Chapter Text
The first time Lan Wangji meets his Empress, they are separated by a curtain of gossamer red, seated side by side on a makeshift wedding banquet in the midst of a raging war.
It's a curtain that Lan Wangji never unveils, as he leaves the Yunmeng Jiang ward in what was supposed to be their marital bed once the doors closed behind them. He spends the night on the daybed, a wall of wood and paper separating them, and departs back to the battlefield once the sun rises.
Lan Wangji knows that it's an unkind thing to do, made especially discourteous by the fact that the two of them had just shared their bows to the heavens and their ancestors, to each other. But Lan Wangji had never wanted this - Had never wanted any of this, from the war he has to wage to the crown of Heaven resting heavy on his brows. Above it all, he has no need of an Empress nor any concubine - His own Lan Yuan the only heir he would ever acknowledge.
And yet, the union had been a necessity, an urgent thing once Lan Wangji was crowned Son of Heaven after the bloody war took his Emperor Uncle - the same war that took his new Empress' adopted parents. Lan Wangji knows that it is an union that none of them wanted, his Empress perhaps less so, and he thinks that perhaps it had been a kindness after all, to divest his Empress of the burden of a cold, dispassionate wedding night. Lan Wangji has no interest in tying down anyone, the same way he does not want to be tied down.
So Lan Wangji leaves his bride in the cradle of the Cloud Recesses, and goes to war.
With the Jiangs' army and Baoshan Sanren's wisdom, the Wens are quelled within a year - What would have been years of bloodshed and unrest made blessedly short by their union. Within a year of his marriage, Lan Wangji stands on the ruins of Nightless City, and contemplates the expanse of the Empire before him - Ruined in kind by the war. Contemplates the work yet to be done.
His late Emperor Uncle had always been insular in his reign, preferring to deliberate from advice and reports without ever seeing the realm beyond the Cloud Recesses' walls. But Lan Wangji had always known the land from walking its paths, from being where the people are the weakest, where the turmoil is the thickest - An extension of his Uncle's mandate. So he writes to his brother, and sets out to where the chaos is.
-*-
Another year passes on the road, quelling the last vestiges of the Qishan Wen and rebuilding towns and trades affected by the war, letting the people see that the blessing of the Heavens are not merely contained inside the walls of the imperial palace.
It's only halfway through the third year of his reign that Lan Wangji finally settles back into Court, both surprised and disquieted at the sedate pace of life in the Cloud Recesses after so many years on the campaign trail. His morning rituals are overly long and elaborate, the hours of assembly overwrought with courtesies and roundabout rhetorics. It is, he realizes, a life wholly more suited to his brother, who thrives on the delicate stringing of words, on routine and order and everything arranged just so.
Barely a month in court, and Lan Wangji's conferences with his three main advisors are quickly becoming something he seeks out the most - The combination of his brother's wisdom as Chancellor, Grand Commandant Nie's straightforwardness, and Imperial Counselor Jin's meticulous eye making for actual problems being solved. It's something he is altogether more familiar with, and it soothes the unease under his skin as Jin Zixuan reads out the report of a famine successfully curtailed in the East.
"The irrigation canals had indeed proven to be effective in keeping crop yields stable throughout the dry season. It had been costly, as Minister Yao would continue to remind us, but in the long run this one feels that similar measures could be taken in the neighbouring regions with similar problems."
"It had been a good call," Nie Mingjue nods, sprawled in his seat as he doesn't get to when they are in the Grand hall with his ministers, "I had Huaisang look into the local records and this year is the only year in decades that they don't have a shortage on grains. I'd say we spirit away some wine or brocaded silk budget or whatnot from Privy Treasurer Ouyang's coffers, with your Imperial Majesty's leave, of course."
Lan Wangji feels his lips quirk minutely, the elder Nie knowing full well his hatred towards the inane host of luxuries heaped on him upon assuming the throne.
"While it won't be as easy as Mingjue made it sound, we could draft up ways for some funds to be reallocated. In any case, the Empress would be delighted that his idea worked well," Lan Xichen smiles, and Nie Mingjue grunts his usual gruff assent.
Lan Wangji, who had been content to listen to his council's report until then, feels his brow quirk at the mention, "The Empress?"
"Oh," Lan Xichen says lightly, even as Lan Wangji feels Jin Zixuan eye him carefully, "He has had experience handling a similarly dry region back in Yunmeng, and devised a canal system that would work in the terrain of the East for us."
And there was that. Jin Zixuan picks up his report again, and Nie Mingjue follows up with a report of movements in the North - The Empress Lan Wangji has almost forgotten he has wed never mentioned again until the council is adjourned.
-*-
And yet a few days after, Xichen lets slip that the newly instated, and much more efficient system for screening Imperial scholars had been courtesy of the Empress, across a table of tea and sweets that they often share privately before hai shi.
In the tranquil silence of the Jingshi, Lan Wangji regards his brother. He does not have the subtlety nor patience for politics the way his brother does, but he was raised as his brother had been - With the aptitude to read the undercurrent of things. And it would seem that during his absence, his Empress had woven himself quite deeply into his Court.
He trusts his brother with his life, with Lan Yuan and his Empire, and to a slightly lesser degree, he trusts the Nies and Jin Zixuan - All of them having been close since childhood, since they were merely the Emperor's nephews and spare heirs. But the Empress also belongs to the Jiangs, the weight of both their army and their granaries too sizable to dismiss, his adopted sister connected to the Jins through marriage with Lan Wangji's own Imperial Counselor. It is something that Lan Wangji curses himself for overlooking, too caught up as he was in his aversion towards a consort he never wanted.
"What else does Brother go to the Empress for, aside from advice?"
Brother's smile does not waver, nor does the warmth in his eyes as he refills Lan Wangji's cup, steam curling gently between them.
"We often take tea together, when my schedule allows."
"Why?" Lan Wangji asks, safe in the knowledge that Brother understands his bluntness.
"The Empress is allowed visits to his maiden home and to go on chaperoned trips and hunts. But it gets lonely in the Gentian Palace, Wangji," there is something like a gentle rebuke in his brother's voice, a sadness in his eyes that Lan Wangji rarely sees, "You might remember it less clearly than I do, but Mother was always lonely too. I merely do not want Wuxian to suffer the same fate."
Lan Wangji does not remember much of Mother, only remembers the feeling of warmth and the soft melodies of her songs, the gold of her eyes shadowed with what he now realises was longing. Unbidden, he remembers the shadow of a face behind a curtain of gossamer red, a face he never even unveiled.
"The Empress has a very bright mind, and is experienced with the plight of the common people as you are. It would be a pity to squander such a resource on our side," his brother concludes, takes a sip of his own tea even as Lan Wangji merely nods in silent assent.
It's only after his brother has taken his leave, after Lan Wangji is alone in his chambers, that he realises. His brother had called his Empress Wuxian.
-*-
It would seem that once Lan Wangji was reminded of his Empress' existence, he finds traces of him everywhere within the Cloud Recesses. Minister Herald Meng speaks of the Empress' help in making sure the delegations from the far South were served a suitably spiced fare, and Nie Huaisang flutters a fan adorned with golden finches that the Empress painted for the younger Nie. There is a strange feeling in the pit of Lan Wangji's stomach, like one does when one accidentally misses a step, at these small revelations of how much his Empress' life seem to intertwine with everyone else but himself. And the way things were going, he probably ought not be surprised that his own heir is not exempt to it.
Lan Yuan was born to one of their distant cousins who fell victim to a plague of summer fevers, fostered as his long before any of them had any inkling that Lan Wangji would ascend to the throne. Lan Wangji supposes it's his brother's influence that made the child so amicable, even if he can read the unyielding steel beneath Lan Yuan's smiles that is all himself.
Years away from the capital had rendered their rapport to a regular exchange of letters, and as dilligent and steady as they are in their correspondences, Lan Wangji quietly delights that the more idyllic time granted to him means he has infinitely more time to spend with Lan Yuan. The youth is everything Lan Wangji remembers and then some more, the quiet warmth of his smile the same, yet a new sense of self-assurance worn easily on his shoulders.
The first time he spars again with Lan Yuan, Lan Wangji is almost taken aback with how much he has progressed - His stance firmer, his reflexes honed from what could only be the results of extensive practice. There is also a fluidity, a nimbleness that flows like a river interspersed between the Lan forms they both grew up learning, and Lan Wangji wonders about the strange addition to Lan Yuan's swordplay as the boy almost manages to go through his defenses more than once.
"You have learned quite a few new things while I was gone," Lan Wangji notes as they both take a moment to catch their breaths, Lan Yuan's face painted in an exhilarated grin that makes him appear younger, closer to the child Lan Wangji remembers.
"Oh!" Lan Yuan's eyes flash with excitement, "Xian-gege has been teaching me a few things, and we've been working to incorporate that into our Lan sword forms."
Lan Wangji feels his brow quirk minutely - He had handpicked and approved Lan Yuan's guards and retainers himself, as well as any tutors that Xichen selected for him while he was gone, and the unfamiliar name disconcerts him, "Xian-gege?"
"Oh, forgive me, Emperor Father, I meant the Empress!"
It makes a lot of sense, now that Lan Yuan's mentioned it. He had fought side by side with men from Yunmeng during the war, and their nimble, fluid forms had complemented his own very well in the battlefield. To have the two styles interwoven with each other would be interesting, if only to add an element of unpredictability to the more grounded Lan forms, "Have you been visiting the Empress?"
Lan Yuan blinks, and looks up at him, "Ah, yes, Emperor Father. I visit him quite regularly, as well as Jingyi and some of the other minor princes for sword lessons and stories."
There's a flicker of uncertainty in Lan Yuan's eyes as the youth hesitates, much like the way he often did in his childhood, when he's not sure whether he's breaking a rule or not. The strange feeling returns in Lan Wangji's stomach in the face of Lan Yuan's doubt - As if Lan Wangji would forbid him to visit someone who is by rule of law Lan Yuan's mother.
"Show me what else he's been teaching you," Lan Wangji says instead, and watches Lan Yuan's smile bloom.
-*-
Lan Wangji notices the sound of the dizi a few weeks after settling into his role - After he manages to eke out a reasonable schedule around all the pomp and ceremony required of him by the Court and could actually sit down and enjoy the silence of his expansive chambers at the end of the day.
It's faint - in the way sounds are when carried by the wind - But the silence of the tended gardens that cradles his residence is such that Lan Wangji could still hear the melodies clearly. It's played beautifully, whoever its player surely a master of their craft. But it's also wistful and tremulous, as if the player had imparted a tiny piece of their heart in their songs, sending it out like a nameless letter to the darkness of the Cloud Recesses.
Lan Wangji listens for one night more, then two, before curiosity gets the better of him and he inquires about it to his Head Eunuch.
"Oh," Mo Xuanyu says, hands fidgetting over the stack of reports he's delivered, "That would be the Empress, your Majesty. He doesn't - ah, doesn't really like the quiet, sometimes. Plays the dizi so it won't be so quiet anymore."
Lan Wangji is sure there is an answer building there somewhere, and waits as his Head Eunuch becomes more flustered, "It is - ah, quiet. In the Gentian palace, at night," Mo Xuanyu rambles on, "Because the Empress is alone, you see. Ah! I mean-"
Lan Wangji stares, and Mo Xuanyu actually flinches before Lan Wangji smooths his expression into something gentler, more like his brother. He is reminded that Mo Xuanyu's duties before his return to Court would also revolve around his Empress and the running of the Gentian Palace, and it's only understandable the man would notice that Lan Wangji has never set foot there even once.
"Forgive this lowly one, your Majesty," Head Eunuch Mo bows, lower than it's warranted of him, "Ah, if the sound is inconveniencing your Majesty, this one could always appeal to the Empress to stop-"
"No," Lan Wangji says, surprising the both of them with how quickly and vehemently he replies. Lan Wangji draws a deep breath, "Thank you, Head Eunuch Mo, but that will not be necessary. I am not inconvenienced in any way, merely curious."
There is again the sound of the dizi as he retires into his chambers for the night, and Lan Wangji opens the window to his Southern courtyard, the one that faces the Gentian Palace. Lets the faint melodies wash over him as he remembers the fragments he's heard of his Empress - Of his gregarious nature and sharp wit, of a kind and giving soul - All at odds with the wistful melancholy he keeps hearing night after night.
It gets lonely in the Gentian Palace, Wangji - He remembers Brother saying, the sentiment falling into place like pieces of an incomplete qiqiaoban puzzle that is his Empress.
He remembers Mother, remembers the shadow of a face behind a veil of gossamer red and how he had never even heard his Empress' voice, even as he's hearing the notes of his heart right at this moment.
Lan Wangji leaves his window open that night, and falls asleep to the wistful tune of his Empress' dizi.
-*-
The Gentian Palace is placed in the innermost part of the Cloud Recesses, adjacent to his own residence and ringed by a series of smaller pavilions meant to house the Imperial concubines - Their halls empty for his Emperor Uncle's and his own aversion towards company, and his own father's before them.
Lan Wangji's memory of the place are of Mother - Hazy and water-stained like forgotten summer days, and something warm stirs inside his chest as he sees that gentians still bloom along the path he walks, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze like a sea of blue petals.
He sheds his retinue on the gates of the inner complex, only his personal attendant Lan Xu and Head Eunuch Mo following him inside before settling themselves on the inner gates to the Empress' residence proper.
Despite the years and his own hazy recollections, Lan Wangji remembers these gates - painted blue and carved with white flowers, remembers the warmth he felt whenever he neared it and heard the soft plucks of Mother's guqin. But instead of Mother's music, there is now the sound of laughter from within - Bright and melodic, like sunlight.
His brother sits on the walkway enclosing the small courtyard, watching Lan Yuan spar with a black-robed man, his wild, flowing hair barely held together with a length of red ribbon that flashes in the sunlight as he moves.
"Ah, A-Yuan, you'd have to do better than that!" The man - Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji realizes, his wife, his Empress - laughs as he leaps away from a swipe of Lan Yuan's blade, his voice as warm and bright as his laugh.
For a moment, Lan Wangji stands entranced, merely watching the dance before him, his Empress' movements light and graceful, the lines of his limbs and the trail of his ribbon sinuous as the flowing rivers of his homeland. There is a small, growing thrum in his chest, one that he only realizes now has been building and building over the weeks he's settled in the Cloud Recesses - its beat undeniable now that the last piece of the puzzle he's been building is before him.
His brother is the first one to notice his presence, his warm eyes blinking in surprise as he rises from his seat.
"Wangji?"
The arc of Lan Yuan's blade stops midway, and another blade clatters to the stones of the courtyard as his opponent whirls to face him.
"Your Majesty!"
His Empress' silver-grey eyes are wide as he bows almost clumsily towards him, all of his earlier grace seemingly lost - Hair wild and cheeks flushed magnolia-red, and Lan Wangji's heart almost stops.
He has never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. His wife, his Empress.
His.
-*-