He wonders when he became so utterly useless.
Ling remembers days when he craved the outdoors, ran across fields of grass with his brothers and sisters in search of adventure. Now all he can think about are peace treaties and scrolls and trade routes and her.
It's been a year since she left, disappearing with a smile and a whispered promise of return. The words sound feeble to him now as the enemies advance closer to the capital, raised swords cutting down their defenses. The idea of her on the frontline is terrifying itself; the tension of knowing that it only takes one stab, one gunshot through the skull, to end a life. He curses human fragility and continues flipping through paperwork.
"Prince Yao; you have a letter from General Fu." He's surprised he doesn't break the table with how swiftly he stands up. His heart feels jammed in his throat; painfully thumping against his adam's apple.
"Open it! What does it say?"
"They've taken down Xiyan."
Xiyan was a large city in the outsides of the capital providence, known for its lush nobility and feeble defense. It is no surprise that the fortress had been conquered, the head of Liyan, his eldest sister mounted on a spike in a brutal act of savagery. It takes Ling all he has not to heave.
"People are joining the resistance; it is the army's duty to put down sympathizers."
"Who would sympathize with such monsters?" Xulin, his younger sister, looks horrified. Her fingers worry the papers in front of her and he wonders just when they had decided children should be allowed to have a say in this war.
Lan Fan would tell him it meant they were losing. That they were growing desperate.
"People who want to see my head hanging from the palace's gates," his father snaps, slamming his palm down on the table. Xulin jumps, whimpering, and Ling resists the urge to reach out a hand of comfort, eyes ahead.
"We're not taking them seriously," the elder in the corner grumbles, lifting his pipe to his lips. The smoke wafts for a moment before rising to the ceiling.
"I have the entire imperial army out there. Bodyguards and soldiers alike!"
"And yet you still have 500 men protecting the castle walls when the real danger is hundreds of miles ahead," he drawls, breathing in a puff. Xulin looks ready to bolt from the conversation and Ling takes this as a chance to speak up.
"You want to leave us defenseless? The problem is that the Iron Dragons are brutes, fighting in the shadows. For all we know they could be in the palace walls right now! They likely have spies everywhere."
"Then we're already dead. Either way, I don't see what sitting around will do," he glared at the Emperor, masking it with a rough cough.
"Adviser Chang, I have no quarrel dismissing you from the council room."
"Ha! Be my guest! We're all doomed anyway, with your tactics."
Ling leaves after an hour of listening to them argue, his temper boiling as they barely allowed him to get a word in. Xulin follows him, riding on the coattails of his weak excuse about reviewing some scrolls before going to bed.
"Why'd you leave?" She manages to catch up to his brisk pace, ignoring the look he sends her.
"There's no point in watching those old men with their old ideas argue about nothing," he scowls. "Nothing will get done if we don't crush the rebellion where it is starting to spread."
"Are you thinking about Lan Fan?" He sighs. Telling Xulin had been a mistake, even though she had caught him at a particularly weak moment after his vassal's departure. But his younger sister was a romantic; the idea of forbidden love enough of a mystery that she stayed invested no matter how much he pushed her away.
"I hadn't been. She is where she is needed."
"She should be by your side!"
"We both would agree that our people are more important than protecting just one prince," he said, patting her head absently. "After all, there are 12 more of me."
"That's not true," she said, frowning. "None of the others even speak to me! You care; you're more invested in this country than any of them." She looked fierce under his hand, her arms crossed over her chest.
"And I will do everything in my power to help you become Emperor once father passes." He has never seen her like this; this fire in the eyes of a girl barely thirteen. Ling blinks, eyes wide as she bows in front of him, head reaching down to her knees.
"Thank you, sister," he manages a small smile before watching Xulin walk away, a bounce in her step.
His eyes sweep upward at the embellished walls, frescoes of legends painted across the ceiling. His eyes linger on one in particular; the story of the Sun Dragon, who reigned over the ancient land from the sky above. One day, he shrunk to the size of a silk worm, vanishing from the sight of humans. Centuries later, he swelled up to fill the space between heaven and earth to find that humans had torn each other apart with war and famine, the few survivors living off the carnage. Enraged, the dragon killed off the remaining sinners; blaming the humans for their own misfortune. In an act of generosity (or pity, the way Lan Fan told it), the dragon took on a human skin, created an entire new species in his honor, and formed Xing, a nation where every man and woman could live in peace and prosperity.
He sighs, rubbing his tired eyes and returning to his bedroom, the shadow of his substitute bodyguard an unwelcome presence in his brooding. He thinks of his father, languid on his throne as he watches his children claw each other for the throne, his concubines thrusting children at him in hopes of making their clan just a coin richer, a rank higher. His siblings who fight for the cause that suits their needs, not for the families huddled under makeshift shelters. And then of himself, born with a title and a future, burning under heavenly fire.
If you can tell who influenced Xulin you get a hug (hint: she is from Magi)