𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝  𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧,  swollen  &&  smug  in  heaven’s  cradle.  it’s  not  a  celestial  body  but  won  mujin  that’s  looming,  cascaded  down  from  somewhere  on  high  to  cater  to  the  masses  just  for  a  moment.  (  how  kind,  a  moment  to  put  people  at  ease.  )  in  these  uncertain  times,  the  commonalty  need  the  assurance  as  most  flocks  of  fretting  creatures  do.  who  better  than  him,  a  fire  sage,  rooted  as  a  sycamore  to  the  leyline  of  religion  to  quell  doubt  in  the  celebration?  unmistakably  so,  spotted  from  the  crowd  of  a  thousand  donning  still  the  ceremonial  garb  of  the  coronation.  its  shades  of  crimson  and  scarlet  paint  a  daunting  yet  distinctly  refined  portrait  for  all  eyes  to  behold,  like  a  beacon  amidst  the  plaza.  

mujin  is  carefully  postured  as  he  navigates  through,  a  force  of  habit,  glissading  between  the  throngs  of  bodies  while  earnestly  granted  a  wide  berth  on  either  side.  parting  the  seas,  AS  IT  WERE.  titanic  breadth  of  his  title,  his  reputation,  proceeded  the  presence  of  his  body.  (  they  move,  not  him.  )  a  title  large  enough  to  smother  the  lingering  of  turmoil,  one  by  one  —-  at  least  those  who’d  make  themselves  known.  a  sprinkle  of  his  regard  is  no  sprinkle  at  all  to  a  starving  and  restless  ear.  this,  too,  he  offered  with  a  tender  leniency  that  he  so  scarcely  did.  he  planted  repose  in  each  heart  and  moved  on.  

a  repose  that’s  seldom  found  in  the  depths  of  his  own,  not  now.  it  can’t  be  quieted  so  easily,  inimitable  thing  that  fixated  only  on  the  uncertainty  of  the  future  and  his  place  therein.  a  heart  that  subsists  on  BURNING  —-  rejects  all  manner  of  salves  &&  sweet.  lucky  them.  how  each  platitude  churned  from  the  depths  of  his  throat  is  scorching  pyres  ‘pon  his  tongue,  emboldening  the  common  folk  with  a  spark  from  his  own  body  that  he  dare  not  keep  for  himself.  they  duck  their  heads,  bow  their  reverence  and  brighten  with  smiles.  &&  YET  running  through  the  mill  of  conversational  procedure  time  and  time  again,  there’s  one  person  he’s  spotted  traipsing  outside  the  live  wire  of  his  presence.  (  how  very  funny.  )  

sungho was not a man of many words.

usually, his looks spoke for him; his body language was more than enough to convey his thoughts. hell, if it wasn’t for his face, he would be a nobody. well, it wasn’t really like he was somebody too remarkable or overly noteworthy. he was somebody because of his last name, because of his preceding reputation. whether or not that was something to be particularly proud of was up in the air.

“ so, ” he began, nonchalantly swaying the dark liquor in his glass. the woman next to him was unsurprisingly unfamiliar. sungho never kept up with the royalty, let alone other nobility. hell, she could even have been one of the princesses, for all he knew. it wasn’t like he cared either.

“ how come i’ve never seen you around? i’ve attended quite the few banquets, i feel like i must have met you before somewhere. ” actually, sungho had never been the type to attend every single event; he only went when he felt like it. and the prince’s coronation festivities just so happened to be good enough for him to show up. “ who knows, maybe we met in a past life? that would explain your magnetism. ”

he was not a man of wise words, either.

coronation ceremonies were somewhat of a rare state of the art-- after all, not many crown princes or princesses could ever be crowned in multiple successions, unless the country itself was in war or strife, something that xuanyu himself believed that he didn’t want. 

xuanyu allowed his eyes to sweep over the crowd silently, as he followed admiral zhao and lady zhao into the midst of the crowd, bending the knee as the many noble houses murmured their pledges, both willingly and unwillingly, to the new crown prince standing high above the ground. 

“xuanyu.” he turns, attention mildly called by the man he called his father, the thick set brows of admiral zhao set in a tight little frown as they slowly made their way forward. “remember to hold yourself up well for the sake of the ones we’ve pledged our loyalties for.” 

a slight flicker of annoyance threads through xuanyu’s eyes--just barely a flash, that vanishes as quick as it originally came. 

still--even after the deaths of the sang twins, his father, held ties that he was unwilling to unbound. 

a failing ship, and a failing house.

“ have i ever showed anything that would make you think otherwise?” the annoyance smooths over into one of cheeky jest as he nudges his father, offering a soft but reassuring smile. “ i will mingle, as it is expected of me, but i will also remember the words you’ve said. please, do not worry.” his quiet compliance assuages the admiral quickly enough, and the man drops to his knees with a loud, dramatic thud, as though the sound of his pain would carry up towards the two beings standing proud at the edge of the balcony--a foolish show of loyalty, like all men who thought that actions showed louder than words. 

xuanyu raised his eyes subtly, contemplative as he catches a glimpse of the two figures above, before bowing his head in deference and following the empty words of pride and loyalty that his father pledged with an air of tender gentility.

the event is over as soon as it begins, chased into speed by the flow of food and alcohol, as the coronation turns into an event where everyone sauntered around with the purpose to mingle, hiding barbed words behind lips with a smile, extending their hands to those that they wished to acquaint themselves with.

xuanyu gave a light little hum, the burdensome and suppressed air released from his shoulders as his parents retreated away from the grounds and back to the peace of their home, leaving him behind (with a few, repetitive reminders of honour and loyalty) to mingle.

it seemed as though the thought of him mingling around more with the other greater nobles had unsettled admiral zhao greatly, and xuanyu sighed as he rubbed his ears, feeling a little more comfortable with himself now that his parents had vanished, leaving him free of their insistent chidings of honour and loyalty.

what was honour and loyalty to a household that betrayed the secrets of their kingdom for the sake of gold anyway? xuanyu lifted his glass to his lips, taking a sip as he watched the nobles mingling around him, a soft smile curving his lips as he notices a familiar figure making her way towards him.

“ i see that you’ve shaken off some of your shackles.” he raised a brow slightly in the direction of a few other noble men that had nearly fallen over themselves, trying to catch akane’s possible attention. “ they must be so disappointed that the wonderful lady akane decided to desert them in favour of talking to someone like me.” he allows himself to tease her ever so slightly, the slight swish of the alcohol in his glass almost telling of the playful mood that he had found himself in.

haeui pledges the loyalty owed to the fire lord, to the new crown prince. the words aren’t difficult to say, though they certainly come easier with guards glaring down their necks. but she pledges a hope she’s started to nurture as well, words a smite more genuine than the first. something is brewing within the walls of hari bulkan, a change she thinks she might believe it. at the very least, haeui isn’t terrified of what it might mean, despite the fear that’d been ingrained into her at age fifteen.

still, she knows better than to think the royal family safe, or kind. haeui ends up keeping to herself, the generous hand of house ryu extended once more to hold her by the scruff of her neck, away from her family. so she makes a few turns within the palace once they’ve been given leave, finding herself away from the thick of celebrations. it’s a quiet space in this corner of hari bulkan, the harsh firelight of the palace dimming into a glow that’s oddly comforting. it reminds her of nights at dragonstone, watching fire nation boats return to shore. the ember of a memory that feels fitting, as a familiar face comes into view.

time passes differently in the north, counted through the waning and waxing of the moon. the sun is an infrequent, fickle visitor; she’s learnt to treasure warmth when she sees it. and there’s heat to this mirage, a childhood friendship shimmering over the sight of chaeyeon. she hasn’t – could never – forget the way her second brother returned to the spirits, but something about the hope and light held within the coronation wants to believe.