A/N:
After some careful consideration, I have decided to continue "Half-Light". Originally, I had thought about dropping it since the third movie promises to explain the "Official" backplot…but in the end, I can't. I love this fanfic, and I think there's room in the world for both our versions.
HOWEVER, this also means that I will not be answering to any questions regarding ANYTHING within the movie continuum. As long as I'm attempting to write this story again, I don't want to hear anything about the movie's explanation. I don't want it to color what I'm doing, lest I start plagiarizing or something >_ Otherwise, short chapter this time. Hopefully this will remind everyone where we last left Our Heros, and it'll help me get into the swing of things again. The biggest problem I've been having with this fic is the length of the chapters, so this is an experiment to see if I can get away with posting shorter scenes (where applicable). To give you an idea, this is a third of what I'd originally planned to post, and it's nearly 12 pages long @_@ Hopefully the pieces are starting to come together though, and perhaps you'll start to see how things hook together. Mei Lai does get the shaft here, but hey—she's had a lot of screen time lately, and her story will become clear next chapter.
Enjoy.
Nothing! Mei Lai fumed for the thousandth time, clicking her talons in frustration. Nothing, which means that he keeps his books in closer confidence than that…which means…
She thrust her wings harder, still annoyed. She had known before she started that there was little chance her foray would succeed, but she had never dreamed it would fail so spectacularly. Of course she hadn't expected anything real…only a true idiot would leave his actual plans written out in such a poorly guarded fashion. But there was usually some truth to be had in financial records, and quite often in fictitious battle plans. Find what they want to protect! her father had always said. The truth can't be perfect, but a lie usually is. Whatever they're guarding, that's where the story will look the most seamless—that's where the hole in their defense is. Look around the edges, and you can find a way to unravel the whole thing.
But she had found no holes to slip through: no large shipments of grain, no increase in taxes, no labor receipts. And no lack of them either—everything was as it should be.
Which was the most frustrating thing of all. According to the records she'd seen, it almost looked as if the Stork Empire was interested in supporting her family's interests. Not openly, obviously, but the few (seemingly legit) trade embargoes she had found seemed to indicate that Lord Tsing was interested in quarreling with the Fox empire, not her father's domain at all. It could all be smoke and mirrors, but…
There was no way he could have anticipated my presence in his Hall. she thought, irritated. And everyone knows our family no longer possess the silver to purchase a decent spy. We aren't enough of a threat for him to waste the ink writing false plans.
There was something else her father had taught her when she was young, after the tutors had started teaching her all sorts of nonsense about religious symbology. He'd looked at the painting she was analyzing, listened patiently to her careful explanation of its Deep Inner Meaning, and promptly announced:
"Sometimes, a spade is just a spade."
Sometimes, there is no meaning.
Little Ping tightened her hold around Mei Lai's neck, and her taloned feet chafed hard against Mei Lai's sides. She whimpered, but mercifully did not throw up again.
What am I playing at, anyway? Mei Lai sighed, and turned her luminous eyes northward.
She could try and blackmail the concubine, for what good that would do – the lord had only recently taken her, and after this prolonged and annoying 'illness' it was doubtful she would remain in favor. The girl had really done a number on herself, Mei Lai thought sadly, all in the name of a dubious Love who probably would have just slaughtered her after he tired of her hysterics. She had even been tempted to keep the Royal Seal, since it was doubtful the concubine would possess it much longer, but that might have brought her name out into the open in any ensuing interrogations. Not even a Daughter of the Moon would be immune then, and her family certainly couldn't take another blow to its status. Mei Lai growled, still frustrated at her complete and utter impotence. Little Ping had even offered to remain behind, for goodness' sake, but not even THAT would have been useful enough to outweigh the risk.
When a spy in the women's quarters isn't worth the risk, you know you're in trouble. she thought wryly.
Little Ping shifted on Mei Lai's back, knocking one foot uncomfortably close to the dragon's wing base. "M-my lady?" the servant inquired softly. "Forgive me, b-b-but I am a l-little cold…"
Mei Lai said nothing, as she was want to do in her true form, but she tipped her wings downward. The Forest of Sorrows unfolded beneath them as she broke the cloud cover, alight with the usual night-time noises: crying loons, crackling fires, explosive growls. A child cried plaintively, wanting its mother, but Mei Lai ignored it. The Forest was the home of hungry ghosts, and any kind fool heading in to comfort that child would not be seen again. She fought the winds hard and curved away from its wails, fighting the cold rush of ghost-power trying to pull her down. She was amused, but not terribly surprised, to hear the baby's whine turn into a frustrated screech.
It is too dangerous to live near these Shadow-lands. Mei Lai thought for the thousandth time. But gods help us, it is our best defense. Little Ping's nails dug into her neck, and she knew the servant was thinking much the same thing.
For the last fifty years her family had been buried in these tangled woods, shielded by the vengeance of the fallen spirits, hiding in estates that had once been mere summer palaces. It didn't take a genius to realize they were at the end of their resources, and it wouldn't take much to destroy their pathetic "stronghold". Even the Forest could not swallow an army, if the fighters were strong and the leaders determined.
The faint tinges of despair nibbled at her again, and Mei Lai squeezed her eyes shut against the harshness of the wind.
I do not cry. She told herself firmly. The Fou do not weep, do not run, do not hesitate in the face of adversity. We will take back what has been stolen from us, and I will reign in the absence of my Father when the time comes that the Earth takes him away from me. With the Moon as my witness, I will restore our former glory!
Gods help me..
She opened her jaws and roared, ignoring Little Ping's terrified squeal, ignoring the answering call from the Forest, ignoring everything but the primal heat running hot through her body, and made one final plea to the heavens.
Please, Mother, tell me how to save my family.
"You are dismissed." Haruna stated icily, waving the messenger away.
"What shall I tell my mistress?" the weasel asked slyly, ducking his head only slightly. Haruna narrowed her eyes at his impudence, but chose to ignore it.
"Tell her I am grateful for her concern, but I have no need for her at this time."
"Understood." The furry beast lashed his tail hard behind the screen, and Haruna did not need Jii to tell her that it meant I am not pleased that you have wasted my time. He glared at her again, peering around the divider at her shrouded form in an unthinkable breach of conduct. He inhaled once, thoughtfully.
"You are dismissed!" Haruna stated again, feeling a faint tinge of panic. Jii-san stirred in the corner, half-masked by the haze of smoke in the room. His bulk was huge against the wall, like a lurking giant.
The weasel paused, considering his position.
"Good day, Lady. It was a pleasure." the weasel finally said, and retreated humbly, on his hands and knees. Haruna noticed he did not favor her with a bow as he left the room.
For a moment, she sat completely motionless, clutching her ornamental fan so hard she thought it might break.
"Is he gone?" she asked.
"Yes, m'lady." Jii-san confirmed, approaching the bamboo screen slowly. She could only see half of him from her vantage point behind the portable wall, which was slightly unnerving. One of his rheumy eyes peeked around the partition, and she jumped in spite of herself.
"I thought I told you! No creatures with Scent!" she snapped, still disturbed by the image of the devious weasel half-hidden behind her shouji screen. Even the muted light of the incense burners seemed too bright to her. Had he seen her through the veil? Had he smelled her through the incense?
Had he realized she was human?
"Sorry, m'lady." the old lizard said, ducking his head respectfully. "T'was a slip of me feeble old mind. Won't happen again."
"Be sure that it doesn't!" she snapped, and rose from her cushions. Her heart was still knocking hard against her ribs, and she tried to calm herself. This business was far more nerve-racking then she'd thought anything could possibly be, and she couldn't wait to see it over with.
If it would ever end. She was beginning to think she'd never find the right girl.
"You are dismissed, Jii." She told the lizard, more gently this time. "Just…warn me next time, will you?"
"Aye, m'lady." he nodded, then shuffled backwards to the veranda. "I, er…I have some other business t'night…I may not see ye for a while." He disappeared behind a partition silently, vanishing in a swirl of smoke and shadows.
Going to get drunk, like as not, she sniffed, then laughed at her own pettiness. It was scarcely her business if he wanted to chase the Dragon for a night or two. He'd already done her enough favors, and he wouldn't shirk his duties for long. A drunkard, yes, but the old beast was reliable.
She passed into the hall purposefully, gathering her skirts around her in a show of bustle and energy. In reality, she was fatigued beyond belief. She had been meeting with prospective candidates all week, but nothing seemed any clearer than it had when they had first started this insane plot. There were rules to things here that she did not understand, rules that would have made any normal person's head explode years ago. Women were never supposed to plot behind their Lord's back, so it boggled the mind to think that such a situation could possibly have etiquette attached.
Again, the niggling sense that she was missing something rose to nip at her heels. A gaggle of maids whispered loudly in a corner as she passed, and she favored them with such a fierce glance that even the boldest of them decided to quiet. Let them talk in the scullery, she thought fiercely. The hallway is mine to walk, and I will not tolerate such insults in public.
The servants knew, of course. She'd known from the beginning that it was hopeless to keep such a thing from them, so she'd openly invited them to set up for the meetings—it helped to have extra hands positioning things properly and decorating with a demon's touch. They were already paid enough silver to keep her existence a secret from the outside world, so who was she to deny them their petty gossip? Besides, it was not exactly a secret that she was still without child. Surely they would have assumed that her entourage of visitors were associated with her misfortune.
She pressed a hand to her belly again and made to enter her chambers, fighting back the taste of bile in her throat. Her uselessness was tangible, a heavy stone weighting her down from the midsection. What good was a wife who could not produce? How long could her husband remain heirless? She knew his position remained precarious though he did not say as much. He had taken his father's lands at great personal cost, not long after their initial commitment, and she heard dark whispers in the hall that suggested his inheritance was not as safe as he claimed in private.
What good is a lord without an heir? they said, the words daggers through her breast.
The Western Lands will fall, when he dies, and this household with it.
She had to get him a son. If not hers, then someone else's—be it by gold, or incense, or outright threat. One way or another, she would find him an heir, and then maybe things would be normal between them again. And then…
And then, she saw her.
Lady Ouka was striding toward her with the usual entourage in tow; her handmaidens fawned over her dress and sleeves like a pack of dogs whining for a bone. They simpered endlessly and fed her compliments, eager for nothing but their mistress's praise. What a disgusting display! Haruna thought, but as always, the slight tinges of fear tickled at her belly.
Ouka was a terrier crossbred of relatively low birth—little more than a mutt--but strong enough to bear the attentions of a much more powerful demon. She had been moved to the eastern compound a few months ago, a gift from Inutaishou's cousins in the north. Haruna didn't have to be a mind reader to understand what they intended for her, nor did her dubious origins comfort her any. Ouka had come from a small but prestigious House of Comforts, and her talents were rumored to be legendary.
What are you doing here?! Get out of my hallway! Haruna wanted to snarl, but there were Rules to this too. She had to play the game right or risk losing everything, so she dropped her arms to the front and bowed properly.
"Good day to you, Ouka." she stated flatly, hating herself for even acknowledging the whelp. The words came out clipped and flat, and the demoness arched one eyebrow pointedly at the tone. Haruna hoped the scent of her anger was not detectable over the perfume in her hair.
"Good day, Lady." Ouka replied with a cursory bow. "Out for a stroll? Or perhaps wondering where our dear Master has gotten to these days?" She curled her upper lip mockingly. Haruna knew nothing of the dog-language the demons spoke, but she didn't need a translator to realize that Ouka was threatening her.
Your husband spends more time in my bed than yours.
"My business is none of your concern." Haruna retorted, more sharply than she wanted. "And our Lord roams where he pleases, when he pleases." She met the demon's eyes with a steady gaze.
But the Lord comes to me first, and he doesn't confide in you. You haven't won him yet.
The concubine huffed, obviously taken aback.
"Good day to you." Haruna nodded, and ducked through the door to her personal chambers before Ouka could think of a response. "I'll have one of my servants see you outside."
Get out of my life, and STAY out.
She knew that Ouka disliked her. She knew that Ouka had said as much openly, out in the gardens where anyone might hear! And she also knew, as sure as the sun rises, that Ouka had Plans. If that trollop had her way, she would turn his head and cast her out onto the street. Once, she would have thought such a thing impossible. Their love was strong, and hot as the river of fire beneath the mountain she lived on. Now…
She shook her head and busied herself in the act of changing, trying to think more positively. Her outer robes were entirely too smelly, and she shucked the first two layers disdainfully. Definitely, definitely time for a wash. She wrinkled her nose and threaded them onto their wooden forms, hoping that a good hanging would get some of the sweat-stench out.
Still, the worrisome thoughts would not leave her. She went to her writing table and threw herself into her letters with mindless energy, attempting to find something to distract her from the paranoia. Her pen flew again and again to relatives, speaking blandly of autumn and illnesses, but her thoughts continued the endless litany. Where is he? What is he doing? Why hasn't he come home? Is he even alive? Why doesn't he write more? Does he not care to write? Why doesn't…
A small noise echoed in the darkness, and she let her pen rest briefly. She looked up quizzically, wondering who would bother her at this hour…
And he was there.
She looked up, and he was there.
"M-my lord!" she gasped, startled by his presence. What could she say? His expression was strained. A jumble of sentences crashed through her head at once, but none seemed fitting.
He's home! her mind sang, and the thought filled her head until there was room for nothing else.
He sat down stiffly, as if one leg pained him but he was trying not to favor it. Fool! Haruna sniffed, watching him closely. His expressions were known to her, and he was a fool if he thought he could hide his pain. I'll have to get some liniment out. she thought, slightly annoyed. Now that the immediate shock of his coming had worn off, Haruna wasn't sure what to feel. He hadn't been home in weeks, and now he shows up injured?! She had the vaguest thought that she might be angry.
"Welcome home, my Lord." she addressed formally, purposefully putting some distance between them.
"Hello." he whispered, giving her his usual rougeish grin. She sniffed, entirely unimpressed. Here he had left her alone in the castle with scarcely a word for days, and now he expected her to fall right into his arms?!
His smiled faltered almost immediately, and she suddenly realized the falseness behind it, the thinly veiled fatigue etched into his features. He looked tired, so very tired, and for once his silvery hair seemed lackluster.
"What troubles you?" she asked, still struggling to stay distant. It was hard to warm up, she told herself, after being abandoned for so long. She needed to be cool to him, she needed to let him know her displeasure, even though she currently wanted nothing more than to twine her fingers into his hair and pull him down to the mattress…but she could stay calm. A little banter, perhaps, and she could give him some grief about leaving her to her 'own devices' for so many restless nights…
"Torachiyo died last night." His words were clipped and emotionless. Haruna's flippant reply stopped cold on her tongue. He turned his eyes to her briefly, and they were wild and tortured.
To hell with this.
"How?" she asked softly, crawling closer and abandoning any illusion of decorum.
"Crows." he stated flatly, and she could tell he was struggling to keep the details from her. His nostrils flared uncontrollably, and his slender face twisted around the edges—no doubt remembering something horrible. How long will you hide things from me? I know how much this war hurts you. she wondered in concern, watching the anger flicker over his pale face, watching his crimson stripes writhe in agony. His mind might be closed to her, but his body was not--and she could tell he was close to Changing.
"I'm sorry." she whispered, gently placing one slender hand on his knee. He tensed almost instantly, startled by the sudden contact, and his muscles jumped wildly underneath her bony fingers. She kneaded them slowly, willing him to relax, keeping one eye trained on his face.
"That's not all." he barked gruffly, squeezing his eyes shut. His whole body shuddered with the memory. "Terutora is trying to claim…claim our lands."
Haruna felt a icy chill run down her spine. "No. He wouldn't." Her husband merely looked at her, an empty, hopeless expression on his face.
"But he can't!" She protested doggedly.
"Yes, he could. The northern lords are backing him." Her husband growled, and his aura crackled around her, physically tangible. Her hair hovered away from her body, stiff with electricity, and Haruna squeezed his leg tighter, willing herself not to scream. It terrified her when he reacted like this, terrified her to realize how much power was sitting next to her. He must have known, because his nostrils flared and abruptly the energy reversed its direction, curling back into his body with an audible crackle. For several long minutes he just sat there, breathing it in, until his emotions were under control and she could let her guard down.
Finally, he allowed himself to lean into her shoulder.
"I can't do anything about it." he whimpered into her robes. "Father never made it official." He tilted his head to look at her, and all his defenses dropped at once. "My brother was supposed to inherit this territory, Haru. Not me."
His hands came up to wrap around hers, and she was surprised how cool they felt.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore." he whispered. "My brother should be here, not me."
He looked at her plaintively, and his voice quavered.
"I should have died there. Not him. I'm not supposed to be here."
What do I say to that? she wondered, threading her fingers through his beautiful hair, watching the way it rippled to the floor. Her angry words forgotten, Haruna leaned in and did the only thing she could do.
Her inky hair spilled over him possessively, and she pulled him closer.
"But you're here now." she whispered, and enveloped him in her arms, drawing him close to her warmth. "And that's all that matters."
"It's what matters to me."
He started briefly, then returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her and inhaling deeply. Tasting my scent… she realized, he's reminding himself what I smell like. Oh, sweetheart…
"I missed you." she whispered truthfully, moving her hands in small circles over his spine, pressing out the knots in his muscles. He buried his face in her smooth neck, content to hide in her for just a little while. So proud…it's amazing he would share this with me. she mused to herself, massaging just behind his pointy ears. He moved against her only slightly, wrapping himself around her small form for comfort.
"I missed you too." he responded gruffly, and opened his mouth to nibble at the soft curve of her chin.
She pulled him closer and gently pressed her own lips to one of his cheeks, grazing the length of one crimson stripe. So different we are, she thought for the thousandth time, distracted by his hot breath on her skin, but we always find a way for each other…
"Welcome home." she whispered, slipping one hand into his silky kimono.
And no more words were necessary.
He was gone when she woke again, several hours later, but his presence was still tangible beside her: the sheets still held the impression of his body. The sheets were cool though, and she realized through her tears that he had been gone for a long, long time.
She didn't need to look, but she tortured herself anyways. The night air was chill and she considered returning indoors, but she had to look and see for herself. As she thought, the lights were burning in the eastern apartments.
She tried to hate him but couldn't, because he didn't know what she knew. He didn't know that Ouka would ruin him, that the whelp would take everything in her power and separate him from the one thing that could bring his tortured soul comfort. Ouka would take his body, and maybe give him a son, but she would never be his confident.
Eyes blazing and heart bleeding its life out, Haruna made up her mind once and for all. She would rid this house of Ouka and her spurious, infuriating ways, and she would resolve her shame in her own way. She would get him a son, she would secure his bloodline, through her own connections.
She would find him an apt and suitable concubine, or she would die trying.
And the Plot Thickens! Mmm…like soup.
I would normally respond to reviews here, but there were too many to do individually this time. Bless your hearts! I love you all.