RATED G | 3,000 WORDS
|
|
CONTENT WARNING
|
THIS CONTENT IS RATED
GENERAL ⓘ
|
This content is approved for general audiences of all ages, though may contain material that may still be sensitive/challenging to some. Please note the Content Warning in the above section to help make decisions on your content consumption as informed as possible. |
THE MAGNIFICENT DAJI
|
The Emperor died, and the empress did not go mad with grief. She was too busy being frustrated. His death came at a bad time and put her in a terrible position. She'd married him for his position and his money, and now that was all ruined.
It wasn't that Daji hadn't cared about the Emperor. He'd been a kind man, as far as emperors went. He'd had a long time to rule over the Great Golden Kingdom and the fight had gone out of him decades ago. Oh, he'd been a fiery thing in his day, but, by the time Daji got her claws into him, he'd been widowed for five years, mourning his beloved first wife, had just finished leading a successful war, and pretty tired of the whole thing. For all of Daji's scheming, the marriage hadn't been a tough sell: He was tired. She was there. She was ravishingly beautiful. She didn't mind if he spent all day out in the garden with his young daughter, or that he often went to bed before the sun set. Ingratiating herself with the daughter hadn't even been much of a chore, either. Daji had expected an angry, imperious, little ten-year-old mourning her mother and resentful of any potential replacement. Instead, Princess Kou was well-mannered, quiet, studious, and absolutely besotted with Daji. She liked Daji's long sleeves and many elaborate hairstyles. She asked Daji what colors were her favorite and how she put on her nail attachments, and Daji was so warm in her answers that the Emperor offered her marriage within a month of knowing her. He moved Daji into the reasonably fancy summer palace, let his inner council go on ruling the country, and taught his daughter how to play board games. As far as marrying into money went, it was ideal. At the time, Daji could have wept for her good fortune. Now, just two years later, it was all ruined. The Emperor had died peacefully in his sleep, and at the most inconvenient time. Now, Daji could have wept for different reasons -- and nearly did -- at the funeral, standing in her place of honor during the ceremonies, dressed in modern but elaborate funerary garb, and clutching Princess Kou's hand. Every now and again, the girl looked up at Daji. Daji, for her part, put on a smile and reminded her to be brave. All the while, the Emperor's mother, brother, and sister glared at her from the other side of the procession. 'I know you killed him,' mouthed the Emperor's brother. Daji could have laughed. She did laugh, a day later, when the three of them called her into the council room and accused her of just that. “Killed him?” laughed Daji. “Why would I, the magnificent Daji, need to do that?” “You are a sorceress,” said the Emperor's sister, Lady Lien, who, as a minister of internal affairs, was quite up on these things. “So?” asked Daji. “So are half the girls in the kingdom.” True, Daji had climbed a mountain to learn the most secret arts from an old monkey sage, but what better way was there to learn? Besides, she argued, she only knew glamors and a few flashy firework spells. This wasn't news to anyone in the room. “No one knows where you're from,” said the Emperor's mother, Madam Xi, who was a particularly nosy woman. Daji shook her head. “You have my records on hand.” She'd come from the western plateau, a graduate of one of the most prestigious schools in all the kingdoms. Three noble families claimed her as some kind of cousin. Sure, she'd gained those connections by curing one house head of his blindness, helping an heir of another family cheat on their state exams, and straight up bribing the third family, but who in the government hadn't done something like this at some point? And her school records were real enough, she reminded the room. The late Emperor's sister had been her roommate. If she'd attended classes to find a husband, she'd hardly been the first. “You could have poisoned him,” snarled the Emperor's brother, Prince Xin, who resented that the princess had been named heir instead of him. “Oh, yes,” drawled Daji, waving her well-manicured hand, “because poison can fake a heart condition three physicians diagnosed him with before I even met him. You do think well of my abilities, don't you?” Daji hadn't handled her own food for years. She'd wanted to keep it that way. She wasn't a commoner anymore. True, she'd cursed a few potential rivals with zits before a formal presentation or two, but what of it? Madame Xi had done just that decades ago and no one said a thing about that. “She does have a point,” allowed Madam Xi. “Nevertheless,” huffed Prince Xin, turning red, “she… she is an ambitious, social-climbing snake!” “Fair enough,” said Daji, with a sigh. Actually, she was a fox, not a snake, but she wasn't about to go and make a scene about that. If she'd traveled to the underworld to rewrite her fate from a frail forest creature to become a beautiful, long-lived woman, so what? Who would want to live on carrion and rats for fifteen miserable years? “But who would not seek to advance themselves? Satisfaction is so hard to find in one lifetime,” said Daji, pointedly. The Prince turned even redder. He'd wanted to be emperor himself. “Do you not agree?” “How dare you speak to me like that!” he huffed. “You are not yet regent to this kingdom,” said Daji. “Neither are you, though,” said Lady Lien. “Though, as Empress, that does place you in the most favorable position of all of us...” “You think I wanted any of this to happen?” cried Daji. Her only goal in life had been to grow old and fat. What a fine plump woman she'd have become! “You think I, the splendid Daji, am interested in ruling anything?” “I think only of the young princess,” said Lady Lien, “and who will rule until she is of age.” Maddam Xi nodded solemnly. “Whoever watches over my grandchild watches of the future of this kingdom.” The prince crossed his arms. “Isn’t that convenient for you, Empress Daji?” “Oh, shove it,” said Daji, throwing up her hands in despair. “I, the fantastical Daji, doesn’t want your golden throne. How dare you! My husband is dead, and this is all you can think of!” Gathering her sleeves, she stormed out. Had she been anyone else, this would have been an executable offense, but being the Empress still had some perks. She retired to the summer palace where she threw all of her pillows onto the bed and threw herself into the pile. After a bit, she pulled out the letter she'd hidden beneath the sheets: a marriage proposal from a minor dignitary in the kingdom down south. A downgrade, for sure, but certainly an option. In the morning, Madam Xi invited her to share dumplings in the garden.
“You must forgive my children,” she said. “This has all left them very tense.” “I understand,” said Daji, in a voice scratchy from tears. She'd spent most of the previous night packing, and had realize she'd only have space for nine of her best robes. “I apologize for my rudeness.” “Oh, please don't,” said her mother-in-law. “You made my son quite happy. Have some tea, would you?” Daji brought the cup to her lips, and then immediately poured it out on the cobblestones when the old woman's eyes were turned. She could smell the poisons better than any human could. How rude! Oh, well. The old woman's approval didn't matter anymore. Daji had already paid off the guards to help her leave the palace that very night. At noon, Prince Xin took her for a walk out in the palace gardens. “I understand I have spoken out of line,” he said, taking her hand. Daji resisted the urge to yodel in his face. That was a fine way to tell another fox to buzz off, but humans would have found that very strange. “Of course, whatever happens, I should be honored to support a woman of such beauty and grace, in whatever way she should see fit...” “Isn't that nice,” said Daji, snatching her hand away. In the normal way she would have enjoyed such compliments, but the prince was already married, and an absolute boor besides that. After being Empress, who'd settle for such a cheap knock-off? “Oh, forgive me, my lord. I've just realized: I've promised your sister I would have supper with her this afternoon. I must go get dressed.” Daji made sure to transform herself into a servant as she left, so she could walk past all three of the armed assassins the prince had stationed by the garden gates. Ugh, how basic! Oh, well. It didn’t matter how many men he hired to have her killed. She'd hired a boatman to wait for her at the river. “I do wish you'd just take the position of regent,” said Lady Lien, as they sat together in Daji's opulent reading room. “My mother's old, my brother's an idiot, and you'd be far better at it than you think.” “Heavens, Lien. Of course I'd be good at it,” said Daji, rubbing off some of her make-up, “I am Daji! The mystical Daji! But that would take work. As you said, I am sorceress, not a politician. What's keeping you from taking the position, anyway?” “I'd have to kill my brother for it,” said Lien. “Mother's already lost enough sons this year.” “And I've already risked enough grey hairs!” cried Daji. “You would have the support from me and all my retainers,” said Lien. “Oh, please don't,” said Daji, running her nails over one of her lacquered teacups. Perhaps there might be room for at least one set in the suitcase, if she folded the robes extra tight. “You know most would be happy to avoid some interloper meddling with the heir to the throne.” “From my standpoint, an interloper might be the one with that heir’s best interests in mind,” said Lien. “And you think a selfish second wife would have anyone’s best interests in mind?” “Please, think about it,” said Lien. “All right,” promised Daji. She thought about it back in her palace, as she laid her robes out on her bed and tried to pick her favorites. She also thought about how to best present herself to the southern court. New face? Same face? Curvy? Thin? She hadn't decided how to go about it just yet. Ohhh, there was so much prep work involved in marrying rich! Imagine how much more work it would take to be regent. Lien had such silly ideas sometimes. It wasn't that Daji didn't care about the princess or the kingdom, it's just she really had no interest in ruling anything. Sure, she knew which provinces were valuable agricultural centers, which required carefully guarded borders, and which had been ancestral enemies -- but only to keep the economy stable enough to support her lifestyle without a pesky rebellion throwing a wrench in. Comfort interested Daji. Conflict? Not so much. As for the princess… Well. There was her uncle. Or her grandmother. Or her aunt. Her grandmother would marry her off, and her uncle would try to keep all the power to himself, but Lien would actually look after her. There was really nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Nothing that would make Daji worry, certainly. Or stop folding her robes. Or start fidgeting the fancy embroidery of her sleeve… “ARGH!” Daji threw her closet doors shut and turned back to her study. She drafted up a love letter for her new suitor in the south. They'd been exchanging poetry. It was hugely romantic. She'd tell him to have a royal litter waiting for her at the end of the river. The pretty words went right out of her head. She rolled the unfinished letter up, put it in a case, fell on her bed, and screamed into her pillows. “I had it so good,” cried Daji. She still hadn't worked out which robes she'd take. She liked them all. They were silk. With gold embroidery. Some of them had bells sewn into them and some had sashes so that they'd fit her once she'd become old and plump. Truly, this had been as good as it gets. “Oh, my sweet husband, you couldn't have waited five or ten more years?” Daji was considering just turning herself into a heavenly wind and making off with the whole roof of the palace, but an attendant arrived at her door. Madame Xi was concerned for her health, and wanted to know if she would eat with her that night. Checking to make sure the poison took. Daji rolled over into a more dignified position and threw hand across her forehead. “Ah, no, I couldn't possibly,” she moaned. “I feel so faint...” The attendant left. Daji righted herself and finally narrowed her wardrobe down to at least the golds and reds. She liked the golds and reds. She'd even folded a few by the time the second attendant arrived. “Would her majesty wish to have desserts with the Prince?” asked the attendant. Prince Xin wanted to work out where to send the next assassin. Daji pulled one of her more expensive combs out of her drawer and threw it at the door. “I'll give you three more of those if you tell him I wasn't in my chambers,” said Daji. The attendant took the comb and left with a bit of a spring in their step. Small sacrifice. Daji wouldn't be around to make good on the last payment, anyway. Ugh, she'd forgotten entirely about her tools! Magic didn't always do itself. She kept magic candles in a pillowbox. She kept a stolen fan in one of her desk drawers. She wondered if she had time to work out some kind of shrinking spell on her suitcase. Perhaps, she could do it before Lien sent her messenger, who, given the pattern that evening, would be due within the hour-- Sure enough, another shadow settled by the door just as she’d formed that thought. “Oh, surely, Lady Lien can wait until tomorrow,” huffed Daji, trying not to remember what she'd said about the young princess and her uncertain fate. Daji's sister-in-law could be such a nag -- even when she wasn't around! Daji was meant to be radiant! Not conflicted! “She knows I am in mourning. I saw her just today!” “We're sorry,” sniffed a small voice from the other side of the door. “May we come in?” Princess Kou. Damn. Daji shoved her magic candles under a sheet and combed her hair down. “Of course, princess,” she called, in a melodious voice. The young girl stumbled in. She didn't have her normal retinue of tutors and maids. She didn't even wear any of her formal clothes, just her basic nightwear. “Are you here alone?” asked Daji. The girl nodded, mutely. “Have you been wearing that all day?” asked Daji. The girl nodded again. “Oh, my poor dear,” said Daji. The girl's situation was truly dismal to stay in her nightclothes all day. “I am so sorry. What is so important to bring you here like this?” “We wished to see you,” said the princess, in a tight voice. “Everyone is so upset. Uncle and Grandmother and Auntie have been trying to speak with me, but we wanted to talk to you. Auntie said you'd be here. I -- we — we hope it is not too much, but we wanted to. We had to...” “I am honored,” said Daji, who was quite sympathetic. Who'd really want any of that drama just now? “What would my little lady like to discuss with me?” Princess Kou broke into tears and threw herself against Daji's well-glamored chest. “Princess!” cried Daji, quite astonished. For all of the memorials and ceremonies, the little girl hadn't cried even once. “I am going to be Empress,” cried Princess Kou. “Not yet,” said Daji, reasonably. “You're still young. You will have a regent, and the inner council, and the armies, and...” “I've never been an Empress,” cried the Princess. “I will have to tell them all what to do.” “Oh now, sweetness,” said Daji. She couldn't work out just what to do to make the princess stop, so she touched her hair the way her own mother had done when she was a mewling kit. Sure, her own mother had used her tongue, and human hair was much smoother than fox fur, but it seemed to work. The little girl stopped sobbing quite so hard. “That doesn't sound so bad. Bossing people around is a very nice part of being an Empress.” “But honored mother,” said the princess, “I don't know what to do!” Daji stared down at the child. She tucked some of the little girl's hair behind her small, round ear. “...Ah, Princess,” she said, “there are some candles under my pillows. Will you fetch them for me?” “What?” “There are many skills that help with being Empress,” said Daji, “but I find, when the situation is the most impossible, that magic seldom lets me down.” By the time the lesson was over, the love letter remained unsent, the guardsman had given up waiting for her, and Daji had missed her boat. Instead, she sent the princess back to her rooms and swept the magic peach blossoms out into the courtyard. They dissolved as they hit the night air, returning to the place from which Daji had summoned them. The next morning, she put on her favorite robe, and met with the royal family in the audience chamber. Madam Xi went pale. Prince Xin scowled. Lady Lien raised only a single plucked eyebrow, as though none of this was a surprise at all. “But of course, if it was my husband's last wish, I will be regent,” said Daji. “Who else but the magnificent Daji would be better for the job?” |
The End.
NOTES
SHARE & COMMENT
 |
The Magnificent Daji © 2018, 2020.
|