A few days after Rui had spent the night with the emperor, Rui had a dream which led him to an ancient temple in the kingdom.
The incense in the temple chamber curled in strange shapes, thick with sandalwood and something sharper—like cold iron and old blood. Rui stood still, fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of the ancient altar, staring down at the scroll the high priest had unsealed before him.
It was ancient—older than the founding of either his kingdom or Li Yuan's. The ink was faded but pulsing faintly, as if aware of his presence.
"This was hidden beneath the collapsed temple in Longyin," the priest whispered. "It was never meant to be found."
Rui's breath caught as his eyes scanned the opening lines.
"When silver moon and crimson star align in flesh, the seal shall tremble. One born of moonfire shall awaken the bound, and through the union of conqueror and sacrifice, fate shall shatter or rise anew."
He stepped back. "Moonfire… That was what they called my bloodline. In old rites. But that tradition was forbidden."
The priest looked up at him, aged eyes glinting. "Then you are the one, Prince Rui. And your union with the emperor—this is not mere politics. It is a thread in heaven's own loom."
The Emperor's Worry
Li Yuan read the prophecy in silence later that night, candlelight flickering across his silver hair.
"A sacrifice," he murmured. "They name you as one."
Rui turned away. "I don't need your pity."
"It isn't pity." Li Yuan rose, walking slowly to him. "I knew there was something sacred in you the first time I saw you in chains. Not because you looked like a prince—but because you felt like destiny."
Rui's heart beat faster, but he kept his expression cold. "Then perhaps it's destiny that will destroy us both."
Shadows in the Court
Word of the prophecy spread like wildfire—though no one dared speak it aloud. Still, whispers grew louder in the corridors.
"He'll doom the empire," one noble whispered.
"The gods curse unnatural unions," muttered another.
"He's bewitching the emperor with his blood," said a third.
In the court chambers, Minister Gao—young, ambitious, and born from a lesser noble house—stood to speak.
"This prophecy cannot be ignored," he declared. "To bind the empire's future to an ancient omen—one that speaks of seals breaking and divine ruin—is reckless."
Li Yuan narrowed his eyes. "Do you question heaven's will, Minister Gao?"
"No, Your Majesty. I question the interpretation of it."
The room fell silent.
It was a clever tactic—doubt cloaked in deference.
That night, three courtiers met in secret. Wine was poured, names were spoken, and the seed of rebellion took root.
Between Longing and Distance
While the empire's foundation began to shift, Rui found himself spiraling inward. The prophecy had cracked something within him. He felt it—divine echoes in his dreams, voices speaking in tongues he half-remembered. His blood pulsed like it knew it was being watched.
And then, there was Li Yuan.
The emperor had grown gentler, more restrained. No longer seeking Rui with heated touches or stolen glances—but waiting. Like the mountain waits for spring to melt the snow.
And yet, Rui couldn't stop seeing that night they had shared.
The frustration. The surrender. The regret.
Each time Li Yuan looked at him now with quiet yearning, Rui's heart twisted painfully.
You're trying to love me, he thought. And I am still trying not to need you.
The Sabotage Unfolds
One morning, Rui's private attendants were dismissed without notice. Replaced by new ones. Foreign-tongued. Soft-footed.
He noticed one slipping a powder into his tea.
Rui tipped the cup out the window, smiled, and said nothing.
Later, when he confronted the head steward, the man insisted, "Orders came from the inner palace."
Li Yuan denied giving any.
Rui stood silent for a moment, then asked quietly, "Do you believe they want me dead or just gone?"
Li Yuan's jaw clenched. "I will burn down the entire court if anyone lays a hand on you."
"Then you'll lose your throne," Rui whispered. "And they'll say I caused it."
Unspoken Things
That night, Rui walked to the imperial library and found Li Yuan already there, gazing at old star charts.
"Looking for answers in the stars?" Rui asked softly.
Li Yuan turned. "Looking for a way to keep you."
It hit Rui like a blade—not because it was sudden, but because it was true. And Li Yuan didn't look away as he said it.
"I never expected this," the emperor said. "Not from you. Not from me. I thought desire was enough. But it's not. I want your trust. Your mind. Your soul."
Rui looked away. "You may have all three and still lose me."
Li Yuan stepped forward, brushing a loose strand of hair from Rui's face. "Then I'll keep trying."
And Rui—just for a breath—let his head rest against Li Yuan's chest.
The emperor's arms closed around him. No heat. No claim. Just stillness.
And for once, Rui didn't flinch.
The Vision
That same night, Rui dreamed again.
He stood in a temple made of glass and fire, surrounded by beings cloaked in starlight. One held a mirror.
Inside it, Rui saw himself—bathed in moonlight, silver hair flowing, eyes glowing with ancient power. And behind him, Li Yuan stood, bloodied but unbroken, holding a sword etched with divine runes.
A union forged in war. Sealed in fire. Chosen by fate.
When Rui woke, his heart was still racing.
He sat up, gasping, and whispered, "What are we becoming?"