He doesn't really know what she stands for – doesn't know the full story, of an infant stolen at birth, of a city of shepherds massacred in secret, of a dragon slain, but only partly – but he recognizes hubris when he sees it. Like a goddess appearing before an initiate, her attention overwhelms him, makes him feel at once dizzy and blessed. Perhaps he is a little in love with her, in the way one loves the sun, and the moon and the stars. He hopes she doesn't know he said it first. Soon, everyone is calling her that – Wu the Lotus Blossom. He calls her that once – and it sticks somewhere between his mouth and her hair, like an intangible kiss, something that could never really be. It's natural for Master Li to dote upon her.Īnd with her strength and beauty, of heart and soul and mind, it's only natural for the rest of them to follow after her, to strive, one day, to be as pure, of heart and soul and mind, as she is.įor Wen, it's like stepping into a foreign country – a divine garden, ruled over by a benevolent lord, and she is the heart of it, and lotus blossom blooming in a serene pond, far out of anyone's reach. The sun has darkened her skin, buried itself in the crook of her neck – she is beautiful in the way Two Rivers itself is, serene, peaceful, so far removed from the rest of the world as to be a world all on its own. She has been there the longest, too – Two Rivers has grown into her, so that one is constantly finding blades of grass in her hair, and dirt on her feet even when she wears sandals. It's natural for Master Li to be proud of her. Wu is kind, skilled and humble – she's everything a teacher could want, everything a student could aspire to. Even if he were an ordinary man, he would build her world carefully, stone by stone, bar by bar, until she was wrapped in a gilded cage since he is not an ordinary man, he will tie her with strings even finer than gossamer, so that she could not even breathe without his say so. She is his every waking moment, his every restless dream.
He, who has toppled and bound the God of the Dead, he who will one day be Emperor, will bear and control that power properly. He builds her world carefully she is his obsession – even Dawn Star, his own daughter, is useless in her wake, and it is only right that the world be as obsessed with her as he is.
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