Blood on the Altar (HuaLian TGCF)

Chapter 9

At first Xie Lian can only stare at the ghost lord kneeling before him like a common supplicant. But there is nothing common about San Lang. He is beautiful and powerful, a ruler in his own right, one who, if Xie Lian is any judge, could have all of the heavens kneeling at his feet if he chose. And yet here he is, kneeling before a disgraced former god and saying such impossible things, impossible because who would care about Xie Lian's pain? Who is left in the world to even care if he lives or dies?

Not that he can die.

He proved that 800 years ago and he proved that again two days ago and ever since then Xie Lian has been doing exactly what he did last time hasn't he? Lashing out at everything around him, his perception of the world twisted by his unstable mind, and he's blamed San Lang for all of it, and maybe that made sense, maybe that was reasonable, but...

He looks down at the ghost before him, the waterfall of his hair hiding his expression, and all Xie Lian can see is another ghost, his dark hair tied back in a pony tail, a mask covering his face as he knelt before the feet of a broken child who never deserved him.

Xie Lian drops to his own knees and wraps his arms around San Lang.

"I believe you." Xie Lian's voice shakes slightly. "I believe you didn't mean for it to happen."

In his mind the shoulders he's embracing are slimmer, the body thin with hunger, robes black rather than crimson.

'I'm sorry. I'll do better this time, I promise.'

At his touch San Lang's shoulder's stiffen but he doesn't pull away. Instead, his movements slow and his arms shaking lightly, the ghost king's arms wrap around Xie Lian.

"Your highness..." There's something raw and desperate in his voice and for a moment it even sounds like Wu Ming's but maybe that is just Xie Lian's imagination running wild, his mind reaching back through the centuries for his only sores of comfort the last time he was like this.

'It's tradition for ghosts to give their ashes only to their beloved.'

Waning Moon's words run through Xie Lian's memory again and he doesn't understand them any more than he did the first time he heard them but then he didn't understand Wu Ming's devotion either, only doubt and abuse it. If San Lang really does care for him in some way then Xie Lian won't make the same mistake again.

That's when San Lang's arm finely tighten around him and all thought is briefly driven from Xie Lian's mind. How long has it been since anyone held him like this? How many decades? How many centuries? No matter the coolness of the ghost's body, Xie Lian still feels the warmth of that touch go through him. Is this what it feels like to be cared for? It's been so long that he hardly even remembers.

"Your highness, are you alright?" Only when San Lang asks the question does Xie Lian realize that his whole body is shaking slightly and that there are tears in his eyes. He leans into San Lang and feels those precious arms tighten still more around him.

"It's just been ...So long... Been alone... So long..."

"You aren't alone now, your highness. I have you. You never need to be alone again."

Those words break Xie Lian and he leans forward, crumpling into San Lang, his head somehow finding its way to the ghost's shoulder. These aren't hysterical tears like the ones the nightmare brought, these tears are a release, centuries of pain, of grief, of all consuming loneliness being felt and expressed in a way that he's never allowed himself to feel and express them before.

San Lang doesn't try to calm him or tell him not to cry, instead he only holds Xie Lian, his voice soft in the gods ears, telling him that he's safe, that he isn't alone, that no one and nothing will hurt him again. At last, when he's cried himself to exhaustion and he's slumped forward into San Lang's body, he feels those arms shift around him and he'd object but they don't seem to be pulling away, only repositioning. When he's lifted gently from the floor, Xie Lian murmurs out a drowsy "what" and manages to half open his eyes. When did he close them? San Lang's face swims into focus just above him and at the sight of Xie Lian's eyes opening he makes a gentle shushing sound.

"It's alright, your highness, rest."

"Too formal." Xie Lian manages to mumble out the words. "San Lang is ...too formal."

A smile curves the corners of the ghost king's beautiful lips.

"Gege is tired. He should stop thinking so much and sleep."

A small answering smile flickers to light on Xie Lian's lips.

"Why are you ...So good to me?"

"Because," Xie Lian feels himself lowered and then the softness of the bed beneath his back. "It's what you deserve."

Xie Lian wants to question that, wants to demand explanations and answers, but his eye lids are too heavy and before he can do anything but let out a soft protest, sleep rolls over him and drags him down into its depths.

His dreams are confused, a mix of light and shadow and distorted memory. He can feel pain in his chest, the endless ache of the pain that never heals. He wanders through a twisted forest and across a bloody battle field, searching, searching, and as he realizes who he's searching for he calls out the name that isn't a name.

"Wu Ming..."

"Wu Ming..."

And maybe he calls aloud and wakes himself for a moment, but no it has to be a dream because cool fingers find his questing hand, tangling together until there's no way to part the two and a familiar voice murmurs beside him.

"I'm here, your highness, I'm here."

When he wakes the next morning that hand is still in his.