#concubinage

In where, some of the honkai star rail men become your concubine. Focused on how you came to meet them and integrate them into your harem.

Men: Sunday, JingYuan, DanHeng, Gepard, Aventurine, Dr Ratio.

Note: no warning, just a birthday gift to my friend <3 thanks for winning the battle of the sperms. probably choppy and feels rushed, wasn't edited but this is for you <33

second part: here

third part: here

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Sunday

During your years as a princess, of course your husband would need to come from a strong clan to provide you better supporters in your campaign to become crown princess and later Empress. At the age of 9, your father had already gotten to work and convinced your mother, the then Empress, to betroth to the Oak Family's young son who was close in age to yourself.

You met the 10 year old only weeks later, he was as gentle and man-like as you'd expect from a son of a noble family. You easily sensed his tense demeanor around you, he made it his mission to make sure you were pleased the entire time you both were together.

"I will ask the maidservant to give us treats. What do you like?" You took the Oak clan's son for an outing in the Southernmost Imperial Gardens, it was closest to your father's palace as he would've liked it anyway.

"Ah, are you a fan of treats? What treats do you usually like getting?" He stood quite straight with a hand behind his back, as he should be.

You blinked, "Treats are okay. I usually end up eating Honey Cakes I suppose."

"Honey Cakes are sweet, I think I'd like to have one too."

When you asked him why his face scrunched up a bit while taking a bite, he simply brushed it off and said it was sweeter than he was used to. You assumed the maidservant had messed something up in his cake and asked your father to replace her later on.

Either way, Sunday was your personally chosen future royal consort by the former Empress, your own mother, so naturally you held him to high regard.

He was then and now, the very epitome of a perfect consort. He was given praises by both your mother and father quite often for his etiquette and behavior whenever he came by the Imperial Palace. It was enough his family received praises for their efforts in kingdom management by your mother, also with your father praising his family's influence, seeing you as set in stone for the throne being already favored well by your mother.

You married him as soon as the age was appropriate. On the wedding night, he had frigidly arranged old husbands' tales, from using plants said to boost fertility to saying prayers to placing down objects rumored to be favored by the aeons. He had kneeled before the bed after the priestesses and servants had left the private chambers, his hands clasped in prayer.

"The priestesses gave us enough blessings, no?" You jested. You were not surprised of course, years of being together with him had shown you his sweet devout heart towards the aeons. You found it an entertainment to tease him over the years.

"It is good to show the gods your own faith as well, to ask them personally shows your trust in them and pleases them more after all.." you felt almost bad for interrupting his prayer, with the way he glanced up at you afterwards, "perhaps you should join me, we could give honor to Ena for a stable marriage."

It was not uncommon for you both to spend your leisure time praying. Maybe your fondness for him came from the fact he didn't only run to the gods when something went wry. You remembered the first time, when you were but 11 and had visited the Oak's residence without much of an announcement due to having been passing by and decided to stop to visit him, you had been told the young lord was praying as he usually did around his hour. Your better manners told you to wait but in the moment you had made your way to the family's temple and easily made your way inside, as no one would stop an imperial heir so easily.

You found him on his knees, offerings before him as a painting of Ena laid before him on the wall. He was focused, not noticing your entrance. You observed him from where you stood, the relaxed look on his face wasn't normal for you. He was always at attention and the image of sophistication every man wanted to be, composed at all times. The gentleness of him this time wasn't the expected one of his stature, something about the moment almost felt intrusive. You were quiet in your strides towards him, having a closer look at his face now, you assumed it was the dim lighting of the candles but he looked like a different person. You looked forward at the image of Ena then kneeled next to him and clasped your hands together as well. It just felt right.

Praying with the other became something shared between you two when you both found time together.

You shrugged, "I don't see why not."

JingYuan

An incident had occurred during the celebratory banquet in which the pet kitten of a noble had disturbed the peace by causing a servant to lose balance and create a mess. A great disrespect to the royal family, your mother then had chastised the pet's owner publicly and declared the kitten to be skinned alive to teach everyone a lesson of letting creatures run wild in an event like this one.

Well, you found this sentence to be bad, for the kitten at least but your mother's temper was something to be observed carefully, you'd rather not make the evening more unpleasant for her. Or yourself.

It would be three days later when you'd hear noises when you were taking strolls after a long day in your lessons to clear your mind. You had stopped to rest in a pavilion before you'd journey your way back to your palace and heard it. You told your servants to wait for you at the pavilion as you made your way towards the noise as stealthy as one could be, peeking from behind a wall, you saw a boy perhaps older than you kneeling before a bush. There was a bowl next to him and his hand was stretched into the bush.

"pspspspsps-" you had heard from his mouth, ringing confusion bells in your head.

Then you saw it, the pearl white kitten itching out from the bushes only to be attacked with immediate petting from the young boy. That cat looked an awful lot like the cat ordered to die. It shouldn't be, as you saw the peeled skin yourself. It shouldn't be, what person in their right mind would walk straight into a death sentence like this. This definitely wasn't the cat sentenced to death.

So, you watched the should-be-dead kitten make its way toward the bowl of food, meowing in gladness then going right back in to continue eating.

"Does that feel better, Mimi?" The will-be dead boy muttered softly, his tone soft as he ran his hands through the kitten's head.

You felt more uncomfortable when you recognized his face, the amber eyes and the white hair, the black spot on his face-

Jingliu was a popular swordsman hailing from a clan who rose to a respected military family from her great efforts and achievements in conquest. She took in a young distant cousin whose family had fallen on hard times and raised him to take after her and continue her legacy of sword masters. You met this boy after he had accompanied his caretaker to the Imperial Palace for the banquet to celebrate her recent victory. You remembered seeing his face when he had come to greet you and your mother formally before the banquet commenced. You remembered how much your mother revered and praised Jingliu for her military prowess. You recalled thinking the cat faced boy had delicate features.

Military families were highly regarded by the Imperial family. They were considered military when someone received honors and official recognition from the imperial family for carrying out a successful military operation. These families usually aimed to produce soldiers and were determined to ensure all their descendants carry out their military duties for generations. You were curious about Jingliu’s choice to have a man carry on her military legacy though, most unusual.

You looked back at the white haired boy caressing the young kitten like a babe. You admired his idiocy in a sense. His actions were careless and could cause lady Jingliu trouble if he was not careful- this he was not being either. And yet his actions had somewhat touched you.

You also wanted to help the kitten during the banquet, maybe this could be your second chance.

.

.

An invitation was given to the Jingliu's household inviting the now young man to enter a concubine selection for one of the princesses. To his surprise, he was one of the first chosen by her.

Gepard

During your concubine selection, you heard the name Gepard Landau and you immediately decided then and there you would take him as your concubine as well.

In the years before your dynasty sat the imperial throne, the Landaus had supported your family during the civil war. The first Empress of your dynasty had taken a Landau son for her main husband, the royal consort then, the empresses after her had them as apart of their harem for years. This was an easy decision for you.

Moreover, it keeps the Landaus in check, they had weird influence over the imperial military. It would be tricky for you, if Gepard caused any trouble you can't be too strict on him, his family would find way to stick their hands into harem issues and shield him.

Either way, the Landaus are close with the Imperials, this was expected.

With your royal consort next to you, you watched the carriage wheel in with the Landau's sigil, the proud lion, waving from its flag as it pulled up to your palace gates. The custom was that you shared chambers with the concubine on the day they arrive as per tradition. You didn't have much appetite for him. You met the Landau and his older sister when you were still a girl, you had proudly announced to your father the moment he left your presence that he was beautiful and you should have his hand when you grow older, much to your father's pleasure. Whenever the Landau family bought their children around you were always expected to play with them, this was your pleasure, then you had a strong craving to have him.

Out of sight, out of mind. The Landaus preferred to raise their younger offspring away from court. Gepard and his baby sister would spend their time in the countryside with their father from the capital while their big sister would have to handle the duties as the heir apparent in the palace with their mother. Your childish affections dispersed over time. He was now a thing that was a part of the happier times of childhood more than a person you wanted.

Watching the blonde lion step from the carriage, dressed in the colours of his house and the veil on his head, your mind wandered back to the boy you knew. You recalled you barely looked up during the concubine selection and only said yes because she heard his name and accepted him immediately. You never got to look at him.

As per tradition, he kneeled before you every 2 steps he took until he was directly in front of you. At the final kneel, he didn't rise and awaited his new wife’s command to rise, her official welcome of him into her household. Your expression softened, though only slightly. With deliberate grace, you extend your hand toward him, “Gepard of House Landau,” your voice calm but carrying the weight of tradition. “Rise and take your place among those who are my harem.”

He took her hand, her touch steady and warm, yet undeniably regal. As he stood, the space between them felt both vast and impossibly close.

The things that were not said, unspoken words and battered feelings, it was obvious your feelings didn't go as deep as his. The consummation night was not as deep as he wanted it to be. The words, “Tradition demands our Union but I shall not ask any more of you than what you are expected to.”

Control, commands, longing, he did not expect indifference.

Gepard watched you leave, his thoughts a tempest. The girl he had once played with as a boy had grown into a ruler he could not yet fully understand. But for the first time since entering the palace, he felt less like a pawn and more like a participant in a game he was only beginning to learn

Dan Heng

Your history tutor himself held personal vendetta against the Vidyadharas, if you listened to the man explain the history surrounding them, you'd think he was personally there to experience the atrocities.

Though, you did not dislike him for it. The consequences of the old dynasty's actions did not disappear with time.

389 years ago, before the first Empress of your family overthrew the Vidyadhara Dynasty in the 5 Year War, the final ruler of the Vidyadhara was a man. Male rulers were few to none in the country's history, the only reason Dan Feng found himself on the throne of Gold was from a lack of women in the succession. The fertility of the Vidyadharas has dwindled over time until it reached a point they had to turn to a man to inherit the throne. This was their final mistake.

Undoubtedly, this was the worst sovereign to ever step foot on the throne. The first Empress of your dynasty led conquest against the tyrant and in five years time, the Vidyadhara dynasty were no longer legitimate rulers. They were stripped of their lands, titles and wealth, casted off and put under surveillance by your family after the death of

the tyrant. Bans were carried out against them, stay away from the capital, they couldn't hire help without the approval of the new dynasty, the next head of their family was chosen and controlled by your family, etc.

Now, there were two bans you had to be mindful of; Marriage of a Vidyadhara was determined by your family. Vidyadharas are forbidden from entering the royal harem. For the safety of their dynasty never rising again. This wasn't a problem for you until you were approached by an advisor, speaking of a young Vidyadhara being seeked out by a noble for marriage, a noble of importance. Your natural response would be to ban this immediately, you can't mix Vidyadhara blood with your allies. Perhaps it was the late night meeting but you asked for the noble to bring forth his intended bride.

You will continue to blame the late night, the young man, Dan Heng he called himself, a pretty Vidyadhara from the main branch of the family. I'm your own defense, the pretty boy seemed less interested in the idea of the noble woman being wedded to him and his responses seemed almost robotic. In your own defense, his corrupted blood shouldn't be mixing with your allies. It doesn't matter how you took action to stop this, what matters is the marriage was cut off that night. It doesn't need to be bought up that you made conditions to a serious ban your family pressed on since childhood.

As long as Dan Heng was banned from ever becoming the Royal Consort, having any children he produced inherit your throne and his family did not receive the honors the average concubine’s family was given, you could handle this. You won't regret this later.

Aventurine

In your opinion, the Interastral Peace Cooperation had a too heavy grip on the nations, even empires like your own. You recalled a visit of an ambassador from one in your youth, finding the preparations grand enough for a king to welcome one.

Even as an adult, you found their existence in the continent as a pack of dogs being held on a leash by one person. You weren't stupid enough to deny the good they've done to unite nations in peace but you weren't ignorant enough to deny their less honorable pursuits.

Your ascension to the throne naturally led to an ambassador of theirs being sent to congratulate you. It was a natural tradition for them to appease their royals and for the rulers to accept it.

Here in the banquet hall, you observed the other envoys bought with her as they entered. They approached you first with the proper greeting, Jade took the liberty of introducing herself then everyone else. You masked your disinterest until you noticed the blond, you hadn't seen him before, his frame seemed to be smaller and hidden behind the rest. You leaned back in your seat, looking over his form as Jade introduced him.

“Aventurine, a young man in training by myself.”

“What would you train a man for?” You didn't take your eyes off of him, he must've not grown very fast as a child, for whatever reason.

“Whatever a man can understand, there are good ones out there, like him.” She gestured to the blond with a smirk on her face.

You smiled in response to her jest then looked back at Aventurine, “if he is so good, he can tell me about it.” You motioned to the close spots to yourself at your table, inviting the blond to sit with you instead of his colleagues for the remainder of the banquet.

Well, this training, he won't be able to complete it anymore.

Dr. Ratio

Your first tour as Empress took place in the capital, the pride of the Empire. Your last tour had been when your mother was alive, only last year in another smaller city. On the third day of your tour, your royal consort and yourself were set to visit a distinguished university, personally funded by your family for years.

Education was one of your most prized priorities, there was a pull back before your ascension that you sought out to fix when you were Empress. You made it your own issue to get the universities and lower level schools back on track. If your ears were right, others took advantage when the imperial eyes looked away from it.

In an attempt to not disrupt the school day, you met the staff of the university privately and spoke with them about affairs in education.

Though, mid conversation, a man with purple hair had made his way into the room, abruptly so. His eyes locked rather aggressively with some of the educators in the room but he made his way before you, all proper greeting requirements met and rising when you gave him the permission to. He took a seat close by, opening the book in his hand, “It is my ill manners I arrived so late, it was not intentional on my part and I mean no disrespect to you, my liege.” He bowed his head to you as he spoke, you did not respond with anything but a nod.

“If I am so bold, I want to ask for more than just funding to the schools but for funding to the students as well,” he started, “I just think these funds benefit the schools more than the students. Even with the school funded by your majesty’s kind grace, it's not enough to have their needs met to stay in it.”

Well, it was a pleasant change of pace. You've spent the last half hour here with the inhabitants in the room sending you praises for the funds, then asking for more, then praising you, then repeating. Even his tone was too high to be asking that for someone of his standing. Whatever the person next to you said, you didn't hear it, you lowered your chin to look the purple haired man in the eye.

“And what else?”

The amber eyed man's eyes widened slightly as if he had expected a different response from you. He composed himself quickly after, spinning through his books, “I have personal petitions from my own students in here, some I've tried to sponsor myself, I had them write down their troubles-” you found the reactions of the other folks in the room to be almost comedic. Perhaps a less public inspection was needed.

You rose from your seat, “Perhaps you can tell me more about your students and requests, somewhere else, a stroll or a room to ourselves, whatever you desire.” You looked the man over before making your way towards the door, expecting him to follow in tow. You cared less for what the other women in the room had to say at this moment about your sudden leave, you only looked back to make sure the purple beauty was following you.

Yes, you can't wait to learn more about what he has to say and can do.

Polygyny is the marriage of a man to multiple women, though it takes many forms throughout history and the world. There have been, and still are, many reasons for polygyny, as well as customs surrounding the practice, and it was far more widespread than polyandry. Studies of mitochondrial DNA suggest that 'there have been more mothers than fathers in the genetic record of the human species, meaning that the proportion of females that have reproduced each generation has generally been greater than the proportion of men that reproduced', suggesting that polygyny was widespread in the past.

In cultures where agricultural labor is primarily done by women, having multiple wives allows for a larger workforce without the expense of paying for labor through not only the wives but also their children, as well as allowing women to perform other tasks deemed 'women's work' by the society. Another factor contributing to polygyny could be the high rate of child mortality, up to 50% before the age of 5 in the past. By increasing the number of children that could be produced that were legitimately part of the household, it was possible to ensure that the household would grow, increasing the workforce of the household and its prestige through wealth production.

In cultures where a dowry was expected for a bride, it was, and still is, common for only the more well off men would be able to afford to marry, thus allowing them to marry more women than those who were poorer, a form of polygyny known as resource polygyny. Polygyny was, and is, more common in cultures that were also engaged in war more frequently, leaving fewer men to marry as the women did not participate in war, and allowing the survivors to marry more than one woman. As men who survive war tend to have more wealth, this is also related to resource polygyny.

In the 12th year of Hammurabi, Bunene-abi and his wife Belessunu bought Shamash-nuri from her father for the price of five shekels of silver. . . . To Bunene-abi she is a wife and to Belessunu she is a slave.

What is of particular interest here is that the concubine serves a dual function: she performs sexual services for the master, with the knowledge and consent of the wife, and she is a servant to the wife. This differs greatly from the relations between first and succeeding wives in many polygamous societies, in which the status of second and third wives is co-equal with that of the first wife. Each wife and her children are entitled to certain rights, to a separate dwelling place, to economic and sexual obligations the husband must fulfill in such a way as not to violate the rights of any wife. Thus, the nexus between sexual servitude to the master and economic service to the wife seems to be a distinguishing feature of concubinage under patriarchy.

The Biblical narratives of Genesis, composed between 1200 and 500 B.C., reflect a social reality similar to that described in the Babylonian sales contract (ca. 1700 B.C.).

The childless, aging Sarai urges Abram to have intercourse with her maidservant Hagar:

And Sarai said unto Abram: ‘Behold now, the Lord hath restrained me from bearing; go in, I pray thee, unto my handmaid; it may be that I shall be builded up through her.’ And Abram harkened to the voice of Sarai.

Similarly, Rachel urges her husband Jacob:

Behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto her; that she may bear upon my knees, and I also may be builded up through her.

There are several underlying assumptions implicit in these accounts: a slave woman owes sexual services to her mistress's husband, and the offspring of such intercourse counts as though it were the offspring of the mistress. All women owe sexual services to the men in whose household they live and are obliged, in exchange for ‘protection,’ to produce offspring. If they cannot do so, their female slave property may substitute for them, in the same way that a man may pay a debt by pledging the labor of his slave to the creditor. The dependent status of the ‘free’ wife is implicit in Sarai's pathetic statement ‘it may be that I shall be builded up through her.’ The barren woman is considered faulty and worthless; only the act of bearing children will redeem her. Rachel, before offering Jacob her handmaiden, exclaims, ‘give me children, or else I die.’ When at last ‘God harkened to her, and opened her womb,’ she said, ‘God hath taken away my reproach.’ No clearer statement of the reification of women and of the instrumental use of wives can be made.”

As I am finally done with that metaphysics stuff (for now) I started conceptualizing the essay of roughly 15 pages I have to write about the medieval church's definition and treatment of concubinage. It's due pretty fucking soon, so expect me to pull an all nighter next weekend. For now I'm happy with my own first proposal of how to structure my thesis, which basically is that concubinage in the eyes of the medieval church is nothing but a moralistic word summarizing any and all immoral (hetero)sexuality (interestingly besides prostitution), which was installed in order to standardize their doctrine of Christian marriage as the only accepted and executed form of sexuality. In most pre-christian european societies, concubinage-like relationships were not considered as morally bad, or even prohibited by law, but a few hundred years down the road and a little bit of Christian influence would change that.

But please don't just believe this, I don't yet know if I will have to change my thesis after reading more about the topic and working with more actual sources.

In where, the honkai star rail men interact with you, their Empress, in little scenarios.

See part one: here part two: here

Notes: Empress is a bit of an douche, I don't remember what I wrote, unedited low-key, Empress' thinly veiled sexism, Empress is her own warning.

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Sunday

The hour of nine had been made known by the echoes of the bells some time earlier. Now, the private dining chamber of the current reigning Lord Consort’s palace was silent, save for the patter and clink of porcelain under the fork of the Empress. The room was warmed by candle light and scented by the presence of delicacies but you could not force a comfortable atmosphere with ease.

You sat at the round, filled table but your appetite has never been more empty. Next to you, Sunday stood rigidly, one hand behind his back, his head slightly bowed in deference.

“A little man like yourself shouldn't be standing so long,” You twirled the wine cup in your hand, watching the liquid dance. “But you will stand there all night, won't you?”

It is tradition,” Sunday replied, his voice steady, as if the phrase were a shield against any argument. “At the hour of nine, the Empress dines, and her husband ensures her safety and comfort. To sit would be…”

“A break in tradition, yes.” You hoped you sounded mocking enough.

Sunday didn’t rise to the bait, his posture unwavering. “It is not my place to question what has been done for centuries, Your Majesty.”

You huffed and leaned back in your seat, swirling the wine in your hand once more. Just imagine nagging your wife at such a young age.

“Your Majesty,” Sunday said after a long pause, his voice low but measured. “You haven’t drunk your wine. Should I request a different vintage?”

You looked up at him, your eyes scanning his face for a crack in the mask of composure he always wore. He was as handsome as ever, his bright hair neatly combed, his ceremonial tunic perfectly pressed. But there was a special stiffness in him now that hadn’t been there when they were children. Always the rigid boy he was but these days it felt different.

Always a keen observer, he must've noticed you would rather swirl the wine than drink it, “The wine is fine.”

The silence resumed and you stared back at the filled table in front of you, you didn't look up until you saw a plate held before you. Sunday kneeled before you in the appropriate fashion and offered the plate to you, “I asked this to be made for you, it's good for relaxing the body after a long day.” It was possibly Barley Porridge, or not. You didn't have all the energy to care or bother.

If this was some other night, you would just thank him and drink it, just so he would not pester you about your health until you give in.

“Isn't kneeling almost the same as sitting.”

Sunday’s expression shifted then reverted back to its usual status of composed, “Kneeling before one's wife to offer her the meal is part of custom.”

You didn't hold back the tch sound from leaving your lips and you turned away from him, reaching for the other bowl before you. You didn't even bother to check what you were eating. Whatever it was, it made you feel hotter.

Sunday's brow furrowed, but he didn’t move. “It is my duty, my Empress. My role. I was raised to honor these traditions, to uphold the sacred customs, to respect you above all. It was never hidden in my intent to displease you by this.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“You’ve been busy,” you said after a moment, your voice soft but laced with something unspoken. “I hardly see you anymore.”

Sunday paused, his fork hovering in the air. “There is much to manage, Your Majesty. As your husband, I must ensure the household remains in order, oversee the petitions regarding your harem, and maintain the harmony of the court on your behalf.”

“Yes,” you said, leaning back in your hair, you dropped your fork onto the plate loudly. You made sure your tone was cool, “You’re always managing something, aren’t you? Always working.” If you heard his whine about tradition and duty one more time you would surely throw the fork at him next time.

He looked up, his amber eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—but it was quickly buried under the calm veneer he had perfected over years of training. “It is my duty. I was raised for this, my lady. Groomed to be the husband of an Empress. To support you. To bring balance to your reign”

It's good you put the fork down beforehand then, “It's always about your damned Empress, do you think for me anymore?”

Sunday flinched, just barely, but enough for you to notice. He set his fork down carefully, his movements deliberate. “You are the Empress. My wife. My highest priority. Everything I do is for you.”

“You can't even make a woman happy. I come here after slaving all day for this Empire and you make me feel like I'm still sitting in a council meeting.” You weren't aware of your tone or manners anymore. You stood up. You were tired. You didn't have the energy for one more debate this evening.

His jaw tightened, and he looked down at his plate. For a moment, he seemed to falter, the weight of your words pressing against the walls he had built around himself. “I only wish to be what you need,” he said finally, his voice quieter now.

He wanted to turn, to take your hand, to pull you close. But the voice of his upbringing rang in his head: An Empress deserves a husband who is steady, composed, unyielding.

Aventurine

The chamber was dimly lit, the intricate latticework casting fractured shadows across the marble floors. You sat on your raised throne, your robes spilling over the edges like cascading waterfalls. Your sharp, stormy eyes bore into the spot the IPC envoy stood before, heavy feelings of before the woman left your presence still remained. A minute has passed by now.

From the shadows of the chamber, a soft, measured voice broke the tension.

“Your Majesty,” said Aventurine, stepping forward with a grace that bordered on feline. He was dressed in silken robes of red and black,though the simplicity of his attire only served to accentuate his striking brighter features. His golden hair gleamed under the dim light, and his coloured eyes were calm, like a still lake.

You turned your sharp gaze to him, expression softening just slightly at the sight of your current favorite. “Aventurine. Do you too seek to explain this man’s impudence?

Aventurine watched you from a respectful distance, noting the way your shoulders rose and fell with each measured breath. The IPC envoy’s earlier gaffe still lingered in the air like a bad taste. Words of cooperation had somehow sounded like veiled commands, and His Empress, his lady, was not a woman who took kindly to even the suggestion of subservience.

The blond tilted his head, a smile made its way onto his face like the slow slithering of a snake, “I only bring concern for my Mistress.”

Your gaze became harder, “For me? Or for the precious position your IPC holds at my court?” “He stepped closer but slowly, “They value the peace your majesty has with you, their methods of expressing this admiration was perhaps…” he put his hand to his cheek, “clumsy.”

Your small laugh held no humor, “Telling me what to do with my own army feels like deliberate orders to a child, it was not clumsy.”

His response was quick, “And yet you did not strike them down for the impertinence. I admire your restraint as a leader, darling.”

Your lips twitched, but your anger had not yet abated. “Do not think flattery will blind me, Aven. I am not so easily swayed.”

Another smile on his face, “How could I ever sway you,” His steps slithered closer to you as he spoke, “Only to remind you who is being orbited. The IPC may fumble in their path but the orbit remains the same, around you. Not the other way around.”

“And what do you orbit, Aven?” He observed the way you tilted your head, you were studying him.

He was before you, replacing the spot the envoy of earlier had stood, “I orbit you as well, your majesty. What else am I supposed to be?”

You felt your lips curve into a smile, “You and your boyish flattery.” You took a breath before you continued speaking, “But the IPC is becoming bold, this orbit you speak of, are they not swaying away from the direction?”

He put his hands behind his back, his eyes staring off into the far corner of the ceiling, his brows knitted in confusion now, “Perhaps their boldness is not insolence. Do you think they seek to align themselves closer to your brilliant glow instead, like excited children who stumble from not paying attention?”

Your brow furrowed. For a moment, the air between them was heavy but Aventurine could sense the embers of your fury cooling.

Your gaze fixed on him, a lighter look on your face,“You speak well, Aven. Too well. It is my fault for asking a little guy like yourself about politics.” You stood from your seat, stretching as you did, “I let you learn a bit of Astronomy and look at the way you're speaking..”

Aventurine let out a light laugh, the room felt easier to breathe.

Your eyes glanced over at the blond’s figure and then you grinned, “You should wait for me back in the chambers like you were supposed to, I think I'm done with work for the day.” You walked down from the stairs leading up to your seat and patted the blond on his shoulder, “I'll go bath first.”

As you left the room,your robes trailing behind you, Aventurine remained where he was, exhaling softly. The Empress’s anger had been tempered—for now. But the IPC would need to tread more carefully, and Aventurine, the favored star in her constellation, would have to continue this dangerous dance for as long as the peace demanded it.

JingYuan

The Imperial Gardens, a rare concession the Empress grants herself when you feel to avoid the formality of your status. The winter-blooming plum trees stand in stark contrast to the chilly air, a reminder of resilience in the face of hardship. The Empress is seated by a small pavilion overlooking a fish pond.

Jingyuan walked the path of stone with measured steps, the cold of the winter made him clasp his hands together in the muffs. He knew this audience was a gamble but it was the final option. Any mistake will cause more than just his nation wide shame.

The Empress waited in the pavilion overlooking the fish pond. Your silhouette was framed by the rising sun, your expression as sharp and cold as the season itself. Jingyuan paused at the edge of the pavilion, bowing deeply. There was only one chance to get this right.

“Your majesty,” he said, “you honor me with your permission to have an audience.” Indeed, the Empress had ignored his request to see her ever since the sudden news of Auntie Jingliu’s betrayal. The fact she answered him now, after all these days, was a miracle in itself. He worried for stable means of interfering, for days. This was a matter of the privilege, reputation and overall of his clan after all.

A board of checkers sat in the middle of the pavilion, laid between himself and the Empress. You sat on the edge of the pavilion’s balcony, overseeing the fish pond with interest. The head servant of your palace stood next to you to attend to your wants, giving Jingyuan a bow upon his arrival. JingYuan was no fool, that bow was degradatory, if the Empress did not speak then this gave him a clear view of how you saw him. Aunt Jingliu has committed something terrible indeed.

“You are here.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

You didn't say anything after that, you simply took a bag from your servant and began to sprinkle the contents into the fish pond. JingYuan now understood.

“I read that book you gave to me again.”

You paused in your sprinkling, seeming surprised with his choice of words, then you continued again, “It enlightened you so much, you pestered me for days for an audience?”

“I wanted to speak to you.”

“An old book of prose I gave to you months ago?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

You stopped your sprinkling again, sighing, “you may proceed.”

Jingyuan took a careful step forward, his voice soft but steady as he began.

“In a remote valley, there stood a mighty tree—ancient and proud, its roots deep and unshaken by storms. For years, it sheltered a small vine that had been brought to it by chance. This vine, though fragile, grew strong under the tree’s protection, clinging to its bark and flourishing in the sunlight that filtered through its branches.” He paused, then continued, “But one day, the vine, in its foolishness, extended itself too far and ensnared a passing traveler. The traveler stumbled, fell, and chaos ensued. The villagers, seeing this, cried out to cut the vine from the tree. They said the vine’s foolishness was a stain upon the tree’s honor.”

You tilted your head, your expression inscrutable to him.

“The tree did not wither. It did not fall. Its roots remained strong, its branches unbroken. When the vine was untangled and allowed to grow again, it clung closer to the tree, humbled by its near demise. In time, it became a symbol not of weakness, but of the tree’s enduring strength and mercy.”

Silence followed. You turned your gaze back to the pond, your fingers lightly drumming against the walls of the pavilion, you spoke, “Justice is the root of your power, mercy is its blossom. Without one, the other cannot thrive. Let the vine be pruned, so it may grow anew.” You spoke the final words of the short story, almost begrudgingly, “then the meaning behind this prose interests you?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“If that is all you wanted to say, you can leave.” You placed the bag of fish food onto the tray the servant held it on and sat back in your seat, to finish your game of solo checkers, he assumed. Jingyuan merely bowed, not being met with any acknowledgment from you then left the pavilion.

Half way outside the imperial gardens, the servant caught up to him.

“Her majesty the Empress says this poem has had great influence on her and urges you to copy it 50 times before the dawn of tomorrow.”

Oh.

Dr Ratio

The golden morning light streamed through the silk curtains of the Empress’s private garden. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the faint aroma of jasmine and honeyed porridge. You sat in your usual place, your posture regal yet relaxed, as you reached for a delicate piece of fruit. Across from you, your concubine,Veritas Ratio, meticulously arranged his black and white checkers on the board with steady hands.

“Your Majesty,” Ratio began, his voice warm and measured, “as we talk about the theory of governance, might I posit that decentralization could be a double-edged sword?” He placed his first piece with precision, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with an eager spark.

The Empress arched a brow, intrigued but guarded. “Go on, Ratio,” you replied, your tone indulgent but commanding. You slid a checker forward with a graceful flick of your fingers, your painted nails catching the sunlight.

“Imagine, if you will,” Ratio said, leaning forward slightly, his voice rising in pitch and fervor, “a network of leaders, each with agency but united by shared principles. It creates adaptability, fosters competition, and-”

“Ratio,” you interjected gently, but your tone carried the weight of expectation.

He either did not notice or chose to ignore the subtle warning, his passion carrying him away. “And yet! The historical precedent shows that such a system, while revolutionary, risks fragmentation if not properly unified by a strong—”

“Veritas,” you said again, your voice as calm as the surface of a still pond but with an edge sharp enough to cut through his enthusiasm.

Ratio froze, his words caught in his throat like a trapped bird. His hand hovered over the checkerboard as the weight of your gaze bore down on him. He realized his error too late. A man speaking so forcefully, especially to the Empress herself? It was unthinkable, unforgivable in the eyes of society.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he said quickly, his voice softening as he leaned back slightly, giving you the space you deserved. “I may have gotten carried away.”

You tilted your head, a faint smirk playing at your lips. You slid another checker forward, capturing one of his pieces in one move. “Carried away, indeed,” you said, your tone now tinged with amusement. “It is a rare sight, a man forgetting his place. But rarer still-” your gaze softened, your smirk blooming into a genuine smile “-is a mind like yours.”

You leaned back slightly, satisfied. “Good. Then perhaps we can discuss influence without forgetting our manners.” You gestured toward the breakfast spread. “But do eat, Ratio. A sharp mind falters on an empty stomach.”

Ratio picked up a steamed bun, chewing thoughtfully. His pride simmered beneath the surface, but he knew better than to let it spill over. The subtle reminder of his place stung, but he bowed his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of your authority. He reached for his next move.

“I am fortunate, Your Majesty, to have a place where my thoughts can find an ear,” he said, his voice measured once more. “Even if I must learn when to temper my excitement.” He found himself struggling with his tone, this was the Empress. He was also one of her men.

You chuckled softly. “Indeed, Ratio . Temperance is a virtue, one you must practice if you intend to continue playing games with me.”

Your jesting hung in the air, light yet pointed. Ratio met your gaze, his lips curling into a small, resigned smile. He wanted to push, to challenge, to show that his mind was worth just as much as yours, but he knew the lines he dared not cross, not yet.

“I shall take that lesson to heart, Your Majesty,” he said, moving his piece with deliberate care.

You watched him, your smile deepening ever so slightly as you placed another piece on the board. “Good. It would be a shame for such a sharp mind to dull itself on unnecessary defiance.”

Ratio placed his next piece with deliberate care, his voice quiet but firm. “I assure you, Your Majesty, my defiance if it can be called that comes only from a desire to engage, to share ideas. Not to challenge.”

“Is that so?” You asked, arching a brow. You captured another piece with surgical precision. “Then perhaps you should consider how best to share those ideas without forgetting who you are addressing.”

Your words were honeyed steel, and Ratio felt the subtle pressure behind them. He knew better than to push further. “As always, your wisdom humbles me,” he said with a small, practiced smile.

You let the silence stretch between you both for a moment before offering him a piece of fruit. “Now,” you made your tone warmer, “if decentralized is the sword..”

Ratio accepted the fruit, his expression softening. He treaded carefully as he spoke, adjusting his words to match the Empress’s tempo. Despite the undercurrent of frustration, he couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of triumph. You may hold the reins, but he would find a way to ensure his voice remained part of the song.

Dan Heng

In the dimly lit recesses of the imperial archives, the scent of aged parchment and ink permeated the air. Dan Heng, once a favored concubine, now thrown into the role of temporary archivist, meticulously organizing scrolls and manuscripts, his demeanor composed despite his altered circumstances.

It was easier to ignore the questioning stares around him, they granted him the dignity of looking away and carrying on with their businesses once he glanced at them. It felt better, a steady flow in comparison to the vipers of the harem who pounced at him the moment the Empress showed disinterest in him. Perhaps, he should've been born someone ordinary, sent to the palace to look through the Imperial Department of Archives all day. If the next life even exists, he hopes to sit in an archive all day, reading aimlessly.

The soft rustle of silk announced the arrival of the Empress, your presence commanding and deliberate. You observed Dan Heng in silence, noting the grace with which he performed his menial tasks. After a moment, you spoke, your tone laced with condescension.

“It seems the duties of an archivist suit you, Dan Heng. Perhaps this is where your true worth lies.”

Dan Heng paused, then turned to face the Empress, bowing respectfully. “Your Majesty, I serve where I am needed. If tending to the archives is my duty, I shall perform it to the best of my abilities.”

Your eyes narrowed, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Do not mistake this demotion for mere reassignment. Your refusal to seek my favor, to acknowledge the opportunities I have extended, the stench of arrogance. Do you believe that by denying me, you elevate your own worth?”

“I harbor no such illusions, Your Majesty. My intent has never been to defy or demean you. I simply remain true to myself.”

You stepped closer, your gaze piercing. “True to yourself? Or merely too proud to submit? Men in this palace have risen and fallen by their ability to please me. Your obstinance serves only to isolate you.”

“If my actions have caused offense, I regret that. However, I cannot feign affection or desire where none exists.”

It became obvious among many, since the young Vidyadhara had entered the harem that he was favored despite his background. Given gifts, given favor, the Empress adorned him with the fruits of her admiration. However, Dan Heng’s demeanor was far from submissive. He maintained a deliberate distance, his interactions with the Empress marked by a calculated indifference.

Perceiving his behavior as a challenge to your supremacy, you resolved to break his defiance.

You began by withdrawing the privileges he had enjoyed. Dan Heng was removed from the roster of those who would share your bed, a clear demotion in the hierarchical world of the harem, a response to his constant disrespect you claimed. The palace staff, ever attuned to the Empress’s favor, began to treat him with increasing disdain. Gifts once bestowed upon him were confiscated, and the servants assigned to his quarters were reassigned, leaving him to tend to a smaller household to tend to his needs, even then the number grew smaller from their personal choice to just leave him and find better masters. Even the Empress’s symbolic gestures were pointed; you had his cherished flowers transplanted to the imperial gardens, interspersed among wild blooms, pushing the nail further in of his fall from grace.

You did everything to make him miserable. He remained relentless. And now, even in the walls of scrolls and ink you had confined him into as a final warning, he remained careless of your attempts to fix him.

A tense silence hung between them, your expression hardened. “You overestimate your position, Dan Heng. In this court, worth is determined by favor and influence, not personal conviction. Continue on this path, and you will find yourself forgotten, buried among these scrolls, your beauty will be wasted.”

Being met with silence and his defiant, nonchalant look again, with a voice laced with mockery, you addressed him, “Dan Heng, your stubbornness is as admirable as it is futile. Do you not know that a man’s appeal lies in his willingness to seek a woman’s favor? Your silent suffering is unbecoming. No woman desires a man who cannot humble himself before her. Yet, I have shown you leniency. Should you not be more grateful?”

Dan Heng met your gaze, his expression serene. “Your Majesty,” he replied, “gratitude is due for kindness freely given, not for favors extracted through submission. If my demeanor displeases you, it is only because I remain true to myself.”

A sound of tch left your mouth, you've spent enough time here. You had better things to do.

“Honorable fools like yourself are better off hanging themselves, no?”

With that, you turned and departed, leaving Dan Heng alone amidst the silent testimonies of history.

Gepard

The private garden pavilion was quiet, lit by the soft glow of lanterns and the silver gleam of the moon. The Empress leaned against the balustrade, gazing out at the rippling pond, your presence regal and strangely relaxed. Gepard stood a respectful distance behind you, his posture stiff.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said, your voice casual but carrying an undertone of curiosity.

“Never, Your Majesty,” he replied smoothly. “You are always where my thoughts lead.”

You let out a soft chuckle, though your gaze didn’t waver from the water. “Such a practiced answer. Did they teach you that in the countryside or have you honed the art since returning to court?”

“I’ve had excellent teachers,” Gepard said with a faint smile.

You studied him for a moment, your expression unreadable to him. Then you smiled faintly and gestured toward the bench nearby. “Walk with me,” you said, commanded was how he would describe it.

The walk was silent at first, their footsteps and the rustle of trees conversed with one another instead.

You looked at him, your eyes felt as if they bored him for an answer, “I remember when we used to sneak into the kitchens.”

Gepard glanced at you quickly, seeming surprised by your question, “I remember you demanded me to follow you there.”

You laughed at his reaction, a soft, genuine sound. “And you were the one who got caught stealing honey cakes because you couldn’t hide your guilt.”

“I was young,” he said with a faint smile. “And terrible at lying.”

Some things haven’t changed,” you teased, your gaze flicking toward him. “You’re still terrible at hiding your emotions, even when you’re trying not to show them.”

His smile faded slightly, his composure returning. “I’ve learned to stay within my place, Your Majesty. That’s all that matters.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “Is it?” You asked softly. “Even now?”

The weight of your question hung between them, but Gepard only bowed his head. “I would never presume to question your decisions. You know what is best for the empire.”

You searched his face, you didn't know what you were looking for either, “You're frustratingly loyal, Gepard. It's dull.”

When he didn't respond, you sighed and looked towards the exit, “I have other matters, I will leave first.”

You began walking towards it almost immediately.

“Your Majesty-”

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him over your shoulder.

I… must apologize,” he said, his words careful, deliberate. “For speaking beyond what a concubine should. I know I have no right to ask, but…” He hesitated, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “May I know what will happen to my sister?”

Your expression softened slightly, though your gaze remained sharp. You turned back to face him, a faint smile curving your lips. “Why didn’t you plead for her earlier?”

He straightened, meeting your eyes despite the tension radiating from him. “Because I understand who I am in your court. It isn’t my place to interfere in politics or question your authority.” His voice dropped, quieter now. “But I ask this not as a concubine, not as a subject of the empire, but as her brother. I only wish to know.”

You stepped closer to him, your hands clasped behind you, “You are filled with contradictions, Gepard. A loyal servant of the crown who follows rules yet breaks his bondages when the blood starts to drip.”

He bowed his head, his voice barely audible. “If that is a failing, Your Majesty, then it is mine alone to bear.”

For a long moment, you said nothing. Then, to his surprise, you reached out and lightly brushed his shoulder, a gesture both surprising and disarming.

“You’re more interesting than I gave you credit for,” you said, your tone lighter now. “But don’t mistake this as permission to push boundaries in the future.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Gepard replied, his head still bowed. He could only hope that his moment of vulnerability hadn’t cost him more than he was willing to lose.

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