By gentle feet, the nomad is led. The concubine is as modest and graceful as this island, he reflects. Not the sporting, sternness of his mares on the steppe. There is no place for sleek thighs and mildness in his hard land.

“Tell me of these rewards,” Batu loosens more water from his cheeks. He wanted to learn as much as he could about the wisteria wolves, to give credence to the rumors: dens ornamented with stone, temples of gold, and servants by the hundred!

But the raider has no more use for gold than a den he could not move. Ahead, his eyes sail the pleasing hips of the emperor's concubine.

Lihua curses herself silently. She has thought that she could play her hand well, and ears pin at the thought of Shénléi, enraged, because she is foolish enough to think he would barter with a man of no where.

Timid, she looks behind, pausing for a moment and sees a hunger that she herself cannot name.

“He will give you a place in his court,” she promises, and knows that she will effectively earn the ire of many. Daughter of traitor, bringing in some barbarian? Her gut twists. “He will give you pelts, status, finery. Is that not what men want?”

Her accent is strange to his ears. Perhaps his amusement is loud for she turns, restraining herself to stand like polished stone.

“It is every man’s dearest wish,” he grins, spinning a laughable image of himself stood in court, clad in some fine fussy filigree.

Emperor Téng Shénléi is not his khan, and by his concubine’s own concession, he does not give orders in this land. Still, the nomad's interest had grown in this party, imagining a bloated, wealthy willow people.

“I'd take a dry place to rest,” he resumes, stilling as she does. “And your name.”

It is true then. Men dream of riches, assortment of jewelry, coats stolen from the most exquisite of animals, and meals peppered with fine herbs and rich wines.

This has always been her life, so it is not what she dreams of. Hers are a secret she keeps locked beneath her tongue.

”I am Feng Lihua,” she says softly, dipping her chin. Softened rose eyes sweep his form, face. “What may I call you?”

If she returns in good faith to her emperor with him in tow, surely he should be dignified by a name.

When she bows it is pretty, and the nomad wonders what kind of favor the concubine might also win from her master. It sets in motion a sequence of fortunes— he, granted audience with a powerful king, and she, an evening in the emperor’s chambers that might quicken into a prince.

“Batu,” he answers simply, almost humorously, for his name bears no titles to intrigue. He waits for the elegant eyes to return before speaking again. "Are there many who serve in the imperial court, Feng Lihua?"

How many men and women had been awed with talk of riches and purchased for the kingdom with the emperor’s gold? Such a question was for the lawful.

“There are many,” she says, and thinks of the many faces within, wondering if they will be at the Emperor’s side when they find his court once more. Attendants, Empress and wives, courtesans, apothecaries- oh, too many to list.

This land though is not hers, and she flexes her paws, finds they lack the mobility she normally has. Frowning, she looks over her shoulder at Batu. It is not a name from her culture, and this leads her to wonder.

“Where do you hail from, Batu?” she asks. There is half a thought to put distance between them, but he has not touched her yet.

---

dear god tysm for putting up with the utter failure of my brain ;0;

Yet. No, such thoughts are not above a nomad’s mind. Many men would forsake this situation, claim the stray woman and drag her as wife back to their gers. She is alone, and beautiful, besides. A familiar occurrence must also be commonplace for the willow-wolves. Lady Lihua braces for each free step as her last.

Another shake; Batu stalks, dribbling his hides, the moon patterning his face in leaf shadow as the pair of pale eyes make their return. “The steppe. The realm of horsefolk, and khans, my lady. We never settle one place for long, and our women learn to fight alongside their men.”

He chuckles deep in his throat, but it is not a friendly sound.

---

NOOO worries just happy to write with you always <3

In a land that is not hers or of the dynasty, she clings to what will make her last. There is no spirit that wishes to fight, no bravado, just some strand that will do what it must to last and uphold her dignity.

He speaks of where he comes from and Lihua knows she is not amongst a man of her people, and that he is born of a world entirely unfamiliar to her. The deep laugh that emanates from his chest unnerves her and she pales in his presence. To fight, like a man? It would disgrace her.

“Your people must be hardy,” she can only say. A shock hidden in prettied words.

Provoking his escort further is thinly nulled by the soft world of rain in her voice. The lady is careful not to offend and it has its desired effect. She is guarded in talk and made modest to please the Son of Heaven. Clouds cast over the joy of the Emperor’s woman, among those kept with him even after most assuredly tiring of many others. She is made to be a man's receptacle, and so it is far better for him to be a ruler than a poor trader in a brothel.

“Must be," is echoed. "In time of war or misfortune all kin must be able to fight and hunt.” The han see his plainspeople only as beasts in animal skins, but they are wrong to believe there is no form to such things.

Lady Lihua is a master of the mongol tongue. His look considers her more keenly in drapes of dampened silver. “Your Emperor, he win many wars? He demand his people hone their skills at hunting and fighting?”

It must be brutal on the plains, then. Men must be cruel, for women to take up teeth against them. Winters must be harsh and the wind must rip through their bones. For all her life Lihua has been most comfortable, other than for lack of clear sight and the anger of her father.

Then he asks of wars.

“Many.” Her voice cuts sharp now.

She thinks of the blood of her cousin. Thinks of the sin of her father. Thinks of the holy fist raised by Shēnléi as he struck them down and took her in.

Yes. Many wars won indeed.