The Prince's Song

The Little Prince

"Gege, will you comb my hair?"

Meng Yao turns from his dressing table at the small voice. He hadn't heard Huaisang enter his quarters, but the child is standing uncertainly in the doorway, his face covered up to his eyes with his most recent fan. This one has come all the way from Yunmeng, spread with the soft watercolors of lotus flowers; white, pink, green.

Huaisang has a crush on Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian had gifted him the fan on arrival two weeks ago. He hasn't let go of it since.

Not a child anymore, Meng Yao reminds himself, even as he smiles and gestures for Huaisang to come to him. He was Huaisang's age when he had come to the Unclean Realm, while Huaisang had been only nine and already motherless. It was difficult sometimes to see him now as nearly an adult, and other times difficult not to see how much time has passed.

He pulls out his comb and waits for Huaisang to replace him at the dressing table, thinking back to that afternoon when he and Lan Xichen herded the group of boys from the hot spring. Huaisang had been born a weak baby, but Meng Yao knew when he was feigning delicacy for attention. That's absolutely what he was doing when he tricked Wei Wuxian into carrying him piggyback the whole way to the dining hall.

It was precious seeing Huaisang become a flushed and giggling mess, but Meng Yao also worried that heartbreak was imminent. Wei Wuxian already had eyes for the Second Jade of Gusu Lan, and he was certain that wasn't going to change for the foreseeable future. No doubt the two were breaking curfew at the moment while poor Huaisang was locked in his rooms like a captured damsel. Meng Yao had half a mind to let him loose, just for tonight, but it would do neither of them any good.

Instead, he begins unpinning the net of braids atop Huaisang's head. "Have I told you the story of the captured prince who was saved by another prince from a distant land?"

Huaisang's fan falls still, his eyes snapping to Meng Yao in the mirror. "A two prince story?"

"Mm," Meng Yao says. He takes up the comb and begins working out all the kinks the braids left behind. "It's a story that my mother told me when she was combing my hair. My favorite one."

He was going to change it a bit to fit the circumstances of Huaisang and Wei Wuxian, but the original story had been about Lan Xichen and himself. Meng Shi had love telling him stories about the little prince born into poverty and the adventures he would get into. The little prince would go on to be recognized by his father and adored by all, including the most beautiful and kindhearted princess in all the lands.

When Meng Yao was age ten, he had been tripped by some merchants' children and his cultivation book had been snatched away. He had picked himself up slowly, determined to brush himself off and walk back up the street to the brothel without showing any fear or anger. But as he was rising, a gentle hand caught his arm and helped him stand.

At the time, he didn't know it was Lan Xichen in front of him, already sky high at age thirteen. Lan Wangji was clearly younger than Meng Yao but already nearly as tall, standing silently beside his brother with the stolen cultivation book in hand. What he did notice was the Lan Clan headbands, and he immediately bowed to them both. The two of them bowed back, making him feel even more confused.

"Are you okay?" Lan Xichen had asked him. "That was quite a fall."

Lan Wangji held out his book. "My brother got revenge for you."

Meng Yao had simply stared, not understanding why either of them would bother to help out someone like him, who clearly had no clan and no money. After a beat, Lan Xichen had taken the book and pressed it to Meng Yao's chest, forcing his reflexes into play to take it.