(A/N): What if, instead of losing the Battle for Gongmen City, Shen had won it instead, and the fate of the Dragon Warrior was left unknown? What if the location of the Furious Five was also left up to debate? Going with this thought, I wondered what the state of China would have been left in if Shen had truly become Emperor of China, and this story of political intrigue, scandal, and romance came out of it. Feel free to leave any comments on it! Thanks muchly! :D


Prologue

From the distance of the shore, one would have said that the flagship, alight in fire, looked like a red lantern that had been moored in the estuary, a solitary good-luck charm that danced with flame.

Wood splintered, putrefying and smoldering from chocolate brown to ivory-white under the duress of the conflagration that consumed the remnants of the devastated ship. The slow, stewing inferno continued in a cyclic fashion, ranging from unassuming, glowing embers before pluming up in passionate crimson-red and orange flame. They crackled and snapped like the fracturing of brittle bones. Water lapped at the hull of the ship, which, though still alight with the unnatural consumption of the blaze, did little to dissuade the fire's progression.

The boat moaned, mast shaking away the sparks that began to form like dewdrops that caramelized the surface of its polished sheen. It rained them down upon the floor of the ship like hail, sizzling as they made contact with the burnished surface of the deck, subtly tarnished from the scrapes of recent, previous battle.

Consciousness came unwillingly to him, with the sluggish precarious quality of resurrection from dreams unsubtle and intangible as gossamer. He shuddered lowly in pain as his bearings returned to him, and raised a hand to his face, to remind himself that he still remained in the world of the living.

Po exhaled slowly, a wavering breath that recalled soreness in his body that could not be placed, and blinked, eyes veiled by blurry vision that recognized indistinct silhouettes and forms, but nothing more. A hand he vaguely recognized as his own pawed for purchase, to see if he was still whole, still alive. Another trembling breath escaped him.

The events of minutes past were lost to him, and he found a tired shallowness in its place; his mind was blank as he tried to remember the moments before oblivion possessed him. Everything hurt, and it was as if he could only process this fact for the time being. His eyes closed in another blink, and his vision improved, shapes becoming tangible and shadows revealing themselves as surroundings.

Before he could comprehend that he was on a boat, the familiar flap of wings interrupted the anarchy of the fire's crackling chaos. He looked, still lethargic in movement, to the elevated cabin of the boat. Smoke and shadows gave way to corporeal form, and this one he recognized with increasing adrenaline and alertness.

Even in the foreboding moments before his demise, the Dragon Warrior couldn't help but admire the serene, tempered grace of the peacock that stood above him. Chalk-white feathers with scarlet death's-eyes stared down at him, ruefully passing judgment as his adversary waited, appraising his prey with obvious disdain.

Po waited for him to speak; there were no clever words that came to his mind as he struggled to find the will to, at the very least, clamber to his knees. Better to confront his destiny bowed rather than lying down.

"You know," Lord Shen said, almost pleasantly as he admired his smoldering, charred handiwork, "I would be lying if I said I expected more from this."

The boat creaked, and without the prompting or reciprocation of conversation, the exiled prince continued, appraising all save his enemy as the lance in his hand glittered brightly, "Especially from the rest of your group, as well. The Furious Five? Beneath me."

He scoffed, as a hairline fracture splintered the mast, lined with bright, pungent sparks, pelting down boiling dewdrops. "Master Ox, Master Crocodile, even the Valley's exalted Shifu?"

Po grunted as he found his bearings, although overcome by vertigo for a stark moment, to balance on his knees, and his hand ambled for the deck's banister, to gain stability. Shen continued, either unaware or indifferent. It mattered little; his was the upper hand, and both, unfortunately, were well-introduced to this fact.

"Not worth my time. But you, Dragon Warrior?" the title on his tongue, from that malignant beak, was a curse rather than honorific. "You disappointed me. I expected at least a half-decent fight from you, as a testimony to the supposed power a master of Kung Fu would possess."

The Dragon Warrior stumbled as a stab of agony shot through his leg like lightning, and he fought to control the exclamation of pain that threatened to escape him, scrabbling to clutch the banister.

"But I suppose legends are inspired from the same supposition as prophecies," Shen conjectured as he gloated, and a cruel sneer crossed his face at this, "Glorified, and altogether, false."

Framed in the boat's inferno, a deathly-white to contrast heady scarlet, he finally looked down to admire Po; in the same fashion one would to admire a prize, and an unsatisfactory one at that. Another moment passed, before there was a shutter of wings, and the flattening of feathers. The flame bowed and hushed as Shen took to the air and landed on the ship's deck, poised and triumphant before Po, who could only watch.

"You know," he said, his tone low and as if he confided in a friend, "I was almost afraid of you. I was utterly convinced that the ministrations of old hags in their delirium were truth, and when I knew you lived, it almost destroyed me. Can you imagine?"

He laughed, short and vindictive, for the folly of the gullible and the fearful, both of which he knew he was assuredly not. But he straightened, posture composed, and prevented himself from tangential rumination, to look to Po once more.

"Nothing to say, Dragon Warrior? No witty retort, casual banter? Have you finally learned your place?"

Iron claws clicked on wood as Shen approached with the dignity of the victorious, and gave pause as he saw the panda open his mouth to speak. Contemptuous pity allowed him to let Po address him.

"This…this isn't the end." Po proclaimed in a rasp of breath shallow, pitiful in both resolve and volume. It was obvious how greatly it pained the panda to even speak. "It's not—not over yet."

"Oh, you're quite right about that," Shen agreed, nodding emphatically, "After all, my empire has yet to begin."

His gaze returned to the lance he held, and he admired the ravenous fire that glimmered on its immaculate surface, before confronting his own reflection. Then, as it slanted, to the figure that awaited his verdict.

"Though," Shen said, distraction passed as he turned to regard his enemy, "I cannot guarantee that you'll live to see it."

The blade gleamed as he poised to attack, in true fashion of a lethal bird of prey. "Goodbye, panda."

There was a rush of air as Shen closed the distance; Po closed his eyes and thought of his father.

Four Years Later

The dirt path to Gongmen City was well-taken, paved with the imposition of thousands of feet that had journeyed the same route, and lined with the familiar tracks of carriage wheels that soldered through the trail. The grass that dared to grow out from the nature that surrounded the lane was trampled and flattened to a modest bow, implying the great importance that Gongmen City had imposed upon China in her abundance.

It was also noteworthy to mention that on the road, one could see that there were exponentially more footprints that approached the city, rather than departed from it. To attribute such a reason to this observation, however, would only result in a hush of polite conversation, averted gazes, and a disinclination to affiliate with the person who had suggested the remark in the first place. It was simply not a thing that was spoken of. It was enough to say that the road was well-used, and conclude any conversation at that.

It was this path that two travelers assumed in the leisure of an autumn afternoon, underneath a flawless blue sky complemented by drifting clouds clustered together in creamy, cotton-white uniformity. The two companions walked close to avoid being caught in the steady traffic of other travelers; one paced with a slight limp, the other deigned to slither on the ground.

"You would think," the walking traveler, a fox with rich orange fur and sharp brown eyes, suggested to her friend in a lofty tone, "That the illustrious Lord Shen would assume it prudent to pave the road to his city."

Her gaze passed down to the dirt road that her shoes, dusted with the rich red silt that covered the road, and then back to the serpent that slithered beside her, while she limped. "Or is it, perhaps, too much effort on his part to consider any provincial area outside of his capital?"

"That kind of talk inside the city would get you sent to the prison for two weeks, Xiu." The serpent, a pale brown speckled with gold spots, replied in a not-quite disapproving, nor approving tone; as if she was struggling for better judgment, but could not acquiesce to advocate for Gongmen City's ruler either.

"But we're not in the city yet, are we, Ming?" she inquired, abandoning her pretention as her eyes danced with mischief that needed to be stunted upon entrance to Gongmen. "With you and the road as my only witnesses, I'm afraid I'm just allowed to say whatever's on my mind."

"Not at the Annual Council, you won't." Ming replied, amber eyes watching her friend carefully, as said friend grinned with abandon at her 'clever' retort, greeting a good afternoon to a fellow passerby. "You're not just representing yourself there, you're representing all of Jīnshǔ Fēng."

"Which I do so proudly, of course." Xiu replied with an arch of her brow as she looked down to her reptilian companion, who muttered something subtle and most likely insulting under her breath, belly hugging the ground as she continued to slither.

"I get the feeling you don't think I'm going to be a good ambassador," the fox commented amiably, hitching the pack on her back up a notch; the large, cumbersome bag contained all that they would need for the next few months in Gongmen. The rest had arrived by carriage in the city a week ago, and patiently awaited their arrival.

"No," Ming said, opting to word her sentence carefully as she avoided the tread of someone's shoe, "I'm just worried that you won't be an experienced enough ambassador. Philosophers say there's a difference between intelligence and wisdom for a reason, you know. And the representatives that will be there have both."

"I'm also getting the vaguest feeling I've been insulted." Xiu genially returned, and persisted before her companion could suggest another trend of dialogue. "But the Annual Council would be a good place to get that experience you're talking about, wouldn't it?"

"I would have preferred a tamer environment before thrusting you into the manipulation of Gongmen Court," she deferred to the logic in Xiu's statement, but defended her own position as well. They both nodded in greeting to an elderly goat that smiled as she passed.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing you've come with me then, isn't it?" Xiu offered her an encouraging smile which was mildly reciprocated. She turned away from her conversation to apprise the remainder of the road left, and noted with ample dissatisfaction that the city only laid three curves over the long, sloping hills they tread. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to be face-to-face with our distinguished Lord Shen at any point."

"Don't tempt fate," Ming absentmindedly replied, returning her attention moreso to her path of distance than chatter. Xiu chuckled in dubious fashion at the thought, and shook her head.

"You worry too much, older sister."

"No, I worry the right amount."

In the distance, Gongmen City, architecturally impressive and technologically advanced, though still a gilded cage in everything but name, waited.