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Chapter Text

Wei Ying was going to lose this fight. On his best day, with luck, he might have been a match for Wen Zhuliu. 

This was not his best day.

Hunger clawed at his stomach, thirst dragged at his throat, and his head pounded under the harsh summer sun. His back throbbed from where the countless blows of Zidian had bit and burned into his flesh, the shredded skin, still untreated, tore and bled with every twist of his body as he desperately danced to stay out of reach from the clawed hand that aimed for his core with every blow. 

Still, running was not an option. The Wens surrounded him in a loose circle, their own blades at the ready, and he was without Suibian from when the Wens had confiscated it, which meant he couldn’t take to the sky. Injured and helpless he fought like a wolf in a trap, his fate sealed but unwilling to go quietly. He could only hope that delaying his own fate brought Jiang Cheng more time to flee. 

Wen Chao cackled as Wen Zhuliu’s hand shot over Wei Ying’s shoulder, a breeze brushing his cheeks. “If you give up I might show you mercy,” Wen Chao crooned before he and Wen Lingjiao burst into giggles as though he had told a great joke, arrogance pouring off of him in waves.

There would be no mercy. If Wen Chao planned to do anything less than torture Wei Ying he would have set all his men upon him instead of leaving Wei Ying to the mercy of the core crusher. He obviously wanted Wei Ying alive but not free, which meant that Wen Chao had something painful planned in Wei Ying’s future. 

Sweat poured off him and Wei Ying bit back a whine as it seeped into his cuts, the salt adding another layer of pain. When he jerked back his movements were rough, a stumble more than a twist. He was flagging and, given the way Wen Zhuliu’s face twitched, the other man knew it. 

Wen Zhuliu darted forward at a speed that made Wei Ying certain the man had just been playing with him until now. He tried to dance back but the core crusher was prepared for that and instead of lunging at Wei Ying’s core he slid up behind him.

His hand wrapped around the back of Wei Ying’s neck and squeezed.

Hands guided Wei Ying to his knees as he melted, a profound sense of safety settling in his bones as the Alpha scruffed him. The fear, the anger, the pain all felt like a distant dream, like a story someone else had told him. The pleasurable rush of hormones left no room for anything but contentment.

“My my.” Wei Ying struggled to follow Wen Chao’s delighted words. Something whispered that they were important but Wei Ying had always had an exceptional sense of smell. The man was wearing a pheromone perfume but underneath he was just another Beta. Wei Ying was submitting to an Alpha, the man’s scent earthy and rich. “The Yunmeng Jiang’s head disciple, an Omega ? How scandalous! No wonder they fell so easily.” 

Yunmeng Jiang. Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng.

Wei Ying had failed to protect what was precious to him. He had no home and his shidi was in danger. Wei Ying need to- He needed-

A pained whine was pulled from deep within his throat as his thoughts and his duties remained just beyond his reach.

“I was going to throw you in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Ying shivered and leaned back into the Alpha who had him, the Alpha who was his only anchor of safety, “but that would be a waste.” The tip of a finger booped the end of Wei Ying’s nose. “Father will be pleased to meet you because you’re a good Omega.”

Wei Ying felt a bolt of pleasure at the words. He liked meeting new people. He liked being liked by new people. 

“Bind him,” the Beta ordered and Wei Ying felt the back of his neck squeezed again. He shuddered at the delicious feeling and was a good Omega for his Alpha. He followed where he was guided, unresisting as rough rope was wrapped around his wrists. He whined in pain as the Alpha pulled him against the man’s chest, putting pressure on the whip marks that were carved into his back but he was rewarded with another scruffing. 

He didn’t know where they were going but every time it filled his head to ask fingers dug into his glands and every time he fell just a bit deeper into the pleasure, the world disappearing that much more.

It was why when Wei Ying senses returned as he kneeled on a red carpet he was confused as hell. 

“Are you back, little Omega?” Wei Ying knew that voice. He looked up and sure enough, before him in a golden throne sat Wen Ruohan, staring down at Wei Ying as though he had performed a particularly clever trick. And maybe he had.

No one knew Wei Yiing’s designation. He hadn’t been foolish enough to believe that his merits would matter more than his biology so after his presentation he’d remained silent, resorting to herbs to hide his scent and manage his heats. They couldn’t suppress them entirely but Wei Ying had always found a night hunt that could last a few days longer to endure the shortened debacle. He’d managed in secret until now, where he was exposed before his greatest enemy.

Wei Ying silently glared back, letting the sour scent of his anger overpower the room. Failing to temper one’s scent was considered rude and childish but Wei Ying didn’t particularly feel like manners mattered overly much. The man had burnt Wei Ying’s home to the ground and had slaughtered his people. When Wei Ying got Subian back his scent was going to be the least of Wen Ruohan’s worries. 

Wen Ruohan stood and slowly locked towards Wei Ying, who kept his eyes locked on the other man’s. As he drew closer, Wei Ying curled his lip back into a snarl, showing off teeth that were just slightly too pointy. A growl set itself in Wei Ying’s throat as the man kneeled in front of Wei Ying. 

He should have expected the backhand.

As his head jerked sideways, guards he didn’t realize he had caught his shoulders, holding him upright. One grabbed his ponytail, pulling his head back until his gaze was focused on Wen Ruohan. 

The man was smirking. “Your core is powerful,” he said with relish. “It will make our children strong.”

Wei Ying twisted against the hands holding him, looking for any sort of give, but whoever had him held firm. 

A servant approached Wen Ruohan from the side with a bow. In his hands was a red cushion and upon it sat a black leather collar. Wen Ruohan took it with a pleased smile before he kneeled again, running his fingers over the leather to give Wei Ying a clear view of the hated thing. Wen Ruohan’s fingers traced over the inside, his fingers caressing two bumps at the back.

Wei Ying’s rage must have filled the entire room by now and he hoped it was enough to hide the edge of his growing terror. He didn’t know what that collar was. He didn’t want to know.

Wen Ruohan explained anyway. “This is a scruffing collar,” he said as he stroked the leather. “They were banned by the Sects long ago, but they are just so useful for keeping naughty Omegas like yourself in check. It won’t hurt,” he promised, as though it was pain that scared Wei Ying. “In fact, you’ll feel wonderful the entire time.”

“Fuck you!” Wei Ying spat.

Wen Wuohan’s smile was as cruel as his son’s. “Eventually.” Wei Ying struggled as Wen Ruohan slid the collar behind his neck, trying to fight as the end was slid through the buckle. 

“Don’t!” he said with a gasp as it was pulled tight, two leather masses pressing firmly against his glands.

Wei Ying keened before a hand was placed under his chin. It slid up his face, rubbing the scent gland in the wrist against his cheeks. Wei Ying pressed his face into it as the Alpha scented him with star anise and cinnamon, purring with pleasure.

“Good Omega.”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Wei Ying sputtered as something bitter and herbaceous flooded his mouth. Reflexily he tried to spit but fingers dug into his throat and he was forced to swallow. The face of a stern woman, not much older than him, swam into place.

“Wen Ruohan will not have another child,” she promised darkly and while Wei Ying agreed that they didn’t need anymore of that bloodline wandering around he had no idea what it had to do with him being forced to choke down this medicine. He didn’t know where he was, why his body hurt in ways he’d never expected it too.

Nothing made sense.

He blinked and moved his mouth, trying to speak, to ask, but the world washed away.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

“Don’t fight me,” the woman said forcefully, her scent too mingled with plants for Wei Ying to truly glean anything about it. Wei Ying knew her. He had seen her before but he had a terrible memory. He did remember the drink she was pouring down his throat. He threatened to gag but all it did was make him choke until his throat got with the program and he swallowed. “If you understood you’d agree.”

If he understood what?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He drank slowly as the cup was pressed against his lips and gradually tilted up. “It would be a kindness to kill you,” a voice he knew muttered, “but I have people to protect. I’m sorry.”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Something sweet was placed on his tongue, dissolving slowly in his spit.

The room reeked of star anise and cinnamon and something heavy, lustful. It made him want to open his mouth, to scrape whatever was on tongue off with his teeth, but the moment he opened jaw a hand cupped and lifted it, keeping it shut.

He whined. 

“He’ll catch during his next heat?” Alpha. No. Wen Ruohan? Wei Ying shivered, trying to make sense of the world. 

“Unless he’s barren,” a second voice promised sincerely, “he’ll be carrying your newest child before the end of the month.” 

Wei Ying whined again. 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The woman didn’t return. 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

There were three people who knew that Lan Xichen had a spy in the Nightless City.

Lan Xichen. 

Meng Yao.

And now Lan Zhan.

Three people barely made a conspiracy and the plan might have as well been woven from the silk of a spider’s web. The chaos of the war meant that not even Nie Mingjue was paying full attention to the faces of his men and Lan Zhan was careful to stay back, eyes cast down to hide the famous golden hue. Unfamiliar robes and a wrap to hide his headband, Lan Zhan bled seamlessly in with his allies. 

When it became apparent that they had over extended, that their information had been wrong and Nie Mingjue had recognized that fact too late, Lan Zhan had been one of the first to surrender. He was cursed a coward and spirited away to the side, as though he would be an easy target for torture.

It was in the dungeons where things were truly risky. 

Lan Zhan was forced to his knees, as expected, his hands and neck snapped into stocks that were changed to the ground. Helpless, he could do little more than wait for Meng Yao to free him so they could enact the final steps, but this relied entirely on the other man’s ability to slip away from Wen Ruohan for a moment. Meng Yao was good at what he did but he’d been clear that that was a task easier said than done.

The smell of bitter, unripened berries let him know he wasn’t alone.

“Are you hurt?” The question was exhausted and rote and ages on the battlefield left no doubt that the woman asking it was a healer. Lan Zhan hadn’t heard of any of the medical bases being raided but, despite swearing to work together, the Sects still liked their secrets. Given Lan Zhan’s current predicament he couldn’t truly judge. 

Still, he was shocked when the woman who stepped in front of him wore dirty Wen robes. Her hand gripped his face, tilting his head back as she waved a finger in front of his face, his eyes following it instinctively. “Are you injured?” she repeated.

“No,” he answered, honestly and warily. A witness was an unexpected complication. She likely had little reason to support Wen Ruohan if she was here, but loyalty was a strange thing.

She nodded, absorbing his answer. “Do you want me to kill you?” she offered almost kindly. In the wake of Lan Zhan’s stunned silence, she continued. “He did not bring you here as a mercy. He’ll take you to the Inferno Palace and you will be tortured first for information and then for pleasure.”

“And you?” Lan Zhan asked, knowing that the woman would not be so easily forgiven.

She shrugged. “My fate will remain unchanged.” Her scent grew complicated. Fear. Anger. Resentment.

Resignation.

Lan Zhan tilted his head down to ease the pull of his neck muscles. “Why?” he asked, evaluating if she could be counted on to remain silent when Meng Yao came. 

Her smile was dark though her scent took on a pleased edge. “Wen Ruohan’s Omega can only miscarry so many times before it becomes suspicious.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan replied, absorbing the information. An Omega, especially one who was pregnant, was a complication that he had no desire in dealing with. Few, if any, Wens would survive the wrath of the other sects and while the Gusu Lans were not the type to put a pregnant Omega to death he doubted many from his Sect would beg for mercy on her behalf.

The war had made them all harder. Loss had made them all harder.

Lan Zhan didn’t know Wei Ying’s fate. It had been easy to brush off Wen Chao’s initial taunts about rendering Wei Ying coreless and torturing him to death, just a final taunt before Jiang Wanyin whipped open his throat. But as the months stretched into a bitter silence, Wei Wuxian’s allies began to accept that Wen Chao’s last words had been truth.

There were days where Lan Zhan refused to believe that Wei Ying was not out there, alive and waiting with a smile. On others Lan Zhan could only pray to his ancestors that fate had not been so cruel. That if Wei Ying had truly died he had done so swiftly and on his feet. That the man he loved had died whole and not a broken shell of himself.

Soft footsteps echoed down the stairs and a nervous young man timidly entered the room, a bundle of white and red under his arms. 

“Wen Ning?” the woman asked, clearly startled. “You shouldn’t be down here!” she hissed. “He’ll do worse than kill you.”

Wen Ning hunched into himself before fumbling in his sleeves, pulling out a key. “H-he’s g-going to k-k-kill you anyway,” he stuttered as he fumbled with the lock. “Y-you’d do the s-same for me.”

“You idiot,” she said fondly, brokenly. “I’m your older sister. I am supposed to be the one to protect you.”

The lock clicked and the gate swung open. Wen Ning made his way to Lan Zhan’s side, quickly freeing him before passing him the bundle. “H-here,” he said as Lan Zhan shook free the Wen robes. He could tell at a glance that they would fit him perfectly. It looked like Meng Yao hadn’t found a way to escape Wen Ruohan’s attention, but an unobtrusive dissenter would work. “I-I can s-show you the w-way, ” Wen Ning offered. He had iron control over his scent, his fear only obvious through the tone of his voice and the wringing of his hands.

Lan Zhan nodded.

“Don’t,” his sister warned. “No one will have any mercy for you.”

“O-our friend,” he shot a meaningful look at Lan Zhan, careful to not mention Meng Yao by name, “t-told me of a safe room that only he and W-w-wen Ruoahn knows. I-if this works only o-our friend will know.”

The woman hissed but relented and Lan Zhan could feel her scent weakening as she began to regulate it, to hide it now that it mattered. Her brother gave her directions to the room and the dungeon cell key, ‘just in case’, before ushering Lan Zhan along.

The Wen robes, while fitting perfectly, felt utterly foreign. It might have been a thousand tiny differences in the cuts and stitching, it might have been the weight of subterfuge. No one would expect a Gusu Lan of what Lan Zhan had come here to do but he had no regrets. If he was to be punished he would accept it so long as he succeeded. 

Wen Ning guided Lan Zhan to the main hall, all questions deflected by his mere presence. Lan Zhan was certain it had less to do with trust and more to do with the perception of utter harmlessness. The young man fretted and twisted his hands but it seemed more like a part of his character than any tell of greater nervousness. No one seemed to guess that Wen Ning had designs on Wen Ruohan’s head. 

He took Lan Zhan to the door before ducking into a shallow bow and scurrying along to join his sister. 

Lan Zhan peeked around the doorway. Wen Ruohan sat on his throne, unsurprisingly raised above the rest of the room. On her knees must have been the Omega his cellmate had spoken off. She was veiled and leaned against Wen Ruohan’s leg, purring as though it was a position of privilege and not shame. She wasn’t bothering to control her scent, the floral hints of pregnancy undercutting something spicy and familiar.

In the centre of the room, surrounded by guards, was the Nie. Nie Mingjue was wrapped in chains that strained against temper. Lan Zhan had little doubt that they would burst from his spiritual energy before his own task was complete, which would be useful. Behind him were his men who, ever loyal, emulated their leader. 

There was little cover in the room, save for the rafters. It would be a bold move to aim for them, though most attention was on Meng Yao. He stood before the captured Nie, taunting in an effort to stall. It was unsurprising when the Nie began to curse back.

Lan Zhan could see the consequences coming, Meng Yao’s hand guided by a need to maintain favor, and he took the opportunity to jump as Meng Yao’s sword bit through the clansman’s throat. Lan Zhan hoped his spirit would know what he had died for, that it would rest easy instead of turning into a vengeful ghost. 

But that was currently not his problem. 

He slid his guqin out of his quicken bag, returned by Wen Ning, and began to play ever so softly. The song came from the Forbidden Library and by all rights Lan Zhan should not know it, but his uncle had taught it to him and his in the hopes that it would keep them alive long enough to return home. It did little on the battlefield, affecting allies as well as enemies, but this was not a battle. It was an assassination.

He watched the room beneath him, noting that Meng Yao had heard him and had raised his voice to cover the song that softly crept across the room like a shadow. The Omega might have heard it too, though instead of commenting her purrs only grew louder. 

Lan Zhan’s fingers danced along the strings, focused on utter perfection. The Sunshot Campaign was not going well and if they lost their spy they would lose. This was a desperate gambit at the point of no return. The time for mistakes had come and gone.

As expected, Nie Mingjue’s chains burst as Meng Yao taunted him with his own saber and his father’s death. Lan Zhan used the scuffle to play louder as Meng Yao and Nie exchanged blows. It didn’t take long for Nie Mingjue to send Meng Yao to his knees.

Wen Rhuohan stood, stepping away from his throne with disgusting arrogance emanating from every pore. He dashed forward, sword at the ready, and swept the blade in what should have been a massive blow, fuelled by spiritual power that was supposed to tear the room, and Nie Mingjue, apart.

The song ended.

The blade barely generated a breeze. 

He swung again with the same result. 

In a test, Nie Mingjue also swung his saber, unable to channel any spiritual energy. The saber was merely sharpened metal in his hands. With panicked mutterings, all the Wens began to swing to their blades and pulling on their spiritual energies.

All of them failed.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Wen Ruohan roared, marching forward, his blade still at the ready. “What tricks have you pulled?” 

The man was an exceptional cultivator though without that power Lan Zhan had no idea what his skill with the blade was. He knew Nie Mingjue was strong but he was also important to Lan Xichen and Lan Zhan was not going to risk his brother’s friend so the man could avenge himself. He had no more right to it than anyone else. They had all lost people. 

Lan Zhan dropped from the rafters, guqin firmly in hand. 

Every eye in the room turned to look at him and Wen Ruohan hissed. “What traitor is this? You will find yourself begging that I had given you the mercy of lingchi! I will wipe your entire bloodline from this earth!” 

“Mn.” Lan Zhan’s fingers strummed his instrument, the harsh sound carving into Wen Ruohan’s chest. The Sect Leader blinked, touching the wound as though shocked anything could make him bleed. He was still wearing the look of surprise when Meng Yao sliced through his neck. 

Everyone stood stunned as Wen Ruohan’s head fell to the floor, followed by his corpse. Blood began to seep across the floor, a silent timer for the rest of the Wen to decide what to do next. 

One lifted his sword and, with a yell, charged towards Lan Zhan. His death was swift and messy. The rest of them fled, aware that only Lan Zhan had access to his golden core and that, despite his robes, he was not on their side. Only the Omega remained where she had been. Though the purring had stopped contentment wafting off of her had not despite the fact that her Alpha lay defeated and dead. It was like she was completely unaware of what was transpiring.

“You!” Nie Mingjue snarled at Meng Yao, lunging, and it was only Lan Zhan’s quick draw that blocked the Baxia, the saber catching on Bichen’s sheath. 

“Enough,” Lan Zhan snapped, the Omega’s scent pulling at his mind. It was muddled but something about it tugged at his memory.

“Move, Lan Wangji. He’s a coward and a traitor!” Mengjue snarled, the scent of rage curling around him, trying to push past Lan Zhan. “I’ll kill him!”

“Lan Xichen’s spy,” Lan Zhan explained, only the infamous control of the Gusu Lan sect preventing him from letting his own scent curl in annoyance. Nie Mingjue glared darkly but he stopped trying to muscle past Lan Zhan.   

“We’ll see,” he spat. 

Lan Zhan pulled a flare from his robe and pushed it into Nie Mingjue’s hand. “The army,” he muttered. Lan Xichen was waiting to launch a raid and without their leader the Wen tended to be average cultivators at best. The city would fall swiftly. He should set the signal off himself but there was that smell . It was filling his lungs, demanding that he pay attention to it even if he had to choke. 

He exchanged his guqin for Bichen, keeping the sword in hand as he approached the raised section of flooring. The Omega didn’t shy away, even when Nie Mingjue’s footsteps thundered behind Lan Zhan. She didn’t flinch as Lan Zhan kneeled and grabbed the leather leash that wrapped loosely over the arm of Wen Ruohan’s throne. She practically nuzzled him as Lan Zhan lifted the veil.

Eyes blown wide that barely any of the silver iris was visible, Wei Ying stared back. 

His scent, usually heavily tinged with a dab of spicy peppers, instead carried the light reminder of ginger and something distinctly Omega. Lan Zhan could still remember the way Wei Ying had snuck spicy into every meal at Cloud Recess and dismissing it as rudeness, but here it looked like a greater conspiracy, his scent overpowered as he sweated the spices out. 

Lan Zhan knew people complained about Wei Ying’s scent, assumed him to be a posturing Beta, which he never denied, and took great  pains to not investigate it. Wei Ying was beyond clever to play into those expectations. How Wen Ruohan discovered his status was anyone’s guess. 

“Either kill her or move so someone else can,” ordered Nie Mingue, hefting Baxia meaningfully. It took every ounce of control Lan Zhan had to not snarl at the man for his presumption. Reading Lan Zhan’s silence as hesitation, Nie Mingjue scoffed. “I will not allow Wen Ruohan’s bloodline to continue.”

Instead of figuring out how the leash was anchored to the chair, Lan Zhan unclipped it from the collar around Wei Ying’s neck. The other man didn’t even have the presence of mind to look confused at the change. He didn’t seem to notice much until Lan Zhan swept him into his arms, hands beneath the knee and back, and Wei Ying leaned against his chest, purrs resuming loudly. 

“Lan Wangji,” Nie Mingjue growled but could do little more than snap and snarl. Lan Zhan was the only person in the room whose spiritual energy had not been sealed and he was willing to use that fact to his advantage if anyone tried to harm Wei Ying. “Others will come for the bitch.” 

“Mn.” Let them try. They would find Lan Zhan standing in the way. Brushing aside Nie Mingjue’s anger, Lan Zhan turned to Meng Yao. “Healer?” he asked. She would likely know why Wei Ying was so pliant.

Meng Yao gave Nie Mingjue a wary glance, watching to see if the man would stab him if he turned his back, though he needn’t have bothered. If Nie Mingjue still intended to stab Meng Yao he would do it while the man was looking at him. “This way,” he said, swiftly leading Lan Zhan out of the room. 

They walked in silence, Meng Yao not asking any questions with obvious answers. He likely already knew that the Omega’s compliance had been unnatural and forced and Lan Zhan had no doubt that he had realized that there was a personal connection. He briefly wondered if Meng Yao had already deduced Wei Ying’s identity and what he would need to offer for Meng Yao’s discretion.  

They took a set of steps down, deeper than the main floor but not as far down as the dungeon, and walked until they came across a storage room that was filled with sacks of rice and dried vegetables. There were wine jars lined up along in built shelves and a torch sconce sat out on the far wall. Meng Yao made no hesitation in walking to the sconce and pulling it down. The wall dropped into the floor, revealing a dark hallway. Footprints in dust revealed that it had been recently used. Meng Yao motioned and Lan Zhan stepped in first, pausing a few feet in as Meng Yao pulled on a chain inside the tunnel, causing the wall to slide back up and hide their retreat. Lan Zhan walked confidently, faithful in his ability to protect Wei Ying now that he had the other man back in his arms. He didn’t stumble as the hall began to slope down, the floor becoming rougher as the tunnel shifted from something built to something hewn out of the earth. There was a twist and Lan Zhan rounded the corner to see a humble room.

There was a door on the other side, a final escape if retreat was the only option, but the room had also been designed for long term survival. A shelf was lined with dried foods and a low table rested on a mat to make sitting at it more comfortable. There were three sleep mats, though one was occupied by the siblings that Lan Zhan had expected to find here. He did not know if they were wrapped together to preserve heat or partake in intimacy. Lan Zhan was not one for physical comfort but he knew Wei Ying would drape himself across anyone he considered a friend at the first opportunity. Given their separation and that the sister had been facing death, even Lan Zhan could understand their need for proximity.

The woman awoke as Lan Zhan took his first step into the room, a flash of panic quickly being buried under a haughty look as she sat up, taking the pair in. “I assume it's done?” she asked brusquely, sliding out from her brother’s arms. He didn’t even twitch as she moved, deep asleep. 

“Mostly,” Meng Yao answered with a nod. “But there is an issue with the Omega.”

“Set him down,” she ordered, and Lan Zhan reluctantly placed Wei Ying on a sleep mat, already missing the heat of his body. He held onto his wrist to ground himself, to remind himself that Wei Ying was here and alive. All other problems could be solved. The woman began to touch Wei Ying. It was clinical but Lan Zhan still wanted her to stop. “I assume you want him alive?” she asked.

Lan Zhan stiffened. 

“Wen Qing, please,” Meng Yao said, the first hint of exhaustion coloring his voice. “Can you help him?”

She scoffed. “Of course.” She lifted the veil, revealing Wei Ying’s face that was still marred by bliss. She began to work at the clasp around his neck. “It’s the collar. It mimics scruffing.”

Internally, Lan Zhan balked. Scruffing Omegas without permission was a taboo, even amongst clans that did not have the three thousand rules of Cloud Recess. To do so was to invite death. For a Sect leader to do so was an invitation for war. Worse, scruffing was supposed to be for a short duration, minutes at the most.

Wei Ying had been missing for years . 

“Side effects?” Lan Zhan asked, every ounce of control he had keeping it steady.

She began to tug the leather free. “Short term? Confusion,” she said decisively. “Dizziness. In the long term?” She frowned. “It will likely affect his heats, though I don’t know how. It may have damaged his scent glands, though I don’t know if it will lead to over production or underproduction. He might lose the ability to control his scent entirely. He might need to be scruffed more. Scruffing may stop being effective at all.” She shook  her head. “I’m not sure. There is a reason this is forbidden. Are you ready?”

Lan Zhan nodded and Wen Qing tugged one final time, pulling the collar free.

Wei Ying’s eyes didn’t suddenly focus nor did his body shift. He didn’t slowly begin to speak stuttering words and Lan Zhan flashed his gaze to Wen Qing. She was holding the collar, studding the two protrusions on the inside before she noticed his frown. 

“It will take a while for him to come to his senses again,” she said with as much comfort as she seemed able to give under the circumstances. “Maybe scent him? I would not want to wake up smelling like Wen Ruohan.”

Lan Zhan had dreamed of scenting Wei Ying, of the man smelling like Lan Zhan as he walked through Cloud Recess and Lotus Pier and everyone knowing that he was Lan Zhan’s. He had dreamed of Wei Ying arching into it, of him rubbing his wrists over Lan Zhan just as eagerly, his cheek nuzzling into Lan Zhan’s neck, nipping at the glands in teasing bites. Not a mating bite. Lan Zhan wouldn’t allow himself to want that much, even in the privacy of his own mind, but he dreamed of Wei Ying potentially wanting Lan Zhan back as desperately as Lan Zhan desired Wei Ying. It was a silly thought. Lan Zhan needed Wei Ying the way a bird needed the sky to fly.

These years without him had only cemented that fact. 

Scenting Wei Ying in these circumstances was far from the fantasy Lan Zhan had concocted. It was shameful and in any other circumstances Lan Zhan would go into seclusion for even considering it, but times were desperate. Wei Ying smelled like what he had been reduced to, Wen Ruohan’s Omega. His willingness in the matter was irrelevant. Anyone who had met Wen Ruohan would know that Wei Ying had been scented by the man and people would be quick to label him as a loyalist and not a victim.

Practicality won against Lan Zhan’s morals and he began to drag his wrists over Wei Ying’s body, making sure he was thorough when he rubbed against Wei Ying’s and throat, ensuring that their scents blended together.

He was massaging his glands against Wei Ying’s cheeks when the other man blinked almost sleepily, his hands reaching up in an attempt to capture Lan Zhan’s. It was only Lan Zhan’s quick reflexes that prevented Wei Ying from slapping himself in the face. “...n Zhan…” he slurred, his gaze focusing only to slide away before snapping back. He frowned as he realized that something about his circumstances was horribly wrong. Lan Zhan held onto his fingers as Wei Ying searched his face as he processed that something terrible had happened. “Ribbon?”

Lan Zhan used his free hand to reach up to the thick red ribbon he had wrapped around forehead, pulling it free to reveal the one that marked him as being from Lan Gusu. Wei Ying smiled, as though the world had been put right, before his eyes, as hazy as they were, turned sly. “‘S crooked.” 

If they had been alone and if Lan Zhan thought that Wei Ying had any coordination, he might have let him fix it. 

Wei Ying tilted his head, looking around the room though his gaze always snapped back to Lan Zhan, as though he was afraid of losing him despite the fact their fingers were intertwined. “Lan Zhan,” he said in a whisper loud enough it would have made Uncle twitch in displeasure,  “that’s Wen Ning.” He gave a little wave to the Wen, who was blinking himself awake at the sound of his name. “He’s a good archer,” he said, soliciting a blush from the young man. Wei Ying patted the outside of Lan Zhan’s hand in emphasis. “Not as good as you, though.” 

“Mn.”

Wei Ying grinned and, now that Lan Zhan was looking for it, he could see that his canines looked a hair sharper than the average Alpha’s, the Omega’s teeth being tougher, a final defense mechanism from when they had lived in packs and acted like animals. “I like that you’re a good archer. We should drink the Emperor’s Smile I brought.” Lan Zhan looked at Wen Qing but she did not look disturbed or distressed, so he reverted to staring at Wei Ying who had gladly began to babble about his life, sharing pieces that Lan Zhan wished had been willingly and consciously given. There was nothing outrageous, but Lan Zhan treasured the little pieces, like Wei Ying’s favorite foods and how he had often lost his boots as a child. Some of the stories made no sense, imagination warring with memory, but Lan Zhan nodded along as though he could follow perfectly until Wei Ying finally trailed off, blinking once more.

“Lan Zhan?” he asked, this time confused. “Why are you here?”

“Looked for you.” He’d never stopped. He needed Wei Ying to know that he never would have. “Always.”

That elicited another smile, though this one was smaller and softer before being replaced by a worried frown. “I was caught. The Wens.” He brought his fingers to the front of his throat, feeling for the leather that he had worn for too long. “How?” How long. How bad. How’d you find me.

The answer for each question as heavy as a stone, their reveal like throwing them onto spring ice, already cracked. 

“The Sects went to war against the Wens,” Meng Yao explained as though speaking to a child. Lan Zhan helped Wei Ying as he struggled to sit, holding him by the shoulders as his body listed. “Wen Ruohan and his sons are dead and our people are taking the Nightless City as we speak.”

“Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli?” 

“Alive,” Meng Yao confirmed and Wei Ying slumped into Lan Zhan’s side. “They’ve missed you.”

Wei Ying lapsed into silence and they all gave him a moment to gather himself. Wei Ying’s last clear memories were likely of the razing of his childhood home. “How long?” he asked finally.  

There was no easy way to break this. “Two years,” Lan Zhan said softly. Two long, agonizing years of blood, death, and uncertainty. Two years of wondering. Two years of agonizing. 

“Well,” Wei Yiing said cheerfully as he slapped his own thigh, “Jiang Cheng is going to accuse me of slacking off. We should get going because he needs all the help he can get to rebuild the Yunmeng Jiang clan.” He gave a brittle laugh. “Shijie needs all the help she can get wrangling him.” He still as he sniffed, his eyes widening. “Lan Zhan, did you finally scent me?” he asked, his tone teasing though the question was genuine. “Does this mean that you have acknowledged our friendship?”

Yes. He had. Lan Zhan’s love for Wei Ying was as immutable as the rules that governed Cloud Recess, carved into his heart. It was that love that tied his tongue instead of speaking freely, instead of telling Wei Ying what he needed to know.

Wen Qing was bound by no such feelings. “You’re pregnant,” she said bluntly. “Wen Ruohan is the father.”

Wei Ying studied her as though Wen Qing was a Go board. “I’ve been pregnant before.” It was not a guess. 

Lan Zhan exhaled and inhaled slowly, wanting to comfort but unsure of how. Under other circumstances he would have played the guqin to soothe his heart. He might have even dared reach out and wrap an arm around his shoulders. Instead he leaned back, a steady presence to remind Wei Ying that Lan Zhan was right there. 

Wen Qing nodded. “You lost them all,” and Lan Zhan bit his tongue, focusing on keeping anger from leaking from his very pores as the implications truly set in. “You won’t lose this one.”

“Why?” Meng Yao asked. “You have to know that any medicines you may need will be provided to do this.” Lan Zhan felt Wei Ying stiffen beside him.

Wen Qing gave Meng Yao a flat stare as though he had said something egregiously stupid. “Well, if you want your friend dead I can do that,” Lan Zhan’s hand shot out, wrapping his fist into the thigh of Wei Ying’s robes. The other man allowed the touch. “Wen Guangzhi anchored the pregnancy through his meridians and connected it to his golden core. Even if he survived, his core would not.” 

Meng Yao tapped the bottom of his chin. “Yunmeng Jiang would likely declare war on anyone who killed their First Disciple, especially since his survival will be seen as miraculous. The other Sects would allow him to go through with the pregnancy as long as the infant was turned over after birth.”

“Turned over why?” Wei Ying asked, his scent curling into something that rode the line between terror and rage.

Meng Yao pursed his lips before choosing his words with the care of someone picking tea leaves. “The child is Wen Rouhan’s,” he said delicately. “The Sects won’t want the bloodline to continue.”

Wei Ying wrapped an arm across his stomach defensively, his fury potent enough Lan Zhan could taste it on his tongue. “The child is mine! ” he snarled.

“I-it should be o-okay, r-right?” Wen Ning asked, wringing his hands together. “I-it’s just a b-baby,” but Meng Yao was already shaking his head.

“It’s a Sect heir. Either you give it up or you will be seen as a coconspirator and a traitor and your life will be forfeit as well.”

Wei Wuxian wouldn’t. He was never one to take the easy path, especially not when what he loved was at stake and Lan Zhan had no doubt that he already loved what was growing inside of him, despite the child’s horrific origins. He would fight, alone if he had to, weakened by pregnancy and years of capture he would stand against everyone until the child was safe or he was dead.

Lan Zhan knew which would come first.

“The child is mine.” 

Wei Wuxian’s mouth opened in shock. “You don’t even like me!” he said, his nose wrinkling and Lan Zhan wanted to press his lips to Wei Wuxian’s to disabuse him of that notion.

Meng Yao also objected. “Nie Mingjue saw you walk off with Wei Wuxian.”

“No,” he countered. “Saw me leave with Omega. He assumed he was a woman.”

Wen Qing crossed her arms and began to tap her fingers against her sleeve. “Any healer will know he’s weeks along.”

“You’re a healer.”

She raised an eyebrow pointedly. “I’m a Wen.”

“Lan now.” Lan Xichen would forgive him for any complication that caused. 

“It’ll be a scandal that your reputation will not survive,” Meng Yao continued to argue, as though Lan Zhan could be persuaded into a different path. “Premarital sex with an Omega you aren’t’ even betrothed to, a First Disciple from another major Sect. And after rescuing him from capture? Beyond the impropriety, they’ll question Wei Wuxian’s ability to consent, especially since you are known to hate him.”

“We’re in love,” Wei Ying declared, holding a hand above his heart and faking a swoon. “Lan Zhan has been looking for me-you have been looking for me?”

“Mn.” As though he could have done anything else.

Wei Ying picked up again. “He’s been looking for me for years to confess the true depths of his emotions. I was moved by his words as I too have been yearning for him since my stay at Cloud Recess. What followed next was natural and inevitable under the circumstances.”

Meng Yao sighed. “It will be a difficult story for people to believe. Most know of your mutual enmity at Cloud Recess.”

Wei Ying blinked. “Mutual? I enjoyed spending time with Lan Zhan.” His smile, though shaky, was as sly as it had been when Wei Ying had slipped him porn. “Maybe I broke the rules so I could spend more time with him. Alone in the library? Who knows what we got up to?”

“We’d believe that of you,” Meng Yao said dryly, not impressed by Wei Ying’s addition, “but Lan Wangji actually has an honorable reputation as an honest man. No one will believe that you seduced him.”

Lan Zhan could fix that. He grabbed Wei Ying by the chin. “Lan Zhan, what…?” Ignoring Wei Ying’s confusion he gently guided Wei Ying until their faces were parallel before he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Wei Ying’s. For a moment, Wei Ying was still. Lan Zhan was about to pull away when Wei Ying leaned into the kiss, deepening it enough that no one would mistake it for chaste. 

When they broke apart, Wei Ying was once again looking a bit dazed and he didn’t resist as Lan Zhan wrapped his arms around him. “Mine,” he declared, in case the kiss hadn’t made it obvious.

“Jiang Wanyin will kill you,” Meng Yao said half-heartedly, down to what was obviously his final objection. 

Lan Zhan stared blankly back. There were few people in these lands that Lan Zhan was afraid of. Jiang Wanyin was not one of them. 

“Well,” Wen Qing drawled, “congratulations on becoming a father. We should probably escape before someone finds us and kills us all for being Wens.”

Yes, that could be a problem.