[closed post -- training]

[onthewillowsthere]

The day after Evil Twin Magnus leaves, Galahad shows up for his training with Lan Wangji exactly as he always does (although later in the day, because Lan Wangji asked him to wait until afternoon to meet) -- if Lan Wangji were going solely on his appearance, he'd see absolutely nothing out of order. He throws himself into the sword forms with his usual focus. But he's gripping the hilt of his sword too tightly, and his movements are tense; he's never graceful, but today he's almost clumsy, and each failure or misstep only seems to pull him tighter, like an overwound watch.

Comments

[lightbearinglord]

"Thank you for telling me about him," Lan Wangji says, quietly sincere. He will remember everything Galahad said about Percival.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Thank you for listening." He runs his thumb along the rim of the cup. "I miss him. I hope that God allows him to be happy."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji wants to say that he hopes Percival can be happy regardless of whether their god wills it or not. But he has already seen how directly that god meddled with Galahad. Their world is not their own. "I do, too," he says instead, and he is powerfully glad that he sits here with a young man who will never be the king of anything more than his own fate.

[onthewillowsthere]

He's quiet again, as he finishes the cup, and then he says, "I liked Lan Zhan. Your evil twin."

[lightbearinglord]

It isn't exactly unpleasant to hear that name from Galahad's mouth, but it is startling enough for the surprise to register on his face a little. "He went by my birth name?" Almost automatically, he refills Galahad's tea.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Yes. Serial number LAN-012333. He is a Class 2 Gusu Lan android."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji manages an exceptionally, unusually blank look. "I don't know what that means."

[onthewillowsthere]

"I don't either," Galahad admits. "But he placed his hands in the soil and took compositional readings for me."

[lightbearinglord]

Even that is hard to imagine, but Lan Wangji can understand it enough to know that it means his double was helpful, that he provided something of value for Galahad and, indirectly, for Claudius, too. "He was not so different that it no longer felt like me, then." Unlike Magnus, he doesn't say.

[onthewillowsthere]

"No. He was very like you. He helped me prepare a habitat in the laboratory."

[lightbearinglord]

Good. He would do that now, if asked, although perhaps less helpfully. Putting his hands in the soil would do nothing but make his hands dirty. Lan Wangji refills his own tea, then. "I took the other Galahad to see the rabbits."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Did he like them?"

[lightbearinglord]

The fresh tea steams a little again, the tea leaves suspended before they start to sink. "Yes. I think that he was not so powerfully sad while he held Danding."

[onthewillowsthere]

"There's a patron saint of rabbits. Melangell. She was Welsh. From the same country as Percival," Galahad says.

[lightbearinglord]

That's another little thing to hold onto, and he will. "Perhaps he was reminded of Percival. He thought that I might have been sent by his god."

[onthewillowsthere]

A very faint, brief smile. The idea is both understandable -- Lan Wangji is quiet and dignified, solemn and kind, with a voice that gives clear and simple instructions. Galahad can see how a version of himself, especially a version who is looking desperately for guidance, would find the idea of Lan Wangji a relief.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji notices that tiny smile, of course, and commits the look of it to memory. He sips his tea, then sets it back down again. "You asked to train with me. You can ask to stop." He means it straightforwardly, with no particular implication. He enjoys teaching Galahad; he likes watching him learn and watching his strength grow. But Galahad is not a Lan disciple, and he has no obligation to keep down this path. If he can do only so much, as is true of every person, and he wants to fill his time with other things instead, he can.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad blinks. "Why?"

[lightbearinglord]

"You're overwhelmed," Lan Wangji says. It's without judgment, either. "If you need to set this down, you can."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Thank you." He sips the fresh cup of tea slowly, thinking it over, rolling the grain of it around until all the chaff is loose and can be blown away. He is overwhelmed, but the time spent training with Lan Wangji has made him feel less helpless: being able to see the slow build of his strength and balance, the way he's become able to move his body in different ways. He's also grateful to spend so much time with Lan Wangji. He can remember the time when he was suspicious of him and his intentions, when he saw Lan Wangji only as a stranger who might try to affect his mind. The man he knows now is a friend and a teacher, someone he respects so much that finding out how they're alike gives Galahad pleasure and relief. He's someone to look up to, and a hope for Galahad's own future.

Galahad does feel somewhat unsettled still that Magnus is jealous of them, but things are better with him and Magnus now that they've talked about it. And Magnus can ask to spend time with them if he wants to. It's not Galahad's fault, or something he's done wrong.

"I don't want to stop," he says finally.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji finds himself glad, even relieved. He feels the weight of this responsibility every day; Galahad is hardly a traditional cultivation disciple, and he is Magnus' brother and best friend, Claudius' beloved and his future husband. He wants to guide him well. It is a good weight, though, a pleasant one that reminds him of his own experience and endurance. "Then we will continue."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Thank you."

[lightbearinglord]

That earns Galahad an ephemeral smile from Lan Wangji in turn, there and then gone again. Typically, if he is not alone in this room, it is filled with the sounds of Wei Ying: talking, laughing, teasing, tapping his fingers as he thinks or flipping furiously through the pages of whatever he is reading. Sharing the quiet with Galahad has its own kind of appeal.

[onthewillowsthere]

For a while longer he drinks his tea, until the cup is almost empty. Then he asks, "Did you like Claudius while he was different?"

[lightbearinglord]

"I did." His voice is laced with subtle fondness. "He seemed wholly different at first, but he was unmistakable the moment he spoke."