Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rain hammered the city square, pooling in the cracks between the stones as the crowd pressed on, heads down, shoulders hunched. Astrid moved quietly through the noise, her soaked hood clinging to her face, robes heavy with water. She kept to the edges, slipping between merchants and carts drawn by something monstrous looking, until a group of men started following. Their voices were low and mocking, their steps too close. When one of them grabbed her, eyes began to flick her way. Quick, uncertain looks from strangers who didn’t stop. Another hand caught her arm. The laughter grew. Still, the crowd kept walking.

Overhead, from the second-floor balcony of a nearby inn, Shao watched. He had no reason to be there anymore, his meeting with the weapons smith had ended minutes ago, tedious but necessary. He stood now beneath the shelter of the inn’s overhang, rain streaking down his armor, arms folded, gaze fixed on the street below. He’d noticed her by chance at first. A cloaked figure cutting through the square at a near-run, head down, robes dragging in the wet. Mild interest sparked as the scene began to unfold. Her pace, the way she looked over her shoulder, the group of men locking on. He wasn’t surprised. Just quietly disgusted. He saw her hesitate. Saw her falter when they closed in. Her hands didn’t rise. Her voice didn’t carry. She froze.

Then she drew the staff.

It was tucked beneath her robes, the wood polished dark, carved with the markings of her order. An Umgadi weapon. He knew it instantly. It should have meant discipline. Strength. But the way she held it was clumsy, unsure, her grip too tight, her stance too shallow. One of the men laughed, reaching for it anyway.

Then Shao moved.

He stepped onto the edge of the balcony and dropped. The stone cracked under the weight of his landing, the force of it sending a shock through the ground. People screamed and scattered, carts tipping, stalls shaking. Before the gang could turn, his axe was already swinging. The first man’s body folded in half as steel tore through his spine. Another tried to run, slipping in the mud, and Shao cleaved him down without slowing. The last reached for a blade, but Shao kicked him back, crushing bone against the pavement. The axe came down one final time. Blood sprayed, mixing into the puddles like ink in water.

Silence fell in a wide circle around them. The city moved on just beyond it, but here, in the wet and the ruin, nothing stirred.

Astrid was on her knees, the force of everything—fear, rain, the aftermath—having dropped her there. Her hood had fallen back, and her orange hair clung to her face in wet strands, darkened and plastered to her skin. Droplets streaked down her cheeks. Her green eyes were wide as she looked up at him. Shao could see it then, unmistakable even through the blood and stormwater. Thankfulness, raw and unhidden.

He said nothing. The axe still dripped at his side. The look he gave her didn’t change. Hard, unforgiving, like he was staring straight through her and didn’t like what he saw.

Shao fell into step beside Astrid as they left the square, the storm trailing them in sheets. Silence hung between them, broken only by the steady echo of their boots on wet stone. Astrid felt his presence like a physical weight. Not protective, but watchful, judging.

The palace gates appeared, and the guards quickly stepped aside. Shao walked straight through without a glance, Astrid following, her  soaked robes heavy, her fingers still clenched around her staff.

Tanya spotted them crossing the courtyard, her eyes snapping first to Astrid, then to Shao. Her face was unreadable, but her tense shoulders spoke volumes as she stepped forward. “What happened?” she demanded.

Shao stopped beside Astrid. His voice was low and flat. “She was cornered by a group of men in the city. I killed them.”

Tanya’s expression sharpened, her gaze returning to Astrid. “You were outside the palace? Alone?”

Astrid kept her head bowed, lips pressed tight. The silence stretched, a clear answer in itself. Tanya stepped closer. “Astrid.”

Still, Astrid said nothing. Her throat constricted, her legs trembling with cold. Shao remained unmoving, his gaze steady on her, its pressure suffocating. 

Finally, she whispered. “I wanted some time by myself. That’s all.”

Tanya’s eyes narrowed. “And you nearly died for it.”

She looked to Shao again, hesitating. Her words came clipped, stiff at the edges. “Thank you. General.”

Shao noticed the reluctance in her words, the edge behind her tone, but said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Tanya turned back to Astrid. “Get cleaned up. You’ll answer for this later.” Her voice was firm now. “There will be punishment.”

Astrid gave a shallow nod and turned quickly, her footsteps splashing through the puddled stone as she hurried across the courtyard. She didn’t look back.

Shao and Tanya remained, watching her disappear beneath the archway. Tanya’s arms folded tightly. “She was lucky,” she said.

Shao glanced at her. “She was careless.”

“She’s young,” Tanya muttered, though it lacked conviction. “This won’t be ignored.”

“She drew an Umgadi weapon and couldn’t hold it,” Shao said witheringly. “It was pathetic.”

Tanya said nothing, looking back toward the palace door. “We train them to be more than this.”

Shao didn’t answer. Rain beat steadily on his pauldrons; the blood was washed from his axe, but not from memory.

Inside, Astrid moved through the halls quickly, keeping her head low as servants and guards passed. Her fingers were still clenched, her arms tight against her sides. The warmth of the palace didn’t reach her. Her skin felt cold, her thoughts colder.

She replayed it all in fragments. The hands. The panic. Her useless stance. And then the crack of stone when he landed. The axe. The blood. The silence.

She had been certain he would scold her, or leave her there. That his disdain would outweigh everything else. But he hadn’t.

He’d acted.

She didn’t know what it meant. Only that the memory of him standing over her—towering, drenched, unflinching—left something heavy in her chest. Something she couldn’t name. Not gratitude. Not fear.

Something in between.

Chapter Text

The courtyard, soaked from the night's rain, lay slick and pale beneath the overcast sky. Morning mist clung to the palace walls as the Umgadi gathered in a loose ring at the centre. No one spoke; they had all heard. Astrid stood alone inside the sparring circle, her posture rigid, face taut. Her robes were clean, her hair tied back, her grip on the staff firm despite the tremor in her arms.

Shao was already there, leaning against a column at the far edge, arms folded, gaze hard and unyielding. He hadn’t said a word when Tanya called for the sparring match, only giving a slight nod when asked to observe. He had, after all, been the one burdened with her rescue. Astrid tried not to look at him.

From the line of warriors, Khameleon stepped forward. Taller than Astrid and carved with poise, she shed her cloak upon entering the ring. Her pale eyes studied Astrid with little interest, her expression impassive. She didn’t reach for a staff; she stood bare-handed.

Tanya’s voice cut through the quiet. “You carry a weapon you’ve not earned. Today, you will prove whether you deserve it. Khameleon will not go easy on you. If you hesitate, you’ll bleed for it.”

Astrid gave a slight bow. Khameleon didn’t.

“Begin.”

Khameleon moved fast, too fast. She darted in, her limbs loose, whip-like. Astrid raised her staff, barely deflecting a blow to her ribs. The second strike came quicker. A sweeping kick caught the back of her knee, and she dropped, mud splashing against her hands. Before she could rise, Khameleon was already circling, waiting.

Astrid stood, slower this time. Her chest burned. She swung the staff in a wide arc, and Khameleon slipped beneath it like water, elbowing her in the stomach. The air left her lungs. She stumbled. 

Again, Astrid rose.

She struck twice, both blocked. On the third, she caught Khameleon’s shoulder. A small connection. It earned no reaction, but it steadied something in her.

Khameleon moved again, this time sharper. A palm to Astrid’s jaw snapped her head to the side. She tasted blood. The staff wobbled in her grip, but she held it.

Another flurry came. Astrid blocked one, then another. Her stance improved. The last time she fell, she didn’t stay down. She pushed up before Khameleon could reset and came at her again, reckless but not wild. Her staff scraped against Khameleon’s side. A narrow hit. Still something.

Tanya raised her hand. “Enough.”

Khameleon stepped back without a word, gaze already drifting elsewhere. She didn’t bow; she just turned and vanished into the crowd.

Astrid stood there, chest rising and falling. Her lip was split, her ribs ached, but she was still on her feet.

Tanya approached, her face stony. “You showed improvement,” she said quietly. “But this punishment stands. You’ll train until I say otherwise. No privileges. No patrols. Leave the palace again without permission, and I’ll strip you of your rank myself.”

Astrid nodded, wiping the blood from her chin.

Tanya turned to Shao. “She remains.”

He didn’t speak, just watched Astrid for a long moment, his expression as guarded as ever. Then the faintest flicker, barely there, passed through his eyes. Recognition, maybe. Or something close.

As the others began to disperse, Astrid caught that look and held it a moment longer than she meant to. Her chest felt tight. Unclear. She turned and walked off in silence, unsure if the burn she carried was from shame, or something else entirely.

The bath chambers were a study in opulent excess. Ornate marble carved into intricate patterns lined the walls, and golden fixtures gleamed in the soft light filtering through stained-glass windows. The air hung thick with steam and the scent of jasmine, worlds away from the bleak elements outside. Astrid sank deeper into the massive, claw-footed tub, the hot water a balm to her aching muscles. Her body felt heavy, the lingering sting of Khameleon’s blows a constant reminder of her failures; and the permission Tanya granted to use this bathroom felt more like punishment rather than reward. The emptiness itself a fierce reminder.

She closed her eyes, trying to drown out the negative thoughts seeping into her mind.

A soft click of the door startled her eyes open. Shao stood in the doorway, framed by the steam, his expression as flat as the stone he’d landed on yesterday. He hadn't bothered to knock. Astrid’s arms crossed over her chest instinctively, despite the water being deep enough to conceal most of her. She tried to glare, but the defiance withered under his piercing look.

He stepped inside, unmoved by Astrid’s discomfort.

“You’re slow,” he stated, his voice low and even, devoid of any warmth. “You hesitate. Your grip is weak. You’re lucky Khameleon only aims to punish, not to kill.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over her. “You rely too much on the weapon, and not enough on yourself.”

Astrid said nothing, her cheeks burning. The steam felt suddenly suffocating, and the luxurious chamber seemed to shrink around her.

“The Umgadi weapon is an extension of the warrior,” he continued, as if lecturing a recruit. “Not a crutch for the unskilled. Today proved you are unskilled.”

He said no more. With a final, dismissive glance, Shao turned and walked out, leaving the door ajar. The sudden chill of the hallway air rushed in, mixing with the jasmine-scented steam, and Astrid shivered, pulling her knees to her chest. The hot water suddenly felt cold.

She watched him go, her gaze locked on his retreating back with a raw, desperate intensity she couldn't break, as if the very air he left behind held some crucial, painful answer. The silence he left felt heavier than his presence, filled with the echo of his cutting words.

Chapter Text

“This is ridiculous,” Astrid muttered, scrubbing the polished floor with a soaked cloth and red-raw fingers. “I’m an Umgadi Priestess, not a maid!” Her voice rang a little too loudly through the empty training hall, but she didn’t care. No one was around to hear it. 

Her mind drifted back to Tanya’s words through the silence.

“Since you seek freedom from your duties, you’ll take on others instead. Until further notice, you will clean the training halls, the barracks, and the lower quarters. No maid is to lift a hand where you can scrub.”

She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. Just the sudden gravelly voice.

“You look better on your knees.”

Astrid froze. Her head snapped up. Shao stood a few paces away, his broad frame still damp from the weather outside, eyes fixed on her like he’d been there longer than she realized. She pushed herself up quickly, cloth hanging limp in her hand, water trailing down her wrist.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped. “Come to gawk at the punishment you earned me?”

Shao didn’t answer right away. He glanced around the hall, then back to her.

“I’m looking for Skarlet.”

The words hit harder than she expected. Her expression faltered for a split second, eyes narrowing as a flush crept up her neck.

“What do you want with Skarlet?”

Shao’s eyes lingered on her face a moment too long. Then came the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

“Not a fan?” he remarked, catching her tone.

Astrid exhaled slowly through her nose. “I admire her motivation…what she’s doing is admirable… but… she gives me the creeps.”

That flicker stayed in his eyes, like he agreed but didn’t feel the need to say it.

“She’s efficient,” he said simply.

“If you say so.” Astrid grumbled.

They stood in silence for a moment. Her heart still pounded, but she kept still. His gaze drifted down to the half-washed floor, then back to her hand.

“You missed a spot.”

Then he turned and walked off, his footsteps steady against the stone, leaving her staring after him with a tight grip on the rag and something restless stirring beneath her ribs.

Shao didn’t glance back as he stepped into the open air, the heavy wooden doors closing behind him with a low groan. The rain had stopped, but the stone paths still glistened beneath the dull sky. He adjusted the weight of the axe on his back and moved forward without hurry.

Reiko caught up a moment later, boots splashing through a shallow pool as he fell into step beside him.

“Finished scaring the girl?” he asked, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Shao said nothing at first. His gaze was fixed ahead, calm and distant, though a faint exhale passed through his nose.

“Sometimes,” he said with a hint of weariness, “it’s tiring, the effect I have on women.”

Reiko gave a dry laugh. “You say that like it's a burden. A little female attention never hurt anyone.”

Shao didn’t look at him. “Unless she’s Umgadi.”

“You should feel proud. Making an Umgadi swoon isn’t something just anyone manages.”

Shao’s smile deepened, “I enjoy the challenge. Keeps things from getting dull.”

Reiko smirked, “And I know how much you hate being bored.”

“You know me. I’m not one for sitting still.”

Reiko chuckled lowly, shaking his head. “That’s what makes you dangerous. And impossible to predict.”

Shao’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. “It’s always good to keep them guessing.”

“Always a step ahead, aren’t you?” Reiko grinned.

“That’s how you survive.”

They walked on, the palace fading behind them, the quiet between them thick with unspoken thoughts. 

Neither of them looked back…

Silver light cast through the high windows of the domed ceiling, the priestesses slept soundly, their breaths steady and undisturbed.

Only one remained awake.

Astrid blinked up at the roof, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, her hands clutching the blankets, her chest heaving, mind racing.

Shao lingered in the forefront of her mind, unwelcome and difficult to shake. He persisted, even as she tried to forget her dream. But the feelings remained, and despite it being only in her mind, she was sure she could still feel his commanding presence as if he was in the room with her.

Astrid sat up sharply, as if the motion alone could chase it from her head. She jumped down from her alcove and landed on her feet lightly, making her way quietly towards the prayer room.

Astrid knelt before Delia, her painting hanging above the altar, and despite being unable to see her goddesses eyes beneath her heavy veil, she could feel the judgement in them piercing through it.

She bowed her head, pressed her hands together and closed her eyes. But it was worse there. 

She could still see it, she could still feel it.

The rain. The spray of blood. The sound of his axe. The way the city seemed to bend around him as he tore through the men without hesitation.

She hadn’t been able to look away. And worse, she hadn’t wanted to. She hated what stirred in her when he was near. The slow-burning ache that settled in her chest, the restless pull in her stomach, the thoughts that surfaced when he stood too close. Thoughts no Umgadi should carry. They were wrong. Sinful. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake it off.

“Even I have my weaknesses,” she murmured, “but I don’t want them to be my undoing. I don’t want to end up being cast down because of it.” she paused, her eyes drifting back up to Delia “Because of him.” she whispered.

She pressed her hands together, searching for strength in the stillness that followed.

Astrid buried herself in study during the following fortnight, desperate to keep her thoughts in order. When she wasn’t being forced into doing chores, she was in the archives, surrounded by scrolls and texts she barely read but stared at with fierce determination. It was easier this way, safer. Every time Shao passed through the hall or lingered nearby, her eyes stayed fixed on the pages or her chores without a passing glance. And she felt his irritation too, sharp and simmering whenever she pretended not to notice him. But she didn’t lift her gaze. She couldn’t. Looking at him meant remembering. What he’d done, what she’d felt, what still stirred in her gut no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. So she kept her head down and her hands busy, hoping the silence would be enough to keep her dignity intact.

“Does she think you haven’t noticed?” Reiko said, placing his goblet down onto his coaster, “Every time you pass, she’s got her nose buried in some book. It almost makes me want to pity her.” 

Shao didn’t answer at first, he reached for his goblet and drank slowly. His eyes cast around the lounge lazily, the room was quiet, save for the low murmurings of some politicians nearby. He watched them for a moment before looking back at Reiko.

“Let her keep pretending,” Shao said, his voice calm, but edged with something colder beneath. “Avoidance always comes before the crack.”

“And what are you going to do with her once she folds?” Reiko asked, “What’s the point in all of this if you’re just going to throw her away after you’re done with her?” 

Shao glared at him. “You almost sound concerned.” 

“Concerned?” Reiko repeated, “Not at all. I’m just wondering what use she’ll be to us. Especially if she’s the type to let her emotions run wild, which seems to be the case. She’ll be of no help on the front lines.”

“An Umgadi trained like her, loyal to us instead of the crown? That’s not something you throw away. It’s something you use.” Shao replied matter-of-factly.

“So that’s your plan,” Reiko smirked, “for a moment there, I thought you were getting sentimental.”

“She’s a tool,” Shao replied “Nothing more. I’ll shape her or I’ll break her. Either way, she’ll serve her purpose.”

“Good.” said Reiko, taking a sip of his drink, “Sentiment makes a mess of things. And you’ve never been the type to waste time on distractions.”

Shao’s eyes set hard on Reiko.

“I don’t waste anything,” he said. “Not time. Not effort. Not potential.”

“She’s raw now. Unfocused. But once that’s stripped away, what’s left will be useful.”

Reiko gave a slight nod, eyes narrowing with thought. “And if she resists?”

A faint scoff escaped Shao’s nose. “Then I press harder.”

He leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on the hearth. The flames danced, silent and hungry.

“Everything breaks eventually.”

Astrid scrubbed the fabric hard against the washboard, the cold water biting at her fingers, flecks of soap clinging to her sleeves. The wooden bucket rocked slightly with each motion, suds frothing over the rim. Her back ached, her knuckles raw, but she didn’t slow. The rhythm kept her thoughts quiet.

She glanced up as a shaft of sunlight broke through the thinning clouds, casting a pale glow across the courtyard. The warmth touched her cheeks, soft and fleeting, like the season was trying to remember itself.

“We ought to trade your uniforms for a maid’s.”

Astrid jolted, nearly dropping the cloth. She turned fast, already recognizing the voice.

“Selene,” she breathed.

The other girl grinned as Astrid turned, and the two stepped into each other without hesitation. Their hands found each other’s arms, foreheads pressed together in quiet relief. It wasn’t dramatic, just familiar. Steadying, like they always had been.

Selene pulled back just enough to meet Astrid’s eyes, her voice lowering. “I heard what happened.”

Astrid stiffened slightly, but Selene’s grip on her arms tightened.

“Khameleon didn’t say much. Just that you snuck out, and Shao brought you back soaked in blood. What in Argus’s name happened, Astrid? Tell me everything.”

Astrid glanced around the courtyard, her eyes resting on Shao, who was talking to Empress Sindel and Tanya (no doubt informing her of what happened) but they weren’t close enough to overhear them.

Selene nudged her, “Don’t go quiet on me now. You know I’ll drag it out of you.”

Astrid sighed, water dripping from her fingers. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Selene said, “but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Astrid’s voice was low as she began, each word carefully measured. She told Selene about slipping out into the city, the gang that had cornered her, and how Shao had appeared from nowhere—his axe swinging, the rain mixing with blood on the stones. She spoke of the fear, the shock, and the strange, tangled feelings that followed.

Selene listened in silence, her gaze steady and unblinking. She said nothing, offering no judgement or comfort, only the quiet presence of someone fully attentive. Her eyes traced the tremble in Astrid’s hands.

When Astrid finally stopped, Selene’s lips parted slightly, but she remained still, waiting. The silence stretched between them.

“What possessed you to break the rules and leave the palace grounds on your own?” her head shook, “You’ve spoken of wanting to go it alone in the past, but I never actually thought you’d follow through on it.” 

“I don’t know…” Astrid whispered, “I just…” 

Her eyes closed, her head turning away from Selene’s stare.

“I know,” Selene sighed, “it’s not easy, is it? But…be careful,” she said quietly, “Remember your vows, Astrid. Don’t let Shao get under your skin, he’s good at that.” she watched Astrid closely, her head still turned away. “He didn’t save you out of kindness, there’s always something strategic behind his actions. Don’t let him use you. You’re worth more than his cruel mind games.”

“…I suppose…” Astrid muttered, though her voice lacked conviction. Selene caught it immediately. The hesitation, the shift in tone. Shao was already getting to her.

Selene’s gaze hardened. Across the courtyard, Shao was still locked in conversation with Sindel and Tanya, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t spared them so much as a glance, but Selene stared at him anyway, the irritation prickling behind her eyes.

If Astrid wasn’t going to stand her ground,

then Selene would have to stand it for her.