Thread by @bingjiuwus

#bingjiu, Maleficent AU Part VI:

"Your Highness, it's such a nice day out, won't you come and enjoy it with us?"

https://twitter.com/bingjiuwus/status/1611640636540874753

Binghe had been on his way back from sword practice when he was accosted by a beautiful young noblewoman and her cohort of giggling beauties, all giving him curious smiles from behind their fans, their gloves - to which he just shook his head and walked past without a word.

Such rejoinders had become common as he grew, studied and trained and grew into his body and the inheritance he would one day accept.

Everyone wanted a piece of him nowadays, the prince who had returned from the dead, the prince who would usher in a golden era after his father, the prince who had yet to be betrothed and was still dangerously available to all the young ladies at court - or so they thought.

Binghe wondered how they could all be so frivolous and scheming after the war had only ended a year ago and they were still in the midst of rebuilding the kingdom and trying to feeding people, but then again, he was asking a question that answered itself.

These courtiers - his father's people, _his_ people - didn't care about how long it took to repair Cang Qiong's trade routes and find new sources of food and supplies now that Huan Hua had become a shell of itself, that the palace's own granaries were all but empty from sending

enormous quantities of grain out to the common people so they didn't starve after Huan Hua's armies had torched their homes and ravaged their fields during the war, that even now his father was greying from looking after everyone and searching for a cure for Shen Jiu's curse.

None of them cared about the work that went into anything. Only gossiping about how Binghe looked after he was sweaty from practice, and who would make the perfect queen for him,

and how glad they were that he lived again and the wicked witch SJ had died in retribution, served him right!

The first time someone had badmouthed SJ in front of Binghe had been the last. They'd insulted the fairy, thinking Binghe would enjoy it.

He hadn't, and left a broken arm behind to prove it.

A part of him still couldn't believe he had been a prince by birthright, and that SJ had cursed him as an infant because of the fairy's own complicated history with his father, King Yue.

Only a few days after Binghe had returned to the land of the living, YQY took him to his study and explained everything that had happened between him and SJ, the shattered remains of Xuan Su lying on the table between father and son, Binghe numb and silent the whole time.

To think the witch who had saved him from his sleeping curse was the one who had inflicted it on him in the first place.

Had it not been for SJ's resentment towards YQY, Binghe would never have been placed in the care of another, never been misplaced and spent his childhood on the streets before his A'Niang took pity and adopted him, never been drafted into the war and sent out to die...

The ultimate architect of his suffering lay sleeping and smelling like roses in a bedroom not so far from Binghe's own, cursed to never open his eyes again lest the spell he cast upon himself was broken by another.

The outside world thought him dead, and even YQY seemed despondent with how poorly the search for potential cures was going. In all likelihood, SJ would never wake again. Binghe didn't have to lift a finger to seek revenge against him; he just had to sit there and do nothing.

How could he?

No part of Binghe could hate SJ for what he'd done, twisted as it made him sound.

He loved the witch for his cruelty and kindness both, loved his A'Niang and couldn't imagine a world where he'd never met her, couldn't imagine growing up as air-headed and pompous as the courtiers around him.

Oh, he might have taken to the sword and the pen and trained well under his father, but Binghe wasn't at home at the palace, not truly.

He missed the shack he used to live in with A'Niang, paltry as it was; he missed working at the inn and listening in on gossip from people all over the world,

and he missed roaming the wild forest where SJ lived, where every stone revealed a secret world when upturned, and every crow was Binghe's friend.

How could life at the palace compare? How could the prospect of making some pretty noblewoman his wife compare to the dreams he would have of the witch that woke him trembling in his bed and kept him wide-eyed for hours?

Perhaps the witch had made him crooked after all.

Binghe was too old now to think of romance only in terms of holding hands and pleading eternal faith to each other. He wanted things, oh how he wanted them...

And the only person he wanted in life would never wake again unless he did something about it.

Like his father, Binghe too had spent hours upon hours in the royal library rummaging through ancient tomes for any hint on how to break SJ's curse.

He had returned to the cottage time and time again, only to find everything within it bereft of magic and no trace of Xiu Ya nor the other crows save for patches of feathers here and there.

Where had they all gone? Had they really died when SJ used all his magic to save Binghe back then?

His life couldn't have been worth so much. Even the forest didn't feel like before, wild and dangerous and proud. Without its savage guardian, even the animals shyed away nowadays.

Had YQY not declared the forest a sanctuary and forbid people from venturing near, Binghe was certain people would have started hunting everything within and chopping down all the trees already.

In truth, he knew what he had to do already if he wanted to save SJ before it was too late. His father wouldn't live forever, and if Binghe had any ilk of responsibility in him, he would become king after him, protect CQ and marry the person who would become his queen, and...

There was such little time. Already a year had passed since SJ fell asleep, and when Binghe was no nearer saving him than when he'd begun, he knew he would have to take his search elsewhere, even if it meant leaving his father behind, even if it meant leaving A'Niang behind.

His mother embraced him and gave him the emerald pendant she had worn all this while. SJ had infused it with so much healing magic it had made even an ailing old woman young again, and saved her when she might have died of sickness in Binghe's absence during the war.

So much love and tenderness and care had been infused into the pendant, and the knowledge SJ had come to the city, come to their little shack to take him and his mother away to safety when the world looked dire made tears come to Binghe's eyes even now.

The witch had loved him so, so much...

How could he give nothing in return?

Though at first the pendant felt as dead as the cottage now was after SJ's absence, after Binghe wore it, held the gem in his hand he felt the faintest pulse within, much like a tiny beating heart.

_Oh_, he thought faintly, and was heady with grief. _You're still here, you're still alive._

It was as if the pendant itself was soothing him, reminding him to keep the faith.

Binghe didn't need to be told twice. Still, it was... affirming, to know there was still hope.

_Just wait for me, Master Shen. I'm coming for you._

He told his father too, that he was leaving and wouldn't know when he would return. YQY didn't dissuade him, not when he would do the same in Binghe's place.

For the first time since they had been reunited as father and son, YQY embraced Binghe and told him how proud he was to have him as his son.

Binghe hugged him back. He had never had a father before, and even knowing he had been the one to break SJ's heart, just looking at him was enough to know he would have undone it a thousand times if he could have.

His father had loved SJ first, loved him still. Binghe could understand that, even if when he returned, he had no intentions of giving him first priority on the witch's true affections. He was not going to share.

So, on a seemingly ordinary night, Binghe left the palace that had been his home for the past year and counting, and took off with a horse and a sword and SJ's pendant clasped around his neck, the emerald beating small and steadily against his own heartbeat.

And into the darkness he went.

*

A year passed, then two.

Three, four, five years passed as Binghe traversed out of CQ and into vast lands and other kingdoms he had never heard of before.

He fought demon lords and slew dragons, he rescued princesses and accepted lucre in lieu of their hand in marriage, he scaled mountains and saw all the world had to offer.

_Master Shen would have loved this_, he thought once, when he discovered an entire herd of cloud sheep grazing in a mountain meadow, their distinctive bluish-grey coats an unforgettable sight among the bright flowers and radiant green grasses.

Binghe was no longer the rangy eighteen-year-old he'd been when he'd left the palace years ago. He had fought and won a hundred battles and boasted the scars to go along with them. He could speak half a dozen languages and get by on another five.

He had survived more disasters and near-death encounters than any one person should. Every time he thought he had sunk headfirst into danger for the last time he would feel the emerald pendant he always wore seize and burn hot against his skin, and then he would remember:

_Oh, that's right. I made a promise._

He couldn't die, not yet. And so, he dug himself out of hell again and again, and came out the stronger.

But truly, how long could a man go on?

SJ had been the last witch of his proud heritage, and no one knew the truth of his magic, not even other beings of great power. Some of them offered to break his curse with their own prodigious gifts but Binghe refused them all.

He distrusted the blatant curiosity in their eyes and knew they had no good intentions for him or SJ. Even if one of them managed to wake SJ again, who knew if it would still be _SJ_ in soul and spirit who woke up.

No, Binghe had to do it himself.

Only, as time passed and he travelled farther from home, he felt himself grow weary and desperate. He could barely remember A'Niang's face anymore, and prayed she had taken good care of SJ in his absence.

He missed them both so much...

In his hunger and exhaustion, he grew desperate. And at last, after six years of valiant but futile travel, when Binghe saved a fortune teller from certain death, and she told of him of a powerful sword that could grant him his heart's true desire at untold cost, he didn't blink.

It had been so long, it had been so long...

Binghe waited until she told him where the sword was rumoured to be, then set off. He didn't wait to hear anything else, and certainly not what the sword would want from him in exchange.

He already knew about Xuan Su, and was willing to give himself over body and soul in exchange for SJ waking up again.

After all, hadn't he waited long enough?

*

Six months.

Binghe spent six nightmarish months traversing the hellish landscape known as the Abyss, a place that heralded the end of the world like nowhere else.

Nowhere else did the sky bleed red and smoky plumes of ash seep through the cracks in the ground itself.

Dangerous beasts lurked around every rock and crevice, and Binghe found no quarter in them. They wanted him dead; he killed them in turn, and gutted them and ate their flesh for sustenance.

(Don't worry, he cooked everything he ate. Though the meat, no matter where it came from, always smelled like sulphur and tasted like leather. Enduring mealtimes became a battle in itself.)

After six months in hell Binghe wondered if he would ever see the sun again, a blue sky again. His hair had become such a filthy matted mess, there being so few sources of fresh water in the Abyss, that he had simply hacked it off one day and kept it short.

His once-elegant black robes were grimy tattered rags, and he was sure that if he had access to a mirror, far from the brave and muscled warrior he'd once fancied himself, he probably looked more like an emaciated scarecrow.

And yet, he had to keep going on. There was no other choice.

He found the infamous sword the fortune teller had told him about in his seventh month in the Abyss, buried blade-first into the ground inside the stomach of an ancient desiccated beast.

Xin Mo, it was called.

_Heart demon_. Binghe certainly had his share of those.

He knew about Xuan Su, the toll it had taken on his father and his father's father before him.

After such a powerful yet destructive sword had finally shattered upon vanquishing Huan Hua's armies, no one should be in a rush to find the next, lest it eradicate their soul and follow them and their descendants into tragedy as well.

Yet power was power, and Binghe was willing to give it all up to see SJ alive and breathing again, even at the expense of his own life and happiness.

Hadn't it been the same for the other witch? Weren't they very alike, in that sense?

When you thought about it like that, weren't they made for each other?

Truly, you could say it was meant to be...

And so, worn out and embittered and exhausted, Binghe staggered inside the dead beast and grasped Xin Mo's hilt, and _pulled._

*

The sword screamed.

It didn't want him. It thought him sentimental, weak. Binghe heard it sneering at his lack of ambition and how little he wanted from the world, from himself.

Xin Mo didn't want just a king; it wanted an conqueror, a man who would render the world apart to get what he wanted without care for the bloodshed he left behind. It wanted glory without end, to sate its endless hunger with sex and violence and tribute upon tribute.

It wanted -

_Oh_, it wanted -

Binghe wanted a lot of things too.

He gritted his teeth and dug his heels in, even as Xin Mo railed against him, demanded more and more from him in exchange for its power or it would kill him outright.

It was as if a ten-ton weight had dropped on Binghe's shoulders. He collapsed onto his knees, holding onto Xin Mo's hilt for dear life.

Blood seeped from his eyes, dripped from his nose and mouth and soaked his rags in filth.

Even if it took everything from him, even if it killed him...

_Not enough,_ Xin Mo snarled in his mindscape, in his every pore and cell. _You don't have enough. I want more!_

If it wanted a murderer, Binghe would become a murderer. If it wanted a conqueror then he would conquer and let the dice fall where they may.

If Xin Mo wanted a monster, then he would become a monster, and let the sword drink all the despair it wanted from everyone else.

He would. He truly would.

And then Binghe felt the tendrils of Xin Mo reach for his emerald pendant, and froze.

_What do you think you're doing?_ He couldn't back away, not without the sword lashing out and killing him immediately, but the pendant was _his_.

_Give me this_, Xin Mo whispered, almost sounding satisfied at last. _You want to save your little witch, show me your commitment. Give me that pendant and the magic that lies within. Let it feed me._

_There's no magic left_, Binghe thought in despair. _It's just a pendant, just a rock._

And yet, he couldn't give up this mere rock for anything.

_Stupid human boy, no wonder you've never gotten anywhere_, Xin Mo sneered. _That pendant has kept you alive your whole journey. Whatever magic the witch infused into it, it's still there. And with me, you won't need its protection anymore._

It was as if an invisible hand grabbed the pendant and tried to crush the emerald, trying to absorb what magic was left within it for its own.

"No!" Binghe screamed. "No, you can't have it!"

And then he let go.

All at once, the world around him exploded.

Xin Mo sent him flying through the air in a rage, Binghe in agony as he fell onto the ground in a pile of limbs.

_You. Dare._ The sword snarled. _I would have given you everything, and you can't even spare a witch's leftover magic. You deserve nothing._

He had no energy left in him to fight. Binghe closed his eyes, resigned to his fate, and cradled the pendant with his broken body, as Xin Mo screamed all around him, ready to bury him alive.

And then a thousand black feathers burst into being, shielding Binghe from the sword's torrential attacks like a tiny black sun encasing him in protection and warmth, and clasped in his injured hands at the same time, the pendant glowed green as absinthe and scorching hot.

_That pendant has kept you alive your entire journey. Whatever magic the witch infused into it, it's still there._

It's still there...

It's still there...

Binghe looked up, lost and amazed as the feathers, endless in number, acted as if a single being, both shielding him and attacking Xin Mo with all its might, pushing the cursed sword's energy back until it was now reduced to defending itself.

As feathers were obliterated, new ones rose to replace it, and in the chaos of the fight it was if a thousand crows were cawing, cheering its brethren on.

_So this was where you were all along_, Binghe thought, dazed. _You didn't disappear, you didn't die. You just kept on protecting me._

Eventually he gathered the strength to pick himself back up, and with the army of crow feathers protecting him, shielding him from Xin Mo's savagery and hatred and despair, he seized the sword once more, and this time suppressed it, held its power under his own and made it yield.

He wouldn't have to give anything up anymore, Binghe thought absently. He wouldn't have to give the sword what it wanted, no matter how much it wanted. He could just use it to break SJ's curse, and then he would...

He would...

Blood dripped down his nose. He couldn't think at all. The pendant was so hot it was burning his skin. Binghe knew what it meant, what it was trying to warn him against.

And yet, he was so far from home and still had nothing to show for it. It had been so _long_. He didn't know what A'Niang looked like anymore, what SJ looked like anymore.

_He was so fucking tired. Couldn't he have this, just one?_

_Give in_, Xin Mo whispered, defeated but not broken. _Give in, and I'll give you what you want._

Binghe knew what he wanted.

He wanted SJ, alive and safe and able to walk the streets of every human city around without having to disguise himself or hear false rumours about what a cruel person he was. He wanted A'Niang to live until she was a hundred and never worry about the cold or hunger again.

He wanted the people of CQ to never suffer war or famine again and he wanted the animals of the forest to live free and wild.

He wanted peace, and love, and to run to the cottage after a long day of work at the inn and spend some time with his beloved witch and watch the world go by.

And how he wanted to see Xiu Ya again, and know she was alright...

He wanted so much for the world, and he knew he would get none of it from Xin Mo.

(Deep inside, he had always known. He had just been too afraid to admit it.)

And so, Binghe shuddered and took the sword in his hands. And before Xin Mo could laugh in triumph at how weak-hearted its new wielder was, he summoned all the strength he had left in him, and snapped the sword over his knee.

And like that, his last chance of saving SJ was gone.

*

Binghe returned to his homeland in silence and without glory.

There was nothing to be said for what had transpired and what he'd failed to accomplish. After he'd shattered Xin Mo and cast its shards into a volcano, he felt the last of that insidious magic leave him at last, and with it, the need for protection from SJ's pendant.

All the magic had been used up and the emerald shattered after, leaving only a small black egg behind. Binghe held onto it with regard, made sure nothing scratched it.

Even so, he knew he had failed.

He returned to the palace looking not one whit like the handsome prince he'd been when he first left. Binghe was worn out and defeated, and he saw no one, not even his father nor A'Niang.

No, he just went straight to SJ's bedroom and ached when he saw him again.

Six years had made the witch age no further, though Binghe certainly had, and gained the height to make up for it. Still so beautiful, he thought with longing as he approached, not daring to touch the sleeping witch with his dishevelled appearance and broken heart.

"Master Shen," he murmured, voice rasping after months without speaking. "It's been a while. I wish I could say I'd come with better news, but I haven't, not truly." He felt small again, like a child again.

"I travelled all over the world and saw so many strange and astonishing things. You would have loved seeing such wondrous sights too, had you been there with me." He swallowed, a lump of grief in his throat.

"Master Shen, after six years away from you, this is all I have for you."

He took out the tiny black egg he had protected with his life from his journey back from the Abyss into the land of the living, and placed it gently in SJ's hands where they'd been gently laced together on his lap.

"It was the only thing left from your pendant," Binghe explained. "Everything else was destroyed; I couldn't even keep the chain. I'm sorry." He felt himself begin to weep.

"What's wrong with me? You gave up everything to save me, and I couldn't do the same for you. I could have used Xin Mo, I _should_ have, but I was weak. I knew you'd hate me if I did. Even so, doesn't your life matter more? Why do I have to care about everyone else?"

Finally unable to hold himself back, Binghe bent over SJ and touched their brows together. "My brilliant, beloved witch," he whispered. "I'm so sorry we'll never see each other again. Truly, you deserved someone who would have given up the world for you."

And with that, he gave himself permission at last, and kissed SJ on the lips.

When he'd been a boy, when the witch had been radiant and alluring and the signs of attraction turned in Binghe's head like wheels on a carriage for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to kiss the witch and make his intentions known.

He'd fantasised about it a thousand times over and imagined it would always be somewhere sweet, on a grassy meadow in summer or when they were in the cottage together during a rainy autumn day.

Even if SJ rejected him after, even if he just slapped Binghe and told him to get out and never see him again, at least it would have been a reaction.

At least it would have been _something._

Not this. Not nothing.

Just one kiss; that was all Binghe allowed himself before he stepped back and turned away, rubbing his eyes until he could see again.

If SJ would never wake again, then he didn't want to either.

After all, dying together was just like being together, no?

It was the coward's way out, Binghe knew that. Yet there was nothing else for him. There would never be anyone else for him.

He took his knife out from his belt, unsheathed it and felt it prick his thumb with blood.

Sharp. Good. He wouldn't feel much, then, before the bleeding overtook him and he blacked out.

_Oh, Master Shen, your Binghe will reunite with you in another lifetime, I promise._

Mind made, Binghe swallowed and turned back to the bed so he could slit his throat and embrace SJ before dying with the sleeping witch in his arms.

It was no fairy tale ending, but it was the only one he wanted. That was all.

_I'm so sorry, A'Niang_, he thought.

And then, a very awake SJ was sitting up in bed when he spotted Binghe's knife out in the open, his bleeding thumb, and the first thing he said was:

"Now what the hell do you think you're doing _now_, little beast?"

*

To say Binghe was stunned would be an understatement.

(Actually, he ended up passing out from the shock and all. He'd been running on fumes for _years_ at this point.)

When he woke again, it was in SJ's bedroom, only _he_ was the one in bed, and the abhorrent filthy clothes he'd been wearing replaced for a clean white set of robes.

And lying next to him in bed and staring at him with pale green eyes was SJ.

"I think you've gone and scrambled what little sense you once had in you," the witch hissed as soon as he saw Binghe open his eyes again.

"The last thing I remembered I used all my magic to save you, so why the hell was the first thing I saw when I woke again you attempting to kill yourself! What was your brilliant plan there, you idiot! Or did you just want to spill your guts all over me and ruin my clothes - "

Binghe rolled over and crushed him into a hug, unable to keep going.

"Master Shen," he sobbed in exhaustion and relief - and kept sobbing, even as SJ stilled, and brought a frail hand to his back.

"Binghe," he whispered. "Tell me what you were going to do there."

Binghe shuddered. "I couldn't do anything for you," he rasped. "I tried, but I could find nothing, and when I found something that could help at last I balked, and failed. I didn't want to live anymore in a world without you. That was why..." His voice drifted down to nothing.

"Stupid little beast." Thin hands touched his face, rubbed at his damp eyes until Binghe finally looked at SJ and saw the witch smiling faintly at him. "Tell me what you think I wanted you to do to save me."

"I don't know." Binghe didn't, truly. "I only knew that you had to use everything within your power to able to save _me_, so that was what I'd have to do in turn. I don't have magic, I don't have your abilities. I just needed you." Tears stung at his eyes again.

"I don't even know how you're awake now..."

"You don't? Truly?" SJ murmured.

Binghe shook his head.

"Stupid. You must have really hit your head hard somewhere." SJ was smiling though. "I don't know why you thought so much about all that. You should have known I would have never asked you to break your back for me.

I knew what you were made of and what you weren't the day I redirected your curse and made it my own. Did you really think I wanted you to suffer so much?"

"I," Binghe swallowed. "I don't know anything."

"You really don't. But that's just fine." The witch closed his eyes and held their brows together.

"Because the promise I made with the ancient magic was that my curse _could_ be broken one day... if the person who did so had a pure and giving heart, one with only the best of intentions and no ulterior motive for themselves. That was you, my little beast."

"O - oh." Binghe didn't know if a single person existed who didn't have ulterior motives; how could that possibly be _him?_ Warmth trickled into his body nonetheless, and he felt himself tear up again. "Master Shen..."

"When I cursed you as a child," SJ said softly, "I was motivated by cruelty and spite, and a desire to hurt your father through you. I didn't think about you at all." He blinked, smiling sadly.

"The magic I bound your curse to remembered my ire, my hatred. If I wanted the curse taken upon myself - and to give myself an out at the same time - it had to be for something priceless.

For as much as I hated your father when I cursed you, you had to be able to love me just as much, even more so. And you did.

You loved me so much, and without wanting anything for yourself, even the magic was forced to hold up its end of the bargain." He raised an eyebrow. "And through a kiss, too. I thought you'd have succumbed to that _years_ ago, but apparently I expected too much..."

"Wait," Binghe squeaked. "Are you saying I could have kissed you the whole time and broken your curse just like that?"

"... maybe," SJ said after a stifled pause. "The love of a boy and a man are different things, after all. Don't think about it too much," he added.

Binghe groaned into his neck. "How can I not," he muttered. "Do you even know how long it's been for me..."

"I know," SJ said.

Binghe stared at him, close as they were. The witch's eyes lidded. "Of course I know," he said in a low voice. "I was asleep, not dead."

"The pendant," Binghe realised. "Was that you - whenever I felt a pulse - "

SJ shook his head. "Xiu Ya's last wish," he said. "I couldn't protect you directly. But that fool of a crow always loved you, almost as much as I did. I knew she'd find you in the end - and she did."

"The egg." Binghe almost jumped out of bed. "Where's the - "

SJ grimaced. "Safe," he said. "It'll hatch one day, I promise, and barring disaster, we'll have another friend with us again."

"Oh." Binghe's heart ached. "But not Xiu Ya."

"No," the witch agreed.

There was still so much to talk about between them, but they were both fragile and exhausted enough already.

In the end they just ended up holding each other. Binghe slept, while SJ could sleep no more. He just stroked the little beast's hair and marvelled at how much he had grown in some aspects, and yet not at all in others.

He still wept like a child, and gaped with his mouth open like a fish when he was lost, and yet...

And yet.

Living was good enough. Being together was good enough.

And yes, loving each other was good enough too.

Binghe had already proved his devotion to SJ for a lifetime.

He didn't need to do anything more.

_Truly_, he thought. _I'll take care of you from now on._

And so he would.

*

It was a while yet before Binghe was ready to see anyone but SJ and his mother again, who had burst into tears when she saw how thin and ragged he'd become.

The witch had, much to Binghe's gratefulness, left out the part where Binghe had nearly committed suicide during their reunion.

SJ's reunion with Binghe's father was almost as emotional, if thrice as awkward. Binghe was glad to see them reconcile, how happy YQY looked when he saw SJ up and standing again, how the witch carefully chiding him not to cry in public actually _did_ make him cry.

And yet, maybe he was just a dullard and a fool after all, because Binghe was desperate to have SJ by his side and not spending any more time with YQY than he had to. Just because they reconciled didn't mean sparks had to fly again! No, he'd certainly make sure they wouldn't.

"Jealous brat," SJ laughed, and ambled back to his bedroom to tend to his little egg than give Binghe the attention he so sorely wanted (and deserved!).

In truth, it wouldn't be long before YQY abdicated once and for all, and Binghe would become king. He had already ducked his responsibilities for years, and his father deserved a few years of peace now that the kingdom was stable again.

But if Binghe was going to become king, he was certain of this: he was going to do things his way, or not at all.

Even now, as he regained his health and strength and was beginning to be seen in court again, he wasn't going to let the kingdom work itself into a panic now that SJ had woken from the dead.

No, the kingdom wasn't cursed again. No, they weren't suddenly doomed now that they didn't have Xuan Su to protect them anymore.

As far Binghe was concerned, they were all safer than ever, even if they had no idea why.

None of them knew SJ's story, knew him. They still saw him as the wicked witch who had nearly doomed them all and would have had King Yue not stopped him in his tracks.

He was still in the villain in Cang Qiong's story, and Binghe was not going to let it stand.

*

"Little beast," SJ said one evening, "what is this nonsense about me feeling sorry for the common people and sending them shipments of grain from far-off lands to feed them? Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Binghe smiled. "Building a narrative," he said, and presented his cheek. SJ rolled his eyes, but came near and pecked him lightly there.

"As I _said_," he continued, "I'm a fairy of the forest, and we don't _interfere_ with humans unless they really piss us off.

I don't know who would believe I have contacts with merchants from other kingdoms and bargained with them to sell me grain at bottom prices just so Cang Qiong could get fed - I mean, it sounds ridiculous right now! Who would believe you if you told them!"

"I would," Binghe said, taking his hands. "I'd believe that a benevolent fairy was the one who got food to everyone, if I got a full belly for the first time in months and could sleep well for a change."

SJ gave him a cool look. "You're the one doing all this work, Your _Majesty_," he snipped. "Don't you think you should be taking the bulk of the credit, lest the people think you're worthless and start thinking about overthrowing you?"

"Maybe," Binghe said cheerfully. "But then my queen would save me from execution, wouldn't he?"

SJ's expression dulled. He took his hands out of Binghe's, mouth pursing.

"You know I don't think that's a good idea," he said.

They'd had this argument before. "I don't care," Binghe said. "It's either you or no one else. I'm not marrying for politics."

"I didn't say anything about that," SJ smarted. "But that doesn't mean... ugh." He bit his lip. "I'm a child of the forest. You belong to your kingdom."

"Don't I belong to the forest?" Binghe said. "Don't I belong to you too?"

SJ softened. "Of course you do," he said. "But I can't... give you what other people can. Even if I could, it's not in my nature to do so. You know me."

"I know you," Binghe murmured. "And you know me. Why do you think I'd want you to be like everyone else if we wed? Why do you think I could make you do anything at all?"

SJ snorted at that. "You do have a spine of jelly around me," he said smugly. "As you should, I'm twice your age and your saviour besides. Nevertheless..."

"I can wait," Binghe said. "You know I can."

"What a mighty king that'd make you," SJ snarked. "Always chasing the skirts of a maligned witch who cursed him nearly from the day he was born. Everyone will think something's wrong with you."

"Then let them," Binghe said. "I don't care."

SJ stared.

"I went through hell and high water for you," Binghe said. "And I'd do it all over again. A little gossip doesn't phase me. It shouldn't bother you either." He raised his brow.

"As if a few humans nattering makes me feel anything," SJ grumbled. "I just..." He swallowed. "Want you to be happy the way you deserve."

Binghe's heart swelled. "Then believe me, A'Jiu, when I say my heart deserves you."

That was almost enough to make the witch smack him in the face for his audacity. But it was the truth. Binghe had become king, become a ruler in a time of comfort and peace, and now the only thing left on his plate was his future marriage and queen.

(There was, and would always be only one candidate for both positions.)

"To think," SJ said finally. "I was once in love with your father."

Binghe twitched. "Please don't remind me."

"But I will. I'm twice your age, things like that happen sometimes," the witch countered. "What about you? Have you ever loved anyone else?"

"Never," Binghe said without hesitation. "You've always been my first love. There's no one else for me."

"I - " SJ looked away, flushing scarlet. "I see. No pressure, then."

"None whatsoever." Binghe smiled. "I just... can't bear to give my heart to another. Even if it's not the same for you - "

"You know it's not that - "

"I love you," Binghe said. "That's all."

"Oh." SJ swallowed. "And you'd be willing to endure what comes next? No human and fairy have - not as far as I remember it - "

"Yes," Binghe said instantly. "Yes, for you, anything."

The witch took in a deep breath. "Then I'll think about it," he murmured.

"Truly?" Binghe's heart threatened to spill over. "A'Jiu, you'd make me the happiest man alive - "

"Don't get ahead of yourself! I still have my duties to attend to in the forest," SJ barked, yet curiously unable to look him straight in the eye.

"But," he added. "I will take everything into consideration. Thoroughly."

Binghe grinned. "Then I'll wait for your answer."

"Don't get your hopes up," SJ sniffed. "I'm a very busy man after all..."

"Mm hmm," Binghe agreed, unable to stop grinning from ear to ear.

*

No one was ever quite able to parse how the King and Queen got together, in the end. Their story was rife with thrilling, yet contradictory rumours that went everywhere and nowhere.

Some people opined that the Queen must have been a witch or some kind of succubus to ensnare the King, since he was twice the King's age, and too unearthly in his beauty otherwise.

Others said he was half-fairy, for he liked to spend most of his time in the vast woods that forested much of the kingdom of Cang Qiong.

(Surely the most logical explanation must be that he had merely come from afar, had he not, and that was why he appeared so exotic to everyone! Surely not everything had to be a conspiracy!)

Disregarding the Queen's mysterious origins, the King was besotted with him, and they had a pair of sweet children to compliment their harmonious union, a girl and a boy, the family making a serene sight whenever together.

The King's reign was one of peace and security. He ruled over half a century in which Cang Qiong suffered no war, no drought nor famine, and in turn its people thrived and grew more prosperous than ever.

Many credited the King's generous spirit and sense of honour for how well his reign turned out, but the King in turn credited the Queen for his success, both his beloved and righteous right hand.

No matter who was to credit for what, the loving pair were the picture of regnal stability and grace, and always accompanied by the King's avian companion, an intelligent black crow named Zheng Yang.

Even long after the man once named Luo Binghe had passed away and the witch once known as Shen Jiu chose to follow after his husband than live on in immortality without him,

their united reign would be remembered by future generations of Cang Qiong as a golden age for the kingdom, an era where no one went without, even the poorest child could grow up to live well and prosper.

And no matter how their story had begun, for both Cang Qiong and its loving couple, it was and would always be, a story that ended most happily ever after.

END

(MALEFICENT AU FINALLY OVER OMG 💀 My longest threadfic with 6 parts, and fun fact I wrote the first part on October 15 last year!! Oh, if only I'd known back then what an epic this would become LMAO

Binghe turned out to be a real Bingmei in the end, didn't he? Not many people might believe me, but trust me, SJ could 100% raise a Bingmei, he just needs the right incentives haha.

Hope the wait was worth it for everyone!! Ah I'm exhausted now... and can finally focus on fic writing maybe 😩

Thank you for taking this journey with me!!)