Lovely Yuanji, lovely Yuanji, he thought – feeling the glass on the floor crunch underneath his clunky armored boots. He stood there now, watching her from across the courtyard – she wasn't too far away, but not very close, either.
She seemed closer than she felt, he thought – or maybe it was the blade receded in his abdomen that made him think so. He stepped closer to her, his feet faltering with each step, each step closer to her.
Crunch, crunch – the glass sounded in his ears. He was aware the screaming around him and the smoke from the fire was exceptionally blinding, but in this moment, he only heard distinctly, the crunching of the glass beneath his tired feet and the thumping of his heart accompanied with the voice in his head, calling out, Lovely Yuanji, lovely Yuanji.
Repeating, repeating.
God, she was so lovely.
It seemed she would walk towards him too, it seemed that way to him – it really had but she only moved, a slight movement; it was quick, hasty and then he felt another knife, in his chest this time – cracking through his already splinted armor. Piercing his already pierced heart.
His steps faltered. It was only a moment. He was pushed back by the force – startled by the impact, but he did not fall back. He stepped back, slowly – only so slowly, he felt the prickled glass pierce through his boots, cutting his heel, digging deep. He could feel it all now.
He started towards her again, and again, she moved. Slipping another knife into her palm, but then she met his eyes and her grip on the knife loosened. He staggered towards her, he had already claimed defeat.
She watched him, only watched him. He came towards her now stopping in front of her, wincing, ready to fall. She loosened her stiff pose as his forehead met her shoulder.
"Yuanji," he murmured.
"Hui, why did you do this?"
"These incompetents… they're everywhere…"
"Zhao is not-" she started to say, bringing her hand to his chest. She clutched the blade, meaning to thrust it out, but he gently clasped his fingers on her hand to stop her.
"Aah, for once don't utter his name," he told her.
"Hui… I always knew you would-"
"Shush, my lovely," he murmured.
"Hui…"
He had done it for her. This rebellion. Maybe it could have been something meaningful. She told him that one day his pride would get to him, that one day he would dig his own grave.
And so he had.
"I'm glad it was you," he told her, gripping her hand. He thrust the dagger out of his chest.
"I'm glad it was you."
Just a random mash-up of my two favorites.