Work Text:
Before
Wei Wuxian climbed the garden wall. He had never seen celestials before. Of course, he lived with gods, was being raised as a god, but celestials were different. It made something in his chest squeeze. It made his breath hitch each night he could see the bright, silvery moon from his window, or the branch of a tree, or from beneath the dark water, or as he lay out in the long grass to gaze at the stars.
He reached the top and hefted himself up to sit on the ledge. His uncle, Jiang Fengmian, and Madam Yu had argued throughout the morning about Wei Wuxian. A normal occurrence, often over and over again about letting him ascend as a god and become immortal. Not yet, he’s not ready, do you want a boy like that to represent our family? But this time it was about allowing him to attend the family delegation to welcome the celestials. In the end, Madam Yu had won, and so Wei Wuxian was restricted to his room. Or so the family thought. He had been slipping out of his room with ease since he came to live with the lake gods, since Jiang Fengmian brought him home and introduced Wei Wuxian to a terrifying woman and her two children.
Wei Wuxian hummed and kicked his feet a little against the wall. Uncle stood at the front of the family in the courtyard. Madam Yu fretted about Jiang Yanli’s hair, pointing out some invisible problem and calling over a servant to attend to the issue. Jiang Cheng glared at the ground, as if the stones had picked up a sword and bested him in front of the entire court, when really, that had been Wei Wuxian.
Uncle cleared his throat and the servant moved away from Jiang Yanli and everyone straightened up, shoulders back. The servants standing by the large, hand carved wooden doors hefted them open, pulling them back to reveal the celestial family and delegates. Wei Wuxian gasped and clapped a hand across his mouth. The movement shifted his body weight, and he nearly toppled backward off of the wall.
One of the celestials glanced his way. A boy that may have been around his age, although it was always hard to tell with gods. Wei Wuxian grappled with the wall and scrambled to lose himself in the soft leaves of the large willow tree bent toward the wall. The boy’s gaze lingered, searching. A giggle bubbled up in Wei Wuxian’s throat, threatening to escape. He placed both hands on his mouth this time, pressing hard. The boy was so serious, face set in stone, and yet his eyes glittered gold, fiery and angry. Wei Wuxian wanted to pinch his cheeks, poke his forehead, pull at the white and silver outer robes. He was the most beautiful thing Wei Wuxian had ever seen.
The boy continued to search the top of the wall. His long, dark hair dripped down his back. It was pulled out of his face with a shimmering, silver guan. The material glimmered like the waters of their crystalline lake on a bright summer day. The silver outer robe parted to reveal a rainbow inner robe, cascading and morphing around the boy, a glimpse of the intensity Wei Wuxian noticed in the boy’s eyes. The moon. This was the boy who was now the Moon God.
The youngest Moon God in an age, proceeding into the role after his father’s untimely death. But wasn’t it a moon goddess? Wei Wuxian had not fully paid attention to Uncle’s explanation of events–something about the celestial court politics, upheavals, another faction of the celestial court attacked them. But now he yearned to know. To recall the exact words. To go back and shake himself to listen to everything Uncle had said. Was his father killed? Was that what Uncle had said? That would explain his solemn face on someone who could not be more than fifteen.
Wei Wuxian balled his hands into fists, willing them to stay by his side. He longed to reach out and touch, to play, to make the boy do anything other than stand in a boring introduction to his lake court and listen to stuffy people talk about nothing for so long. Then the boy spoke, and Wei Wuxian could barely make out the words, but the voice was already low, lower than expected, melodious and precise.
Wei Wuxian leaned forward, a little more, just a little more. He needed to hear what he said. What was his name again? What had Uncle said? Curse his past self! Madam Yu was always getting out the switch to beat him for not listening, and he wanted to do it to himself right now. He grasped the flexible branches, braced one foot on the top of the wall, and leaned farther into the courtyard, and he thought he heard the word “gift” from the boy. Wei Wuxian’s court had given him a gift? Why didn’t they ask him what they should give him? They probably gave him something serious and adult. What good was that? They should have given him a new bow or a kite with every color on it. Wei Wuxian would have painted it for him!
His other foot slipped on the creeping ivy growing along the wall, and Wei Wuxian swung down, still clinging to the branch of the willow tree, and stumbled down onto his knees. The entire party fell silent, turning to him as if one person. When he finally looked up, his eyes met the moon god’s eyes first. The boy glared, lips pressed together in a thin line. Could he not get one smile from him? Wei Wuxian grinned with all of his teeth, and gave a little wave.
“Wei Wuxian!” Madam Yu yelled, and the lake court erupted into chaos. Madam Yu yelled for the servants to grab Wei Wuxian and take him back to his rooms, Uncle began his apologies, Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and shouted at him to stop being an idiot, and Jiang Yanli pleading in a softer tone to just let him stay.
The servants hoisted Wei Wuxian up, but he never stopped looking at the moon god, resplendent in his silver and rainbow hanfu. He would never stop thinking about the boy, learning about him, obsessing over him, as Jiang Cheng called it, even up until the day Wei Wuxian was consumed in fire. The day he should have died.
Now
“A new sun god?” Lan Xichen set down his tea cup and arched an eyebrow at his uncle. “How do we know?”
Lan Wangji turned to his uncle, waiting for an answer as well. It was a fair question. The sun court had long since been shut away, most of the family wiped out many ages ago when the sun god’s ten sons tried to rise on their own. It is, in fact, how the other factions of the celestial court began, to ensure the sun court did not burn everything else in their home night sky. And so the story was told again and again. But a new sun god? And how did anyone know? He had begun to think of the Sun God as the sun itself, no longer a god, but fully integrated into the blazing body. He had never heard of that happening to a celestial, but he sometimes had nightmares about it, about the dense, hungry gravity within him consuming all.
“Yes. Word was sent by the herald of the sun court: the three-legged crow.”
Lan Wangji inhaled sharply.
“Then it is true.” Lan Xichen, still the Qiming*, in line to become the God of Venus, Tàibái, after their uncle, pronounced it as if he were presiding over court. “The three-legged crow has not been seen for over a thousand years.”
“Who is it?” Lan Wangji said softly.
“It did not have a name, only the sun god. And they have requested an audience with our faction of the court.”
At times, Lan Wangji did not consider the celestials in the same court as the Sun God. The Sun God was the celestial. And if the Sun God’s children were to rise again and burn them all away, there was little to stop them, lest another expert archer rise again. Lan Wangji had only heard of one, a human, who had been lost when the River God’s court was attacked. A human that had looked at him. That saw him.
“And your answer?” Lan Xichen stood slowly. They had completely abandoned their tea now, the steam rising and diminishing.
“We have no choice but to grant the request.” Lan Qiren intoned as if this was a grave chore. Perhaps it was. “It is the Sun God.”
Preparations began for the arrival of the Sun God. There were no other instructions with the request; the bird dropped off the message, waited for the reply, and left, looping up into the sky and disappearing among the stars and black emptiness of space. So they prepared for a large delegation, planning meals, airing out disused rooms, and directing entertainment. Dancers practiced in the large hall, shimmering gold of the Tàibái and streaks of silver and rainbow of the moon delegations glittering together.
Lan Wangji was not there. He never felt more alone than when in a crowded room. Seen yet unseen. People moving around with purpose, with practice, offering him words of honor. Toasting to his name. Offering gifts of grotesque wealth that held no purpose. Seeing the god and nothing else. “He’s as cold as the surface of the moon he serves,” the gossip said. And yet each day he felt as if he may burn from the inside out.
He sat in the large courtyard, on a bench under the large mulberry tree in the center. Much like the mulberry tree that grew in the main courtyard of the Moon Palace.
“Wangji.”
Lan Wangji lifted his head and his brother smiled at him.
“Thinking about the festivities?” Lan Xichen’s smile was genuine, warm, and the creeping loneliness ebbed slightly in Lan Wangji’s chest.
“Mn.”
His brother huffed a small laugh. “It is all right to say you are not.”
“Xiongzhang…” Lan Wangji turned his head up toward the branches of the tree, filtering out the burning gold light that permeated the Tàibái Palace. “Do you know who the new river god is?”
Lan Xichen sat down next to Lan Wangji, but Lan Wangji did not dare turn to his brother, did not want to see the tilt of his lips, the soft eyes that always saw right through him. Clumsy attempts to hide his heart.
“Yes, news reached us recently that Jiang Fengmian’s son, Jiang Wanyin, survived the attack and has succeeded him.”
“Mn.” Lan Wangji bit back the question bubbling in his throat. The one he did not want to confirm, that squeezed his chest, made it hard to breathe. He had not even met the boy who fell into the courtyard. Had not learned his name until after they left. Had never seen him again. And yet he could not forget that smile. The brashness to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes as a human, to stare at him with something like…interest? As if he wanted to get Lan Wangji’s attention? To show off?
“Wangji, I can inquire…”
“No.” He could NOT—
He could not have it verified.
Why did his brother always know what was in his heart? Could he not be like the others in his life just once? Lan Wangji yearned to be back at the Moon Palace. Far away from the colorful pageantry of the other courts, currying favor, false smiles and double meanings. Back with his hares and rabbits in the garden. As long as he could sit in the grass there, with rabbits hopping into his lap, he did not need to be the moon god. He did not need to be a figure head and symbol. He could just exist. And try not to think of a boy that had made him feel so very alive.
Finally, it was the day of the sun delegation’s arrival. Lan Wangji stood with his brother and uncle, dressed in their formal robes: his brother in a shimmering light gold, overlaid with sheer pink and orange, as if the first flush of sunrise. His uncle wore gold, strong, bright and metallic, continuing with his large guan glittering in the heavy gold befitting his title. And Lan Wangji had dressed in his rainbow robes and a sheer silver overlay. His attendants poked and prodded at his face and framed his gold eyes in liquid silver. They pulled and twisted his hair through a silver guan that shimmered in prismatic patterns when it caught the light.
He desperately needed to scratch at his left eye, but it would ruin the silver makeup applied there. The insistent itch made his hair feel too tightly wound, the robe too heavy and warm. He was a painted statue instead of a being that drew breath.
The three-legged crow flew down into the courtyard, circling a few times before descending in a spiral. It landed on the large mulberry tree and squawked. Lan Wangji glanced at his brother without fully turning his head to find Lan Xichen already looking at him.
In a burst of white light, the Sun God appeared. His form was draped in black, red, and white, his robes billowing around him in an ember-flecked wind that tore through the yard. Lan Wangji shut his eyes against the heat as it pulled at his hair, his skin. When he opened them again, the wind settled, and a man as tall as Lan Wangji stood by the wide, metal, double doors of the palace. The three-legged crow swooped down from the branch and perched on the Sun God’s shoulder.
The man’s hair was wind swept, black tendrils unbound and loose around his shoulders. The robes cut a deep v in the front, exposing part of his chest, where a scar peeked out just around the linens and silks. Lan Wangji’s eyes caught on it, the scarring odd to see on a god. He could just make out rays of a sun, a sigil of the sun palace. If this god had a scar of the palace’s sigil, then that meant…
The Sun God cleared his throat. “Do I not deserve a greeting? Or should I continue to let the Moon God ogle my chest?”
Lan Wangji took a step back, breaking the neat line with his brother and uncle. He jerked his head up, glaring at the god for speaking so plainly. And yet, he had been, in fact, staring at the god’s chest. He could not defend himself. His ears heated, and he took a moment to look just above the god’s shoulder at the door, anywhere but his face, to prevent himself from arguing with the Sun God.
Lan Qiren spluttered, finally waking from his slack-jawed expression. His face grew a little red as well, but Lan Wangji knew that expression well, and it was not from shame. “You speak very casually for a god of your stature. What is your origin?”
A low chuckle rumbled out of the Sun God, drawing Lan Wangji’s eyes back to the god, the sound thick and delicious. His sharp mouth, wicked and lush, ticked up on one side. He wore no paint on his face, seemingly no attempt to make himself presentable for a formal affair. And then, finally, Lan Wangji met his eyes. They crinkled, sparkled, and all at once recognition shot through Lan Wangji. He exhaled sharply and nearly dropped to his knees with the revelation. Those same eyes had taunted him, dared him to follow him as a boy as two servants dragged him away. They were the same eyes now as a man, and somehow, as the Sun God.
“Wei Wuxian.”
The playful eyes widened. The sharp mouth dropped open. And Lan Wangji needed to be near him. Close to him. Touching him. So many years of learning any scrap of information about the boy. The boy he was not allowed to meet, who had looked at him like they were the same. Like he wanted to grasp his hand and run away together. The boy that could not possibly be alive.
Lan Wangji walked forward, determined, the burning in his chest expanding, needing, wanting, commanding. His brother reached out for him but the hand only brushed through his robes. His uncle’s indignation came out in huffs and grumbles, but the sound fell away as Lan Wangji focused on the human who had somehow become a god, had survived a war, had made it finally, finally to Lan Wangji’s presence. He pulled all of his being toward Wei Wuxian, toward this fixed point in his life that he just knew, he could feel, would accept all of his burning.
Wei Wuxian’s mouth hung open still, eyes shimmering. Lan Wangji brought his hands up, close enough now to touch Wei Wuxian’s skin, and one hand gripped his shoulder. Gasps and cries rang up around them. The crow cawed and flapped up and away. Should he be concerned by the sheer amount of energy he expelled? By the weight that he carried, that he pulled forward to be in this moment? But none of that mattered. Wei Wuxian was in his arms now.
“Wei Ying.”
“You remember me?” Wei Wuxian whispered.
“How could I not?” Lan Wangji glared at him, angry that this man could ever think that of him. He placed his other hand on Wei Wuxian's cheek. “And you me?”
Wei Wuxian laughed, bright and glittering, so different from the cutting god he had come here as. He tried to roll his eyes when a single tear streaked down his face. Lan Wangji wiped it away with his thumb and Wei Wuxian slapped his hand at the action. “No, no, I’m not crying!”
“Ridiculous.” Lan Wangji smiled, small and secret. This ridiculous man, who could only have that scar if the god ritual took place when he was still human. Scarring him as a human, painful, unimaginable for a mortal to go through a ceremony like that when they could not heal. And yet somehow he had been chosen as a human, survived the ceremony, and was here. He was here.
“Lan Wangji!” Brother’s voice finally broke through, and both he and Wei Wuxian turned to look at the crowd. His brother lifted a hand to point at the sky. And that’s when he noticed the ethereal glow in the courtyard, the silvery hues that now shadowed everything. The moon had followed Lan Wangji. The crowd craned their necks and stared at the eclipsed sun.
“Lan Zhan! Did you bring the moon to me?” Wei Wuxian laughed. The sound was bright in the hushed twilight. “Well, I don’t think anyone could top that gift.”
The crowd erupted in shouts of disapproval and shock, but Lan Wangji could only smile. Wei Wuxian was here, he was here. He would fix the moon in a moment. For now, he let his power flow through him, keeping the moon close to the sun. Keeping him close to Wei Wuxian.