#esen

Esen certainly had much to do with his irritation, but not in any way that also regarded his wives, nor his visits to their residences. Ouyang knew, of course he knew - theoretically - what happened between men and women, tho he cared very little to understand in detail how that brought about any pleasure. He had wondered, foolishly, when he was younger. It was hard not to, with every other slave and servant boy his age throwing in his face that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, ever, know. Ouyang had made quick work of silencing them. With time, he learnt to realise that it didn’t matter. Whatever people, men, felt made them incredibly stupid with the heat of it. Important decisions made carelessly, fates and destinies forged and overturned because of some animal sensation, some senseless desire for a woman.

Still, it was long past thinking he could ever feel something, long past wanting to, that Ouyang dreamt. The dream occurred shortly after meeting a boy, someone who touched him without recoiling, someone who touched him without making him want to recoil. His dream was less a dream and more a vision of diving into deep green, and then words whispered into his ear like honey. When he thought back to it, Ouyang didn’t dare acknowledge the words that had been said, much less the voice in which they came, nor the boy they belonged to. But he remembered. He also remembered the sudden warmth, the blind eruption by his stomach, the buried place it had come from. It woke him up from his sleep, and the shock of the sensation drove him out of his bed and into the cold stone slates of the floor. Ouyang remembered how deeply wrong it all had felt, the fear it had lead into him. Back then, the scarring of his castration was raw to him still, rawer than now at least, and Ouyang cried quietly through the rest of the night, not certain if he did so because of the longing he now felt or because of how the undesirable feeling had lodged itself within him. 

The general was deep into his thoughts when his desperate need to put his shame aside brought him back to the real world, to this present time where he had long learnt to push those feelings aside. Across the courtyard, he noticed a flickering light deep into a wing of the palace that was under renovation: another concubine for the Khan, another much needed alliance.

No guards in sight.

Despising the security team’s efforts and in desperate need for a distraction, Ouyang made his way across the deck to reach it, the coolness of the night embracing him as he dipped into the moonlight. How foolish it was to remember such a time when there were things to attend to in the real world.

Back inside, Ouyang followed the source of the light and lowered his blade upon what he found. It sliced through the air, breaking the silence of his quiet approach.

“General,” Esen said, looking up at him. It had sounded more like an acknowledgment of Ouyang’s presence rather than a greeting.

The prince was sitting down on the floor, his back against the wall. He was wearing a simple tunic and his hair was unbraided, falling loosely around his shoulders but deftly tucked behind his ears. Ouyang noticed, as he often did, the casual way Esen belonged to his own body. Still, among it, something was amiss: there was a sadness to Esen’s presence that was hardly ever there. A heaviness in his eyes. 

“You shouldn’t be out unguarded like this, Prince Esen.” Ouyang was used to looking away, so he did. He returned formality where it was owed. His eyes stalked around the perimeter, taking in the safety of the environment around them.

Surprisingly - tho maybe it shouldn’t have been, for Esen always had a way of closing in on you when you pushed away - his concern made the prince laugh. A genuine, heartfelt laugh. Ouyang fought away the pride he felt at himself for having drawn out such a reaction when moments before the prince had been the gloomiest he’d ever seen him. 

“Well, it seems you will have to stay and guard me then, General Ouyang.” A smirk played on Esen’s lips, but it softened as Ouyang made eye contact with him again. “Sit,” the prince gestured to the space on the floor next to him. Esen also had a way of drifting in between friendship and command, free flowing from one to the other as tho to him the former could come without the latter.

But it couldn’t.

Not to Ouyang.