Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s midnight when Beidou starts moving.

Under the moonless sky, she nimbly steps from tree branch to tree branch, letting her momentum carry her forward with each jump. The wind whips past her like small kisses to the cheek—comfortable and familiar. It is cool tonight, and Beidou welcomes the biting chill.

She reaches the edge of the forest in less than a minute. Her eyes narrow at the palace in front of her.

Towers rise high towards the sky above, cutting an imposing figure over the capital city on the other side of the forest. Guards are stationed upon every inch of the land, going about their rounds as they would every night. The courtyard below is grand and expansive, filled with well-kept rose bushes and trimmed hedges.

Her eyes flicker downward, tracking the guards below. She lifts her gaze up.

Open window on the fourth floor. No one had entered the room in the week Beidou had watched from the edge of the forest.

She inhales.

The vision cinched to her hip under her shirt glows.

She leaps.

The air fizzes around her. She lets her electro envelop her like a blanket and shoots straight for the window—a flash of purple streaking across the sky.

Her feet land softly in the room. She ducks under the window sill, back against it. Closes her eyes, holds her breath, and waits.

Five seconds pass.

Nothing.

Ten seconds, fifteen. She counts up to thirty. No shouts or barked orders reach her ears. Nothing outside at all.

She exhales and scans the room.

Light spills from the crack under the closed door. Besides that, it is completely dark and devoid of life as she expected.

Her eyes zero in on the door.

It takes her five steps to cross the room. Her gloved hands lightly grasp the handle. She presses her ear to the door.

Voices echo on the other side. She hears the sound of two people talking, one in dulcet tones, the other in deference.

They are closer than she expects.

Beidou’s eyes narrow.

The handle jiggles once just as she dives for the armoire to the left of the room.

Fine silks and warm cotton engulf her body. Beidou presses her back against the back of the armoire. She leaves the doors open the tiniest bit—just enough for her to watch the room flood with the light from the outside.

A woman walks in, her hand placed gingerly on the edge of the door. She is speaking to someone still in the hallway—her voice like a gentle songbird’s.

Beidou straightens the barest bit.

The woman’s hair is white as snow but starkly black at the tips. Half of it is arranged in an intricate updo while the other half is left flowing down to her mid-thigh. She wears an expensive-looking white and gold threaded dress, the fabric long and light—flowing with her every movement.

A demure, unassuming smile sits on her face, her expression innocent and polite.

Beidou strains her ears to hear what the woman is saying.

The whispers that she catches are near incomprehensible but seem to be a perfunctory good night from a servant in the palace. The woman responds with the grace and reserve fitting of royalty.

This woman must be a member of the king’s family—her hair the same color as the king’s characteristic white-to-black shade. Her clothing is not as extravagant as Beidou knows it can be though; it is missing the woven symbols of dragons and phoenixes, the shimmery shine that only the best silk reflects under light, the intricacy of the stitching on the fabrics.

She is probably one of the many princesses birthed from the king’s long list of concubines, and if that’s the case, it would be impossible to figure out who she is. Besides the queen herself, none of the other king’s partners are known by name. The king simply beds too many women to keep track, offers them a room in his walls, and forgets them by the time the sun is up.

Beidou exhales shallowly, the beginnings of frustration curling in her. She viciously tamps it down.

Her eyes wander as she properly analyzes the room she entered.

The furniture is fairly standard for a bedroom but sparsely decorated for a bedroom in the palace. It looks barely lived in too—the only characteristic parts being the books lying atop the bedside cabinet, the papers haphazardly strewn across the study table, and a chessboard seemingly halfway through a game next to the divan.

To have a room of her own, this woman must be one of the higher-classed illegitimate princesses in the king’s family, even if it barely looks to be in use.

“Good night,” Beidou catches the woman say, her tone gentle but final.

Her eyes immediately return to the woman.

The door to the bedroom clicks close. The room is engulfed in darkness once more. Beidou breathes evenly, watching the girl with a critical eye.

Her hand falls from the handle. A soft sigh escapes her lips. The woman leans her head against the door, shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

Beidou feels the urge to look away.

She continues staring.

Suddenly, the woman’s head whips up.

Her body tenses. She turns, eyes tracking the room. She stares a second too long at the window Beidou entered from.

Ah.

The woman’s eyes glance around her, a calculating expression on her face, so different from the expression she wore in front of the servant.

She stills.

“I know you’re here,” the woman says, voice even-layered and cold. Like a prowling predator, her eyes slowly land on the armoire Beidou is hiding in. Beidou faintly realizes with startling clarity that the woman’s eyes are red like rubies.

“Come out now,” she says lightly, staring directly at Beidou. “It will make it easier for the both of us if you stop hiding.”

Beidou’s jaw clenches.

It takes only a quick flick of her wrist to send her dagger flying, electro mutely crackling in the air.

The dagger bounces uselessly off the warm hues of a shield. On her left hip, Beidou spies the fading orange glow of a geo vision on the woman.

Before the dagger touches the floor, it returns to Beidou’s waiting hand.

Beidou leisurely steps out of the armoire, a fake smile stretched on her lips as she finally gets a proper view of the woman whose bedroom she trespassed.

She does not throw her dagger again.

The woman drops her shield after a moment, relaxing in a facsimile of nonchalance. Her red eyes stare at Beidou, sizing her up. They land for a moment too long on the dagger Beidou has twirling around her finger.

The woman’s brow raises. She has yet to call for the guards.

“An electro vision user,” she says matter-of-factly.

“A geo vision user,” Beidou responds in kind.

“I have never had a vision user try to assassinate me,” the woman says. Her eyes return to Beidou’s face, expression carefully blank. She makes no move to escape.

“You misunderstand,” Beidou says. “I am not here to assassinate you.”

“Oh?”

“My dagger would’ve only pinned you to the door.”

Her brow raises.

“And if I had yelled for the guards?”

“I would have been faster.”

A spark of cold interest lights up in the woman’s eyes. Her lips quirk up the slightest bit before returning to her monotone.

“You will have to forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

“You’re forgiven.” Beidou’s eyes flick discreetly to the door and back. It took her five steps to make it to the door. The window is slightly to the right of her now, wide open still. The door is to her left.

The woman is standing in front of the door.

How unfortunate that this woman has a geo vision.

Beidou fingers the hilts of her hidden daggers under her leather vambraces.

“Please excuse my rudeness, my lady.”

Electro crackles around her. Beidou sprints. Silently she counts—five, four, three—

She does not make it to the window.

An elegant jade screen appears before she’s even halfway. She slams against it and pivots. Without missing a beat, Beidou sends her daggers flying toward the woman.

A blast of geo energy explodes through the room, stopping her daggers in their tracks. It hits Beidou squarely on the chest, slamming her against the jade screen and knocking the wind out of her. Before she can catch her breath, a barrage of star jades rushes forward.

With a sleight of hand, Beidou unsheathes another dagger. She blocks the first few that come her way. Her electro jumps in the air, striking the others that she can’t dodge.

Plumes of dust appear with each star jade destroyed until she can’t see the woman on the other side.

Beidou breathes.

It takes less than an instant.

She streaks across the room like lightning and collides into the lady. One hand slams against the door. The other presses the dagger dangerously close to the woman’s throat.

She crowds into the woman’s space, caging her between her arms and the door. Beidou feels the woman’s warm breath on her lips intermingling with her own.

It is then that Beidou realizes she is slightly taller than the other, enough that the woman can only stare at her from underneath her lashes.

“Are you going to kill me?” The woman murmurs, not looking the faintest bit worried.

“I told you already, I’m not here to assassinate you.”

The woman stares up, an oddly curious smile playing on her lips.

“What is your name?”

It would be so easy for Beidou to knock her unconscious.

“What’s yours?” she asks instead.

“Ningguang.” The name rolls off the woman’s lips as easily as water.

Beidou blinks, careful to keep her surprise off her face.

“Ningguang.” She tests the name, too soft and proper for her own lips. The woman—Ningguang—narrows her eyes.

“Your turn.”

“Beidou.”

“Beidou.” The name is spoken with a delicacy unfitting for the person it addresses. Beidou feels a shiver run down her spine. “Why are you here?”

“Not for your life, if you are concerned about that.” She doesn’t lower her dagger from Ningguang’s throat.

“I am not concerned.” The words are blithe. Beidou watches Ningguang relax against the wall like she’s simply leaning against it, not pressed against it with a knife a mere few inches away. “If not for my life, then you must be here for mora.”

“Why haven’t you called the guards yet?” Beidou asks instead, her words nipping at the heels of Ningguang’s.

She raises a perfectly manicured brow.

“Because I believe I can handle this just fine myself.” Her tone is even-measured, self-assured. “And, I do not like unnecessarily betting with lives.”

“Are you not currently betting with yours?”

“It is not a bet if there aren’t any risks.” Her hand comes up to the hilt of the handle, fingers trailing down it until they rest over Beidou’s hand. She pushes the dagger away.

Beidou lets her.

Her lips curve up knowingly.

“It is mora you’re after, isn’t it?” she asks. “I am much more inclined to bet with that.”

Beidou narrows her eyes. “Betting?”

Ningguang’s eyes trail away. She tilts her head, staring at something behind Beidou. Beidou turns, following the woman’s gaze to the halfway-finished chess game. Her gaze flickers back, watching the way the right corner of Ningguang’s lips lifts up slightly higher than the rest.

“Do you know how to play?” she asks, so soft that Beidou isn’t sure she would’ve heard if she wasn’t so close.

“I know the gist of it,” Beidou replies, eyes never leaving the girl.

“Play a game against me. I will give you what you want if you win.”

“Are you sure you are in a position to be making those sorts of demands?” Beidou murmurs. She flicks the dagger still in her hand so it glints dully between them. Ningguang gives it a perfunctory glance.

“I have precisely what you want, so yes, I am in a position to make demands.” She gestures languidly at the dagger. “As far as I’m concerned, you do not wield that dagger against me. You wield it against something far more nefarious.”

“And what do you think I wield it against?”

The smile disappears from Ningguang’s face, her eyes hardening with an unspecified emotion. She goes completely silent. Beidou waits for a response that never comes. Instead, Ningguang takes a step forward—forcing her to take a step back—and breezes past towards the chessboard.

Beidou watches her sit on one side of the chessboard—watches elegant fingers reset both sides of the chessboard—and looks down at the door handle within arm's reach.

She crosses the room in a few strides.

“You accept my wager?” Ningguang asks, eyes focused on the board. Beidou stands to her right, looming over her.

“Why should I believe you’ll keep your word?”

Ningguang’s lips quirk.

“I assure you, I am very sincere,” she says. One of her hands slips into the folds of her dress. She pulls out a small pouch, shakes it, and hands it to Beidou, lifting her head to meet her gaze.

Beidou takes the pouch. Their fingers brush. It surprises her how heavy it is.

“Let’s consider that as a down payment,” she says softly, her deep red eyes burning holes into Beidou. “There is plenty more I am willing to part with.”

Beidou’s eyes flicker between the pouch and Ningguang. She shakes the pouch, testing its weight.

“And if I lose?” Beidou asks.

A wicked smile graces Ningguang’s face.

“Don’t lose,” she says, a hint of a challenge in her words, her eyes bright and burning.

Beidou feels herself blazing under the stare, feels the start of her own smirk rising on her lips unbidden. She bends down so her face is as close to Ningguang’s as when they were against the door, bracing herself up with one arm on the divan.

Ningguang doesn’t flinch away.

“You’ve been playing with fire all this time, you know,” Beidou drawls. She swears she catches the other’s eyes flicking down to her lips. “Are you always like this?”

“Only with people who interest me.”

“And I interest you?”

Ningguang looks up at her through half-lidded eyes.

“Very much so.”

Beidou watches Ningguang, her red eyes bright and sharp like stained glass and blood. She wonders if this princess makes bargains with every thief that sneaks into her window, wonders if she allows everyone to get as close to her as Beidou is now, wonders if she’s always this flighty about her life as she is now. She lets her eyes trail to Ningguang’s lips, tracing the curve of her cupid’s bow. Her lips are red, red, red.

She leans back and takes the seat opposite Ningguang.

Her blood hums underneath her skin. The air feels charged. Ningguang watches her closely.

This princess is too sharp to ostensibly play with such reckless abandon. No, she’s known this whole time—Beidou would’ve never drawn blood on her.

“White goes first.”

She makes her move, staring at Ningguang staring back at her. When Ningguang goes to move her own piece, she does not break her gaze.

The game doesn’t truly start until the first piece is taken. After that, the two women look away focusing solely on the board in front of them. They trade moves in quick succession, the clacking of the pieces ringing in the dead quiet. The further the game moves along, the more it feels like they’re racing against each other—seeing who can make plays faster. Every piece taken is an unspoken string pulled tauter between them. Every soft sigh is a means to loosen the air.

The whole world fades away, condensing to the two of them and this chessboard. Beidou feels herself come alive, her skin buzzing like her signature electro, her mind racing to keep up with each move Ningguang makes, to match each attack with an equally powerful counter.

She almost doesn’t hear Ningguang speak.

“What made you try to steal from the palace?”

Beidou’s eyes flicker up—sees her staring back. She looks back down at the chessboard, takes a quiet breath, loosens her shoulders, and makes her move.

The game slows.

“What makes you ask?” she says in response.

“Not just anyone would steal from the palace,” Ningguang says, taking her time now as well.

Beidou snorts.

“No one is idiotic enough to steal from the palace, you mean.”

“I wouldn’t call you idiotic.” Ningguang moves her pawn up so it’s toe-to-toe with one of Beidou’s. “To have gotten into the palace is impressive enough.”

Beidou doesn’t answer.

Ningguang adds, “We would not be playing this game of chess if you were idiotic.”

“Because you would’ve won already, or because you wouldn’t have been interested?” Beidou asks.

“Both.”

Beidou feels her lips quirk up. It lasts for less than a second. She can feel Ningguang’s expectancy radiating in waves. Beidou studies the board, stalling more than anything.

“The harvest has not been good this year,” she answers simply. Her hands absentmindedly play with one of the pawns she took from Ningguang, twirling it and throwing it up and down. “There has been less rain for the village in the western outskirts than usual.”

She looks up. Ningguang is still staring at her.

“Do you come from there?” she asks.

“No.” Beidou’s lips quirk up sardonically. “I come from the capital.”

“Which part?”

“The slums.”

Ningguang nods, her face impassive. Beidou makes her move, once again watching her.

“You traveled to the villages in the outskirts then?”

“I’ve traveled everywhere. I’ve seen every village in our country.” Her eyes flicker back down to the board, watching Ningguang make her move.

“The new tax laws must be weighing heavily on the village there.”

“They are struggling to make ends meet.” Beidou takes Ningguang’s bishop. “Check.”

Ningguang easily moves her king aside. Beidou doesn’t have to look up to know the other woman is burning holes in her.

“Tell me more.” Her voice is so soft, Beidou feels inclined to look, to see the conflicted expression on Ningguang’s face behind her faux mask of indifference.

Beidou leans back away from the board.

“I am close with a few of the families in the area,” Beidou starts, slow—almost like a drawl. “They are worried about putting food on the table every day, about selling enough to support themselves, about keeping their children clothed and their elders healthy. The king is running them dry and completely unaware.”

Ningguang’s brows furrow, the beginnings of something forming behind her red eyes.

“I see.” Beidou watches her teeth unconsciously catch her bottom lip, chewing on it. She doesn’t notice Ningguang taking her move. “Check.”

She glances down at the board, then back up at Ningguang.

“Who are you?”

Ningguang blinks, and smiles, seemingly amused.

“Who do you think I am?”

“A princess.” Beidou doesn’t hesitate. “Born to one of the king’s many unknown concubines.”

Ningguang nods. Though her smile stays, the amusement dies like a candle that’s gone out.

“Correct.” She gestures to the board. Beidou directs her king away, not once looking down.

“Have you always lived in the palace then?”

Ningguang scoffs. Beidou thinks that’s the first time she’s seen such a strong emotion on her, one that transforms her whole face—her whole self.

It makes her look powerful.

It makes her look beautiful.

“No. For most of my childhood, the king didn’t care about me.”

“I was under the impression he always houses his concubines?”

Ningguang’s answering expression is bitter.

“My mother was a prostitute. The only way she could survive was to sell her body. The king would never care about a sex worker.

“I was born in the slums as well—left to fend for myself on the streets—until the king found me.” She glides her piece across the board, the picture of serenity if not for the burning in her eyes. “After that, I was left to fend for myself against the other concubines and heirs.”

Beidou purses her lips.

“But you must be the lowest-ranking heir to the throne? What threat could you possibly pose?”

Ningguang looks up, and smiles something dangerous—sharp and predatory.

“No threat at all,” she simpers. “That’s why they tried to use me—thinking I wouldn’t bite back.” She leans back against the chair, threads of arrogance weaving themselves in her tone, in her expression, in the air around her. “Let them believe what they want. When this is over, I will be the one on the throne.”

Beidou stares, enraptured by Ningguang’s complete self-assurance, not dissimilar to the way she reacted to Beidou’s knife inches away from her throat. When Ningguang’s expression starts smoothing out into something softer and warmer and directed at her, Beidou looks back to the board, focusing on the game once more.

“Do you really believe you can become queen?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“None of them have beaten me in a game of chess.” Beidou glances up. The confidence in those red eyes makes her heart stutter. “They are never able to see my next move.”

Beidou snorts. “Do I stand a chance of beating you then?”

Ningguang purses her lips, looking like she’s trying to hide her smile.

“You have lasted the longest.”

Beidou’s eyes soften. She moves her rook, seeing exactly where this is going, and meets Ningguang’s gaze head-on.

“Did you set this wager because you saw a good opponent in me?”

Ningguang hums. “That was part of the reason.”

“And the other reason?”

The little light they have in the room dances in Ningguang’s eyes.

“Money’s value differs depending on who you ask,” she says. “I have no use for money. Compared to the people who live far from the capital, money is worthless to me. A mundane wager like this, I would gladly do a thousand times.”

Piercing eyes stare straight at Beidou. Though the gaze of the woman across from her looks prim and proper, her eyes speak thousands of words, each one more unnameable than the last.

Beidou wants to know every last one.

“As I said,” Ningguang continues. “I do not like betting with lives.”

Beidou’s breath catches. Her throat feels dry. She slides her last piece into place.

“Checkmate.”

Ningguang looks down and smiles.

“It would seem so.”

Beidou’s hand shoots out. She circles her hand gently around the other’s wrist, pulling Ningguang’s hand closer. When she looks up, Ningguang is staring back at her, a single brow raised.

“You went easy on me,” she blurts out, a simple whisper in the wind meant only for the two of them.

Her other brow raises, eyes blinking.

“Did I now?”

“Yes,” Beidou insists, words heavy with intention—with suggestion. “I shall have to come back and challenge you again to a rematch.”

Ningguang laughs. It’s light and tinkling and warms her from the inside out. Her hand tingles from where she has it encircled around the other’s wrist.

In one fluid motion, Ninggunag snaps her wrist so that her hand is the one circling Beidou’s wrist. Heat follows her touch as Ningguang lets her grasp trail down until she has Beidou’s hand in hers and places a pouch similar to their down payment in Beidou’s hand. This one—Beidou can feel—is significantly larger and significantly heavier.

Then, she slips her hand away and stands.

“You should hurry off soon. The sun will rise, and you’ll want to be as far away from here as possible before that happens.

Beidou glances out the window. It is still pitch black outside. She knows that won’t last.

It takes only two strides for her to cross the length of the table and reach Ningguang’s side.

Ningguang’s eyes follow Beidou, her head tilted in the perfect facsimile of an innocent lady.

Beidou extends her hand. Only the arm of the divan sits between them. Ningguang looks down at the proffered hand, then back up to Beidou’s eyes. She lightly places her fingers on the curve of Beidou’s, a mere ghost of a touch that feels like the sparks of a fire.

Beidou’s lips quirk.

She brings Ningguang’s hand up, her lips lightly brushing against her knuckles.

“Thank you, my queen,” she whispers, staring straight at Ningguang as she says this.

It is only because she is watching so closely that she spots the faintest of blushes blooming across the other’s cheeks.

She releases her hand and steps back until her hand finds the window frame.

“Play me again soon,” Ningguang blurts out, slightly breathless.

Beidou laughs, inclining her head to the side as she gets one last look at Ningguang.

“As her majesty wishes.”

And then, she jumps from the windowsill, embracing the familiar electro static around her.