Ren Fei took a careful pace through the Northern edges of Beichen forest, navigating the foothills that crept along the side of Yunji just a few miles shy of the mountain pass. Despite the full body ache he suffered, that water mirror boy suddenly disconnected from his ability felt confident in the day that lay before him. Soon he’d be reunited with his friends, fighting to save his brother from exile. There had been a few travellers along the trails so when he heard hooves coming from behind, he paid them no mind—at least not until he felt a sword hilt crack against the back of his neck, sending his frail, already wounded body tumbling to the ground, velocity rolling him halfway down an embankment. His frightened horse brayed, darting quickly down the path and into the woods.

Angry and cursing his luck, Fei looked back up to the path above and grew pale when he observed Ma Yixun, sitting tall upon a red-dressed Feng clan warhorse, sword in hand and face narrowed by his predator grin.

“Good morning, Ren Fei,” the cruel horseman called down to the deposed young man now at his mercy. “You should be more careful—you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Oh, was that a Tian horse that just ran away?” Another voice traveled up the road, delivered in conjunction with the sound of more hooves and, after a minute’s worth of wait, the terrible sight of Feng Quan. “I hope the royal family won’t be too upset with you losing one of their animals.”

The blond rider stopped his horse directly behind Fei, completing the pair that was always so skilled in cornering people. He looked at the grounded boy, then up to his friend and began to dismount.

“Yixun, Ren Fei is probably scared of the punishment he will face if he doesn’t return that creature. We should be gentlemen and help him back on his feet.”

Even though he was still dizzy from both the fall and the wound that’d sent him to the ground, Fei’s mind was racing. He had to be quick; he had to be clever.

He had to escape.

“Your concern is too valuable, Feng Quan,” the boy said, trying to find his balance with his eyes glued to the ground. “It was a minor fall and the Tian horses are well trained. I’m sure she’ll be back. Do not dirty your shoes on my behalf.”

Already, Yixun was following his friend’s lead and dismounting so they could circle their prey more effectively. His voice was dry and sugared, cloying smoke and venom’s drip. “Oh Ren Fei, what kind of friends would we be if we left you alone in the foothills?” The two-toned ruffian’s sword disappeared in a swirl of code as he stepped off the trail and toward Fei’s position. “We’re only here to help.”

“Yeah. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you, would it?” Quan’s approach was cautious, slow but steady, always so wary of that wounded thing’s gift when it wasn’t under his control. “It’s actually pretty rude to refuse someone’s gracious help, don’t you think?”

“But I—I am so weak,” Fei replied, rapidly formulating a plan with his chestnut eyes staring hard at the dirt. “And you, Feng Quan—you’re so strong. It would be wrong to expect help from someone so far above me.”

“Rest easy, Ren Fei. This isn’t the result of expectation…” Quan’s sword materialized in a glittering instant, gold fleck solidifying into an extended blade. The weapon caught the light, slice smoothly slipping through air. A mirror image of the day passed fluidly up its polished shaft, passive sun licking sharpened silver. “This is a gift. Now, look at me.”

“Feng Quan, I cannot,” the wounded boy said. “For you are too beautiful and I am unworthy.” He could barely keep his stomach from turning when he continued, but he needed to buy himself time. With so many tracers broken, Fei needed time to pull Ma Yixun and Feng Quan around his shoulders like mismatched twin shrouds. He grasped his pack tight to his chest.

“Oooh—” Yixun’s sound was a wind up to a taunt as he closed the distance. “Are you hitting on a Feng, little rabbit?”

“Shut the fuck up.” The tenor of Quan’s voice echoed through the surrounding trees, leaves shivering petrified in the passing breeze as his sword slapped the ground in the shadow of Fei’s head, slicing a hairline trench into the earth packed from the constant passing of beasts of burden. “I said LOOK AT ME.”

It all happened so fast.

Yixun reached down to touch the surface of that mirror boy’s hair, to snatch Fei’s head back to comply with that impatient rich boy’s every demand, but despite his prey’s apparent helplessness, the young Ren boy was the quickest to draw.

Without his tracers, Fei may not have been able to dress himself in Yixun or Quan’s power across distance, but as soon as they touched, he put the two-toned puppeteer on and took him over. Fei kept his head down; he kept Yixun’s head down—he’d just gotten this body, after all. He didn’t want to lose it anytime soon.

Yixun raised his trembling sword at Feng Quan, betrayer body attempting to circumvent Fei’s surprising control.

“Quan, help—” Yixun growled with his head bowed. “Quan, get him the fuck out of me!”

Quan rolled his eyes, annoyed. “You don’t want him, Fei. You see how inept he is at doing anything? How he sabotages himself to make things more difficult for those he’s involved with? I guess I just have to help you myself.” With Yixun stationed behind the Rens’ youngest, with the fading light of the day generously playing favors to the angle of his limbs, the platinum-haired Feng quickly launched a foot forward and smashed the toe of his boot into the dirtied flesh of Fei’s face.

Fei’s consciousness gave way. He was already taxed far beyond his injuries should’ve allowed and, without his tracers, the boy was helpless to Quan’s full force attack. He collapsed to the ground.

“Words hurt,” Yixun snipped, curt in response to Quan’s castigation.

“Eh. Being kicked in the face hurts more so cheer up.” Quan flipped Fei’s body over with his assaulting foot, pancaking that helpless boy onto his back. He observed for a moment, superimposing the shadow of himself over Fei and running dark eyes over the collection of his injuries. “Fuck, he’s pretty messed up. I didn’t kick him THAT hard. I thought he was going to Yunji to train with the Tians, but maybe he was going to get healed?”

“Yeah, he doesn’t look like he’s in fighting condition,” Yixun grumbled as he crouched next to the youth. “Can we even use him like this? Fucking waste of time.”

Quan looked up to Yixun. “We can bring him back and see what happens, I guess. Can’t your disabled brother do something with him? Doesn’t he know some sort of medicine?” Back down to the unconscious Fei, then. “Worst case, he’s out of the fight for everyone. It still works in our favor. Let’s get his shit picked up.”

“He’s not disabled—you know, you don’t need artifacts to be fully functional in society. You’re perpetuating an unhealthy stigma, Quan.” It was always the same conversation. Yixun frowned as he picked up the pack Fei had grasped to his chest, tossing it to the blonde before he hoisted Fei into his arms. “I tell you this all the time, it’s like you’re not even listening.”

“I think I’ve come a long way, personally.” Quan countered, eager fingers quickly sifting through the Ren boy’s belongings. He pulled a few items out to observe them better. Each wore royal insignia in one way or another, stamped or signed, embroidered or embossed. “This is all Tian shit. Wonder why he doesn’t have any of his own stuff. Did he get in trouble with his father too-oooh, candy! For Xiaoxu.” Tilting his head, the blond observed the present labeled for Fanxing’s crown prince, then slipped it into his robe.

“Is this your horse?” A voice interrupted the pair from higher up that rough road, gentle but still somehow stern, lightly carried on the unheard melody of sunshine. Quan turned his head to the call mixing with the emerging sound of footsteps, watching the picture of the man come into view alongside the Tians’ horse.

“Yeah, it’s ours,” the Feng’s eldest replied, briefly fixated on the newcomer as though he was sizing him up for a fight, eyes rapidly scaling up and down the stranger’s plain white clothes, the barely perceptible iridescence radiant ‘round his form. “Our friend here took a pretty nasty tumble. We were collecting him to return to the city.”

“Do you need help? First aid? I was camping up the road and thought I heard a fight but I suppose it was the commotion from the fall.” The stranger had short hair, dark brown to match his eyes focusing on the unconscious Fei as he drew nearer, eyebrows beginning to furrow, royal reins in hand. His skin was golden from spending time in the sun, aura warm despite his emergence from shadow. “My name is Chen. Those injuries don’t look fresh.”

Fei’s eyes flickered open and he groaned, head lolling to the side to take in that blurry halo of salvation. When he opened his mouth to protest his captor’s story, his words wouldn’t come. Instead, his quavering voice was wrapped around Yixun’s fabricated cover story.

“I—I took a beating in arena last week,” the boy said. He was a liquid scream; he was boiling rage.

But all anyone saw was his wilting elegance, pained in Yixun’s arms.

“He’s my brother. My name is Ren Li. This is Ren Fei,” Yixun offered helpfully, confident in his ruse. “It is fortunate you came along, Chen. I don’t know how we would have caught that horse. We borrowed a gentle horse from the Tian stables since my brother wasn’t feeling well. Who knew she’d be so skittish.”

“I’ll take the horse from you. My horse is well-trained, I can pony this one back down the trail.” Quan extended a hand to receive the reins and Chen, moving his line of sight away from the apparent pair of Rens to the blond, acquiesced. Quan hoisted Fei’s pack upon the animal, securing it to the saddle. His smile was sweetened by all his sin. “No need to trouble you with packing up your camp for us.”

“Alright.” It brought Chen some comfort to see the injured rider awake and his own reassurances did wonders. He nodded and stepped back. “I’ll be on my way then. Have a safe journey back to the city.”

Fei’s eyes betrayed the lie Yixun breathed through him.

PLEASE, he pleaded with his deep well eyes, frantic and afraid. SEE ME—PLEASE, LOOK AT ME AND SEE ME.

But, despite the gritting of his grief stricken teeth, all the Ren boy’s mouth could say was: “Thank you for your help and concern.”

Chen lifted a hand of acknowledgement, silver bangles clanking upon his wrist, catching the light and scattering it like a million-point mace, a star suspended in infinite sparkling. Already his back was turned and he was walking away, returning to the tree line, brightness receding into darkness.

Fastening the Tian horse’s reins to his own saddle, Quan quietly busied himself with the more innocuous tasks of his and his friend’s hostage situation. He made sure all items were secure, looked the runaway horse over to check for any injuries, and wasted time until the interloper from the forest was surely gone, unheard and unseen, an intruding presence no longer.

“Alright, lets get gone before someone else comes and keeps us.” The blond mounted his horse and looked to Yixun.

Already Yixun was mounting his horse, holding his prisoner upright with his will alone. Despite the puppeteer’s stranglehold, the young Ren boy was a seething tremble, tears spilling unbidden from his eyes to spite Yixun’s physical control.

“Come on, Fei, don’t look so sad,” Yixun drawled as he settled in behind the incapacitated boy, pulling him close to secure him before snagging his horse’s reins. “Things could always be worse: you could be on Quan’s horse right now.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The blond tossed a nasty look his friend’s way, legs urging his horses forward. “My horse is fine. Also that horse you’re on is also my horse, Yixun, so in a way we’re all on Quan’s horse right now.”

“It’s not about the fucking horse, Quan,” Yixun snipped back, holding Fei securely as he urged his stallion on. “It’s about not being able to buy riding skill or, I don’t know, being a considerate person or something. Anyways, what’d you steal from his pack?”

“Oh. Just that parcel of candy for Xiaoxu.” Transferring his control to a single hand, Quan fussed with his robe, retrieved the package, and unwound its carefully tied ribbon. He pulled one of the sweets out and held it up to the sky, peering into the jellied square and its mottled hues, red and orange bleeding together in a pink-tinged middle. A moment later, the Feng boy shoved the cube into his mouth, sucking away the sugary exterior first, then chewing and swallowing.

“These are actually really good,” he said, taking another. “They’re apple and peach.” He continued eating, third followed by fourth, fifth. It seemed, for a moment, Quan was transfixed with the wealth of these handmade gems, watching the distance like it was only him on this lonely ride down from Yunji. “Mm, I wonder if this is what his mouth tastes like?”

Strangely, Fei and Yixun were suddenly on the same page, confusion crossing the brows of both captor and prisoner.

“What.” Yixun’s question was flat, dreading the inevitable response.

“I said I wonder if this is what his mouth tastes like. You know,” Quan looked aside to Fei and his best friend, “Xiaoxu? Is this his favorite candy? Does he taste like apples and peaches?”

“W H A T,” Yixun repeated, mercifully not allowing Fei to vocalize with him. “Dude, like—do you even… Why do you even want to know what Tian Xiaoxu’s mouth tastes like?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to know? He’s the crown prince.” Quan shrugged, teeth working another piece of the candy. “I just want to learn about him, like with anything else.”

“Geez man, you sound like you wanna learn what his dick tastes like too, fuck…” Yixun fired the statement off with an exasperated sarcasm weary in his voice.

Fei, for what it was worth, was actually glad he was on Yixun’s horse and not Quan’s. He’d have been happier literally anywhere else, but at least he wasn’t forced to endure Quan’s speculation from close proximity.

“Ha ha, shut the fuck up, Yixun.” With a slap of the reins against his horse’s neck, Quan picked up his horses’ pace, pushing ahead of his friend and Fei, leaving any further speculation or criticism of his motives in the dust his many hooves kicked up.