Chapter Text
He came to her for the first time just days after Tikany.
“Rin?”
She flinched, and her heart skipped a beat. She could recognise that voice anywhere, but she didn’t think she would hear it here, she didn’t think she could. But Altan’s eyes widened and his face set into a horribly snarky smirk, and when her head whipped around there he was. Nezha. Nezha.
He was standing just feet behind her, beautiful brown eyes widened in confusion, mouth slightly agape like a child listening to an incredulous story. For a moment they sat staring at each other in stunned silence.
Why was he here? This was Rin’s domain, her mind. Beyond the seal nothing could exist but her own thoughts, not even Kitay could come this far. Even Altan was only a figment of her imagination, her sorrows and regrets personified, linked together in a torturous manifestation of a man she once loved, her personal hell.
A laugh boomed behind her.
“You pathetic little bitch, I didn’t know you had it in you to bring your boy toy here too.”
Altan’s mocking tone pulled her out of her trance, but when she looked back at him he had already vanished.
She turned the situation over in her mind, memories of that horrible night in Tikany flooding in. Nezha was her enemy, and she couldn’t risk letting her guard down, even if he was only an echo of her own mind. She sprung to her feet and crouched low, ready to pounce. Nezha was still looking at her in silence, but his knees were now bent, and he shifted his weight into a wider stance. He was bracing for impact.
Rin weighed her possibilities. Three days ago, when she saw him in Tikany, he was wielding the powers of a god. The Nezha she fought then was ruthless and calculated, and he had forged forward with the unyielding resolve of killing her. She had seen it in his eyes, had felt it in every hit he landed on her, and could still feel it in the cracked ribs in her physical body.
The Nezha standing before her now was different. She could tell by the way his shoulders slouched just a tiny bit, and the way his brows furrowed, the corners of his mouth set in a slight downturned position. He was tired, and sad. Her stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot. She hated seeing him like this, weak and undetermined, a child forced into a conflict that wasn’t his to solve. She wanted nothing more than to yell at him, to punch him senseless, to remind him who he was. But she had to be cautious.
The domain behind the seal was nothing but an endless void, but over the time she spent there, night after night reliving her painful memories, Rin had noticed certain irregularities. For one, when she entered the void she had both hands, and any injury in her physical body vanished for the time she was there. The domain didn’t grant immunity to attacks from within, something she found out the hard way, the numerous times she had fought Altan. However, injuries sustained in the domain wouldn’t transpose to real life, so she was safe for the most part.
Secondly, she still had her fire here. It roared hot and ravenous from every pore in her body, much stronger than it did in the physical world. In here, she had perfect control; if she willed it, she could burn everything in her path with no consequences.
Finally, and most importantly, the domain was malleable. She discovered it one night, when she had accidentally called into existence the beaches of Speer, while lamenting to Altan about the night she called the Phoenix on the island of Mugen. She found herself sitting, not suspended in the void, but on real, solid sand, sand she could run her fingers through, on the shore of a sea she could touch and sink her feet in.
This would be her advantage. Even if Nezha was able to call his god in here, she could change the terrain, block his attacks, and she would win. In here she was whole, she was strong, and she was invincible.
She spread her arms and called the fire, a controlled flame covering each of her palms. Nezha flinched and jumped back, but it was too late. She leapt towards him and grabbed onto his waist, flames enveloping their bodies. Nezha screamed out in pain, but she only increased her flames, burning through his clothes, down to the exposed skin on his midriff and the tattoo on his back. He fell backwards and hit the floor and she let herself fall with him, until she was on top of him, flames still erupting from her hands. She looked down at his now exposed torso under patches of singed clothing, and saw his skin bubbling, stitching itself together.
His god was here. His god was healing him, even in her domain, even in her imagination. But if his god was here, why wasn’t he calling on it? Why wouldn’t he protect himself from her flames? She pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. Nezha was her enemy. If flames weren’t enough then she would kill him with her bare hands.
She straddled his chest and started pummelling his face, punch after punch, his head whipping from side to side as cuts appeared on his cheeks and his lip burst open. He wasn’t fighting back, he wasn’t defending himself, and that enraged Rin even more, because he had no right to so shamelessly infiltrate her mind, no right to play the victim now when he took everything away from her.
As hit after hit disfigured his perfect face, she found herself shouting at him, words strung together in a meaningless angry rant.
“Why?! Why won’t you fight back?! I want you to defend yourself, I command you to fight me - the real Nezha would fight me. You’re not real, you’re not even real, you’re not-“
She realised she was crying. Big heavy teardrops were falling down her face onto Nezha’s, mixing with his blood and dripping down the side of his cheeks. He was looking at her through his lovely almond eyes, and she could see nothing but sadness in them, a sadness she wanted so desperately to relieve. Her fist hung heavy in the air above his head. She knew this last hit would render him unconscious, so she only needed to bring it down, to connect it to his jaw, and then this pathetic display would be over.
Fuck it.
She closed her eyes. She tasted the metallic earthiness in his blood and the salt in her tears mixed together, and she involuntarily recoiled for a moment, but then her tongue found his, sweet and wet and soft, and she thought she’d never tasted anything better in her life. She was kissing him; she didn’t know why, her body had made that decision in her stead, but she relished in their kiss. After all, this was her imagination, her mind, and she was in control. Why shouldn’t she indulge herself in something that could never become reality?
She nibbled clumsily at his lips and tongue, her jaw open uncomfortably wide, the feeling of his breath tickling her cheek stirring an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of her stomach. He wasn’t really kissing back, and she was sure his eyes were open in surprise, or disgust, or both, but she didn’t know because hers were tightly shut, and she didn’t want to know.
Her breath hitched in her throat when she felt his hands shift behind her back, memories of their last night in Arlong playing on the back of her eyelids as they often had since. She was sure he was going to stab her again, that he had waited until this moment to fight back. She broke their kiss and made to jump backwards, but then his arms closed around her waist and he pulled her back in. He took control this time, sucking hungrily at her lower lip until she opened her mouth again, and their kiss resumed against her muffled protests.
He was delicate, but assertive, and he lead their movement with the confidence of a general drawing up strategies on a map. His head tilted from side to side with each kiss, and he left her barely a moment to gasp for air between each exchange. Rin’s entire body shook with an unknown feeling of satisfaction as bolts of electricity ran up and down her spine and pooled in her lower abdomen.
He’s done this before, she thought.
Despite herself, a pang of jealousy hit her in the chest, and she felt bile rise in her throat. She was being stupid, of course she wasn’t his first - he was Yin Nezha, the second son of the Dragon Warlord, girls had been throwing themselves at his feet since the day he started walking. She had known it since their days in Sinegard, when Venka would sit beside him everywhere like a queen beside her king, where older students would “accidentally” brush their hands against him in the hallways and giggle to their friends. She had known it when she walked with him in Kurdhalain, the jealous eyes of women, civilians and soldiers alike, burning a hole in the back of her head. But he had never shown them any interest, so she had let herself hope he had eyes only for her. She had no right to be jealous, but she was and she couldn’t help it.
It occurred to her now, as he broke away from her mouth and traced his lips down to her jaw and the curve of her neck, that she had been unconsciously observing him since the first day they met, two stupid, arrogant kids at Sinegard, that even then she couldn’t help but love him even when she wanted with her whole being to hate him. She shuddered in pleasure as he nibbled on her collarbone and a moan escaped her mouth. He looked up at her then, panting as if he’d just run up a flight of stairs, his eyes dark with desire, and it struck her how wrong this was. She couldn’t let herself give into a twisted fantasy when reality was so cruel, when the only thing tying them together now was a mutual desire to kill the other.
She pushed her palms into his shoulders abruptly and sprung backwards, releasing herself from his grip. She stood and took three steps back, putting enough distance between them so that she couldn’t let herself fall back into his arms. Nezha sat up, leaning on his left arm as he wiped the blood and saliva from his chin with the back of his right hand, never breaking eye contact. Rin’s heart thumped heavily in her chest as she tried to catch her breath. The look she saw just moment ago in Nezha’s eyes was gone, replaced now with sour disappointment and a hint of disbelief.
He slowly pushed himself up and stumbled forward half a step before he regained his balance and stood upright. His shirt had burnt away to ashes, so his now exposed torso showed every scar on his body. The biggest one was right below his ribcage, to the left of his belly button, the scar he got at Sinegard, which would have killed him if not for the dragon god. No small number of the other ones would have been inflicted by herself, she was certain.
For a moment, she scanned his body with shameless adoration, desire building back up in her gut. Hating how tight her chest felt when she looked at him, she forced her eyes down and finally spoke.
“I need you to leave.” She meant to sound more assertive, more sure of herself, like when she beat Altan into submission, but her words came out strangled, pleading.
“Are you sure?”
She jumped. She realised that this was the first time he spoke since he appeared in the domain and called her name. His voice was not mocking or accusatory, it was soft and sincere - a genuine question. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She could picture his face right now, his eyebrows knitted together, his eyes pleading, and she knew it would break her if she looked, she would falter and run back towards him and get lost in his touch again.
Why shouldn’t I? The small voice in her head piped up. This is only my imagination, nothing would change if I let myself have this fantasy. Just one touch, just one kiss. Come on, Rin.
But she knew that wasn’t the truth. Nezha was her enemy in reality, and her feelings towards him had already done too much harm. She had thrown away the opportunity to kill him once because she couldn’t do it, because she loved him, and she lost Kitay and countless lives in Tikany because of it. She couldn’t indulge herself even this meaningless fantasy.
“I am sure. Please, leave.” She pleaded again, as tears started streaming down her face against her will. She didn’t sense any movement, so she squeezed her eyes shut and shouted “Just go!”, but when she opened them again he was already gone. It was what she asked for, but still a twinge of disappointment built up at the back of throat, and she slumped down, sobbing.
When she next woke up, she was back in her physical body.
She opened her eyes slowly, lifting her hand to her head to shield them from the morning light. Su Daji was hovering over her, too close for comfort, with a puzzled look on her face. Rin jumped up, startled.
“What are you doing?!” She shouted at Daji, though her voice came out croaking and strained.
“You were crying in your sleep.” It was Jiang who responded now, from the front of the their improvised barge, where he was leaning on an oar, facing away from her.
Rin reached up to touch her face, and her fingers came up slick with half dried tears. How pathetic, she thought. But she didn’t bother to explain anything, nor did they ask, and she was grateful for it.
For days after she had first conjured Nezha in her mind, Rin barely slept, afraid to repeat the experience. Though Daji and Jiang never mentioned the crying incident again, she couldn’t help but feel ashamed. Nezha was her enemy, and though she could admit now that she used to love him, she hated him at this very moment- didn’t she?
So why was she afraid of going to sleep? Why was she afraid of seeing him? Why, if her hate ran so deep, did she still secretly hope she would?
On the fifth night after the dream encounter, Rin could no longer stay awake. She had become delirious, engaging Jiang and Daji in ridiculous conversations about the Pantheon and the gods and spirits, subjecting them to never ending ramblings about her thoughts, feelings and theories. Finally, as the sun set over the Murui and the air cooled, an exasperated Daji handed her a bowl of hot soup for supper. She could taste the poppy right away, but didn’t protest. Minutes later she was in deep slumber.
As she crossed the seal like so many times before, she found her chest tightening and her breathing catching in her throat. She opened her eyes slowly, unsurely, after crossing the threshold. Nothing. Not even Altan. Just the endless void.
She swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment. She couldn’t admit to herself that she was upset, that she had wanted to see him again. If her mind had chosen to conjure him before, why not again? Why did it do it in the first place?
As she looked up and blinked away the tears that had started pooling in her eyes, she heard the unmistakable bass of Altan’s voice behind her.
“Is the princess crying because her knight in shining armour is not here to save her?”
She laughed. What a stupid way to start a conversation. He really knew how to get on her nerves. She turned around to face him.
“No, the princess is crying because she wants to smash the knight’s face in, but he is nowhere to be found.”
That’s right. The more she said it, the more she would believe it. She had to believe it.