I. Royal Duties


Everyone stopped. The lively chatters that previously conquered the air turned into a deathly silence. The sound of men clinking wineglasses and the shy laughter of women vanished. The gathered musicians looked up from their respective instruments with stunned expressions, their conductor having to turn around to see the source of the sudden interruption, and the dancers stopping in mid-action. All eyes of the invited nobles, who were dressed in their best robes, were directed towards the agitated Lord Lì of Gongmen City, the fiery display of his train feathers a frightening spectacle of colours as he towered over a small, innocent goose servant who had merely informed him of what he knew upon having been told.

But then the goose servant gulped, told himself to calm down, then forced himself to just splutter out the words and be done with it. Hopefully.

"Y-yes, y-y-your majesty," he confirmed, "w-we have searched his royal quarters, a-anywhere he could p-possibly be, b-b-b-but—he's just—"

"How about the Soothsayer?" Now aware of the spectacle he was making of himself, Lord Lì made sure to tone down the volume of his voice a little. He told himself that there was no reason to be angry at this innocent servant—he did nothing wrong. Just take a deep breath, and administer patience. There. He opened his eyes once again that he didn't even realize that he'd closed. "Ah-Ma. Have you seen her?"

"S-some servants said that they last saw her with the young prince," the goose quickly quacked, his frightened voice almost coming out as a squeak. "B-but we know nothing more than that, your highness!"

The goose's reply did not exactly make him happy. Despite this, though, he let his train feathers down—or, rather, forced them down—even if that heat inside of him was amplifying dangerously by the ticking second. He knew that he had to keep his head. Being the father of a stubborn teenager taught him to have a tight hold onto his rope, and had been telling himself to do just that for years—even if, right now, he was so on the edge that he was tempted to just let it go and burst. But he knew that that would not be wise.

So he heaved a soothing breath, and let it out calmly.

Patience.

A young, beautiful, worry-stricken peahen watched this scene play from afar. There was a shocked look on her face, an expression any other bride would have upon knowing that their groom was suddenly gone. Lady Lan-Niu of Songzhi City was often referred to by her many, many past suitors as the Jewel of the Kingdom Crown. She was Lord Shen's betrothed now, though—she had been for the past week—so her father had closed all doors long since to prevent any more coming suitors who desperately wanted her wing. She was widely known throughout Imperial China for her extraordinary kindness and magnificent beauty—never before had anyone seen a peahen with feathers sprayed by cerulean, purple, and pink, because peahens regularly had dull colours such as grey, brown, or faded yellow.

She willingly accepted her duty as a royal, in fact she was already in her bridal clothes, but she didn't want to marry Shen. It simply went against her species' natural instinct for selection. She was kind, and she didn't want to be disgusted of him, but…his dull feathers didn't, couldn't exactly impress her. White, red, black—she was nowhere near enthralled by the colours, because they were…terrifying. They meant death, blood, night; and the way every time those crimson eyes bore into hers made her feel penetrated, like lance into flesh. Also, Shen was just too task-oriented to be interested in romance and wooing women—nothing mattered more to him than martial arts, metallurgy, and fireworks. Most uncharacteristic for her, to say the least, because all men of the land longed to kiss her hand, but this particular prince didn't. Mildly insulting, but she didn't pay that fact any mind—because the feelings were mutual. She wanted to tell her father that she didn't want to marry Shen, for he was often distant and offensive and treated her without warmth—just like now—but China's women were not supposed to speak against tradition unless they asked for permission and were allowed. And besides, her father had been hoping to bring their humble, little kingdom, Songzhi, even closer to the powerful Gongmen through this marriage, and she didn't want to let him down.

And today was the big day. Supposedly. According to the matchmaker, the kind, royal court soothsayer named Ah-Ma, this was the auspicious day for their grand union, for their forced, loveless marriage. The Soothsayer had said that this day would be a 'beginning of a new life', her exact words. But Lan-Niu was slowly starting to doubt the Soothsayer's famed talent for fortune-telling. Because, judging from the events now unfurling in front of her eyes, things were turning less and less promising.

Her husband-to-be had apparently run away from his own wedding day.

Her father was seated beside her. He stood up, angrily pounding a fist of feathers onto the table, not only to startle all present noblemen and women and cause them to drop their spoons and forks and let them clatter onto the floor, but mostly to get the attention of Lord Lì. Lan had no choice but to drop her head and let her father do the talking.

"That's it!" Lan's father hollered, and he fiercely grabbed at his daughter's wing to pull her up to her feet, making the young lady flinch, both at the tightness of his grip that almost broke her feathers and the way his eyes flared with anger. She had never seen her father be so livid. "We are going! Your son is a disgrace! If he doesn't want to marry my daughter, then FINE! So be it! I don't care anymore if your kingdom's powerful and all that fancy—that doesn't matter anymore, the insult is too much!" He roughly pulled Lan with him as he headed towards the exit of the throne room, waving his wings to signal to the servants as he did so. All the noble guests were immobilized in place, their eyes having no other choice but to witness such a commotion.

Lan's eyes widened in surprise, and she riveted them down to see her wing being tightly clutched by her baba. She couldn't believe it—her father himself was taking her away from this nightmare! She couldn't help feeling happy of the rather impulsive decree, but…she felt selfish for thinking of herself. She still had her kingdom to worry about. Politics can be so frustrating.

"No!" Lord Lì's eyes widened at this dreadful announcement also, his anger towards his son being immediately replaced with apprehension for the future of his reign. He needed an heir, and this was the only chance he'd had—maybe ever. Every other maiden that had seen his disfigured son immediately backed away from the prince like he was a monster—Shen simply had no other chance for marriage, and Lì was most definitely not letting this golden opportunity slip away from the very tips of his wings. He was that helpless.

"Please! No! No, my friend Hai!" Lord Lì's words were intentionally supposed to be soothing, calm, gentle—but he only sounded hoarse with desperateness. "Please, let the court guards search for him first! He couldn't have run away, that's ridiculous!" He forced a laugh out of his beak, looking around to make someone, anyone, join him, but when he realized how pathetic he was making of himself, he only let his laughter die, sealing it with an awkward clearing of the throat. Finally getting a hold of himself again, he began, "Worry not, my lord, my friend Hai. He must be around here somewhere—"

"Then where?!" Niu's father, Lord Hai, whirled around to face him. He had a smaller stature than Lì and was inferior in power than the lord of Gongmen, but at this moment he seemed to tower over him as he cast him with a shadow. "I've had enough of that boy's insolence! For all I know, he's supposed to be right here already, exchanging marriage vows with Niu! We've been waiting here for hours, but you keep telling us that he'd be here soon, he'd be here soon—but now you say he's gone?!" The respected nobleman Lord Hai of the Songzhi practically already lost all patience; he thought that he'd given enough of that to Lì's son, but the stubborn boy just refused to give respect to his daughter. Running away from his own wedding day—such an insult!

Everyone in the grand royal hall flinched, his shouts echoing off the walls, the ominous silence doing nothing but intensify the tension. Lord Hai of Songzhi was a beloved ruler, known for being patient like his daughter, Lady Lan—but once angered, he was like an erupting volcano spewing nothing but spouts of hot lava. Lady Lan was trying to calm him, saying things like, 'Father, please,' or 'Let us handle this calmly,' and even 'You've taught me all my life to never raise my voice.' But he wouldn't be swayed by her soothing words. He wouldn't let her. He loved his daughter, and he knew that she was being noble trying to follow her royal duties, but it hurt him every time he noticed that she was only forcing herself to marry Shen. Marrying him was the right thing to do, yes—but to an extent.

Because now, even he had had enough.

"Oh, please!" Lì was trying to laugh it off, even though he'd rather be tearing down the whole tower brick by brick in all his rage until he found him. Oh, when he found him, oh, Shen will just see. "Gone? Ridiculous. He's not gone. Of course I was just exaggera—"

"Exaggerating, yes! You've insulted my daughter in every single exaggerated fashion alright!" Lord Hai put a wing as if to protect Lan from the peacock in front of him, whose son had done nothing but insult them. "If you really want this marriage to take place, then produce him! Bring the groom right here!" he challenged. "But, since you are such a good father who had taught his child enough discipline, I suppose he's playing with those grubby fireworks toys of yours like a boy again, isn't he? Isn't he? Isn't he?!"

Waves of murmurs spread throughout the crowd. Indeed, the young Lord Shen, aside from his deathly white colour, was notorious for being obsessed with his parents' marvellous invention. Everyone then started talking about disciplining children, the responsibility of parents, royal duties, and the outright obligation of Lì over his son, each and every one of them acquiescently agreeing with what Lord Hai had just said—that Lì hadn't been disciplining his child enough.

In the middle of the hushed hubbub, though, Lì's blood could only run cold in his veins. He barely heard that their chatters were already putting him in a bad light—'an irresponsible father', 'a shameful son', 'teaching honour and respect'—because, his attention…was directed elsewhere. It made everything around him mute as his eyes widened with realization. It was very faint, very, very faint, in fact, that it seemed as if he was the only who could smell it, but still—it was there.

It was the smell of smoke.

But Hai, like everybody else, was oblivious to Lì's panicked and widening eyes. He stomped a foot forward, demanding,

"ISN'T HE?!"

"No," Lì breathed heavily, putting a wing in the air to call silence, which everyone hesitantly complied. Hai was furious for being ruled over by someone else, but wisely chose to quietly oblige. Now having successfully gained everyone else's attention, the Lord of Gongmen did not speak for several tantalizing moments, putting everyone, especially his beloved wife, in a worried state.

"My love?" inquired Lady Meifeng, Shen's mother, as she anxiously stepped towards her husband. She'd been hiding from the scene all this while, but now she felt it as his wife to be her responsibility to step forward. Something was bothering Lì. "Is something the matter?"

He didn't answer.

"Lì, you heard her! Speak!" Hai ordered, the thunder in his voice hiding the anxiety slowly starting to creep in his blood. There was now a fearful edge to his tone, anger to his friend long forgotten. Lì was starting to creep him out, that was for sure. "What kind of game are you playing at? S-Stop joking around, will you!"

But, it was just then when everyone else started to notice that the air had become a little…hazier than normal. Noise started to rise, panic was slowly brewing like tea in a pot—but instead of jasmine, it smelled like fire. Lord Lì, agitated, abruptly swung his head around to turn to the goose servant, demanding,

"Have you searched the—"

Bang!

It sounded like the crack of thunder, as if the sky had just been ripped open. The ground on which everyone stood literally moved, even just the slightest of inches, causing everyone present to engage in an uproar. The explosion came from down below, perhaps a floor below the throne room, and Lady Meifeng gasped as she realized this, finally comprehending what her husband had been trying to comprehend just for the past few ominous seconds now. Her wings flew over her mouth to cover the horror on her face, becoming more and more worried as a mother would for her son. Both she and her husband perfectly knew what was going on, just a floor below.

"The laboratory!"

Just then, a rabbit maid came panting towards the throne room, her petite little face stricken with terror. "Y-Your majesty!" she exclaimed, her breathless voice carrying out through the vast chamber. "Lord Shen—he—he—"

Lì did not wait for her sentence to end. The peacock lord was already a blur of rich blues and vivid greens as he practically sped out of the room, past the frightened maid, the rushing stream of his train feathers nearly toppling those who got in his way. It happened like lightning. Lady Meifeng dutifully followed her husband in agitation, her wings carrying up her long robes from the polished floor to keep herself from stumbling over the textile. With the two of them gone, all the frantic guests were left without someone to take control and authority over the situation, which made them even more hysterical.

Lord Hai, confused of what was happening, stood in the middle of all the chaos, not really comprehending. He tried to stop the husband and wife from leaving with his own desperate pleas of "Hey, don't leave me alone over here! Lì! Lady Mei!" but the panic that had engulfed the two royals were too much that they didn't even care, or they didn't even hear him. Now left alone, he felt the responsibility falling over his shoulders in putting the unrest into rest—so he took the liberty, stood onto the podium, tried to get his eyes over the crowd, and put his wings up in the air in a gesture that said that he needed their attention.

"Everyone, I beg you! Calm down!" he pleaded with them. But they didn't even seem to hear, because they started to run around in circles and shout 'Fire! Fire! We're going to die!' over and over again.

Hai fought the urge to palm himself on the forehead. Were these even nobles?

"Everyone, be calm. Lord Lì and Lady Meifeng have this perfectly under control. I promise you. Everything is going to be just—wait." His eyes suddenly caught sight of his daughter, Lady Niu, who stood by the door, ready to exit the throne room with a pained smile on her face. The heartfelt look on her face gave him pause. He blinked his eyes twice just to make sure that what he was seeing was actually true—because where does she think she's going? But before he could even grasp any sort of answer, Lan had already swept her feathers over the floor, and left without another word, leaving Hai in so much of a panic himself that he had to stumble forward, screaming her name like a hysterical madman, fearing the worst that her too noble-hearted and self-sacrificing daughter might do. He loved her kindness, but sometimes he couldn't help but despise it.

"Niu! Lan wait—wait! Don't you even dare!"

Meanwhile, a floor down, Lord Lì and Lady Meifeng were a breathless blur of silken robes and brilliant hues as they frantically dashed through the palace halls as quickly as their clawed feet could carry them. They barely even spared a glance to all the countless royal servants of varying species who stopped what they were doing to bow and give respect to their king and queen, although with confused looks on their faces, wondering what could be so troubling that it even had their rulers in so much of a frenzy. It seems as if they didn't yet know what was happening.

So Lì took the liberty of informing them. He stopped his feet from moving across the polished floor to take the briefest of seconds in raising a wing into the air to gain their fullest attention. His voice a resonant thunder, he commanded, "Get every maid and servant of this palace fill pots with sand and water, and bring them to the royal laboratory." When he received only blank looks, Lì finalized, his voice almost a shout, "Do it with haste!"

It was only then when they understood, and there they went, scurrying off to do their unified task.

Lady Meifeng looked back to see his husband starting to catch up with her. She shared a look with her husband, smiling despite her distress, which he returned with a strict nod. Meifeng's smiling face, however, immediately evaporated as an ugly whiff of poisonous smoke blossomed into the air like poisonous gas that nearly already choked her lungs. They were nearing the huge doors the led to the royal laboratory, but the beautiful, intricate designs of complicatedly-carved peacocks into the thick, mahogany wood was lost into the greyish, black puffs of smoke that had started to accumulate, flowing out of the closed doors' hinges like water rushing down a cliff—only upward this time. The ominous odour of the burning wood lingered like parasites into the air, the sound of the licking fire splitting to the ears—

Meifeng burst through the laboratory doors with a start, eyes wild with all the chaos going around. And there, there she saw, that the laboratory was no longer a laboratory, only fire, smoke, nothing else. She feared she would never see her son again—alive. But then, her eyes finally got through the burning turmoil, she spotted him, his pristine white reflecting the bright red orange flames, he's alive, he's over there! The joy upon seeing him was so overwhelming, but when Shen's eyes locked with hers, with a grim look on his face, the mother's heart also nearly broke into two.

"Shen?" she questioned, silently, at first to herself. But then when the white peacock whirled around to turn his back to her, as if he hadn't even heard her at all, that was when Meifeng's joy turned into panic. Whatever he was going to do, she didn't like it. "S-shen, wait! Don't go there! Get back!"

The queen felt the urge to leap into the danger of the fires herself and drag Shen all the way back to safety if she had to, and didn't even realize she'd been about to do just that hadn't it been for the warm wing that suddenly landed itself firmly onto her shoulder, fixating her into place, not letting her move even the slightest inch further with the force it possessed. She looked up, and saw that it was Lì.

"Stay here," he told her, his voice radiating authority. But, before the lord could even launch himself into the air, there was, instead, suddenly an undistinguishable flash of ceruleans, purples, and pinks that hurled itself into the raging fire, and—and—

Hai suddenly came from behind Lì and Meifeng and pushed them apart, just so he could get a better glimpse of the horror playing before their very eyes. Hai couldn't believe he's going to lose his only daughter because of an utterly despicable white freak of nature.

"Niu! Come BACK!"

But as she coughed at the vicious smell of smoke and the burning fire, the lady was oblivious of her father's screams that all seemed small and faraway. She had to continue trudging on. Because if, by this act, her supposed prince, Lord Shen, would finally look at her differently and reconsider taking her as his bride, then she would do it. Her father had always told her that being Lady of Gongmen would solve all her kingdom's financial struggles. Making Shen fall in love with her was the noble thing to do—if only to make their marriage possible.

For my kingdom, she told herself, through breathless huffs and puffs. For…for my kingdom.

Her long robes gave her nothing but inconvenience in this fiery trek. Fumbling and stumbling she went, but she strived to manage nonetheless. A large burning piece of timber suddenly crashed onto the floor where she had just been mere seconds ago, and it made her look around and gasp at the death that had just missed her, causing breaths that signalled the onslaught of hyperventilation gripping her chest tightly. Panic swelled, and she thought she might not even make it half across the room alive, but she crushed even that mere idea, shaking her head from that thought, refusing to give up. She re-gathered the bothersome textiles of her robe in her purple wings, cursing from the back of her mind the Chinese mentality that women had to wear such impracticality, but as the burning smoke entered her nose and suffocated her brain, she had more and more trouble trying to even think about keeping herself alive—all she felt like wanting to do now was collapse.

But she knew she couldn't just give up that easily. So, she kept pushing herself, forward, forward, even through all the intense, hot grey smoke that raged from all around, stinging her eyes and forcing coughs that grew even more painful, one after another. Eventually, though, and thankfully at that, bless the Fate who'd been merciful to her, she was able to reach the prince.

"Shen, m-my pri...my prince..." She barely had a breath left inside of her, but nevertheless she forced the painful words out of her parched, dry throat. She was drained, but, summoning up every last bit of strength she had within her, she weakly lifted up a wing, eyes wet and voice hoarse with all the smoke and her coughing, "We—we should...should l-leave this place at once—"

Shen tugged away his wing from her. Harshly. Her concerned touch was clearly not a welcome gesture for the young lord. Though considered sickly and weak, his force was enough to make Lan stumble forward a little. And the way he icily gazed down at her, despite all the raging fire around them, was even chillier than the winter.

He turned away.

"Get out of here." He was facing the other direction, so that Lan couldn't see the distress displayed onto his face—she only heard the harsh words, all loud and clear. Dully, he murmured, "You'll only be an unnecessary bother."

Lan gulped down a lump in her throat.

Despite the stinging words, though, she stepped forward. Although it was dwindling, her confidence was still there. Maybe she'd be able to get it through the peacock's skull of pomposity. Maybe this time he'd actually listen. Maybe he'd realize that she was actually trying to save him.

She dared grab at his wing again. "But—"

The prince's whole body stiffened in horror at the touch. He didn't want her giving him her lying, lying, lying sentiments, but what was she doing now?

How dare she?!

He was searching for someone else. He wanted those sentiments to come from someone else, and the fear that he may never be able to feel the touch of those same, annoyingly loving hoofs again cooked inside of him a fiery storm of emotions that absolutely blinded even his own rash actions—he didn't even realize that he'd already swept his train feathers over the floor to throw the noble lady into the air, her back landing harshly onto the cold stone floor as a scream escaped her beak; and it wasn't until he heard his own, rough voice come out from his scorched throat did he realize what he'd just done.

"Are you mad?!" he barked down at her, towering over the now helpless peahen, his voice even more powerful than the roar of the fire around them. "Save yourself, get OUT OF HERE!"

Fear now showed itself to Niu's eyes, looking as if she was about to break down crying. Being the pampered little daddy's princess all her entire life, she was never used to being treated...shouted at like this. She quivered and back away, trembling wings frenetically searching the polished floor as if she could find a handhold in the smooth surface and hold onto it forever for dear life. The wide-eyed girl obviously never knew that her supposed husband had this kind of a terrifying beast living inside him.

A monster.

The fear in Niu's eyes gave Shen a bit of a pause, a feeling of self-horrification hitting him hard in the face like a block of ice. He shouldn't really even care about it, he shouted all the time at the palace servants and they were all used to it, but this here, the look on the peahen's face, the picture of it practically burning into his mind—

…a monster.

"Lan! My daughter!" shrieked Hai, interrupting his thoughts, the old peacock limping through the fire towards his fallen daughter, still down on the ground. Shen's eyes were locked onto him as the father struggled, never looking away from him as if he was studying his every move, and in fact he was—how come Lan had a father like him, him who was willing to go through all the fires just to get to his daughter? It wasn't fair. It angered him. He watched with envious eyes as Hai crouched down beside her, feeling at her forehead, asking her questions, busily buzzing around her like a bee as a worried father would to his hurt daughter. But, once assured that Lan was perfectly fine, Hai glared venomously at Shen, the younger prince glaring just right back—it was a silent war, until Shen fiercely turned his head to look away from Hai to glare at his own father, who was across the room and still standing beside the door, just staring back at him in an anger that even rivalled Shen's. Only, Lì's own was mixed with utter disbelief—at everything of that he had just witnessed his son do to his wife-to-be.

Lì just couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe at the attitude Shen had just displayed in front of his soon-to-be father in law. How much of an ingrate can his son ever be?

Lan was only trying to save him from the flames, but what did he do? What did he do?

Lì felt his blood boil as he thought this.

Well, Shen had practically thrown her, how lovely!

Seeing the thunderous look on his father's face made Shen turn his back to every one of them, Hai, Niu, his parents, everyone else that had gathered at the door to watch the flames take over the place. He walked deeper, deeper into the fire, coughing in the smoke and occasionally stumbling in his haste, ignoring his father's and everyone else's yells to come to safety already. Shen wanted to smack them all in the head—he wasn't a fool, of course he wanted to go back there already, but couldn't they see that he had a purpose? Well, yes, his whole body hurt; yes, he wanted to give out; yes, he wanted the security of safety, but he had to continue searching for her, he had to.

The father's point of view was not as optimistic, however. Lì could only vent his frustration by stomping angrily on the ground once Shen disappeared from everyone else's sight, thinking that his son was as obstinate as solid iron and virtually impossible to bend. What was he trying to do, suicide? Why did he have to be so stubborn? What is his son planning to do in there in the first place, anyway—create a spectacle of himself by showing to everyone how he rebelled against his father's idea of this cursed, forced marriage? Lì didn't like forced marriages himself, but his son didn't have a choice—it was a royal's duty, and he couldn't run away from it! Is Shen trying to kill himself over something as shallow?

Why isn't he saving himself from the fire already?!

"Lord Lì," someone from behind him announced, "we need your permission to—"

"Yes! Yes, do it!" Lì urgently shouted to his servants, who, when he looked behind him, had all already gathered and had their respective pots and pails held in their hooves, paws, and wings, ready to fire at command. And, with a dramatic sweep of a wing over the blazing room, his wife Meifeng clutching at his other free wing in terror, Lì did just that, saying, with a thundering voice, "Extinguish everything!"

The servants then filed into the room through the laboratory's wide door, and, once inside, they together individually played their one role: throwing out giant buckets of both sand and water to smother the flames and put their anger to rest. The heavy, poisonously smoky air was full and noisy of their coughs and shouts as they tried to get their message across the room, commanding and encouraging everyone with motivating shouts of 'You heard the lord, everybody—faster, faster!' all the while splashing the contents of all they had at their disposal. They did this so in drilled protocol until they had all eliminated everything—from the largest of the flames, to even the smallest living ember.

The roar of the fires now gone, everyone exhaustedly moaned their fatigue, one by one collapsing to the ground in tired triumph, the servants smiling among themselves for the job well done. But the smiles on their faces were immediately replaced by expressions of confusion and bewilderment when their ruler, Lord Lì, coldly swept past them in a flash of colours, heading towards his destination once he'd spotted him, him, amidst burnt wood and curtains and equipment scattered about the floor, now blackened by soot, wetted by water, sullied by sand. As he simply marched forward, he didn't even give the servants the least of his gratitude, which was atypical. But, really, that was actually fine with them—because, with the look on his face, he clearly radiated one thing and one thing only.

Anger.

It was as if the recently extinguished fire suddenly resurrected in his eyes. Lord Lì's sight was fixed: his son, Shen, hunched over a corner, wings were stamped over the walls, silver robes smeared black, his long, filthy neck craned downward. His back rose and fell as he heaved in irregular breaths, obviously trying his best to calm those ragged coughs that welled from within of him and threatened to come out in a yet another incontrollable bout, his difficulty of barely managing to bottle them inside obvious in the terrible way his wings shook, like someone who had a very high fever and was suffering convulsions. Lì, however, was blinded by his rage and did not see at all the physical pain his son was just going through—he simply marched over to him, pulled him harshly by the wing, and threw him to the opposite wall in his anger. The crowd that had gathered gasped at the shock of what they had just seen.

Lady Meifeng all but exploded at her own horror over her husband. "Lì! He's our son!"

"No son of mine is a coward, would dare run away from his duty, and would disgrace me like this one just had." He listed these things mechanically off his tongue without even looking at his wife. Lì started pacing across the room back and forth with a distressed look on his face as he wildly gestured his wings outward like a madpeacock, Shen glowering down at the ground through empty space with a stubborn, defiant stare, acting like he didn't care about whatever his father said.

"Today is your wedding day, but where were you? Where were you? In here. You were in here!" He then suddenly halted in his prancing to look at Shen, whose gaze was blank and aimless, which only made the father madder. He neared his face to his, raised his voice to a thunderous level—as if that would make Shen finally look at him, even though he didn't. "You were in here, in this godforsaken laboratory, when you're meant to be at the altar. This is the last straw. I'm setting a new law, forbidding even the very tips of your feathers from ever touching even the single most insignificant speck of gunpowder—"

"What?" That made Shen finally look at him, eyes blinking as if he'd just broken off of a trance. He stepped forward, ready to protest, "But father, it was all an acci—"

"A royal prince does NOT talk back!"

But he wanted to. Shen wanted to say more, and was about to, actually—but something stopped him. Something unidentifiable from his body that pierced him like an icicle. He clamped his beak shut, wings clenched into fists, holding them tightly in place, not wanting the scream that built up from inside of him escape his throat. The pain was physical, but he didn't want to crumble in front of his father and show everyone else who was watching that he was still as weak and sickly as the hatchling he'd been.

Stay…firm.

And where in the world did that pain come from, anyway?

Lady Meifeng, however, misunderstood the distraught look on his son's face as emotional. She knew how Shen loved fireworks, and having it taken away from him might mean the crush of his ambitions. She took a hesitant step forward.

"Lì, don't you think that punishment is a bit—"

"NO! Because look at what this—this white, peacock accident has done!" He pointedly turned to Shen. "Look at what you've done!" Lì gestured all around him to give his words more emphasis than they already have, as if his thunderous voice wasn't emphasis enough. "Look at what you've done. Look at what you've done. You—you don't even know what you've done!" He was saying those words over and over again as he himself couldn't get over it. Then started rattling off the list of unfortunate things that all seemed to lead back to Shen, like in a string of bad luck. "You almost burned the entire tower, created a disturbing uproar, sent all the invited nobles into panic, insulted my friend Hai, almost even killed her daughter—and you—you—you are supposed to be her husband. What were you even doing here in the first place, anyway? Did you forget that today is your wedding? Tell me, you dishonourable son, tell me—how much of a bad omen can you just be?"

Shen's crest feathers only tightened in response.

And Meifeng saw. She sharply turned to her husband, hollering, "Lì, that's enough!" Then she turned to the prince on the other side, whose face was rigid and looked very close to exploding. Meifeng walked towards him, "Oh, my Shen, please don't listen to—"

The older peacock lord shot out a wing to cut her short, prohibiting his wife from setting her foot any farther beyond the boundary he'd just set.

"Stay out of this, Meifeng."

"Out?" She incredulously put a wing at her chest at that. "Out, you say? I'm the mother here!"

"And I am the father, the manof this house." He turned to look at her. "I decide what happens to my kingdom, to every citizen, to our family, to our legacy, to my son. I am the law, and he who dares defy me is a blithering fool—"

"No, he is not."

Everyone's eyes turned to Shen. The prideful projection of his voice alone seemed to command just that. He stood in all his princely peacock dignity, stretching his slender neck to appear just a little bit taller, lifting his head a little more higher, just to provoke his father.

"He is not?" Lì seethed out the words through a tight and gritted beak.

"Yes. He is not." All his life, the young prince was taught that it was improper to stand up against his parents, even if his intentions were right. Chinese morality. Just be quiet, bow down your head, be humble, and let the elder lecture you, keep your mouth shut, never talk back. It was a sign of a respectful and well-raised child, values that are mostly attributed to parents.

But he didn't care about all that traditional rubbish right now. What, is he supposed to bow down his head right now and fake an expression, pretend to be humble and let himself get chewed off, just to show to all the witnessing nobles over there that Lì had been such a nice father, had brought up his child all nice and cosy, when it was the exact opposite? Shen hated politics—everyone had to be a disgusting liar.

And he was not willing to become one of them.

"He who dares defy you is not a fool. Instead," he stepped forward, daringly towards his father, voice projected bold and proud, "he is a challenger."

"Shen!" Meifeng now passed a reprimanding look towards her son. "Not one more word out of that beak of yours or—"

Lì's fists shook by his side. "Don't you dare…"

"Oh, but I do. And here is my verdict. I—" the rebellious prince's flaring eyes only narrowed with utter dislike as he neared his face toward him— "am not getting married."

Lì's had it.

Nobody saw it happen. But it did. The father's wing sharply slapped his son's cheek, and Shen fell to the ground with a tormented scream. He couldn't believe it—no one in the room couldn't believe it. The two of them had verbal fights like this, but it never, not once, led to physical. He wanted to shout a comeback to his father, but an unknown excruciating pain from somewhere in his body exploded, that same, physical pain he'd felt earlier, but now it felt much worse—it blinded him in white noise, rendering him incapable to do anything but shut his eyes close to rid of whatever it was. The pain was so overwhelming that Shen couldn't even identify where that pain came from. But Lì didn't even seem to care.

"You are going to do what I want you to do," Lì said with a barely controlled temper, pointing at him a threatening finger as if warning Shen for another punishment if he dared talk back again. "Don't think that you have a choice in this—don't even think you have a right to speak. You don't have my permission for you to state your verdict in the first place. You and Lan are going to be married, and that's final. I raised you, doing everything a father can give to you. Do not be the disgraceful ingrate, the utter dishonour I'm convinced you are by following my order for once."

"H-how…how dare you say..." Shen was breathing hard, trying to lift himself up from the floor, but he managed the words out nonetheless. "How dare you say that you raised me?"

That gave Lì pause. A flash of…of something passed through the father's eyes, and there it stayed, lasting for more than a fleeting second.

But he was quick to blink it away anyway. "You…I—"

"Soothsayer!"

Lì was quite pleased at being interrupted because he didn't even know what he was about to say there, anyway. But still, he acted like he didn't like the intrusion. "Meifeng, I thought I told you—"

"Oh, shush, she might be hurt!" The regal wife ran across the room, not caring if the soot on the ground stuck to her royal robes as she passed by. She crossed the room and went to a dark corner, where she knelt down to level the filthy and exhausted old goat that had been her family's trusted friend ever since. The goat had been hidden by the black soot, her clothes were practically smeared with nothing but ash—maybe that was why she had been unnoticed all this time, until, of course, Meifeng had. "Are you hurt, Ah-Ma?" she inquired worriedly, streaking a wing over her forehead to remove the dirt that soiled the goat's face. "Can you hear me? Do you recognize who I am?"

The court soothsayer was in fact just trying to stir from the unconsciousness that had fallen on her, a little while ago. But she, so far, felt no damage whatsoever in her body, thank goodness.

"I-I'm fine, my lady."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Meifeng burst out, voicing the Soothsayer's thoughts, suddenly feeling boneless with relief at the only good thing that seemed to happen today. But the refreshing feeling of happiness was immediately drained as she observed the elder's clothes, torn and shredded if not burned. "B-but…what on earth…happened to you?"

"…Shall I tell you from the very beginning?"

Meifeng firmly nodded. "The very beginning."

The Soothsayer's eyes grew glazed, distant, as if she was looking back at the faraway past. After spending a few more seconds for contemplation, she looked at Meifeng, almost smilingly, as if the miracle she'd been praying for her entire life had just been granted despite her filthy condition.

"I went to fetch for the silken kerchief Shen unintentionally left in this laboratory. I presumed that he would need it when the marriage actually takes place. But I choose not to reveal much about that part of the story." She smiled, as if at herself, for something she remembered, before resuming. "But, while in the darkness of the laboratory, I was not very careful in handling the candleholder, by my age and trembling hoofs, unfortunately. Then, when the candle touched the curtains, the fire began. I did not know how to get out quickly, I was trapped and the poisonous smell of the smoke was hindering. And when the flames eventually reached the crates of gunpowder, there sounded an explosion I presume you've all heard.

"A large burning piece of wood fell down from the ceiling to kill me," she began. "I closed my eyes. I prepared myself for the pain. I anticipated my death, prepared to accept it." Her voice was like a hush that it usually was whenever she foretold a mystic prediction, and it held the attention and every breath of everyone listening. She then opened her eyes. "But it never came. The burning wood never hit me—death never came. And the reason behind this…"

The Soothsayer lifted her gaze to lock her eyes with Shen's.

"…was a certain prince who kicked the wood out of the way to save my life."

At this, Lord Lì and Hai's beaks almost dropped to the floor. The royal ladies, Meifeng and Niu, gasped their disbelief. The rest of the watchers just stared at Shen, stunned at the revelation. They slowly let it sink in—the reason that Shen didn't come with Lady Lan in the first place while the fire had been raging all around them was because he was looking for the Soothsayer—in order to rescue her. It was only then when Shen's intentions became clear. So he hadn't been trying to commit suicide. He hadn't been trying to rebel. He hadn't meant to harshly shout at and throw his bride to the floor in the heat of all the earlier tension. It was all just a freak accident, and Shen was not at fault.

The prince relished in this trice for a few seconds, him and his surrogate mother sharing a moment so intimate that it couldn't be described by words—but he caught himself just in time before anyone else could even notice, denying in himself of what he felt for her. He tore his gaze away from the Soothsayer's and defiantly glared at his father instead, who, judging by the bewilderment on the lord's face and the speechlessness of his tongue, was openly caught shamefaced for the first time in his entire life.

Shen anticipated to hear his father's voice in this. All that he'd heard from him the past minute had all been wounding as they each stabbed him, the pain being almost physical—'disgraceful ingrate', 'bad omen', 'dishonourable son'. His father never called him that his entire life, but now the truth was out, and it hurt.

Even so, Shen had little hope that he didn't mean to say those things after all. He wanted to hear him take back all that he'd said, he wanted to hear him apologize, he wanted to hear him declare himself guilty. He wanted to see if, at the very least, his father would lower himself, kill his own pride, for once—for him. He wanted to see if he didn't mean to call him all those things, all those badmouthing he'd thrown at him mere minutes ago. He wanted to hear him say that he didn't mean any of those—he wanted to hear him say it.

But there was only silence.

And it was his mother who broke it.

"Oh, Shen! My son!" She came scurrying towards him and she knelt down beside him, her worried eyes boring into his. She was stroking the feathers onto his head, gently sweeping away the ash that had been smeared onto his face, the feel of her wings on his almost making him forget his gloom. But he didn't. Her beak was moving, but Shen barely caught a word, because he'd simply muted out of this world and had gone to nowhere. He knew he should at least be grateful that one of his parents still genuinely cared for him, but he felt so impossibly numb at that moment that summoning even the tiniest hint of gratitude in his eyes became an unachievable struggle. Until, that is, she shrieked.

"Shen! No!" Meifeng said, shocked, pointing at his feet—that, when he looked back and saw, he noticed had been burned. Badly. He didn't know how it happened, but he was appalled of the sight nevertheless. So that was the pain he'd been feeling before. Right now, though, he barely felt anything, which he knew should scare him but he couldn't pay it any mind. His feet looked like they should hurt, and most unpleasantly at that, but they must hurt so much that he couldn't feel it anymore.

Meifeng, though, seemed to have more trouble getting over it.

"Oh, Shen oh Shen oh Shen…your…your—your—!" The sight before her was so horrible that she couldn't even find the words.

"Son…" Her husband's voice was hushed and barely heard, but it was there. Lì had been finally able to gather his voice in all the turmoil. "Your talons…"

Shen looked away from both of them. He knew how gruesome his burned feet looked like right now, but he didn't exactly have the enthusiasm to dwell on it.

"They're fine," he deadpanned, the only mechanic answer he could muster.

"They're not," Lì insisted. He approached him, slowly, "Let's…get you to the royal infirmary—"

"Lord Lì, a royal messenger wants to see you."

Lì blinked. Unlike earlier, he certainly didn't find this interruption pleasant this time.

The peacock turned around to look at the servant who just announced the news, and let his frustration show on his face. Ugh, of all times, why now? He wanted to make it up for Shen, really, he did, but he could think up of no other way to make it up for him than this. Lì was emotionally awkward at approaching things like this, a similar trait his son had apparently inherited, and it frustrated him that both of them just couldn't open up to each other. But even this opportunity, an opportunity of saying an apology to his son, was going to be taken away from him again by that stupid pig who often complained that the fertilizers given to him weren't enough. He couldn't believe it.

Just the perquisites of being a royal.

"Not now, An! Can you not see I'm busy?"

"I am sorry, your highness. Deeply." The servant genuinely looked like he did—after all, this had been his job for years. "But this is different, milord, not the usual pig who complained about the fertilizers. This time it's a royal messenger sent by the Emperor himself, and even Guiren—the highest member of the Imperial Council—is with him. It is...it is…" This time, the servant passed the look of apology to Shen. "I'm truly sorry, my prince, but it is very urgent."

Shen huffed indignantly. As if that still affected him. His father could attend to all meetings of Imperial China for all he cared.

Lì was still reluctant to leave him, though. "But son, are you—"

Shen slapped his wing away, and this, he did, by unconditional reflex. "I'm fine. Just go."

A look of hurt crossed Lì's eyes, but this time he decided to keep his beak shut. So he simply drew his wing back, and, with one final glance, left the room to attend this so-called 'urgent meeting'.

And, once his father disappeared from Shen's sight, the exhaustion of the entire day finally caught up with him. The muscles in his chest tightened, his heart beat in erratic rhythms, and nausea drove him to view the world like a spinning top. Shen resisted, held on to consciousness—no, no, he was not going to display to everyone else that he was weak, just like back when he was a child, just…no! But, unfortunately, his sickly body wasn't as strong as his willpower, the exhaustion was too overpowering. Everything began to fade into an incomprehensible blur as each of his systems started shutting down. His world began to fade into black, and the last thing he could remember was the gasp of the people, the worried screams of his mother, and the reassuring look of the Soothsayer, who came before him at the last second to give his wing one last squeeze before he finally gave in and fell into black oblivion.