"he is half of my soul, as the poets say"

1. 

Liu had met them separately in the camp days ago.

Frankly, one of them was hard to miss. You’d have to be blind to have passed over him, but even then he didn’t think one would be able to miss him. See, Ao Bing was taller than tall and he radiated pure power. People knew of his presence the second he stepped foot into their war camp, the clinking of his armor the furthest thing from being what caught their eye. 

He was no doubt a god and no doubt a dragon with his scales and aquamarine hair and electrifying energy. The air around him smelled faintly of ozone and the hair on Liu’s arms stood on end when he got too close. His voice and personality was as loud as his presence, boisterous and overconfident and perhaps just a bit (read: extremely) overzealous. He was also an asshole. But he boosted the morale of the troops by just being there so Liu would take it. Ao Bing’s loud proclamation of who he was and that “their prayers had been answered” was something for the troops to rally behind. 

Now Hibiscus… he had met her by sheer chance. Though, he now knew most people only met her by chance. She was a stark contrast to the god of rain and beneficence for that reason, silent as an owl and alarmingly good at slipping into the background. 

He wouldn’t have met her if not for one of his ribbons falling out of his bag while he was returning to his barrack. No one noticed, and if they had, they didn’t care. Not that he could blame them, no one could bring themselves to care in war, not even him. They were all too exhausted to give a damn other than surviving. 

But she gave him quite the fright when she tapped his shoulder and said, “you dropped this.” Her footsteps were silent behind him and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the contact, but he bowed his head gratefully and took the ribbon anyways. She chuckled an apology for startling him, introduced herself, bowed her head in salutations, wished him a good day, and slipped back into the crowd just as silent and polite as she had appeared out of it. 

For as normal as she was, there was something strangely familiar about her; this sense of security that applied to something else he had heard of but he couldn’t place his finger on it. He decided that he’d try and place it another time but it quickly slipped his mind. 

Two very different people. One he forgot about as soon as he had met them, the other he didn’t think he would ever be able to forget even if he tried. So, one could imagine his surprise when he had caught sight of them together a few days later. 

Hibiscus was forgettable in their first interaction but she was impossible to ignore when Ao Bing was speaking to her without a hint of disrespect in his voice or even aloofness in his body language. They were leaning over the table with the General, Hibiscus’ finger tracing over the course they were sure to be marching in just an hour or two. But perhaps the most alarming part of all of this was that the god stood close enough for their hips to be touching. The same god where the last time someone even tried to touch him, they ended up getting sent to the infirmary for frostbite. But here he was with her not giving a damn that her hand brushed over his back as she reached behind them to grab something.

For once in his life, Bing was completely silent. He was actually letting someone take the floor and it was utterly and completely perplexing. His head reeled trying to sort out their relationship. Because who was this random person standing right next to notoriously cocky Ao Bing and getting him to listen? He couldn’t even begin to sort out the look in Bing’s eyes as he watched her and he didn’t know if he wanted to. He straight up just had to walk away when she smiled up at Bing, gentle and soft, and watched the dragon’s pupils- were they dilating? No. No, he was done. He wasn’t going to be thinking this early in the morning. He had to be hallucinating. 

It turned out he was not. 

But he decided he would simply be ignoring it. He was going to mind his own damn business. He knew better than to stick his nose into someone else’s business, especially a god’s, especially a god as volatile as Ao Bing. It wasn’t his problem. He was going to cover his ears, close his eyes, and shout with the hopes that it would be enough. 

But he got an answer in the end. He got it where he least expected it. 

The battlefield. 

He had realized a moment too late the arrow that was trained for his neck. He saw it spiraling, whizzing, slicing through the air, and he knew it was over for him. Knew that there was no time for him to duck or even move for it to hit somewhere less fatal. He was not not a demigod, he was not a god, he was just a tired man. He was just a soldier. He was just another corpse to be counted and another son to be mourned. Even if he didn’t want to be, even if he wanted to return back to his home and his family and-

He was yanked back and out of the way. 

It was only after he was dropped that he processed the feeling of the rope that had wrapped around his waist and saved him. It was only after he was trying to sit up did the whistling of the blade of the rope dart through the air begin to process through his sluggish mind. It was only after she had smiled, squeezed his shoulder, and then slipped back into battle had he realized the person that had saved him was the same cloaked figure that had handed him his ribbon. 

But she had disappeared. No matter how hard he scanned and searched, she was nowhere to be seen. However, he did catch sight of aquamarine and a chill on his skin and the smell of ozone. 

Ao Bing. 

He was a terror in battle. He absolutely cleaved through the enemies lines without having to break a single sweat; carved a path through their soldiers quicker than a their whole army doubled ever could. He knocked down whole swathes of men, froze over battalions and brushed off platoons. He was violence and raw strength, the temperature around him absolutely frigid, the ground closest to him frozen. He felt the wind of his attacks even from a distance, felt the struggle to inhale from the cold of the air. 

And after a moment, laughter filled the air and echoed, clear as day. It was confident and joyous and Liu realized in a clear, horrified moment that the god was enjoying this. He was enjoying the violence and the challenge, he was enjoying it enough to gloat. 

Even with hundreds of soldiers lined up against him, they couldn’t land a single hit on him, and if they did, they wished that they hadn’t. No one went for the armor, anyone with a brain was smart enough to not to go for the armor. They all heard the stories of what happened when someone succeeded in landing a solid hit on that black shell, an accessory as intimidating as the person they belonged to. Anyone who knew of Ao Bing also knew weapons were useless against his armor because all blades and other assorted weapons corroded and degraded into dust upon contact. 

And his back?

Ao Bing’s back was as protected as his armored upper body. It didn’t matter that there was nothing covering his exposed spine. It didn’t matter that it was his weak point and the most vulnerable to attack. People knew not to go for his spine for there was something much more violent and ferocious protecting it. 

That doesn’t mean someone wasn’t desperate enough to try and swing for it anyways. 

A blur of red and silver, the whizzing of a blade through the air, their weapon getting yanked out of their hands and then immediately having that same blur slice through their throat. 

Yes. Everyone knew not to go for Ao Bing’s back, no matter how deceptively unguarded. Because he had his Viper protecting it.

A cloaked figure settled beside Bing, familiar with her curly black hair and freckled cheeks, back pressed against the dragon’s. Bing grinned at her as she quipped something and the god’s bark of a laugh reached his ears. It wasn’t gloating this time. There was something real about it, something genuine, something soft. He hadn’t realized before it was gone but Hibiscus had been so tense when she was on her own, so much more silent, but that tension had released and the twinkle in her eyes was cranked up tenfold next to this monster of a god. How anyone found safety, found comfort in his presence was beyond hi-

Oh. Oh.

That was why she was so familiar. Why her steadiness was so recognizable. She was the shadow. Bing’s shadow. The viper that struck only when someone aimed for his back, his second pair of eyes and equally as deadly. She was just much quicker about it. Just much quieter. 

Bing shifted his stance and Hibiscus fell quiet to shift with him, lapsing into a brief moment that passed between them. 

And then they were moving. Then they were fighting. 

And they were breathtaking. 

They were seamless. A well oiled machine. They fought together like they were born to do it, each move calculated, always knowing where the other would attack without a single word shared. There was an ease to it, elegant and practiced, the faith they placed in each other shown in the way Bing would turn his back and would simply trust she would keep it safe. Shown in the way he would place her hand on his shoulder to hop up and she maneuvered to follow, trusting whatever course of action he was about to take. No questions asked, no doubt or hesitance. Just trust. 

It was breathtaking because both of them alone had been decimating their enemies, terrifying in their own rights, but together they were something else. Ao Bing’s terror and intimidation and sheer power had elevated tenfold with his Viper by his side and it made him freeze up no matter how many times he told himself they were on his side. 

It made no sense how such two different people could fit together, it made no sense how their two dramatically different fighting styles managed to blend into one another, but they did. It was like watching a dance. It was like watching a conversation in a language he never spoke. Bing may have been quick, violent movements filled with power, and Hibiscus may have been all speed and energy efficient fluidity, but they fit like a glove. 

He realized that their core ideologies and personalities didn’t change at all. Bing was still the star of the show, still the blinding light that drew attention, still the main course, but he was simply enhanced. Hibiscus still blended into the environment, she still played the role she was meant to play by slipping in under her dragon’s loud presence and using it. She supported him, covered all of his weak points and made up for all of the things he needed defenses for. And he trusted her to do that. He trusted her wholeheartedly. 

She trusted him just as much. 

Liu knew was not the strongest, nor the fastest, or even the smartest. But he could admit he was perceptive. Because as much as it seemed that Bing needed Hibiscus more than she needed him, that was wildly incorrect. All of the mannerisms she exhibited showed that she left her back wide open. Not because she was incapable of protecting her back, but because she trusted someone else to watch it for her. 

And watch it that person did. 

The nature god snatched an arrow mid air that was aimed for the nape of Hibiscus neck. And he quietly prayed for the poor unfortunate soul that loosed that arrow because that was their last mistake. A fire burned in Bing’s gaze, angry and violent. It made him want to run, to turn in the other direction and never look back. Because those were the eyes of a predator, the eyes of a man about to drown the world for even trying to hurt someone he loved. And he had a distinct feeling that the god would have, had an instinct that told him Ao Bing would have frozen this entire battlefield ten times over had it not been for a singular touch to his wrist by a freckled hand. 

Bing grit his teeth but conceded with a curt nod, throwing the projectile down with vehemence. He took his anger out through creating a particularly aggressive fighting pattern. 

And Hibiscus paused to watch him, a soft smile pulling at her lips, nothing short of awe and adore shining in her eyes. She looked like the rest of them, ants standing in the blinding light of a being above them, soaking up every ounce of brilliance he was willing to give them. She looked at him like he was her reason, that he was the reason. And maybe he was. Because watching her open up in his presence wasn’t like a sunflower reaching for the light, it was more like she was one of those flowers that only bloomed when the sun was up. They closed up every other time. 

Bing was the sun. She was the flower.

He was her reason, her everything, her motivation to fight. And she was his humanity, the person that kept him grounded and kind despite his overconfidence. 

They were oil and water, sun and moon, as different as the sea was to a mountain range, but they trusted each other implicitly regardless of their differences. He did not know what they were to each other and he had a feeling he never would, had a feeling that no one would be able to translate what they were into words. But it was love. It was trust. 

They were an overconfident god that found humanity in a mortal he found holy and a mortal who found purpose and love in a dragon who was never supposed to love. 

Or maybe they were just two very different people who loved each other very much. 

Liu watched Hibiscus lean up on her toes to kiss the dragon’s cheek. 

He smiled.

Maybe that was enough. 

2. 

Chiyo has met a rather large assortment of people while she worked in her humble little vendor. She never forgot any of them, but she was sure that they forgot her. And that was not their fault. She hadn’t either when she was young and spritely, but she was of the opinion that the older that one became the more one started to pay attention to the little quirks of the people that passed. It was certainly true for her. She would observe the way people spoke and the smile on their lips and the way they moved through the world and she smiled because they may have never noticed her, but she certainly noticed them.

She knew she was easily passed over with her graying hair and wrinkled face and gnarled hands. She also knew she was not the beautiful young girl that she used to be and she had since accepted that; it honestly was not as bad as she had thought it would be. 

There were certain perks that came with becoming old. No one paid attention to you, and they most definitely did not study you, which meant that she had all the time in the world to study them. Nothing malicious, of course, it was just with as much free time as she had in her hands, observation became second nature. She knew full well she slipped into the background and she knew that was because no one liked thinking about the old and the useless, especially because she served as a reminder that their youth would run out one day. But she did not blame them for their fear either. 

She had stood in their shoes once, and she had felt that same uncomfortable weight in her chest when she had looked at the older men and women she had met. But now she was the older woman, and she honestly did not know why she had feared it so much. There was so much joy to be found in old age, in the privilege of taking the back seat and simply getting to watch. 

And there was a rather strange pair in here market today. 

They were both tall but that was where their similarities ended. They both moved through the world in such different ways it felt like watching two separate worlds collide. 

One of them moved like her, weaving through the crowds with an ease that screamed that she was used to being a part of the crowd rather than being separate from it, an observer more than the observed. There was a quiet confidence to her, in the sureness of her stride and the stability of her movements, like she knew what she was doing but had no reason or real want to advertise it. There was kindness there, patience too. And gods, she was beautiful. Chiyo that she was aware of that too but aware in the way that it was more an objective fact than a thing to brag about. 

Now the other did not weave the crowd but stepped through them. He did not budge, did not compromise or move out of the way. He parted the sea of people around him because they would be the ones that shifted, not him. He was not going to be moving even one inch. He moved like Chiyo’s wife, like he was built for the spotlight, made for the center stage. He commanded attention as effectively as a blacksmith commanded metal and he had absolutely zero intent of stopping. 

He was particularly aware that he was handsome; he knew that he turned heads and he used it to his advantage every second of every day. In fact, he basked in it. There was confidence that slipped into arrogance, vainness that slipped into kindness. He was loud in every aspect of the word but Chiyo had a distinct feeling that he was more compassionate than anyone would know. Despite his smirk and his obscene amounts of charm, he was kind. 

He reminded her of her wife. 

She was only allowed a second of confusion as to how they would fit together before he settled his hand on the small of his companions back and shifted to move her ahead of him. It was such a small thing, such an insignificant movement, but there was so much jam packed into it she had to give herself a double take. It was not lost on her that the way that the dragon moved was brash and blunt, not a hint of care in any movement he gave or any word he spoke. His footsteps were unrepentant, his touch unrelenting, which is why the tenderness he exhibited when placing those same hands on his companions back was so much more potent. 

He had taken notice that she was getting drowned out by the crowd around them, had taken notice that her beauty was being covered up, and so he moved her ahead of him. One would not expect a man so vain and so careless to prioritize anyone’s comfort or beauty, but he had. Chiyo felt her eyebrows raise. Ah. So there was more to their relationship than she originally thought. 

They had devolved into quiet bickering as the shorter of the two turned to look at the dragon, laughter and joy and love and a thousand other nuances that Chiyo could not even begin to name shining in those deep brown eyes. Something about journals and so many things to record but not enough space and “you know how I am, guppie, don’t be so harsh!” and “I know, rose. I know.” There were gentle touches and hands cradling a scaled cheek and a smirk softening into a loving grin and someone so quiet bursting into laughter so loud and unapologetic that Chiyo couldn’t help but smile. 

There was an ease in the way they moved and she could recognize the familiarity and the comfortable ease between them. She recognized it in the way they spoke to one another and the way they couldn’t seem to keep their hands to themselves and the way their eyes never strayed very far and the quiet inside jokes that flew over Chiyo’s head and the kiss to his Rose's forehead that had her turning pink. (The dragon was smiling like he just won the lottery and he was allowed to bask in his victory for about five whole seconds before he was yanked down by his robes and kissed on the corner of his mouth and then he was blushing yellow. It was very cute.) 

The domesticity of it all made her chest warm up. 

They balanced each other out- no. They didn’t just balance each other out. They needed each other. 

She realized that if the dragon’s rose was not there, he would have been nothing but vain and brash and unkind. There would not be even a hint of compassion or a capability for gentleness if not for her presence. And had her Guppie not been there for her, she would have been drowned out entirely; she would have become so quiet that she became aimless and forgotten. Her light would snuff out and it would never brighten the way that it did when she was with him. She would never prioritize herself, never be seen, never allow herself the selfishness needed to smile and laugh and experience joy only meant for herself. 

Chiyo smiled to herself before she called them over for the offer of some free roses, and maybe she did so just to see the dragon’s head snap up in interest. Sue her, she liked watching them, they were adorable. And it was rarer than rare to see a relationship so unconditional, a love so overflowing. She at least wanted to learn their names. 

3. 

Ao Yi’s eye twitched. 

One would think a dragon of his prowess would be capable of handling his younger brother and right hand man, but no. Clearly he could not. Because they still, somehow, managed to find ways to create elaborate plans to be bothersome. He had no idea how they did it, he had no idea why they were the way they were, he just knew that it happened and it gave him perhaps the worst migraine known to medical history. 

And he knew a lot of medical history. 

He wanted to throw them down a flight of stairs they were so- just so-! They were so irritating! Completely unbelievable! Stay out of trouble, he'd said. Don’t cause a scene, he’d said. For once in your lives, please just have a normal day, he’d practically begged. 

None of those things ended up happening, which really should not surprise him considering who he was speaking to.

Instead, he was now assisting in cleaning up the mess that they’d gotten into. Honestly, Hibiscus’ horrendous luck and Bing’s pension for violence really did not mix well together. Oil and water, those two, yet they clicked together like two puzzle pieces. Made sense, considering the trouble magnets they were. The only difference was that one was asking for it and the other was desperately trying to avoid it, but they found trouble anyways. 

All he wanted to do was go out and buy some herbs from the nearby town because everyone else was especially busy lately. No one was free with the celebrations that were coming up, and none of them wanted the children to leave the safety of the Community for an errand so obsolete. So, out of the kindness of his heart because he was selfless, Freckles, shut up, to the town he went. To his pleasant surprise it was a rather peaceful visit. The townsfolk were respectful and that was all he could truly ask for. 

Only for him to come back to the entrance of the Community completely wrecked, the pungent, atrocious smell of sulfur pervading the air, the sight of ice in every direction he could see, and the familiar scene of Hibiscus running up to give a hasty explanation and apology for the mess. Apparently there was a demon that tried to attack right when he left. Little did they know that his brother and sister-in-law were visiting so the Community was as well protected as it was when he was there (don’t tell them he said that, he would never hear the end of it).

But that did mean they had property damage to fix, injuries to heal, and an adrenaline pumped Third Brother to deal with. Which was not… ideal. But he supposed he could take it. Ao Bing was not so insufferable when Hibiscus was there to mediate his energy. 

But that did mean that he had to deal with their… disgusting and smitten behavior. He had thought that they would have left their honeymoon stage centuries ago but to his misery, they had not. One would think that after a thousand years of marriage they would get over themselves.

He watched Hibiscus finish tending to a cut on his brother’s arm, touch gentle as she tied off the bandage. “It’s going to get itchy in a bit but you can’t scratch it, okay? Don’t pout at me like that, it’ll only slow down the whole process and then you’re going to be complaining for so much longer than you need to be complaining,” she explained, a smile pulled at her lips. It was a tongue touched thing, her eyes shining with mirth. “Well, you were just complaining about not having a good fight. You got what you wanted?”

Ao Bing scoffed. “Please… he was too easy! I want a challenge, love! He only managed to hit me once and it’s disappointing! Child's play to a god like me! For I am Ao Bing, god of rain and- mmf!” he melted into a well placed kiss, his hand settling on Hibiscus waist. 

She pulled back with a soft huff of a laugh, and when she spoke, her voice was dripping with a fondness and love so potent he could have gagged. “And beneficence. I know, I know.”

Ao Yi felt his lips pull into something close to a smile, warmth an inexplicable thing that settled inside his chest no matter how much he tried to make it go away. He really adore those two. He loved the way that they brought the best out of one another, loved the way they completed each other, and he would never tell them but he loved how happy they made each other. Because happiness was a rare thing he had seen in Ao Bing those first few years, and happiness was a rare thing he had seen in Hibiscus the first six decades he had met her. 

Yet here they were, joy exuding off of them in waves so intense he couldn’t help but feel optimistic.

He turned away at the sound of Bing’s spluttering and Hibiscus’ laughter under the guise that he was too disgusted with them to even bear a second longer, but the reality was that he had done so to hide a smile.

He didn’t know what twist of fate brought them together but he was grateful. 

4.

Fate was a funny thing. 

No, funny wasn’t the right word. Cruel was better. Fate was a cruel thing. Because when Lei Guan swore that he would be the last of his bloodline, fate decided to do just the opposite. It nudged him towards a woman with cackling laughter and burning determination and eyes the brightest shade of amber he had ever seen. It made him trip and fall head first into love, which spiraled into a pregnancy, which spiraled into fate ripping the life out of his hibiscus, which spiraled into a child. A beautiful, wonderful child, but a child he was not ready for nonetheless. 

That was not funny. That was cruel. 

And it was cruel again when it knew he made another vow: to protect his son to the best of his ability. He wielded him with all the defenses and counterattacks he could possibly give, trained him in combat and kindness and compassion, cultivated a love for literature and helped hone an already brilliant mind to something faster than lightning and more good than he could ever comprehend. He gave Huizhong strategy and a level head under stress. He gave him a plan B for everything.

Well… almost everything. 

Because there was one thing that he could never prepare Hui for. One thing he could never provide a plan B for. No amount of studying or training or wisdom would be able to prepare his daughter from this one thing. Lei knew because he already tried. He tried everything, he built up wall after wall, defense after defense, but no matter how desperate or thorough he was, love was a thing that he could never stop himself from feeling. And in the end, he realized that he didn’t want to stop himself from feeling it. He didn’t want to stop Huizhong from experiencing it. But that did not change the fact that he could not protect him from it.

Because love swooped down when least expected. It ripped the rug from out underneath his feet and left him scrambling for purchase before it knocked him back down again, not a second in between. Love was violent and peaceful, the oasis that saved and the desert that killed, the ice cold shock of his love for his late wife and the familiar, safe weight of his love for his two children. 

Love was inevitable. Love was wonderful. Love was damning. 

And cruel fate knew that. 

He could feel its gloating laughter brush against his jawline as he watched his daughter now. It was a taunting caress that he knew all too well, seeping into his bones and leaving him shivering despite the heat of the summer day. He knew that fate had won this time. Knew because Huizhong was a flower, brilliant and beautiful and breathtaking on her own, but she bloomed when Ao Bing was by her side. She was positively radiant when he was there. 

He could see it now, in the way she leaned into Bing’s warmth. Could see it in the bubbling laughter that only Bing was able to pull out of her so easily, so often. He could see it in the way her eyes never seemed to stray from him for too long, always drifting before they eventually honed back toward the Dragon. Because he was her home, her origin point, her other half. He had never seen her smile so brightly and so unconditionally except for when she was smiling at him. 

Huizhong Guan had fallen in love. And how cruel that was. How human. How wonderful. 

But this was not an unrequited love story. For as hard as Hui had fallen, Bing had fallen just as hard and much faster. After all, he was made for her. He was created by Ao Guang because of the news that Lei was having a child, made to keep her company. And some part of Bing knew it. Lei noticed that he was enchanted the first instance he caught sight of his daughter’s face, the first glimpse of Hui’s laughter. He saw it in the awed part of his lips and the wide eyed shock of his white eyes. 

He could see it in the way Bing seemed to yearn and lean and savor every slight caress Hui would give him, always wanting for more, always craving it even while it was being given. He could see it in the way the dragon’s touch was so uncharacteristically gentle with her, see it in the way he looked at her: this beauty of a flower, this bonfire of a human, this force of nature locked up into a body so fragile. 

He could see it in the way his eyes never left Huizhong’s, always tracing the freckles on her cheeks or the crinkle of her eye or the dimples that only Bing could bring out. Could see it in the gentle smile on his lips as he listened to Huizhong speak, enraptured and fully attentive no matter how long she took or whatever topic she was speaking about. 

Ao Bing had fallen in love too. Truly, deeply, unconditionally in love. 

And Lei knew the implications of their stories now. Knew that it would end in nothing but tragedy and death, knew that love in the Guan family was as synonymous with misery as it was with joy. But looking at them now, heads bowed and bent over a book, quiet laughter and whispered words only meant for each other being shared, he knew he would not be able to tear them apart. He wouldn't. He couldn’t. Not when they looked so happy. 

Not when he knew they needed each other like they needed to breathe. 

He knew what it was like to lose one’s other half. Knew it in the ache in his chest and the difficulty with each breath he took the second his wife had passed. Knew it in the sorrow that burrowed deep and settled in his bone marrow every time he woke up in bed alone. Knew it now, raising two children on his own, only one of which was hers. 

He knew. And he was not going to be the one that tore them away. He would not stoop as low as fate and tear them away from each other. Not when he knew this sorrow, this pain, this hollowness in his chest. 

Because fate was cruel and they loved each other. And they would need all the seconds together that they could get. 

5.

Ao Jia never thought it was fate that made his brother and master fall in love. He, in fact, thought it was the opposite. They did not fall in love because fate made them do it, they fell in love in spite of it. 

And of course they did, of course. It was the most on brand and in character thing those two could have ever done. For who else would show defiance through loving each other? Who else would throw disrespect to the odds against them through love for one another except for them?

And even though his brother was dead (no doubt an effect of the Guan deal and the consequences that came to those who were loved by the Guans) there was still a part of him that knew they would make it out okay. He was confident that they would defy expectations just as they always do.

Because his brother loved his master with a strength that could overpower that of the sun, a love that could defeat the Jade Emperor and all his celestial might, and a love that would set fire to the rain he was in charge of. There was not a single thing that could have stopped Ao Bing from loving Huizhong Guan. Not in any universe, in any dimension, in any world. 

He did not know how Ao Bing would, but if anyone was to defy the natural order of things for the person that he loved, it would be his brother. It would be the son of his dearest friend. It would be those two. 

Lei always thought that one of the reasons his youngest brother loved Hui was because it was what he was made to do but that wasn’t true. 

Ao Bing loved Huizhong Guan because he wanted to. And gods knew that there was no way you could force Ao Bing to do something he didn’t want to do. He loved her because he chose to. Because she was the one thing he ever got to choose in his life, cut short as it was. 

Yes, he was made to serve Hui, just as Ao Jia served the Guan’s, but his brother decided to do something else: he chose to love her instead.

Ao Jia knew that his brother would have decided to love her even if he was aware of what it meant. Even if he knew how it would end. He knew that if Jia or Lei had told him the ending he was sure to have, Third Brother would have scoffed and shoved them out of the way because “I don’t care. You’re going to make me late for Hui. Guan Yu can try to take me away from him, he won’t succeed.”

And it hurt to know that. It made his hands shake with rage but it was undeniable. Ao Bing would die a hundred times for Huizhong Guan, because he was willing to pay any price to love her, and if that was the cost of loving him, then so be it. 

And he knew that his master loved his brother even now, even still, even in death. In spite of death. 

Hui’s hands never forgot how to braid hair, his confidence never waned, and his love never faded. Because he still braided Ao Bing’s hair, even after death. He was still the confidence that his brother had emulated off of. He still turned down proposal after proposal, even years after his brother’s passing, because that love was reserved to a dragon long gone.

He still wore the pendant hanging off his neck with pride and he still weighed in the opinions of Ao Bing into every decision he made. 

Huizhong Guan loved Ao Bing in spite of fate in the small things. In smiling at every crack of thunder, in never flinching at the strike of lightning. In running into the rain and soaking in it, in shouting into the howling wind of a storm like it was a greeting. In sinking his feet into the warm sand of the beach and saying hello, knowing that Bing was not there to listen. In speaking of him the same way Lei spoke of his late wife, with a love so intense it was incomprehensible and a yearning so potent it soaked every word. 

Hui also loved Ao Bing in spite of fate in the big things. In never celebrating his birthday because it served too much of a reminder of what he lost. In never cutting his hair, no matter how long it got because Ao Bing taught him how to love through the expression of hair, because it was the last thing Bing had ever touched. In the quiet, soul shuddering sobs that Jia overheard from Hui’s room during the night, no doubt reading over the letter that Bing had left her. 

Hui loved Bing in spite of fate in the words that he whispered against Jia’s chest on the day he first read that letter. Words he would never forget because there was a truth behind it that made his chest ache: “I would use my soul as kindling just to hear him laugh again.”

They were the strangest pair but only because they were made for each other. They molded together and through sheer force of will (not fate, never fate) became what they were. They were living oxymorons, soulmates forged after they were born, each other’s anchors as well as the thing that shoved them forward. One of them was dead, yet both lived on in one person with freckled skin and boisterous laughter and blinding confidence.

“Cloud.”

He jumped, turning his head to look at the human that stood before him. She was positively drenched, hair unable to even curling up at the ends because of how soaked she was. Her robes clung to her skin. The downpour of rain drowned out what she said next, and it was a storm fit to flood, fit to drown, but her laughter matched with the clap of broiling thunder and he knew that this rain would not flood or drown. 

It was rain. And perhaps it was not Bing’s rain but Huizhong fit into it like she was meant for it. 

He could almost hear his brother’s chuckle. Could almost see his arm curling around her waist, could almost see the twinkle in his eyes as he watched her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You know, you criticize me for getting stuck in my own head, but look at you doing the same thing!” Huizhong laughed, settling her hands on her hips (that is where Bing got that mannerism from. He got it from her). “I said, come on! The water feels great.”

“I think I’ll have to pass. I do appreciate the offer though, master,” he dipped his head, managing a soft smile. 

“Suit yourself,” she grinned. “More fun for me.”

Lightning danced gleefully behind. Even after death, Bing showed that he loved her. And she showed that she loved him back. 

They loved each other in spite of fate. 

 

Never, ever because of it. 

.+1

It was a rare occurrence for Ao Bing to wake Hibiscus up. 

That was neither of their faults because Hibiscus rarely allowed himself naps and he was always the first to wake considering Bing’s estranged relationship with his own memories. Not that they were complaining; clearly, since neither of them changed the schedule they had been running with for the past couple thousands of years. But what Hibiscus (and the rest of the world) did not know was that Bing very much wanted to be able to watch him wake up. He just never got to. 

But lucky for him, Hibiscus had pulled a couple of all nighters trying to research some obscure antidote that they needed to deliver to Ao Yi. As soon as that job had been finished, she had knocked out cold as soon as her head hit the pillow of their bed. She had been asleep for the past few hours and Bing missed her sorely but he could handle a day without her, especially when she looked so peaceful. 

And gods, she was beautiful. He stroked his thumb over the rise of her cheek, gently tracing the freckles that lay scattered there. He had memorized each one, created constellations unique to her skin, pressed a kiss to every single melanin scattered star a thousand times over. Few could scarcely believe the ferocity that was packed into a being so quiet, so calm, so unremarkable but that was simply because they did not know her like he did. Besides, their opinions were obsolete. They did not know the curve of her jawline or the dimples of her smile. They did not know it at all. 

They did not know the way that her brow twitched right before she woke up or the slow change of her breathing the few seconds before she stirred. They did not know the way that she rolled over to press into the chill of his body or the soft smile that lifted the corners of her mouth or the joy that swelled in his chest as she finally opened those beautiful eyes, half-lidded with sleep and dilated with a four letter word that started with the letter “L”. They did not know the way she huffed a laugh against his neck as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, her hand cradling the nape of his neck, fingers sunk into the hair at the nape of his neck as she mumbled a quiet greeting. 

They did not know what it was to have her protecting his back, or the absolute confidence he felt when he heard her familiar whoosh of movement behind him in battle. They did not know the feeling of having her hand casually settle on his hip to direct him away from something he was about to bump into, did not know what it was like to make her laugh hard enough for her to bend forward and cover her face. They did not know the joy of having her lean up and smother his face in kisses even though she just woke up and she could barely muster the energy to leave the comfort of their covers. 

No, they did not know her. They could scarcely believe her ferocity. But that did not matter. 

Just as few people could scarcely believe that such tenderness, such gentleness could be capable of a god so brash and arrogant. But that was simply because they did not know him like she did and their opinions were obsolete as a result. He was never a monster and he was not the half-wit people perceived him to be. They did not know how perceptive he was and the way he always knew when things were too much for her, did not know the press of his lips against her cheek, did not know what a sight he was to wake up to. They did not know just how beautiful and breathtaking he was in the morning, they did not know that he was an impossibility that she knew she did not deserve but had anyways. They did not know the line of his smile or the feel of the calluses of his palm against her cheek or the warmth of his love. 

They did not know the gratitude that warmed her chest when he looked at her like this, like she was beautiful and worth it and the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. They did not know what it was to trace over every scar he had on his body and press her lips to each one. They did not know what it was to smooth over his scales and watch him melt into her arms, did not know the way he practically purred when she ran her hands through his hair and gently traced her touch over his tail. They did not know what it was to be pulled into his arms and know that she was finally, really safe. They did not know the triumph of watching his face turn yellow and feel his cheeks heat up underneath her palms when she said something particularly charming. They did not know what it felt like to be the only one who could get the great Ao Bing to become speechless. 

No one knew the lengths with which they would go for each other, not even their families. And they could all speculate and observe and pity all that they wished, they could know all that they wanted, but they would not know this. They would not know them, not fully. Not in the little moments, not in the seconds that Hibiscus had woken up from a particularly satisfying nap, and especially not when she was conscious enough from said particularly satisfying nap to redo the matching braids that ran down their hair. 

Because in the end, Ao Bing and Hibiscus only knew what Ao Bing and Hibiscus were. And that was okay. That was enough. That was just for them.