In a small act of defiance, where prolonged focus yields damnation, Batu does not look away. Green meets lilac in totality, no longer careful.

His smirk is a curved sword. It is neither the language of imperial guard, nor docile subject. She advances her step and he brings them closer, eyes dark and alive. Near enough to inhale what cloying scent encumbers the true ripeness beneath.

“I can shield you from more than you imagine."

It is a trespass; but Batu has barred the exit.

༻❁༺

---

His gaze probed her once more, and for that, Yue felt worthy. The role of the Empress was such that she could rarely pull back the ornate drapery to reveal her true self. Her needs were secondary to those of her dynasty; her wants were ever irrelevant. She could give so greatly that it was all anyone sought from her: favor, answers, or response.

There was little depth to any of it, besides the decisions she made in war or great transition. When her leadership was called upon in masses, the empress shone.

Here, she was nothing more than a woman. One who wished she wore the hide bequeathed to her by this very man, for she needed a shroud around her shoulders, but it lay inert upon her bedside. Her ability to deflect, to fight, had already left her – the last of her defenses were intangible, nothing more than wishes.

Wishes, easily released.

She must be as she was now, digesting the different paths that lay before her. Weighing them all, and then weighing all that Batu claimed she could not imagine. It was not often a beautiful and demure process, though the lessons Yue had learned in school would lead anyone to believe differently.

The Empress believed Batu had hedged an invitation – one to inquire about all those possibilities, to allow his conjecture to continue to guide their interaction. The Empress already knew, and she paused to teeter upon the edge of insanity.

Then she dared not another step, and her nose constricted around her exhale, breaking the breath off shortly.

Imagination is what remains to me.

Her mind was one that ran wild, filling with ideas of a better world and the perilous route to get there. But, just because she could think it, did not bring it to fruition. If she had this power, no mothers would ever weep – not Kexin, nor ever another.

Heaven’s Mercy wished she had such ability, but instead she was blind and bound by the very ideals that gave her power. She was a vessel for the Emperor, from her birth unto her death. An empty vessel, full of only wishes.

That was the true danger of imagination: to live in it forever. To depend upon her mind to satisfy every desire she allowed to remain unfulfilled, to process every tragedy, to follow every clue unto its end – the danger was when it became preferable to life's truest form.

The orchid turned a pale cheek, breaking their shared gaze. You see far. He saw far, and he saw deep. What he glimpsed felt raw. She didn't need to be saved.

A less painful reality would be appreciated, though.

---

༻❁༺

Erect, in his military bearing, a head curving down from its own weight to see her— never much comprehending before what had been so easy to over-look. That a spread-out hide is the bed of nomads, a hide unfurled is the flag of campaigns for war. But in her flowers and silks, the empress too dresses in a costume most appropriate to battle, feats, forfeitures.

That the labor of one was not so unlike the other.

The curtain of shade’s defenselessness dropped to expose two pregnable beings, arrayed for no peaceful or trusting encounter with life.

Batu stands, contemplating Yuè.

“Tell me of them. Your imaginations.”

༻❁༺

---

He had believed there were worlds and circumstances that Yue had not yet considered; if Wei Jun did not yet understand that was untrue, then he would soon. He was asking questions now about the limits of her imagination.

Besides being a very interesting question in general, it probed as deep as she knew he could.

An enticing invitation, too. Wouldn't it be a thing of beauty to share with another her thoughts, both pretty and heinous? There were so few that were able to comprehend the weight behind a dynasty – even those closest to her, the Golden Kin and her court, hadn’t a clue.

They sat in beautiful silk and spun their baubles; drew warm baths when requested and gossiped when it wasn’t. They had no clue what terror paved the way for their luxury, or the sheer power they would have over her, if they knew her imaginings.

Yue found herself surrounded by this type of characterization so often that she could choke on it. The Empress would suspend her own dreaming, fearing it would become fodder for the masses. Her consciousness ran dry of inspiration. Sometimes it felt as if her mind was the equivalent of a one-woman council meeting, where the only thing discussed was what-ifs.

So many thought they knew what they wanted. Often, it turned out that they wanted everything, but knew far less. Most of the time, it was like they understood nothing at all. They thought they wanted to know Yue; to find proximity to her, and thus safety.

Safety was an aegis, created by the winged shadow of Heaven’s Mercy.

It was one of the Orchid’s responsibilities not to shatter such an illusion with talk of her dreams at night, or imaginings during the day. Not when asked, nor prompted, nor tortured for it. It was a matter of dire security.

She did not feel this way about Batu. At times, the meta-part of her brain felt as if it were silly. In a life where she could not trust her own husband, a man sent to her by the power of the crane and the dragon combined, then there was little else that could be extended to a guardian’s blade.

The dark, dusky man had brought her husband several wives and offered his body of protection to the Empress alone. There was clearly something lofty he desired, though Yue could not quite place a finger on it.

At the very least, Yue felt as though whatever Batu craved was not a device for Evil. It was not only that, though.

Yue wanted to. She wanted to speak of things she found dreadfully boring, as well as those matters of dynastic secretude. She wanted to speak without the fear of how it would crumble the very life she had built. Doubt was unwelcome. An Empress didn’t get to doubt.

She only needed to feel into a decision, then execute it. With Batu, she executed a new decision. A journey to trust.

or, at least, to explore the feathery edges of trust.

As with most things with gravity, she felt it was wise to ask twice. She wanted to hear him say it again. Do you truly want to know? she asked, unable to achieve the levels of sorrow and frustration she had experienced earlier. The lack of it was evident in the way she allowed an easy silence to roll out between them, as she glanced across as if assessing a crevasse. She canted her head.

They are not beautiful.

---

༻❁༺