Zhang Liao sighs solemnly as he stares out into the night sky through one of the large, ornate windows of his room, the dark blue littered with shimmering, white glimmers that seem so many miles away. He once appreciated watching as the clouds passed by to cloak the stars and moon behind their navy blue forms or observing the full moon on the clearest of nights but that appreciation had died months ago, along with him. He turns away from the window to stare at the ceiling. Everything that had once made him happy seems to have abandoned him, making the ache in his heart throb ever more painfully: Stargazing late in the night, exploring the gardens in the evening, even riding his valiant stallion around the city walls. The simple joys he once found in life all seem to hold nothing but regret and sorrow as they only remind him of that day, the day when he had lost nearly everything, and it never left his thoughts. It was a haunting memory, a moment in his life that had fractured his heart and left it without any means to repair it. All that he had once fought for was now but mere words upon a man's lips, an unheard dream that would never come true, and a passion that would never see the light of day, a solemn promise drifting in the wind. Try as he might to keep his mind from wandering to those memories of him, nothing could stop them once his name passed through the weary warrior's mind, a name that has left him restless for days now, a name he could never forget: Fengxian.
He turns away and buries his face in the blue silk covers of his bed, the familiar sting of tears in his eyes forcing him to hide so that no one could see them. No one knew of these pains that he alone had dealt with since his recruitment months ago and it was best that way. No one should know that such a battle-worn man like him could be reduced to tears merely from his own memories, the memories he had been trying to forget though his mind held onto them desperately. Not because it wants to but because it was the only thing keeping him together while also tearing him apart, an internal conflict with no feasible end.
"I'm sorry," Zhang Liao quietly murmurs into the silken blue sheets, gripping them tightly in near-white fists as he fights back the tears that were begging for release. He chokes back the sobs that try to escape him, causing his body to tremor as his emotions rage within him. "How can I go on without you? How can I serve the one that took you from me? How is it I still live today while you no longer walk among us?" He lifts his face from the tear stained covers, feeling more of the bitter liquid run down his moist cheek as bits of earth brown hair fall into his eyes. "Why could it not have been me instead?" The General blindly reaches his hand out, searching the bed for something that would relieve him of the pain that tortures his heart. His hand slips under his pillows, grabbing the cool handle of something hidden underneath. He slowly pulls out the object and reveals it to be a small dagger. The blade is smooth, decorated with a black dragon that snakes its way up the blade, ending just an inch away from the tip where it bellows gold and black flames. The edge is sharp, having been well kept since its creation, almost compulsively by the General, as if maintaining the weapon would bring comfort to him that he could find nowhere else. The ebony handle is without any visible flaws, perfect in every way from the way it fit into his hand to the smooth surface of the stone handle. It looks brand new, as if the minute weapon was made just days ago, but the item has been in his possession for nearly five years.
The dagger had been a gift to Zhang Liao from someone dear to him and was meant to keep him safe in battle if his axes were ever out of reach. He never used it in battle but he found another use for it, though it was quite the opposite of its original purpose. He pulls back the left sleeve of his robes, revealing his forearm wrapped protectively in bandages, which appear disheveled from being unwrapped and rewrapped multiple times. Zhang Liao clumsily unwinds the bandages from around his arm, slowly revealing the clear evidence of his emotions that have wreaked havoc on his mind so violently over the past few months. Various scars run between his wrist and elbow, some are longer while others were deeper, clearly showing just how vicious his own memories were making him to himself. The General brings the blade to his wrist and bites his lip as he cuts into another scar, slowly dragging the knife through his flesh until the pain subsides, leaving him numb as he pulls the now crimson-stained weapon from his arm. He watches as the blood runs from the fresh wound and drips onto the blue, silk sheets but the cut only provides temporary relief as the familiar, sharp pang returns to his chest, racking his body with convulsions as the ache grows with each ragged breath.
"I can't." The warrior quietly whimpers under his breath, his voice cracking as tears sting his eyes again. "I can't live with this pain anymore. I can't live with the guilt. I can't bear to remain here without you. I just can't." He slowly raises the blade to his throat, feeling hot tears spill from his eyes as the cool edge nicks at the sensitive skin on his throat from the trembling of his hand, feeling his heartbeat through the handle as he gently presses against his jugular. "Forgive me…Fengxian."
A hand firmly grips his shoulder, ceasing the General's action. His body tenses up in fear and surprise at the sudden contact, how had someone entered his room without him knowing or realizing? Who had invaded his quarters without making a sound? And how much had his unknown audience heard and seen in his emotionally-driven mania? The dark-haired warrior chances a glance over his shoulder and is startled by the identity of the man that stands behind him. Despite the lack of light in the room, the taller man's ink black, spiky hair and firm, grass green eye were easily recognized. The robes he wore were Liao was unfamiliar with the man's signature eye patch was a clear indication of the man's identity. Liao looks away shamefully as the one-eyed General behind him grabs his armed hand and gently but firmly pulls it away then carefully pries the knife from his grip before sitting beside him, the moonlight now clearly revealing the face of his comrade, Xiahou Dun. The other quietly examines the blade in what little moonlight came in through the windows for a minute or so before he speaks.
"I doubt this blade was made as a means to end your life, Wenyuan."
"What does it matter about a weapon's purpose, Yuanrang?" Zhang Liao murmurs quietly, refusing to look at the other General though his presence was undeniable.
"A weapon's purpose means more than you think, especially when the weapon has been gifted to one by another." Xiahou Dun sighs. "I figured even you would know that." Zhang Liao's bright, hazel eyes shift to the older General in surprise.
"How did you-"
"The name of the giver is inscribed on the handle, along with your own name." Xiahou Dun states. "It's difficult to see on a dark handle like this unless you have the proper lighting to reveal it." He points out the hidden engravings on the handle in the moonlight, revealing Zhang Liao's name and a name the General was too familiar with as he quickly looks away to hide the tears building in his eyes again. "You miss him, don't you?"
The other simply nods, choking back a sob as it racks his body, the tears he struggles to hold back leaking out from behind closed eyes. The one-eyed warrior gently wipes a tear from the General's cheek before resting his hand on the other's shoulder. "I understand but I doubt he would want you to end your life with the very gift he gave you to preserve it."
Zhang Liao glances towards his comrade then looks away shamefully. "You're wrong." He murmurs bitterly, receiving a curious glance from his friend. "You'll never understand what it's like to lose the only thing that ever kept you together, to continue living while the life you once cherished lies among the dead, to lie awake wondering what you could've done differently and why is was him instead of you that was taken." His gaze returns, his teary eyes now burning with a smoldering anger "You'll never know what that's like."
Dun remains silent for a moment, allowing his comrade to calm down before speaking. "It's true, I may not know exactly what it's like to lose someone you love but I have lost many fellow warriors that were almost like brothers to me long ago and I've mourned for all of them but taking your own life is not the answer to a pained heart, it never is." Xiahou Dun explains, moving closer to the trembling man, the dagger still in his hand. "He gave you this weapon to ensure you would live if you were ever in any danger and no one was able to protect you. He wanted you to live on and continue fighting even if it meant leaving him behind as well."
"But I-I don't want to forget about him, I-I can't." Zhang Liao shakily murmurs. "No matter h-how hard I try, they a-always comes back to me: the memories."
"No one ever said you had to forget him, Wenyuan." Xiahou Dun sighs, forcing the other General to turn to him, meeting his teary, hazel gaze. "Keep your memories close but don't let them dictate your life. Continue to live as he would want you to but never forget those times you two shared, those precious moments that you can never have with another. No matter how many years may pass, your memories will always be there to remind you of those simpler days even if they carry the burden of sorrow with them. Keeping those we love close always has a price and we all must pay it at least once in our lives."
Liao's demeanor crumbles as sobs shakily escape him, his body going numb as the one-eyed General pulls him into an embrace, allowing the younger to quietly cry into his chest. The comforting whispers of sweet nothings lulling the numbness and pain that envelope him, allowing him to truly feel for once in so many months. After a few minutes, he pulls away from the older man, looking up with eyes still blurry with tears as a sad smile tugs at his lips.
"Thank you, Yuanrang." He murmurs tiredly, the nights of restlessness prior to now weighing on his mind as he realizes just how long he has been fighting sleep.
"It's no trouble. Now you should get some rest. You'll need it if Shu ever plans to attack us soon." Dun softly chuckles then hesitantly returns the knife to the warrior. "And this as well, to do what it's meant to do."
The younger nods and the one-eyed General stands, bidding the other goodnight before exiting his quarters. Zhang Liao watches until he disappears behind the door then moves his gaze to the dagger in his hands, gently placing the cool blade against his lips as fresh tears spill. He gently smiles as his memories take him back to a happier day.
It was a calm spring day. He knew because he was training outside with another officer and recalled that the plum tree in the gardens nearby was in bloom. He was finishing sparring with the younger soldier before him when he heard his name being called from behind him. He turned and found Lu Bu leaning against the plum tree, his expression as serious as it always was but the Liao knew better than to take it personally. He dismissed his training partner and approached his friend, watching as the other's scowl melted into the soft smile that only he ever saw. Little was said between the two before the larger General presented him with an item wrapped in black silk-it was small but not enough that Zhang Liao could not have noticed it in the other's hands. He gratefully took the gift and carefully pulls apart the folds of silk, revealing a sheathed dagger.
The leather sheath was black with a gold dragon pattern that looked to wrap around it from the bottom, the grand beast's visible eye appearing to be a red gemstone of some kind. He is obviously surprised as he takes the weapon into his hand, draping the silk cloth over his shoulder before pulling out the dagger from its sheath. The dagger itself was beautifully designed, the blade has a unique curve to it-not as obvious as with a crescent dagger but it was not a straight dagger in any definition. The dragon design that seemed painted onto the blade felt smooth under his fingers as he ran them along the pattern to the ebony black handle. He looked back at Lu Bu, who chuckled from the obvious look on surprise on the other's face. The genuine sound of laughter from the other was melodic to the smaller General. Zhang Liao could not speak as he was pulled into an embrace by the other and eagerly returned it. He felt the other nuzzle against his neck, causing his to fluster slightly from the sudden intimate contact.
"Consider this a repeating gift." He murmured into the other's ear. "As long as you carry it with you into battle, you need not give anything in return but your safety."
"Of course, my love, I promise never to fight without it."
He sighs sadly as he pulls the weapon away, the words of his lover only then making sense to him. The dagger had been meant to protect him in battle, which made sense since the previous battle they had been in before he received the dagger he was nearly killed by an officer of Wu and spent weeks recovering from his injuries. Lu Bu had been ordered to remain at the main camp in case of any assaults and was unable to protect him from an ambush that caught him completely off guard. He survived but just barely and Lu Bu constantly blamed himself for it even when Liao assured him it was not his fault, on multiple occasions. It all made sense at that point and he feels a twinge of guilt in his heart as he looks over the edge that had been stained with his own blood countless times.
"I've abused this blade for too long." He sighs quietly, looking at the dark handle and running his fingers along the unseen engraving, tracing each character of the name as it dances upon his lips, begging to be spoken. "Lu Bu…I'm sorry." He places the dagger on the table beside the bed then looks at the scars on his forearm, running his finger along the fresh wound that just then begins to sting. "Your blade will no longer be used against my own flesh. I promise."