Interlude I – Love on the Battlefield

Li had been young when she had first tasted war.

She hadn’t even seen a dozen winters before Meiling the Stone-Fist united their tribes. She had been young and foolish—she had not understood death, then. When Meiling had come, she thought she could raise up a spear and scare her off like any other animal.

How naïve. Meiling conquered their tribe. She killed her father and gave her mother to one of her soldiers. Li would have been given as a concubine as well, if that soldier hadn’t declared her his daughter.

Perhaps she should have been thankful for that. But then she looked at her mother, and any gratitude washed away.

And then, life went on. She fell in love, and married, and had children of her own. One day she would die, and Meiling would die, and there would be nobody left to remember when before the tribe was unified.

But that was not to be. For the Gods spoke, and delivered onto them a new chieftess—no, a new Queen.

She was alien, and naïve. She knew no traditions and was a bit of a coward.

But her arrival usurped Meiling’s rule, and so Li had always been respectful and kind. For whenever she saw Meiling sitting to the side, forced to bow to this new Queen’s whims, she always felt a sense of perverse delight.

Then the new Queen had called them to war, and she no longer felt anything. The Queen raised an army, and put her husband at the head (showing she had good taste, if nothing else) and marched on the nearby village.

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She had been gone for a day and a half when war was upon them again.

Now another foreigner—the third one in a decade—had usurped their tribe.

So yes, Li was used to war.

So, she lived as she always had. She took care of her children, and tended to her garden, and prayed for her husband.

She had to take special care of her son—he was only a few winters old, after all, and he had been weak since birth. He always had trouble breathing, and he only had three fingers on his right hand. His was an inauspicious birth.

(She knew her Qian did not pray to the ancestors. But that did not mean she wouldn’t—her son was weak, but still lived. What was that if not a miracle?)

She hummed a quiet song to her son, rocking him in her arms. Outside, she heard the screams of angry men and scared men and dying men.

But she was used to war, and so she ignored the sounds of death.

Her daughter sat next to her, curled into her side. She had her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed shut. Li slowly rubbed her shoulder, whispering sweet nothings to her.

And then the tent flap burst open, and Li tensed up, old memories resurfacing. She almost grabbed the spear she kept in her tent, before realizing who it was.

Qian stood tall before her, a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. His body was tense as his eyes roved the tent, searching for anything amiss.

“My husband, you startled me,” she told him placidly.

Then his eyes met hers, and he instantly unwound, a goofy smile splitting his face. “Thank goodness you’re safe,” he whispered, crouching down before her.

She felt her heart skip a beat when she saw his smile, as it always had. “Of course we are,” she murmured back, resting her forehead against his. “I would slaughter all the men in this village if they were to dare lay a hand on us.”

Qian let out a relieved chuckle, before standing back up.

“We’re retaking our home,” he told her, readying his spear once more. “I will be returning to the battle in a moment. I just wanted—needed—to make sure you were alright. Just stay here, and stay safe.”

“Of course, my love,” she nodded. Then she put her son into her daughter’s arms, and then grabbed her spear. “This Li will be safe. And she will keep you safe as well.”

Her husband opened his mouth, looking like he was about to argue. But then his eyes softened, and his mouth closed.

“Of course, my love,” he smiled at her, a smile that had always made her toes curl in delight, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”