[OLD VERSION -- READ THE NEW ONE PLEASE] Crocodile Tears

Prologue: Eternal Winter

Never attempt to read the words of the stars. They lie.

In the night court, there is a sea of stars surrounding a single queen. But even their scorching flames are too distant to warm this icy palace, too cold to thaw my frozen heart. I have seen too many sacrifice their lives for a mere mirage. These images spin in my mind as I dance alone, haunting the empty corridors of this vast cage. And I am powerless to stop them. This is not my story to tell, but I shall be the one to tell it. For, there are already too many regrets...

Peach blossoms dotted the rural mountainsides, village children squealed with laughter, and snow seemed no more than a distant memory. But the air of the palace was still, as if enveloped in an eternal winter. The moon climbed steadily as darkness embraced the palace.

"Emperor, the stars whisper to me every night, claiming that the princess is bad luck. They say that she must be killed or else the kingdom would suffer."

"Even the peasants know that girls born in the second month are of ill fortune, especially draining the life force of their parents. Empress has been unwell ever since she-"

"Enough," the man seated on the golden throne commanded, his voice strained. With a flick of his dragon-embroidered sleeve, he motioned to dismiss the crowd of consultants, but no one moved, "I had said enough!"

"Your Majesty is a wise ruler who cares for his subjects as if they are his very own children. The South has been scouting near our borders, and the seemingly protective North might one day swallow us whole. If thousands suffer for one daughter, I fear that Western Liang would soon be of no more. For the good of your people, your humble servant begs that you rid this world of the doomed child. Please reconsider," the elderly official said righteously, getting on his knees and knocking his head firmly on the pale marble floor. A droplet of scarlet seeped through the crevices, staining alabaster tiles into a blood red rose. 

In a wave, the officials standing in the hall were all on the floor with their foreheads pressed hard against the marble, carpeting the ground with a frenzy of robes. "Your Majesty, please reconsider," they echoed, their voices ringing throughout the room.

In just a few moments, only one man remained upright in the hall. The emperor's expression turned a few shades darker to one that was almost identical to his black robe. Looking up at the golden ceiling draped in silks, he slowly shook his head, as if the palace was suffocating him. 

"Brother Emperor, perhaps it would be wise for you to let her go."

"Not you too," the emperor murmured, his eyes settling on the only man standing. Suddenly, the shadows plaguing the emperor's eyes grew darker, and the scars of time on his face became more pronounced. 

"She wouldn't be happy here, condemned to a life behind towering walls. Let her become my daughter. I do not fear these superstitions like you, nor do I face the same burdens as you," the man's eyes twinkled with sparks of youth, "I will treat her well and give her the life we never had." 

But fate has been decided upon long before you. It's not so easily persuaded.

The canopy of iridescent silk taunted the woman's bloodless face, and the bed's shimmering coat of gold mocked the ghostlike shadows under her eyes. Wheezing accompanied every uneven breath she took, making each appear to be her last. 

The emperor sat stiffly by the bed, locked on an invisible throne. Though there was only air behind him, his formal posture made it seem as if there was a bed of nails resting against his back. He was a puppet, waiting for someone to pull his strings.

A faint tug on his robe jerked him back to reality. "Have I missed the peach...blossoms?" a weak voice rasped. A pair of tea-colored eyes mirrored the flickering candles, burning with a flame of hope. "I've been thinking of a name for her..." she whispered, but the rest of her words were interrupted by a violent cough. 

"They're postponing their blossoms for you to recover. Don't keep them from waiting and rest," the emperor said while guiding his empress's arm back into the cover of the swan-feather quilt. Not wanting to see the hint of protest in her eyes, he blew out the candles.  

Trapped by the walls of the palace. Forever bound by the chains of thousands of lives.

For what seemed like an eternity, the emperor stood by the golden crib. The sleeping child inside seemed so harmless, so frail, so much like her... With trembling hands, he reached for the child and took her from the crib. Wrapping her in his cloak, he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. 

"Lord of Dongping, treat her well," the emperor commanded, carefully handing the child over. But her eyes blinked open, and yawning, she clung to her father's arm, unwilling to let go. Staring into his daughter's tea-colored eyes, the emperor's gaze softened; for a split second, his carefully crafted demeanor cracked. Rocking the child until she was once again in the safety of her dreams, he kissed the girl's forehead before handing her to the waiting man.

"Your Majesty, you are only five years into twenty, stop acting as if you have a whole life behind you," the man joked. Slightly dipping his head and excusing himself, he took the princess with him and vanished into the dark.

As the footsteps gradually faded, a single tear escaped from the emperor's eyes. The moon disappeared behind a wall of clouds, leaving the shadow of an empty man alone in the night – not of an emperor, only a man.

Before the end of the year, both the Lord of Dongping and his wife passed away - cause unknown.