou. Not anymore.
"It's nice," she says, "thanks."
"You're welcome."
She doesn't need to see Ningguang to hear the amusement in her voice, or know its sentiment echoed in the smile on her face. Ningguang tucks Beidou's hair behind her ear, and the crinkle of her new bracelet, the one that matches Beidou’s new necklace, rings loud in Beidou’s ear, rushing like the waterfalls of Stone Gate.
"Don't lose it," Ningguang says, Beidou's hair slipping between the gaps of her fingers. She would braid it if she could, but Beidou doesn't let her. "I expect it in one piece when you come back."
"Yes, mother hen."
Ningguang's hands travel down, and settle on her bare shoulders, squeezing. They're warm, and the weight of them reminds Beidou of last night. Of Ningguang's mean grip on her hips. Long fingers inside her.
Against her own wish, Beidou feels her cheeks warm.
"I mean it," Ningguang leans forward, murmurs the words onto the crown of Beidou’s head, her long arms come to envelop Beidou’s neck in a half-hug. She’s warm, and soft, all over.
"Come back safe," she says.
Beidou sighs, rests a hand on Ningguang’s bare elbow. Her skin is smooth and flawless. It doesn’t speak of her experience in battle, nor her hardships in life. “No promises, princess.”
“Try,” Ningguang insists, “for me.”
The sun is already low in the west when Beidou leaves Ningguang’s palace. Her steps are unwavering as she makes her way to the Crux. Beidou sets sail with a new necklace, and another spoken contract on the tip of her tongue.
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It stays on her mind. Ningguang's knowing eyes, her mischievous smile, weeks after she's left the warmth of Ningguang's bed and the scent of her perfume behind. It all stays in her mind, cor lapis and crystalflies.
You can find golden crystalflies where cor lapis are. Beidou encounters more than a few in her journey. She looks for them, now, automatically. Like a tic she can't shake off. They draw her eyes and her mind away, and remind her of the scent of tobacco and mint and a little bit of glaze lilies. It reminds her of smoke curling around a delicate nose, of strawberry-blonde hair glittering under the sunlight, and smart eyes glinting like the trail of stardust they leave behind.
She looks for them, now. The heart of the stone and the angels that follow.
Beidou has always learned a lot, like this. Just looking. She learned how to navigate open oceans looking at the stars in the sky. How to mend a broken mast by looking at helmsmen work.
She learns the enchantment of Ningguang's fingers while watching her work, their careful traipses on Ningguang's golden hoop, legs kicked back on the table in one of Ningguang's many pavilions. Ningguang only ever does embroidery when the sun is out. When the cicadas chirrup and the heat swelters in the summer. She could make a whole set of tablecloths if she put her mind to it, or if Beidou visits enough that Ningguang has no choice but to set aside her Tianquan work and loiter around eating peanuts and sipping tea with her. Until the sun comes down and Beidou has to leave for her ship.
Often Beidou doesn’t leave. Often Beidou stays the night, and goes back in the morning. Often Beidou gets a little bit more of Ningguang’s precious time set aside just for her each time.
You see, Beidou learns these things, and then some.
Beidou learns she cares for Ningguang, from the way she herself looks for crystalflies in her travels, and the way she thinks of Ningguang, even in her deathbed.
“Captain--” Kazuha gasps, looming over her. The view of him blurs in her vision. Beidou does not know if she’s crying, or if it’s the blood loss.
“Captain--shit--” Kazuha presses on the wound on her stomach. Excruciating pain shoots through her entire body. Beidou coughs weakly, she tries to lift up a finger, but no strength comes to her arms. Beidou lets her eyes slip shut.
“Shit, fuck, Juza - gege! ”
She distantly registers the cacophony of noises around her. It wasn’t Haishan that took her, after all. A meager sea-dragon. That’s what it’ll be.
Her mind flashes back to a summer, somewhen they were younger. One of the days she got Ningguang to ditch a day’s worth of work in favor of making out under the sun. Her kisses tasted like ripe cherries, and she was warm and soft, all over. Morax had still been alive, then. And Ningguang hadn’t been so caught up in her affairs as Tianquan, had more time to be lax with herself, to chase after Beidou’s lips and sneak her hands under Beidou’s skirt.
More men surround her. It smells like blood and body-odor here, mixed with the fishy smell of the sea and dragon-entrails. Beidou grins, snickers a little to herself. The only way the captain of a pirate ship is supposed to go.
“Juza,” Beidou rattles out. Coughs. Her tongue is heavy, she doesn’t have much time left.
“Captain, shut the fuck up.”
Beidou wants to laugh, but what comes out is more hacking and coughing, somebody props her up on their arms. Beidou opens her eyes to her men’s worried faces, stained with blood themselves but they don’t seem to register it. Fine men, these are. The best men Beidou has ever known. They’ve sailed the open seas together, and they would lay down their lives for her, as she would for them.
And it's often said that Beidou's soul is the sea, and her heart is her men; it's often said that Ningguang doesn't have one (that’s a lie). Beidou remembers the silly little crystalflies. For something so decidedly unremarkable they may still yet hold some value in this world. After all, they die and leave a gem behind, that’s far more than Beidou can offer. When she dies, she’ll leave an open wound behind, and a love unrecognized because women are foolish, and Beidou, even if she is a seamen, is a woman first. And they are, just fools, Beidou thinks. A mogul at her zenith and a monster-slaying pirate trying a chance at love. Beidou would have a better chance of slaying Haishan twice.
Beidou coughs. Ningguang--yes, Ningguang. Ningguang should know that women of the sea are shit at keeping their word.
“Juza,” Beidou rasps out again, she doesn’t have much time. She thinks of golden hair and amber eyes, of red lips wrapped around the end of a pipe. Cool days spent together around a clove-smelling hearth and warm days spent under the shade of an oak tree. Ningguang was always so warm and soft all over, and she smelt like glaze lilies. Beidou loves her.
“Send my love to the tianquan,” she says, “tell her--” a cough, another splatter of blood. “Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”
Beidou loves the open sky and the deep blue. Loves the scent of drying wood in the sun, of sunlight-hardened linen and warmed wine left out on the deck for too long. She loves wielding greatswords, and fights sea-beasts for fun. Beidou loves her Ningguang, too, and that was a part of her, one that she would leave in the world when she passes.
Beidou takes one, last rattling breath in, and closes her eyes. In the middle of the sea, she thinks of her beloved, and succumbs to the darkness.
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There are glaze lilies in the corner of the room, and the blue of them is so pretty. They only ever bloom at night, and Beidou rarely touches ground enough to appreciate them. Nights on dry land are spent inside Ningguang’s chambers, locked away until morning comes. Moonlight streams in through the small gaps on the upper parts of the wall, now, sliding gently over the petals of the flower. It’s pretty, in a delicate, ethereal way. Glaze lilies are meant for the eternal, according to the legends.
“You’re awake,” a soft voice calls out.
Beidou can’t lift her head so she moves her eyes; Ningguang’s familiar silhouette appears in the doorway, but more gaunt, thinner.
“You’re awake,” the same voice trembles, and then Ningguang is rushing towards her, desperation in the widening of her eyes as she cradles Beidou close. “You’re awake! Thank Rex Lapis, you’re awake! Oh my love, oh love, oh god, oh god--”
Ningguang buries her face in Beidou’s hair, hugging her close. Her small shoulders shake, small hiccups and sobs wracking through her.
“We waited--days--Adeptus Xiao brought you here and--and--the traveller’s friend--” Ningguang blubbers on, her arms tightening around Beidou with every half-sentence she garbles out.
Her jumbled words peter out eventually, and Ningguang quiets down, sobbing quietly into Beidou’s shoulder.
It’s a sight, the Tianquan crying because of you. Beidou thought she had no great sins; she was wrong. To make Ningguang lose her composure, Beidou will face curses seven generations forward for this.
Ningguang pulls away, eventually, and the sight of Ningguang’s tear-stricken face is enough to have Beidou wishing for death all over again. Ningguang helps her to sit up properly, props her up on her soft pillows.
Beidou breathes shallowly afterwards; sweat beading at her forehead. Moving this much is hard for her. From wielding greatswords to this. She feels her recovery process loom over her. Heavy on her shoulders.
Ningguang smiles at her, though, holding her hand, and Beidou feels all her worries dissipate. Ningguang looks at her fondly, like Beidou deserves it.
Ningguang giggles, making a show of wiping her own tears. “God, you’re such a--” she sighs, shakes her head. She squeezes Beidou’s hand. “You’re awake, that's all that matters.”
Beidou tries to grin, she wants to crack a joke but no strength comes to her to speak, already she is exhausted from being awake for so long.
“Are you sleepy?” Ningguang asks, her smile fond, still.
Beidou nods, and Ningguang chuckles. “I’ll see you in the morning then, love.” She cradles Beidou’s face with one gentle palm, and leans forward to give Beidou a kiss on the cheek. Beidou worries, for a moment, for the delicate senses of her lover. She doesn’t know what she smells like, but considering she’s under Ningguang’s care, she figures she can’t be that bad. Besides she missed this, Ningguang’s lips on her face, Ningguang’s heat on her body, the scent of glaze lilies.
Beidou closes her eyes, and breathes in.
When they part, Ningguang doesn’t go immediately. Instead, she stays, staring at Beidou. Her hand trails down to Beidou’s shoulder, caressing gently around her neck. Ningguang fingers the necklace still around Beidou’s neck. It survived, Beidou realizes. The sea, the dragon, Beidou’s almost-death, and Ningguang’s tears. Through them all, it survived.
“This is in one piece, at least,” Ningguang murmurs, “consider your promise is kept.”
Beidou wants to laugh, but what she manages is a soft snort, and another grin. “For you,” Beidou garbles out. Her voice is rough and unused, and it hurts to speak. She lets out a hacking cough, one that makes her bend forward, and shakes her entire body with it.
Ningguang is quick to offer her a glass of water, patiently pressing the rim of the glass on Beidou’s lips. Beidou manages a couple of small sips, sagging against the pillows again once she’s done drinking. She’s completely spent now, and she will fall asleep soon. She struggles against it, though. She wants to gaze at Ningguang just a little bit longer, look at the stars in her eyes just a while more.
Ningguang frets about while Beidou dozes, already in and out of consciousness despite the short time she was awake. Her whole body hurts now that she realizes it, and she gives up. She would rather be asleep for the knitting of her organs back together than be awake.
Ningguang settles beside her after what seems like a long while, her cool fingers carding Beidou’s hair easily.
“Never do that again,” Ningguang murmurs. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Beidou grins weakly, wants to challenge that with a smart quip but sleep is already pulling her under. Ningguang’s eyes remind her of crystalflies, shining in the darkness. Through the haze of sleep Beidou finally realizes what those bugs really mean. Come home , it says, wherever I am , it says.
Beidou will, from now on. She will always come home safely. She will follow the trail of cyrstalfly dust that leads her to Ningguang. For the cherry-tasting kisses in the summer, and too-warm limbs tangled under the blankets. Always smelling like glaze lilies, and warm and soft, all over.
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