Chapter Text
This is the moment it all starts.
As the rain rises from a mere pitter patter to a fever pitch downpour, Ouyang is welcoming of it. The muffled sound brings a certain calmness into the air, but it isn’t quite enough to bring him to peaceful stillness.
Truthfully, he’d never been still, but rather lying-in wait. For sixteen years, since he was bathed in the blood of his brothers, uncles and cousins by Chaghan, he had been preparing himself with monk-like dedication.
The comparison was just as ironic as it was amusing to Ouyang.
When he’d been forced to cower before the Prince of Henan, Ouyang had felt the wheels of his fate pick up speed from a crawl to a steady roll, and there was no stopping it now. It was all that occupied his thoughts, not a waking moment did he forget his purpose.
These moments with Esen had always been tainted in a way, precious to Ouyang though they were. He watched the Son of his family’s murderer as he busied himself with the business of eating mere feet from where Ouyang was sitting. He was close enough that he could have pierced Esen’s heart with a blade without even stretching his arm all the way.
“How I hate their games, Ouyang.” Esen declared, choosing pork cheek from the array of dishes. Ouyang watched him swallow, following the faint bob of his Adam’s apple in his smooth throat. He caught a faint whiff of Esen's scent, familiar and masculine. It was all Ouyang would allow himself to keep. Esen was a true Mongol in his appetites both for food and for a drink. Ouyang in comparison had always moderated his intake of everything. Eunuchs had the unfortunate propensity to become soft and flabby, something Ouyang would never tolerate for himself. Eating had a purpose, it wasn’t for pleasure. Ouyang took up his chopsticks and idly drew a circle in the bowl of rice nearest to him.
“Your wives?”
Across from him, Esen groaned. “Oh Ouyang, women are terrible. Consider yourself lucky you will never face this kind of torment.”
Lucky.
Ouyang’s grip on his chopsticks tightened, the bones of his fingers became rigid, and a small ball of rice fell back into the bowl.
Esen never meant to hurt, he was simply oblivious of Ouyang’s pain, or he had been taken in by Ouyang’s display of stoic indifference to such comments. But it did hurt, it cut him to the raw quick every single time.
Snide comments from the likes of Altan and even Lord Wang could be tolerated, but not this. Ouyang would never grow a skin thick enough. Surely, after everything, Ouyang hoped Esen would know better. Had he not been in Ouyang’s presence enough to notice the pain in his eyes when he measured against whole men? Did he never dwell on what it must be like to be excluded from family? Marriage? Children?
Briefly, Ouyang was reminded of Altan’s muttered insults after his humiliation at the eunuch General’s hands. “Nothing but a thing.”
If only that were true. If Ouyang were truly a passionless shell, a mere tool rather than a man, then he would be able to stay with Esen. He would serve until his body broke or he was too old to be useful, and he would do so gladly. Anything to bring Esen’s pleased eyes and smile onto him, though Ouyang always knew he was unworthy of such light. But wasn’t a man, nor was he a tool.
Thing. Thing. Thing.
Sitting there stewing in his own ruminations, Ouyang realised he hadn’t spoken for some time and said to distract himself “I did run into Lady Borte earlier today, she sends her greetings and asks when she may have the privilege of hosting you again.”
Esen’s first wife. To Ouyang, they all blurred into one, their heavy painted faces and suffocating clouds of perfume left him feeling itchy and struggling to breathe. How Esen could find any of them attractive he would never know. Then again, all women left him cold.
You’re just a thing.
“If only one of them would bear a son, that would put them in order,” Esen complained. “When I’m here they treat me like nothing more than a breeding stallion.” He looked pained. “They don’t even serve me tea first.”
Better a stallion than a piece of furniture.
Outside, the storm raged away, and there was a brief crack and flicker of lightning. It matched perfectly the turmoil inside the General’s troubled mind. Ouyang was suddenly beset by images of Esen, muscular and handsome, thrusting into a smaller body beneath him. At first, it seemed like he was fucking one of his wives, but then the mists of Ouyang’s imagination cleared and he saw that the second figure wasn’t a woman.
Ouyang recoiled, disgusted at himself for allowing such perverse thoughts to come into his head. It was a betrayal of everything that was sacred about the friendship he and Esen shared. If he could flay himself then and there for such an offence he would have.
Ouyang stared down at the food that had been brought by the servants, the majority of it he’d hardly touched despite having not eaten since that morning. Esen was good to him, and Ouyang was going to destroy it all. The eyes of his ancestors were on him now, waiting, like Ouyang had been waiting.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Esen chewed loudly, his mouth full of meat. Ouyang coughed. “My Lord, the matter on which I came. I heard the invitation for the Spring hunt has come-”
---
Although the hunt was not for some weeks, there was much preparation to be done.
It had been seven years since Ouyang had last accompanied Esen to Hichetu. It felt like more like a thousand lifetimes ago. Ouyang knew he couldn’t waste such an opportunity; it had taken this long for the conditions to be correct. He just needed everything to work perfectly. Esen had mercifully not second-guessed Ouyang’s request to accompany them, but he had yet to ask Chaghan for permission. It troubled Ouyang, what would he do if he was not permitted to go? He’d deliberately avoided the Prince of Henan since their last interaction, feeling as cowardly and snivelling as the dog others saw him as.
“Let him cool down for a few days, then I will bring it up.” Esen promised, tactfully not mentioning that the source for his father’s anger was Ouyang loosing ten thousand men in one fateful swoop. Sighing, he added. “Father had words with my brother… so tempers are high at the moment.”
Ouyang and Esen were preparing to train together, both dressed in the lighter armour of the practise fields. As usual Ouyang had multiple layers, but this was becoming slightly uncomfortable as the days began to become warmer.
He was also a little lightheaded, and his stomach clenched uncomfortably. He'd eaten nothing, only drinking water when he awoke that morning. It was now past the snake hour. It felt oddly satisfying, like a small victory over his body he couldn't quite explain.
He ignored the cramps, as an emotionless thing would have done.
“Perhaps I should make a gesture-” Ouyang suggested, blocking an incoming blow from Esen.
“No, no… I’m more than happy to speak on your behalf.” Esen’s counterattack was quick, poised, and strong. “Anyway, if he doesn’t allow it then I’ll just refuse to go.” Ouyang panted.
Esen was in very good form, and Ouyang wavered somewhat.
He’d put his neck on the line for you. You. A worthless thing.
He braced himself for an incoming strike. “My lord, I beg you not to come to conflict with your father on my behalf.”
Esen chuckled, it was a warm, rolling sound. “Too late for that now, I’m afraid. You should have seen his face when I said I wanted to make you my General.”
Ouyang winced, imagining how that scene would have played out. While they broke away to re-group a moment, Ouyang bent forward onto his knees and panted. The world spun a little, becoming blurred at the edges. Esen’s voice sounded far away. “Let’s rest, the sun is hot today.”
Ouyang suddenly found himself sitting on a blanket, a wisp of a serving girl fanning him quickly. Irritated, he waved her off as if she were a bothersome horsefly. Another servant brought over a tray with drinks, Yak’s butter tea. Ouyang grimaced at his cup, the idea of drinking something so filling and luxurious made him sicker to his stomach yet.
He licked his dry lips and felt another stomach cramp, more persistent this time. Good. Thought Ouyang. Pain was something he was familiar with.
Esen wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I truly am glad you’re coming with me on this year’s hunt.”
“Think nothing of it, My lord. It was about time I accompany you again.”
“No, really- it gladdens my heart.” Esen signed softly, and Ouyang noticed his princely veneer losing some of its shine. “With things with my father and my brother as they are… It’ll be a wonder if we even make it to Hichetu without one murdering the other. I can’t bare the silences either, its interminable.”
Ouyang watched him carefully. Was Esen feeling lonely? Was it the same loneliness that Ouyang felt?
Esen drank from his cup and swirled the remaining contents around thoughtfully. “Why must they keep dragging up past grievances? And why must my brother be so difficult?”
“I think Lord Wang thrives on being controversial,” Ouyang replied. That and spite.
Snorting, Esen shook his head in exasperation and mirth. “That’s one word for it.”
He patted Ouyang on the shoulder, his touch leaving a ripple of dangerous delight.
Dog. Thing. Servile creature.
Ouyang placed his cup back onto the tray, untouched. Esen noticed, because of course he did. Refusing offered food or drink of any kind was a breach of etiquette and Ouyang needed to think of an acceptable excuse quickly. “Too rich for my blood.” He explained, and then added “Yak’s milk doesn’t sit well with me.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie, as Ouyang wasn’t a Mongol by blood he did not have their constitution for consuming dairy. The first time he had tried Airag the smell alone had made Ouyang want to vomit. It was just one of many trifling reminders that he didn't belong, he was pretending.
“Of course.” The son of the Prince of Henan nodded with put-on grave sincerity. “We don’t want any noxious fumes coming from your rooms now do we?”
Ouyang felt himself flush and groaned a little. “My lord, please.”
Esen looked mischievous. “How long have we known each other? Surely now we can freely discuss farts.”
Ouyang wrinkled his nose. As a eunuch, bodily functions were a source of embarrassment and inconvenience. He never did care for the vulgar humour that seemed common in soldiers. “Perhaps, but must we?”
A shrill cry above caught his attention, someone was flying their hawk. Ouyang watched as the bird beat its wings and circled so naturally, he was almost envious. How wonderful it must be to live like that.
A wet sound sounded by Ouyang’s ear, like someone putting their lips into their palm and blowing a raspberry. Ouyang whipped his head around, braids flying. “Esen!”
Esen blinked in fake innocence. “That wasn’t me.”
The servants watched in bewilderment as General Ouyang punched Lord Esen in the shoulder who fell backwards in boyish laugher. The sun climbed higher still, and the Earth was dry.
Ouyang’s cup was left on the tray, quite forgotten.