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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

prompt: after their father died, the Nie bros were raised by Wen Ruohan, and are forced to survive in the backstabbing tangle of Nightless City politics.

Congratulations! You have also won the “I didn’t mean to write this much” fic prompt lottery, to the tune (again) of about 30k. I hope you enjoy!

Note: any fic warnings will be only on Ao3

Fire and Light (ao3) - part 1

“It’ll be all right,” Nie Mingjue murmured to Nie Huaisang, who was curled in his arms, shaking and terrified. The carriage rumbled and lurched around them, traveling down the long path to the Nightless City, where they would now be staying. “It’ll be all right. We’ll manage, somehow.”

He didn’t believe a word he said, of course. How could everything be all right?

Their father was dead. Murdered – it was rather unquestionable at this point. Wen Ruohan had broken his saber from a distance, driving him mad, and Nie Mingjue had known it was Wen Ruohan, but no one had believed him. No one had wanted to help, to intervene, to take action. Even at home, they’d just started resigning themselves to having to take care of Lao Nie as he died by inches when the murderer himself had shown up at the Unclean Realm to ‘help’ them in their moment of need.

Even half-mad, their father had tried to fight back.

Wen Ruohan had put him down like a rabid dog, wringing his neck and tossing him aside.

He’d then announced that Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, now orphans, would be brought back to the Nightless City and taken into the Wen sect to be his wards, to be appropriately reeducated and brought up well. Brought up properly.

And as for the rest of the Nie sect –

At least they survived, Nie Mingjue reminded himself. Even if they have to work for the Wen sect, even if the sun banner flies in the Unclean Realm…at least they’re not dead.

At least Huaisang is with me.

He didn’t know what to expect when they arrived. He didn’t think it would be anything good.

Their rooms in the Nightless City were large, but cold.

They were wards of the great Sect Leader Wen, they were told when they arrived. That meant that they would be treated with respect, as if they were truly young masters of the Wen sect. They would get the best tutors, the best clothing, the best food and drink…they would be masters of the world, if only they bowed their heads and were obedient.

(If they were not obedient, they would be punished. The exact nature of that punishment remained – unspecified.)

“Are they going to hurt us?” Nie Huaisang whispered late at night, curled up in Nie Mingjue’s bed. He’d been hiding in his own, shaking and terrified, until Nie Mingjue had crept out to check on him, daring the unspecified punishment if it meant confirming his brother was all right. Obviously Nie Mingjue couldn’t leave him like that, so he’d brought him back. “Are they going to do to us what they did to a-Die?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, with moderate confidence. “They’re not. They’ve put in too much effort, made this all too public, to kill us now. Though I’m not ruling out the possibility that they might freeze us to death by accident. How is it so cold here? It’s south of Qinghe! The climate should be more temperate, not less! And have they never heard of tapestries?”

“Da-ge…”

“Don’t think I don’t feel those ice-blocks you call feet at my waist!”

Nie Huaisang giggled, as Nie Mingjue had intended. “You’re being silly, da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue pretended to huff angrily, tossing his head like a bull, and it made Nie Huaisang giggle again, the way it always had. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll keep you warm, I guess. It’s my duty as your da-ge, isn’t it?”

“What’s my duty?” Nie Huaisang wanted to know.

“To be my spoiled brat of a didi, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, the way he always did, but this time Nie Huaisang shook his head in denial.

“Now that we’re here,�� he clarified, looking at Nie Mingjue with wide, trusting eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

Nie Mingjue knew, as Nie Huaisang did not, why their lives had been spared: it all lay in that word, reeducated. They would be indoctrinated into Wen sect beliefs, Wen sect customs, and by the time they were sent back to rule Qinghe as Wen Ruohan’s puppets, they would be more Wen than Nie. Even for him, it would be difficult to resist; for someone as young as Nie Huaisang, with his childish memories already slipping through his fingers like sand, it would be virtually impossible.

Asking him to resist would serve no purpose but to torment him when he inevitably failed.

“Be happy, didi,” he finally said, and pressed his lips to Nie Huaisang’s forehead. “Be happy as you can, as you always have. Don’t let them take away your smile.”

The next day, they were introduced to Wen Xu and Wen Chao, the actual young masters of Qishan, sons of Wen Ruohan. Wen Xu was a handful of years older than Nie Mingjue, eighteen to his nearly-fifteen, while Wen Chao was less than two years older than Nie Huaisang. Neither of them seemed happy to see them, scowls fixed firmly on their faces, sneers of disdain twisting their lips.

“Do you train the saber?” Wen Xu asked Nie Mingjue, who raised an eyebrow of ‘what do you think I train’ in return. “A boorish weapon, but then I suppose your ancestors were butchers.”

“I look forward to taking classes with you,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking to himself that one didn’t have to be especially clever to know the history the Nie sect proudly proclaimed at every turn. “They’re clearly very enriching.”

Wen Xu blinked at him and then turned his face away, his lips pressed together – whether in annoyance or, possibly, a sense of humor very deeply buried, it was difficult to tell.

“Father has expectations of you,” he finally said instead of responding to Nie Mingjue’s jibe, and there was no humor in his face now. “You’ll meet them, of course.”

Unspoken was that they couldn’t afford not to. Either of them.

Nie Mingjue lowered his head. His entire sect – all his cousins, aunts, uncles, whether surnamed Nie or not – were back in Qinghe, closely watched by Wen sect commanders. There was a sword to their throat, and therefore also to his.

He, too, could not afford to disappoint Wen Ruohan.

Wen Xu’s shoulders relaxed a little when he saw Nie Mingjue’s submission – he had clearly been charged with their care, and had just as clearly worried about his ability to fulfill his mission should they choose to rebel – and he nodded, more to himself than to them. “There’s classrooms, and training grounds,” he said. “I’ll show you where they are, as well as the dining room – there are set times for meals, and attendance is mandatory – and of course the necessaries. You don’t need more than that, at least to start.”

“Are there rules we should keep in mind?” Nie Mingjue asked, thinking about his brief visit to Gusu.

“Many,” Wen Xu said. His expression was stormy. “Some of them are even spoken aloud.”

“Da-ge! Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang ran up to him, lip quivering and eyes glistening wet with tears. It was a very sad, even heart-rending sight; it used to send Nie Mingjue into a frenzy to see him like that. But by now he’d learned better and he didn’t even blink, even though Wen Xu faltered, his sword twisting off in the middle of their spar as if he expected Nie Mingjue to lose focus at a key moment and injure himself. He wouldn’t, of course, and he instead used the moment to tap Wen Xu’s sword pointedly with Baxia, claiming the point. “Da-ge, I fell down again!”

“Excuse me,” Nie Mingjue said to Wen Xu, and turned to kneel before Nie Huaisang. “Did you, now?”

“Uh-huh!”

“And did you hurt yourself?”

“I did!” Nie Huaisang stuck his hand out. There was, maybe, a bruise on his wrist. If one squinted. It was probably just mud, actually. “It hurts awful, da-ge. Kiss it better?”

“That doesn’t really work,” Wen Chao scoffed, only a few steps behind Nie Huaisang.

“Shut up, it does,” Nie Huaisang shot back, temporarily forgetting that he was supposed to be pitiful, and turned back to Nie Mingjue. “Well, da-ge?”

Nie Mingjue nodded solemnly. “It’s my job,” he agreed, gathering Nie Huaisang up into his arms and pressing his lips to the ‘wound’, using the motion to infuse a little bit of spiritual energy as well. Not enough to actually make a difference, and certainly not enough to justify Nie Huaisang promptly declaring himself all better, but he liked to do it anyway – a little connection between them.

Wen Chao looked at them both in suspicion, his brow wrinkling. “That doesn’t really work,” he said again, but his voice was weaker this time, more questioning.

“It does too work,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Maybe if you’re really nice, I’ll let da-ge fix you up too next time you fall down.”

“I’m not going to fall down! I’m not a baby like you!”

“Everyone falls down sometimes. There’s nothing shameful about it,” Nie Mingjue said, and pointed to a bruise on his own face. “I myself fell down just a little while ago. Your brother helped. Several times.”

Wen Chao gaped at him, even as Nie Huaisang giggled.

“And Huaisang? You’re already very good at being a big baby and we all know it. You can stop practicing your skills at any time.”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at him, still laughing.

Nie Mingjue ruffled his hair and sent them both away, Nie Huaisang in the lead and Wen Chao following after, the latter shooting strange looks back at Nie Mingjue over his shoulder.

“You’re too soft on him,” Wen Xu said from behind him, even as Nie Mingjue rose to his feet. “He won’t thank you for it, later.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Later is later,” he said philosophically. “Now is now. Can you show me that move you did earlier, kicking out my feet? It was very well done.”

Wen Xu stared at him. “The one – where I knocked you to the ground?”

“That’s the one. Do it again, just slower; it’ll be hard for me to pick it up, otherwise.”

“You’re just asking – no, never mind. Don’t you care that I beat you with it?”

“…no?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. Was this some sort of weird Qishan Wen hang-up? “How am I supposed to learn if I don’t lose?”

“In training, like everyone else.”

“That’d only teach me how to win when everything goes right,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “I want to learn how to win even when I’m losing. Here, you show me that and I’ll show you the trick I did this morning, with the disarming.”

Wen Xu tensed up. “I don’t need your tricks.”

I don’t need your pity, he meant, and Nie Mingjue didn’t understand him at all. Wen Xu was at home, his little brother safe, his sect secure – why would Nie Mingjue pity him?

“Consider it a favor to me, then,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking back to how his uncle used to handle the especially prickly tempers in their sect, which was never short on them. “My grasp on the move isn’t that good – teaching it to someone else is the best way for me to improve my own understanding.”

Wen Xu hesitated for a while, thinking it over as if he thought there was some sort trap in the offer – what trap it might be, Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure – but then he nodded.

“All right then,” he said arrogantly. “I won’t even count it as a favor. Consider it a gift, since you’re so new here.”

They were there for about a month by the time they met some other people their age.

It was enough time to start to get used to the monotony of it all. They woke up in the morning and were free until breakfast – Nie Mingjue often got in some extra saber training, Nie Huaisang usually slept in – at which point they would meet in the cold, miserable dining hall with enough space to fit two dozen people but which only ever had the four of them, being served by voiceless servants.

They would remain there for enough time to burn a stick of incense at minimum, half a shichen at the maximum, and then they would proceed to their classes. There would be alternating classes and training, all based on some mystifying schedule that seemed to change every day but which clearly had some sort of order based on the boredom with which the Wen heirs regarded it, but always lunch and dinner in the same cold dining room, all alone, same as ever.

It was therefore a surprise when they came down for breakfast and found two other children there: a pale-faced girl about Wen Chao’s age or a little older and a skinny, shy-looking boy closer to Nie Huaisang’s. They were wearing Wen colors, but that didn’t mean anything – so were the rest of them. Neither Nie Mingjue nor Nie Huaisang had been allowed to bring any of their Nie robes to the Nightless City other than the ones they’d been wearing, and those had been splattered with blood. Nie Mingjue had carefully preserved them and still intended on finding a time to go try to see if he could salvage them in the wash, just as soon as he figured out where the laundry was.

His own new robes, in garish Wen colors that made him feel sick every time he looked down, itched and pulled on his body when he moved – they were badly sized. It seemed the seamstresses of the Nightless City hadn’t been expecting someone of his size and shape, although the array of robes he’d found in the closet made him realize, with gut-churning nausea, that he had been expected, that Wen Ruohan had prepared in advance to receive his new wards long before he had committed the act of murder to obtain them.

He hadn’t complained about the discomfort of the badly sized clothing – he hadn’t dared – but Wen Xu had been irritable about it for days now. Based on his rants, it seemed like he suspected that someone had made the robes ill-fitting on purpose to restrict Nie Mingjue’s full range of motion, a scheme designed to make Nie Mingjue humiliate Wen Xu in front of his father when the right size clothing finally did come in.

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the calculations Wen Xu made, the paranoia involved – who would do something like that? why? what would even be the point? – and he didn’t especially want to, either.

He looked at the other two children. The girl stared down at her food, not making eye contact, but the boy stole glances at him – perhaps he and Nie Huaisang were as much as of a surprise to them as they were to him.

“Good morning,” he said to them. “My brother and I are surnamed Nie. What about you?”

Wen Xu snorted loudly, rolling his eyes. “They’re Wen,” he said scathingly. “Our cousins, from one of collateral branches of the family; the ones in the mountains. Father has taken the two of them on as his wards on account of their unfortunate circumstances and promising talent.”

“Unfortunate circumstances?” Nie Huaisang wondered aloud, and Nie Mingjue sighed to himself at the sheer rudeness of the direct question. “What’s so unfortunate?”

“Our p-parents are dead,” the boy told him quietly, stuttering a little.

“Oh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Ours too.”

There was a moment of silence, the entire room disbelieving, and then Nie Mingjue started laughing.

The sound of his laughter verged on the hysterical, hurting his throat, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Not because it was funny, of course, it wasn’t funny, would never be funny, it was still raw and burning and painful. It probably would be for the rest of his undoubtedly short life. But news travelled fast in the cultivation world, and while he couldn’t say for sure, Nie Mingjue suspected he’d be hard pressed to find someone who hadn’t heard about Wen Ruohan murdering the old Nie sect leader and taking his children by now.

Judging by the horrified expressions on the Wen cousins’ faces, they definitely had, and the sheer awkwardness that paralyzed the entire room just made the entire thing pathetically – well, laughable.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang hissed, cheeks turning red, but he was smiling a little, too, mostly out of the infectiousness of Nie Mingjue’s laughter. “Don’t embarrass me!”

Nie Mingjue leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Extra etiquette lessons for a week.”

“No!”

“Someone has to teach you to think before you speak,” Nie Mingjue said, still chuckling involuntarily with the aftereffects of his bout of inappropriate humor. “Not every thought that passes through your brain has to reach your tongue, you know. Consider holding some back. Cultivate an aura of mystery.”

Nie Huaisang grumbled and went back to picking at his food.

“Aren’t you going to punish him?” the girl asked suddenly. She was staring straight at Nie Mingjue. “You didn’t embarrass him. He embarrassed you.”

“I’m his older brother,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug. “If he’s not embarrassed by me and I’m not mortified by him, something’s clearly wrong –”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang wailed.

Nie Mingjue put some extra meat into his bowl to apologize for teasing, and Nie Huaisang subsided, making faces at him as he did.

“You’re weird,” Wen Chao announced.

Nie Mingjue didn’t think so, but all the Wens averted their eyes away from him as if they were silently agreeing, so maybe he was.

It turned out that the girl’s name was Wen Qing and the boy, her brother, was called Wen Ning.

“Don’t any of you have courtesy names?” Nie Mingjue asked, a little desperately, and it turned out that the Wen sect had the strange tradition of referring to people by their given names until they were properly acknowledged. Acknowledged as what wasn’t specified, but they all seemed to have a sense of definitiveness about it, as if expecting it to happen at some distant date.

Qinghe had the exact opposite tradition – given names were for immediate family only, sometimes a secret kept just to the parents, and everyone else went straight to using the courtesy name almost immediately after the first month ceremony.

“But you haven’t done anything by then,” Wen Ning said, worrying his lip with his teeth. Nie Huaisang had been devastated to discover that despite being small and thin as a stick, Wen Ning was exactly three weeks older than him – he’d been looking forward to calling someone didi for once, and now he was off sulking about finding himself the youngest yet again. Nie Mingjue was sure he’d get over it quickly. “Nothing impressive, nothing worthy of acclaim…what can a baby possibly do to deserve getting a name so early?”

“They were born, they are alive,” Nie Mingjue said. “What more do they need to do? Isn’t that worthy of recognition all on its own?”

He got strange looks again.

It turned out that Wen Qing was the talented one of the pair – she was training to be a doctor, and all her teachers spoke very highly of her.

“That’s wonderful,” Nie Mingjue said, and meant it. “Medical skills are a rare pearl that ought to be treasured; with the world always in need, there can never be too many doctors. I look forward to being treated by you in the future.”

Wen Qing blinked owlishly at him. It appeared that she was unaccustomed to praise.

“If you ever need someone to practice on, let me know,” he tried – he knew pretty words were far from his forte, and actions were better anyway – but that didn’t seem to help.

“I’m not good at anything,” Wen Ning volunteered, wringing his hands. “Jiejie refused to leave me at home by myself, but I’m not - good. At things.”

“Everyone is good at something,” Nie Mingjue assured him, the words coming much easier this time – he knew this particular routine well, given Nie Huaisang’s routinely poor physical performance in a sect that placed such a premium on it. “Some have strengths that are lauded by society, others merely ones that give color to it, but both are valuable and worthy of praise. You will find your talent, given time.”

Wen Ning appeared rather dazed by the concept. “But – what if I look for my talent and it turns out I really am no good at anything?”

“Then you’ll be good at being cared for,” Nie Mingjue said firmly. “Someone has to keep us older siblings in business with something to do.”

“Oh,” Wen Ning said, hugging himself until his face turned red, and then he ran away.

Nie Mingjue watched him go, feeling a little helpless. He hadn’t meant at all to be cruel, or condescending, or whatever it was that had so affected Wen Ning. Why was it, he wondered, that whenever he addressed those surnamed Wen, everything he did seemed to end up having the wrong reaction?

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen qing #wen ning #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #this is the one that had a one-sentence summary #it was supposed to be short!#chuplayswithfire #fire and light

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janumun · 5 years

Text

To Love a God and a Devil

Chapter 2

Morning came without you having gotten a single wink of sleep the entire night. Your body ached and protested as you dragged it out of bed, not at all ready for the inevitable confrontation. You didn’t want to see Nobunaga at all.

Vivid images of his expressions as you revealed your disloyal behaviour to him had been your sole company throughout your sleepless night and had refused to leave even as dawn came.

You began to dress yourself sluggishly, reckoning Nobunaga would have long returned from his campaign outside Azuchi by now. While you had gone and backstabbed him, in his absence. The self-deprecating thought sent a new wave of nausea and disgust through you.

You distantly seemed to recall a maid visiting your chambers at the very crack of dawn announcing Nobunaga’s return to the castle but you had told her you were sick, that you would see him later at a more appropriate time.

The appropriate time had come and yet you weren’t ready. You would never be ready to kill him in this way, not in a million years.

Absently having pulled at your hair in an attempt to make yourself appear at least somewhat presentable - you had no mind for answering questions about your health at the moment - you pushed open the door only to spot a very unexpected visitor waiting just outside your door.

The moment he saw you, his mouth pulled into that familiar trickster’s smile as his eyes assessed you from head to toe. “Going to meet Nobunaga?” Mitsuhide inquired, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Yes,” Unable to quite meet his penetrating gaze, you mumbled your reply. “I’m… kind of in a hurry Mitsuhide.”

Just as you made to push past him, Mitsuhide’s hand shot out to grab your wrist, holding you lightly in place. Eyes lowering to meet your slightly panicked gaze, his voice dropped several octaves as he said, “Don’t meet him anymore. What you’re doing is… difficult. You’re only going to hurt yourself going into it so unsure, little mouse that you are.”

You wondered at his cryptic gaze even as he let go soon after, turning away from you before making his exit just as silently as he had arrived.

Your heart beat sped up a little. Did Mitsuhide know who you had really been meeting all this time? If that were indeed the case, why hadn’t he said anything earlier if he had known about Kenshin’s real identity? You could only wonder as you stared at the retreating man’s back.

You were here. There was no turning back. You had cleaned up yourself as well as you could. The last thing you wanted was to put on a pity show. You would make this a quick break. You would-

“Who’s there? Enter.” A loud emphatic voice called out from the other side of the door. Your heart shook at the sound of your beloved’s voice.

“It’s me, Nobunaga. I have something I need to talk to you about.” Good. Your voice had sounded far more stable than your inner self at least.

Opening the door, you quietly let yourself in, eyes still downcast, wondering how to broach the subject.

Nobunaga called your name endearingly in a soft rich voice. Your heart twisted painfully at the love in his voice. He would probably never want to call you again like that, would he?

You shut down your negative thoughts right there. This was no time for cowardice. You had to do what you had come here to do. You owed him your honesty.

“What’s this?” He sounded amused. “Aren’t you going to give me your usual greeting? My arms have missed having you in them for far too long.”

You raised your eyes to meet his. Nobunaga’s smile vanished at your expression, a low frown forming on his face. “Come to me.” He lifted a hand, beckoning you closer. “You can tell me what you have to say after you have allowed me to greet you properly.”

You hesitated, staring at his extended hand, unsure of yourself, before a part of your armor finally chipped away.

You almost tripped over yourself in your rush to run into his arms. Surely, he would allow you one last embrace before you said goodbye, wouldn’t he?

Burying your face in his chest, you felt his arms come around you in protection, in greeting, in love; squeezing you tight to express his joy at finally having you there. You were surrounded by Nobunaga’s scent; you sunk into him further as you allowed yourself a moment to finally breathe. You loved him so very much, even more than life itself.

You had thought once that you would live out your entire life by his side, laughing at the joyful times, being there for each other in times of sorrow; a small part of you had even looked forward to a wedding one day, to him, starting a family with him. When you had been in happier times, you had even allowed yourself the luxury of wondering what your kids would be like if you had some together? Would they have his sharp features, if they would take on all of his mischief or perhaps your stubbornness? The thought was dreams turned into acid as it crossed your mind now.

If you were lucky enough, he would allow you to at least stay on in the castle as one of his seamstresses. Even if he refused to see you after today, at least you would be near him. If not-

Nobunaga’s hands were gently running the expanse of your back, unknowingly soothing your nerves and lending you courage. One of his large hands, so unlike those long elegant fingers that would card through your hair in a similar manner just until last night - petted your head with care. Nobunaga’s fingers plucked up the braid closest to your face as he gently kissed it, before placing a feather-light kiss on your cheek. “Tell me what is bothering you.” His voice was so achingly tender, you wanted to start sobbing then and there in his arms. You were one heartbeat away from dissolving into a pathetic mess.

“Nobunaga…” you said his name with considerable strain. “Nobunaga, we can’t be together anymore.”

Nobunaga did not reply, quietly observing you as he waited for you to continue.

Pulling away from him, you tried to clear your head of wayward thoughts, focusing on expressing yourself. “I have done something… something horrible to you. You have loved me so much all this time and yet I… I fell in love with someone else.”

The short silence that followed your confession was but a terrifying yawn of darkness.

“You love this person?”

“…Yes.” You admitted hollowly.

“Have you fallen out of love with me?”

“No! God, no… I could never learn to un-love you Nobunaga. I adore everything about you.” Steeling yourself for likely rejection, you lifted his hand to your mouth, placing a small firm kiss against his palm. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes yet, to see the hurt so you settled for trying to convey at least your true feelings to him.

You didn’t want him to think your relationship would end because there wasn’t enough love. In fact, there was so much love for this man in you that you didn’t know how to communicate it all to him. You had no way of letting him know how dearly you loved and cherished him - and would always do so - except by way of your actions.

He had yet to push you away so you kept holding his hand against your face. He was so much warmer now than when you had first met him. You were glad for that.

He finally pulled his hand away but before the hurt could actually register, his palms were cupping your cheeks, lifting your gaze until it was level with his own.

“Then, I fail to see what bothers you still.” He looked untroubled save for the mild puzzlement that clouded his features. “You are in love with me as am I. I am in your heart the same way that you reside in mine. Where does the issue lie then?”

You could not believe what you were hearing and your face probably showed it. “What?”

“Is it the fact that it’s Uesugi Kenshin that has you so on edge?” His unexpected question threw you off and you were so startled, all you could do was gape at him.

“You know who Kenshin is…?”

“I have known for a long time now.” He flashed you one of his handsome smiles before taking your hand, leading you both to the veranda.

A pleasant breeze blew which helped take the edge off of some of your nervous bewilderment. Nobunaga had known who Kenshin was but had never thought to disclose the information to you. Had everyone besides you known you had been meeting with his enemy out in the open?

Nobunaga had taken out his tea making set today, you observed. You both sat down and he set to working on brewing some for you both. Neither of you spoke. Finally, he handed you a cup. You accepted it gracefully, sipping on the tea tentatively. It was good; so warm and familiar.

Nobunaga put his cup down, his gaze fixed on the vast stretch of Azuchi beneath. “I say I have known of Kenshin’s identity for a long time but that is not the only fact I have been aware of.” He turned to look at you now and you swore you saw his eyes alight with something akin to smug satisfaction before his gaze softened. “You have been in love with that man for quite some time. When you speak of him, you have such light in your eyes; you are a sight to behold.”

You were thrown off by his assessment. Is that really how he saw you?

“Admittedly, it is rather frustrating. For that man to have won over your affections as well as I did. Clearly, Uesugi Kenshin isn’t just a blood thirsty war-monger as rumors would so eagerly paint him out to be.” The corners of his mouth twitched into a teasing smile.

You spoke haltingly. “If that bothers you Nobunaga, I swear to never see Kenshin again. My commitment was… is to you first. I promised you my love first and foremost. So please…”

“I couldn’t allow it.” Your words caught in your throat at his swift response.

“For you to look so sad, I couldn’t bear it. You told me once that my happiness was where you always found yours and that my sorrows hurt you as if they were your very own. I have come to understand and appreciate the meaning of your words over time. If you tell me you love him, then I would hardly hold you back.”

“Nobunaga…” Your voice was a rasp. “I love Kenshin but… if loving him comes at the cost of your love and brings you pain, I… I do not want such partial happiness.” You got on your knees, moving closer to him.

Loosely encircling your arms around his neck, you spoke. “You’re my happiness as well, Nobunaga and I would never compromise that for the world. I hope you know that.”

Nobunaga spoke your name in a voice so tender you felt the butterflies right in your tummy. “Tell me, do human beings not have people they care for in their lives? If so, why is it so wrong for you to love more than one? To be able to give your heart so fully and completely, the woman I chose is a stanchion of strength and I am proud of her.”

Your throat closed up at his kind words and the tears you had so stubbornly tried not to shed were making your vision blurry.

“Do not think of me as so less of a man that I would be threatened by you allowing another, admittance to your heart. I do not have to ever compete for your love, why would I have need of worry? I already have you so completely.” His declaration was so self-assured, so firm, spoken with that assertive smile you so loved on him that you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

In all your time together, you had unknowingly managed to teach Nobunaga the importance that he held in your life. He was a self-possessed man but everything he had said had been true. You loved him so much; he made up your world, and you were so glad he knew it.

The tension in the pit of your stomach uncoiled and you felt warm wet tears roll down your cheeks as you laughed at him shakily. Dropping your head onto his shoulder, you made a sound that was somewhere in between a laugh and a sob. “You’re one over-bearing boyfriend but also the sweetest. Do I even deserve you?”

He scoffed. “Of course you do. My sublime goddess deserves only the finest of men.”. You tightened your arms around him. You were with a good man. The absolute best there was.

Nobunaga pulled you back just as you were starting to relax, curled around him. “Now that your problems have been sorted, let me make love to you. I shall not hear any excuses. A week away from you was a week too long. I desire you immediately.” You smiled up at him, having barely gotten a word in as he reprimanded you. As if you were ever going to say no to that.

Pulling him down to you, you kissed him hard, intent on making up for the loneliness and heartache of a life time.

Kenshin couldn’t concentrate. At a far situated inn at the borders of Azuchi, he was supposed to be meeting with the spy.

Akechi Mitsuhide was seated in front of him but Kenshin hadn’t heard a word that had been spoken. He could feel Sasuke glancing at him time and again, perhaps worried over his stark lack of response but he didn’t care. All he saw was her, the un-shed tears in her eyes, the self-loathing in them as she realized she had been kissed by a man other than her lover.

Her lover.

She had a lover. It made sense, he supposed. A woman as beautiful of nature as she was, it wasn’t the greatest of shocks.

Kenshin understood that with his head but his heart… no, his heart was fire and loathe and bitter rage.

A dark part of him had wanted to follow her, hunt down this lover and threaten him, tell him to let her go, that he didn’t deserve a woman like her. But with thoughts as ugly as his own, did even Kenshin deserve her? He knew the answer to that.

“Incidentally, Lord Kenshin seems to have taken quite the interest in our chatelaine.” The snake remarked casually.

Kenshin distastefully noted his words, thumb restlessly playing with the catch of his sword. He really wanted to cut down the man then and there.

Akechi had supposedly betrayed Nobunaga but Kenshin was mistrustful of the man’s true intentions. “What claptrap are you spewing, Mitsuhide?” Kenshin almost growled at him for his waste of a conversation.

“It isn’t rubbish, my Lord.” That obnoxious smirk was still firmly in place. “I happened to witness you in what could only be construed as a passionate embrace with our Princess chatelaine.”

Kenshin was staring at him now. What nonsense was this man spouting? He narrowed his eyes at the snake. “I haven’t the slightest clue as to what you might be referring to.”

Mitsuhide let out a low amused chuckle before uttering her name. Kenshin’s heart almost slid to a stop before it started beating again, wilder, faster than before. “What did you say?”

“You seem quite surprised at the news. I would have assumed you were dallying with the princess because you knew who she was… perhaps to worm information on the Oda out of her?”

“That woman is an Oda princess? Is that what you are telling me Mitsuhide?” Kenshin’s voice was rising with his agitation. He could barely keep himself sitting.

At that moment, Sasuke interjected his voice oddly terse. “Lord Kenshin, I think you should-“

“She is not only an Oda princess but also personal chatelaine to Oda Nobunaga as well as his little play toy- his lover if you will.”

Kenshin’s vision darkened at the revelation. He shot to his feet before Mitsuhide had even finished speaking. “You may leave, Mitsuhide.” Kenshin’s voice was low, terrifying as he stalked out of the room without heeding any further calls of his name.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (you are here), Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 (Final)

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen fanfic #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen kenshin #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen sasuke #oda nobunaga/mc #a pickle writes #oda nobunaga #uesugi kenshin #akechi mitsuhide #sarutobi sasuke #angst with a happy ending #bitter feelings #fanfiction

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spell-cleaver · 3 years

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Astrophilia

@star-wars-wlweek

Day 2: Fancy Dress Event & Soulmate AU